#when i tell you this is the fic of all time

[starkeyvhs]

only you my girl, only you babe

PAIRING: rafe cameron x pogue!fem!reader

SUMMARY: four times your “enemy” rafe hinted he cares for you and the one time you actually caught on it. OR you thought rafe doesn’t like you because he hates all pogues. little did you know he has always looked at you differently.

WORD COUNT: 6.7k

WARNINGS: drinking, drugs, swearing, blood and wounds, kinda canon rafe (omg kez????), obx cliches (mainly the whole ‘kooks vs. pogues’ thing from S1), extremely ‘only soft to you and no one else’ vibes, fluff, angry confessions, heavy pining, mentions of y/n

EDITH SPEAKS: oh. my. god. if you were there on my old blog you would know how long it’s been since I first introduced my idea of writing this fic. I got stumped on it way too often and then forgot about it for months, and then decided to abandon it. But I found it again and I got my inspiration back and now I’m so so happy it’s actually finished!! <3

major thank you to @zyafics who helped me last year when i was writing the fic and helped me brainstorm ideas for it :’) kissing your beautiful mind just like always zya xxx

this really is a labor of love and I genuinely couldn’t be happier 🥹I would highly appreciate all kinds of feedback and reblogs, because they really are extremely motivating and fun to get back to! I hope you enjoy reading, and i hope these 6k words are worth all your time and attention :)

masterlist / join my taglist / requests

PROLOGUE

“Stay off Figure 8!” 

The all too familiar deep voice boomed across the beach, a completely dead silence started to surround the atmosphere. A loud groan was heard along with the unsteady thump of a person falling onto the sand, causing people standing around to gasp. 

JJ struggled to get up from the ground, the big punch he received from the one and only caused his nose to bleed non stop, and when he barely opened his eyes, he was met with a pair of icy cold blues staring back at him. 

“You hear me, Maybank? Stay. Off. Figure. 8. You and all your filthy pogue friends.” 

JJ tried getting up and talking back, he really did, but the one and only Rafe Cameron punched him so hard he lost all his balance. Blood kept on flowing in a never ending fashion, and JJ could see dark spots in his vision, his mind feeling light headed. 

“JJ!”

Rafe froze in his position, not looking up from JJ at the sound of JJ’s name being called out. The voice, the perfume, the general aura of the presence; Rafe didn’t have to look up to see who it was.��

“JJ oh my god please tell me you’re okay,” you mumbled, your voice almost trembling with the worry dripping from your words. You got on your knees and gently cradled JJ’s face, pulling it into your lap as you brushed his hair aside to look at the extent of damage on his face. JJ mumbled something incoherently and you let out a sigh, relieved he wasn’t completely knocked out. 

Rafe stood there on the side, his eyes widened as he saw how your fingers ran through his hair and wiped off his blood, he saw how careful you were with him, he saw how you mumbled small words of sweet nothingness to him. 

Rafe didn’t know what to say, he stood there limply as he watched you help JJ up, let him loop an arm across your shoulders so you could help him walk back to The Cut. 

As he saw you both walk back, he felt his blood boil. The rage built in him slowly like a thunderstorm, his breathing started to become erratic and his fists clenched tightly on his sides. 

“FUCK!” 

Rafe’s foot kicked across an empty beer can buried in the sand, causing it to fly and topple a few meters further from him. 

He wouldn’t have done anything to JJ, heck, he wouldn’t have looked at him if he knew you were on the beach too. 

The look on your face when you saw how hurt JJ was, the concern clouding all over your facial features; from the furrow of your brow to the frown on your lips, he knew you now hated him more than ever. He knew you would never want to look at him ever again. He knew you would never acknowledge his presence ever again. 

He knew there was no chance you would look at him the way he looked at you. 

ONE — THE PARTY

It was crazy.

The lights were neon and bright and they pierced your eyes harshly. The people at the party were almost sticking next to each other, their sweat, weed, alcohol, and an ungodly mix of expensive and cheap colognes being the only thing you can smell. 

You almost gagged as you maneuvered your way through the sweaty crowd, but you finally did, finding yourself taking deep breaths as you leaned against the countertop of the makeshift bar in the kitchen, letting the awful smell wash away from your nose palette. 

When you started feeling better, you got yourself a nice cold beer, letting the icy liquid run down your throat, sending chills down your spine but in a way you relished deeply. 

It was a scene like any other party; there were people dancing, some catching a smoke break at the side, some making out on the other side, nothing new. 

And it wasn’t anything new when a fight broke out. 

You didn’t know who the boys were who started to fight; all you saw was them go at each other like wolves, their courage mostly coming from the plethora of drugs in their system, profanities after profanities spilling out their mouth, and you were just watching from the side, completely nonchalant about it. 

But you were not so nonchalant when glass bottles were involved in hurting the other; you being in close proximity to the fighting pair resulted in one of the flying broken piece of glass cutting your hand, making you yell out at the sharp pain. The cut looked deep as the blood didn’t stop gushing out, but no one focused on you. Everyone was too busy watching the fight, trying to stop it, or just enjoying it for the heck of it. 

You hissed in pain, your own beer bottle set aside as you squeezed your eyes shut from the stinging pain spreading from your hand to your forearm. The blood started to trickle down from your palm down to the floor, and you had no idea what to do or who to go to. 

It all became a huge mess very quick, you on the side with your hand bleeding, and the rest of the party too busy to peg the immature boys on. 

You felt a tall shadow stalking over you, the scent of the rich cologne all too familiar. 

“That looks bad,” you heard in your ear. 

You turned to be face to face with Rafe. He was stalking down your wound, the blood flow not really stopping as the drops dripped down on the hardwood floor. His expression wasn’t one of worry. But it wasn’t one of detest either. It was just… emotionless. 

“Yeah no shit,” you muttered, looking down at your wound too. 

“Here,” he said, fishing out his handkerchief from his pocket. “This should help for the moment…” he muttered as he gently took your hand and wrapped the handkerchief around your cut. 

You looked at his hands working around your hand, covering up the cut. The pearly white cloth was quickly stained with a deep red of your blood, slowly spreading throughout the cloth. 

“You should get that checked once, just in case you need stitches,” he said, tying a knot to fix the cloth in its place. Just like his facial expression, his voice is also emotionless, monotone words leaving his lips. 

“Why are you doing this?” You couldn’t help but ask, out of all the people, Rafe was there to help you with your wound. 

“Because you’re bleeding a little too much,” he said, taking a step back from you. His hands then buried in the pockets of his jeans as he shrugged at you. 

You looked up in his icy blue eyes, not a single emotion in them. You weren’t sure what to say, finding yourself to be quite stunned which was never really the case; whenever Rafe talked to you, you were always quick to talk back, never letting him be the one who said the last words. 

“Right… thanks,” you muttered, looking down at the securely tied handkerchief around your hand. 

“Yeah,” he said with a nod of his head, and left you alone. 

TWO — THE FAILED DATE

You clutched on the tablecloth out of utter anxiousness, your eyes darting around the room. You took a look at your watch for the umpteenth time, and saw that the time you were supposed to be meeting someone got farther and farther in the past with each passing second. 

It had now been over an hour, the waiters had politely asked you if you would like to eat something, and all you asked for was a simple glass of water, because what if he shows up?

But now you could very clearly see that he won’t. 

You had a date, which unlike the past dates you had been on, really excited you. You thought he was a nice boy, someone you met while you were buying some beer for you and your friends. You don’t remember how the conversation started, but you both used to talk quite often, numbers exchanged and texts sent under the pale moonlight of 3 am. 

He finally asked you out on a date, and you were thrilled, to say the very least. But now, here you were at a fancy restaurant on Figure 8 which you barely got to go to, absolutely impatient as your knee bounced up and down out of anxiousness and embarrassment. 

You felt tears prick your eyes but you were quick to not let them fall, wiping them away from your waterline. You looked down in your lap, your fingers nervously pulling onto each other as the reality of being ditched settled in you. You took another look at your phone, desperate for any text, but there were no notifications. 

But then, you felt the sunlight falling onto you from the window next to you being blocked by a huge shadow, and when you looked up, you saw Rafe. 

Of course, Rafe, out of all the people. 

He didn’t say anything at first, just looked at you; your slightly red eyes and the tears accumulated in them didn’t go unnoticed by him. 

“Why are you here all alone?” He asked you, still standing in front of you. 

You just shook your head as a reply and picked up your belongings from the table. “It’s none of your business Rafe… I’ll just leave…” you muttered, but before you could do anything else, Rafe sat in the seat opposite to you. 

He took a look at your outfit, noticing it’s something different than the attire you’re usually sporting, something more formal. 

It didn’t take him long to connect two and two together to figure out everything. 

“You got ditched huh?” He said silently. His tone came off condescending to you, even though he didn’t mean to sound that way at all. 

You mentally braced yourself to get embarrassed by him, ready to hear a comment or two from him, because that’s what he did: say rude things to people, especially Pogues, because he felt like it. 

But he didn’t say anything. 

Absolutely nothing. 

You looked up at him, small streaks of tears had started making their way down. “I told you it’s none of your business,” you said, sniffling. 

He only sighed as he leaned back in the chair, watched you carefully as your head hung low, silent sobs escaping you as you occasionally wiped away your tears. 

“Listen, it’s not your fault okay?” He mumbled. You looked up from your lap with your eyes filled with tears. “I know you must be feeling really bad right now, and there is nothing wrong about it, but don’t think too much about it,” 

“I… I got ditched Rafe. I am sitting here all alone in this expensive restaurant crying my eyes out. How can I not think too much about it?” You whispered, your eyebrows creased together. 

He leaned a bit closer to you. “I’m trying to make you feel better…” He said softly. 

“Well,” you sniffled, looking away from him, “I didn’t ask for it, okay?” 

These were the last words you said, before you got up from your chair and left the restaurant, whilst Rafe watched you walk away, wanting to hold your hand and to stop you, but he just couldn’t. 

THREE — THE BEACH CLEAN UP

You looked up at the sun, wiping the sweat off your forehead as you took in a deep breath. The summers only seemed to be getting hotter this time around, and the fact that you were at a beach clean up at noon was not helping your situation. 

You liked to pick up work like beach clean ups in between your main job at the island club so you could make a little side money. 

As you got back to picking up the trash from the beach, throwing it in the little basket you’re carrying with yourself, you looked up to hear some chatter besides the otherwise quiet beach and the other people working quite silently. 

It was a group of Kooks – their expensive clothes and accessories shining under the bright rays of the sun completely unmissable. And in the group of them, a pair of electric blue eyes had its gaze fixed on you intensely. 

You didn’t even know why Rafe was there. Or why the other Kooks were there. They didn’t have any need to participate in these kinds of jobs. Everything was just handed down to them, daddy’s money being what they thrive on.

You ignored them and got back to working, focusing on clearing the trash from the specific area of the beach you were at. Just a few minutes later you felt the sunlight being blocked by a huge shadow, and when you looked up, you saw Rafe right by your side, separated from his Kook friends. 

You wanted to say something, but you weren’t sure what, so you peeled your focus away from him and got back to picking up the trash and throwing it into the basket. 

“Here,” he said almost suddenly, causing you to look up at him. “I’ll hold it for you,” he gestured the basket in your hand, and even proceeded to hook two of his fingers into its side, holding onto it.

Before you could have protested, he gently pulled the basket from your hand, causing you to let go of it. You wouldn’t lie, your basket had started to get heavy from the innumerable aluminum cans and other trash sitting in it.

“Thanks,” you murmured under your breath and from the corner of your eye, you saw Rafe acknowledged you with a nod of his head. 

For the next hour or so, you went around picking up the trash and Rafe followed you holding the basket for you as if it weighed nothing, and you kept on dropping the trash in it. It was oddly comfortable, the silence between you two as you weren’t sure what to say – and frankly, you thought that was the best. 

As the clean up came to an end, everyone was sitting in the sand, and light laughter and chatter filled the group. The afternoon had started to turn into evening, the bright rays of the sun turning into something more warm, more comforting instead of burning. You sat in the sand, leaning back on your forearms a little away from the rest, just letting the summer breeze blow past you gently. 

Rafe sat down next to you, and held out something. You saw it was a glass of iced lemonade he got from the little surf shop. 

“You didn’t have to,” you mumbled, eyeing the glass in his hand, the condensation on the surface causing water droplets to slide against the smooth glass. 

“It’s okay,” he said. “You’ve worked all afternoon. Have it, it’s my treat.” 

You took another second or two before taking the glass from him, sipping on the cool, sour yet sweet liquid and allowing it to run down your throat. He remained seated next to you as you both watched the waves crash on the shore, the seagulls flying over and the sun only delving you into a comforting warmth more and more with each passing second, and slurped on your little lemony drinks. 

FOUR — THE TIP

The day was slowly turning into dusk, the bright afternoon light leaving to welcome darker pink and orange streaks cast by the almost setting sun. This was the time when the island club started filling in more and more, the bar being one of the first parts of the club to get exceptionally occupied.

You were busy serving an older woman, your mind completely occupied to make the martini, when out of the corner of your eye, you caught the all too familiar gist of a head of dirty blonde curtain bangs. 

You turned your head to meet Rafe’s blue eyes looking intently at you. The way he was focused on you, his gaze not wavering for even a fraction of a second, and the strong intensity behind them made you feel like the only girl on this planet. Though, of course, that feeling was short-lived when you were snapped out of your daze by a customer calling out for you. 

You were quick to rush over to the customer, who had just finished the drink you had served him. He left the money for his drink where he was sitting and was already making his way out of the club. 

You  picked up the dollar bills to see he paid completely for the drink, but the tip wasn’t even touching the bare minimum. You didn’t know what the reason was, you had been kind to the customer, made his drink perfectly and served it on time, and even presented it as aesthetically as you could. Even then, your tip wasn’t up to the mark. Sighing, you made your way over to the other end of the bar counter where you kept your tip jar, which coincidentally also happened to be where Rafe was sitting. 

“Everything alright?” He asked, eyeing your woeful expression as you were putting the newly received ‘tip’ (if it can be even called that) in the jar. His eyes raked over the jar, and he couldn’t help but find it a lot more empty than it should be. 

“Yeah everything’s fine,” You mumbled, keeping the jar aside. You wiped your hands once on the towel slung in the loop of your apron before looking up at Rafe. “What can I get you?” You asked. 

“A neat whiskey’s fine,” He said and you nodded. You served him the neat whiskey, setting the glass right in front of him. He gave you an acknowledging nod and wrapped his fingers around the glass and bought it closer to his mouth, drinking from it. 

You decided to work around the bar a bit, just cleaning everything up, preparing everything you may need in advance, practically anything you could get your hands at – because anything was better than having to talk to Rafe, who, by the way, didn’t take his eyes off you for even a second. His gaze was firm and jaw was set as he just saw you work around the bar, silently sipping on his whiskey. 

You kept yourself wonderfully distracted as you served the customers and prepared everything behind the bar, but every so often, your gaze would magnetically be pulled back to Rafe, and you would always catch him looking at you. 

When you noticed Rafe’s almost done with his glass of whiskey, you made your way back to him. 

“Another one?” You asked, and he only silently nodded as his reply. You refilled his glass with the neat whiskey, and leaned back against the counter, just simply glancing around the scene of the bar and the club and catching a small break. 

A silence fell over the two of you, the light chatter and the music playing in the club thrumming against your eardrums. Rafe was just silently sipping the whiskey, not saying or doing anything, just sitting there and having his drink. 

“So uh… you’re alone here tonight?” You asked, your words feeling cautious. “I mean, you’re usually here with Topper, or with someone, atleast,”

He set his almost finished glass at the counter, his fingers still wrapped around the clear glass. His gaze found yours, a warm blue instead of the usual icy one sinking into your eyes. 

“Topper was busy,” He muttered, “so I came alone,”

You just quietly hummed at his words, and from the corner of your eye you saw one of your customers finishing their drink and leaving their money on the counter. You went to get it, and when you did, you saw it’s the same thing repeating itself: the ‘tip’. 

You sighed, slightly aggravated as you made your way back to where the top jar was, and dumped the money in it. 

“Will it kill them to just pay something to their bartender?” You sighed, leaning against the counter and tilting your head back, closing your eyes for a moment. Your shift was close to coming to an end and if that’s the money you had to go home with tonight, well, it’d be kind of fucked. 

You could feel Rafe’s gaze on you, but he didn’t say anything, just finished the last sip of his whiskey in a gulp. You were about to ask him for another refill, but you heard someone calling you out. 

You turned around to see it was one of your coworkers, who told you were being called inside. You turned to look back at Rafe, but he just shook his head, and gestured to you to leave. You followed your coworker and went inside to where he was leading to. 

After being freed from the quite useless meetup with your manager, you finally walked back out to the bar after 15 minutes. When you did, you saw Rafe’s stool was empty, and there was money kept on the counter. 

You approached the counter, and the moment you saw the money, your eyes almost fell out from how wide they got. 

Ten crisp hundred dollar notes sat unfolded on the marbled counter along with the money for the whiskey, and you couldn’t believe your eyes. For a second, it felt unreal. You reached your hand out and your fingertips touched the paper, and you realised the money was real. You picked the notes up, your lips parted in shock as you gaze at them. 

Rafe tipped you $1000. 

1000 fucking dollars. 

Your gaze immediately turned towards the exit of the bar, and of course, you couldn’t spot Rafe – you had completely missed him. 

You carefully kept the notes in your tip jar and sealed the jar shut. Through the glass, you couldn’t remove your gaze from the notes, your mind now completely clouded with Rafe, and his tip. 

ONE — THE BROKEN DOWN CAR

You let out a frustrated groan, kicking the tyre in utter vexation, which helped you release just the tiniest fraction of your rage. You fished out your phone from your pocket just to see it was nothing more than a dead device, serving you no purpose. You almost had the urge to throw the phone, but you stopped yourself at the right second, because you realized, you can’t afford to hear the sound of the glass screen cracking. 

Instead, you just kicked a pebble in your path and slumped against the side door of your beat up car which decided to stop working halfway across your journey from Figure 8 to the Cut. You were at the side of the road, watching other cars and vehicles pass by as you sat there on the roadside, not having a single clue on what to do. 

10… 15… 20 minutes passed and you were still in the same position, not knowing what to do and not making any effort to find out either. The road fell silent a few minutes ago, no vehicles crossing, but the silence was short lived when you heard the revving of an engine from the distance, and it came to a stop right next to you. 

An all too familiar red and black bike stood next to you, the rider’s face covered by the helmet. But the bike, the gold signet ring on the index finger of the left hand, and the taut muscles peeking from under the t-shirt were more than enough to confirm who it was. 

The helmet came off and Rafe’s piercing blue eyes found yours. 

“What happened?” He asked, getting off his bike as he ran a hand through his hair, his curtain bangs pushed back momentarily before they fell down on both the sides of his face in a ragged middle part just like always. 

“My car broke down,” you muttered as you looked up at him. 

“Hm.” 

He rounded around you and lifted the cover of the engine, holding it up with one hand as he inspected the engine carefully. You watched him intently, trying to figure out what the expressions on his face meant, but there weren’t any to begin with. It was a face so cold and plain, suiting well with the cold blue eyes. 

“There’s some issue with the battery. You most probably need to get it replaced.” He declared, letting the cover fall back in its place. 

“Oh great,” you said, sarcasm dripping from your words as you threw your head back against the door of your car. “That’ll probably cost nothing, won’t it?” 

Rafe caught the sarcasm of your words very well but didn’t comment anything, just wiped the dust off his hands as he gazed down at you. 

“Come on,” you heard, and as you looked up, you saw he was holding his hand out for you. “You were probably going back home yeah? I’ll drop you.” 

You opened your mouth to argue but he cut you off the next instant. 

“No ifs, or buts, or ‘Rafe’s, you hear me? You’re letting me drop you off, and are letting me take care of this,” he said, gesturing to your car. “I’ll call a mechanic who’ll get your car towed from here and will work on it. Now come on, none of us have got all day.” 

By the end of his words, you knew whatever you’ll do is equivalent to pointless, so you gave in. You gently held his hand and helped yourself up from the road, brushing a hand over your clothes as he led you to his bike parked aside. 

Rafe put his helmet on top of your head and adjusted the strap, and you heard a faint click as it fixed in place. You wanted to ask ‘what about you?’ when the only helmet was now sitting on your head, but you decided against it. He mounted the bike and gestured to you to do the same, revving the engine twice or thrice before taking off. 

He was definitely faster than what you had expected, and you couldn’t help it when you gripped the sides of his t-shirt, fisting the crisp material in your fingers to provide yourself some stability. For a second, he took one hand off the handlebar and reached for your hand scrunching his t-shirt. He gently took your wrist and you let go of the fabric in the process, allowing him to tug your hand and place it on his waist. Your other hand followed suit, and both of your arms were firmly wrapped around his waist. His hand landed back at the handlebar, and he only sped up more, the wind whipping past you at a phenomenal speed. 

The ride to The Cut came to an end when Rafe reached your home, and you didn’t want to admit to him or to yourself, but you felt it was short. The ride was nothing short of exhilarating, the wind whipping past your skin, and the way your arms found purchase around his waist gave you the comfort you needed. 

You got off the bike, firmly planting your feet on the ground as you did so, and Rafe’s hand instinctively wrapped around your arm to make sure you remained stable. You carefully took off the helmet and handed it back to him. 

“So uh,” You muttered, clearing your throat subtly, “thanks for the ride. Really,”

He shook his head, kicking the stand of the bike in place and allowing it to lean on one side. “Don’t worry,” He said, still sitting on the bike. 

“You, you really didn’t have to,” You said, your fingers intertwined with each other behind your back. 

“And do what? Leave you alone at the side of the road? With a broken down car and a dead phone?” Rafe sighed. “I wasn’t gonna do that y/n, you know that,”

You know that. 

Yeah you do. 

You swallowed the thick lump in your throat as a small silence fell over you two as none of you said anything, and you kept on contemplating how you could possibly return such a massive favor. 

“You…” You began, your voice low, the words on the tip of the tongue feeling experimental, “you wanna come inside for a moment?”

Rafe’s response didn’t come out the very next second, and that small pause felt like years to you. 

“Sure,” He said, getting off his bike. You let out a sigh of relief and nodded, leading him towards your place. 

“It’s nothing big…” You muttered as you climbed up the stairs of the porch and he followed suit, watching you unlock the front door. “But it’s home, I guess.”

Knowing he had grown up in the richest part of the island, surrounded by everything he could possibly need and want, you had a feeling he’d definitely make some snarky comment. Cause isn’t that what he did? Rafe Cameron: the Kook prince, but also the biggest asshole?

But he was completely silent when he followed you inside and only quietly sat down on the couch you led him to, which you definitely were shocked to see, but nevertheless you didn’t really let it show on your expressions. 

“So uh…” you began to speak, wanting to break through the awkward air around you two, “anything you’d like? Water? Or some tea maybe?” 

He shook his head silently, and a moment later, gestured to the empty seat next to him. 

“Come sit,” he said, words simple and direct, no beating around the bush, just like always. 

You took a sweet moment to let his words settle in you, but when you did, you walked up to the couch and sat down next to him, a small distance maintained between the two of you. Your gaze remained fixed on your shoes, your hands perfectly intertwined in your lap, and your habit of pulling onto them – something which only tended to happen you felt really anxious – came back. 

The awkward air was around you two again, settling over you two like a blanket that is way too warm for hot weather, making you feel uneasy and has got you squirming for any sort of cooling. 

“Why do you do that?”

There it was. 

It was out. 

You blabbered out the question as if it meant nothing, when in reality, it carried so much more weight than you could possibly ever imagine. 

When you were met with silence for a moment, you looked up, and saw Rafe sitting with his hands on his knees, his own gaze fixed at something on the floor. What was it exactly – you couldn’t tell. 

When he still didn’t speak anything, you decided to take the chance. 

“You’re always… there for me, in one way or the other. You patched my hand up at that party weeks ago, when you could’ve just ignored the situation. You saw me crying to myself when my date didn’t show up and came up to me when you could’ve just ignored the situation. You helped me at the beach clean up and carried my heavy bin for me when you could’ve ignored the situation. You saw my lack of tips and paid me a massive one when you could’ve ignored the situation. You could’ve always ignored the situation, Rafe. Just like you always do with the other Pogues. With them, you don’t care for even a damn second. But… why are you doing so much for me?” 

The silence kept on greeting you, and you could feel yourself beginning to get impatient. Your gaze flickered over Rafe, and you didn’t miss the way he flexed his fingers over his knee, as if gripping it tightly. 

“I, I don’t know…” He mumbled weakly. You had never heard his voice take such a softer tone. It’s as if you didn’t even know it existed. 

“What– what do you mean you don’t know?” You sighed, turning your body a bit so you could face him. “That’s fucking ridiculous Rafe!”

“It’s not ridiculous I just can’t explain it the way you wish I could–”

“Well you should be able to cause I need explanations–”

“Not everything can be given a logical explanation come on–”

“Yes it can if you try hard enough–”

“I care for you okay!”

His words were loud, much louder than any of his previous words. Their loudness and conviction shut you up right at that moment, your eyes widening, and your lips slightly parted as you stared at him with a look of disbelief in your eyes. 

“I–I Rafe began, running a hand through his messy bangs, and you had to control the urge to run your own fingers through them and gently push them out of his eyes, “I don’t know why, but I just can’t stand the thought of you being hurt, or being sad, or going through any discomfort. I just can’t okay? Each time I see you that way I– I immediately get to solving it cause I can’t bear to see you all troubled. I don’t want to see a single scratch on your skin or– or a single furrow in your brow I just… want to see you happy. Cause you look... so so pretty when you’re smiling, y/n, it’s… it’s unexplainable,”

A silence fell over you two as you let his words sink in you, which was a lot harder than you’d like, but you were doing it. 

“And i just… wish that one day… you’d smile that pretty smile of yours because of me,” He murmured, “because I made you smile,”

You could see Rafe’s own words taking a massive toll on him, just as it was taking on you. You parted your lips to say something but you were just so horribly stumped, you couldn’t utter a single word. 

He ran a ragged hand through his hair once again and stood up, clearing his throat. 

“I should leave now,” He muttered, standing in front of your seated form but not facing you, but instead facing the door. Your own gaze was fixed at the floor, and you could hear your heartbeat thumping loudly in your eyes, his words repeating over and over like a broken record in your mind. 

You didn’t say anything to stop him, so Rafe silently walked out the door, closing it behind himself with a silent click. 

You were left all alone in your living room, Rafe’s weighted words lying heavy on your heart and mind, and the distant noise of his bike’s engine revving a bitter reminder that he wasn’t next to you anymore. 

Just two days later, when you woke up in the morning and looked out your window, you saw your car parked. Not only was the battery replaced, a whole paint job was done, the ripped car seats were replaced with some fancy leather, the tyres were exchanged for upgraded ones, and for a second, you didn’t even recognise your own car. 

You noticed a piece of paper held in place by the windshield wiper, and when you went outside and took the piece of paper and unfolded it, you saw a small phrase scrawled in black against the white of the paper. 

don’t mention it. – R.C.

EPILOGUE  

You let out a deep sigh as you watch him laugh, patting his friend’s arm in the process. A smile of pure contentment crosses your face, watching the rays of the bright, afternoon sun hit his bare skin and making it shine, his muscles seeming more pronounced than ever. 

You watch him turn around and glance at you over his shoulder, his smile wide as he gives you a flying kiss. You can’t help but chuckle at the endearing action, causing you to send one his way too. He lifts up two fingers in the form of a peace sign and gestures to his friend next to him, silently conveying to you that he will be by your side in just two minutes. You give him an understanding nod and watch his head turn back to the front, getting delved into the conversation with his friend again. 

You sip on your drink as you lean your head back, the sound of the boat rushing past the waves of the ocean filling your ear drums deeply. You close your eyes and just listen to the sound of waves, your mind shutting out the chitter chatter of the conversations of the other people on this boat. 

Soon enough you feel the sunlight being blocked and as you open your eyes, you see him standing right in front of you, a smile on his face. The chain around his neck along with the little gold capital letter of your initial hanging from it catches the sunlight and gleams more than it usually does. He sits down next to you and silently wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side. You smile as you lean into him, your fingers going immediately to fiddle with the chain, feeling the edges of the cool gold initial under your fingertips. 

You take a glance up at him, running your other hand along the side of his now buzzed head, feeling the short, prickly hair gently tickle your fingers. 

“Are you having a good time so far?” He mutters softly, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple, your head tucking in the crook of his neck. 

“Yeah, yeah I am,” you say quietly, your fingers mindlessly continuing fiddling with the gold initial on his chest. “You?” You ask, slightly lifting your head up from his neck. 

“Oh, the absolute best time,” He says softly, looking down at you with a gentle smile on his face. “We’re on our boat, and I’m with my gorgeous girlfriend, what else could I need?”

You can’t help but softly chuckle at his words, silently shaking your head as you lean your head against his shoulder again and resume fiddling with the chain. You do it often, almost each time you get your hands on him, and he loves it; feeling the occasional brush of your fingers against his skin and the gentle tugs on the chain. 

He allows you to relax against him completely, his arms around you to keep you close to him as you both sit silently, only the sound of the water and the light chatter of your friends accompanying you two. 

“Thank you,” Rafe says softly, his fingertips tracing gentle patterns on your shoulder. 

You furrow your brows at his words, slightly confused, as you look up at him. “What for?” You ask. 

Rafe only keeps on gazing at you, a gentle smile pulling his lips. He quietly shakes his head, and with a gentle pull, he allows you to rest against him again. 

“Nothing.” He stays quiet for a moment. “Everything.” 

Your own lips can’t help but upturn in a small smile too. “Well, in that case…” you murmur, leaning back to look up at him, one hand coming to rest against his cheek as you gently caress the soft skin, and you slowly lean in, pressing your lips to his in a sweet kiss. 

“Thank you,” you mumble softly against his lips. Rafe’s hands grip your waist and he pulls you closer, not letting you pull back from the kiss. His fingers splay across your back as he kisses you, his lips moving in an unhurried, tender motion against yours. 

A moment or so later, he pulls back, his eyes opening by just a fraction. You let your arms hook around Rafe’s neck, keeping him close to you. 

“You’re the only one for me, Rafe,” you mumble quietly. “You’re the only one I’ll ever want.” 

He leans his head against you and takes a deep breath, your scent and the smell of the ocean around you filling his nostrils deeply. 

You both let the moment just simply sink in you, the sun rays bathing you in the warmest light, along with the presence of each other, which might be warmer than the sun any time of the day. 

“Only you, my girl,” he mumbles quietly. “Always and forever.” 

⊹₊⋆.˚୨୧⋆.˚₊ ⊹

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specific tags for this fic: @writingmeraki / @ghoslyethastaryn / @congratsloserr / @helloloverz / @littlelamy / @eolsens / @wtfdudesblog / @jkrafe / @onlyrealjoy / @husherstan / @lilithblackkk / @sublimepenguinpeach-blog

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[absurdthirst]

Love Across Lifetimes {Marcus Acacius x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 20.8k

Warnings: War, death, kidnapping, attempted escape, nudity, voyeurism, attempted assault, violence, hand jobs, oral sex (female receiving), loss of virginity, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, pull out game is strong, imprisonment, death by beheading, reincarnation, oral sex (male receiving), happily ever after

Comments: Sent to retrieve Caracalla's bride, General Marcus Acacius finds that you never agreed to marry the emperor. Falling in love with you on the journey back to Rome and discovering how dangerous that love could be.

A/N: Written before I saw the movie on Friday but just couldn't get it edited until now.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

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|| MasterList || Marcus Acacius MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

“I am getting married.” Caracalla announces suddenly, surprising his generals as they crowd around the table that has the map of the empire laid out. “Congratulations, highness.” Marcus secretly feels sorry for whatever maiden has been coerced or picked to marry the spoiled ruler, but he nods respectfully. “We had not been aware that you had arranged a union.” 

Caracalla grins. “That is why I need you, General Acacius.” He explains, pointing to a small kingdom on the edge of the Roman Empire. “My future empress is far enough away that I need you to fetch her.” He tells him. “Give her a proper escort to Rome.” 

Marcus frowns slightly as he wonders what games the man is playing but it comes off as thoughtful instead of disrespectful. “Then I will gather my men and bring your bride to you.” He agrees, trying to imagine the spoiled, haughty girl that wants to be the empress of Rome.

****

You growl as your arrow misses the target. You’ve been training every day but you are still learning how to fight. Your father wants you to be prepared to defend your people when you become queen once he passes. Your instruction adjusts your arms, “you must concentrate. Your mind is not focused.” He murmurs and you narrow your eyes, focusing on your aim after you reload and you release, the arrow hitting its target. You grin, pleased with yourself, when you hear the horns. Soldiers come rushing towards you, “we must get you somewhere safe, Princess. The Romans are here.” Your eyes widen, “here? Why - why are the Romans here?” You ask, stumbling as they escort you inside and the battle begins outside to protect you and your kingdom from invasion. 

****

Marcus wipes his brow, his skin covered in blood as he fights the men of this kingdom, knowing what his goal is, but they fight to protect their home. Why they fight when he was here to escort the princess to Rome, he doesn’t know but he had no time to ask when they attacked. He hears a battle cry and spins, swinging his sword to behead the man, his head rolling on the ground and Marcus’s chest heaves as the last of the men fall. He has won. Now, it’s time to meet the king and his daughter. The real reason he’s here.

“Do not cry, daughter.” Your father wraps his arms around your body to try to comfort you. He knows he will die, his army has been defeated by Rome and now the leader of that army will bring his head back to the emperor. “Show strength to our enemies so that they may know that we are not afraid.” The doors to the throne room are pushed open and a Roman soldier strides in, his walk confident yet weary. Covered in blood and dirt, he had not bothered to stop to clean up, eager to get this unpleasant task over with.

Marcus stands tall and watches you cling to your father. He says your name and your father frowns, “why do you want her? Surely my head is enough to satisfy the emperors.” Marcus frowns, “they informed me that she is to be empress to Caesar Caracalla. I thought this deal was arranged.” 

Your father scoffs, “then why would my men fight?” He reasons and Marcus tilts his head, “I am following orders. She must come with me to Rome.” 

Your eyes widen, “no. No. I will not. Father. Please.” You beg and he shakes his head, cupping your cheek, “be strong, daughter. Remember your training. Remember who we are.” He orders and nods to his men to grab you so he can step forward. “No! No!” You cry and your father kneels down before Marcus, “do what you must but know that I will curse the Roman Empire and her emperors.” He warns and Marcus swallows harshly, withdrawing his sword. “Make it quick.” Your father orders and you bury your face in the chest of the man holding you so you don’t see your father beheaded.

Marcus sighs as he lowers his sword. “I will not spill the blood of my future empress’s father.” He declares. The king is old and does not have too many years left, it is better to show you the mercy of Rome. Most of his soldiers are dead. “Your daughter will rule the world”, he tells the old man before he turns towards the man holding you. “Have her belongings packed and give them a few minutes to say their goodbyes.” He instructs, cursing Caracalla for what he has done. This is not a retrieval of a bride but a kidnapping.

You pull away from the men holding you, scrambling to kneel down next to your father and pull him close. You wrap your arms around him and he kisses your head, knowing he has no choice but to let you go. Your maids rush around to pack your things and soon, they are being loaded into the carriages that the Roman General brought to the palace. “You need to go.” Your father says and you shake your head, “no. No. What if - I do not know the emperor. He must be cruel. He must be, to have sent his army to destroy our people.” You choke, tears in your eyes. 

“Men may think they rule the world but they do not. It is women who are smarter, emotionally stronger. They manipulate the men to do their bidding. Be like them. You may marry a man you do not love but you will be Empress of Rome. You will have power. Power is stronger than love.” Your father murmurs and wipes your tears away. “Be strong, daughter. Rule the world.” He orders and you nod, glancing over his shoulder to where the general waits for you. 

“I love you.” You murmur to your father, knowing you’ll never see him again. “I love you too.” Your father nods, not letting you see how his heart is breaking. You try to step back but you don’t let go. Clinging to your father until the Romans step forward and grab you, dragging you away with a cry. You are carried onto a horse, the general swinging on behind you, and you sob as you are taken away from the only home you’ve ever known.

Marcus lets you cry, not bothering to offer you any platitudes or false words of comfort. He had just destroyed your home and stolen you away because his emperor wanted you. He’s sure Caracalla purposefully didn’t inform him that there had been no agreement, which angers him. Many good men had died for nothing. Marcus hands you a somewhat clean linen to blow your nose as he guides you farther and farther away from your home.

You don't say a word as you take the linen to blow your nose. You remain silent, refusing to give the General your voice as company while he begins the long journey back to Rome. Hours later, Marcus orders his men to set up camp when the sun starts to disappear beyond the horizon and he dismounts his stallion, holding his hands out to help you but you huff and kick his hands away, swinging your leg over to land on the ground with skills beyond a Roman woman. You have been raised around horses, taught to ride from a young age.

Marcus raises his brow at your stubbornness, secretly admiring it, but he knows that means you will cause trouble. He turns to his page and says, “have a bath prepared, I need to clean up, but allow our guest to bathe first.” He instructs. “She will be your future empress, so treat her with respect.”

You cross your arms and stubbornly stand there while his men work on setting up his tent and grabbing the tub that was carried on the cart at the back of the militia to prepare for you. You watch Marcus speak to his men, his body covered in the blood of your people and you clench your jaw. You don't wish to be empress to murderers, pillagers...monsters. You glance around, his men are busy and you see the horses are loosely tied up while they set up camp. You decide to take a chance. You run to the General's horse, swinging your leg over his back as you jump onto the horse, grabbing the reins to take off from the makeshift camp.

Marcus is talking to one of his men when he sees you jump onto the horse, his horse. “Shit!” The men start shouting and running towards you, spooking the other horses and causing chaos. He takes a second to admire your form, your ease in which you command the arrogant horse. Even if it’s no use. While his men scramble to stop you from escaping, Marcus plants his feet and sticks two fingers in his mouth. Emitting an ear piercing whistle that immediately makes his horse’s head rear up and change the direction he was running. Coming back to his general because he has been called.

You try to stop the horse, but he makes his way back to the general. You scramble off of him, jumping and falling into a heap. You hear footsteps towards you and you try to stand up, attempting to run but your arms are grabbed and you are pressed against the general. “Do not make another move, Princesa.” He growls, his knife pressed against your neck as his arm wraps around you and you hiss, sweat on your brow and you stop struggling, slumping in defeat.

Marcus hates how you look crumpled and broken, but he needs you to cooperate with him. Once you get to Rome, you can cause Caracalla all the headaches you wish, you will be his problem. Marcus just needs to deliver you to him safely. He softens slightly, pulling the knife away but he keeps his arm around you. “I don’t want to chain you up, but I will.” He threatens softly. “I would rather you make this easier on both of us.”

You nod, knowing you have no chance of trying to escape again if you are chained up. “Fine.” You murmur, inhaling deeply when he lowers his arms and his men gather around the horses, one of them taking the stallion back to the group. You are soon escorted into a tent, a bath full of hot water awaits you and you glance around at the soldier, “I will not strip with you standing there.” You declare with your chin raised up, “send a woman or leave me be.” You order and the soldier hesitates but steps out of the tent to speak to his superior.

Marcus sighs and dismisses his man before pulling the flap back and stalking into the tent. “There are no women here.” He tells you, making you snort. “I’ve seen the women.” You huff, crossing your arms and he frowns. “The camp whores.” He tells you bluntly. “Women who travel with the army to fuck my men. That is the kind of woman you wish to attend you?”

Your eyes widen and you shake your head. You’ve heard about the women of the night and their services but you know they are hungry for coin, for status, for power. He watches you shake your head, “then you will have to strip with a guardian. I cannot allow you to be alone since you’ll try and run again.” He says and you scoff, “you want me to display myself in front of your men? They will take what does not belong to them.” You spit and Marcus sighs, “then allow me to stand guard. I will turn my back.” He turns around to allow you modesty and you huff, unsure of when your next bath will be so you reach for the clip that holds your robes together, letting them drop to the floor, unaware that a mirror is in Marcus’s eye line.

He had meant to be true to his word, to allow you privacy, but the movement in the mirror had made him instantly tense. Anticipating an attack. Only to find your dress falling from your body and your beautiful tits on display to him. You are gorgeous, like one of the goddesses. He can see why Caracalla would send him to retrieve you for his own. He would want you, if he were in a position to have you. He clears his throat and looks away, only to be drawn back to the vision when you turn around to step into your bath.

You sigh as you sink into the water, not as hot as you like it but beggars can’t be choosers when you are facing your entire world being turned upside down. You see how tense the General is as you reach for the oils, bathing yourself with a soft hum. You want to show him you are unbothered by his presence.

Marcus keeps looking away and then finding his gaze coming back to the mirror. Watching as you slowly go through your bath. It’s incredibly sensual and his cock twitches under his tunic and armor. He has been a long time without a woman, and you are gorgeous with the fiery spirit Marcus likes.

You wash yourself, making sure you are clean for the arduous journey ahead and you stand up, reaching for the linen to wrap around yourself to dry off and Marcus is still turned away from you. You glance around, “I have nothing else to wear. I will need to redress.” You say and Marcus shakes his head, “there are tunics in the trunk. Mine but you’re welcome to one.” He says and you huff, walking over to open the trunk. You drop the linen to pull the tunic over your head.

It’s jarring to see you, to see any woman in his clothes, but Marcus grunts as he turns towards you. “Now I need to clean up.” He tells you, expecting you to demure and turn away so he can clean the dirt, sweat and blood off his skin and change into clean clothes.

You sit down on the chair that faces the bath and you stare at him, challenging him to strip off in front of you. You won’t shy away and give him the advantage even if he gave you the same courtesy. You want to irk him. Get inside his head. That’s your ticket to escape.

He watches you with a frown for a moment, but you just arch your brow and he snorts. Reaching for the thick leather ties of his chest plate to start stripping off the protective gear.

You watch the general that has stolen you from your home strip off. He’s strong, that’s evident in his form, but with each piece he removes, you see how war hardened he truly is. The deadly strength in his form has you shifting in your chair and when he pulls his tunic over his head, your throat goes dry at his exposed figure. His cock flaccid and you hate how your stomach twists at the sight of him.

He’s grateful that he’s got enough self control that his cock isn’t hard. You act like his body doesn’t affect you and he pretends like it’s nothing to be naked in front of you. “There are guards outside the tent.” He warns as he grabs his own linen and strides over to the bath, eager to clean up.

You roll your eyes at his warning and watch as he gets into the water, blood immediately turning the water red. You swallow at that. The blood of your men swirling in the water. “Is the Roman army always so brutal?” You ask, watching him wash the blood from his skin with the cloth that he grabbed.

“Your men attacked us.” Marcus reminds you. “We believed that we were simply fetching the emperor’s intended bride.” He sighs softly. “When they attacked us, we had no choice but to fight back, believing we were being drawn into a trap.” In truth, he regrets the bloodshed, and would have avoided it if he had known you were unaware of the emperor’s claim on your hand. “I don’t like killing needlessly.”

You swallow harshly, tears stinging in your eyes at the deception. Either by him right now or by the emperor you are intended to marry. “I never agreed to marry your emperor. I have never met him. What is he like? Is he cruel?” You ask, knowing some leaders can be too obsessed with themselves to do what’s right for their people.

“Sometimes.” Marcus tells you honestly. “He - has whims that drive him.” He knows that you could tell Caracalla and he would be angry at his general, but he also needs him to win the wars and claim the territories that he craves. “He will not like you running from him, he is used to being publicly adored.” He snorts, knowing how most really feel about the ruler.

You scoff and roll your eyes, “he sounds like a true Caesar. Self absorbed and focused on his own whims instead of helping the Romans achieve greatness. There’s no greatness in the vastness of the empire, there’s greatness within their people but from stories I have heard, they are starving. Taxed to their eyeballs and looking for salvation from anyone but their emperors.”

Marcus doesn’t confirm your comments, although they are true. “Then perhaps you as her empress can bring comfort to the people.” He tells you, continuing to wash. The water is murky now, but he feels better. He just needs to wash his back and his hair.

Your lip curls at the thought of marrying the emperor. You’ve heard rumors about him and his twin brother. How they make rash decisions based on emotions. “Perhaps I shall arrive and the emperor doesn’t deem me beautiful enough for his hand. Or maybe I will be too dumb. Or untameable. These are all things he should consider when picking a wife, no?” You tilt your head and look at the general’s back.

“You would think.” Marcus mumbles under his breath. “The emperor is very certain in his choices once he has made them.” Until he decides against them. He doesn’t tell you that, knowing it would be unfair to give you false hope. Caracalla wants you, so he will have you.

You huff, “I don’t know why he picked me. My lands are not conquered. My father will delegate someone to inherit the kingdom. I have nothing to offer.” You confess and Marcus grunts as he tries to clean his back. “

“I cannot claim to know what the emperor chose you.” He huffs, knowing he should have called his page into help. His muscles are sore from the fighting and he is not as limber as he might have been. He needs help to wash his back.

You see his struggle, your eyes glancing down to the knife that lays on the floor by the tub, clearly left there for him to use if needed. You see your chance. “I can assist you, General.” You say and stand up, kneeling next to the tub. He eyes you cautiously but hands the cloth to you. You grab the knife with your other hand and lean closer, starting to wash his back with the cloth. You see him relax slightly and decide to strike, dropping the cloth and bringing the knife up at the same moment.

Marcus reacts quickly, grabbing your wrist and squeezing it. “You want to kill me?” He growls, scowling at you. “Do it when you’re the empress.” He tells you. “Until then, remember that I hold your life in my hands.”

You drop the knife and he catches it with his free hand, placing it on the other side of the tub. “You’d never escape without my men delivering you to the emperor. They are on orders to take you there even if I’m dead. You’ll be delivered to the emperor. Dead or alive.” He warns even though he knows it would be his head if you are delivered dead but he won’t be looking over his shoulder the entire journey home. “Fine.” You hiss, “you’re a bastard.” You growl and he chuckles, “nothing I haven’t heard before. Now, you were washing my back?” He reminds you, handing you the cloth. You roll your eyes and continue washing his back, knowing you’ll need to make a new plan.

He can hear you fume and plot needlessly as you roughly swipe the linen over his skin. “It will take us several weeks to get back to Rome.” He reminds you. “I would rather this be a pleasant trip.”

His tone makes you clench your jaw but you know you can’t run yet. You decide to focus on your survival and you know the General is key to that. You clean his back, your eyes trailing down his chest to take note of the scars and blemishes on his skin. “You have been fighting a long time.” You observe, “you must be weary.”

Marcus hums, knowing that he is weary of war and watching men die. One day he will fall on the field of battle and his fight will be over. “It is a heavy burden to watch men die.” He tells you. “Or be the cause of their death.”

You nod, seeing the haunted look in his eyes, and you are taken back by it. You had heard about the General, whispers from men who returned from far away lands that the General was lethal but right now you see a man who is tired of war and tired of death. “I can only imagine the things you have seen.” You hand the cloth back to him now that his back is clean and you reach for the oils, deciding to help him wash his hair. Perhaps you can win him over with kindness.

“My hope is that because I have seen them, my children will not have to.” He murmurs, even though he has no children. He sighs and shakes his head. “It does not matter. Wars will always be fought.”

You pour the oils into your palms, rubbing them together and you slide your fingers through his strands, your fingertips turning red as you wash his hair. “War will always be a man’s game. If women ruled the world, there would be no war. Simply silence.”

“Women are smarter than men.” Marcus’ eyes slide closed as he leans back. “I have always thought so. You might not have the strength that I do, but you think differently.” He chuckles.

You smirk, picking up the jug to rinse his hair, “women have their power between their legs. Men’s weakness is between their legs.” You say and Marcus snorts, closing his eyes as you slide your fingers through his hair.

“My father - he’s a good man. I- I want to thank you for sparing his life.” You murmur, admiring the general up close. He has lines on his face but he’s handsome. “Do you have a wife? Children? Back in Rome?”

“No.” Marcus’s brow pinches together for a moment. “My wife died in childbirth many years ago.” He hasn’t talked about Marcella in a long time, but he feels like he owes you a little bit of himself after all he’s taken from you.

Your stomach drops and you find yourself feeling sorry for him. “I’m sorry. No words can ever take away the pain I imagine you must feel.” You whisper, finding a vulnerable part of the war hardened General.

“They are running through the Elysian Fields, waiting for me.” He murmurs. “Or with the gods.” He sighs. “Or just gone. I don’t know. But it was a long time ago.”

“I am certain they are at peace, waiting for you. You shall die in bed knowing they are there waiting.” You say and he shakes his head, “I shall die on the battlefield. Killed by a man my junior. I have accepted my fate.” He murmurs and you sigh, “and I will not accept mine.” You withdraw your hands from his hair and grab the linens for him to dry off. “I am tired and hungry. I wish for your men to bring me a tray.”

He cracks an eye open and watches you. “I cannot have you telling Caracalla that you were starved on the journey to Rome.” He snorts before he grips the sides of the tub and heaves himself up with a groan. Water sluices down his body and he steps out of the tub onto the carpets lining the floor of his tent. Taking the linen with a nod of thanks, he quickly dries himself off and wraps the cloth around his waist to move to the tent flap and opens it. “Bring food and wine.” He orders one of the guards. “Enough for me and our guest.”

Your eyes follow his form, the muscles in his back moving in a way that has your throat dry. You need wine. That’s all. Yet why did you find yourself wanting to strip the linen from his waist and see more of him? “Thank you.” You murmur, certain that his men are whispering. “You will need to be careful. I’m sure you do not want your men spreading rumors that you are nude and in a tent with the future empress. The emperor will not take kindly to not having a pure bride.”

He lifts a brow, amused and confused by your worry of his own safety. “I thank you for your concern.” He nods as he moves over to the trunk you had pulled a tunic out of to get his own. “Although I doubt Caracalla will believe that I seduced you.”

You raise your eyebrows, “and why is that? You are too loyal to your emperor to imagine you committing such treason? Or am I not pretty enough for the revered General Marcus Acacius?” You scoff, wondering why he is so loyal to his Caesar when it’s clear he is weary.

He snorts and shakes his head. “You misunderstand.” He tells you. “I am old, scarred.” He gestures to his body. “Not young or handsome, rich or powerful.” He doesn’t bring up his rank, because you don’t seem like a woman who would care about a generator. “Caracalla would believe that I was too unappealing to seduce someone of your beauty.”

His answer makes your stomach lurch and you stand up, walking over to him. He puffs out his chest, prepared for your attack, but instead, you slide your hand down his covered chest. “You are not old. You are experienced. You have wisdom. And you are handsome. Weathered but I guarantee you any woman would eagerly slide into your bed. Do not discount yourself, general. You are appealing. You could seduce if you wanted to.” You pull your hand away, “Caracalla sounds like a fool if he believes otherwise.”

Marcus knows you are trying a new tactic and he frowns slightly. Your words make his body tighten in need but he doesn’t reach for you. “Perhaps I appeal to some.” He concedes, stepping away from you and reminding himself that you are trying to escape. “I am not worried about who would want me in their bed.”

You frown when he steps back. You may have been trying to form an escape plan but you genuinely mean your words. You sigh and make your way over to the chair just as his men bring in food and wine. You are starving and you should wait to see if Marcus eats first but you highly doubt he’d poison you when his job is to deliver you to the emperor.

He thanks his men and pours two large cups of wine before handing you one. “Drink.” He murmurs softly. “It has been a long day for you and you will make yourself sick if you do not drink and eat.” The sadness that had made your heart hurt has now been replaced with a fiery glow and he has to admire it, even if he needs to squash it. The men carry out the tub silently and he sits down on the bed since there is not another chair. He will have to have one brought, but for now, he will give it to you.

​​You know you can’t starve yourself in protest, you’ll need your strength if you want to attempt an escape again. You pick up the cup, taking a sip and you have to admit the Romans know their wine. You look at the meat and cheese on offer, taking some in your free hand and you chew on it, watching Marcus as he sits on the bed. “Will I have to share the tent with you?” You ask and he snorts, “I cannot have you running off again.” You nod, strangely feeling safer being in his tent. You know his men would likely take advantage of you on your own. Men at war are monsters, and you feel better knowing the General whose head depends on delivering you safe to his Emperor, is the one sharing your tent.

Marcus relaxes as you start to eat. His body is weary and he is tired, but he still watches you to make sure you don’t try to run. “Did you have a man you were to marry?” He asks. “In your land? Is that why you would not want to be empress?”

Your eyes flick up to meet his and you stare at him for a moment. You shake your head, “no. I did not. Many asked for my hand but I wanted to learn as much about my kingdom as possible from my father, to be the best Queen I could be for them. I was focused on training and politics. Not men.” You confess, “the only man I spent time with was my stallion.” You tease, placing a grape into your mouth.

“A wise choice.” He chuckles and takes a sip of his wine. “Horses are far better than people.” He sighs softly. “For what it's worth, I am sorry that your life has been disrupted and changed.” He murmurs.

It’s clear he genuinely feels that way and you nod, “thank you. I appreciate you being so honorable. A rare trait nowadays.” You sigh and he nods in agreement. You continue eating in silence until it’s time to sleep. “Will I be sleeping on the floor?” You ask, seeing one bed and nothing else for you to lay down on.

Marcus shakes his head. “You will sleep on the bed, with me.” You huff and he lifts a brow. “I will not touch you, except to make sure you do not try to escape.” He tells you. “Would you rather be tied to the bed so I can sleep?”

“I didn’t know you were that way inclined, General.” You tease, knowing that having an attitude won’t get you anywhere. You sigh and make your way over to the bed. “If we are to be sharing a bed for weeks, I pray you do not snore.” You slide under the sheets and turn on your side, not wanting to watch him as he settles in.

Marcus sets his cup down and kneels in front of a small altar he has set up for the gods. Lighting the incense to burn through the night for the souls that had been lost today in battle. He closes his eyes and murmurs a prayer. “Keep my men safe, allow them to return to their wives and mothers.” He says, like he does every night. “If my life must be the sacrifice for that, let it be done with honor.”

You listen to his prayer and you frown, maybe he isn’t a monster. He is praying for his men to return home safely even if it means his death. It takes you back and you turn to look at him as he stands up from his kneeling position. “You are different from most men, General.” You murmur.

“I will take comfort in your words when you are cursing me for completing my task.” He frowns slightly. “The gods have forced us together and I can only hope that there is a reason for it.” He sees you shiver and frowns, “do you need another fur?” He asks, thinking you might be cold since the temperature is dropping now the sun has gone down. He runs hot so he doesn’t sleep with many blankets no matter how cold it gets.

You nod, shivering under the sheets and he grabs another fur from the trunk, placing it over you, and you watch as he slides under the sheets beside you. “Goodnight, princesa.” He murmurs and turns his back to you after blowing out the candle next to the bed. You watch him as he relaxes and you close your eyes, sleep finally taking you after a traumatic day.

Marcus stays awake for a long time, listening as your breathing evens out and he sighs. “Damn you, Caracalla.” He curses softly, knowing that he would have never fought your people if he had known you were never in agreement to marry the emperor. Guilt swirls in his stomach and he wonders what the other man will do with you once he has his prize.

You awake with a start, confused by your location until you realize where you are and what happened. You blink and your lower lip trembles but you refuse to cry. You wake up a little more and realize you have shifted in your sleep and you are curled into the chest of the General, his arm under your head, and you gasp at the way you somehow curled around each other during your slumber.

Marcus is awake, he has been for hours but he refused to move when you were nestled up against him and sleeping peacefully. “Sleep deep, princesa?” He asks, his voice rough with disuse.

You immediately shift away from him, sitting up, and you’re flustered. You had liked how it felt in his arms and that scares you. “I- I’m sorry.” You choke out, shifting away from him.

“Do not apologize.” He murmurs, missing the feel of your body against his. “It is natural to seek out comfort when you are vulnerable.” He sighs. “Even if you would not when you are awake.” He groans as he shifts to sit up. “Come, I will have water brought for you to clean up and give you a moment of privacy for you to use the pot.” He motions over to a screen that he had ordered set up for your comfort when nature calls.

He’s considerate and that takes you back. “Thank you.” You murmur and he nods, shifting to stand up with a groan. You watch him leave the tent after putting on his sandals to get his men to bring water and you use the pot during his absence. His men bring water and you clean off behind the screen and Marcus returns with food and drink. It takes a while for his men to pack up camp but Marcus looks at you when you stand by his stallion. “I’d offer you a hand up but I know you are more than capable.” He says and you chuckle, reaching for the saddle to swing yourself up onto his stallion, wearing a new tunic from his trunk.

Marcus tries not to stare at your legs, his tunics much shorter than the dresses you have undoubtedly packed away in your things. Instead of saying something, he takes his cloak off and drapes it over your legs for warmth and privacy. “My men are not used to seeing such a beautiful woman.” He explains so you do not take offense before he pulls himself up behind you and takes the reins.

You scoff, “no need for flattery, General, I am willingly on your horse. I am not running away.” You lean back against him a little as he flicks the reins to move the stallion forward.

“No flattery, but the truth.” He hums in your ear. “The whore’s fuck them. But you are beautiful, untouched. Legs on display, you will have my men fighting to touch you and then I will have to kill them.”

“To preserve my innocence for the emperor.” You murmur, turning your head and your face is so close to his. Your eyes focused on him as he blindly controls the horse. “Yes.” He rasps and you hum, “you serve your emperor well, General. Many never see loyalty as strong as that in their lifetime. I wonder what would cause you to break that loyalty, make you throw your morality to the wind.”

He doesn’t answer, knowing that you don’t expect a reply. The army moves slowly and there are times that Marcus stops with you to let you attend to your needs before catching back up with the other officers. Many horses come up to him while you ride, asking questions or informing him of different things, but Marcus handles all of them with ease and grace, aware that the road is weary for everyone.

The sun beating down on you has you weary and you find yourself leaning back against the general, closing your eyes, and his arm wraps around you to keep you in place when you fall asleep. He’s spoken to you about Rome, answered your questions, and you have told him about your people, your lands, in between riders offering him questions or information.

Marcus looks down at you and sighs. He should slow the travel down. You are exhausted and he knows Caracalla will be less than pleased if you arrive worn out. He motions for his men to approach and speaks quietly. “We will make camp early every night.” He decides. “It will take longer to get home but the men will be better rested.” He isn’t doing it for the men, but for you. Perhaps by that time, you will have accepted your fate as empress. “Have the scouts find a place to rest for the night.”

Marcus shakes you awake gently when the horse has stopped moving. You gasp, reality hitting you once again, and you fluster, realizing that you fell asleep on him yet again. “I seem to be creating a habit. I’m sorry. You are welcome to wake me any time.” You say and he tuts, “you need your rest, princesa.” You don’t argue and you see the men starting to prepare camp. “I wish to have another bath.” You say and Marcus nods, swinging his leg over the horse and he holds his arms out for you to help you down. This time you allow it, his large hands gripping your waist as you are helped down from the horse and your chest is pressed against his, your head slightly tilted towards his face. “Thank you, General.” You murmur, patting his chest plate and stepping back, hating how your heart pounds at his proximity.

His dark eyes watch you. “You are welcome.” He nods and hands the reins of his horse off to one of the men. “Would you like for one of your trunks to be brought to my tent, or would you like to keep wearing my clothes?” He smirks slightly as he asks, secretly enjoying the way you look in his tunics.

You smirk, “I suppose I should wear my own clothes so you can have your cloak back during the rides.” You tap his chest plate, “I also would like to wear something that reminds me of home.” You murmur and he nods, calling over one of his men to retrieve your trunks. It doesn’t take long for the men to step up camp and you enter Marcus’s tent, grateful to be out of the sun, and you walk over to your trunk to open it, gathering the oils you wish to use for bathing.

The tub is brought into the tent by three men and set in the middle of the space. “We will bring hot water as quickly as it boils.” A young boy of fifteen informs you with a small blush. “The general ordered the water to be hotter than it was yesterday.”

“Thank you.” You tell the boy, knowing his mother must be worried sick about him wherever she is. You know Marcus is speaking to his men and won’t return until you are done with your bath. Two men return with pails full of steaming hot water and you thank them, watching them leave after they fill the tub. You’re just about to remove your tunic when the tent flap opens and one of the men return. “Did you forget something?” You ask and he chuckles darkly, “I wanted to see what the fuss is all about. Why did we lose men to retrieve you as our future empress? You must have a cunt made of gold.” He says and you try to open your mouth but he covers it with his palm, his other hand grabbing your waist to drag you against him. Your training kicks in and you bite down on his hand while elbowing him in the side, making him choke, and you rush out the tent, screaming for Marcus.

Marcus is talking with his men when he hears a scream of his name and instantly knows it’s you. His eyes dart towards the tent even as he draws his sword, lurching forward to race towards you as he sees your figure darting from between the tent and the men, looking behind you with an expression of pure terror. He sees one of his men chasing after you and he would have believed that you were trying to escape again if it weren’t for that scream and that you are racing towards him. When he reaches you, he throws his arm around your waist and drags you behind him roaring the name of the soldier as he plants his feet as a barrier between you and the other man. “What the fuck is going on?”

You cling to him, feeling safe with him in front of you. “He - he grabbed me in the tent. Came back alone and I tried to scream but he covered my mouth. He was - he said he wanted to know why I was chosen as empress. Said he wanted to know if I had a cunt made of gold.” The soldier scoffs, “she’s lying. She tried to escape. Bit my hand when I tried to stop her and she’s a lying cunt.”

“If she was trying to escape, she would not have screamed my name or run towards me.” Marcus growls, furious that one of his men would try to harm you. He points his sword at the man. “Tell the truth now or your death will be slow and painful.” He warns.

The soldier scoffs and rocks on his feet, his eyes narrowed towards you. “As if any man here would deny wanting to feel a virgin cunt around their cock? And the future empress? Fuck the Emperor and his ridiculous wars. We lost men retrieving this bitch. I wanted to see if she was worth the sacrifice.” He confesses, looking around to see if any of the others would back him up.

Marcus waits, giving the men time to speak up and voice their opinions but everyone is quiet. Feet shuffle and leathers creak as they stand and wait for their general’s wrath. He rocks his jaw. “I have lost men for a cause I would never have agreed with.” He admits. “But that is not her fault. And I have never condoned rape.”

The soldier scoffs, “men have taken what isn’t theirs throughout history. We need to remember that. Perhaps the General wants to save her for himself? That’s why he is kept in his tent.” The soldier digs a deeper hole and you step around Marcus. “I never asked to be taken from my home, from my people. I am sorry you lost men, so did I. I never asked for this and I certainly never asked to be taken against my will.” You stand tall, not letting the men see you are afraid.

Marcus lets you speak, knowing that it is your right. “You dared to try to defile the future empress of Rome.” He reminds the man. “Dishonoring your house, your name.” He reaches out and pulls you behind him again and steps forward. “The gods will judge you.” He declares, his sword coming up with a quick swing of his arms and he beheads your attacker without any hesitation. The headless body stands for a moment before collapsing onto the ground as his head rolls away. “Any man who seeks to take what is not his will be given the same.” His voice lifts and his words are stern. He looks back at the body and spits on it before dropping his sword.

You don’t flinch at the sight of the beheaded man. You’ve witnessed worse as the Princess of your kingdom. You never shied away from the horrors of war, knowing that you needed to experience it to lead your men. Marcus grabs your arm but you’re not scared of him as he escorts you to his tent. He releases your arm as soon as the flap to the tent closes and you turn to face him. “I’m sorry.” You spit out, worried that he’s angry with you.

“Did you try to seduce him?” Marcus demands and you hiss in anger. “No! I did not try to seduce him!” You look angry, but he can tell you are being truthful. “Then you have no reason to be sorry, princesa.” He responds quietly. “He made his decision to act like he did and it cost him his life. You did not cause it.”

You nod, knowing he's being reasonable, and you sigh, glancing at the bath. "I would like to bathe now." You say and Marcus has the man's blood splattered on his face. "You need to as well." You observe and he nods, "I will leave you." He says and you reach for his hand, "no. Can you - can you stay? I don't want to be alone." You plead softly and he nods, looking down at your hand. He turns his back to give you your privacy and you undress, sinking into the water.

Rage arms in his veins and he doesn’t dare to look into the mirror right now. Afraid of his own reaction. He hasn’t killed the man because he had attacked the future empress, he had killed him because he had dared to touch you. The possessiveness that is silent in his system is not good and he clenches his fists as he takes several deep breaths to calm himself down.

You slide your oils along your skin and it hits you. A sob escapes your lips as the reality of the past few days hits hard. You have been taken from your home, nearly watched your father be killed, nearly assaulted, and you are to marry a man you've never met. Your emotions run high and you sob, tears dropping into the water.

Marcus hears your muffled sobs and they rip at his heart. “You’re safe, princesa.” He says roughly, thinking you are overwhelmed from your attack. “No one will harm you while I live.”

His words wrap around you and you feel safe with the man tasked to take you. You are conflicted and your sobs calm, inhaling deeply as you wash your face, "thank you, Marcus." You murmur, watching his back as he stands guard.

“And I am sorry.” He confesses softly, feeling more like himself now. He doesn’t turn around and watches the tent flap for any movement outside. His back is tense as he stays turned away from you and you wash quickly, standing up, and you wrap the linen around your form. “You can look now.” You say, certain that he wants to wash off the blood of the dead soldier. “I have oils you can use.”

“Thank you.” He nods his head and starts to strip, not realizing his body is still hard. His cock jutting up in frustration and arousal. He knows you are not looking, so he doesn’t bother to turn away as he strips down.

You turn towards the tub at the same time he’s stripped and stepping in. His cock hard and your eyes widen. You have never seen a man naked like that before and it has your face heating up. “I have - the oils.” You choke, holding them out to him as he sinks into the water.

He sees how wide your eyes are and looks down. “Forgive me, princesa.” He murmurs, reaching out slowly to take the oils. “It sometimes happens on its own.” He confesses. “You don’t need to worry that I will act like the man I just killed.”

You shake your head, “no. No. I know. I just - I’ve never seen - you are beautiful.” You murmur, knowing he wouldn’t hurt you. Whether that’s for the emperor’s sake or yours, you don’t know, but you know he hasn’t harmed you.

His eyes watch you, surprised that you are saying such things to him. At least you don’t fear him. “I am just a man.” He tells you. “Thank you.”

You shake your head, “you’re a good man. You could’ve treated me badly, let your men touch him, maybe even taken me for yourself, but you didn’t. You’re a good man, Marcus.” You murmur, shifting to kneel by the tub.

He shakes his head. “Don’t praise me too quickly, princesa.” He growls softly. “You don’t know what I have thought, imagined.” His fingers curl around the edge of the tub and he looks back at you after looking away.

You frown, tilting your head in curiosity, “tell me what you’ve thought, imagined. Perhaps it will tarnish my opinion of you but I need to know.” You say, knowing you cannot hide from the truth. It’s better to face reality when you are on a journey to marry a man you do not know.

“Touching you.” Marcus confesses. “Taking you, for my own, seizing your innocence and showing you what it is like to have a man between your thighs.” He swallows harshly. “Not to have you as a prize but to experience your fiery passions and see what you could be.”

His words immediately make your stomach twist, your cunt clenching around nothing in a feeling not entirely foreign to you. You shuffle closer, placing your hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat. “I had a dream earlier. When I was riding on your horse. The rhythm of the horse and you pressed against me…I imagined you inside me, taking me without anyone knowing.” You confess and slide your hand lower, your eyes watching him for any protest as your hand trails until you are wrapping your fingers around his cock. He chokes, “you don’t-” You shush him, “let me touch you, General. Show me what to do.”

He should push your hand away, refuse you, but he feels frozen in place. His cock twitches in your hand, making the water ripple slightly and you gasp while tightening your grip on him. His hand slowly uncurls from the edge of tub and he covers your hand with his much larger one and he groans softly when he starts to slowly guide you in how to stroke him.

You are fascinated by the look on his face. He looks wrecked already and you love that you are making him feel this way. You squeeze him when his hand tightens around yours, setting the pace he wants.

“You don’t-“ Marcus closes his eyes and pants slightly. “It’s- just like that.” He tells you, knowing that you will do what you like and he’s too worked up to deny you.

You don’t listen to his protest because you want to do this. “You should know by now that I never do anything I don’t want to do, General.” You smirk and continue pumping his cock.

He knows that, he knows it very well. He lets go of your hand and lets you control his pleasure as you stroke. “Admire that.” He grunts.

You feel empowered by the way he groans, withering under your touch. This powerful general is moaning your name and you control his pleasure. It’s intoxicating and makes you wet as you control this part of your destiny. “I know. You are unlike any man I’ve ever known. So strong. So powerful. Yet you don’t abuse your position. I admire that.”

He groans softly. “Real power doesn’t require abuse.” He had  learned that from Marcus Aurelias and Maximus when he was younger and he had never forgotten it.

You continue pumping him, moving your hand a little faster and his hand falls away to grip the side of the tub, his neck elongated when he throws his head back. You can’t help but lean in to kiss the skin there.

The groan he gives you is almost pained, pleasurable in the most gut wrenching way. He says your name again, trying not to rock his hips up as you touch him. “That’s it, princesa.” He praises.

You kiss his neck, loving how you can feel his pulse beneath your lips while you squeeze his cock, instinctively twisting your wrist as you pump his cock. You want him to fall apart for you.

Marcus gasps out your name softly and he feels his body tense. Knowing that he is about to cum, he locks eyes with you.

You look at him, loving the way his lip curls slightly and you pump his cock. feeling it pulse in your grip and finally, he lets out a low groan of your name. Spurts of cum hit the back of your hand and his stomach and you watch him in fascination and arousal.

He rides out his orgasm with a groan and reaches down and stops your hand. “Princesa- you have to stop.” He tells you, wondering what you thought of the first time you touched a man.

His plea makes you chuckle and you loosen your grip on his cock, letting it soften against his belly, and you reach for the cloth to wash his skin. “You look so beautiful when you fall apart.” You murmur, caressing his cheek with your other hand.

“I should not have let you touch me.” He murmurs softly. “But there is something about you that makes me reckless.”The emperor would have him killed if he ever found out, but Marcus can’t find it in himself to care right now. “Did you enjoy making me weak?”

You lower your hand and dry your other hand off on the linen, still kneeling by the tub. “I did.” You smirk at the relaxed look on his face, “here are the oils.” You hand him one, “I’m sure you want to clean up after an arduous day.” You say and you offer him a shy smile now that the lust has passed from his eyes.

Marcus frowns for a moment before he takes the oils from your hand. “Thank you.” He should touch you, to give you the same pleasure, but you don’t seem to be wanting it. “I try to be clean when I sleep.” He tells you. “I rest better.”

You nod, shifting to stand up and you grab a tunic from his trunk, letting the linen drop from your body to pull his tunic over your head, letting him see your bare back and ass. You feel his eyes on you and that makes you smirk as you turn to face him while he washes off with the oils you gave him.

He feels like it’s deliberate, you wearing his tunic again. “You like my clothes.” He notices how you show off slightly, twisting as flaunting the shorter hem with a smirk on your face. “And you wonder why I view you as mine.” He snorts.

“They are more comfortable than my clothes.” You confess, brushing down the hem, “and I like that they are yours.” You add, making your way over to his bed to sit down, watching him rinse off and he shifts to stand up, water dripping from his form and you unashamedly drag your eyes down his body. “It makes me think that I’m yours.”

He stares at you for a moment. “I could give you pleasure.” He offers, wanting to touch you. “You would stay pure and still know what it’s like to have a man touch you.” It’s a risky offer, but he wants to have some claim over you right now.

His offer makes your body warm and you arch as he reaches for linen to dry himself off after he steps out the tub. He steps towards you once the linen is wrapped around his waist and you shift to kneel on the bed, reaching for the hem of his tunic to remove it. You pull it over your head and toss it to the floor, “touch me, Marcus. I want to know what it’s like.” You order, knowing you should hate the man who kidnapped you from your home but you want him, he’s unlike anyone you’ve ever met.

His gaze is focused, intense as he admires your body. “You are beautiful.” He growls, eyes roaming from your tits to your thighs, drinking in the sight of the curls that cover your cunt. “Lay back and spread your legs.” He orders. “Close your eyes to start.”

You follow his order, laying down on the pillows of his bed. Your heart is pounding and your stomach twists with anticipation when you spread your legs, allowing him to see your wet folds. “Close your eyes.” He reminds you and you close them, shivering in anticipation.

Marcus comes over to the bed and slides his hand up your thigh and holds your waist while he leans in and presses his lips to yours gently. Kissing you softly for your first kiss and capturing your gasp and sliding his tongue into your mouth when you open up slightly.

You reach up to cup his cheek, unsure of what to do. You’ve never kissed anyone before and you find yourself too eager, knocking your nose against his. He chuckles against your lips and tilts his head, sliding his tongue back into your mouth and you moan, keeping your eyes closed.

You yield to him, giving him a sense of conquest because he knows you would not just give in to anyone. His hand slides up and cups your breast as he breaks off the kiss to move his lips down your body. “Princesa, I will make you moan in pleasure and shake apart on this bed.” He promises right before he wraps his lips around your other nipple as he squeezes your tit in his hand.

You gasp, tangling your fingers in his damp hair while he bites and sucks on your nipple. “Oh gods.” You moan, your cunt clenching around nothing and you love these sensations. It’s more than you’ve ever felt. He releases your nipple with a pop and switches to the other one, making you whimper, your legs spreading wider to accommodate him between your thighs.

Marcus kneels between your spread thighs. Kissing and flicking his tongue against your sensitive nipples and switching back and forth between them. Until your legs are pressing against his hips and your whimpers have become loud. He can smell the arousal from how wet you are becoming and he bites down on your hard nipple before pulling off of it and kissing down your stomach. “Your cunt aches, doesn’t it?” He asks, wedging his shoulders between your thighs and hooking your legs over them. “Throbs?”

You nod, lost in the haze of the pleasure he’s already given you. You open your eyes to look down at him, his dark eyes fixed on your cunt and you whimper again. “It does. I- I need - I don’t know. Your fingers. Anything.” You beg a little, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath.

“Nothing but my tongue inside you.” He promises, knowing he can’t risk your innocence that way. He knows he can make you cum on his tongue. “Now you can watch.” He smirks. “Watch as I service you, show you what it feels like to have your cunt eaten.”

You watch him kiss your thigh, his breath washing hot over your cunt and you can’t stop the whine that escapes your lips. “Please, Marcus.” He chuckles and grips your thigh, keeping you spread open as he leans in to slide his tongue through your folds. The sound that escapes you is almost inhuman. You’ve never felt the wet, hot glide of a tongue there and it makes you cry out.

Your scent is almost as intoxicating as your taste. Marcus groans heavily as he takes another taste with a swipe of his tongue. Settling in to bury his face in your cunt and devour you completely. It has been a long time since he has tasted a woman and you make him ravenous.

His tongue carves a path no one else has taken and your back arches as the pleasure clouds your mind. You love it. You moan his name and tangle your fingers in his hair, letting him decide how he’s going to ruin you with his tongue.

Marcus focuses on your sounds. Sliding his tongue and flicking it to pull the prettiest sounds from you and repeating the actions when you obviously enjoy it. He loves how you are giving yourself into his care and letting him show you these pleasures. Claiming a piece of you that you could never give someone else because it is his.

Your hips rock up unconsciously trying to chase his tongue but he throws his arm over your waist, keeping you still so he can push his tongue into your dripping cunt. “Oh fuck.” You curse, “Marcus. That - it feels so good.” You almost choke on your words, overwhelmed by the feelings.

He hums against your folds, his nose pressed against your clit as he works his tongue deeper inside you. Feeling the way your walls try to clench down around him and he knows you would feel exquisite around his cock, but he can’t take your innocence.

He works you higher and higher with each swipe of his tongue. His broad shoulders stretch you wide for him to have access to all of you and he sucks on your clit, making you cry out loud enough that you’re certain his men hear you.

Marcus pulls his head away and smirks at you. “Not so loud, princesa.” He coos teasingly. “The men already think I am keeping you for myself.” He dives back into your folds after you slap your hand over your mouth to muffle your sounds.

You love how he’s claiming you like this. You want the men to know you are being kept by him but you understand how that’s dangerous for you both. You feel your stomach twist with a foreign feeling, clenching and your thighs tighten as the feeling spreads until you are moaning into your hand as you fall apart for him.

Marcus continues to suck on your clit, watching you with a possessive gaze and feeling his cock harden again. He can’t take you, but he wants you to enjoy every second of pleasure that courses through your veins. Pulling away when you are whimpering, before it turns to pain, he kisses your clit once more. His mouth is soaked with your juices and he licks his lips. “Beautiful, princesa.”

You whimper, overly sensitive to his touch and you run your fingers through his hair, loving how he looks ravenous still. “I wish you could fully claim me.” You confess breathlessly, “fill me up.”

“I cannot.” He comes up and presses his lips to your softly. “Not because I do not want to.” He promises. “I would not put you in that kind of danger.”

You sigh, nodding in understanding that the emperor would want a pure woman for empress otherwise you’ll likely be killed. You caress his cheek and swing your leg over his, feeling his hardening cock against your thigh. “Do you want me to-?” You ask but he shakes his head, reaching for your wandering hand to bring it to his chest. “No. Let’s rest. We have a long journey ahead of us.” He murmurs and kisses your forehead when you curl into his chest. “Goodnight Marcus.” You whisper and he hums, “goodnight, princesa.”

**** 

Everyday, he pleasures you with his mouth, spending more and more time with you wrapped around him as you muffle your cries. Sometimes even risking touching your clit while you are riding to the next encampment. He talks with you outside the bed, having thoughtful conversations and learning about you. Falling for you. You are sexy and intelligent, far too good for the spoiled emperor, but it is not his decision to make.

You blink as you awaken before Marcus. A rare opportunity. You look at him as he sleeps, the sheets and furs at his waist and his arm is under you, making your heart flutter. You’ve fallen for the man tasked with bringing you to the emperor. He’s strong, brave, smart, and not to blame for your kidnapping. He’s loyal and follows orders but he’s been in your bed, pleasuring you. You see his hard cock, tenting the sheets and you whimper, still wet from your nightly routine of him eating your cunt. You move slowly, not wanting to startle him, and you shift to straddle him. He doesn’t awaken and you smirk, deciding to take action when he won’t. He clearly wants you and he’s too rigid to take what is already his. You shift the sheets down and grip his cock, hovering naked over him, you decide to take your fate into your own hands and position him at your entrance. You sink down, watching his brow furrow as he stretches you out with his cock.

Marcus groans at the pleasure of his dreams, although night spent dreaming of being buried in your cunt. Of filling you until you are round with his child and keeping you. Your weight shifts and you hiss slightly, breaking through his sleep until his eyes open. Marcus grabs your hips, gasping your name as he tries to lift you off his cock before the damage can be done but all he manages is to bury himself deeper as he lurches up. “What have you done? Princesa-“ he chokes out, unable to say anything else as the weight of your actions washes over him. You are no longer pure.

You giggle, bending over to kiss him softly, “I don’t care. I want you. I don’t give a shit if the emperor knows I’m pure or sullied. I will claim I had lovers in my kingdom. He sent you so far away to claim me with no knowledge of my purity. I want you, Marcus. I’m yours. All of me.” You promise, kissing his chin as you adjust to his cock inside of you.

He closes his eyes and sighs softly, hands sliding up your back gently, caressing your spine. “He doesn’t deserve you.” He murmurs quietly. He loves you, he has completely been ensnared by your grace and beauty, your brilliance and your strength. “I am yours, princesa. Completely.”

You grin, pecking his lips, “I love you, General.” You promise and start to move on top of him. “Show me. I don’t - this is all new to me.” You murmur, reaching for his hands to bring them to your hips, wanting him to guide you.

“Does it hurt?” He frowns slightly and you roll your eyes and clench down around him. “No, it feels incredible.” You promise breathlessly. “Good.” Marcus hums. “Riding a man is similar to riding a horse.” He flashes you a grin. “Roll your hips and keep your seat.”

You furrow your brow in concentration and work on rocking your hips like you’re riding a horse. You tense your thighs and moan when the sensation makes your spine tingle. “Oh gods.” You choke, “you feel so big inside me.” You grab his hand to place it on your belly so he can feel himself pressing against your womb.

Marcus growls in pleasure, watching you with dark eyes and tensing underneath you. “You feel perfect around my cock, princesa. So tight.” He rocks his hips up slightly and makes your tits bounce.

You moan when he rocks his hips up and you fall forward onto his chest, your hands pressed against his pecs and you rock back onto his cock. He feels incredible inside you and you love it. He feels like everything you’ve imagined since you started an intimate relationship with him. “Fuck.” You curse, feeling him twitch inside you and he grabs your hips, keeping you still so he can thrust up into you. “Ohhhh.” Your moan is garbled as you let him fuck you and it has your body tensing. You clamp down on his cock, eyes squeezed shut at how good it feels.

He can’t spill inside you. He can’t risk planting his seed in your womb. He plants his feet on the bed and holds you tight. “Cum for me.” He growls. “Cum, princesa.”

His words tip you over the edge, crying out as you collapse against his chest. Cunt spasming around his cock as you soak him. 

Marcus flips you over, needing to be in control so that he can pull out of you when he’s about to cum. Now that you have seen the stars, he starts to hammer into you ruthlessly. Groaning your name as he fucks you.

You watch him, jaw clenched as he fucks into you hard and fast. You are pushed up the bed and the sheets shoved to the floor as he fucks you. You cling to him, scratching down his back as he prolongs your orgasm and you want him to cum for you. “Shit, I need - want to see you cum.”

“Have to- have to pull out.” He pants, neck straining and he grits his teeth. “Fuck.” He hisses, loving how wet and tight you are. How you fit around him like armor. He rocks his hips another half dozen times and when you nip his jaw with your teeth, he’s pulling back. Quickly pulling out of your cunt and throbbing against your belly as he paints your skin with his seed. “Fuuuuuuuck.”

You can’t deny you’re disappointed he didn’t fill you up but you know it’s too risky. Arriving in Rome full of his baby would be a death sentence and you reach between you, pumping his cock to wring him dry with a moan of his name in the aftermath of your pleasure.

Marcus rocks his hips into your grip until every drop of his cum is painting your skin. “I love you, princesa.” He murmurs softly, leaning in and kissing your lips before he shifts off of you to collect a linen to clean you up.

“I love you too, my General.” You murmur, watching him as he carefully cleans your skin. You love him. That much is clear and you don’t know what the days ahead hold for you but you know you must let him go when the time comes. For both your sakes. For now, you’ll enjoy the journey to Rome.

**** 

“Princesa-“ Marcus wakes with a groan as you slip into his bedchambers he has been graciously given until the wedding between you and Caracalla. The emperor had been very pleased with your arrival and had arranged feasts and games in honor of the upcoming nuptials. All arranged to best his brother and to show off the extravagance of Rome. Tonight, Marcus had drank too much heavy wine during the feast, trying to drink his sorrows away since you will be marrying the emperor in two days time. “You should not  be here.” Every night since arriving, you have snuck into his bed and every night he reminds you that this is risky. Even as he is pulling you towards him, he knows he should push you away. You are already naked, having stripped before slipping into his bed.

“I know but I need you, Marcus. We don’t have a lot of time left before I am in Caracalla’s bed. You are dreading marrying the emperor. He’s childish, selfish, and clearly deranged. You do not want to marry him but you have no choice. He’s already threatened you when you pushed back on the wedding being so soon. You straddle him, leaning down to kiss his lips, “take me, Marcus. I want you to claim me. Show me that I belong to you.”

He cannot deny you, not when his own heart aches so fiercely because of your fates. “I love you.” He promises, reaching up and cupping your cheek as he wraps his other arm around you to roll you into your back. “You are mine. I have touched you in ways no other man ever has.”

You look up at him, your heart pounding in your chest, and you ache for him. You want to be in his bed every night. You want to be his. You don’t give a damn about being empress, you want to be his wife. Even without a title. You’re wet for him already, having thought about him all day, and he groans when he slides the head of his cock through your folds.

“Mine, princesa.” Marcus promises with a groan as he starts to push into you slowly. Rolling his hips as he savors the feel of breaking you open again. No matter how often you have had sex, he is obsessed with the way your body gives under the pressure of his cock against your walls.

You take him like you’re made for him and you think you are. You are destined for each other but unable to be together. Star crossed lovers. You throw your head back as he rocks into you, his lips finding your neck and you grip his shoulders, “I love you.” You gasp, wrapping your legs around him.

“Isn’t this sweet?” Dread races down Marcus’s spine as he hears a voice that makes him freeze above you. The voice of his emperor. Twisting his head, he finds Geta smirking as he strolls into the light from a corner of the room. “You love each other.” He hums mockingly, eyes alight with manic glee. “I told my brother that there was something between you, but he didn’t believe me.” Anger flashes across the man’s face before it’s replaced with nonchalance. “Now he will.” He declares before he raises his voice. “Guards!”

You cry out as Marcus pulls out of you and is immediately ripped off of you, guards grabbing him and you try to scramble from the bed but the guards grab your legs, pulling you back and you scream as you are held naked in front of Geta who walks over to you and grips your chin. Your lip curls in disgust and he chuckles, “my brother thought he was so clever, bringing a foreign princess to marry. He hoped you’d be pliable, dutiful, obedient. You wouldn’t be corrupted by the pleasures of Rome but it appears our great General has shown them to you. Taken you as his own despite his emperor’s orders. You’re nothing but a foreign whore.” Geta scoffs and you can’t help it. You spit at him and he hisses, his hand coming up to slap your cheek.

“Don’t touch her!” Marcus barks, but the men who are holding him are not his own soldiers, loyal to him. They are loyal to Geta, to Caracalla. The emperor turns towards Marcus with a raised brow and a smirk on his face. “I believe those were your orders, General.” He snorts. “You disobeyed.”

Your cheek stings but you don't let Geta see you cry, knowing this means your death. You doubt the Emperors will allow this to pass without punishment but you will not be a withering flower. You'll stand strong until the last moment.

“I seduced her.” Marcus confesses, hoping that you might be spared from execution. “Take my life and spare her.”

"No!" You cry and try to move but the guards keep you against them. "No. I - I let him seduce me. I should've kept my legs shut. He's a man. He took what was offered. Take me. Not him." You plead, knowing Rome needs him. They never needed you. Marcus shakes his head and Geta chuckles, his lips pouting, "awwww the lovers want to die for each other. No need. You'll die together. In front of Rome." He promises and looks to the guards, "take them to the cells."

Marcus starts to struggle, shouting at Geta and the men until he is hit over the head with a sword and crumples to the ground unconscious. Dragged away without any consideration as you are pulled out of the room, still naked, to be taken to the cells beneath the palace.

You are dragged down to the cells and you are pushed into one, thrown on the floor without any clothes given to you. You hear the door to the cell next to you open and your eyes widen, knowing Marcus will be there. You wait until the footsteps of the guard fade and you rush up to the door, gripping the bars. "Marcus." You call, hoping he is awake and can hear you, "Marcus."

Marcus groans, head pounding but he hears you call his name again. “Princesa.” He chokes out, stumbling to his feet and managing to make it to the door. His head is bleeding and his eyes can’t focus, but he doesn’t care about that. “Are you hurt?” He demands.

"No. No. Are you okay?" You ask, wanting to hear that he's not in pain. "I'm fine. Nothing I can't handle." He says and you rest your forehead against the bars, "how do we escape?" You ask, hoping he has a plan.

Marcus closes his eyes. “We don’t.” He admits quietly. “My men have been sent home, everyone here is loyal to the emperors.” He sighs. “I failed you, Princesa.”

You choke on a sob, the reality of your fate hitting you and you sink down against the door, resting your back against it. "I wish things were different. We never should have come to Rome. We could've gone back to my lands. You could've been my prince and we - we would get married, have children. We could've - we could've died in old age, in peace."

“Not in this life, my love.” Marcus knows that he must face death with strength, but tears slip down his cheeks for you. “In another life, perhaps.” He closes his eyes. “I will search for you.”

You nod even though he can't see you, "in another life. I'll love you even in death, my General. I'll find you in the next life." You promise, "I'll never stop searching." You sob and before you know it, you hear footsteps from the hall and your heart pounds. "Marcus!" You cry and you back up when the door is pushed open. "It's okay. What are you doing?" He growls when he's pushed back into the cell. "You will bathe and dress. You'll be brought in front of the emperors." The guards order and a tub is brought in, a handmaid bringing your clothes to dress you and do your hair.

Marcus prays that Caracalla has overruled Geta. That he will spare your life. “Do what they say.” He orders you softly. “Do what you must to survive.” He knows his own life is forfeit but if you live, he will die at peace.

You are silent as you dress, preparing to stand before the emperors, and the guards soon arrive to take you away. The door is opened, your hand maid crying which makes your stomach twist, but you keep your head high. You want to speak to Marcus before you’re dragged off so you step towards his door. He’s standing then and you reach between the bars to touch him. “I love you. I don’t regret a thing.” You promise, “I love you, Marcus.” You promise and the guards drag you away, making you cry out as Marcus says “I love you too. Always.” You keep your head high as you’re escorted through the halls until you are taken outside. You frown and that frown turns into panic when you approach a large platform. People gathered in the piazza with the emperors sat down in their thrones. “Ah, welcome.” Geta says your name as you are shoved onto the platform and your hands shake but you grab your robes. Caracalla walks over to you, gripping your chin, “you betrayed me. You let him touch you. I cannot have a whore for empress. I could never confirm my heir is mine. You’ll suffer for your affair. I must show Rome that we do not allow such insolence.” Caracalla hisses and you know that this is the moment you die. You refuse to let them see that you’re terrified and you are pushed to kneel after your hands are tied behind your back. You keep your shoulders back as the soldier pulls his sword from his side and you hear a cry. Turning your head, you see Marcus being dragged to the side of the platform and your strength dissolves. He is to be killed as well. “Ah, General. Please watch. You’ll see what we do to traitors to the empire. Stand there and watch her die. You’ll soon be joining her.” The emperors laugh and you have tears running down your cheeks as Marcus tries to get out of the grip of the five men holding him. “I love you.” You mouth just as the sword is brought down and it all goes black.

“Nooooooo!” Marcus howls in rage as your head is separated from your body and he struggles against the men, breaking free with one hand and grabbing for the swords they carry. Tears sting his eyes and all he can think about is avenging you. Killing the emperors that have ordered your death. “Bastard!” He shouts out, the people silent as they watch the commotion. “She was never yours! She never agreed to marry you! You kidnapped her from her home!” He shouts, wanting the people to know exactly why you had died. How you had been brought to Rome. The soldiers holding him had fallen back after he had grabbed the sword. “She was not yours to claim! She was mine!”

Caracalla raises his hand, telling the soldiers to come forward to surround Marcus as he swings the sword. "I sent for her. She was mine from the moment my soldiers left Rome to find her. She was my key to securing her lands. You had orders and you failed. You fucked her, claimed her as yours, without permission and the gods will punish you. Who wants their emperor to be justified?" Caracalla asks the crowd who cheers, "the people want their emperor to be happy. And you know what would make me happy? Seeing you dead beside her. Traitors in life and in death." He claps his hands and the soldiers move closer to Marcus.

Marcus knows he will die, that is his fate, especially now that you are already walking through the Elysian Fields. Instead of battling the men who have been ordered to kill him, he drops his sword. “Rome will consume you.” He predicts. “She will rise against you and you will fall.”

Caracalla scoffs and Geta rolls his eyes while the soldiers grab Marcus and drag him to the stage. He kneels down, jaw clenched in defiance, and he growls, "fuck the emperors." His last words before the sword comes down and his head rolls on the floor moments later. The emperor grins, reaching down to grab his head, blood dripping onto the floor. "May everyone know that this is what Rome does to traitors. Even a General and a Princess are not exempt from the hand of the law." Caracalla declares and the crowd is silent. General Marcus Acacius is dead. The Roman Empire is crumbling.

**** 

All his life, Marcus has awoken with the knowledge that he has walked these roads before. It had been present every day, even if he could not articulate it. The sense that he had smelled that scent before, or tasted that fruit is always hanging on the edge of his consciousness. The nagging sense of déjà vu that had plagued him. His grandmother had called him an old soul, one who had lived lives before and it makes sense, considering he was named after a Roman general who had betrayed his emperors for love.

You huff as you drag your suitcase up the steps to the hotel your best friend had booked for her wedding. Of course she had to get married in Rome. Her husband-to-be is from the city. She had met him during her semester abroad and now years later they are getting married. You had flown over to Italy to be her maid of honor. You take a break and wipe your brow, your dress taking up a lot of space in your case, and you inhale deeply as you drag your case up the stairs to the entrance of the hotel. "Fuck me." You pant when you walk into the glass door, your brain starved of oxygen after your climb. You hear a chuckle behind you and you groan when a large hand reaches for the door to open it. You hear him ask you something in Italian, and you frown, head hurting, and you try to remember the phrases from the book you bought with you. "I'm sorry. I don't speak Italian." You say as you turn to look at him, and your eyes widen. Your embarrassment has been witnessed by the most gorgeous man you've ever seen.

The second he sees the eyes of the pretty American, he knows that he’s met you before. In some life. It’s the instant quickening of his heart racing in his chest makes him smile. “Why would you come to Rome if you do not speak Italian?” He teases, reaching for your bag to take it for you.

He feels familiar and you wonder why, your heart pounding in your chest and your palms get sweaty as he carries your bag into the cool reception area. "Thank you. And for the record, I have been studying. Piacere di conoscerla." Your brow furrows in concentration and the man smiles at you, making you feel even more lightheaded. He grins, "pleasure to meet you." He replies in English and asks your name. You give it to him and his brow furrows, his stomach twisting. "My father is a historian. He loves Ancient Rome. He has come here many times on different trips for work." You confess, unsure why you are telling a stranger this but it feels like you've known him your entire life.

“Interesting.” Marcus licks his lips. “There was once a Princesa during the reign of Emperors Geta and Caracalla with that name.” He tells you. “Do you know the story?” He asks, wondering if you are here by chance, but he feels like you are not. “The lovers, right?” You ask, nodding and he smiles. “General Marcus Acacius fetched her from her home, stole her - from a bordering kingdom.” He had been told the story so many times as a child he can recite it by heart. “Falling for the strong and brave princesa during their journey to Rome where she was to marry Emperor Caracalla. They became lovers, star crossed, of course.” He frowns slightly, feeling an ache in his heart like he did every time this part of the story was told. “He watched as she was executed by the Emperor’s command after they were discovered but not before they had vowed to find each other in the next life.”

“How tragic and romantic. Put Romeo and Juliet to shame.” You quip and he nods, “their story was told many times during the fall of the empire. If a general wasn’t immune from punishment, then the plebeians certainly weren’t. The uprising began that day and Rome crumbled eventually.” He tells you and you nod, “I hope they found each other in another life.” You confess and tilt your head, “I still don’t know your name.” Just as the words leave your mouth, there’s footsteps down the stairs and your best friend squeals as she rushes towards you. “You’re here!” She hugs you and you hug her back, excited for her and her wedding. “And I see you have already met our best man. This is Marcus.” She says and you look at the man who helped you with your case. You murmur your name, “and Marcus. Like the story.” You offer him a soft smile and he winks at you, turning towards the groom to embrace him with a hug. “Antonio and Marcus served in the army together.” Lucille whispers as you turn to look at the men and you watch Marcus. He’s older than you, but he’s handsome. “And he’s single.” Your friend whispers and you roll your eyes, “don’t. I don’t want to be a cliché.” You whisper back and she giggles, taking your hand to drag you to the reception. She speaks in Italian to check you in and soon enough, a key is placed in your hand.

Antonio smirks as Marcus watches you walk away. “I didn’t tell you her name so it would be a surprise.” He chuckles, knowing how much Marcus enjoys telling that story of the Roman General. Marcus snorts and shakes his head. “I was watching her ass.” He tells his best friend honestly, who laughs. “She’s single.” He informs him. “Marnie made sure to tell me to pass that along.” He grins at Marcus. “I think she’s hoping that our two best friends hook up at her wedding.”

Marcus snorts, “you know I have that thing with Maria.” He says and Antonio rolls his eyes, “where you fuck her and she goes off to date men twice her age for money and she won’t commit? I love you, man, but you know that’s not serious. You want serious. You want the whole package.” Antonio knows his best friend and Marcus sighs, watching you as you walk towards the stairs with your case. “Get her case. Your rooms are next to each other. Marnie’s doing.” The groom holds his hands up and Marcus snorts but follows his direction. “Can I get your bag?” He asks and you nod, “I’m not built for this. We have elevators as big as a bathroom in the States.” You joke and Marnie beams as she looks between you. “Go settle in. We have a welcome dinner at eight and tomorrow it’s a spa day before the rehearsal dinner.” She says and you nod, hugging her before you make your way upstairs, followed by Marcus who carries your case. “What have you got in here? Bricks?” He teases and you giggle, “a girl has to be prepared for anything.” You tease and step onto the floor where your room is. You look at the numbers until you find it, placing the key card against the lock. “Thank you for carrying my case.” You say to Marcus after he places your case down in your room, his chest heaving a little and you get a little lost in his dark eyes. “You’re welcome, princesa.” He teases and your stomach lurches, your heart pounding at the nickname. “Thank you, General.” You tease, reminded of the story. His eyes widen a little and he reaches for his key card. “Turns out I’m next door so if you need anything, just knock.” He says and you nod, “thanks again.” He shuts your door and you slump down on the bed, looking up at the ceiling with a smile on your face. Maybe coming to this wedding alone wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

Marcus has already unpacked his tuxedo hanging up and he sighs, feeling restless. He can hear you moving around next door and he decides to go see if you would like to sightsee with a translator. He feels drawn to you and Antonio is right, his arrangement with Maria isn’t satisfying. He needs to know if the connection he feels to you is real. He checks his hair and feels like his stomach is twisting as he knocks on your door.

You had showered and gotten changed into a sundress. The Italian sun is still hot and you are surprised by the knock on your door. You walk over to it, opening it and your heart thumps when you see Marcus standing there. “Hi.” You offer softly and he rubs the back of his neck, “hi. I, uh, I wondered if you wanted to see some of the sights. I know you’re going to be busy with wedding stuff but I have a friend who does tours and I wanted to show you Rome.” Your eyes widen at the gesture and he falters, “or not. If you’re busy.” You shake your head, “no. I’d love to. Let me just grab my purse.” You step back to grab your things and make sure you have your room key then you step into the hall with Marcus.

Marcus smiles as he guides you towards the stairs. “It has been a long time since I have walked the ruins as a tourist.” He explains. “I am an archeologist. So this is my passion and my job.”

“Wow. You know your stuff.” You grin, excited to see the sights with someone who knows so much about the ruins. You make your way downstairs and you adjust your purse on your shoulder as you exit the hotel and make your way down the stairs where you met Marcus. “No need for a gym with these steps.” You joke as you make your way down and Marcus chuckles, “we are a city of walkers but we do have quicker ways to get around.” He guides you over to his Vespa and your eyes widen, “I’ve never - this would be my first time.” You confess and Marcus opens the seat to grab two helmets. “You’ll be safe. I promise. I won’t let anything happen to you.” You nod and he places the helmet on your head, buckling it under your chin and you bite your lip at the feel of his hands on your skin.

Marcus feels his skin tingling when he touches you and once your helmet is in place, he smiles as he turns to climb on. “Wrap your arms around me, Princesa.” He instructs. “I would let you ride in front of me, but your pretty dress would fly up.” He’s smirking slightly, but you just nod and take a moment to settle in behind him, the weight of your arms comforting around his stomach. “I will keep you safe.” He promises.”

For some reason, his words warm you to your core and you believe him. He revs the engine and pulls away after kicking the kickstand up and you’re soon riding through the streets of Rome. Your eyes are wide at the sights and you wrap your arms around him a little tighter, letting him take you where he wants to go. You’re happy to be with him, feeling a sense of comfort like you’ve never known before.

American tourists have movies about Roman holidays so Marcus might zip through traffic a little more recklessly than he might have normally. If only to feel you squeeze him a little tighter, turning back to see your eyes wide as you take in the city he loves. Smiling like you are flying through the air. Perhaps a little romantic dreaminess in your eyes, like it’s something out of a fairy tale. He takes you around to all the famous sights. Skirting along the edges of the cars as he makes his way to the best examples of Ancient Rome, his own dig site.

You watch the city pass by until Marcus comes to a stop in an area that’s fenced off from the public. “Are we allowed to be here?” You ask, glancing around as he swings his leg over the bike and helps you over, reaching up to unbuckle your helmet. “We are allowed to be here” is all he says and you trust him as he locks the bike and takes your hand to guide you to the padlock. He pulls the key from his pants and opens it, escorting you inside the restricted area. “What is this?” You ask and he flicks on some of the overhead lamps, showcasing the dig site. “My latest project.” He says and your eyes widen, “wow.”

He watches as you look around curiously, the building had been built to protect the site and he smiles as he motions to the half excavated site. “We are right outside what would have been Geta and Caracalla’s palace.” He explains motioning to the center of the sight. “This area was their piazza, the place where they showed Rome their treachery.” He frowns slightly. “This is the spot where the general and the princesa were executed.” He hops down into the pit, to the stone platform and offers his hand to you to help you down. “Eventually, the people of Rome would have both emperors killed right here as well.”

As soon as he says the words, a sense of dread washes over you and you shiver, your head aching as a flash of a crowd looking up at you hits you. “Are you okay?” Marcus asks and you inhale deeply, nodding as you look at the site. “Yeah. Just - a lot of history to take in.” You confess and take his hand, letting him help you down to inspect the site he had excavated.

He wonders if you feel it, if the icy fingers of dread had inched down your spine. If you remembered like he had. People would think that he was crazy if he told them the truth. “We found the site a year ago.” He murmurs, his voice not carrying very far as he crouches down. “But we have uncovered so much. Look, there is a sword right here.” The first layers of the artifact have been uncovered but removing and cataloging the items had not been possible before he had closed the site for the wedding. His team would not work without him there.

You kneel down beside him, eying the sword that looks so familiar. “Incredible. Did - did you feel that? The dread?” You ask, voicing his question as the feeling hovers over you like this is an area you’ve been to before. “It’s so strange. I feel like I know this place.” You confess and glance down at the sword, “this sword feels familiar but it can’t be. It’s just my mind.”

“I feel it.” Marcus admits quietly, reaching for your hand and guiding it towards the relic. “I want to see something.” He murmurs, hoping you get the same flashback he does when he touches the sword.

Your fingertips touch the sword and you gasp, seeing an image of Marcus but he’s wearing armor, a scar on his face, and he is holding the sword, standing beside two men with blonde hair. “Oh my God.” You choke and he tilts his head, “what did you see?” He asks and you swallow, your throat dry. “You. But - but you’re wearing armor. Ancient armor. You’re standing next to two men with blonde hair.” You reveal, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Princesa.” Marcus murmurs, reaching out and cupping your cheeks as he turns towards you. “I have been looking for you for lifetimes.” He confesses softly. “Always looking, never finding you, until now.” He frowns slightly and sighs. “I was killed, right after you were, right here. Our bodies next to one another.” He sees the confusion in your eyes. “We are fated to be together again, since we were star-crossed so many years ago.”

You are confused, trying to process his words and the images become clearer. You and Marcus knew each other, loved each other, in another life. You can see the love in his eyes despite knowing each other for a few mere hours. You lean closer, “Marcus. Finally.” You murmur, pressing your forehead against his as it all becomes clearer. You have found him. Your love. “This is crazy.” You confess, gripping his wrists but you don’t love his hands, “you don’t even know me as I am now.”

“It does not matter.” Marcus hums. “I know your soul, just as you know mine.” His thumb brushes gently over your cheekbone. “I have waited so long to see you again, to kiss you once more.” All his relationships have never worked because they weren’t you, his princesa.

You can’t believe this is happening but it feels so right, like this is what you’ve been waiting for. All those relationships that fell apart because they weren’t him. You can’t help it. You surge forward to press your lips to his and you immediately feel like you’re home when his lips touch yours. It’s a feeling you’ve never experienced before.

Marcus groans into your mouth, pulling you closer and thanking the gods that he had been right. That he had trusted his instincts. “Princesa,” he growls, sliding his tongue into your mouth and deepening the kiss.

You let go of his wrists and wrap your arms around his neck, pulling his body closer to yours. His tongue sliding against yours and you whimper into his mouth, flashes of the time you spent with Marcus in a past life go through your mind and make you fall in love with a man you knew all those lifetimes ago.

Marcus kisses you again and again, learning how you like to be kissed now and it fuses with the memories he has carried for his entire life. Breaking away to look into your eyes as he pants slightly. “I am sorry.” He murmurs softly. “I wish I could have protected you then.”

You shake your head, pecking his lips. “Don’t. There’s nothing you could’ve done. We were destined for death and we are here now. We are safe. We can be together. I- I live in the States and you’re here but…one of us will have to move. I do love pasta.” You confess with a smirk, “and Italian men.”

Marcus chuckles softly and lifts his chin to kiss your forehead. “How do you feel about living in an apartment that overlooks the old city?” He asks. “My place is only a few blocks from here. I’m staying in the hotel because of the wedding party and being the best man.”

“I’d say I better start learning Italian.” You grin, knowing your parents won’t understand your move but you do. There’s no way you’re going to be parted from him now. Marcus chuckles and it warms you. “We should be heading back for the welcome dinner.” He says after he checks his watch and you nod, letting him help you stand up and you glance around the place where you were killed all those years ago. He escorts you back to his Vespa and you are back in the hotel after he speeds through the small streets of the city. He holds your hand as you enter the hotel and you are soon outside your rooms, “I better get ready for the dinner.” You murmur, leaning against him and you kiss his jaw.

“You will look gorgeous, princesa.” He murmurs, turning his head and kissing your lips again. “Although I cannot say you look better than the bride, it will be bad manners.”

You giggle, “no. She will look gorgeous. God, I want to invite you into my room but we don’t have time.” You whine, sliding your hands down his linen shirt, “later. Later I want you in my bed, baby.”

Marcus hums in agreement. “Tonight.” He agrees. “No one will interrupt us. I can relearn how you taste.” He growls, leaning in and nibbling on your earlobe. “I can recall it even now, princesa.”

Anyone who could hear you would think you’re crazy but to you and Marcus, this is very real. You whimper and step back before you allow yourself to give in and forget about the reason that you’re here. You shower and dress in one of the pretty dresses you’d packed for the wedding events, grabbing your clutch, and you hear a knock on your door. You open it and see Marcus standing at your door, looking devastatingly handsome in his jacket with his shirt slightly unbuttoned. “God, this isn’t fair. Do you think they’d miss the best man and maid of honor if we went missing?” You tease, trailing your eyes along his form.

His eyes flash in amusement and even though he wants to push you back into the room and strip you out of the at dress, he extends his arm. “It’s an Italian wedding.” He jokes. “They expect it.” You beam at his offer and immediately step forward and wrap your hand around his arm. “Tell me, princesa, do you still like to ride horses?”

You nod, “I grew up riding horses. Felt instantly drawn to it and now I know why.” You squeeze his arm and he helps you downstairs to the welcome dinner full of family and friends. Marnie and Antonio see you and Marcus, their eyebrows raised as you hold hands and Marnie giggles, “I didn’t think you two would hook up that fast. But it seems my matchmaking skills have surpassed my expectations.” She teases and you grin, looking at Marcus, “it feels like I’ve known him forever.” Marcus winks at you and your friends beam until they are dragged away and Marcus takes you to the bar to get you a drink.

Marcus keeps his hand on your waist possessively as he turns towards the bartender. “What kind of drink would you like, princesa?” He asks, making you smile at the nickname. “Whatever you will have.” He nods and loves how you trust him with choosing for you. “Renato Ratti Barolo Serradenari.” He tells the bartender before he leans into your ear. “It reminds me of the wine we drank while we were traveling to Rome.”

You grin, “we drank a lot of wine during that journey and I seem to remember you drank it from me instead of a cup many times.” You smirk and he chuckles, his hand sliding a little lower, “best way to drink it.” You giggle and the bartender sets your glasses down just as a hand curls around Marcus’s arm. “I’ve been looking all over for you, lover.” She coos, leaning in towards Marcus.

“Maria.” Marcus lifts a brow as he turns towards the statuesque blonde. “I didn’t think you could come?” She had claimed that she was too busy to accompany him, and now she is here when he would want her anywhere else. “My schedule cleared.” Her bright smile is stiff, having been canceled on by her current conquest. It’s frustrating and she needs the comfort of Marcus before she starts her search for a wealthy man to marry again. “Now I’m all yours for the weekend.” She promises, dropping a kiss on the edge of his mouth before turning towards you. “Oh! Who is your little friend?” The first part of the conversation was in Italian, but now she switches to English for your benefit.

Marcus says your name, “she’s the maid of honor and my date.” He confesses, “the love of my life and I will be spending tonight with her. I’m glad you could make it Maria but tonight, I have my princesa.” He squeezes your waist and you lean into him, giving her a smile, “it’s a pleasure to meet you.” You don’t feel threatened, knowing Marcus wouldn’t continue his relationship with her now that he’s found you again.

“The love of your life?” She huffs in confusion, not expecting him to so blatantly turn down her company. “Princesa?” Her eyes narrow. “That nickname you moan every night in your sleep? This is her?”

Marcus nods, rubbing your hip, “it’s her. I have long dreamed of this beautiful creature and now she’s here. I am hers and she is mine.” He admits and your heart thumps, knowing this sounds crazy but you are a love story centuries in the making. You place your hand on his chest, “yours.” You promise and he smiles, kissing your forehead.

Maria is dumbfounded, unable to speak and she turns on her heel and walks away. He pulls you closer. “Apologies, princesa.” He murmurs softly. “I did not know she would show up, but I will talk with her and let her know that we are no more.” He gazes into your eyes lovingly. “No one else could ever capture my interest.”

You shake your head, "it's okay. We didn't even know this was possible until today. I cannot be angry with you for keeping company." You caress his chest, "and we know the truth. Everyone else is going to be confused." You remind him and he nods, knowing that the story is unbelievable. You are soon seated opposite each other at the welcome dinner and you stretch your leg out to caress his while everyone eats their dessert.

His dark eyes meet yours, smirking slightly as you trail your foot up his let and press against his crotch lightly. Despite the centuries apart, you are still bold and have no problem in taking what you want. He reaches down and squeezes your foot playfully while Antonio asks him a question that makes him look away from you.

Marnie grabs your attention, talking to you about the spa session for tomorrow and you half listen, watching Marcus speak to the groom until the bride nudges you. "What's up with your both? It's like you've known each other forever." She observes and you shrug, "it just feels right. Like I was meant for him." You see Marcus wink at you from across the table, caressing your foot. "Good. I thought he was perfect for you." You nod and smirk at Marcus, eager for him.

“Maria looked unhappy.” Antonio observes with a smirk. He’s never hidden the fact that he’s never cared for Marcus’s previous lover so he seems to be thrilled. “Just- don’t hurt her. Marnie will make me hurt you if you do.” He jokes, rolling his eyes, but Marcus snorts. “I would rather cut my own arm off.” He promises seriously. “She is precious and I will keep her heart safe.”

You feel bad but you are eager for the dinner to be over and not soon enough, it is. "Go. Go." Marnie orders when you hug her and you reach for Marcus's hand when you are finally free of maid of honor duty for the night. He smirks, guiding you through the crowd until you are walking up the stairs and you giggle when he slaps your ass.

He is eager to touch you again. To find out if the same things he had done to you so long ago still works. “You have no problem with the stairs now.” He teases, chuckling when you huff and roll your eyes.

You open your clutch, finding your keycard when you reach your door and you moan when he presses against you, his lips finding your neck and his hands on your hips. You lean back against him, tilting your head as you blindly try to unlock the door.

“Princesa, when was the last time you had a man touch you?” He doesn’t care that you’ve had other lovers, he just wants to make sure that he prepares you properly. He twitches against your ass and grinds against you. “Eaten your pussy like it is a luscious desert?”

You whimper at his words, "I had - my ex and I broke up a few weeks ago. It didn't work. I didn't know why but he wasn't you. I've been tested." You reassure him, "no one has ever made me feel like this and you haven't even touched me." You whine and grind back against him, the door finally opening with a beep.

“I’ll get tested.” He promises, sure that Maria wouldn’t give him something, but he will want to give you that reassurance. “This time I can wear a condom.” He guides you inside and spins you around to press you against the door as it closes. “Then I will spill inside you like I wanted to do so many times we were together in that life.”

You moan, "yes. So many times I wanted you to do it. Knock me up and claim me so he couldn't." You confess, your hands sliding up to push his jacket from his shoulders, your fingers immediately working on the buttons of his shirt when the jacket is on the ground.

He holds your chin with his two fingers and tips your head up to take his kiss, pouring himself into the way his mouth slots against yours. Pressing you into the door more firmly as he grabs your ass and pulls you up to allow your legs to wrap around his waist.

You wrap your legs around him and he turns, carrying you over to the bed, your heels dropping to the floor on the journey over and you moan when he lays you down. "I've missed this view." You tease while he shrugs off his shirt, exposing his chest.

“That bed in our tent, covered with furs to keep you warm.” He chuckles. “Although you preferred to wear me at night.” His hands slide under your dress to drag your panties down and peel them off your legs to toss away. “Wearing my tunics.”

You sigh in delight when his hands caress your legs after he tosses your panties over his shoulder. "You loved me in those tunics." You giggle and he nods, "I fucking did." You grin and his hands push your dress higher, "don't tease me, baby. I have waited many lifetimes for this moment."

“Not teasing.” He huffs. “Appreciating.” He reaches under your arm for the zipper to your dress. “We have all night. Nothing to stop us or come between us.” He reaches for the strap and drag them down to expose your tits to his delighted eyes. “Watching you bathe that first time made me ache. Wanted you then.”

You lift your hips so he can drag your dress off your body and you shiver in anticipation. "I would've taken you that night. I hated you for kidnapping me but also thought you were incredibly strong and handsome. I would've let you fuck me but I was pissed at you." You smirk until his hands find your tits, squeezing them to make you moan his name.

He loves that you’ve retained all your memories, or recovered them. Knowing that while you have to learn about each other now, you do know the people you used to be, the history you shared. “I was still denying myself.” He settles down between your thighs and presses his nose against your bare cunt. “No hair.” He hums, inhaling your scent with a grin. “But you still smell the same. Let me see if you taste the same.”

You can't believe how many memories are coming back to you when hours ago, you didn't know the man between your thighs existed. His tongue slides through your folds and you moan, closing your eyes as your fingers tangle in his hair.

He can almost smell the smoke from the camp fires as he licks into you. Tasting you again and twitching against the sheets of the bed. Groaning as he holds your thighs and pulls them apart even more to devour your cunt properly.

You lift your thighs a little higher, your hands cupping your tits as his tongue makes your mind go blank. "Fuck." You pant, "that's so good." You compliment him as his tongue slides through your folds like he's been there a thousand times and in a way, he has.

Marcus doesn’t hesitate to push his tongue inside you, remembering how much you had loved it and he grunts in approval when you whine in pleasure. Wanting to make you cum like this once more. His fingers dig into your thighs as he eats you ravenously.

His nose presses against your clit and you whimper, one hand coming down to run your fingers through his hair. He is pushing his tongue into you like a man starved and your thighs press against his head, wanting to keep him between your thighs.

He feels your stomach heave and he throws an arm over your waist to keep you pinned to the bed. Loving how responsive you are and desperate to cum you appear. Trying to roll your hips down to his tongue.

You haven't felt like this before and your body is so heated, overwhelmed by how he's making you feel. You moan, your chest heaving as he slides his tongue up to suck on your clit. "Oh God, yes!" You cry, your walls starting to flutter around his tongue.

Marcus growls into your folds, throbbing in need as you soak his mouth and chin. Loving how your thighs squeeze his head harshly while your back bows up.

He laps at you, working you through it, and you whimper, "fuck. You are so good. I need to see you, Marcus. Need to see you again." You plead, lowering your thighs from his face.

Marcus stretches tall and climbs off the bed so he can unbutton his pants. The suit he had worn didn’t require a belt and his shoes were toed off near the door. Leaving him to pull down his pants and boxer briefs, letting his hard cock spring free.

You groan, shifting onto your knees and after he kicks his pants aside, you shuffle closer as he stands at the foot of the bed. "Fuck. So thick." You moan and you grip his cock, leaning in to take his cock between your lips.

Marcus moans, reaching down and caressing your cheek, “still so damn eager.” He chuckles, eyes fluttering from the way your tongue presses against the sensitive head of his cock when you roll the foreskin down.

You moan at the salty taste of his cock as you take him deeper. You have memories now of doing this many times but right now, it’s your first time in this lifetime and you are eager to enjoy it.

He doesn’t rock his hips, letting you set your own pace and he admires the length of your lashes as your eyes flutter up at him. “So beautiful.” He coos, caressing your cheek again. “My princesa is beautiful in every lifetime.”

His words have you dripping and you start to rock your jaw, watching him until you move a little faster and you close your eyes in concentration. Your palms dig into the mattress as you keep yourself upright while you take his cock down your throat.

Marcus grits his teeth, enjoying the pleasure of your mouth, but he wants to be inside you. He wants to have your walls squeezing him tight as he makes you cum. “Good girl.” He hums, pulling back.

You whine when he starts to pull you off his cock, spit dripping down your chin, and he grabs your waist to shift you to lay down against the pillows. "Want to be inside you." He murmurs and caresses your leg, "let me grab a condom." He says and walks over to his bag, shuffling until he's walking back to the bed, kneeling on it as he opens the packet.

He knows that as soon as he gets his results back, he will be discarding the condom, but he needs to do this. He pinches the tip and holds himself while rolling the rubber down his length. “Dreamed about this.” He groans, leaning forward and kissing you again.

You cup his cheeks, your heartbeat in your ears as you watch him settle between your thighs. "I love you." You murmur, unable to believe you've been reunited like this. He shuffles closer and you gasp when he starts to push into you. "You okay, princesa?" He asks and you nod, "perfect. I feel perfect." You promise, wrapping your legs around him.

He groans, the way you squeeze him changing from the placement of your hips. You are hot and tight, perfect and he feels like he’s come home. “You are so wonderful, princesa.” He praises breathless as he starts to slowly pull back to surge forward again.

You let him rock into you, take control, and you caress his shoulders and back. “No scars.” You observe, “not battle hardened.” You murmur, sliding your hands down his chest.

He can’t tell if you are disappointed or pleased, but he continues to thrust, picking up the pace and smirking when you whimper. “Feel good, princesa?”

You nod, “so good. I’ve missed you so much.” You confess even though this morning you had no memory of him. Now, you can’t imagine your life without him. You try to rock up to meet his thrusts and you caress his skin, “I’m so happy you are unharmed.” You answer his unspoken question .

“Life is more complicated but easier.” He huffs, turning and scattering kisses over your shoulder. “We are free to love, to go where we wish.”

“I know. Imagine explaining the Internet.” You joke breathlessly and he chuckles against your skin, continuing to rock into you. “Fuck. And modern birth control. I got an IUD so no unexpected - I really thought that was going to happen to us back then.” You confess, “then I would’ve been killed.”

“It was not meant to be.” He presses his lips to yours again. “Maybe in this life.” He grinds into you, stealing your breath on a moan as he chuckles against your lips.

“We are together in this life.” You murmur against his lips and you moan, sliding your tongue against his as he rocks into you. It’s everything that’s been missing from your life and you love him. God, you love him. You whimper when he adjusts his hips and hits something delicious inside you.

“There?” He groans your name into your mouth and slides down to his elbows, pushing his arms under you because he needs to feel closer. It’s not enough, it might never be enough. He concentrates on that spot, wanting to see you fall over the edge and have a new memory of you.

You nod, your mouth falling open as he rocks into you and you pant, your walls fluttering around his cock. "Shit, baby. I - fuck. You're gonna make me-" You choke as you fall apart, clamping down on his cock and pulsing around him.

Marcus hisses, gritting his teeth while you soak him in your juices. Loving how you are coming apart for him. “Fuck, fuck.” He groans, trying to fuck you through it but his thrusts are harder.

You slide your hands down to his ass, squeezing, “cum for me, General. I want to see you cum.” You plead, groaning when his face screws up and he twitches inside you, spilling inside the condom. You slide your hands up his back and whimper, loving how he looks when he cums for you.

Marcus strains over you, working himself through it with a grinding circular motion of his hips until he is collapsing into you. “Fuck.” He pants. “Perfect, princesa, you are so perfect.”

You sigh, loving how he feels on top of you, your hands caressing his back as he presses you into the mattress. You feel complete, like you’re where you were always supposed to be. 

**** 

“You may now kiss the bride.” The priest declares and you grin, looking at Marcus. His face is bright and he surges forward to press his lips to yours, spinning you to dip you as he smiles against your lips. The city of Rome as your background along with a beautiful sunset. Marnie and Antonio stand either side clapping and you kiss your husband. It may have taken many lifetimes but you and Marcus finally found each other again. No one, not even an emperor, can separate you now.

[highvern]

Red Card

Pairing: Kim Mingyu x f!reader

Genre: smut/fluff, non-idol au, 80s au (aesthetics only), childhood friends to lovers

Warnings: drinking, weed use (not reader tho), skinny dipping, non-graphic injuries (sprained knee), mingyu gets a booboo and reader kisses it better, oral (m & f receiving), face sitting, penetrative sex, protected sex. all of em's biases in one fic

Length: ~12k

Note: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE WIND BENEATH MY WINGS MS @gyuswhore EVERYONE TELL HER HAPPY BIRTHDAY thank you for dealing with all my tomfoolery on a daily basis. i hope this is a nice treat after the trenches of academia. thank you @haologram and @tomodachiii for beta reading!

Summary: Mingyu's been there through everything. From childhood to now. What happens when he gets hurt and someone else has to step in and play the hero?

m.list

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked.

You’re going to kill your roommate.

Maybe not this second, when you’re still waking up and the sun has barely started to filter through the blinds and the alarm clock is blaring in your ear. It’s difficult to strangle someone when he’s smothering you with his entire body weight, completely unaware of the fact you can’t breathe because of it.  There's heat and then there's sweating out of your skin because your roommate doesn’t understand ‘what’s mine is yours’ only extends to the food in the fridge.

You’ll strangle Mingyu one day, but right now you’re late for work. 

“Get off!” you fume, pushing at his shoulder with all your strength. 

Mingyu smacks his lips sleepily and burrows further into your neck. You pinch his nipple between your finger and twist.

“Ow! What the fuck?” he screams, shuffling off you and into the wall, eyes wild and clutching his chest like a scandalized old woman

Rolling off the mattress, you navigate the dark of your room looking for your work clothes. “How many times have I told you not to sleep in here?”

“My room is so hot!” Mingyu whines, digging his face into the pillow.

“Yeah, well now my room is too.” You find the floral green and pink dress of your Pier Club uniform. Facing away from Mingyu, you swiftly change into it and look for the matching skirt. It’s offensive, even in the dim predawn. “Do you have work today?”

Mingyu stuffs himself further beneath the blankets, only the very center of his face visible. “Yeah. Covering for JJ.”

“Get up then. We’re gonna be late.”

Mingyu scrambles to his room to get dressed. The bathroom is wedged between his room and Soonyoung's, so you hear a thud, and a curse followed by another louder thud and a grunt of pain. He joins you in the bathroom, dressed in his uniform: pink polo, white pants, and white golf shoes. Like an incredibly tall and sleepy flamingo.

Two people becomes four in a blink, each of you reaching over and under for whatever is needed from the small shelf in the mirror. Your elbow meets Dokyeom’s eye, and someone steps on your foot. 

Soonyoung is pouring coffee into a mug in the kitchen, foot tapping against the linoleum while Dokyeom rushes around trying to find his pants. You’ve lived like this for two years. It doesn’t even phase you.

“If you’re not in the truck in five you’re walking!” Mingyu calls and disappears.

One by one you file out. You detour for the kitchen. The toaster takes two minutes and the coffee pot four but you’re still faster than the other two and get an actual seat in the cab of the truck. There's really no decent way to get in and out of a truck in a skirt anyway so you take the small blessing that comes in the form of cracked leather seats and a door you have to roll down the window to open from the outside.

Dokyeom chases the green Ford down the driveway six minutes later and Mingyu slows down enough for him to hop into the flatbed next to Soonyoung. You’re only two minutes late in the end.

The club is packed with guests all day. By the time dinner service is over and you’ve counted your tips, all you want is to go home and pass out but it’s Seungcheol’s birthday. Despite what he explicitly asked everyone for (an Atari 7800), there’s a bonfire at the beach and if Mingyu is there then you are too. Someone has to pile him and the other boys into the bed of his truck and get them home.

The private section of the beach reserved for locals only is packed. Someone blasts a Bowie track, drunk party goers dancing around the massive bonfire while others relax on logs or sit in the sand and watch. A few people stroll down by the water, splashing through the shallows in the dark.

You stay planted in one of the few real chairs, sipping on a beer while your roommates do who knows what. It’s not that you don’t like parties; but your feet hurt and more than a few people stiffed you today so you’re tired. And now, after a few drinks you’re tired and drunk. But no one is ready to leave so it’s either wait or walk and the five miles back to the house is daunting enough you stay firmly planted.

“Ooo, got any more of those for me?” Jeonghan plants himself in the sand next to you, reaching for the cooler.

You slam the lid down on his hand and pull it out of his reach. “Fuck off, you still owe me for last time.”

He tries cozying up to you; pretending the arm around your shoulder is meant as a sweet hug and not a means to get his hand back in the ice box behind you. “Look, I didn’t drink your vodka. But if I did, it tasted like shit.”

“I’m not talking about the vodka, I’m talking about when you fucked some bimbo in my bed!”

He’s already drunk on someone else’s booze; Seungcheol’s no doubt.  

“Oh. That.” Jeonghan scratched the back of his neck. “Listen, it was a big misunderstanding.”

“What misunderstanding? Your dick couldn’t stay in your pants for three more feet to fuck in Soonyoung’s room?”

Jeonghan balks, eyes glazed in the fire light. “Have you tried having sex on a waterbed? It’s not easy.”

Mingyu, as always, is honed in on your bad mood and comes up the beach smiling, hair a mess in the wind. You don’t stare and focus on slapping Jeonghan’s hands away. “Everything okay?”

“I’m gonna kill Jeonghan,” you mumble. 

“I asked her for a beer.”

Mingyu arches a brow. “Didn’t you fuck some girl in her bed last time we had a party?”

“You’re focusing on the wrong thing. She is drunk and acting like the beer czar. Where is the hospitality?”

“If I give you one will you leave?”

“Yes,” Jeonghan responds immediately.

Mingyu passes him two beers and snaps the cooler shut before the older man can get greedy. Jeonghan salutes Mingyu and then sticks his tongue out at you before leaving for the other side of the fire.

“Eat shit and die!” you call. You love Jeonghan but he’s got a way of grating on your last never. Especially after the girl he hooked up with stained your sheets with fake tan even if he offered to buy you a new bed and sheets.

Jeonghan waves the hand full of beers over his head. “Eat shit and live!”

“Alright, let’s get you home,” Mingyu chuckles. 

In his truck, the radio hums one of his fifty million cassettes. He only breaks the comfy lull at a deserted intersection. “One to ten, how mad would you be if we took a detour?”

“At least five, but it depends on where.” You eye him sceptically. Truly, all you want is to get home, shower, and sleep. But Mingyu had a way of convincing you to go along with whatever plan he’d cooked up.

“Chocolate shakes at Joe’s and then the lookout.”

It’s hard saying no to that. Even harder when Mingyu stares at you like a hopeful puppy. 

Your eyes roll. “Okay, maybe like a two.”

“I’ll get you chili cheese fries.”

“Negative one.”

Mingyu turns right, humming along to the next song the entire way to the drive in diner. Your eyes are heavier each minute but greasy food sounds fantastic and your grumbling stomach keeps you from falling asleep against the door. 

Joe’s sits in all its neon glory, like a little beacon of light in the otherwise quiet beach town. Most of the picnic tables littered outside are covered in people; out of towners, teenage locals with sun bleached hair and frizzy perms, old couples who’ve been coming since milkshakes were invented. Almost all of the workers rushing through the diner in red polos are still in highschool and then there’s Vernon manning the cash register at the window like the captain of a ship. He doesn’t even look like he works here; white cut off tee and neon green swim trunks don’t really match the fifties aesthetic but no one says anything, even the owner.

Vernon doesn’t bother ringing the order up, yelling at the line cooks it’s on the house. He thrusts two paper cups and a greasy paper bag across the counter and greets the next customer in line.

Twenty minutes later Mingyu is parking his truck on the side of the road and trailing across the dunes to the even more secluded beach, one only the most local townies know about. Since most of those are few and far between, it’s just you two planted in the sand, chilli cheese fries and chocolate shakes filling your bellies in no time.

“I think I’m gonna get Joe’s logo tattooed on me.”

“He’ll probably leave the place to you if you did.”

“Vernon is literally named in his will, I’ve seen it.” Mingyu lays back in the sand and closes his eyes.

The waves crash on along the shore, the perfect soundtrack to lull you closer to sleep now that your belly is filled. Beneath you, the sand is just warm enough to be cozy against the chill rolling off the ocean.

“Wanna swim?” he asks.

Sinking deeper, eyes closed, you’re only thinking about how amazing your bed would be right at this very moment. “I want to go to sleep.”

“Studies show you sleep better after swimming.” Mingyu rolls up to his feet, grabbing you in an attempt to get you to agree. He knows you will. Wherever one is the other is sure to follow. It’s been that way since you two were in diapers and Mingyu started walking seconds after you only to chase you around the living room.

You’re deadweight in his arms as you respond,“How would you know? You didn’t go to college.”

“I’m just academically inclined.”

“My apologies,” you gasp. A swim does sound nice for your aching muscles. It’s been so long since you just enjoyed the water. Last time you swam was when you picked up a life guarding shift and an old man screamed bloody murder because he didn’t know how to swim; never mind he was in the shallow end of the pool. 

You finally rise to your feet and shrug off your shirt.

Mingyu joins. He doesn’t shy away as he drops his pants, his shirt floating to the ground next to it. You don’t stare. There’s no need when you’ve seen him nearly naked a million times. But you do catch him staring when you bend over to fold your shorts.

“What?”

Blinking out of his daze, Mingyu bolts for the ocean. “Last one in the water is a rotten egg!”

“You fucking cheater!” you scream and sprint after him. 

He’s far out by the time you catch up, where the waves are just starting to curl in on themselves. You both bob along to their rhythm as the tide pulls in and out. 

Mingyu dives beneath the water, breaching with his hair sticking to his face. His lips are wet and slick. Mingyu pulls you a little, brings you into his chest so the next wave you coast over together. 

You want to kiss him. 

It’s not a new thought; doesn’t surprise you one bit. His mouth probably still tastes like that last sip of chocolate shake. The first and only time you’ve ever kissed Mingyu you were both two out of it to actually appreciate it. It was poetically cruel to give your first kiss away to your best friend only for him to forget it the next day.

It’s easy to ignore the urge to kiss him. You’ve wanted to kiss him again for years. Touching him is an entirely different matter. You can touch Mingyu as much as you like, he likes it when you do and pouts when you don’t. You rarely shy away from a chance to let him touch you either. It’s never enough though.

You twist around him, clinging to his back. Ankles locked across his stomach, Mingyu pulls your hands in front of him and holds your hands; his thumb traces the knob of your wrist over and over in tiny circles. He definitely feels the way your nipples harden through your bra but has the courtesy to ignore it; lets you hide from the cold water in the curve of his neck.

“You need a haircut,” you say. You tug on one of the long locks hanging at eye level, and Mingyu shivers. With so much bare skin pressed against each other you feel the goosebumps blooming on his skin, and when you pull again to see what’ll happen he snatches your hand away and changes the subject.

“Are you gonna be good for the Open this weekend?”

“I’ll be fine,” you yawn. Mingyu pulls your legs tighter around his waist, bobbing you both amongst the waves. It’s dangerously relaxing. “I’m not losing to Seungkwan again this year.”

“We’re not losing to Seungkwan this year.”

“Damn straight.”

You float in silence. Mingyu keeps both of you above water. When you signal you’re ready to go he carries you out of the water, right up to where your clothes lay. He doesn’t let you down as he scoops them up and goes for his car. 

“Show off,” you mumble.

“What was that?”

“Nothing!”

You’re deposited on the ground next to the driver’s side door. Apparently he can’t hold you and dig up the spare towels he keeps packed beneath the seats. There’s no point in putting your clothes back on over your wet underwear so you ride back to the house wrapped tightly in a towel and Mingyu’s around his waist, chest completely bare.

You blast through a shower, done before the crappy water heated even has time to reach full potential which isn’t much because rent is cheap and your landlord cheaper. But you’re clean and that’s all that matters before you dress and crawl into bed, the door of your room still open. You catch Mingyu passing by on the way back to his room, towel around his neck and the cut sweat shorts he swears don’t need to be thrown out hanging low on his hips. 

“Where are you going?” you call. 

His head pops in, covered in shadow from the hall light. “You said, literally this morning might I add, ‘sleep in my room one more time and I’ll kill you.’”

“Yeah well,” you huff. “My feet hurt. So you can sleep in here if you give me a massage.”

He does and he doesn’t even complain while doing it. Mingyu closes your bedroom door, locks you both in the dark; sits at the foot of your bed, tugging your feet across his lap and setting to work. His thumb digs into the arch of your foot, malting all of your muscles into straight goo. You’ve never been more happy for his overly abundant body heat as he works his hands up your calves. He’s frustratingly attentive as you shiver and wiggle in blissful agony.

In the dark of your room, brain hazy with fatigue, you don’t care you’re moaning at the pressure of his palms working the knots out of your muscles. Mingyu doesn’t acknowledge it but he does knead a little bit hard and you sigh from relief. And then the bastard digs his thumb into that place behind your knee that's painfully ticklish.

“You asshole!” you scream, scrambling away. 

“What’s wrong? I thought you wanted a massage?” he laughs. You try to kick him but he catches your foot and pins it to his stomach. 

“I swear—Mingyu! Stop!”

Thankfully, he does after a few more pleas. You can’t even see him in the dark except for the reflection of the moon through your blinds that clues you into his silhouette. But you know he’s satisfied because he starts humming while massaging once again. It’s nice. You start nodding off to the soft strength of his hands and the rich sound of his voice.

Mingyu prides himself on doing a thorough job in everything so once your ankles and calves are worked into submission his hands reach higher. Almost like he doesn’t realize exactly where he’s going; who he’s touching as he grips just above your knee. Your legs part and Mingyu keeps going. 

Your best friend is beautiful and you love him. Of course, you do. Like every other time you’ve been turned on by him, you staunchly pretend it isn’t happening. Make up some excuse; biology, you’re in love with him. the fact you haven’t been laid in nearly a year, you’re in love with Mingyu, you’ve been drinking, your best friend has his hand beneath the hem of your pajama shorts and you’re in love with him.

“Good?” he asks.

Mingyu lingers there for a second. Then another one. You decide feigning sleep is the less awkward option than begging him to finger you until you can’t see straight. It doesn’t take much pretending; you’re bone dead tired and the second you let it filter in it takes control. Ever the gentleman, Mingyu removes his hands and climbs up to lay next to you.

You actually fall asleep curled against his back. It’s still too hot even with the ceiling fan on high so you both lay above the covers. 

The next morning you wake up the same as always, legs tangled, his chest to your back because Mingyu doesn’t understand personal space – especially your personal space. It’s fine. You’re used to it. It’s your day off which means it’s too early to be awake because it’s still dark in your room. If you try really hard you know you can fall back asleep until noon.

But then you feel exactly what woke you up.

Mingyu has a boner.

You reach back and pinch his side to wake him. You know he’s at least semi-conscious because he whines and tries to hide in your hair as you admonish him. “Get your dick off me.”

“Ignore it, he’ll go away,” his lips smack next to your ear.

“Mingyu,” you whine. “It’s gross.”

He falls back asleep without moving anywhere. If you had pushed at him he would’ve rolled over and given you his back to cuddle up against but you don’t so he doesn’t. You try not to think about how big he is. Or how your underwear are still a little sticky from last night. Or the fact your shorts rode up during the night and the only thing separating your ass from his cock is those damn threadbare sweatshorts. There is also the placement of his hand just below your boobs. Over your shirt because the universe isn’t that cruel.

It’s fine. It’s not the first time he’s gotten hard while sharing a bed. The first place you two rented - freshly eighteen and just starting to have a world without parents breathing down your necks - there was only enough money between you to split one bedroom and have enough money to afford a bed. Thankfully, Mingyu is the cleanest person you know so it worked without bloodshed but it left some very uncomfortable moments in the morning when you’d wake up from dirty dreams about your childhood crush only to find his face a few inches away. Or the other, more awkward, days when Mingyu’s body reminded him he was a hormonal teenager sharing a bed with a girl with zero supervision.

You both refuse to talk about it. Or the times either of you walked in on the other masturbating. 

True to his word, his dick softens against your ass and you try not to be a little disappointed. A world of possibilities if you weren’t terrified of ruining a life long friendship. You could roll over and kiss him. And if he let you kiss him then you’d want to touch him. If you touched him then he’d probably touch you back. In all the years you’d know him you didn’t take Mingyu for a selfish person; or a selfish lover. If he reduced you to a puddle with a simple massage last night then what else was he capable of? 

But you don’t want meaningless satisfaction. You want Mingyu. Everyday, all the time. One hundred percent completely yours. 

Eventually your alarm clock blares and Mingyu rolls out of bed; leaving you all alone as he heads out to work with the other two. You fall asleep once the front door slams shut.

Ten hours later, Mingyu isn’t home. No problem. He probably got roped into doing an extra shift or the last group he caddied for insisted on treating him to a drink. It happens. Often. 

You don’t worry until hour twelve rolls around and Soonyoung and Dokyeom aren’t home either. The restaurant  is closed by this hour, the last tables cleared out and reset for the next day. The pool is closed too. One of them should be home.

The house is too quiet without them. You try reading. Watching TV. Listening to music. Cleaning the kitchen. You try everything you can think of to make that horrible feeling in your stomach go away but it doesn’t.

Then the phone rings.

“Hello?”

The line cracks with a familiar voice. “Hey, it’s DK. Umm…”

“Where the hell are you guys?” you ask.

“Promise me you won’t freak.”

“You saying that pretty much guarantees I’m gonna freak.”

“Okay, listen, everything is fine. Mingyu is okay but—”

“But what?”

“He hurt himself on the course today and we’re at the hospital. Hoshi is on his way to get you right now.”

“What the hell happened?”

“Something twisted wrong or something, I don’t know I flunked out of med school.”

It takes Soonyoung fifteen minutes to get to the house but once he does you feel a little better. You don’t even get to ask before he’s talking.

“He’s fine,” he promises. “Just doped up on painkillers.”

“Did they say what’s wrong?”

“Something with his knee, nothing super serious but he’s supposed to stay off it for like a month or something.”

Soonyoung looks guilty as you take the keys and leave him behind but he has to be up in four hours when the rest of you don’t.

The hospital is nearly deserted this late at night, a few nurses in the parking lot smoking during their break but otherwise you're pretty much alone. Inside the reception area is all sterile lighting and pleather chairs in pastel pink and teal.

A woman in scrubs and feathered blowout sits at the desk answering phone calls and scratching through paperwork.

“I’m here for Mingyu. Mingyu Kim.”

“Room eight.”

You thank her and head back to search for wherever your best friend is holed up. It takes only a few walks around the corridor because unless he aged fifty years, the elderly woman in room eight is not him.

You find him and Dokyeom with their eyes glued to the TV, Scooby Doo reruns stealing their attention. You hover in the doorway.

Mingyu has his leg wrapped from mid-shin up his thigh, knee resting on a stack of pillows. His eyes are glazed from whatever pills the hospital staff gave him before your arrival.

Someone clears their throat behind you. By the scrubs you assume she’s the doctor. “Another friend of Mr. Kim’s?” 

“Yeah,” you nod. “Is he okay?”

“He sprained his knee. Nasty work but not fatal.”

“How?”

She shrugs, pen clicking in her hand. “Over use, stretched too far either side. Good news, he doesn’t need surgery.”

“So he’ll be okay?”

“Since he didn’t tear any ligaments I’d say a few weeks until he recovers, longer if he doesn’t rest properly. And I mean actually rest. At least a week in bed, and then two on crutches. Maybe three but he’ll be okay.”

Mingyu is fine. As fine as he can be with a bum leg for the next few weeks but fine nonetheless. You feel like you can actually breathe again, the anxious part of your brain proclaiming the worst finally silent.

“Alright, thank you.”

Weight off your chest, you enter the room. Dokyeom sees you first and bows out. He knows you’re planning to rip Mingyu a new one. Or cry. You don’t really do well when he’s hurt or vice versa.

Mingyu only notices your presence when you’re standing next to the bed, arms crossed, breath shaky.

“You’re mad,” he whispers, chin tucked to his chest like an upset toddler.

“I’m not mad.”

“Really?” He sounds hopeful, dumb puppy eyes round and wet like he’s ready to cry at the first sound of your disapproval.

“I was mad when you broke your arm because Jungkook talked you into boogie boarding drunk. I was mad when Wonwoo gave you a black eye from his Atari controller. I was mad when you, tweedle dee and tweedle dumb almost flooded the house. Now, I’m furious. What the fuck were you thinking?”

You’re mad because he’s in a hospital bed and you thought he died. And it terrified you.

“I didn’t do it on purpose!”

You break, shoulders sagging in defeat. It isn’t his fault. Freak accident, an overdue inevitable. “I know, I’m sorry. I just… you really scared me.”

“Do you want a hug?”

“Your leg is broken and you’re offering me a hug?”

He stares at you, eyes pretty and dark with huge pupils. “Dude, I’m so high you could tell me you crashed my truck and I wouldn’t care.”

“A hug would be nice.”

It’s uncomfortable to bend at the waist but Mingyu makes it worth it. Sweeps you into his chest, doesn’t comment on the hot tears that damp his neck and shirt but that might have to do with the fact he’s out of his mind. But he also brushes his hand through your hair and kisses the top of your head so it isn’t so bad.

“You didn’t crash my truck, did you?”

“No,” you snort.

You soak in it for a few minutes, let Scooby Doo fill the silence while you sniffle into his collar for a little while longer. And then you're shoving it all away with the realization Mingyu can’t work if he can’t get around the resort.

“Doctor said you’re out of work for at least a week. And after that you’ll probably be stuck in the laundry room because I doubt Jin wants you hobbling around the cabana with crutches.”

“Fuck,” he whispers.

“Yeah. Fuck,” you agree. “I’ll figure something out, take more shifts. Josh needs more surf instructors too so I can pick those up. Hoshi probably owes one of us money.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. It's just gonna be a tight winter is all.”

“What about the Open?”

“Jungkook can fill in for you. If we win, he takes half of your share. It’s better than nothing.”

He mutters something you don’t hear. Probably more high protests and apologies. It smells like antiseptic.

“Come on, let’s get you home.”

It takes three nurses, Dokyeom, a wheelchair, and an infinite reserve of your patience to get Mingyu in the bed of his truck. His knee is bandaged in the split so thickly he can’t move it and he’s too tall to sit in the passenger seat with his leg straight so the truckbed is the only place for him to go. You try to drive responsibly but it’s late and you're burnt out from a long day.

Back home, Hoshi is passed out in his room, the stink of weed warning you not to wake him. Dokyeom offers to help but thankfully, even high on painkillers, Mingyu acclimates to crutches enough to get from outside to his room.

“You smell,” you say to cut the tension.

“How am I supposed to shower like this?” He gestures to his leg. You know the warning signs of his temper. Mingyu will pretend it doesn’t bother him but it clearly does; having to ask for your help to do something as simple as shower.

“I could hose you down in the yard.”

He pouts. The meds must be wearing off at this point. “I’m sure that would make you feel better.”

“Nah, I’d be the one who has to clean you off the driveway afterwards.” You shake your head. The bathroom is small, the shower stall smaller but Mingyu needs a shower. “Give me a second.”

One of the plastic lawn chairs from the back porch fits perfectly in the stall. You lay out everything he could need: soap, towels, a trash bag to wrap over the stint. Then you head back towards your room to get him.

“Alright, let’s go.”

Mingyu hobbles alongside you, easily maneuvering the hallway but the bathroom is more difficult. There isn’t space for his crutches so he slumps into your side, way heavier than the time you had to drag him home higher than a kite. 

It’s claustrophobic with him basically on top of you but he’s capable of underdressing when you park him against the counter and focus on angling the shower head so he doesn't end up accidentally waterboarded. 

“Underwear stays on. I don’t want to see your dick.”

“Yeah, well, he’s pretty scared of you right now anyway.”

After helping him into the chair you leave him to his business with strict instructions to yell for you when he’s done. You use the time to clean your room. Clothes off the floor, bed made so he can sleep with a few extra pillows you snagged from his bed where you’ll be sleeping.

He’s got a bum leg, the least you could do is give him the better room.

You do everything the nurses told you. An ice pack and a hot water bottle all sit on the side table ready for Mingyu after you fish him out of the tub.

A yell of your name is your cue.

Mingyu sits soaked and pathetic. He couldn’t reach the towels you laid out, so you have to hand them to him. Turns out it’s also more difficult getting him out than in, you have to touch and pull and push him. His skin lingers with warmth from the water and a little slippery so it’s even harder. Mingyu is no help at all. A Great Dane who thinks he’s a Chihuahua.

He’s out like a light once he’s in your bed. Dead asleep beneath the covers with his leg sticking out to the side. You tuck him in extra tight, snagging the forgotten provisions and returning them to the kitchen. 

You come back to grab clothes and leave but Mingyu sits awake with the covers pulled back for you to join.

“Come on,” he beckons.

“I’m not sleeping in here.”

His eyes shoot open, attempting to sit up, “Why not?” 

“Your knee—” you start.

“Let me worry about my knee.”

Sure. Like that’ll happen.

“Physically impossible for me not to worry.”

“The doctor said it’s bad for me to be lonely.” He pulls the covers back again and your chest aches. 

“She did not.”

“She did too,” he grunts. 

“Fine. Close your eyes, I need to change.”

He zips them shut. Throws an arm over his face for dramatic effect. You rush into a clean shirt (his) and shorts and dive beneath the covers.

“You’re so far away,” Mingyu whines. 

“Mingyu stop!”

He doesn’t. He uses all those muscles against you and drags you up his chest. “Come here.”

“Happy?”

“Yep.”

Your head is cradled heavy on his chest, the argument dying out. He falls asleep quickly and you follow right behind.

In the morning, Mingyu complains about his leg until you leave for the last minute shift you begged off Chan. The next two days are the same. Mingyu stays on the couch or tucked away in your room while everyone else scrambles around him. Until the weekend comes giving all of you time off.

Saturday is the Open. The biggest doubles volleyball tournament on the beach, boasting a first place prize of two grand. Seungkwan and Seungcheol won the last two years and never let either of you forget it for standing a foot below them on the podium, firmly in second and a thousand dollars poorer than them.

Two years in second place buys you into the semi-finals. Thank god, because Jungkook and you haven’t played together in years and he’s an even bigger ball hog than you remember.

“Talk!” Mingyu calls from his chair like a washed up coach. You argued with him for hours over whether or not him coming to the beach was a good idea given he’s done everything but what the doctor recommended. But he’d be damned if you beat Seungkwan and he wasn’t there to gloat about it.

Dokyeom and Soonyoung serve as his assistants, hitting over the net while you and Jungkook scramble to dig every single one up like it’s do or die.

“That one was clearly mine!” Jungkook argues.

“It was going out of bounds!”

“It was close!”

It’s been like this all morning. While the other courts are playing to qualify you and Jungkook try not to rip each other's throats out. It’ll take a miracle to win a single point let alone the two matches you need to win.

You just want the day over with so you can drown your sorrows in a chocolate shake and think about how satisfying it would be to launch it at your friend’s head at warp speed.

The first game is hard and fast. Jungkook saves your ass more times than you can count, committed to winning even if it sends him crashing into the line of spectators sitting courtside. It doesn’t help you win the first set one bit. Jaehyun successfully blocks nearly every attempt Jungkook makes at the net and the ones that do slide through fly out of bounds.

You don't take well to failure and neither does Jungkook. 

Somewhere around the third rally of the second set you two find a cohesive back and forth. Jungkook digs a cut shot, you set him up and he’s there with a kill. It happens again. The third time Jaehyun gives up on sending it deep and drops the ball right over the net and the miracle you needed happens because you get it up enough for Jungkook to return it and earn the point. 

It starts to feel good. Adrenaline lifting you to the next level, vision narrowed down to you and the game. Lung straining, muscles burning, your skin hot from the sun. Your swimsuit leaves plenty of skin exposed to collect more sand with each impact on the ground. The wind picks up slightly, and turns the sound of waves and the crowd into one dull murmur..

You and Jungkook win two sets to one.

He’s sweaty and covered in sand when he sweeps you into a hug, a victory cry loud on his lips. It isn’t the final match but it’s the small victories that count. Jungkook loves winning, he only likes you and mostly for Mingyu’s sake. The friend of my boyfriend's friend is my friend too, or something like that.

Mingyu and Jungkook are the boyfriends.

On the side lines, Mingyu looks happy. Tired but happy. He’s like a king holding court, friends and strangers circling around him for an ounce of attention. Most of the people at the resort haven’t seen him since he busted his knee and check he’s okay. The others are out of towners attracted to a pretty boy with a sad cast and tendency to talk a mile a minute with anyone who’d listen. 

You push them all out of the way and celebrate with him.

“We did it!”

“Yeah,” he nods. That’s all the celebration you get from him before he’s on to the next game set to start in five minutes. “You and Jungkook need to keep Kwan from hitting. Serve short, hit deep.”

It's weird but you don’t focus on it. You need water and to get back on the court.

“Got it.” 

Seungkwan doesn’t shit talk. It’s mostly Seungcheol at the net trying to bait you into an argument while Jungkook readies to serve.

“How’s your boyfriend?” he jabs.

“How’s yours?” You focus on the sand beneath your feet, the breeze off the wave. He’s been trying to get under your skin with that line for years. It won’t work now. 

First point, you and Jungkook.

The next five, Seungkwan and Seungcheol.

The score goes back and forth, a slim margin for error as the number climbs closer to twenty-one. 

You hit the next set, aiming for the wide gap between Seungkwan and the line. The ball sliced across the net, Seungcheol misreading it by just a hair and the momentum of his block swinging him the opposite direction. It’s perfect. It heads straight for the line and lands without Seungkwan able to save it in time. 

The crowd breaks into applause. The official blows his whistle…

And calls it out.

“That was a touch! Are you fucking blind?” Mingyu yells.

You wince at the next whistle as she flashes him a yellow card.

Fuck. 

He’s up at the perimeter of the court fuming, hands on his hips through his crutches. You march right up to him, identical scowl.

“Mingyu, I swear if you get a red card, I will shove my foot so far up your ass—”

The whistle blows and Seungkwan serves without waiting for you to be ready. It’s a rocket right where you should have been standing.

Seungkwan and Seungcheol take the first match by four points.

The second match starts worse. You’re out of rhythm, fuming at blowing the last set. Jungkook fills in the best he can and keeps you two from totaling blowing it. Fifteen to seventeen with your serve.

You pop it over the net, Seungkwan reading it easily. But a last second gust pushes it of course.

Ace.

Lucky isn’t as strongly on your side for the next serve but it’s good enough. Jungkook passes. With a quick set, he rises above the net, hanging midair. A quick snap of his arm delivers a hit neither opponents on the other side of the net can reach. The ball slams into the sand right before the line.

It’s tit for tat. One up one down. Your body hurts, covered in bruises from diving over and over again but you don’t stop. Jungkook doesn’t either.

Match point comes swiftly. Seungkwan tosses the ball in the air and unleashes a deep serve. It’s fast but you’re underneath it but the angle is wrong. Jungkook dumps it over the net out of Seungcheol’s reach but Seungkwan is there. 

No one’s giving an inch. Just when the ball nearly drops someone picks it up. Everyone plays ugly, scrappy. 

A break comes when Seungcheol passes too high, right on the net. Seungkwan knows it, you know it. You race to joust. Pushing with everything you’ve got until the ball gives. It falls to the sand.

On the other team's side.

Everything blurs. You tackle Jungkook to the ground, cheering. Your friends race onto the court shouting. There’s a dog pile someone has to pull you out of because you can’t breathe underneath them all but you don’t care. Your ears ring, eyes nearly shut from how wide you smile.

You’re carried away for the podium ceremony, Mingyu nowhere in sight. It feels pretty damn good being on top. The heavy weight of the gold medal keeps you grounded. But your best friend is missing and a part of you is gone with him.

You don’t find him until the after party at the locals only beach. He’s got a red cup and a scowl on the tailgate of his truck. 

“Where’d you go? I didn’t see you at the podium.”

“You seemed fine on your own.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, I’m fine,” he mumbles into his cup.

“Why are you being such a Debbie downer? We won!”

“You guys won. I got to sit there and watch.”

“Okay? You’re still five hundred richer than this morning.”

“Party over here?” Jungkook interrupts. He’s got a joint between his fingers and a beer bottle. “Before I forget, this is yours.”

He shoves an envelope into Mingyu’s hand, taking the open spot on the tailgate next to him before laying back and looking at the stars.

“I’m gonna grab another beer.”

Mingyu moves surprisingly fast when he wants to. Even with crutches on loose sand he’s back by his truck and waiting for you to leave.  

“What’s got sand in his swimsuit?” Jungkook asks. 

“He’s just… bummed about not playing. It’s fine.”

Jungkook snorts in disbelief. “You think that’s why he looks like a kicked puppy?”

“Then enlighten me, wise one.”

“Why do guys do anything?”

“Because you all lack basic brain function?”

Jungkook rolls his eyes and takes another drink. “To impress girls.”

“I’ve seen your belching contests. Not exactly panty dropping material.”

“Okay obviously not that.”

You had no idea Mingyu meant to impress anyone today. He hadn’t mentioned it, usually he doesn’t need to. Some tourist in for the summer hanging off his every word gave clear intention where his interest laid but since his knee you saw all of zero prospects.

“You two are so fucking stupid,” Jungkoook snorts. “You, YN. He wanted to impress you.”

“That makes no sense.”

“He hasn’t had a real girlfriend since you two started living together.”

You take a long sip before answering.. “So? You haven’t had a real girlfriend ever.”

“Bitch.”

“Slut.”

“Mingyu wanted you two to win. Together,” he emphasises. “Because guys want to impress the girls they like.”

“Oh…oh.”

“Get it now?”

“How do you know?”

“If I have to have one more bro chat with him on how to tell you I’m going to take his crutches and beat him to death with them.”

“Got it.”

You despise the tiny part of you that screams like a little girl finding out her playground crush knows her name. He likes me! He likes me! She squeals, bubbling around your stomach like champagne. 

Drunk on the power itching at your fingertips, you turn to find Mingyu. He’s right where you know you’d find him, a log near the fire, tossing in tiny sticks and watching them disappear in the flames.

“Ready to leave?”

Mingyu nods and gets to his feet, crutches carrying him to his truck. You take the driver's seat and peel out of the lot. 

“How mad would you be if we took a detour?” you ask.

“I wanna go home,” he grunts, staring out the window.

“I want to celebrate with just you,” you share. “Please?”

He melts but clings to the stubborn tone. “Okay.”

Another night at the lookout except this time you’re the one cheering him up. You park his truck closer to the water, he can’t very well get in but you want him to be able to at least see the ocean. He hobbles around to the flatbed and plants his ass on the tailgate.

“I think I’m gonna swim.”

“Okay.”

You tug off your shirt, then your pants. Then your bra.

That’s what freezes Mingyu with bug eyes. “What are you doing?”

“Swimming,” you shrug. He catches your swim bottoms as you launch them at his chest. 

“Naked?” he squeaks.

“Who's gonna see?”

“Uhh, me?”

“So? Maybe I want you to.”

You step closer, hands on his spread thighs and squeeze. 

“What?”

Mingyu doesn’t look beneath your collarbone and you smirk.

“A little birdie told me you have a crush.”

His lips form around words but no sound comes out. Maybe you’re being unfair by standing between his legs completely naked, eying him expectantly.

“Do you?”

“I…” he chokes.

“Think about it,” you whisper. His lips are warm against yours, soft and yielding. Then, you turn to sprint towards the ocean.

Mingyu apparently comes back to himself quickly, sputtering and laughing as you disappear beneath the waves. “You can’t just do that!”

Late night swims aren’t as fun without him around to keep you warm. You dip under the water and come up with soaked hair. You only last five minutes before heading back to where he waits, all your nudity on display but Mingyu keeps his eyes on yours, beaming like an idiot.

The second you’re close enough he tugs you into his chest and kisses you. For real this time. There's more to it than simple payback. He kisses you long and hard, pours all his want into it and takes what you give him in return. His tongue rolls across your lip before you open your mouth, a moan bubbles from one of you.

“I can’t believe Hoshi got to kiss you before I did,” he sighs.

You nestle closer. Right into the warmth of his chest, the soft fabric of his baggy shirt and cologne better than anything else in the world. 

“What do you mean Hoshi kissed me before you did? You were my first kiss dingus.”

“What?”

“Ninth grade, Dokyeom’s parents went out of town and we raided the liquor cabinet.”

He stares back at you blankly. You’re still naked.

“You literally begged me to kiss you because you thought you had alcohol poisoning and would die.”

“Oh my god.”

You kiss his cheek and he loves it, pushing into your lips for more with a happy smile. 

“I knew you didn’t remember.”

You nuzzle down his neck, savoring the warmth of his skin against your mouth; nipping until he shudders. You want him as naked as you. But despite the beach being secluded it’s very much public and you don’t need to be caught the first time you get to kiss him.

“In my defense, I thought that was a dream.”

“How often do you dream of me kissing you?”

“Pretty often.”

“How often is that?”

“Almost every night.”

“You’re such a sap.”

He doesn’t deny it. He’s too busy cupping your face and kissing you again, less tongue and yearning; slings an arm around your waist forcing you infinitesimally closer. It’s sweet at first, lingering touch against your naked back. Catalogues the knobs of your spine with painstaking slowness. Lower. Your waist, the sway of your hips. Then he’s got his hand on your ass, a gentle squeeze of exploration, and you feel a little bit guilty such sweet kisses turn you on so much.

“Come on, let’s get home.”

You back away, snagging the blanket he pulled out earlier and hiding your body as he trails behind. “Are you gonna drive home naked? Because that’s a new fantasy I didn’t know I had.”

“How many fantasies do you have?”

“Where do you want me to start?”

“Calm down, Casanova,” you snort. You tug on the spare clothes collected in his truck; a holey, oil stained t-shirt and a pair of sweats. They smell like him.

“Hey.” Mingyu tugs your hand across the center seat and brings it to his lips. He’s blushy but it might just be from a long day beneath the sun. Or from the boner he’s not even attempting to hide. It’s cute. 

“Hey.”

“I do have a crush on you.”

“I kinda figured.”

“Since like high school.”

“Good,” you comment. “Same.”

An anticlimactic confession but it fits between the two of you. You’ve always been the black cat, a little more out of reach in terms of affection but Mingyu has enough words of affirmation for the both of you. You’re much more adept at showing him how you feel anyway. It’s why you’ve been playing nurse for the past week. 

He keeps your hands tangled the entire way home, slides closer on the bench seat so his side heats against yours. There aren’t many stop signs on the way home but the ones you do hit last longer than needed because Mingyu uses it as an excuse to tilt your face towards him and kiss you again and again. Your lips, your nose, between your brows; slowly, savoring every second.

He’s used to his crutches so getting into the house and locking the door takes only a blink. The other two aren’t home which is a blessing in a curse because in the dark of your room you realize it’s just you and Mingyu. No more barriers in the way, no one to interrupt. It’s unbearably awkward in a way it’s not been since you were nineteen and walked in on him rubbing one out of your shared bed at four in the afternoon.

“Um…”

“Yeah—”

“So,” you stutter. 

Mingyu takes it on himself to reign things in.

“You like me, right?” He doesn’t wait for a response. “And I like you. Well, love you and not just as my best friend but I probably shouldn’t say that—wait! Shit! I didn’t mean that. I mean I did mean that but I didn’t mean to say it.”

“Gyu.”

He collapses onto the corner of your bed, freaking himself out. Ripping his hands through his hair, continuing to panic. “Of course, I love you. You’re my best friend and—”

“Gyu.”

“And if you don’t want to try dating me that’s fine! I’d never make you do something you didn’t want to. I don't think I could, you’re pretty stubborn. Which I like! But—”

“Mingyu!”

“What?”

“Take a breath,” you command. You’re freaked out too but Mingyu’s worse at hiding his feelings. Always has been.

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine, just relax a little. Please. You’re freaking me out.”

A crash echoes from outside the door. Glass breaking and some loud curses of one drunken roommate and a decidedly sober sounding Dokyeom shushing him. 

“Sorry,” Mingyu whispers.

“So you love me, huh?”

“I—” he chokes, and then cuts himself off to nod.

Mingyu, who likes to pretend he’s cool and smooth, reduced to a tight bundle of nerves as he sits on the edge of your bed and waits for your response. He looks at his hands. They flex anxiously together as the silence stretches on. You decide on mercy.

“It’s okay. I love you, too.”

Mingyu’s head shoots up so fast you’re afraid he gives himself whiplash. All you can do is smile, embarrassed by the way he stares at you in awe.

“Really?” He’s already pulling you closer

Biting your lip to control the grin attempting to split your face in half, you nod gently. In his lap, you wrap your arms across his shoulders and say it again. It’s quiet outside the bubble you two have made for yourselves but you like his childish giggles as the only thing tickling your ears.

Innocent touching turns lewd in slow measures just like the beach. Your both more deliberate because getting Mingyu out of his pants is a team effort, underwear firmly in place because you haven’t decided if you’re going to fuck him yet. You want to. But they serve as reassurance you don't rush to a good ending. 

Your shirt comes off, then your pants. You shepherd him to the headboard. Fully naked in his lap, Mingyu traces his fingers over your softest parts. It makes you squirm enough you kiss him to break the itch in your gut from nearly innocent touching. But it only makes it worse. He kisses you with just enough vigor to tease; pulls you closer, a tight grip on your waist you’d struggle to break out of if the thought crossed your mind. A tug encourages your rutting against the hard tent of his underwear.

It’s so much better than anything else before. Mingyu seems to agree, panting and grunting against your throat. You could just do this. It’d be enough to come; more than, as Mingyu sinks down further in the pillows and sucks your nipple gently between his lips. His tongue rolls flat and hot against it before switching to the other one. Your jaw slacks, mouth dry from heavy breaths.

“F-fuck, Gyu.”

He sucks harder and your hips follow, the line of his cock beneath his boxers nothing short of incredible. You’re a little embarrassed from how wet you are. Wet enough to soak his briefs a shade darker. But Mingyu takes charge, manhandles you across his cock with painful friction that makes you limp and pliant.

“Oh my god, Mingyu,” you taper off in a moan. “Why didn’t we do this sooner?”

“‘Mingyu, it’s gross!’” he mocks and then hisses from your teeth on his neck. “Not exactly a confidence boost.”

“Yeah, well, I only said that because I wanted to you to—fuck—fuck me.”

Fishing his cock out from his underwear, you lazily jerk him to full mast which takes only seconds. Mingyu bucks into the swipe of your thumb. You move to suck away the mess collecting there.

“Shit! Ow! Ow!” he winces.

Immediately, you’re off him. “What’s wrong? Is your leg okay?”

Mingyu grits his teeth, head falling back against the pillows. “You hit my leg.”

“Oh, shit. I’m sorry!”

“This isn’t sexy.” He sinks into the mattress, hands hiding his frustration. 

He’s laying in your bed, in only his underwear and the pale moonlight sneaking through the window. You couldn’t disagree more.

“I don’t know.” You kiss his cheek. “It's kinda hot.”

“Oh yeah, it’s great that the first time I get to do anything I can’t even make it good for you.”

“Now, that’s just ridiculous.”

“Stupid fucking leg.”

“Alright, calm down.” You can’t help but laugh. You try to stifle it but he hears it before you do and pouts even harder. “Maybe we should wait.”

He's got you back in his lap, wincing through the sudden pressure on his knee. “No, it's fine! I promise!”

“If it hurts it’s not fine,” you admonish. Mingyu doesn’t let you go though. You don’t really want him to. “Just lay back and relax, okay?”

“What are you gonna do?”

“I’m gonna blow you  and then I’m gonna fuck you.”

You say it like a promise. Mingyu’s eyes widen, jaw dropping at your lewd threat. His cock twitches against your palm and you soothe it with a quick stroke. He ruts into it again.

“Oh.”

“Sound good?” you ask, another slick glide across the leaking tip. He’s shaking.

“Sounds great.”

You kiss down his front, raze a nipple with your teeth until he whines. Even with the order to relax his hands can’t stay still. On your back, in your hair, pulling at the sheets as you tongue across his abs. You’re nearly sent crashing to the floor while bruising his hip bone. 

This time, you’re extra careful when kneeling between his sprawled legs. Your ass high in the air for his pleasure, him sprawled out on the pillows for yours. He’s pretty. The moonlight slipping between the blinds casts him in a pale glow, lines of light crossing his body and illuminating all the best parts: tangled hair from your hands, swollen lips from your kissing, a splotchy hickey on his hip claiming him as yours.

His cock spills from the band of his underwear, hard and waiting. You keep watching as you suck the tip of it. His eyes open at that, watching you watching him and he can't decide if it's heaven or hell right there beneath you on the mattress.

“Oh my god.”

It’s slow work to roll his underwear down without jostling his bad knee but you distract him with teasing caresses of every newly revealed inch of skin. There isn’t much you haven’t seen but you’re eager to get reacquainted. Fingers, then lips, then soothing the sting of your teeth with some wet pecks. And then you draw his cock across your tongue for the first time and he jumps.

“Holy shit.”

“What?” you garble around a mouthful of cock. 

There isn’t really a good angle with his knee in consideration so the rhythm of your hand is lackluster at best. You make up for it with hollowed cheeks he can’t look away from, and he actually throbs between your swollen lips as your tongue traces every ridge and vein meticulously. Each time he starts to answer your question you suck the head until he whines.

“You’re…” he sighs. “this is gonna sound weird but I’ve only dreamed of you doing this since we were like sixteen.”

A brief break for the sake of your jaw gives you time to joke, “No pressure.”

“It’s already better than I thought if that means anything.”

“Stop being cute, I'm trying to suck your dick.”

You cut off his rebuttal with a swallow and his eyes nearly bug out from his skull at the sight. His hand rests on the back of your head, gathering your hair to keep it out of the way. “Is this…”

You nod enthusiastically before he even finishes his thought, mouth watering at the possibilities. You ache for it. You want him to call the shots and let you follow merrily behind, bent to his whim.

“Open your mouth, baby.”

You open wide for his cock to brush the back of your throat softly. Not too much just yet while he gathers the confidence to maneuver you the way he needs; the way he’s apparently been dying to for years. 

He’s got one hand on the back of your head, the other tangled in the sheets as you suck him rigid. Brace for a gentle gag, just enough for him to hear, and the taste of sticky pre-cum floods across your tongue. You get a few more drags of your tongue up the head of his cock before he leverages to grip in your head and pulls you off.

“Okay, okay. Stop.”

“What’s wrong? Is it your leg?”

Mingyu ignores your question. His only response is a sloppy kiss with too much tongue but you can’t fault him for it with the pleasant heat of his hands on your ass once more. 

“Wanna eat you out,” he grunts.

You snort at his optimism. “I can see some issues with that.”

He lifts you up his chest. It’s horrible that someone with a face like his is also a muscle pig who can bend you anyway he wants even with an injury; Jungkook fully to blame for too many workouts on the beach. Mingyu has you up his chest before you realize where this is going.

“Sit on my face.”

“I—” you blink. Porn isn’t a good reference for sex, not that you’ve seen much since the only TV sits in the living room. You’ve seen the magazines your friends buy as gag gifts though and the thought of Mingyu smothered in your cunt makes you sweat. “Are you sure?”

Apparently it’s a stupid question because Mingyu just pulls you further up until you’re kneeling over him and he’s got enough room to deliver soft licks to your core.

You don’t care how loud you’re being or the fact you share a wall with Dokyeom who doesn’t deserve to hear your pathetic moans in surround sound. Mingyu abuses your clit, sucks and licks and kisses with lewd vigor until you rut down into it.

You need a break. Just a second to regain sanity but Mingyu isn’t that generous. He holds you by your ass, palms it so hard you squeak as he moves you against his mouth, drops one hand when he’s confident you aren’t planning to run away again. The stretch of two thick fingers crook just right to have you seeing stars.

“Th-there.”

Mingyu hums into the sloppy mess of your cunt, holding steady as you fuck yourself along his face, tongue out to swipe messily at your clit. His head shakes back and forth and makes you whine to the ceiling fan. You savor the rhythm he sets, thick fingers working to prep you, stretching and spreading until your stomach dips. He knocks every tight noise in your chest out with each rush.

“That’s…Just like that. Gyu, please.” You nails scratch against the wall aimlessly. He stretches and stretches, molds you to him and every one of his whims. 

Until all you can do is snap.

You’re wobbly on jelly knees, clit numb even while Mingyu suckles against it softly for your come down. You roll off carefully to sit bubbly and golden back in his lap. Eyes closed, you lean blindly into his space and squish his cheek with yours.

He’s just as messy as you feel. Face wet, choked breaths and racing pulse, you deflate against each other. The bloodlust for satisfaction lulls to a simmer. You use it to enjoy all the warm skin on skin contact.

Aftercare comes in the form of lips dragging over wherever either of you can reach, no energy for real kisses just savoring the lazy motion. The hands that plucked you into a whimpering mess massage your thighs, your back; pull and tangle his fingers between yours.

“When my knee is better I’m gonna do that for an hour.”

“Lucky me,” you huff. 

You find his mouth, suck his bottom lip between yours until he demands more. His cock rests against his stomach, hot to the touch. Gentle at first. Teasing with a light brush of your fingers. Then getting a tight grip around him until he bucks.

“Want you,” Mingyu groans, pulling you further up his thighs. “Wanna fuck you.”

On your knees, you position over him to do just that but he stops you.

“Condom?” 

Good thing at least one of you is thinking because you didn’t even think about it. Your nightstand drawer is barren, not even an empty box left. Not a single condom wrapper in sight.

“Fuck. Do you have any in your room?”

He doesn’t. Which means you’re at the mercy of your roommates and their ability to practice safe sex.

You tug Mingyu’s shirt over head but even if it hides your nudity you smell like sex and have the glow on your features to back it up. There’s flaking pre-cum and spit against your chin.Whatever, you’ve heard your roommates howling like dogs enough times to earn your own night of debauchery.

“Hosh.” You rap on his door but he doesn’t answer. When you open it he’s face down in the pillow, trash can close by. You watch just long enough for his chest to expand to make sure he isn’t dead before prodding him in the side.

“Wha? What?” he mumbles through drool.

“Condoms?”

He stares at you with all the sentience of rock before answering. “I can’t sleep with you, Mingyu will kill me.”

“You stupid bitch,” you sneer, slapping him with his own pillow. “Where are your condoms?”

Soonyoung buries himself back into his sheets. “I don’t have any.”

“Oh my god.”

You fly out of his tiger den and to Dokyeom’s door down the hall.

“Kyeom?” You knock. “Dude, are you awake?”

He actually answers the door. His bedside light is still on, some comic book left open on his bed. “Is someone dead?”

“No. Do you have a condom?”

“For who?”

Your eyes roll. “Me, dumbass.”

“Who’s the guy?” Dokyeom looks at you like he doesn’t believe it. Maybe the walls are more soundproof than you thought.

“Mingyu.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yes, really! We can have girl time later, but I need a condom. Now.”

He forces his entire stash, an unopened 32-count box, into your hands before pushing you back into the hallway with a quiet ‘good luck.’

Your roommates are fucking weird.

Tucked back in the dark of your room, Mingyu is waiting.Blanket wrapped around his waist, propped against the headboard just like you left him.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” he smiles. He looks a little pathetic. 

“Did you know Dokyeom keeps a thirty-two pack in his room?” You hold up the evidence as proof.

“Apparently, he’s seeing some waitress at the Kellerman.”

“Enough times he needs a bulk box of rubbers?”

“Clearly not if he gave them to you.”

“I think it’s more like a ‘congrats on finally getting together’ present.”

“How thoughtful of him,” he snorts. “Now come over here. I missed you.” 

“Can’t have that, can we?” You kneel on the bed next to him. His hand sneaks up the back of your leg, beneath your shirt to cup your ass.

“Yeah, the doctors said it was bad for me.”

“Well if the doctors said…” You lose the thought in a gentle sigh against his mouth. Mingyu peels your shirt - his shirt - over head and banishes it to the floor. You're naked in his lap and he’s naked beneath you; it makes you clench.

He covers every inch of your naked skin in soft kisses, puffs of breath heating your neck as you stroke his cock hard enough to slip the condom on.

“Fuck, you’re so hot.”

You balance on shaky knees, sheathing him inside you in a slow descent. He wants to fuck up into you so badly. You can feel it in the way his hands squeeze on your hips, his stomach dips as you take more. Everything about Mingyu is big, including his cock. Big enough you could sit there all night and never get used to the stretch, or the way he whispers sweet praises into your temple.

Good girl. My favorite. Perfect for me.

When you finally bottom out, ass flat to his thighs, pressed tight to his chest, you whimper, “M-Mingyu.”

He groans into your cheek. “Love how you say my name.”

It’s all on you to make this good. You rock forward, instantly dissatisfied with the emptiness of your core and immediately moving to end the feeling. You grind on him and that feels better. He wedges deep and stays there; presses your buttons from the inside out as he mouths across your shoulder.

You’re so wet, soaked from his mouth, and his thumb takes advantage by gluing to your clit, tight circles that make you spasming. He guides you while nipping back up to your mouth, one hand heavy on your ass. 

“Oh, keep doing that,” he moans when your nails dig into his chest. 

The slap of skin against skin is background noise to grunts and groans and pathetic whines that meld between your mouths. Lightheaded, you aren’t even kissing, open mouths brushing against one another with narrowed vision. 

“Is it,” he gasps. “Is it bad if I ask you to turn around?”

“D-depends why you’re asking.”

“Wanna fuck you from behind. Wanna watch you take my cock.” He squeezes your ass to punctuate the request.

“Watch me like this.” You lean back, carefully to balance on the mattress and not his legs. Mingyu glues onto the unobstructed view down your front: your throat, your breasts, the way your cunt clings to his cock on the upstroke. “You like it?”

Hips finding a jilted rhythm, Mingyu snakes a hand up your chest and twists your nipple until you nearly collapse. “So good, it looks so good.”

“Next t-time,” you hiccup. “You can fuck me however you want. Want you to…fuck me from behind.”

He tugs the back of your neck. You collapse with the strength of his muscles and land nose to nose with him. 

“You’re so good— fuck, so tight for me. For me, yeah?”

You give a dumb nod, voice mute with the deep rhythm battering your walls.

“Say it. Say you’re mine.”

You can only nod again. Hair sticks to your sweaty face, a few rogue tears joining the mess Mingyu’s left on it.

“Say it, wanna hear you say it. Please.” He’s lost somewhere. Some desperate place that needs your validation.

You chant exactly what he wants to hear. Yours, yours, yours. A second duller bolt flashes through you, tensing every last muscle. Mingyu jolts from the tight squeeze gripping his cock. You give him the last sweep of your energy, bouncy wildly, fucking him quick and hard until your eyes cross.

“I’m—Mingyu, oh,” you whimper. You don’t stop even though your muscles object. Thrashing as you seize and come hot and wet. 

Mingyu’s got his hands to move you when your joints lock, a desperate race to his own end. He rubs you raw and red right to the core. You let him; still sobbing through the last pulses while he manhandles you over his cock roughly, slick with no resistance.

“Baby, fuck, feels so good,” he grovels, fucked out of his mind.

Your legs try to close, run away from the rush of even more stimulation, but Mingyu keeps you firmly pinned in place. He bites your neck, your shoulder, coming in thick breaths, hips stuttering while you sit there and take it. His fingers take advantage of the mess of your core but there's nothing left for you to give. Maybe later.

Mingyu gasps for air like he just did a deep dive. “Holy shit fuck.”

The touching doesn’t stop. You sweep your hands over his shoulders, cup his face, trace fingers of his stomach. Mingyu’s got one hand to keep you from pulling off his just yet, the other glued to the dip of your spine. Places forbidden to touch as just friends, now unlocked.

Condom in the trash, tissues for a quick clean up. You’re sticky in all the worst places but it’s a problem for later.

“So…when's our first date?” you ask him, cuddling back into the crook of his neck for the rest of the night.

“You. Me. Patty’s tomorrow morning.”

“Are you actually gonna pay for our food this time?”

Mingyu squeezes at your side, lips against your hairline. “You’re the one rolling in dough, Ms. Champion.”

“So I’m your sugar momma now?”

“That’s hot.”

The rebuttal dissolves on your tongue. You’re both deadweight. Sweaty and glowing in a pile of limbs, shivering beneath the ceiling fan. Mingyu is happy as your pillow, sweeping his hand over your back and hair as you crest sleep.

Turns out your room doesn’t get too hot with Mingyu sleeping in it if you’re both naked.

taglist: @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie

@gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire

@missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu @sliceofwoozi

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@scoupsjin @isabellah29 @luvseungcheol @crisle19 @iamawkwardandshy

@lukeys-giggle @aaa-sia @tinkerbell460 @gyuhao365 @ourkivee 

@bokk-minnie @cookiearmy

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@lllucere @wwjagabeee @syluslittlecrows @yourbimbohope @whrryuu

@wonrangwoo @xchaenx @nuttywastelandmentality @champagnenoona @kyeomofhearts

[sceletaflores]

well, all right i’m bad, but then you’re no prize either…

pair: joel miller x fem!reader

wc: 8.6k

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, no ellie, general violence (only referenced), age gap (56/26), swearing, so many spacers lmao, not quite friends to lovers and not quite enemies to lovers but a weird other thing, kinda mean!joel for a good sec, dressing wounds, joel miller TUMMY, loss of virginity (reader is a virgin but she's not completely oblivious and weirdly infantile about it lmao), fingering (fem!receiving), p in v, unprotected sex whoops, size kink, belly bulging, pussy pronouns, porn with a tiny plot, no use of y/n.

nat’s note: well, i finally caved y’all. baby’s first tlou fic! this literally took me forever to write and even longer to post cause i was so terrified LMAO so please give me some grace if it’s shit and he’s ooc and timelines are a little fuzzy cause i barely know what i’m doing. thank you chickens love you mwah mwah mwah. kisses!

dividers by lovely @saradika-graphics!

joel found a lodge house…

You don’t know what you did to make Joel Miller hate you so much.

He's never outright said it, but you know it’s there—in every sharp glance, every clipped word, every deliberate avoidance.

Besides, his silence is worse than anything he could say. A quiet condemnation that settles in your chest like stone.

You tell yourself it doesn’t matter, that you don’t care what he thinks, but the truth is harder to swallow.

You do care—more than you want to admit. His approval, his respect, hell, even a sliver of kindness from him feels like an impossible prize you’ll never win.

And you hate yourself for wanting it. For needing it.

It's not just the weight of his disdain that eats at you, it's the not knowing why. God, do you wish you could ask him why.

What did you do to make him look at you like you’re some necessary evil he has to tolerate. Why does he hold some unspoken grudge that's manifested itself into something you couldn't dream of ever comprehending.

But the thought of confronting Joel feels like standing on the edge of a cliff, staring down into a void that might swallow you whole.

So instead, you do what you've always done. You keep your distance, try to match his indifference with your own, and tell yourself it’s better this way.

You were young when the outbreak hit, six years old.

You’re sure that’s part of it. That that’s how Joel sees you, as some bumbling, naive child who’s more of a hassle than anything else.

Another mouth to feed, another back to watch, baggage.

You've been with him for almost seven months now, traveling side by side when you may have well been miles apart. Trekking through abandoned cities, overgrown highways, and every godforsaken patch of wilderness in between.

In the beginning, you did everything you could to prove him wrong.

You pushed yourself past your limits, hunted, scavenged, fought, kept up. You did everything that needed to be done without hesitation.

All to show that you were more than what he made you out to be. It never seemed to matter much.

After you lost your parents in the early days of the outbreak, it was just you and your sister. She taught you everything you know, taught you how to survive.

It's because of her that you know how to shoot a rifle, how to skin a rabbit, how to start a fire with nothing but sticks and dried moss, how to snap bones and locate which vital arteries bleed out the quickest.

It's because of her that you've been able to hone some sick skill in the maiming of clickers.

A skill you never thought you'd need to use on her.

You were supposed to be safe in the QZ. You weren't supposed to be fifteen years old, aiming a gun at the one person you had left.

Your own flesh and blood wasn't supposed to be the very first in a long list of red tallies under your belt.

It’s been years and you’ve still never forgotten that day. December 19th, 2012, the date burned into your brain like someone took a branding iron to the tissue.

You can’t count the amount of times you’ve been ripped from your sleep drenched in a cold sweat with the tail end of a scream tearing at the skin of your throat.

The image of what was left of your sister, slumped on the ground lifeless as her blood painted the wall behind her flashing behind your closed eyelids. The sound of her last labored breath ringing in your ears louder than any shotgun blast.

You ran that same night, with the weight of her death on your shoulders.

Your entire world spinning out around you as you clawed through barbed wire fencing, not caring where you were going or what would happen to you—just needing to escape.

There was nothing left for you to do after that but survive. And that’s what you did, for years, scraping by in a world that had already chewed you up and spit you out a mangled mess.

You learned how to be ruthless because of it.

How to harden yourself against the loss, the pain, the brutality. But there were cracks, too. Cracks you hid well, buried deep beneath layers of stubbornness and distance.

The endless days blurred into each other. Empty houses, hollow streets. A life reduced to scavenging, hiding, and the occasional, fleeting moment of human connection that inevitably ended in loss. 

And then you found yourself with Joel.

You hadn’t exactly found him, though. More like crashed into his orbit by accident.

A few desperate days spent scavenging through the ruins of a small town, a chance encounter that left you both wary and unwilling to turn your backs.

But, inexplicably, you somehow became part of his traveling routine.

He wasn’t like any of the others you’d met before. At first, you thought he might be different. A man who seemed broken, but different nonetheless.

As the days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, you began to see the truth. Joel Miller wasn’t concerned with you. He didn’t need you. And, more than that, he didn’t want you around. 

You didn’t know what to do with that.

It’s a bitter kind of irony. You’ve survived all this time completely on your own, fought tooth and nail to stay alive, but with him, you might just crumble.

Joel found a lodge house. It's a small, weathered place tucked away in the dense trees of the wood surrounding it.

He only deemed it suitable after an extensive perimeter check and a thorough sweep of the interior.

It's not much—just another run-down place in the middle of nowhere—but for the first time in what feels like forever, it’s a roof over your head for the night.

The walls are sturdy, though the windows are cracked and half of the floorboards creak like they're about to give out at any moment.

You explored the second floor alone, creeping through the desolate rooms and taking in all that was left behind.

Old family photographs covered in thick layers of dust, worn clothes riddled with holes still hung in the few closets you stumble across.

The oddest of all was an old jewelry box tucked away in a dresser draw, tarnished silver dull and muddy.

The sound of familiar footsteps comes from somewhere behind you. The door creaks open slowly.

Joel. Of course.

He clears his throat, the sound abrasive in the quiet of the house.  

“Fire’s low,” he says, voice rough from its lack of use today.

You don’t turn around, not yet. You take the box in your gloved hand, running your fingers across the intricate design of the lid, touch trailing over winding vines and small roses.

“Okay,” you mutter, your voice coming out quieter than you intended. “I’ll grab some more wood later.”

Another beat of silence. Then, “It’s gettin’ cold out, I’ll go.”

Your fingers pause their ministrations, moving to flip the lid open. Empty.

“Suit yourself,” you reply after a moment, your tone just as neutral as his.

Joel doesn’t leave right away. You hear the floorboards groan beneath his weight, his presence lingering in the doorway. 

You wonder what he’s waiting for, or if he’s waiting at all.

Finally, he speaks. “Don’t touch anything.”

With that he turns and leaves the room, you wait until you can’t hear his footsteps trailing down the stairs anymore to let out the scoff festering in your chest.

You snap the jewelry lid shut with a little more force than necessary. “Asshole.”

Joel's been gone for a while now. Longer than it takes to chop a few logs for firewood.

You came down from the upstairs a few minutes after hearing the tell-tale sound of the heavy door opening and closing. The main room is quiet, save for the soft crackle of the dwindling fire.

You're perched on an old armchair near the entrance, peering out the dirty window that has the best view of the treeline as you nervously pick the skin around your nails.

You tell yourself not to worry. He’s probably fine, he’s been doing this a lot longer than you. And if Joel is anything, it’s annoyingly competent.

Still, a nagging doubt itches at the back of your mind. It's been at least half an hour, maybe more.

You’re just about to grab your own pack and go looking for him when the front door creaks open.

Joel stumbles inside, the frigid evening air rushing in behind him before he slams the door shut. At first glance, he looks fine—no more haggard than usual. 

But then you notice the way he favors his left side, the way his free hand is pressed against his ribs, blood seeping through his fingers and staining his torn undershirt.

You’re on your feet in an instant.

“Fuck,” you say, voice sharper than you expected. “What the hell happened?”

“Raiders.” Is the only explanation you get as he tries to brush past you like it’s nothing. The stiff way he moves and the tightens of his jaw betray him. “S’just a scratch.”

“Bullshit,” you snap, stepping in front of him and blocking his path to the fire. “Sit. Now.”

He gives you a look, one of those deep, withering glares you’ve seen him use to intimidate countless others into submission. But you stand your ground, chin raised and jaw set–defiant. 

His stubbornness finally meeting its match in your own. 

Finally, with a low growl of frustration, he drops onto the couch. “Happy now?”

"Not until you let me take care of that." You motion toward his side, where the blood is still spreading.

“I’m fine,” he mutters, lolling his head back to rest more heavily on the couch.

“Sure you are,” you snap, crossing the room to rifle through your bag. “And I’m the fucking Queen of England.”

"Said I’m fine," he bites through gritted teeth, but you’re already moving, heading back to him with the first aid kit from your pack.

"You want to bleed out on this ugly-ass couch? Be my guest," you shoot back, dropping to your knees in front of him. "Otherwise, shut up and let me help."

Joel surprisingly doesn’t argue any further, just sighs heavily and reluctantly sinks further into the couch cushions.

You push the front of his jacket open to slide it off his shoulders as gently as you can, peeling back the layer of his flannel next.

The smell of blood hits you immediately.

The gash is about five inches long, trailing the span of his ribcage. It’s deep—but not fatal—just an angry red and oozing blood.

Definitely not the simple 'scratch' he made it out to be.

Your stomach churns at the sight, but you push it down. No time for that.

“Jesus, Joel,” you mutter under your breath, reaching for the alcohol in your kit. “You really know how to underplay a situation, huh?”

He doesn’t respond, just watches you with those dark, calculating eyes of his. Always watching, always assessing.

It’s unnerving, but you focus on the task at hand, grabbing a clean cloth and soaking it with alcohol.

“This is gonna hurt,” you warn, though there’s a part of you that doesn’t mind the idea of causing him a little discomfort.

A petty, vindictive part that still stings from all the scorn he’s thrown your way.

“Just get it over with,” Joel grits out, his voice low and gravelly.

You don’t give him any more warnings as you wipe the soaked cloth over the wound. He flinches, a harsh curse slipping through clenched teeth, but he doesn’t pull away.

You work as quickly as you can, wiping away the blood and dirt with steady hands, your movements as gentle as possible given the situation.

You let out an annoyed huff when the torn fabric of his shirt gets in the way of your hands for a second time.

You lean back on your heels, glancing up at Joel. “You need to take your shirt off.”

Joel raises a brow at you, his lips pressing into a thin line. “That really necessary?”

“Yes, it’s necessary, Joel,” you huff, already losing patience. “Unless you want me to sit here and cut around every thread of this ratty thing while you bleed out, then by all means—”

He sighs heavily, cutting you off as he shifts forward and grabs the hem of his shirt. He tugs at the fabric, grunting in pain each time it strains his ribs.

You roll your eyes at how slow he’s moving, and your patience—already worn thin by the day's events—snaps.

“Jesus Christ, let me help,” you huff, reaching forward and grabbing the fabric.

Joel jerks back slightly, his hand shooting up to stop yours mid-motion. “I got it,” he growls, a sharp edge in his voice.

You glare at him, your hand still caught in his grip. His palm is calloused, his hold firm enough to make your pulse jump unexpectedly. 

For a moment, the two of you just sit there, locked in a silent standoff.

Then he releases your hand and pulls the shirt over his head himself, wincing as the movement pulls at his side.

You wait with your arms crossed, trying to ignore the awkward flutter of nerves in your stomach as the fabric peels away to reveal his chest.

Joel’s broad, solid frame isn’t new to you. You’ve seen him shirtless before—brief glimpses when bathing in rivers or changing in run down houses between stops.

But this time feels different, more intimate somehow.

You’re staring, and you know it.

The firelight cast shadows over his skin, illuminating old scars, faint lines of muscle, the barely there jut of his stomach over the hem of his jeans.

You had been getting more game kills recently, two hunters are always better than one.

Joel clears his throat, dragging your focus back to the present. “You gonna gawk all night, or can we move this along?”

You snap out of it, scowling to cover your embarrassment. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t get your panties in a twist.”

You finish cleaning the gash and grab the small needle and thread lying next to you.

“This’ll hurt worse than the alcohol,” you say, threading the needle easily.

Joel snorts, a rare sound. “Figures.”

The needle pierces his skin, and this time, you catch the smallest hitch in his breath. He doesn’t make a sound, but his jaw tightens, the veins in his neck standing out like cords.

His hands grip the edge of the couch hard enough that his knuckles turn white with it, but he doesn’t tell you to stop or slow down.

He’s too damn proud for that.

You shift closer, your knee brushing against his leg as you position yourself to work from a better angle. You feel his eyes on you, that intense, scrutinizing stare that makes your skin prickle.

“You’ve done this before,” Joel says after a moment, his tone less sharp than before. It’s not quite a question, more of an observation.

You shrug, keeping your hands steady. “Of course I have.”

“Who taught you?”

The question catches you off guard, Joel’s never shown much interest in what your life was before you met him. You glance up briefly, catching his gaze. There’s no malice there, no judgment—just curiosity.

You swallow hard, dragging your eyes back to stitches, half way done now. “My sister.”

You don’t elaborate and Joel doesn’t push.

Maybe it’s the sudden tightness in your tone or the look you know must be clouding your face that keeps him quiet.

You finish off the stitching, tearing the thin strand of thread with your hands before you’re leaning away again.

“Good as new,” you say, dabbing some more alcohol on your own hands to disinfect. “Try not to tear these open anytime soon.”

Joel leans back, strong arms spread across the back of the couch, his face unreadable as he peers down at the fresh stitching on his side. 

“Could’ve done it myself,” he mutters, but the edge in his voice is gone, replaced with something softer, almost resigned. 

You roll your eyes with a scoff, not even trying to hide your irritation as you rise from the floor. “Sure you could’ve, right before you passed out. You’re welcome by the way.”

You gather your supplies and turn to head back to your bag, but Joel’s voice stops you in your tracks.

“You’re always like this, y’know,” he says, and the words carry that same gravelly drawl, but there’s something new there—something heavier.

You pause, your hands tightening around the kit in your grasp. “Like what?”

“Pushy. Stubborn,” he replies, his tone cutting, though it lacks the usual venom. “Like you’ve got somethin’ to prove all the damn time.”

You whip around, your patience officially gone. “You think I’m stubborn?” you shoot back, your voice rising. “Coming from the guy who would rather bleed out on a fucking couch than admit he needs help?”

Joel’s jaw tightens, and his hands flex against the couch cushions, but you don’t stop. Not now. Not after months of this.

“I’ve been busting my ass since day one to prove that I’m not dead weight to you. I’ve fought for us, for you. And for what? Just to get more of your bullshit attitude?”

“You don’t know what the hell you’re talkin’ about,” Joel snaps, pushing himself upright despite the obvious strain it puts on his freshly stitched wound. “You don’t know a goddamn thing about me.”

“Because you won’t let me!” you fire back, stepping closer, your voice rising. “All you do is look at me like I’m some burden you can’t wait to get rid of.”

Joel’s glare sharpens, his lips parting as if to respond, but you cut him off.

You really can’t stop yourself now that you started, all the anger and frustration reaching a fever pitch hot enough to burst the tight lid you’ve kept on your emotions.

“If I’m such a hassle, why didn’t you just leave me back there, huh? Why didn’t you just walk away like I know you wanted to?”

Joel’s breathing is heavier now,  his broad chest rising and falling as his dark eyes bore into yours.

For a moment, he doesn’t say anything. Then, he stands, and the sheer size of him forces you to tilt your chin up slightly to keep your glare fixed on his face.

“You think I wanted this, kid?” he growls, his voice low and strained, like he’s barely holding himself together. “You think I wanted to be responsible for someone else? To have someone else’s fuckin’ life on me?”

“Don’t call me kid,” you spit, shoving a finger into his chest, ignoring the way his jaw ticks at the contact. “I’m not a fucking kid.”

He scoffs, casting his eyes to the ceiling disbelievingly. “Could’ve fooled me.”

“Fuck you, Joel,” you growl, fists clenching at your side. “If you hate me that much, why the hell are you still here? Why didn’t you tell me to fuck off the second you met me?”

“Because I couldn’t!” Joel snaps, booming voice filling the small space.

The confession slips out like it pains him. His fists clench at his sides, and for a moment, he looks like he might break something.

You’ve never been scared of Joel, even though you’ve seen first hand just how scary he can be.

Now, as he looms in front of you, eyes blazing and jaw working furiously beneath his skin, it’s the closest to scared you’ve felt.

“I’ve seen you out there,” he continues, tone low and dark. “You’ve got a fuckin’ death wish. You’re too damn stubborn to just stop, and I’m not gonna let you go so you can run off and get yourself fuckin’ killed.”

Your heart pounds in your chest, his words hitting far too close to home.

“I’m just trying to survive, Joel,” you snap, your voice shaking. “That’s what we do, isn’t it? Survive.”

“Survive,” Joel repeats bitterly, his gaze burning into yours. “That what you call it? Throwin’ yourself into every goddamn fight, gettin’ stabbed and shot right fuckin’ in front of me and expecting me to brush that shit off?”

You let out a humorless laugh, nodding your head exasperatedly. “Yes, yes I do expect you to just brush it off, because that’s what you always do.” 

“Well I can’t,” he grates out, taking a step closer. “I can’t ‘cause despite whatever it is that you may think about me, I don’t hate you. I care about you too damn much and that's my goddamn problem.”

That shuts you up, your mouth snapping closed with a sharp click of your teeth as you stare at him, shocked.

Joel holds your gaze, lips pressed into a thin line. “That what you wanted to hear?”

It’s in that moment that the fire finally fizzles out, the dull hiss of it the only sound left in the room.

You’re quiet for a beat, stunned into silence. The heat of his anger, his frustration, it radiates off him, and you realize suddenly that this isn’t just about you. 

It never was.

“Then show me,” you challenge softly, your heart pounding in your chest. “Show me that you don’t hate me.”

Joel’s eyes darken, his head cocking to the side as he searches your face for a sign. You don’t say anything, you only square your shoulders and raise your chin, your eyes just as hard as his own.

“I want you to prove it.”

The tension snaps like a rubber band stretched too far. 

You shouldn’t—this shouldn’t—happen. Not like this. Not after everything that’s been said.

But when Joel’s lips crash against yours, hot and desperate and urgent, it makes everything blur into nothing. 

It’s not gentle, not soft—this is anger and longing and frustration all wrapped into one. It’s messy, frantic, like a fight that’s been brewing for too long.

He grips your arm, pulling you closer, almost too roughly, but it feels like it’s everything you’ve both been avoiding.

His other hand moves to cup the back of your neck, grounding you as his lips press harder against yours, like he’s trying to pour everything he can’t say into this single moment.

You respond just as fiercely, nails digging into the skin of his shoulders as you kiss him back with all the pent-up emotion that’s been simmering beneath the surface.

The coarse hair of his beard scrapes against the skin of your chin deliciously, the scent of blood and firewood filling your senses as his arm wraps around your waist, dragging you impossibly closer.

Close enough that you can feel the wild beat of his heart booming against your chest.

You pull away for a second, breathless, both of you looking at each other, your eyes wide and pupils blown.

“Goddamn it,” Joel mutters, his voice thick with frustration and something else you can’t place. He presses his forehead to yours, the deep brown of his eyes dark than before. “What the hell are we doing?”

You don’t have an answer. You’re not sure if you even want one.

You reach for him again, arms looping around his neck to drag his mouth back to yours.

This kiss is nothing like the first, it isn’t a clash of frustration–it’s filthier, rawer. A near feral thing, all teeth and tongue, a surge of hunger and need that borders on violence. 

Joel groans into your mouth, a low, guttural sound that sends a shiver racing down your spine. His teeth catch your bottom lip, pulling just hard enough to make you gasp.

He takes advantage of the sound, his tongue sweeping into your mouth to slide against yours with wet, messy desperation, like he’s trying to claim every inch of you.

The taste of him—salt and iron and something distinctly Joel—makes your head spin. 

Your fingers knot into the chocolaty curls at the nape of his neck, surprisingly soft to the touch. His own hands roam the soft curves of your body, rough and insistent, like he can’t decide where he wants to touch you most.

“Joel—” His name spills from your lips like a plea, and he answers with a deep, guttural noise that sends heat pooling low in your belly. His tongue follows the path of his teeth, soothing the bites with lazy, deliberate strokes that make your knees weak.

You’re moving before you even realize it. Joel dragging you across the room and down onto the couch with him, using the strength he’s built up after all these years to manhandle you until your thighs are spread wide on either side of his lap.

“Joel,” you gasp again, rearing back enough to break the kiss. “Your stitches–”

He cuts you off with a sharp nip to the sensitive spot behind your ear, tearing a high whine from your throat. “Can hardly feel ‘em.”

You make a displeased sound, but it’s undermined by the way you tilt your head to give his wandering lips more room. His hands find a home on your hips, one slipping beneath your shirt to press against the soft skin of your stomach. 

His fingers splay wide across your skin, his palm callused and rough. His pinky just barely brushes the underside of your breast, and you’re suddenly rearing back. 

“Wait,” you say, your voice barely a whisper.

Joel’s hands immediately loosen their grip on your hips, his brows knitting together in concern. “You okay?”

You nod quickly, your heart pounding in your chest. “I just...I need to tell you something.”

His jaw tightens slightly, but he stays quiet, waiting for you to speak.

You take a beat, chewing at the skin of your bottom lip nervously.

“I’ve never...” You pause, swallowing hard as your cheeks heat up. “I’ve never done this before. I mean, I’ve never been with anyone like this.”

Joel pulls back slightly, his expression unreadable as he processes your words. For a moment, you think he might pull away completely, but then he exhales a long, slow breath.

“Christ,” he mutters, scrubbing a hand down his face. “You’re tellin’ me this now?”

“I didn’t exactly plan for this to happen,” you snap back, crossing your arms over your chest defensively. “It’s not like I had the luxury of a high school sweetheart to pop my cherry out here.”

Joel’s gaze softens at your tone, and he reaches out to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin. “Hey, hey, I didn’t mean it like that.”

You glance away, suddenly feeling self-conscious under the weight of his stare. “I just...I wanted you to know. But I want this, Joel. I want you.”

His thumb stills against your cheek, and he swallows hard, his adam’s apple bobbing as he considers your words.

“I don’t...” He pauses, the most hesitant you’ve ever heard him. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

It’s the most vulnerable he’s been around you, round eyes shining with something so raw and so earnest it makes your heart ache in your chest. 

“You won’t,” you insist, your voice steady despite the nerves fluttering in your stomach. “I trust you.”

Joel’s jaw clenches, and for a moment, he looks like he’s going to argue. But then he nods, his shoulders relaxing as he cups the back of your neck, pulling you closer until your foreheads touch again.

“At least let me do this right,” he murmurs, his voice so soft you almost don’t hear it. “Not here. Not on some goddamn couch.”

You blink up at him, surprised by the tenderness in his tone. “What?”

“Upstairs,” he says, his thumb tracing lazy circles against the side of your neck. “There’s a bed up there. It ain’t much, but it’s better than this.”

You can’t do anything but nod, your pulse racing beneath your skin fast enough to combat the cold night air seeping through the walls.

“Okay,” you say softly, voice barely above a whisper. “Upstairs.”

Joel stands, gently pulling you to feet and taking your hand in his. He leads you upstairs, each step feeling heavier with anticipation. The small bedroom is dimly lit, the faint glow of moonlight filtering through a broken blind. 

The bed isn’t much—an old mattress on a worn frame, covered with a patched-up blanket—but it doesn’t matter.

Joel shuts the door behind you, the sound of the latch clicking into place sending a shiver down your spine.

“Last chance,” he says, his voice a low rumble. “You say the word, and we stop. No questions asked.”

Your throat tightens at the sincerity in his tone, the way he’s giving you an out even though you can see the strain in every line of his body, the way his hands flex at his sides like he wants nothing more than to reach out and touch you.

But you don’t hesitate.

You step closer, placing your hands on his bare chest. You bite back a smile at the goosebumps that break out all along his skin at your touch. 

“Jesus, Miller,” you mumble teasingly, nails lightly scratching through the salt and pepper hair scattered along his chest. “How long are you gonna drag this out before you get it through your thick skull that I want to fuck you?”

"Christ." Joel huffs, shaking his head as the corners of his lips turn up in a small grin. “Like I fuckin’ said,” he starts, big hands kneading the meat of your hips. “Pushy.”

Joel walks you backward until the backs of your knees hit the edge of the bed, and you fall onto it with a soft gasp.

He follows you immediately, crawling over you, his body covering yours, his weight a comforting pressure. “I’ll take care of you,” he murmurs, his lips brushing yours. “I’ll make it good for you, I swear.”

His fingers are everywhere, unbuttoning your shirt with a practiced ease that has your pulse racing. His lips follow the path of his hands, each touch a branding mark, each kiss leaving you wanting more.

“Pretty girl,” he mutters softly, pressing a kiss right between the valley of your breasts.

You feel his cock stirring against your stomach, and it makes the ache between your legs flare to life, the weight of it, the hardness of it, driving you crazy with need. 

You want him so badly you can barely think straight, but when his lips graze over your collarbone, you can’t stop the quiet whine that escapes your throat.

Joel growls in response, a sound that resonates deep in his chest, and you know then that he’s as far gone as you are. His hands slide down to the waistband of your pants, tugging them down your legs with urgency. 

As your skin is exposed to the cool air, you can feel the heat of his gaze on you, like he’s memorizing every inch of you.

“You’re fuckin' perfect,” he mutters, his voice thick with desire.

Joel's hands find your thighs, parting them with a deliberate slowness that makes your breath catch in your throat. He positions himself between your legs, his body weight pressing you into the mattress, his chest rising and falling with the same frantic rhythm as yours. 

The anticipation is almost unbearable as his fingers trace the line of your panties, the fabric damp with want.

“Jesus, she’s drippin’ for me already,” he mutters, voice rough, as he slides the material to the side, his thumb brushing over the sensitive swell of your clit.

Your body jerks at the contact, a desperate sound escaping your lips, but Joel doesn’t relent.

“You touch yourself down here, baby?” he asks, working tortuously slow circles over your clit.

"Please," you beg, your hands grasping at the sheets, pulling at them as if they can anchor you to the moment.

He looks up at you, his gaze dark and filled with an intensity that makes your stomach tighten. “Asked you a question, honey.”

You whine, high and loud in your throat as your thighs clench desperately around his wrist. “Yes, I touch myself.”

Joel’s lips curl into a satisfied grin, sliding his thick index finger through the messy wetness to slip inside your clenching hole, making you gasp. Your hands grasp at the sheets, pulling at them as if they can anchor you to the moment.

“Good girl,” he breathes, eyes darkening at the broken moan that bursts from your lips. “When’s the last time you touched yourself?”

Your brain feels hazy as you search for the answer, pleasure clouding your mind slow and sweet as molasses. “A–a few nights ago.”

Joel hums idly, slipping a second finger alongside the first. The stretch has you whining, his fingers a lot more to take than your own.

Your hands come up to claw at his shoulders, relishing in the way his broad muscle ripples and shifts beneath your greedy palms.

“Joel,” you whine, hips canting down against his hand impatiently.

He just shushes you softly, free hand brushing soothing circles along the skin of your inner thigh. “I know, honey,” he mutters, the pace fingers speeding up. “But I gotta get her nice and ready if you wanna take my cock.”

The gush of your pussy around his fingers is loud in the stillness of the room, a filthy wet noise that burns your ears each time he plunges them into your aching hole.

“I am ready.” Your breath hitches as your body begins to tremble beneath him. “Please, Joel—fuck—please, I need—”

“Need what?” His voice is thick with dark amusement, but there's a hunger in his eyes that has your stomach twisting. “Tell me, baby. What do you need?”

“I need you,” you rasp, your nails digging little crescent moons into his skin, your body pleading for release. “I need you inside me.”

Your hands grab at his hair, pulling him back up to meet your lips in a feverish kiss. 

The pressure of his body on yours, the way his hard cock grinds against your trembling thigh, drives you to the brink of madness. 

Your hands trail down his chest, past the waistband of his jeans, finally reaching the bulge straining against the fabric.

Joel groans when you rub him through his pants, feeling his cock twitch in response. He pulls back, breathing heavily, his lips curling into a smirk. 

“Yeah?” he asks, his voice thick with lust. “You want my cock in this pretty pussy? Want me to show you how good it feels to be fucked?”

“God, yes,” you answer, desperation lacing your tone as your hand moves to unbuckle his jeans. “Want it so bad.”

He lets you push his pants down just enough to free his cock, and you gasp, your eyes drawn to the way his length stands, thick and hard, just waiting for you. The tip flushed an angry red, drooling pre-come onto the scratchy sheets.

Joel pulls his fingers from you, using his hands spreading your legs wider, positioning himself between them with such careful precision that you can barely stand it.

The head of his cock drags through the mess between your legs, slipping all the way down till it catches on your soaked entrance.

Joel pauses, looking down at you, waiting for your signal, but the only answer you give is a pleading whimper, your hands pulling at his shoulders, urging him to move.

His mouth captures yours once again as he slowly slides into you, the stretch of his cock filling you steadily, making you gasp into his mouth. 

The slow burn of him carving a place for himself inside of you is almost too much, your body trembling as you adjust to the feeling of him.

“Fuck, baby,” Joel mutters against your lips. “You’re so tight, so fuckin’ perfect for me.”

As he sinks deeper into you, his thick cock finally buried to the hilt inside of you, the feeling is overwhelming. You gasp, nails digging into his back as the pain slowly shifts into pleasure.

Joel groans into your mouth, his hands moving to your hips, guiding you as he rocks gently against you. 

The rhythm is slow at first, deliberate, as if he's savoring every inch of you. Your body quivers beneath him, every inch of your skin tingling with sensation. You clutch at him, your legs tightening around his waist, needing more, wanting more.

"That's it," he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. "Take it, baby."

You screw your eyes shut tightly, trying to steady yourself as he thrusts deeper, harder. The angle shifts just enough to make your breath catch in your throat. 

Every stroke feels like it’s hitting the deepest part of you, sparking heat in places you never knew could burn so hot.

"Fuck," you gasp, the sensation too overwhelming, too much in the best way. "Joel... please..."

"Please what, sweetheart?" He pulls back slightly, teasing you with a slow roll of his hips before driving back in with a grunt.

Your nails dig into his shoulders, urging him to move faster, harder. "Don’t stop," you breathe, your voice trembling. "I need you to fuck me, Joel. Faster. Harder. Please."

The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room as Joel finally picks up the pace, each thrust harder and deeper than the last.

Your back arches off the bed, chest pressing flush to his as your body coils tighter and tighter, already so close to the edge.

Joel reaches up to take your wrist in his, dragging your hand down to press flat against your lower stomach.

“Feel that?” he asks breathlessly, the speed of his hips knocking the dingy bed frame into the wall with every thrust. “You feel how deep I am?”

His own hand blankets yours, pushing down so you can feel the way his cock punches up against your palm on the next thrust.

Your pussy clenches desperately around him at the feeling, your slick lips dropping open on a loud moan.

You can barely hold on. The heat in your stomach tightens, coiling painfully as your free hand scrambles to find purchase on his skin. "I can't—I'm gonna—"

He grits his teeth, his jaw clenched as he drives deeper, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. "Come for me, baby," he growls, his voice dark and commanding. "Let me feel it."

With a strangled cry, you finally release, your body clenching around him, every nerve igniting in a white-hot explosion of pleasure. 

You’re lost in it, your world spinning, your senses overwhelmed by the sensation of Joel’s body pounding into yours, the way his cock brushes against that sweet spot behind your clit enough to make sparks go off behind your eyelids.

Joel pulls out of your velvety warmth, hand coming up to fist his dripping length until he’s bowing over you tightly and coming with a deep groan of your name.

His release paints your stomach with milky strands of white, rope after rope of warm come claiming you in a way no one has before.

He finally collapses against you with one last shuddering breath, both of you breathing heavily, your chests rising and falling together in the quiet aftermath.

For a few moments, neither of you speaks, the only sounds are the soft creak of the bed and the quiet hum of your racing hearts. 

Joel rests his head against your shoulder, his breath warm against your skin, and you can feel the tension begin to slip away, the weight of everything that’s happened between you both settling into something new—something different, but still there.

Your hand slips down the sweaty expanse of your stomach, your fingers swiping through the sticky mess of his release curiously.

“Christ, quit that,” Joel groans, tearing his eyes away from the sight to press his forehead against your shoulder.

“Why?” you hum, brow raised in amusement as you drop your hand back to the mattress. “Can you even get it up again?”

Joel pinches your side hard enough to make you squeal, your body flinching away from him as a surprised laugh bubbles from your chest.

“Watch it,” he warns, though there’s no bite to his tone. You only laugh in response.

The two of you settle into a comfortable silence, wrapped in each other as crickets chirp from outside the window.

Then Joel clears his throat, fingers idly tracing different shapes on the skin of your hip as he gathers the courage to speak.

A circle, a square, a diamond, a circle, a heart, a heart, a heart.

“I’m…” he starts, trailing off softly. “I’m sorry. I’ve been a real fuckin’ prick, and you didn’t deserve it. You never did.”

You turn your own gaze to his chest, hand coming up so you can trail your fingers along the jagged scar decorating his shoulder. Your touch featherlight over the rough patch of skin.

All the anger seeps from your body, a heavy weight gone until you feel so light you could float off the mattress and into the cold night air.

“It’s okay,” you whisper softly, so soft you think it gets lost in the quiet darkness of the room. “I understand now.”

And for the first time in what feels like forever, you both just lay there, tangled in each other, not worrying about the world outside, about the chaos that waits. 

Just you, him, and the soft glow of moonlight.

tags are now in the comments! if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!

mini nat's note: should i add joel to my taglist...i do kinda want to write more for him in the future but i'm not sure yet...lmk chickens <3 bee tee dubs sorry the ending absolutely sucks i could not for the life of me figure out how to end this LMAO

[certaimromance]

𝜗𝜚 Spooky Call.

Spencer Reid x Hotchner!reader

Summary: When your boyfriend gets a call from you, the last thing he expects to hear is that you're being held at a police station for decorating your house.

Words: 2,2k.

TW: fem!reader. mention of haley's death, jack, crime, murder, blood (fake). reader was arrested (obviously). implication that the reader is wearing jeans and shirt (not very descriptive). reader is hotch's sister. established relationship. spencer being the standard. english isn't my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).

Note: This was the last fic of my october special, but I had problems and never posted it, so I had to change the plot a bit and here it is.

♡ Enjoy! ♡

You’ve always hated asking for help. It wasn’t just a matter of pride—it was the belief that you could, and should, handle everything yourself. Life, however, had a cruel way of reminding you that it didn’t always work like that. Everyone needs help sometimes. At least, that’s what people—well-meaning friends, family, even your boyfriend—kept telling you. We live in a society; there are people who love you; they’d want to help, they’d say. Blah, blah, blah. The sentiment was kind, sure, but it never stuck with you. Not really.

Today, though, maybe you should’ve listened.

All you wanted was to throw your nephew a belated Halloween party. It wasn’t like you were planning anything crazy. Just a few decorations, some music, and a bit of creativity—how hard could it be? Nothing about it seemed complicated or dangerous, not at first. You’d seen your brother overwhelmed trying to keep things normal for Jack, and you figured this was something you could handle on your own. Something small but meaningful.

Somehow, things got out of your control, and now you were sitting in your boyfriend's car in the police station parking lot trying to organize your thoughts to explain to him how you had ended up arrested in the first place.

“This has a perfectly reasonable and not at all criminal explanation. I swear.” You began to speak as you noticed by the watch on his wrist that three minutes of complete silence had already passed.

It had only been a year since you started dating officially, and there were still some things you were afraid Spencer would see, especially the things that got you in trouble for doing stupid things. You'd liked him for a long time, even before he realized you could be more than just his friend and his boss's sister. The last thing you wanted to do was ruin everything and make him run away in terror, even though that didn't sound very much like him or his values.

“This better be a good explanation,” Reid finally said, his voice calm but tinged with confusion. He placed the car keys down in the cupholder and turned to look at you fully. “Because right now, I’m struggling to understand how decorating your house could get you arrested.”

You squirmed in your seat, the knot in your stomach twisting tighter. “It’s…complicated,” you mumbled, avoiding his eyes.

Please don't think I'm weird. Please don't think I'm weird. Please don't think I'm weird. That was the only thing that kept repeating in your mind.

“I’m sure it is,” he finally said, his tone dry but still patient, his gaze never wavering.

You exhaled sharply, dragging your hands down your face. “Okay. So, I started with simple decorations—some cobwebs, pumpkins, and all the usual stuff. But it just…it wasn’t enough. I wanted to do something big. Something really cool.”

He raised an eyebrow, silently urging you to continue.

“So, I got this idea,” you said, hesitating. You could already feel the heat rising in your face. “I took a garbage bag, stuffed it with paper to make it look like a body, and then—” You paused, your voice dropping slightly. “Then I added some fake blood. A lot of fake blood.”

His eyes widened, the corners of his mouth twitching like he was trying to hold back a laugh. “You didn’t.”

“I did,” you admitted, wincing. “But it looked amazing! For like…five minutes.” You gestured vaguely toward the dashboard, trying to find the words to defend yourself. “I might have spilled some of the fake blood on the lawn. And…it might’ve looked a little too real.”

Too real, extra real.

“A little?” Spencer asked, incredulous. “You mean realistic enough to make the neighbors call the cops?”

You winced, expecting him to think you were ridiculous—or worse, stupid. But then, to your surprise, his lips quirked into a soft laugh.

“Hey, don’t laugh at me!” You snapped, crossing your arms over your chest when you saw the faintest smirk tugging at his lips.

Yeah, maybe you didn't want him to think you were weird, but you didn't like being laughed at either.

“I’m not laughing,” he said, though the hint of amusement in his voice betrayed him.

“You are absolutely laughing,” you huffed, your pout deepening. “It’s not funny, Spencer.”

He took a deep breath, finally managing to suppress his laughter—mostly. His hand reached out to tilt your chin up gently, forcing you to meet his gaze. The warmth in his hazel eyes softened the sting of your embarrassment.

“I’m sorry,” he said sincerely, though his lips still twitched with the ghost of a smile. “I really am, angel. But you have to admit, you went a little overboard with the ‘terrifying’ concept.”

And there it was, the kind of sweetness that had made you fall for him so hard. The kind you'd expect to receive without question after spending at least half an hour locked in a filthy cell.

You sighed, the tension in your shoulders easing slightly. “Okay, maybe. But in my head, it wasn’t that bad,” you said weakly. “It just…went a little wrong.”

“A little?” he repeated, his eyebrows raising again. “You got arrested. You scared half the neighborhood into thinking they’d stumbled onto a crime scene.”

“At least it wasn’t illegal!” You shot back, crossing your arms defensively. “I didn’t actually hurt anyone. I just made a mess. With fake blood.”

Spencer’s gaze dropped to your hands, where smears of red clung stubbornly to your skin. His eyes flicked to your clothes—your jeans, your shirt, both stained with dried streaks of crimson. A slow grin spread across his face.

“It wasn’t illegal, but now you look like you walked off the set of a slasher movie,” he said, his voice filled with teasing affection. “Here—and here.” He gestured to a streak of red on your shoulder, then another on your cheek.

You were about to protest when he suddenly leaned in. His face was so close now, his breath warm against your skin. Before you could say another word, his lips brushed softly against yours—a brief, gentle kiss that caught you off guard. You froze for a moment, your heart skipping a beat. Then, as if it had all been a slow, perfect dance, you melted into him. His lips were warm and tender, the kiss slow and sweet, like a quiet promise that everything, even in the chaos of your night, was going to be okay.

When he pulled back, your breath caught, your chest fluttering in that way only he could make you feel. His grin was wide, playful, but there was something else in his eyes—a depth, a tenderness that made your heart thud. You blinked up at him, still dazed from the warmth of his kiss.

“For the record,” he murmured, his voice soft, his lips still dangerously close to yours, “I never thought you were a criminal. Just a little…overly enthusiastic.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, a genuine, warm sound bubbling out of you. “Overly enthusiastic,” you echoed, shaking your head. “That’s one way to put it.”

“And messy,” he added, his eyes twinkling as they lingered on the fake blood smeared across your face.

“Don’t push your luck, Dr. Reid,” you warned, though the smile on your face betrayed you.

Spencer chuckled softly, the sound melting into the quiet of the car. He leaned in then, his lips brushing against your forehead in a gentle, lingering kiss that felt like a promise—quiet, tender, and full of unspoken reassurance. The warmth of his touch seeped into you, and you closed your eyes for a brief moment, savoring the comfort of his presence.

As he pulled back, he studied you with that signature look—the one that always made you feel like he could see straight into your soul. His brow furrowed slightly, and you recognized that expression well: the one he wore when he was about to ask something important, when he wanted to understand you better. It was a look that never failed to make your heart flutter, even if it made you feel vulnerable.

“Okay,” he said slowly, his tone gentler now. “I get wanting to make the decorations amazing, but why was it so important? Why go all out to the point of, well…” He gestured vaguely toward you, his lips twitching again. “Fake crime scene levels of effort?”

You hesitated, his question hitting you like a wave. You knew the answer, but speaking it aloud felt heavier than you had anticipated. It was as though the words themselves had a weight you hadn’t been prepared to carry. You lowered your gaze, absently picking at the hem of your shirt as you fought to find the right words, your mind tangled in emotions that were hard to articulate.

Reid didn’t push, though. His silence was patient, waiting for you to open up at your own pace. It was one of the things you adored about him—the way he didn’t rush, didn’t demand. He just let you be, trusting you would share when you were ready.

Finally, you exhaled a shaky breath and met his eyes, the vulnerability in your voice clear as you spoke. “It’s not just about the decorations,” you admitted softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “It’s about Jack.”

His expression shifted immediately, his eyes softening with understanding but remaining focused as you continued.

“I just…” You swallowed, the lump in your throat making it hard to speak. “I want to be the perfect aunt for him, you know? Someone who makes things better, even if just for a little while. He’s been through so much—losing Hayley, seeing my brother juggle everything just to make sure Jack’s okay…” Your voice wavered, and you clenched your hands to steady yourself. “He’s only a kid. He deserves to feel happy and safe and…loved.”

Maybe that last word was too personal, and maybe your boyfriend noticed.

He reached out, his fingers brushing against yours in a silent offer of comfort. You took his hand, the warmth of his touch grounding you enough to keep going.

“I know I can’t replace his mom, and I’d never try to,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “But I thought maybe, just maybe, if I did this party right—if I made it something really special—it could be a distraction. Something fun. Something he could look back on and smile about instead of just…” You trailed off, biting your lip as the words lodged in your throat.

He squeezed your hand gently, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a soothing rhythm. “Instead of just remembering what he’s lost,” he finished for you, his voice soft and understanding.

You nodded, blinking back the sting of tears. “Yeah.”

The car was quiet for a moment, the weight of your confession settling between you. Then Spencer shifted closer, his free hand reaching up to brush a stray tear from your cheek. The tenderness in his touch made your chest ache in a way that was both painful and comforting.

“You don’t have to be perfect,” he said gently, his voice steady and sure. “You’re already doing more for him than you realize. Just by being there, by loving him the way you do…that’s what matters. Not decorations or parties or anything else.”

His words hit you squarely in the heart, and you let out a shaky laugh, the tension in your chest loosening just a fraction. “I just wanted it to be perfect,” you admitted, leaning into his touch. “I didn’t want to mess it up and end up in a cell.”

Reid smiled softly, his fingers brushing lightly against your jaw as he held your gaze. “You didn’t mess it up,” he said firmly. “Okay, maybe the decorations were a little unconventional,” he added with a playful glint in his eye. “But your heart was in the right place. And Jack knows that. He loves you and thinks you’re wonderful, just like I do.”

You felt your breath catch at his words, the warmth in his eyes making your cheeks flush despite everything. “You’ve really become good at this, you know,” you said quietly, a small smile tugging at your lips. “The whole comforting and making me blushing thing.”

He let out a soft chuckle, giving your cheek a gentle tap with his thumb before pulling back slightly. “I might have read eleven books to brush up on a few things and be better,” he said, his tone light but not dismissive.

You chuckled, the sound lifting the tension that had been pulling at your chest. “Eleven books? You really went all in on this, huh?”

His arm slipped around your shoulders, drawing you closer, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against you grounding and reassuring. “When it’s you,” he said softly, “I’d go even further than that.”

You leaned your head against his shoulder, feeling the weight of the world ease off your shoulders. A quiet thought lingered in your mind, one you hadn’t been able to put into words until now. “But…sometimes, don’t you think I’m weird?” you asked, the vulnerability creeping in despite yourself.

Please say no.

“Weird? No,” he murmured, his breath warm against your hair. “I think you’re perfect.” He paused for a moment, then added with a soft laugh, “And every day, I’m grateful you don’t think I’m weird either.”

You smiled, the knot in your chest loosening, the weight of uncertainty fading as his words settled in. “Guess we both can be a little weird then,” you said, the truth of it comforting you more than you expected.

He chuckled, the sound easy and light, as he pulled you a little closer, holding you in a way that spoke of quiet promises. “It’s perfect for me.”

[puppym3]

❤ SKZ reaction to you with baby fever! ❤

MDNI 18+

wc: 23.4k (about 5k each)

genre: fluff, humor, smut

warnings: a lot of baby-making, p in v sex, unprotected sex, creampie, very steamy, oral (f + m rec), choking, marking, daddy energy, some switch vibes from some, dom member mostly, breeding kink?, we dunno if it was successful!, don't recreate at home, (please let me know if i missed any)

a/n: i was tired of starving you guys so i just made 8 individual fics for all of them! hope you enjoy <3

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Bang Chan :

The soft hum of the TV played in the background as you nestled into Bang Chan’s side, his arm draped lazily around your shoulders. His warmth seeped into you, his scent, clean and familiar, grounding you in the moment. The glow from the screen illuminated his profile, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw and the faint scrunch of concentration on his face as he scrolled through his phone. He didn’t have to try; even here, in worn-out sweatpants and a hoodie, he exuded that quiet strength and warmth that made you fall for him every day.

Your heart tightened as you watched him, the weight of the thought you’d been holding in for months pressing heavily on your chest. Two years of marriage had passed in a blissful blur, filled with laughter, love, and late-night talks. But there was something you wanted, something you’d dreamed of every time you saw him interacting with kids, the way they lit up in his presence. You wanted a family with him. You wanted to see his kind eyes reflected in someone small, to hear his laughter echo through your home in a way that belonged entirely to the two of you.

But every time you imagined telling him, your courage faltered. What if he wasn’t ready? What if he didn’t want that yet? The fear of disrupting the perfect harmony you had kept you silent, until tonight.

You shifted slightly in his hold, your fingers nervously twisting the hem of your shirt. The words were bubbling at the edge of your tongue, and your heart raced like a drumbeat, loud and insistent. “Chan?” you murmured, barely louder than the TV.

“Hmm?” His response was distracted, his thumb still swiping on the screen as he hummed softly under his breath. Even that small sound sent warmth curling through you.

“I’ve been thinking about something,” you started, voice hesitant but determined.

That got his attention. He immediately set his phone down on the armrest and turned to you, his dark eyes locking onto yours. Concern flickered across his face, and he tilted his head slightly, his brows knitting together. “Yeah? What’s up?” His voice was gentle, grounding you in the safe space he always provided.

You swallowed hard, trying to steady your breathing. The words felt heavy, like if you said them, there was no taking them back. But you’d held them in for so long, and if you didn’t say them now, you weren’t sure when you’d find the courage again.

“I’ve been thinking about us,” you said slowly, glancing down at your lap where your fingers twisted together nervously. “About what’s next for us.”

His expression softened, his body shifting as he turned fully toward you. He rested a hand on your knee, his thumb brushing soothing circles against your skin. “Okay,” he said, his voice low and steady. “Talk to me, love. What’s on your mind?”

The weight of his gaze made your cheeks flush, but his touch grounded you. You glanced up, meeting his eyes, and took a deep breath. “What if… what if we started trying? For a baby, I mean.”

The silence that followed was deafening. His hand stilled on your knee, his eyes widening ever so slightly as your words sank in. He blinked at you, his lips parting as though to speak, but no sound came out. You watched as the realization hit him, his cheeks turning a soft shade of pink.

“A baby?” he finally managed, his voice cracking slightly on the word.

You nodded, a wave of relief washing over you now that it was out in the open. “Yeah,” you said, the words spilling out in a rush. “I know it’s a big step, and I didn’t want to pressure you, but I’ve been thinking about it for a while now. And I just… I think you’d be an amazing dad, Chan. I really do.”

His mouth opened and closed a few times, like he couldn’t quite find the words. Then he let out a breathless laugh, running a hand through his messy curls. “Wow,” he said softly, his voice tinged with disbelief. “That’s… wow.” He shook his head, a nervous grin spreading across his face. “You really think I’d be a good dad?”

“Of course,” you said, your voice steady with conviction. “You’re patient, kind, and thoughtful. And you’re so good with kids, Chan. They adore you.”

His blush deepened, and he let out a groan, burying his face in his hands. “Stop it. You’re embarrassing me.”

You laughed, reaching out to gently tug his hands away from his face. “You’re cute when you’re flustered,” you teased, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his cheek.

He huffed, though his lips twitched into a smile. “You can’t just drop something like that on me and expect me to act normal. You’re talking about a baby. Our baby.”

The way he said it, soft and reverent like he was tasting the words for the first time, made your heart ache in the best way. “So… what do you think?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he reached out to cup your face in his hands, his eyes searching yours with a tenderness that made your breath catch. “I think…” he said slowly, his voice steady and sure, “I love you more than anything in this world. And if having a baby is what you want, then it’s what I want too.”

Your chest swelled with emotion, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. “Really?”

“Really,” he said, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead. “I’ll probably mess up a lot, but if you believe in me that much… then I’ll give it everything I’ve got.”

Tears spilled over as you laughed softly, your hands coming up to cover his. He pulled you closer, wrapping you in his arms like he was trying to shield you from the world.

After a moment, he pulled back slightly, a sheepish grin tugging at his lips. “I mean, I’m not saying no to all the, uh… practice it’s going to take.”

You smacked his arm lightly, your cheeks burning. “Chan!”

“What?” he said, feigning innocence as his grin widened. “I’m just saying, we should make sure we’re doing it right. You know, aim for perfection.”

Before you could respond, he leaned in, his lips brushing against your jaw as his hands slid to your waist, pulling you into his lap. His voice dropped to a husky whisper, sending shivers down your spine. “We’ve got all night, love.”

The butterflies in your stomach erupted as his lips found yours, soft and deliberate, pouring all his love into the kiss. You melted into him, losing yourself in the taste of his lips, the warmth of his hands, the steady beat of his heart.

He was the one who finally broke the kiss, his breath coming out in short, shallow pants. He leaned his forehead against yours, his fingers gently brushing against your cheek.

"You know, we could always start trying now," he said, the words sending heat rushing through you.

You gave a breathless laugh, looping your arms around his neck. "I like the way you think, Mr. Bang," you said, grinning against his lips.

He grinned, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Yeah?"

"Definitely," you said, your voice dropping to a whisper. "Take me to bed."

A low giggle escaped him as he leaned forward, his hands sliding down to the backs of your thighs. "It'd be my pleasure, Mrs. Bang," he murmured, his lips hovering over yours.

And with that, he stood, carrying you easily across the room.

Your heart raced in anticipation, the familiar weight of his touch making you feel lightheaded. The soft glow of the TV dimly illuminated the room, casting shadows across the walls. The low murmur of the news anchor's voice seemed distant and unimportant, replaced by the sound of your heartbeat echoing in your ears.

Bang Chan's warm hands cradled you, his lips pressed gently to your hair as he carried you across the threshold and into the bedroom, his movements careful and deliberate. Your eyes slipped closed, savoring the closeness, the safety, the comfort of being enveloped by him.

When you felt him set you down, you reluctantly opened your eyes. You were greeted by the sight of Chan's broad shoulders, his back turned to you as he shut the door with a quiet click.

As he turned back toward you, you took a moment to appreciate the view. His sweatpants hung low on his hips, drawing your gaze downward. A familiar heat pooled between your thighs, and you bit your lip, forcing yourself to meet his eyes.

"What is it?" he asked, his voice low and smooth.

"Nothing," you said, your cheeks heating at the intensity of his gaze. "I'm just... admiring the view."

He grinned, his dimples flashing, and took a step toward you. "Is that so?"

You nodded, suddenly feeling a bit breathless.

"Well, allow me to return the favor," he murmured, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

His eyes roamed over you, his expression growing soft as his gaze lingered on your lips, your neck, your collarbone. He moved closer, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. You shivered as his thumb brushed along your lower lip, his eyes darkening.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, his voice laced with awe. "Our baby is gonna be so lucky."

The heat in your core pulsed, and you leaned into his touch, his words making your chest tighten. "Chan..."

He leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss, his hands slipping to your hips. You melted into the kiss, his tongue tracing the seam of your lips, gently coaxing them open. The taste of him was intoxicating, sweet and familiar, and you clung to him, his warmth seeping into your skin.

You broke the kiss with a gasp as his lips trailed along your jaw, nipping at the sensitive skin below your ear. His hands moved up your back, leaving goosebumps in their wake, before deftly undoing the buttons of your shirt. You fumbled with his hoodie, your fingers trembling as they skimmed over his toned chest. He chuckled, his breath tickling your skin, and helped you tug the fabric over his head.

You tossed it aside, letting out a soft whine as his lips resumed their exploration of your neck, his teeth gently scraping over your pulse point. His hands slid down your waist, finding the button of your jeans. You helped him, wriggling out of the restrictive fabric, leaving you clad only in your bra and underwear.

Chan stepped back, his eyes raking over you, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "God, I love you," he murmured, his fingers teasing the lace hem of your panties.

You shivered, a thrill running through you at the intensity of his gaze.

"And I can't wait to have a baby with you," he continued, his voice dropping to a husky whisper.

Your heart fluttered, and you closed the distance between you, pulling him in for a kiss.

He responded immediately, his hands sliding around your waist, drawing you closer. The warmth of his bare skin against yours made you tremble, and you wrapped your arms around his neck, losing yourself in the taste of his lips.

You felt his fingers deftly unhooking your bra, and you let out a soft sigh as the cool air hit your skin, the material falling to the floor. His hands moved up your sides, his thumbs grazing the undersides of your breasts.

"God, Chan," you gasped, his touch sending sparks through you.

"Yeah, love?" he asked, a teasing lilt in his voice.

You rolled your eyes, reaching down to hook your thumbs in the waistband of his sweatpants. "Don't play coy," you muttered, a thrill running through you as his breath caught.

"Okay, okay," he breathed, his eyes following as he watched you.

You pulled his sweatpants and boxers down his legs, revealing his impressive length. He stepped out of them, and you swallowed, your mouth suddenly dry.

"Like what you see?" he teased, a smirk tugging at his lips.

"Always," you breathed, leaning in for a kiss.

He returned the kiss, his tongue brushing against yours. His hands moved down, gripping the backs of your thighs and lifting you. Your legs wrapped around his waist, your arms looping around his neck. You felt his hard length press against your clothed core, and a soft whimper escaped you.

He carried you back to the bed, his lips never leaving yours. You landed on the mattress, and he moved over you, his knee nudging your legs apart. You obliged, spreading your thighs for him.

"So beautiful," he murmured, trailing his lips down your neck.

His fingers found the waistband of your panties, tugging them down and off your legs. He tossed them aside, his eyes raking over your bare form.

You felt a flash of heat, suddenly self-conscious under his intense gaze. But the way his pupils dilated and his tongue darted out to wet his lips was all the reassurance you needed.

"Chan," you whimpered, arching your back as his lips trailed along your hipbone.

"Shh," he whispered, his breath ghosting over your skin. "Let me take care of you."

You shivered, biting your lip to stifle a moan as his fingers dipped between your thighs, gently parting your folds.

"God, you're wet," he murmured, a smirk tugging at his lips.

You groaned, rolling your hips against his hand. He chuckled, his thumb brushing over your swollen clit. You let out a gasp, your eyes squeezing shut.

"That's it," he whispered, his voice low and smooth. "Just relax."

His fingers circled your entrance, dipping in and out, the sensation driving you wild. You could feel his breath, hot against your thigh, and when his tongue dragged along the sensitive skin, your eyes snapped open.

"Chan," you breathed, gripping the sheets as his tongue found your clit, laving the swollen bud.

Your back arched off the bed, a moan escaping you. His free hand gripped your hip, keeping you pinned to the mattress as he worked you open, his tongue relentlessly swirling around your clit.

You writhed beneath him, heat building in your core, the sensations overwhelming. His fingers thrust in and out of you, curling and stretching. You could feel his hot breath on your skin, and when his lips closed around your clit, sucking gently, you let out a cry, your vision blurring.

"Please, Chan," you gasped, unable to take any more.

He hummed, the vibrations sending shocks through you. Then, mercifully, he released your clit, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh. He then spit into his palm, and reached up to stroke his hard length, spreading the wetness.

"You ready, love?" he murmured, his voice husky and thick.

"God, yes," you gasped, arching your back and spreading your thighs, welcoming him into the cradle of your hips.

You watched, transfixed, as he positioned himself at your entrance. He hesitantly looked back at you, making sure you were one hundred percent okay with this.

"Please," you begged, your voice a breathless whimper.

He grinned, leaning forward and capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. As his tongue swept into your mouth, he eased himself inside you. You gasped, the stretch and fullness making your head spin. He slowly bottomed out, and you moaned, the pressure and heat intoxicating.

He groaned, burying his face in your neck. "Fuck, baby. You're so wet."

You whimpered, rocking your hips against his, the friction making you shiver. He groaned, his grip on your hips tightening.

"Chan," you managed, clinging to his broad shoulders, the sensation almost too much.

"Tell me what you want, baby," he murmured, his lips brushing over your pulse point.

"I want you," you breathed, a soft whimper escaping you. "I need you."

He hummed, slowly pulling back before thrusting deep inside you.

Your vision went white, a wave of pleasure crashing over you.

"You like that?" he asked, his voice laced with a possessive heat that made your core clench.

You let out a moan, nodding helplessly as he rocked his hips into you, his movements slow and steady. The drag of his cock inside you was intoxicating, and you gasped, clinging to him. The friction sent waves of heat through you, and you let out a breathless moan, arching your back to meet his thrusts. He grunted, his grip on your hips bruising.

"Please, Chan," you whimpered, the sensations becoming too much.

He let out a groan, his pace picking up. You writhed beneath him, the heat and friction overwhelming. He pounded into you, his hips slapping against yours. You gasped, your legs wrapping around his waist, drawing him closer.

"Fuck," he hissed, his voice a low growl. "You feel so good."

You cried out, the heat and pressure building in your core. He drove into you, his pace relentless, the sound of flesh on flesh filling the room. You whimpered, the friction and fullness bringing tears to your eyes.

"Oh God, Chan," you gasped, the tension mounting.

"Yeah?" he panted, his voice strained.

"I'm close," you whined, the words coming out broken.

He hummed, his fingers digging into your hips. He shifted, changing the angle, and the new sensation sent a shock through you. You cried out, your vision blurring as the pleasure hit its peak. Your body went taut, the tension snapping, and you fell apart, his name spilling from your lips.

Your vision went white, and the waves crashed over you, drowning out everything but the feel of his body against yours. His pace didn't falter, his hips rocking against yours as you came down, his movements drawing out your release.

"I'm not done with you yet," he warned, his grip tight on you.

You whimpered, the heat still pulsing through you, the sensation almost too much. He slowed his pace, his thrusts becoming languid and shallow.

"Chan," you breathed, barely louder than a whisper.

He groaned, leaning down and capturing your lips in a searing kiss. You kissed him back, his tongue sweeping into your mouth, stealing the breath from your lungs. You tangled your fingers in his hair, holding him close.

When he broke the kiss, his breathing was ragged. He groaned, burying his face in your neck. His hips snapped forward, the sudden motion making you gasp. You cried out, the new angle hitting you just right. You writhed beneath him, the sensations almost too much.

"God, baby, I'm so close," he gasped, his voice thick and husky.

You moaned, the sound turning into a desperate whine.

He thrust harder, deeper, the pressure and heat overwhelming. You writhed beneath him, the friction driving you crazy.

"Fill me up," you breathed, his name on the edge of your lips.

"God, baby, I'm gonna cum," he groaned, his hips snapping forward.

"Please," you pleaded, the pressure mounting.

"I'm gonna fill you up," he growled, his voice rough with need. "Gonna give you my baby."

You let out a cry, the tension snapping. He grunted, his movements growing erratic, and you clenched around him, his release triggering another orgasm.

"Fuck, yes, love," he hissed, his voice breaking.

His hips stuttered, and he thrust once more, burying himself to the hilt. A guttural groan escaped him, and he spilled inside you, his cock twitching as he emptied himself. You moaned, the warmth and pressure bringing tears to your eyes.

He collapsed against you, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. You clung to him, the feeling of his skin against yours grounding you, anchoring you. You lay there for a moment, neither of you moving, the silence broken only by the sound of your breaths.

After a moment, he leaned back, gently easing himself out of you. You whimpered, already missing the closeness, the fullness. He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, a content smile on his face.

"How are you feeling, love?" he murmured, brushing the hair out of your face.

You sighed, your eyelids heavy. "Good. Really good," you mumbled, a dopey grin spreading across your face.

He chuckled, pressing another kiss to your temple. "Glad to hear it," he said, his voice soft and warm.

You snuggled into his chest, the steady rise and fall of his chest comforting. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close.

You yawned, your eyelids drooping.

"Get some sleep, love," he murmured, his lips brushing the top of your head.

"Mm," you hummed, your mind hazy and your limbs heavy.

The last thing you remember is the warmth of his touch, and the gentle sound of his voice.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Lee Know :

The aroma of garlic and herbs filled the cozy apartment as you leaned against the kitchen doorway, watching Minho at the stove. He stood in a loose t-shirt and sweatpants, his hair slightly messy from a lazy day at home. He looked effortlessly handsome, the golden glow of the evening sun streaming through the window highlighting his sharp features.

"Stop staring and make yourself useful," he quipped, glancing at you over his shoulder with a smirk. "The chopping board isn’t just for decoration, you know."

You grinned but stayed put, fidgeting with the hem of your sweater. Your heart raced as you debated whether to bring up the topic that had been on your mind for months. It wasn’t that you doubted his love or your relationship; Minho had always been thoughtful and attentive in his own dryly affectionate way. But this… this was a leap.

“I’ve been thinking about something,” you began hesitantly, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Mm?” Minho hummed, focused on stirring the pasta sauce. "Thinking about helping me for once?"

"Minho," you said, this time with a little more weight, drawing his attention. He turned, wooden spoon in hand, eyebrows raised.

"What’s up?"

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself as you glanced up at him, your heart thumping wildly in your chest. "I’ve been thinking about... having a baby," you said quietly, hoping the words would come out with less hesitation.

Minho paused for a moment, the spoon in his hand suspended in mid-air. His eyes blinked twice, as if he was processing the words. Then, he cocked his head, smirking with that mischievous gleam in his eyes. "A baby?" he repeated, his tone dripping with disbelief. "Are you sure? Because, you know, little versions of me would be a disaster... they’d probably be stealing my hair products and making my kitchen a mess by the time they can walk."

You let out a nervous laugh, trying to brush it off, but inside, your heart dropped. "I mean... just a thought," you stammered, taking a step back. "You know, for someday, when we’re ready."

Minho raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. "We? Baby, you just mentioned the idea, and now you’re saying 'we'? You sure you’re ready to handle two Minhos? One’s already enough to deal with."

The teasing tone hit harder than you expected, and a wave of insecurity washed over you. Maybe you were too hasty to bring it up. Maybe he didn’t actually want that with you, maybe he wasn’t ready.

You forced a smile, trying to dismiss the feeling. "Yeah, never mind. Forget I said anything." You waved it off, turning back to the counter to grab a glass of water, trying to hide the tightening in your chest.

Minho didn’t seem to notice, his attention back on stirring the sauce. The rest of dinner went by in an awkward silence, with you trying to focus on the food and Minho humming mindlessly to the playlist in the background, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d ruined something with your suggestion.

That night, as you curled up under the covers, your mind was still restless. You kept replaying the conversation in your head, trying to convince yourself that maybe you’d misinterpreted Minho’s teasing. But the words still stung, and you couldn’t quite shake the doubt.

As you lay there, the room dim and quiet, you heard the sound of Minho shifting beside you. He rolled over to face you, his dark eyes studying you intently. You turned to face him, still unsure, the bed warm and cozy around you.

Minho shifted closer, his hand lightly brushing your arm as he studied you with an unreadable expression. The tension between you both was palpable, the weight of the earlier conversation lingering in the air. For a few seconds, there was only the soft rustling of sheets, the dim glow of the bedside lamp casting shadows over his sharp features.

“You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?” he asked quietly, his voice suddenly softer, almost intimate. You looked at him, his gaze intense, a shift in the way he was looking at you now. “The baby thing... it’s been on my mind, too.”

You swallowed, unsure how to respond. Was he just trying to lighten the mood again? Or had the thought really stayed with him? “Minho…” you began, but before you could say anything more, his fingers brushed against your cheek, gently guiding your face toward his.

“You know,” he murmured, lips hovering just inches from yours, “the idea of a mini me running around... messing up my space, stealing my things... I wasn’t exactly thrilled about it at first.” His breath was warm against your skin, sending a flutter through your chest. “But now?” He paused, eyes darkening with a mixture of desire and something else you couldn’t quite place. “I can’t stop thinking about it. About you.”

Your heart raced, the uncertainty from before now mixed with a rush of anticipation. Minho was never one to easily give in to big ideas like this, so hearing him admit it was unexpected. His hand slid from your cheek to the back of your neck, his thumb grazing over the sensitive skin, pulling you just a little closer.

“So... what are you saying?” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath.

Minho’s lips curled into that teasing grin you knew so well. “I’m saying, if you want a little bundle of chaos in nine months... you better make your mind up now.” His voice was low, seductive, and it sent a spark of heat straight to your core. “If we’re doing this... we’re doing it right. No half-measures.” His fingers traced the curve of your jaw, tilting your head slightly as his gaze dropped to your lips. “No turning back once we start.”

Before you could respond, Minho’s lips were on yours, kissing you with a sudden, hungry intensity that sent your pulse spiking. His hands roamed to your sides, pulling you closer until you could feel the heat radiating off his body. You let out a soft gasp as his hands slid beneath your shirt, fingertips brushing over your skin with a mixture of tenderness and urgency.

“You sure you want this?” he murmured against your lips, his breath heavy, fingers already working their way up to your chest. “Because I can’t think about anything else now. Just... us.”

You couldn’t form words in response, your body reacting instinctively as you pulled him closer, kissing him back with the same intensity. It wasn’t just about the baby anymore, it was about everything you shared, every part of this relationship that felt so right. His hands were everywhere now, leaving no room for doubt.

Minho’s lips trailed down your neck, his voice muffled against your skin as he said, “You want a baby in nine months? We start tonight... and we do it properly.” He didn’t give you a chance to respond, his lips finding yours again in a searing kiss that only deepened, his hands working their way down to the waistband of your pants. You gasped, a shiver running through your body as he kissed his way down your neck, pausing to bite softly at the tender spot near your collarbone.

Your body ached for him, and you couldn’t hold back anymore. “Then let’s do it,” you whispered, your voice trembling with desire. “Let’s go all in.”

Minho responded without a word, his lips finding yours once more as his hands roamed your body, leaving a trail of sparks in their wake. You were lost in a haze of desire and passion, your thoughts consumed by the idea of him, of the future. It was reckless and risky, but for the first time, you didn’t care about anything but him.

Minho’s hands moved with a sense of urgency, as if he couldn’t wait another second to feel all of you. His lips, burning with desire, trailed down your body, each kiss more fervent than the last. Every touch felt electrifying, like sparks igniting under his fingertips. The heat of his body against yours made everything else fade away, leaving only the intensity of the moment.

You arched into him, your breath shallow and erratic as he explored you, the anticipation building with every passing second. His lips returned to yours, deep and demanding, his tongue sweeping against yours in a way that made your heart race even faster. You could feel his muscles tense beneath you, his control slipping away as his need for you grew stronger.

Minho’s hand slid to the waistband of your pants, pausing for a split second before he pulled them off, his gaze fixed on you, dark and smoldering. “You’re sure, right?” he asked again, his voice hushed but filled with raw, unfiltered desire.

You could barely nod, the heat of his touch, the weight of his gaze making it hard to focus on anything but him. “I’m sure,” you breathed out, pulling him closer, your hands working to rid him of his clothes. You didn’t need to think anymore, there was only now, only the way he made you feel.

Minho groaned as he undid the rest of his clothes, his body pressing into yours with a hunger that mirrored your own. You could feel the hard line of him against your thigh, his breath ragged as he leaned over you, his lips brushing against your ear.

"I don't think I can wait," he said, his fingers tangling in your hair, his breath hot against your skin. "I want you, all of you. I can't stop thinking about it."

His words were a heady mix of desperation and desire, and you wanted nothing more than to give in to his every whim. Your hands moved to his hips, pulling him closer, aching to feel him fill the emptiness inside you. You were more than ready, the longing to have him buried deep within you was almost too much to bear.

"Then take me," you whispered, your voice laced with equal amounts of lust and need. "Make me yours."

Minho didn't waste another moment, his fingers gripping your thighs and pushing them apart, his eyes drinking in the sight of you. He lowered his head, his lips skimming over your skin, kissing a trail of fire across your stomach, then lower.

He teased your entrance, his tongue swiping over you, tasting and exploring, before dipping inside, sending a shiver through your entire body. Your back arched involuntarily, and you gripped his hair, pulling him closer, begging for more.

His hand found yours, and his fingers laced through yours, gripping tightly as he worked his way down, his mouth devouring every inch of your heated flesh. You could feel the waves of pleasure building, but it wasn't enough, not yet.

"Please, Minho," you gasped, your hips bucking as he lapped at your swollen clit, sending a jolt of pleasure through your core. "Please, I need you."

Minho lifted his head, his eyes dark with lust. "What do you need, baby?"

You could barely find the words, the feeling of him against you, his hard length throbbing against your thigh, was driving you wild. "You. You in me," you said, the ache between your legs becoming unbearable.

He chuckled, his lips brushing against your ear as he pressed his body flush against yours. "You're gonna have to be a little more specific," he murmured, his hand sliding up your thigh, fingertips teasing the sensitive skin.

You shivered, the ache intensifying as his fingers dipped inside you, then withdrew, the slow, tantalizing movements driving you mad. "Minho," you begged, annoyed, unable to articulate what you wanted.

"Tell me," he said, his breath hot against your neck, his body trembling with the effort to hold himself back. "Tell me what you need."

"I need your cock," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. You could feel him smile against your skin, the warmth of his lips spreading across your neck as he kissed his way down to your chest.

"I need all of you," he replied, his hand traveling down your stomach and settling between your thighs. "I need to be buried inside you, deep and hard, until you can't take it anymore."

"Please, Minho," you said, arching into him, the heat pooling between your legs, his fingers teasing your slick folds. "Please."

Minho groaned, his hips rolling into yours, the hard line of his cock rubbing against you, his restraint slipping. He kissed your lips, his tongue delving into your mouth, exploring and claiming.

He broke away, his breathing ragged, his fingers sliding up and down your wetness, his touch setting every nerve ending ablaze. You reached down, wrapping your hand around his length, stroking him slowly, your eyes locked on his.

"Do it," you breathed, desperate for him, aching for the connection. "Take me."

Minho groaned, his hands moving to your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh as he pushed you back, lifting your legs to rest over his shoulders. You could see the tension in his muscles, the strain of holding back, but he couldn't wait any longer.

With a shuddering breath, he slid into you, the feeling of him filling you sending a wave of pleasure crashing through your body. You moaned, clinging to him, your nails raking over his skin, your hips bucking, craving more.

He began to move, his pace slow and steady, his breath coming in shallow gasps as he fought to control himself. You could feel his muscles tensing, the power and strength behind his every thrust sending a shiver of anticipation through your body.

You gasped, the feeling of him stretching you, the sensation of him moving inside you, was almost too much to handle. He reached between you, his fingers brushing against your clit, sending a shockwave of pleasure through you.

"More," you moaned, unable to get enough, the pressure building deep within you.

He obliged, his hips snapping against yours, his pace quickening as he drove deeper and harder into you. You cried out, your hands gripping his shoulders, your legs wrapped tightly around his waist. He growled, his fingers working your clit, his other hand digging into the sheets beside your head.

The pleasure was overwhelming, but every time you began to unravel, he slowed, dragging out the sensations, taking his time. You were lost in a haze of pleasure and desire, every sensation amplified, each touch, each thrust, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

Minho leaned over, his lips finding yours, his tongue swirling around yours in a way that sent shivers down your spine. You moaned into his mouth, the heat of him, the feel of him, was driving you wild. You could feel the tension building inside him, the pressure coiling in his body as his thrusts became more erratic, more desperate.

"Please," you breathed, desperate for release. "Please just let me cum."

"Not yet," he groaned, his breath ragged, his hips snapping against yours, the feeling of him sliding in and out of you was almost enough to make you fall apart. "Not until I say so."

He kept moving, the pressure building inside you, the need for release so intense, so overwhelming. You moaned, biting down on your lip, trying to hold back, but it was no use.

"Fuck," he cursed, his hips bucking, the pleasure threatening to spill over.

"Minho, please," you pleaded, your body trembling, the edge of the precipice just out of reach.

"Cum," he growled, his lips brushing against your ear, his fingers still working your clit, "now."

You cried out, the intensity of your release tearing through you, the world around you spinning as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you. Minho growled, his grip tightening on you, his hips bucking wildly as he came, spilling into you, the feeling indescribable.

The world was hazy, the intensity of the pleasure still coursing through your veins, his arms wrapped tightly around you. You clung to him, the sweat-soaked sheets tangled around your bodies, his lips trailing kisses along your skin, his hands stroking your hair.

You were still reeling from the high, the room slowly coming into focus. Your breath was shaky, the aftershocks of your release rippling through your body.

Minho shifted, his hand brushing lightly over your cheek. "I love you," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

"I love you too," you said, pulling him closer, his heart beating steadily beneath your ear.

The reality of what had happened settled over you, the knowledge that this could change everything. But as you lay there, curled up in his arms, you knew that no matter what happened next, this was worth it.

"Win the race," He said, pressing against your lower stomach as if he were talking to it, instantly making you laugh, even with the little energy in your body. "Because I can't wait to meet you."

And the idea, the prospect of it all, suddenly felt a lot less scary.

Minho rolled over, pulling you close, the warmth of his body seeping into yours, the sound of his heartbeat filling the quiet room. There was still so much ahead, the road was still uncertain, but in this moment, all that mattered was him.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Changbin :

It was the kind of lazy day you didn’t get often: just the two of you sprawled out in the bed, wrapped up in each other. The sun filtered through the blinds, casting warm rays on the blankets as the soft hum of the city outside barely reached your ears. Changbin’s strong arms held you close, one hand gently brushing the back of your head as his chin rested atop it. His body heat was comforting, and for a moment, you could forget about everything outside of the little bubble the two of you created.

You’d spent the entire morning in each other's company, moving between soft kisses, playful banter, and occasional teasing as the hours slipped away. Changbin was content, in his element, basking in the warmth of your presence, literally. You could tell by how tightly he held you, never wanting to let go, always wanting to be near you. You both always seemed to have the best days together when you didn’t have anywhere to be.

But then, as if the universe decided it was time for something to shift in the peacefulness of the moment, you made a suggestion that threw everything into an entirely different, far more intimate direction.

You tilted your head, pulling back just enough to meet his eyes, a playful glint in yours. “Binnie,” you murmured, your voice dropping to a more serious tone.

He hummed in response, his fingers absently tracing patterns on your arm. “Hm?”

"I think it’s time we make a baby."

There was a beat of silence before Changbin’s eyes widened, his arms momentarily stiffening around you, as though trying to process your words. His brow furrowed, mouth slightly agape, the playful smirk that usually never left his face faltering for just a moment.

“W-What?” His voice cracked as he pulled back a little to look at you. He blinked a few times, clearly stunned. “You’re... serious?”

You nodded, a little too pleased with the reaction, but then you noticed how flustered he looked, his dark eyes wide and the hint of a blush creeping up his neck. It was cute. So cute that you couldn’t hold back a small chuckle.

Changbin quickly recovered, a mischievous glint creeping back into his eyes as he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “I’m always your baby,” he said with a teasing smirk, his voice playful again.

You raised an eyebrow, your smile widening as you saw through his attempt to make light of the situation. “You sure about that? Because I’m ready for another baby now, Binnie.”

The teasing glimmer in his eyes faltered once more as his gaze dropped to your lips, and he could see that you weren’t joking. There was an undeniable sincerity in your expression, and it made his heart skip a beat. The playful energy between you shifted, his face slowly turning red as the words finally sank in.

“You’re serious?” he whispered, his breath catching in his throat.

You nodded again, leaning in to press your lips to his, but this time, it wasn’t just a kiss. It was deep, slow, and filled with something that had both of your hearts racing in unison.

When you pulled away, Changbin’s expression had shifted entirely. His chest was rising and falling faster than before, and you could feel his muscles tense under your fingertips. But what really caught your attention was the bulge pressing against your leg.

“Binnie…” you teased, your voice dripping with amusement. “I didn’t think you’d be that into the idea.”

A small whine escaped Changbin, his arms wrapping tighter around you as his lips sought yours once more. The kiss was a little sloppy, but it only served to make you laugh into it. You could feel the smile on his lips as he kissed you harder, his hands already moving along your sides and down to your thighs.

Changbin was always affectionate with you, even if he wasn't the best at showing it in public. It was always there in the way he looked at you, or the subtle brush of his fingertips against yours when no one was looking, or the sweet compliments he whispered to you when the two of you were alone. But the way his hands slid under your shirt, and the urgency in his kiss told you exactly how he felt in that moment.

You let him lift you off his lap, settling your hips down over his so that he was nestled between your legs. He groaned against your lips, and you felt his growing length straining against his pants.

When he broke the kiss, it was only to help you tug off his shirt. As soon as the garment was tossed aside, he grabbed the hem of yours and pulled it over your head, tossing it behind him, not caring where it landed. Then his lips were back on yours, his tongue slipping into your mouth, eliciting a soft moan from you.

You didn't notice his fingers fumbling with the button on your jeans until he pulled away from the kiss to help you out of them, and a few moments later, you were both naked and panting. Changbin's lips were already trailing across your collarbone, his teeth nipping and sucking at your skin, making sure to leave a mark.

Your hands moved down his back, your fingers digging into his flesh as you arched up to meet his lips, his chest pressed firmly against yours.

"Changbin," you whined, his name a breathless sigh on your lips. "Touch me."

He pulled back to look at you, his expression one of pure adoration. He took in your flushed cheeks, the way your eyes were hooded and glassy, your lips parted in anticipation.

"Anything for you," he said softly.

Your body shuddered as his hand traveled up the inside of your thigh, his fingers finding their way between your folds, circling your sensitive bud. You let out a low moan, bucking against him.

"I can't wait any longer," you panted.

"Neither can I."

Without warning, he flipped you onto your back, hovering above you. His hand came up to cradle the side of your face as he lowered his lips to yours, kissing you with an intensity that made your toes curl.

When he finally broke the kiss, he reached down to grab a condom from the drawer of his nightstand, sort of like muscle memory at this point. But before he could get a chance to open the wrapper, you stopped him, placing your hand on his.

"Binnie," you breathed. "You don't need that."

His eyes met yours, the question written all over his face. You just nodded, and a wide grin spread across his face.

"Whatever you want," he whispered, and he threw the package onto the floor.

His fingers returned to their earlier spot between your legs, stroking up and down the slick heat before slipping a finger inside you, followed by another. Your breath hitched, a soft whimper escaping your throat, and you rocked against his hand.

After a few moments, Changbin pulled his fingers out, replacing them with the tip of his cock. He slowly eased into you, and a breathless gasp left your lips as he filled you completely.

He paused for a second, his forehead resting against yours, and then he began to move, the feeling of his hips rolling against yours overwhelming you. The pace was slow and sensual, and the only sound in the room was your heavy breathing and the quiet creaking of the mattress as he moved above you.

As you stared into his eyes, the emotions swirling within them were too intense, too intimate, so you closed your own, letting yourself drown in the feeling of his body against yours, his cock filling you up with each thrust.

Your hands found their way to his back, clutching at his shoulder blades, and his lips brushed against your neck. Your bodies were so close that you could feel his heartbeat thundering against your chest.

It was too much.

You wanted to feel him deeper, to pull him closer. So you hooked your legs around his waist, pulling him in until you were almost completely flush with one another. You could feel every inch of him, and it made your stomach flutter.

The new angle allowed him to go deeper, his cock hitting a spot that made your breath hitch. Your nails dug into his back, and you buried your face in his neck. "Binnie," you mumbled, and his fingers laced through yours, pinning your hands to the bed above your head.

He was everywhere. His skin was hot, his touch burning. Every part of you was connected, and the way he moved was sending you over the edge. Your head was spinning. Pleasure pulsed through your body, building higher and higher. Changbin's lips had moved down to your neck, his tongue leaving a trail of wet kisses along your skin.

When he bit down on the base of your throat, you arched into him, letting out a loud moan. "Please... Please," you pleaded, and he groaned in response.

He continued his pace, the feeling of your body against his becoming more and more overwhelming. You were close, you could tell. You were just waiting for the moment that you fell, waiting for him to push you over the edge.

Just as you were about to reach your peak, he stopped moving altogether, pulling out of you completely. Your eyes shot open and you looked up at him, a frustrated whine slipping out. "Binnie, why..."

He brought his fingers back to your clit, teasing and circling it, and your eyes fluttered shut. His lips were against your ear, his hot breath fanning your neck. "You look so beautiful like this," he whispered. "All hot and needy for me."

Your breathing grew ragged as he worked at your clit, sending sparks through your body, and your legs tightened around his waist. "Binnie, I... Please..." you panted. "Please don't stop..."

The moment his cock re-entered you, a wave of pleasure washed over you, making your back arch against him. Your legs squeezed tighter around him, keeping him buried deep inside of you as he began moving again, thrusting harder and faster this time. Your orgasm was coming.

"Let go for me," he commanded.

With a loud cry, you let go, and your orgasm tore through your body. You couldn't stop yourself from moaning his name over and over as he fucked you through it, prolonging the bliss. The feeling was indescribable, and for a brief moment, everything in the world felt right.

It was only a few seconds later that you felt Changbin shudder as his release shot into you, filling you with hot warmth. Your name fell from his lips, breathy and desperate.

His hips slowed to a stop, and he pulled out, rolling over to lay next to you, a smile tugging at his lips. You didn’t move, just letting your head fall onto his shoulder and your arm wrap around his torso. Your legs were shaking and your heart was racing, but you couldn’t stop the content smile on your face.

You turned your head slightly, pressing your lips against his shoulder. It felt like an eternity since the last time you'd both been intimate with one another like that, and you almost wanted to laugh at how natural it felt. But Changbin shifted, turning onto his side to face you, his fingers brushing across your cheek.

"You okay?" he murmured.

Your heart swelled as his eyes searched yours, a concerned expression on his face, his brows slightly furrowed. He was worried about you. He always was. And it was in moments like these that you really saw it, felt it. The love in his touch.

You smiled, nodding slowly, letting yourself get lost in the deep, dark brown pools of his eyes. You felt warm all over, a content, almost sleepy feeling overtaking you. "I love you," you said softly, and he smiled.

"I love you too."

With that, you pressed your lips to his in a brief but loving kiss. When you broke apart, you couldn't help the giddy smile that spread across your face. You let your eyes wander over him, and you felt yourself melt into his arms. You'd never felt happier than in his embrace.

He was warm and soft, his breathing slow and steady, his skin hot against yours. Your fingertips lightly brushed over his collarbones and across his shoulder, making goosebumps break out across his skin.

After a few more moments of basking in each other's presence, you shifted your position, scooting closer so that you were able to curl yourself into him, your head resting against his chest.

"Okay, I'm ready for round two now,"

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Hyunjin :

The soft hum of Hyunjin’s paintbrush against the canvas was almost soothing, the steady strokes of his arm adding layer after layer to the masterpiece in front of him. His studio smelled like oil paints and creativity, with light spilling in through the tall windows, casting a golden hue on everything. He was lost in his work, just the way he liked it, completely immersed.

But you missed him. And right now, with the pull of your body, the warmth of your desire, you couldn’t help but want him close.

With a quiet smile, you slipped out of your bedroom, putting on nothing but his oversized shirt, the fabric reaching mid-thigh. You padded down the hallway, your steps slower than usual as the heat between your legs reminded you of the feeling growing in your core. It wasn’t something that could be ignored, and the fact that Hyunjin was so close made the need even more intense.

You reached his studio, and as you poked your head around the doorframe, your heart skipped when you saw him still focused on his painting. A smirk tugged at your lips. You waddled in, walking with purpose as you made your way toward him. He glanced up, surprised by the soft sound of your footsteps before a soft chuckle escaped him.

"Hey, darling," he greeted, his voice warm and inviting. His smile was like the first rays of the sun breaking through the clouds, and you could feel your pulse quicken in response. He leaned back in his chair, arms outstretched, expecting you to crawl into his lap.

You didn’t waste any time. Before he could say another word, you were on him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your lips to his, demanding the attention you craved. His body stiffened for a moment, but then he melted into you, pulling you closer as your kisses deepened. You could feel his surprise mixed with fondness in the way his hands gripped your waist.

“Love, what’s up?” he murmured between kisses, a playful glint in his eyes. “You miss me that much?”

You pulled away slightly, keeping your hands on his shoulders as you looked him over, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. You didn’t even try to hold back, letting the feeling of desire overwhelm you. “I want to make a baby right now.”

Hyunjin blinked, processing your words. His lips curled into that teasing, sexy smile of his, and you could tell he was trying not to laugh at your sudden forwardness. “Ah, are you tired of me painting on you? Would you rather I finish in you instead?” His voice was smooth, every word dripping with his signature charm.

You froze, face feeling hot. "Hyunjin!" you gasped, swatting at his chest playfully, too embarrassed to even look him in the eye. "I'm serious!"

The mischievous glint in his eyes softened, and his arms tightened around you, bringing you flush against his chest. "I know you are," he said, his tone now filled with affection and sincerity. "And I love the idea." His voice lowered, almost a whisper as he leaned in close, brushing his lips across your ear. “Can we make a baby now?”

Your heart raced, and the sheer intensity in his voice made you forget about your nervousness. The room felt smaller, more intimate as he pulled back to look at you, a mix of excitement and love in his gaze.

“You really want to?” you whispered, looking up at him through your lashes, your body practically humming with desire.

“Well, I need to go back to my painting, love,” he murmured, voice thick with affection but also a hint of teasing. “I’ll be done soon, and then we can—”

“No.” You interrupted him playfully, your lips landing on his jaw, trailing kisses along the path of his neck as you pressed your body fully against his. “I don’t want to wait, Hyunjin. I want you, right now.”

His breath hitched, and you could feel the shiver run through his body. His grip on you tightened, and you smiled against his neck, knowing the effect you had on him.

You felt his fingers tangle in your hair, pulling you in for a heated kiss. His hands then slipped beneath the shirt that you put on, his fingertips finding their way to your half-hardened nipples. His lips found your jaw, placing featherlight kisses along your skin, before trailing lower, stopping at the base of your neck.

He let out a soft hum of approval, and you knew exactly what he was thinking. He loved marking you, making sure that everyone knew that you belonged to him. You leaned into him, wanting him to have better access to the sensitive skin.

As he started sucking on your skin, you felt yourself relax, the warmth of his touch calming the desire burning within you. His hands roamed your body, exploring every curve and dip. The sound of his lips against your skin was enough to send shivers down your spine, and the feeling of his mouth on your skin was electrifying.

His fingers dipped lower, reaching between your legs. You spread your thighs, allowing him easier access. As his fingertips brushed against your folds, you could feel how wet you already were.

His lips parted, and his breath caught. "So wet, love," he breathed, his voice thick with awe and wonder.

You whined, pressing your body closer to his, needing him inside you. "Hyunjin," you moaned softly, your fingers digging into his biceps, "fuck me, please."

His arms wrapped around you, lifting you up and carrying you over to his desk, where he placed you down, your bare back hitting the cold surface. Your head spun at the sudden change of position, the room shifting from vertical to horizontal in an instant.

But Hyunjin was already tugging down his sweats and boxers, letting them fall around his ankles before kicking them off. His cock sprung free, standing proud and tall, and you bit your lip, admiring the sight. His tip glistened with precum, and you could see his erection twitch.

"I'm going to fuck a baby into you," he promised, and the words alone sent a fresh wave of arousal through your body. "So take every drop, okay?"

You nodded, spreading your legs, eager and waiting for him to enter you. Your whole body was buzzing, the anticipation making you tremble with excitement.

"Not yet, if I don't prepare you," he said, and before you could react, he pushed two fingers inside your core, "it'll hurt."

A small gasp escaped you, the intrusion taking you by surprise, but it was a good kind of surprise, one that left you feeling lightheaded and desperate for more. Your eyes fluttered shut as he moved his fingers in and out, stretching you.

He added a few more fingers before pulling out, the slick coating his digits. "There," he purred, pumping his own length to lubricate it, "ready?"

You didn't need to answer, your legs opening wide as an invitation. Hyunjin leaned forward, capturing your lips in a kiss. It was tender and slow, but filled with desire, and you could feel the intensity of his love for you.

Your hands tangled in his hair, tugging lightly at the soft locks. The sensation caused him to moan softly, and he broke the kiss, panting slightly. His dark eyes were filled with lust and desire, and you couldn't help but let out a small whimper, eager for more.

He positioned his length against your entrance, the tip just barely dipping inside. He held it there for a moment, his other hand caressing your thigh. Biting down on your bottom lip, too excited to form words. You couldn't take it anymore, and with a slight wiggle of your hips, you urged him inside.

"Patience, love," he murmured, and you could hear the teasing in his tone.

He pushed inside, his cock stretching your walls, and you couldn't stop the moan that fell from your lips. He buried himself deep within you, his length filling you up. He began to move, slowly at first, savoring the feeling of being inside you.

His hands moved to cup your breasts, gently squeezing and kneading the mounds, teasing the peaks. You arched into him, craving more.

"You're so perfect," he whispered, his voice low and husky. "You're so tight around me."

You could only whimper, words escaping you. His praises were music to your ears, and the feel of his cock moving inside you made your head spin. His slow pace itching your walls, the friction sending waves of pleasure throughout your body.

His lips were on yours again, kissing you hungrily, his tongue slipping into your mouth. You tasted him, his scent intoxicating, the smell of oil paints and his natural musk making your head spin.

He broke the kiss, panting softly, his lips moving to your neck. He trailed kisses along the curve of your shoulder, and you could feel his teeth nipping at your skin. You were losing yourself in the feeling, the sensations overwhelming you.

His fingers pinched and pulled at your nipples, and you were gasping and moaning, completely at his mercy.

"You're taking me so well, baby," he cooed, his words sending a thrill through your body.

He quickened the pace for you, and you were clinging to him, your nails digging into his skin. He was relentless, his thrusts not incredibly fast, but powerful, his hands moving to grip your waist, pulling you close as he fucked into you.

Your mind was clouded, the only thing registering was the way his cock stretched and filled you, his fingers playing with your breasts, his lips leaving a trail of kisses across your neck and shoulders.

"I love you," you gasped, and he moaned into your skin in response, his teeth sinking into the curve of your neck.

He was lost in your warmth, in the feeling of being inside you, and the room was filled with the sounds of skin against skin, your soft moans and whimpers, his breathy pants and low groans. It was almost too much for you, the sensations threatening to push you over the edge, the coil within your abdomen winding tighter and tighter.

"You're going to cum for me, baby," Hyunjin murmured, his voice thick with need and desire. "And you're going to cum for our baby, too."

That was all you needed to hear to send you spiraling into a mind-blowing orgasm, your walls clamping around his cock, and your fingers digging into his shoulders. You moaned loudly, unable to control yourself as your climax crashed into you like a tidal wave. Hyunjin's pace stuttered, and you felt his release inside you, filling you to the brim.

"I love you so much," Hyunjin breathed, pulling you into a deep kiss.

As he pulled away, your body suddenly felt empty, but Hyunjin suddenly slipped two fingers inside your pussy, the wetness and slick of both your arousal and cum allowing him to glide them in. "Full of me, love," he hummed in appreciation as you tightened your grip around him, whimpering, still sensitive.

"I know baby, it's so much, but I told to you take every single drop." he kissed your forehead gently and slipped in a third finger, stretching you slightly. "You can do that for me right?"

Your body shuddered in his grasp, and you felt his other hand gently rub your tummy. "You're gonna be so big," Hyunjin purred, kissing your cheeks, "and I can't wait to see our baby inside you, and everyone's going to be able to see the work of art I created inside of you. Everyone will know."

"Hyunjin..." you panted, still catching your breath after your orgasm, and the image he created in your mind sent your mind spinning once more.

"I think this will be my best piece yet, hm?"

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Han Jisung :

The warm glow of the living room lamp bounced softly off the walls as you sprawled lazily across the couch, your head resting comfortably in Jisung's lap. His focus was pinned to the TV screen in front of you, fingers flying over the controller in a frenzied attempt to beat whatever game had stolen his attention. The faint sound of rapid button mashing mixed with his occasional muttering under his breath, a mix of self-encouragement and exaggerated complaints about the game mechanics.

Jisung in his element was a sight to behold. His lips parted slightly in concentration, his sharp jawline flexing whenever he gritted his teeth at a missed combo. The sleeveless shirt he wore hung loose around his lean frame, leaving his toned arms on full display. You couldn't help but let your eyes wander, imagining how your child could inherit those features: the cheeky grin, the soft yet angular face, the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled too hard.

The thought planted itself so firmly in your head that the words tumbled out before you could second-guess yourself.

“Jisung,” you said casually, letting your hand drift lazily over his thigh, “you ever think about making a baby with me?”

For a moment, his reaction was nonexistent. He grunted in response, still laser-focused on the game.

“Mm-hmm, yeah, babe. Just hold on, I’m about to beat this guy--”

And then it hit him.

His hands froze on the controller, his character on the screen taking a hit as he snapped his head down to look at you, eyes wide as saucers. “Wait, what?!”

You stifled a laugh at his reaction, the tips of his ears already beginning to turn red. He stared at you, completely speechless, mouth agape as if waiting for you to break into laughter and tell him it was just a joke. When you didn’t, he sputtered helplessly, trying to gather his thoughts.

“Han Jisung,” you said again, this time with a mischievous lilt to your voice, “how would you feel about putting a baby in me sometime soon?”

“Yah, stop it!” he sputtered, his voice jumping an octave as he frantically mashed at the controller, trying to pause the game but failing miserably in his flustered state. “You can’t just say stuff like that when I’m in the middle of—of…”

“…this!” he finally blurted, his voice cracking slightly as he slammed the pause button with a frustrated jab. The screen froze mid-action, his character caught in a losing battle, but Jisung didn’t seem to care. He stared down at you, his lips parted in disbelief, his cheeks now a fiery shade of red.

“You’re unbelievable,” he muttered, setting the controller down on the cushion beside him. His hands flew to his face, covering his flushed expression as if it would shield him from your teasing. “Who even says that so casually?”

You grinned, clearly enjoying his reaction far too much. “What?” you asked innocently, though the mischievous glint in your eyes gave you away. “It’s not like I’m asking for a baby right now. I’m just saying… you’d make a cute dad.”

He peeked at you through his fingers, his brows furrowing. “This is not normal couch talk!” he whined, his voice higher than usual as his brain scrambled to keep up. “You can’t just spring stuff like that on me. I’m trying to focus, and then you go and--”

“Distract you?” you finished for him, your tone light and playful. Sliding your hand up under his shirt, you let your fingers graze over the smooth, warm skin of his stomach. His muscles twitched under your touch, and his entire body stiffened as if you’d just short-circuited him.

“D-Doing- that!” he stammered, his voice cracking again. He grabbed your wrist gently but didn’t pull your hand away, his ears burning redder by the second. “You’re being distracting right now, and you know that.”

“Am I?” you teased, tilting your head to look up at him with a sweet smile that only made him more flustered. “You’re just so cute, Ji. Can you blame me for thinking about it? About us? About what it’d be like to have a little Han Jisung running around?”

“Aghhh!” he groaned dramatically, throwing his head back against the couch. “Stop! You’re gonna make me combust or something. I’m already sweaty from this game, and now you’re- ugh, I can’t with you!”

You giggled, loving every second of his over-the-top reaction. “Okay, okay,” you said, patting his chest soothingly. “Breathe, Han. It’s just a thought. A cute little thought. You don’t have to freak out about it that much.”

“I’m not freaking out!” he argued, though his voice cracked once more, betraying him. His wide eyes darted down to yours, his expression softening despite his embarrassment. “I mean… I have thought about it. A little. Not, like, seriously, but…”

“But?” you pressed gently, your teasing tone giving way to genuine curiosity.

He sighed, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck nervously. “But… the idea isn’t terrible,” he admitted quietly, his gaze dropping to the hand you still had resting on his stomach. “I just… I wanna be good enough, you know? So that I’d… that I wouldn’t mess it up.”

Your heart swelled at his vulnerability, the way he couldn’t help but let his anxieties surface even in a moment like this. You shifted to sit up, cupping his cheek and guiding his gaze back to yours. “Jisung,” you said softly, your thumb brushing over his skin. “You’re already good enough. And if you ever doubt it, just look at how much I love you. That should tell you everything.”

His eyes widened for a moment before they softened, his lips curling into a shy smile. “You’re too much,” he mumbled, leaning into your touch. “Seriously. How am I supposed to focus on anything when you’re like this?”

“Maybe you’re not supposed to,” you teased, leaning in to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Maybe this is my way of saying… you’ve already won the game, Jisung. You’ve already got me.”

-

The clock ticked closer to midnight, the soft hum of the heater filling the cozy silence of the living room. You’d already changed into your favorite oversized t-shirt for bed, hair loosely tied back as you padded barefoot across the carpet. Jisung was still glued to the TV, his earlier embarrassment mostly forgotten as he focused intently on beating the level that had eluded him earlier.

You stopped just short of him, arms crossed, tilting your head with an amused smirk. “Still at it, huh?”

He glanced at you briefly, flashing an apologetic grin. “Almost there, baby. Just need a few more minutes. I’m so close.”

Rolling your eyes, you moved closer, draping yourself over the back of the couch so you could peek at the screen. “You’ve been saying that for the past twenty minutes.”

“Yeah, but this time I mean it,” he defended, his tongue poking out slightly in concentration.

With a sigh, you leaned down further, your hair brushing against his cheek. “Ji,” you murmured, your voice soft and sultry, “don’t you think it’s time for bed?”

He froze for a fraction of a second before shaking his head, trying to stay focused. “Just a little longer, promise. I’m almost- no, no, no, almost there!”

You bit back a smile, watching the way his eyebrows furrowed and his lips pursed in frustration. He was adorable when he was like this, but you weren’t about to let him get away with ignoring you.

Sliding around the couch, you plopped yourself down beside him, resting your head on his shoulder. “You know,” you began, tracing small circles on his arm with your finger, “the game isn’t going anywhere. It’ll still be here tomorrow. But me…” You trailed off, your voice dropping suggestively.

He stiffened slightly, his grip on the controller tightening. “Baby,” he muttered, a warning in his tone. “Don’t do that right now.”

“Do what?” you asked innocently, shifting closer.

“This,” he said, gesturing vaguely at you with one hand while his character took a hit on screen.

You straddled his lap without warning, the controller slipping from his hands as his eyes shot up to meet yours. “Oops,” you said with a cheeky grin.

“Y/N,” he groaned, his voice laced with both exasperation and something warmer. His hands hovered awkwardly by your sides, unsure whether to push you away or pull you closer.

You looped your arms around his neck, your movements deliberate as you shifted in his lap. His breath hitched, and you felt the slight twitch of his muscles beneath you. “Come to bed with me, Jisung,” you whispered, leaning in so your lips brushed against his ear. “Unless… you’d rather stay here and let me go to sleep all by myself.”

“Babe,” he choked out, his hands finally settling on your waist, holding you in place as if to stop you from moving any further. His ears were blazing red again, his gaze darting anywhere but your face.

“Or,” you continued, tilting his chin up so he had no choice but to look at you, “we could practice making a baby tonight.”

The words hung in the air, and for a moment, Jisung looked like his brain had completely short-circuited. His mouth opened and closed a few times, no sound coming out except a faint squeak.

“Wait, you’re- are you serious?” he finally managed, his voice cracking as his grip on your waist tightened slightly.

You leaned in, your lips brushing against his jawline. “What do you think?”

Jisung swallowed hard, his wide eyes locking onto yours. The game was long forgotten, and the controller was discarded on the couch beside him. His hands slid up your sides, tentative but firm, as if testing to see if you were really there.

You pressed a soft kiss to his neck, his breath hitching slightly. Your hands were already wandering, sliding over the smooth skin of his arms and tracing along his collarbones. He shivered, his hands gripping your waist and pulling you closer.

"Mm, so I'm guessing this means you like that idea?" you teased, your lips trailing along his jaw.

"Baby," he whined, his voice already husky and breathless. "I... I'm not sure what I'm doing, but I- I want..."

"What do you want, Ji?"

"You," he breathed, his eyes fluttering shut. "Always."

"Then take me," you whispered, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

He captured your lips with his, the kiss searing hot and desperate. Your hands slipped into his hair, tugging him closer as his tongue slipped into your mouth, swallowing your moan. He tasted like the peppermint candies he'd been sucking on earlier, sweet and crisp, and the way his mouth moved against yours made your head spin.

He pulled away after a moment, his lips already swollen, chest heaving. His eyes met yours, dark and clouded with desire, and he looked like he was ready to devour you.

"Do you really... mean it? You'd let me make a baby with you?"

You couldn't help but laugh at the hesitant tone of his voice, at how cute it was that he was still checking for confirmation. "I'll say it as many times as you need to hear it. Yes, Jisung. I want a baby with you. I want you to put a baby in me."

His eyes lit up, his cheeks flushing bright pink, and for a second he almost looked innocent. But the way his hands tugged impatiently at your shirt and his eyes raked hungrily over your body was anything but.

"So what are we waiting for, then?" he said, his voice low.

You grinned, letting him pull the shirt over your head and toss it carelessly to the floor. "Absolutely nothing."

-

Jisung's hands were everywhere, his lips tracing hot kisses along the column of your neck as he backed you into the bedroom. Your legs hit the edge of the bed, and he was on top of you in an instant, his hands grasping at your thighs. His hands spread out on the underside of your thighs, lifting them up so he could position himself between them.

The way his hands moved over your body was possessive, almost primal, his eyes dark and hooded as they locked onto yours. He ground his hips into yours, and the hard bulge of his cock pressing into you had you biting back a moan.

"You want this?" he whispered, his voice dripping with desire.

"God, yes," you breathed, tugging at his shirt. "Want you, Jisung."

He leaned back just long enough to strip off his shirt, tossing it aside. "So fucking sexy," he murmured, his hands slipping up your bare thighs. "You're the only one I want. The only one I ever want to put a baby in."

His fingers hooked into the waistband of your panties, and with a swift tug, they were gone, discarded somewhere in the growing pile of clothes on the floor. Your breath caught in your throat, and he paused, his eyes roaming hungrily over your bare body.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, his hands coming up to squeeze at your breasts. "The things you do to me."

"Show me," you whispered, reaching out to stroke him through his boxers. "Show me how much you want this, baby."

He hissed at the contact, his hips jerking into your hand. "Y/N," he groaned, his voice thick with lust. "I'm gonna- gonna fuck a baby into you."

The words went straight to your core, and you couldn't stop the whimper that slipped past your lips. He was so close, his warm breath fanning across your face, his hands already roaming over your body. He reached between your legs, his fingers ghosting over your wet folds, and a soft moan escaped him.

"Look how wet you are, baby. So wet for me," he murmured, his finger sliding through your slick folds and circling around your clit. "How long was I keeping you waiting for this?"

You let out a gasp as he slid a finger into you, your walls clenching around him. "All week," you breathed, hips bucking involuntarily as he pumped his finger in and out.

He smirked, his thumb rubbing slow circles over your clit as his finger curled inside you. "Mm, poor baby," he cooed. "You've been so needy for my cock, haven't you?"

"God, yes," you whimpered, arching into his touch.

"So impatient," he teased, adding a second finger and pumping faster. "You want me to fill you up, don't you? To fuck you until you can't take it anymore?"

You moaned, his dirty words only heightening your arousal. He curled his fingers inside you, and you writhed, his name falling from your lips. "Yes, yes, please, Ji, I need-"

He leaned in, his voice a husky whisper. "Tell me what you need, baby."

"Your cock," you gasped, your fingers digging into his shoulders. "Want your cock, Ji, please."

His lips curled into a satisfied grin. "Anything for you, baby. Anything for the mother of my child."

The words sent a rush of heat through you, and he slid his fingers out of you, the ache of emptiness already setting in. You watched him strip off his boxers, the sight of his hard cock sending another wave of arousal through you.

He gripped the base, the head flushed and leaking with precum. "Tell me, Y/N. Tell me where you want my cum."

You spread your legs, his eyes fixated on the glistening folds between them. "Inside me," you breathed, the ache becoming unbearable. "Please, Ji, I want it all."

He stroked himself, his thumb swiping over the head and spreading the precum. "Mm, so good, baby," he groaned, his free hand grasping at your thigh and guiding your legs apart.

"Need you," you whined, your walls clenching around nothing.

"You'll have me," he promised, lining himself up with your entrance. He rubbed the head along your folds, and you moaned, his name spilling from your lips.

"Jisung, please," you begged, hips bucking as you tried to press him deeper.

"Tell me how bad you want it," he whispered, teasing your entrance with the head. "Tell me how bad you want a little Han Jisung."

"So bad," you moaned, your hands grasping at his back. "Please, Ji, give me everything. Fill me up, put a baby in me, please, I'm-"

The rest of your words dissolved into a cry as he slid inside you, his thick cock stretching your walls. He groaned, his fingers digging into your hips as he thrust in, bottoming out in one swift movement.

"So fucking tight," he hissed, his head falling forward as he took a moment to collect himself.

"So big," you whimpered, shifting beneath him and feeling the fullness.

"And all yours," he murmured, starting to move inside you. He rocked his hips into yours, burying himself deep inside you with every thrust. His cock dragged against your walls, hitting just the right spot to make your toes curl.

"Ji," you moaned, nails digging into his skin as you clung to him. "God, I love you."

"Love you, too," he breathed, his voice strained. His rhythm was relentless, his thrusts quick and deep, the sounds of your pleasure mingling together.

Your hips rose to meet his, and his hands gripped your thighs, pushing them apart even further. "So beautiful," he muttered, his eyes fixated on the way you clenched around him.

He leaned forward, his lips capturing yours in a heated kiss. He swallowed your moans, his tongue exploring every inch of your mouth as his cock slammed into you. You arched off the bed, a high-pitched cry escaping your lips. His mouth trailed along your jaw, sucking a mark into your skin.

Suddenly he took your hand in his and pressed on your lower stomach, pushing down hard as his thrusts grew more frantic.

"Feel that, baby? Feel my cock in you?" he growled. "Can you feel the way it stretches you, the way it fills you up? That's me putting a baby in you."

You couldn't form any coherent words, your cries rising in pitch as the pressure built inside you. You felt yourself start to unravel, your body shaking, his name tumbling from your lips. You couldn't hold back anymore, his words pushing you over the edge. Your walls clenched around him, pleasure surging through your body as he pounded into you. You cried out, waves of ecstasy washing over you as he fucked you through your orgasm.

He didn't slow down, his movements becoming more erratic, his grip on your thighs tightening. You were barely starting to come down when he buried himself deep inside you, a hoarse groan escaping his lips.

His hips jerked, his cock pulsing as he came. His cum filled you, warm and thick, his hips grinding against yours as his release spilled into you. His name fell from your lips again, a breathless sigh, and his thrusts slowed, his body shuddering above yours.

He stayed there for a moment, panting, his eyes half-lidded and his gaze hazy. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, then to the corner of your mouth. You tilted your head up, capturing his lips in a soft kiss, and he melted into you.

You both lay there, tangled together, your breathing slowly evening out. He held you close, his hands stroking your hair. Your limbs were still tingling, your mind fuzzy.

After a few minutes of laying in each other's arms, he pulled away, and you felt the sudden emptiness, his cum dripping out of you. His eyes widened at the sight.

"Did- Did I do that? I'm sorry," he muttered, reaching for a tissue.

You couldn't help but laugh softly at his panic. "It's okay, baby. I told you to."

He blushed, his ears reddening again. "Oh, right. Still... sorry, I'm a little out of it."

You giggled, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "You did good."

He looked down, his gaze soft and his lips curving into a shy smile. "I'm glad," he murmured, cleaning you both up before laying back down beside you.

You curled up in his arms, and his fingers trailed over your skin, gentle and soothing. He pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder.

His eyes fluttered shut, and he leaned into your touch. "We should... do it again. When I'm not so tired," he murmured.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Felix :

It was a peaceful night. The kind where the whole world feels like it’s settled into a comfortable, lazy rhythm. You and Felix were lying in bed, cuddled up under the blankets, the soft hum of the night settling around you both. His hand was gently resting on your waist, and you could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest against your back.

But despite the calm, there was something on your mind, something you hadn’t been able to shake for the last few days. Baby fever.

Not just baby fever, but the idea of him leaving any kind of indication that he was yours on you. Love bites, marks, bites, anything.

And it wasn’t like you were planning on having a baby tomorrow (you were still young, after all), but the thought had been growing, and now you couldn’t stop it. Felix had always been someone you pictured with kids, with his soft smile, his playful personality, and the way he always seemed so gentle and caring.

You would always think of how your kid would inherit his traits, his eyes, his freckles, his smile. Maybe the baby would have his characteristics too.

You shifted slightly, turning over to face him, your body pressing a little closer to his. Felix looked down at you with a soft, sleepy smile, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. His eyes were still filled with the warmth of the moment, not yet aware of the direction your thoughts were heading.

Felix hummed, and you took a deep breath, staring up at him with a mixture of hesitation and boldness.

"Felix... Why don't you ever mark me up?" you asked suddenly, catching him off guard. His eyebrows furrowed, his gaze shifting from your face to your lips and back up again.

"Mark you?" he echoed, his deep voice scratching your ear, a mix of confusion and curiosity. "Like... how?"

You bit your lip, trying to keep your composure as your pulse picked up speed. "You know... like... with your teeth, your lips, something... I dunno. Sometimes, I just want to feel... marked."

Felix blinked in surprise. His hand paused mid-air as if he was considering your words carefully, his cheeks flushing slightly. "Is... that something you'd want me to do?" he asked in a soft, almost timid tone, his accent adding a cute layer to his question, looking down at you as if trying to read your expression.

You nodded slowly, a small, teasing smile curling at the edges of your lips. "Yeah... I kind of want that."

Before you could continue, Felix’s lips descended on your neck, his teeth already gently nipping at the sensitive skin. You gasped softly, your hands immediately tangling into his hair. He was submissive in the way he was responding, eagerly giving you exactly what you’d asked for. His lips were warm against your skin, trailing soft kisses along your collarbone, and you felt a shiver run down your spine.

Felix pulled back slightly, breathing heavily against your neck, his lips still brushing against your skin. His voice was hushed, almost reverent. "Is this what you wanted?" he whispered, his hands resting on your sides, gently guiding you closer.

You nodded again, but this time, your fingers didn’t stop at his hair. You slid them down his back, pulling him closer, your breath catching as you tried to find the words.

"I..." You faltered, trying to figure out what exactly you wanted him to do, what you needed him to do, but nothing seemed right. You didn't want him to stop, and you couldn't think of a better way to ask him for what you really wanted.

Felix was looking at you with those beautiful eyes of his, and the thought flashed through your head, and you blurted it out before you could change your mind. "I also... have been thinking about kids, lately. Not- not just in general. But with you, specifically."

His eyes widened slightly, and his blush deepened. A deep noise escaped him, and then he smiled, the same gentle, loving smile he'd always given you. He didn't say anything, though, but his hands shifted lower on your waist, a silent reassurance that he'd heard what you'd said, and he understood.

Felix's lips returned to your neck, kissing a path down the column of your throat. "When would you want that?" he murmured, and the way his words were muffled by your skin sent a pleasant tingle through your body.

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your composure and speak through the haze. "Someday, someday. But not anytime soon. I just want... you to know that I think about it, sometimes. And I think you would be an amazing dad."

He paused, his lips resting on your shoulder. Then, a small smile curled his lips. He leaned in and kissed you softly, and you could taste the smile on his lips. "I think about that too," he murmured, his voice so soft and vulnerable that you couldn't help but melt against him.

"Do you want to know what else I think about?" he whispered, his breath warm on your cheek. "What else I've been thinking about?"

You shivered, closing your eyes and leaning closer to him. You nodded, biting your lip and trying not to look as excited as you were.

He smiled against your lips, a small laugh escaping him. "I've been thinking about this," he breathed, and then he pressed his hips forward, his half-hard length rubbing against your inner thigh. "And this," he continued, sliding his hands down to grip your ass. "And this," he continued, slipping his fingers under your underwear, stroking along the curve of your butt.

His hands slipped underneath your shirt, running up the length of your stomach and cupping your breasts, gently squeezing.

Your heart pounded against his chest, and your hands slid down his back, slipping inside the waistband of his boxers. He sucked in a sharp breath when your fingertips brushed against his ass. You squeezed him gently, a low hum vibrating from the base of your throat.

"Mmm... and you too," you replied, arching your back slightly and pressing your chest further into his hands. "I think about the way your fingers feel, the way you kiss me, the way you hold me."

"And what do you think about, when I hold you like this?" he whispered, his hands moving lower, his fingers dancing along your thighs. "When I touch you like this?"

He moved his hands down, gently parting your thighs, his fingers tracing along the sensitive skin between your legs. Your breath caught, and you let out a soft moan, your hands sliding up to clutch his shoulders.

"I think about the way you're gonna make me feel. And I can't wait until the day that I'm carrying your child," you answered, biting your lip and squeezing your thighs together.

Felix's hands stilled, and he stared down at you, his eyes dark with desire.

"God," he groaned, and the sound was so raw, so desperate, that it sent a rush of heat straight to your core. His eyes flicked down to your lips, his fingers moving up and tracing circles over the sensitive spot above your entrance.

You whined, trying not to move and press your hips into his touch. He chuckled, his fingers circling lazily. "And how long have you been thinking about that, huh? What made you bring it up?" he asked, his voice husky.

"Mmm..." you sighed, arching your back and squeezing his shoulder. "Maybe... a week? Or two? But I can't get the thought out of my head."

His breath hitched, his fingers slowing, and then stopping.

"A week," he echoed, his eyes fixed on yours, his lips parted slightly. "You've been thinking about this for a week."

You nodded, trying not to squirm under his intense stare.

"Yeah. I... I think it would be a great thing to have with you."

He was silent for a moment, his gaze flickering down to your mouth, then back up to your eyes. His lips curled up into a mischievous smirk, and he leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear.

"Then why don't we start practicing?" he suggested, his voice low and seductive, sending a wave of heat through your body.

You let out a shaky breath, nodding quickly. He chuckled, pressing a kiss to your neck, before pulling back and grabbing the hem of your shirt, slowly lifting it over your head. He tossed it to the floor, his hands running up the smooth planes of your stomach, cupping your breasts.

You reached for the bottom of his shirt, tugging it over his head, before sliding your hands up his chest. He smiled, his hands returning to your hips, and pulling you flush against his chest.

"So you want me to mark you up? Bite and scratch and claim you?" he asked, his lips brushing over the skin of your throat.

"Yes," you gasped, tilting your head to the side and giving him more access to your neck.

He let his teeth scrape lightly over the side of your neck.

"You want me to leave my mark all over your body?" he continued, his voice low and husky.

"Mmmhmm," you moaned, clutching his shoulders and pulling him closer.

"You want me to fuck a baby into you?" he growled, his teeth grazing your earlobe.

You shivered, your hips rolling against his. "Yes," you breathed. "Yes, god, please. Do it."

Felix chuckled, his hands moving down to squeeze your ass, his fingers digging into the soft flesh.

"Okay then, anything for you, princess," he purred, the tone in his voice changing to a sweeter one, his lips trailing down to the hollow of your throat.

You let out a moan as his teeth scraped over the sensitive skin of your collarbone. He nipped lightly at your neck, his tongue flicking over the skin. His lips trailed lower, his mouth latching onto the swell of your breast. He bit down lightly, a sharp intake of breath escaping you. His tongue traced over the small red mark left by his teeth, soothing the skin.

You whined, pushing your hips against his, trying to create some friction. He smirked, his fingers digging into the plump flesh of your ass.

"Patience," he chided, his tongue swiping over the mark again.

"Oh, I'm so patient," you breathed, arching your back.

Felix chuckled, his tongue lapping over the mark once more, before he moved down, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses down the valley between your breasts. He stopped when he reached the bottom of the valley, his hands moving up to cup your breasts, kneading the soft flesh.

His thumbs rubbed circles around your nipples, the tips of his fingers tweaking them, his eyes watching the way your body reacted. You arched into his touch, his hands feeling like fire on your skin, the rough calluses sending delicious sparks of electricity through you. It felt like his mouth was hitting every right spot, the combination making your head spin. Taking his time to make sure they really left a dark mark on you.

Felix let go of one breast, his hand trailing down your stomach, his fingers dipping beneath the waistband of your panties. His fingers circled around the apex of your thighs, his thumb rubbing light, teasing circles over your clit.

You gasped, your hands grabbing at the sheets beneath you, trying to steady yourself. He laughed softly, his mouth pressing hot, wet kisses over the sensitive skin of your stomach. His fingers moved lower, stroking between your folds.

"So wet already, baby," he purred, his tongue flicking out over your hip bone.

"Please, Felix," you begged, your body aching for his touch, his closeness, his warmth.

"What do you want, princess? Tell me," he coaxed, his voice low and smooth.

"I want you to make me come," you pleaded, rolling your hips against his fingers.

Felix hummed, his eyes hooded and filled with lust, his fingers still working between your legs.

"You want to come for me?" he teased, his voice dropping even lower.

"Yes, please," you whimpered, the muscles in your thighs beginning to tense.

"You wanna come on my cock?" he rasped, his free hand moving up to squeeze your breast.

"Yes," you moaned, throwing your head back and closing your eyes.

Felix pulled away suddenly, his hands leaving your body, the sudden absence of his warmth making you whine.

"How about you help me get ready for you, baby?" he suggested, a hint of a challenge in his tone.

You immediately sat up, reaching down and yanking his boxers off, his thick cock springing free, standing proudly, the tip flushed red and leaking precum.

You grabbed his length, pumping him a few times, before licking a long stripe up his shaft, swirling your tongue around the head.

Felix moaned, his hands tangling into your hair, his hips rolling up, his cock pressing against the roof of your mouth.

You sucked lightly, your hand stroking his length, his hips bucking up to meet you. He groaned, his eyes rolling back in his head.

You bobbed your head, taking his cock deeper, your tongue swirling around his tip. You took him in until the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat. He let out a deep groan, his hands tugging at your hair, his hips thrusting forward, his cock sinking deeper.

You hollowed your cheeks, sucking hard, his head thrown back in pleasure, his grip on your hair tightening. You swirled your tongue around the tip, his hips rocking up, his cock hitting the back of your throat, his fingers twisting in your hair.

You made sure to wet the entire length of him, wanting to ensure that he could slide in with ease, even though he was already incredibly hard. He groaned, his hips jerking forward, his cock bumping against the back of your throat, his eyes meeting yours.

"You ready?" he breathed, his voice husky and dripping with desire.

You nodded, swallowing him down once more before letting go of him, pulling back and licking your lips. He groaned, his hand tightening in your hair.

"Good job, beautiful," he purred, pulling you up and guiding you over his lap, his lips descending on yours, his tongue swiping over your bottom lip. You moaned, parting your lips and allowing his tongue to slip inside.

His hand slid between your legs, his fingers slipping between your folds, teasing you, his thumb pressing against your clit. You whimpered, grinding down on his fingers, his hand moving lower, his thumb rubbing circles over your entrance.

He pulled back, his lips trailing down your neck, his teeth grazing over the sensitive skin, his tongue flicking over the pulse point.

"Felix," you gasped, rolling your hips against his, the need for him growing.

He hummed, his fingers slowly easing into you, stretching you out, preparing you. You moaned, throwing your head back, his name slipping from your lips, his hand tightening on your hip.

"Do you think you can handle me now, baby?" he murmured, his breath tickling the side of your neck.

"Mmm, please," you pleaded, rocking against his hand.

Felix pulled his fingers out, placing them in his mouth and licking them clean, his eyes fixed on yours, he hummed in approval of the taste, making you shiver in anticipation. He grabbed your hips and pressed you against the bed, climbing on top of you and pressing you against the sheets. His lips descended on your neck, his tongue trailing across the skin, leaving hot, wet marks in their wake. His cock was resting against your hip, the thick, hot shaft twitching with the promise of release.

His mouth found your collarbone, his lips and teeth scraping against your skin, a soft moan escaping you, your body aching for more contact with him, your skin craving his warmth, the heat of his body pressing against yours.

"God, Felix," you breathed, your nails digging into his back, your legs wrapping around his waist, urging him forward.

He chuckled, his hips thrusting forward, the thick, hard head of his cock pressing against your entrance, before pushing into you, the feeling making your head spin.

He moaned, his forehead pressing against yours, his hands moving down your hips, squeezing your thighs.

"So tight, so good," he purred, his hips pulling back slightly before slamming forward, your head falling back as your body adjusted to the size of him. He began to thrust into you slowly, his cock sliding in and out of you with ease, the delicious friction of him moving in and out of you driving you crazy.

"Fuck, Felix, fuck," you cried out, your hips grinding up to meet his every thrust, your fingers digging into his shoulders. He grunted, his lips pressing against your throat, his breath hot against your skin.

He thrust faster, the head of his cock bumping against your g-spot, your nails digging into his skin as you clung to him, trying to stay grounded. Your head swam, your body shaking as his thrusts increased in speed, the pleasure of him moving inside you, filling you up making your mind foggy.

"You like that, huh?" he rasped, his thumb tracing over the tip of your clit, the pressure and the pleasure building.

You moaned, your eyes fluttering shut as your walls clenched around his shaft, your orgasm building inside of you already, the feeling making you want to scream out his name, the pleasure too overwhelming. He groaned, his fingers rubbing slow, teasing circles around your clit.

"Felix, please slow down," you whimpered, the amount of sensations driving you mad, your hips grinding up against him, desperate for release. He grunted, his thrusts slowing to a teasing pace, his thumb stroking over your clit, your orgasm so close it almost made your vision blurry.

You clung to him, his cock driving into you slowly, your legs wrapped around his waist, your heels digging into his ass. He moaned, his head resting on your shoulder, his hands squeezing your thighs as he moved inside you.

You let out a whimper as his thumb rubbed against your clit, the slow, agonizing friction making your body shudder, your walls tightening around him, the pressure almost too much to take.

He groaned, his hips jerking forward, his cock buried deep inside you, the heat of him making you squirm in anticipation, your walls clenching around him.

"Felix," you panted, the feeling of your impending orgasm making your head spin.

"Yes, princess," he hissed, his lips trailing up the length of your throat, his fingers tracing light patterns on your clit, his thrusts speeding up.

You cried out, your orgasm hitting you like a wave, the pressure building up until it exploded, your walls tightening around him, the delicious heat of him filling you up, your body shuddering as the waves of pleasure rolled over you. You let out a cry as you came hard, your toes curling as his thrusts grew frantic, his cock pulsating inside you as your body rocked with pleasure.

He thrust hard, the head of his cock bumping against your g-spot, your back arching off of the bed, your hands gripping at his back, the friction and heat driving you crazy.

"Oh fuck, Felix, fuck," you groaned, your voice coming out in a high-pitched whine, the pleasure coursing through you. He let out a grunt, his body tensing above yours as his hips stilled, his cock twitching deep inside you, his body shuddering with release.

"So good, baby, you feel so good," he gasped, his body collapsing against yours, his breathing heavy.

He kissed you deeply, his hand sliding into your hair, tugging lightly at the roots, the pleasure from your orgasm making your body tingle.

"You're so amazing, I love you so much," you mumbled, kissing him back, his lips feeling so warm and perfect against your own.

Felix let out a deep chuckle, his lips brushing against the side of your neck as he buried his face into your shoulder. "I love you too," he murmured, his words tickling your ear, his eyes darkening slightly, the heat from his gaze making you shiver. "How many rounds do you think you can handle tonight? Cause I don't plan on stopping for a while," he whispered, his words sending a spark of heat through you.

You smiled, your hand moving up to his neck and pulling him closer, his body still pressed against yours, your skin hot where it touched him, your heartbeat still hammering in your ears.

"You wanna practice that much?" you teased, your breath catching in your throat as you felt him move against you. "Because I wouldn't mind getting knocked up by you tonight."

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Seungmin :

The gentle hum of your bedside fan filled the quiet room, mingling with the occasional creak of the floorboards beneath the shifting of your legs. You lay sprawled across your bed, scrolling aimlessly on your phone, though your mind was far from as idle as it seemed. It was one of those lazy afternoons when time stretched endlessly, wrapping you in a hazy cocoon of stillness. Yet, your thoughts were loud, brimming with a strange, newfound energy that had been bubbling up over the past few weeks.

It had started so subtly you almost didn’t notice. You’d catch yourself smiling a little too long at videos of babies giggling uncontrollably or rubbing your thumb over pictures of toddlers in oversized hats like they were some kind of magic talisman. The turning point came when you saw Seungmin with your niece last month. She’d toppled onto her knees in the grass during a family outing, and while you were mid-step to help her, Seungmin beat you there. He knelt beside her, gently brushing dirt from her hands while playfully poking her chubby cheeks to make her laugh. That softness in his eyes, the one he tried so hard to mask behind his sarcastic jabs, lit something within you.

You couldn’t unsee it after that. It wasn’t just how easily he got your niece to smile or how patient he was when she tugged at his hair. It was the tiny glimpse of what life could look like if it wasn’t just the two of you anymore. And while you’d always been on the same page about your future: sweet, simple, and child-free, the idea of bringing a tiny, giggling extension of your love into the world had begun to sneak into your daydreams.

Today, it was impossible to ignore. You’d been scrolling through more videos, babies in pumpkin costumes, toddlers waddling on chubby legs, when the thought crashed into you like a runaway train. It wasn’t just the soft glow of future possibilities that consumed you, it was something much deeper. You imagined his hands on your hips, the warmth of his body pressed to yours, the thought of him letting go of his usual care and filling you completely, nothing between you. The thought had your skin tingling and your heart racing. Seungmin was always so careful, always the responsible one, but you were ready to be reckless. For once, you wanted to see what would happen if he gave in.

"Seungmin!" you called out, your voice cutting through the stillness like a spark in dry grass.

There was a shuffle from the living room, followed by his characteristic faux-annoyed sigh. You could already imagine him rolling his eyes, though you knew better than anyone how much he loved being needed, even if he’d never admit it.

"What now?" he asked as he appeared in the doorway, his voice dripping with exaggerated exasperation. A towel was slung over his shoulder, his dark hair slightly damp, curling at the ends from a recent shower. He raised an eyebrow at you, the corners of his lips twitching as though he was fighting a grin.

You propped yourself up on your elbows, unable to hide your smile. “I need you.”

“That’s new,” he quipped, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed. “Last time I checked, you were perfectly capable of surviving an afternoon without me. What changed? Did you finally realize how boring life is without me?”

“You wish,” you shot back, rolling your eyes, though your cheeks betrayed you with a flush of pink. His playful teasing never failed to make your heart flutter. He smirked, pushing off the doorframe to walk closer, he perched on the edge of the bed, poking your cheek lightly with his finger. “So, what is it this time? Did you get stuck in a Reel rabbit hole again and need me to pull you out? Or are you about to ask me to refill your water bottle because you’re too lazy to move?”

You grabbed his hand to stop the poking, holding it for a moment longer than necessary. “Seungmin,” you said softly, your voice suddenly losing its teasing edge.

He cocked his head slightly, his eyes searching your face. Something faltered in his gaze as you pulled his hand to your lips and pressed a kiss to the back of it. A small shudder ran through him, his breath hitching slightly.

His lips parted slightly, a soft exhale escaping him as you turned his hand over, brushing your lips against his palm. You glanced up at him through your lashes, watching his throat bob as he swallowed hard.

“Hey,” he murmured, his voice lower now, his free hand brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “What’s going on with you?”

Your response came in the form of a slow tug, guiding him closer as you sat up fully. His knees bumped against the bed as you leaned into him, your fingers trailing along his wrist. “Nothing’s going on,” you murmured, though the way your other hand found the hem of his shirt betrayed the truth. “I just… missed you.”

He blinked, his brow furrowing slightly, as though he wasn’t entirely sure where this sudden shift was coming from. But there was something in the softness of your tone and the heat in your gaze that made him pause. “Missed me?” he echoed, his lips quirking, though the teasing lilt was softer this time. “We’ve been in the same apartment all day.”

You hummed, your fingers slipping beneath the fabric of his shirt, brushing over the firm planes of his abdomen. His breath hitched again, and this time, his hand shot out, grabbing your wrist with a firm yet measured grip. “Alright, what’s this really about?” he asked, his tone sharper now but not unkind. “You’re acting different.”

“Am I?” you asked innocently, leaning in closer so your lips nearly brushed his. The proximity made his jaw clench, and you couldn’t help the small, satisfied smile that tugged at your lips.

“You are,” he replied, his grip tightening ever so slightly around your wrist. His dark eyes bore into yours, flickering with something you couldn’t quite place. “What are you hiding?”

You tilted your head, your lips curving into a playful smirk as you leaned up, brushing the tip of your nose against his. “Maybe I just wanted you, Seungmin. Maybe I called you in here because I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

Something in his expression faltered, his gaze shifting slightly.

You took his hesitation as an opening, slipping your hand out of his grasp, moving it slowly to his thigh.

His breath caught, a soft noise escaping him as your fingertips brushed the inside of his leg. Your other hand snaked up his chest, finding his shoulder, pulling him closer. His hands twitched, as though he was resisting the urge to touch you. You were certain he was about to protest again, and that was when you decided to take things a step further.

In one fluid motion, you climbed onto his lap, straddling him, your arms snaking around his neck. His eyes were looking up at you as if he was anticipating your next move, his hands gripping your hips reflexively, his body tensing.

You leaned into him, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to the side of his neck, the way you knew always made him melt.

The tension in his shoulders released, a low sigh escaping him. You smiled at his little reactions, brushing your lips along his collarbone. His breath hitched, a soft noise of contentment escaping him. You continued, dragging your teeth over his skin, biting gently, earning another low sound from him. You nipped harder, sucking on the sensitive flesh.

Seungmin shuddered beneath you, his head falling back, his Adam's apple bobbing as a soft moan escaped his parted lips. You smiled, satisfied with his reactions as you rolled your hips into his, feeling his clothed length pressing into the thin fabric of your shorts, making the wetness already pooled in your pants grow.

Seungmin gripped your waist tighter, his fingers digging into your skin. Your heart raced, desire burning through you, making the space between your thighs ache. You rocked against him again, feeling his hardness throb. The heat building in his body was unmistakable, and it only spurred you on. You wanted to hear his sounds of pleasure, his breathless pleas, his sweet promises of love, and most importantly, the sound he'd make, spilling himself inside you.

The thought alone sent a shudder of pleasure through you, the ache between your thighs growing more insistent. Seungmin was always the type to plan ahead, the type who wouldn't dream of taking such a huge risk, and part of you felt guilty for longing for something like this on your own, but the way his cock twitched as you rocked against him made your worries dissipate.

Your lips met his, kissing him hard and needy. Your tongue slipped into his mouth, earning a low moan from him. One hand gripped your hip tighter, the other sliding up your back, pulling you closer. He kissed back eagerly, his teeth grazing your lip, nipping, sucking. It was the type of kiss that made the room spin.

Seungmin pulled away, his chest heaving, a string of saliva connecting his bottom lip to yours. His hair somehow already looked disheveled, and his pupils were blown wide. He opened his mouth to speak, but you beat him to it, reaching down and pressing your palm to his straining erection.

"Seungmin," you whispered, leaning forward, letting the words slip past your lips like honey. "I need it so bad. I can't stop thinking about how good it'd feel if you came inside me. Please, Minnie. Fuck a baby into me."

He blinked, his brows raising, his mouth dropping open slightly. It was as though his brain was buffering, unable to process the words coming out of your mouth. "Wait... wha— wait-"

You didn't let him finish, pulling the hem of his boxers down, revealing his throbbing, dripping length. He was rock hard, the tip leaking pre-cum, twitching under the heat of your gaze.

"C-Came inside..?" He said, still lost on the last thing you said, the words jumbling together, the meaning slipping away, "I- Inside? You want- what?"

The confused but aroused look on his face only made you burn hotter, a deep yearning spreading through your core. You wrapped a hand around his base, pumping him slowly, making him gasp. "Please," you said softly, leaning forward to kiss the tip of his cock. "Fill me up, Seungmin. I've been thinking about it all week."

Seungmin made a strained sound, his brows pinching together, his hips bucking slightly. He was always super safe and responsible when it came to sex, never going a single step beyond what he knew you were comfortable with, but now you were asking for something he'd never expect. And a part of him really wanted to give it to you.

"Wait, wait, wait," he said, his tone a mixture of concern and disbelief. He pulled back slightly, his hands gripping your hips more tightly. "I can't just- I can't, we can't," he said quickly, the words spilling out as his brain struggled to catch up. "We can't just go raw. What if you get pregnant? I can't put you through that. We need to use a condom, or- or something. I don't know, a pill, or- or, I'll pull out."

His being worried for you was cute, a reaction you expected, but you never missed the way his cock twitched at the suggestion of him fucking a baby into you, his cock throbbing, making your heart race, wanting to see how far you could push him.

"Seungmin," you whined, leaning into him, nipping at his earlobe. "Please. You'd be such a great dad, hm? I promise we'll work it out, but for now, I need you inside me."

Seungmin gasped, his cock throbbing again, his cheeks burning a deep shade of crimson. "Y-you can't just- You can't just say things like that," he stuttered, his hands twitching.

You got up, removing your pants and underwear. "Tell me, do you want it?" Seungmin's eyes followed you as you stripped, his gaze drifting down, drinking in the sight of you. He bit his lip, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard. "Do I want-? Of course, I want it," he blurted, his eyes flickering up to yours. "I mean, if it's something you're serious about, then-"

"That's all I needed to hear," you said, climbing back onto the bed and straddling him again, the warmth of your center pressing against his bare, slick length. His words alone had a flood of heat rushing through you, your walls aching with need.

Seungmin sucked in a sharp breath, his eyes fluttering shut. "Oh god, y-you're so-"

You ground your hips into him, rubbing his shaft along your folds, the friction sending waves of pleasure through your body. You moaned softly, the slickness of your walls coating his cock, the tip brushing over your swollen bud, making you gasp. Seungmin's hips bucked, a low groan escaping him. He grabbed the backs of your thighs, holding you steady, his eyes flickering up to meet yours.

"You're sure about this, right?" he asked, his tone serious despite his flushed cheeks. "I mean, It's so sudden and... I'm not saying I'm against it but-"

You leaned forward, pressing your lips to his in a desperate kiss, silencing his rambling. You cupped his face, kissing him harder, deeper. He shuddered, his hips twitching.

When you pulled away, his eyes were wide, his lips parted.

"Are you going to keep talking or are you going to fuck a baby into me, Kim Seungmin?"

Seungmin inhaled sharply, his hands finding your hips. His gaze was piercing, burning into yours. For a moment, you wondered if you'd pushed him too far. But then his lips were crashing into yours, kissing you hungrily. His tongue slipped into your mouth, his teeth catching on your lower lip, biting hard enough to make your lip bleed. He trailed his lips down your jaw, peppering hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, stopping at the sensitive spot right beneath your ear.

You tangled your fingers in his hair, tugging lightly, making him moan. His hands roamed over your body, exploring every inch of you. His fingertips left trails of fire along your skin, the sensation heightened by the knowledge that this was the most uncontrolled you'd ever seen him. He wasn't taking his time, or being gentle and careful like he always was. This was raw and desperate.

Seungmin's tongue traced a hot line down the hollow of your throat, his hands sliding up to cup your breasts, rolling your nipples between his fingers, his cock grinding against your folds, the slickness making the friction delicious.

You moaned, arching your back, pushing into his touch. You wanted more, needed him closer, needed his bare skin on yours. He seemed to read your mind, his hands moving to the hem of his shirt. He paused, pulling back just enough to tug it off. The sight of his body made the heat in your stomach flare, and his skin was always so smooth and lean.

He tossed his shirt aside, his eyes meeting yours, his cheeks flushed. "This is- this is what you want, right?" he asked, his voice wavering slightly. "Me, like this. No condom, nothing?"

You nodded, biting your lip. Seungmin swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. "Alright," he breathed, his gaze flickering down, lingering on the way your hardened nipples pressed against the fabric of your shirt. "Then get on your back."

You did as you were told, shifting off his lap to lie down, propping yourself up on your elbows. Seungmin moved closer, settling between your legs. You watched as he gripped the base of his cock, positioning himself at your entrance. His other hand found yours, lacing your fingers together.

You could feel the heat of his body radiating through you, the anticipation making you shiver. This position was so foreign to you, the one where you could see his face, his eyes filled with so much tenderness, his hair hanging in his face. It was as if a different side of him was peeking through, a softer, more intimate side.

Seungmin's hips shifted, and then his length was sinking into you, inch by inch. He groaned, his head falling back. The feeling of him stretching your walls, filling you completely made your toes curl, a low moan escaping you.

Seungmin stilled, his hands gripping yours tightly. His chest rose and fell heavily, his breath ragged. Your eyes met his, and you watched as a flurry of emotions flashed across his features. It was as if he was struggling to process the moment.

"Seungmin," you whimpered, squeezing his hand.

His eyes snapped back to yours, his lips parting, the softest gasp escaping him. You watched as his brows pinched together, the muscles in his jaw flexing, his gaze flickering down to where your bodies connected.

"Shit," he breathed, his voice barely above a whisper. "You're so- Fuck. I can feel everything."

You moaned softly, the sound turning into a whine as he slowly dragged his cock along your walls. Seungmin's head fell forward, his dark locks hanging in his face.

"You feel so good," he murmured, his eyes meeting yours. There was something different about the way he looked at you, his gaze burning into yours. You shuddered, a soft cry escaping you as his hips rolled, the sensation making you dizzy. His hands released yours, moving to grip your waist, his thumbs pressing into your skin, hard enough to bruise.

You whimpered, your hands tangling in the sheets. The sight of him losing control made your core throb. He was always so calm and collected, so careful and meticulous, but seeing him like this, so desperate and needy, was something you didn't even know you wanted until now.

Seungmin's lips pressed into a thin line, his hips snapping, his cock driving deeper, filling you completely. Your walls clenched around him, making him groan.

"Fuck," he cursed, his brows knitting together, his grip on your waist tightening.

You could feel the familiar knot building in your stomach, your legs trembling. You reached up, wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. His body covered yours, his lips finding your neck, kissing, biting, sucking. He marked every inch of you, his lips leaving trails of fire along your skin, his hips pounding into you, filling you to the hilt.

You could feel him throbbing, the tension in his body growing. You clung to him, the pressure in your core reaching its peak. Seungmin's breath was hot against your ear, his hands sliding down your sides, his fingertips digging into your hips.

You moaned, the sound coming out more like a whimper. "M-min," you stuttered, his name coming out as a broken plea. "I'm gonna- I'm- oh, god, Seungmin. Don't stop. I need-"

Seungmin's hand snaked between your bodies, his thumb finding your swollen clit. He circled the bundle of nerves with slow, deliberate strokes, drawing a sharp cry from you.

"Come for me," he breathed, his voice husky and strained.

The sound of his voice sent you over the edge, and a wave of white-hot pleasure crashed through you. Your walls clenched around him, your back arching. Your vision went white, stars dancing behind your eyelids. You cried out, the sound echoing through the room.

Seungmin swore under his breath, his hips slamming into yours. The force of his thrusts pushed you up the bed, his fingers digging into your skin, holding you in place.

You could feel his body tense, his muscles contracting, the heat of his skin searing into yours.

Your heart pounded, the world around you spinning, his name a mantra on your lips. He was still moving inside you, the sensation drawing out your orgasm, pushing you higher.

And then his hips stuttered, his rhythm faltering, his movements becoming erratic.

"F-fuck," he cursed, his voice a low growl, his body trembling. You could feel him twitch, his cock pulsing inside you. You tightened your legs around his waist, pulling him closer.

His head dropped, his forehead resting against yours. His eyes were screwed shut, his jaw clenched. His breath was hot on your face, his hair sticking to his sweat-slicked forehead.

"I- inside. Come inside me, Seungmin."

"Y/N," he choked out, his body shuddering.

Your walls clenched around him, drawing another low groan from him. He came hard, his cock throbbing, spilling himself deep inside you. The sensation made your vision blur, the heat spreading through your body, making the world go fuzzy.

You could feel him fill you up, completely, his seed spilling from you, the thick, sticky substance coating your thighs, mixing with the slickness of your arousal.

The sensation made your head spin, a fresh wave of pleasure washing over you. Your walls clenched around him, milking him, coaxing every last drop from him.

He gasped, his hips jerking, his cock twitching inside you. You felt his body tremble, his arms giving out. He collapsed onto you, his chest heaving, his head buried in the crook of your neck.

His body was warm and heavy, his breathing ragged, his pulse hammering in his throat. Your limbs were weak, the exhaustion settling into you.

You stayed like that for a while, his breath tickling your skin, the afterglow leaving you blissed out. When he finally pulled out, the sensation drew a soft whimper from you, his seed spilling out of you, pooling on the sheets.

He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head, his lips brushing your temple.

"I love you," he whispered, his voice hoarse, tears prickling the sides of his eyes. "A lot"

The tenderness in his words made your heart swell, and you curled into his side, burying your face in his chest.

"Don't get all sappy on me now, Seungmin," you teased, though your voice was softer than usual. You knew if he cried you would cry harder.

Seungmin sighed, his fingers threading through your hair. "Who's getting sappy?" he mumbled, his words muffled.

Your hand slid up his back, tracing lazy patterns along his spine. "The one who's tearing up after he came inside of me."

"I'm not- I'm not tearing up," he insisted, though his voice wavered, betraying his emotions. "I'm just... it's just a lot. Like, a lot a lot."

You hummed, kissing the corner of his mouth, smiling gently. "I know, Min. I love you too."

Seungmin let out a breath, his shoulders relaxing slightly.

"Hey, um..." he started, his brows furrowing, "about what you said before, about wanting a baby. Was that- were you serious?"

"Well, I wasn't trying to pressure you," you said, running your hand through his hair, tucking a stray lock behind his ear. "But... yeah, I've been thinking about it a lot lately. And I think it'd be nice, don't you?"

Seungmin hummed thoughtfully, his gaze drifting to the side. "Yeah, I mean... I do, but I also don't want to put any pressure on you, either. If we're going to do this, I want it to be because you really want it."

You smiled, cupping his cheek, your thumb brushing over his skin. "I really want it, Min. More than anything."

Seungmin nodded, his expression softening. "Okay. Then... okay. Let's do it."

Your heart swelled, and you leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips.

"Thank you," you said, unable to hide the joy in your voice.

"I'll take care of everything, okay? I'll get us the best doctor, the best equipment, the best tests, the best vitamins, the best prenatal classes. We'll do it right. We'll be the best parents ever."

You suddenly felt laughter bubbling in your throat, and you had to bite your lip to keep it down.

"What?" Seungmin asked, scanning your face.

"Nothing," you said, shaking your head. "You're just cute, that's all."

Seungmin made a face and shook his head, and you could tell he was embarrassed.

"Come on, let's get in the shower," you said, getting off the bed.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

I.N :

You’re lying on the couch, scrolling through your phone with Jeongin lounging beside you. You’re trying to stay productive, but your attention keeps drifting. Your thumb swipes aimlessly, until you find yourself trapped in the vortex of cute baby pictures.

It starts with a baby panda video that you think is adorable, and before you know it, your Instagram feed is flooded with baby photos: panda babies, human babies, and then you find a whole thread of pictures of Jeongin as a little kid.

Your heart melts instantly. The sight of Jeongin, chubby-cheeked and smiling awkwardly at the camera, makes you feel an overwhelming urge to scoop up every baby in sight. It’s like an instinctual surge of affection, one that hits you straight in the ovaries.

“Oh my god,” you mumble, entranced by the photo of a younger Jeongin sitting on a swing, his eyes wide with excitement. He’s so adorable.

Jeongin glances over, leaning his head against your shoulder. “What’s going on?” he asks, noticing the soft sigh escaping your lips.

“These baby pictures of you… they’re just… too much,” you whisper, as if you’ve discovered a treasure trove. Your thumb scrolls past picture after picture.

Jeongin peeks at your phone, blinking rapidly when he sees what you're looking at. "Wait, that’s me..." he says, his voice a little flustered.

"Yeah," you say, your voice soft but teasing, "You were such a little cutie. I can just imagine you as a dad- gonna be the most adorable dad ever."

Jeongin chuckles nervously. “I-I’m sure I was cute, but, uh, I’m still getting the hang of being an adult.”

You glance down at him, smiling mischievously. Your fingers hover over the screen. "Yeah, well, you know… I kind of want a baby. Like… now."

Jeongin freezes, his wide eyes blinking a few times as he processes your words. “A… baby?” he asks slowly, the confusion clear on his face. He’s not sure whether you’re joking or if you’ve truly caught baby fever.

You nod, your expression sweet but undeniably serious. “Yeah. I mean, just imagine it- us, with a little baby. We’d be such great parents, don’t you think?” You look down at him, noticing the way his face goes from confused to completely overwhelmed.

Jeongin starts laughing nervously, scratching the back of his neck. “Uh, I… wow, uh, okay. This is a lot to take in right now.”

You giggle softly at his reaction, feeling a little bolder now that you've gotten under his skin. “Maybe we should practice,” you say, your voice dropping into a teasing whisper.

Jeongin’s eyes go wide, his entire face lighting up as his brain tries to process what you just said. “P-practice?” he stammers, his cheeks turning a soft shade of pink. "Oh... OH."

His eyes widen even more as the realization finally hits him. He glances at you for confirmation, but you’re already leaning in, a playful smile curling at the edges of your lips. He lets out a nervous laugh, unsure whether to laugh or blush harder.

"Uh, I-I mean, if we’re practicing... do we need a lesson or something?" he stumbles over his words, his hand sliding up to scratch his head in confusion. "Wait, what kind of practice are we talking about? I- oh my god, what am I saying?”

You start giggling uncontrollably at his adorable reaction, trying to hold back the fit of laughter that’s bubbling inside you. “I was talking about practice in, you know, the practice... for the baby," you say, your hand trailing on the side of his face.

Jeongin, now completely flustered, stumbles backwards, almost falling off the couch. “Oh my god,” he mutters under his breath. “I did not expect that.”

You snuggle up to him, wrapping your arms around his waist and pressing your face into his chest, your giggles subsiding into soft laughs. Jeongin shifts nervously, still trying to figure out how to respond.

“Alright, alright,” he says after a few moments of silence, leaning in to kiss the top of your head. “We can practice. But I’m not promising anything.” He pauses, giving you a playful side-eye. “But, um, I think I’m gonna need a lot of practice…”

“Oh, you definitely will,” you tease, feeling giddy from his adorably shy reaction. You glance at him and grin. “Good thing I’m such a good teacher.”

Jeongin blushes even more, his face a deep shade of red now, but there’s a spark of mischief in his eyes. “Well, I guess if we're practicing…” he starts, trailing off as he leans in for a kiss.

The kiss is slow and tender at first, but as the heat between you builds, you find yourself leaning closer, pressing your body against his. His hands slip under your shirt, sliding up your sides and sending shivers down your spine. Your lips part slightly, and the kiss deepens, the heat intensifying.

He breaks the kiss, looking down at you with a dazed smile. His breathing is heavy and his cheeks are flushed. He reaches down and tugs on the hem of your shirt, and you lift it over your head, letting it fall to the floor.

Jeongin stares down at you, his gaze roaming over every inch of your exposed skin. His fingers graze across your stomach, making goosebumps appear along your skin. He pulls you closer, pressing his lips against your neck. You moan softly, arching your back.

You reach down and slide his shirt over his head, your hands moving over his chest and stomach. He moans as you run your nails lightly over his skin, his breathing becoming heavier.

You look up at him, meeting his gaze, and the fire in his eyes burns bright. You lean forward, placing a kiss on his collarbone. Jeongin groans and pulls you close, his hands sliding up your back and cupping your breasts. You gasp and lean into his touch, arching your back as his lips find yours once more.

The kiss is filled with passion and heat, the two of you becoming lost in the moment. You run your hands down his sides, letting your fingers graze over his abs. He groans into the kiss and you press yourself against him, grinding your hips against his. He breaks the kiss, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

He pulls away slightly, and you can see the hunger in his eyes, the desire written all over his face. His hands roam over your body, exploring every curve, every inch of bare skin. He trails his fingers along your stomach, teasing your navel before sliding lower.

You suck in a breath as he brushes his fingers over the edge of your pants, and his lips curl into a smirk. He leans in, kissing the spot right below your ear. You bite your lip, trying not to make a sound, but his touch makes it impossible. He presses his lips to your neck, and you tilt your head, giving him better access.

He trails kisses along your collarbone and down your chest, his tongue flicking out to taste your skin. You're amazed at his ability to multitask, your pants somehow already lost on the floor somewhere, as he works his magic with his hands and mouth.

His fingers slip beneath the waistband of your panties, teasing the soft, sensitive flesh of your inner thighs. You let out a gasp as his finger grazes against your clit, and he chuckles softly, his breath hot against your ear.

"You like that?" he whispers, his voice low and husky.

"Yes," you breathe, your eyes half-closed. "So much..."

He slides a finger inside you, his thumb brushing over your clit. You moan, your hips bucking involuntarily, and he adds another finger. He pumps his fingers slowly, teasingly, his thumb circling your clit.

Your breaths come faster and harder as he picks up the pace, his fingers curling inside you. You whimper and squirm, and he pulls back, grinning cutely, a complete contrast to his actions.

"Not yet," he murmurs, his lips ghosting over yours.

"Jeongin, please," you beg, your voice strained.

"Would you rather take my fingers, or me?" he asks, his breath tickling your ear.

You shiver and press your body closer, his skin hot against yours. "You," you whisper, your voice barely audible.

He grins and removes his hand from your underwear, tugging them off. He unbuckles his belt, and you help him, both of you working frantically to get him out of his jeans. Once they're gone, he pulls you onto his lap, your legs straddling his hips. He leans in, capturing your lips with his, and you kiss him hungrily, desperate for him.

You reach down, grasping his length and guiding him towards your entrance. You sink down onto him, a sigh escaping your lips. He fills you completely, stretching you just the right amount, and you rock your hips slowly, adjusting to his size.

Jeongin groans and grips your hips, guiding you as you move against him. You move faster, rolling your hips, and he thrusts upwards, his fingers digging into your skin.

You moan and arch your back, leaning into his touch. He leans forward, capturing a nipple between his lips. He swirls his tongue around it, and you whimper, throwing your head back.

Jeongin continues to thrust up into you, and you ride him, taking him deeper and deeper. He releases your nipple and leans forward, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss.

You grab his hand, leading it to lay lightly around your neck as it it's an accessory, a necklace. "Please," you whisper.

He smiles against your lips, tightening his grip ever so slightly. "So, you want this?"

"Mmm hmmm," you murmur, biting your bottom lip. "Use me like you always do."

He smiles, leaning in and nipping your earlobe. "Such a slut," he purrs, his breath hot on your skin.

He flips you to lay on the couch, so he can push you into the couch with his hand wrapped around your neck, making sure you're comfortable.

You nod eagerly, and he tightens his grip, thrusting deep inside you. You cry out, wrapping your legs around his waist. He pounds into you, his eyes never leaving yours, and the pressure around your neck builds.

Your body is on fire, every nerve ending exploding with pleasure, and you know you won't last long. He feels so good, his thick cock hitting all the right spots, and his hand on your neck is driving you crazy.

You moan loudly, and he smirks, quickening his pace. You feel the familiar pressure building inside you, and you cry out, begging him to fuck you harder.

"Yes," he groans, his eyes darkening with lust. "You like that, don't you?"

"Yes, please," you gasp, arching your back. He grunts and pounds into you, his fingers tightening around your neck.

The pressure is almost too much to bear, and you squeeze your eyes shut, focusing on the sensation. Your orgasm crashes through you, and you cry out, shuddering underneath him.

He groans, his thrusts growing more erratic, and he releases inside you, burying himself to the hilt. You're panting and gasping, your body limp.

Jeongin releases his grip on your neck, and you take a deep breath, a soft smile playing on your lips. He smiles back, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your lips.

"I love you," he murmurs.

"I love you too," you reply, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down for another kiss.

Jeongin lays next to you, and the two of you snuggle up close together. You can't keep the smile off your face, and he chuckles, nuzzling your neck.

"When are we getting married?" he asks, his face still buried in your neck.

"Are you asking me or telling me?"

"Both," he laughs, lifting his head and gazing into your eyes.

"You have to propose," you giggle.

"What if I said, 'I'm asking you?'"

"Well, in that case, I'd say yes."

taglist for my babies : @loverbangchan, @reignessance, @imperfectlyperfectprincess1, @armystay89, @ihrtlix, @jiyeonslays, @lovestaysblogs, @jeyelleohe, @celebration88, @honeyybbuubblleess

[toriwritesstories]

Okay this last bit 100%

Especially when I join new fandoms I find myself identifying certain authors that seem “big” and everyone talks about them and raves about their stuff. When I was younger that really intimidated me but I would always try to make myself comment anyway

But as an adult now, one who’s been writing and sharing fanfic for 13 years, I’m finally starting to realize that even the “big” authors feel exactly like I do. I’m a binge reader when it comes to fics and I usually struggle to comment chapter to chapter for that reason, but if I make it to the end of a fic I’m writing a comment. My favorite thing to include in all of my comments is a genuine thanks, because I know how much work people put into their incredible stories.

And can I just say, those of you who come back weeks, months, or years later and comment an additional time just to tell us that? You are seriously the MVP 🫶

someone I follow on the bird app just announced they’re starting a very exclusive private fic server because they and a bunch of other people want to talk about how much they love the fics they’re reading, and as an author can I just say that a really great place to talk about a fic you love is in the comments for that fic

I understand that people are trying to create safe spaces, but as the number of comments that I get on my fics dwindles with each passing year, knowing these spaces exist where my fics are being discussed, places that I am excluded from, makes me want to write fic LESS

I mean I guess who cares, right, because if I stop writing, there’s 10,000 other people that will continue…but if you participate in a fic “book club” server and you say nice things there about a fic you loved, maybe copy and paste that into a comment on AO3?

the only thing fanfic writers are asking for in return for hours of hard work is attention. please don’t rob us of the one thing that we hope for when we hit “post”

[toxicanonymity]

No hard feelings

Joel miller x f!reader | 1.3k words I8+ MDNI. 1980 AU, you're a college student and have car trouble. Joel offers help, if he gets to take pics of you. Sleaze/creep, touching, pet names. Big ty to aly @iamasaddie for her 24 hr fic challenge (which had these pics) even if this doesn't fit the challenge due to length and not signing up lmao it still inspired me. I saw it last night when I read aly's hot fic, Feelings are a lot of work ❤️‍🔥❤️.

When your car broke down on a remote stretch away from campus, your face was dewy and your thighs stuck to the leather seat. You got out in your daisy dukes and thin white tee and popped the hood. You were bent over, looking at the smoking engine, when you heard a truck and looked back to see a faded yellow F-100 kicking up dust as it rolled to a stop. You tried to pull your shorts down enough to cover your ass cheeks as a man exited the truck in jeans and a teal polo with the collar all wonky. His salt and pepper hair was sweaty, and he held a cowboy hat to his chest.

“Miss,” he nodded. “Mind if I take a look?”

You agreed, and he put his hat on.

. . .

When he was done, he offered, “I could get ya fixed up long enough to get ya to the service station.”

“Thank you,” you gushed. “Thank you so much, really.”

“Oh I ain’t doin’ it for free, sugar,” he laughed darkly and your face fell.

“Alright,” you mumbled to the ground, then looked him in the eye. “Thanks for taking a look anyway.”

He looked you up and down and gave a low whistle. “Ain’t you a sight for sore eyes.”

You crossed your arms, temporarily obscuring the view of your nipples poking through the worn cotton.

“Tell ya what,” he offered. “I’mma get ya fixed up here, then you’re gonna lemme take some pictures of ya.”

“You said go straight to the station.”

“Oh we can do it right here, sugar. Got my camera’n all,” he nodded toward his truck. “Whaddya say?”

“Alright,” you agreed, without any other options. No other cars had driven by in the time since he’d been there. He nodded, put on his cowboy hat, then put a toothpick in his mouth. “Wait in the truck if ya wan’t. Grab me a beer. One for you too.”

At least the beer was cold.

You didn't wait in his truck, you lowered the tailgate of the bed of his truck and sat there with your legs dangling off the back, watching him work.

—--

Sweat blotched his polo with darker patches until he stopped, took off his hat and dabbed his forehead with his arm. Then, as he pulled the polo over his head, that’s when you recognized him.

He put his cowboy hat back on, turned around, balled up his sweaty shirt, and threw it at you. “Grab me another beer, darlin’. Almost done here.”

You'd seen that broad back before, and his padded stomach that didn’t quite hide his strong abdomen.

As you handed him a lukewarm Coors light, you asked, “Don’t you work on campus at UT?”

“Heh,” he chuckled. “Recognize me?” He brazenly studied your tits, looking back and forth at them, then your mouth.

“Guess so,” you agreed.

“Soon as I took my shirt off, huh?” He gave you a wink then went back to working on your car.

Yeah, his physique was what caught your eye on campus. He was a janitor and he wore a gray jumpsuit. One day when you were walking home from class, he must’ve been on break, because he was leaned up against a maintenance vehicle with his jumpsuit hanging down, sleeves tied around his waist, brown skin glistening in the sun, having a cigarette. He turned his head to watch you walk by and gave you a small nod, then raised his eyebrows as a he took a drag. Then he stomped his cigarette out and turned around. You ogled his muscular back, and he looked over his shoulder and caught you.

. . .

When he finished working on your car, the sun was glaring as it approached the horizon. He put his wrinkled shirt back on, stowed some tools in his truck, and came back with a Polaroid camera hanging from his neck.

“Right there’s good,” he muttered with you still sitting on the bed of the truck

You fidgeted with your clothes and crossed your knees and he snapped a pic. The camera whirred and he took out the pic, waved it through the air, then slipped it into the breast pocket of his wrinkled shirt.

“Alright, now you’re gonna be a good girl for me,” he informed you. “And y’ain’t gonna be a prude about it ether.”

Your gut twisted, but at the same time, your pussy throbbed at his commands.

“What?” You asked.

His voice became low and gravely. “We’re gonna pull that shirt up’n lemme see those titties.”

You took a deep breath, and in the time you took to hesitate, he stepped into your personal space. “Uncross those pretty stems, darlin’.”

You obediently uncrossed your legs, and he spread your knees gently with his dirty hands as he got close enough for you to smell the beer on his breath, the stench of his sweat, and the memory of cigarettes.

Getting wet with your knees spread, you were glad to provide the distraction of showing your tits.

“Lift your arms," he directed.

You did, and he gently slid his thick, grubby fingers under the sides of your shirt. He lifted the shirt and let out a low whistle as your tits fell out. “Well God damn, even prettier than I thought.” You braced your hands behind you and watched his face as you let him have a look. It was hot to think of him jacking off to these photos later.

He glanced to your eyes and you didn’t stop him from nudging the bottom of your breasts with his thumbs, watching them swell upward.

“God damn,” he whispered. “You’re gonna be the death of me, sugar.”

After snapping a pic, he directed you in a couple of poses for more pics, then stood and looked you up and down.

“One more. You’re gonna show me your panties.”

What panties? God, by this point you were so wet, the crotch of your jeans had to be soaked through.

“No panties, huh?” He asked. “Well, lemme see your bush.”

When you hesitated, he comforted you, “That’s okay, darlin’. Sorry, you’re just so damn pretty.”

But you weren't off the hook.

“One more thing, okay? Bring those pretty legs up, put your feet on the truck,” he patted the tailgate.

You did as he instructed and could smell your own arousal. He inhaled sharply through his nose as he looked between your legs and raised his eyebrows.

You looked down and away.

“Here,” he offered and put his cowboy hat on you. “Hide your face if it makes ya feel better.”

It did, a little.

He took a pic with the hat tipped down, covering your face, shirt still pulled up over your tits, legs spread wide, and a wet mess peeking out from behind the darkened crotch of your shorts.

“Smell good enough to eat,” he mumbled as he slipped the photo in his pocket and got in your personal space. “Mind if I take some for the road?”

“What?” You asked

He slid his hand up your thigh and nudged the soaked denim aside. Your skin erupted in goosebumps and your loins throbbed with need.

“Your hands are dirty,” you said.

“Shhhh, It’s okay, sugar,” he coaxed you as his fingers met your slick. He lightly ran his digits through your sticky mess, then deep growl left his chest as he slid a finger inside, making you spasm. His mouth fell open as he added another. “God damn,” he whispered.

Headlights approached in the distance, shaking him from his trance.

“Hey, you know my name?” he asked as he withdrew his hand, fingers all shiny. You put your legs back together and hopped down off the truck.

“How would I know your name,” you asked, trying not to look at the bulge in his jeans.

He closed the tailgate.

“Well it’s on my uniform, darlin’.” He looked hurt. “See me all the time, even said hi once.”

“Sorry.”

“Eh, no hard feelings. Name’s Joel Miller.”

You shared your first name, and he nodded as he added your last name and said, “yeah, I know, sugar.” He turned and walked away, leaving his hat with you.

Your heart raced, and when he got in his truck, you half expected him to return with a shotgun and take you with him. But he drove off into the sunset, dust trailing behind him.

-------

-----

------

btw you must have seen him on campus before he got this hot new uniform

Thank you for reading! If you say what you liked (or Lbr if you say anything lmao) you'll make my day ❤️

[citruswriter]

Billie Eilish x Reader

Warnings: Lemon, afab reader, fem reader, pet names pussydrunk Billie, oral, overstimulation, squirting.

Dom!Billie who loves walking up before you so she can pepper your pretty face with kisses as she rubs your sides.

Dom!Billie who loves waking you up with breakfast in bed because her princess deserves nothing but the best.

Dom!Billie who takes you out with her all the time to spoil you and get you your favorite fast food.

Dom!Billie who lays on your lap as she comes up with song ideas, bouncing ideas off you and saying things like "oh that's a good one, pretty girl" or "my girl is so smart" everytime you come up with a good idea.

Dom!Billie who'll eat you out for hours, completely pussydrunk off your taste even after you've orgasmed multiple times because you just taste so fucking good sweet girl.

Dom!Billie who keeps her hands firm on your quivering thighs, praising you through another orgasm even as you cry and tell her it's too much.

- "I can't... I can't Bills. S'too much! Too much! Ah!" You sob out, tears rolling down your pretty cheeks while she keeps her grip on your thighs firm, forcing your legs apart as she swirls her tongue expertly around your clit. "Just one more, sweet girl. Come on, please? Wanna taste you again, pretty." She all put purrs out, pleading with you to cum again.

Dom!Billie who all but moans when you squirt in her mouth, greedily lapping up your sweet nectar, even as you blush in embarrassment.

- "So fucking messy." She purrs out after she lapped up all your juices, causing you to blush more. "Shut up..." You all but grumble out and she can only laugh that sweet laugh that rumbles her chest as she kisses your inner thighs. "Sorry baby. You know I can't help myself."

Casually tagging @naturesapphic to see my first Billie fic........ fooooooooor no particular reason. 👀👀👀

[just-dreaming-marvel]

First Wedding Anniversary ~ Love That Burns

LOVE THAT BURNS MASTERLIST / EVERYDAY MOMENTS MASTERLIST

Word Count: 1,060ish

Summary: Your first wedding anniversary with Logan rolls around.

Notes: This fic goes with my series, Love That Burns! Please give it a read!

Reminder: I DO NOT do taglists. Please don’t ask. Please follow and interact! I appreciate any reblogs, likes, comments, and asks! 

Logan wasn't one for remembering dates, and you understood that. So you took it upon yourself to plan something for your first wedding anniversary. You were grateful that it was a Sunday and that Logan didn’t have to work. You kissed his bare shoulder before slipping out of the bed. You tugged one of Logan's flannels over you and headed for the kitchen. Turning on some music, you began to throw together a small breakfast for Logan.

Logan woke up almost as soon as the music turned on. He could hear the music, groaning in frustration that he couldn’t pull you into him to keep you in bed. You were already up and moving. With a sigh, Logan got out of bed, slipping some sweats on before heading for the kitchen. He found himself stopped in the nearest doorway, a smirk on his lips, as he watched you move to the music while cooking. He was so lucky to have you in his life. 

Slowly, he came up behind you and wrapped his arms around you. You let out a little squeal as Logan's movements surprised you.

“Morning,” he gruffly said as he buried his head in your neck.

“Morning,” you replied with a smile, still working. “You were supposed to stay in bed.”

“Can’t sleep with you being so loud out here.”

“Hey! I am not being that loud.”

“Whatever you say, sweetheart.” He held a kiss to your neck, causing you to lean back into him. “Is there a reason you’re making me breakfast?”

You shrugged with a small smirk. “Maybe.”

“You really not gonna tell me?”

“Nope. Guess you’ll have to wait and see.”

Logan grunted disapprovingly before letting you go and beginning to help you. The two of you ate breakfast outside on the back patio, looking at the wonderful view of the mountains. Your plan needed Logan to go out for a while, so after breakfast, you waltzed up to him with a list.

“Do you mind running down to town for me?” You asked, giving him the best puppy dog eyes you could manage.

“What do you need from town?” He asked, wiping his hands dry from doing the dishes.

“Just a few items,” you handed him the list.

His brows rose at the sight. “A few items? There’s at least twenty on this list.”

You sighed, making sure it was dramatic. “If you can’t, I’ll just—“

“No, no, no, I’ll go.”

“Thank you!” You gave him a kiss.

He chuckled. “You're welcome. You sure you don't need to add anything else?”

“Nope!” You kissed his cheek before walking away. “Don't worry about rushing back!”

Logan’s brows pinched together. “Okay?” He could tell you were up to something, but it wasn't worth the fight. So Logan got dressed and headed out to gather your list from the stores in town.

As soon as Logan was gone, you got to work. The house needed to be cleaned, dinner needed to be made, the bedroom needed to be put together, and you needed to make sure that you were ready for the night.

~~~

Logan was completely done with the list when he passed by the flower shop. A few bouquets caught his eye, and he decided you deserved one. 

“Welcome,” the owner greeted as Logan entered the store.

“Thanks,” Logan mumbled, eyes scanning the various bouquets.

“Are you looking for anything specific?”

“No.”

"Celebrating anything? A birthday? An anniversary?”

Logan froze as the words left the owner's mouth. He was a terrible husband. It was your first wedding anniversary and he had completely forgotten. “Fuck.”

“Excuse me?”

“Sorry. That wasn’t—I forgot that it’s my wife and I’s anniversary.”

“Oh, how many years have you been together.”

“A lot of time. But it's our first wedding anniversary.”

“Well, I have a few bouquets ready to go if you want to take a look at them.”

“I’ll take them all.”

“What?"

“All of the bouquets you have ready. I want them.”

“You sure?"

“Positive.”

~~~

The house was clean. The table was set with dinner ready on it. The house was lit with candles and soft romantic music played through the house. You were anxiously waiting for Logan, wearing a new outfit specially picked out for this. You bit your lip as you heard the truck pull up. The sounds outside had you curious as they sounded rushed and almost frantic. You were about ready to head to the door when it burst open, and Logan came hurrying in with too many bouquets in his arms.

“Logan, what—"

“I’m sorry,” Logan quickly interrupted you. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I completely forgot it was our anniversary. I’m a terrible husband, and I—“

Your hand came up and pressed against his lips, stopping his rambling. You couldn’t help but smile at him with a light laugh. “Logan, honey, I know you. I know that you’re terrible with dates because of your memory issues, and I know that you'd never purposefully forget our anniversary. It’s why I took control of it.” 

Logan finally looked around, taking in the candles and your new outfit. His eyes caught sight of the set table and the dinner awaiting on it. You had pushed him out of the house to set this up. For him. 

“I should have remembered,” he muttered against your hand. 

You shook your head, stepping closer despite the flowers in his arms. “I remembered for the both of us. Plus, I wanted to do something special for you. You deserve good things too, Logan.”

Logan let the flowers fall to your feet before he took your wrist, kissing your palm before pulling your hand away from his mouth. “I only need one good thing, princess, and that’s you.” His other arm went around your waist and pulled you closer. “You are all I need.” The two of you shared a slow, loving kiss before Logan pulled away. “I love you so much, sweetheart. Thank you for doing this.”

“Logan, I love you. I wanted to make sure you knew that.”

Logan’s eyes softened with a vulnerability only reserved for you. “I don’t deserve someone as wonderful as you, sweetheart, but I'll keep trying.”

Your hands came up to gently hold Logan’s face. “You deserve everything, James, including me." You pulled him in for a brief kiss. “Happy anniversary, honey.”

"Happy anniversary, sweetheart.”

[ofbatsandballads]

darling, won’t you take me home?

jason todd x fem!reader

word count: 1.2k

warnings: reader has a mild cold, but nothing much else (lmk if I missed anything)

a/n: this is just a lighthearted sick fic that got real prose-y at the end bc I was listening to my Jason playlist and got all in my feelings while drowsy off cold medicine. again, i give thee my wares.

divider credit: saradika-graphics

You wake to soft light filtering in through the white curtains of your bedroom and the warm weight of your lover’s arm across your waist. The quiet snores echoing in the air and the soothing rise and fall of his chest against your back would usually be enough to lull you into a gentle morning sleep. But usually you can breathe out of both sides of your nose. And you usually don’t feel like there’s sandpaper in your throat. And your body doesn’t usually feel this heavy.

Goddamn it–you’re sick.

You feel a sneeze coming on and try to stifle it, to keep it locked tight in your lungs so you won’t wake the love of your life from the rare bit of peace and quiet he gets. You make no noise, but the shaking of your body stirs him anyway. Damn vigilantes and their preternatural awareness. He hums lazily as he pulls you further into his chest. You think he might be able to doze back off and you’re glad for it. Then your hopes are dashed. One, two, three sneezes wrack your body in succession and you are finally forced to admit defeat.

“Are you sneezing?” Jason asks, groggy but inquiring.

“…no.”

You don’t even know why you tried to lie to him. You’re a bad liar in most cases, and an absolutely abysmal liar when it comes to Jason. He simply sighs and you’d bet twenty dollars that he’s rolling those pretty seafoam eyes of his. He easily turns you in his arms so that you’re facing him. Great, now you really won’t be able to lie to him.

“I told ya that you were gettin’ sick,” he scolds gently.

“‘M not sick!”

He did. And you are.

“Then why do you sound like the Swedish Chef from the Muppets?”

“Oh, fuck you!”

He tries to keep his face serious, but soon the facade cracks and he lets out a deep belly laugh as you glare at him. You push yourself out of his arms and make it as far as the edge of the bed before he’s pulling you back to him again.

“Aw, c’mon, ma. Don’t be mad. You are sick. Just admit it,” he says, voice kind as he runs his hand up and down your spine.

“Okay. Fine. Whatever,” you mumble, your words trailing off unintelligibly.

Jason doesn’t miss it. He never does. Fucking vigilantes and their fine tuned hearing.

“What was that?” he smirks.

You whisper it again, quiet as a mouse. He shakes his head. You smack him in the chest.

“Ah ah, I wanna hear it,” he laughs.

“I said you were right! There! You happy now?” you pout, burying your head in his chest.

You can feel the giggles travel through his body and find it impossible to fight the smile it brings to your face, even if your head feels foggier than Gotham after a heavy rain. You squeeze him tight, a sudden aggressive love for him that you just need to let out. It does nothing to his strong frame. He just squeezes you back, then manhandles your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck. He rises from your bed like you weigh nothing to him, hefting you into the air so that you’re better positioned.

“C’mon, we’re makin’ soup.”

One thing about Jason Todd is that he’s an amazing cook. He didn’t cook much for himself before he met you. He’s told you he didn’t see any point when cheap takeout would fuel his body just fine for whatever fight was inevitably coming for him. But now he has both the reason and the time to care. And he cares. So much.

You can see it in the way he sets the chicken to bake while he tells you about the new book he got from the bookstore down the block. You can see it in the way his skilled hands, calloused and bruised, slice the carrots razor thin because he knows you hate the crunch of them. You can see it in the barely noticeable look of pride on his face as all the ingredients simmer in the big metal pot, giving your shared home a warm aroma of comfort. You can see it in the fact that everything he needed for this was already in your kitchen, in the fact that none of it was there when you fell asleep last night while he was on patrol. Jason cares. He cares from the tip of the stubborn curl that sticks up on the top of his head to the soles of his feet that guide you in a slow waltz around the kitchen.

“I know you probably aren’t too hungry, but I need you to try to eat at least one bowl for me,” he says in his gentlest negotiation voice as he puts a bowl of chicken noodle soup on the counter.

You nod your head that’s tucked against his chest, sniffling as you feel your nose start to run. Without missing a beat, Jason pulls a tissue from the pocket of his pajama pants and hands it to you.

“And you’re takin’ cold medicine the second you get some food in you.”

He’s not asking anymore, just stating facts.

“Gonna stay up all night watching me too?” you ask teasingly.

“I might,” he retorts.

“I love you too, Jay.”

He goes rigid momentarily before he relaxes against you. Then a soft smile breaks out on his face. He chuckles and shakes his head, turning his face away from you. But you can be observant too. You don’t miss the way pink dusts his cheeks and, oh, he looks so pretty like this. You tell him as much just to watch the soft pink turn to vibrant red.

“Shut up and eat your soup.”

One bowl of soup and a disgusting shot of cold medicine later, you find yourself wrapped in the arms of your lover as you both lounge on the couch. Jason reads the new book he was telling you about as you listen to music, dozing in and out of consciousness. It’s not your fault he makes such a great pillow; his large body is warm and soft as he lies relaxed on your sofa. Every now and then, especially when he thinks you’ve fallen into a light sleep, he’ll place a featherlight kiss on the top of your head.

You may not be a vigilante or The World’s Greatest Detective, but you can put all the pieces of the day together well enough. Carrying you out of bed, making you soup, letting you rest on him, the soft kisses and touches he flutters over your skin; it’s all his way of saying he loves you when the words themselves are simply too much or not enough. But the words are enough for you. You swear that you’ll go to your grave finding all the prettiest ways to tell him just how much you love him. Because you do.

And maybe it’s the homemade soup settled in your belly, or the afternoon sunlight shining through the window, or the warmth of the man you love beneath you, but you soon find yourself lulled into a peaceful sleep that feels just like home.

[absurdthirst]

All American Thanksgiving {Javier Peña x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 19.9k

Warnings: Sex with strangers, protected sex, outdoors sex, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, oral sex (male and female receiving), restraints, temperature play, begging, submissiveness, face riding, angst, heartbreak

Comments: Working on Thanksgiving leads to meeting Javier Peña.

Happy Thanksgiving Everyone!

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList || Javier Peña MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

Javier rubs his cheek as he strides to the door of the diner. It’s Thanksgiving and he volunteered to work. He doesn’t mind sitting in a cop car instead of handling Lorraine and her family like he would’ve had to do. He walks into the empty diner and sits at the counter. You look up when you see him waiting at the counter, surprised anyone showed up on Thanksgiving, but you wipe your hands on your apron and walk along the counter to greet him. “Hey. Happy Thanksgiving. What can I get you to drink?” You ask, taken back by how handsome he is when he looks up at you with beautiful dark brown eyes.

He’s always been a bit of a flirt, but he’s tried to be good while he was dating Lorraine. However, he’s tired of her pushing for a ring, for a proposal. Wanting the wedding that Javi isn’t ready for. She keeps telling him that he can’t keep getting the milk for free when he hasn’t bought the cow. So he decided to tell her he needed a break. Right before the holiday and she keeps calling, her mother stopped him in the grocery store and gave him an earful and her father undoubtedly has been waiting to run into him. “Kind of a slow day, huh?” He asks, glancing around the deserted dinner. “Got any coffee brewed?”

You chuckle, glancing behind you to the half empty pot. “Definitely. It’s what I’ve been surviving on today since it’s been so quiet. Who knew so many people had families to see today?” You tease as you turn to grab a cup to pour him some coffee. “You got stuck with the ghost shift today too?” You ask as you set the cup down on the counter for him.

He snorts. “I volunteered.” He offers. “It was better than spending the day with people I don’t want to be around, talking about subjects I don’t give a fuck about.”

You hum, nodding in agreement, “True. Especially politics and religion. Luckily for me, I don’t have to worry about that because my parents are gone and I’m an only child.” You confess, reaching for a menu to set it down. “Me and the cook back there volunteered to let our coworkers spend the day with their families.”

“That was nice of you.” He watches as you walk away to get the coffee pot, his eyes falling down to your ass. It’s a nice ass, wrapped in your diner uniforms.

You come back, sensing his eyes on you when you walked away, and you smirk as you pour his coffee. He's attractive but you can tell he knows it. "Well, it's starting to feel like it was a good choice." You say as you stare at him appraisingly. "Always liked a man in uniform."

He wings up a brow, leaning back slightly. It’s been a long time since he’s really talked to a woman that wasn’t his family or Lorraine’s and he smirks. “You can look all you want.” He promises. “I don’t mind.”

You like his smirk, feeling your stomach twist with attraction, and you finish pouring his coffee. “See anything you like? On the menu?” You add, offering him a smirk of your own.

“Only the menu is available?” Javi hums. “Damn shame.” He glances down at your hand and sees you don’t have a wedding ring on. “He’s a lucky fucker.”

His words make you hot under your uniform, his dark eyes flicking up to yours and you offer him a soft shake of your head, "there's no lucky fucker. Single as a pringle." You hum, "and you? I'm sure your lady knows she's lucky."

“Single.” Javi shrugs slightly. “Recent occurrence.” Leaning forward, he picks up his coffee cup with three fingers and watches you while he takes a sip, “my real question is how are you single? I bet you get hit on all the time, pretty as you are.”

You chuckle, shaking your head again, "if you count old men and truckers, then allll the time. By someone I'd actually be interested in? Never. Until today." You murmur, resting your elbows on the counter to lean a little closer. "What crazy woman let you out of her bed?" You ask incredulously, eyebrows raised.

He chuckles, appreciating the comment and feeling like it might apply to his ex. She was getting more and more demanding as time went on. “I ran from it, actually.” He admits. “Felt like it wasn’t right.” His gaze turns a little more intense. “She wasn’t the right woman for me. So I’m still looking.”

You hum, "well, her loss and all..." You trail off and look down at the menu, "you want anything to eat, handsome?" You ask flirtatiously, knowing that you are both single. You have no qualms flirting with a sexy man and today has been painfully slow in the diner. You need a distraction.

“Oh, I’m starving.” Javi insists with a lecherous smirk. “And I’ll get something to eat, I guess.” He winks at you and glances behind you when the cook makes his presence known in the kitchen window.

You can sense Adrian's presence but you ignore it to focus on the customer as you reach for your notepad, "what can I get you?" You ask and he glances down at the menu. "All American Breakfast. Bacon, eggs over easy, pancakes." He orders and you nod, writing it down, "hash browns or grits?" You ask and he licks his lips, "hash browns." You nod and scribble down his order, handing it to Adrian who grunts and gets to work. "That should be up soon." You tell him and walk along the counter to grab the syrup and preserves for him to choose from.

“Fuck.” He notices the extra sway to your hips when you walk away from him and it makes his cock twitch. It’s been a slow day and he doesn’t have any calls right now, so he plans to stay and flirt with you until the dispatcher radios him. “Strawberry.” He tells you when you offer him a choice. “Sweet and juicy,  how I like it.”

You giggle, your stomach lurching with attraction and lust from his words, and you bring his selection over to him, setting it down. "So...do I get to know your first name, Officer Peña?" You ask, glancing down at his badge and you know he can read your name on your badge.

“Javier.” He’s spilled a little of the coffee on his thumb so he swipes his tongue across it after saying your name in return. “You have a beautiful name.” He compliments. “Matches your ass.”

You inhale shakily before you breathe out, "now there's a compliment you don't get everyday." You lean over the counter again, watching him as he lowers his hand from his mouth. "You have massive hands." You reach for the one he didn't lick, admiring his thick fingers, "makes a girl wonder where else is big." You flirt, caressing the back of his hand.

Javi’s no fool and that is an invitation as clear as day. Running his tongue over his teeth, he arches a brow as he glances at the kitchen window again. “Why don’t we go have a smoke?” He asks you. “Out back.”

You nod, cunt dripping for this stranger, but you feel like you need this. You spin around to talk to Adrian through the kitchen window. "I'm going for a break." You call out and Adrian waves his spatula over his shoulder to dismiss you. He's never been one with words. You reach behind you to untie your apron and shove it under the counter before you stride down the counter at the same pace he walks until you meet him at the side entrance to the dinner. He pushes the door open for you and you step outside, inhaling the fresh air. "I don't really smoke." You confess, turning towards him just as he reaches for your waist to pull you into his chest. "It's not a cigarette I want right now." He rasps, his hard cock pressing against your hip and you moan, reaching up to cup his cheeks, dragging his face to yours.

Javi leans into the kiss eagerly, having missed the physicality of sex since ending things with Lorraine. He’s almost given in and called her a few times but had resisted so far. Now, he’s wrapping his arms around you and dragging you closer, immediately sliding his tongue into your mouth with a moan.

Your tongue slides against his as his hands slide down to squeeze your ass through your dress. You moan into the kiss, grinding against him as he walks you backwards towards the wall of the diner and you gasp when he kisses your jaw. “Tell me what you want, hermosa.” He demands and you whimper, “need you to fuck me.” You order, reaching between you to squeeze his cock through his pants.

Javi groans into your mouth, twitching in your hand. “I can fuck you.” He promises, breaking away from your lips to kiss along your jaw. His fingers trail around your hip and push into your panties to find your clit and slide his fingers through your wet folds to press inside you slowly. “Fuck, you’re gonna feel so good around my cock.” He tells you as your walls hug his fingers.

His fingers are thick and stretch you, making you moan his name as he starts to work you open on them. You’re dripping wet for him and you fumble with his belt, trying to get his pants open. “Fuck. This uniform is so hot.” You murmur, his gun still on his hip as he pumps his fingers. You finally get his pants open and reach in to pull his hard cock out, moaning at the girth you discover.

He chuckles against your pulse as he continues to pump his fingers in and out of your tight cunt, curling them up. Wanting you to feel good when he slides inside you. “So is your uniform.” He pants. “Serving me coffee and pussy.”

“Better leave a good tip.” You tease breathlessly as he presses his thumb against your clit and you pump his cock, loving the way he twitches in your palm. His breaths are hot against your neck and you need him to be inside you. “Javier. Please.” You beg, walls fluttering around his digits as he works you up.

​​“You don’t want to cum like this?” He is halfway teasing but he curls and presses his fingers deeper. Pressing against that spongy spot that has you gasping out his name. “You just want my cock?”

“Oh shit.” You gasp as he presses his fingers against that spot. “Yes. Shit. Keep- keep going. I’m so close.” You pant out your confession as you grind down onto his fingers, your grip on his cock tightening. He chuckles and it makes your stomach clench, sending you over the edge and your knees buckle while you clamp down on his fingers.

Javi’s body pressed against you keeps you upright against the wall. Groaning into your skin while you soak his fingers and he pumps them in and out of you with a squelching sound. Enjoying the way you are whimpering and his cock pulses in your hand.

You try to catch your breath as he works you through it until you regain your senses. You let go of his cock to cup his cheeks, pressing your lips to his after you demand, “fuck me.”

Javi licks into your mouth again, pulling his fingers out of your dripping pussy to reach for his wallet. Always keeping a spare condom in the side pocket, he pulls it out blindly and drops the wallet on the ground in his hast to rip the foil packet open and roll it on.

You shove your dress up your hips and watch him roll the condom down his cock. He’s thick and you would go down on him if you knew him better. “Baby, please.” You beg, whining as he grabs your thigh, lifting it over his hip, and you groan when he notches himself at your entrance and starts to push into you.

Javi doesn’t just thrust into you roughly, but his hips are firm as they press you into the wall. Filling you with a smooth roll of his hips that is taking your breath and making him choke out in pleasure as he bottoms out. “Fuuuuuuck.” The curse is growled into your mouth, following his tongue as it slides against yours and his eyes close at the hot clutch of your cunt around him.

He stretches you out and you grip his shoulder as he starts to move inside you. Your tongue tangles with his and this is pleasure you haven't felt for a long time. He is strong beneath your touch as he rocks into you and you moan, tilting your head back against the wall when he adjusts his hips, "fuck, that's good."

Javi grunts in agreement, moving to kiss every inch of your neck and shoulder that he can reach while he’s rocking into you. His hands around your back, holding you as he thrusts. The jingle of his belt is loud but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t even care if anyone manages to see you, he’s too focused on how good you feel around him.

Anyone could see you from the road but you don't care. Adrian could come out and find you but you don't give a fuck. Not when Javier is making you feel like this. He thrusts into you, his hand sliding down to your ass and you moan, rocking your hips to meet his, his belt hitting your thigh with each thrust.

“Fuck, you’re gonna cum again, aren’t you?” He pants as he fucks you. “I can feel it. Cum for me.” He wants to feel you cum on his cock, needs to feel it because he can feel his own body tensing to cum. It’s been so long since he’s fucked anyone but Lorraine that it’s overwhelming. “Cum for me, baby.”

His words have you falling over the edge. His cock pushes deep and you clamp down on it with a cry. Your nails dig into his uniform as you cum for him, squeezing his cock inside your fluttering walls. “Cu- cum for me.” You plead, wanting to watch him fall apart.

Javi’s jaw tenses. nostrils flaring as his hips snap forward three more times before he is faltering. Burying himself deep with a groan as his cock pulses inside you. Flooding the condom with his seed.

You love the way his jaw clenches as he twitches inside you. “Fuck, you’re so handsome.” You caress his cheek as he works himself through his pleasure until he lowers your thigh from his hip. You kiss him softly and he reaches down to grip the base of his cock as he pulls out of you.

“Fuck.” Javi hisses as he slides the condom off quickly and ties it closed. “Now I do need a cigarette.” He chuckles, shoving the used condom into the trash can and tucking his cock away. He zips up and looks at you as you adjust your panties and pull your dress back into place.

You stumble slightly and he reaches out to stabilize you. “Sorry. Just not used to cumming that hard.” You confess with a giggle and he chuckles, rubbing your arms. “You want your breakfast? Come in and have a smoke and your food.” You tell him, opening the door to the diner and he follows you inside, playfully smacking your ass which makes you giggle.

Javi goes back to his seat, sipping his coffee as he pulls out his pack of cigarettes. Watching you move over to the window where his meal is sitting, having obviously been waiting for him. Grinning, you turn back and bring it over to him and he smirks. “Why won’t you get a drink and sit down with me?” He asks, inhaling a drag from the cigarette. “Not like you have a ton of tables to check.”

You glance at the kitchen window where Adrian is cleaning the griddle and you nod, grabbing a cup of coffee for yourself. Your pussy aches a little as you take a seat next to him and he taps his cigarette on the ashtray sitting on the counter. "So what made you want to be a cop?" You ask, eying his badge.

“Didn’t want to be a rancher.” He snorts, picking up his coffee cup and taking another sip before he sets it back down and picks up his fork. “I studied philosophy and criminal justice in college.” He admits, cutting into his pancakes and then picking up the syrup to drizzle over the top. “Don’t see a lot of work for a philosopher around here.”

You take a sip of your coffee and you chuckle, "I don't know. Some people around here need to take a good look at their lives. Maybe you could help them." You tease, "but being a cop...it's a hard job. Not one I'd want to do." You confess, "I bet it's hard to deal with the smugglers."

“Yeah.” He frowns slightly. “I try to prevent as much as I can, but I’m not in the DEA.” He has talked with agents a lot and even been told he needs to apply, but he hadn’t decided if he wanted to leave Laredo or not. His dad would be all alone. He never said it, but he could tell that he had missed Javi while he was in college.

You nod in understanding, “I heard the president talking about stopping the cartels but who knows what will happen. If you did join the DEA, I’m sure every woman in Laredo would miss you in uniform.” You wink, taking another sip of your coffee.

He chuckles. “Yep, I’m sure old Mrs. Murphy will miss calling me out to report that someone’s walked through her flowerbed.” He tells you. “It’s her cat, every time.”

You giggle, “she probably just wants to see a sexy cop.” You tease and he continues to eat his food. “I’d definitely be calling you to my house at every chance and you’d have a different kind of pussy to deal with.” You wink playfully, resting your elbows on the counter.

After scooping up a bite of his eggs, he smirks at you and turns the fork around to offer you the bite. “I’d be having a different kind of meal too.” He promises, that smirk broadening into a grin when you take the bite off of his fork with a look of surprise on your face. “Where do you live?” He asks. “Professionally speaking, so I can keep an ear out for the call on the radio.”

You grin after you swallow the eggs he offered you. “For professional purposes?” You ask and he nods, his knee pressing against yours under the counter. You tell him your address, “so if you’re in the area, stop by.” You wink, “and you can have your meal.”

He arches a brow, making note of the address. It’s not too far from his normal patrol route. “Gotta warn you,” he takes a bite of eggs and then forks up a bite of the pancakes for you to eat. “I’ve got a hell of an appetite.”

“Good thing I can cook up a storm.” You tease, wrapping your lips around his fork to chew on the bite. Adrian had left for his break so it’s just the two of you in the diner. “And I definitely offer dessert.” You wink after you swallow, “you are welcome anytime, officer.”

Javi smirks and nods. “Definitely take you up on that.” He promises. “Although if keeping the handcuffs on is a turn on, I can always use them on you.” He jokes.

“Or I could use them on you.” You challenge playfully and he chuckles, shrugging one shoulder, “never tried that before.” You smirk, “it would be fun. I mean it, you’re welcome anytime.” You promise and he nods just as his walkie talkie beeps. “Come in Peña.” The dispatcher’s voice is muffled but you lean back, knowing your time with him is over.

Javi sighs and rolls his eyes but he reaches for the radio. “Peña here, what’s going on?”

“Domestic dispute. Thanksgiving dinner gone wrong. 112 Sanders Ave off of Clark near the football stadium.” Kathy at dispatch says, knowing Javier is on his break but the woman had been panicked.

Javi is moving, dropping his fork and standing up as he keys his mic again. “10-4.” He says. “Enroute, five minutes.” He goes to pull his wallet out of his pocket and smirks because he had to pick it up off the ground earlier. “Listen, thanks for the food and the company.” He tells you, handing you several bills. Enough to cover the meal and a good tip. “I’ll try to come back.” He promises.”

You nod, watching him shift off his stool. “Let me get you a coffee to go.” You rush around the counter and grab a paper to-go cup, filling it up and you hand it to him. Your fingers brush his and you wish he wasn’t leaving so soon. “I’ll see you around.” You murmur, glad that Adrian isn’t here to see you step forward to kiss his cheek. He smiles and nods, “see you soon.” He says and makes his way out of the diner. You watch him until his patrol car disappears and you sigh, leaning against the counter for several moments until you clean up his plate.

The entire time he’s gone to the call, he’s thinking about the sex, the conversation. He had enjoyed his time with you, more than he could have imagined in that situation. He takes care of that issue, calming down the couple that had been arguing over the man watching the game and not helping out for Thanksgiving dinner. After that, he had a call for fireworks, basically just telling the kids to space out the explosions, and not set them off near buildings so they don’t catch on fire. After that, it goes quiet and he finds himself driving back to the diner to see if you are still there.

You are refilling the condiments, distracted thinking about Javier, when the man himself strides back into the diner. Your eyes widen and you nearly knock over the sugar as you stand up, brushing down your apron. “You’re back.” You declare and he nods, walking over to the counter, “can I get you a coffee?” You ask, heart pounding in your chest.

“Nah.” He shakes his head. “Too late for that.” He checks his watch and raises a brow. “When do you close tonight? I can’t see too many more people coming if they aren’t already here.”

You check your watch, “in the next fifteen minutes if no one comes in.” You tell him, “you sure you don’t want anything?” You ask as you start to put the condiments away on each table.

He smirks. “Nothing but a date.” He props his hands on his hips and looks at you as you work. “Don’t think we can go out tonight but, what do you say?” He had been thinking about you the entire time he was working and was eager to come back. It’s a step in the right direction and tells him that he was right to end things with Lorraine.

You are shocked that he came back to ask you out but your heart pounds and you blurt out a “yes” before you can even process it. He grins, nodding his head, “I, uh, I’ll give you my number.” You scramble for your notepad and write your number and address down for him. “I have tomorrow off if you, uh, if you’re free. If not, call me and we can figure something out.” You tell him with a smile that won’t leave your face.

Javi grins, taking the slip of paper that you had written his order down on, now having your number on it, and folds it over to tuck into his shirt pocket. “I’m off too.” He tells you. “Perks of working the holiday.” He jokes. “You want to get dinner? Let someone serve you for a change?”

You nod, “that sounds good.” You can’t stop smiling. You truly dreaded coming into work today but Javier has changed everything, making this a great day. “Seven?” You suggest and he nods, stepping closer to you. He glances around to see if Adrian is nearby until he cups your cheek and you lean in to press your lips to his. The kiss is sweet and short and when he pulls back, you cover your lips with your fingers, giggling. “I’ll see you tomorrow, officer.” You say and he chuckles, offering you a wink before he leaves the diner. “He’s going to be trouble.” Adrian calls out for the kitchen, “mark my words.” He says and you roll your eyes, “I’m a big girl. I can handle myself.” You finish your shift with a grin, planning what you’re going to wear tomorrow night for your date.

**** 

Javi hadn’t called that night since you had plans, but he’s pulling his truck up to your address five minutes before seven. It’s been a long damn time since he’s gone on a first date and Chucho had smirked when he had seen his son taking pains with his appearance and applying his new cologne. Now he wonders if he should have brought flowers since he’s already fucked you, but he can’t leave and go get some. Rolling his eyes at his stupidity, he opens the door and reaches for his cigarettes while he waits to knock on your door.

You rush around, making sure you look good. You’d picked a classy but sexy dress to impress him and it’s silly because you’ve already had sex, but you like him. A lot. You want to get to know him more and you want to make a good first date impression. You spray your perfume and when the doorbell rings, you inhale deeply, checking your appearance in the mirror before you open your front door. He’s wearing jeans that cling to his thighs, making your mouth water until you take in his checked shirt and the cowboy boots. Fuck, he looks sexy. “Hey.” You greet him softly, leaning against your doorframe after you open the door.

Javi smiles as he takes in your dress with a slow perusal of your body, up and down until he’s looking at your face again. “Hey.” He murmurs, his eyes already darkening in approval. “You look good.” He tells you. “Real good.” If he hadn’t promised you a date, he would be trying to talk you into bed right now.

His compliment makes you shiver in arousal and you’re tempted to drag him off to your bed but you need to get to know him. You want to know more about him. “Thanks, handsome. Let me just grab my purse and we can go.” You say and leave the door open as you find your purse. “You ready?” You ask and he nods, stepping back after you close the door so you can lock up.

He guides you towards the truck and opens the door for you. “So how do you feel about going across the border for dinner?” He asks. “There’s a great little restaurant on the river that serves the best food you’ll ever eat.”

You nod, “I’m down for anything.” You promise and you get up into his truck, watching him close the door and walk around. He comes across as a strong man and you love that he takes your hand as soon as he is driving down the street. “I’m really happy you came back to ask me on a date. I kicked myself for not getting your number.” You confess, squeezing his hand.

He hums as he guides the truck down the road towards the river. “I had to leave sooner than I wanted to.” He reminds you. “Asshole husband wanted to sit on his butt watching the game instead of helping set up for the entire family coming over.” He snorts. “Poor bastard never spent days making tamales at the table with mama.”

You scoff, “I feel bad for some women. They are completely stuck in their homes doing everything instead of following their dreams, doing what they want. I mean, I work in a diner but at least I’m standing on my own two feet and not dependent on some asshole who doesn’t do shit for my weekly grocery money.”

He finds that refreshing and he nods. “My mama was a “homemaker”.” He tells you. “But she ran our house, our lives.” He chuckles. “Pop would drive mama to the store for groceries because when they were first married he told her he expected the shopping to be done by her.” He shoots you a grin. “She made him eat those words and he ended up loving going shopping with her every week.”

You giggle, “your mama sounds like an incredible woman.” Javier nods, his brow furrowed, “she was.” Your smile drops and you squeeze his hand, “I’m sorry. I lost my parents when I was eighteen to a car accident. They left me their house and that’s how I’ve been able to survive.” You confess, “I- I’m sorry. It hurts. You want to talk to them, tell them everything that happens in your life, but they aren’t there. It’s horrible.” You admit, feeling your eyes sting with unshed tears for your own family.

“I’m sorry.” Javi flips his hand over yours and laces his fingers through to hold your hand. He squeezes it gently. “I know you have to miss them. I miss my mama every damn day.” He murmurs quietly. “Don’t ever apologize for missing someone you love.”

You love that you can understand his grief and he can understand yours. It's hard to relate when your partner hasn't lost a parent so you feel even more connected to Javier. He pulls up outside the restaurant moments later and helps you out, his hand on your back as he guides you into the restaurant. You feel protected and you love how he takes charge as he gives his name and pulls out your chair when you sit down at the table.

He tells you what he plans to order, “it’s the best you’ve ever had.” He promises, tapping the menu. When the waitress comes up, he orders two beers after checking with you and then looking back at you as she walks away. “So, tell me how you came to be at the diner?” He asks. “I don’t think I’ve seen you in there before, but I work odd hours a lot.”

You tap your fingers on the table, “my friend, Pam. She’s well, she was my mom’s best friend and she owns the diner. After my parents died, she was my rock and offered me a job. I planned to go to college but that kind of got pushed aside from grief and I’ve been there ever since. Maybe one day I’ll go to college but for now, I don’t mind working at the diner. I take weird shifts since a lot of the other girls have families. I’m happy to help them out since I’m alone.” You confess, offering him a shrug of your shoulder.

He nods, knowing that he doesn't mind the long, odd hours that come with his job sometimes. Although Lorraine would constantly complain when something would interfere with her plans. Like public safety and criminals would just stop at five when everyone else got off work.

The waitress brings back your beers and you tell Javier to order so you can have the same thing. “I’ll see if your recommendation is up to scratch.” You tease, picking up your beer to clink it against his. “To first dates.” He toasts and you smile, “to first dates.” Javier smirks after he has a sip, “so what happens if my recommendation isn’t up to your standard?” You giggle, setting your bottle down to take his hand in yours, “then you won’t get the blowjob I’ve been imagining since you left the diner yesterday.”

His cock twitches in his jeans. “Blow job?” He asks, sure that you’re fucking with him. “Thought good girls didn’t like to suck cock?” He had stopped asking for a blow job after it was treated like a chore. He had taken the hint, but he damn sure hadn’t gone down on Lorraine either - just sticking to sex. He had counted it as another strike against the relationship. If the sex life dried up and they weren’t even married, what would it look like in ten years? He didn’t want to find out.

You lean closer, lowering your voice, “who said I was a good girl?” You tease and you love the way he inhales sharply. “Baby.” He murmurs and you turn his hand over, tracing circles on his palm, “you’re sexy and capable, why wouldn’t I want to be on my knees for you?”

Javi shivers, feeling his body respond to the promise in your eyes. “Then you’ll be on them later on.” He promises, imagining the way you would look up at him with his cock in your mouth. “And then I’ll see how loud you can scream my name.”

You pick his hand up to press a kiss to his palm before you lower it back to the table, “I’m excited for that.” You murmur, “I, uh, I don’t usually - this isn’t what I do.” You clarify, “you’re the first man I’ve slept with since my ex and I broke up about six months ago. There’s something about you that makes me want to throw caution to the wind.”

“I don’t think any less of you.” He promises, smirking slightly. “I was right there with you, just as guilty.” He winks playfully and tilts his head. “Why did you and your ex break up? Was he just stupid?”

You sigh, “he wanted me to move across the country to Florida. I couldn’t leave my parents’ house. I know it’s stupid but it’s the last connection I have to them. I couldn’t sell it and move. He refused to stay in Laredo and we broke up. He’s dating some girl in Miami now. It wasn’t meant to be.” You confess, “and you? Why did you break up with your ex?”

Javi knows this might be something you don’t like but he sighs. “She was pushing for marriage and wouldn’t listen when I told her that we needed to fix some things in our relationship first.” He tells you honestly. “She kept pushing for me to quit the department, go work for her dad.” He snorts. “I don’t want to fucking sell furniture.”

You nod in understanding, “you can’t just get married without sorting those issues out. That’s a hot ticket to divorce. And you definitely don’t look like a furniture salesman. Annoying fuckers.” You snort, “you need to make the right choice for you otherwise you’ll be too old with kids and look back thinking what the fuck did I do with my life?” You know life is short.

He laughs and nods. “Exactly.” He shakes his head. “What about you?” He asks. “You want kids? The life?” He isn’t opposed to it, but it’s not like he is rushing to find a woman to pump out kids for him. He just kind of assumed they would always one day happen, although one day seemed to be a far off concept.

You shake your head, “I’m not in a rush. I do want to get married, have kids. My parents had a great marriage. They were partners but they - my mom could only have me. They wanted more kids. I would like a couple of kids. A husband. A dog. All of it. But not yet. I am still figuring myself out.” You confess, continuing to trace his palm.

“And what have you figured out so far?” He asks, finding it easy to talk to you. You aren’t playing games, being coy. It’s nice to just talk about things without any expectations or debates about what he should want. He got plenty of that from Lorraine’s family.

“That I am stronger than I thought.” You confess, “after my parents died…I thought I would crumble. But I didn’t. I got stronger and I miss them so much but I’m surviving. I need to find who I am without my grief. I am slowly getting there.” You murmur, “I want to enjoy life to the fullest. That’s my goal. In honor of my parents.”

“That’s a good tribute to them.” He agrees. The rest of the dinner is amazing, both of you talking about everything and anything. Javi tells you some jokes that make you laugh and there’s plenty of flirting as well. Even as you agree that it’s the best food you’ve had. Now you are in the truck parked in front of your house again and Javi wonders if you are going to invite him in.

Javi comes around to open the passenger door and he walks you to the front door of your house, his hand on your back until you turn to face him. You step closer, placing your hands on his chest, “do you want to come in?” You ask, biting your lip, prepared for him to say no and you should be more coy but you want him again.

He licks his lips and nods. "I want to come in." He promises you, happy that he had slipped another condom into his wallet. He presses closer and leans in, kissing you softly before he pulls away. "Open the door, hermosa." He hums, his hands sliding down from your hips to your ass. "This time I want to see you naked."

His words make you grin and you fumble slightly as you grab your keys until you manage to get the door open. You step inside, his hands around your waist as you walk in and he kicks the door shut behind him, spinning you around to press you up against it. You gasp in delight and wrap your arms around his neck, dragging his mouth to yours.

This time he can spend time on you. Stripping you down and feasting on your body while drowning himself in the pleasure of it. Everything blurs in his mind, all his problems fade and you are exciting. You are just as eager as he is. His cock is already starting to hard just from your soft lips yielding to him and his tongue slides against yours as you gasp into his mouth.

His thigh pushes between your legs and you grind down onto him as his tongue tangles with yours. You moan into his kiss, your hands sliding to the buttons of his shirt, starting to work it open so you can touch more of him.

Javi likes that you are undressing him. Likes that you are taking charge even if you are the one with your back against the wall. He pushes his thigh up a little higher as you grind down on it and he can feel the dampness starting to grow. "Fuck." he groans, breaking away and kissing down your neck. "No panties?" He twitches against your stomach.

“I was feeling lucky.” You tease, shoving his shirt open and you caress his chest once his skin is bare. “Shit. You’re so handsome.” You murmur against his hair as he kisses down to your collarbone and you scratch your nails over his nipples, grinding onto his jeans.

Javi hisses your name, hands sliding back up your dress to find the zipper. He doesn't want to just push your dress up again but he needs to touch you. "You are fucking gorgeous." He finds your lips again to kiss you as he drags the small zipper down.

His words make your body heat up and you know he means it, it’s not just to get into your pants. You haven’t even made it down the hall, the chemistry between you sizzles and you arch your back to allow him to pull the zipper down, his shirt hitting the floor when he finally shrugs out of it when you whine.

He chuckles, stepping backs so he can peel your dress down and reveal your bra. "Fuck," his hands cup your tits and he is delighted to find that the snap for your bra is in the front, letting him unclip it easily.

His eyes are dark and you love how hungry he looks as he pushes your bra off your shoulders and cups your tits as soon as it hits the floor. Your hands slide down to his belt, working to open in your desperation to see all of him, feel all of him.

Your hands are hot and eager on his skin, opening his belt with a hunger that jerks his hips towards you as you pull at the belt. "Let me- let me get you to the bedroom." He grunts, knowing that he wants to spread you out.

You nod, knowing you want him in a bed so you shimmy your dress down, kick off your heels, and take his hand to guide him to your bedroom while completely naked. His free hand works on his belt, letting it drop to the floor, and you open the door to your bedroom.

"Cute bed." He hums, noting your flowery bedspread. "Maybe I should have brought my handcuffs to tie you to it."

You smirk, “next time, officer.” You promise and waste no time sinking down to your knees, working on the zipper of his jeans, “now, I do believe I promised you a blow job if your recommendation was good enough and that was the best food I’ve had in a while.” You smirk and lean in to kiss his belly while you open his jeans until you reach in to pull his hard cock out. “Fuck. It looks as good as it feels.” You murmur, gripping him until you lean in to flick your tongue over the drop of precum before you take him into your mouth.

"Oh fuck." Javi's eyes roll back in pleasure and he fights to open them again and keep his gaze centered on you. "You- fuck, you - you are good at this." He pants out, reaching out and caressing your cheek and jaw as you take him deep into your mouth and hollow your cheeks around him. "Fuck."

You moan around him, loving the way he tries to not thrust into your throat but you want it. You grab his thighs, managing to pull his pants down further so you can cradle his balls while you take him deeper, choking when he hits the back of your throat. You splutter slightly and take a deep breath, pushing his cock down your throat as you breathe through your nose.

He likes that you choke but keep going. You don’t care that your eyes are watering and your makeup is smearing. Your eyes are watching him and your mouth feels like heaven around his cock.

“Fuck, “I’m going to cum.” Javi warns, loving how you just hum around him. A few seconds later, he’s cumming down your throat, growling your name and panting breathlessly. 

Pulling off his cock once you’ve swallowed every drop, you love how he is immediately hauling you to your feel and pushing you down on the bed, “It’s your turn.” He smirks, spreading your thighs as he settles between them, finding a pretty shaved landing strip. “You groomed for me?” He asks playfully. “You shouldn’t have.” 

You chuckle, flushing and shaking your head, “just wanted to make sure your dessert was presented nicely.” You tease, watching him settle between your thighs. He kisses your skin and you whimper, “hope you like it, officer.”

Javi smirks and nudges his nose against your clit, inhaling the heady scent of your arousal. You got wet while sucking his cock and he uses his fingers to pull your folds apart to expose the sensitive skin. “Let me show you how much.” He coos before he is sliding his tongue through your folds with a pleased groan.

You whimper, running your fingers through his hair, loving how his tongue feels. It’s wet and hot and makes you gasp when he flicks it over your clit. “Baby.” You whine, “you feel so good.” You compliment, tugging on his hair.

Javi wants to make this good for you. You sucked his cock and your cunt feels like heaven. He wants to see what you look like when you fall apart on his tongue. Eager to see how you moan and thrash around for him as he flicks his tongue over your clit.

It’s mind blowing how good his tongue feels against your clit, sucking on your folds and he pushes his tongue into your pussy. You watch him, shifting onto your elbow to watch him, “fuck, handsome, you’re so good at that.”

He hums against your folds, winking at you playfully from his place between your thighs, his mouth still attached to your cunt. He loves how vocal you are, how sweet the whines are when your thighs tense. His fingers dig into your hips and hold you in place.

You rock your hips against his face as he works his tongue deep in your pussy, your fingers tangled in his hair, and his nose presses just right against your clit. “Fuck. Oh shit. That - that’s it.” You pant, loving how good it feels as he works you up.

He wants you to cum. He wants to see your cunt flutter before he slides inside you. Groaning into you as your fingers tug at his hair and his cock twitches against the sheets. He pulls his tongue out of your pussy and flicks it over your clit before sucking it into his mouth.

"Oh my - fuck!" You cry when he sucks on your clit and your eyes roll into the back of your head. You love it. You fucking love it. You gasp, thighs starting to shake around his head, and you moan his name when you finally fall apart. You cry out, thighs squeezing his head while you soak his chin.

Javi moans into your folds. He loves when a woman comes apart for him. It’s addictive and he loves that just as much as he loves cumming himself. Lapping at your juices until he pulls away with his mouth shiny with your slick, he kisses your clit and then starts to work his way up your body.

You pant, catching your breath as he kisses up your body, wrapping his lips around your nipple, and his cock is hard against your thigh. You reach down to wrap your fingers around him, pumping his cock, “need you inside me, baby.” You demand breathlessly.

“Fuck.” He groans against your chin. “Do you have a condom in your nightstand?” His pants are too far away for his liking and he doesn’t want to pull away from your grip.

You nod, stretching out after you release his cock to grab a condom from your nightstand. His hands squeezing your ass as you turn onto your side, grabbing the condom. You shove it into his hand and wrap your arms around his neck, pulling his face to yours to kiss him.

Javi can kiss a woman and open up a condom without looking at it. Focusing on you as he pulls the rubber out and rolls it down his cock. Groaning as he pumps himself a few times to position himself between your thighs.

You moan into his mouth when he starts to enter you, stretching you out like he did the day before behind the diner. "Fuck." You pant against his chin, shifting your gaze so you can watch him push into you. "You're so gorgeous, baby." You murmur, kissing along his jaw after a moment of watching him until he's pressing against your cervix.

He chuckles, thinking that should be his comment to you. Turning his head to press his lips to your and give you a moment to relax before he starts to move.

You let him set the pace, lifting your thighs onto his hips while your hands explore his chest, up to his shoulders, and down his back until you’re squeezing his ass. He’s strong above you, making you feel like the world outside doesn’t exist, and that makes you whimper into his kiss.

Javi is a passionate lover, he pours himself in the intimacy with total abandon. Forgetting everything else but the way you move under him and respond to every thrust.

His thrusts are deep but unhurried, making your chest heave against his, his hand coming up to squeeze your breast and you whine his name. "Feel so good, baby. Better. It's gotten better." You moan, wrapping your legs around him.

Your comment makes him huff against your chin, smirking slightly as he continues to rock into you. “And the next time will be even better.” He teases. “And then even better the time after that.”

"Fuck, you're gonna have me addicted to you." You tease, "gonna need to keep you in my bed every damn day to use your cock." You chuckle when he twitches inside of you. "And I want - God, I want you in it every day."

He groans, completely agreeing with your line of thinking. “Works for me.” He kisses along your shoulder and up your neck. “Pussy feels amazing and you are incredible.” He squeezes your breast gently.

You smile at his words, glad he’s on the same page, and you rock your hips up to grind against him, moaning when his pelvis rubs your clit. “Fuck yes. There.” You pant when he hits something incredible inside you and his pelvis rubs your clit. “Keep - keep going. Just like that.”

He pants, trying to keep his hips angled the same way. Wanting to hear you moan again. “There?” He asks, huffing proudly when you nod. “Yes, just- oh god.” You whimper, making him rock his hips a little harder, knowing you are close to cumming.

"Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Ja-" You cut yourself out with a cry as you clamp down on his cock, lost in the sensations of your orgasm while he continues to rock into you as best he can while you squeeze him.

He grits his teeth, hissing in pleasure as he works you through that orgasm. Loving how your walls spasm around him and flutter. Your eyes skip closed and your head tilts back, letting him kiss along your chin as he works you through and pushes towards his own.

The pleasure makes your toes curl and you whimper, walls fluttering around him. "So good. So good, baby. Want - need you to cum for me." You plead, scratching down his back as you rock your hips to meet his.

Your lips meet his and he groans into your mouth, ramping up his thrusts and hearing his hips slap against the back of your ass as he fucks you. Grunting in pleasure as he gets closer and closer.

The moment he falls apart makes you moan into his mouth, your tongue sliding against his when his groan vibrates against your lips and his cock twitches inside of you. You caress his back, letting him rock himself through his climax.

“Fuck.” He hisses, kissing you again and collapsing against you for a moment. He can savor it, rest for a second and not immediately pull away. It’s not like you’re behind the diner this time. He kisses you softly a few more times before he finally reaches between you to grip the base of his cock to make sure the condom stays in place.

It’s impossible to not relax into the sheets beneath you. Your body buzzing from the orgasms and you watch him as he ties off the condom and tosses it into the bin near your bed. “Come here, handsome.” You order, dragging him back into your bed so you can pull him close to kiss him. “That’s was so damn good.” You murmur, running your fingers through his hair.

He chuckles, his head leaning against the headboard and his arm comes around you as you snuggle against him. “Damn good.” He agrees. “Want a cigarette but I don’t want to move.” He’s relaxed and blissful right now, body humming with pleasure and making him a little drowsy.

“I’d offer you one but I don’t smoke.” You murmur, caressing his chest, “you maybe want to come over for dinner? When you’re free?” You ask, wanting to see him again even if he’s not left your place yet. You want to keep this going.

“When?” He asks, even though he’s not even digested the last meal that you’ve shared together.

“Whenever you’re not working. I work the day shift tomorrow so I'm free tomorrow night. If that’s not too soon?” You bite your lip, wondering if he’s going to get scared off by you being too eager.

He smirks as he looks down at you. “Whatcha making?” He asks playfully. “Have to be pretty good to beat those pancakes and pussy.”

**** 

“Fuck baby, I’ve got fifteen minutes.” Javi grumps against your lips, fumbling with his belt and pushing you against the wall of the diner again. It’s been two weeks since Thanksgiving and he’s been over at your place every night since the first date. Chucho chuckled whenever he saw Javi, sometimes he was only home to wash his clothes or change. “Fuck, pull my cock out and I’ll get the condom.”

You whine when he pulls back and you work on opening his pants to pull his hard cock out of his uniform. “Shit, Javi. Hurry up. I need you.” You plead, knowing you don’t have a lot of time and you want to have him inside you again. You’ve had sex every day since the first day you met, you’re addicted to him, and you desperately need him right now.

“Hurrying, baby, fuck.” He twitches in your hand and nearly laughs in relief when he finds the condom he has stuck in his pocket when he got dressed this morning. He had known he was coming since you are working the late shift tonight and won’t be home until late. Your house feeling like home to him since he’s spent nearly every night there. “Fucking thought about this all damn day.” As he pushes your panties down, he kisses you again and pushes the condom into your hand before he slides his hand between your thighs to rub your clit.

You fumble to open the foil packet, letting it drop to the ground as you work fast to roll the condom down his length despite his fingers working your clit. “Fuck. Me too. All damn day. Think of you whenever anyone orders the breakfast.” You moan, squeezing his length. “Come on, baby. Fuck me.” You plead and let go of him.

He’s shuffling between your thighs and grips your leg to lift it up and position himself before he’s pushing deep. Swallowing your soft cry of pleasure and giving you a groan of his own as he immediately starts to fuck you.

He stretches you out and you whine, tilting your head against the wall of the diner, his lips immediately attaching to your skin there. “Oh God.” You pant, gripping his shoulders as he thrusts into you, still dressed in the uniform you love.

Javi grunts, driving into you over and over again his knees hit the wall behind you. “Fuck baby.” He’s completely wrapped up in you, hasn’t even thought about Lorraine since that second date with you. He’s been happier and lighter since you’ve been with him.

He grunts as he rocks into you, knowing there's a diner full of customers that haven't got a clue that you are outside getting fucked by the handsome cop who came in for coffee and a donut. "So good, Jav." You whimper, lifting your thigh a little higher and he pushes deeper, making you moan. You were wet as soon as you saw his patrol car pull up and you are already climbing to your climax.

“Cum for me baby.” He begs against your pulse, pressing kisses to your galloping pulse and scraping his teeth over your skin. “Fuck, I want you to cum for me.”

You can't deny his request, your pussy fluttering around his cock until you fall over the edge. Gripping his uniform in your fingers, you clamp down on his cock with a cry out his name you can't guarantee the diner didn't hear, and you squeeze your eyes shut.

Javi is cumming right after you are. Pent up from thinking about this, about you all day. He’s groaning your name and moving up to capture your lips in a searing kiss as he floods the condom with ropes of his seed as his knees buckle slightly.

You love how he feels when he cums, the way he tenses up, and you slide your hands down, caressing his badge as he pants against your lips. "That was a nice surprise." You smile, "I love when you come to see me at work."

He hums as he kisses you again. “Wanted to come see you.” He admits. “I’ll be back when you close the diner.” He kisses you again and starts to pull out of you gently. “Make sure you get home safe.”

You smile, “my hero.” You coo and watch as he ties off the condom while you pull your panties up and push your dress down your thighs. “I’ll see you later then. You want a coffee to go?” You ask and he nods, playfully smacking your ass once he’s all tucked away. You gasp, smacking his chest, and you walk back into the diner to grab him that cup while Adrian eyes you from the kitchen window. “Here you go, baby.” You murmur as you hand him the cup, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “I’ll see you later, officer.” You love how he winks before he strides out of the diner, eyed by several of the women but you know you’ll be in the one in bed with him later.

At the end of his shift, Javi pulls back up to the dinner again. Parking the car and turning off the engine while he watches you work through the windows. You move with grace, picking up the condiment bottles to wipe down and store for the night. It had been a hard end of shift, he had a young boy die in his arms. A drug overdose. Hours spent at the hospital and plenty of paperwork, but the worst part was telling those poor parents their son was never coming home. He sighs softly as he sets out of the car and leans against the hood, lighting up a much needed cigarette.

You see Javier waiting for you after you lock the front door and Adrian lights his own cigarette. “That one will be trouble for you, mark my words.” He says and strides off, “goodnight.” You call out to him and shove the keys in your purse, making your way over to Javier. “You look stressed.” You observe, “what happened?” You ask as you step closer to wrap your arms around him.

His arms wind around you and he drags you close, needing your warmth to chase away to sorrow. “Had a kid die tonight.” He tells you, his voice rough with emotion. “Overdosed on cocaine.” He swallows harshly and sighs. “Fucking sixteen years old. In the fucking morgue.”

“Shit.” You murmur, resting your cheek on his chest, feeling his heart pound. “I’m so sorry, baby. That - I can’t even imagine.” You hold each other, knowing how his job takes a toll on his mental health. He feels helpless sometimes and doesn’t feel like he’s doing enough. “I’m sorry.” You whisper, pulling back to look at him.

“I know.” The compassion and worry shines out of your eyes, making him fall for you just a little harder. You are gorgeous, kind, compassionate and warm. Exactly the kind of woman his mother would have picked for him if she had been alive. She would have loved you. He reaches out and cups the back of your neck to drag you to him for a desperate kiss, needing to feel something other than loss.

You kiss him fiercely, wishing you could take away the pain in his eyes, and he’s so damn brave. Not many people could handle that job. You peck his lips when he pulls back, “let’s go back to mine. Get some food.” You caress his cheek and he nods, walking you over to your car. “I’ll see you at home.” You promise and slide into your car. He waits until you’re pulling out of the parking lot to get in his car and follow you to your house.

He hopes that you don’t mind his cruiser outside your house, but you’ve never said a word about it. He doesn’t have the energy to go back to the ranch and get his truck. Drained emotionally and needing something that he can’t say out loud. He needs comforts that only you can provide.

When he walks behind you while you’re unlocking the front door, you nearly drop your keys but you manage to open it. You step inside and groan when you step out of your shoes and throw your purse down. He works on removing his holster, kicking off his shoes, and you turn around when he removes the cuffs. “Give those to me.” You demand, holding out your hand. His eyebrows raise, “you want me to use them on you, hermosa?” He asks and you smirk, “no. I want to use them on you.”

He’s surprised by your answer, but he trusts you. Only frowning slightly as he hands them over and finishes removing his utility belt and radio. He turned it off at the end of his shift, but he’s happy to have the damn thing off. “What do you plan to do?”

“I want you to strip down and I’m going to handcuff you to my bed. Make you forget about everything except how good I’m making you feel.” You explain as you step closer to him, “and I want to make sure you have the key.”

You nod, setting the key down on the counter to make sure it’s safe, and you bite your lip, “strip down. Now.” You order, “I want to see all of you, baby.” He nods, reaching up to start unbuttoning his shirt and you watch him with hungry eyes.

Stripping down is almost cathartic, the weight of his duties sliding off like his clothes. He hesitates on his briefs but you nod. “Those too.” And he hooks his fingers under her elastic band and drags them down so he is standing naked in your entryway. His cock is half hard, but he doesn’t shy away from you seeing him.

You love how strong he looks but you want to break him down, let him take the weight of the world off his shoulders. “Go lay on my bed.” You order, “I’ll be in there in a second.”

He nods, turning and walking down to the bedroom and pulling back the covers to lay in the familiar sheets. He watches the door, getting even harder at the prospect of turning everything over to you and letting you control his pleasure

You strip down to your underwear, leaving him to wait for you, and you grab a cup of ice, bringing it with you along with the handcuffs. You want to take him out of his mind and you love how he looks in your bed, his cock resting on his lower stomach as he waits for you. “Hey baby.” You smirk, striding over to the bed and you set the cup of ice on the nightstand. “You wanna give me a safe word in case you want out of the handcuffs?”

He’s rolling his eyes and snorting. “Let me out of the fuckin’ cuffs.” He chooses, smirking when you huff at him. “I’m good, baby. I promise.”

You giggle, “whatever you say, babe.” You straddle him, loving the way he groans and you grab his wrist, lifting it to your headboard to cuff one hand. You work fast to secure his other hand and you look down at him, “fuck. You look good like this. At my mercy.” You scrap your nails down his chest, loving the way his cock twitches against your ass. You bend down to press your lips to his for a moment until you pull back, reaching for the cup on the nightstand. “What-?” He asks but you shush him, taking a piece of ice in your hand. You shuffle down his body, pressing the ice to his chest, chuckling when he hisses, and you slowly drag the ice cube over his nipple. He clenches his jaw at the coldness but you remove the ice cube and flick your hot tongue over it.

He hisses at the sensation, drawn to the contrast of hot and cold and how it makes his skin ache. You are distracting him, you are his distraction. Blanking out his mind to everything but your touch. “Take off your panties.” He grunts. “Want to feel your pussy on me.” He begs but you just smirk and shake your head. “I’m in charge baby.” You coo, caressing his cheek and dragging the ice cube down the edge of his jaw. “You just lay there and let me take care of you.”

He groans and you giggle, dragging the ice cube down his neck, your tongue following its path. He hisses and you smile against his skin while you circle his other nipple with the ice. It’s melting fast and soon you are flicking your tongue over his nipple while you grab the cup of ice to get another cube. With the new cube in hand, you drag it down his belly, pressing hot kisses in the wake of the cold until you approach his cock. You settle between his legs and drag the ice along the underside of his cock that rests on his belly. He hisses and you smirk, removing the ice to drag your tongue along the same path, taking the head of his cock into your hot mouth.

“Fuuuuuck.” Javi hisses, eyes closing and his head tilts back against the pillows. His arms are stretched above his head and he loves how you are making him forget everything. It’s beautiful, all he can think about is what you are doing to him and how he wishes he could touch you. “Fuck yes baby,” he groans, opening his eyes and looking down. “Try- try the ice in your mouth.” He pants.

You pull off of him, shoving the small ice cube in your mouth then you take him again. The hot and cold are a striking contrast and you groan at the way his cock twitches in your mouth while you drag the ice cube down his length.

“Shit- oh fuck!” The handcuffs rattle slightly as he tugs against them and he can't help but try to rock his hips up. “You are - fuck - you are so goddamn perfect.” 

He would deny he has ever whimpered in his life, but an almost tortured sound comes out of his mouth. Jaw slack and eyes closed again in pleasure as you suck his cock. “Fuck- I want- fuck, I want to lick your pussy.” He groans.

You should deny him. Make sure this is only about him, but his whimper and plea are so delicious. You pull off his cock and shift off the bed, shoving your panties down and taking your bra off. “You want me to sit on your face, baby?” You ask as you straddle his stomach, letting him feel how wet you are. “Please baby.” He huffs and you giggle, shifting up until you’re straddling his face. His hot breath washes over your folds and you lower your cunt to his mouth while gripping the headboard.

Javi can be generous, but he’s more so with you. He’s a little submissive. Something he had never had in a relationship before, something he never even thought about wanting but it seems natural with you. Sometimes you need him to give you what you need and right now, you are giving him what he needs. His tongue slides through your folds greedily, hungry for the taste of you and to give you a bit of the pleasure you give him.

You gasp his name as his hot tongue slides through your folds and flicks over your clit. “Oh fuck.” You whimper, trying not to grind down on his face when his hands are cuffed. You let go of the headboard to squeeze your breast with one hand, closing your eyes at the sensation, and you squeal when he sucks on your clit. “Javi, baby, you’re so good. Such a good boy.”

His neglected cock twitches at that statement and he should be pissed but he’s not. He’s liking it. He groans into your folds. Licking at your clit as much as he can.

You rock your hips, grinding down onto him as you reach back to wrap your fingers around his cock, wanting to feel him twitch in your hand while you rock on his tongue.

Javi groans happily into your cunt, bucking his hips up into your grip. Right here is where he could die happy, buried in your pussy with your hand wrapped around his cock. He’s never had the kind of feelings for someone like he feels for you, wanting to put you first instead of himself.

You work yourself on his tongue and it doesn't take long for you to fall apart above him, squeezing his cock as your thighs smother his face. "Fuck!" You cry, nearly falling backwards as you cum on his face.

Javi chuckles breathlessly, knowing that if he was uncuffed, he would flip you over and push into you right this second. He loves how you cum shamelessly, loving orgasms and sex as much as he does and you don’t play coy or demure.

You pant as you relax above him, releasing his cock from your grip, and you shift off his face. “I’m gonna ride you now.” You tell him, moving to grab a condom from your nightstand. “Gonna need a new box.” You tease as you straddle his thighs, opening the condom to roll it down his cock.

“That’s because we fuck all the time.” Javi groans as you wrap your hand around him and roll the rubber down his length. He smirks. “You’re addicted to my cock.”

“Don’t hear you complaining, officer Peña.” You snort and shift closer until you’re positioning him at your pussy so you can sink down onto him. “Fuck. I am addicted.” You confess breathlessly as he stretches you out. “I love it.” You whimper, shuffling a little until your knees are digging in the mattress so you can start to move on top of him.

“You look good on my cock.” Javi praises breathless. “Feels even better.” He watches your tits bounce slightly and groans when you swivel your hips and clench down around him. “Fuck, one day-“ he pants. “One day I’m gonna feel you without the condom.”

“I’m on the pill. I just - I wasn’t sure what you wanted.” You confess, “you want to feel me bare? Fill me up? Cum inside me? Officer?” You coo as you lean closer, pressing your lips to his chin as you rock back onto him.

Javi groans and chases your lips, huffing out a curse when you pull away from his reach and he can’t drag you back. “Yes, fuck yes.” He hisses. “Want to feel you bare around my cock.”

You know it’s a rash decision but you’re lost in the lust and security that you take the pill like clockwork. You shift back and lift off his cock, pulling off the condom, and you moan as you notch him back at your entrance, slowly sinking down to feel all of him without the barrier between you.

Javi moans your name, his hands curling into fists and he curses that he can’t touch you. “Fuck baby, yes.” He groans. “Just like- fuck- move.” He begs.

You chuckle, loving how wrecked he looks, and you shake your head. You stay still on his cock and he tries to rock his hips but you clench your thighs to stay still. "Hermosa." He whines and you lean forward, pressing your lips to his, "fuck, I love to hear you beg. Now I want to hear you moan." You murmur and rock back onto his cock, starting a pace that makes you look like you're in the Kentucky Derby.

His toes curl in pleasure and his entire body tenses. “Fuck!” He yelps, wanting more and not sure that he can take it. You are perfect, tight and hot around him and like a vice when you roll your hips just the right way. You’re beautiful and he loves it.

You love how wrecked he looks, his eyes glazed over as you rock on top of him. “Feel so good, Javi, baby. Oh shit. Feel like you’re in my guts. I love this.” You pant, your palms slapping against his chest as you ride him.

He’s never been such a passive participant in sex but all he can do is let you ride him, his hips are planted against the bed. His cock twitching every time you slam back down on him. “Fuck you need to cum.” He begs. “Cum baby, I’m not gonna last.”

He’s so whiney and you love it, reaching down to rub your clit, and you moan his name. “Feel so good, baby. I’m gonna - shit. Oh - oh!” You cry out, clamping down on his cock and you soak him, loving how you feel every vein and ridge of his cock.

You clamp down around him and his feet curl in pleasure and he can’t help but rock his hips up. Your hips have stalled and you aren’t moving as your walls pulse around him. “Fuck baby, fuck, fuck.” He hisses, feeling his body pulling tight.

You want to see him fall apart, feel it inside you, so you grip the headboard over his head, stretching over his body. You slam your hips down against him, the sound filling the room and you lean in to kiss his jaw. “Cum for me, baby. Fill me up. Want you to cum inside me.”

It’s like he needed your permission. Rocking his hips up, your name is called out loudly as he buries his cock deep and paints your walls with his seed. Panting and whining as he rides out the best fucking orgasm he’s ever had. “Fuuuuuuuck.”

The sensation of his hot cum filling you up has your walls fluttering around him again, a soft cry escaping your lips while you grind back against him. “Oh God.” You pant, shifting to press your lips to his as his cock twitches inside you.

Javi takes control of the kiss even if he can’t pull you closer. His tongue sliding into your mouth possessively and his moans flowing into your mouth as he rides out his orgasm. Only tempering the kiss when you collapse against him in pleasure.

Panting against his jaw, your body is buzzing but you manage to shift off him, fumbling for the key you placed on the nightstand next to the cup of now melted ice. You reach up, wanting to release him from the cuffs, and manage to free him after some struggle to get the key in during your post orgasm haze.

Javi watches you fumble with the key, his smile soft and he lifts his head to kiss right above your breast. “I love you.” He murmurs softly.

You are surprised, eyes widening and you stop what you’re doing to look down at him. He stares back and you see the apprehension in his eyes until you grin, “I love you too.” You surge down to press your lips to his, “I love you.” You murmur between pecks. “Let me -” You manage to finish unlocking his hands, the handcuffs heavy as you set them down on the nightstand.

His arms go around you, pulling you close and rolling you onto your back so he is hovering over you. Caging you with his body. “You have been the best thing to happen to me.” He promises, kissing you again. He’s not a man who gets sappy or waxes eloquent poems or constantly says ‘I love you’ but he shows he cares and he is happy you feel the same way. Feeling like this is supposed to be.

You can’t stop smiling, sliding your fingers through his hair and down his shoulders, “I love you, baby. You’re the best man I’ve ever met.” You promise and sigh, feeling safe and warm in his arms. You can’t believe how lucky you are to have met him, to have him.

He kisses you again, rolling over and tucking you into his side. “Give me about ten minutes and I’ll show you how bad I can be.” He teases playfully, closing his eyes and sighing happily.

You giggle, caressing his chest, and you close your eyes. You never imagined you’d find someone like Javier and you can’t wait to see what the future holds for you. You hope he’s your person.

**** 

“Why are you nervous?” Javi chuckles as he holds your hand, pulling up to the small ranch house. “He’s going to love you.” It’s only two days later, but Javi knows that it’s the perfect time to introduce you to his dad. Wanting this to be permanent and let you get over the big ‘meet the family’ fear that you have.

You squeeze his hand, “I don’t want him to think - we got together so soon after you broke up with Lorraine and I just - I don’t want him to think less of me.” You confess with a shrug, “it’s, uh, it’s important that he likes me.” You bite your lip and look at his childhood home.

“Baby, he’s gonna love you.” He squeezes your hand and brings it up to kiss the back of it. “He never really liked Lorraine, to be honest.” He flashes you a grin. “So you’re already better.”

You chuckle, relaxing a little, and you let him open your door before you walk to the front door and Chucho opens it, a big smile on his face. “So you’re the reason my son can’t stop smiling nowadays.” He winks and Javi blushes, “Pa.” He says and Chucho tuts, “he’s never here but I can see why. He didn’t exaggerate your beauty.” He says and you fluster, reaching for his hand and he pulls you in for a hug. You tear up a little, reminded of your father and how long it’s been since you had a hug like this, and you hug him back. “Javi said you are a charmer. I guess that’s where he gets it.” You tease and Chucho chuckles, guiding you into his home, and you immediately feel at ease.

Javi smiles at the way his dad is flirting with you. He would barely talk to Lorraine and it’s just another indicator that he has made the right choice with you. “Let me get everyone a drink while you two talk.” He winks at you and goes into the kitchen.

You sit down on the sofa with Chucho and demand he tells you about Javier and he chuckles, “Oh, I have some stories.” He begins to tell you about a teenage Javier and you hear the phone ring.

Javi rolls his eyes as he picks up the phone. “Peña residence.” He answers like he has his entire life. “Javi.” He groans and turns towards the kitchen door to make sure you don’t hear him. “Why the fuck are you calling, Lorraine?” He demands quietly.

“I’m surprised I got you. I’ve heard all about your little diner skank that you’ve been fucking. My friends have seen you around town. Told me all about your little dates. You never took me bowling.” She huffs and Javier rolls his eyes, “what do you want?” He demands again and she snorts, “I was calling to tell you I’m pregnant. I just found out. Went to the doctor to make sure and I’m about ten weeks.”

Javi’s stomach drops, feeling like he’s been punched in the gut. “Bullshit.” He huffs, “we used a condom every time.” Lorraine scoffs. “You know it’s not one hundred percent.” She reminds him and he shoves his hand through his hair. “So what? You need money for an abortion?” He asks, hoping that she wants to get rid of the baby.

She scoffs, “I’m not getting rid of it. I’m keeping the baby.” She declares, “and I want us to meet. Try and work this out. I know your dad will kill you if you don’t stand by me, do the right thing. You need to take responsibility for your actions, Javier.” Lorraine announces and hears his heavy breathing through the phone.

Fuck. Javi’s eyes close and he screws his face up in anger and confusion. She's right, Chucho would kill him. “Goddamnit.” He hisses, angry at himself because he’s going to have to break up with you. “Yeah, fine.” He spits out. “Tomorrow.” He hangs up the phone and sighs.

You are laughing at something Chucho says when Javi walks back into the room, looking a little pale. “Everything okay, babe?” You ask and frown when he smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Yeah.” He murmurs and hands you a coke and his pop a beer. “Everything’s good.” He shrugs. “Got asked to take a double shift tomorrow.”

You nod, not sure if you believe him, but you can ask him later and you watch him as you sip your drink. He’s tense, like when he’s had a bad shift, but you try to focus on Chucho, wanting to make a good impression. Soon enough, you’re saying goodbye to Chucho with a promise to see him for dinner and Javier guides you to his truck to drive you home and you’re hoping he stays the night again since you don’t have an early shift. “What’s wrong, baby?” You ask, reaching out to caress his arm as he drives, “you seem so tense. You need a blowjob?” You tease, sliding your hand down to his lap.

“No.” He grabs your hand before you can touch his cock and laces his fingers with yours. “No, I’m good, baby.” He promises you. “I just have a headache.” He’s fucking praying that this is some kind of horrible joke or desperate attempt to get him back and he can tell her to fuck off and then explain everything to you. “I’m sorry I’m not better company tonight.”

You stare at him until you nod, “it’s okay. I have some Advil if you want.” You offer but he shakes his head, “I think I need an early night. Too many damn long shifts.” He says and you bring his hand up to kiss the back of his. “Go home and get some sleep. I’ll see you later.” You promise, not wanting him to get sick because he’s working too hard. He pulls up outside your house and you shuffle closer, leaning in to press your lips to his cheek. “It was great to meet your dad. I really like him. Good thing when I love his son.” You smirk and nudge your nose against his when he turns towards you.

“I love you.” The gruff words come out a little desperate, like he wants you to remember that in the future. He kisses you, devouring your mouth in one last kiss like it will be his last and he hates to break away. “Goodnight baby.”

You peck his lips, “goodnight, handsome.” You pat his chest and grab your purse, shifting out of his truck and you make your way to your front door, feeling his eyes on you as you unlock your door. You wave to him before you step inside and he sits there for a second until he finally pulls away. He needs to speak to Lorraine.

**** 

It takes him two days to call you. Swallowing harshly as the phone connects, his heart leaps when he hears your voice but he hates what he has to do. “Hey, it’s me.” He announces. “Hey baby, I’ve tried to call you.” You pout softly, and he closes his eyes. “Yeah I know. Listen - I, this isn’t working out. Okay?” He tells you. “I’m not gonna string you along. So yeah.”

You feel like you’ve been punched in the gut when you hear his words. You choke, trying to get your voice to work, “I- I don’t understand. What’s - why?” You blink, trying to stop the tears. “It’s just too much. I don’t want anything too heavy. I want to have fun.” He lies and you frown, “I didn’t want - I didn’t - okay.” You choke on a sob, “uh, I guess this is goodbye.” He hums, “yeah. Goodbye.” He says your name and the line goes dead. You sob, letting the phone hang from the cord and you collapse on the wall.

**** 

“Why the fuck do you want to go here?” Javi protests, pulling away from Lorraine as she steers him towards the dinner. “What does it matter?” She smirks at him and reaches for his hand again. “You’re through with her, right? So she’s just a waitress.” Javi shakes his head. “Goddamnit Lorraine.” He hisses and she pouts, stroking her flat stomach. “Don’t curse, it’s not good for the baby.” She’s been smug about their relationship, happy that he is back with her, even if she knows that he is unhappy. 

You are clearing a table when the bell above the door rings and your eyes widen when you see Javier and Lorraine. “Son of a bitch.” You mutter, unable to believe he’s back with her. He told you stories about how she would bully him into working for her dad, or calling in sick. She is controlling and you can’t believe he’s gone back to her. Maybe you were just a bit of fun. Your coworker offers to take the table but you shake your head, knowing you can’t run and hide. You walk over to their table and set some menus down. “Can I get you anything to drink?” You ask after you introduce yourself, feeling Javier’s eyes on you as you look at Lorraine.

“Baby, what should I have?” She asks coyly. “You’ve been here so much more than I have.” She flutters her lashes at Javi and he huffs, pulling his hand away when she reaches for him and leans back. “Just order a fucking drink.” He hisses, wishing that she had chosen any other restaurant in Laredo, but he’s sure she’s done this on purpose.

“I can’t have coffee. Maybe decaf.” She hums and you nod, “I’ll get you a decaf.” wondering if she has sleeping issues. You grab Javier a coffee without him asking and set them both down on the table after you breathe deeply at the coffee pots. “Can I get you anything to eat?” You ask, trying not to cry at how insane this situation is. “There’s a lot of things I can’t have but I’m starving. I’m eating for two.” She grins, placing her hand on her lower stomach. Your eyes widen and you nearly drop your pad, feeling like your heart has been crushed and you finally look at Javier.

Javi wants to just disappear, his eyes find yours and he begs you to understand. “Ten weeks.” He chokes out, wanting you to know that he didn’t cheat on you. This is a fucked up situation and he wishes it was you sitting opposite him.

You swallow harshly, knowing he got her pregnant just before he met you and it stings. You want to crawl under the table and sob but you won't give Lorraine the satisfaction. "Co-congrats." You offer him a weak smile and she beams, "we are so happy." Javier doesn't look happy but you tap your pen on your pad, "food?" You choke and Lorraine hums, ordering the oatmeal and Javier orders the All American just like he did the first time you met him. "Coming right up." You squeak and slam the ticket down for Adrian who offers you a look that says "I told you so" and you rush out the back door, covering your mouth as you try to not cry.

“Where are you going?” Javi is halfway out of his seat when Lorraine grabs his arm. “I’m going to the bathroom.” He hisses, jerking his arm away from her. “Quit being a bitch.” He turns around and strides towards the back door, bypassing the bathrooms.

The door opens and you are leaning against the wall when you see him walk towards you. "Don't" You plead, shaking your head. "Don't make this worse. Just go back in there and - and be with her." You plead, knowing that hearing his excuses will make you cry.

Javi stops and takes a breath. “I swear I didn’t mean for this to happen.” He promises you. “I’m so fucking sorry, hermosa.” He whispers before he turns back around and leaves like you want him to.

You watch him go until he heads back inside and you tilt your head back, refusing to let the tears fall and give Lorraine the satisfaction. You know he didn't cheat on you and that's what makes this worse. You love him but he has to be there for his child. Javier isn't the kind of man to walk away from responsibility and you know that's what he is with her. Time wasn't on your side and that's tragic. You compose yourself and walk back in, grabbing the food from the hot plate and you set it down. "Enjoy." You say flatly and walk off, leaving them to eat. When they are done, you remove the plates - Javier's food is hardly touched- and set the check down, not saying a word. Javier grabs his wallet and sets down more cash than the check. You don't walk over there to grab it, watching as Lorraine makes a show of getting out the booth and placing her hand on her stomach like she's seven months gone. "Thanks so much." Lorraine smirks, "maybe we will be back here with our baby for breakfast after church. We will see you then." She chuckles and grabs Javier, his eyes meeting yours and he nods before she is dragging him from the diner. You don't see Javier again. You decided, just before Javier's wedding day, to go on a trip. Get out of town and escape from the news that your love had gotten married. You don't hear the news that he didn't marry Lorraine until you return. When you're back. you hear that Javier had left to go join the DEA. Timing was never on your side.

**** 

“Where do you want to go eat?” Chucho asks and Javi shrugs. “Don’t know too many places open on Thanksgiving.” He answers, although he immediately thinks of the diner. He’s driven by there a few times in the days since he’s been home, but he’s never stopped in. “Well, damnit, I’m hungry.” His dad grumbles and Javi shakes his head. “Come on.” He huffs, grabbing his jacket. “Since you didn’t go grocery shopping, let’s go somewhere. Maybe they are still open on Thanksgiving.”

You smile at the old man who gives you a large tip for the holiday. You shove the money in the tip jaw to be split between you and Adrian when the bell rings. You turn around and your eyes widen when you see Chucho followed by a man you haven't seen in years. You inhale sharply, walking over to them. "Chucho. It's good to see you." You smile at the old man who you've seen at the store and around town several times. He never tried to justify his son's behavior and you never held malice towards him. "Happy Thanksgiving." You say and glance around, "pick any table. I'll get you some menus."

Javi stares, unable to believe that you are here. It’s like he’s dreaming like he has so many times before, coming into the diner to find you waiting for him. He murmurs your name and nods. “Good, uh, to see you.” He tells you, his heart pounding but you have to hate him, or at least think he’s an asshole. He is an asshole for what he did to you.

You finally look at him and God, he's still so fucking handsome. He has more lines on his face, but he still makes your heart pound. You hadn't heard about a child being born so you don't know what happened but you had heard Lorraine is now married to some big wig oil guy living in Dallas with two kids. "Good to see you." You murmur, turning around to grab some menus.

Javi’s eyes drop down to your ass before he looks away guiltily. He doesn’t need to be eying you like he had a chance, you’re probably married and have a couple of kids by now. “You shouldn’t have let that one get away.” Chucho tells him, having watched the way his son watched you. “Colombia might have been different.” Javi sighs and leans back. “Yeah, I know.” He grunts, glancing back at you as you come back with the menus, “believe me.”

You set the menus down, “coffee?” You ask and both men nod. You walk off to grab the pot and two cups, hating how your stomach feels like lead around Javier. It’s been years but you still think about him. You’ve been in and out of relationships but no one ever stuck in your heart like Javier did. Ridiculous considering you were together for two months. “What can I get you to eat?” You ask, grabbing your pad.

Chucho orders the Thanksgiving special and looks towards his son. Javi doesn’t even glance at the menu, too busy staring at you. “The All American if you still have it.” He tells you softly, glancing at your hand and noticing that you aren’t wearing a ring. You might just not wear one at work, but he’s selfishly hoping you are single even though you deserve someone to love and worship you.

Your heart twists at the familiar order and you nod, “hash browns, not grits.” You remember and he offers you a soft smile that makes your throat tighten. “That’ll be right out.” You nod and take the menus, handing the ticket to Adrian. “She owns the place now.” Chucho tells his son, not having spoken to him about you until today.

Javi’s brow shoots up and looks over at your back, watching as you methodically organize the condiments to bring over to them. “She deserves it.” He murmurs, thinking that you deserved a lot of nice things in life. “How often do you come here?” He asks.

“Couple of times a month when I want breakfast.” Chucho confesses, “I didn’t tell you because it wasn’t your business. She’s a good girl and I think you made a huge mistake letting Lorraine drag you along but it wasn’t my life. She is single, in case you were wondering. No husband or kids.” Chucho reveals quietly, tapping his fingers on the table.

“Pa.” Javi hates how his entire body thrills at the news that you are single. “She hates me. She has to fucking hate me after what I did.” He reminds his dad. “There’s not a chance in hell I would ever have another chance with her.” He watches as you turn back towards him and swallows. “Shit.”

You set the condiments down, feeling Javier’s eyes on you, and you smile at Chucho, “it’s good to see you again.” You tell his father, “your food will be out soon.” You walk away from the table, feeling Javier’s eyes on you and you reach for the menus, deciding to clean them off while you wait for their food.

“The least you could do is apologize.” Chucho huffs, making Javi’s shoulders round slightly. He knows that he owes you an apology and he sighs after a moment, tapping the table and standing up to walk over to you. “Can I talk to you?” He asks, sure that you will tell him to fuck off.

You glance at the empty diner and nod, gesturing for Javier to walk out the back door with you. You will let him give you his explanation, curious about why he didn’t end up marrying Lorraine. “Talk.” You order when you’re outside.

He’s nervous, rubbing his hands on his jeans and chuckles slightly. “Uh, so- uh, I owe you an apology.” He starts off. “I’m sorry. Lorraine called me, that day you met Pa and she told me she was pregnant.” He explains, knowing that it’s no excuse. “I was - shit, I was so angry at myself, because she wanted to get married for the baby, and I fucking just knew I had to marry that bitch.” He sighs. “And?” You prompt. “The night before the wedding she claimed she ‘had a miscarriage’.” He snorts. “I knew then that she had been faking the entire thing. Her cousin confessed. She knew we were together. Someone had see us out in town and she lied because she knew I wouldn’t shirk my responsibilities.”

You cross your arms, letting him sweat. You’ve had a lot of time to think about what happened. You huff, “did you not get her to take a pregnancy test?” You ask and he shakes his head, “she had a scan and a doctor’s test result.” You snort, “she’s inventive. Smarter than I gave her credit for.” You rub your forearms, “you really hurt me. I thought we had something. I really loved you. You devastated me and I had to work hard to recover from that, which is insane because we only dated for two months. You’ve been on my mind during every date I’ve been on. Compared every man I’ve been in a relationship with to you. I hated you for so long because you haunted me.” You shake your head and lower your arms, stepping back.

Javi sighs softly and doesn’t reach for you. “It’s safe to say you haunted me too.” He admits. “I- I came by your house.” He confesses softly. “The day I- my wedding day. I came to tell you how stupid I had been. How I wasn’t marrying her and that if you could take an idiot back, I would love you forever.” He flashes you a rueful grin. “You weren’t home that day. Or any day for the week that I came to your door.” He snorts. “Almost thought you had sold the house and moved.”

You stare at him, seeing the truth in his eyes, "I left town. Went away so I didn't show up at the church and try to get you to call it off." You chuckle humorlessly and shake your head. "I loved you so much I even considered telling you I'd be there for your child with Lorraine but I didn't want to be selfish and break up a family. I left and when I came back, I heard you'd joined the DEA. figured something had happened to the baby and you'd left Lorraine."

“Never was a baby, just a woman jealous that I had moved on.” He shakes his head. “I haven’t even dated since then.” You snort in disbelief and he nods. “I’m serious. I- fuck-“ he shuffles slightly in embarrassment. “I paid for sex when I needed it.”

Your eyes widen, "you paid for sex? You could've gotten sex for free every day night here." You chuckle and he shakes his head, "did it for intel on Escobar and for company, I guess." He shrugs and you smirk, "guessing you learned a few things down in Colombia?"

Javi smirks back at you and nods. “I have.” He admits. “Gave me a discount if I made them cum more than once.” He jokes.

"You must've gotten it nearly free." You playfully roll your eyes, remembering how good he was. "I've missed you. You look - you look like you've got the world on your shoulders." You observe, "not as carefree as I remember you."

“Colombia was tough.” He admits, shuffling slightly. “I’ve missed you too. A lot.” He had thought of you every day but figured that might be a little creepy. “You look good. Happy. You bought the place?”

“Yeah. Took some equity from my parent’s house to buy it when the old owner wanted to sell. I couldn’t imagine working anywhere else and I love it. It’s home for me.” You smile, glancing back at the diner. “I’m happy but not as happy as the time I spent with you.”

“Me neither.” Javi shuffles again and looks down at his feet before peering back at you. “I have no right to ask, and tell me to go to hell if you want, but how about I take you on a date?” He offers. “You might find I’m a miserable son of a bitch and the best thing I ever did for you was leave.” He shrugs. “And then you’ll at least get dinner out of it.”

You are shocked and bite your lip, uncertain of giving him a chance after how much he hurt you but you remember it wasn’t him, it was Lorraine. You nod, offering him a soft smile, “I’d like that. Just - just don’t hurt me again.” You plead softly, “you want to go get your food? It should be ready.”

“Only if you sit down with us?” He asks, smiling in relief that you are willing to give him another chance. Those two months were the best of his life and he still loves you now. Your memory helped him through some tough times and you didn’t even know it.

You nod, “okay.” You open the back door and Javier follows you inside. Adrian has the food ready so you grab it, carrying it over to the table, and Javier sits down, winking at you. You head over to grab a cup of coffee, “Adrian. You can take a break.” You tell the cook who grunts and eyes Javier through the window. You make your way back to the table with your cup of coffee and you take a seat next to Javier. Chucho’s eyes widen and you smile, flustered by the knowing look on the old man’s face.

“You apologize?” Chucho huffs and Javi rolls his eyes. “Yes, pa, I apologized. I have a lot to make up for.” He glances at you and smirks. “But I’ll grovel as long as I need to.”

You look at Chucho, “he has a lot of grovelling to do.” You tease and Chucho nods, “he absolutely does.” He raises his eyebrows at his son as he cuts up his food. After they eat, you clear the plates and Chucho goes to take out his wallet, “it’s on the house. Happy Thanksgiving.” You smile and Chucho shakes his head, “she’s always giving me free food.” He opens his wallet and pulls out some cash, “get yourself something nice or put it in the tip jar.” He says and it’s clear this is a routine the two of you have.

“How long are you going to be open for?” Javi asks after Chucho makes a comment about being out in the truck and leaving his son behind.

You glance at the clock, “not too much longer. I like to shut earlier on Thanksgiving nowadays.” You admit, “give Adrian time with his boyfriend and I was planning on having a bath.” You chuckle, “got myself some new bath bombs.”

Javi frowns for a moment before he understands. “Oh, those little fizzy things, right?” He asks, not having taken too many baths. He mainly sticks with showers. “That’s good. Hopefully you’ll be able to unwind.” He comments. “You still have the day after Thanksgiving off?” He asks. “Or does the boss work all the time?”

“I have Jean opening tomorrow so the boss has the day off. I was thinking about doing some Black Friday shopping. Unless someone else would like to do some groveling?” You hum, tilting your head at Javier.

He grins at you. “I think I should probably start, don’t you think?” He asks, shrugging slightly. “I can hold your bags if you want.”

“You hate shopping.” You remember and Javier chuckles, “exactly. Part of the grovelling process.” He winks and you smirk, looking at Chucho who is grinning. “Very well, Peña. Pick me up tomorrow at 10am. Bring your badge. I think it could come in handy in standoffs for the good stuff.” You wink and Javier snorts, “it’s a date.” You smile, “yeah. It’s a date.” You murmur softly, heart thumping again.

**** 

You hadn’t been lying when you said you wanted to go shopping. You’ve dragged him to every store in town, but Javi hasn’t complained. He’s let you shop and given you his opinion as you look through different items. The grin you throw at him occasionally tells him that you are testing him, but he just smiles back and offers to hold whatever bag you are carrying.

When you pull up outside your house, you turn towards Javier. He’s told you some things about Colombia during the day and you can see how haunted he is by his time there. You haven’t pushed but he’s not the Javier you knew, he’s deeper, darker, but there’s times where you see the funny, lighthearted Javier you loved and you know you’ve changed too. You still love him but now there’s more to love, no matter how dark those parts may be. You turn to look at him, “I think I need help taking all these bags into the house.” You hum, grabbing your purse.

“Of course.” He climbs out of the car and opens the back door. You’ve also got a ton of shit in the trunk, but he doesn’t complain as he starts to pile bags onto his arms. Hopefully he can get it all in two trips. Maybe three with that new coffee maker you bought at Belk.

You grab some bags and make your way to your front door, unlocking it, and you punch in your alarm code while Javier walks in behind you to place your bags down. You walk into the house to turn on the lights while Javier finishes his last trip for your things. He shuts your front door and you walk over to him, “thank you for doing that. Very good groveling.” You tease, placing your palms on his chest.

He huffs out a laugh and rolls his eyes at you. “At least you’re having fun with this.” He tells you. He licks his lips and his eyes slide down to your mouth before he looks up again. “You need me to do anything else for you?” He asks, voice dropping slightly.

You bite your lip, knowing you shouldn’t rush into anything but you’ve lost so much time with him thanks to Lorraine. He left to go fight the bad guys in Colombia and you can’t blame him for doing what he thought was best. “You could kiss me.” You murmur and he nods, leaning in to press his lips to yours.

Kissing you is like coming home. Javi groans as you soften against him, folding you up in his arms and deepening the kiss. Almost fearful of being rejected he takes his time and slowly slides his tongue against your lips to beg for entrance.

You eagerly open your mouth, your tongue sweeping against his and his groan vibrates against your lips. The kiss makes your heart flutter and you slide your hands to cup his cheeks, pressing yourself against him and you’re brought back to that first night you slept with Javi.

Kissing you know is just as addictive as it had been so long ago. Maybe more so because he knows exactly what he has. He curls you into him, eager to taste every bit of your mouth and overwhelm you both with the passion the is mounting.

​​You can tell he’s changed. His kiss is harsher, more desperate, and you can sense the turmoil behind it compared to the playfulness of so many years ago. You let him back you against your front door, your fingers working on the buttons of his shirt while he hardens against your thigh. You whine when he pulls back from your lips, kissing down your neck while his hands fumble with the button of your jeans. You moan when his fingers slide under the denim, finding your clit, and you manage to get his shirt open, trailing your hands along his chest.

He needs to pull away and ask if you are okay with this, if you want him, but he can’t. Too afraid of rejection right now as his fingers caress your folds and rub circles on your clit. He promised you he would grovel and he huffs to himself as he kisses down your chest and mouths at your breast over your shirt and bra, biting sharply before he’s sinking down to his knees in front of you.

You look down at him in surprise, shocked that he’s on his knees, working on pulling your jeans down. “What are you doing?” You ask breathlessly and he looks up at you, smirking, “I said I’d grovel on my knees.” You chuckle, nodding as you step out of your jeans and he hooks his fingers in your panties, dragging them down. “I’ve missed you.” You gasp when he leans in to kiss your thigh.

“Missed you too.” He groans. “Missed this pussy. Your taste.” He presses his nose to the thatch of hair between your thighs and inhales. “Your smell. You have the best fucking smell, baby. Missed your laugh. Your smile.” Everything that he lists is punctuated with kisses around your pelvis and thighs. “The way you would curl against me to sleep.” He looks up at you. “I wasn’t lying to you, I loved you. I still love you.” He promises. “I never stopped.”

Your heart pounds in your chest as you look down at him. No one has ever compared to him and you know you'll always love him. You run your fingers through his hair, "me neither. Always loved you." You promise and he leans in to slide his tongue through your folds. "Fuck." You pant as he flicks over your clit, his hands grabbing your ass to tilt your hips. You lift your leg onto his shoulder and you whimper when he wraps his arm around your thigh, burying his face in your cunt.

He’s sloppy and eager, rushing to make you moan his name again. He has dreamed of that sound for years. Closing his eyes and humming as his tongue flicks over your clit again and moves lower to push inside your wet walls. Drowning in your essence happily as he grovels before you.

It's been so long since you were worshiped like this and you tilt your head against the door, closing your eyes. "Fuck, Peña. Missed that tongue. You've gotten better." You observe, loving how he laps at you and it doesn't take long to work you up. You're soon panting, chest heaving, and your thigh shakes when he sucks on your clit. "Oh fuck!" You yelp, stomach twisting as you fall apart on his tongue.

His hands grip your hips, keeping you in place as your knees threaten to buckle and he moans into your cunt. Working you through it with determination until you’re whimpering and then he’s pulling back with a satisfied grin. “Still tastes so good.” He praises, kissing your hip.

You drag him up from the floor, lowering your leg and you press your lips to his while you push his shirt off his shoulders. "Bed. Want you in my bed." You order, letting his shirt drop to the floor as you grab his hand and drag him to the same bedroom he knew those years ago.

He chuckles as he lets you take him wherever you want to go. “I want to be in your bed.” He promises, reaching out with his free hand and snagging your waist to drag you closer and pressing his lips to your again. Sliding his hands up your back to unclip your bra beneath your t-shirt.

You let him pull your shirt over your head after he breaks the kiss, dragging your bra down your arms, and you toss them to the floor as you stumble into your bedroom. "Fuck, you've gotten more handsome." You observe when he pushes you onto your bed and you bounce while he works on taking off his jeans as he kicks off his shoes.

​​“That’s you.” He huffs. “Prettier than the day I met you.” He kneels on the bed after he wraps his hand around his cock and pumps it. “Fuck- I - I don’t have a condom.” He groans, eyes slipping closed. “I’ve been tested, but I-“

"I'm on the pill. I'm clean. I trust you. Please Jav. I need you." You know it's reckless but you want to feel him again. "If not, I have a condom." You add, wanting him to be comfortable and you bat his hand away to pump his cock.

“Fuck, you know I want to feel you.” He groans and rolls his hips into your firm grip. “Lay back and spread your legs, baby.” He begs. “Let me fuck you.”

You nod, spreading your legs, and he shuffles closer. When he notches himself at your pussy, your eyes flutter closed when he pushes into you. “Look at me.” He demands gruffly and you whimper, opening your eyes as he shifts to hover over you. You immediately cup his cheeks, bringing his mouth down to yours. You shouldn’t forgive him for breaking your heart but you need to. He was trying to do the right thing which was being with the mother of his child but you know he didn’t love her, he loved you.

Javi gives you everything in the kiss. Everything he has emotionally. Pouring himself into you as he slowly inches into your body. Sliding into your heat and feeling like he's come home again.

You caress his shoulders and down his back, loving how he feels. Your walls flutter around him as he stretches you out and you close your eyes, “love you, baby.” You murmur, feeling surrounded by him and you love how he starts to move. He feels more experienced and stronger but you don’t mind.

“Feel so good, so perfect.” He grunts, trying to keep from thrusting too deep or too hard so quickly. You probably haven’t had sex in a while and he doesn’t want to make even a second of this uncomfortable.

You can see how tense he is with the way he clenches his jaw and you want him to fuck you, to claim you. “Need more. Want you to make me yours.” You order, wrapping your legs around his waist.

Once you give him permission, Javi lets himself go. Snapping his hips harshly and filling you with hard strokes that gave him grunting as you clung to him. “Fuck, fuck.” He hisses. “Need this, need you.”

He takes your breath away as he thrusts into you like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do. Your heels dig into his ass and your nails scratch down his back. “Javi!” You cry, watching his nose flare as he rocks into you. “I- shit - so close. Keep - just like that.”

He grunts, it’s all he can do right now as he rocks into you. Feeling like your walls gripping him is his salvation and losing himself in the soul searing pleasure.

Your walls flutter around him as you are pushed higher and higher. His lips press against your neck, shifting his body to kiss down and take your nipple into his mouth. It’s hot and he bites down, making you react immediately. You clamp down onto his cock, your moan of his name echoing in your room as you soak him.

It’s what he needed to feel. The hit clench of your walls around him, the slick drenching his cock. Javi groans your name, pushing deep as his thrusts falter and he starts to pulse inside you. Closing his eyes and your name becomes a prayer on his lips.

You kiss everywhere you can reach as he twitches inside you, painting your walls. He pants when he stills above you and you caress his back, your body buzzing with emotion. Tears sting in your eyes and you sniff, making him jerk his head up to look at you, “did I hurt you?” He asks immediately and you shake your head, “no. No. I’m just - I’m happy.” You murmur, “so happy that you’re here.” You confess and he kisses your lips, nudging his nose against yours before he kisses your forehead. “I’m not leaving.” He promises and you caress his cheek, closing your eyes. “I’m home, baby.” He vows. 

**** 

“Javi!” You call out, “can you get your Pa another beer?” You ask and Javier comes back from the kitchen to set a beer down on the table for his father and he sets your glass of wine down on the table. “Thanks babe.” You peck his lips when he leans in to kiss you and his head caresses the baby that you cradle. “How is he?” He asks and you smile, looking down at the baby. “Fed and ready for a nap with his daddy. Mama needs her wine. Good thing I have milk stored.” You chuckle and you adjust the baby in your arms to slide him into Javier’s arms so you can tuck your breast away. 

Chucho looks away to be polite and Javier carries the baby into his room, laying him down in his crib. He watches his son for a moment and caresses his cheek, grabbing the baby monitor. He walks back into the dining room and sets the monitor down, picking up his beer, “the food looks delicious, baby.” He says and you smile, “Javier did most of the work today. Adrian helped me prep. We split the cooking so he could take some home to his boyfriend.” You confess and Chucho hums, “it looks incredible, mija.” Javier raises his beer, “happy Thanksgiving.” He toasts and you clink your wine glass against his bottle and Chucho’s bottle. “To the day we met.” You toast back and Javier smiles, leaning over to kiss you softly. This Thanksgiving is very different from past ones. No longer hanging around a diner for a breakfast during his shift, this year he’s spending Thanksgiving with his Pa, his son, and his beautiful wife. He’s truly blessed.

[galactic-magick]

I Love You, I'm Sorry: Viktor x Reader

Based off of this reply on my last Viktor fic:

@lillycore : Duddee, imagine after the final scene between Viktor and Jayce they just disappear (I refuse to believe they both died, I’m just going believe, until it’s confirmed, that they simply teleported somewhere else), leaving reader alone without a chance to confront Viktor and believing they both died. So now, reader is left to pick up the pieces of her closest friend and love of her life gone, while believing Viktor no longer loves her (he does though, he was just a little confused with everything, but he still loves her)

Words: 1.2k

Author's Notes: Thank you all so much for the notes and kind words on my last Viktor fic, it truly means the world to me as a writer to see so many people touched by my writing. I hope you enjoy this equally devastating part 2.

They’re gone. They’re really gone.

No family, no friends, not a single loved one of yours survived this damn war. All this world has done is take, take, take.

You’re haunted by the last time you saw your beloved Viktor—completely unrecognizable. He had turned himself into a monster, disappearing with Jayce trying to save him. You didn’t even get to say goodbye, you didn’t even get to tell him you still love him.

Or ask if he still loved you.

You don’t know what would hurt less, believing he stopped loving you, or believing he did everything he did while loving you.

-

“Why can’t she hear me?” Viktor shouts into the void. He’s been calling your name for what feels like an eternity, his voice no longer carrying to your world.

Jayce puts a comforting hand on his shoulder, “You don’t have vessels to speak through anymore. She probably thinks we’re dead. Well, maybe we are…”

“No, no, this can’t be the end,” Viktor shakes his head vigorously. “I have to get back to her. She...she needs to know I love her. She needs to know I’m sorry.”

He falls to his knees amongst the stars, cursing himself for everything. How could he choose the hexcore over you? Why didn’t he seek you out when he survived the explosion? How did he let himself descend so far into madness that he forgot about your importance to him?

He’s now desperate for you to hear him, pleading the forces that bind his consciousness to this astral plane for another chance. He searches this dimension he’s come to know so well, looking for a loophole or tear in the fabric, but it’s no use. Everything has been closed—his supposed eternal consequence for his abuse of power.

Jayce saved him from himself, a feat he will forever be indebted to him for, but what is the point of redemption if he cannot live it out in his own flesh?

Would there have been a body left for him anyway? Would you still have loved him as the monstrosity he became?

Why must he still be cursed with the full vision of the universe? He sees you continue your life so clearly, but he can’t touch you, can’t speak to you. Your form shines the brightest light he’s ever seem in this dimension, an achievement that is not easily matched. He wonders if you can feel him reaching out to you, some sort of spiritual pull back to him. He will do anything to find a way to talk to you again.

-

You’ve been having dreams—dreams you can’t explain. Ever since Viktor’s disappearance, he’s tormented you day and night, constantly occupying your thoughts without mercy. You can hear his voice, but it sounds so far away you can never make out the words. You just wish it would all stop. You wish you could just erase him and all of the pain from your memory.

Sometimes you still feel a presence, the feeling you used to feel when he was in the same vicinity with you, admiring you from across a room. It’s a familiar warmth that used to wash you with peace, whereas now it makes your heart ache. You suppose it’s a normal symptom of grief, subconsciously denying that he’s really gone.

You start to go through his things he left at your house, beginning with his various textbooks and notebooks he would bring over for studying. Seeing his scribbles and handwriting again brings tears to your eyes, a single drop falling onto the paper as you read.

You blink a few times, seeing a couple of letters on the page start to glow. You must be seeing things, hallucinating from sleep deprivation. You close the journal and open it again, but the glowing letters are still there.

You grab a separate piece of paper and write down each glowing letter, finding fifteen total.

“I - L-O-V-E - Y-O-U - I-M - S-O-R-R-Y”

This isn’t happening. It can’t be.

-

“It’s working! She got my message!” Viktor exclaims.

“How...how are you doing that?” Jayce asks.

“Tiny rips in space—not big enough for either of us to escape through—but certainly big enough to briefly touch that reality,” Viktor pauses, still waiting for a response from you, but it doesn’t come.

-

You close the journal and sob, praying for an end to this misery. Your mind is playing tricks on you, deceiving you to a level you never thought possible. Must you be haunted by this forever? Must you endure the aftermath of this trauma?

You open it once again, the letters still glowing, but they start to fade right in front of your eyes. A new set of letters begin to glow, so you write those down as well.

“I-T-S - M-E - D-A-R-L-I-N-G”

And then another set of letters.

“P-L-E-A-S-E - T-A-L-K - T-O - M-E”

Maybe you’re not imagining.

You’ve heard of magicians who can converse with the dead, and the possibility of other dimensional planes and universes. Viktor himself had some theories about it, although he never pursued proving them. Could it really be possible that your beloved was speaking to you?

“Viktor?” you say out loud. “Are you...are you alive?”

“I - D-O-N-T - K-N-O-W”

The pencil drops from your hand again as your head falls to the table. His consciousness is somehow alive, clearly, but there’s no way he can explain to you where he is and how to get him out one letter at a time. You’re nowhere near his level of intellect—even if he explained how to rescue him like you’re five years old—you fear you still would mess something up.

“Viktor...I can’t do this. You can’t do this to me,” you sigh, daring to look at the words again. “You abandoned me, and now my life is a living hell because of the destruction you helped cause. I want nothing to do with your war and stupid glorious evolution. So if you’re not here to take me away from this life, please go away.”

The same original words start glowing again, brighter each time they sequence:

I love you, I’m sorry.

I love you, I’m sorry.

I love you, I’m sorry.

“Love doesn’t do what you did. Love doesn’t abandon its humanity for power.”

Please forgive me.

“I do forgive you for everything, Viktor. That’s exactly why I need to forget about you, because I will never stop loving you and hurting for it if I don’t.”

With blurry eyes, you close the journal and throw it into the fireplace, regretting it almost immediately. You grab a stick and pull it out, your tears falling onto the soot-stained cover.

“Please, just...find a way back to me.”

I will.

[meazalykov]

mother who stepped up

stepmom!lena oberdorf x mom!reader

summary: lena accepts you, and the mini-you

warnings: one mention of death, nothing too impactful to the story though. very long fic

you’ve never been one for surprises. your life, at least recently, has been built on carefully crafted routines, ensuring that your two-year-old daughter, macy, is comfortable and happy. 

dating? it was something you thought would come much later—if at all. after coming to terms with your sexuality, you didn’t want to date unti you were reassured that you’d be with the right woman for your daughter. 

here you are, sitting across from lena oberdorf, a suggestion from your well-meaning friends, and even though you like her, there’s something you or your mutual friends haven’t told her yet.

everything had been going smoothly with lena from the start. she was charming, funny, flirtatious, and made you feel seen in ways you hadn’t felt in a long time.

you didn’t think you could get used to someone so effortlessly, but somehow, lena just fit into your life—except for that one secret you hadn’t yet shared.

you’re sitting across from lena at a cozy café, sipping your coffee and listening to her talk about her game against wolfsburg– a club she played many years ago. 

it’s easy to get lost in the sound of lena’s voice, the way her eyes light up when she talks about football. you nod along, smiling as she recounts a funny moment from practice. 

for a while, everything feels perfect—simple, like your lives are in sync. in the back of your mind, you know you will have to tell her about macy. the little mini-you that is currently coloring in her daycare class across munich.

the conversation shifts to lighter topics, and you pull out your phone to check a notification. 

you sit your phone flat on the table and as you’re about to lock the screen, lena leans in, catching a glimpse of the photo that displays on both your home and lock screen. 

your heart skips a beat when you realize what she’s seeing—macy, her chubby little cheeks, dimples, and wild curls staring back at you from the lock screen. 

lena’s brow furrows slightly, curiosity flickering across her face.

“aweee who’s that?” she asks, her tone casual but with a hint of intrigue.

you freeze for a second, unsure how to respond. 

here we go, you think, heart pounding. swallowing hard, you try to brush it off with a light chuckle. 

“oh, that’s little macy.”

lena tilts her head, staring at the screen for a moment longer before locking eyes with you. 

“macy?” she echoes. “is she… your niece or something? she looks just like you.” she smiles, clearly finding the resemblance cute.

you force a small smile, feeling your throat tighten. this is it—the moment you’ve been dreading. 

“uh, no… she’s not my niece.”

“oh,” lena says, looking at you, then back at the picture. 

“then, what, a cousin? a friend’s kid?”

you can see her mind working, trying to make sense of it. your fingers tighten around the edge of your phone, and you finally decide to rip the band-aid off.

“she’s my daughter….”

lena’s eyes widen, her gaze darting back to the screen, then to you. her lips part in surprise, but she doesn’t say anything right away. she stares at the lock screen as if seeing it for the first time, really seeing it.

“your daughter?” she repeats softly, almost like she’s processing the words.

you nod, feeling the anxiety rising in your chest. 

“yeah. she’s turning two in a few months. macy’s my little girl.”

for a long moment, lena just looks at the photo, her expression unreadable. you watch as her gaze flickers between the image of macy and you, comparing the two of you. 

“she… she looks just like you,” lena murmurs, her voice almost in awe. 

“i thought she was you for a second, like, as a baby.”

you let out a small, nervous laugh, trying to keep the mood light despite the tension knotting in your stomach. 

“yeah, she’s basically my mini-me. she’s got my nose and everything.”

lena doesn’t seem to hear your attempt at humor. instead, her brow furrows deeper as she studies the photo. 

“wait, she’s… really your daughter? like, you have a kid?”

you bite your lip, feeling the weight of the moment settle over you. 

“yeah, she’s mine. i know i should’ve told you sooner, but…” you trail off, not knowing how to explain the complexity of it all.

“but why didn’t you?” lena asks, her tone still soft, but there’s something raw in her voice—an undercurrent of emotion that you can’t quite place.

you glance down at your coffee, swirling it absentmindedly. “i didn’t know how,” you admit. 

“i didn’t want to scare you off. most people aren’t exactly thrilled about dating someone with a kid.”

lena leans back in her chair, processing what you’ve said. “you thought i’d be scared off because you’re a mom?”

you shrug, feeling a little defensive but mostly scared. “it’s happened before,” you say quietly. 

“people hear ‘single mom,’ and they run for the hills. i just… didn’t want that to happen again.”

lena is quiet for a moment, her eyes still on the picture of macy. she seems to be absorbing everything, and you can’t help but hold your breath, waiting for her to say something—anything.

“is the father around?” lena says her thoughts out loud. 

“oh no no no. um– he didn’t want anything to do with macy. he also passed away shortly after mae turned one. her father and i were never together or even had feelings for eachother– it was just um..” you trail.

“i’m very sorry about that.” lena says, looking up at you before looking back to the photo of your little daughter. 

“oh no don’t apologize.” you say.

there's a pause for a few minutes. its clear that you wanted to switch the topic away from macy’s biological father, who wanted nothing to do with her before his passing anyways. 

lena looks up at you, giving your phone back with her expression softening. 

“you’d thought i’d run?” lena asks, a small, incredulous smile playing on her lips. 

“because of this? because of her?”

you shrug again, not trusting yourself to speak. all your worst fears are bubbling to the surface, and you can’t shake the feeling that this might be the moment it all falls apart.

lena reaches across the table, taking your hand gently in hers. 

“y/n, she’s beautiful,” she says, her voice sincere. “i mean, she really is a little version of you.”

you blink, the words not sinking in right away. “you… you’re not mad?” you ask, your voice trembling just slightly.

lena shakes her head, squeezing your hand. “no, i’m not mad. i just… wish you’d told me sooner. i know we’ve only been official for a week but–” she pauses, her thumb brushing over your knuckles. 

“i get why you didn’t, but… i’m not going anywhere. i like you. and now that i know about macy… i like her too. even if we haven’t met yet.”

the relief that washes over you is almost overwhelming, and you feel your eyes welling up. you’ve been bracing yourself for rejection, for lena to tell you this was too much for her. 

though here she is, sitting across from you, holding your hand, and telling you that she’s not going anywhere.

“you’re really okay with this?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

“more than okay,” lena says, her voice firm but kind. 

“you’re a mom. that’s a part of who you are, and that’s okay with me.”

you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, your heart finally starting to settle. 

“thank you,” you whisper, blinking back the tears. “you don’t know how much that means to me coming from you.”

lena smiles, giving your hand one last squeeze before letting go. “so, when do i get to meet this little mini-you?” she asks with a teasing grin.

you chuckle softly, wiping at the corner of your eye. “soon. i just… didn’t want to spring her on you right away.”

“well, now that i know about her,” lena says, leaning back with a playful smirk, “i feel like i’m the one being kept a secret from macy.”

you laugh, the tension between you finally breaking. “i guess we’ll have to fix that soon.”

lena grins, taking another sip of her coffee. “i’m looking forward to it.”

the next day– lena doesn’t text much. you know that she is busy training at bayern but anxiety consumes you. 

your thoughts spiral. maybe she changed her mind and realized that it was too much for her. maybe she’s having second thoughts. 

by mid-afternoon, you’re glued to your phone while macy is with her aunt (your sister), checking for any sign from her. 

nothing comes, and your heart sinks.

as you’re picking macy up from your sisters, your phone finally buzzes. lena’s name flashes across the screen, and you almost drop your keys in your hurry to check it.

lena: hey, can we talk later? i’ve been thinking a lot.

you stare at the message, panic clawing at your chest. thinking doesn’t sound good. you force yourself to respond.

you: sure. what time?

the reply is almost instant. 

lena: i can come over tonight?

you hesitate. having her over… that means she’ll meet macy, and you’re not sure if you’re ready for that yet. you also know you can’t keep her at arm’s length forever. you type back quickly.

you: yes, come at 7.

you spend the rest of the afternoon trying not to overthink it. 

as soon as macy is fed and bathed, your nerves start creeping back. you’re pacing the living room, glancing at the clock, when the doorbell rings.

macy, sitting on the couch with her stuffed miffy bunny and fluffy blanket, perks up. 

“mama, door!”

you smile, ruffling her hair. 

“stay here, baby,” you say softly, walking to the door. 

you open it, and there she is—lena, standing on your doorstep wearing a black outfit along with a grey beanie, looking as unsure as you feel.

“hey,” she says, giving you a small smile.

“hey,” you reply, stepping aside to let her in. you’re about to close the door when macy toddles over, clutching her miffy bunny in her small hands. lena’s eyes immediately land on her, and she smiles.

“this must be macy,” lena says, her tone soft and warm.

you nod, watching as macy stares up at lena with her wide (reader’s color) eyes. 

“yeah, this is her.”

lena crouches down to macy’s level, holding out her hand. “hey, macy. i’m lena.”

macy looks at you for reassurance before shyly reaching out to shake lena’s hand. 

“miffy bunny,” she says, showing off her stuffed toy.

lena chuckles softly. “that’s a cool bunny.”

you watch the exchange, your heart swelling with something you hadn’t expected. lena looks so natural with macy, and it’s a sight you weren’t prepared for. 

you clear your throat, trying to shake off the wave of emotion.

“so, um, you said you wanted to talk?” you ask, motioning for lena to follow you to the couch.

she nods, standing up and giving macy one last smile before sitting beside you. macy toddles back to the couch, climbing up and sitting between your legs, still clutching her bunny as her small arms hug your waist.

“yeah,” lena says, glancing between you and macy. “i’ve been thinking a lot since last night.”

you nod slowly, waiting for the bomb to drop.

“i know this is a lot,” she continues, her voice gentle but steady. 

“and i understand if you’re worried about how i’ll fit into your life, into macy’s life, but… i want to try.”

you blink, taken aback. “you do?”

lena nods, reaching out to gently take your hand. 

“yeah. i mean, i didn’t expect this either, but i really like you, y/n. and if macy’s a part of your life, then i want to be a part of that too.”

you sit back, still reeling from the way the conversation unfolded. the tension that had knotted up your stomach starts to loosen, but you can’t help feeling the need to set some boundaries—just to be sure lena knows what this really means. 

it’s too early in the relationship to assume anything, and you don’t want to put any pressure on her, especially when it comes to macy.

taking a deep breath, you meet lena’s eyes. 

“i just want to be clear about something,” you say softly. 

“i don’t expect anything from you when it comes to macy. you’re not obligated to her, and i’d never force any duties on you. it’s still really early in our relationship, and i don’t want you to feel like you have to step into a role you’re not ready for. if you just want to date me, that’s okay. i mean it. however i just want you to understand that in a case between you vs. macy– i’ll always choose macy.”

lena watches you closely, her brow furrowing slightly as she listens. she leans forward, resting her arms on the table, and shakes her head gently. 

“y/n, you don’t have to put up walls.”

you bite your lip, feeling the weight of her gaze. “i’m not putting up walls,” you explain quietly. 

“i just… i want to be fair. macy’s is the biggest part of my life, but she’s my responsibility, not yours. i don’t want you to feel like you have to take on so much at once. i don’t want you to feel trapped.”

lena sits back in her chair, exhaling slowly. her eyes soften as she takes in your words. 

“first of all, macy isn’t a trap,” she says firmly, her tone leaving no room for doubt. 

“she’s your daughter. i don’t see that as something to run from.”

your heart stumbles at her words, but you try to stay grounded. “but it’s still a lot for you,” you press gently. 

“being with me means being with macy too, and that’s a lot to ask of anyone. especially this soon.”

lena reaches across the table again, her hand finding yours, warm and steady. “i get what you’re saying,” she begins, her voice calm but sincere. 

“and i appreciate that you don’t want to rush things or put pressure on me. but, y/n, macy is a part of you. she’s part of your life, and if i want to be with you, that means i’m choosing to include her too.”

she squeezes your hand, her eyes locked on yours. “i’m not saying i’m trying to be her mom right away, or that i know how all of this is supposed to work. but i want to figure it out. because macy is important to you, and that makes her important to me.”

your heart swells, and you can feel the tears prickling at the corners of your eyes again. you hadn’t expected this, not so soon, and certainly not with such certainty in her voice. 

it’s like lena had already made the decision in her heart before you even started this conversation.

you blink back the tears, swallowing hard as you nod. “i… i didn’t know if you’d feel that way.”

“of course i do,” lena says softly, her thumb gently brushing the back of your hand. 

“i’m not scared off by you being a mom, y/n. it doesn’t make me want this any less.” 

you take a shaky breath, overwhelmed by the depth of her words. “i’ve never had anyone say that to me before,” you admit, your voice barely a whisper. 

“it’s always been the reason people walk away.”

lena’s eyes soften even more, and she moves her chair closer to you, her hand never leaving yours. “well, i’m not them,” she says simply, her voice steady and sure. “i’m here. and i’m not going anywhere.”

the emotions well up in you, and for a moment, you’re speechless. you look down at your joined hands, feeling the weight of the moment settle over you. she’s serious. she’s really serious.

“thank you,” you finally whisper, your voice thick with emotion. “thank you for… for staying.”

lena smiles, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to your temple.

macy, oblivious to the weight of the conversation, leans against your arm, yawning as she starts to doze off. 

you glance down at her, then back at lena, your heart full in a way you hadn’t felt in a long time.

from that moment on, things between you and lena shift. she starts coming over more, spending time not just with you but with macy too. 

at first, macy is a little shy around her, but lena is patient, never pushing too hard, just gently easing her way into your daughter’s life. it doesn’t take long before macy is running to the door to greet lena with a grin, her little arms reaching up for a hug.

the first time macy calls her "obi”,  your heart skips a beat. it's a simple moment—you're all sitting on the floor of your living room, surrounded by toys, when macy tugs on lena's sleeve, her big eyes looking up at her expectantly.

"obi, play?" she asks, holding out a mermaid barbie.

lena grins, taking the truck from macy. "of course liebe."

watching them together, you can't help but smile. it’s becoming clearer each day—lena’s not just here for you. 

she’s here for macy too. sometimes you joke that she is only here for macy.

as the years goes by, lena becomes more and more involved in your life. she starts joining you for bedtime routines, helping with bath time, reading macy her favorite stories as she grows older. 

after lena, macy, and you move into an apartment together— lena is for the tantrums, the messy dinners, the sleepless nights. sometimes, she will take the initiative so you can rest. the more time she spends with macy, the more it feels like she belongs in your little family.

three years after the important conversation, your life with lena feels like a dream. 

macy is five now, full of energy and curiosity, and lena has been there for all of it—every scraped knee, every preschool recital, every bedtime story. your home is filled with laughter and warmth, the life you never imagined you’d have when you were raising macy on your own. 

now, as you sit together on the couch, macy fast asleep in her room, lena leans into you, her fingers tracing patterns on your hand. she’s quiet, more thoughtful than usual, and you can sense something’s on her mind. she glances at the engagement ring on your finger, the same ring you’ve been admiring for months now, and then turns to you with a serious expression.

“i was thinking,” lena says quietly, her voice soft in the dim light.

“about what?” you ask, turning to look at her.

she hesitates for a moment, her hand pausing on your arm. “about macy. and… about us.”

your heart skips a beat, but you keep your voice steady. “what about us?”

“i know it’s still early but…” she says, her voice careful, 

you blink, processing her words. “but…?”

she takes a deep breath. “once we get married i’ll be macy’s stepmom. something i’ve been thinking about for a while. however i don’t want to wait until then. i want to be a mom to macy. if you’ll let me.”

the weight of her words settles over you, and for a moment, you’re speechless. you’d always hoped, deep down, that lena would want to be a part of macy’s life, but hearing her say it out loud—it feels overwhelming in the best possible way.

“i know i’m not her biological mom, and i’ll never try to replace that, but… i love her, y/n. i love both of you. and if you’re ready for that, i’d like to be her mom too.”

the tears you’ve been holding back finally spill over, and you reach up to cup her face, your thumb brushing against her cheek. “we’d love that, obi.” you whisper. “we’d love that.” you repeat in awe.

when macy starts calling her “mama lena,” after she turns six– your heart nearly bursts with love.

macy is seven now, and the bond between her and lena has only grown stronger over the years. she clings to lena in a way that sometimes surprises you—like she’s always seeking her approval or comfort. 

it’s been that way ever since lena officially adopted her after turning thirty-one, and you and lena got married. 

you remember that day so vividly, the moment the judge declared that lena was now macy’s legal mother. the joy on lena’s face, the way macy had leaped into her arms, calling her “mama” with such pure excitement, filled your heart with pride and love.

it wasn’t long after when lena got the call—an offer from chelsea. it was a huge opportunity, one that meant she’d be competing in the women’s super league. after a lot of late-night talks and some serious decision-making, lena accepted the offer, which meant the three of you were moving to london. 

the change was exciting, something fresh and new for all of you. macy was thrilled at the idea of living in a new city, and as for you, the thought of starting a new chapter together made you incredibly happy.

in london, lena is the person macy runs to for almost everything. scraped knees, homework help, even just to ask if she can have a snack—lena is her go-to. most days, it fills you with happiness to see them so close, to know that macy has someone who loves her so much. 

sometimes, like today, you can’t help but feel a little sting.

you’d been in the middle of getting macy ready for school. she was in a hurry as usual, fidgeting in her seat while you knelt to help her tie her shoes. 

before you could finish, she pulled her foot away, laughing. “no, no, mama lena does it better!” she giggled, her bright smile lighting up her face.

you laughed too, even though the words pricked at your heart. “oh, really?” you teased, raising an eyebrow.

“guess i’ll need to practice, huh?”

macy just grinned, her curls bouncing as she wiggled her toes. “yeah, you should! don’t worry, you’re still good at other stuff!”

you smiled, ruffling her hair. “well, i’m glad i’m still useful for something.”

she giggled again, completely unaware of how her innocent words had stirred something in you. 

you shoved the feeling aside quickly, focusing instead on making her laugh as you pretended to dramatically fumble with her shoes. her laughter filled the room, her curls tumbling down her back as she leaned forward in her chair, watching you with bright eyes. 

it wasn’t until you were dropping her off at school that the feeling crept back in, like a quiet ache in the pit of your stomach.

it wasn’t that you were jealous—at least, you didn’t think you were. you loved that macy and lena were so close. you’d always hoped that one day macy would have a strong bond with lena, and seeing it unfold so naturally had been like a dream come true. 

still, moments like this made you wonder if you were slowly being edged out, if macy was starting to see lena as the “cool” mom while you were just… the other one that happened to look like her.

you tried not to dwell on it too much. lena had been nothing but supportive, always making sure you knew how important you were to both of them. and really, you were happy. 

lena had embraced being a mother to macy in every way—going to parent-teacher conferences, staying up late to help with school projects, even helping macy with her football in-between training at chelsea. 

that was another thing: football.

macy had recently started showing a serious interest in the sport, much to lena’s delight. she idolized her mama, always asking about drills and tactics, begging to go to practice with her. 

one afternoon, after watching one of lena’s games, macy had turned to you both, her eyes wide with excitement. 

“i want to play football too!” she’d said, bouncing on her toes.

lena’s face had lit up with pride. “you do, huh? well, we can definitely make that happen.”

since then, lena had been working on getting macy into training, talking to coaches and setting up practice sessions in your backyard. you’d watch them sometimes, lena patiently teaching macy how to pass the ball, how to position herself. 

the way macy looked up at lena, so full of admiration, always made you smile. you were thrilled that your daughter had someone like lena to look up to, someone who could teach her the things you never could.

and yet, in the quieter moments, when macy would run to lena after a long day, her arms wrapping tightly around her waist, you couldn’t help but feel a tiny pang of sadness. it wasn’t that macy didn’t love you—she did, of course.

there was something different about the way she clung to lena, like lena was her whole world. you couldn’t blame her. lena was a natural with her, always knowing just the right thing to say or do to make macy feel safe and loved.

you’d catch yourself watching them sometimes, a soft smile on your face as you listened to their conversations, the easy way they communicated without needing to say much. you’d hide your feelings behind a joke, like the time macy had joked about lena being better at making breakfast, and you’d playfully said, “well, guess i’ll just stick to making the coffee then.” macy had laughed, and you’d felt the sting lessen, pushing it to the back of your mind.

around this time, you and lena had started talking more seriously about having another child. 

this time, you would carry, using lena’s egg along with a donor. you’d been through a few consultations, and after what felt like a whirlwind of planning and waiting, the IVF procedure was finally successful. 

you were pregnant with another little girl.

the joy that filled your heart was indescribable. the idea of adding to your family, of giving macy a sibling, was something you’d dreamed about for so long. and now, with the news confirmed, it was time to tell macy. 

you weren’t sure how she’d react—she’d always been so used to being the only one, the center of attention. but you were hopeful that she’d be excited.

one evening, you and lena sat macy down, her favorite blanket draped over her lap as she snuggled on the couch between you. lena’s arm was around your shoulders, her hand resting gently on your belly, already slightly swollen with the new life growing inside.

“munchkin,” lena said softly, looking at macy with a warm smile. “we have some big news for you.”

macy looked up, her curiosity piqued.

“what is it?”

you took a deep breath, smiling as you leaned forward a little. “you’re going to be a big sister, sweetheart.”

macy’s eyes widened, and for a moment, she just stared at you, her mind clearly racing to process what you’d said. 

“a big sister?” she repeated, her voice uncertain.

“that’s right,” lena added, squeezing your shoulder gently. “there’s a baby in here.” she gestured to your belly. “a little sister for you.”

macy’s face scrunched up, her expression a mix of confusion and hesitation. “but… i like being the only one,” she admitted, her voice small.

you shared a glance with lena, both of you understanding her hesitation. “we know, sweetheart,” you said gently. 

“and you’ll always be our first, our special girl. but having a sister means you’ll have someone to play with, someone who’ll look up to you, someone who’ll need your help.”

macy was quiet for a moment, clearly thinking about what you’d said. her little fingers twisted in the edge of her blanket, her brow furrowed as she processed the news. you could tell she wasn’t sure how to feel.

“and you’ll still get to do everything you love,” lena added. “football, school, everything. this just means there will be more love in the house. and maybe, when she’s old enough, you can teach her some football moves.”

macy’s eyes brightened a little at that, the idea of teaching someone something she loved appealing to her. “i get to teach her football?”

you smiled, nodding. “absolutely. you’re going to be the best big sister ever.”

slowly, macy’s frown faded, replaced by a tentative smile. “okay,” she said, her voice soft but a little more certain. 

“i’ll be the best big sister ever. but only if i get to teach her football.”

lena laughed, pulling macy into a tight hug. “deal.”

and just like that, your family took another step forward, your heart full of love as you prepared for the next chapter in your lives—together.

masterlist

[miioouu]

Ghost's New Neighbour pt2

I wasn’t planning on making a second part of this, but since you all like it and asked for it, here we go, i guess. Tw: Smut, Oral (male receiving), no gender used for reader (but a little feminine?), mean Ghost (sorry, i tried many times to write a sweet simon fic but i just can’t!!) Wc: 842 

“Come over later, 8:30 pm sharp, I don't appreciate tardiness” His words ring in your ears, distracting you from your tasks. How are you supposed to focus on putting your plates away when you can still feel the ghost of his lips against your skin? 

You know it’s a bad idea; first of all, he’s your neighbour, it’ll be awkward later on, you’ll definitely regret it, and what if the word comes out; do you really want to be known as the building’s resident slut? Second of all, he’s a stranger, you don’t know anything about him. Even the doorbell doesn’t have his name on it, paper white without even an initial or anything to give you a clue about this mysterious man. You’ll regret it, you definitely will. 

So why are you smoothing down your clothes? Rechecking your lipstick for the nth time? Why are your fingers hovering above this damn ringer, throwing all morals away?

It’s 8:30 sharp when the ding echoes in his rather empty apartment; he chuckles, part of him certain that you’d come over, the other held hope that you’d be a little wiser than this, a little more modest than this; but you weren’t, of course not, else you wouldn’t have let you touch him like he did in the elevator, wouldn’t have shivered when his words tickled your ear, wouldn’t have gotten wet at the feather-like brushing of his cock against your ass. No dignity, he thinks as he lazily makes his way over to open the door for you, internally laughing at the sight of you making yourself all pretty for him, what a nice shade of lipstick. 

He liked it so much, that pinkish tone that made you look a little more glowy, a little more flushed, not that you needed that enhanced. He liked it so much on your lips, and even more when it left a mark around his shaft. Honestly you don’t remember how you got here; one moment you were shuffling in his doorway, struggling to greet him without stuttering, the next you were in the middle of his living room, on your knees, his cock sliding in and out of your mouth languidly. His hands find your hair, guiding you back and forth around his length, setting a slow pace at first, wanting to relish in the feeling of your warm mouth, the tightness of your throat constricting as you gag whenever he pushes a little too deep. 

But Simon was never a patient man, sure he learned how to dismiss his frustration on the field, learned how to manipulate himself into being more forbearing, but he will not use those tricks now, not when he has bright, glossy eyes looking at him, begging him to use their mouth. Who was he to deny them anyway? He thought about warning you, but where’s the fun in that, right? In a swift motion, he pulls you closer until your nose nuzzles against his pelvic, his pubes tickling you but you don’t have time to adjust because he’s already pistoning his cock in and out your warm cave. He lets out a groan, his head falls back as he feels your nails dig in his thighs, holding onto him like a lifeline, creating bloody crescents on his skin, just some other scars to add to his collection. 

The once always empty, always eerily silent apartment, now feels suffocating, loud with groans and hisses from the tall man, mixed with your gagging echoing through the room. “Slut” that whispered word is what broke the chaotic symphony. Your pride is telling you to pull away, glare at him and defend your honor, but you can’t do that; not with his hands clutching at your hair and keeping you in place as he fucks your mouth, not when your thighs are pressing together, imagining, knowing, just how soaked the pretty panties you were wearing became.  

You can feel him getting closer to the edge with the way his thrusts became messier and more erratic, with the way his grip on your hair keeps tightening and getting loose over and over again, with the way his eyes are fluttering, cheeks are getting redder and his chest is heaving, letting out mumbled curses under his breath. “Fuck…come on make me cum, pretty girl” The demand alone made your thighs clench, a whimper escaped you, vibrating around him and sending goosebumps all over his body “Fuckin’ slut” he groans, accent heavy, as he finally stills, reaching deep as he releases ropes of hot, sticky liquid, painting your throat white. 

You’d think this was only the beginning, the way his hand loosens around your hair, massaging your scalp where he was pulling too hard, making you melt and whimper, heart skipping a beat at his gentleness, only to be broken the moment he pushes you back, adjusting his sweatpants properly before turning away. “Tomorrow at the same time, don’t be late. Now leave my house, it’s not the place for a desperate whore like you.”

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[mochiwonz]

― WE LISTEN AND WE DON'T JUDGE

PAIRING. gn/fem!reader x boyfriend!enhahyungline CONTENT. hyungline (heeseung, jay, jake, sunghoon) headcanons , suggestive :3 , petnames , a little fluff..? NOTE. i find this trend so funny so i had to make this LOL i was actually gonna make a whole fic off of this idea but i'm lazy so...hope u enjoy ˃o˂ ♡

HEESEUNG

"hee, let's do this trend!" you say as you basically shove your phone in his face. he giggles, he found it cute how you always loved doing silly trends with him. but as he continues to watch the video, he's unsure. it's kind-of...TMI? he looks at you and you're cheesing ear to ear, fuck, he can't say no. "okay let's do it" he tells you while pulling you onto his chest. you click record and you both say "we listen and we don't judge" luckily, you end up going first, giving him time to think. however, his thoughts are cut short when he hears you say "i love your nose so much and sometimes i think about sitting on it" he doesn't know what he was expecting, but it definitely wasn't that. he's fucked.

JAY

"princess, have you seen that one trend on tiktok? the-" he asks but you quickly cut him off. "oh my god the we listen and we don't judge one? can we do it?!" you ask excitedly, obviously expectant. you both know he couldn't say no to his princess. unfortunately, maybe he should've said no, just this once. "we listen and we don't judge" you both say. "baby go firstt" you tell him, and he listens. "uhm- okay. when i had a crush on you i used to stalk your insta...?" jay says timidly while looking at you, and he notices a change in your expression when you realize it's your turn. "hm, okay. i screen record your voice on facetime calls so that i can uh...use it later...?" you're blushing a little, realizing you just exposed yourself like crazy. oh well, at least jay is blushing too!

JAKE

it's 2:50 am and you and jake are still awake, watching tiktoks on his bed while cuddling. jake comes across a trend, a familiar trend, and asks if you want to do it with him. of course, you say yes, this trend was so funny and you secretly wanted to do it with jake too! "we listen and we don't judge" you both say, and jake starts off. "when i'm in the shower i lather my body with soap and carve your initials in it" he admits while laughing from his embarrassment. you giggle "that's weird but also kinda cute" jake scoffs playfully "yeah yeah okay, your turn" you think for a little and hah, jake won't be ready for this one. "i had a dream that i gave you a blowjob a year ago and your dick was huge" you look up at jake and he's just staring at you, but next thing you know he's on top of you. you can imagine the rest <3

SUNGHOON

you had sent sunghoon a tiktok of a couple doing the "we listen and don't judge" trend and that had sparked an idea in his head. a few hours later after you arrived to his place, you remembered that you wanted to do that tiktok trend with him. sunghoon was so happy you brought it up- he had basically forgot. "okay hoon, you'll start?" you ask, and he nods. "okay, i get hard when you wear miniskirts." he says with a playful grin plastered onto his beautiful face. he immediately notices the change in your demeanor, and you grin back at him. you straddle his lap and end up catching him off guard. "so my plan with the miniskirts did work. nice!"

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