#Took a while to come up with something for N to wear

[lucidrmss]

extra credit. II 7.3k armin arlert x reader

cw: 18+ explicit content minors dni, nerdmin x baddie reader, reader insert but no use of y/n, unprotected sex, female pronouns/afab reader, vaginal sex, oral sex, nipple piercing, possessive armin, bit of dirty talk, bit of fluff. university/college au.

summary: No one saw it coming. Not your roommate. Not your on-and-off ex situationship. Not even the judgmental girl with a color-coded planner who’s clearly in love with him.

But somehow, the cardigan-wearing, note-taking, blushy boy wonder of your Comparative Politics class caught your attention. And that’s saying something, because you’re not exactly known for quiet crushes or gentle flirting — being a tattooed, sharp-tongued, braless baddie with a GPA just as high as your standards.

After a sketchy dude corners you at a party, Armin Arlert — the last person you expected — swoops in like a flannel-clad knight in awkward armor. That moment sparks a chaotic, and unexpectedly tender journey involving fake study sessions, thigh tattoos, jealous glances, and one painfully adorable nerd who may or may not be packing more than just a well-organized Google Drive.

Let them stare. Let them whisper. You’re not letting this one go.

notes: i'm here with part 2, longer and dirtier! a had to edit it all again that's why it took forever. hope u like it <3

<part I

You were totally going to be chill today.

The library dates have grown to you, you actually like to study, just know how to balance it with nights out. But this is comfortable, sharing opinions and having someone to actually listen to it, not with a surprised face like it's uncommon to wear short skirts and be able to develop intellectual opinions, but sharing deep conversations and with Armin, it's easy.

In fact, you could sit there and talk about how you custom-made a piece of clothing you thrifted last week and he'd look at you with his big, bright eyes as if you were describing how you accidentally discovered the cure for cancer.

So the study dates? is just a excuse to sit close and have him speak in that low voice to you. With your coffee, wearing your least intimidating crop top, you told yourself: Don’t flirt. don’t provoke. just study.

As you scan the library, you notice that everything is quiet, being it a friday afternoon. Or it was quiet, ‘cause you accidentally made eye contact with a damn Jean Kirstein who had the audacity to wink at you in front of Armin.

Look away, ignore it. Maybe he'll get the hit and don't be a menace for once in his lifetime. Is that asking for too much? the footsteps approaching your table 10 seconds later answered yes.

“Damn, babe. If I'd known study sessions with nerds made you this hot, I’d’ve volunteered months ago,” he says, teeth flashing as he leans on your library table like he owns it.

You glance up from your notes and deadpan, “if you knew how to read, Jean, maybe you’d be here for the actual material.”

Jean laughs — loud and easy, not offended in the slightest. “Always such a flirt. But hey, if the blondie here ever needs a break, I got room for a real tutor.”

You’re already mid-eye roll when you hear it.

“I think she’s fine with the one she has.”

Oh?

You blink, slowly.

Jean raises his brows, mock-innocent. “Whoa. Okay, Professor Armin. Relax.”

Armin doesn’t even look up. “Maybe don’t hit on people while they’re trying to learn.”

You wait for Armin to blush and backpedal like he always does. He doesn’t.

Instead, he adjusts his glasses, underlines something in your shared textbook, and leans a little closer to you. You feel his shoulder touch yours — light, intentional.

Your stomach flips.

Jean watches the interaction, then snorts. “Well, shit. Didn’t realize this was exclusive.”

Armin looks him dead in the eye.

“It is.”

Excuse you? You nearly knock your iced coffee over.

Jean lifts his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. Jesus. Nerd got game. I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone.”

When he walks off, you just stare at Armin.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine,” he says, not meeting your gaze. “Just tired of guys thinking they can talk to you like that.” he sounds annoyed, eyes still focused on the open textbook but he looks distracted, jaw clenched, a vein popping out of his throat.

A quiet nerdy man who wears glasses and has a possessive agenda? You couldn't make that shit up, no even in your wildest dreams.

You’re quiet for a second. “You jealous, baby?”

Armin finally looks at you. Really look at you.

And for the first time since that almost-kiss, you see it again — the heat behind his eyes. The one that doesn’t match the shy smiles and physics flashcards. The one that makes you ache.

“I don’t like sharing” he murmurs.

Jesus Christ.

That got you shivering, shyly looking away. He just clears his throat and continues to read to you, like that moment didn't happen. Only his thigh touching yours under the table.

The thing about college parties is that they’re basically controlled chaos. Like, sure, someone brought Cards Against Humanity and another guy made jungle juice in a mop bucket — but it’s fine! Everything’s fine!

Especially when Armin shows up wearing that soft gray sweater that hugs his shoulders just right, and you remember why you bothered to come out in the first place.

You’re wearing all black again. Cropped halter. Knee-high platform boots. A leather jacket you definitely don’t need. He spots you across the room, fiddling with the rim of a red Solo cup, and you swear his whole face lights up. Soft-ass nerd, you think — fondly, stupidly, like some lovesick schoolgirl. The contrast between you two is kinda hot tho.

“Hey,” he says when he reaches you, out of breath from squeezing through the crowd. “You look…”

He trails off.

You arch an eyebrow. “I look?”

His mouth opens. Closes.

You step closer and smile with dangerous softness. “Use your words, baby.”

Armin turns redder than the Solo cup.

You live for this.

But before he can recover, Connie swoops in from nowhere and yells, “TRUTH OR DARE. IN MY ROOM. CIRCLE. NOW.”

Because apparently y'all twelve again.

The room's smelling faintly like weed, and cheap vodka, hot with so many people in the same place. You spot Mikasa laying on Coonie’s bed and Eren sitting on the desk chair, back to the rest of the room, but you can see him packing the ground up weed into a rolling paper. You sit next to Armin, obviously. His knee keeps brushing yours like he’s trying to pretend it’s an accident, even though it keeps happening every five seconds.

Across from you is Sasha (already tipsy), Connie (born tipsy), Jean (smirking, obviously), some random people you don't care enough to remember their name and— yep — Mina.

You don’t know if she’s glaring at you or having a stroke. Either way, you smile sweetly and lean a little more into Armin’s space.

“Alright, nerds,” Connie claps, vodka bottle in hand. “Never have I ever… slept with someone and forgot their name after.”

You hold up your cup and drink without blinking.

Armin chokes.

Everyone groans or giggles. Mina looks directly at your mouth like it offended her personally.

“Never have I ever… had a crush on someone in this room,” Sasha smirks.

Cue chaos.

Everyone makes eye contact with everyone. You sip. Jean chugs. Mikasa doesn’t flinch. Armin… lifts his cup. Sips.

You want to tease him — but the bottle spins.

Its Mina’s turn.

“Never have I ever made out with someone just to get a reaction out of someone else.” You sip again. So does Jean. but that's an old story, not even worth mentioning. You see the flicker in Armin’s jaw.

Connie, in a brilliant stroke of timing, takes things further off the rails.

“Never have I ever… had sex in a public place.”

You cackle.

Armin clears his throat.

And drinks.

What.

The room erupts.

“No. Absolutely not. Ain't no way Armin Arlert it's little freak, explain yourself,” Mikasa demands, nearly toppling over.

Armin just pushes his glasses up calmly. “Library study room. Sophomore year. After finals.”

You drop your jaw.

Mina visibly deflates .

“Was it with that girl with the septum and purple braids?” Connie asks.

“Nope,” Armin says.

“Who then?” Jean insists.

Armin shrugs. “You don’t know her.”

You… suddenly want to know everything about this alternate-universe Armin with secret kinks and perfect timing.

It spirals quickly after that.

Sasha drinks for “Never have I ever stolen a traffic cone.”

Connie drinks for “Never have I ever kissed a professor.”

Jean drinks for “Never have I ever hooked up with two people in the same friend group.”

Armin’s barely tipsy, his face is flushed in a beautiful way that compliments so well with his blonde hair it's actually making you kinda of feral. You’re dangerously close to asking if he’s faking this I've never felt the touch of a woman energy or if the universe just wanted to create a sex god with a resting shy face.

You're having fun, laughing at Mikasa and Connie bickering, watching as Eren joins the circle while passing a blunt over to Jean, feeling Armin's hand caressing your thigh, while you rest on his shoulders a little. Yet nothing can distract you from this feeling. Of being watched, getting your every move scrutinized. Everytime you meet her eyes, she raises her eyebrow. It's getting tiring.

Jealousy it's a ugly face, even on pretty girls like Mina Carolina.

Your patience snaps. your turn now.

While staring directly at her, you go for blood.

“Never have I ever lied about wanting to just study when what I really wanted was to jump someone’s bones.”

Connie screams, you hear Armin choking beside you.

You drink, watching her blush while also taking a sip.

The blonde man beside you hesitates for a second before also taking a big gulp. The world seems to stop when your eyes meet. Your lips parted as his ears got more red and his eyes glitter. Fucking glitter like when sunshine touches the ocean. Deep and blue and fucking breathtaking beautiful.

This motherfucker got you wanted to write poetry and draw hearts with your names.

It's time to admit you got it bad.

The moment ends with everyone groaning when Connie suddenly lurches forward.

“Oh— no, no, no—” Mikasa scrambles for a trash can, but it’s too late.

The carpet claims another victim. The game dies an honorable death.

Someone suggests a group selfie to immortalize the trauma. You all huddle together, flushed and sweaty.

Jean’s got devil horns on. Sasha’s holding a baguette she stole from the kitchen. Connie is barely conscious .

You feel Armin slide behind you — then his arm loops around your shoulders.

Soft. Warm. Familiar.

Your breath catches.

He’s smiling at the camera like it’s nothing. But his hand is resting right below your collarbone. His thumb brushing the skin under your necklace.

The photo flashes. Captures it all.

Later, when you check it on Sasha’s phone, you zoom in.

His smile is innocent.

Your smirk? Dangerous.

But it’s his hand that stays with you.

Because it’s not just possessive.

It’s not casual.

It’s a promise.

You don’t remember who suggested karaoke at 3:37 a.m., but they’re currently on their third dramatic rendition of “Toxic,” and Eren is screaming the harmony like his life depends on it.

The party has thinned. The carpet’s been cleaned (kinda). The last cup of decent alcohol is gone.

You’re sitting on the couch nursing a bottle of water like it’s vodka. Armin’s next to you, arms around you — not a lot, but enough to make your heart overreact.

He looks like he shouldn’t fit here.

Too clean. Too sane. Too good.

But he does.

And then he looks at you and smiles, like you’ve just said something funny even though your last sentence was “I think Eren’s possessed.”

You grin.

—

“I still think Sasha won that game,” you say as you stumble slightly, the cold air slapping you sober.

“How?” Armin scoffs, holding his sweater tighter around his chest. “She didn't even drink for ‘never have I ever lied about being a virgin,’ which—statistically? Impossible.”

You laugh, shoving his arm. “She’s a legend. Respect her lore.”

You’re both walking slowly. The street is empty, dead-quiet except for the buzz of street lamps and the sound of your boots scuffing.

“Thanks for walking me,” you say when you two slow down in front of your dorm’s building, hands tucked in your jacket pockets.

“I wasn’t gonna let you walk back alone. You’re, like… not safe.”

You smirk. “You’re calling me unsafe?”

He looks at you with a sideways grin. “Yeah. But in a gremlin energy kind of way.”

“Wow. Armin Arlert. Student of the year. Secret library slut. Thinks I’m a gremlin.”

He laughs softly.

And then he looks at you like he’s thinking way too hard.

“What?” you nudge.

“I like seeing you like this,” he says.

“Like what?”

He rubs the back of his neck. “You know. Loose. Silly. Kinda chaotic. Like… like a girl who doesn’t have a comeback every ten seconds or a death glare locked and loaded.”

You squint at him. “I am silly.”

“You’re terrifying ,” he deadpans. “In, like, a hot way. But terrifying.”

Your lips twitch.

“Okay, but real question,” you say, pausing by your dorm entrance. He stops one step down the stairs. “If I’m so scary in a hot way, how come you haven’t made a move yet?”

Armin blinks. “What?”

You step closer. The wind picks up behind you, lifting your hair over “You like me. I know it. Everyone knows it. Even Connie knows it, and Connie once failed a psych class he wasn’t even enrolled in.”

He licks his lips, looking absolutely flustered.

“So?” you press. “What gives? Why haven’t you just… caved in?”

He swallows. Hard.

“I didn’t want to be just another guy who wants you because everyone else does,” he says, voice low. “You get stared at. Talked about. People make up shit just to feel close to you. And I—” he moves forward “—wanted to be different.”

Your throat goes dry.

“That doesn’t mean I didn’t want to kiss you,” he adds quickly. “I thought about it. A lot. More than I should.”

Your gaze drops to his mouth.

Then climbs back up.

“I want to do this right,” he says, softer. “Real dates. Not fake study sessions. Not hallway flirting or party games. Just… you and me. Trying to see what this could actually be.”

It's this what being with a Real Man looks like? you finally made it?

You don’t say anything, just grab his jacket, tug him up, and kiss him.

It’s short. Hot. Clumsy.

You laugh into his mouth when his glasses bump your forehead. He huffs a breathy laugh, presses one hand to your waist like he doesn’t know if he’s allowed to hold you tighter.

He is.

He will.

But tonight?

Tonight you pull away, lips tingling, breath shared.

“Okay, nerd,” you whisper. “You want a real date?”

He nods, dazed. “Yeah.”

You lean in again, lips grazing his jaw. “Then ask me out before I ask you to stay the night.”

Armin blinks.

“... Will you go out with me?”

You grin.

“Depends. Does the date come with more kissing?”

He leans in close, the real him surfacing through the shy boy mask.

“All of it.”

You almost cancel.

You’re not the canceling type — more like the don’t catch feelings and flee when you do type — but still. For a hot second, you stare at your reflection in the mirror and ask yourself if you’re really about to let Armin Arlert take you on a date.

Then you remember how he kissed you, how his hand curled around your waist like he meant it, how he whispered "all of it" with a look that made your knees consider retiring.

And you put on your damn jacket. Your phone pings with a text a second later.

>Armin: I'm here

He’s waiting outside your dorm, standing next to a bright blue car that absolutely does not belong to him.

“Connie’s,” he explains when you raise an eyebrow. “He owed me a favor. I helped him write a breakup email.”

You blink. “That’s… darkly romantic.”

“It had bullet points,” Armin says proudly.

He opens your door. Let you in first. Doesn’t try to play it cool — he’s nervous, you can feel it. The way he drums his fingers on the wheel, the way he sneaks glances at you at every red light.

You don’t speak much on the drive.

But you don’t need to.

Because when you get there — a retro arcade with neon lights, synth music playing inside, and a glowing sign that reads "Joystick Palace" — you laugh so hard you snort.

“An arcade?” you grin as you step out. “Really?”

“You said you like chaos,” he shrugs, locking the car. “And I like a fighting chance to beat you at something.”

“Oh, baby,” you purr. “You’re gonna regret that.”

Inside, it’s loud and flashy.

You pass rows of claw machines, air hockey tables, and ancient DDR setups.

Armin pays for a loaded token card like a gentleman. You immediately waste ten tokens trying to win a vibrating duck keychain.

Armin wins it in one try. You hate him.

Next you two reach the Skee-Ball Showdown table.

“You have terrible form,” he says with a little laugh.

You roll your eyes. “Says the man in a corduroy jacket.”

“It’s fashion.”

“It’s a lie.”

He smirks, steps behind you, and gently adjusts your arms, breathing right beside your ear. “You gotta flick. Like this.”

You try again, and miss miserably. Armin takes a ball, flicks it with clinical precision, and lands a perfect 100.

You stare at him, deadpan. “Are you secretly a Skee-Ball assassin?”

“I had no friends in middle school,” he says simply.

You wheeze.

You finally beat him in a Zombie Apocalypse game. It's basically just gun shooting a bunch of very fast zombies. You know you did actually beat him ‘cause he's doing the face he usually does on the study sessions when he's very concentrated in something. Jaw locked, eyebrows furrowed, a little pout on his pink lips. It's so fucking hot.

When your screen says YOU WIN in all caps and colors and you scream, while flashing him your middle fingers. “ You're a fucking loser Arlert”

He just laughs and try to stop you screaming with a hand on your mouth “People are side eyeing you so hard right now” You could care less about other people when you are having fun with him

You’re both laughing too hard to function when you pile into a tiny photobooth that smells like plastic and popcorn.

“Wait—my hair—!”

“Too late—!”

The flash goes off just as Armin accidentally elbows you in the boob and you scream-laugh into his shoulder.

When the strip prints, you’re both wheezing.

1st pic: You blinking. Him wide-eyed.

2nd pic: You throwing up a peace sign. Him doing jazz hands.

3rd pic: You squished together, cheeks touching, laughing with your whole chest.

4th pic: Him looking at you. You looking back.

And something quiet in the middle of all the chaos.

You don’t say anything, just tuck the photo strip into your jacket with a shy smile and pretend your heart isn’t imploding.

——

The arcade has a crusty pizza lounge in the back. Sticky booths. Cheap soda. Grease stains that deserve forensic analysis. And yet, it’s perfect.

You sit across from him, legs touching under the table.

“So,” you say between bites. “Any reason you picked this place?”

He shrugs. “You’re loud. Competitive. Terrifying.”

“I will throw pepperoni at you.”

He grins. “And I wanted to see what you looked like when you’re having fun without trying to impress anyone.”

You pause, chewing slowly. “That's... dangerous, Armin.”

He blinks. “What do you mean?”

“You say stuff like that and I forget I’m supposed to be the one in control.”

He flushes pink, but doesn’t look away.

“I don’t want control,” he says. “I just want to know the real you. The girl who wins at claw machines. The girl who laughs like she doesn’t care. The girl who stole my hoodie three days ago and never gave it back.”

You grin.

“And what if I’m in love with you?” You weren’t supposed to say it out loud. But the words fall out before you can stop them, soft and simple and devastatingly true:

“I think I’m in love with you, Armin.”

You don’t look away, don’t take it back.

Armin stares for a second, like you just gave him a cheat code to life. Then he reaches across the table, hand covering yours, thumb tracing your knuckles. “I’ve been in love with you since the day you told a TA to suck your ass in lecture.”

You cackle loudly, the kid at the next table looks mildly traumatized.

But it’s fine, because Armin is still blushing and smiling and not even trying to hide it.

And you?

You’ve never felt more real.

——

The arcade’s closing now. The glowing neon signs flicker out one by one, and the last dregs of teenagers shuffle toward their rides, greasy paper cups and leftover tokens in their wake.

You and Armin walk back to the car, the buzz of the evening still crackling in your chest.

The laughter's quieter now. Everything is, like the night itself is holding its breath.

Armin unlocks the car, holds the passenger side door open for you — and maybe it's the way he looks at you in that hoodie, or the fact that his fingers keep brushing your waist, or the fact that he saw all of you tonight and didn't even flinch.

But whatever the reason—

You don’t get in the car. You don’t even think, just grab him by the front of that stupid corduroy jacket and kiss him like your life depends on it.

And he melts.

“Wait—” he says, breath hitching, “what—?”

“I’m done waiting,” you mutter. Then, with exactly zero shame, you shove him back into the driver’s seat and climb into his lap.

Straddle him. Close the door. Like a prize.

Like a goddamn throne.

“W-wow —holy sh—” His hands hesitate — just for a second — before gripping your hips tight, thumbs digging into the curve of your ass like he’s been dying to. His glasses fog. His mouth opens against yours, wet and hot and messy, and your bodies crash together like magnets misbehaving.

“Still think I’m scary?” you whisper, teeth and lips grazing his jaw, kissing down his delicious throat, nails scraping his undercut.

“Yes,” he gasps.

“Still like me?”

“I’m obsessed with you.”

You rock your hips once — just once — and the breathy moan he lets out breaks you.

He’s flushed from collar to ears, fingers tightening like he’s afraid you’ll disappear, you can feel him getting hard and you head is spinning from how deep he's kissing you, like he’s catching up for every second he didn’t.

Tongue deep. Hands firm. Lips bruising.

“You drive me insane,” he mutters into your mouth.

You grin against his lips, breath ragged, hands in his hair, tugging until he groans. just as you’re about to grind again — as the windows fog and your body trembles with too much clothes and not enough skin — A loud, sharp knock on the window.

You freeze. Armin freezes.

A woman’s voice — annoyed and nasally — slices the moment in two:

“There are children in this parking lot.”

You turn your head. A mom. A literal mom, holding a juice box and glaring like you just kicked a puppy.

You blink. Smile and wave politely.

Armin chokes on his soul. “I—I am so sorry—!”

You slide off his lap, giggling uncontrollably while he smacks his forehead against the steering wheel and mutters something about “crawling into the sun and staying there.”

The drive back to your dorm is a blur of laughter and blushing and your hand resting on his thigh like nothing happened.

He walks you to the door like a goddamn gentleman.

Hair’s a mess, lips are swollen. His glasses are still a little crooked. His hands keep twitching like he wants to grab you again.

And you? You’re a little more in love. It’s terrifying, really and somehow, it feels like freedom.

You lean against the doorframe. “Thanks for the date, nerd.”

“Thanks for hijacking it and almost getting us banned from an arcade.”

“Tell me you didn’t love it.”

“I loved it.”

You smile. He steps forward, tucks a piece of hair behind your ear, and kisses your forehead. Slow and soft.

“Sleep well,” he murmurs, even in the poor light, his eyes shine.

“Not a chance,” you whisper. He grins, backing away.

You watch him walk off, hoodie riding up a little, hair practically bouncing, hands shoved in his pockets like he’s hiding a secret.

You wait until he’s gone.

Then you take out the photobooth strip.

And you post it to your story. No caption, just hearts and his @.

And for once, you don’t care who sees.

You can feel the hallway buzz before you even turn the corner. Phones clutched too tight. Whispered “oh my god that’s her”s. A heady mix of staring and pretending not to stare.

Which… okay. You did post that photo strip. You did let Armin hold your waist like a man who paid rent to be there. And yeah, your caption was literally just a heart, but that’s basically a marriage license in social media language.

So, you knew. But he didn’t.

You round the corner and spot him before he spots you. He’s standing by at locker, trying to act normal, wearing that dusty green hoodie you like and a pair of black jeans that absolutely weren’t tight until you noticed they were. His blonde hair, messy and softly curly at the end, are falling over his forehead. His ears are red.

He looks like someone who accidentally became an overnight meme. You sneak up behind him and poke his side.

He jumps. “—Oh my god, warn me!”

“Sorry,” you smirk. “You looked too approachable. I had to ruin it.”

He groans softly, leaning back against the metal locker. “I don’t know how you walk around like this.”

“Like what?”

“Like… everyone’s looking at you.”

“They always look.”

“Yeah, but now they’re looking at me too. I got high-fived by like three dudes I’ve never even met. One of them said that I'm a ‘lucky bastard’, another one asked what shampoo you use. I dropped my bag.”

You try not to laugh, but his expression is so pained, so violated, that it slips out anyway.

“I feel like I accidentally joined a frat,” he mumbles.

Then, quieter:

“And I don’t like the way they talk about you.”

Your know what he means and don't like it too, but after having to deal with it alone, you've learned to ignore it.

He doesn’t look at you — just rubs the back of his neck like he’s trying to massage away the emotions. “Like you’re a trophy they lost to me. Like you’re something they didn’t win.”

Your voice softens. “And that bothers you?”

He finally looks up. “It bothers me that they talk about you like that. And yeah, I guess I’m jealous. But mostly? I just feel like they don’t get it.”

“Get what?”

“That you’re not a prize. You’re a person. Who happens to like me for some reason.”

You tilt your head. “I like you for so many reasons.”

“You’re gonna make me faint in the hallway.”

“Promise?” He laughs — real and shy and warm — and that’s all it takes. You link your arm through his and tug him toward the cafeteria.

The moment you step into the lunch area, the chaos hits.

Mikasa waves you over. Connie yells “Power couple alert!” like a town crier. Eren whistles loudly like a proud Dad who's watching his son score a goal playing soccer. Jean does finger guns. Sasha is halfway through a croissant and still manages to shout “FUCK SOFT LAUCHING, THAT'S QUEEN BEHAVIOR RIGHT HERE LADYS AND GENTLEMEN.”

You sit, Armin hesitates. Then squeezes in beside you like he’s bracing for impact. And for the first few minutes, it’s a tornado of teasing and food stealing and Sasha throwing paper napkins at Connie’s head. But eventually, everything softens.

Mikasa slides a tray in front of Armin without asking. “You didn’t eat yet. I know.”

He smiles. “Thanks, Miki.”

You raise an eyebrow. “That your other girlfriend?”

Mikasa deadpans. “Only if he passes the final this time.”

“I—I’m studying!”

You lean into him. “I’ll quiz you later.”

Jean snorts. “Is that what we’re calling it?”

You throw a grape at his face. But Armin’s laughing again, shoulders easing down inch by inch, as the table noise wraps around him like a safety blanket. For all their chaos, this group is home. And when his hand brushes yours under the table, you squeeze it. Soft. Sure. Grounded.

Because yeah, people are talking. People are always going to talk.

But at the end of the day?

It’s just you and him, and that’s more than enough.

——

You’re slipping your headphones in, fingers already fumbling for your lighter and gum at the bottom of your bag, when you hear someone say your name.

You look up.

It’s Mina. Alone this time, no textbooks hugging her chest like a shield, no fake smile plastered on. Just her — big cardigan, soft eyes, and that slightly awkward energy that used to make you roll your eyes. But today, it doesn’t hit the same.

You tug one earbud out. “Hey.”

There’s a pause. A big one. The kind that stretches out like taffy and begs to be cut clean.

“I just…” Mina begins, eyes flicking somewhere past your shoulder. “I wanted to say I’m sorry. If I ever made you feel weird. Or like I was… trying to compete. That wasn’t my intention.”

You shrug. “You didn’t owe me anything.”

“I kinda did,” she says. “You were never cruel. And I might’ve been quietly hoping you’d disappear for, like, a week or two.”

You snort. “Just a week?”

Mina smiles, a little. “Okay. Maybe a month.” You both laugh, short but real.

Then you say, “He likes you, y’know. As a friend. A lot.”

“I know,” she nods. “And you’re… something else entirely. Which I guess is what he needs now.”

You hum. “I didn’t plan any of it.”

“I know that too.”

Another pause. More gentle this time.

“You look happy, though,” she says. “He does too.”

You nod. “I am. And he is.”

“Good,” she says. “That’s good.”

You both glance toward the buildings across the quad, like you’re searching for the next thing to say — but there isn’t one.

Just a nod.

A quiet, simple goodbye.

You turn and walk your separate ways.

Not friends. Not enemies.

Just two girls who grew up a little.

———

Armin’s dorm smells like cotton detergent and anxiety.

You’re barely past the threshold when your eyes land on his desk: two mugs, one with a tea bag tag still hanging off, and a notebook open to the densest study notes you’ve ever seen. There’s highlighter color-coding like he’s about to present a thesis, not cram for a final.

And then there’s Armin — already flustered, running a hand through that fluffy blond hair, wearing a simple gray t-shirt and joggers like the unintentional thirst trap he is.

“So… you made it,” he says, nervous smile blooming.

“I said I would, didn’t I?” you toss back casually, setting your bag down and peeling off your hoodie to reveal your usual black tank top. His gaze drops instantly to the curve of your collarbone. Then lower.

You pretend not to notice.

He clears his throat. “Uh, tea or water?”

“Tea makes me feel like a Victorian child with tuberculosis. Got soda?”

“…Water it is.”

You snicker and flop onto his bed without permission, legs crossed, and fumble for your notes — not that you’re going to use them.

“I ran into Mina on the way here,” you mention offhandedly.

Armin pauses mid-pour. “Oh.”

You nod. “She was cool. Said some nice things, actually.”

His eyes meet yours cautiously. “You’re not… mad at her or anything, right?”

“No,” you say truthfully. “She’s sweet. Just had a crush and a little passive-aggressive attitude. It happens.”

He nods slowly, sets the water down on his desk. “You’re handling this really maturely.”

“Trying to impress someone,” you shrug, giving him a sly smile. That earns you a blush. Bright and adorable.

You both try to study for maybe twenty whole minutes. He sits at the desk; you sit cross-legged on the bed, actually reading the damn thing, until you catch him looking at your thigh tattoo for the fourth time.

It’s a Medusa, coiled and dark, peeking out from the hem of your shorts like it’s daring him to say something.

You stretch slowly, just to watch his eyes darken.

“Problem, professor?” you ask, voice low and teasing.

“I—no. I just… I didn’t realize it was that detailed.”

You smirk. “You could see it up close, y’know. If you asked nicely.”

He looks like he might short-circuit on the spot.

So you rise, slow and deliberate, walking over to his desk, taking the pencil out of his hand and placing it down. Then — as if it’s the most natural thing in the world — you straddle his lap, knees on either side, hands on his shoulders.

“I can’t focus,” you whisper.

He looks up at you, eyes wide. “Me either.”

And then you kiss him.

Hard and messy.

There’s nothing slow about it — not this time. This isn’t the photobooth or the moment outside your dorm. This is heat and need and weeks of pent-up tension burning through both of you.

His hands settle on your hips, pulling you closer, and you can feel him already half-hard under you. You grind down, and his head falls back with a low, helpless noise that shoots straight through you.

Your lips leave him only to trail down his jaw, to the base of his neck, biting gently just to hear him gasp. He says your name like it’s a prayer. A warning. A plea. then he touches the strap of your tank top.

“Can I—?”

You nod, biting your lip. “Take it off.”

He does, slow like he’s unwrapping something sacred. His hands tremble a little, but his eyes never leave yours. Then they drop — to your pierced chest — and he exhales like he’s been sucker-punched.

“Holy shit.”

You grin. “You like it?”

He answers by taking one nipple into his mouth, gently at first, then with more confidence as your fingers tangle in his hair. His tongue flicks over the piercing leaving a gentle bite, and you whimper.

Teasing until you can’t take it anymore — his shirt needs to go. You tug it off him and toss it somewhere behind, letting your nails drag down his pale chest. You just knew he would be the sleep builder type, abs muscles marked by soft lines, his peck with cute pink nipples, skin shivering.

“You’re so hot,” he mumbles against your skin, and your heart stutters.

You grind again, harder, and this time his hands grip your ass, guiding you. The friction is blinding. You’re soaked through your panties, and judging by how hard he is now, he’s not far behind.

“Fuck,” you whisper, breathless. “I want to taste you.” He stares, stunned, as you slide down to your knees in front of the desk chair, eyes locked on his.

“You don’t have to—”

You shut him up by dragging your tongue along his length through the fabric of his joggers, and he just chokes.

By the time you free him from his boxers, he’s flushed, panting, already leaking at the tip. You lick a slow circle around it before sinking down, taking him inch by inch, never breaking eye contact.

“God—” His hands are in your hair, not pushing, just holding. His hips twitch as you hollow your cheeks, letting your tongue swirl. He looks like he’s trying not to scream, red from chest to cheeks, eyes a little dazed, shaking a little by the time you pull off, still hard and dripping, and you crawl back up, tugging your shorts and panties off.

“You good?” he asks, breathless.

You grin, guiding his hand between your legs, letting him feel how wet you are, and then bring to your mouth and suck his fingers clean.

His jaw drops. “You’re going to kill me.”

“No, baby,” you whisper. “I’m going to ride you.”

You sink down onto him slowly, both of you moaning, your thighs trembling from the stretch and the sheer fucking emotion of it all. He fills you perfectly. Like you were made for him.

You move slowly at first, circling your hips, watching him fall apart beneath you.

“—fuck, you feel— -uhgg” Your nails dig into his shoulders as you pick up the pace. His hands are on your waist, your thighs, your ass — anywhere he can touch, he eyes your tits as they bounce slightly like he's hypnotized, groaning like he can't handle it and goes back to sucking on it again.

You ride him until you're shaking, grinding your hips and biting your lips. The knot inside you snaps, pleasure crashing over you in waves.

But Armin’s not done.

He carries you to bed, laying you like you're made of glass, take off his glasses, and kisses you like he’s starved. You're a moaning mess, still feeling the aftershocks of your orgams. He kisses down your throat, the vale between your tits, your stomach and when his head is between your legs he looks up at you, big blue eyes you know and love, but with a little wild in it, “Pussy so fucking pretty, bet she can cream for me again.” He gives you a long lick, then a cute little kiss.

“Minnn” you whimper, hands holding the sheets tightly.

“Taste so good, smells amazing, looks so fucking pretty,” his words make you dizzy, its hard to process that sweet Armin who still blushes when you hold his hand, is the same man that its climbing up to rest his forehead against yours and saying with a smirk: “You're a perfect little thing, ain't you? And that's all for me? Huh?”

You nod whimpering his name as he slides back in, thrusting slow and deep, holding your face, eyes locked, sucking your lips lazily. Until you bite his lips back, gripping him inside you. That's when something in his eyes darkens.

Suddenly, he's so close you wouldn't know where one of you starts and the other ends. Bodys sweating, chest to chest, one arm around your lower back as the other hold you head, finger griping your hair, legs locking on his waist as he fucks you fast and hard, sometimes mumbling incoherently, sometimes dirty shit you could never imagine spitting out of his mouth.

He tells you how long he’s wanted this.

How many times he’s thought about bending you over a desk, study sessions be dammed.

How good you look taking all of him.

He's fucking whimpering in your ear.

Vision whitening, your eyes roll to the back of your head, toes curling, nails gripping his back, mouth open on a silent scream. Even the noise the bed frame is making while hitting the wall gets turned down. All you could hear it's him . Feel him, just making you take it. No space to run.

“You’re mine,” he whimpered, eyes glazed tugging on your earlobes with teeth, it's all too much “Fuck baby, I'm gonna cum”

His hand, the one on your lower back, snakes between your legs and he begins to circle your clit, making your body lock, pussy gripping so hard he makes a cute painful face, slamming one last time and letting out a pretty broken moan, your body shaking as he fill you up. Nice and warm.

The moment seems to linger, his arms around you, two hearts beating fast, breaths hard, your sanity coming back.

You just had the best fuck of your life with the Armin Arlert, the campus adorable nerd, and open your eyes to see his dorm room, crumpled with books, cute figures and wall with Star Wars posters.

“If I knew your dick game was this good, I would've fucked you sooner” Armin giggles. Fucking giggles into your ear like he didn't just railed you so good it ruined you to everybody else.

“And the dirty talk? ” you say and he whines embarrassed.

Armin’s face emerges from your neck, flushy with wet hair clinging onto his forehead.

“You okay?” he whispers.

“Mhm,” You shift, and he gently slips out of you, grabbing a towel from the desk drawer — probably prepped days ago with overly optimistic hope. It’s soft, and he cleans you carefully, like you’re something precious.

He tosses it into the laundry after, climbs back into bed after putting on a boxer with a shy smile, gives you a clean t-shirt then when you're done, pulls you into his arms without hesitation.

You melt into him.

“Stay,” he says softly, voice muffled in your messy hair. “Don’t leave yet.”

You nestle closer. “I wasn’t planning on it.” And just like that, you sleep.

——

You wake up tangled in warmth.

There’s light creeping through the blinds, golden and soft. Armin’s arms are still around you, one hand tucked under your (his) shirt — possessive and sweet. He’s snoring, faintly. His hair is a mess.

You stare at the ceiling for a moment, heart full.

And then, like a wave crashing over you:

Holy shit, you love him.

You love the dumb way he looks at you, all big eyes and sweet smiles. You love his nervous hands. His annotated study guides. The way he tastes when he kisses you like you’re the only thing in the world that matters.

You love Armin .

He stirs as you shift slightly, blinking himself awake.

“…Hi,” he says, voice still gravelly.

“Hi.”

“You okay?” he whispers into your hair, fingers brushing over your thigh tattoo again — featherlight and curious, like he’s afraid you’ll vanish.

“Mhm,” you murmur. “More than.”

He shifts just enough to look at you, his blue eyes sleepy and searching. “Not sore?”

You snort. “Armin, you fucked me like you’ve got something to prove.”

“I do,” he says, so seriously that you laugh.

“You win, baby. Gold star. Five out of five. Would let you destroy me again.”

His cheeks go crimson. “That’s not— I mean, I didn’t want to go too hard—”

“Shhh,” you tease, pressing a kiss to his throat. “You were perfect. Actually…”

You roll to your back and stretch, wincing dramatically. “I think you might’ve ruined me for literally anyone else.”

That makes his entire body go still.

Then—

“Good,” he mumbles, pulling the blanket over both of you. “'cus you’re mine.” He doesn't say it like a joke or a challenge. Just quiet certainty, like he’s stating a fact.

You blink up at him, heart skipping. “Yours?”

Armin’s eyes flick down to yours. He nods. “Unless… that was just a one-time thing for you?”

You frown instantly. “What? No. Of course not. I—Armin, you know it’s not like that.”

He nods again. “Okay. I just— I’m not used to this. Having someone. Like this. You’re…” He exhales. “You mean a lot to me.”

Your chest tightens. You lean in and kiss him slow, one hand cupping his face.

When you pull away, you say, “You’re my person, Armin.”

He smiles, not that flustered little curve you used to get — this one is full. Confident. A little smug. “So I guess that makes me your boyfriend?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Guess?”

“Okay,” he amends. “That makes me your boyfriend.”

You tilt your head. “Say it again.”

He leans in, kisses your nose. “Boyfriend.”

You grin. “Girlfriend.”

“Mine.”

“You are. Mine.”

You let the moment linger — sweet and weightless — then raise a brow. “So... what are the girlfriend benefits, exactly? Am I getting snacks? Back rubs? Photo booth printouts in your wallet?”

“You already got extra credit,” he smirks, dragging a hand down your bare back. “What more do you want?”

You fake gasp, hitting his arm.

Armin chuckles, burying his face into your neck. “You’re such a brat.”

“And you love it.”

He pulls back just enough to look at you, gaze tender. “I really do.” he says it like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Like he’s known it longer than he’s known anything.

You kiss him, slow and sure.

No rush this time, just your heart in his hands, and his smile against your lips.

[buckybarnes82]

Maybe Bucky hates shopping for new clothes and wears his stuff til there’s holes so you have to convince him to go shopping/try stuff on and you boost his confidence - Bucky does a lil spin in new jeans or something for the reader 🤭

New Jeans.

A/N: I really love the thought of this. Thank you for the request. You’re an angel! @sunday-bug

You had just entered the watchtower when you heard Bucky loudly cuss from his bedroom. Your eyes widened as Yelena let out an uncomfortable laugh, she looked exhausted and bruised. You knew better than to question it, noticing as she eyed you up and down looking at your hands as you held two coffee cups. You slid her your fresh cup with a wink before walking down the hall to Buckys' room.

His door was cracked open, and he was pantless as he rummaged through his dresser drawer. “It’s me, can I come in?” You announced your presence as he walked over to the door to open it fully.

“Yeah, sorry, I can’t find pants that fit right and don’t have tears” he closed the door behind you to shield you from his nosy housemates.

“I’ve been there, I get it!” You smile at him, holding out the coffee cup.

“This is for you. It has a splash of hazelnut creamer” he gently took it from you, smiling before taking a sip. “Thank you, my love. Where’s yours?” he kissed your cheek before blushing as he noticed you eyeing his toned thighs up and down before he found a pair of jeans to jump into.

“Yelena looked like she needed it more than me” you smiled softly and he chuckled, knowing you were likely right about that.

“We can share mine” he handed you the cup back with a soft smile. You noticed his shirt had a few small holes near the neckline, and that the pants he had just put on were ones you’d never really seen on him before.

“Hey baby, can I ask, when was the last time you went shopping?”

“For clothes?” He tilted his head and you slowly nodded, worried the question came off as rude.

He stood still, rubbing his beard as he tried to think so he could answer your question honestly. “I really can’t remember the last time I went shopping, it’s been a while. I’m sure that’s really obvious” he chuckled gesturing to his outfit.

“Do you want to go shopping today? Or did you have another plan?”

You felt his hesitancy, “ I can help you pick stuff, I mean if you want.” He sensed your immediate excitement and though he was initially reluctant he knew he’d be in perfect hands.

“I’d love that. I don’t have a sense of style, I just like black and blue, I’m sure you’ve noticed” he laughed putting on his black biker jacket that was hanging on a rogue office chair in his room.

“We can take my car that way we can fit the bags in the trunk!” You giggled as he took your hand in his, he was wearing the ring you had gotten him for his birthday, a piece of jewelry he never forgot.

“Bags? As in plural?” He raised an eyebrow playfully before he grabbed his wallet and put it in his back pocket.

“I have some ideas” you batted your eyelashes innocently as the two of you snuck into the elevator without being noticed by his housemates, You handed him sunglasses as the two of you stepped outside and to your car.

When you pulled into the mall parking lot it was surprisingly empty for a Friday morning, which you knew Bucky was relieved about by the smile on his face. “Are you ready to put on a fashion show for me Mr. Barnes?” You put the car in park and Bucky couldn’t help but chuckle at your enthusiasm.

“What’s that expression? Shop till we drop? Is that what we’re about to do in there?” He laughed as you locked the car and skipped over to him to hold his hand.

“Something like that!” You practically yanked him forward and into the first clothing store you could find. He stood there practically motionless as you started sorting through the clothing rack of clothes.

“You don’t see anything you like honey? Maybe this?” You held up a burnt orange henley and a forest green colored one next.

“I’ll try on anything you want me to” he shrugged awkwardly sorting through the rack himself. He still wasn’t used to making his own decisions, sometimes overwhelmed at the thought. He picked a pair of dark black jeans, and a pair of dark blue ones in his size hanging them over his metal arm.

“Your opinion matters my love, do you like these colors or do you want to try something more comfortable?” You held up a navy blue shirt next.

He awkwardly shifted on the balls of his feet, “I don’t like the orange, I’m sorry baby.” His eyes darted to the floor, worried he had hurt your feelings.

“I didn’t think you did” you giggled hanging it back up on the rack. “I wanted you to tell me you hated it.”

“That was a test? Bratty!” he snorted “ I didn’t hate it, it just seems kinda loud” he snaked his arms around you and kissed your cheek as a worker approached the two of you.

“Hi! Welcome in! Can I help you with anything” she paused very obviously staring at Bucky. “Are you Bucky Barnes?” The young curly-haired, braced-faced teenager seemed surprised to see Bucky standing in the store.

“Yeah, hi” he awkwardly waved making you giggle, he still wasn’t used to the attention he got when you went out.

“You’re literally my favorite avenger ever! You’re so cool!” She giggled loudly and Bucky immediately turned cherry tomato red in the face.

“Thank you, that’s very nice.” He mumbled, turning to you and smiling shyly.

“Do you want me to get you a fitting room?”

Bucky didn’t speak, feeling beyond awkward now and nodding as he handed her the jeans in his hand and the shirts in yours, following her as you squeezed his hand and followed behind them.

“Thank you so much” you politely whispered as she excitedly skipped away to brag to the other workers up front.

“I wish I had recorded that to show Sam.” He wiggled an eyebrow at you making you giggle before you sat on the chair outside of the fitting room.

“I’m sure that won’t stop you from telling him all about it anyway.” You giggled as he closed the door to change into the clothes the two of you picked out.

He tried on the black jeans and forest green henley first, which you purposely picked out in a size too small knowing his pecs and arm muscles would be very prominent.

“I think you did this on purpose” he chuckled, flexing and feeling the fabric pull against his muscles. “I definitely need a size up on the shirt.”

“I don’t think you do” You practically salivated at the sight before you, making Bucky shake his head as he laughed at the obvious way your pupils dilated looking at him. “I’ll get you one in a size up but you have to also get this one, or I might die.”

Bucky let out a wheezy laugh, knowing you were being dead serious about it. “Fine, deal. I also really like these jeans” he checked to make sure he didn’t have an audience before he spun around playfully for you, showing you his backside.

“Your ass looks good in those” you stood up, playfully smacking his butt and grabbing a handful making him jump slightly.

“Please don’t let those teenage girls up front see you, you know they record everything these days and put it on toktik or whatever.” He bent down to kiss you and a giggle escaped you as he did.

“Bucky Barnes, are you afraid of the teenage girl who fangirled over you? And did you just call it toktik?”

He smiled confusedly. “First of all, yes, and second of all, isn’t that what it’s called?” He was leaned against the dressing room door wearing an adorable yet confused expression.

“I love you, you old man. Try on the sleeveless shirt I snuck in there next, and then we have more stores to go to!” You winked as he playfully rolled his eyes and shut the dressing room door.

[someuselesslyexpensivecheese]

this fic was loosely inspired by this post that I found a couple weeks back, and I wanted to write something for it for a while, and I thought it was appropriate for Pride month.

Warning(s): N/A

Disclaimers: None

General note(s): Reader is mentioned to like antique clock, although it is not that obvious, but he is mentioned to own a grandfather clock.

Other Mentions: None

—————————————

Summary: You come home after a long day at work, and in the middle of the night you find Simon drunk on your porch, he leans in hugging you and saying ‘I love you’ at some point he even calls you your husband, you were rightfully shocked by it but it didn’t seem to bother you as much as it should

The so called ‘Mrs’

—————————————————-

You sit in an empty bus staring out through the reflective glass, watching the lights inside of houses gradually fly past you, it was dark, it wasn’t late, but dark and you haven’t eaten dinner yet, in fact you’re pretty sure you haven’t eaten anything since this morning, aside from that protein bar you got from the vending machine during lunch hours, it gave you enough energy to get through the day, but not enough to actually keep you full, and the auto-repair shop was packed with cars that needed maintenance that day didn’t help, perhaps maybe you should’ve ate the chicken pot pie your roommate left for you that morning, maybe you wouldn’t have to worry about going hungry on a busy day.

but oh well, sa la vie, you pull the string to request a stop, it dings, and you slouch back into your seat and you pull out your phone for unread messages or emails you missed, one was from your landlord saying monthly bill is due soon, one from your boss asking you to cover someone else’s shift, and one from your roommate saying he’s off duty, and is coming back home, in all honesty he’d probably go out drinking at some local bar first before coming home, so you kept scrolling through unread notifications, marking those you need to take care of as soon as you get home, and others that you could save for tomorrow, the bus comes to a halt hissing as it sinks down and the doors open, you put your phone away and hop off giving the driver a little nod as you go.

The bus hisses again the doors close behind you and it drives off into the night, you fix the strap on your bag before walking off to your house. you shut the door behind you making sure the screen door is closed properly and the main door is bolted, you sigh leaning your weight onto the front door, you kick your shoes off not bothering to go put them away, stretching out your back yawning, what a day, you thought, making a beeline to the kitchen.

You open the fridge and took out a plate wrapped in tinfoil, unwrapping it and then popping it in the microwave, you lean back on the counter watching the food hungrily, the aroma reaching your nose, the microwave dings and you took out the pie, and setting it on the dining room table, you walk back in the kitchen and open a drawer and took out a fork before walking back to the dining room.

You sat down and dug in the chicken pot pie it was still steaming, and the crust was soft and crumbly, you burnt your mouth just a little bit while eating but it was worth the effort, the chicken pot pie was delicious, one of these days you’ve got to ask Simon for the recipe so you can make it yourself, you sigh slouching into your seat after the very good meal, you sit there for a long minute and then you get up to wash your plate, pouring some dish soap on the sponge first then scrubbing the plate and rinsing the plate clean, you then put it on the dish rack to let it dry, wiping your hands clean with a rag, you toss the rag aside and head upstairs to get ready for the night.

You decided to wear one of the soft cotton shirts you bought a few months ago and wear it to bed, its not like you wear it to work that much anyway, the shirt was too good to get dirty, you brush your teeth, scrubbed your face with some soap and rinse your face clean, you wipe your face with a towel sighing in relief, you take a moment to look at yourself in the mirror pulling on the corner of your bottom lip to check for any leftover food before turning off the light and going back downstairs to the living room, you open your bagpack and take out your computer, checking for any missed appointments, dealing with taxes, and submitting your schedule for clients tomorrow, from what you heard it’ll be another busy day.

When you finally shut the laptop you look up at the grandfather clock in your living room, eleven thirty, time to go to bed you yawn and stretch, you take your laptop and plug it in for the night, and head upstairs to sleep, you climb in bed and you pause for a moment, you head back out and went into the laundry room, and take your pants off the hamper, and began fishing for your phone, once you had it alongside your wallet and keys you head back to bed tossing your wallet and keys at your side, you plug your phone in and set it with the rest of your stuff on the bedside table and climb back onto bed, clicking the light off, you close your eyes snuggled under the sheets and you drift off to sleep, finally done for the day.

you were sound asleep when you heard it, loud obnoxious knocking at the door, you shift in bed turning to your side in an attempt to ignore it, but it just got louder, that’s when you open your eyes and begrudgingly sat up in bed, you rub your eyes and run your hand through your hair before you got up from bed yawning, the knocking just got more aggressive as you slowly walked to the door, yawning and scratching your lower back, who could be knocking at this hour? you thought to yourself, as the knocking got louder “I GOT IT! IM COMING” you yelled as you finally make it to the door and unbolting it and opening it, you rub your eyes and squint the brightness from the street lamp overwhelmed your senses a little, you blinked, once twice, running a hand through your face as you looked at the people in front of you.

of course you’ve met them before, Gaz, Price, hell Soap was here too, looking not too happy with the man who had a heavy arm slung over his shoulder, the man being of course your roommate, Simon, who was giggling drunk as he tried and failed, to balance himself onto both Gaz and Soap, whom were strugglingto even keep him up. You stare at them for a moment and chuckle sleepily, “good evening, need a little assistance there?” you ask, Gaz nodded, Soap just immedietly started pushing Simon towards you, Gaz did the same you willingly got him off their hands you let out a little “oomf”, and tried your best to carry his weight, failing and stumbling a little, Simon leaned in closer till your noses were touching, he snickered “look at your face, you look adorable” he says affectionate, leaning his head on your shoulder, you thank the three of them, and they said their goodnight, and so did you, you watch them walk away and you headed to the living room dropping Simon on the cushions, you grunted, it was way too late to be doing this, you rub your lower back, before walking to the front door and shutting it again.

You went back in the living room Simon then said aloud, “My husband…my handsome, husband, heh, heh, I love you” that caught you off guard, but that shouldn’t really shock you, he’s come home piss drunk before muttering the most insatiable shit but it was odd to say the least ; but what really caught you off guard was the ‘I love you’, not that you were bothered by it, it’s just new, to you at least, you looked at him for a few moments before you started to carry him upstairs to his room, “okay, cmon Simon, left foot up, no-wait-other foot-cmon- there we go, now other foot-ugh”

It proved to be a more difficult task, but nonetheless you still managed to get him up the stairs and onto his bed. You let out a sigh, rolling over on your back next to him, for a moment you both just lay there, letting out short breaths, you want to sit up, go back to your bedroom, but you’re too tired to move, not after the day you’ve had, and the fact you had to drag your drunk roommate up the stairs, so you just decided to close your eyes and roll over, you could talk to Simon about it tomorrow.

Your alarm blared across the hall, you blinked your eyes open, and tried to sit up only to be dragged back down by a pair of arms, confused you turn your head to find Simon, hugging you tightly he shifts a little and huffs, his eyes were still closed, you can’t tell if he’s half asleep or lucid dreaming, your alarm was still blaring from across the hall, and your bedroom door was wide open, you try getting up and prying Simon’s hands off you but to no avail he only hugged you tighter, probably still lucid dreaming, and your obnoxious alarm still going off from inside your room.

You lay there for a solid minute and then your alarm finally stops, and you sigh putting your hand on Simon’s shoulder and start shaking him “Simon, Simon, psst—Hey! Wake up!” You say shaking him a little more aggressively, “Simon!” Simon grumbles and buries his head on your side, you gotta admit, that was kind of wholesome but you’ve got work early today and can’t afford to be late, you raise your hand and lightly smack him on his arm, Simon groaned shuffling before he opened his eyes slightly scrunching his brows he looks up at you and nods his head before closing his eyes again “hey..” he says softly “Simon can you let me go?…I have to leave for work” you say trying to get his hands off you “no” he says simply, “No?…What do you mean no? Simon it’s a busy day for me, you’re not the only one in here who has a job” you say.

Simon sighed “yeah I know..” he says softly as he turns his head to face the pillow, he loosens his grip around you and you were able to get up and walk to your bedside table to disable the alarm, you sped to the bathroom to freshen up for the day and put on your uniform, you look at the clock, 6:40, the next bus comes around 6:55, so you have at least ten minutes before the bus comes, you look rush out your bedroom taking your bag with you, you look back at Simon who’s likely still hungover from last night “Hey Simon? I might be back later than usual, if your head hurts or something I have some tylenol in the cupboard above the microwave if you want it, and there’s still some ginger tea from last week if you’re not feeling very well” you say, Simon was still on the bed his right arm still stretched out from his side from where you got out the bed, still probably asleep, you thought and rushed out the door, running towards the bus stop, you pant making it just in time, the bus pulls in you check your watch, 6:57, thank god they didn’t come in time, you would other wise have to walk, you didn’t want to do that at a 45 degree celcius weather, you hop on the bus scan your card and take a seat, thank god for air conditioning.

you finally make it to work jogging, to the respective building, you made it on time, well, “on time” you’re practically five minutes late due to traffic, but still you made it, you set your bag down at the back and head out front to start your shift, you see your co-worker Aaron speaking with a man who seemed a little upset, and Aaron looking apoligetically, he spots you, and he immedietly runs over “Hey where’ve you been?” you were about to respond when he cuts you off, “—never mind, listen the man over there is having trouble with his automatic? he says the car couldn’t run and sometimes the alarm would go off for no reason, I have no expierence with an automatic, so I’ll let you take it” he says, you look over his shoulder to see the man you look back at Aaron and nodded, and you head over to where the man is “Hi, Im (name) nice to meet you, I heard you were having trouble with your car?” you say the man huffs “finally, yes, I am, sometimes it wouldn’t run, even when the key’s inside, and it would go off in the middle of the night, can you please check it for me?” he said “of course” you say taking his keys, the car was acting a little funky, he was right, but what the man wasn’t right the sudden alarm going off, but he was right about the car not starting, “well shit” you say, to no one in particaular.

After a long grueling shift you finally make it back home, hungry and tired you don’t even bother to kick your shoes off and went straight upstairs, you hear Simon from the kitchen calling to you, something about meatloaf, man that sounds good right about now, but right now your exhaustion is outweighing your hunger, and you drop your weight on the bed, putting your bag next to you on the bed, you slowly close your eyes, the last thing you hear is footsteps coming upstairs and Simon barging into your room , you didn’t care at that very moment and you drift off to your subconscious. The next time you wake up it was late at night your shoes were still on, yuck, now you had oil, and dirt all over your sheets and you still had your uniform on no surprise, but now there was a fan in your room and your window was wide open, and there was a very thin blanket on you.

You don’t recall having these in your room when you went to bed, you take the blanket off you, and take off your shoes, you let in the deep breath and stretched you groan hearing your lower back crack, you stand up, looking at the clock, it was two in the morning….great, just what you needed another shift in the morning and here you are awake at two am, you sigh dragging you feet out your door, you see that Simon’s bedroom door is wide open, he isn’t in it though, you head downstairs and found him asleep on the couch with a bunch of pillows resting between his legs, on his head. and on his side, holding it there, he had an arm over his eyes and his breath slow and light, you try your best not to wake him as you make your way to the kitchen, the light was still on, or at least the one at the dinner table was, and you find a plate covered in tin foil with a little sticky note on top that just said “enjoy —Simon” you take the sticky note off and unwrapped the plate.

Meatloaf, so you weren’t making it up, you head over to the microwave and covered it with a paper towel, and set it up for at least a minute and a half, you lean back on the counter rubbing your eyes with both hands, you let out a sigh, the microwave beeps and you take out the food, still smells fresh, you take it out and set it on the table with your utensils, you hear footsteps behind you and you see Simon mask off and rubbing his eyes, he sat down across from you as you ate your, late dinner, or early breakfast since it is essentially morning as of right now.

You two sat in each other’s presence for a moment before you decided to bite the bullet and talk to him about this morning “Hey Simon?” “Yeah?” “About this morning— sorry about sleeping in your room, it’s been a long day for me” you say “no worries, I get it, I should probably apologize as well, I don’t think you appreciated that I held onto you while you slept” he replied. You say nothing to that for a good moment, in all honesty you didn’t really mind that he cuddled onto you at night, “no worries” you say, going back to the the food in front of you, it became silent again, with the occasional tapping of Simon’s index finger on the wooden table, he keeps glancing at you, he leans over on the table and sighed, “(name)?” He asked “have you ever thought about marriage?” That caught you off guard, you put your fork down to look at him, “I….what?…” you say nothing knowing how to respond, “have you ever thought about—“ you interrupt him “no I heard you, it’s just, where is this coming from?..” you ask, you’ve only really been living with Simon for about a year and you won’t lie to yourself and say that you aren’t at least a bit attracted to him, but then again you’ve never seen him be anymore affectionate unless he’s drunk off his ass in a bar, “Yeah sorry, I know, but we don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to” he says, “what? No, no, no, it’s not that…it’s just a little odd, because…uhm, you said that I was your husband last night” Simon stared at you for a good couple of seconds before he rubbed his eyes thoroughly, he let out a sigh.

“Did I really say that?” He asked,you nodded actually now that you’re thinking about it was kinda funny. Not because Simon thought you were his husband it’s that you two weren’t even dating, and yet are very affectionate to each other in a way that’s more than friends, I mean you weren’t bothered by the fact that Ghost hugged you while you were asleep, it was just that you needed to go to work early, “so uh, about that marriage—any reason why you’re thinking about it now?” You say, Simon rubbed his eyes thoroughly”no, no forget it” he says dropping his hands on the table. “Why not? You don’t wanna get married anymore?” “Stop” Simon groans “are you breaking up with me?” You say snorting “don’t” “am I not enough for you?” “No” you snicker leaning forward as you eat your meal, Simon grumbled

————————————————

That was five years ago, you sit on the bus and look outside, despite the gloomy atmosphere outside it was hot, you stare down at your phone, it dings making it light up at the top of the screen you see Simon ‘I’ll be home in five minutes, I have something for you’ you sigh and put your phone back in your pocket, ans start fiddling with the ring on your finger, you eventually pull the string to request a stop, and lean back in your seat closing your eyes, today was a long day cars just kept piling in left and right, you didn’t think it would end, and thank god it did, otherwise you would throw the rag down and just quit, it was also nice that it didn’t get that dark at eight in the evening, everything was still bright, well bright as it can be on a muggy day, the bus hisses to a stop and you stand up taking your bag with you, you thank the bus driver, and hop off, you start walking home, you greet one of your neighbors Mrs Farris. before you headed inside your house, “You and Simon plan anything for tonight?” she asked “no not really” you say “shame, there’s a nice restaurant in town that just opened, heard it’s really good” she says, “I’ll take a look if I have the time” you say “thanks Mrs Farris” you wave to her and head inside.

you shut the door sighing and kciking your shoes of your feet, you hear the back door open, Simon’s home, you go to the kitchen and headed to the back to greet him, Simon spots you and smiles, you embrace him, and Simon reciprocated, you pull back a bit and gave him a peck on the lips before pulling away completely, Simon holds up a bag “I went to the store today, found somethinf at the arts and crafts section I thought you might like” he says walking to the dining room table and sitting down you sat down with him, and Simon pulls out a small antique watch, “Its not the most expensive gift I know but I thought you might appreciate it, I saw it at the thrift store when I was looking for some shirts” he says, you smile, gently taking the gfit from him “I love it” you say, Simon scoots in closer, and kisses your cheek “happy anniverssary, (name)” he says, “thanks Simon— and speaking of which, you wanna go to that Japanese restaurant you like? the one downtown” you say “maybe another time, love, Im kinda sick of getting from that place for the meantime, I feel like we go there every week” “we went there two months ago” you say “still, let’s just order pizza” he says “Alright, I’ll order, you want a movie to go with it?” you say “I’d like that” he says standing up and heading to the living room to pick a movie, you dial a number on your phone and place your order for the pizza. Its weird to think that five years ago, you’d be sitting here eating leftovers from three weeks ago, after a long shift, and Simon would be sitting with you on his phone or off to deployment.

——————————————

Author’s note: hi, hi, I am very sorry this was late I wanted this fic to be a slow burn at first but I ended up deciding against it, and had to change some things just so I can get this out before june ends, I hope you guys enjoy the fic, my next fic won’t be the merman reader fic, I’m sorry, it’ll be a character x character fic, Im gonna take a break from the x reader fics next month, but don’t worry I’ll still write them, I might also draw some fanart as well, and I might be busy in the next couple of weeks due to work and other things so sorry if I don’t post, anyway I hope you enjoy, and happy pride 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍⚧️

[jaystexastornado]

Austin City Limits 1/?

Sitting next to someone unexpected on your first, first class flight, and a water soaked backpack later y/n finds herself falling for a man she never saw coming.

Chapter 1

Delayed flights.

"Flight 892 Austin now boarding." You heard, grabbing your backpack and slinging it over your shoulder, it was late, later than you’d hoped, but Washington DC had a snow storm making it hard to get in the air.

You just wanted to get home. And go to sleep.

You hand your boarding pass over, the flight attendant overly polite directing you where to go, grumbling a thank you, you find your seat, first class, a treat you gave yourself for the first time.

There’s a man wearing a baseball cap sitting next your seat, looking down, as you place your backpack pack on the floor. A partition separates the chairs, taking in the difference between first sand your usual business class seats.

He looked up briefly seeing her sit down, before turning and seeing his oldest in his original seat, she’d insisted she got the window, But he didn’t mind, she’d wanted to come with him instead of going back to Connecticut with her siblings while he was home.

"Shit." He heard next to him looking over again this time taken aback, she was beautiful, and clearly frustrated which he’d be lying if he didn’t automatically think was cute.

"You alright?" He asked softly. As she leaned down huffing something under her breath, then looking up at him.

He was possibly the most handsome man you’d ever seen. Emerald green eyes, and a soft smile, his hair was peeking from the cap he wore.

Leaning back you sighed with a small nod. "I must have set my back pack in water waiting for the plane. The bottom is completely soaked." You said softly looking back at him fully. Now.

Hed barely heard her. Talking directly to him once he got a better look at her, his heart sped up a fraction. And smiled a small smile. "If I had a dollar for every time I’ve done that. Happens to the best of us." He shrugged keeping that same smile

She laughed lightly, looking back at him, shrugging "honestly, I was so frustrated. I practically threw it down after they pushed the flight back a second time." She giggled at herself. "It’s a red head thing, I guess, getting mad at things we can’t control with absolutely no rationality."

"I think that’s any Texan in snow, unless we’re at home, and prepared." He smiled at you. You felt your cheeks flush and looked down nodding. Trying to hide, "I’m Jensen by the way." He added making you look up again.

"Y/N nice to meet you." You smiled back. When the plane was finally in the air you relaxed, talking to Jensen, clinking glasses to going home finally. You’d been helping your cousin with her salon, after her only other stylist quit without notice, leaving a list of clients that refused to leave her salon who didn’t want to give up their hair appointments, and he was coming back from a convention. Turned out he was a famous actor, which you’d been a little ashamed admitting you didn’t watch much tv.

"Its ran for fifteen years almost." He laughed a little and you shook your head.

"The last thing I watched was a rerun of dawsons creek My cousin was watching it, I tend to listen to music and doom scroll." I shrugged.

His eyes widened and an amused smirk grew making you smile a little. "What?" You asked and he shook his head. Looking back at you. "Who was Jen with?."

"Well she wasn’t like dating him. He was only there for the last season, dj, aj?”

And then he took that cap off, and you saw the resemblance. the flush came back shocked completely. His grin growing. Making you let out a breathy laugh. "Cj, and he was awesome." He drawled out. “He was a something alright.” She shook her head.

Still Giggling, a little girl about 7 or eight stood beside him. He looked over and smiled.

"Hey sweetheart everything okay?" He asked smiling at her, she nodded and asked if she could have her coloring book and colors. Jensen handed them to her as she hugged him happily and must have said something because he responded "I am too kiddo."

You smiled at the scene, she must have been his daughter, he watched as she moved back to her seat on his other side. Making sure she was okay before looking back.

His eyes had changed. His easy, bright look now glanced at you with concern, wonder maybe, hands ran across his thighs and his knee was bouncing.

He was nervous, which to be honest kinda made him more attractive, how he’d stopped everything for her, he watched you, as you looked at his left hand. No ring, leaning back in your seat you smirked at him. Folding your arms. And crossing your legs. The little girl looked back over, only this time at you. Giving a wide smile, she looked like him.

And you couldn’t help it, thinking about who he was, wanting to know more, he looked over at the little girl fully, before back at you.

"She looks like you. How old is she?" You smiled at him. Seeing his shoulders relax, and take a small breath. Then the flight attendant announced we were descending to Austin. And the entire thank you speech usually given. For a moment her mind wandered.

People began settling back in their seats, and packing up, but we were still watching eachother.. "She’s six. I uhm. I don’t usually have a lot of time off, but, I’m home for about a week, and she wanted to spend time with me for a little while."

I smiled nodding. The conversation flowed until we were completely landed. Before we parted ways, JJ his daughter waved with a bright smile, holding his hand he nodded at you with a smile, leaving baggage claim, and heading out of the main doors no longer frustrated that it was 1 am.

While Jensen was now carrying his daughter with their bags. She was tired and he knew it. Couldn’t blame her honestly, he was exhausted. They’d walked out of the wrong doors initially and had to go back towards the terminal doors you’d left from, he saw you again standing against a light on the side walk staring at your phone like it had assaulted you he smiled. He couldn’t help it. You were different, he didn’t know how, not really, but he felt it. You didn’t look at him like anyone else did.

He’d told you he was an actor, you didn’t flinch. Told you about having three kids. , you’d asked to see pictures of the twins. And now you were standing there, at one in the morning, waiting all alone, so he did what any man with a sleeping six year old on his shoulder and dragging luggage around would. He walked towards you.

The airport was mainly empty, few cars, he didn’t care at this point if anyone saw him. Or that Cliff was there waiting for him throwing his hands up when Jensen turned away.

"Hey," she heard looking up from your phone, a small smile forming seeing Jensen. Jj asleep on his shoulder his other carried a bright pink duffel bag, backpack. And he pulled his suitcase with him.

"Figured you’d be long gone, sweet girls sleeping and All." You smiled nodding towards jj. She didn’t know it but he was falling. Quickly, and he didn’t know how to stop it. He didn’t want to. Not really. He was taken by her, and he was nervous because as soon as he talked to Cliff he was asked if he got your number. Which is why he’d initially walked or that’s what he thought at first.

"I would be, but, what kind of man would I be if a pretty lady is at the airport alone, at one am looking aT her phone like it personally attacked her?" He smirked

Looking around you saw no sign of any other woman he could be calling pretty like it was her name because it sure as hell wasn’t you. “Me?” You asked pointing to yourself he chuckled. Damn him. You thought, no one looked that good at one am. Especially fresh off a flight delayed five hours, carrying bags and a small child on his shoulder. Yet he was smirking. Then a small laugh looking down then back to your eyes with a boyish grin. Shrugging.

She was a goner. She wondered if he knew it? But he was looking at her and she hadn’t responded.

"It didn’t, my uhm. My uber didn’t show. But I’m calling another. No big deal, if anything I’ll call my older brother get his lazy ass up." You grinned back hoping your voice was steady. Truth was Bode was that uber and he was passed out or something because he wasn’t here. Stepping away from the light pole striding over to them, she smiled sweetly at the little girl sleep, before brushing jjs hair from her face without thinking Looking back up at Jensen who watched you in awe. "I hate when my hair gets in my face when I’m asleep. Sorry."

She was so peaceful, laying there on her dads shoulder. Which only made your heart ache. You shouldn’t be feeling this way. He was way out of your league and tax bracket. But he was smiling at you. Like you’d just done him a solid for her.

"Don’t be. She would appreciate it if she was conscious. She’s not really one to like it in her face either."he smiled his voice soft, Looking at the sleeping little girl then back at you, for a moment. Then looked down.

"You should get her home. S’late. Thank you for checking in on me. You’re sweet Jensen." You smiled shifting on one hip folding yourhands in front. But he didn’t move. Instead he looked towards the entrance of the building a group leaving being loud. Jumping on scooters and laughing he covered jjs ear and looked at you.

"Cmon, we’ll give you a ride. I can’t leave you out here this late. I love Austin. But it can be dangerous." He said it with a finality to his voice. Like he’d not only made up his mind but yours too.

"Jensen I can’t ask you to do that. I don’t even live in central Austin I’m like thirty minutes west. I’ll call my brother he can be here quickly and you can get her to bed." Your voice as calm, convincing. But to the man before you he wasn’t having it. The look on his face said he wasn’t budging. And you’d sadly lose the fight, but it didn’t stop you.

"I’m not the celebrity Mr ackles. I’ll be safe. I don’t need a demon fighting bodyguard." I smirked making him chuckle shaking his head.

"Maybe. But a demon fighter is one thing. People are crazy, and we’re headed west anyway. Ill drop you off and then you never have to deal with me again but for my own conscience, I’m asking you if I can give you a ride." He looked at you hopeful and damn those green eyes. How would you say no? How could you, and how did you tell him you wouldn’t mind dealing with him again? And he was smiling at you. And your heart thumped, His daughter was so sweet and you knew deep down he wasn’t leaving until you did. Or said yes.

What choice did you have? Did you have one at all? You didn’t know. All you knew was, he was looking at you like that and your heart was beating fast.

Jensen stared at her. Waiting, he wasn’t backing down, he didn’t ask for her number, he asked to give her a ride, fuck she was pretty, he wanted her to come with him. Wanted to take back the part of never having to deal with him again because what if you didn’t want to? And he’d given you the open door. He didn’t say anything else. Just waited. Jj was getting heavy, and his shoulder holding bags hurt but he waited, because you wereworth it. And then you sighed. A sign of forfeit. Shaking your head you grabbed you bsckpack and suitcase looking back at him now wearing triumphant grin. Rolling your eyes.

"I’d take that but." He looked at his hand and shoulder with a chuckle. "You’re loaded down like a pack mule on delivery day?" You giggled making him fully laugh. Probably harder than you aimed for. But he’d looked like he needed it. As you loaded your bags in the back and he put jj in her seat, before meeting you in the back placing their bags in.

"You can take the front. Cliff doesn’t bite. I’ll sit with jj." He leaned against the taillight, watching as you attempted to keep the wet backpack from messing anything up in the suv. His hand laid on your forearm making you look at it stop and then look up at him.

"S’fine. Little water won’t hurt anything." He his voice was soft, gentle. Like he felt how fried your nerves were. And offered a small smile. You looked at the backpack then him again.

"Could be something else. Could be acid." You smirked. Dark humor always the go to when calming your nerves but this time you internally facepalmed. "Never know in airports. And you can never be too careful." You teased shifting the bag just right finally on your suitcase.

"You’re something else you know that?" He said but not in the tone he’d used all night. This was different. Something you couldn’t pinpoint. And when he closed the door and walked with you to the front door he opened it. Waving you inside. A man, who it was safe to assume was Cliff smiled at you

"This is Cliff, technically my body guard but he’s family. This is y/n." He introduced you and the man with ease. Cliff shook your hand as you sat down Jensen got in the back seat right behind you.

You gave Cliff your address and you were finally on your way home. At first it was quiet. With jj sleeping peacefully. Your body relaxed as Austin faded behind you.

You hadn’t realized how exhausted you actually were. Only that now, sitting there your eyes were heavy and you were fighting keeping your eyes open. The comforting silence trapping you. Until Cliff cleared his throat. Eyes shooting open and looking over at the man.

"So, what do you do? Jensen said you were helping your cousin." He looked over Jensen sighing you turned surprised hed hadn’t said anything since we got in the car. And wondering when he had the time and he shrugged with an amused look.

"I’m a hairstylist, I actually own family hairitage out in Beecave. And the one on 10th street down town." You explained like it was no big deal, and considering Jensen behind you. It wasn’t. Not compared too. But he sat up and was suddenly in your peripheral. Looking over at him and then Cliff. "What?"

"We’re trying to place you. A friend of ours hairstylist works there. We’ve all had to go up there at some point when she’s there." Jensen grinned.

"What’s her name?"

"Genevieve padalecki." Cliff said looking back at the road. Missing your face lighting up

"You know Gen? I adore her. She’s my

Client. We met at ACL back in ooo. 2015 I think, been with me since. Jared is so sweet. I’ve cut his hair before too and the boys. I’m sure when yall were there I was in my office or mixing colors. I’m always doing something between wait times." She smiled. Making Jensens heart speed up. Wondering how she already had this effect on him.

He’d decided after the separation he wouldn’t let himself fall for anyone else. Yet here you were and he was sure he’d fallen already as you smiled at him for the hundredth time that night. And then you giggled. And he was fucked.

"Though Usually at work I’m put together. Not Adam Sandler on his worst day. It was a rough day." She giggled. Tightening her pony tail that set high on her head. Jensen wasn’t having it. She was beautiful, he couldn’t imagine her wearing makeup. Or Not in an oversized hoodie. Because she was a knockout In his book just the way she was. But he’d be lying if he said his mind wasn’t wondering.

Her words rolled around and replayed in his mind as the car fell silent for a best. You had settled back in your seat but still focusing on himself and Cliff.

"Don’t say that. You’re beautiful." He slipped. Her eyes widened but he didn’t budge. Nodding like he’d put his foot down right then. Like he’s written in to law. Maybe he could? Probably not but in the law of Jensen. She was never allowed to say that again. "I mean it. Don’t-don’t degrade yourself like that. Not around me. Please." His voice lowered like he was pleading. Silence filed the car again. Yet he didn’t move, their eyes locked. And her breath hitched.

Even in the darkness he was beautiful, he’s called her beautiful, he’d said she never had to deal with him again and before that was arguable. But now, now she wanted to beg him to take it back. He’d seen her, on her worst day. And he was calling her beautiful. Like it was her name. And Sure she was okay in her eyes. She was ten pounds over weight per her doctor, and her hair didn’t lay perfectly when she let it dry naturally. And she had freckles. Not like sprinkled but noticeable that she tried covering with makeup. Her eyes wernt as lively as his. They were brown and honey. Her best feature to her was her hair. The color something her clients asked her to recreate. And he’d said it so simply. With no hesitation. Like it was an unarguable fact, and apart of her believed it.

You’re beautiful.

That would follow her. Stay with her forever. Someone as handsome as he was. Making her question her own self doubts.

Their moment was shattered hearing a small squeal of your name from behind Jensen. Who turned and chuckled at his now awake daughter beaming up at you like she’d known you her whole life.

"You should be sleeping." Jensen smiled at her. But she wasn’t looking at Jensen. She has her eyes on you with a big smile. Jensens eyes flicked back to you right before jj embarassed him completely "my daddy thinks you’re pretty. And he likes your tattoo on your hand." She grinned so innocently. Jensens face even in the dark went pale. Locked in on you but he didn’t falter. He sat a little straighter. Taking the admission.

"She’s not wrong." His voice came out soft, a little shaken. Cliff didn’t budge, almost as if he was here but trying to ignore what was unfolding in the car and Jensen wanted the ground to open and swallow him whole. He’d thought jj was asleep when he called Cliff. He didn’t expect her to hear him. She must have fallen sleep before-

"He also told uncle Cliff he was too scared to ask you for your number on the plane. I think he likes you y/n. And not like I like my friends Tom and shep, like uncle Jared likes aunt Gen. right daddy." And Jensen wondered if he stomped hard enough on the floor of the car if it would swallow him whole for real that time. Suddenly the air was too thin, and his shirt was too tight, his vision ticked and your eyes were directly on him frozen staring. "Oh or uncle Cliff and Evie. They got married last year. My daddy’s nice, and I don’t know why but a lot of girls like him. Hes funny too. And makes me grilled cheese. It’s my favorite. Do you like grilled cheese y/N?" She smiled again.

You nodded at her. Offering a sweet smile but Jensen didn’t move. Unsure if he was even breathing anymore. Cliff parked the car and you looked back to see your house. Before getting out you paused looking at Jensen still stone, thanking Cliff, waving at jj. Before getting out.

Cliff turned to Jensen and pushed him. "Go after her. Dont let her get away Jensen. Gen loves her. That’s good enough for me to trust her with you. Go before I drag you out of the car myself."

"But."

"Let yourself be happy for once Jay." And Jensen looked back as you opened the back to get your stuff. He moved. Getting out and almost running to the back of the black suburban.

Your mind was reeling, she was six she didn’t understand what she was saying and you knew that but Jensens reaction spoke volumes. Like everything she’d said was true, but you were normal, nothing special, no fancy name, or awards under your belt. Just like everyone else you knew. Except him.

But you wanted it to be true. Wanted him to get out of that car and tell you he felt whatever it was you were feeling too. Grabbing your bags you hit the button to close the lift gate and stepped back taking a deep breath. Before turning towards your house.

"Wait.” You heard Jensen say rushed. Turning to him, you could see he was tense, shaking a little. His face was slightly pale, And he was close. You were facing your front door from the circle drive way and he took a deep breath.

“Jensen she’s six. It’s no big deal kids say things. S’fine.” She rationalized. Trying to make herself believe it before he told her it wasn’t true what his daughter said. Looking up at him he shook his head.

"That was, yeah she’s six, and yeah, I said you were pretty, and that I liked your tattoo, I chickened out asking you for your number. But, I haven’t dated anyone since I married my last girlfriend. This is new territory for me. Like married for years new. But that’s over, and I don’t know why, but you’re different, I barely know you. But I want to know more. If you’d let me. I know I said you’d never have to deal with me but, I regretted that the second I said it. And I’m sorry about jj. She is a filter less feral 6 year old Bjt she’s my world just like my Other two kids. And I get it if that’s not what you’re in to. I just needed to get all that out before you walked away. I’m not good at this, and I don’t know what I’m doing. And I’m sorry.”

You sat for a moment. Watching him. His emotions everywhere. Almost like you could feel them radiating off him. And He looked scared and exhausted. "Are you the best friend Jared is inseparable with?" You asked smirking a little.

"Uh yeah. Why?" He looked back at you raised brow and his shoulders relaxed a little.

"He’s been bugging me about letting him set us up.” She giggled. Jensen shook his head knowing his best friend. Relentless, and never listened to a damn thing he said. “ So uhm. You were gonna ask for my number?" She gave him a sweet smile, her tone light, tilting her head at him just a little. And he relaxed more. Letting out a breath he didn’t realized he’d held in.

"If you’re cool with that?" His eyes lit up a little in the glow of the porch light on my house. She nodded, that smile never leaving, Jensen pulled his phone out and she took it typing the number in, with a smile. Her nerves gone, for now too, looking back up at him handing it back.

“It was nice to meet you Jensen.” She smiled softly grabbing her bags but was stopped. His hand on the bag taking them from her. She went to protest but he side eyed her. With a smirk.

“Welcome to Texas sweetheart. Where most men actually are gentleman.”

He didn’t have to help but she was enjoying a few more seconds of him while she could. And he was walking closely to her, he smelled good. No one smells that nice after a slight wither add that to the list of supernatural bottles this man had. Pun intended. He stayed silent Walking her up to her door, she unlocked it looking at Jensen. His smile easy now as They said goodnight, before she watched them drive off. A text came through that said really glad you didn’t take me up on that offer earlier.. Making her smile carrying her bags to her room.

She was nervous sure, meeting someone who affects you like that will do that. But Jensen was different. She didn’t google him or look for anything that pointed to any red flags. Knowing in his line of work there would be pages giving her all of the information she wondered about. But for once in her life of control and measured steps. She let herself leap in to the thought of something good.

For a little while at least. Leaving no room for negotiation. Before her mind said other wise. She went to sleep.

Meanwhile, Jensen was home, putting jj to bed before cracking open a beer and heading to his room. Part of Jensen was anxious to get to know her, see where it led, but another part of him was terrified. He’d been burned once. He didn’t know if he was ready to risk it again.

As he sat on the edge of his bed, beer in hand he sighed, exhausted, and torn. He wanted this. Which had been different from the last few years. Whenever anyone mentioned a blind date, or he met someone random who flirted he withdrew completely. But with her it was easy. He felt normal. He didn’t have to wear the mask. And he liked that.

And Jensen didn’t know what that meant. He pulled out his phone staring at her name, and the simple text with his name seeing she’d text back. ‘It was nice meeting you demon hunter. And tell jj I do like grilled cheese’

And his nerves went away. Like they were never there. Setting the beer bottle down, taking his shirt and jeans off, and he too went to bed letting himself believe this could be something good. And he’d let himself have it if given the chance.

A/n: this is my first time posting anything I’ve ever written feedback is appreciated 🩷 I hope yall enjoy it as much as I enjoyed this first chapter.

@jays-bonnie-on-the-side

[elixirfromthestars]

By The Warmth Of The Oven

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Summary: You are baking cookies for the Avengers holiday party when a certain super solider comes into the kitchen tipsy for the first time...

Word Count: 1.1k

Warning(s): none. pure fluff. tipsy bucky.

Prompt/Event: @the-slumberparty december daze -> is it those cookies that smell delicious or is it you?

a/n: This fluffy drabble is my holiday gift to you my dear Bella @nickfowlerrr ♡ In honor of Can You Feel It? being the first of many beautiful fics I read of yours 🥹🩷 Thank you everyone for reading! ₊˚⊹♡ Likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated!! ♡♡♡

bucky masterlist ♡ || fluffy winter drabbles masterlist ❆

“Smells good…” Bucky’s voice comes out of nowhere from behind you as you grab another tray of chocolate chip cookies from the oven. You glance over your shoulder to find him sauntering into the kitchen, making his way over to you. 

“Freshly baked cookies always do,” you reply with a gratified grin, placing the tray on top of the stove so the cookies have some time to cool off before you plate them. Your friends had already gone through three batches of them and they practically begged you to make more. It was a nice feeling, almost rewarding in a way, knowing something you made was so loved by your friends. 

“‘m not talking about the cookies, doll,” there’s a bit of a slur in his cadence that catches your attention at the same time that your heart skips a beat at his words. You turn to him to see he’s staring at you with a dreamy smile and a twinkle in his eyes, propped up against the counter by his elbow. You frown at his unusual nonchalant demeanor. You’ve never seen him act this way before. 

Your head tilts slightly as you examine him a little closer. There’s a bit of a sway to his stance and his cheeks are tinted pink. “Bucky, are you drunk?” Almost immediately he shakes his head at your question, “No. I can't get drunk,” he replies with an obvious tone, and yet the pouty frown on his face tells a different story. 

“Right, you can’t…” you affirm, mulling it over for a moment,“Unless…did Thor give you some of his special Asgardian liquor?” You ask, stepping slightly closer to him, the apples of his cheeks getting rosier in response. 

“I took a shot. I started feeling funny and came here—felt safe,” he mutters that last part reluctantly, sharing something with you he wouldn’t if it weren’t for the alcohol in his system.

“In the kitchen?”

“With you.” 

Your amusement is replaced with a soft expression at his response. He most likely hasn’t felt the effects of alcohol in decades and a part of him doesn’t know how to cope with the resurfaced inhibitions. The fact that while feeling unwell his first instinct was to come looking for you—it made a warmth spread throughout you that could easily rival the heat of the oven.

You reach out to cup his cheek, soothing the flushed skin with your thumb. He instinctively leans into your touch, his eyes shining with a gentle vulnerability that causes your heart to squeeze in your chest. You and Bucky have always had a flirtatious friendship for as long as you can remember, but it's never gone past that. Seeing him so openly affectionate with you stirs emotions deep within you that you aren’t sure you’re ready to bring to the surface.

“I don’t think the alcohol is going to stay in your system for long, Buck. How about we do this…you wait for me here while I go out and serve the cookies I baked,” his eyes widen slightly and you can tell he wants to protest until you add, “I’ll bring back some hot chocolate for us to share and we can enjoy it along with some cookies while we wait for that liquor in your system to wear off. How does that sound?” You suggest softly and you can see the way he thinks it through before he agrees with a nod.

He doesn’t take his eyes off of you as you plate a few dozen cookies on decorative plates, leaving a handful behind for you and Bucky to share. You make sure to quickly take them out to your friends and serve up two piping hot mugs of hot chocolate before making it back to the kitchen in no time. 

When you meet back with Bucky you find him sitting on the counter where he watches his legs as he swings them lazily to and fro. You observe him fondly for a moment longer than necessary. Trying to commit to memory how carefree and unguarded he is at this moment. When he notices you his face lights up in a way that makes you feel like the most precious person on earth. 

“Here, as promised,” you hand him a mug of hot chocolate which he takes eagerly—too eagerly—as he immediately goes for a sip of it. Before he can, however, you stop him, placing your hand as a barrier between his lips and the mug. His mouth ends up pressed into your palm, and you ignore the heat that finds its way to your face at the softness of his lips brushing against your skin.

“Bucky, it's scalding hot! You’ll burn yourself! Wait until it cools down a bit, please.”

“It’s not gonna burn me, doll. I’m a super soldier. Watch—”

“Bucky!” 

You use the cookies as leverage to coax Bucky into waiting for the hot chocolate to cool down before he drinks any of it. For the next hour or so, you enjoy each other's company. Between the sweet treats and the lighthearted conversations, time flies by in a heartbeat. 

Then, while in the middle of a discussion over your last mission, Bucky does something that completely takes you by surprise in the best way possible—he kisses you. It’s short, but profound in the way he pours everything into it. Every flirtation you ever questioned could mean something more was proven here with this kiss, that it had meant so much more for more than just you. 

You’re speechless when he pulls away beaming as if his heart might burst.

“Looks like I was right.” 

“Huh?”

“I asked myself what was sweeter. You or the cookies. I knew it'd be you,” he states as a matter of fact, drinking up the way his words affect you as much as the kiss had. There’s a part of you that doesn’t believe him, but it's not because of him, but more so because you think you must be dreaming. 

“That's the liquor talking.”

“I've sobered up a while ago, doll.”

You search his eyes for the truth of it all and you find it. This is real. This isn’t a dream. And the yearning that burns bright in his eyes is one you know all too well. It’s the same one reflecting in your eyes as your gazes lock on one another.

“I still think the cookies are sweeter,” you whisper, your eyes shining with a playful challenge despite the way your heart races in your chest with anticipation. He catches on, licking his lips as his flesh hand snakes its way to the back of your head to cradle it gently.

“‘m gonna prove you wrong, doll,” he declares in a huskier tone as he pulls you in for another kiss. And that night, by the warmth of the oven, Bucky continues to kiss you until he successfully proves you wrong. 

[cherrygirlfriend]

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ office visitations

pairing: wife!reader x ceo!rafe synopsis: wife!reader goes to visit rafe at work for lunch warnings: smut, breeding kink, praise, soft rafe, talk of pregnancy, fluffy ending MDNI - wc: 2k a/n: another old fic! i swear i’m actually gonna post something new, i’m currently preparing some fics for a milestone <3 be patient pls!! fun fact; this was first posted on my birthday!! originally posted 11/15/2024

rafe masterlist ♡

everyone on kildare island wondered how rafe cameron of all men had managed to land you; sure, he was rich and good looking, but in figure 8, that was nothing. but somehow he had, and only after six months of being your boyfriend, he had asked you to marry him; no one knew that he had been looking at rings after your very first date.

you were basically his opposite; the sweet, girl-next-door pogue who no one ever had anything bad to say about, while he was known to lash out at whoever was in the wrong place in the wrong time, but after meeting you, he was obsessed.

rafe was sitting in his office, just having finished up a board meeting, those always stressing him out, paperwork piling on his desk, his cup of coffee having gone cold already.

there was a soft knock on rafe's door, and he rubbed his forehead, letting out a small scoff; he had told his secretary to not let absolutely anyone to come bother him. he looked up at the door, letting out a cold and detached, "come in." knowing that his secretary would be looking for a new job.

but as soon as he saw the familiar pair of eyes playfully peek into his office, it was like all the tension slowly rolled off his shoulders. "hi." you said with a smile that was so bright and sunny rafe was sure it could've melted down an icecap. "can i come in?"

rafe cleared his throat, standing up from his chair, "yeah, of course." the man smiled, running a hand through his mussed-up blonde hair as you stepped into his office. you were wearing a long, flowy sundress, carrying two cups of coffee and a bag of something, "what's this?" your husband asked amusedly, his head nodding toward the bag.

"i brought you some coffee and croissants." you said, placing the things on his desk and turning to him, "i knew you're always stressed after board meetings. i would be too, if i had to sit around with a bunch of old guys for an hour straight listening to their issues with you or whatever you do." you chuckled, straightening the collar of his button-up.

"you know just what i need." he groaned, wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest, tilting his head down so he could nuzzle it into your neck, breathing in the floral scent of your perfume while you let out a small chuckle, your eyes closing as you held him, stroking his back.

he pulled back, looking down at your dress with a small grin, "did you wear this for me?" he asked, feeling the fabric inbetween his fingers, "it looks great."

"thank you. my husband got it for me." you said playfully, giving him your left hand. rafe took hold of it, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand before looking at your engagement ring.

"he has great taste. in women, in clothing, and in jewelry."

you laugh softly, shaking your head and rolling your eyes, until rafe took your chin inbetween his pointer finger and his thumb, forcing you to look up at him, the man admiring the way your eyes twinkled, moving his hands to rest on your waist again. "you look so gorgeous."

"and you look very handsome." you said, tugging him down into a kiss, your lips on his immediately causing rafe's head to buzz. rafe's hands slowly slid down to your ass, grabbing at the flesh through your summer dress, pulling you closer while one of your hands was on his chest, and one of your hands was on the back of his neck, short blond hair meeting your soft palms.

you pulled away from the kiss breathlessly, keeping your forehead and nose pressed to his, your breaths mingling together while your eyes were closed.

"i missed you..."

"you saw me this morning." rafe mumbled, one of his hands traveling to your cheek, cupping it in his hand while his thumb stroked your soft cheek.

"does that mean i can't miss you?" your brows raised with a chuckle, the hand that had been resting on his chest was now tugging his button-up out of the trousers they were tucked in, rafe letting out a small groan when he felt your warm hand slowly trail up the line of his abs, "you know, i realized something…" you practically purred into his ear.

"yeah? what'd you realize, sweetie?" he asked, nuzzling his head in the crook of your neck, pressing small kisses on your warm skin, causing shivers to run down your spine, goosebumps starting to form all over your body.

"i'm ovulating." you whispered with a grin, before pulling back to see his reaction. rafe lifted his head, looking at you with half-lidded eyes and a small grin, his hands sliding down to rest on the curve of your ass.

"mmhm, 's that the case?" he asked, he shamelessly looking down at your tits, rafe's adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed, your fingers starting to unbutton the buttons of his shirt, revealing more and more of his tanned chest, shivers running down his spine when he felt your manicured nails on the skin that you were slowly baring. "i guess we should take advantage of that, then."

you let out a small squeal when your husband lifted you into his arms without any difficulty, carrying you to the other side of his desk. rafe sat down on his chair, positioning you so that you were straddling him, his calming cerulean eyes gazing up into yours.

your hand moves to the nape of his neck, fingers gently playing with the short tendrils of hair there as you gaze down at him, the hint of a smile playing at your lips. rafe brought his hand closer to your face, his fingers curling under your chin, bringing your face to meet his, the sides of your noses pressed against one another, breaths mingling together before his lips brushed against yours.

and soon, rafe's shirt hung unbuttoned on his broad shoulders, your panties discarded on his desk, your body still mostly covered by your dress, his slacks and boxers at his ankles. the thumb of his left hand brushed against your hardened nipple over the fabric of your dress, a small gasp escaping your lips as your soaked entrance hovered over the tip of his cock, practically aching to sink itself down on him.

"you ready?" rafe whispered under you, pressing a featherlight kiss on your clothed nipple, and somehow even that was enough to make you dizzy; you couldn't speak, simply nodding, his hands slowly crawling up from the sides of your thighs up your dress until they were on your hips, rafe's touch so hot you thought he might leave burn marks. slowly, he started bringing your hips lower, a long drawn-out whimper leaving your lips when you finally felt rafe stretch you out; you'd been together for a long time but every time his cock entered you it felt like the first time.

even though you were the one straddling him, rafe was the one doing all the work. slowly, he lifted you up, before bringing you back down, your head thrown back, lost in all the bliss you were feeling, his lips attaching themselves to your neck, pressing soft kisses on your pulse point as you let out small, soft laughs when you felt his stubble on your skin.

although his lips moved away from your neck, rafe continued moving you on top of him by your hips, briefly bringing one of his hands to cup your cheek, making you look down at him, your eyes hazy and glossed over from the pleasure he was giving you.

"you look so gorgeous like this..." rafe whispered, letting out a grunt as he felt you deliberately clench yourself around him, the corners of your mouth quirking up into an adorable, almost shy smile, your cheeks feeling warmer due to his sweet words.

he moved his hand back to your hips, continuing to guide you up and down on his cock, slightly picking up his pace, whimpers leaving your lips whenever he bottomed out in you, hitting that one spot like it was nothing, when for you, it felt like everything.

"so damn gorgeous..." he mumbled against your skin, and as one of rafe's hands traveled down to your pussy, his thumb starting to draw languid circles on your clit, you started moving your hips just slightly faster, every part of you screaming that you needed more of him, needed to feel every part of him.

"please..." you whined, the tone of your voice making something in rafe's chest ache while also making the heat in his abdomen nearly double.

as his thumb picked up its pace, your head felt so beautifully blank; all you could focus on were the sensations running through your body, the fire he'd lit inside of you, and the orgasm you were already starting to feel approaching.

"please, i'm so close..." you whined, your words getting muddled with your moans.

your eyes were closed, unable to see the way your husband was admiring you, looking up at you with pupils blown so wide his blue eyes might as well have turned into the shape of a heart, and he continued bucking his hips up into you, both of you chasing your orgasms, the sound of squelching and moaning filling his office.

suddenly, he felt your walls spasming around his cock, your orgasm washing over you as you held on tight to his shoulders, your body shuddering with pleasure, moans leaving your lips without you even realizing it was happening.

rafe watched as you came undone, continuing to move inside of you even though your walls felt snug around him, the man starting to feel a familiar tightening in his abdomen.

"'m so close..." rafe mumbled, not even sure if you could hear him through the bubble of bliss you seemed to be encased in. "gonna come in you... gonna put a baby in you... you're gonna look so gorgeous with my baby in you..."

when you let out a soft whimper, trying to move yourself on his cock even though you were still riding out his orgasm, rafe groaned, burying his head in the crook of your neck, loud whines leaving your lips when he fucked into you at a faster pace, rafe almost losing himself in you and the way you felt around him, knowing he'd never get enough of you, never get enough of having you like this.

it didn't take long until he let out a loud groan, and you felt ropes of his cum filling you, moving your hips slightly to make sure he was as deep inside of you as possible, the closeness feeling almost intoxicating.

neither one of you spoke for a while, and the only noise that could be heard in his office were the pants that slowly turned into regular breathing, and finally when it had settled, you pressed your forehead against rafe's, taking a deep breath.

you felt rafe's hand on your cheek, his thumb stroking the soft skin there, and it was like he was reading your thoughts; sometimes the way he knew you intimidated you, just because the thought of ever losing that scared the hell out of you.

"it's gonna happen." he said comfortingly, opening his eyes to look into yours, and you pulled your forehead away from his to do the same. you brought your hand to your abdomen, looking down at it while letting out a small sniffle, your tone laced with insecurity, "you think so?"

rafe pressed his hand over yours, and you wondered how someone could know exactly everything you thought and needed, his large, ringed hand somehow managing to soothe every single thought running through your mind.

"i know so, and i'm never wrong, am i?" he grinned smugly, making you roll your eyes, a soft laugh escaping your lips.

[julymusings]

simplicity

out there they're afraid even of the killer's shadow, and here i reside in his heartbeat like a home

or; the big bad red hood has a soft spot only for you [3.4k]

jason todd x fem!reader; tiny bit of angst but mostly fluff; aggressive unwanted advances, implied roofie attempt, violence & blood, slut-shaming; Jason “my girl can wear whatever she wants I can fight” Todd; in da clerb, we all fam ⎯ based on this !

series masterlist

A humid, crowded, upscale club isn’t the most ideal way to spend your Friday night, and Jason knows this. Frankly, it’s not his either, but as the owner of the humid, crowded, upscale club, he had to make some appearances at his own business.

“It’s a night out,” he had said. “Let’s make the most of it.”

If you’re being honest, it’s also not the worst way to spend your Friday night. Not when Jason dressed up so deliciously, in a fitted t-shirt, jeans, and his leather jacket. Not when he took you to a booth in the corner of the club and had them bring over your favorite drinks and snacks with the order to keep them coming. Not when you got to wear that cute little black dress that’s been hanging in your closet for months with your favorite strappy heels, the ones with ribbons that wrapped around your ankle and tied into a bow in the back. Not when Jason sat you on his lap and settled a large hand on your thigh, where it stayed the whole night.

All in all, you would say you’re making the most of it. 

You’re sipping on your drink, chatting about something or the other with your boyfriend. He’s half listening, half drawing circles on your thigh and pressing kisses to your shoulder when one of the employees finds you. She’s freaking out because one of the performers hasn’t shown up, and there’s no one else to go in her place.

Jason huffs. He lifts you off his lap and sets you down on the seat. “I’m sorry, baby, I just gotta take care of this. I’ll be right back.”

“It’s okay. I’ll be here.” You smile over the rim of your glass.

He looks around for a moment, then gestures to someone across the room. One of the bouncers make their way to you.

“Just keep an eye out,” he tells him. “I don’t trust these entitled country club fuckers.”

He gives a curt nod. Jason leans in close, smirking, and says, “Especially not when you look like that,” and gives you a quick kiss before disappearing into the crowd with the employee.

A couple minutes later, a crash snaps your attention towards the bar. A young, college-aged-looking man is berating a waitress while a mess of shot glasses litter the floor around them. The waitress looks about to cry.

“Jesus Christ,” the bouncer says to himself. Then to you, “Gimme a second.”

You move to the edge of the booth to watch as he goes over and tries to pacify the man, but that only seems to make him angrier. He shoves the bouncer, yelling about “shitty customer service.” 

You don’t get to see what happens next, though, because your field of vision is obscured by an enormous, very shiny, and very douchey silver belt buckle. You look up for its owner, and a greasy-looking, white-haired man looks down at you. 

“Hey there, sweetheart.” A fake gold tooth catches the flashing lights and it glints in your eye. Uninvited, he slides into the booth across from you. He places a drink on the table, sliding it towards you. “You look thirsty. Got this for you.”

“No, thanks. I’ve got one.” You hold your own glass up.

He rolls his eyes. “Pretty thing like you should be takin’ advantage of all the free drinks you could be gettin’.” His smile sends a chill down your spine.

“Again, I’m fine,” you say, a little harsher. “My boyfriend has brought me plenty of drinks already.”

He laughs. It’s a high-pitched, scratchy, wheezing sound. Like a kazoo. “I don’t see this boyfriend of yours anywhere. He should know better than to leave you alone. I’d treat you much better than him.” His eyes travel down your neck and stay there. You stand from the booth and take a big step back. It’s not entirely personal; no matter how much of a threat he may be, Jason is a worse one. And if he’s still in this neighborhood, never mind this building, you fear for this man’s safety much more than your own. But the man follows, bringing the cup with him. “Come on, honey, it’s a compliment. Show a little thanks. I don’t bite.”

You don’t have to be the world’s finest detective to know that is most definitely a lie. Or to know to avoid that cup at all costs.

You could just rebuff him, walk away. But you’re willing to bet he’d just move on to the next woman. One who’s probably a little less sober, and a little less aware of her surroundings. You feign a stumble and knock the drink out of his grip. It tips toward him, drenching him with its contents. He chokes out a shocked gasp.

“Oops,” you deadpan, not at all trying to hide your indifference.

“You bitch,” he snarls. He lunges forward, snatching your wrist. You try to pull it back, but his grip is iron and bruising. “I was doing you a favor. Do you see anyone else here looking at you?”

You’re suddenly grateful you didn’t put up much of a fight after Jason came home from patrolling one night insisting he show you some self-defense moves. Far be it from you to cause a scene, but this guy isn’t giving you much choice. You employ the cardinal rule of women’s self-defense: go for the crotch. You shift your weight to your non-dominant side and launch your dominant knee right into his groin. The sharp metal edge of his belt buckle slices the skin just above your knee, but it shocks him enough to release your wrist and double over. The same leg used in your attack plants itself on the ground, and you use the momentum to pistol your opposite fist forward. It collides with his nose in a bone-cracking cross. Your stacks of studded rings didn’t do him any favors, either. He cries out in pain. His hands fly up to cover his nose, and the cup falls from his grasp and shatters on the floor, garnering the attention of some surrounding patrons. Blood seeps between his fingers.

“You’re gonna fucking pay for that.” His tone drips with poison. He reaches into his coat pocket and brandishes a switchblade (because of course. You’re not surprised, though. It is Gotham). You look around in a panic, hoping to find Jason towering somewhere over the crowd. He’s not there. A few guys who work for him, though, have since taken notice of the commotion and are making their way towards you. You know they won’t make it in time. You weren’t scared a moment ago, but you definitely are now. Jason only briefly covered disarming techniques, and you didn’t have his practice to stay calm in situations like these. He steps closer, shoes crunching over the glass shards, and you step back. You’re backed into a corner, literally. Your back is pressed against the table. His eyes are glassy and void of color.

There is a resounding pop when the man’s knife-wielding hand is yanked to the side. Too fast for your brain to register, he thuds against the table next to you and the knife clatters to the ground. You look over and see Jason, one hand pressing his face into the table and the other twisting the man’s arm behind his back. 

When his men finally reach you, Jason is seething. They look almost as afraid as the man, whose whimpers are muffled by the pressure with which he’s flattened against the table.

“Who the fuck let this happen,” Jason glowers. Uncomfortable glances are shared between the men, all sharing the same sentiment; we fucked up big time.

Jason’s livid gaze flits back and forth among them. His veins flex against his forearms, rippling with effort. It looks like he’s putting all his strength into incapacitating the man, but you know better. He’s putting all his strength into restraint. The look on his face is cold and steely, with hardened, venom-green eyes and a clenched jaw. This isn’t Jason, the sweet boyfriend, or Jason the easy-going yet respected club proprietor. This is Jason the crime lord. Jason the anti-hero. This is the Red Hood. Who makes his own rules and kills anyone who breaks them. It’s a bit off-putting for you to see him like this; he’s never like this with you. He’s always just…Jason. Your Jason.

One of his men speaks up. “We’re sorry, Boss, we were keepin’ an eye like you asked, but there was trouble up at the bar.”

Jason scowls. “Trouble that required all of you?”

At their silence, he rolls his eyes. “Idiots,” he says under his breath. He jerks the man up to stand, the hand that was pressing him to the table now gripping the back of his shirt collar. “Someone take care of this.” He shoves the man in their direction. Hard. One of them catches him. “And for fuck’s sake, check him for anything else.” 

While they’re busy patting him down, Jason turns back to you. You get whiplash from how quick his demeanor changes. Though still tense, the rigidity of his expression is long gone, replaced with tender concern.

“Are you okay?” His wide eyes scan you up and down, searching for any signs of injury. You manage a nod, still a bit stunned by his apparent shape-shifting abilities. “I’m so sorry, honey, this is my fault. It’s my fault for leaving you alone.” He pulls you close for a hug and kisses the top of your head, murmuring further apologies into your hair.

You pull back and cup his face in your hands. “It’s okay, Jay, I’m fine. I promise.” You lean in to kiss him and feel his shoulders relax.

“Jesus, man, sorry! Wouldn’t’a come on so strong if I knew she was your whore. How much did ‘ya pay for her, anyway?” His voice rings from behind. Jason tenses up again. When he pulls back from you, he’s gone. He’s like Jekyll-turned-Hyde when the combatant that lay dormant inside him reassumes his body.

He turns around, but his large frame shields you from seeing the scene unfold. You place a hand on his arm, a silent message of support, and you can feel him vibrating with anger. His hand comes to rest over yours and gives a reassuring squeeze.

“You know what?” You can’t be sure who he’s speaking to, but you can hear the eerie smile in his tone. “I’ll take care of this.” He faces you. “Can you give me a minute? Is that okay?” His voice is calm.

You know he would stay if you asked him to. And you never would, but you know he would go outside and kill that guy if you asked him to. And maybe you’re feeling a tad vindictive after the whole ordeal, so you just say, “Okay.”

He kisses your forehead, squeezing your hand once more. “I’ll come find you,” he says, stepping away, and you nod.

“Ross,” he commands. “Take her to the office. Get her whatever she wants.” Jason then speaks to all of his men. His tone drips with disdain. “Tomorrow we’ll talk about who’s getting fired for this.” You catch some of his men flinch.

He grabs the man by the collar once again and stalks towards the exit, dragging him along.

You’ve met Ross once or twice, though never exchanged more than a few words. He smiles at you. It’s amiable, if not slightly nervous. You know where the office is, but you’re still grateful for the guide. The mesh of moving bodies under dim lights makes all four corners of the room look the same. With the adrenaline wearing off, your hands ache and you become acutely aware of the stinging shock that shoots up your knee when you walk on it but, persevering, you follow him to the back. He holds the door that reads ‘RESTRICTED - DO NOT ENTER’ open for you, and you smile in thanks.

Various employees, servers and performers alike, mill about in the back hallways. You know some of them, having met in passing during other visits to the club, and offer polite greetings as you walk by. When you arrive at Jason’s office, Ross unlocks the door for you and you step inside.

It’s a nice office, noticeably homier than it was when you and Jason met. The first time he brought you back here it was just a desk, a chair, and a filing cabinet. You perched yourself on his desk while he sat in his chair and you teased him for not having a place for guests to sit, saying something about ‘men and their awful interior designing skills.’

“It’s not ‘bad skills,’ it’s cost-effective. ‘M runnin’ a business here, baby. If you need a place to sit that badly, you can sit right here.” He joked, patting his lap. And he said it with such conviction you believed him, but the next time you visited there was a brand new, plushy suede couch pushed against the wall.

You find a seat on said couch and try to get comfortable despite your protesting joints. From here you can spot a framed photo on Jason’s desk; the two of you smiling while bathing a shelter dog at the Wayne Animal Sanctuary. But while you smile at the camera, his gaze is trained on you.

 Ross stands in the doorway, stoic as a bodyguard should be. “Do you need anything?” He asks you.

“No, I’m okay. Thank you, though.”

“‘Course. I’ll be outside. Just yell if you need anything.” He moves to exit, but pauses. “Look,” he says, “We’re all really sorry about what happened. It was our fault. You have every right to hate us.” He chuckles self-deprecatingly. “God knows the boss does.”

You purse your lips, unsure how to respond. Technically Jason did instruct them not to leave you alone. But really, the only person at fault is that horrible man, and he was currently getting what he deserved.

“It’s okay, Ross,” you say, and you mean it. “I don’t blame you. And Jason’s not gonna fire any of you, okay? I won’t let him.”

He exhales. “Okay, you—yeah. Okay. Thanks.” He loiters awkwardly in the doorway for a moment. “Listen, Todd’s always been a great boss. But it’s no joke when it comes to you. Don’t know exactly what happened, but after meeting you, he’s just…different. Not sure if I believe it, but after the first time you were here, one of the bartenders swears they heard him whistling. Anyway, just mean to say…we’re glad he has you.”

His sincerity warms your heart. You thank him, and he assumes his post outside, closing the door. 

At last in decent lighting, you take the time to examine yourself. Your knee, knuckles, and wrist are splotchy with bruises. A small scrape rests just above your knee from you were scratched. There’s a splattering of blood on your knuckles and on the rings you’re wearing. You grimace, the reality of what just happened settling in. Someone pulled a knife on you. If Jason hadn’t been there…the thought leaves you cold.

There are voices on the other side of the door, then receding footsteps. After a few seconds, a knock.

“Baby? Can I come in?”

“Yes,” you call out. Jason enters, locking the door behind him. There are some smatterings of blood on his hands and face, and he’s holding a first aid kit. Your immediate instinct is that he’s the one who needs first aid.

“Are you okay?” You ask as he kneels on the floor in front of you. “Did he hurt you?”

Jason tilts his head like a confused puppy, eyebrow raised. Just like that, The Red Hood is gone. He’s Jason again. He speaks softly, with a hint of his usual boyish charm. “Should I be insulted by you asking me that?” He picks up your un-injured leg and places the foot on his thigh, beginning to unravel the ribbon wrapped around your ankle. He removes the shoe and places it to the side, then repeats with your other foot. But when he moves it, your knee twitches and you wince. He frowns but doesn’t say anything. He sees the way your eyes travel between all the spots of blood. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, none of it’s mine.”

You sigh in relief. “You didn’t…kill him, did you?”

He chuckles, lightly massaging your foot. “Nah…did you want me to? ‘Cause I can still—”

“No.”

He smirks at you, before leaning down to press a kiss to your bruised knee. It’s so gentle, so loving, it completely contradicts the bloodstains that adorn him. As his hands move up to your calf, your hand moves to his hair, fingers threading through the white streaks and pushing them back so you can get a better view of his eyes. They’re a silky teal, bordering on sea green. They remind you of lake trips in the summer, and ice skating during the holidays.

“How bad is he? Like, on a scale of ‘he can walk it off’ to ‘he needs to go to the hospital.’”

Jason pauses his movements, looking thoughtful for a moment.

“He…he’s walking himself to the hospital.”

There’s not much you can say to that. After all, you gave him to okay to go fuck that guy up.

From the first aid kit, he retrieves a box of Band-Aids. They’re the children’s ones, decorated with cartoons and various characters. A specific one catches your eye, and you pick it out of the carton.

“Robin? Really?”

Jason breathes out a small laugh. “One of my guys’ daughter loves him.” He unwraps the bandage and sticks it over the scratch. You admire the small red plaster. Jason traces a finger over the emblem in the center, a black and yellow ‘R’.

He moves from your leg to your hand, gingerly laying it in his palm. One by one he slides each of your rings off. They’re not particularly special, but you still like them and you try to protest when he tosses them in the trash. He’s quick to assuage you with promises to buy you new ones with, hopefully, less blood.

"Did you see how good I got him?" You suddenly feel shy asking such a question. Like a child seeking validation.

"I did see," Jason says. And there's not a hint of condescension in his tone. "I'm proud of you. You remembered what I taught you."

You beam under his pride.

He uses a sanitizing wipe to remove the droplets of blood from your knuckles, kissing each one along the way. He reaches your wrist last. There’s a purple hand-shaped mark that wraps around it, and he stares at it. You can see his thoughts race at sixty miles an hour, and you know he’s beating himself up about it.

“Hey.” The hand in his hair moves to stroke his cheek. “It’s okay. It’s not your fault. I promise. I love you.”

He leans forward to press his forehead to your wrist. “I’m sorry,” he breathes. “I’m sorry.” He places gentle kisses on the purple skin. “I’m sorry. I love you.” He moves to the scratch above your knee, pressing more kisses, repeating the words like a prayer. Your hand is still enclosed in his hands, and his cool fingers soothe the throbbing swell. You pull his head up, holding his chin in your fingertips. His eyes close as he soaks in your warm touch.

You reach for another wipe and begin wiping the blood from his face. Some of it has dried, so you press the wipe a little harder, and blood rushes to his cheeks to give him an adorable flush. You repeat the process on his hands. Blood erased and wipes discarded, you pull him up to the couch to lie down with you. He stretches out, so large that his feet hang over the armrest. You snuggle up to his side and your head rests on his shoulder. He wraps his arms around you and kisses the top of your head. It’s surreal, how utterly soft he is, and just for you. How no one else gets to see him like this. He goes out at night as a fighter, a crusader, a deadly threat. And then he comes home to sleep in your arms. In your bed.

You place your hand against his chest, right over his heart to feel it thrum beneath your palm. It beats simple and steady, and just for you.

am i the only one who likes the whole jason owning the iceberg lounge storyline (aside from the whole penguin prisoner thing but i only write according to canon that i like and leave out the things i don't! whoops🤷‍♀️);

the feminine urge to write more fics that take place within the universe of this one...

divider is from here

[dakusan]

S K Z R e a c t i n g t o a P o s i t i v e P r e g n a n c y T e s t

stray kids ot8 x reader | two pink lines, eight breakdowns, one very lucky uterus.

🍼 synopsis: You didn’t plan this. Not the moment, not the timing, not the trembling plastic test that changed your life in a heartbeat. But one by one, you tell them. One by one, you hold out that tiny white stick with two pink lines. And one by one—each of them breaks open. Sometimes, two lines is all it takes to rewrite everything. And sometimes, everything sounds a lot like: “You’re having my baby?”

💌 a/n: To the anon who sent this prompt: I HOPE YOUR PILLOWS ARE COLD AND YOUR WIFI NEVER LAGS. You gave me eight men and said “make them react to a pregnancy test 🥺👉👈” and I said BET. AND THEN THEY DID. THEY REACTED. THEY BROKE DOWN. THEY GOT ON THEIR KNEES. THEY CRIED ON BATHROOM FLOORS. THEY STARTED PRENATAL POWER SNACK PREP. this was so cute you now owe me therapy. p.s. reblog for clear skin and an emotionally available babydaddy. p.p.s. if Chan on his knees didn’t ruin you emotionally, you’re lying. p.p.p.s. somebody please make fanart of Dori in a bib that says “Hyung.”

📍credits: @cafekitsune , @thecutestgrotto for the dividers

🎧 » Hug Me — I.N « 0:58 ─〇───── 3:00 ⇄ ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ ↻

Bang Chan

You didn’t plan to tell him like this.

You had wanted to wait. Set up something quiet and sweet. A note, maybe. Or a mug with #1 Appa written on it. Something he could hold in his hands while you stood across the room, heart pounding.

But life has never followed your plans when it comes to Bang Chan. It has always moved faster, deeper, louder.

Like tonight. When you called his name from the bathroom with something trembling in your fingers. A white stick. A faint second line. And all the blood draining from your face.

Chan enters the room in sleep pants and a hoodie, half-damp hair from the shower. He blinks at you—then the test in your hand—and in a moment, all air disappears from his lungs.

“What…?”

You pass it to him wordlessly, heart in your throat.

His fingers shake as he takes it. Looks down.

Silence.

You try to prepare for anything. Shock. Denial. Fear.

But what you get is breathless awe.

“…It’s real?”

You nod. You think.

“I mean—I took another one. And I’ll take more. I don’t know how accurate they are this early—”

But Chan’s already across the space between you, wrapping his arms around you so tight, so careful, so anchored you forget how to speak.

“You’re really having my baby,” he breathes into your hair. “You’re really—” He laughs, and the sound cracks. Then again, softer. Wet. “I love you. I love you so much. I swear I’m gonna—fuck, I’m gonna take such good care of both of you.”

He drops to his knees. Presses his cheek to your stomach even though there’s nothing to see yet.

Just skin. Just potential. Just a future that’s suddenly real.

“Hi, little one,” he whispers. “It’s Appa. We haven’t met yet, but you’re gonna be so loved, okay? We’ve got you.”

You run your fingers through his curls and feel him kiss you gently—reverently—through the fabric of your shirt. Everything around you fades, every fear fades, except him.

Because this man? He was born to love like this.

Lee Minho

It’s 8:17 PM on a Sunday.

Minho is sprawled on the couch in sweatpants and a wrinkled shirt he’s been wearing since last night, a half-finished plate of tteokbokki on the coffee table, and three cats currently fighting for ownership of his chest. Soonie’s curled up against his ribs. Doongie’s nestled by his knee. Dori is actively trying to sit on his face.

It’s domestic bliss in its purest form—until you walk in holding a tiny plastic stick with two pink lines.

“Babe?” you say softly.

He looks up, squinting. Dori meows, offended at being jostled.

Minho blinks once. Then again. “What’s that?”

You bite your lip and hold it out. “I think… we’re gonna need more than three bowls soon.”

There’s a beat of silence.

Soonie sneezes. Doongie flops over dramatically. Minho doesn’t move.

Then—

“…No way.”

His voice is low. Disbelieving. He slowly sits up, cats scattering. He takes the test like it might dissolve in his hands.

“Wait, wait—two lines means…”

You nod. He stares.

“You’re pregnant.”

Another nod. You’re suddenly very aware of your own heartbeat.

Minho exhales. Long. Sharp. Then he turns and stares at the cats. “You three are about to be older siblings,” he tells them. Dori blinks. Then he looks at you again. His eyes are wide, but soft. “You’re serious?”

“Yes.”

“Like really serious.”

“Yes, Minho.”

He crosses the room and pulls you into his arms without another word. Just wraps you up, tight and warm, chin tucked over your shoulder. You can feel how fast his heart is beating.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” he mumbles.

“You’ll be amazing,” you whisper back. “You take care of all of us already.”

He pulls back just enough to look at your stomach. “You’ve been feeding me double portions all week. You were preparing.”

You laugh through the tears. “You think I planned this?”

“No,” he says, grinning now. “But I’m glad it’s you. And me. And—”

His hand brushes gently over your lower belly. “And whoever you are in there.”

Behind you, there’s a crash. You both turn to find Doongie knocking over the tteokbokki, Soonie sniffing it, and Dori sitting proudly in the bowl.

Minho sighs. “We need to teach them boundaries before the baby gets here.”

You’re still laughing when he kisses your temple.

Seo Changbin

You don’t plan some Pinterest-worthy reveal. No onesies in gift boxes. No custom cookies that say ‘bun in the oven.’

You just... panic-laugh and blurt it out at the worst possible moment. Which, in this case, is: right as Changbin is taking the world’s biggest bite of a protein bar post-leg day.

“I’m pregnant,” you say.

He chokes. Literally. Gags, coughs, eyes watering as he grabs a water bottle and downs half of it in three seconds. You reach out to thump his back, but he waves you off—one hand in the air like he needs to process the universe first.

“Wait,” he rasps. “Wait. What?”

You just hold up the test.

His jaw drops. Like, drops.

“THAT’S A PREGNANCY TEST.”

You nod.

“AND IT’S—TWO LINES—TWO—” He counts them out on his fingers just to be sure. “That means positive, right? POSITIVE like YES, not positive like ‘good vibes’ positive?”

You nod again, nearly in tears now from how panicked and adorable he looks.

Then there’s a beat. A shift. His entire face changes.

“…You’re really having my baby?” Soft. Quiet. Disbelieving. He steps forward slowly, like you might vanish.

You nod again, biting your lip. “Yeah. I am.”

And then he just—melts.

“I’m gonna be a dad,” he says, dazed. “I’m gonna be a DAD. Like—little shoes. Little clothes. Little you. With like—tiny arms. And maybe your nose. Oh my god.”

You blink, and he’s hugging you like he’s trying to shield you from the whole world. Then pulling back, both hands cupping your cheeks.

“I’m so fucking happy,” he breathes. “Like, terrified—but also really happy. Are you okay? Do you need water? Snacks? Protein? Oh my god, you need protein. You’re literally building a person.”

You laugh. “I don’t think the baby needs whey powder, Binnie.”

“You never know!” he yells toward the kitchen. “Fetus needs gains!”

Then he runs off to make a “power snack” for you and your microscopic baby, while mumbling, “I need to call my mom—no, wait, I need to learn how to swaddle—what the hell is swaddling—”

You lean against the wall, stomach fluttering, and smile so wide your cheeks ache. You’re about to have a baby. And that baby’s father? Is Seo Changbin.

Loud, loyal, chaotic, golden-hearted Seo Changbin. And that means everything’s going to be okay.

Hwang Hyunjin

It happens on a quiet morning.

The sun is creeping in through the curtains, golden and warm. You’re in one of his oversized shirts, curled on the couch with your knees pulled to your chest. The test sits on the coffee table, face-up. Positive. Blunt and unreal.

Hyunjin is in the kitchen humming something, probably working on a smoothie with way too much honey.

You don't say anything. You just… Wait. And when he wanders in with the drink, barefaced and sleepy-eyed, he sees you staring at the test. Then follows your gaze.

Then—stops breathing. “What… is that?”

You blink up at him. “Baby,” you say. “I think I’m pregnant.”

The smoothie hits the floor. He doesn't even flinch. Just stares at the test like it's glowing. “No way,” he whispers. Then again, like he’s in a dream: “No way.”

You nod. Careful. Soft.

He drops to his knees in front of you. Grabs both your hands. “You’re not kidding?” he asks. “You’re not—like, this isn’t a dream or some surreal performance art you’ve constructed to test my emotional range?”

You giggle through the nerves. “It’s real, Jinnie.”

And then—oh, the eyes. Big and glassy and full of awe. He gently presses his hands to your stomach, even though there’s nothing visible yet.

“You’re carrying something made of us?” he says, like he’s tasting every word.

You nod. And he starts to cry. Not loud or messy. Just that beautiful, quiet unravelling he does when his heart gets too full. His forehead presses to your belly. His voice breaks. “I already love them so much,” he whispers. “And you. You—God, you’re going to be the most beautiful mother. I’m going to paint you. Every day. You’ll hate it, but I’ll do it anyway.”

You laugh and pull him close. “I’m scared,” you admit softly.

“I know,” he says, cupping your face, brushing his thumb under your eye. “Me too. But we’ll make something beautiful. We already are.”

Behind him, the smoothie seeps into the floorboards. He doesn’t notice. He’s too busy falling in love all over again.

Han JIsung

You make the mistake of showing him the pregnancy test in the middle of a Mario Kart match.

You were trying to wait until the end. But you couldn’t. The plastic stick in your hoodie pocket felt like it was burning a hole through your skin. So you pause the game. Turn to him on the couch. And say: “Ji… I’m pregnant.”

His character flies off Rainbow Road. He doesn’t even flinch.

You hold out the test. He squints at it like you’ve handed him alien technology. Then looks at you. Then back at the test. “…Wait,” he says. “Waitwaitwaitwait. WAIT. Like—pregnant pregnant?? Like—not the fake TikTok prank kind? Not the 'ha-ha, gotcha,’ kind???”

“Pregnant pregnant,” you say gently. “No ha-ha.”

Silence.

Then: Han Jisung.exe has stopped working. He sits completely still. Eyes wide. Hands frozen in place.

You can see the thoughts ping-ponging through his brain at lightning speed. Baby? Dad? Bottles? Diapers? Are we ready? Oh my god—tiny socks—oh my god—do babies even like me—Then—

“I NEED TO CALL MY MOM.”

You grab his arm. “Ji—”

“No no no wait, I need to call your mom too. I need to call the hospital. Do we need to buy a crib? I need a book. I need—”

“Ji—breathe.”

He finally looks at you. Really looks. And you watch the panic melt into something quieter. More real. “You’re serious?” he whispers.

You nod. “Yeah. I took three tests. All the same.”

He just… folds. Lets out the softest, shakiest breath. “I’m gonna be a dad,” he says, almost reverently. “I’m gonna have a little person who’s half you. Who might have your nose. Or your laugh. Or your attitude—God help me—”

You snort, already teary-eyed. “We’re doomed.”

But then he’s holding you. Pulling you close. Rocking gently on the couch with his face buried in your neck. “I’m so happy,” he mumbles. “So fucking happy. I just—I don’t know if I’ll be good at it, but I’m gonna try so hard. Like, Olympic-level try. Like, gold medal in dad-ing.”

You smile into his hair. “You’ll be the best,” you whisper. “Because it’s you.”

And while the softness surrounds both of you, his poor Mario Kart character is still falling off Rainbow Road.

Lee Felix

He’s lying in bed next to you, all warm freckles and sleepy smiles, arms slung lazily over your waist while some random YouTube video plays in the background.

You’ve been quiet for the last ten minutes. Too quiet.

He shifts. “You okay, angel?”

You glance down at the white stick hidden in the blanket fold between you. Your fingers tremble. Then you blurt it out. “Lix. I think I’m pregnant.”

He blinks. Then blinks again.

“Like… right now?”

You nod.

“Right now now?”

You nod again and hold out the test.

He stares.

“…That’s the kind with the lines, right? Like the ones in movies?”

You laugh. It sounds watery.

“Two lines means yes,” you whisper. “It means we’re—”

Before you can finish the sentence, he’s already sitting up. Fully. Completely. Alert like someone just hit a giant red “you’re about to be a father” button in his brain. “There’s a baby… in there?” He looks down at your belly with eyes so wide they practically sparkle. “Right now? Like—ours?”

You nod again, tearful now.

And he immediately buries his face against your stomach and starts whispering in that low, raspy voice of his. “Hi, little bean. It’s Appa. Or Daddy. We haven’t figured that out yet. But I love you. So much. I haven’t even seen you, and I love you more than anything.”

You start crying for real then. Because of course you do.

Felix pulls himself up to kiss you—everywhere. Forehead, cheeks, lips, nose. All of it soft and gentle, like you’re made of something sacred now. “You’re amazing,” he murmurs. “You’re magic. You’re literally building a person, babe. Like, with your body. That’s the most powerful thing I’ve ever seen.”

You laugh, wiping at your eyes. “What if I get weird cravings turn into a hormonal mess?”

“I will feed you whatever you want,” he promises. “Even if it’s pickles dipped in chocolate and shame. I will oil your belly every night. I will write bedtime songs for the baby starting tonight.”

And then, softer, reverent: “I’ve never wanted anything more.”

You melt into him, into this freckled sunshine that keeps holding your belly like something sacred. And at the same time, all you can think about is that this baby will grow up wrapped in sunshine.

Kim Seungmin

You find him in the kitchen making coffee.

He’s in his weekend hoodie, hair messy, muttering under his breath about how someone (you) finished the oat milk and put the empty carton back in the fridge. Classic Seungmin domesticity.

You hesitate in the doorway. Then: “Hey. I need to tell you something.”

He turns, brow raised. “If it’s about the milk—”

You pull the test out of your pocket and hold it up.

He goes quiet. Completely still. “…What’s that?”

You bite your lip. “It’s… a pregnancy test. It’s positive.”

Seungmin blinks. Twice. His eyes flick from your face to the stick and back again. Then: “Okay,” he says.

Just that. No gasp. No dropped mug. No dramatic reaction.

You stare at him. “Okay?”

He crosses the room. Slowly. Carefully and takes the test from your hand, studies it in total silence. You expect a thousand things. A lecture. A long pause. Maybe even dry sarcasm to ease the tension.

But what you don’t expect… Is the way his voice breaks.

“Is this real?” he asks, barely above a whisper.

You nod, tearfully. “Yeah. It’s real.”

He just stands there, the weight of it sinking in. Then he looks up at you with glassy eyes, and your heart cracks wide open. “I didn’t know I could love anything more than I love you,” he says, voice shaking. “But I think I already do.” That’s when he pulls you into him. Not tight—careful. Like you’re suddenly made of something priceless. One hand ghosts over your stomach. The other wraps around your back.

“I’m gonna be so annoying,” he murmurs into your hair. “I’m gonna track every symptom. I’m gonna argue with every doctor. I’m gonna ask a thousand questions until I know exactly how to keep you safe.”

You laugh through your tears. “That sounds about right.”

“I’m not even sorry,” he mutters. “You’re mine. So is the baby. I don’t take chances with the things I love.”

And then he says it. For the first time, out loud. With a quiet breath of wonder: “We’re going to be parents.”

Yang Jeongin

You don’t even mean to tell him today.

You were going to wait. Let it sink in first. Get a doctor’s confirmation. Maybe wrap a tiny baby onesie in a box and watch him open it on camera so you could save the reaction forever.

But he comes home early.

And finds you on the bathroom floor, holding the test in your hand, eyes puffy like you’ve already cried yourself through six different emotional stages.

“Babe?”

You jump. Try to shove the test behind your back like a kid caught stealing cookies.

Too late.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, stepping in, voice instantly soft. Concerned. “Are you sick? Did something happen—?”

You don’t answer. Just… hand him the stick with shaking fingers. He takes it. Looks at it. And then freezes. Like actually freezes. Like, cartoon buffering wheel spinning behind his eyes.

“…This is… is this what I think it is?” he asks.

You nod.

He blinks. “…Are you—?”

You nod again. “Yeah.”

Silence.

“…Like, really really?”

You sniffle. “Yeah, Innie. Really really.”

There’s a pause. A long one.

Then—

He sits down on the floor beside you. Cross-legged. Like you’re on a picnic instead of in a panic.

And he lets out a breath that sounds like everything.

“Okay,” he says. “Okay. I have no idea what I’m doing. Like, actually zero. I’ve never held a baby. I don’t know how to burp them. I’ve never even changed a diaper. I’m scared out of my mind.”

You nod, already crying again.

“But,” he continues, looking at you now—eyes wide and watery and so full of love—“I want this. I want to learn. I want to do it with you. I want to hold their hand the first time they walk. And cry like a loser when they call me Appa. And panic over every little fever and then call my hyungs crying in the group chat. I want to do it all—with you.”

He cups your face in both hands, gentle and grounding.

“You’re gonna be such a good mom,” he says. “And I’m gonna be annoying and awkward and scared but I’m gonna love you both so much you’ll get sick of me.”

You laugh, hiccuping. “Never.”

“I’ll try anyway.”

Then he kisses you. Sweet, gentle, shaky. His hands tremble a little against your cheeks. When you finally pull apart, he grins, eyes still wet.

“Guess I'm not the maknae anymore,” he says softly, resting his hand on your stomach. “Someone’s coming for my crown.”

[everlastingserenitys]

snowfall.

summ. winter break was approaching which meant having two of your polar opposite best friends help you warm u– i mean help with your project of course!

pairing. zayne x f!reader x caleb cw. nerd!zayne, jock!caleb (more like failing student), college au, threesome, p in v, oral, est. friend group, teasing, calebs a freak, reassurance, slightly sick reader, fingering, dirty talk, lil bit of fluff, wearing glasses while 👀, 2.7k wc (cries) a/n. IMHORNYIMHORN-

“It’s freezing. I can't believe they assigned a group project in this weather!” Caleb shivered, glancing at the pair next to him who were perfectly fine.

“Seriously guys? Are you not cold? Like at all?"

Zayne sighed and pushed up his glasses on the bridge of his nose, slightly shaking his head as he eyed down Caleb’s outfit. “If you weren't wearing shorts and a light jacket you wouldn’t be cold.”

Caleb only rolled his eyes in response and lingered his gaze on you. You were wearing a comfortable winter jacket and a fluffy winter hat resting on your head. The strings dangling against your face at every step you took.

“Pips, look over there.” Caleb pointed at a random direction and when you turned your head, the hat that was once on your head was gone.

You stare at Caleb in disbelief and try to reach for your hat but he kept pulling away and soon placed the hat on his head.

“Seriously?” you groaned and tried grabbing onto it but Caleb already ran meters away from you. A stupid smirk was plastered on his lips as he mockingly waved at you, yelling something you couldn't hear from the gusts of snow flickering against your skin.

“Don’t worry about him, we’re almost at his dorm. I’ll make you something nice to warm up.” Zayne offered. You smile and nod at him before ducking your head down as the three of you continue your walk in the crazy snow.

And before you knew it, the three of you were already at Caleb’s fancy dorm. His room was surprisingly clean, spacious, and warm. The second you walk in and feel the heat surge through your body, you immediately head to the couch and plop on the soft mattress.

“Here's ya hat back.” Caleb threw your hat right at your face and you grumbled something incoherent under your breath before sitting up and noticing the two men making something in the kitchen.

“Coffee or hot chocolate?” Zayne asked, dangling the two packs of powder in front of him. You ponder for a moment and eventually choose hot chocolate. Zayne nodded and started making your drink.

“Damn…Want some marshmallows with that too?” Caleb asked, lightly banging closed the cabinet that he had opened, pulling out an ingredient that was most definitely not marshmallows.

“No it's okay..” you mutter, turning your body away from the angry tension between the two of you and reaching into your bag for the papers for the project. You slam the papers on the coffee table and slump against the edge of the couch, patiently waiting for your little group members to come back.

A few minutes pass and Zayne comes back with yours and his drink, carefully placing it on the table before sitting diagonally from you. And without even waiting for Caleb he started grabbing the papers and his pen–which was resting in his pocket–and started writing away.

You eventually did the same, grabbing one of the papers and your pencil and started working on the project.

Caleb comes back around five minutes later and sits in the opposite direction of Zayne, rocking himself back and forth against the ground as he watches you and Zayne work away.

“Caleb, are you going to do your part?” you ask, shifting the paper closer to him. But Caleb shrugged and picked up the paper, glancing at it before putting it back down seconds later. He awkwardly scratched the back of his neck and stared at you and Zayne with a confused look.

“What do we even do?–Ow!” Caleb winced as he rubbed his arm, staring at Zayne with a mocking pout on his lips. A small thud of an eraser fell on the ground and Caleb soon picked it up and juggled it around his fingers.

“Read the instructions.” You say, pointing at the top of the paper with the end of your pen. But Caleb only grabbed the paper and leaned in closer towards you.

“Wanna read it for me? pleasee?"

You roll your eyes and grab his paper, putting the end of your pen against each word on the page.

“After. Writing. Your. Personal. Essay. Get. Wit–”

“I’m not that stupid.” he scoffed and looked at you as he waited for you to actually read the instructions properly.

And so you do. The project wasn’t hard at all. Before getting into groups you had to write a personal essay about your experience in the class or your experience with somebody in the class but Caleb hasn't even shown up for a week.

After you explained the project Caleb hummed and backed away from you, “I just have to write my personal experience first?” he asked, bringing out his laptop and placing it on the table. You nod and tell him the next steps.

“And once you're done with the essay, this is where the group stuff comes in…” you explain the rest of the project and Caleb absorbs every word spitting out your mouth as he types away on his computer.

“Experience with the class, huh?”

“Or somebody in the class.” you correct, jotting down a few more things on your paper.

“So can I write about any experience with you? Or thoughts I ha–”

Zayne cleared his throat and glanced at Caleb with a displeased and back at you with a concerned look. You shook your head at him and fanned your hands at Caleb, telling him he could do what he wanted.

“Just don't make it too weird, we have to make a presentation later, okay?”

“Mhmm…anyway ‘s a bit chilly in here dontcha think?” Caleb got up from the ground and headed over to turn the heaters on but before he could even flick the switch to the right temperature the lights flicker and shuts off momentarily.

“That wasn’t me!” he said, flicking the light switches up and down, and when the light wasn't turning on that was when you all realized…

“Power went off, must've been the snow…” Zayne pondered, glancing at the window and got up from his seat to raise the blinds up. A bright white light illuminated the room and Caleb sighed in relief.

“Since there's no heater, we will have to deal with the cold. But it should come ba–”

Before Caleb could finish his sentence an ‘achoo!’ left your lips and you sniffled your nose, staring at the two men who had a flash of concern filled in their eyes, mainly Zayne though.

“Got medicine, Caleb?” Zayne asked as he started opening every drawer near him.

“Ah, shit…I forgot to buy some more but don't worry she only sneezed once, she should be okay. right?"

You nodded and continued your work but not even another minute passed and you just kept sneezing and coughing.

“Cold? C’mere.” Caleb patted on his lap and, of course, since you were cold you immediately climbed on his lap, nuzzling your cold body against his warm skin, his arms wrapped around you as he pulled you closer, practically cuddling you on the ground.

“You’re also going to get sick.” Zayne muttered, staring at Caleb who had a light smile plastered on his lips as he rocked you back and forth.

“I don't even show up to classes so there's no difference if I do get sick…But…”

Caleb beckoned a finger at Zayne who just shook his head in response, “I'm not going to be the next person to get sick, Nope.”

“Let’s make it even, c’mon.”

Zayne rolled his eyes and stood up, walking the opposite direction from the two of you, to the bathroom. a displeased scoff was heard from Caleb and you eventually pulled yourself away from him, sitting at your seat next to him and rested your head against the edge of the couch.

“Already done?”

Zayne comes back and a relieved sigh left his lips when he noticed you weren't clinging onto Caleb like a koala, he had somehow found some medicine hiding somewhere in Caleb's bathroom and he walked towards you, holding the small liquid bottle in front of you.

You take the medicine from his hand and eye it before chugging down the liquid. Zayne patted your head and took the medicine back, heading over to the kitchen and propped the items on the counter.

“I feel a little better now,” you say, grabbing your papers and pen before writing away, “let's finish doing this before the power comes back.”

But as time passed it started to get colder, and colder in Caleb’s dorm. You shiver at every stroke your pen puts on the paper and try to press your knees closer to your chest as the only warmth you had was the soft fabric of your pants pressed against you.

“Pips you’re shivering like crazy, you sure you’re okay?”

“Do you seriously not have a blanket? Anything?” you ask through shivered teeth, but Caleb winces in response and shrugs.

“They’re kiindaa in the laundry…which isn’t working at the moment…”

You rolled your eyes at him and he chuckled in response.

“I mean, if you want…” Caleb’s voice had a hint of teasingness filled in it and you had a feeling where he was going.

When the three of you were younger Caleb made a rule where when it was freezing, freezing cold the three of you would huddle up together and hug each other until each person felt warm, nothing harmless, in fact, it was cute.

But after all of you started growing up, those little games weren't something you had time for, especially being in college and focusing on studies. But now that Caleb brought it up again you felt a wave of nostalgia rush through you and a cold laugh leaves your lips.

“Seriously? Aren’t we too old for that little rule?” You say.

Caleb laughed and Zayne only stared at him with a confused look.

“So since we’re older should we try a different way?” Caleb suggested.

And, oh.

Oh.

That’s what he meant.

“Uh…”

You glance at Zayne who was sipping on his hot chocolate as he looked away from the two of you, trying to not include himself in this conversation. But the second Caleb called out his name and offered the suggestion again, Zayne dramatically choked on his drink.

“She's sick, Caleb.”

“Come on, i have no blankets or anything to warm her up, just this once?”

---

You weren't sure how Zayne agreed either.

The second a sigh of defeat left Zayne’s lips, Caleb took it as a sign that they could actually try out that little method together.

Caleb slid his fingers along your back as he pulled you closer, pressing your plump cheeks against him. He slowly rode himself against you, fabrics of his and your pants meddling with each other as the room started to echo with whimpers and moans.

Caleb tucked a finger under your pants and slid the material off as if he was ripping a smooth piece of paper.

Caleb nodded to Zayne who was just standing in front of you, staring at your flushed face with a concerned look. His arms were crossed as he stepped closer, legs coming mere inches to your face.

“What if she gets even more sick, hm?” Zayne asked, resting his fingers on his belt as he started to unbuckle it.

“You’re concerned if she’s sick,” Caleb’s chest pressed against your back and a low whimper escaped your lips. Before you could turn around to look at Caleb, he already had his fingers sunk deep in you.

“But you’re undressing yourself?”

Zayne ignored his teasing remark and slid his fingers through your hair, yanking your head up and pressing your face against his soaked boxers. Your tongue darts to the wet fabric and you slick along the imprint of his boner before sucking on it.

“J-just.. wan’ her to be…ngh” Zayne pressed himself closer against you as he soon brought his other hand and sunk his fingers under his boxers, slowly sliding them down, letting his cock spring out.

“Warm. That's what you wanted–too Caleb?”

Caleb only grinned in response and curled his fingers, pressing against your weak spots. A loud moan escapes your lips and you clasp onto Zayne’s thigh. You soon felt those fingers slip out of you and another sticky thing pressed against your soaking entrance.

“This should get her, right?”

Without knowing what the two men were about to do, Caleb raised your hips at an angle and Zayne brushed your bottom lip, slightly parting them together before bobbing his leaking tip against your lips.

And before you could even process what was going on both of them thrusted into you at the same time.

Your eyes widened in shock when you felt Zayne’s length slice open your mouth by the second, he slowly pushed himself in and out of you, not letting you take his full length, not yet. Your eyes roll back at the ecstasy and you swirl your tongue around his veiny, hard length.

He held onto your hair with ease and slowly pushed your head back and forth, back and forthhh.

Broken, muffled moans left your lips at every thrust he was giving you. Your bottom half started to feel numb, your legs shaking in pleasure when you felt Caleb slide his cold fingers along your waist before clasping onto you like it was the last thing he needed in life.

He was practically pounding you, his hard tip hit every right spot and you felt your head bob back and forth at the impact of his brutal thrusts. Caleb moaned in pleasure as his pace started to quicken inside you.

“Y-you feel so w-warm and oh, so good…” he gulped, sliding his fingers down your bare, flushed, plump cheeks, giving them a squeeze. Your body jolts in pleasure and you grip on the floorboard, nails digging deep into the glossed wood that was breaking apart by the second.

Caleb pressed down your lower back, making your back arch, giving him more space to see the mess pooling down your roughed up pussy. You didn't even notice he had already came inside you and you couldn't even warn him about it because Zayne was still trapped inside your mouth.

You look up at Zayne with teary eyes, a quiet gasp escapes his lips as he starts pushing himself deeper and deeper inside you, glasses slowly sliding down his nose and—oh.

The metal frame fell right on your nose, the glass and heavy object left a sting flaring on your nose, you coughed up a moan as you picked up the wilted glasses on the ground trying to raise your arm up to give the glasses back.

But what does Zayne do? He shook his head and made you put on the glasses, and oh fuck.

You glance up at him, unable to recognize his face because of the prescription but also because of your teary eyes unable to disappear no matter how much you wipe them. As Zayne was getting close to release you felt his grip on the sides of your face grow tighter and tighter.

His fingertips dug on your neck and he soon pulled your head away, slick of his pre trailed along your lips and Zayne wrapped his fingers around his cock, slowly pumping his fist as he stared at your flushed, dumbfounded face.

“za-ngh”

Caleb thrusts himself into you one more time, your lower stomach felt like you were getting filled up by him at every thrust he gave you. His same large presence shadowed over you again and his fingers found their way to your clit, pinching and pulling on it.

The feeling of white, spurts of cum sprawled all over your face and dripped down your legs, your vision through the glasses gets clouded at every breath you took.

When Caleb slid out of your bruised, sensitive cunt you plopped on your knees, panting as if you were getting chased by murderers.

But one thing neither of you noticed during the time you had together was that the power was back on.

“Feeling warmed up, pips?” Caleb laughed ruffling your hair before helping you get up.

“Let’s get cleaned.” Zayne offered, also helping you up.

---

After you got cleaned and put into some comfortable clothing, all three of you sat at your table and started on work again.

“I finally know what I'm going to write about!” Caleb cheered and brought his laptop to his lap, already starting to type away.

“Please don’t.” you and Zayne say in unison.

“Don’t worry i won–” before Caleb could finish his sentence a loud sneeze echoed through the room.

Fuck.

a/n. this one was a lil random sorry if its not great lol... but need them SOOO bad.

[shellshocklove]

moanin' & groanin' | logan howlett

pairing/AU: lumberjack!logan howlett/wolverine x inexperienced!female!reader

summery: working for your father's timber business isn't what you saw yourself doing, but when the wolverine comes looking for work it's suddenly not so bad – especially when he can teach you a thing or two.

warnings: this is an 18+ fic so mdni! age gap (in the way that his mutant abilities prolongs his life), swearing, use of pet names, smut, car sex, praise, a little dacryphilia, logan's got a dirty mouth, soft dom!logan, a little size kink (basically logan has a big dick), handjob, fingering, a little manhandling, unprotected sex (don't do it!!), no use of y/n

a/n: um hi! this is my first ever logan fic. i really hope i got him right! not beta read, and barely edited so any mistakes are my own. happy reading! <3

main masterlist / ao3

The pages crinkled under your fingertips as you turned another page. Over the top of your book you could see your father's men milling about, getting the timber ready for another outgoing truck. Day in and day out they worked like flannel-covered ants. 

He wasn't here, your father, leaving you to hold down the fort, or office to be precise, as he  ran errands. "I'll be back before lunch," he'd told you, a hand passing through the sleeve of his tan Carhartt.

The office felt bigger when he wasn't here, like his neuroticism took up twice as much space as he did himself. You looked around the room. It was small, more like a hut than anything else, raised up on cinderblocks. A tiny kitchen lined the front wall, the refrigerator had given out once this month already and something smelled like it had died in there, the white florescent light under the wall cabinets gave you a headache, and the tap drip drip dripped. The table and the mismatched chairs, your father had found at a fleamarked years ago, before you were born most likely, and they wore the wear and tear of years of use. 

Every available surface was covered in papers, and the wooden shelves on the wall dipped in the middle from the weight of the binders. When you were little you'd been afraid the wood would break in two, but they were still standing (hanging?) – maybe they'd stay like that for the rest of eternity for all you knew. Your father's office had only one desk, which made your job as occasional office manager and full-time problem solver, problematic. 

Your father would sit in his chair on one side, while you'd steal one of the mismatched chairs and occupy the other end. If you'd had your way, you wouldn't be working here. The timber business interested you just as much as your father was interested in the disco they played on the radio. "If it ain't the king of rock I don't want to hear it," he usually said and switched the channel. 

But the town was small, and no one was hiring. The summer after you'd finished high school you'd dreamt of moving to the city, but the money had been tight and your father needed you. At least the work, if your father didn't meddle, was relatively easy: answer the phone, type out the invoices and salaries, keep an eye on logistics, and make sure whatever breaks gets fixed. 

The radio hummed at a low volume, one of the singles from Tapestry, as you turned another page of your book. Leaning back in your father's office chair, you glanced at the clock over the door. He should be back by now. Just as the thought crossed your mind, the door swung open.

"Did you need something?" you asked, your book dipping down in your lap. 

Logan raised an eyebrow at you as he walked into the office on heavy steps, that damn cigar hanging out the side of his mouth. "Nice to see you too, princess," he poked jokingly, tugging at his gloves, one finger at a time, and tucking them into his leather belt. 

He sported the same outfit he usually wore; bootcut jeans, a white t-shirt under his flannel and a thicker wool-lined jacket. He must've been sweating in here with that on.

Autumn had claimed the trees and ground months ago, but this morning the frost had covered the ground and bit at the apples of your cheeks. Your breath had come out in swirling plumes when you'd locked yourself in this morning; the first glints of the sun peeking through the windows as it rose over the mountains. The first thing you'd done was crank the heater, and now as you approached midday, you'd shed your sweater long ago while the windows had fogged with condensation. 

The smallest of frowns tugged at your brows, as a heat prickled up your neck to your cheeks. Logan made you a little nervous– not in a bad way, but in a way where your thoughts would wander in his presence, conjuring up scenarios of him and yourself in… comprising positions. Okay, maybe it was in a bad way. But who could blame you when he walked around like that?

He'd arrived only a few months ago, at the tail end of the summer, looking for work. He was strong, stronger than any of the other men working for your father, and although the work was hard, it seemed like he never tired. You didn't know much about him and he kept mostly to himself, hidden away in a cabin up in the mountain, but sometimes you'd see him down at the local bar, nursing a glass of whiskey in one hand and a lit cigar in the other. More than once you'd seen him chatting up Kayla Silverfox, and more than once you'd wished it was you in her place.

"Oof," Logan groaned as he opened the fridge, grabbing his packed lunch and closing it as fast as he could. You appreciated him for that; whatever had died in there should stay in there.

"Yeah," you said, "I'm not cleaning that again, not even for a million bucks."

"Can't blame ya." 

He looked to the table for a second where the guys usually ate their lunches, before he decided to take your usual chair at your father's desk. As he sat down, you pushed the ash tray to his side of the desk, earning you a short smile in thanks as he rested his cigar. It wasn't unusual for him to talk to you on his breaks. 

So, why did you heart beat so fast in your chest?

Because it was the first time you'd been alone.

"So, where's your old man?" he asked and bit into the sandwich he'd packed in an old newspaper.

"Running errands– he should be back soon…" you trailed off.

Logan hummed non-committedly. "So, you're in here sittin' pretty readin' your book while we're out in the cold slavin' away– maybe I should become the boss' daughter."

"Well, it's not easy," you sighed, feigning confidence, "and you gotta be pretty first of all," you front teeth dug into your bottom lip as you tried to hide your nervousness.

"That's true," he grinned, "I ain't got nothin' on you, princess."

Logan held your gaze with intent, and it was like something in the air shifted. It happened sometimes with Logan, like he had this power beaming from him that sucked you in. Erratic wings fluttered in your stomach, and you had to drop your gaze.

"So, how's the book?" he asked, taking another bite of his sandwich.

"Eh," you shrugged, dog-earing the page your were on, before throwing the beat-up paperback on the table. "Too many plot twists– first they're on earth, then there's this virus spreading– so they have to move all of humanity to the moon, but then there's this species that lives under the surface of the moon who they start a war with, but one of the main characters are in love with a moonie– that's what they call them– so, now they're in love and trying to stop the war and…" you shrugged again.

Logan chewed slowly as he nodded his head. "Sounds complicated," he decided, making you let out a small laugh.

"I guess so."

A grin washed over Logan's face at your small laugh, and you felt his gaze roll over you, over your exposed skin. When he looked at you like that, like a predator drooling for a meal, you felt a small damp spot stick to your panties. You watched as his nostrils widened, his jaw clenching shut as a pulsing vein protruded from his neck.

"So, science fiction," he started, clearing his throat, "Didn't know you liked that," he continued between the last bites of his sandwich

"Some kid at the library recommended it," you shrugged, "so I thought I'd try it out. And it's not like it's that far from the truth– we've got mutants."

Logan crumbled the newspaper hard and quick, the sharp sound making you jump. "Yeah," he said, and stood to his feet, "That's true."

He grabbed his burnt out cigar, and threw the ball of newspaper in the trash. You started to wonder if you'd said something wrong, but then he said, "Your father's back," and not even a second later you could see your dad's old truck pull up outside the window.

How did he even know that? 

"Logan– wait," the words just fell out of your mouth before you could even think them through. He hovered by the door, raising a questioning eyebrow at you. 

You could be brave– Just say it! 

"Come by later would you? Before you leave for the day– I have something for you."

A gush of cold air blew in with the arrival of your father. He almost crashed right into Logan on his way out, nearly knocking him down the wooden steps. You thought you could glimpse a small nod from Logan, but he was out the door so fast you couldn't be sure. 

The rest of the day went by slowly as a growing anxiety gnawed at your neck. With your dad back you slipped out to borrow the car, driving into town to pick up some lunch at the local diner. It was routine at this point, something you did without thinking, but today your thoughts couldn't stay still. You were pulling up outside the office when you realized you'd driven the whole way with the radio off.

What was even your plan? 

You wished you were better at this. You could pretend, sure, put on a brave face to hide the nerves from surfacing, but how do you get a man like that to go for a girl like you?

You felt non the wiser when the sun had dipped below the mountains and he finally knocked on the office door. Your dad had left thirty-minutes earlier, stranding you at work with no way to get home. 

If this didn't go well, you didn't look forward to walking home.

"What 's it you wanted, princess," Logan asked, leaning against the frame of the door with one knee popped. Your eyes couldn't help but run down the length of him – his broad shoulders, the bulge hidden below his big belt buckle, and the veins of his exposed arms as he slung his jacket over his shoulder.

"Oh, um," you tried to shake your thoughts, and you rummaged the desk for the envelope. "Here," you said as you found it, stretching your hand out for him to take it.

He pushed off the door frame with a raised eyebrow, the cold air from the open door taking with it the warmth of the office. "What's this?" he questioned, taking the envelope from your hand. 

"It's your check– for this month's work," you explained.

His raised eyebrow pulled into a frown, "This is a week early," he questioned, "and I usually get these sent in the mail."

"Oh, I-I just thought I'd give it to you personally this time," you lied, fitting a shrug at the end for good measure, trying to sell how completely normal and nonchalant you were.

Logan raised a skeptic eyebrow at you, and you suddenly felt really really stupid. In your chest your heart could compete with a hummingbird's.

"Really?" he said with a smile before he dropped his chin, "Can I appreciate a little extra something in here, or…?" he trailed off, waving the envelope.

Letting out a shaky inaudible breath, you tried in your flirtiest voice, "Maybe if you give me a ride home…"

...................

The lights from the town below looked like stars scattered over the night sky, the yellow light of the roads connected them like on a string. You knew that Logan knew where you lived; the town was small, and even with the short time he'd spent here, it wasn't hard to get familiar. He'd stopped at the lookout point, about half-way up the mountain road. It was nice in the daytime, with a nice view of the town, the mountain and rivers, but at night it attracted a different kind of crowd: lovers. It was cheesy, and cliché, but clichés were clichés for a reason. 

The Led Zeppelin tape whirled, and the music stopped. 

Suddenly you felt nervous, fingers picking at a loose tread on your sweater. Logan leaned forward to flip the cassette, and his truck filled with a sound of organ, like you were back in church. When he leaned back he slung his arm over your seat. You watched how he spread his legs, getting comfortable, as his eyes found your face.

Under the wool, your heart picked up its beat.

In a brave move you shifted closer, the leather seat moaning under you, as a pleased smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. His big palm snaked around your shoulder, curling you closer to him until his lips caught your own. You only hesitated for a second before your hand found his neck, where your fingers tugged lightly at the hair at the nape of his neck. 

A low growl huffed against your lips, and he deepened the kiss, pressing himself roughly against you as he licked into your mouth. You couldn't help the small whimper escaping you. His touch was rough, almost impatient, but tender all at the same time, and you felt yourself fall apart.

The air stuck to your skin, clammy and sticky with arousal and now you started to get impatient. With a loud smack you broke apart, your lips raw and spent from use as you caught your breath. A rough hand cupped your cheek, the pad of his thumb skated gently over your skin as he tilted your head towards him.

"Such a pretty little thing," he mused. His eyes had gone dark, pupils huge and filled with lust; yours must've looked about the same as they rolled down his body. He shifted closer to you, pushing you closer to the door, and you got a better view of the bulge hidden behind his jeans.

Your heartbeat pounded in your ears, clogging up the sounds around you like you were underwater, pushing at your thoughts at the back of your mind. Logan moved with such ease, each touch natural and easy, like he'd done them a thousand times. Not like you, with only your short-lived high school boyfriend under your belt. 

"Hey," he shook your head gently, "Where you goin', bub?"

"I'm sorry," you whispered, a heat coating the apples of your cheeks. 

He shook his head, his face surprisingly tender for someone so rough, "Tell me, baby."

"I'm just…" you trailed of, trying to find your words, "I'm a little nervous– I haven't done this much," you said, avoiding his gaze.

"That's sweet, bub." The pad of his thumb rubbed the pet name into your skin as he leaned forward to catch your lips in a soft kiss, "But I wouldn't worry that pretty little head of yours 'bout it."

His breath was hot against your own, and an ache started to spread between your legs. The hand on your cheek travelled downwards to tug at your jacket, and you parted only for a second to rid yourself of it, but before you could lock your lips with his again he grabbed at your hands.

"I'll teach ya," he told you and guided your hands to his broad form. 

He let you touch him as he shucked off his jacket, your fingers dancing over the soft flannel. He was solid beneath your fingers, hard muscles from hard work. A patch of dark hair curled at his chest, peeking out beneath his white shirt, and you found yourself wondering where it lead.

Curling his hand around your wrist, he guided your hand lower; down over his chest where you could feel the solid form of him. His bronze belt buckle burned you like ice, but the heat of him as he pressed your hand to the hard bulge beneath the buckle burned even brighter.

"You feel that?" He looked you straight in the eyes. He pressed your hand down harder and you could feel the shape of him against your hand, hard and thick, and big. You barely managed a nod through the wave of heat coating your cheeks. 

"That's because of you, princess." His voice was low, almost like a growl, as he started to guide your hand to rub over the thick length.

"Me?" you questioned, breathless. 

"Yes, you," he chuckled, a heavy hand petting at your head. "D'you want to take it out? Stroke it f'me?"

"Please," you begged, looking at him with moony eyes through your lashes.

"So polite f'me," he mused, his hands tugging at his belt before he popped the button on his jeans. Slipping off your shoes, you crawled up into the seat, sitting back on your knees as you watched him pull at his jeans. Peeking out from under the denim, you could see a dark patch of hair.

Logan was in no rush, revealing only an inch at a time of the base of his cock, making a show of it as the tension rose. A wave of tickling arousal washed over you, and it made you brave, reaching a trembling hand forward, you helped him tug at the fabric.

At last his cock sprung free.

You felt your eyes widen at the sight, as you involuntarily squeezed your thighs together. Even with your limited experience, you knew he was bigger than most. The thick length of his cock bobbed from the weight, hanging heavy between his legs. At the tip of his fat head, a drop of precum pearled, almost invisible in the dark truck. 

"Come here, bub." He widened his legs as he reached out a strong arm for you, curling you into his shoulder. 

"Put your hand on it," he ordered, "like this," he grabbed at your wrist and guided you hand towards his mouth. You let him move you around, eyes blown out and wide as you couldn't take your eyes off his impressive cock. 

A wet blob of spit pulled you from your thoughts, it drew the slightest frown over your face until he guided your palm, now coated in his spit, to his cock.

Under your palm his skin was silky soft, but hard and firm at the same time. You found yourself mesmerized at the sight of your hand around him as you familiarized yourself with the heaviness of him in your hand. 

"There ya go–" he cut himself off with a groan as you formed a fist around the head of him. Your fingers struggled to reach around him, but it didn't seem like Logan minded much when you moved downwards smearing his spit over his shaft in an experimental tug. 

"That's it, good girl, just like that."

A warmth bloomed in your chest at the praise, wrapping itself around your heart. You wanted him to say it again– to be good for him. So, you reached forward with your other hand, wrapping it around the base as the other formed a fist around the head. Another pearl of precum beaded at the tip, and you took the opportunity to skate your thumb over it, massaging it into his spit.

A growl seemed to get caught in Logan's throat, and still riding off your high that the praise had sown in you, you started to pump his cock in slow strokes. A slick sound escaped under your fists with each stroke, and you watched how his head fell back in pleasure.

"Am-am I doing it right?" you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

At the sound of your voice, Logan sat up straighter, a heavy hand falling over your back to pull you closer. "You're a natural, princess."  

You couldn't contain the smile from coating your lips as he brought you in for another searing kiss. It was hot, and suffocating, and all-consuming, all at the same time. It clouded your mind, and you forgot what your hands were supposed to be doing. 

Logan's hand travelled down your body, his big palm grabbing at your ass. "Take of your pants," he ordered against your lips, "Panties too," underlining his order with a couple of light slaps to the flesh.

Shuffling out of his hold, you fingered at the button of your pants, pulling at them and your panties as quickly as you could. Goosebumps prickled over your exposed skin, the air suddenly frosty without Logan's touch – but that didn't last long.

The calloused pads of his fingers trailed up your thighs, pressing down into the flesh as he pulled you closer to him. "Come sit in my lap, princess."

He didn't wait for you to move, instead he manhandled you how he wanted. Spreading his legs wide apart he fit you between his legs, your back pressed against his hot chest with his hard and leaking cock caged against your ass. 

"I'm gonna touch you now, baby, okay?" his deep voice whispered in your ear.

"Okay," you peeped, heart pounding in your ears at this new proximity. 

He spread your legs, putting your wet and neglected cunt on display, hooking them over his knees. When his palms danced over your inner thighs, you felt yourself sink deeper into his chest, deeper into the safe scent of pine and man. 

"Need to get you ready f'me, bub– stretch this tight cunt out for my big cock," he cooed.

You ached for him, a sticky wet feeling between your legs as you wished so badly for him to finally touch you. His touch was light, but teasing, drawing circles along the thin flesh, circling closer and closer to where you needed his touch the most, before he pulled away. 

"Please," you whined, grabbing at his arm.

His breath felt hot against your neck, and you could feel the grin he pressed against your skin. He let you guide him upwards to hover his large palm over your mound, but he wouldn't let you have it. Instead, he pushed at your sweater. His hand spread across the skin beneath your belly button as prickled goosebumps followed the rough pads as they ran across your skin.

"Y'gonna feel me right here, bub?" he teased, "So deep inside your tummy?"

A whine caught in your throat and you felt like an exposed nerve. Arousal pulsated throughout your body, threatening to pull you apart unless he did something soon. Your neglected cunt dripped with an ache only he could sooth. 

"Yes, please, Logan," you whined, tears threatening to spill.

His thick beard scraped against your cheek, and you almost trembled from anticipation as he slid his hands downwards. He raked his fingers through the curls of your mound, and a gasp fell from your lips when he finally pushed at your clit.

A wide smile reached across your face when he started to circle his fingers, tight with the perfect amount of pressure. Your hips bucked to meet his touch, your cunt eager and dripping for more of him. His other arm clasped around your middle, keeping your still and steady in his lap as he had his way with you.

A bold finger dipped lower, running through your folds and teasing at you entrance. A slick sound filled the car as he played with your cunt, circling his fingers around your hole, dipping a teasing finger inside you just to the first knuckle, before withdrawing it just as quickly. 

"Such a messy pussy," Logan murmured in your ear, the deep bass of his voice vibrating into your skin. "Listen."

The sound as he played with your pussy was obscene, lewd, and so dirty you felt a heat crawl up your chest. A breathy gasp escaped you when he finally split you on his finger, and a satisfied smile coated your lips as he started to move it inside in a steady rhythm, prodding every so often at that spongy spot inside, the spot your own finger couldn't reach.

"F-feels s-so good," you managed to stutter out. 

The heel of his palm pressed against your clit with every thrust, teasing at your insides and conjuring moan after breathy moan from your lips. He guided you closer and closer to the edge, and you wanted so badly to fall. When he pulled out to slide another finger inside you, you felt a tear roll down your cheek with satisfaction.

"I can feel that pussy clenching me– you close, bub?" he poked, never stopping his fingers.

Your head rolled back, resting heavy on his shoulder as you nodded franticly, mouth parted slightly, humming out small breathy whines. You were so close, the tension in your stomach twisting and aching for release.

But then he pulled his fingers, dragging them up over your mound leaving a wet trail in your curls. You couldn't help the disappointed sigh as more tears pressed their way down your cheeks.

"Shh," he hushed you, "you're okay, bub." 

Under you, you felt him move, his strong muscles flexing as he shifted you on his lap. When you felt the blunt head of his cock slide between your folds, an eagerness came upon you. You grinded against him, making a small chuckle rumble from his chest. Logan slapped his heavy cock against your folds, coating his big cock in your slick arousal. 

The first stretch of him knocked the breath right out of you, the fat tip of him splitting you in half as he helped you guide yourself down on him. You had to remember to breathe, your hand fumbling for something to hold on to. 

"Fuck," you whimpered, eyes wide, "I-it's so big– it's t-too big."

His hand wrapped around your middle held you in place, keeping you still on his cock as you adjusted to the first inches of him inside you. 

"It's not too big, princess, you're doing so well f'me," he praised, "just a little more, bub– you can do it."

With a wet whimper you lowered yourself, taking a couple more inches of him, as Logan pressed more fluttering praise into your skin. He let you take your time, easing yourself down on him at your own pace. When your thighs were finally flushed with his, he was so deep inside you, you jolted, trying to move back up, but Logan's hands held you down. You felt him in your tummy, like he'd said, his cock reaching so deep you were shaking.

"Sit still, get used to it," he told you, as you tried to catch your breath, "You're being so good f'me."

And somehow the burning stretch of him soothed away into a pleasurable pressure, one you couldn't help but chase. With an experimental rock of your hips, you felt the fat head of him prod at your spot, making you mewl. And when you started to swivel your hips, Logan groaned in satisfaction, meeting your movement with small thrusts.

Slowly, he picked up his rhythm, strong hands shifted to dig into your hips, holding you in place for him to move you as he wished. In your ear, you heard him growl, deep and animalistic as he fucked up into you.

It didn't take long until your breath came out fast between moans as the pressure built, and built, and built. 

"Logan," you moaned, tethering right on the edge.

Another growl escaped his chest, as his strong arms hooked under your legs. He pressed them tightly to your body as he picked up his pace, bucking wildly into your eager cunt. You could feel him throb inside of you, and you couldn't help but clench at the thought of feeling him spill inside you, claiming you.

"Don't stop, please, don't stop," you begged, tears streaming down your face like two winding rivers, "I-I'm gonna come."

A hand slid between your legs to rub at your puffy clit, coaxing you closer and closer with winding circles. 

"Come on my cock, baby, come all over that big cock."

It was hot, and blinding. Euphoric shocks pulsed through your body, as you fluttered and gushed around his cock. Logan's grip on your legs tightened as you shook violently with your orgasm – a million stars exploded behind your eyes.

"Oh, that's it, bub, such a good girl," he praised between heavy wet pants against your ear.    

Fucking you through your ecstasy, Logan chased his own high at a relentless pace, and all you could do was take it, reduced to a ragdoll in his hands. In your ear he muttered nonsense interlaced with praise, telling you how good you felt, and how perfect you were for him.

With a deep groan he pulled out quickly, tugging at himself until he spilled his thick spend on the truck floor. With bleary eyes you watched how it pumped in quick spurts, dripping down his hand and soiled the knuckles in his own sticky cum. 

Behind you, Logan breathed hard, nudging his nose against the column of your neck to press soft kisses to the hot skin. 

A pair of bright headlights beamed down the road, pulling you from the moment with its blinding light. Logan helped you shift off his lap, reaching to hand you your discarded clothes before he tucked himself back into his jeans. 

The cassette whirled in the car radio, and you couldn't remember when the music had stopped. Logan shifted back behind the wheel and an eerie silence grew in the distance between you.

"How 'bout I take you somewhere to eat?" he posed.

You smiled, "I could eat."

...................

hopefully this was okay? a comment telling me your favorite part is always welcome, and my ask box is always open to chat <3 and thank you for reading!!

© shellshocklove, 2024 i do not give any permission to repost, translate, feed to AI or redistribute any of my writing, with or without credit!

[heartmix]

Private Screening - MV1

Pairing: Max Verstappen x fem!reader

Word Count: 1.4k+

Warning: Max being oblivious, mention of sad reader

Summary: You really wanted to go to the private screening of the F1 movie, but Max doesn't want to

A/N: messy and all over the place

F1 Masterlist / Masterlist

To say you loved movies was an understatement. At any free moment, there was bound to be a movie on. Which is why when they announced they were making a movie about F1 with the same director as Top Gun: Maverick, you were beyond excited. 

The chance to watch them film during the season and also meet the actors made you giddy. Your excitement was more than all the drivers combined, which was hardly any, considering they honestly couldn't have cared less about it. 

Max was one of those who wanted to stay away from the movie. If he had the chance to decline partaking in it, he would have dropped it in a heartbeat. Unfortunately for him, his job forced him, and even more so, you would not stop talking about it every time a promo dropped. 

"Do you think you guys will be invited to the premiere or a private screening?" You asked Max one day while watching yet another trailer drop. 

"If we do, I probably won't go," Max said, not even batting an eye. It was off-handed and you knew you shouldn't have made it a big deal, but deep inside, you were a little hurt. 

The next week, it seemed like everyone was talking about the private screening of the movie for everyone who worked in F1, even down to the engineers. Knowing Max would decline meant you wouldn't be able to go; you were sulking whenever the topic was brought up. 

"What's with the sad face?" Charles asked, seeing your face drop as he and Alexandra were talking about what they were wearing to the premiere next week. 

"You're coming right?" Alex inquired, seemingly knowing what was going on, but she wanted you to be the one to say it. 

"I wish. Max doesn't want to go, and Red Bull is giving him an out." The fact that your eyes didn't meet theirs, instead focusing on the drink in front of you, was a sign that it bothered you a lot. 

"Does he know how excited you are for it? I swear it's all you've been talking about last season." 

"He knows, but I don't think he declined the invite to hurt me. He saw an opportunity to get out of going and took it. I know I shouldn't be sad about it, but I'll get over it." 

"Come with us," Charles mentioned. 

"What?" Your eyes snapped up to his in disbelief, thinking he was playing around. Instead, you found a genuine smile. 

"Oh yes! You can hang out with me! It'll be so fun!" Alex exclaimed with a big smile plastered on her face. 

"Are you guys sure? I don't want to overstep." 

"Trust me. It'll be fine." Charles waved off your concern, not showing a hint of worry. 

Leading up to the premiere, you were super happy. No more the gloomy state you were in. Max noticed it, of course, he noticed mostly everything about you. He was curious about the sudden mood change, but didn't chalk it up to anything. Maybe it was just one of those weeks. If it were anything important, he would be the first one you told. 

He didn't ask about it until the night before the premiere. He was lounging on the bed with the cats while you were in the walk-in closet trying to find something to wear. Not like you were going to be photographed, but there might be a picture or two that would be circulated. This was a big deal to you, and you wanted to look as good as you were going to feel. 

"Schatje, are you almost done? I want to relax and I can't do that without you right here in my arms." He yelled out, borderline whining that you weren't in bed with him. 

"Yeah, just give me a few minutes." 

"The race isn't for a few more days, you don't need to look for an outfit right now. Plus, in case you didn't know, it's in the city we live in. No need to rush." He tried again, but to no avail, you didn't come to bed. 

"Not for the race bubs. It's for tomorrow." 

"Going out with the girls?" He wondered, thinking he had forgotten that you mentioned it to him. 

"Yeah, you can say that. Alex and Charles invited me to the F1 movie screening." Hearing that, he got off the bed and made his way to the closest, confused. Did he hear you right? 

"The what?" 

"Remember the private screening for the drivers and crew. Well, since you weren't going, Charles invited me." You shrugged, not making a big deal. It wasn't a big deal anymore, now that you were going. 

"Why didn't you tell me you wanted to go?" 

"Because you said you weren't going to go before I even had the chance. Even so, you know I've been excited for it, of course, I would want to go." You sighed, looking at him standing in the doorway. It was foolish to think he wouldn't find out, but you didn't know he would make something out of it. 

"I'm sorry, you get excited for practically every movie. I wasn't thinking." He frowned, pulling you into his arms. You knew he felt bad, but there was nothing to hold against him. 

"Don't stress it. I know you don't like media stuff, and you aren't that interested in the movie." 

"Let me take you tomorrow." At this, you chuckled at his sudden urge to wanting to go. He was doing this because he felt bad. You didn't want to force him to go if he really didn't want to, and you know he didn't. 

"Don't be silly. How often do they let you decline something work-related? Plus, I'm going with Charles and Alex." 

"I know you're excited for it, and that's all I need. I'm taking you." The comment came out more as a statement. It was final. He was going to take you no matter how hard you tried to convince him. 

"It's the night before, what are you going to tell the team?" 

"Im Max Verstappen, 4 time world champion. What are they going to do? Decline me?" He had that famous Max Verstappen smugness in his tone. One that would eat everyone up. 

"And your fans say you're humble." You rolled your eyes, and he couldn't help but chuckle. 

Like it was planned all along, you and Max were making your way up the steps of the theater. Cameras flashed from all around you, but you didn't care about any of that. The only thing you cared about was watching the movie. 

"Max! Looks like you made it!" You looked up to the Red Bull social media, Jessica already with a phone fired up in her hand. 

"I did." He said with a slight smile, his way of telling her it was okay to film. 

"Are you excited to see the movie?" She said, holding up the camera to get it all on record.

"My girls' excited about it, so that means I am too." At this comment, you could feel the heat rise to your face, and you tried to look anywhere but the camera. You felt Max's eyes peering down at you, and from he corner of your eyes, you saw Jessica smirking while filming you. Whether it was the bluntness of Max or the numbers it will do on social media, she loved the comment either way. 

"We are glad to have you both." She smiled before ending the video and putting her phone down, thanking you both for the content. 

"Well, well, well, look who decided to show up." Charles' voice came in right from behind you guys with Alex on his arm. 

"Did she tell you about the situation?" Max groaned, not liking Charles' smug look. 

"I knew, I just got the confession out of her." Alex shrugged like it was nothing. 

"Well, all that matters is I'm going to have the chance to see the movie a whole month early. Speaking of you guys should hurry up and do press so we can get to the actual movie." You pushed the two drivers away in the direction of where the rest of them were. 

"You practically begged me to come, now you're getting rid of me?" Max couldn't help but tease. 

With a raised eyebrow, you looked at him in disbelief, "If I remember correctly, you begged me to let you take me." 

"Same thing." 

"Will you just go? I'll meet you inside." Rolling your eyes yet again, this pulled a laugh out of him.  

"Save me a seat?" 

"Least I could do." You smiled before he pulled you in for a kiss. 

[rafesangelita]

♡ dbf!rafe and swan!reader’s first time..

warnings: heavy petting, praise, body worship, mentions of insecurities and being overlooked, tit sucking, major size difference, reassurance + comfort, belly bulge, crying squirting, creampie

a/n: read more about dbf!rafe and swan!reader here <3 this fic takes place right after the last paragraph in the au!! also— sooo sorry for writing this in large paragraphs, run-on sentences have me in a chokehold at the moment..

wc: 1.5k

“you don’t care about getting in trouble?” rafe whispered against your lips, your arms wrapped tightly around his neck as you pressed kisses along his jaw. you moaned when you felt his hands grope the globes of your ass, your eyes fluttering closed as his cologne filled your senses. this was wrong on sooo many levels, and while both of you knew it, neither of you could bring yourselves to stop. “i won’t tell if you don’t..” rafe groaned, his palms running over your thighs as he laid you down on his pristine sheets. leaning down, you shuddered as rafe ran the tip of his nose down the valley of your breasts, his lips ghosting over your flesh until he reached the waistband of your leggings.

hooking his fingers into the soft material, you looked away as rafe slowly pulled down the pink spandex, your cheeks growing hot as he admired the sight before him. here you were, left in nothing but a matching lace set, the dim lighting of his room reflecting off of your skin as your hair splayed out beautifully around your face. glancing at the pearl studs peeking out from your earlobes, rafe took in every single detail he could catch. from the delicate curve of your lips, to the way your lashes fluttered up at him the more you grew shy at being underneath his intense gaze. you had never been paid this close attention to, your eyes glossing over as you saw nothing but adoration take over rafe’s features.

touching you as if you were made of glass, goosebumps spread across your skin as he caressed you ever so gently. he marveled at the sight of your tits threatening to spill out of the white lace of your bra, his knuckles skimming your cheek while he stroked your face. “the fact that you could call yourself anything but perfect is beyond my comprehension right now,” rafe whispered in disbelief, “you don’t even look real.” you blinked, his words making something stir in your chest. “i’m not perfect to anyone, rafe. not even myself.” he couldn’t believe he was hearing those words come out of your mouth right now. “you are to me,” rafe shushed you, “i’ve seen you at your lowest points, that has to count for something.”

he was right. he has seen you gasp for air and hyperventilate when you made a mistake on stage so subtle no one even noticed the little mishap. he has seen you with mascara running down your cheeks, your makeup smudged and ruined from all the crying. he has heard you scream in agony when you’ve nearly worked yourself to death, and despite all of that he was still here, looking at you as if you’re the only reason he had to believe that something pure and true can still exist. reaching up for his face, you brought him back down so you could kiss him, your legs wrapping around his waist as you took him between your thighs. he kissed you unlike anyone has ever kissed you before— slow and bruising.

cupping you through your bra, you gasped softly as your hands started working to unbutton his shirt, the tight fitted tee he was wearing underneath making you pull away momentarily to appreciate his biceps in all their toned glory. god, he looked amazing for his age. snaking a hand underneath your back, rafe prompted you to sit up a little bit before he unclasped your bra, discarding it to the side as he wasted no time in taking one of your tits in his mouth. arching into him, you cradled his head as he circled your sensitive bud with his tongue. sliding your panties down your legs next, your thighs closed upon seeing the way he admired your bare cunt, a small shred of insecurity overpowering you in this moment.

“you don’t ever have to hide yourself from me.” rafe reassured you, your stomach flipping as he began sliding off his belt. “you’re absolutely breathtaking like this.” you watched as he stripped himself of any remaining clothing, your eyes traveling down the expanse of his torso until they settled on his length. to say you were intimidated by the sheer size of him would be an understatement, the tip alone looked like it would have you wincing in pain. rafe lifted the back of your thighs and pinned your knees to your chest as his cock rested hot and heavy between your slick folds. “i’m gonna take care of you, sweetheart, don’t worry..” surrendering to the man above you, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

drawing his hips back, rafe made sure his length nudged your clit with each stroke, the sensation making you jolt. it wasn’t until the head of his cock prodded your entrance that you panicked, your walls stretching around the intrusion as a mixture of both pleasure and pain made you cry out. “it hurts!” you moaned, your chest rising and falling as rafe slowly but surely continued sliding into you. rafe watched your face as he stuffed you full, your eyebrows pinching together as tears welled up in your eyes. “you’ll feel better soon, i promise..” rafe’s voice filled your ears but everything sounded muffled with the way he had a bulge poking up from your tummy.

as much as rafe knew he probably should’ve ‘prepped’ you, and engaged in foreplay, he was desperate to feel you wrapped around him, the months of tension between you two finally coming down to this very moment. “are you okay?” he asked, thumbing your bottom lip to watch it bounce back in place. “yes, i just need a second.” you breathed out, looking down at where you two were connected. he might as well have been splitting you open with his cock, the base of his length making you delirious as he bottomed out completely. leaning down, you felt a lot better once you felt rafe’s body weight on your own, your chin tucked in the curve of his neck as he pulled out and thrusted back in slowly.

you squealed upon feeling him hit your cervix, your arms wrapping tightly around his shoulders as his stomach slapped against your clit. you were so full of cock, you couldn’t think straight, your thoughts melting away into a puddle of nothing as he slammed in and out of your tight hole. in all of his years of living, rafe had never felt anything this good before, his jaw falling slack as he groaned and grunted in your ear. “oh, fuckkk—” rafe gritted out in pure astonishment, “you’re killing me here.” tugging at the hair on the nape of his neck, you felt your eyes roll to the back of your head as he continuously hit that sweet spot inside of you, the force of his thrusts knocking you further up his bed.

clinging onto him like your life depended on it, you felt an unfamiliar pressure beginning to build in your core, your whimpers growing hysterical as the band in your stomach threatened to snap at any moment, your orgasm just within arm’s reach as rafe wrapped his fingers around your throat. as if you couldn’t be more full than you already were, rafe angled his hips and managed to plow into you even deeper, the tears in your eyes finally spilling over and running down your cheeks at the overwhelming sensation wracking through your body. “rafe!” you screamed, a broken sob ripping from your throat as you felt a stream of wetness flow out of you and soak rafe’s lower half.

grabbing your hand, rafe pressed your palm over your stomach where he glided underneath your flesh, your orgasm rendering you speechless as he spilled into you, your pussy milking him for everything he had. with you being utterly fucked out, and rafe being pussy drunk, you two moved in slow motion as he brought you down from both of your highs, your shared breaths being the only sound that you could register at the moment. waiting until the aftershocks of your orgasm subsided, both you and rafe hissed as he pulled out, his cum spilling out of you in white dribbles. cursing at the sight, rafe pressed a kiss to your temple, his eyes shutting momentarily before he sighed.

“look at me,” he lifted your chin, your eyes blinking up at his face, “this changes a lot of things, okay? i don’t know what’s gonna happen with your dad, or what he’s gonna think about this, but i’m certain about one thing; and that’s the fact that you don’t have to put up with any of his shit anymore. i’m gonna be there for you.. in any way you need me to be. how your parents could overlook someone as talented and beautiful as you? i have no idea, but you’re not overlooked anymore, i promise you that.” he whispered, his words mending something you didn’t even know was broken in the first place. “don’t worry about going back home tonight, alright? you can be here for as long as you’d like.”

[yuutryingtowrite]

Yandere!Maid x Vampire!Reader

A/N: If you wanna know more about the levels, check this post :)

Warning: Not nsfw, but suggestive. MDNI. Butler (side character) calls reader “Mistress”

Danger level: ★ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Submissive level: ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♡ ♡

Yandere!Maid who looks at the castle in front of him, then the flier in his hands, then the castle again. Unless there was a typo in the address, the job interview should be here. He hesitantly uses the bat shaped door knocker and waits...This place looks so creepy and ominous, was this a prank ? Was it to scare him? Seriously? Sigh…He has had enough of being treated like a fool. As he continues his descent into frustration, bitterness and self-pity, he doesn’t hear the door opening. Nor does he see the butler standing at the entrance until he hears a: “Sorry for the wait, my kind sir. Are you here for the housekeeper position?”.

Yandere!Maid who thinks the butler is telling him a load of bullshit. According to him, the owner of this place is a vampire in search of additional staff members. He resists the urge to scoff. Whatever, if the “mistress” wants to take part in some weird role-play, then so be it as long as he would get paid. The same guy tells him to “please take a seat” in the living room and that “mistress will come and attend to you in a moment”. Soon after his departure, the air shifts. Black particles float around until it materializes something, or rather someone. The poor boy's shock and confusion quickly turn into enchantment. Fuck, you are totally his type. This is bad, he can feel his face burning. “Shall we go to my office?”, you ask with a smile.

Yandere!Maid who hates you. Who hates the fact that your personality matches your looks. Who hates how much control you have over him. The other day, your...pet sneezed on him, so he needed another uniform. “It seems that I only have a female one left ”, you told him. “There is no way in hell I am wearing that”, he sneered. “But wouldn’t you look cute in it? Besides, it is either that or cleaning with your normal clothes on until your new uniform arrives here-” “Alright, shut up, just give me that”, he abruptly took the offending dress from your hands and went to change. Since that conversation, his work attire has fully transitioned to said maid outfit. Maybe he becomes a bit too proud of himself whenever he catches you staring at him. And maybe, just maybe he wants to give you a nice view by bending down and taking his time “to clean the table” whenever he knows you are behind him. He will never admit that though.

Yandere!Maid who, one day, demands asks you about your eating habits. As soon as you answer, something regarding animal blood, he turns oddly quiet. You are about to ask what is wrong, but then he surprises you by climbing into your lap. You watch him get comfortable and, with trembling hands, undo the first buttons of his dress. The cherry on top is him pulling on its collar a bit to show a silver of his chest. He now avoids eye contact as he waits for you to take the lead…You are still just looking at him, so, with a blush becoming darker, he snaps at you: “A-are you stupid or something ? Do you want me to spell it out-” “I am just enjoying the view”, you respond with a teasing smile. Before he can sputter more insults, you grip his chin and tilt his head to the side, exposing his neck to your hungry gaze. “But if you insist…Thank you for the meal <3”

Yandere!Maid who has his face buried deep in his pillow while he tries to calm his flustered self down. After you finished drinking from him, he hurriedly got up and scurried to his room without so much as a word. The more he recalls the embarrassing noises he made in front of you, the more mortified he becomes. It was not his fault, it just felt really good and you even pulled him closer and tugged on his hair and-He whines and squirms in his bed as he feels his body turning hot again like that time. The action causes him to feel a sharp sting on his neck. He freezes. That is right. You marked him. You marked him. You marked him.

...

Don't drink from anyone else, ok?

[formulaonecrumbs]

we miss you 😕

dad!Lando Norris x mom!reader

summary: charlie, their 5yo son, didn’t want lando to leave for race week. though, he manages to sneakily message him from your phone

warnings: possibility of getting baby fever (i did)

A/N: i have such bad baby fever it’s crazy. i’ve literally wanted a kid since i was 12 so this fic is just feeding my delusions (when r they not) anyways i hope u enjoy! love u, sweethearts ❤️

୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ

the night before he left, charlie wouldn’t let go of his leg.

lando was standing in the hallway with his suitcase, trying to zip it up while charlie clung to him like a koala, arms tight around his thigh and face squished into the side of his leg.

“mate,” lando laughed, running a hand through his hair, “i need that leg. i kinda use it for walking.”

charlie didn’t budge. he mumbled something that sounded like don’t go into the fabric of lando’s sweatpants.

you were standing nearby with your arms crossed, trying not to melt at the sight. “he’s been like this all day,” you said softly. “he even asked if we could hide your passport.”

lando looked down at the little bundle of clinginess stuck to him and sighed. “charlie,” he said gently, crouching down. “come here, buddy.”

charlie let go just enough for lando to scoop him up and hold him close. he wrapped his arms around lando’s neck immediately, sniffing into his hoodie.

“i don’t want you to leave,” he mumbled. “i missed you all the christmas time and now you’re gonna be gone again.”

lando pressed a kiss into his curls. “i know. i missed you too. but i’m only going for a few days. i’ll call every night. and guess what?”

charlie blinked at him, lip wobbling.

“i’m gonna bring you back something super cool from the paddock. like… something very secret and race-car-ish.”

charlie considered this. “like a tire?”

lando grinned. “okay, maybe not that big. but something cooler.”

they stayed like that for a while. you were the one who eventually had to say, “lando, the car’s outside.”

he hugged you tightly at the door, whispered something about texting when he landed and to kiss charlie for him if he’s asleep by the time you get back inside.

but charlie wasn’t asleep. not really. you found him sitting on your bed with your phone in his lap and the most innocent expression ever.

“baby,” you said. “what are you doing?”

“nothing,” he said way too fast, quickly locking the screen and holding the phone out to you.

suspicious. but you didn’t think much of it.

it wasn’t until later, after you were in the kitchen and finally checking your phone, that you saw it.

today at 7:41 pm

hi dady

i miss u r u in the plane yet

how meny sleeps til u come home

can u tel the car go fast so u win n come bak

do u have snak

i am waring ur hoody mummie

said its to big but i like it

i put ur hat on my bear

read at 7:45 pm ✔︎✔︎

hey buddy

i’m on the plane now

i miss you so much already

you’re wearing my hoodie??

you’re the coolest kid ever. make sure mummy takes a picture, ok?

ok but she dosnt no i took her fone

pls dont tel her

your secret’s safe with me

but maybe give it back before she finds out

ok

also can we hav pankakes when u come home

pancakes and a race car story. deal?

read at 7:56 pm ✔︎✔︎

later that night (before you’d checked your phone), when you went to tuck charlie into bed, he was already curled up in lando’s hoodie with your phone under his pillow.

you sighed, smiling, and gently took it out.

you texted lando yourself before heading to bed.

today at 10:34 pm

charlie hijacked my phone

obviously

but he misses you. a lot.

we both do.

i miss you guys more than anything

already counting the sleeps

kiss him goodnight for me ♥︎ liked by you

and save me a spot in bed for when i’m back

♥︎ liked by you

read at 10:41 pm ✔︎✔︎

you held the phone to your chest for a second before turning off the light.

three more sleeps.

THE END :>

[eufezco]

LIKE THE FIRST TIME

it has been a long time since you and logan had sex. you should show him that despite everything he hated about himself, you still craved him.

logan x afab!reader (smut, angst) + no use of y/n. english isn't my first language (!). gif credit to @/asgardswinter

it was a shitty place where you were living with logan. it was always dirty, no matter how many times you cleaned it, it was noisy, because despite being in the middle of nowhere, the train tracks were very close to it, and it was the least home-like thing in the world. both of you were working your asses off to get out of there as soon as possible.

in your free time, you helped caliban with the housework and took care of old charles xavier while logan spent the whole day out, driving and having to deal with one of the things he hated most in the world, people.

he always came home late, tired, with his whole body aching. some nights you would fall asleep while waiting for him and even though logan asked you to do it, to not to wait up for him, most times you stayed up so just to make sure he arrived safely. you waited for him curled up in bed. when he was a minute late, your heart began to beat faster and you imagined the worst. but then he would come into the room, dragging his feet and with his head bowed down.

—how was your day?

logan grunted as he sat at the foot of your bed, you felt how the mattress sagged with his weight.

—did something happen?

you crawled to him and rested your chin on his shoulder. he let out a sigh of relief when your arms wrapped around his body and you hugged him from the back.

—just a tired fuckin' day, that's all.

you hummed, understanding. —well, now you are home so you can finally relax. would you like something to eat?

logan shook his head as he let it fall back and rest on your shoulder. he just wanted to stay like that a little longer with his body between your legs and his eyes closed. he placed one of his hands over yours resting on his stomach as you hugged him. one of his big hands was enough to cover both of yours.

—i've missed you, lo. i always miss you when you are away.

you placed a kiss on his neck. the first thing he did when he entered the house was to get rid of his shirt, keeping only the white tank top he was wearing underneath. his broad shoulders were at your disposal, his muscular arms and warm skin as well.

logan swallowed when he felt your lips on his neck. you noticed so you placed another kiss there.

—i miss you too. every second i spend away from you, i miss you.

you hummed, your heart gave a small jump of joy. while your love language was words of affirmation and you were always reminding him how much he was loved by you, logan was more of an act of service man. removing makeup from your face when you got home and were too tired to do it yourself, washing your hair and massaging your head when you showered, and leaving your coffee ready when he went to work earlier than you. hearing those words come out of logan's mouth meant the whole world.

your hands traveled down his abdomen until they reached the hem of his tshirt and easily slipped under the fabric. you felt his perfect abs under your fingertips and the hairs growing below his belly button as well. he took a deep breath, it had been so long since the last time he had allowed you to touch him like that.

you took your hands out of his tshirt and moved one of them to his neck to make logan turn his head resting on your shoulder and look at you. you connected your lips with his, his bushy beard pricked your face as you kissed him, but you didn't mind, it had been so long since you and logan had kissed so passionately that you could take it.

your tongue slipped past his lips and logan moaned, allowing his to go inside your mouth as well. you moved on the bed, putting one leg on each side of logan's body and sitting on his lap, all this without stopping kissing for a second. his hands now rested on your lower back, yours were on the back of his head to deepen the kiss.

his cock got rock hard the moment you sat on his thighs and you started to roll your hips timidly against his crotch. you felt his growing bulge rubbing against your clit through the thin fabric of your underwear. god, how bad you needed to feel him.

your hands slid down from his neck, caressing his entire torso, until they reached again the hem of his tshirt. you tried to pull the white tank top over his head, but logan stopped you. his lips parted from yours and he shook his head.

—it's okay. i want you, logan. i promise everything is fine.

you held his cheeks so he would look you in the eyes.

he was getting old, there was nothing left of the young and charming boy you met at charles' academy. his body had changed, his hair and beard were becoming whiter every day, and you were still young and full of light while he was fading away. yet you still loved and desired him, like the first day you craved his body. you found him just as hot, even hotter now, but you didn't want to force him to do something he wasn't going to enjoy.

you kissed him so he could stop worrying. —let me take care of you. i want you, lo, i need to feel you —.you mumbled against his lips. he let out a grunt when he felt you pressing your pussy harder on his bulge.

your hands traveled the same path down his chest one more time until you reached the edge of his tshirt again. you expected him to take your hands off him again but he not only allowed you to keep going but he also lifted his arms so you could pull the white tank top over his head.

—fuck —. you let out in a mix of moan and gasp. his body was breathtaking. your hands were quickly attached to his chest, hairy, hard under your touch, warm, with each of its muscles perfectly defined. abs, pecs, perfect broad and muscular shoulders, and wide strong arms, with veins running from his shoulder down his arms to the back of his hands. you ran your fingers along the thick scars that marked his body. —fuck, you're so hot.

with his hands on your back, logan gently pushed you to keep rubbing yourself against him and you moaned, he was harder if possible and you were so wet that you knew that your panties would be completely soaked. you kissed the crook of his neck while his fists clenched, clutching at the tshirt of his that you were wearing as your pajamas. logan fought against his instinct, against the animalistic way you were making him feel, but his grip became so tight that he ended up ripping the fabric.

—it was one of your favorite tshirts.

—don't care.

and logan kissed your lips as he ended up tearing the fabric completely and threw it on the floor. you grabbed the back of his head when his lips moved down your neck and collarbone. your nipples were already painfully hard when logan cupped one of your tits and wrapped his mouth around your sensitive bud.

all of a sudden you got up from his lap and he had to let your nipple go. he was worried about the way you had moved away from him, had he done something wrong?

now you were standing in the middle of the room, in front of him, only wearing your panties. your body was the most beautiful thing his eyes had ever witnessed, with scars very similar to his, with all those things you hated about yourself. was that how you felt about him? if it had not been for the pain in his whole body he would have fallen off the bed on his knees in front of you.

he huffed a laugh and rolled his eyes once you started swaying your hips from side to side while you slid your underwear down your legs. you laughed too, you felt stupid, but at least you had managed to make him smile. you two weren't the type to do those things, things were always more animalistic, more passionate, rougher. you walked towards him and leaned in to kiss him as your hands worked on the zipper of his jeans.

—you're beautiful —. he whispered.

logan helped you to straddle him again. you held your body over his thanks to your knees on the bed. with one hand you grabbed his hard cock resting impatiently against his stomach. he gasped because of your firm grip and squeezed your hips when you lined it up against your aching entrance.

you lowered yourself just enough for his tip to go in. he let out a deep grunt straight from his chest, you let out all the air you had in your lungs in a moan. you never forgot how big he was, the thickness of his cock, the patch of hair on its base, and the veins running along his shaft, but you did forget about the way it stretched you open, about the sting that his dick going deeper inside you caused.

—careful —. logan mumbled against your lips.

you kept taking him, closing your eyes shut and biting your lower lip, hissing every time you took a centimeter more inside of you. you rested your forehead against his and whined when his cock finally bottomed you. —i need a moment.

logan nodded. one of your hands sneaked in between your bodies and found your clit while his hands lovingly caressed your back. it had been so long since you had sex. logan wouldn't let you touch him, he was disgusted by his own body and he was afraid that you would see him the way he saw himself. that's why that night you decided that you would make him feel so good that he would never doubt the way you felt about him or his body.

you started by slowly rolling your hips as your fingers worked on your clit. his jaw tightened while he felt your body moving with his whole cock inside. his big hands on your hips helped you to move, setting a pace and keeping you from going faster so you wouldn't hurt yourself.

—that's it, take your time —. he said. young logan wouldn't have given you a second to get used to it, he would have fucked you mercilessly and you would have loved every second of it. but now, his eyes were focused on where your bodies became one, enjoying how your pussy adjusted to his size thanks to your fingers rubbing your clit.

he moaned once you lifted your body just a little and then dropped back onto him. you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed his lips while you repeated that same move again and again. your cries and his moans mixed in your mouths. all his body jerked every time you lifted yourself a bit more and then sucked his cock completely inside you again.

—you make me feel so good, logan. always have, fuck—. you purred in his ear. his hands, previously resting on your hips, slid all the way to your ass your hands and squeezed it. in those little details you could see how he was gaining confidence, which encouraged you to keep moving without changing your pace. it was slow, passionate, intense and intimate.

between moans and cries, you kept worshiping him, telling him how much you had missed feeling him inside you, how your fingers were no comparison to his cock, how you didn't want to share these moments with anyone other than him. there was no one like him. you didn't care about his scars, his moodiness, the gray of his hair, there would never be another one for you but logan, you did not want another one.

you were close, he could feel it in the way your walls were squeezing his cock and he knew he wouldn't last longer. logan wrapped his arms around your body, pressing you against his hard chest, and your fingers knotted into his hair. he groaned, your little jumps became irregular, your legs began to shake. logan hugged you tighter and sunk his teeth into your shoulder, getting a little choked cry from you.

—cum inside me, lo. fill me up, please, i need it. let me have it, please.

oh god, your words were driving him insane and after how well you had treated him, who was he to deny your wishes?

logan held your body down on his cock as he came, hugging you tighter against him. you buried your head into the crook of his neck, moaning into his skin while your legs shook and your pussy clenched around him. it was too much. as he released himself inside you, his claws came out and trapped you between them and logan's body, you had no escape. he groaned when he felt the pain of the adamantium ripping the skin off his knuckles mixed with all the pleasure of cumming inside you.

—shit —. he immediately put the claws away when he realized. —i haven't hurt you, have i?

you shook your head, still coming down from your high. he exhaled with relief. once you had caught your breath, you straightened your back, still sitting on his lap and feeling his cock getting soft inside you. you brought his hands to the front.

—are you okay? that probably hurt —. you caressed his knuckles.

—felt too good to even think about it.

you smiled proudly and kissed him. when you broke away, he noticed the mark of his teeth on the skin of your shoulder. —'m so sorry, fuck.

—don't be. i wish you had bitten me harder.

he shook his head, keeping himself from laughing. —you're a freak.

[sunshinesfreckless]

His Spoiled Bunny

───୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───────୨ৎ───

Pairing: Idol!Seo Changbin x fem!reader

Summary: No one spoils their girl like Changbin does. No one eats like he does either.

Warnings: Oral fixation. Gym sex. Tiffany. Dolce. Strength kink. Breeding Kink.

A/N: THERE YOU GO CHANGBIN GIRLIES PLEASE BE HAPPY. HAN WILL BE THE FINAL SPOILED PART !

୨ৎ Felix ୨ৎ Hyunjin ୨ৎ Bangchan ୨ৎ Jeongin

୨ৎ Seungmin ୨ৎ Leeknow ୨ৎ Han

───୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───────୨ৎ───

He liked her pretty.

Not just in the way other men meant it. Not in the bare-minimum, tight-dress, perfect-lips sort of way. Seo Changbin liked her cute—bows in her hair, soft ruffles on her sleeves, frilly collars, little heart buttons she thought no one noticed. But he did. He noticed everything.

He’d buy the bows himself—silk, velvet, ribboned in his favorite colors. He’d frown if her hair wasn’t pinned back just right. He’d adjust it with careful fingers, always murmuring, “There. My pretty girl.”

And when he shopped, it was never random. Never thoughtless.

He didn’t just spoil her. He curated her.

A body-hugging Dolce & Gabbana dress for her wardrobe—he’d had it delivered with a handwritten note: Wear this for me next time we fight so I can forgive you faster.

A silk robe, pale pink with “Bin’s Bunny” embroidered in champagne thread across the back—she wore it when waiting for him to come home from practice, curling up on the couch with his cats.

Two floors of her apartment slowly filled with handpicked things—ruffled skirts, lace-trimmed blouses, designer slippers, glass teacups shaped like blossoms. Things he’d never seen on anyone but her, things he wanted only her to wear.

Even her favorite rose tea wasn’t safe from his affection.

She’d mentioned it once—once—and now, every Thursday, a box appeared. New blends from quiet Parisian brands. Seoul boutique exclusives. Ones with handwritten notes from the tea house owners addressed to Mr. Seo’s fiancée.

But her favorite gift?

The necklace.

He hadn’t said a word when he gave it to her.

Just placed the blue box in her hands one soft evening, while she was sitting cross-legged on his bed in one of his old shirts.

Her fingers trembled as she lifted the lid.

Inside—simple, but so intimate—a fine Tiffany gold chain, so delicate it shimmered with every breath. At its center, two tiny initials, crusted in diamonds: S.C.

He took it from her before she could speak, hooked it gently around her neck, then tilted her chin up with one strong finger.

His eyes were soft. Melted. Full of something heavier than lust.

“Now they know who you belong to.”

She didn’t even get the chance to answer.

Because he kissed her.

Slow. Deep. Like he meant it. Like he’d always mean it.

And later, when he pulled away, her bow had come loose and his name sparkled at her throat—and he looked at her like he was never letting go.

  ────୨ৎ────

He loved the way she fit against him. Small, pliant, perfect. Like she was made to be lifted.

And in his private gym, no one could see them. No cameras, no mirrors except the full-length one bolted to the wall. Just him, her, and the sound of skin meeting skin.

“1… 2… 3—good girl.”

He had her hoisted up, legs locked around his waist, her back pressed to the mirror hard enough to fog the glass behind her. Her skirt was bunched around her hips, Dolce lace panties long discarded, and her heels still dangling prettily off her toes. She’d gasped when he lifted her—by now she knew the routine—but the way he moved inside her still left her breathless every time. Deep, controlled, possessive.

Sweat glistened on his temples, dripping down the curve of his neck, his chest flexing with every thrust. She whimpered when his biceps tensed, his grip tightening just a little more under her thighs as he slammed her down on his cock, hard enough to make her cry out. The weights on the floor clinked as he stepped back, bracing her against the wall like she was nothing.

“Fuck,” he groaned, voice low and ragged. “You look so good like this—look, baby.”

She forced herself to look. In the mirror, it was obscene: her hair a mess, her lips smeared with Chanel gloss, her body trembling from the force of each roll of his hips. But there was also Changbin… thick arms around her, his other hand sneaking down between her thighs—greedy, relentless. The sight of him—sweaty, flushed, thick cock splitting her open while he held her up like she weighed less than a barbell—it pushed her right to the edge.

“You gonna come, bunny?” he panted, his breath hot against her neck. “Come with me, yeah? Show me how good I spoil you.”

And she did. Shaking. Eyes locked on his. A doll for him to play with, and he loved her just like that.

  ────୨ৎ────

But none of the gifts compared to this.

Not the limited edition handbags.

Not the Tiffany diamonds.

Not even the gym.

Because nothing could beat the way Seo Changbin ate.

He loved food. The whole world knew that.

But only she knew how much he loved her.

He had her laid out across sheets he had flown in from Italy—deep red silk that pooled under her like wine. Candles flickered in the corner. She was bare, thighs already trembling, chest rising and falling too fast as he pulled her knees over his broad shoulders and looked up at her like she was dessert.

“Stay still,” he whispered, voice rough, almost reverent. “Be good and let me taste.”

And then his mouth was on her.

His hands stayed firm on her hips, fingers digging into her like he was afraid she’d float away. He groaned into her pussy like he was fucking starving, tongue lapping at her in slow, deliberate strokes that made her eyes roll back. She was soaked—dripping for him—and he loved it. Loved how she squirmed. Loved how she tried to clench her thighs around his head and he pushed them wider.

“I want it all, bunny,” he murmured. “Every sound, every drop.”

Sometimes he moaned louder than she did.

Sometimes his cock was so hard it throbbed untouched.

But he wouldn’t stop. Not until she came all over his tongue—once, twice, again. He knew her body too well. He tasted every twitch. He knew how to ruin her.

“B-Bin—ah—don’t stop—”

“I won’t,” he growled, lips dragging up her inner thigh. “I’m starving.”

And then he buried his face deeper, like he could live there.

  ────୨ৎ────

Later, she couldn’t move.

Not even enough to lift her head from the silk pillow. Her lips were puffy, her eyes dazed, thighs sticky and open beneath the crumpled sheets.

Changbin came back from the kitchen, shirtless, with a tray in hand.

Strawberries.

Warm cream-filled bread.

A bowl of soup, still steaming.

He placed the tray beside her, and knelt at her side like she was royalty and he the most devoted servant. She made a soft, sleepy noise—but her mouth didn’t open.

He smiled. Picked up a spoon.

“Eat for me, pretty girl.”

She obeyed. Bite by bite. Spoon by spoon.

And when he fed her the first strawberry—held between his fingers, gently pressed to her lips—he kissed the juice from her chin and whispered, “You know I’d give you the whole world, right?”

The necklace glittered against her collarbone. Her bow was still crooked in her hair.

And in his arms, she looked like the only thing he’d ever chase.

 ────୨ৎ───

She’d fallen asleep on the couch again.

Half on her side, one leg dangling off the edge, the throw blanket barely covering her thighs—and not the fluffy blanket he told her to use either. The TV was still on, some rom-com playing in the background, and her phone lay face-down on the floor like it had slipped from her hand mid-scroll.

He sighed softly. Then smiled.

“You’re gonna get a cramp like that, bunny…”

But he didn’t wake her.

He set down the bag—the bag, the one with the fluffy pink cardigan she mentioned once in passing while shopping. He’d had it sent from Japan because they sold out in Korea. The matching slippers were in his backpack. And tucked in the crook of his elbow: her favorite dinner in takeaway boxes, still warm.

Carefully, like he was lifting something sacred, he scooped her up. Thick arms around her back and knees, her head naturally tipping into his chest. She stirred but didn’t wake, just blinked blearily and hummed, nose nudging into the soft black fabric of his shirt.

“Smells like gym,” she mumbled.

He chuckled. “Rude.”

But his voice was so gentle. So stupidly soft for her.

He carried her into the bedroom like nothing. His arms didn’t even shake. Laid her down on the duvet and pulled the cardigan from the bag, helping her into it like she was made of glass. She blinked again, eyes sleepy-sparkly, lips pouty.

“Were you out?”

“Yeah,” he whispered. “Got your stuff. Dinner too.”

“…You’re always buying me things.”

“Because I love spoiling you.” He leaned down and kissed her cheek. “And you always look so cute in the things I pick.”

She tried to argue, but her yawn cut her off.

So he sat at her bedside, opening the boxes and gently scooping up a bite of warm rice, lifting it to her lips.

“Eat for me, pretty girl.”

She blinked, took the bite. Then a second. And a third.

“You didn’t eat yet?”

“I’m eating now.” He smiled. “Watching you counts.”

And later, when she was full and warm and fuzzy in her new cardigan, she laid against him, one palm on his chest, fingers tracing his muscle like it soothed her.

“You’re so big,” she mumbled.

He grinned, cocky—but his voice betrayed how shy he got when she touched him like that. “Yeah?”

She nodded. “Feels safe…”

And he tucked the blanket tighter around her, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Good. ‘Cause I’m never letting you go.”

 ────୨ৎ────

She was already breathless, legs trembling around his thick waist, hands gripping the slope of his shoulders like she could hang onto sanity through him.

Fuck he made her a fan of Missionary. He Loved gift giving, even if it was just his cum.

One hand beneath her thigh, the other braced beside her head, all of him wrapped around her. His biceps caged her in, his chest pressed firm to hers, and his voice—deep, wrecked—growled right into her ear.

“You feel that, baby?” he whispered, thrusting up again. “How deep I am?”

She whimpered, back arching.

He was so strong like this. Like she weighed nothing. Like her body was made for this—for him. Every movement made her feel owned, spoiled, ruined by the boy who treated her like treasure in daylight and like his personal plaything at night.

“You take me so well, always do,” he murmured, kissing down her jaw, her neck. “Fuck—I might just give it to you for real.”

Her eyes fluttered open. “Bin—”

“You want it, don’t you?” His hand slid between her thighs, rubbing gently where she needed him most. “You want me to fill you up, make you mine forever.”

She couldn’t speak. Couldn’t think. Could only nod as he grinned, so smug, so in love.

“My pretty little wife,” he breathed, kissing her again, messier this time. “Gonna look so good with a bump. All soft. All mine.”

She moaned, clinging tighter, and he laughed—ruined and breathless himself.

“I’ll take care of you,” he promised. “Like I always do. You won’t lift a finger. Just let me love you, spoil you, fuck you full.”

And when he finally came—deep, with a gasp of her name—he didn’t move. Just wrapped her tighter in those stupid, beautiful, strong arms of his and kissed her forehead like she was the most precious thing he’d ever held.

Because she was.

And even if she never did end up full of him, he’d still treat her like she was carrying his whole world in her belly.

 ────୨ৎ────

But it wasn’t just that he gave.

It was how much he loved.

He never let her walk on cold floors.

He kept a box of warm socks just for her in his car, in case she forgot hers.

He called her bunny all the time.

He picked her up from every schedule with her favorite snacks in the cupholder.

He massaged her legs when she was tired, made her protein smoothies, ran her bubble baths. He was softer than he looked.

And when he was tired—really tired—

She took care of him too.

She tucked him in when he fell asleep on the couch. She kissed his calloused hands and told him he was the best man she’d ever known. He never said much when she did that, only blushed, blinked, and held her tighter.

He came home once, late.

And there she was, curled up, waiting for him in one of his old shirts.

“Binnie,” she whispered sleepily.

His chest cracked open with warmth.

He leaned down and kissed her forehead.

“You really are my best gift.”