#my favorite i think is blinking. its silly

[msriri030]

A Dream-Filled Love

Hyugo x reader

Summary: Hyugo wrestles with feelings he was never meant to have. Torn between loyalty and longing, he learns that sometimes the deepest love is the kind never spoken. one side loved with bitter end. I am sorry

Hyugo knew it now. Knew the truth clawing its way up from the depths of his chest:

His heart had started calling out for you.

But it was pointless. You were with his best friend, Sol. Loyal, fearless, devoted Sol. The kind of man who would burn the world to ash for the ones he loved. And Hyugo had no doubt—if Sol ever caught wind of betrayal, he'd make sure Hyugo never had the chance to regret it.

Still… Those sky-blue eyes of his kept drifting toward you. When Sol wasn’t around. When you laughed. When you touched his arm casually. When you handed him a cookie from a new recipe you’d tried—smiling, just for him. He would eat the whole batch like they were sacred offerings.

He didn’t know when it started. Maybe it had always been there, subtle and buried beneath loyalty. It was supposed to be another casual hangout—him, you, and Sol. He was used to playing the third wheel. It didn’t used to sting. But now… every little moment twisted the knife.

So Hyugo tried to deny it. Bury it. Excuse it.

He told himself it was just admiration. Just comfort. Just loneliness. But it wasn’t. And the truth haunted him in silence.

These days, he could feel it—dangerously close to being exposed. Maybe Sol saw the way his voice softened when he said your name.  Maybe you noticed how he lingered a little too long in your orbit. But no one said anything. No one had caught him yet. Still, he kept giving himself away.

Little excuses to touch your hand during games or laughter. Stupid reasons to challenge Sol to chase you in mock fights or playful competitions—just to see you run, to see you smile. To feel like he was part of it.

Part of you. But he wasn’t. And he couldn’t be.

So he smiled. He played the part. While guilt and longing hollowed out the space behind his ribs.

“I don’t think Sol loves me anymore, Hyugo…”

Your voice came out quiet, uncertain, barely carried by the rooftop breeze—but it hit Hyugo like a blade sliding between his ribs.

He blinked, caught off guard, though he shouldn’t have been. He’d planted this. Not directly—never directly—but over time, in whispers and half-truths, in subtle questions that made you wonder. It had started with innocent deflections, but now the doubt had bloomed full.

And it was blooming right in front of him.

He tried to speak, but all he could do was stare at the horizon, watching as the sunset bled amber and pink across the city skyline. The cold metal of the soda can creaked under the pressure of his hand.

You sighed and rubbed your arms. The breeze was picking up, brushing your hair around your face. “It’s just… it’s not like before. He used to leave me silly little notes, call me at midnight just to hear my voice, sneak out to see me for ten minutes between classes. Now I feel like I’m always the one reaching out. Like I’m too much.”

Hyugo’s chest tightened. His throat was dry.

He should’ve told you the truth.

That Sol wasn’t ignoring you—he was planning something. A surprise. A rooftop dinner, your favorite songs, handmade lanterns, and a poem he’d written despite being awful at it. Sol had rehearsed it, nervously, over and over. Because he loved you.

But Hyugo… didn’t say any of that.

Instead, he let the silence stretch like an unraveling thread.

And somewhere deep down, it made him sick.

“He loves you so much, (Y/N),” he said finally, voice flat but steady. “He’d bury bodies for you, you know?”

He forced a chuckle, squinting into the dying sun as his teal hair lifted in the breeze. He looked relaxed—but his posture was too casual, like he was playing a part. And maybe he was. Maybe he had been for a while now.

You gave him a faint smile, gently hitting his shoulder, the sound of your laugh—soft and unsure—making his chest ache. Your hand lingered on him, just long enough to make his pulse jump.

He shouldn’t be thinking about how your skin felt. Or how he wanted to freeze this moment just to stay beside you. Or how he imagined what it would be like if it were him you ran to.

But he did.

Your gaze turned back to him, your eyes searching. “Do you really think so? That he still feels that way?”

Hyugo looked at you. Really looked at you.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “He’s just bad at showing it sometimes.”

The words fell like a stone from his tongue. And in that moment, it wasn’t just heartbreak—it was loyalty, shame, longing, and guilt all woven together like threads too tangled to undo.

What you didn’t know was just a few steps away, Sol stood behind the rooftop entrance, nervously lighting lanterns with shaking hands, checking to make sure the candles wouldn’t blow out in the wind. His poem was folded in his back pocket, memorized but sweaty from his grip.

What you didn’t know was that Hyugo had suggested you come up early. Just a little early.

He could’ve made you cry. Could’ve twisted the moment, used it to make you reach for him instead. But he didn’t.

Because Sol was his best friend.

And because you deserved love—not confusion.

The rooftop door creaked open.

Sol stepped out, holding a bouquet of crimson roses and trying to smile despite his nerves. His eyes locked onto you first, and you lit up like the stars had come early.

Hyugo smiled, hollow and sharp.

“Told you so,” he murmured, sipping his soda and stepping aside as you ran into Sol’s arms—arms that weren’t his.

He walked past you both, his heart screaming, but he kept smiling. He gave Sol a quick slap on the back like any best friend would and made his way down the stairs without looking back.

And once he was far enough—past the stairwell, past the courtyard lights, past the soft laughter that echoed from the rooftop—Hyugo’s steps finally slowed.

The cool night air wrapped around him like a shroud, thick with silence. The gentle hum of the city faded into background noise, muted beneath the thudding of his heartbeat.

His smile vanished.

It didn’t fade. It cracked—like glass under pressure—splintering into nothing as the weight he had been carrying collapsed all at once. His shoulders sagged. His chest caved inward as though holding his own ribs together with nothing but willpower.

Tears welled in his eyes and spilled down his cheeks, hot and sharp, like they’d been waiting behind his smile for far too long. They carved wet trails over his skin, catching in the corner of his lips, and he didn’t bother to wipe them away.

He just stood there under a flickering streetlamp, hands in his pockets, breathing hard through his nose.

Alone.

Hyugo let himself break.

Not loudly. Not dramatically. But in the quiet, aching kind of way that felt deeper. The kind that left you hollow, like your soul had been scooped out and replaced with something heavy and cold.

Because the truth was simple.

Sometimes, loving someone meant letting them go.

Sometimes, loyalty meant choosing heartbreak—over hope, over selfishness, over every whispered "what if" that had echoed in his dreams.

And even now, with your laughter echoing faintly from the rooftop above, Hyugo knew one thing with painful clarity:

The dream of you would never leave him.

Not tonight. Not ever.

[moonstandardtime]

behold...

i have a lot less for vaugarde than the others bc crab is just so versatile. also has less of a distinct theme so its a little trickier to come up with cohesive swears. the island ones are fun bc i get to use cool space trivia

ISAT swear headcanons go... For any culture not just Vaugardian...

[thedrotter]

i saw this trend and it reminded me of Yuuichi okay i had to do it ... featuring Yuuichi's heart on the back: for once they get along on the topic of mayonnaise

[daxisyzz]

Hey there i hope you’re having a great day!

I was thinking about a version of Bucky in which he is absolutely head over heels smitten with his girl that he melts over her simply sweet talking him to get something she wants, he can’t even help it he thinks she is the cutest thing ever.

I feel like no one can do smitten Bucky Barnes justice other than you

Or maybe I’m being biased lol.

Thank you!

Hope you're having a great day too. And thank you for the compliment, it made my day 🫠

Here's your fluffy bucky story. Hope its how you wanted <3

Pretty please

Pairings: Bucky Barnes × Reader (established relationship)

Summary: Bucky Barnes is hopelessly in love with you. He gives you everything you ask for—until you stop asking. That’s when he decides to give you the one thing you never say aloud.

Word count: 1.3k+

Warnings and tags: Smitten Bucky, a duck?, reader feels slight guilt only for a second, lover boy barnes.

Bucky Barnes had faced down entire armies. He’d survived missions no man should’ve made it out of, stood toe-to-toe with monsters, and walked through fire more times than he could count. But none of that compared to this—to you. To your soft smiles, your gentle laughter, and your very specific brand of mischief. You didn’t need weapons or war to bring a super soldier to his knees.

You just needed one look.

That head tilt. That spark in your eyes. The way your lips would part in that little smile as you leaned in and said in the sweetest voice imaginable—

“Pretty please? With puppy dog eyes?”

He never stood a chance.

You didn’t abuse it. That was the most dangerous part. You only asked for little things. Cute things. Things that could never be considered a burden. And Bucky, well… he’d give you the moon if you asked. Hell, he was halfway to building a rocket when you offhandedly said once, “I wonder what sunrise looks like from space.”

It was a joke. A passing thought.

But Bucky remembered. Bucky always remembered.

The duck was his personal favorite.

It had started on a rainy afternoon, one of those slow, sleepy days where time seemed to stretch. You were in his hoodie, feet tucked into his lap on the couch, scrolling through videos on your phone while the sound of the storm tapped softly against the windows.

You gasped. “Oh my God.”

Bucky looked over, amused. “What?”

You turned the screen to him, pointing wildly. “LOOK at this duck. He’s wearing a sweater vest. This is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen in my life. James. Look at his feet.”

Bucky squinted. “Huh. He’s fancy.”

“Fancy?!” you cried, clutching the phone. “He’s a whole gentleman. I would DIE for him.”

He chuckled, fingers drumming lightly along your shin. “Would you die for him… or want one of your own?”

You bit your lip. “Bucky, I am not asking you for a duck.”

He leaned back. “But you want one.”

You hesitated. Then…You folded your hands under your chin, your eyes impossibly wide and filled with longing. “Pretty please? With puppy dog eyes?”

He groaned, one hand dragging down his face as a grin crept in. “Not fair. That��s cheating.”

You beamed. “You love it.”

“I do,” he muttered, fully doomed.

Two days later, you opened the back door to the sight of a small, waddling creature in a tiny hand-crocheted sweater vest approaching the porch.

You blinked. “Is that—”

Bucky stood behind the duck, arms folded and entirely too pleased with himself. “His name is Sir Quacksalot. He likes strawberries. And cuddles.”

You gasped. “YOU GOT ME A DUCK?!”

He shrugged. “You said pretty please.”

Your squeal nearly shattered glass. You scooped the duck into your arms and spun around like you’d just won the lottery. “This is the best day of my LIFE.”

Bucky leaned against the railing, watching you coo over your new feathery friend. His chest felt warm—like some part of him had been waiting his whole life to see you this happy.

There was nothing he wouldn’t give you. No wish too silly. No ask too big.

At least, that’s what he thought—until you stopped asking.

It started subtly.

You still smiled at him, still kissed his cheek while he made coffee in the morning, still called him your “Bucky bear” when you wanted to make him blush (which always worked). But you weren’t asking anymore. Not for little things. Not even for something as simple as “can we make pancakes for dinner?” or “let’s take the long way home.”

At first, Bucky didn’t notice. Life got busy. He assumed it was just a lull, something fleeting. But after a week, then two, his chest began to tighten with something like worry.

You still looked happy. But it was quieter. Softer. More... reserved.

He started paying more attention. How your “thank yous” came with a hesitance. How you’d say, “You didn’t have to do all this,” a little too often. How your smile would falter sometimes when he gave you something, even as you hugged him and said you loved it.

And then one night, while you were asleep curled up in his arms, Bucky got up to grab a blanket—and his eyes landed on your notebook.

He wasn’t looking to snoop. He’d seen you scribble in it before—little doodles, grocery lists, the occasional poem or recipe. But this time, a page had slipped out slightly, catching his eye.

He picked it up.

And his heart stopped.

A sketch. A rough pencil drawing of a cabin. Trees. A porch swing. Notes scribbled in the margins.

String lights here?

Big fireplace with that armchair I love.

Waking up to snow. Coffee in mismatched mugs. Just us.

Then, the words that made his breath catch:

“Somewhere far enough to breathe. Somewhere I can wake up with him and feel like the world is still.”

You hadn’t shown this to him.

You hadn’t asked.

And he knew—instantly, gut-deep—that you’d wanted this more than anything. But you’d stopped asking because you didn’t want to seem like you were asking for too much. As if he hadn’t already given you his heart, his home, his soul.

Bucky closed the notebook gently.

And called in a few favors.

You were already suspicious when he drove you out of the city and wouldn’t tell you why. The trees grew thicker, the air cooler, and your eyes narrowed with every passing mile.

“Bucky,” you said slowly. “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

“You’re being weird.”

“I’m always weird.”

You huffed, crossing your arms. “If this is a murder cabin, I swear—”

He snorted. “Trust me. You’re gonna like it.”

When he pulled off onto a narrow gravel path, your heart began to thud. And then you saw it.

The porch swing. The twinkling lights. The tall trees surrounding the cabin in quiet serenity, the kind of calm you only ever dreamed of.

Your hand flew to your mouth. “No way,” you whispered.

Bucky stepped out of the car and rounded to your door, pulling it open gently. “Come on, sweetheart.”

You stepped out, staring at the cabin like it might vanish if you blinked. “How did you—?”

“I found your notebook.” You froze.

“I wasn’t snooping. Just saw the page,” he said softly. “And I thought… if you won’t ask for it, I’m just gonna make it happen anyway.”

Your throat tightened. “I didn’t ask because it felt… like too much. You already do so much for me.”

He cupped your cheek, thumb brushing over your skin like he was touching something precious. “There’s no such thing as ‘too much’ when it comes to you. You want it? It’s already yours.”

Tears stung your eyes.

He pulled you into his chest and held you there for a long time, his chin resting against your head, his heart thundering against your ear.

“I love you,” you whispered.

“I know,” he murmured. “And I love you more than I’ve ever known how to say.”

That night, you sat on the porch with a blanket wrapped around your shoulders, Bucky behind you, his arms around your waist as you sipped hot cocoa in one of your mismatched mugs.The stars were clear. The world was still.

Sir Quacksalot waddled across the porch in another ridiculous sweater (Bucky had packed a whole duffel bag of duck outfits, because of course he had).

And you leaned back into the arms of a man who would burn down the world just to see you smile.

He kissed your shoulder, then whispered against your skin, “You never have to ask, doll. If it matters to you… it already matters to me.”

And in that moment, with his love wrapped around you like a second skin, you finally believed it.

[suksatoru]

here with me ⋆˚୨♡୧˚⋆ keigo x you

keigo's real laugh is nothing, if not music.

there's a front keigo uses when it comes to other people—a barrier he wasn't even aware existed. his faux laugh was easygoing. it was short, and it was charming. he used it whenever he was talking to the higher ups or his colleagues. hell, he used it when he spoke to anyone. he's never been able to share the intimacy of a real laugh with another person before.

secretly, he was envious of those strangers he'd hear every once in a while. whether it was on patrol, or if he was just strolling into a coffee shop—ordinary citizens, people, humans, we're always laughing around him.

it could be huffs of air, odd squeaks or giggles—people with heaving chests, people chuckling, people snorting, people wheezing—but keigo knew a real laugh when he heard one.

which was odd, because he hadn't heard his own real laugh until you.

you're tucked into keigo's side, half awake and half asleep as you stumble forward. your eyes are barely open—and you're so drunk that keigo can already imagine the headache his poor baby is going to have tomorrow morning

"c'mon songbird, up up up."

he takes off your clothes and makeup, changing you quickly into your nightgown as you talk. you babble on about anything and everything that comes to your mind as he works—keigo kneels in front of you, smiling softly as he slowly unravels your dress and takes off your silvery shiny heels—he pulls on your nightdress, and grabs your favorite fluffy socks before tugging them up and over your feet

"kei baby," you whisper, and he glances up at you as he finishes taking off the last bit of your jewelery. he places your earrings into the little gold box you have on his desk as his warm hands wrap around your waist. he hums quietly as you suddenly place your palms flat on his chest, shoving him

he falls onto the bed with a soft oof! before sending you a confused smile

"shh...let me think, kei."

keigo folds his legs, amusement shining bright in his eyes as he watches you. your hair falls from its updo in wisps, framing your face as you stand in deep thought near the edge of your shared bed—hand on your jaw as you tilt your head

your smirk forms slowly. it's small, sly, silly and so drunk as you suddenly kneel onto the bed. you crawl towards keigo and fasten your knees on both sides of his hips—straddling him as he blinks up in surprise, not expecting your warm mouth to begin trailing kisses up his neck

sexy, is all keigo can think as a soft sigh escapes his lips. he's just about to kiss you back—when suddenly, you speak up.

"are you my appendix? because i have this funny feeling riiiight here that makes me feel like i should take you out." you whisper seductively, gliding his palm towards your tummy and under your nightgown

keigo blinks once. twice. before he stutters with his response. he tries to form even just one word—but he can't. and suddenly, he's falling apart—he's laughing so hard that he can't fucking breathe.

you blink in response, tilting your head adorably in confusion. you thought that was a good pick up line! but keigo's face is flushed for an entirely different reason other than being flustered, and his lips are stretched into a toothy grin. you're concerned for the lack of oxygen in his lungs when he's suddenly wheezing, and god, his eyes are shining with tears.

"oh-oh baby, i fucking love you."

you're slapping his arm, whining and pouting about how he ruined the moment. but your tone—your very serious face while uttering the absolute worst pick up line keigo has ever heard has him struggling to breathe in his fits of laughter

but you can't even try to be mad. because keigo's eyes are crinkling with genuine joy, and his hands are pressing you to his chest, and this laugh is so authentic—it bubbles all the way from his belly, so heartfelt and silly that you can't help but giggle along with him

"it was good, right? are you feeling—heh, turned on?"

keigo's smile is breathtaking. no wonder he's on so many magazine covers every month. finally—he leans forward, pressing his warm mouth against yours in a soft kiss as he cradles your face with both of his palms

"yeah, baby. never felt more hot and bothered... you know, 'm gonna marry you one day." he murmurs against your lips as you squirm in his lap

"nuh uh. who said i'll say yes?"

he laughs again. it's softer this time, and he maneuvers you carefully back into bed. you look like an angry kitten when you glare at him, but he only grins in response as he tucks you in—tugging the soft comforter up and over your body before getting into bed himself. he pulls you on top of him, gliding his hand up the back of your thigh all the way up until he's at the base of your spine

"you make me very happy, ya'know that songbird?"

you hum in reply, eyes already drooping close as your hold on keigo tightens just the slightest bit. his wings naturally fold to wrap around you—cocooning you in his hold.

he can see you're too tired to respond, your eyes are already slipping close when he presses a kiss onto your forehead

he admires you quietly, thanking the cosmos for allowing him to have this one good thing in life. you're drooling all over his shirt, and keigo wouldn't ever wish to have someone else laying beside him at night.

[wildflowersandvibranium]

Home Run Hearts

Pairing: Husband!Dad!Bucky Barnes x Wife!Mom!Reader

Summary: You and Bucky take your son to his afternoon baseball game and its a fun , joyful , beautiful summer day with nothing but love and giggles with your husband , kids and their uncle Steve!

Word Count: 3.1k ish

Warnings/Tags: FLUFFY FLUFF FLUFF kissing , flirting (Bucky and reader lol ) , cutie kids , featuring steve and his wife (he's best uncle ever) literally no real warning or tags

If I missed anything let me know!

Authors Note: hey!! i love love love this and its so cute (crying)!!!

My first series' second chapter comes out tomorrow and im estaticcccc!! if you want to have a read here it is >> Muscle Memory

More of my dad!bucky fics here

REQUESTS ALWAYS OPEN :33

The golden sun was already high and bright when you stirred waking up , the ivory curtains in yours and Bucky's bedroom glowing with the shows of a perfect , sunny summer day. 

You started blinking awake  , feeling the warm press of Bucky’s right arm snug around your waist , his breath slow and even against your mused hair.

He started to stir as you shifted , his bright blue eyes opening and a soft barely there smile pulling at his lips. 

“Mornin’ , sweetheart,” he murmured , voice still rough and hoarse with sleep.

“Good morning ,” you whispered back , pressing a soft kiss to the underside of his jaw , nuzzling your face into his neck.

From down the hall , the sound of tiny little feet pattering across the wooden floor reached your ears , followed by your bedroom door slowly creaking open.

“Mommy! Daddy!” James Jr. or “JJ / J”  you called for shorts voice was chipper and excited , his brown bedhead hair sticking up in all different kinds of directions.

Bucky pushed himself up on one elbow , grinning at your guys son as he scrambled onto the bed. 

“Hey, bud. You ready for your big game today?” He said with a yawn.

JJ nodded furiously , his little hands clutching the front of Bucky’s grey sleep shirt. “I’m gonna hit the ball so hard , Daddy! And Uncle Steve said he's coming to watch!”

Bucky ruffled JJ’s hair , chuckling. 

“That’s right. You’re gonna do great out there today.”

You reached over with a smile , smoothing a hand down JJ’s back. 

“Let’s get you some game winning breakfast.”

A tiny giggle echoed from the doorway of the bedroom. Tiny Rebecca— or sometimes she insisted “Becs” , was clutching her favorite stuffed baby pink bunny, her chubby cheeks dimpled with delight seeing her family now up and awake.

She was still in her pink kitty print pajamas ,  her light brown hair was a soft mess of curls and strands stuck to and all around her face.

“Hi , baby,” you cooed ,  reaching out a hand to her.

Bucky swung his legs over the side of the bed and scooped her up in one strong grab , pressing a million kisses to her cheeks and face. 

“Morning, sunshine.”

She squealed and squirmed trying to get out of his hold but secretly loving it. She buried her face in his shoulder out of breath. 

“Daddy stop it,” she giggled.

“Okay , okay im done” He began to sit her down with a laugh.

He shot you a wink over her head , making your heart flip in your chest. 

Even after all these years , he was still your favorite sight in the world—strong and soft at once , his love for you and the kids shining in every move he made and every word he uttered.

══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿══

Breakfast was a loud blur of energy and laughter. You made scrambled eggs and toast , and Bucky poured coffee into two mugs , singing along to an old song playing on the radio.

“Daddy , that’s silly,” Becca said again as Bucky swung her gently around the kitchen on his hip, her laughter ,  out shining the sun outside.

“Hey , what’s so silly about me singing?” Bucky teased , tickling her sides until she squealed.

You caught his eyes , a warm glow in your chest. “I think she’s got a point,” you said with a wink.

He gave you a mock glare , then leaned over to kiss your temple as you dished out the eggs. “Traitor.”

You shrugged , smiling. “It’s hard to argue with the cutest two-year-old in the whole wide world.”

You walked to the table sitting down and sat to eat your own.

James Jr. was busy with his plate , chattering about how he was going to be the best hitter on the team today. “I’m gonna hit it to the moon , Mom!”

“I bet you will Jay,” you told him , leaning over to kiss the crown of his head. “But just remember to have fun , okay?”

JJ nodded , his face serious. “Fun. Aaaand winning baseball.”

That made you and Bucky both laugh.

After breakfast , you helped JJ change into his little uniform , Dodgers blue cap and all—and packed up the gear he needed. 

As Bucky was finishing washing the dishes from breakfast he heard your booming voice down the hall. 

“James Barnes ,  pick up your underwear in the bathroom!” 

He turned and looked at his son who was headed out the door. “Junior , I know that's not for me.” He said with a hand on his hip. 

James Jr. groaned and dropped his gear bag and went to find you “Coming Mom”

After everyone was changed and there was no more dirty clothes littering the floor you guys headed out the door.

Bucky loaded the lawn chairs , an ice chest full of snacks and drinks , and the kids’ sunscreen into the trunk of the car.

Becs watched from her spot in your arms , pointing at everything her Daddy was doing. “Daddy strong ,” she said solemnly , her eyes wide with wonder.

Bucky gave her a playful grin. “You think so , Becs? Gotta carry all this for my favorite people.”

She grinned , snuggling closer to you. “My daddy so strong”

You melted a little at that , resting your cheek against the top of her head.

══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿══

The short drive to the field was filled with music and lots of toddler giggles. 

JJ was already buzzing with energy , bouncing in his seat as you sang along to old rock songs. 

Bucky’s voice , slightly off-key but so full of joy—filled the car.

“Daddy’s singing is soooo silly,” Becs announced in the middle of a chorus.

Bucky’s hand slipped from the wheel to rest on your knee , his laughter was warm. 

“That's so, baby girl? You’re breaking your old man’s heart.”

JJ joined in. “No , Dad it's true , you do sing funny!”

You laughed , feeling the kind of happiness that only this exact moment could bring.

When you arrived at the field , the smell of fresh-cut grass and sunscreen greeted you immediately. 

Parents of the players were already setting up their chairs and blankets , little kids in blue and white jerseys running around with bats and gloves.

Bucky pulled the cooler from the trunk and slung the folded chairs over his shoulder , his biceps flexing under his blue tshirt as he did. 

JJ ran ahead of you , his tiny cleats clacking on the pavement. 

You shifted Becca on your hip , her warm weight comfortable as she watched everything with wide eyes , her brown hair bouncing with each step you took. 

“Hold on tight , sweetheart,” you murmured to her , and she nodded solemnly , her hand fisting in your hair softly twirling what she could grab.

Near the dugout , Steve was already there , wearing a baseball cap and a grin as bright as the sun. 

His wife Betty was at his side , waving as she spotted you.

“Hey there , Barnes family!” Steve called , his voice full of affection. He knelt down to JJ’s level. “You ready to knock it out of the park , slugger?”

JJ beamed. “I’m gonna hit it so far , Uncle Steve!”

“I bet you will Champ,” Steve said , ruffling JJ’s hair. “And we will all be right here to see it.”

The game was everything you could’ve hoped for—hours  of laughing , cheers , and the soft thud of baseballs meeting gloves and bats. 

JJ was a buzzing bundle of energy the entire time , his little feet dancing in the dirt as he waited for his turn at bat.

Bucky sat beside you , one arm around your shoulders , his eyes never leaving the field. 

“Look at him go,” he murmured, his voice soft and swelling with pride.

Becs was nestled in your lap eating up a bag of chips her dad opened up for her.

When she finished her head leaned back and rested on your chest. Every so often, she’d giggle and point at her brother. “Jay running , Mama!”

“He’s so fast,  isn’t he?” you whispered back , kissing her soft curls.

Steve and his Wife  were just a few feet away , cheering loud and proud. Steve’s laugh boomed every time JJ swung the bat , and Becs would giggle even harder at her funny uncle.

“Uncle Steve funny,” she said , echoing the same phrase she’d used describing Bucky that morning.

Steve winked at her. “You’re not wrong , sweetheart.”

By the last inning , JJ’s team was down by one. 

The bases were loaded , and James Jr. was up to bat. 

You could see the nerves in his little drawn up shoulders , the way he twisted the bat between his hands, a nervous tic you learned.

Bucky leaned in close to you , his breath against your ear. 

“He’s got this,” he whispered, his voice full of quiet confidence.

You nodded , with your heart in your throat as you bounced Becca on your lap , your legs bouncing with excitement and anxiety.

JJ looked over at you and Bucky , and you gave him a big thumbs-up , your smile wide and reassuring. 

He took a deep breath , squared his shoulders—and swung.

The crack of the bat echoed across the field , and the ball soared past the infielders , rolling into the outfield. 

JJ took off running , sprinting , his tiny legs pumping as the crowd erupted in cheers.

“Run , baby! Run!” you shouted , your voice ragged with excitement as you stood tossing Becca to Bucky.

Bucky was on his feet throwing his daughter on his shoulders in one swift movement. 

His fists in the air , and Becca clapping her hands , squealing with joy for her brother. “Go , Bubba Go!”

 Steve was whistling loud enough to be heard across the whole field , making some parents turn their heads.

JJ rounded third plate and slid into home , his face lit with triumph and pure joy. 

The umpire threw his arms wide calling , safe! And the game was over. JJ’s team had won. He won.

You ran out onto the field , Becs back on your hip  , as JJ’s teammates swarmed him in a messy and sweaty group hug. 

Bucky scooped  up his son in his arms ,  spinning him around as he laughed and clung to his dads shoulders.

“You did it, Jay!” Bucky said , his voice thick with emotion. “I’m so proud of you, buddy.” He placed a quick kiss on his son's mused hair.

JJ’s face was flushed red , his grin wide and toothy. “I did it, Daddy! I hit the ball so far!”

“You sure did,” Bucky said , pressing another kiss to his forehead. He turned to you , his eyes soft and shining. “Best day ever , huh?”

You nodded , your chest so full you felt like you might burst. “Best day ever,” you echoed , leaning forward and kissing JJ’s cheek and then on one of Bucky's  ,  meeting at his lips.

Becca tugged at your hair softly , her sleepy eyes wide with wonder. “Jay good!” she said firmly.

You laughed, nuzzling her nose. “He sure is , sweet girl.” 

After many congrats from the family and a teasing headlock from his Uncle Steve , JJ was worn through and through . 

The afternoon turned warm and golden as the kids and parents settled in for a little post-game picnic. 

You spread out a big red blanket on the grass , and Bucky set up the folding chairs while Steve helped his Wife unpack the sandwiches and snacks.

Bucky cracked open the ice chest , passing out bottles of water and juice. “Alright , team,” he said with a grin. “Let’s eat!”

JJ flopped down beside you , his cheeks still pink from the game. 

“I’m so hungry, Mommy.” his head now in your lap.

“I bet you are , sweetheart ,” you said laughing , handing him a juice box. ”You did so good today Jay”

Becca nestled closer against your other side , her tiny hand tugging at the hem of your shirt. “Can have juice, Mama?”

You passed her a juice box , brushing a kiss to her temple. “Here you go, baby.”

Bucky sat beside you , his long legs stretched out in the sun , one hand resting on your leg the other bracing his body upright. 

He handed you a sandwich wrapped in foil , his eyes warm and tender. “Here you go, doll.”

“Thanks , Buck,” you said, unwrapping it and taking a grateful bite.

Steve, ever the uncle who never grew up , made goofy faces at Becs until she squealed with laughter , her little hand clapping against his shoulder. 

“Uncle Steve stop it , can't breathe ,” she declared again,  giggling so hard she nearly toppled over.

“Hey, I can’t help it if I’m the fun uncle,” Steve said with a wink.

As everyone ate , you leaned back against Bucky’s chest , feeling the solid warmth of him on your back. He rested his chin on your shoulder , his fingers gently tracing patterns on your arm.

“Look at them ,” he murmured , his voice soft. JJ was leaning back against the cooler , munching on a sandwich and still wearing his dusty baseball outfit, his eyes heavy lidded. And Becs was curled up in his lap , her sticky fingers holding a half eaten cookie.

“They’re happy,” you whispered back , turning your face slightly so your nose brushed his cheek. “I don’t think life gets any better than this.”

Bucky pressed a kiss to your temple , his voice sweet with the scent of mint. “I know exactly what you mean.”

You could hear the low hum of the other families around you , the distant crack of another bat hitting a ball practicing , and the soft rustle of the breeze in the trees nearby.

It felt like the world had slowed down just for a moment , wrapping you and your family in a perfect bubble of summer light and perfect joy.

After everyone had eaten and bellies were full , JJ wanted to play catch with his dad and uncle before leaving. 

You watched as Bucky tossed him an easy underarm ,  his big hands ever so gentle as he guided JJ’s little glove. 

Steve joined in too after a while , making a show of nearly missing every throw until it had JJ shrieking with laughter. 

Becs was passed out in your arms , her head resting on your shoulder as murmured sleepy things and on and off watched the boys play. “Daddy loves Jay”

“He sure does ,” you whispered , kissing her soft curls. “He's the best daddy in the world and loves you so so much.”

Bucky caught your eye from across the field , seeing Becca asleep , his grin lit up his whole face. 

He winked mouthing “Love you”

You mouthed it right back , feeling the truth of it deep in your soul.

As the sun started to dip lower in the sky , everyone began packing up. 

Bucky slung the ice chest back over his shoulder , his other hand resting protectively on JJ’s back leading him to the car. 

Steve and Betty helped fold up the lawn chairs , while you rocked Becca gently in your arms. 

“Did you have fun today, baby?” you asked her softly, and she nodded , her thumb in her mouth.

“Jay play,” she said, her little voice full of sleepy wonder. “Daddy strong. Mommy soft.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out. “That’s right , baby. Daddy’s strong and Mommy’s soft.” Laughing , snuggling her closer.

The car ride home was peaceful and quiet. 

The radio played softly ,  Bucky humming , his hand on your thigh rubbing soothing motions absentmindedly ,  thumb tracing soft circles. 

And every now and then he’d glance over at you with that look that still made your heart race and check in the mirror seeing his babies sleeping and safe.

Becs stayed asleep the full ride home , her head on your shoulder and her soft breath tickling your neck as you scooped her out of the car seat. 

JJ woke with drowsy murmurs , his words slurring as his eyes remained heavy.

“Best day ever,” he mumbled, his head bobbing.

“You’re right, buddy,” Bucky said, his voice low and warm. “The best.” as he pulled him into his arms.

Inside , you carried Becs straight to her room , laying her down in her pink princess bed. She stirred just enough to murmur something you couldn't quite make out before she drifted off fully again.

You padded barefoot to find Bucky who was in JJ's room , helping him change out into his favorite dinosaur pajamas after his quick shower. 

JJ’s head drooped as he leaned against Bucky’s shoulder, his little body worn out from the day , as Bucky helped him step his feet into the pant holes.

“Daddy?” JJ asked sleepily , looking up , now fully dressed. “You think I can be in the big leagues one day?”

Bucky tucked him into bed , brushing back his hair. “I think you can do anything you want , Jay. And me and mama and Becca will all be right there with you cheering you on.”

JJ smiled , his eyes already half-closed again . “You’re the best, Daddy.”

Bucky’s eyes met yours over JJ’s head seeing you leaned against the door frame , soft and shining a little glassy from his son's words. “Right back atcha , kiddo.”

When you and Bucky finally made it to your own room , you both showered all the dirt and fun from the day off till you were both squeaky clean. 

Laying in bed , in soft pajamas and tired limbs he pulled you into his arms , his lips brushing your forehead.

“Thank you for today,” he said softly, his eyes full of love. “You make everything feel like it's the best thing in the whole world.”

Your heart melted at that. “I think we all did that together.”

He leaned in and kissed your lips softly , lingering just long enough to make your stomach flutter. “Still,” he murmured against your lips pulling away, “I’m the luckiest guy in the world.”

“And you’re the absolute best mother to our kids and partner to have alongside me.” he said softly , his voice thick with love and slowly falling into sleep..

You wrapped your arms around his waist , resting your head on his chest. “You’re not so bad yourself, Mr. Barnes.”

He laughed, the sound low and sweet, and kissed you again. “Here’s to more days like today.”

You nodded, closing your eyes and sinking into the warmth of him. “Here’s to-” murmuring falling asleep through your sentence.

Outside the window , the last light of the summer sun faded completely into that dusky pink purple glow. And inside , everything was right and safe and full of love—exactly how it was meant to be.

-end

Comments , Reblogs , Likes and Requests are always loved!

(although if you liked this fic please consider reblogging so it can reach a wider audience)

They let me know that you are enjoying what I'm publishing and gives me motivation to write more and more! :33

[mommyameliestorycorner]

a boys world: Steve 2

Miss Amanda reached into her bag with a knowing smirk, the rustling of plastic and crinkles filling the quiet air. Steve sat frozen on the bed, legs clenched together, his face burning hot as he clutched his teddy close. His big boy pants were gone. Stripped away. And now…

Now Miss Amanda was taking something out.

Mommy tilted her head curiously, watching as her guest pulled out a thick, pristine white nappy, unfolding it with a flick of her wrist. The soft padding billowed open, its thickness unmistakable as Miss Amanda smoothed her hands over the surface, inspecting it.

“I always bring my favorites for first-timers,” she mused, giving the padding an approving squeeze. “So absorbent. So thick. And of course, soft as can be.”

Mommy reached out, her fingers brushing against the inside. A little hum of interest escaped her lips. “Oh, it is soft,” she said, pressing it between her hands, rubbing the material together. “No wonder so many boys end up loving these.”

Miss Amanda chuckled knowingly. “Oh, they don’t have a say in it,” she said smoothly, lifting the nappy toward Mommy. “But yes, once they’ve been properly trained, they do become quite … infatuated wit them. No more silly big boy thoughts. No more peepee on the toilet seat. Just softness and security, right where they belong.”

Mommy took the nappy, holding it up in both hands. It looked so big. Steve swallowed hard, his stomach twisting as he watched her inspect it.

She ran a finger along the waistband, then traced the little leak guards with interest before smiling. “And it’s adorable, too,” she cooed. “I bet my Stevie will look just precious in this.”

Steve whimpered softly, shrinking in on himself.

Mommy turned to him, still holding the nappy in her hands. “What do you think, baby?” she asked sweetly, stepping closer. “It’s so nice, isn’t it? So much better than those silly big boy pants.”

Steve opened his mouth. He should say something. He should protest. He should shake his head and tell her no.

But instead, he just sat there, clutching his teddy, lips trembling slightly as his eyes flickered between Mommy’s expectant gaze and the thick padding she now held up for him.

Miss Amanda chuckled.

“Well, well,” she purred, amusement lacing her voice. “He’s trained quite well already.”

Mommy blinked at her. “Oh?”

Miss Amanda nodded, smirking as she gave Steve a knowing look. “Most boys… well, they get stiffies when they’re undressed,” she explained smoothly. “I can’t tell you how many boys I’ve had to correct.”

Mommy hummed, glancing down at Steve, who immediately turned redder, squeezing his teddy tighter. “Oh no,” she cooed, stroking his hair. “My little Stevie doesn’t have those problems.”

Miss Amanda raised a brow. “Oh?”

Mommy giggled, running her fingers down Steve’s cheek. “He’s so well-behaved, aren’t you, baby?” she murmured, her voice dripping with praise. “He doesn’t get those silly things anymore.”

Miss Amanda’s smirk widened. “Impressive,” she mused, giving Mommy an approving nod. “You’ve done such a good job with him.”

Mommy beamed. “Thank you,” she said sweetly, before turning back to Steve. “Now, sweetheart…” She lifted the nappy again, gently tapping it against his knee.

“Let’s get you all nice and snug, hmm?”

Steve whimpered, but he didn’t fight.

He just clutched his teddy tighter…

As Mommy unfolded the nappy in her hands.

[indigoez]

“𝙔𝙤𝙪’𝙧𝙚 𝙤𝙣 𝙛𝙞𝙧𝙚…𝙇𝙄𝙏𝙀𝙍𝘼𝙇𝙇𝙔!” | 𝙉𝙍𝙆

𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: niki x gn! reader

𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲: pure fluff, silly times

𝗮/𝗻: i randomly thought of this when i was waiting for my ramen to cook and thought it would be really funny, and i thought niki would try to do something nice for his gf but also be so clumsy lol! hope you guys enjoy!! i apologize if its bad :,)

whereas niki tries to do something nice for you after a stressful day from work, but it results in your kitchen kinda catching on fire…

you sighed as you finally unlocked your apartment door, the weight of the day melting from your shoulders the moment you stepped inside.

your job had been a disaster—back-to-back meetings, annoying emails, and that one coworker who still didn’t know how to mute themselves on zoom. all you wanted was to curl up in bed, maybe binge a drama, and eat something warm and comforting. but before you could call out for your boyfriend, a suspiciously smoky smell hit your nose.

“…riki?” you called cautiously, nose scrunching up as you stepped farther into the apartment. “are you—wait. is something burning?!”

your eyes widened as you reached the kitchen. there he was, tall frame frozen in front of the stove, furiously fanning the air with a dish towel as the smoke detector wailed above him.

there was definitely a small fire in the pan…

“I GOT IT, I GOT IT—!” he shouted over the alarm. “Wait, NO I DON’T—BABE I DON’T GOT IT—”

you rushed to grab the fire extinguisher under the sink—because of course you had one. you were dating niki. this was not his first kitchen incident.

with a hiss and a blast of white foam, the tiny flame was out, the smoke slowly clearing. the silence afterward was deafening.

niki stood still, hair mussed, wearing your pink apron that said “Kiss the Chef” and covered in a fine layer of extinguisher dust. the pot of ramen on the stove was now a blackened mess.

“…you’re home early,” he said sheepishly.

you blinked. then laughed. then bent over and laughed harder, wheezing into the fabric of his hoodie.

“i wanted to make you dinner,” he mumbled, eyes wide like a guilty puppy. “you said your day was awful and i was gonna surprise you with ramen—your favorite kind, too, with the soft-boiled egg and everything!”

you straightened up and looked at him—charred kitchen, singed noodles, destroyed dinner and all—and your heart swelled. you loved this man. even when he almost set your apartment on fire. you stepped forward, wrapping your arms around him despite the smell.

“you are the soft-boiled egg,” you whispered into his chest.

“What?”

“never mind,” you giggled. “thank you for trying, baby.”

he hugged you tighter, and then pulled back with a hopeful smile. “sooo…should I order takeout?”

you mock-glared at him. “only if you promise to stay at least ten feet away from the stove.”

“deal.” he paused. “Unless you want popcorn later.”

You groaned. “Don’t push it, arsonist.

bonus!

the takeout arrived twenty minutes later, and you were both curled up on the couch—legs tangled under a shared blanket, ramen containers balanced on your laps, and the window cracked open to air out the lingering smoke.

niki had changed into one of his oversized hoodies, still pouting just a little as he poked at his food.

“you’re still thinking about the fire, aren’t you?” you teased gently, nudging his knee with yours.

“i wanted to be the reason you felt better today,” he mumbled, eyes down. “not the reason you had to use the fire extinguisher.”

you set your container down, leaned in, and touched his face so he’d look at you.

“you are the reason i feel better,” you said softly. “not because of what you did—because it’s you. you tried. and i’d take a thousand burnt pots if it meant coming home to you.”

he blinked, eyes wide and lips twitching up into a smile.

“…that’s kinda cheesy,” he whispered and poked you.

you kissed the tip of his nose. “so is the ramen…eat up, fire boy.”

he laughed, finally, head falling against your shoulder as the stress melted away.

even with the smell of smoke still clinging to the air, being in his arms made everything feel warm again.

note: immm back yall after soooo long, im releasing some drafts i had in here for a long time lol hope you enjoyed! <3

masterlist

©𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐠𝐨𝐞𝐳 2025 • 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞. 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞/𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭/𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲.

[daryltwdixon]

this might be more of a crack request than anything.

my cat has been joining me in watching tlou (4am for us yay) but she only shows up when joel is in it?? anyway. joel girls transcends species

anyway. i keep picturing joel either loving readers cat so much or being mortal enemies and trying to win the cat over (because you love your baby, and joel loves you). cue silliness of joel trying to win your cat over.

|| joel miller x reader fluff , gn!cat lol ||

a/n: hehehe this was so fun and cute! thank you!!! also I couldn't think of who had written it but this reminded me of another fic super similar. does anyone know it? joel gets scratched by the cat in the ass in the shower?

When you finally moved into Joel's place after a couple years of going steady, he had forgotten about the fact that you wouldn't be moving in alone.

With all the cardboard boxes full of clothing and your little trinkets came the big metal litter box, the little table that looked like a coffee table but was really a box-hiding disguise, the bowls (so, so many bowls), and the toys.

Good god, the toys.

They were scattered across the living room like landmines—embedded in the rug, under the couch, behind the fridge never to be found again. You kept buying more because they kept getting "lost", and right when Joel thought he’d finally reclaimed the house by finding ten of them beneath the TV stand, they’d vanish again.

Then came the 3AM witching hour. That’s what Joel had started calling it.

A soft rattling. A thunk. A frantic scramble of paws on hardwood. Another thunk. The cat had found the loudest toy in existence and decided that was the moment to practice its sprints. One night, Joel sat up, grabbing his baseball bat from under the bed and went into the living room thinking it was an actual burglary, only to find the cat with his tail fluffed out, its back raised, and eyes blown black like some kind of demon on top of the coffee table.

Joel had known dogs. Trusted dogs. Dogs didn’t make you feel like you were held at knifepoint in a 7 Eleven just by entering the room. Your cat, on the other hand, met his presence with open disdain. It hissed when he bent down to tie his boots. Swatted at his head if he dared to use its couch. Bitten his forearm for simply existing too close to you.

It had claimed his favorite armchair within twenty-four hours of your arrival and now sat in it like a little gremlin king, tail twitching whenever Joel glanced its way.

When the days were long and all he wanted to do was crawl into bed, it was worse. He'd find the cat there, curled up in the pillows beside you. And god forbid Joel try to cuddle you or get close, because the damn thing would swat his face, or, worse, one time it actually bit him in the hand when he'd reached for your face to tuck your hair back.

You'd turned to it, scratching beneath his chin, "It's alright baby, daddy is just not used to kitties."

He swore to god he saw it smile.

One night at dinner, he finally broke.

“He hates me,” Joel muttered over his food.

Your cat was perched on the third chair like a dinner guest, silently tracking your fork with its eyes. Every time Joel’s fork moved, the cat’s glare flicked to him with laser precision.

“He does not hate you,” you said around a mouthful of pasta. “He’s just getting used to the space. I promise, he’ll love you soon.”

Joel looked at the cat. The cat blinked slowly back at him, then reached its little grubby paw up to the wooden table, and sent a spoon clattering to the ground.

“He’s plotting my death.”

You snorted. “He’s dramatic. You’re dramatic. Soon enough, you'll be the best of pals. You'll see.”

Joel highly doubted that.

But still, Joel wanted to make you happy. Later that week, he tried to win the creature over. He set a few treats down on the floor like an offering. The cat sniffed them and just... walked away. So he tried cheese, chicken, anything. Nothing.

He tried picking up one of the toys, one of the string ones tied to the dainty sticks with a little feather on the end. He gave it a little wiggle, and the cat just stared.

“You’ve gotta play with him, Joel.”

“I am playin’,” Joel grumbled, flicking the toy again. The cat turned and licked its butt.

At that point, Joel snapped, “I hope you choke on a hairball.”

Big mistake. You spun around, and picked the cat off the floor, a horrified look in your eyes, "Apologize!"

You were inconsolable the entire day the following week.

Joel had woken to the sound of you calling out in a panic—your voice high and cracked, your front door already wide open. You were in socks and his t shirt, standing in the yard, turning in frantic little circles. "He ran out," you kept saying. "I don’t know how, he never goes out—"

Joel didn’t hesitate. He grabbed his keys and wallet and told you to put some pants on and get in the truck.

You spent the whole day driving the neighborhood. Windows down, eyes scanning sidewalks and porches and bushes. Joel watched you lean out the window every few feet to call the cat’s name, your voice raw from the effort. You checked shelters, knocked on doors, posted on bulletin boards and handed out flyers you'd printed at the local Walgreens. Nothing.

By sundown, Joel had a headache behind his eyes and a pit in his gut. Not because of the damn cat—okay, maybe a little cause of the cat—but because of you. You looked hollowed out. Red-eyed and quiet in a way that made his chest ache.

And worst of all, that night it stormed. It was loud and cracking, and you cried yourself to sleep against his chest, breath hiccuping softly even after you'd stopped talking about how worried you were for the creature. Joel just wrapped his arms around you and soothed you as best he could.

He didn't sleep much that night.

The thunder clapped harder through the night, rattling the windows. One really bad crack woke him out of a deep sleep, but when he looked over to you, you hadn't stirred. You'd always been a better sleeper than him anyway.

Joel sighed, slipping out of bed as carefully as he could to not disturb you. Out in the living room, he pulled on his rain coat and boots, grabbed his flashlight, and opened the front door.

And suddenly, something bolted through like a bullet.

Joel jumped back.

“Jesus—”

It was the damn cat. Wet and shivering, fur clumped and eyes peeking up at him. He looked feral, like he'd seen God and then some.

Joel grabbed the towel hanging by the door. “You stupid little shit,” he muttered, crouching down and wrapping it around the cat. “What the hell were you thinkin’, huh? Out there in a goddamn storm like some alley rat.”

The cat didn’t hiss this time, it hardly even blink. But it let Joel take it into the towel like a sack of bricks and let him dry it off.

Joel took his time. Rubbed him gently, careful of the tail and ears. Muttered the whole time under his breath—complaints, insults, threats that didn’t have an ounce of heat.

When he was mostly dry and stopped shaking, Joel set him down on the kitchen floor and opened a can of wet food. The cat perked up like he'd just remembered what civilization was.

Joel scratched behind one damp ear, sighing. “She’s gonna cry all over again when she sees you, you know that?”

The cat let out a single, tired meow and started eating like it just survived a biblical flood.

Joel watched for a second. Then rubbed his eyes, locked the front door, and padded back to bed.

A few nights later, Joel was alone at home. You'd gone out with your friends, something about margaritas and chips and finally getting a night together with all your busy schedules. He told you to go, that he didn't mind. He'd have a beer and watch the Cowboys game anyway.

The house was dim with the yellow lamp beside his chair, the TV volume low in front of him as he put his feet up. He sat nursing his cold beer in one hand, the other on the remote.

It was peaceful.

Until...well, it wasn't.

He saw the ears first. Just two little peaks barely visible at the side of his chair, like a shark fin in open water.

Joel squinted, waiting.

Then came the eyes: bright yellow, glowing in lamplight, slowly blinking at him.

He stiffened.

"No," he muttered, setting his drink down and getting one of your blankets across his lap to protect himself, "Don't you start."

But the cat didn't move, it merely wached him. Joel swallowed dryly.

But then, in one gentle leap, it hopped up onto Joel's legs, not a sound except the soft paws on his sweatpants. It moved forward, purposeful, and Joel braced himself, his hands flat on the armrests.

“Alright,” he whispered. “Let’s get this over with.”

He pictured the usual. Claws in his knee or teeth to the wrist. Maybe even an all out assault on the face if the little bastard was feeling ambitious tonight.

But instead, the cat began to knead his paws into his lap.

"You're lucky I got this blanket protectin' me." he grumbled at it, wincing as he wondered how awful those claws would feel just a few inches deeper where his balls were. But it didn't scratch, its eyes just blinked slowly again, the yellow glow of them just little content slits of color as it looked at him.

Then, to Joel's horror and astonishment, it tucked its paws under itself and laid right on his lap.

And purred.

Joel blinked. He looked around the empty room like someone might be playing a trick on him.

"You’re not dyin', are ya?" he asked quietly. The cat only answered with longer purrs and more blinking.

Joel sat still for a long time, hands hovering, not daring to move. Finally, cautiously, he rested a palm along its back. It was warm as his fingers fell through the soft fur.

Joel sighed, and shook his head, "Well, shit." he chuckled, "You're kinda cute."

The cat lifted its head and butted it gently against his hand.

Joel smiled, small and incredulous as he scratched under its chin.

It felt like a white flag being waved after a long fight over a battlefield.

A truce.

By the time your uber dropped you home, a little tipsy and smiling as you kicked off your boots, you paused at the doorway and froze.

There on the armchair was Joel, slouched deep into the cushions, sound asleep, with the cat curled on his chest.

You just grabbed your phone, snapped a picture, and tiptoed out of the room with the biggest grin on your face.

[sunsetcupid]

GIRL, SO CONFUSING! ; OP81 + LN4.

synopsis: A combination of a fic and SMAU (Social Media Alternate Universe), following new F1 teammates Oscar Piastri and Lando Norris. . . and Oscar’s childhood best friend, Y/N L/N.

trigger warnings: Use of Y/N; Use of feminine pronouns from the reader’s perspective; Use of swear words in English; Descriptions of romantic acts and behaviors; Suggestive remarks; Depiction of a love triangle and polyamorous relationship (MMF)

a message from the author: My first hybrid post! I really love this idea – Landoscar is one of my favorite driver pairings – and I hope you all do as well 🥰 This took me forever to make, but I think it’s worth it.

yourusername: Summer went away, still, the yearning stays ☀️

tagged oscarpiastri

comments 2.1k

user1 How are you real??? You’re so beautiful

user2 This belongs on a postcard, fr 💌

user3 HAHAHA Oscar

user4 Hair tut when?

user5 Model, muse, icon, legend

oscarpiastri Thanks for including me 😁

user6 You look absolutely devious

comments 8.3k

user7 NO WAYYYY

user8 Is this how I find this out?

user9 Oscar is my GOAT 🐐

user10 Future WDC incoming. . .

user11 Poor Lando, he’s going to get demolished

user12 I’m excited to see this pairing!

user13 They’re complete opposites, it will be funny to see how this works out 😅

When Oscar didn’t think you were paying attention, he loved to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ears. You had a bad habit of having loose curls flying around, which is why you straightened your hair to an inch of its life almost every day. Oscar had been pestering you about this habit of yours for weeks now, bribing you with sweets and threatening to steal the iron. He said that your bright red hair reminded him of blood, of the invisible bond the two of you shared. You waved him off, calling him creepy, but secretly? You found it kind of poetic.

We’ve known each other since we were six. When would I lie to you? If your hair looked bad, I’d tell you.

You hated letting him win. The few arguments the two of you had never been resolved by direct confrontations. For Oscar, it was a nightmare: he was an introvert, through and through. Even if you were angry, it didn’t mean you were going to cross his boundaries. Instead, your arguments had been settled like icebreakers. A silly joke cracked by either one of you, and the tension dissolved. Neither one of you had ever conceded, but maybe it would be worth it this time.

Because Oscar Piastri, your best mate since childhood, had reached his insurmountable dream of entering Formula 1. He had signed with McLaren – a mid level team, but one with massive potential. The one thing that he could never stop talking about and spent ages fighting for, had finally happened. 

So, yeah. You were willing to make some sacrifices to make Oscar happy. Never let it be said you didn’t do anything for him.

When you had found out, the notification from the official Formula 1 Instagram page appearing on your phone, you had screamed so loudly your mother had rushed into your bedroom, clutching her heart like she’d suffered a heart attack. “OSCAR MADE IT INTO FORMULA ONE!” you shrieked, tears flowing down your face. You were deliriously overwhelmed.

“Oh my God, I thought somebody killed you!” Your mum had scolded you. “Tell Oscar I said congratulations. That’s amazing. But don’t do that again to me, you understand, Y/N?”

You nodded, immediately going to the text chain for Oscar and typing up a series of messages to him. It was incredible how fast the trajectory of someone’s life could change for the better. 

In the blink of an eye, your best friend was suddenly thrust into the public sphere. Now, he wasn’t just yours to admire, to love, to keep. He was everyone’s.

And suddenly, his newfound fame didn’t seem so wonderful anymore.

In the twenty years that spanned your life, you never believed that you would fall for the “sexy” British accent trap. Lots of the girls in your year – when you were at school – adored it, swooning over actors’ voices in the cinema, but personally? It wasn’t something you were fond of. You rather liked Oscar’s Australian accent: clipped, quiet. Familiar.

But then you met Lando Norris.

You were at McLaren Headquarters in Woking, touring alongside Oscar. You hadn’t asked to join him – your company and consoling presence was just an unspoken rule, especially when Oscar was forced out of his comfort zone. The building and grounds were sprawling, with a sleek modern design and blinding white lights. The raw power and the faded glory emanating from within disoriented you. You couldn’t believe that you were here, walking through halls haunted by the memories of legends.

The Brit was two years older, and a veteran in Formula 1. He was waiting for the three of you in a meeting room, and didn’t wait for the tour guide (a young woman named Shelley) to introduce himself. Lando was cocky and sure of himself, cracking jokes like it paid the bills. He was the complete opposite of Oscar, and typically, you avoided men who were outgoing. 

Yet. . . something about Lando lured you in.

When Oscar was in the garage, getting to know the pit crew, you stayed behind, telling him you were tired – which was the truth. Lando waited with you, pretending like he was relaxing, scrolling through his Instagram feed.

“So. . .” he finally said, looking up from the glowing screen. “Can you believe it?”

You shrugged, as casually as you could muster. “Not really, no.”

“I’m sure Oscar is thrilled,” Lando continued. You could tell he was pushing for details, eager to know more details about his new teammate. Oscar hadn’t revealed many things about himself, one of the many reasons why you were so loyal to him. He would die before telling anyone else the secrets you told him.

You looked down at your hands, unsure of what to respond. Lando was being nice, but you felt like there was something else he wanted to know. You decided to be courteous, in case your gut was overanalyzing the situation. It did have the tendency to do that. “Yeah. In his own way.”

Lando cocked his head, searching your face for clues. “Not a very emotional guy?”

“He is, but only when he gets to know the other person. It takes time.” You swallowed, plastering on a bright smile. “He’ll warm up to you, don’t worry.”

“OK.” Lando hummed appreciatively. “Turn up the charm. I can do that.”

You chuckled, imagining Oscar’s reaction to Lando’s nearly insufferable charisma. It would be absolutely hilarious to witness it. Poor Osc.“Mhm. Good luck.”

“Thanks!” Lando grinned, obviously not detecting the sarcasm lacing your words. Then, in a serious tone, he questioned, “Could I potentially. . . have your number? I understand if not.”

“Of course,” you answered, after a beat. “Here’s my phone. You can put in your contact details here.”

A few moments later, Oscar returned to the meeting room, immediately standing by your side like a protective guard dog. You could feel the tension radiating from him, as if he were aware that you’d given Lando your cell number. “How was everything?” you asked, twisting around to look at him.

“Great,” he said, staring at Lando with a shrewd expression. “Ready to go?”

You nodded, rising from your seat. “Just about.”

“Thanks for tagging along,” Oscar said calmly, but you saw something flicker in his eyes. Was it jealousy? 

You had no idea, but you were sure that it was a matter of time. Not even Oscar could keep his cards hidden for too long.

oscarpiastri replied to the Snap

Interesting song choice 🤔

You had never kept a secret before from Oscar. It wasn’t something the two of you did. You knew each other like the back of your hand, and sometimes, you really did question whether he was psychic, so there was no point to it.

Except. . . now you were hiding the biggest bombshell ever from him. OK, maybe not the largest scandal ever, but it would hurt Oscar when he found out. Which is why you were sure to act as normally as possible, so he couldn’t sniff it out.

Because you were talking to Lando Norris, his teammate, behind his back.

And you were falling for him. Hard.

He was witty. Smarter than you’d first thought, with a tongue that could send heat sparking through your skin with only a few words. So what if he wasn’t the brightest bulb in the bunch when it came to geography or maths? Lando had a sweet, genuine soul.

He resembled Oscar in that way – trying to conceal the vulnerability that you admired so much. Everyone thought that F1 drivers had an ego, believing they were invincible. Lando disputed that, whole-heartedly, and you adored him for it.

Meanwhile, Oscar was extremely hostile to Lando. You had never seen him so distraught before, resisting cordiality despite all your efforts. It gave you an extra reason to be guarded; if he found out, there was no doubt that he would seek revenge on the track.

You couldn’t risk it.

Especially since you knew – if it came down to it – you could not choose between the two of them.

Time skip (March 2023)

f1 And that’s a wrap! Bahrain Grand Prix, the opener for the 2023 season, is completed! Astounding performance by Red Bull’s Max Verstappen and Sergio Perez.

comments 27.3k

user14 Du Du Du Max Verstappen

user15 I can already tell this season’s going to be Verstappen domination

user16 Lwk want him to dominate me

user17 Mega

redbullracing 🎉🎉

user18 Awesome start to the season!

It had been six months since you had met Lando Norris for the first time. Six months, you had been harboring a crush on Oscar’s teammate.

Six months, and you still hadn’t told Oscar.

Your heart was torn in two; part of you wanted to stay loyal to Oscar. You’d known him for ages, and you felt like dating his teammate was a betrayal.

After you confided in your mum, she had gotten so frustrated with the situation that she forbade you from talking about it anymore.

“Either do something, or don’t complain,” she said, throwing her hands up in the air.

But was more complicated than it seemed.

Because the memory of that December night was still imprinted in your mind, as if it had only transpired mere days ago. Your family had gone on a trip with Oscar’s, heading to Byron Bay for a nice summer getaway. It was almost ten p.m., and you wouldn’t have been able to see anything, if it hadn’t been for the bonfire Oscar had set up. It crackled merrily, illuminating the dark stretch of sand you were lounging on.

You were talking to Oscar, mindlessly passing the time, waiting until your parents shooed you off to bed. And then, without any warning, Oscar had kissed you, cutting you off in the middle of your sentence. You couldn’t remember now what you were talking about. The only thing your brain could comprehend was Oscar’s lips on yours. He was chaste, gentle, but when you pulled yourself closer to him, he had deepened it, ferociously clinging to you like you were his saving grace.

Oscar didn’t mention it ever again, and sometimes, you truly believed you had imagined it.

Now, three years later, you waited outside of Oscar’s driver’s room, still unsure of where you stood with him.

And you weren’t sure you’d ever know.

f1gossip Rumors are making the rounds that McLaren driver Lando Norris is dating Y/N L/N — yes, Oscar Piastri’s childhood best friend! What’s the verdict? Could there be some truth to this?

tagged yourusername, landonorris, oscarpiastri

comments 136

user19 This seems like a plot to a book 😭

user20 Oh, how I wish I were Y/N L/N

user21 Two hot eligible bachelors pining over her. . . 💔

user22 I like Lando, but Oscar suits her much better

user23 What in the ever loving rom-com is happening right now at McLaren?

user24 Yeah, no. Stick to the racing PLEASE.

user25 The papaya boys are fighting 😡

“We’re going to tell Oscar about us.”

Lando’s head tilted to the side as he absorbed your words. “What do you mean?”

You tapped your foot impatiently. “You heard me. I want to tell Oscar that we’ve been. . .You know. Talking.”

“And we’re suddenly not worried he’s going to kill me on track?”

You bit your lip. “I hate keeping secrets.”

Lando huffed, irritated. “But you don’t care that I could die?”

With an aggrieved sigh, you looked at Lando, silently imploring him to just shut up and go along with your plan. The plan that you’d quickly assembled after caving to the immense pressure of the secret you were keeping from Oscar. “Please don’t be dramatic.”

“It’s hard not to be! He’s terrifying! Like a silent serial killer. Do you have it out for me?” Lando followed you as you headed to the kitchen, brewing yourself a cup of mint tea to soothe your stomach. “Are you being serious?”

“He’s going to be here any minute now,” you murmured under your breath. “So. . .It’s a bit too late to back out now.”

Lando gasped. “Any minute now?” he repeated, disbelieving. “No fucking way.”

“Look, I know you’re nervous, but you need to calm down.” You stepped closer to Lando, cradling his face in the palm of your hands.

He tugged himself free of your grip. “Nervous is the understatement of the year.”

The doorbell rang, and Lando yelped. You rolled your eyes, walking back to the living room to unlock the door and let Oscar in. 

“Is everything OK?” he immediately questioned. 

You nodded, mouth going dry. “Yep,” you managed.

“You’re pale. What’s going on?” Oscar narrowed his eyes, scanning you for the reason why you were acting so strangely. “You texted me, saying there was something urgent you needed to talk to me about. So? What is it?”

You gave him a shaky smile. “Um, yeah. About that. So. . .”

“Aw, come on. Spit it out, Y/N.”

You lowered your head, avoiding eye contact. “Lando, come out of the kitchen.”

Lando edged himself out of his hiding space, ears blazing red. “Hey, mate. How are you doing?”

Oscar looked at you, then at Lando, absolutely dumbfounded. You could see the cogs in his mind whirring as he made sense of the situation. “I knew it,” he said, realization dawning on his face. “I knew you were together. Fuck.”

You glanced over at Lando, who was just as confused as you were. “Pardon?”

“This isn’t the right thing to say. I shouldn’t say this, but I’m going to.” Oscar paused, fumbling for the proper words. “Y/N, I’ve been in love with you for what feels like an eternity, and I can’t watch you date my teammate without wanting you for myself.”

A small gasp left your mouth. “What?” you whispered.

“I love you, Y/N. I always have.” Oscar closed the gap between the two of you. “Call me selfish, but I want you too.”

Lando scoffed. “So, we’re going to share her or something?”

You blushed. “I mean, I wouldn’t mind.”

Oscar blinked, then smiled broadly. “That’s exactly what we’ll do.”

yourusername, oscarpiastri, and landonorris So maybe the rumors were, in fact, true. . .? 🤭

comments 7.2k

user26 I predicted it.

user27 Knew it since day one as well. There was just no way it wouldn’t happen. Y/N’s too hot.

user28 Girlboss 💖

user29 That’s my icon

user30 Now that’s a throuple I’d like to join

user31 AWWWW 🥹

mclaren Our papaya boys

user32 Oscar finally confessed. No freaking way

user33 Yeah, is the world ending? 😲

user34 Y/N is winning at life

user35 I 100% support this. They’re iconic.

Credits: Dividers — @saradika-graphics; Photos — Pinterest

[daisymbin]

promise me ice cream! - jeon wonwoo

warnings: slightly insecure wonwoo?

pairings: jeon wonwoo x reader

genre: drunk confessions, friends to ???

wc: 1.3k

a/n: I'm not quite sure what I did to deserve 223 of yall following me but thank you 🥺

drunken confessions series

check out my masterlist! // wonwoo's m.list

your best friend, wonwoo is sprawled on the bed, looking more like a puddle of drunk affection than his usual composed self. he's clinging onto you, he wedges your leg in between his own; hugging it like it was a bolster as his head rests on your lap as if it were a pillow, his arms wrapped around your thigh, not wanting to let go as if it’s the only thing keeping him grounded. his gaze is hazy, eyes blinking slowly as he stares up at you, his lips curving into a drunken smile, “you're so pretty.” he says as you chuckle while you run your hands through his hair; messaging his head a little to relieve the potential headache.

“why'd you drink so much tonight?” you asked, “its not like you, you're not usually like this.” wonwoo lets out a deep sigh at your question, “you were talking to jun all night and…i dont know, i just didn't like it. i got jealous. it's like…you’ll never pick me.” he says with a pout, eyes closing shut. “jealous? of jun?” you frown, trying to make sense of his words. if only he knew, “don't be silly, you know i talk to jun all the time but you'll always be my best friend. there's nothing to be jealous about.” you reassured. “& i’ll always pick you.”

“you're breaking my heart.” wonwoo mumbles so soft, you almost would have missed it if it weren't for a drunk wonwoo clinging onto you for dear life, heightening all your senses & leaving your heart beating so fast. “what do you mean, wonwoo?” 

"you’re my favorite person," he says, his voice soft and slow, like he’s trying to convince himself of something. "i don’t know if i’ll ever be your favorite, but... you're my favorite." his hand gently strokes the inside of your thigh, sending shiver down your spine. his fingers light against your skin as if he’s trying to memorize the feeling of being this close.

you smile as you feel butterflies erupt in your stomach. you’re a little amused yet also, a little taken aback by the way he’s acting; he's never been like this. you gently run your fingers through his hair, trying to coax him to sleep even though you're sure he’s already half asleep. & maybe you're also just taking advantage of the situation and being a little selfish; having him like this.

"i’m just me," he continues, voice drowsy and laced with alcohol. "i’m just wonwoo, you know? just regular, plain ol' wonwoo. but you're... you're perfect. sparkly. i don’t even know why you ever looked my way years ago, let alone be friends with me.”

you laugh softly, but it’s mixed with a hint of sadness, wondering how he could ever think that about himself. "you’re not just wonwoo, you know that, right? you’re more than that."

wonwoo shakes his head, but his grip on your leg tightens. "no, no, no. i’m just me. i’m just wonwoo, and you’re... you’re so pretty and you're so kind. you're such a good person...so much better than I'll ever be. that's why you would never like someone like me."

his words sting more than they should, but you can tell he's too drunk to mean them fully, right? that's what you hoped for at least. you want to tell him how wrong he is, how much you care for him, but instead, you sit in the quiet, letting him speak his mind as he clings onto you, his drunken ramblings the only thing filling the space between you two.

after a moment, he sits up a little, his gaze suddenly lighting up with a burst of energy. "ice cream," he says, as if it’s the most important thing in the world right now. "we should go on an ice cream date. right now. let’s go."

you glance at him, blinking in surprise at the sudden contrast. it’s already past 4AM and he’s drunk, this is not the time for an ice cream run date. "wonwoo," you say softly, trying to get him to focus. "it’s really late. we’re not going for ice cream right now, okay?"

he looks up at you with wide, sad, hopeful eyes, and you can’t help but find it endearing, even if it’s a little ridiculous. "why not?" he asks, his pout deepening, and his grip on your leg tightening again as he drags himself impossibly closer to you. "i want to go on an ice cream date with you, please?” 

you laugh, though it's full of affection and fondness. "wonwoo, you’re drunk & it’s really late. we’re not going anywhere. you can’t go out for ice cream right now, I don't think you can even walk straight, did you forget how I had to haul you back here?"

he pouts even harder, his lower lip trembling slightly & he almost look as if he’s about to start crying any time as he sits back and crosses his arms, looking like a grumpy child. "but i want ice cream. now. i’m hungry."

you can’t help but smile at his stubbornness. "we’ll go tomorrow, okay?" you promise. "i’ll take you out on an ice cream date tomorrow. I'll even let you pick all the flavours you want, even if its 5 of them."

wonwoo tilts his head to the side, staring at you with a suspicious frown. "tomorrow? don’t lie…i’m only asking you now because… this is a dream, you wouldnt reject me in my dream, would you?" he asks, his voice filled with doubt. "because i know you won’t really take me for ice cream tomorrow when I wake up. you don’t like me like that. you’re just humoring me."

"wonwoo, i promise, tomorrow, we’ll get ice cream," you reassure him, your voice gentle and warm as you stroke his hair again, trying to comfort him.

but wonwoo still looks disappointed and doubtful, his shoulders slump. "tomorrow will never come. this is all a dream. you’ll wake up, and i’ll be... i’ll be just me. plain wonwoo. i won’t be good enough for you. you will never pick me.”

your heart aches at the way he’s talking. he doesn’t believe that you like him, doesn’t believe in this moment, in the promise of tomorrow. "wonwoo, i’m not going anywhere," you say, taking his hand in yours. "i'll be right here when you open your eyes when the sun rises & i'll tell you all the reasons why you're more than enough. i really do like you, I love you, and tomorrow, we’ll get ice cream. i promise."

he looks down at your hand, still not fully convinced. "promise?" he asks, his voice small and fragile.

"promise," you say firmly, hands finding his as you lock your pinky around his.

wonwoo hesitates for a moment, then sighs, his expression softening. "okay...okay," he murmurs, closing his eyes as he rests his head back on your lap, your hands instinctively go back to playing with his hair, he's completely content now. "ice cream date tomorrow. i’ll wait for tomorrow...even if it doesn't happen it's okay..at least im laying on your lap now…at least you’re playing with my hair now…at least now i know what it's like to hear you say you like me too.”

you smile, brushing a strand of hair out of his face, watching him drift off to sleep in your lap. even though he’s drunk and unsure, you know he believes you somewhere deep down. & tomorrow, you’ll take him for ice cream, just like you promised. and maybe, just maybe, tomorrow, he’ll realize how much you really do care about him, & how much you really do love him.

[pretty-little-mind33]

James Potter x fem!reader

Summary: James is the best boyfriend while you're sick.

Genre: Fluffy <3

Warnings: having a cold, germs, mentions of being contagious? really none lmao i'm just over cautious

~ for my lovely 🍓anon! enjoy! ~

JAMES POTTER MASTERLIST

You're convinced you're dying and no matter how much your boyfriend promises you you're not, you still feel miserable.

"No, no," you shake your head, your nose running obnoxiously as you blow into another tissue—you could start a whole collection by now. "you don't u-understand. My body is crumbling as we speak," you tell him as you're curled up in your bed, under a bunch of blankets and wearing James's warmest and favorite sweatshirt.

James sits by you, one hand pressed against your forehead and he frowns, suppressing a small smile. "Is that so? Guess I'll have to glue you back together again then," he hums softly. 

Your eyes narrow and then you cough loudly, your throat hoarse, "You aren't funny."

James feigns hurt. "Ouch," he strokes your hairline with his thumb, looking at you fondly, and then gives in as his eyes soften. "I'm sorry. I can feel you burning up, I know you must feel very ill, hm?" 

You nod, sitting up against the pillows as you cough again. The sound sounds horrible. James leans closer, his expression morphing into concern. Your eyes widen as guilt dawns on you and you panic, pulling away from him. 

"Jamie, no, I'll contaminate you!" you practically shriek.

James raises an eyebrow in amusement. "Contaminate me? Darling, you aren't diseased." 

You sniffle and whisper, "You don't know that." 

James can't help himself. He laughs, and the sound is a beautiful melody as he shakes his head. Still, he listens and pulls away from you. He sits back and thinks for a moment. "I'm gonna run to the store and grab you some things okay, I don't think this cold will disappear on its own, lovely."

You sniffle again, feeling sorry for yourself as you prepare to blow into another tissue. "If you leave me now, I'll surely perish," you state quite dramatically as James stands. He sends you a look as if to say be serious, his dark curls falling before his eyes.

You sniff, sending him a look in return as if to say, I am serious and James just leans over to kiss your forehead and then press another sloppy kiss on your cheek. 

"James!" You exclaim as he kisses you, alarmed.

"If I'm sick, I'm sick," he states seriously, gently cradling your chin as he strokes your skin carefully. "A silly little cold isn't gonna dictate when I can or can't kiss my darling girlfriend."

Your chest loosens at this and you feel a sense of warmth and relief at his words. You want to protest and tell him he's putting himself in harm's way for no reason. But, instead, you relish in the feeling of his lips on your skin and you sink into the pillows as you wait for his return. 

When he does return, you rouse from your small nap and let out a weak cough. Your eyes are bleary as you blink them furiously. "Oh, sweets, have I woken you?" he says in the sweetest voice you've ever heard and you almost melt.

You sit up and rub your eyes as James sits beside you again, resting the glass of water he'd brought in on the bedside table, and then drops the brown paper bag near your hip. He rummages inside and lays out an array of medicine, candies, and almost four boxes of tissues.

Having been feeling a little better from your sleep, you joke, "I'm not dying, am I?"

James chuckles and hands you some medicine for you. You swallow it reluctantly, pouting up at your boyfriend. He rests his hand on your forehead again, smiling.

"No, you aren't dying," he whispers, "far from it. Your temperature seems to have gone down, which is really good."

You nod, still tired as you reach for James's other hand and play with his fingers. "Can you make me some tea?" you ask bashfully. 

James frowns, smiling a little as his fingers gently pinch your cheek. "Of course, love. Don't be embarrassed. I'd move the moon for you."

You cough again, the sound much lighter already. "Kinds dramatic, no?" you whisper.

"No. Not really. It's all true," James pauses, his voice turning serious, "for you, I'd do absolutely anything." He kisses your forehead again, and this time you don't even want to protest.

[dadsbongos]

So I recently had a thought about Chilchuck x reader. While drinking, Chilchuck discovers that the reader is a complete lightweight who got drunk after 2 drinks. Not only that, but reader who is usually reserved and quiet becomes rather giggly, vocal, and the smallest bit flirty. Maybe he sees what happens when the reader becomes even more drunk and backs himself into a corner when they become very flirty and forward about their feelings for him? :3

642 words / warnings - you imply you want to bang chilchuck maybe? idk its a vague comment take it how you will ~~~

Saying he was excited to see beneath the veil of brooding silence would go against his entire modus operandi, so Chilchuck would never say it aloud.

Yet he cannot fight the quiet snicker leaving him as you drunkenly giggle over some terribly unfunny joke spat by a tipsy Marcille. Party morale nights were his favorite: free ale and free entertainment.

“You should join us more often!” Marcille cheers.

“Oh, no,” you drawl, staring into your emptied mug -- your first mug, might he add, “I’m not a big drinker.”

“Obviously,” Chilchuck cannot bite the remark before it slithers out.

“Hey!” you whine, swirling on your stool you glare at him. Cheek smushed against your fist, “I’m just not a fan…”

“Because it reveals your actually tolerable side?”

“Rude!”

Chilchuck might’ve been worried about hurting your feelings if you weren’t laughing quietly, eyes fluttering shut as you hum displeased at his jab. That infamous furrow in your brows coming to life as you mull over a response, soft scowl dragging soon after.

“I think you said something you didn’t mean to, Chilchuck…”

“Huh?”

Refocusing your stare on him, you lean forward, “You pretty much just said I’m cuter when I drink.”

“Is that how you took it?” 

“It’s what you meant.”

Rolling his eyes, albeit with a chest full of mirth and warm cheeks, “Right.”

“I hope it was, anyway,” you confess, smile widening regardless of his following shock.

“What do you mean by that?!” he has to grab the table, knuckles whitening, to prevent from slipping backwards.

Shrugging coyly, you dip further into his personal space. Smelling of beer and perfume, “What do you want it to mean, Chilchuck?”

“You’re not making any sense,” he mutters, bringing up his maizer for a distracting gulp. Clenching his eyes shut when he can still make out the pretty way your lashes crown your cheeks each blink.

That itself is a mistake because now the sugary tones of your voice are further heightened in his reddening ears,

“There’s no shame, Chilchuck, I think you’re plenty cute.”

“Excuse you?” he’s thankful none of your party members catch his exclamation, or the slam of his cup against the table.

“Sorry,” you blurt, a muted gasp preceding your slurring afterthought, “Not cute in a demeaning way. Cute like I think you’d look nice in my bed.”

His jaw clatters to the floor: no way this is the same combat mage he’s been working with for months. The one that could barely return Marcille’s small talk without clamming up. The one that dodges Laios’ every attempt at monster-education. The one that quietly slips out of Falin’s sight whenever a protection spell violating personal space is required. The one that outranks Toshiro in most unapproachable. The one with a most notorious resting frown on their face.

Chilchuck was convinced you didn’t even like him as a coworker until you eagerly sat beside him at the table instead of joining Namari.

“W- what…?”

“You’re really attractive, seriously,” you bumble through the syllables, nose wrinkling in a disarmingly adorable chuckle at yourself, “I sound silly, huh?”

Rather than assure you he hardly cares, or that he’ll silently forget this entire admission, Chilchuck nods curtly and buries his nose into his cup again, “Yep.”

“Sorry, Chilchuck,” voice a coo, you relax back until you’re now invading Laios’ space. Head against the blonde’s shoulder.

Chilchuck’s most horrifying realization is that he’s awfully jealous of Laios in that moment.

But instead of saying that, he snarks bitterly,

“Tell me again when you’re sober.”

“Okay!”

Such sincerity makes him roll his eyes again, and once again he’s full of fondness and affection despite it all. Part of him even mourns how wasted you are, knowing you’ll wake up tomorrow with a headache and no memory of this: returning to the sulky attack mage he barely talks to.

[phillystrega]

To Be Gorgeous, To Be Seen 1/4

aka my response to the first prompt in the 911 What’s Your Pride Event.

My responses will be separate posts/chapters but all of them will take place in June between seasons 7 and 8. AKA Buck’s first Pride.

Also on AO3 here.

They’d been seated for lunch for all of five minutes when Buck said, “did you know there was a chevalier in France during the American Revolution who was definitely born a dude but successfully sued the French government for them to identify her as a woman?”

Eddie and Hen blinked at him from over their lunch plates but it was Bobby who broke the silence by saying, not unkindly, “no Buck, I did not know that, nor did I expect it to be your answer to the question as to whether you did inventory yet or not.”

“Oh. Uh, no.” Truthfully, he doesn’t even remember being assigned inventory today, which is unlike him. Inventory is his favorite, it basically mandates use of a clipboard.

“What's a chevalier?’ Eddie asked, throwing Buck a much-needed life preserver.

“It’s like a knight,” Buck said. “She spied on England for France. Told France they should help the Americans during the revolution. It was pretty dope.”

Eddie nodded like, yeah, pretty dope. Hen just squinted at him before exchanging a look with Chim that usually didn’t bode well for Buck.

“Buck, are you speed running queer history?”

“No,” Buck said quickly, then, “well, not on purpose, but I mean, I was googling some stuff and I just kinda ended up there.”

“I’d rather he talk about gay history than have to hear any more about artificial insemination programs for fish,” Eddie said, making a face.

“Hey, overfishing is a serious issue,” Buck protested–the most dangerous fish in North America was also suffering from population decline and Buck felt more people should know about that. The look on Eddie’s face said he clearly didn’t agree on that point.

“So this is, what,” Chimney said, “your belated bi research dive?”

“I don't think the chevalier was bi,” is all Buck can think of to say.

“Wait,” Eddie said, putting his fork down. “Are you even bi? I didn’t think you’d picked a word yet?”

“Oh, uh,” Buck suddenly was very aware of every face at the table turning towards him. “Yeah, that’s. I’m bi.” He feels himself flushing a bit which seems silly considering the number of intimate personal stuff he’s shared previously at this table.

Chimney took a handful of parmesan out of its small serving dish and threw it into the air like it was confetti. “Mazel tov.”

“I am not cleaning that up,” Ravi called from the end of the table.

“Are you freaking out?” Eddie asked.

Buck frowned. “I have a tiny dust pan, I’ll clean the spaghetti cheese…”

“I forgot about the tiny dust pan,” Eddie admitted.

“I could never forget about the tiny dust pan,” Chim sighed.

“The tiny dust pan should’ve been our first clue you weren’t straight,” Hen said. “But I think Eddie meant are you freaking out about the bi thing.”

“I am not freaking out,” Buck said, making a show of saying so as calmly as possible. He meant for that to have a reassuring effect on his teammates but judging by everyone’s face, he missed the mark.

“It’s a big thing to learn about yourself,” Bobby said. “An adjustment period is normal.”

“I have adjusted, the adjusting has happened,” Buck said. “Now I’m just…you know. Learning things. About the community.”

“So you are speed running queer history,” Hen said, pointing a finger at him in a way that made Buck want to slide under the table a little bit.

“I don’t think Tommy’s gonna insist on giving you a pop quiz before he takes his pants off,” Chimney said.

“He definitely is not,” Buck said, smirking, and he batted away the balled up napkin Chim immediately sent in his direction. “No, I just, I don’t wanna embarrass myself, and by extension him, by not knowing these things about a community that’s supposed to be, like, mine now.”

“Maybe it would help if you actually went out to meet the community,” Hen said. “Come with me to the Queer LAFD Committee meeting.”

“We have a committee?” Buck perked up at that, the part of him that enjoys knowing rules and procedures suddenly intrigued by a whiff of bureaucracy.

Hen looked amused by him and reached over to gently pat his hand. “There are bylaws and everything.”

“Hear that, Buck?” Eddie said, voice full of false excitement. “Bylaws!”

“Or is it bi laws,” Chim said, eyebrows moving up and down. “Get it? Bi laws, like bi–”

“We get it,” everyone at the table droned.

“Just for that,” Bobby announced as he rose from his seat, plate in hand. “You have to clean the cheese confetti off the table.”

Chim frowned and watched as everyone else got up, one by one, to follow Bobby to the dishwasher.

As Buck moved up from his seat and passed Chim, he clapped a hand on his brother-in-law’s shoulder, and whispered, “And you’re not allowed to use my little dust pan.”

[bandgie]

Wish Upon a Genie

boypussy!han x girldick!reader

warnings! MDNI 18+, pussyjob, pussy play (m!), reader and han are virgins technically?, no penetration, handjob, domish reader, subby han, feminization (obvi he has a clit now), PIV implied

notes! intro is inspired by BIG. also im aware some people are uncomfortable with this type of writing and that's okay! just scroll :)

3.6k words

It stares back at you. Unblinking. Unmoving. Out of all the little gimmicks and arcade games at the carnival, it was this one, without a plug-in or light, that called to you. You’re not quite sure why. Maybe it was the silly hat with a feather poking out from it for extra effect. Maybe it was the fact that the machine lacked any sort of light to indicate that it was on. There isn’t a wrong or necessarily a right answer to the question, but the fact that you’re drawn to it remains. 

Jisung clings to your side, using your body as a shield from the animatronic that stares back at you two soullessly. “This is freaky. Can we check something else out?”

You roll your eyes, tilting your head to look at your beloved, but cowardly lover. “Don’t you wanna get your fortune read?” But Jisung shakes his head rapidly. “No! I wanna go on the Ferris wheel and eat funnel cake. Not get cursed by some…genie. That doesn’t even have an outlet, by the way.” Jisung points to the plug-in that isn’t connected to anything. “How are we even gonna play?”

Reaching into your pocket you take out your wallet and peer inside. It only takes a few seconds to find the shiny coin.

You hold it up in front of his face. “With this. It’s probably battery-operated anyway. The cord is just for show.” Jisung eyes the metal worriedly, his eyes widening in fear. “Baby! Don’t do that. Come on! I’ll buy you two snowcones.” Rather than taking his deal, you give him a wicked smile.

“Make a wish, baby.”

“I don’t want to!” His plump lips turn into a pout. Jisung fakes determination against your stare, but it takes less than ten seconds for him to cave into your sick joke. “Fine. I wish you weren’t such a dick sometimes.”

That sputters a chuckle from you, leaning down to insert the coin into the machine’s slot. “And I wish you weren’t such a pussy.”

Magic erupts from the machine. The genie comes to life, light shining from every space behind the glass. Its eyes glow yellow, smoke coming from its mouth as it booms with laughter. “Mwuahaha…”

Jisung squeals, rushing to hide behind your figure as the animatronic, not so fluidly, turns its head left and right before it settles on you two. Even you, who had the idea to play this game anyway, recoils in surprise. Jisung hugs you close to him, breathing heavily into your neck until goosebumps form on your skin.

Ding!

Both of you look down to see a single card sticking out, old and yellowed. You look back at Jisung who only looks back at you. His eyes say it all, don’t read it. But of course, being that pissing off your boyfriend is your favorite hobby, you do.

He whines when you quickly snatch the card from the machine’s card slot. Just as abruptly it lit with life, the animatronic shut down. You adjust yourself until Jisung’s chin is tucked into your shoulder, staring at the slip of paper until you turn it over.

Your wish is my command.

-

The first thing you feel when you blink your sleepy eyes open is pressure in areas you normally don’t feel pressure. You excuse the sensation as two things:

One: you’re still half-asleep and the sun’s not even up yet Two: the carnival was a bust

Jisung must have bought rotten funnel cakes. The moment you two got your dessert, a wave of pain coursed through your systems. It felt like a pounding headache through your limbs. The Uber back home was embarrassing. More than once did your driver think you two were frolicking in the backseat of his car, but every time he turned around, he was surprised to see you two hunched over groaning with pain.

The aching turned into tiredness as you struggled with the front door. You wanted to at least make it to your bed before you collapsed, but black spots began to appear in your vision that made you find comfort on the living room couch instead. Jisung was only a step behind you, whining and yawning before he finally found sleep squeezed beside you on the sofa. 

Now you’re waking up in arms, trying to figure out why your crotch is so stiff.

Fuck, did you piss yourself?

You reach downwards to feel for wetness, but you let out a squeak when you feel hardness. You snatch your hand away quickly as if you’ve burned yourself. No. No, that can’t be right. How can Jisung’s hard-on be on your side? That doesn’t make sense. And you’re sure that insane pressure is coming from you. 

Again, you snake your hand down, slow and steady. Using your stomach as a guide, you trail lower before you feel your pelvis, your thighs, and horrifyingly, a cock. 

Jisung startles awake to your frantic movements. He sees your blurry figure sitting up, staring down at your thighs with your shoulders shuddering as if you’re shaking. “Baby?” He croaks. “What’s up?”

Your dick. Your dick is what’s up. It stands proud, throbbing, and leaky. Even though you could feel your erection through the material of your pants, you still couldn’t believe it. You shrugged off your pants in a haste, uncaring how your flailing limbs woke up your sleeping boyfriend. It was when you saw the head of the cock- the head of your cock easily straining against your underwear that you realized how real this was.

Words are far from you now. All you can do is uselessly open and close your mouth. If you keep blinking, maybe it’ll go away. Maybe all that pre-cum staining your pretty, girly underwear will magically disappear and you’ll wake up from this strange dream. You feel a warm hand on your shoulder, making you jump. Jisung’s saying something. His words sound like static in your ears, but you manage to make out the worriedness in his voice. Then the static suddenly stops and you know he’s staring at the very thing you’re looking at. 

“Is it real?” You just have to make sure. Even if you can undeniably feel every vein and twitch, you just have to. 

Jisung doesn’t say anything. A beat of silence passes before the same hand that rested on your shoulder comes to the space between your thighs. He squeezes your cock, tugging it downwards and back up to cover the tip with the palm of his hand. 

You cry out, hips bucking and you moan pathetically. The pleasure that coursed through your body was so familiar, so used to what you already know, but it’s unexplainably different. You smack Jisung’s hand, hissing as you say, “What the fuck?! Don’t touch it!” But he doesn’t move his hand. Jisung doesn't as much as flinch when you lightly slap him. Instead, his grip tightens. You can’t help but lean down just a tiny bit to allow him access to your new organ, hand pumping you at a steady pace.

It’s been less than a minute, but you feel what you think is an impending orgasm. Your balls - holy shit you have a sack - tense and relax. The tip begins to leak so much more and you briefly think how Jisung was ever able to last more than a minute inside you. You moan, throwing your head back and curling your toes. Just a little longer, just a little tighter, and a little faster and you’ll cum all over your undies and Jisung’s hand. That doesn’t happen though, not when your boyfriend unwraps his fingers from you to reach for himself.

Jisung shrugs off his own pants as you whine, quickly shimmying down his boxers. You can’t help but scoff at him freeing himself, ignoring how much your cock aches from being accidentally edged. “Are you really about to compare dick sizes right now?” However, there’s no tent in his briefs that you’re sure would be there. Not even as he’s nude from the waist down do you see any indication of the cock you’ve sucked on, but a cunt. Between the lower lips, his clit peeks out cutely, shiny with arousal. 

“I woke up before you, just for a little bit.” His eyes are wide. “I…I thought it was just a dream. I went back to sleep and then you woke up and…” He doesn’t need to finish the rest. Turns out this swap of cock and cunt is mutual.

Worried. He’s worried. Even with his hand slick with your juices and his pussy glistening in the dim light of the TV, he’s scared. You brush your nose against his, pecking his cheek soothingly. “It’s okay. I’m scared too.” You take his soiled hand in your dry one. “But we’re together. And safe. We’re gonna be okay. Nothing a quick Google search can’t fix.” You and Jisung smile at your attempt to lighten the mood. He presses a sweet kiss to your lips, and despite seeing the tears in his eyes seconds ago, your cock twitches. 

“I know,” he whispers. “I’m just upset because it’s bigger than mine.”

His gummy smile shines in the shadows. You giggle with him and lean against his shoulder, hands intertwined. 

The sight of your dick quietens you and him. It’s still hard, leaky in all its cocky-ness. Jisung jerking you off was really the only thing that helped make you feel better, literally and figuratively. Biting your lip, you tilt your head up and bat your eyelashes prettily. “You were really good at…touching me.” 

He blinks at you almost innocently. “Yeah?”

You nod. “Yeah. Didn’t know a penis could feel that sensitive.”

Jisung hums, nodding with you. He doesn’t need to hear you say it to know what you want but asks anyway to make sure. “I-I can keep doing it. If you want me to.” He waits for your nod and it’s only a second it takes for you to agree. His hand unlaces from yours and he places it over your thigh.

Weirdly, it feels like you two are virgins all over again. The nervous touches, the uncontrollable moans, and the shy look you give him when he inches closer to your dick. It’s almost endearing but in the crudest way. 

Jisung starts at your shaft, hardly flicking his wrist up and down for friction. He’s warming you up, you realize. The thought makes you smile and you kiss his neck. “You’re so cute.”

With your cock in his hand, Jisung doesn’t understand how that can be so. He blushes anyway and tightens his grip just the slightest. “Am I?” You nod, kissing his throat again and again until he presses his thighs together. Your boyfriend always had a cute, but slightly irritating, habit of getting lost in pleasure. Sometimes forgetting that your pussy was in his mouth when he was too busy jerking himself off. Even with his cunt, he’s doing it all over again.

“You are,” you confirm. You trail your hand from the couch to his hip. Fingers caress his bare thigh until you dance on his pelvis, grazing the hair there. “Can I touch you too?” Jisung’s bottom lip is caught between his teeth. He knows what it feels like to have his dick ooze precum, to leak so much that it looks like he’s stained his boxers. You’ve made him do that countless times. But this feels insufferable. How he can rub rub rub without ever feeling like he’s getting anywhere. 

Shit. How do you deal with this?

He nods, bangs covering his eyes. You hear him sharply inhale when you finally come in contact with his wet cunt. Jisung isn’t sure what to do. He seems almost restless with you sliding one finger up and down his slit. It’s hard to do anything else with his legs closed, but you don’t tell him otherwise. You reason he must be nervous with everything going on.

That changes however when he spreads one of his legs until it hangs off the couch. You look at him for permission to do more and his response is a beautiful moan. 

Now with two fingers, it’s much easier to explore his folds. You ignore his clit for now; he doesn’t need to know how overwhelmingly good that can feel. Instead, you focus on the meaty part of cunt, swirling and flicking until his hand stops pumping you altogether.

“Hannie.” Not baby. Hannie. A little warning you usually give him when he’s being a little too selfish, but it’s hard to focus on anything else but the foreign pleasure. You finally swipe your fingers up until they catch his sensitive nub and his body jolts.

“Ah!” He squeals high-pitched. “S-sorry. ‘m trying but it feels so…so…good when you touch me there.” Those pleading eyes. You might have caved in like you always do and given your Hannie what he wants. However, you’re not feeling so generous at the moment. Especially when the raging hard-on only gives you pain when ignored. 

You use your free hand to swipe against his cheek, steadying his eyes on yours. “You think that’s fair, Hannie? That you get to use your new pussy and ignore my cock?” How foreign those words sound to you, but it feels so right to say them. He shakes his head, giving you a pouty look. “I didn’t think so. Here.” You place your hand on his chest and lean him back. You flip around until you’re facing him on the other side of the couch, pressing down until he’s flat on his back. 

You’re hovering over him like this. A perfect view to see his flushed face and exposed cunt. Jisung’s leg still hangs over the couch, but it allows you room to fit between his thighs. “I can do all the work, like always, but we’re gonna do it my way. Okay?”

A strap is the same thing as a dick right? At least you have some experience fucking your boyfriend, but you don’t know if you’ll be able to take it all the way. Your cock is already throbbing, aching, and begging for a release. You think you’d cum the moment you put it into his wet walls. But you can imagine.

Sliding your tip across his pussy lips, you imagine what it’d be like to slip inside. His hand felt soft and warm. Whenever he squeezed, it made every nerve on your cock jolt. Good, it felt really good. His cunt would be tight. It’s already so wet just letting you rub against his clit. You forget how wet pussy gets when they’re hardly touched. Virgin pussy is-

“Holy shit. You’re a virgin.” It’s a statement. The realization hit you far too late. You should have been more conscious. You shouldn’t have teased Jisung to the point of clawing your stomach and thighs. He’s breathing heavily, eyes hooded with lust as he whines. “O-oh. Are you gonna…” He trails off. Even without the hesitance in his voice, you can see it in his eyes. The arousal mixed with uncertainty. 

You lean down to kiss him. Your lips meet his sweetly, the complete opposite of the kiss your cock is giving is clit. “I won’t. We can stay just like this. Is that okay?”

Gently, you rock your hips. The head of your cock slips past his cunt until it reaches under his belly button. Your shaft grinds on his pussy and the grip on your stomach tightens. “Mmmm! Mhm mhm! Yes! I like it.” Jisung’s dazed look makes you smile. “Good.”

You sit yourself back up and grip your cock. Experimentally, you tap it on his fat clit. You only get two slaps in before he squeals, his hanging-off leg comes up until it bends in the air. Strings of arousal connect your bodies in the crudest way. 

Faster, faster, faster! You smack the head of your cock so quickly that you overestimate how much you can handle. Even with your tip now unbearably sensitive, you grit your teeth and dip lower until his lips wrap around your cock. 

Jisung’s cunt twitches. You can feel his hole fluttering against your tip, almost begging to be used. It takes immense control to ignore his beckoning, to slide up back and pretend that you weren’t thinking about just putting the tip in. 

God, he’s so wet. His juices drench your entire cock and leak onto the couch. You try not to, but you help but smear the arousal on his tummy every time you thrust against him. “Fuck, baby.” You moan. “Your pussy’s so wet.”

He whines, both from pleasure and embarrassment. “D-don’t say that.” 

But of course, it only makes you want to do it more. “Say what? How wet your pussy is? But it is, baby. Just keeps on leaking onto my cock and the couch. You’ve always been my dirty little boy, haven’t you?” Jisung can’t say anything to that even if he wanted to. Whether it’s his ass or cunt, he has a terrible habit of making such a mess.

Without warning, you grip the undersides of his thighs. You easily push them until they touch his chest, forcing his pussy to let you view it in all its glory. Jisung gasps and then tries to use his hands to push you away. You only hold onto him tighter, shaking your head condescendingly. “Nuh-uh. I wanna see what I'm playing with.”

Your words make his pussy clench around nothing. He mewls how he always does when he’s shy, but like the good boy he is, Jisung moves his hands until they’re on top of yours, helping you keep him spread.

You coo at him. “Ooo yes. So good for me.”

It’s easy to find a rhythm to grind in this position. Your cock slides against his pussy like butter, smooth and slick. The heaviness of your sack slaps against his ass with every thrust and the sound only grows louder when Jisung bounces back onto you. Looks like all those times he’s taken the strap paid off as well.

He’s warm, he’s wet, he’s a moaning mess, but you can’t feel the sweet, sweet tightness you once did when he was jerking you off. You look at Jisung and move one of your hands to your dick, a silent command to keep himself spread. He listens diligently, nodding and biting his lower lip as you use your now free hand to add pressure.

With your thumb, you press down just under your tip. It’s slight, but it still makes you two moan out loud. Now you can feel every crevice and crease on his cunt. You’re pleasantly surprised to be able to feel his swollen nub. Not that you should be too surprised, his cute clit is so chubby that it’s hard not to feel. 

Goosebumps cover your body every time you rut against it. Jisung pants at the sensation, head lifting up to see how your lower half moves together. You grin, “You got a cute pussy, huh?” Rather than shying away, Jisung blinks up at you. “You really like it?”

“I love it.” You purr. “Gonna cum all over it. Make it all pretty.”

That seems to do it for him. A loud moan tears through him. You apply more pressure on your cock as you continuously thrust against him. That orgasm builds again, starting just below your dick before your entire body contracts. Your cock feels like it hardens even more and judging by the repeatedly convulsing of Jisung under you, he must be close too. 

His fingers dig harshly on his thighs and his hips just won’t stop moving against yours. They speed up, they lift higher so you can hump against his sensitive spot again. You lean your weight forward and slap against his ass so hard that the sound echoes in the living room.

“Fuck!” You swear you see black dots. “Baby. I’m so close.”

Jisung speaks between his gasps. “Pleasepleaseplease! Give it to me!”

You groan again. Pre-cum oozes so much that you confuse it with your orgasm, but when you feel the tightening and releasing of your body, you know that this is your cum.

It spurts onto Jisung’s stomach, staining his smooth skin milky white. Your entire body shakes with your release. You don’t even notice the drool seeping through your lips even as it mixes with Jisung’s chest. It takes a few seconds to notice your lover trembling with you, tongue out in hopes of catching your drool in his mouth. With a hum, you lean down and capture his mouth in a heated kiss. It’s all tongue and spit, teeth clashing with muffled moans spilling out.

“I-I…I feel so empty.” You swear he looks like he’s about to cry. He speaks with your lips still brushing against his. “I just came. I know I just came but the pus- my pussy just feels so…so…” He doesn’t know the words yet. He can’t describe the restless feeling he’s experiencing. The urge to be full, to be stuffed, to be bred. 

Is he ovulating?

You pout with him, lifting your hips so you can play with his clit at your own leisure. Jisung moans in relief, eyes rolling to the back of his head while he babbles against your mouth. Carefully, you dip your fingers lower until you catch his entrance. The tips of your fingers barely push through his hole. Shit. He’s squeezing so hard that this time, you’re not sure if you can deny it much longer. 

“You want it inside real bad, huh?” You watch as he nods. Any fear he had felt before is gone. You sigh, looking down at your deflating cock. The sun isn’t up yet and you’re not sure how much longer you have with your new organs. You might as well make the most of it.

[bsturnzmtts]

How older bf! Matt asked sweetheart! Reader to be his girlfriend…

Au masterlist

It was a quiet afternoon, and Matt had invited you for a walk in the park, a spot you two had discovered together a few weeks go. It was peaceful here, the sounds of birds chirping and the gentle rustle of leaves filling the air. The two of you walked side by side,as you talked about everything from your favorite childhood memories to silly things that made you laugh.

“Come here, I have a surprise for you.” Matt suddenly says with a smirk on his lips.

“A surprise?” You ask confused.

“Yeah come here.” He puts himself behind you and gently puts a ribbon around your head so you can’t see.

“Matt what is this?” You ask with a nervous chuckle.

"Shh, just trust me." He says softly, his warm breath tickling your ear. He gently guides you forward, his hands on your shoulders. After a few moments of walking, he stops you and turns you around. "Okay, ready?" He asks, his hands hovering over the ribbon.

“Mmh I guess.” You say nervous not knowing what to expect.

He swiftly removes the ribbon, revealing the surprise. You find yourself standing in front of a beautifully decorated picnic blanket, filled with your favorite snacks and a basket of wildflowers. "Ta-da!" He exclaims, spreading his arms wide. "Do you like it?"

You blinked in surprise, taking in the sight of the picnic spread out before you. The sun filtered through the trees, casting a golden glow over everything, and the soft sound of the breeze seemed to make the moment even more magical. “Do I like it?… Matt I love it! This is amazing.” You said, your voice full of awe.

He grins mischievously, clearly pleased with your reaction. "I thought you might." He pulls you into his arms, "I wanted to create a perfect moment just for us. Sit down with me, will you?" He gestures to the blanket.

You hesitated for a moment, looking away shyly. “I didn’t think you’d do all this for me,” you murmured, feeling your face heat up, as you two sit down.

Matt smiled, a bit of warmth in his eyes as he squeezed your hand. “I just wanted to do something nice for you. You deserve it.”

“Thank you.” You reply in a still flustered tone.

As the afternoon goes on, the two of you find yourselves laughing and talking more easily than ever before. Matt finds himself stealing glances at you, admiring the way the sunlight catches your hair and the genuine smile on your face.

“I’ve been thinking,” he started, his voice a little hesitant, “and I want to ask you something.”

Your stomach fluttered as you looked at him, wondering what was coming next.

“I like you,” he said, his voice low but filled with sincerity. “A lot. And I’ve been wanting to ask you for a while… would you be my girlfriend?”

For a moment, you were stunned, your heart racing as his words sank in. But the warmth in his eyes, the tenderness of the moment, made it feel so right. Your face turned completely into a shade or pink. You can’t believe this is happening. Your first boyfriend? “Matt… yes.” You answered feeling your nervousness at its fullest.

Matt's face breaks out into a huge smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He leans in, cupping your face gently with his hand, and presses his lips to yours in a soft, lingering kiss. When he pulls back, he's still smiling, looking happier than you've ever seen him.

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