#and he nope out from inbox

[overclockedarrow]

He's just going to clock out && retreat to his apartment now, thank you very much.

[chiariuchiha]

Would you ever go to Orochimaru in exchange for power if it meant you could get revenge for what happened?

"Do I look stupid?"

Don't answer that.

Absolutely not, is the answer. Power costs, and there's no point seeking revenge on something that can never be undone. Now, if some weird, unrealistic opportunity arose where she could take advantage of a situation and get revenge, sure, why not have a little revenge-as a treat! That won't happen, so there is no point in entertaining such fantasies. And even so, it would need to be without any such sacrifices to her character or being, because that is the kind of crazy even she won't touch.

[theinfinitedivides]

What did Park Ho San say? 😢

mentioned it partially in the tags of my post but i'll post it here with a full translation of the original (native speakers, pls come and tell me if i f*cked anything up, i worked this out with the dictionary, Papago, and gallons worth of tears while crawling through every article i could find):

'i don't believe it, i don't want to believe it, but it wasn't until i received the obituary notice that i did. to me, you were more like Dong Hoon [Lee Sun Kyun's character in My Mister] than Sun Kyun. Sun Kyun-ah, Dong Hoon-ah, my little brother, no matter what you did i really believed in you. how painful must it have been? how hard it must have been... i have to go to the hall [literally 식장에 or 'ceremonial hall' - can be used to refer to a wedding hall, but here it's used for where his memorial/funeral services are being held], but it's a little scary. i'm going to go anyway. even if i can't tell you anything later, i'll carry these words with me: i and all of us who know you really, really believe in you.

since you're lying down, now, take it easy and be at peace. stretch out your legs. forget all your heartache, let it fly away and sleep comfortably. rest well, my warm little brother. ♥️'

[robbysreaders]

pairing: jack abbot x f!reader   word count: 2k and i have so many other ideas, lmk if you want more parts! notes: this one goes out to the nonny in my inbox when i asked for ideas! i kinda blended both your ex!reader and babydaddy!jack ideas! hope you enjoy!

You ended things amicably — as amicably as two people can when love’s still there but the capacity to hold it isn’t. Jack didn’t have space for you, your kid, his job, and his trauma. Something had to give.

But you co-parent well enough. There are bumps, but the rhythm is there.

Usually, handoffs are easy. He comes over, eats dinner with you both like old times, then wrangles Beau back to his place. But today’s different — off-cycle. You’re headed to the airport for a work trip, and Jack’s just wrapping up a shift, so you agree to meet at the hospital.

It feels strange walking in. You haven’t been back since the two of you ended things. There are plenty of familiar faces… and a few new ones.

The second Beau sees Jack, he’s wriggling out of your hand.

“Beau—no running in the ER—” you start, but he’s already barreling toward his dad.

“Oof, kiddo, remember we said soft hugs?” Jack laughs, catching him easily, hoisting him up into his arms.

Dana and Robby round the corner just then.

“Hey, look who it is!” Dana says, but Beau clams up, burying his face in Jack’s neck.

“Sorry, you know kids. He’s shy this early,” you say, brushing a hand down Beau’s back. “Be nice to Dana and Uncle Robby, baby.”

“It’s been so long since we’ve seen either of you around,” Dana says, pulling you into a quick hug. “I only get my Baby Beau fix from Instagram stories now.”

“Oh, I figured Jack would still be throwing his infamous backyard parties,” you say, trying to keep it light.

“Nope, those petered out. What’s it been—three years?” Robby glances at his watch, then at Jack with a pointed look.

It doesn’t take a genius to realize what he’s referencing.

Samira passes by next, lighting up at the sight of Beau. “Hi, Beau! Didn’t know I’d get to see you today!”

“Hi, ‘mira,” Beau murmurs, a soft smile still pressed into his dad’s shoulder.

“Sorry to interrupt, Jack—could I get your opinion on something before you head out?”

Jack looks around. You jump in before he has to juggle.

“I’ve got a few minutes. I can set him up in the lounge?”

Jack nods, grateful. “That would be amazing. It’ll just be a minute.”

As you head down the hallway, you catch a whisper from a pair of interns behind you.

“Damn, didn’t know Abbot married a hottie.”

Dana’s voice cuts in, dry: “Not married. She’s smart enough to not sign a contract with a guy who’s half in love with his job.”

You finish laying out Beau’s coloring book when Jack slips into the lounge, pouring himself a coffee, rubbing at one eye. That tired, end-of-shift look still gets you.

“You know, you could’ve told me you were d-a-t-i-n-g,” you say.

“Huh?” he blinks. “Want a cup?”

“I’m running late,” you wave him off. “And I don’t mind — I just think maybe we should tell each other when new stuff like that comes up. For his sake.”

Jack straightens, confused. “I have no idea what you're talking about. And you didn’t give me a heads up about Carl or Craig or whatever his name was.”

“Chris. And yeah, I should’ve told you. I did tell you, eventually. I’m working on being better about communication, and I’d hope you’d want the same.”

He sighs, then pulls you just outside the lounge, out of earshot.

“Okay, I don’t want to make you even later, but if we’re going to talk, then talk. Don’t allude to stuff — just say it.”

You exhale. “I thought maybe you and Samira were… seeing each other. From the way she spoke to Beau. And the looks from Dana and Robby—”

Jack actually laughs. “She’s 29. I’m her attending. We grab coffee, I mentor her. Sometimes when I have Beau, yeah. If that bothers you, I’ll keep it in mind. But I’m trying to be a good doctor. A good mentor. A good… whatever to you. And it still feels like I’m messing it all up. So just—don’t assume. Talk to me.”

You flush. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m just stressed.”

He twists a strand of your hair between his fingers, gently. “Y’know… would take a lot of stress off both of us if you moved back in. We could split the chores. Carpool. Coordinate pickups. Plus, I can think of a few stress relievers we used to be real good at…”

You swat his hand. “Okay, sure. Ha. Ha. I’m going to say bye to Beau. See you Saturday.”

On your way out, you pass Dana outside on her cigarette break.

“You know, a couple doctors I know say those things kill you.”

She exhales a laugh. “Not if this job kills me first. Life’s too short already to deprive yourself of the things — or people — you love.”

“Sure, Dana.”

“Any time, missy. And just so you know… he’s different. He’s been going through it, but he’s doing the work. Seeing that therapist. Doesn’t come in as much on his days off. There’s some… balance there now.”

“Sure, Dana. Bye, Dana.”

But the thought lingers.

Two days into your trip, you’re feeling a bit lonely. It always hits harder when Jack has him. You don’t usually FaceTime when they’re together — boundaries. But this feels like an exception.

you: how’s my boy? jack: i’m doing great. how’s my girl? you: 🙄 you: how’s Beaujack: see, you gotta be more direct. a man could get confused jack: he’s great. hit a double. got a popsicle. we’re watching transformers for the 80th time. classic boys night. you: bad time to try to facetime?

Incoming Call: Jack Abbot (ICE)

You swipe to answer, suddenly aware of the dark circles under your eyes, still in the hotel bed after a full day of networking.

“Mooooommyyyy!” Beau’s voice shrieks through the phone. “I did so good at baseball and then got a treat and Daddy made pasta and we’re gonna watch a movie!”

“That sounds amazing, baby! Are you having a good time?”

“The best! When do you come back?”

“Three sleeps.”

“And then we have Mommy and Daddy time?”

“Of course. You think about what you want to eat, okay? I’ll pick it up on the way.”

“Okay. And then we all sleep here?”

You pause. “No, baby. Remember? I sleep at my house, Daddy sleeps at his. You sleep at either.”

He gets quiet. Your chest aches.

“Alright, time for jammies and teeth. Go get ready, kiddo.” you hear shouted from the other room.

“Okay, bye Mom!” he says, dropping the phone.

Jack’s face replaces the ceiling. “I like hearing your voice in the living room again. Makes the house feel full.”

“Jack. You gotta stop.”

“Just saying. Beau’s not the only one who likes the sound of you here. My offer’s still on the table.”

You roll your eyes. “Sure, Jack. Hey… would it be okay if I called again Friday? I know we don’t usually, but… I miss him.”

“You’re never a bother. I could strap the iPad to my chest, have you join us for the whole day.”

You laugh. “God, Jack. You really know how to make a girl’s night better.”

“Oh baby, don’t I always.”

“Bye, Jack.” you roll your eyes, but you’re still smiling when you hang up.

--

The weather turned halfway through your drive from the airport, and between the stop for food and the hike from the only available parking spot, it feels like you swam the last block.

Jack opens the door barefoot, in joggers and a hoodie, towel slung over his shoulder.

“Hey,” you breathe.

“Hey,” he says, eyes flicking down to your drenched clothes. “Jesus.” He reaches instinctively for your bag, handing you the towel, hand brushing yours. “C’mon. Let’s get you warm.”

You step inside. Beau’s already wrapped around your legs before you can shrug off your coat. Jack disappears into the kitchen, already dishing out dinner.

“You don’t have to—”

“Just eat,” he says, setting a bowl in front of you. “You’re freezing.”

You sit. The food’s still warm, garlicky, comforting. You glance up at him. “You’ve gotten better at this.”

“Ordering takeout?” he teases, leaning against the counter.

You laugh, shaking your head. “No… this.” You wave a hand vaguely at the house — the toys in the living room, the quiet rhythm of it all. “The parenting. The life stuff. You don’t seem rattled anymore.”

He gives a half-shrug. “Had to be better.”

You eat in companionable silence while Beau chatters from his spot at the table, recapping his week in half-sentences and excited tangents.

“Mom, can I watch a show while you finish?”

“Dad’s house, dad’s rules,” you say, looking to Jack.

“Sure thing, kiddo. But grab your gifts for Mom first — then one episode.”

Beau vanishes.

“Gifts?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

Jack shrugs like it’s nothing. “Just some stuff he made. He’s proud of it.”

The silence that follows stretches, not quite awkward, but thick with something unspoken.

Then Jack says, low and clear, “I miss you.”

You look up, startled. Heart catching in your chest.

“I know I don’t say it often. Or the right way. But I do. I miss you. Not just the idea of you being around — you.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I’ve been thinking about how it felt, before things got hard. And… how lately, it’s been feeling like that again. When you’re here.”

You put your fork down, gently. “Jack…”

“I’m not asking to go back. Or to pretend the last few years didn’t happen. I’m just wondering if maybe we could try something new. Something more intentional.” He gestures faintly in the direction of Beau’s room. “We’ve already rebuilt the foundation, haven’t we?”

You study him. The steadiness in his eyes. The quiet way he’s offering — not demanding.

Finally, you exhale. “I didn’t think I’d get another version of you.”

“I didn’t think I had another version to give,” he says softly.

“So… what are you saying, exactly?”

“I’m saying I want you back,” he murmurs. “In the way that counts. I want to build this life with you — not just pass each other in it.”

You reach up, cup his cheek. “That’s a really nice speech.”

“I practiced,” he grins.

“You’re still kind of an idiot.”

His smile widens. He brushes a damp strand of hair off your forehead. “I said I’ve grown, not become a completely new person.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. “Okay. So how do we do this?”

“What?”

“I’m not just moving back in and jumping into bed with you, Jack. You still have a lot to prove.”

“Of course,” he says, straightening a bit. “I was thinking… maybe a family movie night tomorrow? Something easy.”

“Okay,” you nod. “I like the sound of that.”

“And if that goes well, maybe a grown-up movie night? I’ll wine and dine you. And we can make out in the back row like teenagers.”

You laugh, big and genuine. “I think I like the sound of that too.”

“God, I missed your laugh.”

The silence that settles then feels different. Full, not tense.

Then Jack says, almost too casually, “Oh — I’m switching to days.”

You blink. “Wait, what?”

“Robby and I talked. Figured I’d use this week off to reset my sleep schedule. I start the day shift officially tomorrow.”

Your jaw drops slightly. “Jack…”

“This isn’t about you. Well — a little. But it’s mostly about Beau. Nights just aren’t sustainable anymore, and I want a more stable schedule for him. It’s time.”

You reach up, fingers brushing the side of his hair. “Okay. But only if it’s right for you. I never wanted you to give up what you love.”

“I’m not giving up what I love,” he says, voice quiet but sure. “I did that three years ago. I’m just rearranging things now — so I don’t lose it again.”

You don’t answer with words.

You just kiss him. Soft. Certain.

And when Beau comes racing back in with a construction-paper-wrapped something clutched in his hands, he skids to a stop and grins.

“Are you guys kissing?”

Jack smirks against your forehead. “Yeah, bud. I think we might be.”

[6atals]

[제이크] 𝜗𝜚 ┈ your pussy so good, jake might throw up a set . . .

𝓌𝗲𝗮𝗹𝘁𝗵𝘆!𝒿𝗮𝗸𝗲 ˖ 𝒻𝗲𝗺!𝓇𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 g. smut , nsfw , manhandling , skinship , established relationship , daddy kink , oral (f. rec) pwnp. 622WC ─── ℛ𝙀𝘼𝘿𝒾𝗡𝗚 𝓈𝗛𝗘𝗟𝗙 (coming soon ??) . 𓋜 . intimacy , pussy drunk ⟡ ⋆ not requested! not proofread! — reblog to become apart of the taglist ❤︎︎ my inbox is always open!

ℳ𝗶𝗿𝗮’𝘀 𝓃𝗼𝘁𝗲! 🗯️ . . . based off that one bruno mars song, i can’t get it out my head..

fat, juicy, and wet.

were the only three words jake needed to describe your tasty cunt. maybe, his stress reliever, his motivation to get through the day, nope. fat, juicy, and wet.

you knew jake was a madman when you two got into the bedroom, but something about today was different with jake.

“mm.. jakey..” you gripped onto his hair and looked down at him.

his tongue latched onto the nub of your clit hungrily, one hand keeping you pinned to the couch and the other one going higher to massage your breasts. you moaned out at the feeling of so many different feelings at a time. “goddamn mama.. this pussy is gonna be the death of me. could eat this pussy all day.” he moaned into your clit, closing his eyes as he embraced your cunt as if it were some prize he had worked for all week.

your legs clamped around his head, trying to get more friction. by now, he’s memorized all the parts that make you squirm whenever his tongue brushes across it. “had such a bad fucking— day today. fuck.. stupid fucking workers don’t know what they’re doing.. mmngh..missed this sweet pussy angel..”

jake groans into your sopping cunt about how, "can’t believe i had to wait all day for this little pussy.. fuck," pausing, simply to pull back and shoot at messy dime of spit right in between your folds. “was thinking about this fucking pussy all day. my fucking pussy.”

“daddy—please..”

the name falls right onto your lips, “daddy’s here baby. tell daddy what you want and he’ll give you it. you know daddy doesn’t like when you don’t speak.” he groaned softly into your sensitive bud, sending a wave of pleasure through your body.

his fingers dig into the plush of your thighs before sticking his tongue inside you. your back arches off the bed as you felt his tongue swirl specifically around your clit. “come on. answer me baby or i’ll stop.”

“o-oh fu—ck! wan you to eat me out until i.. cry..” you moaned out, your hands frantically trying to find something to grab as jake continued the abuse on your cunny.

"feels so fuckin- fuck, need more," you squeal as you deepen the arch of your back to get closer, your head naturally falling backwards. you were a blabbering mess.

the second you peer down and meet his gaze, he slips an obnoxiously long finger inside you, curling upwards to instantly find your sweet spot. over and over and over again, just to get that satisfying feeling of hearing you moan. all because of him. his lips never detaching from where he always insists they always belong. “such a greedy fucking girl. need more baby? need more of daddy’s tongue? beg for it, angel.”

“pl—ease daddy.. gonna.. gonna be so good for you.” you begged. the tip of his tongue hits that mushy spot that has your toes curling immediately— which doesn’t go unnoticed by jake, gaining a low chuckle from him.

he’s putting his lips back onto your swollen clit, slushing and slobbering his tongue against it as he pistons his digit deep inside you. “ff-fuuuckkk.. right there jakey! m’gonna- ah!”

“cum for me angel. you deserve it.” you moaned out before releasing all over his face. his chin covered in all your juices, his face remained with a proud “i did that” look as he pulled his digits out of you.

you sighed, closing your eyes shut. such an eager boy.

do not copy, repost or steal my works.

©6atals est. 2025

[nurse-floyd]

Chef Norris

Lando x reader request "Can you please write “You… You learned to cook my favourite meal?” from the List of established relationship prompts with Lando?"

A/N: Please request - my inbox is open again and as always please consider donating to my sick cat's vet fund - we are currently waiting a surgical opinion for the wound under her arm that hasn't healed.

@callsign-swan @ice-man-goes-bwoah @vroomvroomcircuit

It had been a long week for both you and Lando. Despite it being the mid-season break, Lando had still been busy with meetings, promo shoots and with testing. So you weren’t expecting much when you got home from work. You’d exchanged sleepy voice notes about your days, memes and chaotic facetimes of him showing you his and Oscars latest antics at the MTC, but that was pretty much the only times you’d interacted.  

As soon as you stepped through the door, tired and hungry, you didn't expect the smell of home cooking to hit you. No Lando scream laughing at his stream from down the hallway. No text for uber from him earlier in the afternoon or the smell of one of his microwaved prepared meals from his dietician that you’d come to recognise. 

“Lando?” you called out as you pulled off the sneakers from your feet and stepped further into the apartment. The lights were low, music was softly playing from the kitchen and you could hear the faint clattering of pots and pans. 

There he was. Your man, standing at the stove, his damp curls resting against his forehead weaning a hoodie and your apron. His laptop was open, his screen paused on a recipe of your favourite meal. The kitchen? Well that looked like a war zone. 

He turned his head as you walked through the door, cheeks slightly flushed. “Hey babe,” he said so casually as he turned back to stir the pan in front of him. 

“You’re cooking?” you asked, not surprised but just not expecting it. No anniversary, no special occasion. 

“Wanted to surprise you for dinner. We haven’t had a date night just you and me for ages and you deserve it.” 

Your heart clenched in your chest, “baby…” 

“Nope. Don’t use your ‘baby’ voice on me,” he groaned dramatically as he pointed the spatula at you, “I don’t even know if it’s edible yet.” 

You tried to take a peek into the pan to see but he shoved you away quickly, “nope. Not until it’s done. It’s a surprise. And if you see an amazon order for a new vegetable peeler and pan…no you didn’t.” 

You shook your head, not even wanting to know. 

“Also, mum says hi and is Saturday okay for lunch?” 

You laughed, “you called her for help with the recipe, didn’t you?”  

“You can’t prove anything!” 

You had just enough time for a shower and to get into some comfortable clothes when Lando called you to the dinner table. The room was dark, the table filled with candles and a new bunch of flowers in a vase in the middle. Two places were set up opposite each other and on the platte in front of your space sat a meal that looked so damn good. 

“You…you learned to cook my favourite meal?” 

He pulled the chair out for you and pushed it in as you sat down and took the space opposite. 

“Took me three tries to get the sauce right and I had the help from YouTube and my mum. I also cut my finger,” he said as he showed the bandage wrapped around the tip of his index finger, “but yeah. I did.” The grin on his face was so damn cute. Like a kid showing off their artwork at the end of a school day. 

Your heart was full to the brim. He looked so sweet in that moment, his eyes so full of love for you. “Thank you baby.” 

He watched you with anticipation as you picked up your fork and took a bite. You chewed thoughtfully, taking a moment to savour all the flavours and textures. “Oh my god. This is actually so good, Lando!” 

“Don’t sound too surprised!” he replied as he took a bite of his own. He let out a moan and shook his head, “okay. No. This is actually amazing.” 

“Alright, don’t get cocky now,” you laughed. 

He shot you a wink, “too late, call me chef Lando.” 

You shook your head but continued eating the meal. It wasn’t a five-star luxury hotel or Michelin star restaurant, but you had everything you needed and you wouldn’t have traded it for anything.

[petalbcrnes]

CUTE ASSISTANT ╱ with JASON TODD ꩜ .ᐟ ⠀⠀ ────⠀⠀⠀ in which jason tries to steal a bite while you are cooking.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　

It’s the faint sound of your soft voice humming that catches his attention first. His ears perk up, and he turns his head toward the sound. Then, the faint smell of warm chocolate fills his nose. You must be baking.

He shuffles off the couch, abandoning whatever had his attention moments before. Entering the kitchen, he finds you mindlessly dancing to a silly tune stuck in your head. You don’t even notice him slowly approaching from behind until he speaks.

“What’s that you’re making?” He wraps his hands around your waist and rests his chin on your shoulder.

His sudden appearance startles you, eliciting a small yelp. He gives you a quick apology before reaching forward to the chocolate batter.

You shoo his hand away. “I’m making chocolate chip cookies, but—” you continue, moving the batter out of his reach, “—it’s unfortunately not for you, Jay.”

He fakes shock, placing his hand dramatically over his heart. “Not for me? For whom then?”

You playfully roll your eyes while stirring the batter. “It’s for Alfred. After you delivered his cookies home, I realized I need to step up my game.”

You taste the chocolate, savoring the flavor melting on your tongue.

“And, on top of that, tasting Alfred’s magnificent cookies,” the corners of your smile curl upwards, “has made me think about something.”

Jason’s eyes remain fixed on the chocolate batter. “Made you think about what?”

“When he’s baking, do you hang around the kitchen trying to sneak a taste, just like you’re doing now?” You offer him a bit of batter, only to pull it back at the last second. “Nope, not yet. It’s not ready.”

He whines. “I help, I just—...”

You raise an eyebrow playfully, and he relents.

“Okay, fine. You got me. But I want to help now. C’mon, give me something to do.”

“Taste the batter for me, actually. I can’t tell if it needs more sugar.” You furrow your eyebrows in consideration, something he finds adorable.

“My pleasure.”

He takes a small taste and ponders it for a moment, not noticing the batter staining the corner of his mouth.

“You have a little—...” You point to the stain, gesturing for him to clean it. He tilts his head, confused.

You giggle before wiping the stain off with your finger. “You’re lucky you’re a cute assistant, or you’d be thrown out of the kitchen.”

Jason’s cheeks are dusted a light pink. “More sugar, yeah, definitely more,” He moves to grab sugar from the counter and hands it to you, his teal eyes darting around the kitchen.

When was the last time he was referred to as cute? Someone like him addressed with sweet words. He almost can’t believe it. He can’t believe how sweet you are to him. The thought makes him feel giddy, like a young boy again.

You giggle again, the sound music to his ears. “Jason, sunshine, that’s salt.”

“Oh.”

“Yes, oh.” You smile at him, kissing his cheek. “Like I said, you’re lucky you’re cute.”

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　

directory ⋆˚꩜ rules !

INBOX OPEN.⠀⠀feel free to send me asks and suggestions in my inbox. ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

✶⋆.© 𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐁𝐂𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐒 don’t use my work without my consent.

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

blushing birthday

a/n: iihhh! first story in this slutty au! felt like this was a good place to jump off from. and also, i just wanna point this out because i nearly never do and perhaps some people don’t realise it, but if you have a thought, an idea, a wish or request in this au (or any other, my inbox is always open for requests) then feel free to click on my ask button and send it my way ♡

summary: “so, what I was thinking,” you tilted your head, “was that before I go give him his present, you guys could maybe help me prep a little bit, warm me up and stretch out my ass enough to fit his big fat cock. Would you guys like that?”

warnings: various x camgirl!reader, smut, porn au, college au, roommate!bucky barnes, roommate!steve rogers, roommate!curtis everett, ex!ransom drysdale, dilf neighbour!andy barber, reader's porn name is cherry blossom (UrLittleCherry), friends with benefits, happy hippie fun poly vibes, curtis’ birthday, partying, alcohol consumption, kissing, masturbation, impact play, fingering, toys, edging, clothed sex, voyeurism, exhibitionism, dirty talk, size kink, manhandling, multiple orgasms, anal, penetrative sex, unprotected sex

word count: 3953

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

sugar & spice au masterlist | 101, intro to the au

masterlist | join my taglist 

The last rays of sunshine for the day streamed in through the half-drawn curtains and cast soft shadows across your form as you sat cross-legged on your mattress. 

With your reach outstretched towards your laptop propped up on the chair situated at the foot of your bed, you clicked on the go live button and watched as a countdown appeared on the screen, overlaying your visage staring back at you as your gaze briefly flickered around to check your gear one last time. 

Thanks to your three roommates who’d insisted on helping you upgrade your setup, there wasn’t just one, but two cameras pointing directly at you. One angle to catch all of your frame and one zoomed-in to capture a perfect close-up between your legs. 

“Hey guys!” a warm smile swiftly dazzled your features as you watched the first few people jump at your notification, “good evening or good–, whatever time of day it is for you.” 

The messages in the chat started rolling in, some with usernames you recognised and some you didn’t. 

TheFrogo: Hi Cherry! How are you? Have you had a good day so far?

DrownByPussy: Omg you’re finally live! I’ve been hard all day knowing I’d get to see you today.

“Hi Frogo, yeah, I’ve had a pretty good day, but I’m hoping that it might get even better, because I’ve got something pretty fun planned for tonight,” your hands absentmindedly fidgeted along the length of your legs as you spoke, “so, today is a friend of mine’s birthday and–, wait,” you paused and leaned in closer to catch a better look of the scrolling messages, “I haven’t seen you write in the chat yet, but birthday boy, if you’re here, you better log off right now or you’ll ruin your surprise,” you warned, glancing straight into the camera, “I’ll give you five seconds get off,” a pointer finger then kissed each of your digits as you counted down, “five… four… three… two… one,” you squinted a moment longer before a giggle bubbled out, “okay, so now that it’s just us, I can tell you what I’ve got planned,” you switched up your seat, moving your legs to comfortably kneel on the mattress with your frame slightly turned at an angle for you to better see the screen, but retroactively grant everyone a view of the curve of your spine as the line swooped down over your waist and blossomed into the plush of your ass, sinfully on display in the pastel blue, mesh lingerie you wore, “there is one thing in particular that he has just been begging for… any guesses?”

A_B_Cunt_Destroyer: Hmm… is it a particular fantasy? A little bit of roleplay action? 

8inchStallion: Threesome? 

“Nope. All fun suggestions, but no.”

TittyCokeKingXXX: Is it to bang in public?

Cream314159: How about anal? 

“Cream! Yes! You guessed it!” you excitedly threw your hands up in the air, “it is anal that he’s been dreaming about.”

Ddadddy6969: I mean, who can blame him.

ItsBradBtch: Fucking same.

TearinYoBootyUp: Wish it was my birthday today so you’d let me fuck your tight little ass.

“So, what I was thinking,” you tilted your head, “was that before I go give him his present, you guys could maybe help me prep a little bit, warm me up and stretch out my ass enough to fit his big fat cock. Would you guys like that?”

KyleKyleson: Yes!

UrPervyDaddy398: Hell yeah, let’s get you ready to take that monster cock.

Casting a glance out of the nearby window, your eye couldn’t help but catch sight of the neighbouring house. It didn’t look like the divorced dad who resided there was home, though you still nevertheless searched for him. You weren’t completely clueless to his infatuation with you, though it had almost turned into a game, always trying to catch him peeping at you through the windows, or even taking it further by purposely wearing something skimpy when you’d go get the mail or other activities where you would know you’d bump into him. You didn’t judge him to be the type of man to ever really do anything about it, to actually reach out and grasp a wet dream of a girl so much his junior, but the teasing had become too much fun for you to stop, you were too far gone to draw the curtains closed now. 

As a quiet jingle sounded from your speakers, indicating that someone had tipped you, your gaze flickered back towards the computer screen. 

A_B_Cunt_Destroyer: Is that the underwear set I bought you off your wishlist? You look even more gorgeous in it than I imagined.

“Oh, thanks A,” you let your palms graze down over the thin mesh, feeling your pussy clench as your touch brushed over your nipples poking through the baby blue material, “yeah, it is. It matches the dress I’m planning on wearing tonight, so I thought I’d be cute.”

Call_Me_Sir_844: Turn around, Cherry. Let us see it from the back.  

“Yes, sir, of course,” you chuckled lightly before shifting around, purposely arching your back as you glanced over your shoulder. 

729AlwaysHard: How is your ass even real?

Like1OfUrFrenchGrls: Damn, that butt is just begging for a spanking.

Raking your touch down your sides, you smirked, “oh, you want me to spank my ass?” before the jingle of a tip echoed from the computer, “alright, baby,” and like a cat, your frame scooped down, gliding on to all fours and sticking your bottom high up in the air, “how many do you think? Let’s say, highest tipper gets to decide, but please, be kind, I still have to be able to dance the night away tonight.”

TittyCokeKingXXX tipped $50 – 10 spanks, with a paddle

BootyLover47 tipped $35 – 4 spanks

MrHansen tipped $100 – 6 spanks 

“Thank you guys,” you wiggled playfully for them, “and Mr. Hansen, wow, thank you so much!” you squeaked ecstatically, “well, I guess I better start counting then.” 

After each smack your palm landed on your propped-up bottom, the coinciding number rolled off your lips till your ass was tingling and sore for all your viewers to see. 

WinterIsCumming: Fuck, just seeing your little pussy through those panties… they’re soaked, aren’t they?

Gliding a hand down between your legs, your fingertips ghosted over the sheer fabric that clung to your core.

“They are, Winter,” you blinked up at the camera, “man, I wish you were here to give me a hand.”

NastyBoi: Show us that pretty little pussy, come on, don’t be shy now.

“You want me to take my underwear off for you? Take them off so that I can really play?”

And with the chimes of tips swiftly ringing in your ears, one of your fingers then hooked in the gusset and carefully peeled it to the side, letting it act as a frame as you momentarily teased them with just a glimpse of your glistening folds, before you slowly slid them off completely. 

Eventually, after your slick digits had gotten a chance to warm you up and tease you till you were practically buzzing on both of the camera angles that now displayed you, as it hadn’t taken you very long till you switched to a split screen, both your face frozen in a silent moan and your pretty holes drooling for attention pressed up against one another, side by side on the stream, your fingers then reached for a toy, the pretty glass dildo you had picked out just before the show.

You first popped the toy in your mouth as you flipped around and relaxed back against your pile of pillows. Letting your gaze flicker over the downright filthy comments rolling across the screen, you sucked on the toy for a bit before pulling it out and letting it float down south. 

“Fuck,” your eyes fluttered slightly as you rubbed the tip gently against your little rosebud, “oh, that feels so good.” 

Cream314159: Yeah, Cherry, tease that little ass like a good slut.

8inchStallion: Fuck, you’re gonna make me blow my load soon if you keep looking like that. 

Ddadddy6969: Has your fuck buddy really never had your ass before? Tbh kinda hard to believe considering what a whore you are for all of us. I love your anal shows, they’re always my favourite. 

“I know, daddy,” a light giggle tore through your form, “I’m honestly kinda surprised as well, but no, it hasn’t happened yet.” 

BongDong420: Wait, are you an anal virgin? Plot twist. 

“No, no, I’m not, I love anal,” you sucked in a gentle gasp as you let just the tip of the toy breach your tight opening, “I just haven’t really done it yet with too many different people. Actually, I’ve only done it with one so far, now that I think about it,” you swiftly shook your head and forced your eyes to flicker to the messages to rid your thoughts of your ex. 

Call_Me_Sir_844: Please open your mouth, I’m gonna cum!

“Oh, yes, please cum for me, sir,” you answered the comment and then let your lips part wide. As your tongue stuck out as well, a string of saliva soon dripped down as you waited, the spit colliding with your tits and running down your cleavage. 

A_B_Cunt_Destroyer tipped $550 – Don’t let yourself cum. Edge yourself so that you can be all drippy and dumb for him like a good little present should be. 

Since you and your roommates lived in a residential area too quiet for college ragers, some of the guys Steve and Bucky were on the football team with offered to throw the bash at their fraternity. 

Music blared, nearly making the entire house rumble, as you walked around the place, searching for the one of your roommates who the party was in honour of. 

Fiddling lightly with the hem of your silky dress as you peeked into the room where a rowdy game of beer pong was afoot, you still felt a little dizzy as desperation soaked through your ruined panties. 

Though, as you checked the kitchen, a bulky frame bumped into you, though it wasn’t just any run-of-the-mill frat boy, incapable of watching where they went, it was the very last person you wished to lay your eyes upon. 

“Y/n, hey,” the trust fund kid caught your arm before you could slip away. 

“Ransom,” you couldn’t help but clench your jaw as you tried to free yourself of his hold, “hello.”

“I didn’t know you were gonna be here tonight.” 

“Why wouldn’t I be here?” you nearly scoffed as you squinted up at him, “it’s my roommate’s birthday party.” 

“Right, forgot you moved in with all of them, became just one of the boys…” as a beat of silence fell over him, he let his gaze then rake over your form, lapping up the soft blue material that draped across your curves, “you look good tonight, by the way.”

“I–…” your eyes fluttered shut as you let out a sigh, “Ransom, can we not? Just for tonight, can we not do all of this? Just let me be here, celebrate my friend, and then after that, if you so wish, we can get back to our regularly scheduled program. Just one night of peace, that’s all I’m asking for.”

His dark brows then furrowed as he cocked his head, “babe, come on–”

Cutting him off with a scoff, you spat, “I haven’t been your babe since you broke up with me.”

He had been all for landing a girl that was essentially a wet dream come true when it came to all of the sinful areas you were itching to explore with him, but what hadn’t been a part of his plans was having a girlfriend who wasn’t exclusively a slut for him and him alone. He’d told you to choose between him and your dirty little hobby, but to his surprise, you hadn’t even hesitated when you didn’t choose him. 

A low sigh then puffed from his lungs, “fine.”

Heatedly ripping your arm free, you echoed, “fine,” before turning on your heel and exiting the kitchen. 

Luckily, your search didn’t drag on too much further before you stumbled upon your celebrated friend. 

“There you are!” you exclaimed, your voice ushering Curtis’ head to twist in your direction, his glance shifting from the pool table before him. 

“Baby!” he swiftly threw open his inked arms and pulled you close, “hey!”

Hearing the heavy balls clank around on the table, you asked, “are you in the middle of a game or could I steal you away for a sec?”

“Nah, not this round,” he withdrew only ever so slightly, letting one of his arms stay draped over your shoulders, “what do you need?”

Pulling him with you in the direction of the wide staircase, you smirked, “I just have a present to give you…”

“Another one?” he blinked as you dragged him up the steps. 

“Well, you deserve the world, so yes, you get another one this year,” you offered him a warm smile. 

“Man,” he exhaled as you reached the upper level, “happy birthday to me,” a smirk spread across his features as he willingly let you push him into one of the rooms. 

It was a study room filled with long communal desks, tall bookcases and velvet armchairs. It was also, thankfully, vacant of any other partygoers. 

“Happy birthday, Curtis,” you didn’t waste any time, the door barely managed to slam behind you, before you yanked him in for a kiss. 

It took him a second before he caught up with your sudden actions, but as soon as he did, a gentle giggle rumbled from his intoxicated form and vibrated against your lips as he enveloped his long arms around your frame. 

Feet shuffling, your roommate soon bumped into one of the tables, lending him to half sit on it as you let your touch rake down his figure. Even with the swift and determined pace your desperation drove you to have, it still didn’t take that long for Curtis to be on the same page as you, and when your palm fluttered down to cup him through his pants, the tent twitched beneath your touch. 

At first, when you then withdrew from the kiss, Curtis instinctively followed your disappearing lips till he noticed your knees buckling as you sank down onto the floor. 

“This is so much better than losing at pool,” he gazed down at you between his thighs, nearly hypnotised as you tugged at his zipper.

“I’d sure hope so,” you nearly scoffed as you freed him of his binds, not hesitating to lean in and swipe your tongue silkily against the very tip of him as soon as you had the chance, “although, you know I never mind being a consolation prize.”

“Consolation prize?” his tone filtered through a soft groan as your fist enclosed around his base, twisting slightly as it jerked up to graze your mouth, “that’s not what you were last week.”

“Yeah, but that was different,” your giggle vibrated against him, “it’s okay, baby. Maybe next time we play at home you’ll get to win and show the others who’s boss,” you purred before your lips enveloped fully around his fat girth. 

When spit and slobber soon bubbled out and dripped down onto your chest from your efforts, you got back up to your feet. As you let the back of your palm wipe a bit of the mess from your chin, you twisted your frame around and let your spine melt back against this broad chest. 

As you felt Curtis’ fingers dig into your dress and hike it up, you rolled your hips back against him, nearly dizzy with want. Gliding a hand down between your thighs, you captured the sodden material, utterly ruined and clinging to your core, before you yanked it to the side, the leaky mess not yet ready to let go of the panties and spiderwebbing to where you pulled it to the side.  

Reaching around, your grip captured his cock once again as you tilted him to teasingly brush through your folds, your activities from earlier made it almost pathetic how sloppy you got him in a matter of seconds. 

As his lips pressed to your cheek in a hot kiss, you glanced over your shoulder to catch his eye and take in his reaction.

You didn’t warn him, nor say anything at all. Only a smirk glimmered on your lips as a forewarning before you led him away from the leaky entrance he naturally assumed you’d let him into, and instead arched your back and eased his slicked-up length into somewhere else. 

“Oh–, holy shit,” his eyes flickered down to affirm what you were doing before blinking up at you in the assumption that it was a mistake, “baby, you’re–”

“I know,” you smiled at the way his chest heaved at the realisation. 

“Wait, seriously?” 

“Told you I had another present for you,” your gloating grin softened at the moan that slipped out as you sank down just a little further upon his dick. 

His fingers dented both sides of your hips as you slowly let him feel more of you, “oh my god, you’re the fucking best…” 

It was shallow at first, gentle as you controlled the pace, though still mind-meltingly intense as you fucked back against him till your knees began to wobble, feeling each and every little detail of his stretch your little ass out. 

You felt his hot breath on the side of your face between the lazy pecks he planted there and occasionally veering further south to try and mark your neck up with his bites. 

“O-oh, fuck,” you whimpered when one of his inked arms snaked around to your front and stretched down to rub your clit, swollen and throbbing between the pads of his rough fingers. 

Since you’d backed away from the edge not too long before, its overwhelming return was swift and quickly rendered you a shivering mess in his arms as your rhythm came to a rest and the tight circles he drew over your puffy pearl pushed you into insanity. 

Eyes still shut as you were panting for breath, you felt Curtis pluck up your chin and tilt it so that his lips could seize yours. 

Though the blissful pause didn’t last very long before he manoeuvred you around, manhandling you into a new configuration, though all the while never slipping his cock out. 

His palm was heavy against your back as he whirled you around and bent you over the table. Cheek smooshed against the smooth wooden surface, the thunderous snap his hips then offered caused the desk to rattle beneath you. 

However, just as you sensed him begin to lose himself, burying his cock so deep inside of you that it caused you to see stars, the creaking sound of the door to the study swinging open sliced through the lewd harmonies already filling the room.

Even though you couldn’t really glance over your shoulder to see who it was that entered, the recognisable voices that then found your ears calmed your worries about why Curtis’ pace for some reason hadn’t slowed down in the slightest. 

“No, I’m not kidding, that’s really what–, oh,” Bucky’s sentence paused as soon he spotted you, “hello you two.”

You attempted to tilt your head against the table as the last of your roommates came into view, shut the door behind them and stepped closer. 

As you reached out a wobbly hand to grasp Steve’s, he sweetly caught it in his and chuckled at your cock drunk visage, “hey.”

“Hmm–, hi…” you attempted to greet them, Bucky swiftly bending down to briefly be at your height, letting his fingers brush some of your hair out of your face as Curtis’ efforts jolted your frame against the table at every feverish thrust. 

“Was wondering where you guys were,” Steve held onto your hand a little longer as his glance met the blissful gaze of the man who was balls deep inside of you, “I thought she already gave you her little present.”

“You knew?” Curtis tilted his chin, to which you tried to explain with a mumble, though one of your roommates didn’t hesitate to playfully ask you to clarify.

“I’m sorry what was that? You’re being too much of whore right now for me to understand you,” Bucky pressed a peck to your brow before straightening back up, “look, I would have totally told you man, but she threatened us not to ruin the surprise.” 

“Yeah, said that if you didn’t get to take a dip first, then none of us ever would,” Steve added. 

“Aw,” you felt Curtis kneed your bottom as he slammed into you, “you’d really have done that?”

“I did say you deserve the world, so yeah,” you managed to squeak. 

“It’s so cute how sappy birthdays make you,” Bucky smirked, “such a shame not one of us even hesitates to exploit it.” 

As one hand stayed glued to the curve of your ass, his thumb hooked in your underwear to grant not only him but the rest a perfect view of just how well you took him, Curtis’ other hand then stretched out to grasp the half-empty beer that Steve handed him, briefly taking a swig before handing it back. 

“Yeah, she really is just such a good little girl, aren’t you?” Steve found a seat on one of the nearby chairs. 

“Mhm…” you barely caught sight of how both of them palmed themselves for an ounce of relief. 

Sitting down as well, Bucky squinted cockily back at you as your hazy eyes briefly caught his, “what was that, sweetheart?”  

“I’m a–,” you blubbered as Curtis’ cock stretched you so wide that you even felt it press against the sweet spots in your throbbing pussy, “I’m a g-good girl–”

“Yes, you are, baby, that’s right,” Curtis chuckled warmly behind you before offering your ass a swift slap, “the fucking best.”

“Oh, oh! She’s so close to cumming, I can see it!” Bucky exclaimed in an almost mocking tone as your eyes began to roll, “just look at that face,” he nearly jumped to get closer, “so fucking pretty.”

“Come on, Y/n,” Steve leaned back in his seat and squeezed his hard-on as he stared at your fucked out form, “give us a good show. Make it good for the birthday boy.” 

Although, unfortunately, you were already too far gone by then to take any of their lewd comments into account as you tumbled over the edge, floating in the sea of your cheering roommates as a soundtrack. 

After your friend had emptied himself into your haven, he simply slid your panties back into place so that his cum could leak out of you for the rest of the party and ruin your sheer underwear completely, perhaps even give up entirely and run down your shaky legs for all to see.

Bending down to smother you back to life with kisses, you also felt Curtis’ arms tangle around you as he hugged you and slowly lifted you off of the table. 

“You wanna go down and dance?” his low timbre tickled the shell of your ear. 

“Just give me a second,” you breathed through your hazy smile as you fought to blink your eyes back open, “my legs will first have to start working again. Maybe you could take over the music for a second and queue up something slow,” you light-heartedly suggested with an airy chuckle. 

“Don’t you worry, baby,” Bucky smirked from across the table, “we’ll help keep you upright.” 

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[mostly-marvel-musings]

How about “nope no nada, no using sex to get me to do things you want, it’s not going to work anymore” + using sex to get our favorite insomniac Mr. Stank to take a break from work and come to bed?

Old tricks

A/N: I was waiting for this prompt, can’t believe it was in my inbox the whole time and I missed it. Leave a comment, heart or reblog if you’ve enjoyed reading :)

Pairing: Tony Stark x Reader

Warning: 18+ sex themes, fluff

Tony Stark Masterlist

.

“How long has it been since he last took a nap, FRI?” You sighed, closing the book you were currently reading before stifling a yawn.

Thirty eight hours and counting, Mrs. Stark.

He was at it again. After promising that he would join you in bed early today, Tony Stark was still in the basement, nose deep in inventing yet another device that would potentially save the universe.

Rolling your eyes you threw the sheets off of your legs, rummaging through your closet to find the oldest trick in the book of ‘Getting your husband to obey’.

A set of lingerie was usually your go to but tonight, you decided on going down to his lab wearing nothing but a silky robe that you planned on discarding the moment he would lay eyes on you.

Overriding his protocol with FRIDAY’S help, you entered his lab and were met with an immediate blast of cold air; it fortunately worked in your favour, pebbling your nipples and making them evident against the flimsy piece of fabric.

Your husband stood hunched over his table that displayed varied diagrams and models with a blue glowing light that made his features appear exhausted. He probably was. Not that he would ever admit.

“Hello husband.”

You murmured, hugging the man from behind and wrapping your arms around his middle, feeling his tight muscles against your soft flesh, the contrast making you frown.

Tony sighed, melting against your touch immediately, as his hands stopped working to cover yours in a reassuring way.

“Are you planning on warming your side of the bed any time soon? Perhaps your wife would like some company too..”

Turning in your arms, he leaned in to kiss your lips in a wordless apology before stopping, his strained eyes grazing down your form, taking you in.

“What are you doing, Y/N?”

“What?” You feigned innocence, grabbing his hands and bringing them to the front of your robe, beginning to unfasten the ties.

Letting out a defeated grunt, Tony’s head planted itself against your shoulder, stopping your movements at once.

“Nope. No. Nada. No using sex to get me to do things you want, it’s not going to work anymore.” You grinned because his voice lacked conviction, and the fact that he hadn’t pushed you away meant you had already won.

“Isn’t it?”

You smirked, undoing the belt completely now to reveal what the robe barely covered. Opening an eye, Tony drank your glorious self in, not finding enough reason to resist. With your nipples turned into buds and the glistening between your thighs, he was powerless.

Tony Stark simply wasn’t built to resist your persuasion.

Taking the robe off completely, you stepped back and turned to head out of his lab, throwing the robe over the shoulder with a knowledge that it had probably landed on his head.

“You’re just gonna wander around the house naked now?” He called after you, cock stirring in his pants at the sight of your curves sashaying their way out, just for him as you shrugged in response.

“Maybe I’ll try another good old trick. Perhaps that toy you designed for our anniversary?”

There was a curse word uttered under his breath before Tony Stark shut off his lab for the night and made a beeline in your direction, refusing to let his wife pleasure herself with anything that wasn’t his cock or tongue.

Find Part 2 here!

[st4rymoon]

✭ 𝐓𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 ✭

𝟏𝟖+ | 𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭 | 𝐀𝐜𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐜 𝐑𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐬 | 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫-𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐎'𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: a long read btw, arguing, impact play, academic rivals, slow burn, rough sex, hate sex, language, p in v, make out sesh, unprotected sex, annoying Miguel, reader has some anger issues on the low, breath play, teasing, sexual tension, semi-mean dom, after care

・Part two! Part Three!

“WHAT?” You yelled, both your professor and Miguel looking at you in shock after your professor asked you for a one on one with the both of you.

You could scoff at the way Miguel’s lips curled up into a satisfied smile “Well you and Miguel are my best students, so it would only make sense for the both of you to do a presentation together. I can only imagine the things the both of you will come up with!” Your annoyingly sweet professor clapped.

“ wouldn’t it be better if both of us did our own? We coul-“ You tried to negotiate “Ah ah! I said group project! Now Miguel, do you have anything to say about this? Any complaints like this one over here?”

You sighed as Miguel spoke “Nope, I’d be happy to work with someone in the same range as me” he cockily spoke “Very funny, now since we’ve got this all sorted, go and talk” she smiled, shooing you and Miguel out of the classroom.

You scoffed as you pushed past Miguel “Aww come on sweetheart, you hate me that much?” He cooed following close behind you.

“Shut it” you huffed. Getting paired with Miguel was possibly the worst thing to happen since your high school prom. Miguel was the bane of your existence since the first year of college.

Of course, his good looks and brains were attractive but sooner or later you realized he was going to be a pain in your ass for the next few months of class. You met him in your first biology class, everything was going well until the first exam of the class.

Your professor said the class average was low B’s and high C’s but out of the whole class, two people got perfect scores. Could you guess who the two were?

You and Miguel.

Both of you looked at each other from across the class with the same look in your eyes saying ‘Someone beat me?’. Of course, you both got the same 100% grade but both of you were so used to being the only one on top of the class that this was more than just a score. But your egos.

You both were fully aware to not be in each other's way, only seeing each other when studying at the same place or in class. All was going well for the next 2 exams, but the 3rd one came and you couldn’t believe it.

You got a 98% and Miguel has a perfect 100%. You could see him smile at the results and you hated the professor right now. Why the hell would he show the class? It’s embarrassing, to say the least.

Miguel gave you a wink as you looked his way ever so slightly. Bursting out of the class, you could feel him behind you “2 points down” he chuckled. You wish you would’ve punched him.

And ever since then, he’s made it his life mission to ruin your day. You never got anything other than 100% again, you busted your ass studying just so he couldn’t rub it in.

“I’ll make sure you can’t get us two points down” Miguel hummed as he kept up at your pace. You could feel your blood boiling, god he’s such an asshole. “I’ll email you if I need help” you scoffed.

“Can I get your number? I won’t get the email since my inbox is always spamming” Miguel lied with a smile “fine” you muttered out your number and walked off before he could stop you.

‘Real classy, I wasn’t done talking’ popped up on your screen “Well I am” you messaged back. You were well aware it was Miguel and you didn’t need him to piss you off more than usual.

The second you stepped into your apartment you let out a relieved sigh. Oh, how you missed this place in these insufferable hours. You put on some comfy panties and an oversized hoodie.

You were laid in your living room, soft carpet under you as you finished up some of the slides for your presentation. The knock at your door was the last thing you needed, you groaned in agony as you hated the thought of getting up from your warm spot.

The knocking grew and so did your patience’s “IM COMING!” You yelled. You pulled the door open and lo and behold, Miguel. “For fuck sake man” you whined.

“Glad to see you too!” He smiled as he pushed past you with books in hand. Miguel was born with the talent of hiding his emotions, that talent was most useful here.

He took a deep breath as you opened the door. Your pretty thighs glowing under the baggy hoodie, hair a slight mess and the satisfying look of anger on your face could’ve made him harm.

“Excuse you” you hissed.

He plotted down next to your things and got straight to work. You stood in shock, did he just walk in like this was his house? “Well go ahead and get comfortable” you mocked as you slammed the door in annoyance.

“I am” he sighed as he stretched and leaned onto your couch.

The both of you bickered and sneered at each other the whole time you both worked but even then, the quality was always top-notch.

He didn’t like the way you formatted the information and you didn’t like how he took up a whole slide for a few sentences but both of you compromised. After a few hours, things were less tense, and both of you got used to each other.

“So what do you plan on doing with your major?” You asked, legs crossed and some candy in your mouth as you questioned him “Biochemist” he nodded “It’s always been a passion of mine”

“You sure do have the brains for it” you chuckled. “You don’t with the 98%” he teased. You rolled your eyes, your mood now soured as you remembered his shenanigans.

“Don’t start” you scoff as you get up to get some drinks “Hey hey I’m joking” he laughs, his hand stopping you from leaving as he holds your wrist “I know Sherlock, I’m going to get some drinks for us” you mutter with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah,” he laughed awkwardly, his eyes watching as you grabbed two glasses of water. “So what about you?” Miguel asked “What are you doing with a chemistry major”

��Probably chemical engineering, I’m not sure yet” You shrugged as you handed him the cup. He nodded and watched you sit next to him. Miguel scooted a little closer making you stiffen, sure he was a pain in the ass but he’s sadly one of the most gorgeous guys you’ve seen.

You tried to ignore your thoughts each time he’d stretch and groan, his moans making you think about how he’d sound if it were from pleasure. He’d be vocal you thought.

“Let’s watch something on the TV” you awkwardly smiled as you grabbed the remote and turned on your TV, you laid on your stomach, forgetting you only had panties and a hoodie.

Miguel’s eyes watched you kick your feet up, your glowy legs looking perfect as you looked through whatever you were putting on.

He noticed the pink panties you had on, his tongue instinctively licking his bottom lip as he thought about how good you’d look on top of him. He can imagine it, tits in his face and pussy sleeving his cock as he fucked you full.

He was going to give himself a boner if he kept it up. He focused his eyes on the screen and sighed in relief as you sat back up. You put on your favorite show and sat next to Miguel “We’re almost done with the assignment which is good, how about a few more minutes of break and we get back to work?” You smiled. “Sure”

You felt his hand move behind you, his arm resting above the couch as he let out yet again another ‘stretch’ while his eyes looked at you through his peripheral, you chuckled. How cliche.

You smiled as you decided to make your cliche move. It was obvious there was tension between you two, whether that be anger or sexual, it didn’t matter. “Let me get more gummies” you hummed as you turned to the table beside you and arched your back slightly, an audible moan coming from behind you as your ass was on perfect display.

You sat back beside him, gummies in hand and an innocent look on your face as you offered him some. He scoffed, shaking his head and looking back at the TV. Your eyes widened as you noticed the thick bulge straining against his pants.

“Eyes up” Miguel cockily cooed as he watched your eyes closely. “I- I wasn’t-“You made a pathetic attempt to save yourself but he cut you off “Uh huh uh huh, I know” he mocked.

He smiled down at you with accomplishment, he finally made you shut up for once. “Not going to give me a snarky comeback?” He cooed. “Shut up already God, stop it” you hissed, your eyes rolling as you moved away from him.

“No no” Miguel’s voice made you shiver as his hand held your thigh “I’m playing” he pouted as he glared down at you. You could punch him right but instead, you did something you thought you’d never do.

You pushed him on the couch and slammed your lips on his. Miguel’s hands immediately wrapped around your waist, a loud moan spilling into your mouth as he finally tasted you.

It seemed like Miguel was waiting for you to do this, his hands ran up your thighs hungrily before he flipped you onto your back. You gasped as he spread your legs around his waist.

His behemoth of a body spread your legs wide as he buried his face into the crook of your neck. You tangled your fingers into his hair as both of you hungrily kissed each other.

The kisses were messy and rough, teeth nipping at skin and tongues lapping at each other like two animals in heat. None of you even said a word, just heavy breaths, moans, and pure lust.

Suddenly Miguel pulled back from your lips, his eyes glaring into yours as he hovered above you. You could feel yourself getting ready for some snarky comment as you watched his lips curve into a smile.

“You kissed me first”

You groaned as you pushed him off, his hands still on your hips as he flipped you back onto his lap “hey I’m not complaining, It’s just funny since I piss you of so much” he sighed. His palm moved up to your jaw, face brushing against his hand as you took in his warmth.

He watched you lean into his palm like a cat, his body heating up as he realized how small you look in his lap. Your thighs small compared to his but still plump and pretty.

“Can I kiss you again” you shyly asked slightly afraid that he’s reject. “You don’t have to ask me, just do it” Miguel hummed as he pulled you into a kiss.

The kisses were now more sensual and soft, both of you now grinding into each other. His hand curled onto the back of your neck; the other palm pinned behind your spine.

You were glued onto his chest as Miguel’s warmth filled your senses. You’ve never been so warm in your life, the feeling making you tingly as he held you as close as possible. It felt like nothing in the world could hurt you, you felt safe.

“Please” you whispered onto his lips. He tried to not make you mad but he loved seeing you angry “Please what?” He taunts, his lips hovering over your jaw and neck but never touching you.

“Mig don’t tease” you whined as you hit his chest lightly “I’m not, I just don’t know what you’re saying please for” his arms clinging around your waist as he takes in your sweet scent.

You decided to play your games “I want you inside me mig, want to show you how much I need you” you cooed, your hand running down his abdomen and stopping just above his bulge. His breath hitched at your words, he didn’t know if you were fucking with him or not.

“Oh yeah?” Miguel watched you with focused eyes, his hands running up the sides of your thighs and squeezing your ass “You want me to fuck some manners into you? That loud fucking mouth of yours is always pissing me off” he cooed.

Loud fucking mouth? Your hand went up to smack his face in anger but he caught your wrist before you could “Don’t even try it muñeca.” He sternly said “You won’t like what comes with that”

You angrily kissed him as he pressed you flush against his aching cock, his hands pull the baggy hoodie off your body leaving you in your matching panties and bra.

“Fuck” he whispered, hands on your waist as he took in the view he’s been dreaming of since the day he met you. The amount of times he’d imagine fucking your mouth until you shut up was concerning.

You pulled his shirt off in need, throwing it behind you as you ran your hands up his thick muscular chest. He hummed at your soft hands running up his skin.

“Sit up for me?” He mumbled against your skin as he kicked off his sweats. He smiled at how obediently you did as he said “You look prettier when you do as I say” Miguel mocked.

You could care less about his words as his calloused hands pulled your panties off in need “Just shut up and fuck me” you panted. Miguel smiled as he felt your lips pepper all over his jaw and onto his lips, he could see you were just as eager for him as he was for you.

“Beg” he blurted. You ignored him as you rubbed his cock between your folds, both of you letting out moans as you felt each other's warmth. Miguel seethed, arms pinning you up to his chest “Listen”

You hated that you got turned on by the fact that he now had you restricted with just one hand as the other held your jaw up “you want the guy you despise to fuck you? You tell me you hate me every time you see me but look so eager to fuck me”

You were tired of his teasing, you let out a desperate whine, you could see his cock spring up and his tip leaking precum. But like always, Miguel likes to rile you up.

“Beg” he repeated. “Please mig please, just stop teasing ok” you cried. “All you needed to listen to was this?” He purred, hands moving onto your hips as he thrusts into you.

Miguel let out a gruntled moan as he felt your warm wet walls hug him tight, his head falling back onto the couch as he finally felt your pussy squeeze him.

He watched your eyes squeeze shut while you let out the prettiest moans “f- fuck!” You cried, the stretch making you clench even tighter around him as he held you down to his lap.

His cock was fully buried inside you in one go, he’s the biggest you’ve had in every way. It was overwhelming feeling how full you were, you could feel his curves and the tip of his cock nudging at your cervix.

“Breath chula, r- relax” he sighed. Your nails dug into his shoulders as you nodded, you took a deep breath allowing you to make it easier for him to move. “That’s it” he hummed onto your shoulder.

It only took Miguel a few seconds for him to start fucking you onto his lap, your body shaping into his hands, allowing him to use your pussy like a flesh light.

“O- Mig mi-“ you whined out, you couldn’t explain what you were feeling. Your whole body was tingling in pleasure as he rammed into you with pure force. Maybe you did piss him off a lot.

“What? You c- can’t take it? Such a big fucking mouth but can’t take my dick?” He seethed. You let out a pathetic whine at his words, your mind completely fogged in pleasure as you took all of him.

Miguel’s eyes couldn’t leave your pussy, his eyebrows scrunched and his mouth agar as he watched your pussy struggling to take his size. He hissed as you pushed him onto the couch, using his shoulders for support as you bounced onto his lap.

Your pretty moans filled his ears as you took control. Miguel let you take control for a bit, he loved watching how eager you rode him. Your body bounces on his lap, wet sounds of skin slapping echoing into the room.

“Making such a fucking mess” he huffed with a smile on his face, although he was loving this, he wanted to see you completely vulnerable. He thought maybe he was a little sick for wanting to see someone who hated him so much completely ruined under him but he loved it.

You gasped as Miguel lifted you onto the ground, your back hit the soft carpet under you as he stayed buried inside you. “Gotta fuck that stupid little attitude out honey, always disrespecting me. You’re the only one who tries to push my buttons. I love it” he cooed.

Miguel’s calloused hands bend your legs to the side, giving him full access to your tight cunt. “Go- god shi- fuck!” Miguel panted, he was a complete fucking mess.

Sure Miguel’s fucked a few people in his life, but he had no idea if it was just the thought of fucking the life out of you or how perfect your body was for him. He convinced himself it was both.

You clawed and scratched at his chest, your eyes full of tears as he brutally pounded into your “m- Mig I-“You were even more fucked out than him. How couldn’t you?

You had no clue where he got his stamina from, it felt like he’d been fucking you for hours. “Can’t believe you tried to slap me, should I return the favor?” Miguel hissed.

You nodded to his surprise “Please” you whined. “You want me to hit you?” He was surprised by your plead. He knew you’d be a freak in the sheets but you were always so aggressive with him that he expected you to hit him for even suggesting it.

“You’re always a pain in my ass but you just want to be taken care of huh?… What? You need me to pound your pretty pussy out for you to treat me with some respect?”

You nodded eagerly, if you were being honest you couldn’t even take in his words. Your pussy clenched and throbbed around his fat cock in agony but you were taken by surprise when a slap landed on your face “Use your words” he hissed.

Almost immediately you cried “Yes yes! Miguel please I nee- need it, f- fuck ah!”

Miguel chuckled, his hips angled a bit higher which allowed him to hit the perfect stop. His hand flew around your throat, his hips pounding you onto the floor as he let out animalistic moans.

“M- Mig- ah fff- fuckk!” You cried. The restriction of your breathing mixed with his rough pounds caused orgasm hit you hard as your pussy throbbed around him, the tip of his cock nudging at your sweet spot continuously.

Miguel’s eyes rolled back as he felt your nails claw at his arms, your small hand wrapped around his wrist as he fucked you balls deep. His cock plunged into your messy cunt as his balls slapped onto you. “That’s I- that’s-“ he hissed.

He thought about pulling out for both of your sakes but he’d rather just buy you a plan B. “C- can I- inside?” He seethed his eyes burning into yours as you bounced to his thrusts.

You couldn’t get a word out but your legs wrapping around his waist and your nails digging into his back to pull him closer gave him the answer. His lips crashed onto yours as he spilled inside you, his moans spilling into your mouth as his fingers dug into your hips.

He’s never had an orgasm that hard, he was sweating and out of breath as he stilled inside you. The both of you cling onto each other in fear of either of you leaving but that was on the last of your minds.

Miguel lay beside you, his arms pulling you into his as he pressed a kiss onto your forehead. “Was I too rough?” He questioned with concern as he now fully took in how fucked out you looked. “No, it was perfect” you weakly muttered as you nuzzled into his chest.

Miguel sighed in relief as your sweaty body was pinned into his. “Where’s your bedroom?” He hummed as he began to lift you into his arms “left” you sighed as he carried you into your bedroom.

“Let me clean us up and then we can rest yeah? Unless you want me to leav-“

You cut him off before he couldn’t finish “Don’t leave. Please?.” You hummed a bit worried you sounded a little pathetic.

“Wasn’t planning on it love”

[mercurial-chuckles]

Boom! A wild Bucky dropped into your inbox! He dares you to share a little something with “I love you, but if you don’t clean that mess, I’m gonna put you over my knee!”

Entrancing Haze

Pairing: Steve Rogers x F!Reader x Bucky Barnes | Stucky x F!Reader WC: ~1k Warnings: Established relationship | Domestic fluff | Cavity-causing Fluff | Language | Hot supersoldiers alert | Protective Supersoldiers | Allusions to naughty times | Poly relationship | Unbeta'd | Lemme know if I'm missing anything. A/N: Thanks for sending me this ask, Syd! 🥹 Sorry I sat on this one for awfully long. Wild Bucky made me all giddy, and I had like three or four ideas, and I decidedly went with Stucky, 'coz why not? Hope you enjoy this, my love 💞 This is also my submission for Stucky Bingo | Prompt: Tickling | @stuckybingo Note: Do not Steal, Copy, or Plagiarize any part of my work! I do not consent to AI scraping my work. Banner & Divider made by me. Picture credits to Pinterest. Check out my other works: Masterlist

Set in Captain Softly Stern and Sergeant Toughly Tender universe!

Indulge Away!

His tongue was to be blamed, peeking out to lick his lower lip.

And that bloody strand of hair was to be blamed too, 'coz it was distracting.

Everything Steve was distracting. Your eyes drifted over the muscles shifting beneath his white tank top, and his eyes reflected the bleaky gray skies, as he painted the pouring cityscape.

Sweet heavens! He looked extra sexy when he painted!

You reached up to tuck the unruly hair back, but Steve caught your wrist mid-movement and pressed a kiss to your palm, making you shudder and smile in sweet distress.

You both were tucked near the open balcony door, the sound of rain filtering out most of the noise in your head, lulling you into a happy haze.

You'd started the afternoon rearranging the bookshelf, but somewhere between organizing and flipping through a novel, you'd abandoned the task entirely. You moved over to his side, set the book down, and rested your face against his arm, cheek pressed to the solid warmth of his bicep, watching the plain canvas come to life.

"You're so pretty," you mumbled.

"You're pretty," he whispered, tugging you gently into his lap and nuzzling into your neck, leaving a trail of warm kisses that made you giggle.

"But you're divine, Steve. I don't say it enough, do I?" You sighed, craning your neck to look up at him.

He kissed your hair and rested his chin on your head, nudging you to look ahead. Steve Rogers was blushing, and it was kinda endearing you did that to him.

"You do. You spoil us rotten," he said, handing you the brush.

"Nope." You shook your head stubbornly, trying to pull away.

"Shut up and take the brush." He held it out again.

"So bossy," you muttered.

"Are you complaining?" Steve chuckled, clearly pleased with himself. And yeah, you were not complaining at all. But he didn't need to know that.

Apparently, you were also not too shabby at painting either, at least according to Steve. You both were painting together now, and your initial nerves had melted away somewhere in the rainy downpour.

"Use the flat brush," Steve said, his voice warm against your ear. You picked it up, scooping a mix of Payne's Gray and Diaxozine Purple onto the bristles.

"Take more," he insisted, kissing your neck. You obeyed, dabbing a little more oil paint before dragging it across the canvas.

A chill breeze curled around your ankles, making you cocoon your feet more into the warmth of his lap.

It was serene.

Blissful.

Until.

Creeeaaaak.

More creaking.

You flinched. Steve did, too, hissing when the sound hit his sensitive ears, making you bounce in his lap.

"BUCKY," he growled.

A grunt and some very aggressive huffs followed, and then Bucky appeared, looking mildly annoyed and absolutely fucking adorable.

"What're you doing?" Steve asked, fully exasperated.

Bucky rolled his eyes. He looked from you to Steve to the scattered books.

"I love you," he began, pointing at the mess, "but if you don't clean that up, I will put you over my knee."

You gasped.

Steve snorted.

"Excuse you. I AM rearranging. Just got a little distracted, is all," you said, indignant. "And what the hell were you doing?" you asked, brushing more paint across the canvas.

"The shelf's blocking the flow of the room. I'm moving it."

"Bucky," you said sharply. "You promised you'd nap."

"You two shouldn't have left me in the bed alone then," he huffed, stepping closer.

"Seriously? I slept beside you for six straight hours this morning," you pointed out. "If I fall asleep again now, I'm gonna be wide awake all night." You paused, then added as an afterthought, "Maybe take Steve."

That innuendo was lost on Steve but not on Bucky because Bucky smirked, "I mean, I wouldn't mind."

"Nope. We need to work on your sleep schedule, Buck," Steve said in that disapproving tone that usually irked both you and Bucky. But right now, it wasn't directed at you. So you simply nodded.

"Fine. I'll just rearrange things," Bucky grumbled.

"If Mrs. Batton comes knocking the door complaining about the noise, I'm not dealing with her," you stated.

Bucky chuckled smugly.

You elbowed Steve, "Tell him to cut it out."

Steve shrugged. "This one's on you."

You gasped. "The fuck do you mean?"

Steve leaned in and kissed your cheek. You swatted at him, narrowing your eyes. "No, really. What do you mean?"

Bucky snorted behind you.

"You were the one who showed him those home improvement videos," Steve said, shrugging nonchalantly.

You frowned and looked at Bucky, who looked entirely too pleased with himself.

And the moment you saw Bucky take a step toward you, you knew what he was going to do. You pointed at him, "Keep your hands to yourself!"

"I don't think so. C'mere," Bucky grinned.

"No," you said, holding onto Steve's thighs.

"No?" Bucky raised an eyebrow.

"No?" Steve echoed, clearly enjoying this.

"Alright then. Make space, Punk," Bucky smirked, marching forward and attempting to lift you right off Steve's lap. The brush you held clattered to the floor.

"STEVE!" you cried, glaring at him as he actually made space for Bucky.

You clung to Steve's ankles. "You can't make me go!"

"You little menace," Steve laughed, trying to stay upright as you scrambled for leverage.

You lost your balance and collapsed fully onto Steve's lap, dragging Bucky down with you. He landed with a grunt. You tried to crawl away, but nope. Not happening. Steve wrapped his arm around your waist, holding you firmly in place.

You laughed helplessly, thrashing in their grip.

"Lemme go!"

"OW. That tickles," Steve yelled when your fingers traveled from his ankles to his calves, right over his weak spot. He stumbled backward and accidentally shoved the couch.

"Oh, you started it," Bucky warned. He flipped you around in one swift motion. You lost your grip on Steve's legs and ended up face planting on Steve's chest, with Bucky falling on top of you both. He started tickling you, vigorously.

"You did start it," Steve added, holding your waist as Bucky kept going.

Oh no.

"BUCKYYYYY!"

You shrieked, laughing as they tickled your sides without mercy. You twisted around in their grip, knees knocking against Steve's, swatting at their hands.

Then you had an idea. A feral idea. Without much thought, you flashed them. The effect was instant.

Both men staggered, letting out throaty groans.

You took full advantage and bolted.

"She's definitely getting spanked for that," Bucky said through a laugh, already getting up.

"Yep," Steve agreed, hopping to his feet.

Laughing wildly, you didn't look back. You sprinted down the hallway, dove into the bedroom, and slammed the door shut behind you, and went teetering into the shelf.

"OUCH!" you yelped. Bucky! You lil shit!

"Hey," Steve called, "You okay in there?"

"Did you fall?" Bucky asked, banging the door.

"I just bumped into the shelf. Not a big deal," you replied, sighing as you rubbed your elbow.

"I'm fine!" you said before they started tearing down the door from the hinges with worry.

"No shit! Open the door," Bucky said hurriedly, his voice muffled against the wood.

"Promise no more tickles?" you asked, still buzzing with adrenaline.

"Doll," Bucky warned.

"Open the door," Steve said firmly.

"Geez! Calm down, both of you." You chuckled, opening the door and grinning proudly. After all, it was not every day you managed to escape the clutches of not one but two of your super soldiers.

They took a whole minute inspecting you for injuries, all while you assured you were fine.

Once sure you were okay, Bucky scooped you up and carried you to the bed while Steve pushed the shelf out of the way.

"We were supposed to be working on Bucky's sleep schedule," You reminded Steve over Bucky's shoulder.

"Who said we're sleeping?" Steve said, stripping away his vest and joining you both.

"What he said," Bucky said against your lips, grinning and taking your lips into a blinding kiss, "Let's start with five on each bum, what say, Captain," Bucky added after breaking the kiss.

"Sounds fair to me," Steve said, tugging your pants down.

"Noooo," you laughed, squirming away.

Much later, Mrs. Batton did come knocking on the door, but you'd be too lost moaning screaming to answer.

Set in Captain Softly Stern and Sergeant Toughly Tender universe!

Well? 🤭 Did that tickle your fancy?

Leave your thoughts if you enjoyed reading it. 💞✨

If you'd like to be tagged/removed from my works, please do so here.

[gilverrwrites]

Can I request dickkori throuple shenanigans? Them hearing/seeing you, who's fairly shy around them so they've never really gotten a solid feel on if you're romantically interested, say something absolutely heinously horny on main while you don't realize they are right there watching/hearing you embarrassing yourself. "I have a thirst that can only be quenched by sucking the sweat out of Nightwings jockstrap after a particularly active patrol" level thirsting. "Can I just have a SIP of Starfires bathwater. Please God I'll never ask for anything else ever 🙏🏽" while you're too shy to ever say anything to their faces but they're right there tittering to themselves just out of your line of sight hoping you'll keep going about how you want to sink your teeth into the both of them

𝓣𝓻𝓾𝓽𝓱 𝓸𝓻 𝓭𝓪𝓻𝓮?

DickKory/Reader, ≈ 900 words, ft. Arsenal A/N: If you saw this posted without any text no you didn't. I defo did not accidentally his 'post now' instead of 'save' while editing, so I had copy paste the ask into my inbox and re-edit all my colourful lettering again. Nope. It's also totally not like my 3/4th time doing that lol. Also, hey Starfire anon, was this you?

“Truth.”

“Chicken.” Arsenal eyes you judgmentally over the rim of his non-alcoholic beer. “Nightwing or Starfire?”

It’s telling to everyone in the vicinity that you don’t even wait for context before you groan petulantly; “What? Just one? That’s an impossible choice!”

Normally, you’re not so forthcoming, but Arsenal seems to have lucked out on catching you in a chatty mood. The perceived privacy of the towers' rec room at 1 AM, and your choice of drink probably have something to do with it too.

“I mean, have you seen them both? Like Nightwing, have you seen him after battle? I swear, just looking at him evokes a thirst in me that can only be quenched by sucking the sweat out of his jockstrap.” Self-consciousness trickles the back of your psyche as the words leave your lips but the memories of Dick post-fight; emboldened by victory as sweat causes his dark hair to stick to his face, his body shaking from exhilaration, is enough to keep you from shying away from your statement.

The look on Arsenal’s face has shifted, from judgment to intrigue. His brow arches, a cheeky smile on his lips as he probes for more, a chuckle underlining his words. “Yeah? An’ Star?”

“Heh, Star? Fuck.” You sip at your drink, parching your dried lips as you search for the words to describe your team's very own warrior princess. “Earth doesn’t make them like that.”

“Noooo, they don’t.” Arsenal agrees. Briefly sharing that same, dreamy, far-off look that adorns your face. “I’d be a dead man after one day on Tamaran, that’s for sure.”

“Same. But if I’ve gotta go, I wanna be drowned in a tub of Starfire’s bathwater. It’s the only way I would die happy.”

Laughter fills the room, Arsenal letting out a contagious full-belly chuckle that infects you, but your head is too full with thoughts of Starfire; naked and relaxed, her sunset skin gleaning in a pool of soapy bubbles, how she might sound humming in delight as she eases her muscles under the hot water, to notice the sound two more voices not to far away.

It’s Arsenal whose demeanour changes first. The smile on his lips shifting from humorous to mischievous as he cocks his head to the side, turning so one ear it closer to the door. Your smile, on the other hand, wavers to an open jaw as you mimic his actions and register the familiar sound of Nightwing and Starfire tittering between themselves.

For a moment, you’re able to delude yourself into believing that they’re simply laughing among themselves over something else, something related to whatever conversation they were having on their way over here. But as you shift to face the door, you see them both through its crack. Starfire, with her big, shining green eyes, stares right back at you, her pointed fingernails pressed to her full lips in an attempt to stifle her smile.

Nightwing is right beside her, his lips pressed to her ear, making no attempt to hide his conceited grin as he leans up to whisper something conspiratorial in her ear.

A flush is already seeping through your body as you come to terms with the situation, but then Nightwing turns his gaze to you. His eyes are concealed by his mask, but his intentions are as bright as Starfire’s aura, made apparent by the provocative way he bites his lower lip beneath his left canine. The combined heat of their attention, especially after what you’d been caught saying is enough to set your skin completely ablaze, from the tips of your ears, right down to your toes.

In a panic, you stand, almost spilling your drink in your frenzy, but managing to catch it at the last second. “I- um- haha- That… that was… I think it’s time for me to go to bed. Good night, Arsenal.” Feeling awkward and unsure of your actions, for some reason, you bow to your truth or dare buddy instead of giving him the nod you’d intended.

It’s not until you turn your attention back to the door that you realise you have to pass by the very subject of your humiliation in order to make your exit.

“Hey! You never actually answered my question.” Arsenal goads as you hesitate, feet scuffing against the polished stone flooring.

Though it adds to the pit in your stomach, that last poke to the fire is what you needed to kick you into gear again. With a deep breath to steady yourself, you march through the door, drink still in hand as you tell Arsenal to “Shut the fuck up!”

“Goodnight, Star, Nightwing.” You offer the couple a stiff farewell without making eye contact, before continuing down the hall.

Each footstep makes a deafening echo as flee, but the sound is not nearly as heart-stopping as the melodic sound of Starfire calling your name. You don’t have the courage to turn around and face either of them, but you come to a standstill and wait apprehensively for her to continue.

“Do you wish to take a bath before bed?” The playfulness in her tone is subtle, but undeniable. “If so, we would not want for you to drown in it. Perhaps you would appreciate our assistance.”

[internetdaddy98]

The Ties That Bind Us - Chapter 7

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[Series Masterlist]

Content Warning: workplace crush; heart eyes -----------------------------------------------------------------------------

There were a thousand things Y/N Williams could focus on.

Charting. Trauma protocols. Medication interactions. The bottomless inbox of consult notes that kept appearing no matter how many she finished.

But instead, her brain had decided to fixate on one person.

Again.

Dr. Michael Robinavitch. Robby. The attending who could intubate a coding patient without flinching, who once carried an unconscious kid through three hallways because transport was too slow, who somehow made an over-washed navy hoodie and a well-trimmed beard look like something out of a magazine.

You sighed and leaned your forehead against the cool surface of the breakroom table.

This was bad. This was very, very bad.

It had started like nothing. A flicker. A moment. A stupid flutter in your chest the night he’d handed you a protein bar without a word during a shift so busy you hadn’t peed in nine hours. And now?

Now it was a problem.

You looked at the time on your watch—4:12 p.m.—and groaned softly into your folded arms. The second wind had died somewhere around 3:15. The ER was finally quiet. The kind of quiet that didn’t last. And you should have used the lull to catch up on documentation, but your brain refused to cooperate.

It was replaying things. Stupid things.

Like the time Robby had let you take lead on a gunshot trauma and hadn’t hovered. Just watched you, trusting, arms crossed at the edge of the room with that small, private smile he only wore when he was proud of someone but didn’t want to make a big deal out of it.

Or how he always remembered your coffee order and would slide it toward you during brutal double shifts with a gruff, “Drink this before you crash.”

Or—God help you—the way he looked when he was tired. Sleeves rolled up, hair mussed from running his hands through it too many times. How his voice went gravelly at the end of a shift, like whiskey soaked moonlight. How he’d say your name sometimes—Y/N, not Dr. Williams—like he forgot they weren’t alone.

She sat up quickly, cheeks hot.

Nope. Absolutely not.

This wasn’t a rom-com. This was real life. Real, messy, professional life. You were a first-year fellow, still cutting your teeth on high-stakes trauma. He was your attending. Your mentor. Your friend.

And older.

You weren’t naive. You knew what people saw when they looked at you—young, driven, still proving yourself. Still figuring it out.

And Robby? Robby had already figured it out. He’d lived in this ER for nearly a decade. Everyone respected him. Trusted him. He didn’t just walk through chaos—he anchored it. With him around, things felt possible. Survivable.

He was the eye of every storm. And you were the girl who kept forgetting her own umbrella.

He’d never look at you like that.

You knew it. You knew it.

And yet...

Your fingers toyed with the edge of your ID badge as you stared out the break room window, the city still asleep under a blanket of sodium-yellow light.

The worst part wasn’t the hopelessness of it. It was the fact that—deep down—you didn’t want it to go away.

That flutter in her chest? It made her feel alive. Warm. Like maybe the job hadn’t hardened her all the way through yet.

“Can’t stay awake either?”

You jumped, nearly knocking your coffee over.

Robby was leaning in the doorway, arms folded, eyes bloodshot but alert.

“Jesus,” you breathed. “You can’t just appear like that.”

He chuckled, stepping inside with slow, quiet footsteps that somehow made your stomach knot.

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” he said, sitting in the chair across from your. “Thought I’d find you passed out under a pile of discharge summaries.”

You shrugged. “Brain won’t shut off.”

He gave you a knowing look. “Trauma insomnia?”

“Something like that.”

They sat in silence for a minute. Just the low hum of fluorescent lights and the distant beep of monitors on the other side of the wall. Robby tapped his fingers against his coffee cup.

“You’ve been quiet lately.”

You stiffened. “Have I?”

“Mmhmm.”

You tried to laugh it off, brushing your hair behind your ear. “Just tired, I guess.”

He didn’t push. That was one of the most maddening and gentle things about him—he always knew when not to push.

But the weight of his gaze lingered, steady and too perceptive.

You looked down at your hands.

“Do you ever feel like... you’re pretending to be someone smarter than you are?” you asked suddenly.

Robby tilted his head.

“All the time,” he said. “Why?”

You shook your head, trying to smile but not quite pulling it off. “I just... sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever be that person. You know? The one who’s calm no matter what. Who doesn’t hesitate. Who knows exactly what to do and just does it.”

“You mean the person you already are most of the time?”

Your eyes snapped up. “I—what?”

“You don’t see it,” he said, leaning forward a little. “But I do. Every shift. The way you handle pressure. The way you think on your feet. You’ve got instincts I didn’t have at your age. Hell, some people never get them.”

You stared at him, your chest suddenly too tight.

“Robby...”

He sat back, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to—just... I notice. That’s all.”

You smiled softly, a little broken at the edges. “Thank you.”

You sat for another moment in that too-heavy quiet, and you knew you had to get out of the room before you did something stupid. Like reach across the table and kiss him.

So you stood up.

“Well. I should get back to it”

Robby stood too, and for one breathless second, they were too close.

Close enough to see the flecks of gold in his irises. The faint greying of his beard. The way his lips parted like he wanted to say something but wasn’t sure if he should.

Your heart pounded in your throat.

And still—nothing.

Because of course not.

He wouldn’t.

You turned quickly, moving past him. “See you out there, Robby.”

“See you out there, Y/N.”

You didn’t stop walking until you were three hallways away.

[phaticserpent]

I've been kind of obsessed with Ultron lately, and in my head it makes perfect sense that he has two dicks.... Don't ask, I can't explain why, just.... Yes💞

OOOO? 👀🙏

Warning: nsfw, smut

It's not like you and Ultron haven't been intimate, but this time was different. His hands trailed down to your hips, pressing you against him. You let out a moan, arching at his touch and the feel of his hardness. Well, every part of him was hard, but the feel of his cocks sent heat straight to your core.

"U-Ultron," you sighed. "S-stop teasing."

"I just don't want to hurt you." He kissed the side of your neck. "Sure you can handle it?"

You gulped. "I trust you.....just be gentle."

His kiss trailed downward as he removed your shirt. "Of course~." You shuddered, his touch was so close to breaking you and making you come undone. It all felt hot.

He would make sure you were properly prepared, his fingers working their way inside as they stretched you. He would watch you writhe and whine just from his fingers. His eyes fixated on your expression, on your body as you come. Then, once you were thoroughly prepared, he would push his cock inside. Just one, for the time being.

Carefully observing your pain and expression at his sheer size and length. Your hands would grip onto his neck and arms at the stretch and the foreign sensation of being so full.

"Fuck...." was what you muttered when he started moving. His hips thrusting in and out while you tried to ground yourself. "Fuck.....y-you feel so.....big!"

Ultron chuckled, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. It was short, until you grabbed him by the neck to pull him in for another kiss, your legs wrapping around his waist.

Once he exhausted you of your orgasms, that's when he pushed his second cock in. It was a slow and painful breach and stretch. The very breath was knocked out of you.

"So.....tight..." He groaned. "Fuck, you're squeezing me like....gods." The grip on your hips was possessive and entirely dominant. His pacing increased as your moans and cries got louder. You squeezed your grip on him, crying and whining as you reached your umpteenth orgasm. You were completely overstimulated and you felt like you were losing your mind. He emptied his load into you, both cocks filling you to the brim while you reached your own orgasm. You felt the room spin.

.

.

.

He pressed the tip of one of his cocks to your other hole. You gasped and cried at the pain.

"N-nope nope! We can try anal later! Not for me!"

Taglist (to be added send me an ask in my inbox!): @moonr3ap3r @thequeerwasteland

[bernardsbendystraws]

Pink Petals

Chris Sturniolo x Reader

See pinned post for (series) masterlist and (oneshots) masterlist and more.

Summary: Chris had a past with a few girls who had left him burned. Y/n had succumbed to the utter tragedy of giving up on her high school sweetheart a while ago. Chris walks into Y/n’s flower shop, searching for  a bouquet of flowers for a girl. A blind date takes the lovelorn pair into fate’s hands. Chris isn’t holding back his true colors anymore. He’s a true romantic. Handwritten letters, cheesy compliments…and maybe some flowers. 

Warnings: 18+. This series contains mature themes, read at your own risk. (SMUT, angst, parental troubles, financial hardships, and more. Don't like, don't read.) This warning is made for all parts.

A/N: To be added to the taglist, send a request in my inbox or comment on the pinned post. I'm far more likely to see requests sent to my inbox.

With love and big tits, Rose.

Part Two: Don't Be Shy...

The familiar surroundings passed by as Chris drove the car. I could see Rebecca’s house, smiling at the thought of Austin and Madison. The perfect pair had lingered in my mind with excitement. Words had already been rehearsed as I imagined telling them the events of the date so far. 

And it wasn't even over yet.

Soon enough, Chris had come around and guided me out of the parked car. I smiled at the feeling of his hand grasping mine slightly tighter as he tugged us towards the sand of the beach. My nerves made my cold hands shakily hold his. I sucked in a deep breath, willing to calm my anxiety.

Peeping to my right, I could vaguely see my shop from the corner of my eye. Next to it, the ice cream parlor was adorned with a couple of customers on the patio. The red hair illuminated by the suns glow made me smile. Rebecca. She sat across one of the outdoor tables from a man. I assumed it was the one she had gossiped about a few days ago, rambling on about his gentleman-like behavior.

Maybe, I'd tell her about Chris too.

“Here, let me hold your shoes so you don’t get sand in them.” Chris suggests. I look down at his outreached hand, tilting my head with a grin as I slip off my shoes and hand them to him. He holds his own shoes by the laces, his socks tucked in them. 

Struggling to get a secure grasp on my shoes, I giggle. “I can carry them, don’t worry–” 

“Nope,” he interrupts. “Here, get on my back.” he turns around, slightly bending his knees as I look at him with a questioning glance. My eyes wander around the surroundings, finding the shore and shops nearly barren of any people besides a couple of elderly locals I could somewhat recognize. 

“Don’t overthink it, just come on.” he says, looking at me over his shoulder. 

With furrowed eyebrows and a lack of movement, Chris starts to make his way over to me. I hold my hands in front of myself, surprised as I feel my palms lay flat on his chest. My eyes glance upward, catching his piercing gaze as he smirks down at me. 

“Come on. I promise I won’t drop you, okay?” he says. 

Letting out a gruff sigh, I nod my head hesitantly. Chris turns around once more. I wrap my arms securely around his neck, jumping as I feel his hands clasp around my thighs, supporting me. A wave of heat rushes up my spine with the close proximity. I nearly forget to breathe as he soothes his fingers on the underside of my thigh. 

I really like how his hands feel on me.

“There ya go.” he praises. 

Tension rises in my gut from his subtle words, twisting a feeling of electricity emitting from my veins. I rest my chin down on his shoulder, seeing his eyes trace over to meet mine with a sly chuckle falling from his lips. 

“Good?” he asks. 

“Mhm.” I hum out. 

“Good.” he mentions. 

With that, his steps trail back towards his car. I cringe while he walks on the uneven, probably uncomfortable street pavement. One of his hands drops from my thighs, the other clutching on roughly into my leg. I swallow thickly at the vulgar touch, focusing on keeping my breaths even and quiet. 

He opens his back car door, gently setting in both of our shoes before shutting the vehicle. Locking the car, he shoves his keys back in his pocket before both of his hands hold to the bottoms of my thighs. My ears shutter with a wave of bliss at the closeness of his fingers. My arms mindlessly tighten, his hair tickling my arm bringing me out of my trance as I attempt to relax back onto him.

“Still okay back there?” he asks. 

“Oh, yeah…I’m good.” I say. I cringe at the sudden change of my voice, a higher tone resulting from the nerves coursing through my body. 

“Okay,” Chris acknowledges, rubbing his thumbs simultaneously through the denim material of my jeans. The saliva gathering in my mouth nearly drowns me. I swallow, cringing at the volume of the action as I hear Chris chuckle. “Do I make you nervous?” he laughs out. 

Getting defensive, I immediately start shaking my head from side to side. “No, you…just shut up.” I mutter out, accepting defeat. 

The soft laugh echoes into my ears once more. His hands clasp tighter around my thighs, making my breath hitch in my chest. “That’s okay,” he mumbles. He bends down slightly, allowing me to hop off onto the sand as the golden sunset glow shines onto the ocean. 

“I, uh,” my eyes drift back towards him, seeing his figure turn to face me as he stands tall. I hold my breath, watching him step closer to me. I feel his chest ever so slightly as it rises with each breath. The distracting sensation is groveled by his hand trailing lightly up my arm with the tips of his fingers. 

His lips are so close to mine.

“I think I like making you nervous.” he whispers out. 

My eyes widen with anticipation. I watch as his gaze drops to his hand tracing upward, stopping as he runs his fingers through the side of my hair with a delicate precision. “I, um,” 

The words mindlessly from my thoughts, a blank void consuming me. His stature crouches down, his lips inches away from mine as I tilt my head upward without conscious intention. “You…” Chris trails off, trying to retrace my words. 

“I,” my eyes flicker from his and down to his lips, seeing him doing the same as I crumble underneath the warmth of the fading sun and his blue stare. “I…I think I like it too.” I breathe out. 

Chris' lips turn upward into a smile, his eyes squinting with a devious, yet innocent glint. “Yeah?” he asks. I swallow thickly, nodding with a slow movement as our noses brush against each other with a tickling sensation. “Is this okay?” he asks. 

His lips nearly an inch apart from mine leave my mind with no answer except for a subtle upward shake of my head. His fingers cautiously tighten softly in my hair as I let my eyes flutter shut. My chest burns with excitement as I wait for the delicate press of his lips on mine. 

I feel his nose graze over my jaw, his warm breath fanning over my neck. A pucker erupts through the silence, my body nearly quivering internally as he presses a kiss to the side of my neck. The tip of his nose trails up smoothly, stopping at the side of my mouth.  

“You’re so pretty.” he whispers out. 

Before a response can be formed from my cloudy mind, his lips are pressed against mine. Softly, yet with pressure devastatingly agonizing. My eyes widen open with shock before fluttering shut from the tingling warmth of his lips moving on my own. His hand in my hair tangles further back, grasping the back of my head, as the other wraps around my hip and pulls me closer to him. The movement brings an imbalance to my weight as my hand reaches around and grabs the back of his neck securely and hesitantly. 

All I feel is a burning excitement, my body wishing for more as his lips slowly pull away from mine. I go to open my eyes, but his hand on my hips tugs me impossibly closer as his mouth hungrily lands onto my own with more passion. 

His lips on mine felt incomparable. It just felt right. Although my hands shook with excitement, wanting more...I could stay like this forever. Him against me, wordlessly exchanging a devotion of something unexplainable.

I let my hand wander upward, plunging through his hair. Urges overcome my senses as I let myself get lost in the bliss of the proximity and passion. Our chests thumb against each other with racing heartbeats. 

Pulling back for air, my eyes open to catch a glimpse of the nearly completely sunken sun. I heave in deep breaths, looking over to witness his eyes still closed and his lips parted with a plump, pink hue. My cheeks tighten with a smile. I resist the urge to touch my still pulsating lips, admiring the sight of him slowly opening his eyes. 

I can see my lipgloss on the corners of his lips.

The little piece of me laced in his appearance makes my bones melt. Like the after effects of a romantic scene in a movie, my heart started to beat a little louder. The pronunciation from the organ reminded me, screaming the capacity it could hold.

It only ever did that for my grandma and Taylor for so long. No matter how many times I had sloppily laid my lips on another person...it never looked that good--that right.

As he looks at me softly, he smiles. My heart puddles into mush as he reaches for my hand behind his head, gently grasping it and pulling our hands down between our sides. “Fuck, you really are perfect.” he compliments in a hushes tone. 

I look away, fighting a smile at the sweet words. I feel his hand grasp tighter onto mine, tugging me further as we continue taking steps into the gentle sand towards the shore. “Sorry, I just love getting you all nervous. It’s cute–you’re cute.” he confidently announces. 

I look in front of us, rolling my eyes as I shake my head with disbelief. “Thank you. I…thank you.” I acknowledge. 

Pulling us to a stop, Chris sits on the sand. I look next to him, bending at the knees to sit on the sand. As I crouch down, Chris pulls my hand to his chest. I stop my actions, looking at him with questioning eyes as he shifts his gaze from me to the ground. 

“You, um..” he licks his lips. “If you want–you could sit on my lap or between my legs. You know, to get more comfortable.” he suggests. 

The smile overtakes my face as I tilt my head at him. “Won’t that be uncomfortable for you?” I point out. 

He shrugs. “I don’t think so, you don’t have to. I was offering, I…” 

I rest my hand on his thigh. I smirk, feeling his grasp on my other hand tighten at the sudden touch. “Do you want me to, Chris?” I ask. 

The nerves subside as I expect him to shrink under my touch. Instead, his grin widens as he licks over his teeth. “I’d love it, actually.” he says. 

The smooth confidence in his voice brings my chest to tighten with a short breath. “Come on, don’t be shy.” he mentions, patting the ground in front of him between his legs. I stand back up, crouching shyly and turn my body to lean against his as I sit down. His arms automatically wrap around me, a sigh of contentment slipping from my lips mindlessly as my cold hands gravitate to his arms. 

“Oh my fuck!!” he exclaims, shuttering his arms tighter around me from the ice touch of my hands.

My eyes shut closed tightly with embarrassment, my hands falling in a pile into my lap. “I…sorry.” I say under my breath. 

“Wait,” Chris lets his arms tangle tighter, his hands reaching and clasping my own. “--let me warm you up, yeah? You just…caught me off guard is all.” he laughs out. 

I smile, leaning further into him as his embrace clouds rays of warmth onto my skin. The sun peeks just barely above the horizon, the golden glow dissipating with each passing second. 

“You know,” I feel his warm breath against my scalp as he talks. “--I didn’t really have much expectations for this date, but…I…” he peeks over my shoulder, glancing down to let his eyes meet mine as I turn towards him. “--I’m really having a good time with you. You’re…you’re someone I want to know, if that makes sense.” he explains softly. 

My stare melts into an aura of somber with his words. I let my body relax with each breath, leaning further and crumbling in his arms. “I…” I trail off, admiring his features as the golden sunlight illuminates his face. “I feel the same way…I…I’m glad I didn’t bail.” I laugh out. “I really wanted to, but I...I’m really glad I didn’t.” I say, looking up as his arms and hands squeeze around mine. 

His blue orbs observe my eyes shifting from each of his irises, trailing over my face as I let myself relax under his gaze. “I’m really glad you didn’t either. If I’m being honest…this is my first date in a while.” he admits with a sigh. 

As his eyes shift up towards the ocean, I tangle my fingers upwards and in between his clasping around my hands. I tighten the ligaments, watching as his eyes trace down to my face with an unreadable look. “Hey,” I let my head lean onto his chest, watching his expression paint into a brightened glow. “--it’s mine too.” I comment. 

The confession seems to release a tension as his chest heaves in slowly, his back becoming more relaxed. “I…I don’t know exactly what to say. I just…let me get to know you more, hm? What do you say?” he presses. 

I wander my eyes towards the dimming sky. I squint my eyes, humming. Pretending to think, I feel his chest vibrate with a light laugh at my antics. Whipping my eyes back to his, I give an affirmative nod. “I��d love that, Chris.” I say.

The whites of his eyes bulge from his head as his name rolls off my tongue. He lets out a shaky breath, leaning his head on top of mine. “God,”  he breathes out. “--I really have to thank Madison. I gotta get her a fucking check or some shit.” he mumbles. 

I laugh, leaning further into his chest. “Well,” I start. I adjust, sitting up enough to gaze over his shoulder and at my shop. The small crowd outside the ice cream shop next to my floral arrangements lining my window had disappeared, the small strip of shops now barren and dark with not a single car parked in the parking lot. 

My palm clenches into his shirt as I turn back to look at him. The tips of my nails tingle as I feel his fingers lightly trace over them. I admire his mindless touch as his eyes stay focused on his actions. 

“Chris.” I speak softly. 

He hums, his eyes still fixated on the light traces of his fingers touching mine. “Would you wanna thank Madison together?” I ask. 

The question catches his attention. His eyes shift, gleaming innocently up at mine as I nod over his shoulder. He peeks over, following my gesture before turning around with a crooked smile with his lips pressed into a tight line. 

“Only if you let me kiss you again.” he bargains. 

I squint my eyes, leaning forward as I pucker my lips softly. I briefly let my lips linger on his. As I allow myself to pull back, his hand caresses the back of my shoulder, his lips chasing mine with a soft hum. 

The way our lips intertwine sends my mind into a loop of bliss. My conscious thoughts slip into my pulsating heart, the thumping emotions sending waves of security from his skin against mine. The tightness in my chest burns as my lungs beg for air, I let myself pull away, gasping a deep breath in as Chris’s lips softly peck along my cheek, his thumb swiveling across the surface as I hear him pant for air. 

“Just so you know,” he breathes out heavily, “I would’ve agreed either way.” 

I lean my forehead on his shoulder, his hand soothing gently over the back of my head. A soft giggle falls from my lips as I feel his shoulders rack with humor. “I know,” I pull up, looking into his eyes. I let myself sink into the details of his irises, “trust me, I know.” I conclude. 

Chris offers me a tight-lipped smile as he stands up. Dusting off his bottom, he reaches a hand downward. I let my hand slither into his grasp. As he pulls me gently, I stand up, wiping off my jeans. 

“Here, let’s go get our shoes, jump up.” he turns around, bending his knees until he’s mostly at level with me. 

I shake my head with disbelief. “Chris, the car is all the way up there. You don’t have to–” 

He peers over his shoulder at me, pursing his lips. “I want to. I really want to.” he pronounces. 

I suck in my bottom lip, nodding as I mutter an acknowledgment under my breath. As I wrap my arms around Chris’ neck, he turns around, his chest pressed against mine from the lack of distance between our bodies. 

“What are you doing?” I teasingly ask. 

My eyes squint at him as he stands straight. The skin of my waist tingles as he curves his hands around both sides. His eyes shift to the side, gleaming down at me with a hidden mischievous glint in his gaze. 

“Well,” he starts, “This might come as a surprise to you….but, I think you’re really fucking pretty.” I blush furiously at the compliment, averting my eyes down to his chest as his gaze darts into mine. “--and, I really like pretty girls. Well, pretty girls who have your name,” he leans down, his nose prodding against the skin of my neck. “--pretty girls who have your smile,” his breath fans out just beneath my ear with a burning warmth. “--pretty girls that love pink flowers,” his nose trails up my neck, stopping as he leans his head downward, resting his forehead against mine. 

The anticipation makes my gut swirl into rhythms of excitement. My eyes stay trained on his, the outside of my peripheral vision fading into a blur as I focus solely on him. The pulse in my chest thumbs furiously. My lips part, sucking in a deep breath of air as my throat seems caught up on his words. 

His mouth lets a deep chuckle escape. “I really make you nervous, huh?” he teases. 

I bite my tongue, my eyes still unable to peel away from him. “A little.” I mutter through a tight smile. 

“That’s okay,” he announces. His hand brushes the hair back from my face, a shiver running down my neck and through my spine as his fingers lace through the hairs on my head tenderly. His eyes run down, meeting mine as I clutch my hand onto his wrist. “--you make me a little nervous too.” he admits. 

Relief rings through my mind as I shine him a smile with softened eyes. “Really?” I press. He nods affirmatively, his eyes watching his hand tangle down through my hair. 

“Either that or I’m starting to have a heart attack,” he jokes. 

I laugh, tugging his hand in between our bodies as I push my fingers through his. His warm palm radiates a comforting heat onto mine as our arms swing back and forth as we step through the sand. 

“Wanna hop up now?” he suggests. 

I let our hands drop, nodding slowly as he mimics the crouched positions from earlier. I place my arms around his neck, his hand tapping gently at the side  of my thigh. 

“Come on, pretty girl.” he encourages. 

The nickname sends salvia piling into my mouth and a wave of heat fluttering over the entirety of my body, down to my feet. I hesitantly bring up one leg. Chris automatically grasps onto it, yanking it securely as he reaches to hold my other leg. I let out a slight huff, out of breath. He visibly shutters from the air hitting his neck, the hairs standing straight up as I smirk with arrogance. 

I really do make him nervous. 

My smirk falls from my face as his grasp tightens, pushing me up his back effortlessly. The ease in his motion was impressive. 

Sure, I really wanted to know him, but I really wanted to know him. 

Something about his aura assured me that it would be heaven in sin tangled in sheets with him. His touches were soothing, comforting. He knew how to touch me in gentle ways, ways that I’m sure extended into deeper rendezvous. 

“You okay there, sweetheart?” 

I snap back into reality hearing his voice. I clear my throat, humming a pitiful acknowledgement. In response, he laughs. My thighs clench tighter around him from the embarrassment before I can think. 

“Squeezing me with those pretty legs, hm?” he says. 

My eyes widen, picturing the context in a different situation. 

I need to get my head out of the gutter, this will be more than sex for once. 

The reminder flushes me with shame as I cling onto his back. He unlocks his car, gently placing me down in the passenger seat before grabbing our shoes from the back. Chris slides his shoes on almost instantly. Kneeling down, he taps on his thigh. 

“I can put them on–”

Chris gives me a knowing look, his palm enclosing gently over my knee with a soothing motion. “I know,” he grabs my foot, placing it on his thigh as he slides my sock and shoe on. “--just wanted an excuse to touch you.” he leans down, repeating the action with the other sock and shoe. My eyes gleam down at him with admiration watching him gently place both of my feet back on the ground. 

“Alright,” he stands up, offering me an outreached hand. I slide my fingers over his palm, bathing in the warmth of his body heat as he grasps onto me. Standing up, Chris closes the car door behind me and locks the car. His hand doesn’t leave mine once, his thumb still swiveling back and forth against the back of my palm. 

My mind stuttered with the way he touched me. Blank thoughts rushed through my head, creating nothing but a void to help curate my daydreams with him included. I had only known him for a couple of hours, but it didn’t feel like it. It felt like each hour had been a week. Yet, at the same time, my nerves still rushed through my body as if I was just barely opening my front door for him. 

I didn’t know how to feel, I didn’t know how to react. It was foreign land. I didn’t know where to begin trying to dissect the situation, all I knew was I wanted more. 

More of him. 

And that–that was not something I had ever experienced. Not in a long time. Not ever like this.

“What did you have in mind?” Chris asks. 

As our intertwined hands swing between us with each step, I let a grin take over my face, flashing him a sly smile. “Well,” as we come in front of my shop, I reach down in my small bag and pull out my keys. Fiddling with the numerous metal conjoined on the holder, I pinch the golden, rusted key in between my two fingers. “Madison does love flowers too.” I suggest. 

I twist the key in the lock, pushing it open and shoving the clanking metal keychain back into my bag. Chris walks in behind me, holding open the door from behind me as his eyes glance over the shop. I pull him in faster, shutting and locking the door quickly. 

“Wanna make a custom bouquet with me?” I offer. 

Chris nods, his eyes still dancing over the small interior as if it had been his first time witnessing the surroundings. I tug his hand with mine, walking behind the counter. I set my bag by the register, turning on the small overhead light. 

“Where do we even start?” Chris asks with a light laugh. I look over as I start pulling materials onto the counter. I hold back a smile, watching as he nervously scratches the back of his neck. “I, uh…I wanna make sure you’re not the only one doing the work.” he mentions. 

The slight waver in the tone of his voice contradicts the outburst of confidence seen in his stature minutes ago. My eyes soften looking at his nervous persona.

“Don’t worry, I’ll walk you through it.” I say. 

The blush covers his face as his eyes bulge out of his head. I lick over the bottoms of my teeth, holding back a smirk as he clears his throat. “Oh–okay.” he stammers out. 

A sense of pride washes over me as I clap my hands together. I point to the various papers to wrap the bouquets in, looking over at Chris. 

“Wanna pick?” I suggest. 

Chris nods hesitantly. “Um….that one?” he says slowly, his tone rising higher at the end of his sentence with uncertainty. 

“This one?” I point down to the pink one he gestured to. With a hum of his approval, I slide the paper out of the array, piling up the others and sliding them back beneath the counter. Clapping together my hands again, I start walking around the display in the center of the shop. I look up, seeing Chris still waiting behind the counter with furrowed brows. “Come here!” I laugh out. 

Chris runs a hand through his hair while walking over to me. I pick up a couple of options, holding them up to him as he stands beside me. “What do we think?” I ask. 

A moment of silence leads my eyes from the flowers and to his features. His tongue prods at the side of his mouth. The ring-clad fingers scratched lightly at his jaw. I tilt my head with admiration watching the deep focus painted on his expression. 

“Hm…these two? We could put them with more purple, I know Madison likes purple.” he says. 

My eyes widened with shock. The tilt in my head pushes further to my shoulder as Chris looks up at me with an approval-seeking glance. 

“What? Is it not purple anymore? Or does that just sound ugly? I’m sorry–I don’t really know what I’m doing…” he trails off. 

I shake my head, grabbing a couple more of the white and lavender baby’s breath. With a bundle of each color in my hand, I move back around the counter. As I place the florals on the paper, I feel his body heat radiate on my skin beside me. 

“We um…we don’t have to do that, I just thought it might look pretty….” he says. 

Letting out a sigh, I look up and over until our eyes meet. His attention focuses on me, his lips glistening as his tongue darts over the soft pink skin. 

“Chris,” I start explaining as my fingers begin mindlessly organizing the delicate arrangement. Looking around the shop, I nudge my head over to the side wall. Chris follows my gaze, turning his head. “--I was just surprised. I think it’d look gorgeous. The, um…the flowers are over there. There’s roses, begonias, peonies, really a lot. I’m pretty sure I have a large sum of purple over there.” I state. 

“How many do I get? Which ones should I get?” he asks while walking over. He looks over his shoulder at me. 

With a shrug, I give him a reassuring smile. “Any is fine, Chris. We can probably fit about the same size handful as the baby’s breath. Pick whatever, you seem to have good taste.” I point out. 

I focus down on the paper and layered flowers. Taking my time, I topple each stem and small buds of flowers over each other, dispersing the colors evenly. 

A subtle touch on the small of my back breaks me from the focused state. I look over, seeing a pile of purple florals on the counter. My eyes wander further upward to see Chris giving me a tight-lipped smile. 

“Sorry, I said your name a couple of times,” he says. My face goes pink with a flush of embarrassment. “--I didn’t mean to scare you.” His hand drops from the small of my back. I long for the warmth of his touch, my head leaning onto his chest as I let out a small sigh of contentment. 

“--didn’t scare me.” I mumble out. 

His chest rises and falls beneath my head. I slowly drift to stand up straight, my hands fiddling anxiously with the strong stems of the large flowers.

I just want to touch him. 

As if reading my mind, I feel his hand resume its position on the small of my back. My body goes stiff under the tantalizing shiver that spreads from his hand. His hot breath fans on the side of my scalp as my hands stutter with the shuffling between the florals.

“Is this okay?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. 

I look over my shoulder, his eyes piercing into mine as I slowly nod my head. My eyes drift down to his lips. I reminisce on the feelings, but turn back to the task at-hand. 

“Good, just--let me know if it isn’t okay?” he says. 

I bite down on the inside of my cheek, replying with a small hum. Not trusting my voice, I stay silent. I bathe in the feeling of his hand starting to draw circles onto my back, relaxing further and further into his touch. 

I shouldn’t feel this comfortable. 

The pondering thought felt like a warning. There has to be something wrong with him. A million words, bursting through my head. One stays engraved far deeper than the rest. 

What would it be like to love him? 

What would it be like to be loved by him?

“Can I help at all?” he asks. 

I jump back into reality, my words stumbling in gibberish for a minute. Shutting my eyes tightly, I take a deep breath as I hear his laugh. 

“Don’t worry,” his hand soothes in a bigger motion. “--take your time.” he voices. 

Take your time.

The soft statement echoed in my head as I nodded appreciatively. “Um…thank you. I…Do you wanna help me tie it all together? I can tie the bow, you’ll just have to hold it all together for a minute.” He nods as I pull the purple paper together around the floral arrangement. His hands graze mine while taking hold of the stems, my fingers nearly stumbling to outreach for him again. 

I spin out some purple ribbon, a dark royal shade of silk. Snipping a long length, I tie the bow just beneath his fingers. I tighten the knot, my eyes staying trained on his hands. His nails are perfect, manicured and have small designs on each. 

“I like your nails,” before I can stop myself, I reach out, caressing the nail beds of his fingers. Chris laughs as I shrink my hands back to myself with a wave of nerves succumbing over my senses. “--sorry. I just got excited.” I mutter out. 

Chris laughs harder at this, a smile of pure embarrassment painting my face. He gently places the bouquet on the counter, his arm swinging over and behind me. I feel the weight of his arm hug me into his side, his other arm enclosing around me as he sways us side to side. 

“Don’t be sorry,” he pulls away, both his hands resting on my shoulders as I look up at him. “--I thought it was cute.” he announces with a grin. 

My teeth clamp into my tongue lightly as I fight back the urge to turn away. His intense gaze stays on me as he leans down further to my level. As his nose grazes mine, my breath hitches in my throat. 

“--and pretty. I…” I swallow thickly, watching his grin spread ear-to-ear at the nervous antic. “I was wondering…what were you gonna ask for if you won our bet? Hm?” he presses. 

As his arms relax onto me, his grip around me stays the same. I take in the feeling, petals of emotions raining through my body like nervous butterflies. 

“I…” My eyes wander just behind his shoulder. He moves his head, making his eyes catch mine as he holds the connection of our eyes meeting. “--well, I, um…” The words fall lifelessly as the overhead light illuminates his perfect features. My mind goes numb. Every thought besides how good he looked was gone. 

His hand untangling itself from around my shoulder catches my mind into reality. I look up from his lips, catching his playful eyes. The warm touch of his hand holding my chin upwards sends my emotions into a spiral, clinging onto the burning pit of anticipation in my gut. 

“Come on, aren’t ya gonna tell me?” he taunts. 

Looming over me, his stature becomes taller somehow, more confident. I feel my eyes going wide, my heart racing in my chest. “I…” My chest sinks inward with a heavy breath being pushed from my lips as I muster up courage. “--I was gonna say…” I bring my hand up, laying my palm flat on his chest as it starts to rise and fall unevenly. “--our next date, it should be something fun. Maybe, something I’ve done that you haven’t, ya know? Make it fair.” I say through a large breath. 

As I let my eyes look into his, the glazed over look sends a smile onto my face with pride. “Yeah…yeah, our second date. I…I’d really like that.” he breathes out. 

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[julietsf1]

All is Fair in Love and Pastries - Kenan Yıldız x Reader

summary: She came to Munich for romance and got ghosted instead. Now, all she has left is a non-refundable ticket, a wounded ego, and an ongoing feud with a man who stole her last pretzel. (8k words)

content: serendipity, slight enemies-to-lovers, unexpected chemistry, teasing, fluff :)

AN: getting that real life inspo lmao I'm actually still going to Munich this weekend as my ticket is non refundable :') bet im gonna go shopping tho!! have a lovely day darlings <3

_______________________________________

I stared at my phone for the hundredth time that day, hoping—no, praying—for a notification. A single message. A carrier pigeon, even. Anything to prove that I hadn’t just imagined the last 5 months of my relationship.

Nothing.

Just the same empty screen, as quiet and indifferent as the man who swore he loved me five days ago.

I refreshed our chat anyway, like that would suddenly make a difference. Maybe my WiFi was acting up. Maybe he had texted, and the message was just... stuck in the digital abyss, waiting to be delivered.

Nope. Still nothing.

I sighed dramatically and flopped back onto my bed, holding my phone above me like it might suddenly start explaining itself.

It had been four days since my boyfriend—ex-boyfriend? Current ghost?—had last texted me. Four whole days. No explanation, no excuse, not even the cowardice of a half-assed breakup text.

Just... radio silence.

Besides the instagram stories of his friends, where he was seemingly having the time of his life clubbing and going to basketball matches.

The man who, less than a week ago, had been telling me he missed me so much, that he couldn’t wait to see me, had apparently decided I no longer existed.

Cool. Very cool.

I unlocked my phone and stared at my last message to him. A simple:

"What time are you picking me up from the airport <3"

Sent. Read. Ignored.

I clenched my jaw and rolled onto my stomach, glaring at my laptop screen where my non-refundable plane ticket sat in my email inbox. A round-trip flight from Nice to Munich, purchased in what I now recognized as the stupidest burst of romantic optimism I’d ever had. 

What was I supposed to do now? Cancel? Waste the money and sit at home, marinating in my own heartbreak like some tragic rom-com protagonist?

Absolutely not.

He may have ghosted me, but I’d be damned if I let some spineless man ruin my weekend. If nothing else, I was going to Munich. I had been there quite often for him anyway; I can figure out town for myself. And if nothing else, I was going to eat overpriced pastries, wander through fancy boutiques, and romanticize the hell out of my heartbreak.

So that’s exactly what I did.

I packed my bags and boarded the plane with all the enthusiasm of someone heading to their own public execution.

…

Munich was cold, and I was hungry—a dangerous combination for my already fragile mood.

I had spent the last hour walking through Englischer Garten, trying to shake off the lingering irritation of being ghosted. Fresh air was supposed to be good for you, right? It was supposed to clear your head, restore balance, whatever.

Did it work?

Not even a little.

I even stopped by the Eisbachwelle, where wetsuit-clad lunatics flung themselves into freezing water, attempting to surf a man-made wave in the middle of the city. I lingered for a while, waiting for the sight of someone wiping out spectacularly to cheer me up. A little Schadenfreude, as the Germans call it.

But even that failed me.

A guy faceplanted so hard that his board smacked him in the ribs, and all I felt was secondhand embarrassment. Not a single drop of joy.

Which meant I had officially lost my edge.

I needed a reset. Something warm, salty, buttery, preferably in the shape of a large pretzel.

So when I spotted a small bakery stand in Marienplatz, I knew what had to be done.

There it was. The last Brezn.

Golden brown, perfectly crisp on the outside, still steaming slightly. It looked like a hug in food form. The kind of thing that could turn your entire day around, that could restore faith in humanity, that could—

A hand shot out at the same time as mine.

Before I could react, the pretzel thief had already handed over his cash, nodding a polite danke to the vendor as if he hadn't just robbed me blind in broad daylight.

I stood there, hand still hovering mid-air, fingers closing around absolutely nothing.

The guy—the criminal in question—didn’t even hesitate. He just took a bite, slow and deliberate, as if he were performing for a food commercial.

I should have just let it go. But I was cold, hungry, and, quite frankly, on the verge of snapping.

“Excuse me?” I said, my voice teetering dangerously close to customer service polite.

He finally turned toward me, mid-chew, like he hadn’t just committed culinary theft.

Up close, he was—unfortunately—pretty easy to look at. Tall, broad-shouldered, with sharp features softened only slightly by a full head of thick, dark blonde hair. The kind of guy who looked like he belonged in an expensive ad campaign, modeling watches he probably didn't even know how to read.

His gaze flicked down at me, scanning me with the casual arrogance of a man who had never had to fight for the last anything in his life.

“Problem?”

I crossed my arms. “You just stole my Brezn.”

He glanced down at it. Then, without even a hint of remorse, ripped off another piece and tossed it into his mouth.

“Oh?” he said, chewing. “Didn’t see your name on it.”

I let out a slow breath through my nose. “You cut the line.”

He shrugged. “I don’t wait in lines.”

I squinted at him. “Oh, wow. That must be so difficult for you.”

“It is,” he replied, entirely serious, before popping another bite into his mouth.

I stared at him. He stared back.

This was a test from the universe.

“I think I deserve it more,” he said finally, still looking alarmingly relaxed about this whole thing.

“Oh yeah?” I deadpanned. “And why’s that?”

He licked a bit of salt off his thumb—unnecessarily slowly, might I add—before replying, “I’m barely ever home. Haven’t had one of these in months.”

I exhaled sharply, glancing at the vendor like maybe—just maybe—there was another pretzel hiding in a secret stash somewhere. But no. This was it.

This stranger had not only taken the last Brezn but was now making a compelling case as to why he deserved it more.

I had two choices:

1.     Accept defeat like a normal, functioning adult.

2.     Die on this hill.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t feeling particularly mature today.

“Well,” I said, shifting my weight onto one leg. “I actually had a really rough week. So if we’re doing the who deserves it more competition, I’m pretty sure I win.”

He raised an eyebrow, looking far too amused for someone who had just ruined my day. “Oh yeah? What happened?”

I opened my mouth, then hesitated.

 “Let’s just say I’ve had a series of unfortunate events that have led me here, to this exact moment, where all I wanted—all I needed—was a Brezn.” I gestured toward the offending baked good, still clutched in his ridiculously nice hands. “And yet, here we are.”

He considered that for a moment, like he was actually entertaining the idea of handing it over.

Then, after a beat, he simply swallowed, dusted the salt from his fingers, and said, “Still not giving it to you.”

I blinked. “You’re actually the worst.”

“Probably,” he agreed, unbothered.

And then—because apparently, this interaction wasn’t infuriating enough—he shot me a quick smirk, turned on his heel, and walked away.

With my pretzel.

I watched his retreating figure, the back of his stupidly nice jacket, the annoyingly confident way he walked, and considered my life choices.

Maybe I should have just tripped him.

…

By the time I reached Jamal’s apartment, I had mostly let go of the pretzel theft.

Mostly.

Fine, not at all, but I was telling myself that because I refused to let some random bread bandit ruin my entire weekend.

I rang the doorbell, and within seconds, the door swung open to reveal Jamal Musiala—failed Raya date turned best mate.

We had met on the app ages ago, but within the first five minutes of real-life conversation, it was abundantly clear that we were better off as friends. No awkward tension, no will-they-won’t-they—just immediate sibling energy.

And when he heard about my spectacular disaster, he didn’t even hesitate.

"Cancel the hotel. My guest room is free. You’re staying with me."

Which was how I ended up here, standing in his doorway while he pulled me into a quick hug.

"Yo! Finally made it," he said, immediately pulling me into a hug. 

"Survived another international flight," I sighed, stepping inside and already feeling the tension in my shoulders ease.

He grabbed my bag, tossing it near the door like it was his personal mission to make sure I did absolutely nothing for myself this weekend. "Long day?"

"You have no idea," I muttered, collapsing onto the couch. "Between the baby on the flight and some guy testing my patience on the streets of Munich, I was one bad moment away from throwing hands."

Jamal raised an eyebrow, already amused. "Define ‘testing your patience.’"

I waved a hand. "Eh, some random dickhead cut in front of me at a bakery. Took the last Brezn. Very tragic. Anyway, I’m over it now."

Jamal snorted. "You don’t sound over it."

"I’ve grown as a person," I said solemnly, grabbing the tea he handed me. "Anyway, enough about me. What’s new? Got any hot gossip?"

"Nothing as dramatic as your bread wars," he teased, settling into the chair across from me. "But I’m still reeling over the fact that you thought long-distance dating was a good idea."

I sighed, taking a long sip of my tea. "Alright, go on. Get it out of your system."

He smirked. "No, no, I just think it’s inspiring. You—who has approximately zero patience for time-wasters—thought dating someone five countries away was a solid plan."

I gave him a look. "It made sense at the time!"

Jamal raised an eyebrow. "Did it?"

I groaned. "Yes! In theory, long-distance means built-in space. No pressure to see each other all the time, no risk of losing yourself in the relationship. You still get your own life. It’s all very mature, very evolved."

"Ah yes," he nodded seriously, "a relationship with absolutely no quality time. Revolutionary."

I ignored him. "It worked perfectly for me."

Jamal leaned forward, grinning. "I think you’re saying he just didn’t make you fall head over heels properly."

"I’m saying it was a noble experiment that failed," I corrected.

"You rationalize love like it’s a business deal," he said, shaking his head. "I bet you made a whole pros and cons list before agreeing to this relationship."

I pursed my lips.

Jamal’s eyes widened. "Oh my God. You did."

"It was a very casual list," I mumbled into my mug.

He threw his head back, cackling. "You’re mental."

I scowled. "Some of us like to make informed decisions, Jamal."

"And some of us," he grinned, "realize that love isn’t an investment portfolio. It just happens."

I squinted at him. "That sounds like something people say when they want me to shut up."

"That too," he admitted, still smirking. "Anyway, I invited a friend over for FIFA later—hope you don’t mind."

I waved a hand lazily. "No problem. I’m gonna take a long shower first anyway."

…

The shower did its job. By the time I stepped out, warm and wrapped in one of Jamal’s oversized hoodies, I felt lighter. Like maybe this weekend wasn’t a complete disaster. Maybe I could just enjoy being in Munich, enjoy my friend’s company, and ignore the nagging feeling that I had flown here for absolutely no reason.

Then I stepped into the living room.

And froze.

Because sitting on Jamal’s couch, controller in hand, was none other than the Brezn thief himself.

I stopped so abruptly I nearly slid on the hardwood floor.

He looked up at me mid-game, one hand casually flicking the joystick, the other resting against the back of the couch like he had all the time in the world. His dark blond waves were slightly damp, like he’d just showered too, and he was wearing a black long-sleeve shirt that looked unfairly good on him.

For a split second, I thought maybe the universe was punishing me. That this was some kind of elaborate karmic joke.

Then he grinned, slow and lazy.

“Oh,” he said, far too casually for my liking. “It’s you again.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Are you following me?”

Jamal—completely oblivious to the mounting tension in the room—paused the game and looked between us. “Wait. You two already know each other?”

The man—who I now knew was not just some random bakery menace but an actual acquaintance of Jamal’s—stretched his arms out in front of him like he was completely at ease, shooting me a look that was somewhere between amused and smug.

“We met earlier,” he said, still grinning like he found this whole thing hilarious. “Had a little disagreement over a pretzel.”

I crossed my arms. “I wouldn’t call it a disagreement. More like an act of blatant food theft.”

Jamal let out a loud laugh. “Oh my God. You’re the Brezn guy?”

I turned to him, betrayed. “You’re taking his side?”

“Oh, I’m on no one’s side,” Jamal said, still grinning. “I just can’t believe you’ve been ranting about this all evening, and it turns out it was Kenan.”

Kenan.

I turned back to him, my brain finally catching up. Kenan Yıldız. The name suddenly clicked into place. Juventus player. Young star. He had been on all the football news headlines lately, yet I hadn’t recognized him when we’d been too busy arguing over baked goods.

Kenan leaned back against the couch, clearly enjoying every second of this.

“If it helps,” he said, “I did think about giving it to you.”

I scoffed. “Wow. So generous.”

“Didn’t, though,” he added, eyes gleaming.

I inhaled sharply, mentally weighing the pros and cons of throwing a pillow at his head.

Jamal, meanwhile, was still thoroughly entertained. “Alright, alright. Before you two start a war in my living room, sit down. We’re playing FIFA.”

I dropped onto the couch, watching as he passed a controller to Kenan. “Oh, fantastic. I get to witness high-quality gameplay firsthand.”

Kenan barely glanced at me as he selected his team. “That sounded sarcastic.”

I took a sip of my drink. “That’s because it was.”

Jamal grinned. “You talk like you’ve seen him play before.”

I gestured toward the screen. "The evidence is right there. You haven’t even started playing, and I can already see the classic overconfidence."

Jamal burst out laughing. “Oh, this is great. I love this."

Kenan tilted his head slightly. “You think I’m bad at FIFA?”

I leaned back, stretching my legs out. “I think you think you’re good, which is way worse.”

Jamal wheezed. “Mate, she’s calling you a fraud.”

Kenan finally smirked, something sharper in his expression now. “Alright then. Play me.”

I scoffed. “Why would I waste my time proving something I already know?”

Kenan handed me a controller. “Because I think you’re all talk.”

Jamal let out a low whistle. “Damn. You gonna let him say that?”

I squinted at Kenan, assessing. He looked too confident, too pleased with himself, like he had already decided I was going to lose.

Big mistake.

I stretched my arms, feigning boredom. "Fine. But when I win, you’re buying me a Brezn."

His grin widened. “Deal.”

Jamal leaned forward, rubbing his hands together. “Alright, this is officially the most invested I’ve ever been in FIFA.” 

The match started, and I quickly realized three things:

1.     Kenan was as smug as humanly possible.

2.     I was not as bad as he expected.

3.     I was still losing.

“You sure you’ve played this before?” he teased, passing circles around my defense.

I gritted my teeth. “Yes.”

“You sure?”

“Shut up.”

And then—he scored.

Jamal burst out laughing as I dramatically collapsed against the couch. “I’m going to throw this controller at your head.”

Kenan grinned. “You’re just mad because you’re losing.”

I exhaled, resetting. “Alright. I’m locked in now.”

Kenan smirked. “Oh? You weren’t trying before?”

“I was warming up.”

And then—I started to figure him out.

Kenan was good, but he was also comfortable. He played like someone who expected to win—which meant he wasn’t ready for surprises.

So I gave him one.

Instead of playing safe, I started forcing mistakes. Instead of predictable attacks, I threw reckless passes forward, sprinting onto them with zero hesitation.

And then—somehow, some way—I scored.

The room went silent.

Jamal’s eyes widened. “NO WAY.”

I shot up from the couch, genuinely thrilled, throwing my arms in the air like I had just won the World Cup. “LET’S GO!”

Kenan blinked at the screen, processing. “...Alright. That was decent.”

“DECENT?” I laughed. “That was incredible. That was a masterpiece. Someone call FIFA, that was the best goal of the year.”

Jamal was dying, doubled over in laughter. “She’s actually celebrating like she won the league.”

Kenan shook his head, but he didn’t say anything.

Jamal leaned toward him. “You good, man? I think she actually rattled you.”

Kenan exhaled sharply, rolling his shoulders. “One goal means nothing.”

I grinned. “You sound stressed.”

“I’m not,” he said flatly.

“You look stressed.”

Kenan didn’t even respond. He just restarted the match, jaw set, eyes focused.

And that’s when I realized—he actually cared.

I had gotten to him.

And that fact alone made my entire weekend.

The rest of the game was pure chaos. I spent the entire match talking, commentating my every move like I was a sports announcer, making Jamal cry with laughter while Kenan did his best to block me out.

And then—somehow, against all odds—I scored again.

Jamal fell to the floor. “SHE DID IT AGAIN.”

I jumped up, clapping my hands together, absolutely beaming. “Someone get the cameras! Someone call ESPN!”

Kenan exhaled, dragging a hand down his face.

Jamal cackled. “I think this is the happiest I’ve ever seen her.”

Kenan looked at me then, properly looked, and for a split second, there was something undeniably fond in his gaze.

He didn’t say anything, just shook his head with a tiny, reluctant smile.

I flopped back down, grinning wildly. “Kenan, should I go pro?”

“You should retire while you’re ahead,” he muttered.

I smirked. “So you admit I’m ahead.”

Kenan sighed, picking up his drink. “I’m not talking to you anymore.”

Jamal wheezed. “Nah, man, you lost. Accept it.”

I stood up, stretching lazily. “I believe you owe me a Brezn, Yıldız.”

With a giggle, I wandered into the kitchen, grabbing a coke from the fridge, still riding the high of my victory.

Behind me, I heard Jamal got up, grabbing his phone. “Food’s almost here—I’ll go down and get it.”

The appartment was quiet now besides the sound of a controller being set down. A pause.

Then, Kenan’s voice, low and even.

“She’s unbearable.”

I grabbed a coke and turned around, only to find him already walking into the kitchen.

He moved with the kind of easy confidence that was impossible to ignore, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt slightly, like he had all the time in the world. I expected him to go for a drink himself, but he just leaned against the counter, watching me.

I raised an eyebrow, taking a slow sip. “Let me guess. You came in here to process your humiliating loss in private?”

His lips twitched. “I came in here to see if you’d finally crack and admit you got lucky.”

I scoffed, setting my drink down with dramatic emphasis. “Lucky? Oh, that’s cute. You think this was luck.”

Kenan tilted his head slightly, like he was really considering it. “Mmm. Either that, or you tricked me into underestimating you.”

I gasped, pressing a hand to my chest. “Are you suggesting I played mind games with you?”

His eyes glinted with something just shy of admiration. “I wouldn’t put it past you.”

I smirked. “You’re right. I totally did. And I’d do it again.”

Kenan’s lips curled at the edges, like he wasn’t going to give me the satisfaction of admitting anything. But his gaze flickered—just for a second—down to my mouth before locking back onto my eyes.

There was a beat of silence, not awkward but charged.

His voice was lower when he spoke again. “I’ll get you back for that.”

I raised my eyebrow. “Sure you will.”

Before he could respond, Jamal’s voice rang out from the hallway. “Food’s here!”

Kenan stepped back, running a hand through his hair before nodding toward the door. “Come on, winner. Let’s eat.”

I followed, my smirk still lingering.

For the first time all weekend, I felt genuinely good.

…

It had gotten late the night before. Later than expected.

Jamal had ordered food, we’d all ended up sitting around, eating, talking, and somehow, between full stomachs and heavy eyelids, Kenan had ended up crashing on the couch. It wasn’t planned—just one of those things that happened when the night stretched longer than you thought it would.

I had barely registered it at the time, already halfway asleep in Jamal’s guest room, but when I woke up the next morning and wandered into the living room, there he was.

Kenan Yıldız. In all his six-foot-something, professional athlete, half-asleep glory.

Sprawled out on the couch, one arm draped over his eyes, hair a mess of lazy curls, mouth slightly parted like he hadn’t fully re-entered consciousness yet.

I stared for a second too long, mostly because I wasn’t used to seeing him like this—soft around the edges, not smirking or arguing with me—before clearing my throat.

“You know, Jamal does have an actual guest room.”

Kenan didn’t move, just let out a low, sleep-roughened grumble that was probably a sentence in some language I didn’t speak.

I rolled my eyes, walking into the kitchen. “I’m going to get breakfast. If you’re alive in the next five minutes, feel free to come along.”

He was already pushing himself up onto his elbows, blinking like he wasn’t fully convinced the day had started yet. “Where’s Jamal?”

I grabbed my coat. “Still dead to the world.”

Kenan ran a hand through his hair, exhaling through his nose. “Smart man.”

…

The café was small, tucked away from the main streets, the kind of place that felt warm the second you walked in. The smell of fresh bread and espresso filled the air, and despite the morning chill outside, it was cozy, inviting, the kind of place people actually took their time in.

I relaxed a little the second I stepped inside.

Kenan scanned the space, hands in his pockets, taking it in like he was mentally scoring it. “Not bad.”

I scoffed. “Not bad? This is an elite breakfast spot.”

He smirked. “I’ll decide once I taste the food.”

I rolled my eyes but before I could continue defending my flawless café selection, I noticed a small interaction at the counter.

A barista—young, probably new—was clearly overwhelmed, trying to juggle too many things at once. She fumbled slightly with the coffee machine, hands moving fast, eyes flicking to the growing line like it was personally taunting her.

The businessman at the front, impatient and already checking his watch, let out a loud, exasperated sigh. “Jesus, is it always this slow?”

I didn’t mean to intervene.

It just kind of… happened.

I leaned slightly against the counter, offering a calm, easy smile.

“Take your time. It’s way too early for people to be this impatient.”

The words weren’t pointed, not really, but they carried just enough weight to cut through the tension.

The barista glanced at me, a flicker of relief in her expression before she nodded quickly and refocused on the drink in front of her.

The businessman, unimpressed, muttered something under his breath but dropped it, grabbing his coffee and stalking off.

Kenan, silent up until now, turned his head slightly toward me, like he was seeing me differently for the first time.

I ignored it, focusing back on the menu.

When we finally stepped up to order, the barista, still looking a little frazzled but better, managed a small, genuine smile.

“Thanks,” she murmured, adjusting her apron. “Some people are just…” She trailed off, rolling her eyes slightly, as if she couldn’t quite find the right word.

“The worst?” I offered.

She laughed. “Yeah. That.”

Kenan was still watching me, but now there was something else behind it.

Something almost amused.

“So you do have the capacity to be nice,” he mused, smirking as we stepped aside to wait for our drinks. “Interesting.”

I scoffed, stirring a sugar packet between my fingers. “I am perfectly capable of being nice.”

Kenan raised a brow, feigning deep contemplation. “Mmm. Just not to me?”

“The barista never stole my pretzel.”

He let out a low, lazy laugh, shaking his head as if he almost respected the answer. “Fair point.”

I took a sip of my coffee, pleased with myself, but before I could gloat, the barista returned, sliding an extra croissant onto our tray.

“On the house,” she said with a grin. “For being nice.”

I shot her a bright smile, but that smile slightly fell when I turned back to Kenan, I caught him watching me.

Not smirking. Not teasing.

Just looking.

It wasn’t obvious, nothing overt or lingering enough to call attention to itself. But there was something there—something unreadable, like a thought passing through his mind before he could decide what to do with it.

I frowned. “What?”

Kenan blinked, shaking his head slightly like he was resetting his expression. “Nothing.”

I squinted at him. “You’re weird.”

He smirked. “And yet, you invited me to breakfast.”

I rolled my eyes. “Because I was feeling charitable.”

Kenan took a slow sip of his coffee, eyes still flickering with something I couldn’t quite name.

“Lucky me.”

And for some reason, that sentence stayed with me longer than it should have.

…

The rest of the day, after dropping Jamal’s breakfast and Kenan went home, I was on a mission.

Enough sulking. Enough rehashing why I was even here. If I was going to spend a weekend away, I was going to make something of it—starting with the one thing that had never failed to lift my spirits.

Retail therapy.

Now, let’s be clear—I wasn’t the kind of person who regularly indulged in luxury shopping sprees. I was a firm believer in financial responsibility and splurging on sales.

But sometimes—just sometimes—a girl needed to treat herself.

I had no intention of actually buying anything.

But the moment I stepped inside Saint Laurent, something in me shifted.

Maybe it was the soft golden lighting, making everything look like it belonged in a dream. Maybe it was the quiet elegance of it all, the way the sales associates moved like they had all the secrets to life itself.

Or maybe, for the first time all week, I felt like I deserved something just for me.

I started with the handbags, lightly running my fingers over smooth leather and delicate gold clasps, trying to soak up the feeling of being in a place that felt so effortlessly put-together.

And then—I saw it.

It wasn’t a bag.

It was a dress.

Simple, timeless, and undeniably perfect.

I hesitated for a second, fingers hovering over the fabric, wondering if I was allowed to try something this nice on.

Then a sales associate appeared, smiling warmly. “Would you like to see how it fits?”

I bit my lip, a little shy. “Oh, I was just—”

But then, in a rare moment of self-indulgence, I nodded. “Actually… yeah. Why not?”

And that was how it started.

Five minutes later, I was standing in front of a mirror, staring at a version of myself I hadn’t seen in a while.

The dress fit like it was made for me.

It hugged just right, elegant but effortless, like I’d just thrown it on and magically looked stunning. The kind of dress that didn’t need accessories or complicated styling. It just… worked.

I smoothed my hands over the fabric, twirling just slightly, inspecting every angle.

And for the first time all weekend, I actually smiled at my reflection.

The saleswoman clasped her hands together. “That’s the one, isn’t it?”

I exhaled, still staring at myself. “You’re very good at your job.”

She laughed. "You look stunning, dear."

I let out a small, giddy giggle, the kind I hadn’t heard from myself in a while. It felt nice, to like how I looked—to do something that was just for me, without a single ounce of guilt attached.

For once, I wasn’t overthinking it.

I wasn’t analyzing whether I should or shouldn’t.

I was just happy.

So before I could talk myself out of it, I lifted my chin and said, “I’ll take it.”

As I handed over my card, I thought about where I’d wear it.

Jamal’s match tonight. The VIP box.

And then, out of nowhere, another thought crept in—one I definitely didn’t mean to have.

What if Kenan sees me in this? Surely he would be there too.

The moment the thought fully registered, warmth crept up my neck and into my cheeks.

I nearly choked on my own internal monologue.

I shook my head quickly, forcing down the blush before the saleswoman could notice.

I wasn’t buying this for him. Obviously. No. This was just for me.

…But if Kenan happened to see me in it, well.

That wasn’t my fault.

….

By the time I arrived at Allianz Arena, I felt genuinely lighter.

Maybe it was the crisp night air, the buzz of excitement in the crowd, or the fact that I was actually looking forward to something for the first time in days.

Or maybe, just maybe, it was the fact that I felt good in my new dress.

The stadium lights shone down as I made my way to the VIP section, clutching my pass. The energy inside was electric, fans already singing, the deep thrum of anticipation settling over the stands.

I stepped inside the box, scanning the seats for Jamal, when a familiar voice cut through the crowd.

I turned, already knowing who it was before I even saw him.

Kenan stood next to me, hands tucked casually into his pockets, his usual smirk firmly in place. The stadium lights did unfair things to his features, casting a warm glow over his already obnoxiously handsome face, and for a split second, I hated that he had the nerve to look like that in any setting.

His gaze flicked down ever so slightly, scanning my dress before he met my eyes again.

“You look good.”

I blinked, caught slightly off guard by the lack of sarcasm in his voice.

Then, as if he could sense me registering the compliment too much, he added, “Unexpected, really.”

There it was.

I let out a scoff, placing a hand on my chest. “Oh my God, Kenan. That was almost a normal, genuine compliment. You must be exhausted.”

He hummed, nodding. “Yeah, I don’t know what came over me. Won’t happen again.”

“Shame,” I teased. “I was really enjoying the moment.”

He shook his head, biting back a smile. “So, what brings you here? Finally expanding your horizons past FIFA?”

I crossed my arms. “Actually, I’m here for Jamal. Some of us support our friends.”

Kenan nodded slowly. “Mmm. And yet… you’re standing here, talking to me instead.”

I opened my mouth to fire back, but before I could, the stadium erupted in cheers, the players stepping onto the field.

I turned my attention to the match, trying to pretend I wasn’t slightly flustered.

Kenan, however, didn’t seem as interested in the game as he was in continuing his favorite pastime: annoying me for fun.

“So, be honest,” he murmured, leaning in slightly. “You understand the rules of football, right?”

I gave him a dry look. “Wow. Incredible assumption. You see a woman at a match and immediately assume she doesn’t get it?”

Kenan grinned, unbothered. “No, I just see you at a match and assume you’re mostly here for the snacks.”

I gasped. “Excuse me, I am deeply invested in Jamal’s career.”

Kenan hummed, clearly not convinced. “Okay. What position does he play?”

I stared at him. “...Defense?”

Kenan smirked. “He’s a midfielder.”

I groaned, throwing my hands up. “Alright, whatever, I’m here for vibes and friendship. Sue me.”

Kenan chuckled, his eyes twinkling with pure amusement.

For once, I didn’t feel annoyed by it.

I turned back to the field, taking in the sheer energy of the stadium, the rush of excitement that rippled through the crowd.

And out of the corner of my eye, I saw Kenan watching me.

I glanced at him. “Aren’t you supposed to be watching the match?”

His smirk didn’t waver. “I am.”

Something warm and fluttery settled in my stomach before I could stop it.

…

By the time the match ended, I was happily full of stadium energy but tragically underfed.

The VIP box had food, sure, but it was the kind of small, fancy bites that looked better than they tasted. You know, the kind that was supposed to be "elevated dining" but just made you angry and hungrier.

I popped another tiny canapé into my mouth and sighed dramatically.

Kenan, who had been watching me struggle with barely concealed amusement, finally smirked. “You’re starving.”

I turned to him, offended. “I am not starving.”

Kenan gestured lazily to the criminally small appetizer on my plate. “You just inhaled that in one bite.”

I crossed my arms. “Maybe I have a very refined palate.”

He snorted. “Right. That’s why you look physically betrayed after every bite.”

I sighed, defeated. “Okay, fine. Maybe I’m a little hungry.”

Kenan hummed like he was deep in thought, then glanced at his watch.

“Come on.”

I frowned. “What?”

He was already heading toward the exit, looking over his shoulder like it was obvious. “We’re getting food.”

I blinked. “Wait, seriously?”

Kenan chuckled, his expression full of mischief. “Trust me, anything outside is an upgrade from whatever that was.”

I tilted my head. “And what if this is an elaborate scheme to lure me into a suspiciously empty street?”

His smirk deepened. “I’d like to think if I wanted you gone, I’d be more creative than that.”

I considered it. “That’s… unsettlingly fair.”

…

Kenan’s car smelled unfairly nice—not in an overwhelming, aggressively expensive way, but in that effortless ‘I have my life together’ way. It was all clean leather, faint cologne, and something subtly fresh, like pine or citrus, the kind of scent that made you want to breathe a little deeper just to keep it around a second longer.

I did not breathe deeper.

Instead, I focused on the city outside, on the soft blur of streetlights streaking across the window as we drove through a quieter part of Munich. The streets were mostly empty, the chaos of match day behind us, and for the first time in what felt like ages, I wasn’t feeling weighed down by my own thoughts.

I was full, I was warm, and for once, I wasn’t thinking about him.

And then, Kenan spoke.

“So.” His voice was casual, almost offhanded, like he wasn’t about to upend my peace. “You never actually said why you were in Munich.”

I blinked, looking away from the window. “What?”

He glanced at me briefly, his fingers drumming idly against the steering wheel before he turned back to the road. “You don’t seem like the type to just book a random flight for fun.”

I scoffed, feigning offense. “Excuse me, I am very spontaneous.”

Kenan hummed like he didn’t believe me. “Right. And how many of these ‘totally random’ solo trips have you taken before?”

I opened my mouth. Paused. Frowned.

“…That’s not important.”

Kenan chuckled, shaking his head. “So, you’re telling me you woke up one day and thought, Munich sounds nice?”

I huffed dramatically, crossing my arms. “Maybe I did.”

Kenan shot me a pointed look that said ‘I know you’re full of shit.’

I exhaled, shifting in my seat. “Fine. I was supposed to see someone.”

He didn’t react—just kept driving, waiting.

It was almost worse than if he had immediately jumped in with a question.

I sighed, resting my head against the window. “But, uh… turns out he didn’t feel like seeing me back. And I had the ticket booked already.”

The words felt… lighter now, like they didn’t hold the same weight as they did a few days ago. Maybe because I’d said them out loud before. Maybe because I wasn’t alone with them anymore.

Kenan’s fingers flexed on the steering wheel, his jaw tightening for half a second before he spoke.

“Idiot.”

I blinked, turning toward him. “What?”

His voice was even, casual, but the way he said it was too sure, too final. “The guy. He’s an idiot.”

I let out a small, surprised laugh, shaking my head. “You don’t even know him.”

Kenan didn’t hesitate. “Don’t have to.”

Something about his certainty made my stomach twist.

I licked my lips, choosing to ignore the warm feeling creeping into my chest. “You’re very confident in that assessment.”

Kenan finally glanced at me, just for a moment, then looked back at the road. “Yeah. I am.”

The air in the car felt different all of a sudden, not uncomfortable, but charged.

I opened my mouth, about to say something to break whatever this was, when—

Kenan reached into the backseat, grabbing something, and tossed a small paper bag into my lap.

I frowned down at it. “What’s this?”

Kenan kept his eyes on the road, one hand resting lazily on the gear shift. “Something I saw.”

I gave him a suspicious look before reaching inside.

The first thing I felt was something soft.

And when I pulled it out, I actually gasped.

It was a Jellycat plush.

But not just any Jellycat plush.

A pretzel-shaped one.

Ridiculously soft, golden brown with tiny embroidered salt flecks, its round body twisted into a perfect loop, like an adorable, carb-shaped hug.

I stared at it, completely thrown.

My brain short-circuited.

I turned to Kenan, wide-eyed. “You—” I stopped, shaking my head, too stunned to be normal about this. “You got me a Jellycat pretzel?”

Kenan shrugged, like this was completely normal behavior. “Figured you’d appreciate it.”

I blinked down at my lap, still gripping the plush like it might disappear if I let go. “I—this is—I don’t even know what to say.”

Kenan smirked. “Wow. A rare moment.”

I ignored him, still reeling. “Wait. How did you—” My eyes narrowed as the realization hit. “Jamal.”

Kenan huffed a small laugh. “Jamal.”

I groaned, slumping back against my seat, embarrassed beyond belief. “I swear, he’s worse than an actual gossip column.”

“He told me the full pretzel tragedy while you were shopping this morning.” Kenan’s lips twitched. “Said you looked genuinely devastated when I took the last one.”

I gasped, pressing a hand to my chest. “I was devastated.”

Kenan let out a real laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, I got that impression. Little drama queen.”

I glanced back down at the plush, running my fingers over its ridiculously soft surface, warmth blooming in my chest for an entirely different reason now.

I swallowed. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do this, you know?”

Kenan exhaled through his nose, his smirk fading slightly. “I know.”

There was a small pause, then—

“I wanted to. I like to see you smile”

I froze.

Just for a second.

It wasn’t even what he said.

It was how he said it. Like it was simple. Like it wasn’t a big deal.

But it was a big deal.

I looked down at the Jellycat pretzel, tracing my thumb over one of the little embroidered salt flecks.

Kenan cleared his throat, like he wanted to move the conversation along before I got weird about it.

“I, uh—” He rubbed his jaw, focusing back on the road. “I couldn’t exactly smuggle a fresh one into the match, so I figured this would keep you warm in a different way.”

I swallowed, my grip tightening on the plush.

Somehow, slowly over the last few days, my heart stopped feeling so heavy.

I glanced at Kenan, and for once, he wasn’t watching me with his usual smirk or teasing expression.

He was just watching.

Like he was still trying to figure out why I looked so surprised.

Like he didn’t realize he had just completely disarmed me.

I turned back to the window, hiding my smile.

Kenan shifted in his seat, adjusting the air conditioning like he suddenly needed something to do with his hands.

He still hadn’t started the drive back to Jamal’s.

Good. I wasn’t in a rush to get anywhere.

…

I woke up earlier than expected, the kind of early where the world still felt half-asleep, where the streets outside hummed quietly with the first stirrings of the city.

The apartment was still, save for the occasional distant sound—pipes groaning as someone used the shower, the soft buzz of an electric toothbrush in another room.

And then��

A loud "OH, COME ON!" followed by rapid button-mashing and what I could only assume was a FIFA-related disaster.

I groaned, pressing my face into the pillow, trying to will myself back to sleep.

It didn’t work.

Instead, my hand reached instinctively for something beside me, fingers brushing against—

Oh.

I cracked one eye open.

There, sitting right beside my pillow, was the Jellycat pretzel plush.

Warmth bloomed immediately in my chest, completely uninvited.

It had been exactly where I left it, tucked neatly beside me like some ridiculous comfort object. I had slept next to it. Like some sentimental idiot.

I exhaled sharply, flopping onto my back and covering my face with my hands. “I’m losing it.”

Jamal’s distant FIFA agony continued in the other room.

I peeked at the plush again, this time reaching over to pick it up, squeezing it absently in my hands.

It was too soft. Too huggable. Too… thoughtful.

Kenan had really gone out of his way to find something like this. He had listened to Jamal’s retelling of my pretzel tragedy and then acted on it.

That thought alone did something weird to my stomach.

I needed to leave before I started reading into things.

After a long, slightly too-hot shower and a reluctant change into travel clothes, I zipped up my suitcase and walked into the living room, where Jamal was still intensely focused on FIFA.

“Morning,” I greeted, adjusting my bag strap.

Jamal barely looked up. “Yo. Ready for your flight?”

I nodded, shifting my weight. “Yeah, time to go back home. Thanks for letting me crash.”

He finally paused his game, stretching lazily. “No problem. You’re welcome to crash here whenever your love life implodes.”

I gasped, fake offended. “Excuse me, that was one time.”

Jamal smirked. “That was this time.”

I glared at him. “You’re very lucky I don’t have time to fight you about this.”

Jamal grinned, unpausing his game. “Safe flight, man. Oh—Kenan’s out front, by the way.”

I froze mid-step, my brain short-circuiting. “What?”

Jamal tilted his head toward the window. “I think he’s waiting for you.”

I blinked rapidly, my stomach flipping for reasons I refused to acknowledge.

Kenan was… waiting for me?

I didn’t even have time to process what that meant before my feet were already moving, slipping on my coat and heading for the door.

And sure enough—

When I stepped outside, there he was.

Leaning against his car, hands tucked into his pockets, his posture completely at ease, like he had been there for a while and had all the time in the world.

The moment he saw me, his lips curved into a smirk, like he had been expecting me to be surprised.

“You’re awake,” he said, as if he had any reason to assume I wouldn’t be.

I scoffed, shifting my bag higher on my shoulder. “What are you doing here?”

Kenan shrugged. “Driving you to the airport.”

I blinked. “I—what?”

He tilted his head slightly, amused by my confusion. “What, you thought I’d let you navigate Munich public transport with a suitcase?”

I narrowed my eyes. “I was literally just going to call an Uber.”

Kenan rolled his eyes, exhaling through his nose. “That’s boring.”

I stared at him, the weight of this entire situation settling into my brain.

Kenan—who had no reason to be here—had woken up, driven across the city, and was now waiting for me outside, completely unbothered, like this was just something he did.

I adjusted my coat, voice quieter. “You know you don’t have to do this, right?”

Kenan looked at me like I had just said something profoundly stupid. “Yeah. I know.”

I didn’t know what to do with that.

So instead of overanalyzing it to death, I just sighed, adjusting my bag.

“Fine. Let’s go.

…

When we finally pulled up to the departures area, Kenan shifted into park, tapping his fingers lightly against the steering wheel.

I unbuckled my seatbelt slowly, suddenly feeling like this was weirdly… final.

Like leaving now meant returning to normal.

And for some reason, I wasn’t ready for that.

I turned to him, opening my mouth to say… something.

But before I could, Kenan reached into his coat pocket and pulled something out.

A tiny bag of pretzels.

I blinked, thrown completely off guard. “You—”

Kenan smirked, holding it out toward me. “Figured you might need some snacks for the flight.”

I stared at him, something warm creeping into my chest before I could stop it.

I took the bag, shaking my head. “You’re trying to buy my goodwill?”

He leaned back against the seat. “You love it.”

I scoffed, but couldn’t suppress a smile. “Debatable.”

Kenan’s gaze flicked to my carry-on, and before I could register what he was about to say, his smirk deepened slightly.

“Did you pack the Jellycat?”

My face immediately heated up.

I opened my mouth—to lie, obviously—but Kenan just let out a laugh, shaking his head. “You did.”

I huffed. “No comment.”

Kenan’s lips twitched. “Good. It means my plan worked.”

I frowned. “Plan?”

He nodded toward the plush peeking slightly from the top of my bag. “Now you have to think about me every time you see it.”

My brain short-circuited.

I had no response to that.

I huffed, adjusting my bag. “Okay, well. Thanks for the ride, I guess.”

Kenan nodded once, casual as ever. “See you around.”

I hesitated for half a second.

Then, before I could stop myself—

I turned back to him one last time.

And said, without thinking:

“Don’t miss me too much.”

Kenan’s smirk was slow, lazy, and way too confident.

“No promises.”

I stared at him, my brain doing at least fifteen flips, before turning on my heel and walking inside before I could make this worse for myself.

I had no idea what had just happened.

All I knew was that my face was burning, and I was smiling like an idiot.

…

Back home, everything was exactly as I had left it.

The same apartment, the same slightly-too-loud coffee machine sputtering in protest before coming to life, the same half-empty fridge reminding me that I should really start grocery shopping like an adult.

Everything had resumed as normal.

And yet—

I found myself standing in my bedroom, suitcase still half-unpacked, as if some part of me refused to fully settle back into my routine. My fingers ran absentmindedly over the plush pretzel sitting on my bed, its soft, squishy loops an absurd but strangely comforting reminder of the past weekend.

I wasn’t supposed to still be thinking about him.

I wasn’t supposed to be replaying conversations in my head, breaking apart the way he had looked at me when he thought I wasn’t paying attention, the small shifts in his expression, the casual, almost careless way he had handed me that bag with the Jellycat and the pretzel, as if it hadn’t meant anything at all.

I let out a frustrated sigh, squeezing the plush against my chest like it was somehow responsible for all of this.

“You’re not helping,” I muttered at it.

Unsurprisingly, the Jellycat did not have a response.

I groaned, flopping onto my bed and burying my face into my pillow, as if that would somehow smother my thoughts into submission.

This was ridiculous.

I was being ridiculous.

I had gone to Munich with a very specific reason—to see someone who had ultimately proved to be unworthy of my time. But somehow, I had left with something else entirely.

A new inside joke. A new routine. A new, completely inconvenient way my stomach flipped whenever I got a text notification.

Which was precisely why I should not have reached for my phone just now.

But I did.

And when I turned it over—

There it was.

A new message.

From Kenan.

I hesitated for a beat, my thumb hovering over the screen, already knowing that whatever it said would only make things worse for me.

Then, finally, I clicked it open.

Kenan: Buy a nice winter coat.

I frowned, sitting up slightly as I typed back.

Me: Why?

The reply came almost instantly, as if he had been waiting for me to answer.

Kenan: I’m playing in the Netherlands next Wednesday.

Another message followed before I even had time to process the first.

Kenan: I need you to see how much better I am than Jamal, obviously.

I stared at my screen, my heart doing a very, very inconvenient thing, something warm and fluttery and deeply annoying settling into my chest.

I didn’t respond right away.

Because I already knew what I was going to do.

I was going.