#*moves hands in a rainbow motion*

[of-stars-and-fireflies]

Matching PFPs for him and her

[sturnioz]

‘SEVEN DAYS’ — CHRIS STURNIOLO

pairing. chris sturniolo x fem!reader. genre. established relationship au, smut.

word count. 16.6k.

❝you can handle me for seven days.❞

content warnings. crack humour involved, crude jokes, explicit content, multiple sex scenes, oral (female and male receiving), unprotected sex, bathroom sex, backshots, riding, car sex, kitchen sex, anal, dirty talk, heavy petting, creampies, hair pulling, squirting, spanking, | nicknames like 'baby', 'babe', 'ma', and 'mama' are used throughout.

# ( PROLOGUE )

“What are you doing?” 

Your eyebrows pull together as you step into the room, your gaze immediately landing on Chris, who's seated at the kitchen table.

He's hunched over, chunky headphones covering his ears, a rainbow of coloured pens scattered around him—some uncapped and rolling close to the edge of the table as his hand moves quickly, scribbling something on a sheet of paper.

Strands of curly hair have fallen into his face, concealing most of his expression, but even without seeing his eyes, you know that look—the one where he's so lost in focus that the rest of the world doesn't even exist to him right now.

Turning your head, you spot Nick and Matt in the living-room. Matt is sprawled across the couch, his legs stretched out comfortably while his thumb idly scrolls through his phone. Nick sits on the other end, his feet propped up on the coffee table with a bowl of popcorn balancing in his lap, his attention fixed on the tv screen.

You glance back at Chris, still oblivious, deciding to try a different approach as you shift your gaze back to the boys.

"What is he doing?"

“I have no idea. He won’t tell us, and honestly? I don’t give a fuck,” Nick responds without looking away from the screen, shoving a handful of popcorn into his mouth before continuing. “But we actually have some peace and fucking quiet for once, let’s not bother him—please.”

With a crease in your forehead, you cross the room to approach the kitchen table, setting your bag down on the edge with a soft thud, hoping the sound will draw Chris attention.

It doesn't.

Instead, the noise seems to have caught Nick and Matt’s attention as their heads abruptly snap in your direction almost in unison.

Matt's gaze narrows in irritation, his brows furrowing slightly as he shoots you an unimpressed look. Nick, on the other hand, raises a finger to his lips in an exaggerated shushing motion, and you retaliate by flipping him off, ignoring his dramatic response of wide eyes and placing his hand on his chest as if you brutally offended him.

Grabbing a glass from the cabinet, you fill it with water, glancing over at Chris as you take a sip, hoping to catch even the slightest bit of acknowledgement, but he remains blissfully unaware. His head still bent low, hand darting across the paper in quick scribbles.

Letting out a quiet sigh, you abandon your efforts and decide to join the others, allowing Nick to tug your arm and pull you down beside him. The sudden movement sends your glass wobbling, but you manage to keep a firm grip before any water spills.

Nick throws a blanket over the two of you and nestles against your side, barely giving you any time to adjust before he shoves the popcorn bowl into your lap, offering you some.

You reach into the bowl and grab a handful, savouring the buttery, sweet taste that melts on your tongue as you chew, your gaze flicking to the TV where a heated argument is happening between the couple on the screen.

“She needs to dump him immediately,” Nick scoffs, gesturing towards the screen with a dramatic wave of his hand. “If someone ever talked to me like that, I’m karate chopping their head off their fucking neck.”

“She actually spoke to him like that first, though,” Matt murmurs from your right without looking up from his phone, his thumb still scrolling as he speaks. “She said somethin’ about his personality — like it was borin' or whatever.”

Nick slowly turns his head to look at Matt, blinking comically. “And I thought you said you weren’t interested in watching this show?”

Matt finally lifts his head, his eyes narrowing as he shoots Nick a flat look. “Kid, you got the fuckin’ volume on eighty or some shit.”

“Excuses, excuses… blah, blah, blah—”

Matt cuts him off, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Real fuckin’ mature, kid.”

Nick leans back against you comfortably, unbothered with the fact he's pissing Matt off. “Blah, blah, blah—”

The bickering continues back and forth for a while, their voices overlapping with each other, and you shake your head, taking another sip of water as you watch them both—but before Matt can fire another response back, a new voice breaks through the conversations. 

“I didn’t know you were here…” The unexpected interruption pulls your attention away, and you glance over your shoulder to see Chris rising from his seat at the kitchen table, his movements slow as he pulls off his headphones and sets them down with a quiet clink before he makes his way toward you with a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. 

Without another word, Chris slides into the gap between you and Matt, squeezing himself beneath the blanket that covers you and Nick—his lanky limbs awkwardly tangling with yours as he settles in, and he wraps himself around you tightly.

He buries his face in the crevice of your neck, his breath warm against your skin as he exhales deeply, his body melting into yours. 

Nick huffs loudly, shifting away as Chris’ hand accidentally brushes against his head, and he lets out a dramatic groan as he sits up straight. His head had been resting comfortably on your shoulder just moments ago, but with Chris now firmly in place, he’s been forced away.

Chris doesn’t pay Nick the slightest bit of attention. Instead, he presses a series of soft, feather-light kisses to the sensitive skin of your neck, and you find yourself smiling as his arms tighten securely around your waist.

Matt glances over, his brow lifting in curiosity. “What were you doin’ over there?” he asks, nodding toward the cluttered kitchen table. When Chris doesn’t respond, Matt’s eyebrows furrow in annoyance. “Alright, cool, I’ll just go fuck myself then.”

Chris barely lifts his head, his voice muffled against your neck. “None of your business anyway.”

Matt lets out a scoff and rises from the couch, announcing that he’s heading to his room for the rest of the night, and he throws a glance at Nick who’s already tossing the blanket off his lap, seemingly doing the same thing.

Nick stands up and stretches lazily, his shirt riding up slightly. “Yeah, I’m out too. I’m not gonna sit here and be third-wheeled, thank you very much.”

With that, Matt disappears down the hallway to his room, and Nick heads upstairs to his, leaving you and Chris alone in the living-room. 

Chris finally lifts his head from your neck once the quiet settles in, and his fingers touch your cheek as he gently turns your face toward his. His eyes meet yours for a moment before he draws you closer, his lips brushing yours in a tentative, tender kiss.

You respond almost immediately, shifting to wrap your arms around his neck and pulling yourself closer. Chris tilts his head slightly, deepening the kiss as his lips part against yours, his tongue sliding into your mouth as the kiss becomes slower—more intimate. 

You both stay like that for a while, the soft sounds of your kissing blending in with the TV in the background along with the blanket that rustles in your laps. Eventually, you pull back, your chest rising and falling steadily as you catch your breath, and Chris presses on last chaste kiss to your lips.

"What were you doing earlier?" you ask curiously, hoping to get a response from him this time.

Chris grins as he tugs you up from the couch, and he leads you back to the kitchen table, where his pens are paper are still scattered across the messy surface. The sheet of paper he'd been scribbling on earlier sits in the centre, and he slides it toward you, turning it so you can see clearly. Your eyes flit over the page, taking in the messy but colourful layout.

The title, 'SEVEN DAYS' is scrawled across the top in bold letters, with scribbled notes and doodles through money to sunday in small boxes.

Your eyebrows knit together as your finger traces the title, "You made a calendar?"

Chris shifts closer to you, his arm draping casually over your shoulder. "It's a little somethin' we're gonna be doing for the week."

The corner of your lips lift in a pleasant surprise. "You planned dates for us?"

Chris shakes his head, his grin turning mischievous. "Not exactly."

Before you can press him for more details, he pulls out his phone, unlocking it quickly with a swipe of his thumb. He angles the screen toward you, showing a video of a couple dedicating a challenge to a popular song.

At first, you don't noticing anything unusual about the video, until the lyrics of the song becomes clearer, and the activities written on that couple's calendar comes up which makes your eyes widen and mouth part in shock.

"You... made a sex calendar?!"

"Hey, hey—easy..." Chris shushes, using the hand draped over your shoulder to clap it over your mouth. "You wanna say that shit louder next time?"

You glare at him, your expression deadpan, your lips still pressed against his palm. Chris holds your gaze for a moment before his grin starts to creep back, and he taps your mouth lightly with his fingers, as if to tease you, before finally lowering his hand.

"It sounds crazy, I know—" he says, holding his hands up defensively as you continue to stare at him in disbelief. "But c'mon... you're not a little bit interested?"

"You're crazy," you murmur, stepping away from him to take another look at the calendar he's created, staring at the spaces that are still blank, left for the two of you to fill in. "There's, like, no way we can actually do this for seven days."

Chris hums softly, and you feel the warmth of his best pressing against your back as his hands rub your shoulders, his fingers finding the spots where your neck meets your shoulders, gently kneading the area in slow, deliberate circles as he leans in close to your ear.

"You know you can handle me for seven days."

# ( MONDAY, DAY ONE )

Your eyebrows knit together in your half-asleep state, a tired noise emitting from you as you feel a weight nestled between your legs—gentle hands prying your thighs apart. You exhale deeply and shift in bed, trying to turn onto your side but a breathy gasp escapes past your lips when you feel warm air blowing against your clit.

You stir awake, vision blurred and lashes sticky with sleep as you weakly push yourself up on your elbows, gaze falling down to a mess of curly hair between your thighs. You squirm when you feel the similar warm air blowing again, but Chris’ hands hold your hips to the bed, forcing you to remain still as he glances up at you.

“I’ve been waitin’ for you to get up,” Chris hums against the skin of your thigh where he presses gentle kisses, his eyes locked on yours. His lips curl into a smirk once he pulls away, “Why you starin’ at me like that?”

“Just… wondering what you’re doing.”

Chris clicks his tongue against his teeth as he tuts, shaking his head as his grip tightens on your hips. “Don’t tell me you forgot already… it begins today—seven days, remember?” 

You breathe out, “I didn’t think you were serious about that.”

“I’m serious about everythin’ we do,” Chris drawls. He shifts between your legs, his hands moving from your hips to lock around your thighs. “Get comfortable f’me, baby. I want breakfast in bed to start off m’day.”

You snort, wanting to respond but you are lost for words when he presses his mouth to your pussy, licking a wet stripe through your folds before stopping to toy with your clit, swirling the wet muscle around it.

You moan quietly as your body slumps back against the mattress, your fingers tangling through his hair. His tongue dips down to your entrance, prodding teasingly at your hole and he pushes the tip inside, eliciting a louder noise from you.

His eyes flit up to you, a warning look in them to be quiet and you nod your head, sinking your teeth into your lower lip to conceal your noises as your grip tightens in his hair, moving your lower half in an attempt to grind against his face. 

You can feel Chris’ smirk against you, his tongue pushing through your hole and wiggling as his hand comes down to thumb at your clit, and your legs quiver, getting closer to your orgasm much faster than planned. 

Fingers twist in Chris’ hair as your back arches against the bed, your head thrown in pleasure—but you let out a choked cry when you feel his mouth let up from your pussy. His hand slides up the length of your body, pushing your chest down before a firm hand grips your chin, forcing you to look down at him.

He moves his mouth back down, lips suctioning around your clit and a suppressed cry leaves your lips, lashes fluttering against your cheeks as your eyes close from pleasure, but with Chris’ grip on your chin, he shakes your head to get your attention.

“Eyes open,” He orders, words muffled. “Keep ‘em open f’me—I know you can do it.”

You nod your head, keeping your eyes open to watch Chris go back down, his tongue lapping the length of your pussy and you bite down harder on your bottom lip, your fingers gripping his hair tightly.

He eats you out as if he’s starved all while his gaze is locked on you, making sure your own eyes remain open. With the hand that’s not gripping your chin, he’s pinning you to the bed when your hips twitch, groaning against your cunt, and the vibrations cause you to let go of your lip as your mouth drops open, panting heavily. 

The sounds from between your legs are disgusting; your gushing pussy, his tongue lapping you up through heavy grunts and moans, and one specific flick of his tongue sends you over the edge, your body trembling as your orgasm washes over you.

Chris continues licking you through your high, loosening his grip on your chin to slide his hand down to your stomach, stroking the skin to soothe your heavy breathing, only stopping when you tug at his hair from the oversensitivity. 

He’s grinning as he crawls up your body, slotting himself between your legs and pressing his lips to yours, and you immediately taste yourself on his tongue when it slides into your mouth, causing you to moan softly as you circle your arms around his shoulders.

Chris parts away to glance down between your bodies, his breathing laboured as he fists his cock—freed from his plaid pants a while ago, and he rubs the head through your soaked folds, tapping the tip against your clit before his head raises up to meet your gaze.

“You good?” He asks, and you nod your head, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. “Alright, just—just keep quiet f’me.”

With another nod of your head, Chris pushes his hips forward, sinking into your warmth. 

You gasp in his ears, letting go of the curls at his nape to grab his shoulders, digging your nails into his skin as his cock stretches out your walls, filling you up. He shoves his face in the crook of your neck, thrusting in and out of your pussy slowly. 

He feels good—too good to keep quiet and you press your mouth to his shoulder, muffling your moans as your walls squeeze around him, suctioning him in deep which causes his chest to vibrate with a groan.

“That’s it—fuck,” Chris mumbles in your ear. “Keep squeezin’ me in like that, baby.”

You follow through with his request and your walls clamp around his cock, causing Chris to fuck you harder against the bed. He raises his head, wetting his bottom lip before tucking it between his teeth as he stares down at you, the headboard rocking against the wall with each deep thrust.

He reaches his hand up to press his palm against it, holding it to the wall to prevent any more noise. You would’ve been delighted if it wasn’t for his cock rubbing against your inner walls, pushing you closer and closer to the edge, the band in your stomach tightening with each thrust of his hips.

The pleasure builds between your legs and you struggle to hold it back, your teeth immediately sinking into Chris’ shoulder to conceal your noise as you cum, your cunt clamping around him and drawing him towards his own orgasm.

“Shiiit,” He grunts in the crevice of your neck, coating your insides with cum, filling you up.

His thrusts are slower—steady movements that have his lower half rubbing over your clit, making your spine tingle and toes curl in bliss. Soon, he comes to a stop and rests his body weight on top of yours, pressing light, feathery kisses to your sweaty skin as the both of you try to catch your breath. 

When Chris finally moves to pull out of you, he sits up on his knees, head ducked to watch his cum leaking out of you with a grin, and his eyes flit up to yours with a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows which results in you kicking him weakly in his side.

“Okay, okay,” Chris laughs, grabbing your ankle to stop you. His thumb strokes across your skin as he murmurs, “Y’know… I think I'll be down for more than seven days if I can see this view all the time.”

“Seven days is more than enough,” You giggle as you push yourself up on your elbows, squirming slightly when you feel his cum drip. “You can barely last three anyways.”

“Wha—ow,” Chris frowns, offended. His eyebrows knit together as he glances down at his cock that's softening against his thigh, “You really think lil’ Chris will be all worn out by Wednesday?”

Your amusement immediately washes from your face as you stare at Chris with a deadpan expression, “Don’t ever call it that again.” Chris opens his mouth to speak, but you shake your head quickly. “No—no. Just help me to the bathroom so I can pee and have a shower.”

Chris takes his hand in yours as he slides off of the bed, pulling you up with him. His arm slides around your middle, helping you waddle to the bathroom and he flips on the light switch. You sit down to relieve yourself as Chris turns on the shower, his hand outstretched as he feels the temperature of the running water. 

Chris takes a breath when he turns to you, “But d’you really—”

“Chris.” 

# ( TUESDAY, DAY TWO )

Setting up one of Tara Yummy's infamous parties on a Tuesday evening wasn't exactly on your to-do list for the week. But when your best friend called you up, her voice filled with excitement and a hint of desperation, you couldn't say no.

You'd promise her once—probably more times than you could count—that you'd always be a helping hand when she needed it. And Tara? She always needed it.

Two hours of frantic shopping, hanging up decorations, blowing up an army of inflatables for the pool, and preparing far too many jello shots later, you find yourself standing in the middle of Tara's room, finally able to breathe.

You turn toward the mirror, fingers tying the strings of your red bikini top around your neck as you take a moment to analyse your reflection. You make sure everything is in place—secure and snug to be risk-free of any wardrobe malfunctions.

You twist your body to the side, checking the fit from a different angle as you fix your shorts until they sit just right on your hips.

"You look hot," Tara says from her spot at the vanity, her gaze flicking to you through the mirror. She's holding an eyeliner pen steady in one hand as she purses her lips, leaning closer to check her reflection. "Do you think we bought enough alcohol?"

You scoff lightly, adjusting the dainty necklace around your neck. The charm—a small, delicate 'C'—rests against your collarbones as you secure the clasp. "Yes, Tara. The price on the receipts proves it. Also, Jake and Johnny said they're bringing in a few more boxes when they arrive."

Tara perks up at that, her brows lifting in surprise. "They did?"

"They texted in the groupchat earlier."

Tara spins in her chair, snatching her phone off the vanity with one hand while the other swipes at the screen. Her perfectly glossed lips twist into a small pout as she scrolls through the endless flood of messages in your groupchat, and after a moment, she makes a small noise of acknowledgement, her nails tapping rapidly across the screen as she types out a response.

A second later, your own phone pings from its spot in your bag. You glance at it briefly but don't bother picking it up, already knowing it's something Tara had replied to the others.

"Anyways," Tara hums, setting her phone down to finish the last touches of her eyeliner. "Run me back through what you were saying earlier—about this calendar stuff."

"Chris found this challenge on TikTok called 'Seven Days' or something like that," you begin to explain to her. "It's basically where you have sex for seven days straight, and he decided to make a whole calendar for it."

"That's so crazy to me," she snorts, her dark eyes wide with amusement. "Also, I'm, like really surprised it was him who suggested it. That seems way more like a you thing."

The corner of your lips twitches, fighting back a smile. "You'd be surprised."

"And this all started yesterday?" she asks, one brow arching inquisitively, and you nod your head to confirm. "Okay, wait, so... did you do anything today?"

"No, because someone—" you pause, shooting her a pointed look that makes her grin innocently. "—dragged me out of the house at 10 o'clock this morning for breakfast, and a two-hour shopping trip for her party."

Tara snorts unapologetically, before she straightens up. "Wait. Does that mean Chris is going to show up here all cranky and sexually frustrated?" Her eyes widen dramatically as her hands fly to her temples, rubbing hard. "Please tell me he's not going to ruin the vibe. I can't handle moody people at my party—it stresses me out. Not good for my energy."

You shrug your shoulders with a teasing smile, refusing to get her an answer. Tara lets out a drawn out groan, throwing her head back like she's just been dealt with something awful, and the exaggerated action makes you cackle.

Once the laughter fades, you both turn back to the mirror, putting the final touches on your outfits and ensuring your makeup is perfect. Once feeling ready, the two of you click together a pair of shot glasses filled with tequila to kickstart the night, and you welcome the familiar burn that slips down the back of your throat.

It doesn’t take long before the guests to start arriving in groups, and you and Tara head downstairs to the lively party area, greeting her guests and mutual friends with warm smiles and compliments on their beach-inspired outfits before you move through the crowd, scanning faces for one in particular.

But before you can find him, you're momentarily caught up in conversations. Familiar faces stop you to chat, and a few strangers introduce themselves, exchanging names and socials with you. You lose track of time as the party buzzes around you: drinks are flowing, music is thumping, and some are screaming over party games.

It's only when you glance toward the far end of the kitchen that you finally spot him. Chris stands there with Nick and Matt, his signature red cap perched backward on his head, and a grin plays on his lips as he listens to whatever Nick is saying.

Your chest tightens with excitement, and a wide smile spreads across your face as you bound over to him.

Chris notices you immediately, his eyes lightening up as you approach. He licks his lips, adjusting the brim of his cap before leaning toward you. His arm slides around your waist, his palm resting at the small of your back as he pulls you into his chest.

Slotting his lips against yours, warm and firm, he kisses you deeply for a few moments. Then, with a grin tugging at his mouth, he trails a series of playful smooches along your cheek and down your jawline, hearing him chuckle against your skin as you giggle at the ticklish sensation.

“Alright, enough,” Nick interjects beside you both, nursing a red solo cup in one hand while using the other to slide his sunglasses up the bridge of his nose. “It’s already nauseating seeing so many people all up on each other… I do not need to see you two doing it too.”

“Shut up, Nick,” Chris huffs as he pulls his face away from you, giving his brother a hard but playful glare before turning his attention back to you. His hand stays on your lower back, his thumb stroking your skin softly in a soothing motion. “You look good, baby.”

"Thank you," you say with a soft smile, leaning in to kiss Chris briefly. As you pull back, you can't help but snort at the lipstick mark left on his lips, using your thumb to wipe it away while his fingers absentmindedly toy with the necklace around your neck, fixing the charm.

"Are you drunk already?" Matt's voice cuts through the music, his gaze fixed on you as he squints like he's trying to figure out if you're drunk or sober.

"I had four shots, asshole," you retort, shooting him a playful look. "Are you drunk?"

"I'm the driver, kid—use your brain," Matt teases, holding up a soda can in one hand and jingling his car keys in the other as if to drive his point home. You immediately flip him off, making him laugh as he takes a slow sip from his drink.

The rest of the night flows seemingly well, and you stick with the triplets for most of the party, occasionally slipping away to mingle with others alongside Tara, who keeps a tight grip on your hand and a drunken smile on her face. You both catch up with friends, dance to the music, hand out jello shots, and throw inflatables into the pool for others to grab.

You are having fun, but every so often your gaze drifts toward Chris, who is in the middle of a heated beer pong game with Matt and a few other guests. He catches you staring, flashing you a grin and a wink that makes your chest flutter.

You watch as he lines up his next shot with confidence, his arm steady as he tosses the ping pong ball that lands perfectly int he cup, and the kitchen erupts into cheers. Chris throws his arms in the air in celebration, laughing hysterically as Matt tackles him in a tight hug, the two stumbling slightly.

Nick, standing off to the side filming the entire thing, looks utterly stunned—his jaw hanging open in a mix of shock and impressiveness.

You decide to head over to congratulate Chris and re-join them, but before you can take a step, a hand grips your arm and tugs you back into place.

"Where are you going?" Tara slurs as she stares at you with wide, glassy eyes. Her flushed cheeks and unsteady stance make it clear she'd had more than a few drinks, especially with the grip she has on your arm. "Join me in the pool!"

You laugh, shaking your head. "I'm not going in the pool. I'm gonna go see Chris."

Tara pouts dramatically, her grip loosening but not quite letting go. "You're no fun. Party pooper," she sighs before scrunching her nose and grinning at you mischievously. "You're totally gonna go hook-up, aren't you?"

Your eyes widen at the volume of her voice, and you laugh again as you try to hush her. "Tara—"

"Yeah, yeah, whateverrrr," she interrupts with a dismissive wave, smacking your arm lightly. "Go have fun—but my room is off-limits. Use one of the upstairs bathrooms, nobody's allowed up there anyway."

"Tara—"

"Shhhhhh," she drawls, pressing her finger to your lips to silence you. You stifle a laugh, but remain quiet for her to speak. "Go complete date two... and don't forget to tell me all the juicy details later. I'm so serious."

Shaking your head, you smile despite yourself and give her a quick hug, feeling a twinge of guilt for leaving her—but you know Tara is more than capable of keeping herself entertained.

Turning back toward the kitchen, you weave your way through the crowd until you reach Chris, and he lifts his head as you approach, his grin widening when he sees you. His arm is draped casually over the edge of the ping pong table, but his focus shifts entirely to you as you slide into his side.

His arm curls around your shoulders automatically, his fingers brushing against your skin as they toy with the strap of your bikini. He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your temple, his breath is warm against your skin, and the small gesture fills you with a sense of calm and comfort.

"You good?" he asks, his voice low and quiet as he murmurs in your ear.

You hum in response, leaning up to bring your lips close to his ear instead as you whisper your request for him to follow you upstairs. His gaze sharpens slightly, and he nods without hesitation, keeping his arm securely around you as the two of you move toward the stairs.

Tara’s makeshift ‘NO ACCESS’ sign dangles loosely from the railing, and you peel it away with a smirk before leading Chris up to the second floor. The noise from the party fades slightly as you slip down the hallway and make a beeline for the bathroom at the far end.

The air feels cooler here, quieter, and as soon as you step inside, the door clicks shut behind you. You fumble for the lock, but before you can secure it, Chris' lips meet yours with an intensity that sends a thrill through you.

His hands find your hips, tilting his head to the side to deepen the kiss and you melt into him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, your fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck as you kiss him back.

Chris grins against your lips as he feels you tug at his hair, and he squeezes your hips, pulling you flush against him as he deepens the kiss, his tongue gliding across your lower lip. You part your lips, and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, pressing you against the cold bathroom counter as his hands slide down to your ass, giving it a playful slap.

Chris bites down gently on your bottom lip, tugging it with just enough pressure to make your breath hitch in your throat.

His chest rumbles with a deep chuckle as he kisses you again, his tone low as he utters, “Turn around f’me.”

You obey, turning around, laying your palms flat against the countertop as you meet Chris’ eyes in the reflection of the mirror, feeling hot under his gaze. He trails kisses across your shoulder blades, his hands coming around to caress your stomach before moving down to the waistband of your shorts, popping open the buttons and dragging the material down your legs along with your bikini bottoms. 

Chris fumbles with the belt on his own pants next, his teeth biting his bottom lip as he frees himself, his fingers gripping his cock and giving a few lazily tugs before tapping the head to your puffy folds. You hum softly, leaning your forearms on the countertop, arching your back and pressing your ass against him, coaxing him to thrust inside already.

“Need you to relax f’me…” Chris murmurs softly, one hand massaging your hip as the other still holds his cock, positioning himself. “Just relax n’ take it, yeah?”

You don’t even have time to respond properly, only a quiet whine seeping past your lips as Chris pushes his hips forward. Your mouth drops open in a silent gasp at the stretch, unable to stop your legs from trembling as Chris continues to ease his cock inside your warmth.

“Shiiiiit, ma…” Chris hisses through his teeth once your ass is pressed to his hips—skin against skin. He grabs your arms and pulls them behind your back, bending you further over the countertop and locking you in place as he drives his cock inside of you at a speed you struggle to comprehend—your head dropping forwards with incoherent sounds spilling for your lips as he fucks you.

Chris moans each time he pounds into you, and you involuntarily squeeze your walls around him when his cock probes the spot deep within, toes curling in your shoes. He meets your gaze in the mirror and your mouth hangs open, wheezing short and quick breaths, unable to keep your eyes on him as they roll to the back of your head. 

“Hey—hey… c’mere..” His hands remove their grip from your arms to wrap around your middle instead, pulling your back to his chest to keep you upright.

Your head slumps back on his shoulder, your fucked out expression sending a shiver down his spine.

“Look at you, ma. All fucked out on my cock… your pretty pussy can’t get enough of me, yeah? Want me that bad? Ha… look at you, mama, you’re droolin’.”

He continues to whisper nothing but filth in your ear as his hips thrust at a brutal pace; the sound of skin hitting skin echoing in the room, completely overtaking his hoarse moans and your pathetic whines.

You’re already cumming before you even recognise it, a choked moan leaving your lips as the coil in your stomach snaps, and your core clamps down on his cock as your high hits you with an intense force. Chris fucks you through it, pressing sloppy kisses to your cheek while filling your insides with his own cum.

“You’re good, baby… you’re good,” Chris praises quietly as his motions begin to slow before coming to a stop, rubbing soothing circles into your skin as he gently kisses your shoulders and neck this time—helping your shaking body come down from its intense high.

You wince when Chris carefully pulls out of you, but you’re more than pleased when he turns you around, propping you against the counter and wiping the mess between your legs with gentle caresses. He throws the tissues into the toilet and helps pull your bikini bottoms and shorts up your legs, fastening the button with a smile on his lips.

“Fuckin’ in Tara’s bathroom was not on the calendar, but m’not mad about it,” He murmurs, his gaze flitting up to meet yours as he fixes your necklace. “She’s gonna be super fuckin’ pissed when she realises that some of m’kids are—Ow… really?”

# ( WEDNESDAY, DAY THREE )

Your eyebrows knit together as you stare down at the calendar resting on your lap, the faint rustling of paper breaking the silence. The Wednesday section catches your eye, where 'you can pick' is scrawled across the square in Chris' messy handwriting.

Your thumb lingers near your mouth, teeth grazing your nails as you bite down in deep concentration. Pursing your lips, you push yourself off the bed, the calendar in hand as you make your way out of Chris' bedroom. The soft padding of your bare feet against the flooring is the only sound as you climb the stairs toward the kitchen area.

The house feels oddly still, eerily quiet.

Matt and Nick had left earlier, their voices echoing through the halls as they shouted quick goodbyes, and you’d heard the slam of the garage door and the low rumble of the car as it started up, fading into the distance.

Now, it’s just you and Chris. Alone.

As you reach the kitchen, you spot him standing by the table, holding a can of pepsi in one hand while his other hand is occupied with his phone, scrolling through messages.

His brow is furrowed in that familiar look of focus, the faint glow of the screen reflecting in his eyes.

"Hey…" you call softly, your voice breaking the stillness in the room.

Chris looks up from his phone, and his expression softens almost instantly as a small smile tugs at his lips, watching you approach.

You hold up the calendar, pointing to the scribbled words with a furrowed brow. "What do you mean, ‘I can pick’?" Chris blinks, his gaze shifting from the calendar to your face, amusement flicking in his eyes as he replies, "It means you can pick."

You scoff lightly, giving him a pointed look as you cross your arms over your chest. "Didn't I technically pick yesterday? I'm the one who wanted to hook-up in the bathroom at Tara's house party."

"Sure," he concedes with a hum, a sly grin creeping across his face in a way that makes your stomach flip. "But, y'know... I was the one bendin' you over the bathroom counter and—"

"Okay!" you cut him off quickly, biting down on the inner skin of your cheek to keep yourself from laughing.

Chris chuckles, clearly pleased with your reaction, and he sets his phone and soda down on the kitchen table with a soft thud, then steps closer to you. His hands find your waist first, sliding around to rest low on your back, just above the curve of your ass as he pulls you in.

"Am I really picking what we do today?" you ask, your voice softer now, raising your eyebrow.

"Yeah," he murmurs, his lips brushing lightly against your neck as he plants a trail of kisses there, sending shivers skittering down your spine as he nibbles softly. "S'all up to you."

His words linger in the air as his fingers trace slow, lazy patterns against your back. It's hard to think straight when he's this close to you, when his lips are this soft against your skin, when the scent of him completely wraps around you.

"All up to me, huh?" you repeat, tilting your head back to look at him properly.

"Mhm," he hums as his eyes meet yours, his voice dropping as his hands slip a little lower. "No pressure, though."

You pause for a moment, a thought bubbling up in your mind. "For the entire challenge, do we both have to cum?"

"Uh, yeah," Chris answers almost immediately, giving you a look that suggests you're being a bit ridiculous asking that question. "Are you dumb? What's the point in doin' this shit if we're both not gettin' off?"

"I get that, but... I'm still pretty sore from yesterday."

"Sore?" he repeats, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. Then, a smug grin spreads across his face, seemingly proud of himself as his arms tighten around you. "Really? Didn't think I fucked you that hard, babe."

You roll your eyes, unable to suppress a smile as you playfully pinch his side, causing Chris to hiss through laughter, his body jerking in response. He loosens one arm around your waist to grab your wrist, stopping your miniature attacks

He breathes out steadily through his nose, the sound low and intimate, leaning in to plant a soft peck to your lips—the sweetness of the gesture sends a flutter through your chest.

"What do you want me to do? Hm?" He asks quietly, his voice low as he presses another gentle kiss to your lips, lingering for just a moment longer before pulling back. "Want me to make it feel better?"

You watch as Chris drops to his knees before you, his hands gripping your hips firmly to press you against the kitchen counter. You can’t bring yourself to tell him to stop when you watch him slowly pull down your sweatpants and underwear, finding the sight of him on his knees too hot for you to handle, especially when he leans in to bury his face between your thighs, eyes locked on yours. 

He presses gentle, loving kisses to your folds and you let out a soft moan, tucking your bottom lip between your teeth as your hand comes down to rest on top of his head, your fingers threading through his hair as you feel his tongue massage the tender skin. 

The tip of his tongue traces the length of your slit before circling around your swollen clit, keeping his movements slow as he alternates between long languid strokes along your cunt and delicate clicks against your sensitive bundle of nerves. 

A muffled noise seeps past your lips when Chris parts your folds carefully with his thumbs and drags his tongue through your arousal, resuming his familiar swirls around your clit before drawing it into his mouth to suck gently. 

Chris angles his head, his nose now bumping against your clit as his tongue probs your entrance, poking somewhat teasingly before sliding inside, stroking your inner walls.

He’s still gentle, allowing your aching cunt to adjust to the sensation before he starts thrusting his tongue, one hand curling around your body and gripping your ass, pulling you against his face as you writhe—hips uncontrollable.

At the same time of curling his tongue inside of you, brushing over the spot that has you seeing stars, he brings his free hand up to rub circles around your clit with his thumb, adding an extra layer of stimulation that causes your moans to fill the room. 

You struggle to warn him when you feel the knot in your stomach tighten, when your toes curl in your socks and legs tremble as your orgasm hits with force.

You’re cumming on his face, and Chris happily laps up everything you’re giving him, tongue brushing at your spasming walls. He doesn’t let up until he’s sure you’ve ridden out the last tremors coursing through your body, and you feel him chuckle against your skin when he sees you losing balance. 

He pulls back to look up at your face properly, keeping one hand gripped on your ass while the other holds your hips, keeping you upright. "You alright, baby?" 

You nod your head as Chris stands up, and he leans in to kiss you, but a surprised noise fleets past his lips when he sees you drop to your knees. You can tell he panics a little, his hands reaching out to assist you, but he freezes mid air when he feels your own wrap around his cock, spitting down onto his tip to lubricate him.

You want to return the favour—you’re eager too, especially after the mind blowing orgasm he just gratefully gave you. 

You give him a few slow pumps to start him off, hearing him groan above you, feeling his hand resting at the back of your head and guiding you closer to his cock. You take him into your mouth, swirling your tongue around his head, teasing his slit. 

“Ah… fuck,” Chris moans, his lips parting as he watches you bob your head at a leisurely pace, taking him deeper and deeper with each pass. You swallow around him, contracting your throat, causing him to hiss and jerk his hips forward at the feeling. 

You’re making a mess of him—drooling over his cock, gagging around him. Your eyes bubble with tears at the strain, and you moan when he rolls his hips against your face, fucking your throat gently.

When you look up at him, it’s the prettiest sight; his eyebrows pinched together in pleasure, mouth parted as he pants heavily, his eyes hazy. 

Chris’ breath comes out in ragged gasps as you continue, seeing the way your lips stretch around his cock almost makes him lose it, the pleasure building up inside him like a tight coil about to snap, and deep grunts and groans escaping him now and then as you push him closer and closer to the edge. 

"Shit," Chris’ voice comes out in a strangled whisper. "Please… d-don’t stop—fuck."

His free hand reaches out to grip the counter to ground himself and you close your eyes, pumping what you struggle to fit into your mouth as you continue to blow him, your other hand reaching up to fondle his balls, rolling them gently in your palm.

“Keep goin’... keep—fuck—keep lookin’ up at me,” Chris pleads, his breaths coming out heavy and laboured. 

You do as you’re told, opening your eyes, looking up at him through sticky lashes to see him already looking down at you, and he shakily exhales as he loosens his grip on your head to push the hair out of his face.

He lets out a shuddering moan as he feels you use your tongue on the underside of his cock, his body arching even more towards your mouth as the sounds of slurping and moaning fill the room.

He suddenly speaks up in a shaky, pleading tone, his words coming out in desperate gasps. "Please… don’t stop… don’t—don’t stop… fuck, don’t stop, don’t stop… please—"

You moan at his pleading, and his hips twitch at the vibrations, his cock slipping back down your throat and making you gag around him again. You continue focussing on your breathing and relaxing your throat, listening to him whimper as his hand resumes gripping your head. 

A low guttural moan escapes his lips as he stills, shooting warm, spurts of cum down your throat, and you swallow every drop before releasing him from your mouth with a pop, licking your lips clean as you look up at him with a smile. 

He pants heavily as he stares down at you, hair tousled, face flushed—he looks like a wreck, and you’re proud knowing that you’ve done that to him. Although, the smug expression slips off your face as you squeal when he pushes you down onto your back, pushing between your thighs, hovering over you. 

Chris palms at himself, jerking his cock back to life, and you spread your legs further apart to accept him inside greedily until you hear a car door slam from the garage.

Are they home already?

You and Chris stare at each other with wide eyes, filled with shock, desperation and need, before you both shoot up to stand on your own two feet, quickly adjusting your clothes to act as natural as you possibly can. 

Chris is in the middle of stuffing his cock back into his sweats when Matt appears at the top of the stairs, swinging his car keys around his fingers, but immediately stopping when he looks at you both.

"I don’t want to know," Matt says, shaking his head with a grimace as he walks toward his room. "I really don’t." 

# ( THURSDAY, DAY FOUR )

Maybe wearing a dress today wasn't the smartest idea—or maybe it was, depending on how you look at it.

The summer heat is relentless, the kind that clings to your skin and makes the air feel heavy even inside the house. The air conditioner is doing its best, but it's no match for the blazing sun streaming through the windows.

A short sundress seemed like the perfect solution at the time—light, breezy, comfortable—but now, as you lounge idly in the living room, sipping on a cold drink, you're starting to realise the consequences of your own actions.

Chris can't stop staring.

You're not even doing anything—just scrolling through your phone, your legs tucked up on the couch as you take slow sips of your drink, but even with your attention elsewhere you can feel his gaze.

It's subtle at first, little glances that linger a second too long on your exposed skin, but soon, it's impossible to ignore the way he gawks—his focus clearly not on the camera that's filming him and his brothers, nor is his focus on the conversation happening around him.

"Would you stop?!" Nick's voice cuts through, and you glance up just in time to see him swat Chris lightly on the back of the head. "Are you even paying attention right now? We're filming."

Chris blinks, wrinkling his nose as he huffs. "I am payin' attention—and don't hit me like that, I'll knock your fuckin' teeth out."

"Kid thinks he's tough," Matt chimes in, leaning against the counter with a smirk. "Or he's actin' tough in front of his girlfriend."

You pretend to be engrossed in your phone, but the corners of your lips twitch as you fight back a smile, hearing Chris mutter something under his breath—likely a string of curses and minor threats—but the teasing doesn't stop.

"Just focus," Nick says, fixing the items spread out on the table as they get ready to try and bake something. "You're just standing here like a fucking idiot not doing anything."

You glance back up from your phone, finally meeting his gaze, and he smiles at you softly, which you immediately return. You take another slow sip of your drink, deliberately holding eye contact for just a moment longer, stretching out your legs purposefully before looking away.

In the corner of your eye, you see Chris snort and shake his head, prodding his inner cheek with his tongue at your audacity as he awkwardly—but subtly—fixes the front of his jeans away from the camera and brothers.

It continues like that for a long while—Chris sneaking glances at you while trying to balance his focus on filming the video. You've caught him staring at least ten times now, and every time his eyes linger, you can't help but smirk to yourself.

But, to be honest, you're not making it easy for him either.

Stretching lazily on the couch once again, you let your sundress ride up, exposing more of your thighs as you scroll through your phone, pretending to keep yourself busy. You don't even need to look at him to know he's already looking at you, especially when you hear him stop mid-sentence as he talks to the camera, trailing his words.

You gnaw on your bottom lip to keep yourself from laughing as you hear Matt scold him for not making sense, and you shift again, your dress hiking up just a little more as you lean over to reach for the glass on the coffee table, taking slow, deliberate sips, letting your throat bob before setting it down again.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Chris glance over—his gaze zeroing in on the bare skin of your thighs, and this time, you make it known you're doing it on purpose.

You let your fingers trail lazily along the edge of your dress, smoothing the fabric over your legs, the movement subtle enough that it could be seen as innocent—if not for the slight head tilt and cheeky smile on your slips.

Chris shifts uncomfortably where he's standing, clearing his throat as he tries to regain focus. Luckily, his brothers are too busy arguing over the ingredients to notice him, but you catch the way his jaw tightens and his hand flexes at his side.

When Matt tells him to crack the eggs into the plastic bowl, Chris barely registers the request, his eyes flicking to you one more time before he steps forward, grabbing the bag of flour instead which makes Nick throw his hands up.

"Are you fucking kidding me?!" Nick shouts, exasperated.

You can't help but let out a quiet laugh at that, and Chris' head snaps toward you, his eyes narrowing. Yet, you shrug innocently, feigning ignorance as you pick up your drink again, but you're not done yet.

This time, you shift again, letting the small strap of your sundress slide off your shoulder. You don't bother fixing it right away, leaving your skin bare as you rest your head against the back of the couch, arching yourself in a way that you push your chest out, acting as if you're just trying to get comfortable.

Chris visibly falters.

"Chris," Matt snaps. "What is wrong with you?"

Nick follows Chris' gaze, his eyebrow raising as he looks between the two of you, and it takes him about two seconds to figure out what's going on. "Oh, it's you."

Chris shoots him a warning look. "Don't."

Matt looks confused for a second before the realisation hits, chuckling softly. "Can you two, like, stop for five minutes?"

You feel a little guilty for distracting him, but even as they continue filming, you can't help but not stop.

You cross your leg over the other, letting your dress ride up again as you trail your fingers along your collarbone absentmindedly, toying with the strap of your dress. Every little movement is obviously calculated, made to pull his attention away from filming and make him fumble.

By the time they wrap up filming, Chris looks like he's barely holding it together, and the moment they do the outro, Chris practically beelines over to you—his brothers' laughter fading into the background as he grabs your wrist and pulls you up to your feet.

"Come with me." he demands.

"Hm?" you reply, feigning innocence once again as he drags you toward the stairs, pulling you down them quickly. "What did I do?"

Chris doesn't answer, but the heat in his eyes says enough, and you're excited. He doesn't stop walking until you're both downstairs, and he pulls you into his bedroom and shuts the door firmly behind you—the click of the lock echoing in the quiet room, and you barely have a moment to register what's happening before he's on you.

His hands are on your waist as he backs you up toward the bed, his lips pressing to yours in a kiss that's full of heat and frustration.

"You think you're funny?" he mutters against your lips, his voice low and rough, sending a shiver down your spine.

You pull back just enough to meet his eyes with a teasing grin, your own voice breathless. "... maybe a little."

Chris huffs out a laugh that has an edge to it, and his hands slide down to the hem of your sundress, his fingers brushing over your thighs as he grips the fabric tightly. He lifts the dress higher, and the air feels cooler against your exposed skin, but the heat radiating from Chris' touch makes up for it.

His lips find your neck, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses to the sensitive skin there, and you instinctively tilt your head to give him more access while his hands roam over you, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its path.

You let out a soft sigh, your fingers tangling in his hair as he works his way down your neck, his lips and teeth skimming your skin just enough to make your breath hitch.

"You've been drivin' me fuckin' crazy all day," he murmurs, his voice muffled against your skin. "Sittin' there, lookin' so good... actin' like you didn't know what you were doin'."

You tug lightly on his hair, pulling his head back to meet his eyes. His eyes are dark, full of lust and need, and it makes your heart race and your pussy ache.

"Maybe I wanted to drive you crazy," you tease lightly. "I like seeing you like this."

Chris lets out a low moan, his hands tightening on your waist as he presses you down onto the bed, "Careful, baby," he warns you, though there's no real threat in his tone.

You grin, craning your head up to press your lips to his, cutting off whatever he was about to say next. The kiss is slower this time—deeper—but no less intense as his hands slide up your sides, brushing over the thin straps of your dress before slipping them off your shoulders.

The fabric falls easily, pooling around your waist and leaving your bare chest exposed to his hungry gaze. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, leaning down to lick and kiss at your breast, capturing your nipple between your teeth.

You mewl softly, arching your back into his touch, your grip tightening on his hair before letting go to tug at his shirt upward.

"Off," you plead weakly.

He doesn't hesitate, his lips leaving your skin to pull his shirt over his head and tossing it aside, allowing you to take a moment to appreciate the sight of him; his slightly toned chest, the way his muscles flex as he moves, the flushed look on his face.

Chris hovers over you, his weight balanced on his forearms as he gazes down at you, his lips parted slightly. The tension between you both feels intense, the air thick with anticipation as his thumb brushes gently over your cheek, a surprisingly tender gesture.

He leans down to nudge his nose against yours before capturing your lips in a kiss, more hurried and deep as his hands slide back down your sides, gripping your hips to pull you with him as he switches your positions for you to straddle him while he leans up against the headboard.

The fabric of your sundress is still bunched around your waist, and it doesn't surprise you that Chris keeps it on while he fingers hook beneath the waistband on your panties, awkwardly sliding them off your legs and throwing it aside.

Your bare cunt presses against the zipper of his jeans, and you moan softly, rolling your hips down onto him as he groans, his forehead dropping to your shoulder for a moment.

As he presses a series of kisses down the column of your neck, your body reacts—your back arching as breathing hitching once again as his lips move lower, his hands exploring every inch of you.

You tilt your head back, your eyelids fluttering as you let yourself get lost in the moment, feeling his cock twitch beneath you.

"Chris..." you murmur his name softly, and it makes him pause, his head lifting up to meet your gaze with a hum in response. "I need you—need you inside."

Chris nods his head eagerly, patting your hip for you to raise up on your knees to give him space as he undoes the buckle on his jeans, shimmying the leather strap free. He works his jeans and boxers down to his thighs, not bothering to rid them completely, just enough to free his cock from the confinements.

It springs up, thick and hard, the flushed mushroom tip already glistening with pre-cum, eager to be tucked inside your warmth. His hands settle back on your hips, his thumbs rubbing circles on your hip bones as he guides you to hover over his cock, the heat of your pussy making his chest rumble with a moan.

You grip the base of his cock, positioning properly at your opening, biting down on your bottom lip at the feeling of him nudging against your puffy folds. With a deep breath, you move, sinking down onto him, impaling yourself on his cock in one smooth motion, letting out a choked gasp as he fills you.

A guttural noise rips from the back of Chris' throat as your inner walls grip around him tightly, his fingers digging into the meaty skin of your hips as he fights the urge to thrust up and burying himself balls deep.

His gaze drifts lower, fisting the hem of your dress to lift it up, fixating on where you're both join—mouth drying up at the obscene sight of his cock disappearing between your folds, wet and glistening with arousal.

You start to move, slowly at first, rolling your hips in a circle to adjust to the size of him, feeling him stretch your inner walls to fit him in snugly. Then, you begin to rise and fall, picking up speed as you get into a steady rhythm, his name falling from your lips repeatedly like a prayer.

You grip his shoulders for balance, helping you bounce up and down as Chris' hands slide up your back, pulling you close to kiss you. His tongue slips into your mouth, devouring the sounds of your whimpers and moans, feeling the way you easily glide up and down his cock.

He breaks the kiss only to nip and suck at your jawline, working his way down your neck where he could gently bite down on your pulse point, and you let out a broken sound, your movements stuttering.

"ah, fuck... jus' like that" he urges, rolling his hips upward to meet your uneven bounces. "take what you need, baby. use my cock—fuuuuck."

You increase the pace, sliding your arms around his shoulders to hold him as you bounce faster on Chris' lap, your gummy walls clenching him tightly.

You lose yourself in the pleasure, your breath coming in short gasps, drool seeping from the corner of your lips as you whine, "F-feels good—hng—I can't, I can't, I can't—"

He wraps his arms around your, crushing your breasts against his chest as he meets your frenzied pace, feeling your pussy fluttering wildly around his cock that pistons deep within, the gushy and wet sounds of your actions filling the air.

It pushes him closer toward the brink and he whines, "Shit, baby.. y'gonna make me cum."

A loud cry escapes your lips as your nails dig into Chris' shoulders, "Oh god—oh fuck! I'm—fuck! M'cumming!" you squeal loudly, your pussy spasming violently around Chris' cock, the contractions sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body.

Your vision blurs, your mind going blank as you ride through your orgasm, your juices dripping around his cock while he slams up into you one final time, burying himself balls deep as he pulses and throbs, shooting hot spurts of cum inside your cunt.

His hips jerk erratically, grinding against your pussy as he empties himself, panting heavily against your skin as he feels your spongy walls squeeze around him rhythmically, milking every last drop of his cum.

Finally, with a shuddering sigh, Chris slumps back against the headboard while you collapse weakly on his chest, keeping yourself glued on his softening cock as cum spills from the overflowed hole, creating a sticky mess between your thighs.

You nuzzle your face in the crevice of his neck, seeking warmth and comfort as your thighs ache, barely able to support your weight. You feel drained, but pleased, your eyes glossy and unfocussed as Chris slowly slips himself free of your heat, leaving behind a trail of cum gushing out.

He shifts slightly, adjusting you both so you can rest comfortably on top of him, your head still nestled in the crevice of his neck as his hand gently strokes your back, pressing tender kisses to your sweaty temple.

# ( FRIDAY, DAY FIVE )

You're sprawled out in Chris' bed, the soft glow of your laptop screen illuminating the dark room as you watch an episode of your favourite comfort show you've seen a dozen times before. It's been a quiet, lazy afternoon, and you're perfectly content to stay holed up while the triplets are out.

But the sudden and heavy thud of the front door slamming open makes you sit up a little straighter.

The sound is followed by raised voices—angry and heated. You can't make out exactly what they're saying, but it's loud enough to echo through the entire house, and you're quick to pause your show, your attention now fully on the commotion.

Straining to listen, you pick up small bits and pieces of the argument.

"Are you fuckin' serious?" That's Matt's voice, clear and booming, carrying up the stairs.

"Yeah, I'm serious, kid. What's your problem?" Chris snaps back.

"My problem? My problem is that you're a fuckin' immature—"

"Please, for the love of god," Nick's voice cuts in, exasperated and annoyed, but not nearly as loud as the other two. "Shut the fuck up."

There's a loud crash—something slamming against a wall, maybe another door—and you flinch, your curiosity now fully piqued. What could they possibly be fighting about? It's not really unusual for them to argue, but this sounds... a little different.

However, you stay put, resisting the urge to go upstairs into the living-room to see what's happening. You just sit there, ears tuned to the muffled shouting as it continues to escalate. Chris' voice is the loudest while Matt's is angrier, more forceful. Nick seems to be playing the role of the mediator, trying (and miserably failing) to calm them both down.

After a few more minutes, the argument seems to abruptly cut off, leaving the house in complete silence—apart from the faint hum of the air conditioner and the sound of your own heartbeat in your ears.

You barely have time to decide if you want to continue staying put or go out and see them before the door to Chris' room swings open with enough force to make it bounce slightly off the wall.

He storms in, his face a mix of frustration and anger, his jaw tight and eyes blown wide. He's still breathing heavily, like he's just come from a full-on shouting match, and he looks like he's barely holding it together.

He stops in the doorway, his eyes locking on you as you sit up against the pillows, wide-eyed and a little startled by his sudden entrance.

"Chris...?" you say cautiously, sitting up straighter. "What's going on?"

He remains silent for a moment, taking a deep breath as he steps further into the room, his hands clenching into fists at his sides before unclenching, shaking the tension in his fingers.

"Get up."

You blink, confused by his sudden demand. "What? What? What happened?"

Chris doesn't elaborate further as he reaches for your wrist, pulling you up from the bed with more force than you were expecting. "We're goin'."

"Going where?" you ask, stumbling as you try to keep up with his strides as he leads you toward the door. "Chris, what the fuck is going on?"

He doesn't stop, his grip firm on your wrist as he pulls you out of his room and toward the garage door, his thumb idly stroking your skin.

"We're goin' to have sex in Matt's car." he says matter-of-factly, like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

You stop dead in your tracks, forcing him to pause outside the garage door and turn back to you. "I'm sorry—what did you just say?"

Chris exhales deeply, "You heard me. Matt pissed me off, 'n I'm gettin' back at him."

You blink at him again, your brain struggling to catch up. "By... having sex... in his car?"

Chris nods. "Yes."

"Chris, that's... that's insane," you say, though you can't help the small laugh that escapes you. "You're not, like, actually serious.. are you?"

His eyes narrow, deadpanning. "I'm serious."

You're still baffled, but the sheer determination in his expression—and the way he's already pushing open the garage door—tells you that he's not joking at all.

Part of your wants to argue, to tell him this is fucking ridiculous and unnecessary. But the other part of you—the part that loves his impulsive and chaotic side—can't help but find the whole thing intriguing.

"Okay, you're officially insane," you mutter, finally giving in as you follow behind him, allowing him to lead you toward Matt's car.

Chris glances back at you, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he unlocks the car door, "Yeah," he hums, his tone lighter now. "But you love it."

Well... he's not wrong.

He pulls open the door and guides you into the back seat, and you glance around a little nervously as Chris climbs in after you, shutting the door behind himself. He turns to face you, his eyes burning with intensity in the dim light of the garage filtering through the tinted windows of the car.

"Y'know, I've always wanted to do this," he admits to you as he touches your hips, helping you manoeuvre onto your hands and knees in the limited space. He cups your ass, giving the covered skin a firm squeeze as he hums. "Havin' you bent over in the backseat, your pretty ass on display f'me to fuck. Thought it would be in my own car, but uh... Matt just had to piss me the fuck off."

You gasp when his hand comes down with a sharp slap, making your body jolt forward at the force and you reach out, steadying yourself with your own hand braced against the door.

"C-Chris—"

"We don't have much time," he reminds you, licking at his lips as he makes quick work of pulling down your sleep shorts, and Chris can't resist giving your ass another smack, watching the flesh jiggle enticingly. "Shiiit, look how we you are."

His fingers caress through your slick folds, dipping in between to stroke your slit with a satisfied hum, watching as you quiver beneath him in anticipation. He pulls his cock out of his sweats with practiced ease, slapping the tip against your puffy folds a few times before he pushes himself in, causing you to grip the seats hard, nails scratching at the fabric.

You push back against him greedily, seeking more friction and pressure as he slides in and out easily, keeping a steady rhythm before he picks up speed, his balls slapping against your clit.

The combination of having sex in Matt's car, stuck in the confined space, and feeling Chris' body over your sends you spiralling. You're aware of how exposed and vulnerable you are right now, how easy it is for you to get caught in this position—or even heard.

Plus, there's no barrier between your skin and the car, and you can feel your arousal dripping onto the seats below you, and how your heavy breathing fogs up the windows of the car.

Your other hand dips between your legs to cup yourself, your fingers grazing over Chris' cock that bullies your cervix, trying your hardest not to create a mess on the seats.

"Move your hand," Chris demands with a grip, his grip tightening on your hips, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the limited space. "M'serious. Move it."

"But.. but—"

"Don't give a fuck if you make his car messy, baby. Ruin the seats for all I care—Move. Your. Hand."

Chris' words are punctuated by each deep and harsh thrust, the lewd squelching of his cock plunging in and out of your soaked pussy, but suddenly, he pulls almost all the way out, only the tip remaining nestled inside.

You whine at the withdrawal, your body instinctively reaching back for him, craving the fullness of his cock he provided seconds ago. You risk glancing over your shoulder, gnawing on your bottom lip, your heart racing from the immense pleasure and the risk of being discovered in such a compromising position.

Chris traces a finger along your spine, his eyebrow raised in expectation, his gaze darting down to your cunt before meeting your eyes again.

He's waiting for you to remove your hand.

He wants you to make a mess in Matt's car.

The thought of it makes you moan quietly, and your hand drops back to the seat, only for it to be replaced with his own hand as it snakes around to touch your sensitive clit, causing you to release a high-pitched whimper.

Pleased with your reaction, Chris continues to rub circles while pushing his cock back inside, pressing himself fully against you before his hips snap against yours, the car rocking with the force.

You let out a choked gasp, your mouth stuck forming the perfect 'o' shape at the feeling of his fingers rubbing circles on your clit and his cock fucking your cunt. You struggle to hold yourself up by your arms, and you give out, slumping face first into the seats, drooling on the material without a care in the world.

"There we go, thaaaat's it," Chris coos, using his other hand that's not on your clit to stroke your back. "Make a fuckin' mess on the seats, baby. Gooood girl."

His balls continue to slap against your raw skin with every erratic pump of his hips, the obscene sounds mingling with your muffled whimpers and his grunts. Your body's buzzing, and your tummy tightens into knots, and you can feel the pressure building more and more—but you can't warn him, you can't find your words.

It comes faster than you anticipated, your pussy convulsing around him rapidly before squirting your release all over his cock, the wetness and the force causing him to slip out of you completely with a lewd pop.

Your body shakes, mouth agape in a silent scream, vaguely aware of the liquid gushing out onto the car seats as your walls clench and unclench repeatedly, the mess dripping down your already soaked thighs.

"Shit..." Chris stares in awe at the sight of your pussy, still twitching and releasing drops of liquid, pooling beneath you both.

His cock stands against his stomach, covered in your arousal, glistening under the dimmed light, and he reaches down to stroke himself, using the sight alone to get him off—panting heavily as he leans over you to cum all over your ass in quick spurts, watching himself create an even bigger mess.

"You good, baby?" Chris asks softly after a moment, leaning in further to get a closer look at you, pushing the hair out of your sweaty face with a tender touch.

You nod your head weakly, your mouth dry and throat coarse, and you wince as he takes a hold of your upper arm to sit you up, curling his other arm around your waist to keep you upright.

"We... we can't leave this mess here," you whisper, grimacing at the stains all over the seats, knowing you'll have to deep clean the fuck out of Matt's car before he figures out what has happened. Chris goes to protest, but you're already speaking up again. "What were you even arguing about?"

Chris purses his lips, scratching the back of his neck as he murmuringly admits. "He dropped my burger so I poured ketchup all over his."

Your head slowly turns to face him, almost comically, your face straight, unamused that the whole argument—the loudness, the slamming of doors, and the payback—was all because of something so mundane.

"Are you fucking serious?"

# ( SATURDAY, DAY SIX )

You're curled up comfortably on your couch, still in your pyjamas, a mug of coffee sitting half-empty on the table in front of you while a notebook filled with to-do lists sits in your hand, planning out your ultimate relaxing day.

Today is all about you.

You've planned out every moment; a long and relaxing bubble bath with your favourite scented candles, a little online shopping, making trying out a new dessert recipe you saw on Tiktok.

No interruptions.

No obligations.

Just peace and quiet.

The thought alone makes you grin as you lean back against the couch, pen in hand, tapping it against your notebook rhythmically as you finalise the perfect plan.

Until you hear the knock at your front door.

Your brow furrows slightly. You weren't expecting anyone, and your friends usually text you first to let them know they're coming over. You assume maybe it's a neighbour or even a delivery you're forgotten about, and you get up to shuffle to the door, pulling it open without much thought.

And there he is.

Chris stands on the other side, grinning widely, dressed casually in a oversized hoodie and sweatpants. He holds a cup of what look suspiciously like iced coffee—your favourite kind, and in the other, he holds a square-shaped calendar.

"Mornin' baby," he says, holding up the calendar and tapping it with his finger. "Guess what day it is."

You stare at him, confused. "What..? What are you—"

And then it hits you.

Oh fuck.

You completely forgot about the seven days challenge for a moment—so focussed on wanting to have a you day that it slipped your mind entirely.

"You forgot, didn't you?" he teases, his grin widening. "How can you forget? My dick not doin' it anymore for you?" he pauses, recalling the words he just said, the grin slipping. "Don't answer that. I'll die. I'm serious."

"I didn't forget, okay? I just..." you trail off, scrambling to find the best word to explain, though you know there's no excuse to save you now.

"Uh-huh, right," he hums, his tone dripping with sarcasm as he steps past you into the house, walking over to set the calendar and coffee down on your kitchen counter. "Good thing I remembered though. Otherwise we'd be missing out on day six, 'n that would be tragic."

You close the front door behind you, dragging your feet to follow him into the kitchen with your arms crossed over your chest, pouting. "But I had plans today..."

"Plans?" he turns to you, raising a brow. "Like what?"

You gesture vaguely toward the living room. "Like relaxing, watching my favourite show, maybe bake a cake or something."

Chris blinks at you, his face deadpan for a moment before he breaks into a slow smirk. "Wow. Amazing. You thought all that is better than having sex with me?"

Your jaw drops, and you glare at him. "Chris."

He smirks wider, completely unfazed by your warning tone as he jabs his finger repeatedly at today's date on the calendar, the sound of his finger tapping the paper. "We're supposed to complete the week, ma. C'mon... look what I have planned."

Curiosity gets the better of you, and you step closer, peering down at the calendar. Your eyes land on the scribbled word beneath today's date, and you immediately jerk back, your eyes wide.

"No. Nope. Absolutely not." you say, shaking your head so fast it's a miracle it doesn't fall off.

Chris tilts his head, "Why not?"

"Because!" you exclaim, pointing at the calendar like it's personally offended you. "You are not doing that to me, Chris!"

"Why not?" Chris repeats with a dramatic whine, stepping closer to you, his arms circling around your waist and pulling you flush against his chest.

You can’t stop the incredulous laugh that escapes past your lips, even as your arms instinctively slip around his shoulders for your fingers find their way to the nape of his neck, twirling the soft curls there, and his own hands tighten on your hips.

"You're not putting it in my ass."

"I honestly think it'll be fun."

"For you, maybe." you shoot back, trying your best to sound firm, but the way his fingers are kneading your hips is making it harder for you to stay serious.

Chris' grin only widens at your reaction, his eyes glinting with mischief as he leans in close, his nose brushing against yours. "C'mon... you might like it, y'know?"

You groan softly, your head falling forward to rest against his shoulder as you mutter, "I can't believe I'm even entertaining this conversation right now."

His arms tighten around your waist as he presses a kiss to the top of your head. "You're laughin' and smilin', baby... think you're already halfway convinced."

You pull back slightly to glare at him, though the playful glint in your eyes makes it obvious you're not really mad, or fully against the idea. "I'm not convinced... there's just no way I'm letting you put your dick in my ass."

Chris wiggles his eyebrows at you, "You say that now, but give it time, baby. I've got my ways."

And he does, he always does.

Because right now, you're sprawled out across your bed, skin bare, knees pressed to your chest as Chris' mouth latches onto your pussy, tongue swirling and lips suckling around your clit while his two fingers work inside your ass—covered in copious amounts of lube for a more easy access.

You take a shaky breath, wincing at the initial stretch of something foreign being inside you back there, but as he continues to apply gentle pressure along with the tender licks of his tongue on your cunt, you begin to slowly relax—your body yielding to his touch.

Chris watches your expression closely from below, taking notice of the subtle shift from discomfort to relaxation as he smiles against your folds, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your slit as he continues to stroke your inner walls with his fingers, maintaining such a steady pace that it has your toes curling.

Chris slowly withdraws his finger before gently pushing it back in, sinking it deeper this time, and your back arches with a quiet whine, gripping the sheets as he keeps his movements slow and controlled.

"I... I..." you speak breathlessly, unable to find your words as his free hand wanders up your torso to massage your breast, rolling the pebbled nipple to help distract you from any lingering discomfort, and it works.

Your eyelids flutter shut, lost in the stimulation of his probing fingers and delicate thumbing of your nipple, surprised to find yourself actually enjoying this new experience—the slight burn of stretching giving way to the growing warmth in your belly.

When he believes you're ready, he removes his fingers from your ass, causing you to whine a little from the loss of contact. You watch through hooded-lids as he positions himself, grabbing his cock to line it up with your prepared hole, making you shiver and tense up when you feel him lightly press to your opening.

"Just relax," he reminds you, using his other hand to caress your thigh lovingly, sending you a warm smile. "Take a breath, you'll be okay. I got you."

You give him an affirmative nod, taking a deep breath in as he pushes his hips forward, the head of his cock breaching your tight ring, pausing every so often to allow you to adjust to his side.

You cry out sharply his cock stretching you open, your muscles clenching reflexively around him, and the pain makes you seize up, your hands flying out to grasp his arms—pinching the skin with your nails on accident, but he doesn't seem to mind as he focuses more on you than himself.

The tears bubble at the corner of your eyes from the burn of being stretched much significantly larger than his fingers, and your teeth gnaw down on your bottom lip harshly to stifle the whimpers that threaten to spill.

"It's okay, it's okay," Chris coos softly, "Just breathe, mama. You're doin' so well already."

He knows it's a lot to take in, but he can't help but feel so satisfied at finally claiming you this way—marvelling at the tightness and the warm embrace around his cock.

He rubs your thighs tenderly, holding still for a moment, allowing you to get used to the feeling of being so filled from a different way. Then, slowly, he begins to withdraw, only to push back in carefully, repeating his shallow motions as he leans his body over yours, his breath fanning across your face before claiming your lips.

You struggle to reciprocate at first, but eventually, you return the kiss, your tongue sliding into his mouth as the pain ebbs away, replaced by a strange tingly warmth that spreads through your lower half—body adjusting to the constant pressure of his cock moving within you.

A soft, strangled moan escapes your throat as you feel him hit a particularly sensitive spot, and your grip loosens on his arms to bury your face in the crook of his neck, panting heavily against his skin.

"There... there we go," Chris praises, his lips trailing kisses along your jawline as he picks up the pace, his hips rocking in a steady rhythm as he sinks deeper with each thrust. He can already feel the heat building within him, his balls drawing up tight to cum.

His hips continue to roll, grinding his pelvis against your ass to stimulate that sensitive spot again, and he grins when he hears your sharp gasp, your teeth grazing over the juncture of his neck.

"Fuck, you feel so good—oh my god—"

You shiver under Chris' words, your face warming with a mix of embarrassment and pride. You try to meet his thrusts with your own, pushing your hips up to take him deeper, only for a desperate whine to bubble from your lips as the tip of his cock brushes against the spot inside you again and again, sending sparks shooting down your spine.

"I... I think... I think I'm close," you pant out, your voice trembling as your toes curl. "Please.. please.."

"Yeah?" Chris hums, his grip on your hips tightening as he increases the speed of his thrusts a little, staring down at you with wild eyes, lips parted as he breathes heavily. "Let me feel you cum on my cock, baby—c'mon."

He urges you, angling his hips, pressing deeper to push you over the edge as the pressure coils tighter in his balls, desperate to fill you up—but he holds himself back with has much willpower as he can muster, focused on making you cum first.

"C'mon, c'mon, c'mon—" he repeats his words, pumping his hips, his balls slapping against your cheeks as he drills you into the bed, his moans blending in with your high-pitched moans.

Your vision whites out, and you see flecks behind your closed lids as an orgasm rips through you, clenching around his cock tightly. You can barely form any coherent thoughts, too overwhelmed by the intensity that you don't feel him pulsing inside of you, his cock filling you up as he reaches his own release.

You're lost in the aftershocks, gasping for air as you try to process what just happened, but when reality starts to filter back in, you look up at Chris with hazy eyes, a dazed smile playing on your lips.

Chris leans down to press a kiss to your damp forehead, his breath warm against your skin as he breathes heavily, carefully pulling out of you and rolling onto his side, chest rising and falling rapidly.

"You okay?" you hear him ask you quietly, breaking the comfortable silence between your both as his arm wraps around you, pulling you close to his chest.

You nod against him, your cheek pressed to his bare skin as his fingers begin tracing lazy, soothing patterns down your spine, the motion calming you—taking your mind off the dull ache that lingers down below.

"I'm fine," you murmur, draping your arm across his middle to hold him close, smiling tiredly when he presses another kiss to the top of your head before resting his chin lightly against you.

Silence settles between you both once again, just relaxing in each other’s embrace, listening to the sounds of the outside world until Chris decides to break it;

“I hope you know we’re doin’ that again... and again, and again, and—”

# ( SUNDAY, DAY SEVEN, FINAL )

You can't believe you've made it to Sunday—the end of the week.

Fucking Chris for six—almost seven—days straight has been taxing on your body; every muscle aches, your limbs heavy with exhaustion, and you're a little sore between your legs.

You're drained, sure, but as you lay in bed, reflecting on the past several days, you can't help but feel a warmth bloom in your chest.

Despite the ache, despite the exhaustion, it's been... really good. The past week wasn't unusual for your relationship. You and Chris have always been sexually active, but this week felt so different.

Being with him so frequently, so intensely, has unlocked a new kind of closeness between you—one that you hadn't even realised was missing.

It wasn't just about the physicality, no, there was plenty of that. It was the way he looked at you through it all, his gaze filled with love and appreciation. It was the way he touched you, firm but gentle in the moments when you needed him to be. It was the way he listened to you and spoke to you, how every word carved deep into your soul, leaving a mark behind.

You've always been comfortable with Chris, but this week, it felt like both of you had peeled back another layer to expose parts of yourself you've never shared before. You saw new sides of him, and in turn, you felt open and comfortable enough to show more of yourself in ways you'd never thought you would.

It reminded you why you love him in the first place: the way he makes you feel so seen, heard, loved, and wanted.

You're pulled from your thoughts when Chris enters you room, a box in hand and a silly, crooked smile stretched across his lips. He nudges the door closed with his foot before making his way over to you, sitting on the edge of the bed and placing the box down on the sheets in front of you.

You raise your eyebrow in curiosity, your gaze darting down to the mysterious box before back at him, "What is it?"

He leans back on one hand, the other gesturing toward the box. "Open it."

You purse your lips sceptically before reaching out, your fingertips grazing the edges of the cardboard box as you slowly pop open the lid, leaning forward to peek inside.

What you see nearly pulls a laugh from your throat—a snort threatening to escape as you hold your hand over your mouth. Inside sits a cake, weakly decorated and messy, the frosting smeared unevenly across the surface in bright splashes of blue and green.

Red icing hearts dot the edges, lopsided and wobbly, and in the middle, written in shaky (and barely legible) icing letters, are the words: 'YOU DID IT. CONGRATS ON FUCKING ME FOR SEVEN DAYS. I ♡ YOU'.

You're stuck in silence, your hand still covering your mouth as you try to stifle the grin tugging at your lips before finally letting out a laugh.

"You're so stupid..." you murmur affectionately.

Chris' grin only grows wider at that, "I think it's romantic."

"Romantic?" you tease, "You call this romantic?"

"Me workin' my ass off in the kitchen to make this shit f'you while you lay in bed? Yeah, I think it's romantic," he says, his eyes glimmering as he points to the cake. "D'you know how hard it is to write with icing? I almost threw the fuckin' thing."

You giggle softly as you look down at the cake. The thing is, it's perfect. Not in the traditional sense due to it being so lopsided and messy, and the fact it looks like it was made by a five-year-old—but it's perfect because it's from him.

The thought, the effort, the way he wanted to celebrate this silly little challenge—it makes your heart ache.

Your fingers brush lightly over the edge of the box once again as you glance up at Chris, "You really did this?"

Chris' grin fades, replaced by a softer smile as he rests his hand on top of yours, "'Course I did," he brushes his thumb over your knuckles. "You deserve it, y'know? Been puttin' up with me 'n my dick all week, wanted to do somethin' special for you. Even if it's ugly."

"It's not ugly," you rebuke quickly, but Chris raises an eyebrow, giving you a pointed look that makes you falter. You take one glance at the cake again, pressing your lips together before finally relenting. "Okay, maybe it's a little ugly."

The pair of you laugh, and you push yourself up on your knees to lean over the box, cupping his face between your palms to bring him in for a sweet kiss. Chris responds instantly, his lips meeting yours, his fingers curling around your hips to steady you as you lean into him.

The kiss deepens, his mouth moving against yours, and you can feel the smile tugging at the corner of his lips which brings out your own smile too, your fingers sliding up into his hair as you tilt your head to the side.

"Wait," he mumbles against your lips, voice muffled and breathless, and you pull back to meet his gaze, confused. "I know it's ugly, but we don't need to crush the cake, baby."

Oh.

You look down at the box still sitting between you both, your clothes almost touching the icing around the edges and you pull your hands from his hair to press against his chest, pushing him back slightly.

Chris picks up the box carefully with a soft laugh, placing it down on the nightstand—keeping it far away from the two of you. The second he turns back to you, his hands are on you again, pulling you closer for his lips to find yours.

The kiss is deeper now, slow and deliberate, as his hands slide up your waist, holding onto you as yours fist the fabric of his shirt, your knees brushing against his as you melt into him.

His arm hooks around your middle, lifting you up a little only to lay you back against the bed, sprawling you under him. You expected him to kiss you again, to leave you feeling breathless, but you're surprised when all he does is caress your face softly, stroking your cheek and trace the outline of your bottom lip with his thumb.

He's staring down at you so lovingly that you grow flustered, looking elsewhere around the room until he cups your chin to bring your attention back to him, leaning down to reconnect your lips.

Chris is the first to take off his shirt, fisting at the material and pulling it over his shoulders, discarding it to the floor to help you take off yours before his lips attach to your chest—leaving light, feathery kisses over your skin, and you arch your back with a quiet gasp, watching as he trails over your breasts and down your stomach.

He hooks his fingers beneath the waistband of your panties, pulling them down your legs slowly as he kisses down your legs, and you squirm at the cold air that hits your pussy—knees knocking against his side but he pays no mind as he decides to lay between your legs.

The sight of him staring at you from his position builds the arousal in the pit of your belly, and you lift your hips to coax him into touching you—tasting you—and you clench around nothing when he leans in to press another kiss to your inner thighs.

Without warning, you feel his tongue slowly lap your slit, the tip of the wet muscle wiggling between your folds before flicking over your clit slowly, and you hum, threading your fingers through his hair.

Chris moans into your pussy as he messily slurps you up, sucking on your clit with the right amount of suction, causing a cry to tumble past your lips as you instinctively roll your hips against his face, seeking more friction.

Chris takes it upon himself to hook one hand beneath your knee to push it up at an angle that helps bury his face further between your legs, mouthing at all the right places.

You tilt your head back with a moan, unable to control the pitch of your sounds as your orgasm builds up quicker than usual, the band in the tummy tightening as your pussy clenches around the tip of his tongue that dips inside of you—the pressure and pleasuring becoming too much for you to handle that the band snaps, cumming heavy on his tongue.

"Good job, baby." Chris praises you, lapping you up eagerly as he helps ride out your orgasm, smiling against your pussy when he feels your thighs twitch.

You struggle to catch your breath, dry panting as you jerk your hips away from his mouth, and his chest vibrates with a laugh, letting go of the back of your knee to watch it drop limp on the bed.

You taste yourself when he crawls up your body to kiss your lips, and you suck on his tongue to which he responds by rutting his hips into yours, his covered cock pressing against you.

"Take them off," you whisper into the kiss, your hands tugging at his sweats. "Please, take them off."

Chris doesn't verbally respond to you as his tongue slides into your mouth, but his own hands move toward his sweats, pulling at the drawstring to untie it before shoving them down his legs along with his boxers.

You move your hand between your bodies to wrap your fingers around his cock, causing him to moan between kisses as you pump him leisurely, your head spinning with the way he pants against your mouth—mouth agape as his breathing gets heavier and heavier with each tug of your hand.

Eventually, you guide him to your opening, coating his cock with your arousal and his saliva as you slide the tip through your folds. Chris deeply exhales, pulling his lips from yours to look down, watching you position his tip at your awaiting hole, angling his hips forward to help push inside.

Your body welcomes him immediately, and Chris coos, taking your hand in his own to give it a few squeezes as you both watch where you're connected—watching him sink deeper into you bit by bit, rolling his hips to thrust slowly, allowing your legs to wind around his waist to pull him in closer.

He kisses you once again, pouring his love and devotion into it as he brings your interlocked hands above your head, pressing them into the pillow as he gets comfortable above you.

Each gentle and slow roll of his hips has you seeing stars behind your closed lids, listening to the way Chris moans and groans every time he bottoms out inside you, and your gummy walls clench around him in return.

Your grip on his hand tightens when you break the kiss to allow yourself to breathe in fresh air, struggling for oxygen, staring up at him in bliss to see the slightly fuzzy outline of him smiling down at you—his own eyelid fluttering with every roll of his hips.

But he buries his face into the crevice of your neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses on your skin as the pace of his thrusts start to quicken, the wet noises of your pussy sucking in his cock fills the room along with your shameless noises of pleasure, and your free hand reaches up to grab the back of his head, threading your fingers through the roots as you nip at his shoulders.

"F-Fuck I love you," he whimpers, his teeth grazing over your skin as he splutters repeatedly. "I love you, I love you, I love you, I—"

Your hand tightens around his own as his words of affection tip you over the edge completely, whining as your legs tremble around his hips as you cum all over his cock. The feeling of your walls gripping him like a vice triggers his own climax and he’s moaning into your neck, releasing with long spurts that paint your insides and you gasp at the feeling of him filling you up, the warmth spreading. 

He stays above you for quite some time, basking in each other's presence and collecting your breath, staring at one another with giddy smiles which causes you both to laugh as he pulls out with a wince before laying back over you comfortably.

"I really fuckin' love you... y'know that, right?" Chris whispers softly to you, removing his hand from yours to cup your cheek, rubbing his thumb across your cheekbone tenderly.

A small, tired, but lovingly smile graces your lips as you let out a content sigh, your own voice barely above a whisper as you reply back to him. "I know... and I really fucking love you too."

© STURNIOZ

[hcneymooners]

best friends mom ambessa? perchance? love ur fics 🤍

⋆ you made me crazy, you made me wild.

best friend's mother!ambessa x curvy!f!reader. men & minors dni.

synopsis: a psychic once told you you'd have the kind of love that would mark you for the rest of your life. did it have to be with your best friend's mother?

cw: milf!bessa, age difference, older woman/younger woman, modern au, you and mel are best friends, long rich people vacations, curvy!reader, reader is implied to be a woc but you can still read regardless, forbidden love, sneaking around, vaping bc i have an oral fixation however i have never once smoked i just like the vibe i fear, non-sexual intimacy, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, overstimulation (bessa!receiving, r!recieving), multiple orgasms, tribbing, cunnilingus (bessa!receiving), you go to town on her my god, squirting (bessaaaa does it), tender sex, floor sex, manhandling, light angst, friendship breakups, angst with a happy ending.

notes: perchance is killing me. thank you so much for being so sweet mami. hope you enjoy. also, don't vape kids!

you and mel haven't spoken in three weeks.

the thought sits heavy in your chest as you perch on the window seat of your boutique, one leg tucked beneath you, the other dangling lazily. your cream silk camisole rides up your belly, catching on the velvet cushions behind you. outside, venice beach awakens like a lioness stretching in the sun, all languid and golden.

the brass bell above your door chimes softly in the morning breeze. your fingers find your vape – a delicate thing of gold, engraved with climbing roses – and bring it to your lips in a motion as natural as breathing.

the sweet ghost of vanilla mango curls around you like a familiar lover. you've always needed something between your lips, a fact that amuses your friends and once made ambessa raise an eyebrow in that way that sent heat flooding through your body.

the recent mornings have been sadder and slower than most, though objectively one wouldn’t be able to tell. you keep waking in fits, your body heavy with mourning. your reflection in the shop window shows what you've become in her absence: curves nestled in vintage, mussed hair tumbling past your shoulders, lips stained the color of crushed berries.

a crystal pendant nestles in the soft valley between your breasts, and your rings catch the light as you fidget with the hemline of your denim cutoffs. there's nothing calculated about your appearance today – no performance or intention. it's as honest as you can muster this morning.

the wooden floor creaks beneath your bare feet as you move to arrange a display of moonstone rings. your own fingers are adorned with gold bands, each one telling a story of who you were before that summer in england. before mel, before her mother and that library with its leather-bound books and muggy afternoons, before you watched her, endeared as she peered at her phone with those sunglasses perched on the top of her head.

before you realized that the soft animal of your body had found its home in the worst fucking lineage alive.

your phone lights up again – another message from mel. her name on the screen sends a fresh wave of guilt through you, but not regret. never regret. not about the way her mother’s hands felt on your waist in the conservatory, not about the first kiss that tasted of chlorine and whiskey, not even about the screaming match that ended with you on a plane back to california.

you take another long drag from your vape, watching the morning light fracture through hanging crystals into rainbow patterns across your skin. the salt air mingles with your perfume – something expensive and european that ambessa had picked out because she liked to dress you like a little doll, build your body up.

a customer pushes open the door, sending the brass bell into a symphony, and you unfold yourself from the window seat. your reflection shows a woman who knows exactly who she is – soft-bodied but steel-spined, tarnished but holding out for healing.

you tuck the vape into a vintage ceramic dish beside your register, next to the rose quartz crystal your psychic insisted would bring your true love back to you. you're not sure you believe it, but you keep it close anyway, just in case the universe is listening.

the customer's voice hits you like a wave – crisp, cultured british vowels discussing the merits of different pieces. it's nothing like ambessa's voice, really, but it's enough to send you tumbling back into that summer, that first day when everything changed.

𓇼

mel had been waiting at heathrow, practically vibrating with anxiety, her locs spun into a tight chignon at the nape of her neck—a nervous habit since childhood. you'd fallen into each other's arms like you always did, all tears and high laughter, ignoring the disapproving looks from passing businessmen. it was the same way you'd hugged since you were five, sharing grape juice boxes and childish fantasies on the playground.

"it's just a little cottage in the countryside," mel had said on facetime, twisting her initial necklace. "very quaint, very english. you'll probably think it's charming." what she hadn't mentioned was that her "cottage" was actually a sprawling estate that made downton abbey look modest.

honey-colored stone stretched towards the sky, windows gleaming like diamonds in the afternoon sun. the gravel drive seemed endless, winding through gardens that swallowed the sun within their towering walls. it must’ve been a dream to grow up here, small feet tumbling through the mazes and nothing but the entire world before you. your hand was still clasped in hers on the gearshift of her vintage mercedes, just like always, but you could feel her fingers trembling slightly.

"mom's probably in the library," mel said, killing the engine. "she's got this thing about afternoon light."

she chewed her lip, a habit you recognized from exam days and first dates.

"just… don't take it personally if she's a bit… well, you know. she can be kind of intense. dad always says she's an acquired taste."

you remember adjusting your dress, a red-and-white gingham number that clung delicately to your stomach. the bow at the bust had come undone at least three times that morning, and the skirt, airy and flared, fluttered in the slightest breeze. it felt a little too simple, too worn for the looming grandeur of mel’s childhood home, but you hadn’t thought to pack anything else. besides, something was grounding about it—the way the cotton pressed against your skin, the familiar weight of the straps on your shoulders, like it was trying to remind you who you were.

you followed mel through halls lined with oil paintings and antiquities. your sandals clicked against marble floors, echoing off high ceilings. everything smelled overwhelmingly of jasmine and time passed, the atmosphere practically bloated by money’s touch.

and then there was ambessa.

she stood in a shaft of golden light, tall and elegant in a cream linen suit that probably cost more than your entire wardrobe. silver threaded through her dark hair which was braided down into a neat, long plait and when she turned, her eyes caught yours with an intensity that made your knees weak. your psychic's words echoed in your head – "your palm reads of a love that will shake you. stand fast, girl." – and something in your chest shifted, like tectonic plates realigning.

"mom, this is my best friend," mel was saying, but her voice seemed to come from very far away. you noticed how she shifted her weight from foot to foot, how her fingers twisted in the waistband of her maxi skirt. "the one i've been telling you about."

ambessa's handshake was firm, her skin warm against yours.

"welcome to our home," she said, and her voice – god, her voice was like honey over gravel, like smoke and leather. "i trust you'll find everything… adequate."

you managed to say something appropriate, probably, though you couldn't remember what. all you could focus on was the way ambessa's eyes lingered on the wide basket of your waist, the delicate line of your collarbone, the pearl drop nestled between your breasts. it felt like a cigarette dragged slowly across your skin.

later, sprawled across mel's massive bed like you used to do at sleepovers, both of you tipsy on expensive wine stolen from the cellar, mel talked about her latest boyfriend drama – some posh boy from oxford who couldn't commit – while you traced patterns on her linen sheets. but your mind kept drifting to the library, to ambessa's knowing smile, to the way she'd looked at you over dinner like you were a deer she very much wanted to fell.

you didn't know then that those looks would become your undoing.

𓇼

you couldn't sleep that first week, your body stubbornly running on pacific time. the massive house creaked and whispered at night, all those endless corridors filled with shadows. you'd taken to wandering, padding through the halls in your cotton shorts and an old guns & roses tee, your thick hair piled high in a silk scarf that your grandmother had taught you to wrap just so.

that's how she found you the third night, curled up in the window seat of the informal library (because of course there were multiple libraries), reading the beautiful and damned by phone light. your bare legs were tucked up under you, painted toes peeking out, a half-eaten peach leaving sticky fingerprints on the pages.

"fitzgerald at three in the morning?" her voice was rough with sleep, but still commanding. ambessa stood in the doorway in a black silk robe that made your mouth go dry, her hair loose around her shoulders. "how terribly american of you."

"can't sleep," you drawled, your accent thick and lazy in the quiet. "time zones are, like, totally brutal."

the ghost of a smile touched her lips at your exaggerated californian lilt, and something warm unfurled in your chest when her eyes lingered on your face, studying you with a naked interest that made your skin prickle.

it became a ritual after that – you in your sun-faded pajamas, her in sophisticated sleepwear that probably cost more than your rent. she'd pour two fingers of sherry ("none of that silly wine you girls keep stealing." “yeah, sorry about that.”), and you'd talk about everything and nothing.

you told her about your boutique—at the time—dream, about learning to make jewelry from an old hippie who read tarot cards on the boardwalk. she spoke of art acquisitions and board meetings, but sometimes, when the night grew soft and heavy around you, she'd share pieces of herself that felt like an easy glimpse into your future.

mel noticed, of course she did.

"mum’s different with you," she said one afternoon, watching you apply coconut oil to your sun-warmed skin by the pool. her voice was careful, measured in a way that made your stomach twist. "she actually laughs at your jokes. she never laughs at anyone's jokes."

you hummed noncommittally, pretending to be absorbed in moisturizing. but you could feel mel's eyes on you, the same sharp gaze she'd inherited from her mother, taking in how you'd started wearing your nicest pajama sets to your nighttime wanderings, how you'd borrowed one of her expensive face creams "just to test it out."

during the days, you'd lounge in the massive gardens with mel, your skin deepening to further in the english sun while she talked less and less about her boyfriend's drama and more about how strange it was to see her mother so… present. but at night – at night you belonged to the library, to raspy-voiced conversations and loaded silences, to the way ambessa's eyes would trace the crescent of your folded body, the arch of your neck, the fullness of your lips.

"you're nothing like i expected," she said one night, two months in, her voice low and intimate in the darkness. you were sprawled on the persian rug, head tipped back against a leather armchair, humming some alternative song under your breath. your skin glowed warm and rich in the lamplight, a sharp contrast to the pale marble and cream walls surrounding you.

"oh?" you looked up at her through your lashes, feeling brave from the whiskey and the late hour. "what did you expect?"

"someone more like mel's other friends. polished. proper." her lips curved around the words as if they amused her. "not this beautiful little creature in threadbare pajamas, so full of freedom and self-assuredness. you hold your own."

beautiful. the word hung in the air between you, dangerous and flickering. like the growing tension you felt whenever mel watched you both at dinner, her eyes narrowing at each shared glance, each lingering moment. you sat up slowly, your movements sluggish and dream-like.

"i don’t. not really. you make me nervous, but i learned early on how to fake it."

her eyes met yours in the dim light, and the air flooded with something thick and heady. your body felt electric. behind you, a floorboard creaked – mel, you'd realize later, watching from the doorway with dawning understanding.

but in that moment, all you could see was ambessa, all you could feel was the weight of what was building between you, an avalanche you were both choosing to let bury you.

in a matter of minutes, she had her hands on you, your back against her firm chest with two fingers tucked inside of your cunt. your legs sprawled open, your pussy blossoming with arousal like rain on roses.

she was softer than you’d imagined, but it was almost relieving. the tenderness did more for you anyway, sent your pulse more freely throughout your body.

you bucked your hips as heat spiraled up from the base of your spine. ambessa pressed you back down, fingers gripping deeply into your thighs.

“no,” she murmured. “stay down.”

you were nestled into her lap, her fingers milking you gently as you arched. your voice seemed caught in your throat, your neck extended in expectation of a kiss. she indulged you, mouth capturing yours while her thumb slipped past your thatch of curls to play with your clit.

the kiss was wet and sloppy, uncoordinated as a result of your jerking body. still, she fed from you reaping kiss after kiss, suckling at your tongue. she groaned into your lips as you threaded a harsh hand into her hair, pining her face against yours.

in response, she inserted a third finger. you let out a high moan at the added stimulation, rooting a hand around her neck to better fuck yourself down. she laughed lightly at your desire, pumping faster until your cunt dribbled gratitude down her knuckles.

“there you go, sweet girl,” she cooed and you shivered.

you suddenly understood cults and their leaders, how special you could feel when their attention was laved over you. you were trying your best to remain quiet, thick thighs trembling as she fucked you a little harder. your tits were bouncing as you met her thrusts and she hid her face into your neck, sucking and biting lightly.

with a muffled squeal you came, squirting lavishly all over where the two of you were locked together. true to her nature, ambessa didn’t give you a moment. with an efficient maneuver, she slid you around and on top of her. it was then that you realized she was naked, robe hanging open at her sides. you weren’t given a second to admire her.

instead, she tucked you into her and kissed you as she extended her legs out and settled you onto her warm cunt. you collapsed fully into her, face buried in the soft crevice of her heavy tits. she let out a slight hum of satisfaction as she slotted your clits together, hooking a leg over you to better increase the spread of your puffy pussy. eventually, you understood the intention and began to rock steadily against her.

the friction was heavenly and you clutched her tightly, burrowing into her broad body as you chased your pleasure. ambessa was just as frantic, snapping up with a hand anchored into your hair. your silk scarf had fallen long ago but you didn’t worry about it. all that mattered was her deep groans of pleasure and the way she kept fucking up against you.

“fuck, honey,” she murmured and you wanted to tell her that you knew, that you understood.

but you couldn’t. you were rendered pathetic by the threat of your second orgasm and settled for cumming inside of her with a wet wail. you could feel her legs shaking but you knew she hadn’t finished, and with a great groan you slid off of her.

stumbling slightly, you stood and rearranged so that you were kneeling in between the apex of her legs with your ass high in the air. as you dripped onto the carpet you began to lap at her and reached a hand up to twist and pinch at her nipples, alternating between her tits.

her breath began to shudder, her chest heaving as she ground down on her tongue. it only took a couple more broad strokes up her pussy and a relentless circling of her clit for her to finish, the liquid dowsing your nose and chin. the spray was thick and warm.

pleased, you hummed into her and started the whole thing up again. she cried out, legs closing around you in a suffocating crush.

not once did you let go.

𓇼

the fight had been brutal. even now, the memory makes your stomach churn—leaves you flinching, sick, and unsteady.

“jesus, [name],” mel’s voice had been sharp, cutting through the quiet. “you’re playing house with my fucking mother.”

“mel—”

“no!” she snapped, her words laced with disbelief and venom. “i can’t believe you. what? are you just desperate? taking whatever scraps you can get? ‘but i love her, melly!’”

her voice pitched high, mocking, cruel in a way you’d never heard before.

“i mean, my god, just go to therapy. don’t go fucking my mother!”

your hand cracked against her cheek before you even registered the motion.

“fuck you,” you spat, trembling, the tears hot and blinding.

she staggered back a step, wide-eyed and disbelieving. you mirrored her shock, your palm still stinging. the silence that followed was suffocating, broken only by the harsh sound of both your breaths. ambessa had stepped out moments before—it was just the two of you now, suspended in the aftermath.

her lips parted as if to say something, but no words came.

your ticket was booked that afternoon, your bag packed by evening. you were gone before the sun had fully set.

𓇼

you close the shop early, your hands moving automatically as the weight of the day presses down on you.

the steady drag on your vape blurs the edges of your thoughts, a small comfort that does nothing to ease the growing ache in your chest. by the time you arrive home, the haze has lifted, but it leaves behind a sharp clarity: you’re alone. sadder than anything. the kind of heartbroken that settles deep in your bones and brings you down, quiet and constant like a low hum you can’t escape.

so you’re surprised when you’re met with a sleek range rover loitering in the parking lot outside your apartment complex.

you didn’t expect to see her this soon. or ever. didn’t want to. three weeks of silence, of space between you both, and you thought you were okay with it. you’d been fine with the quiet, with the absence. but there she is.

mel is right outside your building, sitting pretty and cross-legged in the backseat, the car’s headlights casting long, soft shadows over the cracked pavement. ambessa is sitting in the passenger seat, her face illuminated by the glow from the dashboard, and something about the way she holds herself makes it clear that she’s on the edge. she probably didn’t even want to do this. maybe she’d flown here for mel. maybe mel had flown here for you.

your chest tightens as you stand there, frozen for a moment, caught between the impulse to walk away and the need to understand what’s brought them here. you don’t move, just watch.

the undiscovered truth is that ambessa’s done this for both of you.

mel’s been struggling without you. she’s noticed it; this is her daughter after all. mel hasn’t said it outright, but ambessa can see it in the way her shoulders slump when she talks to anyone else, the small, tired smiles that don’t reach her eyes. she’s miserable without her best friend. and then—gradually—ambessa realized how much she needed you, too. wanted you.

the air between you and the car is heavy with guilt and longing. you can see it in mel’s face, too—how much she loves her mother, how she wants this to be different, even if she doesn’t quite know how to fix it.

and you? you feel a bit numb. maybe it’s the dredges of your vanilla buzz. the sadness in your chest, the loneliness, the quiet hope that maybe—just maybe—this could still work? it’s half dead, half living. you can’t tell if you’re ready to talk, to face what’s been left unsaid for so long. but you know one thing for sure: you’ve missed them both.

you keep standing there, rooted to the spot, watching the car like it’s some kind of omen. the silence feels louder than anything you’ve heard in weeks. ambessa remains in the passenger seat, her gaze distant, like she’s trying to work through something too. you don’t know what it is—whether it’s the weight of her possible regret or the silent pressure she’s putting on her daughter.

mel shifts in her seat, and then, before you can even brace yourself, she’s out of the car, the door slamming shut behind her. she’s standing in front of you now, her eyes wide with something that looks like hesitation.

“i didn’t know where else to go,” she says, her voice quiet but raw.

you don’t know what to say. the words that have been sitting in your throat for weeks suddenly seem impossible to spit out. you want to scream, to ask her why she didn’t come sooner, why it took so long. but all you can do is stand there, your chest tight and aching.

“you don’t have to say anything,” mel continues, her eyes darting between your face and the ground. “i just… i didn’t know what else to do. my mom’s…” she trails off, and there’s something in her voice—something that sounds like both love and frustration.

“she’s been miserable without you. i’ve been miserable without you.”

the admission hangs between you, thick and vulnerable. your breath catches in your throat. you didn’t know how much you missed her until this moment. you want to reach out, to pull her close, but you don’t. the ground between you both feels too fragile. finally, you speak.

“you deserve an apology too,” you croak out. “i shouldn’t have gone behind your back and i sure as hell should have never fucking hit you. it was unacceptable and i’m sorry, melly.”

her eyes grow bright and glassy with tears. she nods.

“i’m not going to say it’s fine because it’s not. but thank you for apologizing.”

you nod, resigned to another night of crying yourself to sleep.

i realized,” mel says wetly, “before this whole thing i’d never—i’d never seen you in love. i’ve never seen you that happy. i’m sorry for mocking that especially since you’ve never had that before, and it’s all you’ve ever wanted.”

you shrug, looking away.

“it’s how i’ve been living.”

before mel can say anything else, ambessa opens her door and steps out of the car. she’s quiet, her movements deliberate, but there’s something gentle in the way she walks toward you. she stops just a foot away, and without a word, she closes the gap and cups your face in her hands, her palms warm against your skin.

you blink, the shock of her touch overwhelming.

“i can’t believe you’re here,” you tell her, your voice cracking down the middle. “have you even been to california before?”

and it’s so stupid to say when you haven’t fucking seen her in months, haven’t stopped loving her for days, but ambessa only smiles. her eyes soften as she leans in, her lips brushing your forehead in a delicate.

“i’ve only ever tasted it,” she murmurs, her breath warm against your skin.

© hcneymooners.

⚚ special taglist: @astarcalledtala @sugrcookiiee @16novvs @tnash-tammy @dyk3miffy @iwasholic @fruitfulfashion @absandsevikasgirl @blackdykegirlblogger @fortluocha @neganwifey25-blog @rottngrl3

[kabsey]

The moment the last of the Antaam fell, Rook dashed across the battlefield, hurrying to Harding's side. Lucanis shielded his eyes from the Rivaini sun to try and see what had prompted such a response, but all he saw was Harding laughing as Rook tugged her down to sit on the grass. Then Rook's gaze swept the area, and when it landed on him, she called his name with such urgency that he found himself moving just as quickly as she had.

"Keep her upright," Rook ordered as he knelt beside them, and he immediately placed a supportive hand on Harding's back.

"Rook, I'm fine. It's barely a scratch," Harding protested. "I'm not going to faint at the sight of a little blood."

Rook didn't answer; she was too busy dumping the arrows from her quiver. When they lay scattered, she reached into the quiver to her shoulder and fished out a circular leather case. When she unlatched it, it split open. One half held a set of miniature tools, and the other bristled with tiny vials in a rainbow of colors that sparkled in the afternoon light.

"Rook?" Harding's voice had gone quiet.

Rook glanced up with only a hint of her usual boisterous smile. "You're going to be fine. I promise."

She went straight back to picking at the wax seal on one of the vials. Lucanis shared a glance with Harding and then they both silently watched Rook work. He had never had the opportunity to see her perform such a delicate task or to witness her concentrate with a singular focus. In the short time he'd known her, constant movement had seemed to be her natural state. In combat, she flipped and flittered from enemy to enemy, and outside of it, she seemed to relish the simplest motions, always pacing or stretching or even dancing when the mood struck. He had found himself wondering how someone as cerebral as he knew Viago to be wound up with a protégé so steeped in the physical.

As he watched Rook's hands measure out precise dropfuls of liquid into an empty vial, she suddenly appeared as a de Riva to his eyes. Her fingers were long and elegant, tipped by shaped and buffed nails. Unlike nearly every other part of her, the backs of her hands were free of freckles. They looked pale and soft in the sunlight, though he knew they were likely as calloused as his own. Their weapons were similar. Did her calluses match his? Palm to palm, would they be mirrors of each other? And why did that thought strike him as familiar?

He hadn't intended to lapse into reverie, and it broke at the sound of Harding swallowing heavily.

"I feel a little strange," she admitted.

Lucanis glanced down at her again and was alarmed to see her face had gone white behind her freckles. He shifted closer, allowing her to lean against his side.

"You have nothing to worry about," he assured her.

"Oh, yeah?" She lifted one of her booted feet in a weak poke at Rook's side. "You could have mentioned I was poisoned."

Rook only flashed her a brief smile before resuming her work.

"Every Crow in Antiva knows that Viago de Riva is the best among us at creating poisons and antidotes, which means he is likely the best in the world," Lucanis told Harding. "You've met him, yes?"

Harding nodded, her head lolling a bit against his chest. "He trained Rook, right?" The last word came out as barely more than air as her breath ran short.

"Yes. For many years."

"But you and Rook... never met?"

Lucanis shook his head. "Perhaps he did not want her entangled with the Dellamortes. My house has many enemies."

"More likely he thought I'd embarrass him," Rook said. She held a vial to Harding's lips. "Drink."

Harding obeyed, though she seemed to have a bit of trouble swallowing whatever antidote Rook had mixed. Lucanis shifted again, trying to guide her head to tip back slightly against his shoulder. When she finally drained the last drop, he let out a soft sigh of relief, one that Rook echoed.

"Well, that was fun," Rook remarked.

She rocked back on her heels and began tucking the various elixirs and tools back in their case. Once that was safely settled at the bottom of her quiver, she scooped up her remaining arrows, dropped them in, and then swung the quiver over her shoulder. A moment later she was on her feet and stretching her arms over her head.

"Thanks, Harding. I was afraid I was getting rusty."

"Don't mention it," Harding replied drily.

Already her voice came steadier, and Lucanis thought her color was returning, though it might have been wishful thinking coupled with the ruddy light of the setting sun. Rook grinned, her usual good humor restored. She trotted off down the beach, searching the Antaam corpses for potions or coin or Maker knew what. Lucanis stayed with Harding, and they sat in comfortable silence broken by nothing but the waves, the birds, and the flies buzzing around the bodies. He took a moment for gratitude that none of his new allies were among them. They were all still reeling from the devastation they'd seen in Minrathous; Neve had not yet returned to the Lighthouse. To lose one of their number—and one with such a vital spark as Harding—might have broken the fledgling team.

Instead, thanks to Rook, Harding was getting to her feet with Lucanis's help in a matter of minutes. She scowled down at her torn sleeve and the still-bloody scratch in her arm that had nearly been her end.

"I'm gonna go wash this off," she said and headed down to the shoreline without the slightest waver in her step.

Soon after Rook returned to his side and showed him a simple but sleek-looking throwing knife that ended in a loop with a red tassel. "The Antaam's favored delivery method for poison."

"How did you know?" he asked.

"All part of a de Riva education." She tucked the knife carefully into a pouch at her waist. "Fortunately they generally use a fairly standardized compound across all their troops. Probably brew the stuff by the wagonload in Par Vollen."

She sighed, and her brow pinched in thought. "I'd love to carry the antidote premixed, but as soon as you add the reagent, the efficacy starts sliding down a steep cliff. If you wait too long to administer it, you're left with nothing but a foul-tasting tea. And it's not even hot."

Gazing at her as she pondered her alchemical dilemma, Lucanis was struck again by the feeling of familiarity. His eyes traveled over her face and caught on the little wrinkle that furrowed the space between her eyebrows. He knew she and Viago shared no blood connection, but some sort of resemblance teased at him. He remembered the summer nearly a decade before when he and Viago had worked together to track down a target who had poisoned several members of a rival family. Working side by side with the man, witnessing firsthand his intellect and confident competence, had been the first time Lucanis had ever understood the attraction his cousin seemed to feel for every woman that walked past him.

Rook tilted her head at him, and he noticed the smooth line of her neck, the way the strands of long hair that had escaped her messy bun teased at the skin there. He was surprised to find he was curious about that spot as well, how it would feel beneath his fingertips.

How it would feel beneath his lips.

Rook raised an eyebrow at him. "What?"

Lucanis blinked at her, caught with a wandering mind for a second time in a single afternoon. "What?"

"What's that look?" she asked.

"There's no look."

"Uh-huh." She smirked at him. "Hey, Spite. What's Lucanis thinking right now?"

In a moment of instinctual panic, Lucanis snapped his head to face the demon, who grinned back and crowed, "He Likes! Rook! Wants to Kiss! Rook!"

He felt a hint of warmth suffuse his cheeks as he turned back to Rook, whose smirk had widened to an open grin.

He frowned. "Why would you ask him that? You can't even hear his answer."

"No, but you can," she said. "You're cute when you blush."

He huffed in annoyance despite how one corner of his lips twitched with the urge to curl upward. "It's just from the sun."

"Uh-huh." She turned and began walking backward toward the water. "Let's go make sure Harding hasn't gotten into any more trouble."

She twirled again and then marched down the sand with a long, easy stride, arms swinging, as though she hadn't a care in the world. She moved with the grace all Crows were trained to, but on her it seemed effortless, natural.

Lovely.

"Mierda," he muttered to himself. Suddenly it didn't seem like Harding was the one in imminent danger.

[mangocurist]

@daylilie @jumped-for-the-yaoi be normal this time pleaseeee. anyway so zincewam writing(ls s6 zam and uu wemmbu :)) and now im gonna fuck off to go watch zams stream

✶⋆.˚⋆˙⟡𖤓°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･✶⋆.˚⋆˙⟡𖤓°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･✶⋆.˚⋆˙⟡𖤓°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･✶⋆.˚⋆˙⟡𖤓

Zam isn’t sure what she’s expecting when she meets Wemmbu again, somewhere around ninety-seven days plus a month or so since his (as of now) final death on Lifesteal. 

Honestly, Zam hadn’t even thought he’d ever be talking to Wemmbu again— at least, not before Season Six ended. But her return to the server had its consequences: namely, being kidnapped by one SpokeIsHere and being brought to a random private server to ‘wait until Wemmbu shows up.’ 

Because that was a totally valid way to treat someone you hadn’t talked to in ninety seven days! Yeah, Spoke, let’s just— drag Prince Zam wherever you want! Seriously, if she hadn’t burned her Oath already, she’d be considering it now because of that guy.

Still. It’s… Zam supposes it’s not such a bad thing to talk to Wemmbu again, even if he is still a bit mad at the way this was set up.

After all, he’s not the same Wemmbu who tormented her for the sole crime of caring more about building than she did chaos. That Wemmbu— well, Zam’s pretty sure that Wemmbu had died long before now, even. But… she doesn’t know what she’ll make of this one. And frankly, Zam isn’t sure what this Wemmbu will make of him, either, because he’s not the same Prince Zam that he was ninety-seven days ago. And she certainly isn’t the same Prince Zam who was around at the start of the server.

But— well. Whatever she could have been expecting, this isn’t it.

“Oh. It’s you,” Wemmbu says after he finally logs on, his eyes widening for a second before lowering into a tired glare, and he sounds— defeated. He looks defeated, even if he doesn’t necessarily dress like it, clad in an unfamiliar copper-trimmed cyan cloak and sporting a glowing eye halo above his head. It isn’t right— the Wemmbu Zam knows would be gloating or annoying or doing his best to make Zam upset right about now, flexing status or clothes or whatever the hell he holds against him this time. He wouldn’t be… well. He wouldn’t be looking at Zam like he’s afraid of him.

It gives Zam a bad, bad rush of deja vu, like that same sickening feeling he’d felt when he talked to Mapicc, only to find out that in the time she’d spent away from the rest of the server they’d managed to break her Mapicc down to nothing. 

What the hell had happened?

“Wemmbu?” Zam says, the word coming out as more of a question than a greeting. “Hey, man… uh. Long time no see?”

“It’s been a few months,” Wemmbu acknowledges, and… yeah. Okay. Seems like Zam wasn’t the only one keeping score, then. “...Sooo. Are you building another Empire or something? Seems like a pretty bad move. You know. With what happened last time.” He motions to her clothes, and Zam blinks, confused for just a second, before he remembers what he’s wearing.

“No, no, um— I— I left behind building empires a while ago. You… uh. You shouldn’t know about the Prince Zam Empire, anyway,” Zam coughs awkwardly into the crook of her arm, suddenly a little self conscious of how overgeared she looks compared to an armor-less Wemmbu. Maybe that’s why he looked so… downtrodden? He thought she’d try and jump him, maybe? The armor he and Derap had gathered earlier that day suddenly feels a little heavier, a little bit too much for her to wear, and she hurriedly strips herself of her chestplate, pants and helmet, leaving her only in Atlas’s netherite-trimmed diamond boots and her plain clothes without any other protection. “That was— that was like, a Season Three thing. I think. You weren’t around for that.” 

Wemmbu’s eyebrows furrow. “What? Season Three? I wasn’t… what do you mean?” 

“Yeah— yeah! I, uh. You know. Got executed and like, toyed with, by a rainbow-bandanna wearing God, or whatever. Bad times. But you shouldn’t… you weren’t around for that,” Zam explains hurriedly, hands fiddling with the edge of her cloak. He pauses when his fingers hit the edge of the Wemmbu pin on the cloak, and drops it like a hot potato. Wemmbu’s probably looking at her weird now. She doesn’t blame him. “I’m… uh. Not a pacifist now anymore, either. But— I’m never doing an Empire again. Just… just Zaun, but that’s like, a commune of sorts, you know?” 

Wemmbu’s expression flickers, and then, his eyes seem to harden. “Riiiiiight. So, we’re just making shit up now?”

“What?” Zam blinks, bewildered. This was not the way he was expecting this conversation to go. “Uh— no….? I don’t know what you mean, dude.”

“The Empire. Your Empire, that you betrayed me over,” Wemmbu says, his hands flying to his hair, looking like a mess. “All the shit you did to me, in— in the Prince Zam Empire, in the Proton Prison— all of that, are you just gonna pretend none of that shit ever happened?”

“Wemmbu, I—”

“Yippity yappity, whatever, bro, I literally don’t care what you have to say about— your make believe ‘Season Three’ shit, you, like— can you be fucking serious? And, like, talk about what you did to me?” Wemmbu grips his own wrists, as if he wants to reach out and shake Zam by the shoulders but doesn’t trust himself to. Zam just watches, that awful feeling sinking deeper and deeper into his gut. 

This isn’t the Wemmbu she knows, is he?

“I don’t know what— what this… what your Zam did to you. Because— I don’t think you’re the Wemmbu I know. So, I don’t— think we’re on the same page here,” Zam tells him, voice level. She forces her hands to stay still, clenching them at the sides of her body as she meets Wemmbu in his red-rimmed eyes. “Look. Just— I know, I know, it sounds stupid, and I probably sound like I’m lying, but— but just hear me out for a second, alright? And if I say anything you don’t get, or want me to explain, I’ll… I’ll do that. Just… give me a moment.”

“...Fine.” Wemmbu says. A tear slips down his cheek, and Zam wants nothing more than to reach out and wipe it off, but when she reaches out, he steps back, a little jittery motion that makes her heart crack a little more.

“Okay. Okay. That’s… alright. I— I’ll start with Season Five, where we first met.” Zam inhales, and still holding Wemmbu’s gaze, she starts to explain.

She can only hope that this Wemmbu will be able to trust him with whatever his Zam did to him.

[alastor-x-reader-stories]

"Bite Me" - Alastor x Reader - Part 3

prev first

“Hey, Alphabet.”

Alastor’s eye twitched. He swiveled his head around 180 degrees, grinning down at the short king that had approached him.

“Hello, Lucifer! To what do I owe the pleasure?”

The king leaned more heavily on one leg, spinning his cane with his left hand. “Charlie’s getting kind of worried about one of the residents, so she asked me to look into it.”

“Aaaannd?” Alastor said, snapping his neck as he tilted his head.

Lucifer said your name. Alastor’s ears twitched.

Something was going on with you? Charlie was worried? What had happened-

“So what the fuck do you want with ‘em?” Lucifer said, raising an eyebrow.

“Pardon?” Alastor straightened up his posture as he spoke, turning to face the king completely.

“You’ve been stalking them for the past, like, two weeks.” Lucifer said. He spun his cane back towards him, nestling it under his arm as he motioned with his hand “Let me remind you: you’re not allowed to harm residents of the hotel.”

“I wasn’t aware I was attempting to.” Alastor said, eye twitching yet again.

“Then why are you following them- oh.” Lucifer cut himself off abruptly, seemingly having an epiphany. The fallen angel’s eyes widened, light gleaming in them “Oh! OOOOOH!”

“….what?” Alastor said, not following the king’s train of thought.

Lucifer was bouncing on his feet, grinning so wide it rivalled the Radio Demon’s. His eyes were practically sparkling “I know what’s going on~!” He sang, elbowing Alastor in the side “Y’gotta be straightforward, bambi!”

Alastor took a large step back and took a good amount of joy watching the king fall into his face. He cleared his throat, tilting his head slightly “I’m afraid I don’t understand what you’re implying.”

Lucifer rose from the floor, propping his chin up on his hands while kicking his feet behind him “You, y’know, want their attention!”

“That’s absurd.” Alastor hissed.

“You don’t?”

“No.”

“Not at all?”

“None.”

“You sure?”

“Lucifer if you continue this pointless back-and-forth I will rip out your wings and grill them.”

Lucifer actually paused, letting the side of his head hit the floor as he studied Alastor. There was a bright flash of sparkles and the king appeared on Alastor shoulder in the form of a snake (with a hat). “That kind of sssoundsss like a threat they came up with.”

Alastor chucked Lucifer off of his shoulder. The king poofed back into his usual self mid-air and hovered there. “SooOooOooo…. Do they… y’know?” Lucifer giggled, fanning his hand outwards as rainbow-colored magic filled the space between them “Inspire you?”

“This conversation is pointless and I’m leaving.” Alastor scoffed, making true of his statement by immediately shadow-ing away.

Lucifer landed on his feet and put his wings away. Seems Bambi either doesn’t realize or is too stubborn to admit it out loud. Well. If there was one thing Lucifer learned about the glorified bellhop…

Is that man was made of 105% spite.

Later that day at dinner, Lucifer forsook his usual seat in order to sit next to you. While some of the residents were mildly confused by this (as usually people never ventured from their self-assigned seats), no one particularly cared.

You paid him little extra attention either, simply moving on with the meal as per usual. However, seated across from you, Alastor’s eyes were narrowed intently at the king. Lucifer grinned and dusted off the old charm.

“Heeey, y’know, I was wondering…why are you in Hell to begin with?” Lucifer said, propping his chin up on his hand “Surely an angel like you just got lost?”

Charlie spat out her drink on her end of the table and keeled over while coughing violently, Vaggie frantically rubbing her back to get her situated. Once she was all right (giving a shakey thumbsup), you gave the king a bemused look.

“It’s rude to ask a person of indistinguishable gender what got them hell-bound.” You hummed.

Lucifer paused in his response, too concerned with Charlie’s situation. She gave him another thumbsup and he hesitantly turned his attention back to you.

“Sorry, can’t help myself.” He lidded his eyes, leaning slightly closer “I simply can’t help but want to learn all about you~”

You put a hand over his face and pushed him back “Personal space.”

“Fair.” Lucifer said with one finger up, his voice muffled by your hand.

You retracted your hand and rolled your eyes “Well, I’m not a super share-y person…I mean I’ll do it during Charlie’s redemption activities but that’s about it.”

“And that’s okay!” Charlie chimed in, “I appreciate your efforts!”

You gave her a thumbs up. Lucifer took the pause to glance at Alastor, to find the deer man only paying half attention. Well. That wasn’t what he was aiming for. Absentmindely, Lucifer picked a fry off your plate and chomped down on it.

“Dad! That’s not your plate.” Charlie said, motioning awkwardly.

Lucifer was going to apologize (he’s a bit of an airhead, he knows…) but you made the funniest goddam squeak he had ever heard in his life. Never had he seen anyone so comedically offended by someone eating their fries.

He couldn’t help it- he laughed.

“Dad!” Charlie squeaked “Don’t laugh at them-!”

“S-s-sorry Char-Char but that SQUEAK- Oh my lord…”

He wasn’t the only one laughing. The spider person was joining in, throwing arm across your shoulders in a friendly manner while you seethed in silent resentment. Bar cat chuckled a bit under his breath, Vaggie and Charlie were both trying to suppress their giggles, and Nifty was howling with deranged cackling. Alastor took a drink from his mug but didn’t react much more than a slight snort.

“Lucifer I am going to fill your socks with mayonnaise when you sleep.” You muttered out.

Everyone burst into more hysterical laughter.

Except Alastor.

Who broke his mug in his hand like it was made of crackers.

At the sound of shatter ceramic, everyone’s attention shifted to him.

“Whoops!” Alastor grinned, shrugging non-chalantly as blood dripped down the hand that now had shards of ceramic in it.

“OhMyGosh, Alastor!” Charlie yelped, jumping to her feet “I’ll get the first aid kit-“

“No need, Charlotte!” Alastor hummed, getting to his feet. He reached over the table and picked you up by the back of your shirt like a kitten, tucking you under one arm as he walked off with you. “This one is responsible for the mug shattering, this one will take care of the wound.”

“Wait- Alastor-“ Charlie took a step to follow, but you waved her down and gave her a reassuring smile. Charlie hesitated a moment before sitting back down.

The table fell into an awkward silence. Lucifer was vibrating in his seat while grinning. Nifty was doing the same thing. The rest of the table-people wondered if they were somehow communicating this way.

Meanwhile, for you, Alastor had you held like a suitcase as he entered the kitchen, setting you on your feet.

You dusted yourself off and made for the cabinet the first aid kit was in. Alastor, frankly, had no plan other than to get you away from that joke of a king. So he was left standing their awkwardly as you patched his hand up gently. (He could’ve done it himself, it didn’t even hurt, he just did not want you wasting those ‘threats’ on that stupid lawn-gnome looking bastard)

“There you go.” You said, putting the unused first aid materials back in the kit and the kit back in the pantry.

Your name left Alastor’s lips.

You looked back at him, head tilted slightly.

His treacherous mind abruptly shoved forward the memory of you biting him. Teeth sinking into his shoulder, his blood on your face and the cold look you gave him afterwards. His heartbeat started to race. It was so different from now, your big eyes looking at him softly as though you could warm his entire soul with your gaze alone.

How amusingly two-faced of you…

“Alastor?” You said. He jolted back to the moment, tilting his head.

“Aplogies. Thank you, my dear.” He hummed.

“uh. Sure.” You said, tail flicking in irritation. “You’re a weirdo, you know that?”

“So I’ve been told!”

=============================================

Deer man's in denial.

[moondustbaby]

Ovulating and Emotionally Compromised

bsf!Rafe x bsf!Reader

a/n: based on this request! 💌

cw: smut, oral (f rec), piv, unprotected sex, ovulation

mdni 18+

summary: You’re clingy, flirty, restless—and Rafe knows exactly why. He’s been trying to be a good best friend, but when you stretch out on his bed in nothing but shorts and a tank top, all bets are off. Turns out, he’s not the only one who’s been thinking about this for a while.

⸻

You’re stretched out on Rafe’s bed in a tank top and tiny sleep shorts, fake-pouting about losing Mario Kart for the third time in a row while he digs through his dresser for a charger.

“You definitely cheated,” you say, kicking your feet dramatically.

“I literally didn’t,” he says without turning around. “You just suck at Rainbow Road.”

“Wow. Misogyny.”

He snorts. “Yeah, that’s what it is.”

You roll onto your stomach, cheek pressed into his pillow. The room smells like him—clean laundry and something woodsy and warm—and you don’t miss the way his voice falters when he turns back around and sees you like that. Laid out. Loose. Comfortable. Legs bare, hair messy, smirking at him like you don’t know what you’re doing.

Except you do know. You just don’t know if he knows.

But when his eyes drag over you a second too long, something tightens in your chest.

“What?” you ask, tilting your head.

He hesitates. Then shrugs, looking way too casual. “You been acting weird all day.”

“Weird how?”

He shrugs again. “Touchy. Flirty. Kinda restless.”

“I’m always flirty.”

“Yeah, but…” His gaze drops to your legs. “This is different.”

Your stomach flips. Warm. Sharp. Dangerous.

“I’m not doing anything,” you say quietly.

He steps closer. Slow. Careful. Like he’s approaching something fragile.

“You are. You just don’t know it.”

Your breath catches.

He leans down, bracing his hands on either side of you, caging you in. “I’m not crazy,” he murmurs. “I know what this is.”

“What what is?”

“You’re ovulating,” he says, voice low and flat and entirely too knowing. “Aren’t you?”

You stare at him, stunned. “How the fuck would you know that?”

His mouth twitches. “’Cause you’re driving me insane. You’ve been looking at me like you want me to do something about it. And I’ve been trying to ignore it, but you—” He breathes out hard. “You smell different. You’re clingy. And your eyes? They keep dropping to my mouth like you’re not even trying to hide it.”

You blink at him, throat dry.

He leans in just enough for his nose to graze your cheek. “You don’t even know what you’re doing to me.”

Your voice comes out smaller than you mean for it to. “Then show me.”

That’s all it takes.

His mouth is on yours in a heartbeat—hot and full and desperate. His hands slide under your tank top like he’s been waiting years, not hours. You gasp into his mouth when he pushes it up, exposing your chest. He pulls back just to look.

“Fuck,” he whispers. “You’re so—god, you’re soft.”

His hands move down, palms dragging over your sides, gripping your hips as he pulls you up onto your knees. You can feel how hard he is already through his sweatpants, pressing into your thigh.

“You want this?” he asks, voice hoarse.

You nod fast. “Yeah. Yeah.”

“You sure?”

“I’ve been sure” you say, breathless. “Please.”

He groans like he’s in pain, pulling your shorts down your legs in one slow, careful motion. He kisses down your thighs like he’s worshipping you, like he’s been waiting for permission.

And then he pushes you back on the bed and slides between your legs.

“You’re so wet already,” he murmurs, running two fingers through your folds. “Told you. Ovulating.”

“Rafe—”

“I got you,” he says. “Just relax.”

His fingers tease you open, slow at first. His mouth meets your inner thigh, then trails up, up—until his lips are on you and you’re arching off the bed with a broken sound.

“Oh my god—”

He groans into you like he can’t help himself. “You taste so fuckin’ sweet. Been thinking about this all week.”

He eats you out like he means it—messy, slow, hungry. His fingers curl deep, his tongue circles your clit just right, and you can feel your orgasm building fast.

You clutch the sheets, shaking. “I’m—I’m gonna—”

“Let go,” he says, looking up at you from between your thighs. “Come on, baby. Give it to me.”

You cry out when you come, hips rolling against his mouth, thighs clamping around his head. He doesn’t stop until you’re twitching, breathless, dragging him up for a kiss with shaking hands.

He presses his forehead to yours, breathing hard. “Still want me to show you what you’ve been doing to me?”

You nod. “Please.”

He groans and pushes his sweats down, lining himself up and dragging the head of his cock through your slick.

“I’ll go slow,” he says, kissing you once, twice, three times. “I got you, okay?”

“Okay.”

He presses in—and you both gasp. It’s a stretch, but you’re so wet, so ready, that it’s perfect. Full. Deep. Right.

“Jesus Christ,” he whispers. “You feel so fucking good.”

He rocks into you slow at first, letting you adjust, his hand tangled in your hair, the other braced by your head. He kisses you through every thrust, murmuring against your skin.

“You’ve been mine,” he says. “You just didn’t know it.”

You dig your nails into his back, moaning into his mouth.

“Ray—don’t stop—”

“Never,” he says. “Not stopping. Not letting go of you.”

And when you come again, clenched tight around him, he follows seconds later—groaning your name into your neck like it’s a prayer.

He collapses on top of you for a second before rolling over and pulling you with him.

You curl into his chest. “Well. That happened.”

“Sure did.”

You pause. “So uh… what now?”

He grins against your hair. “Now you ovulate around me forever.”

༶⋆｡ﾟ☽✿⋆˚✧✿☾ﾟ｡⋆༶

a/n: ovulating??? best friend in the room??? flirty tension at a critical mass??? this is my roman empire. if rafe looked at me and said “you don’t even know what you’re doing to me” i would simply ascend.

♥️ lani

Send Me Requests! 💌

Masterlist

𝒯𝒶𝑔𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉:

@psychicnatural @superlegend216 @rafesbabygirlx @raineshua

[joecoolburrow]

Something Funnier Than 24

Summary: Reader and Joe fall in love over a lunch date and Spongebob references

Pairings: boyfriend!Joe Burrow x girlfriend!reader

Oneshot! Words: 1076

a/n: I don't have a masterlist because this is my first time writing for Joe! Please let me know if you enjoy it and want more. <3

It was going well. Your first two dates with Joe were romantic and you felt yourself falling. But, it was still so new you found yourself unable to relax around him, and you could tell Joe felt the same. So you felt like a bundle of nerves when Joe knocked on your door this afternoon.

It's just a casual matinee and lunch you told yourself to calm down.

"Hey." You greeted him with a shy smile.

Joe smiled brightly. Even in a t-shirt and jean he looked like a dream.

"Hey, you look great." He said as he admired you in your sundress. "Ready to go?"

"Hell yeah."

Joe laughed. Your eagerness was earnest but maybe not the most tactful. You felt a twinge of embarrassment, hoping Joe wasn't put off. He took your hand as you walked to the car.

Riding in a Porsche still felt foreign to you, but you tried not to let it show.

An awkward silence fell as the two of you drove off. Internally cursing your social skills (or lack-thereof), you hoped the movie and lunch would bring you closer together. You'd chosen some generic comedy that probably wouldn't be that good, but would likely give you a few laughs.

"Do you like Will Ferrell movies?" You asked.

"He's ok." Joe shrugged and didn't take his eyes off the rode. "My family watches Elf every Christmas."

"Mine too! It's a classic."

Joe smiled.

"I think comedy and action are my favorite movie genres. What about you?"

"Uh," Joe twisted his lips. "I like everything except horror movies."

"Really?" You said with surprise. "I love scary movies!"

"Not my thing."

Another awkward silence. Shit, you thought to yourself. Joe was such an amazing guy. You felt the spark. You dreamed of what loving him would be like. But moments like this made you worry you weren't compatible.

Joe reached for the radio and turned the volume up. "I love this song. Do you know it?"

You really wished you could say yes. But you had no idea what song was playing or who the artist was, so you shook your head.

The rest of the ride you and Joe made small talk. The movie was fine, nothing special, but you loved seeing Joe laugh. There were a few times you'd both burst out laughing and turn to look at each other. It felt like fireworks.

After the movie, you went to a local diner. It had an old school vibe. Joe helped you into the red booth in the back and picked up a menu.

"This is the perfect place for a cheeseburger." You said.

"Yeah," Joe agreed. "I started craving one when we were still in the parking lot."

"They have 30 different milkshakes to choose from." Joe said

"Mmm, I'm gonna have a hard time deciding." You said, even though you knew you'd probably go for strawberry like usual.

"Pick a good one, I'll split it with you."

Why did that suddenly feel like a lot of pressure? You carefully studied the list and weighed your options.

A waiter in a paper hat came up to your table and smiled, "What can I get the cute couple?"

Joe looked at you.

"Umm, could we please get the strawberry banana milkshake? Two straw please." You told the waiter. "And two cheeseburgers."

He winked. "A number 24, coming right up."

As the waiter walked away you smiled to yourself. 24. Joe looked at you curiously.

"24." You said, unsure if he would get it. "I thought of something funnier than 24...

"25!!!" Joe and you said at the same time. You erupted in laughter with him.

"I always think of that whenever I hear the numbers 24 or 25." You told him as you regained your composure. "I was hoping you would get that. A lot of people think I'm insane when I say it."

"I think of Spongebob quotes all the time." Joe said enthusiastically.

He moved his hands in a rainbow motion, "Imagination!"

You couldn't hold back your giggles.

You picked up one of the mayo packets on the table and quoted, "Is mayonnaise an instrument?"

Joe's whole face turned red from laughing. When he caught he breath, he said, "What about: The pioneers used to ride these babies for miles!"

"The Krusty Krab pizza is the pizza for you and me-he" You sang.

Your eyes met Joe's and something just clicked. There it was. The ease, the comfort, the friendship. You felt like you could be your true, quirky self with him and he would embrace it.

"I've never dated anyone who liked Spongebob as much as me." Joe admitted.

"Me either."

The milkshake came and you felt giddy as you and Joe both plopped your straws in. You leaned in for a sip, but Joe held up a finger signaling to wait. He suddenly grabbed his phone. You were a little confused, but a moment later, your phone dinged.

It was a text from Joe: "Is this the Krusty Krab?"

You tried to keep a straight face as you replied, "No, this is Patrick." but the laughter got the best of you.

You spent the rest of lunch talking about all your favorite Spongebob episodes, which lead to talking about your childhoods, which lead to talking about your favorite memories, which lead to more laughter. You felt like you knew Joe so much better than you had just a few hours ago.

On the ride home, you leaned your head onto his shoulder. You felt comfortable and at peace. When Joe pulled in to your driveway, he looked at you with a pout.

"This may be lame, but that was the most fun I've had on a date in....." Joe trailed off. "in forever."

"Me too."

He stroked your shoulder. You both leaned in for a kiss as if magnetized. His lips were so soft and sweet.

When you looked into each other's eyes again, you saw Joe's adoring eyes and wished the moment would last forever.

"Are you busy the rest of the day? Because I'd really like it if you wanted to come in." You asked, internally begging the gods of fate he would say yes, but unsure if he had other plans today.

"I can. But-" Joe smirked mischieviously. "Don't you have to be stupid somewhere else."

You kissed him again. He responded enthusiastically, but you broke it off to whisper in his ear.

"Not until four."

[midnight-shadow-cafe]

Blue Shells and Pillow Wars

Pairing: Poly!141 x Reader

Warnings: Mild swearing, suggestive flirting, playful violence (pillow fights), food mention, chaotic group dynamics, fluff overload

Author's Note: I think some Mario Kart was long overdue

Summary: A rainy night in, pizza boxes everywhere, and four elite soldiers acting like children over Mario Kart. You thought it’d be relaxing… until the blue shell hit.

Masterlist

MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

The apartment smelled like buttery popcorn and rain.

Outside, the storm clung to the windows in sheets, casting shifting patterns across the ceiling. Inside, warm lamps pooled golden light onto the living room carpet, half-covered in pillows, throw blankets, and the occasional sock. The coffee table was crowded with soda cans, greasy pizza boxes, and a bowl of gummi worms slowly melting together into an unholy mass.

You sat cross-legged on the floor in the middle of the chaos, controller clutched tight in your hands, heart pounding.

“Who the hell threw that red shell at me?” you demanded, voice sharp over the squeals and chaotic music of Mario Kart 8.

“That’d be me,” Johnny MacTavish—Soap—chirped, lounging sideways on the couch like a smug little gremlin. His bare feet dangled over Price’s lap, and he had a slice of pizza folded in half like a taco.

“You bastard!” you shouted, half-laughing, lunging to toss a couch pillow at him. It hit him square in the face, launching his pizza slice skyward in slow motion. Kyle—Gaz—who was perched on the arm of the couch beside him, snatched it out of mid-air with one hand.

“No food left behind,” Gaz said solemnly, biting into it with a victorious crunch.

Price chuckled low from his spot in the center of the couch, where he sat like a benevolent king in sweatpants, controller resting on one knee, his other hand wrapped around a beer. “You’re all bloody children.”

“And you suck at drifting,” Soap fired back.

“Oi,” Price muttered, raising an eyebrow. “Don’t forget who pays for your bloody Nintendo Online subscription.”

You smirked at that and elbowed Soap in the leg.

Simon—Ghost—sat beside you on the floor, long legs stretched out, broad back braced against the ottoman. He was the calmest of the group by far, but the death grip he had on his controller told a different story. His in-game character—Donkey Kong in a baby buggy—was currently in second place.

You?

Clinging to first by a thread.

“Ghost,” you warned him, “don’t you dare use that shell.”

He didn’t answer—just tilted his head slightly. That unreadable little smirk pulled at the corner of his lips.

“Simon,” you said more sharply, “I swear—”

Your kart was rounding the final lap of Rainbow Road, stars streaking past in a blur of neon light.

And then it happened.

The blue shell appeared above your head.

“NOOOO—!” You let out a screech, jerking your whole body like that would somehow make your character move faster.

The explosion sent your kart spinning into the void of space.

Ghost—stone-faced—cruised past you in slow motion. “Better luck next time, sweetheart.”

“I hate you,” you said, flinging your controller into the blanket pile.

Soap laughed so hard he choked on his soda. Gaz actually fell off the armrest, dragging a throw blanket with him.

Price leaned over and plucked your controller out of the cushions. “Game’s still on,” he murmured, nudging your shoulder. “One more round?”

You turned to him, your mouth a grim line. “It’s personal now.”

He looked far too pleased with himself.

—

Half an hour later, the living room had devolved into full anarchy.

Gaz had two joy-cons taped together with electrical tape from the junk drawer. Soap was on his stomach under the coffee table with a bag of Doritos and three water bottles he refused to share. You were squished between Ghost’s legs, leaning back against his chest like a human stress ball, because Ghost was apparently a very physical gamer.

“Get in front of me, love,” he whispered in your ear, a hand squeezing your thigh. “I’ll shield you from incoming fire.”

“That’s what you said last time,” you hissed.

“Yeah, and it worked,” he said smugly, even though it definitely hadn’t.

Behind you, you could feel the rumble of his quiet laugh in his chest.

Price had switched to Waluigi and was absolutely dominating, expression calm, focused, like he was planning a covert op instead of gunning down his teammates with green shells. When he drifted around a corner and used a mushroom boost to cut across the grass, you knew he’d spent too much time on YouTube tutorials.

“You’ve practiced,” Gaz accused.

Price raised one eyebrow. “I prepare for all missions.”

Soap burst out laughing. “You’re such a dad.”

“I am your daddy,” Price said with a wink.

Everyone groaned in unison, including Ghost, who murmured, “I’m muting him.”

—

Eventually, victory was declared.

Price took home the trophy, you managed a hard-earned second, and Soap swore vengeance on Rainbow Road.

The room slowly quieted into that cozy kind of mess you only get after hours of laughter and snacks and teasing. You lay stretched across the floor with your head in Ghost’s lap, his big hand absently tracing patterns on your hip. Gaz was half-asleep with his head on your stomach, one hand still clutching the Dorito bag. Soap was nestled under a pile of throw blankets like a gremlin in hibernation.

Price passed out pillows and turned off the TV, the room dimming to the soft glow of stormlight and the warm flicker of the electric fireplace.

You sighed, nestling deeper into the blanket pile, surrounded by the weight and warmth of all of them. It was messy, chaotic, loud—but it was home.

Ghost brushed a strand of hair from your face and whispered, “Still mad I blew you up?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, but the corner of your mouth twitched. “You���re sleeping on the floor.”

He smirked. “You say that every time.”

“And I mean it.”

A pause. Then he leaned down and kissed your forehead.

“Worth it.”

Hope you enjoyed! Please consider liking and reposting! -Midnight💜

[fanfictionera]

My Queen (BuckyxReader) Smut

A/N: I have always wanted to write a Sex Pollen fic but every time I tried to write one it didn't feel right. Finally I started writing and the vibes started flowing. I wanted filthy smut but with emotion and feeling and I hope that I achieved that. Either way I am super proud of this and I hope readers enjoy!

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Synopsys: The reader and Bucky are sent on a mission where they are exposed to what is referred to as Sex Pollen. Their feelings for each other are forced to be faced.

Word Count: 6,218

Warnings: Sex Pollon, Friends to Lovers, forced sex (due to drugs), sprinkle of Angst, Bucky, SMUT, SMUT SMUT SMUT. SO LITTLE PLOT.

My Queen

Bucky stood in the back of the Quinjet, checking over his person. It was like a ritual for him, starting from the top he would check every strap and belt, double check each gun and knife blade. His body swayed, compensating for the slight lurch of the Quinjet before it leveled out.

“And we have touched down,” Y/N said from the pilot's seat, with a press of a button her chair spun around. She came up behind Bucky gently tugging on his back harness. The back of the Quinjet dropped down, revealing several structures in a clearing, surrounded by trees. They began to make their way to the larger building in the center. The clearing was shrouded in a dark gray filter as the misty fog creeped its way through the trees, under a sky blanketed by cloud cover, reclaimed by nature. A scan showed no signs of human life, which was little in the way of relief.

They silently approached the front door before stepping into the building. A home. The remnants of one anyway. They entered the kitchen, with a table still made. Flowers in a porcelain milk jug left dead, wilted and dried in the center. A plate sat next to a folded newspaper. Y/N could feel the shift in the air as soon as they walked in. The weight of the secrets of the house, hidden behind the semblance of a quiet life, mixed with the pure evil that seeped from its walls in tendrils made Y/N uneasy. 

They progressed through the first and second level of the home. Although every surface was covered in a thick layer of dust each room sat pristine, frozen in time as if the owner just ceased to exist. One of many of Hydra’s calling cards.

They made their way back outside and to the side of the house. Y/N turned scanning the tree line as Bucky yanked and cleared away brush that covered the storm doors nestled against the house. Nature revealed the chained and padlocked metal doors.

Bucky pulled the chain, breaking it in his metal hands. The parts slipped through his fingers like sand. The doors opened with a gut dropping creek revealing a set of stairs leading down into a dirt floor cellar. 

“Ladies First.” He waved his hand as he motioned his hand forward, his eyes scanning behind Y/N. 

She walked forward, “What a gentleman.”

The cellar was packed hard, the air was stale and stagnant. The wooden shelves that lined the stone wall held glass jars full of canned food. 

Bucky walked to the corner, moving a basket out of the way, revealing a hatch. 

The ladder led down to a concrete room, with the only doorway being a gated elevator shaft. An electrical box was mounted on the wall. Bucky opened it and began to check it over before pulling the large handle down. It made a large metallic thunk as Bucky forced the handle down. A soft wiring noise began to buzz.

Bucky pulled the metal gate to the side, ushering Y/N into the car, he closed the gate after he stepped on and reached for the hand crank on the side. Slowly the metal gears began to move and creak as the elevator descended. “Why does every Hydra base have a creepy elevator?” Y/N asked as she took in the rust-streaked walls of the shaft illuminated by dingy yellowing lights that flickered as they warmed up. 

“Günter did suggest rainbows and butterflies, but as you can see, he was outvoted.” Y/N tried to hide her smile as she rolled her eyes.

The elevator came to a stop as it reached the bottom of the shaft, pulling the gate aside again, they found themselves in a storm of destruction “What is this place?”

“It's a lab, was a lab.” Bucky looked around, “I don't believe I was ever here, but it's where they developed all kinds of fun.”

They began to clear the room, flashlight in hand. Tables sat disheveled and tipped over, their contents scattered. Papers littered every surface like confetti. Various medical equipment and hardware mixed and mingled with the papers, while every box of a computer was shattered or broken. As if someone punched every screen. Several lighting fixtures hung from the ceiling, attached by a few wires, while others found their way to the floor. Bucky held a dangling light to the side, letting Y/N walk through before following.

She scanned the room as she took another step, a loud popping crunch noise made her jump, she looked down, lifting her foot, to see the glass shards sprayed across the floor. 

Bucky laughed as he pushed past her. “You’ve been playing to many zombie games,”

“Shut up.” She walked behind him.

Bucky laughed again as he held his arms out, doing his best zombie impression, ‘Brainsss.” He turned to grab her head. “No brainsssss”

Y/N shoved him playfully, "Can we just do this and get the hell out of here?" Bucky chuckled as he clicked on his flashlight and continued sweeping the lab with a smug smile on his face. Y/N wasn't going to lie, nothing about this place made her feel good. She wasn't sure if it was because of its history or its current state, either way she was very much looking forward to leaving. 

As they continued into the next room, Y/N eyes came to rest on Bucky’s back. They trailed across his harness, how it spanned across his wide shoulders. The dim lights still highlighted the muscular lines built into the metal of his arm. Bucky paused for a moment, pivoting on his heel to double check a dark corner. His face was concentrated, eyes trained. She couldn't help but wonder what it would feel like to have them trained on her. 

She shook her head, focus, she mouthed to herself. With the room cleared they were moving forward again; her eyes came to the back of his head and down his back. They slowly trailed down to his ass, framed perfectly in his tactical pants, the seams accentuating his curve. 

Suddenly Bucky stopped, looking up at a mess of chains, “Let’s see what's behind door number one.” He put his flashlight between his teeth as he began to roll his sleeve up his flesh arm. 

Y/N watched, entranced by the simple action, she glanced up to see Bucky watching her. He smiled around the flashlight; he reached up with this metal hand taking the source of light. He took several steps toward her before bringing his hand up to her jaw.

“That’s what does it for you?” he swiped his thumb against her bottom lip before swiping his thumb down, pulling her lip with it. “Is it my arm?”

She nodded.

“Or is it my fingers?” Her eyes dilated as Bucky chuckled leaning forward, “Do you want my fingers?” She could feel his breath against her skin as he walked behind her, his flesh hand reaching around, grasping the toggle of her zipper. She could hear each tooth unzip as he pulled the zipper down its full length. The coolness of the metal left a tingling sensation as he followed in the zipper wake, his palm slid down her stomach, closer to her aching core. Her breathing became heavy as her head began to spin.

“Hey,” Bucky’s voice sounded firm, the look of concern evident “Are you okay?”

The world came crashing back in a blink of her eye. Her eyes snapped open to find Bucky standing in front of her, still messing with the chains. She shook her head trying to shake off the ghost feeling of his touch. Y/N took a deep breath, her brow began to pull together, "Do you smell that?” She takes another deep breath through her nose, “It's almost sweet, floral, its faint.”

Bucky looked at her puzzled, the air around them smelled musty and old. Then the realization hit him. "Shit.” With the chains forgotten, Bucky grabbed her arm and pulled her back down where they came, “Where is that vile you stepped on?”

His touch was distracting, “Over, over there, I think?" He let go of her, "What's going on?” Y/N asked as Bucky began searching the ground.

He turned still looking, “Just, please, we need to find it.”

She walked back over a row and kicked a pile of papers, a cracked vile rolled out, “It's right here.” The end was still intact, the label holding the shards together.

Copulation Stimulant 

Y/N’s eyes read over the label, “Is this?” She looked back down again hoping she read it wrong, “This is, oh my god--no-no-no-no.” She dropped the vile again, the realization setting in, her hands coming to her face as she rambled, “I can't do this, this has to be some cruel joke. Yeah? It’s labeled wrong? I can’t actually fuck my best friend…I can't--”

11-197020-43

“Oh, come on now,” As Y/N began to spiral Bucky knelt down to confirm his suspicion, "Best Friend!?" He tried to joke, to keep Y/N with him. "Nat might fight me for that title."

"Stop. I'm serious. You don't understand," She began shaking slightly, overwhelmed as the tears began to fall down her cheek. 

Bucky's smug smile dropped from his face as he took in Y/N’s state, his eyebrows knitted together.

Y/N's chest tightened as she looked up at him. “I can’t fuck my best friend because I’m in love with my best friend."

"Sweetheart" The word came out of Bucky’s mouth like an exhale as he took in her words. 

“Oh my god, am I going to fuck my best friend, who I’m in love with, for the first time in a dingy old Hydra base." Y/N's mind was moving a million miles a second. A heat began to spread from her core, she took a deep breath. 

“Come on,” Bucky gently grabbed her arm, "Not here, let's get back to the Quinjet, okay?”

Y/N shook her head as she let Bucky lead her out of the bunker. She could feel the heat spreading throughout her body, like water slowly trickling down through the soil, saturating each grain as it was pulled down by gravity. It felt invasive. 

The Quinjet bay door began to close as Bucky climbed into the pilot's chair. Y/N sat in the back, her breath becoming heavy. "I'm getting really hot." 

“Like little pin pricks of heat all over your skin?" The Quinjet shook slightly as it rose into the sky.

"Yeah-h" Y/N said as a sheen of sweat began to cover her face. 

"It's hitting you faster." He quickly flipped some switches before getting up out of the chair, he grabbed a med kit duffle bag out of the closet before kneeling in front of her.

Y/N's brow slowly pulled together, "Why?"

"It's designed for super soldiers." Bucky began as he pulled out and cracked a jelly ice pack, instantly making it cold before placing it on her neck. "Which means it's stronger for you."

Y/N felt the sting of the cold radiate, "Okay, okay…okay. What's going to happen?" Her head swirled as she placed her hand over his that held the ice pack, grounding herself. “Be honest.”

Bucky took a deep breath, unable to pull his gaze from her pleading one. "Your adrenaline will slowly rise, until your heart feels like it's going to burst and every cell in your body is vibrating." He flipped the ice pack to the other side of her neck. "It's going to alter chemicals in your brain, driving up your sex drive and arousal." His chest began to heave as he began to feel the effects. “At the same time, it will lower your inhibitions and block all sense of self control.”

Y/N took a deep breath through her nose. "And sex is the only way?"

"No, we can ride this out." Bucky said as he also breathed deep. "It will be torture, an ache of a pain that will thunder through your existence. Every second you resist will feel like one second closer to death, but it won't kill you."

Y/N fought through another wave of heat before responding, "I don't know what to do. It's getting hard to think."

"Yeah." Bucky knew what was to come. How many hours they would have to endure if they waited it out. He dropped the ice pack, now warm, before bringing his hands up to the sides of Y/N's face, pulling her focus back. "Listen to me," He took a moment, “Never in a million years would I have wanted this to be our first time." He let out another grunt as he fought another wave, a smirk appeared through it. "I planned on asking you out, on a real date, before I led you to my bed. To treat you like a queen. My queen.” Tears threatened the corners of Y/N's eyes. Her heart was beating in her ears, and it felt like years as they leaned forward, their foreheads resting against each other. “If we do this now, it won't be like that, you need to know once I start, I will not be able to stop. You will not be able to stop."

Her fingers came up dragging down the edge of his scruff-covered jaw line. “I understand. I trust you, please, I trust you.”

The moment his lips touched hers everything stopped. Bucky physically felt Y/N's body relax as her lips began to move against his. She snaked her hands up his chest and behind his neck before pulling herself off the back of the chair and as close to him as she could. 

Y/N got lost in the intense high created, everything slowed down and hazed over. A dull, mind numbing, wave of emotions swirled in her brain as all sense of time was lost till eventually it wound itself into a ball and exploded against the back of her eyelids. The heat began to fade, leaving a chill across her skin. Her head felt empty and tired. Mentally she couldn't string two coherent thoughts together. Her body felt loose, and her eyes watered as a tear slid down. 

"Hey, it's over." Bucky was catching his breath as he held her head in his hand, looking into her eyes, "it's over," her gaze was distant. 

"Shit." Bucky held onto her, held her close as he began rummaging through the duffle bag, "Come on, there you are." Bucky returned to Y/N, "Y/N, doll, I need you to take this. It will help, can you do that?"

Y/N Glanced down at the small syringe in his hand, "What is it?" The words slurred and tired.

"It will let you sleep till we get back and Bruce can help." Bucky replied softly. 

The tears began to stream down her face, "I'm feeling everything. At once."

“I know. It’s the drug, a side effect.” Bucky took her hand, “Sleep will help.”

“Okay,” Y/N shook her head as she sniffled. Within moments of the liquid entering her blood stream, Y/N's eyes became heavy, and her body relaxed as she drifted off. Bucky gently maneuvered her, placing her on her side across several seats. He fixed her suit, now ripped wide open from navel down to her exposed thighs, her breasts out on display. He pulled the sides of the fabric, covering her the best he could before he grabbed one of the packs of the on-board pillows and blankets, ripping it out of its packaging. He positioned the small pillow under her head and draped the blanket over her body before cleaning himself up and making his way to the cockpit. 

Bucky listened and waited for her to fall into a deep sleep before grabbing the headset. "Friday, please connect me with Steve and Bruce."

"Right away," Friday responded as two small transparent screens appeared in front of Bucky's face. 

Steve's face was scrunched as he slowly woke up, "Hey, what time is it?"

"Two." Bruce replied as he did a double take, pulling on his glasses, "In the morning."

"There's been a situation," Bucky's voice was low, Steve's attention was immediately caught, and he finally took in Bucky's appearance, "We came into contact…with a substance," Bucky looked back again making sure Y/N was still out, "It was developed by Hydra for their breeding program, they called it copulation stimulant, but everyone referred to it as sex pollen." As the Quinet silently made the trek back to the compound, Bucky filled them in.

Bucky tossed and turned in bed, he rolled over, sheets tangled around his legs and stared up at the ceiling. Taking a deep breath he reached over for his phone, the screen turned on showing it was only mid-morning. 

He rubbed his face before kicking his sheets off and sitting up on the edge of the bed. He stared down at his floor, his mind taking over sucking him back into that moment. Flashes of Y/N's face, filled with fear, overwhelmed with emotions and emptiness played on repeat. 

He blinked away the images as he made his way out of his room. Bucky walked down the hall towards Steve's room. 

Steve sat at his table; papers strewn about as he caught up on his paperwork. He heard the knock before Bucky walked in. 

"How are you feelin'?" Steve asked as Bucky slumped into a chair, aimlessly picking up a piece of paper, setting it back down, not interested. 

"How is she?" Is all Bucky asked. 

Steve pushed a tablet towards him, "Medically speaking, she's okay, nothing more than a few bruises."

Bucky looked down at the screen, a mission report, currently on the recorded incidents page. His eyes instantly skimmed and settled on Y/N's list of injuries before swiping through the rest of the report.

"I decided not to include the details." Steve continued as Bucky sat the tablet down with an exhale. Steve slowly set down the pen as he leaned back in his chair slightly. "Buck, how are you?"

"Angry." Bucky shook his head. "For me to go through it again, fine. But not her."

"Did Hydra use this stuff often?" Steve's brow pulled up softly. 

Bucky's lips flashed a sad smile with a huff of a laugh, "It cycled through. They called it a compliance tool." He looked at his friend, "Sometimes they would call it a reward." 

"Jesus." Steve let out under his breath. 

“They had an endless supply of compliance tools and rewards.” Bucky shrugged slightly, "I'm okay Steve, honestly.”

"I was going to go check on her in a bit.” Steve leaned forward and picked up his pen again as he glanced up at the clock on the wall. "Bruce gave her something to help her sleep more, rest is probably the best for her right now, so she probably won't be stirring for another hour or two." Bucky nodded his head slightly as Steve spoke.

Steve watched as Bucky began to slip back into his thoughts. "Hey," His voice pulled Bucky's eyes to him. "You guys will be dancing around each other again soon enough."

"I told her." Bucky's confession came out softly. "How I feel, right before I railed her brains out in a fit of uncontrollable horny rage." 

“I’m sorry, what?” Steve sat staring at his friend, “You thought, that after being exposed to a chemical weapon used to sexually exploit their victims, yeah this is a good time to confess my feelings to the woman I’ve been absolutely obsessed with since the first day I saw her?”

"Yup," Bucky popped the p, "In my defense she confessed first.”

“Unbelievable,” Steve pinched, “Why are you two like this?”

“In love? Or Insane?” Bucky asked back with a shrug,

Steve crossed his arms as he leaned back, “Go talk to her you jerk."

…

Y/N’s room was dark, every curtain pulled tight and not a single light was on. She had woken up several times only to roll over and fall back asleep, not wanting or ready to face the world yet. She lay on her belly, letting herself lay there, her head spiraling with thoughts. She grabbed for her phone, the brightness from the screen making her recoil, it was already close to two in the afternoon. She rolled back over onto her back, staring up at the ceiling. 

“What's wrong with me?” She asked quietly to herself. 

She never wanted to experience sex pollen again, it scared her to her core to have her own free will taken away. Her heartbeat picked up as she thought about it, a panic slowly bubbling. She took a deep breath, “We can ride this out.” His words echoed in her head. “I wanted to take you out on a date. Treat you like a queen. My queen.” Her heart stuttered a moment as she took another deep breath. 

A knock at her door drew her attention. Slowly she rose from her bed, just as she approached the door another soft knock came. She reached for the handle and opened it to find Bucky standing with a paper bag in hand.

She stared at him, her words stuck in her throat, “Team ordered out, I got your favorite.” Bucky held the paper bag up. “I, um, I wanted to check in and.."  He paused as he shrugged.

Y/N could see the anxiety and pain behind his eyes. She stepped closer to him, her hands coming to the sides of his torso and sliding back, as she hugged him. 

As if on que Y/N stomach growled and she let out a small laugh. She pulled back, taking the bag from Bucky. “Thank you, I don't think I ate anything in the med bay when we got back.” She turned into the room, “Wanna come in?"

As Y/N walked back in, she flicked on a few lamps, creating a soft glow. Bucky closed the door behind him, unsure of what to do. Her desk was sitting just far away to be awkward but the only other place to sit would be her bed, somewhere he had never thought twice about before as he would just sit down or jump in. Now? He was acutely aware of his actions, and it created a ball of anxiety in the pit of his stomach.

“Bucky, you're welcome to sit on my bed.” Y/N noticed his hesitation.

He shrugged. “I didn't want to make you uncomfortable.” 

“You aren't” Y/N said as she pulled a plate down from a cabinet in her Kitchenette. 

Bucky paused for a moment before taking a deep breath, "What's going through your head?" Y/N stopped what she was doing, food forgotten as he continued. "Be honest."

Y/N turned, leaning against the counter, to face him. She crossed her arms as she took a moment to bring her words forward, "Did you mean what you said?" her question was soft and quiet. "Your queen." She blinked her gaze up to his.

Bucky let out a huff of a laugh, the corner of his mouth pulling up, “I remember the day you arrived at the compound.” He continued. “That morning Steve and I were set to leave to go on a recon mission. We were going back to the Siberian Hydra base; I hadn't been back since the airport incident. I was an absolute mess leading up to it.” Bucky looked down at his hands as he absentmindedly followed the lines and seams of his metal finger with this flesh. “I probably shouldn't have gone.” He paused again. “I had come so far, the words out of my head, a family around me and I had finally thought I found peace. Yet the moment I stepped back into that room, I looked upon that pit with that monstrosity of a machine still sitting there. I lost it. It instantly triggered a spiral of anger and I felt pushed right back down to my lowest existence.” Bucky kept his eyes trained on the floor. “Steve watched as I destroyed the machine, before helping me calm down. We got the answers we needed, well Steve got the answers we needed. When we got back, I was so far stuck in my head, but then I heard this laughter, it was light and contagious.” Bucky looked up at Y/N who was giving him her full attention. “Your laughter.”

“I followed that sound, until I saw you. Sitting at the counter, a smile on your face and I swear I had never seen anything more beautiful in my life. For the first time since I could remember I could feel this spark of a flame ignite inside of me.” Bucky continued. “This spark that created light and hope and feeling. It only grew. Day after day. It grew with your kindness and confidence. Your strength and your intelligence. That day you took Steve down, he played it off, but I knew that you had genuinely taken him by surprise, I could see it in his eyes. So, I let myself fall in love, I let that light grow into a raging blaze. Until I found myself trying to muster up the courage to tell you while simultaneously trying not to take you where you stood. Ask me again, ask me if I meant what I said.”

Tears were building up in Y/N’s eyes, “Did you mean it?”

"Every word." There was no hesitation in his response as he didn't look away. "I would worship every inch of your mind and body, if you'd let me."

The world began to fade away as Y/N's heart began to beat faster. Bucky's words swirled in her head as she tried to comprehend their meaning as if she couldn't believe them. Bucky sat patiently watching as Y/N slowly walked up to him. Her gaze uncertain, he could feel the tension in the air, as the line they both were hesitant to cross was quickly approaching.

Y/N tentatively stepped between his legs. She could feel the tug of war between her anxiety and adrenaline as she reached to touch his face. She moved her thumb across his jaw, Bucky could see her mind taking off.

He brought his hands up to rest on her hips, "Look at me." Y/N stood quiet for a moment as she took in his unwavering gaze. "What do you need?”

Y/N took a deep breath, "To be your queen.”

He gently pulled her closer. His lips pressed against hers, a tingling sensation ran through her body. Y/N felt Bucky’s hands gently slide down to the crook of her knees. He pulled her up onto his lap, sliding his hands over her thighs following the curve of her ass, before pulling her flush as he deepened the kiss. His lips moved against hers with a gentle urgency as they began to get lost in each other. In that moment, nothing else mattered - no worries or fears, no past or future. There was only the heat of the moment, the electricity between them.

Y/N let her fingers sink back into his hair, tugging slightly, as a low moan tumbled from Bucky’s mouth. “I need more.” Y/N said as Bucky kissed down to the nape of her neck.

He slid his hands up under the hem on her shirt, letting them slowly trail up her sides. Her chest heaved as his thumbs ghosted the underside of her breasts. 

She pulled herself off him, sliding herself back to stand between his legs again, slowly she pulled her shirt up and over her head. He reached up and pulled his own shirt over his head, discarding it. He leaned back, picking up his hips as he pulled his pants down, kicking them off. His length sprung up to full attention and Y/N’s eyes dilated. She stood back admiring Bucky, taking in his sheer size, she bit her lip as her core began to pulse. 

“Come here,” Bucky’s words pulled her in like a lure.

As she climbed back on his lap her hands came to the side of his face and pulled him into her lips. A breathy sigh of a moan escaped Y/N. She lifted herself up on her knees, pushing him slightly back to get to the right angle. She could feel his tip resting at her entrance.

Bucky nudged her nose with his, getting her to look at him. She held eye contact as she slowly slid down, feeling herself stretch around him until she bottomed out. A broken gasp fell from Y/N as the feeling of fullness made her body shutter, Bucky’s stomach twitched in response. She slowly began to roll her hips. His hands squeezed her thighs as he let out a swallowed moan. Her pace quickened until her hips began to fall out of rhythm as she desperately chased her release. 

"That's it sweetheart," His words of encouragement doused in an aroused tone. He felt her sides flutter. He could feel her pressing down on him. He kissed the edge of her jaw as his other hand cupped the back of her head before slowly sliding his lips down her neck. Grazing over her nipples. Another flutter. Her hand slid up into his hair and gently pulled him closer, pressing her nipple to his lips.  The way she took what she wanted made him feral. "Fuck" Bucky whispered. The sound was low and guttural, skittering over her skin like wildfire. 

With every heavy breath a moan escaped. With the last roll of her hips her orgasm exploded through her. Y/N's let out a choked moan as her knees clenched together on either side of Bucky. She felt his metal fingers splayed across her back and his flesh held onto her waist. 

Still fully seated, She let her head fall onto his shoulder as she attempted to catch her breath. Bucky pressed his lips to the other side of her neck before tipping her head back up to see her face. She felt like she was floating in euphoria.

"Feeling good?" Bucky's hand cradled her head. 

A smile spread on her face as she nodded into his hand. "I need more."

Bucky pulled her face to his, guiding her to his lips. Kissing her slowly as he reached his hands behind her, sliding them down her back. He began kissing down her neck and chest as she leaned back slightly. He sucked a nipple into his mouth, feeling Y/N pulse around his sheathed member. He let it fall from his mouth watching the soft skin bounce slightly before latching on again. Y/N squirmed, grinding down, desperate for any movement. 

Bucky gripped her hips and pressed her down further as he worshipped her chest. "James," His name came out as a broken whine. 

"Say that again." Bucky instructed, "Say my name."

"Ja-ahhhh-mes" He sucked her nipple again as she spoke. 

He smirked slightly as he slid his hands under her ass and stood up, Y/N held on as Bucky turned them around and dropped her on the bed. Y/N rubbed her thighs together from the loss of friction. Bucky watched for a moment before Y/N let her legs fall open. Splayed fully open for him, Bucky instantly crawled over, his breath against her sex making her shutter. His lips trailed kisses up her stomach. 

“How many nights have you imagined me like this?” A low chuckle came from Bucky, “Not just nights, and not just this.” He sucked her nipple between his teeth, making her gasp, before he soothed the shock away with his tongue. Y/N’s fingers ghosted over his hairline as she slid them back into his hair, he looked up at her and his eyes darkened as he sunk down and ran his tongue flat against her core. 

Her fingers curled, pulling his hair as her back arched off the bed. Electricity buzzed and exploded up over her body. His hands gripped her hips, keeping her from going too far.

Y/N fell further into bliss as Bucky explored her folds with his tongue. Soft moans spilled between her breaths. She gasped as he slowly inserted a finger, moving it in and out, then two, he felt her walls constrict as he slowly moved and curled his fingers. Y/N began to rock her hips against his face. His lips captured her clit sucking softly before pulling back, letting it fall from his lips. Y/N’s mouth fell open as the filthiest moan fell from her lips. 

He began rubbing his lips and tongue against her in a smooth pattern that felt like a love letter. Her hands gripped his, slipping back to his wrists as she writhed with him, completely letting him guide her over the edge. 

A choked moan came as Y/N’s legs squeezed Bucky’s head. She involuntarily curled up. Bucky wiped his mouth as he sat back on his knees, bringing his fingers up, sucking them clean.

He reached down and grasped her thighs, pulling them up and over his. He leaned back down, letting his hands slide up her torso, up and under her breasts, as his lips found hers once more. 

Y/N could feel his tip at her entrance, and it sent a shiver down her spine. 

She clung to his shoulders, nails dragging across his skin as he slowly pushed himself to his base. She felt the stretch as Bucky began to roll his hips, slowly dragging himself in and out. He began to pick up his pace, to read her body and follow her needs. Y/N hand snaked back around Bucky’s neck, as he sat back up on his knees, she clung to him as he continued his relentless pace. Y/N gripped onto the back of his neck with one hand as she found his knee with her other hand, propping herself up. There was no need however, as Bucky held her up, with his metal hand firmly on her ass and his flesh arm wrapped around the small of her back. He watched as her eyes rolled back into her head, his lips catch and dragged up her neck before sucking on her pulse.

Y/N’s body trembled as she fought to hold back, selfishly wanting more yet not knowing if she could take it. 

She felt her core wound as tight as it would go, unable to hold on to it any longer, she let go. Her body shuttered and Bucky could feel her orgasm pulse around him, squeeze him. He continued, fucking her through, dragging her out as far as he could. He was close and couldn't take it anymore. He let Y/N fall back onto the bed, as he pulled out and finished on her stomach. 

Their breathing was heavy as Bucky leaned over once more, bringing his hand up to Y/N face, her eyes glossed over in euphoria. “Are you okay?’

“Yeah,” She shook her head as she let out a sigh, “More than,”

A smile spread across Bucky’s face as he kissed her, “I am going to go get the shower ready for you, is that okay?”

Y/N Shook her head again before gently pressing her lips to his. “I need to lay here for a moment.”

“You just lay here and look pretty,” Bucky pulled himself off the bed.

Bucky walked into the bathroom, turning the water on to let it warm up. He quickly washed himself and cleaned up before setting up the bathroom for Y/N. He pulled a fresh towel out, placing it in the warmer next to the shower. A purchase that at first, he thought was ridiculous but has since rescinded that opinion. 

He heard Y/N soft pitter pats as she walked in, the steam beginning to form and build. “All set, towel is in the warmer.”

“Thank you,” Y/N said as she made her way to the shower.

“Don't be too long, your food will get cold.” Bucky kissed her forehead before he left Y/N to clean up as he went back out and continued to reheat the food, he had gotten for her. While the microwave hummed, he stripped the bed and stretched new sheets from corner to corner. Laid out the blankets and pulled them back slightly ready for Y/N to crawl in. 

He pulled down another plate for himself before playing up the food. Just as he finished cleaning up Y/N walked out. “Smells good.” She came up to Bucky’s side, wrapping a hand around his arm, leaning against his shoulder. “I am so hungry,” a laugh escaped Y/N, her head moved slightly as Bucky moved his arm. “Go eat, I’ll be right there with some water.”

“Thank you,” Y/N grabbed the plate and took a deep smell through her nose and smiled. “You really did get my favorite.” She said as she settled in on the bed and took a bite.

Bucky sat a cup of water down on her side table before crawling in to join her, “I know. I know all your favorites.”

“Oh?” Y/N asked as she took another bite. 

“And I have the rest of the night to figure out the ones I don't know.” A blush spread across Y/N’s cheeks. 

“I am looking forward to it.” She smiled as she glanced over at Bucky. “I could get use to this queen shit.”

“Oh, you just wait Doll,” Bucky replied. “I am just getting started.”

-End-

[creampill]

Konig x teacher reader and he helps her build stuff in her classroom! Like she’s writing lesson plans and he’s over here breaking a sweat trying to build cubby’s for kindergartners

Oh my goodness. Personal note, while I do want to teach, I want to be a professor. I could never manage small children when teaching. But through König, anything is possible.

I’d imagine this takes place on an afternoon. A sort of after-school-care situation where your classroom becomes a place for kids to have eyes kept on them before their parents come pick them up. König is a personal friend of yours, and when you’d mentioned wanting to finally get around to building the new playset you’d gotten for your classroom, he’s on it instantly. He has the afternoon free, he can accompany you. Think of it as a casual favour from a friend.

It’s one of those colourful plastic monstrosities, a little slide and steps with a little play sensory board on its side. The slide and the steps are something you can handle, just pop socket A into opening B and screw things in. But the sensory board has a ton of little fiddley pieces that need to be strung and slotted and put in right. Parts that spin and rattle and flip around- tons of fun for the little ones, but a pain to set up given the playset’s lacklustre instructions.

So there you are, sat at your desk, moving between your laptop and your notebook as you fix schedules and lesson plans. And across the room, giant figure hunched over, sits König. On the colourful city-themed rug, surrounded by little plastic tidbits as he gets the playset together.

He’s got that focus in his eyes, thick eyebrows knit together, a little scrunch over the hill of his nose. Entirely in his zone, every victory heralded by an excited ‘ah!’ or failure by a frustrated ‘bah.’ He hadn’t even noticed you staring at him, watching the way he scratched his stubble when he thought, or eyeing that dark hair peeking out from the wrist of his jumper.

You both notice, however, when a chubby little hand grabs for one of the segments on the ground next to him.

On instinct, your mouth opens, Teacher Voice ready to get the kid to let him be-

But it dies.

Because König snickers. “What are you doing, hm?”

The kid, with her big eyes and impressive head of unmanageable curls, looks up fast. She’s about four, and she holds the little segment in her fist like it was her birthright.

“Lellow is my favourite.” She replies. Indeed, the plastic she was thumbing was yellow.

König gives her a little lopsided grin. “Yellow? Your favourite?”

The little girl (Elsie, your mind finally supplies), nods, eyes settling on the other colourful blocks in front of König.

“I like yellow, too,” He murmurs. His voice is soft, the softest you’ve ever really heard it, a lilt to it.

Elsie nods again, shuffling. She kept her hands on the yellow piece.

König looks out over the pieces. Segments of a little rainbow spinner toy, meant to be strung together and then attached to the playset. A segment of which was currently being held hostage by a toddler.

He makes a soft hum in the back of the throat, a ‘hm’ sound of confusion, and Elsie looks up a slightly.

“Yellow. What comes after yellow..?” He mumbles, arranging the segments in front of him in different patterns. He huffs, furrowing his brow dramatically.

“Green.” Elsie supplies eventually, pointing to the green block. “Green after lellow.”

König’s frown breaks into a sunshine smile, “oh, you’re right! Yes. What after that?”

You watch with a warm feeling in your chest as Elsie plops herself down next to König. “Blue.” She nods matter-of-factly. She still has the yellow block in her grasp, but her previously hunched in shoulders have relaxed.

“Mhm, you’re right,” König nods, leaning back on his hands. “You’re good at this.”

Elsie makes a motion that almost looks like well, of course I am, before reaching out and organising the rest of the segments into rainbow order. Including the yellow one, setting it down between the orange and green.

“Thank you.” König says. He grabs the wooden rod that goes between the blocks, “could you put them all on this for me?”

Elsie nods again, grabbing all of the blocks and adding them onto the rod in the order she’d laid them out. She presents it to him with a proud puff or her chest.

König grins, congratulates her, and Elsie finally caves and cracks a giddy smile.

The floodgates are open from there. She goes from nervous fiddling to talking his ears off, acting as his ‘little helper’ as he continues with building the playset. He listens with nods and hums of affirmation, ‘oooh’s and ‘wow’s, and by the time Elsie’s parent comes to pick her up, she’s waving him off like she’d known him for years.

And he waves back, eyes crinkled at the corners.

When he looks at you, he huffs. “What?”

You’re grinning like a fool, chest blooming with joy, “you ever considered going into childcare?”

He scoffs, shaking his head and going back to his construction task. “I’m not good with kids.”

You break into laughter so loud he startles- but then König laughs along with you.

💖 I’m open for requests and commissions

[amourane]

blooming love

pairing: kim mingyu x fairy!reader

genre: fluff

w/c: 1.5k

summary: in which mingyu follows you around like a hopeless puppy in love, hoping that he'll work up the courage to talk to you one day.

warnings: reader does fall into a river

a/n: i'm in my magical era <3

Spring was Mingyu’s favourite time of the year. He adored the sweet aroma of flowers, the bright colours of the blossoms that would paint the landscape. There was something so magical about the season. Earth would awake from its peaceful slumber and burst into life. The lilac chrysanthemums and golden daffodils, blush pink tulips and violet bluebells. The playful chirping of birds, the buzzing of bees, and the rustling of leaves created a symphony of sounds. 

Mingyu loved to wander through the fields and gardens, breathing in the fresh, fragrant air and soaking up the vibrant colours. He loved to lay in the grass and stare up into the cotton like clouds as they floated by. The sun would beam down basking him in comforting warmth.

Yet the thing Mingyu loved most about Spring was you.

His beautiful fairy. 

Spring was the time that you shine your brightest. Your wings glittered in the sunlight, delicate and translucent, glittering with every colour of the rainbow. Sparkle and dust would be left with every magnificent beat as you flew and fluttered like a butterfly. Your skin glowed as if you had been blessed by moonlight and Mingyu could never forget the tinkling laugh that would grace his ears. It would echo through his mind constantly reminding him of you and your everlasting beauty.

Mingyu loved to watch as you chatted excitedly to the newborn animals and as you swept your hand through the small streams of water. He had always admired you from afar, staring as you eagerly helped others. He loved everything about you and though the two of you had never spoken he could feel himself falling more every day.

He just never knew that you felt the same.

// 

You had always known you were being followed by the human boy. You could always sense his presence near you, alway there quietly. There were a few times that he would step on a twig accidentally and you would hear the squeak of surprise from behind you as he hurriedly hid behind the tree. 

The two of you had never spoken before and though you knew of the human that trailed after you, you never made the move to call him out of his hiding spot. 

Over time you had caught glimpses of him. Dark wavy hair, big innocent eyes. He was cute, undeniably so. All your life you had been surrounded by beauty yet when your eyes lay on him you felt your world explode in new colour. The beauty you once knew was long forgotten and you found yourself away from the fairy realm more often than usual. Even if he didn’t speak, his mere presence was enough to light a fire in your heart.

Every week or so you would emerge and tend to nature, sing sweet melodies and engage in conversation with the animals and critters. All of this while you felt his eyes gazing at you. You could never work up the courage to ask the mysterious human for his name. Something stopped you every time you would try to approach him and you often found yourself too scared to confront him.

So you were content as it was. At least you tried to tell yourself so.

It was on one afternoon that you had simply been sitting on the grass near the river. You watched as the sunlight glimmered against the ripples of water as the fish swam past. The flowers against the banks of the water swayed gently to the breeze. You dipped your hand into the water feeling the coolness touch your skin. The fairy realm had always been beautiful but the mystery and intrigue of human’s had always tempted you. 

You sighed as you got ready to head back to your home. You dusted your hands against your dress, fluttering your wings at the motion. Suddenly, you felt a tug on your foot and everything tumbled into your view. You shrieked as you felt yourself fall and you tried desperately to react but it was no use. You felt your body plunge into the water and you squeezed your eyes shut, terrified of what was to come. Your wings felt heavy on your back and it was no use trying to use them when they were soaked. You reached out, arms desperately clawing at the surface of the water yet you found yourself sinking deeper and deeper.

Water invaded your senses and you felt your movements slow. A splash erupted through the river, and though your eyes were closed, you felt a strong arm circle around your waist. You felt yourself get pulled into someone’s grasp and you urged yourself to open your eyes. 

There he was. Your human.

He was even prettier up close. You gasped in shock at the sight. The man’s eyes widened in panic and you belatedly realised why as you felt the air leave your lungs at your stupid action. Before you can react his lips were on yours. You freeze. Even underwater his lips felt soft and plush. As lovely as the gesture was you couldn’t reciprocate as you felt your eyes flutter shut and the last breaths of air leave your body.

//

Mingyu was in absolute shambles. He hadn’t meant to just kiss you out of the blue, he really didn’t! It was just as soon as he saw the bubbles leave your mouth and he realised that you were lacking oxygen he thought of the only thing he could do. Give you some of his own. It wasn’t a very wise decision but then again Kim Mingyu wasn’t known for making many wise decisions.

He had heaved your limp body out of the river frantically trying to get you to wake up. You felt cold and your wings lay heavy on your back. Even unconscious you looked mesmerising. 

The second he had witnessed you tripping and falling into the river he had rushed out to help you, diving into the water with no hesitation. He saw the splashes as your fingertips grazed the surface of the water, a desperate cry for help. Saving you was the only thing on his mind at that moment in time.

“Stupid, stupid stupid.” Mingyu’s head was in his hands as he cursed himself yet again. “Why would you do that Kim Mingyu? You’ve really gone insane now. Oh no, what if she doesn’t wake up? Have I killed a fairy?”

“Mingyu. That’s a pretty name.” Your voice was croaky but nonetheless it caused the man’s head to whip around to your frail frame. His eyes widened as he watched as you lifted yourself off the ground he had laid you on. “I thought it was about time I learnt the name of the human who had been following me around.”

The smile you gave Mingyu made his heart swell and pound out of his chest. He felt his heartbeat pulse and each contraction made his blood spur with excitement. Your gaze felt like an enchantment and he couldn’t help but be enraptured at your stare. 

“I-I’m so sorry!” He felt himself turn red as the words left his mouth. “I swear I only wanted to provide you with some air, I would never kiss someone without consent!”

He held his hands up as if to surrender to you and you giggled at his action. Your wings were still wet yet they still had the iridescent glimmer that was simply just so magical.

“It’s okay, I understand. Thank you so much for saving me. There’s no need to apologise, I appreciate the thought, it was very sweet.” Mingyu watched as your cheeks flushed as well and you cleared your throat. “I quite enjoyed the kiss.”

“W-Wha…sorry - I’m sorry - did you just say that you…enjoyed it?”

“Yes.” You gripped your hands in your lap, nervousness suddenly overwhelming you. “I know you’ve been watching me for a while and I know I can’t complain because I didn’t approach you either but I was just waiting for you to come up to me. I’ve grown quite fond of you, you see, I guess that could be seen as weird because we’ve never actually ever spoken.”

“You’ve grown fond…of me?” Mingyu spluttered, unable to string a sentence when you nodded your head in agreement. The gorgeous fairy that he was so in love with was interested in him. Oh how lucky he was. 

“I hope that now we can actually meet each other and speak. I’ve been dying to get to know you.” 

Your smile felt as if heaven itself had opened its grand doors for Mingyu. He felt himself blush bright red at your words. He opened his mouth to respond but he was irrevocably tongue-tied in front of you. Your eyes twinkled and Mingyu felt his heart race as he tried to muster up the courage to say what he’s been wanting to say since the first day he met you.

“I’ve been dying to get to know you as well.”

[mtcloudsworld]

𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓, 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 | boyfriend!Jason Todd, black!fem, freckles!blackfem reader, braids!blackfem reader, little bit of ass grabbing, nothing too serious, edited

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑 | sudden thought I wanted to share with you all. If any errors please ignore, thank you. Enjoy lovebugs!! :) like, comment, reblog.

PART TWO

⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁

Usually, his mornings were spent dreading waking up and having to climb out of bed after a long night of patroling. If he could have it his way all he would want to do is sleep, lounge around and do absolutely nothing.

But when he started dating you, his life turned upside down.

Mornings were never spent alone, mornings with you were much more brighter, much more sweeter. Even in Gotham's gloomy weather he still found some sort of happiness in you.

With the sounds of chirping from outside, it's beautiful yet annoying tune broke through his slumber like shattered glass. He would lay there going in and out of sleep, kinda aware of his surroundings as he takes in a deep breath to exhale slowly.

When he opened his eyes, adjusting to the sunlight seeping through his dark curtains, his orbs set on the presence of you.

The beauty of your essence. Your glorious soft cocoa skin and gentle features. Your face was relaxed and content. Your lashes kissed along your freckled high cheekbones as you slept. Your braids were securely wrapped in a scarf as you started to stir in your sleep.

And although he was on his side of the bed, you had inched closer for his warmth, loving that even through the cold he always exuded as huge radiator for you.

Laying in the middle with your back against the mattress, your head turned towards him with your hands settled at your lower abdomen.

Your lips parted as soft snores slipped into the quiet morning, clearly etched into a deep slumber. His lips curled into a smirk, adjusting himself beside you so he could wrap his arm around you, his thumb brushing up against your back. He studies the way your face starts to move, brow twitching a little and then comes an exhale.

You looked so unbothered. As if you were dreaming of rainbows and sunshine, as if nothing could harm you at this very moment because you were sleeping so peacefully.

Being so close in the confines of his protective stronghold helped you tremendously get better sleep and he, personally, could agree. Having you by his side made him feel okay, feel better knowing that he didn't have to sit around worrying if you were okay or not. Even when you were somewhere else, still he would worry but also hate the idea of not being by your side.

Nonetheless, he could lay here for hours upon hours upon hours and never get tired of observing you.

It was nearly 11:30 now, this was the most you had ever slept in the longest time. And when you felt it was time to wake up, you didn't dare to open your eyes just yet. Instead you recognized the feeling of his hand caressing your side. Your own traveling up to grip at his forearm, recognizing the deep scars along his skin, you could feel a muscle move as he brings you closer.

You would sigh, pry your eyes open to see deep blue irises already peering over you. You'd crack a smile looking away from him, nearly laughing out of nervousness but groan, "you weirdo, watching me sleep?" You ask, voice still groggy with sleep as you spoke lowly.

He chuckles, "maybe."

"Is that a problem?" he watches as you rub the sleep from your eyes to then stretch a little and bring yourself onto your side near his chest.

It takes you a few seconds to respond, registering your surroundings.

"No, I guess not, as long as I look pretty to you. I wake up ugly sometimes, ya know? Bad breath, slobber and all?" You stated half jokingly motioning towards your face before tucking your hand into your chest.

He amusingly scoffs at that.

"Hm, I beg to differ." He says, landing a lingering kiss to your forehead, he starts to rub circles along your back. "Regardless of your state, baby, you always look pretty."

"Hm, you're just saying that to be nice."

"No, I'm saying that because I love you and I love looking at you with every chance I get." He states in a matter-of-factly tone.

"You're biased then." You challenged with a raised brow, your gaze locking back with his.

"I'm only biased because I'm your boyfriend." You suddenly felt small underneath his gaze, feeling his hand venture lower near the roundness of your ass. Beginning to palm your cheek through the oversized tee. His head was rested into the palm of his hand as his face was only merely inches apart from yours, mumbling, "I have every right to be biased, mamas." His glare was loving and serious, clearly not shying away from this small intimacy between you two.

"Hm," you smirked, nudging your nose against his, "point taken."

𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐋 ©𝐦𝐭𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐝𝐬 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃

[oaksgrove]

The Sweet Side of Bravery

pairing: Kyle “Gaz” Garrick x paediatrician!fem!reader

synopsis: The 141 team drops by for a blood donation drive, but all the other doctors are busy—leaving a quirky pediatrician in charge. Between colorful crocs, Mickey Mouse band-aids, and lollipops for bravery, Gaz finds himself charmed in the most unexpected way.

warnings: none, just fluff, humor, and a touch of slow-burn!

word count: 977

part 2

Kyle had been in his fair share of strange situations, but walking into a pediatric clinic wearing tactical gear for a blood donation campaign definitely topped the list.

“This is a bad idea,” Ghost muttered under his breath as the four of them entered the clinic, colorful murals covered the walls, and a little cartoon sun in the corner cheerfully announced, “Every drop counts!” to promote the blood donation drive, his skull mask somehow makes him look even more out of place.

“It’s just a needle,” Soap teased, clapping Ghost on the back. “What’re you scared of, mate? The cartoons on the telly?” He motioned to the TV in the corner, where Paw Patrol played on a loop.

Price, ever the voice of reason, ignored them and gestured toward the front desk. “Let’s just get this done, yeah? Try not to scare the kids while you’re at it.”

Gaz wasn’t paying much attention to the banter. His focus was on the doctor who had just emerged from one of the exam rooms. She didn’t look like any doctor he’d ever met—bright, colorful glasses perched on her nose, her hair streaked with pastel highlights, and—were those crocs covered in pins?

“Dr. [Your Last Name],” the receptionist called, waving her over.

“That’s me!” she chirped, her voice cheerful as she approached them.

“Hi, we’re here for the blood donation,” Price said, stepping forward, trying to keep his tone professional despite how out of place he felt.

Gaz wasn’t really listening. His attention had snagged on the woman who was making her way toward them, clipboard in hand. She didn’t walk so much as bounce—her ponytail bobbed with each step, and her pastel scrubs were patterned with tiny teddy bears and clouds.

The glasses got him first—big, colorful frames that looked more suited to a quirky bookshop owner than a doctor. 

“Oh, great! Welcome!” she said brightly, motioning to a chair at the station she’d set up. “I’m Dr. [Your Last Name],” she said brightly. “I’ll be handling your blood donations today!” She scanned the group and raised a brow, though her smile didn’t falter. “So, which one of you tough guys is going first?”

Soap immediately pointed at Gaz. “Him.”

“Traitor,” Gaz muttered under his breath, but he stepped forward anyway, trying to ignore the amused looks from his team.

She gestured to the chair and patted the armrest. “Come on, Sergeant. It’s not so bad. I haven’t made anyone faint all week.”

“That’s reassuring,”

Gaz sighed and stepped forward, sinking into the chair. He glanced up at her, trying not to look at the ridiculous assortment of pins on her crocs—disney characters, rainbows, tiny stethoscopes, syringes and hearts.

“This won’t take long,” she said, snapping on gloves. “Promise it’ll only sting for a second.”

“You seem awfully comfortable doing this,” Gaz said though he was very aware of the amused glances his mates were throwing his way. 

“Occupational hazard,” she replied with a shrug. “Kids aren’t exactly thrilled to get poked with needles, so you learn to make it fun.” She glanced up at him. “You’re a little big for a sticker, but I’ve got lollipops if you’re good.”

She prepped the needle with a practiced efficiency that surprised him, though her accessories jingled softly as she moved. Tiny charms dangled from it—medical supplies, teddy bears, and even a cupcake.

“Nice bracelet,” he muttered.

“Thanks! It’s from one of my little patients,” she said with a smile. “You’d be amazed how much easier it is to get a six-year-old to sit still when you’ve got some sparkle going on.”

The needle went in smoothly, barely a pinch, and she gave him a nod of approval. “All done!”

Before he could react, she stuck a Mickey Mouse band-aid over the tiny puncture and handed him a heart-shaped lollipop.

Gaz blinked at the lollipop, then at her, his brain struggling to catch up.

“You’re joking,” he said flatly.

“Not at all,” she replied, grinning. “Everyone gets a lollipop. It’s the rules.”

Behind him, Soap let out a loud snort of laughter. “Rules are rules, Gaz. Take the lolly.”

Behind him, Soap practically howled with laughter, while Ghost muttered, “I’ll take Elsa, if she’s got one.”

“You can have Anna,” she shot back without missing a beat, holding up a Frozen-themed band-aid. “I’m saving Elsa for someone braver.”

Even Price chuckled at that, though he tried to hide it behind a cough.

Gaz, meanwhile, found himself oddly fascinated by the doctor. She was cheerful—borderline ridiculous, really—but something about her felt genuine. She didn’t treat them like soldiers or strangers, just people.

When they’d all finished, she handed each of them a lollipop and made a show of comparing their band-aids. “See? Look how brave you all were. I’m so proud.”

Soap held up his Hello Kitty band-aid like a trophy. “I’m keepin’ this as a souvenir.”

“You would,” Ghost muttered.

Gaz lingered as the others headed toward the door, finding excuses to check his phone or adjust his jacket. He didn’t know what he was waiting for until she glanced over at him, her glasses sliding down her nose just enough to reveal her curious gaze.

“Something on your mind, Sergeant?” she asked.

“Just… thanks. For this. And, uh, for not laughing too much.”

Her smile softened. “You’re welcome. And for the record, I think it’s great you all came out to do this. Most people wouldn’t bother.”

He didn’t know how to respond to that, so he nodded and followed his team out into the rain.

Soap nudged him as they walked. “What’s that look for, mate? Don’t tell me you’re smitten.”

“Shut up, Johnny,” Gaz muttered, but the grin tugging at his lips betrayed him.

And as they headed back to the base, he couldn’t help but glance at the lollipop in his hand and wonder when they’d need to donate blood again.

[awkward-walking-potato]

A wet mess

I love biker logan and I think that is something we can all agree on.

The late afternoon sun cast a warm glow over the yard, bathing everything in a golden light. The air was filled with the scent of fresh-cut grass and soap, mixing with the subtle smell of motor oil that always lingered around Logan's garage. You were outside, wearing a simple tank top and cut-off shorts, getting ready to wash Logan’s bike—his prized possession.

The motorcycle was a sleek, black machine, all chrome and muscle, much like the man who owned it. It sat in the driveway, covered in a thin layer of dust from his latest ride. Logan had taken off on a solo trip a few days ago, and though you were used to his need for solitude, you missed him. But now he was back, and you wanted to do something special for him—something that showed you cared.

As you filled a bucket with warm, soapy water, you could feel his eyes on you. He was leaning against the doorway of the garage, arms crossed over his chest, watching you with that intense gaze that always sent shivers down your spine.

“You don’t have to do that, darlin’,” he said, his voice low and rough, carrying that unmistakable hint of a growl.

You smiled, dipping a sponge into the soapy water. “I know. But I want to. Besides, I thought you’d like to see your bike all shiny and clean.”

Logan’s lips curled into a smirk, but his eyes softened. “You’re spoilin’ me.”

“Maybe,” you teased, wringing out the sponge before bending down to start on the wheels. “But you deserve it.”

You started with the tires, scrubbing away the dirt and grime from the road. The cool water splashed onto your skin, sending a refreshing chill through your body as the suds ran down the black rubber. You could feel Logan’s eyes on you the whole time, his gaze lingering on the curve of your back, the way your clothes clung to you as the water splashed up. It was a small, intimate gesture—one that brought you closer to him without words.

As you moved up to the metal frame, you took your time, running the sponge over every inch of the bike. The chrome gleamed under your touch, the soapy bubbles catching the sunlight and reflecting it in a thousand little rainbows. You could feel Logan’s presence behind you, a silent, steady warmth that made you feel safe and protected.

He stepped closer, and you could feel the heat of his body, the faint scent of cigar smoke and leather that clung to him. “You look good doin’ that,” he murmured, his voice sending a pleasant shiver down your spine.

You glanced back at him, a playful smile on your lips. “Enjoying the view?”

Logan’s grin was all teeth, his eyes darkening with a familiar, heated look. “You know I am.”

You chuckled softly, turning back to your task, but now with a deliberate sway to your hips. You knew what you were doing—teasing him, making him watch you, knowing that it was driving him crazy. The soapy water ran over your hands, dripping down your arms as you leaned over the bike, giving him an even better view.

By the time you were done with the frame, your shirt was clinging to your skin, wet and slightly transparent. You could feel the cool air on your damp skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat in Logan’s gaze. You turned around to face him, holding the sponge in your hand, your hair sticking to your forehead.

“All done,” you said, your voice breathy, almost a whisper.

Logan didn’t move for a moment, just staring at you with an intensity that made your heart race. Then, in one swift motion, he closed the distance between you, his large hands coming to rest on your hips, pulling you close. You could feel the rough texture of his fingers against your wet skin, the way his grip tightened just slightly as he looked down at you.

“You’re somethin’ else, darlin’,” he said, his voice low and gravelly, the sound vibrating through your entire body.

You leaned up, pressing your body against his, your lips inches from his. “Maybe,” you whispered, your hands sliding up his chest, feeling the hard muscles beneath his shirt. “But you’re the one who keeps coming back.”

Logan’s eyes flickered with something deep and primal, and in the next moment, his lips were on yours. The kiss was rough and hungry, filled with all the unspoken things that had been building between you. His hands roamed over your body, leaving a trail of heat in their wake as he pulled you even closer, like he couldn’t get enough of you.

You melted into him, letting the sponge fall from your hand, forgotten as you wrapped your arms around his neck. The world around you faded away, leaving just the two of you—your bodies pressed together, the taste of him on your lips, the feel of his hands on your skin.

When he finally pulled back, you were both breathless, your lips tingling from the intensity of the kiss. He rested his forehead against yours, his breath coming in short, ragged bursts as he looked down at you with that same, smoldering intensity.

“Let’s get you outta these wet clothes,” he said, his voice a low rumble that sent a thrill through you.

You smiled, a teasing glint in your eyes as you looked up at him. “Only if you help.”

Logan’s grin widened, and without another word, he scooped you up into his arms, carrying you inside. The bike was forgotten for now, but you knew it would be waiting for him later, shining and clean—just like you intended.

[gyuzgrl]

spoilt for choice //seokgyu// pt1.

Finding love is hard. Ironically so. In the movies things look so easy- he sees her, she sees him, and at once they fall head over heels, madly in love.

They love fiercely, they love passionately, they love so... effortlessly. It's as though they have no option but to.

Alas, what you see is merely fiction. Finding love is like reaching the end of a rainbow these days- hell, it's probably easier to do the latter.

At least that's what you- our protagonist- feel like. For someone so chronically single, you sure do have yourself surrounded by love and relationships. Your best friend? Engaged. Your landlord? Married with two kids. Your friends? Dating each other.

God it's like the universe wants to show you how goddamn alone you are.

Like now, for instance. All you want, is to buy some goddamn bread, head home for the night, and crawl straight into bed, but the will the universe let you?

Of course not.

Of course your store is all out of focaccia. Of course you have to change your dinner plans and settle for mac n cheese again. Of course you bump straight into a display in front of the most beautiful man you've ever seen and drop every single box on the shelf.

"oh shi-" a voice sounds from beside you mere moments before disaster.

As you look up, your eyes widen. In horror? In awe? You're not entirely sure. All you know, is that in approximately 0.07 milliseconds you'd have crashed into a pile of ready to eat mac n cheese boxes, all while a handsome young man attempts to save you, although in vain.

The world seems to move in slow motion as your shoulder makes contact with the shelf. You hear the chain reaction being set off, each carton falling onto the next. You feel the dull sting of metal digging into your shoulder. You see the cascade of orange and blue boxes falling off the racks in numbers you could barely comprehend.

This does not look good for you.

Scanning over the pile of boxes, you gasp, reality catching up quickly. People nearby whisper and point, shooting you disapproving looks and shaking their heads.

From the crowd, a soft voice draws your attention- "are you hurt?"

You turn to the side, and your eyes widen further. Damn he looks even better when you aren't falling into display cases.

"here, let me help," he offers with a gentle smile, "we'll save time this way"

Oh crap he has a lisp- that's adorable.

"thanks," you mutter, crouching down beside him as you work together to clean up the absolute mess you've made. "you really don't have to..."

He turns to you, brows pinched so tight he almost looks offended- "it's the gentlemanly thing to do!"

When you don't respond, probably because you're afraid you've insulted him, he speaks up once again.

"plus, I'd be stupid to leave a pretty girl in distress"

Your eyes nearly pop out of their sockets at his comment and he huffs out a laugh.

"I'm Mingyu, by the way," he throws some rope your way to get you talking, and you do. Gratefully.

"Y/n." you mutter, "thanks for your help Mingyu"

He grins, placing a couple of boxes back in place, and offers you his hand. You take it graciously.

As your palm slips into his grasp, you feel a jolt light up your body, like lightning. Something sharp, something metallic, something electric.

Like an old light bulb, crackling back to life, something carnal stirred deep inside you. It was brief, but you were certain that Mingyu had awoken the succubus that slept within.

Being single does things to a girl.

At the start it's fun with friends and wine nights and basking in the joys of being single. Then your friends start to get busy with partners of their own, plans fall through, and before you know it, you're sitting alone in bed trying to get yourself off, but all you can do is wonder whether you're destined to die alone.

It's tough, it really is.

It's been a while since you're desire for- well- anything died down. A few months at least. Not a wayward thought here, nor a wandering hand there.

You just didn't feel like it. Even if you tried.

But now?

Oh, this is interesting.

Your eyes fix in on his, as you rise to your feet. His grasp is gentle yet strong, and you can see his arm flexing deliciously with the pure muscle that lay beneath his plain white tee.

Wowza.

"can I ask why a beautiful woman such as yourself is eating-" he pauses, skimming over the boxes around, "kids meal box mac n cheese?"

A mix of bashful pride and embarrassment paint your face pink. He thinks you're beautiful. And he knows you're eating kids mac n cheese.

"I was gonna- uh, I wanted to pick up bread, but my usual place doesn't have what I want, so mac n cheese it is..."

There's a pause. Mingyu's eyes seem hesitant. He opens his mouth as if to say something, but decides against it.

Moments pass with your hand in his, and you don't realise just how odd this all must look until a voice snaps you out of your bliss.

"ma'am?"

Your hand flies back down to your side before the worker can say another word, and Mingyu takes a step back.

"y-yes?"

There's a long silence that follows as the shop worker shifts his glance from you to Mingyu and then back to you, as if to try and understand your situation.

"is this man- is this man bothering you?" his voice is weak and wobbly, a result of the sheer size of Mingyu's body and the frailness of his own .

You wave frantically, shaking your head as you clear Mingyu's name.

"not at all! he helped me- I dropped a bunch of-" you start, rambling on to persuade him, and before you can stop yourself, your arms loop around Mingyu's very large arm as you squeak "see? not bothered at all! not at a-"

Oh god. Are you really clutching onto his bicep right now. This is insane. He's so much bigger than you thought. Oh good lord.

Mingyu grins, taking note of the panic in your eyes, slowly realising what you're doing.

"yeah, we're all good here buddy," he smiles, "thanks for looking out though!"

The guys leaves, and you peel yourself off of Mingyu, albeit unwillingly.

"I'm so sorry-" you start, but he's quick to cut in.

"for holding my arm? if anything I owe you one"

You giggle, tossing him a shy smile, and his face heats up ever so slightly.

"s-so you needed bread, huh?"

You nod.

"I actually bake, if you'd be interested in taking some bread off my hands, I'd be more than happy to provide"

"that's so cool," you gasp. "I would love to try some!"

Relief washes over his features, and he pulls his phone out, pushing it your way.

"could I get your number? we can figure out a proper time for me to drop some off with you... or if you'd like to come pick up a loaf or two later in the week"

Stranger danger be damned. This man bakes bread.

It's been a day since, and you can't stop thinking about him. His kind, gentle eyes, his strong arms, his plump lips- god it's driving you insane.

Neither of you have made the first move- not a call or text in sight. You don't think you can hold on much longer.

"does he want me to start?" you muse, staring hard at your phone.

"he asked for my number... he should call"

Your screen flickers off as you groan loudly. You really are cursed. The one time someone's taken an interest in you, you manage to fuck that up as well.

Maybe this is how it's meant to be in the end. You're just destined to be alone.

Just as you're about to descend into a pit of despair, there's a knock at your door.

"coming!"

You open the door and before you have a moment to comprehend what's happening, there's a loud squeal echoing through your house.

Sana.

"Y/n my babyyyyyy, I have news for youu" she sings, excited as always.

"I've missed youuu," you sulk, "it's like you've forgotten about me"

She grins sheepishly.

"new relationship things, you know how it is... but I'm sorryyy and I have just the thing to make it up to you"

Leading you to the couch, Sana pushes you down to sit as she takes a seat beside you.

"there's someone I think you should meet." she says. "he's momo's friend, and he's really sweet-"

"you mean like a blind date?" you interject.

"y-yeah a blind date... that's one way to put it"

You squint, narrowing your eyes at her. Poor thing. She's never been too good at lying.

"San..." you warn, "what did you do?"

This is how you've ended up here, sitting across from a greek hero come to life.

He smiles gently, flashing his perfect teeth as his eyes crinkle in the most beautiful way you've ever seen. Oh my god.

It's like the lord himself snuck into your head and brought your filthiest wet dream to life.

Arms practically bulging through his dress shirt, hair neatly styled to reveal his forehead just a touch, oh you're in for a treat.

But you're definitely no less.

In a pearly pink dress stopping just along your thighs, with the most dreamy, satin straps you've ever seen, you look divine.

Well, Dokyeom certainly thinks so.

When you walked into the restaurant, hair flowing with the gentle breeze, he felt his heart drop.

You're beautiful. Devastatingly so.

He pulls out your chair, leaning in slightly to whisper- "wow you're beautiful,"- and you feel your face heat up.

"th-anks" you stumble, swallowing as you watch him take him seat.

"I'm Dokyeom, Momo's friend- you probably know that already-"

"yeah, Sana and her... set this up,"

"actually- I asked," he grins, "Momo posted something recently, and you were in it"

Your eyes widen.

"I'm sorry!" his brows scrunch a little, smile still lifting his features, "you just- you looked so pretty, I needed to ask if you were single"

"well I am," you smiled, cheeks pink.

"I'm glad."

Conversation flows easily with him. There's something so reassuring about that smile of his and the gentle tone of his voice.

However, something else seems to be flowing simultaneously.

You aren't sure whether it's the perfectly sculpted face or his thick, beefy arms, but you find yourself forcing your thighs shut to calm the raging heat deep inside.

"I don't like rushing into things, but I'd like to do this again sometime" he pulls you from your thoughts, "if that's okay-"

"hm?"

"maybe a coffee, or ice cream-"

Your eyes widen. What is he talking about?

Sweat settles on your skin as the room begins to feel a bit too hot for your liking, and you swallow at the thick lump settling at the back of your throat.

"I-" you start, feeling your throat close in, "s-sorry what did you say?"

Good going, girl. Super subtle.

Dokyeom seems to have picked up on your shitty eyes and glittering skin, and his eyes fix in on you.

"you doing okay there?" he muses, folding his arms on the table.

Your eyes follow his movements, betraying your dignity, and he takes note.

Oh.

Dirty girl, staring so blatantly at his body. God only knows what filthy, filthy thoughts you have going on in that head of yours.

His eyes darken for a moment, but it's gone before you notice.

"Y/n?"

"y-yeah- just, uh... what did you say earlier?"

Dokyeom plasters on a rushed smile and his eyes meet yours.

"I said- I'd like to do this again sometime. do you wanna maybe get coffee or icecream later this week?"

You nod, eagerly.

"I would love to,"

The night comes to a close, with Dokyeom gushing over you, sticky sweet praise falling abundantly from his pretty lips. From the delicate curl of your hair, to the tasteful matching of your shoes and jewellery, nothing goes unnoticed by him.

It's almost a touch too much, but you're loving this. The attention, the validation, the pure vanity of it all- oh it feels good to have a man like him call you beautiful.

"you're really sweet, you know that Dokyeom?" you giggle, shooting him a bashful smile.

He blushes, momentarily losing his composure. The way his name rolls off your tongue is nothing short of perfection.

You're nothing short of perfection.

"I've always hated my name, you know?"

You tip your head to the side.

"but I like the way you say it," he whispers, "makes it sound so pretty"

You're stunned into silence. There's that familiar heat once again, burning deep inside you.

"may I drop you back home?"

Agreeing, you make your way to his car, and let him drive you home.

A comfortable, slow conversation follows- he asks about your family, what plans you have tomorrow, and you feel so completely at ease.

Before you know it, you're here.

"I'd drop you to your doorstep, but you live in an apartment and I uh, don't wanna look like a creep" he sighs.

You laugh. Properly this time, with your head tipped back, lips parted wide. Dokyeom only stares in awe.

Your hands move to the latch of your seatbelt.

Wordlessly, he reaches over, placing his hand over yours, and undoing it for you. Your breath hitches.

Oh.

Oh my.

He raises your hand gently to his lips, placing a soft, slow kiss to the back, keeping his eyes on you.

You gasp this time.

A faint smile cracks his lips as he lets you go, and you feel your lungs compress.

"goodnight, Y/n," he mumbles, voice thick with something you can't really place just yet.

Back at home, you find yourself grinning like an idiot. Tonight was perfect. Dokyeom took you out to dinner, chatted with you for hours, drove you home, kissed you (RESPECTFULLY!).

My, oh my.

As you lie in bed, letting your thoughts free, a familiar puppy-like face comes to mind. Your eyes widen.

Mingyu.

Has he texted?

Leaning over, you check your phone, and see that he has.

You can't help the pang of excitement you feel inside when you see his text. It's weird. You somehow still feel intrigued by your saviour, despite just having gone out on the best date of your life.

Dokyeom seems to have this effect on you too.

Your mind fuzzes over with thoughts of him and Mingyu, over and over, replaying the things they said, things they did.

How is this possible?

How could you be thinking of two men at the same time?