#she had to win ONE point and they both had to wait for the match to resume for hours for ONE POINT

[matteoberrettini]

they really stopped the game at 5-6 30-40 and resumed it hours later for the last point? ............

[bluehoodiewoozi]

Cherry-flavoured

girl dad & husband (in that specific order)!Choi Seungcheol x wife!Reader

Genre: fluff, sickfic

Word Count: 1,400

Warnings: the flu; Seungcheol is down bad for his two girls; reader despises cherry-flavoured medicine

[Domestic AU] When both of his girls fall sick at the same time, Seungcheol is more than happy to take care of them both - no matter how difficult they are.

The kettle had barely finished when Seungcheol heard your voice calling out, “Can I get my tea yet?”

“You don’t even like tea that much,” he scoffed under his breath, careful not to be heard, before responding louder, “Just a moment, honey!”

He waited for a response and it soon came. A sniffling sound. A sneeze. But even then your pout was practically audible in your reply: “I don’t like honey.”

He sighed. The hot steam of the water was making his nose runny even now, a whole three days after his recovery from the flu. Still he carried on, adding spoonfuls of honey into two cups of tea. With the utmost care, he picked out the best looking cookies from the box (one Mingyu had so kindly brought over after hearing of your family’s predicament) and added them to the tray, right beside a small box of flu medicine.

To the sound of sniffles, coughing and whines of suffering, he steadily picked up the tray and began his journey upstairs. The ticklish feel of the cat scurrying past his ankles almost threw him off his balance. Just as he regained it, another fluffy creature practically flew past him – Kkuma stopped on the top step to look back at him, judging him for his slowness – but soon he reached the top of the stairs with a sigh of relief. 

The relief was temporary though because the moment he reached the 2nd floor, he was bombarded with complaints.

“What’s taking you so long, dad?” sounded from the bedroom to the right. It was followed by shuffling, a soft greeting for the cat, and more whining. “You promised to fix my TV!”

He took a moment to wonder when his little girl had started calling him ‘dad’. It sounded so formal and affectionless compared to the nicknames she’d given him in the past. 

But it was clear where his journey would take him next. Cautiously, he made his way to Minah’s bedroom. The door got stuck before he could fit himself through. He resisted the urge to forcefully rest his head against the doorframe. 

“Minah, princess, I told you I’d fix your TV after you clean your room,” he pointed out as he tried to shove the door further open without much success. It was harder to do this with no free hands and even he wasn’t bold enough to try to balance the tray with only one hand. “Where do you even walk?”

“I climb the walls like spiderman.”

His brows furrowed: that sounded an awful lot like talking back! Seungcheol wasn’t entirely sure whether she was just loopy from the fever or if it was time to stop letting the members babysit his daughter.

“Well, what’s daddy supposed to do?” he asked once he finally managed to break into the room. The tray remained mostly dry and he considered that a win. “I can’t climb the walls.”

There was a glint of mischief in his daughter’s eyes. “I’ll clean the room if you fix my TV.”

That was it, Seungcheol decided. He was done having children. If a few days ago he had wondered how to bring up the idea of having a second child with you, the desire now swiftly left as he realised his fate: endless circular arguments that would somehow always end with him folding around his little girl’s finger. 

He placed a cup of steaming tea and half the cookies on her bedside table. When she inevitably reached to take one (for she was only a girl; one with a sweet tooth), he let out a warning noise and handed her a spoonful of cough syrup. “Medicine first, candy second.”

His eight-year-old daughter offered him a look that called him dumb in five languages. The white cat in her lap seemed to match her sentiment. “Cookies aren’t candy, dad.”

“They’re chocolate-chip,” he retorted, already feeling his eyes widening with annoyance, “and chocolate is candy.”

“No, chocolate is chocolate,” she corrected him with a giggle that was soon interrupted by a coughing fit. 

Seungcheol felt himself soften at the sight. His free hand reaching out to brush her hair out of her face as she blew her nose, he patiently waited with the spoon still in his hand. Once she looked at him again, eyes red-rimmed and filled with exhaustion, he offered her a gentle smile. “Your medicine, princess?”

Her hand reached upwards towards the spoon. She hesitated. “Do I have to?”

“Do you want to get better?” he countered, raising a brow.

She groaned and looked up to her ceiling covered in plastic glow-in-the-dark stars. Clearly he hadn’t realised how difficult of a question that was to answer. “But then I’ll have to go back to school.”

“Don’t you want to see your friends?”

Once again he was on the receiving end of that look she had perfected – the one that called him old and dumb and boring. “I chat with them all the time.”

It was time to bring out the big guns – the one thing (a person, really) he hated to speak of but always seemed to get her to do what was needed. He squeezed his eyes shut as he braced himself to say the words: “If you get better, you can see Yongho again.”

The spoon was out of his grasp and in Minah’s mouth before he could open his eyes again. Defeated, he sighed and handed her a cookie in return for the newly empty spoon.

“Will you fix my TV now?” she then had the audacity to ask. 

And Seungcheol couldn’t even say no. 

He nodded and left the room with the tray in his hands, calling over his shoulder, “I’ll get mom her medicine first and then I’ll fix your TV.”

She cheered and he couldn’t help but smile. 

“Seungcheol?” he then heard your voice call. “How long does it take to make tea?”

He entered the room with a chuckle. “There’s only one of me, you know? And someone has to take care of the little one as well.”

“The little one,” you snorted at the nickname. “Honey, she’s eight. She has a boyfriend. You need to come up with a new nickname soon.”

“God, don’t even remind me about the boyfriend,” he groaned as he placed the tray down. “It should be illegal to date before the age of 30.”

Amused, you raised an eyebrow. 

“For her anyway,” he added with a pout. “And she’ll always be my little one.”

“Even when Yongho asks her to prom?” you teased, sitting up just as he made himself comfortable sitting on the bed. “Even on her wedding day?”

He stared at you. Then his eyes narrowed. “You’re just saying things to annoy me, aren’t you?”

“You’re the one that took your sweet time making my tea.” You reached for the cup. “My throat is so scratchy. I hate being sick.”

Golden opportunity. “If you don’t want to be sick, you should take some medicine.”

He couldn’t help but laugh at the venomous glare you sent his way. 

“I think I would rather just succumb to the flu,” you told him and he was sure you meant it. 

But he had vowed to stay with you through sickness and health, and then he had sworn to your mother that he wouldn’t let you be sick when he could help it – really, he had a duty to fulfill here. “You’re setting a bad example for Minah, you know?”

“She’s not even in the same room–”

“MINAH, YOUR MOM’S NOT TAKING HER MEDICINE!” he bellowed right then and there, confident that he would receive a response that would force you to accept your fate. 

Seconds later, a loud – slightly wheezing – yell sounded from the other bedroom, “MOM, YOU CAN’T DO THAT!”

You grimaced under his self-satisfied stare. “Fine, but it better not be the cherry-flavoured one.”

He put extra effort into hiding the label from you as he poured a spoonful of the syrup and handed it to you. “Drink up.”

You did as told. Then glared at him with viciousness he rarely had the pleasure of seeing. “You just had to get the cherry-flavoured syrup, didn’t you? Traitor.”

“I love you too!” He offered an apologetic smile in return, placed a soft kiss to your cheek, and made a swift exit. 

Suddenly fixing Minah’s TV didn’t sound so tedious after all.

Note: I wrote this when my bestie @haoboutyou was sick and then she proceeded to begged me "150 times" to share this with y'all, so here we are, I guess. I hope this brought a bit of joy into someone's day! <3

[vunblr]

Toy Soldier (part 3)

Bit by bit, torn apart. We never win, but the battle wages on for toy soldiers.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+ only. Angst. Hurt/Comfort. Fluff. Smut. Canon-Typical Violence. Dark Content: Sexual Assault Wounds (Bucky). Depictions of Physical Wounds. Psychological Trauma. Mentions and depictions of Non-Con (both characters as victims).

Summary: She had been the tool Hydra used to keep him operational; he, the weapon manipulated by their tendrils to execute their ambitions. Years after breaking free, fate Sam Wilson brings them together once more. Now, they must navigate the challenges of forging a connection beyond the twisted dynamic that once bound them in the past.

Word Count: 6.8.k.

notes: This chapter includes flashbacks to non-con situations. Please be mindful of your media consumption and take care of yourself. Passages containing this content are marked with ****** at the beginning and the end, in case you wish to skip them.

Previous Chapter - Masterlist

The next days passed uneventfully after the brawl at the bar. Every location listed in the government-provided intelligence was either empty or completely inconsistent with the reports. It felt like chasing ghosts, a frustrating pattern that left them all on edge.

By the end of the week, they were on a military plane heading back to New York. Sam leaned back in his seat, glancing idly at the other two. It didn’t take him long to notice that they were... talking.

Not in the awkward way of the first days, or the strictly mission-related conversations that followed. In fact, it wasn’t the body language he’d expect from two people who barely knew each other. Bucky’s body was more relaxed than Sam had seen in years while interacting with someone, and at one point, he caught a faint smile on Tinman’s face, a real smile.

What the hell happened between those two?

Asking Bucky directly wasn’t an option. The guy was like a human wall when it came to personal questions. He had learned long ago that pushing him only made him clam up more.

No, if he wanted answers, he’d have to go to the other source. She might be more willing to spill the details, especially if he caught her in a casual moment.

A smirk tugged at his lips as he leaned back in his seat. He’d find a chance to ask her soon, maybe over coffee. Whatever had happened on this mission had clearly done the impossible: it got the Winter Sulkier to actually drop the act.

His attention was drawn back when he noticed Bucky tense slightly, as his expression shifted while she asked him a question. She leaned toward him, perched on the edge of her seat, focusing on the phone he held in his hand. Sam, feigning a search through one of the nearby bags, edged closer to eavesdrop.

“See, you just tap here,” Bucky said, oddly patient, something Sam would’ve thought impossible coming from him. “Then swipe left to go back, or hit this button if you want to-”

“Wait, wait,” she interrupted, holding up a hand. “So anyone can message me, or is it just the guys I pick if we... match?” Her brows furrowed, her tone a mix of curiosity and skepticism.

Sam’s eyes widened slightly. Is he teaching her how to use a dating app?

Bucky shifted uncomfortably, clearing his throat. “Just the ones you match with,” he replied evenly. “But... don’t expect much. Most of these guys don’t know how to hold a conversation past ‘hey.’”

She snorted. “That’s it? No effort at all?” Then she tilted her head. “How’d it go for you, then? Using the app, I mean.”

Bucky shrugged, with a carefully neutral expression. “Tried it a little. Didn’t stick with it.”

She narrowed her eyes and the corners of her lips twitched in amusement. “You ‘tried it a little,’ huh? Because you seem to know a lot about it for someone who barely used it.”

He shot her a quick look before deadpan. “You pick things up.”

“Uh-huh.” She leaned back slightly, crossing her arms as she studied him. “Come on, you are handsome, you can’t tell me you didn’t get one match.”

“I got a few,” he admitted reluctantly, blushing slightly. “Didn’t go anywhere.”

“Why not?” she pressed.

He hesitated, and his discomfort was more noticeable now. His gaze quickly darted to Sam and then went back to her. “It’s all surface-level. A few pictures, some vague descriptions, it doesn’t mean anything.”

Her teasing expression softened at the shift in his tone. “Okay, fair. But isn’t that the point? It’s just supposed to be an icebreaker, right?”

“Maybe,” he muttered, leaning back in his seat. “But I’m not great at... small talk. And that’s all this is. Small talk that leads nowhere.”

Sam, who had been quietly watching, finally spoke up. “You’re not really helping her case, you know. You’re making this app sound like a deathtrap.”

Bucky shot him a glare. “It’s not a deathtrap. It’s just... not worth the hassle.”

She raised a brow, clearly unconvinced. “Well, I won’t know until I try it. Maybe I’ll get luckier. How different could it really be once you meet in person, like a traditional meetup?”

Before Bucky could respond, Sam chimed in from a few seats over, a mischievous smirk on his face. “Well, you should also know that you might receive some... unwanted pictures.”

She tilted her head, frowning. “Unwanted pictures? Like what?”

“Dicks,” Sam deadpanned, his expression unflinching.

“What?” she exclaimed. “Why would someone... Is that supposed to attract me? Like they think, ‘Oh, I’ll send her a dick pic, and she’ll say, sure, John, let’s go feed the ducks at the park?’”

Sam doubled over laughing, while Bucky shifted uncomfortably, his gaze fixed firmly on the floor. “Yeah, uh... I forgot to mention the unwanted pictures,” he muttered.

She quirked a brow, and her lips twitched with amusement. “How is it for the guys? Did you get unwanted pictures too? Like, ‘Hey, handsome,’ and bam! Wet nipples pic?”

Bucky froze, his eyes widening slightly “I- what? No,” he stammered, his usual stoic mask cracking under her teasing.

Sam burst out laughing, leaning back in his seat. “Oh, man, you broke him.”

Bucky shot Sam a death glare, but the flush creeping up his neck betrayed him. “It’s not... That’s not how it works.”

“Oh, come on, someone must’ve tried.”

Bucky ran a hand over his face, clearly wishing for the conversation to end. “No,” he said firmly. “Guys don’t get stuff like that. Not usually.”

Sam wiped a tear from the corner of his eye, still chuckling. “This is the best thing I’ve heard all week.”

“Glad I could entertain you,” Bucky muttered, shifting uncomfortably in his seat, fixing his gaze firmly on the floor.

Sensing his discomfort now that Sam had jumped into the conversation, she decided to redirect the attention. She leaned slightly toward Sam, with a mischievous grin tugging at her lips.

“Speaking of unwanted pictures,” she said casually, “remember when that agent flashed us his brand-new Prince Albert in the Rome safehouse? Because he thought it was infected and wanted me to take care of it?”

Sam choked on his laughter. “Oh, man, that guy! How could I forget?” He shook his head, still grinning. “I got traumatized. The guy showed it off like he was proud of it. Even with the swelling and all. And you…you just stood there like it was any other Tuesday.”

She shrugged, her expression deadpan. “What was I supposed to do? He dropped his pants before I even knew what was happening. First of all, you might find it hard to believe, but it wasn’t the first time I’ve seen a dick, and second, I’ve seen worse things over the years.” if he only knew how much worse.

Bucky’s frown deepened, snapping his sharp gaze at her. His jaw tightened, and there was a flicker of something in his expression, something dark and protective. “Son of a bitch,” he muttered, coldly.

She glanced at him, startled by the sudden shift in his demeanor. “What?”

“That guy,” he growled, crossing his arms over his chest. “Dropping his pants like that. You’re a lady, for God’s sake.”

Sam burst out laughing again, “I hate to break it to you, but modern life’s not exactly full of boundaries, Buck. Especially when the dude thought his dick was going to fall off.”

Bucky ignored Sam’s laughter. “Still doesn’t mean it’s right.”

His gaze drifted, growing distant, and she knew exactly where it was traveling. The countless times Hydra had forced her to touch him in clinical detachment, to treat his groin marred by shrapnel, burns, and other injuries she’d long since pushed to the darkest corners of her memory. Also, that time when…

She clapped her hands suddenly, trying to steer the conversation away.

“Anyway, about the app-”

“Wait,” Sam interrupted, leaning forward with interest. “About that, last time I talked to you, you said you were dating some dude from the library. Some kind of meet-cute.”

Bucky’s attention snapped back to the conversation, as a strange, twisted feeling settled in his gut.

“Clearly, if I’m asking about the app, I’m not seeing him anymore,” she replied, with a certain edge.

“What happened?” Sam pressed, furrowing his brow. “You seemed interested in the guy, and it sounded like he was into you, too.”

She sighed, crossing her arms. “It just... didn’t work out.”

Sam gave her a pointed look. “That’s not a real answer.”

She groaned, leaning back in her seat. “Fine. Over the weeks, it was like everything he said he liked about me at first became an issue.”

“Like?” Sam prompted, tilting his head.

“Like preferring to stay home instead of going out all the time, it bored him. Or how he’d tell me he loved my cooking but would complain about his sweater smelling smoky after I’d make something. Little stuff like that.” She paused. “Then one day, I knit him a scarf. And do you know what he said?”

Sam raised a brow. “What?”

“He said, ‘I have a grandma who can do that,’” she said flatly.

Sam let out a sharp laugh of disbelief. “What a jackass.”

“Yeah,” she said with a humorless chuckle. “That was the last straw. Especially since he was the one who said he’d love it if I made something for him while flirting.”

“Oh my God, Sarah would’ve shoved the scarf through his ass, crochet hook included. And… uh did you two, you know…” Sam made a wave with his hand implying intimacy.

She couldn’t stop herself from briefly side-look at Bucky, who was staring at the ground. “No. I mean there was… but no. I don’t know, maybe that’s why suddenly everything started to annoy him.

Bucky felt a sharp surge of anger toward the faceless man. His fingers flexed against his thigh as he tried to push it down, but it stayed there. Sure, things had changed over the decades, he’d seen that much already. But memories of Rebecca knitting gloves for her sweetheart by the window, or his ma stitching clothes for them during the Depression, flooded his mind.

He knew what it meant to make something with your hands, the time, care, and thought behind every stitch. For that man to dismiss it like it was nothing, to compare her work to something anyone could do... it was a slap to everything he’d grown up valuing.

“That guy was an idiot,” he muttered, with irritation. “You took the time to make something for him, something personal. That matters. If he couldn’t see that, he wasn’t worth it.” The look on his face betrayed rage, the kind that made it clear he’d have no problem to physically teach the guy a lesson if he were standing in front of him.

She felt warmth rise in her chest at his words, “Thank you.”

Sam, who had been watching the exchange with growing amusement, leaned back in his seat with a knowing grin.

----

A couple of days had passed since they returned to New York, and she sat on her couch, biting her nails absently. The soft ticking of the wall clock felt louder than usual.

It was almost time for the doorbell to ring.

When they landed, Bucky had set her aside hesitantly and asked her if it was alright for them to talk. He’d made it clear that there was no pressure, no expectations. If she didn’t want to, he’d leave it alone. The last thing he wanted was to cause her discomfort.

She’d promptly agreed, “We can talk at my place if you are okay with that.” the offer had spilled from her lips before she could even think it through.

Her house was small but cozy, cluttered in a lived-in way. Books and plants filled old wooden shelves, the soft glow of a lamp in the corner painted the room in warm tones, and the faint scent of lavender lingered from a candle burning on the coffee table. She’d baked cookies and tidied up, in an unconscious effort to keep herself busy.

The doorbell finally rang, startling her.

Her heart skipped a beat, and she stood quickly, smoothing her hands over her shirt before heading to the door. When she opened it, there he was. Red henley, dark jeans, and a stuffed paper bag in his hand, standing on the threshold with a casual but guarded expression.

“Hi,” she managed to say, calmer than she felt.

“Hi,” he replied, nodding slightly before extending the bag toward her. “Um, for later. I figured it’d be rude to come empty-handed.”

“Oh, you shouldn’t have” she said, clearly pleased, stepping aside while taking the bag, gesturing for him to come in. “Make yourself comfortable”.

Bucky hesitated momentarily before stepping inside, flicking his gaze briefly over the room. It felt... welcoming, familiar. He sat on the couch stiffly, resting his hands on his thighs.

She followed him, putting the paper bag on the coffee table and taking a seat across from him. For a moment, neither of them spoke.

“So,” she began, breaking the silence, “what did you want to talk about?”

His eyes met hers, and for a moment, he seemed to weigh his words carefully. “I just... wanted to say I’m sorry,”.

“For what?” she asked, puzzled.

“For everything,” he said, dropping his gaze to his hands. “For what Hydra put you through because of me. For being part of the reason you were stuck in that hell.”

Her breath caught, and she shook her head instinctively. “What- Bucky, you weren’t the reason-”

“I was,” he cut her off gently, lifting his eyes to meet hers again. “I might not have had a choice in what they did to me, but that doesn’t mean you didn’t pay the price for it.”

She swallowed hard, struggling to find the right words. “You’re not responsible for what they did.” she said softly. “Neither of us is.”

“Objectively I know,” he admitted. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t feel it is.”

The air between them felt heavy, charged with unspoken pain and understanding.

She sighed. “They abducted me because of my mutant powers, Bucky. They eventually assigned me to be your… maintenance tool because you were their most effective asset, Hydra’s fist. But even if you have not been there, there were others. For one reason or another, I would have ended up there anyway.”

The others.

******

Her words triggered memories he didn’t want but couldn’t avoid. The unending hours of hand-to-hand combat, training the newly enhanced assets. His missions didn’t end when he returned from the field; Hydra had repurposed him to mold their next generation of tools.

The rules had been clear: restrict his strength, take the blows, and avoid permanent damage. These trainees were expensive investments, after all, and he had the privilege of having his Tinkerbell next door to sprinkle some powder to fix him anew after every session.

Was in one of those travels to the neighboring cell when Soldat’s brain used the gray zones in the rules for the first time.

As he opened the heavy door, his gaze landed on the stretcher. She wasn’t alone. The asset bending her over the surface, fisting her hair, was making sure of it. His other hand fumbled, trying to place his excuse of a cock inside her, as she twisted helplessly beneath him.

His jaw ticked.

His fist connected with his target’s jaw in a blur of silver and crimson, sending him flying against the nearest wall with a sickening thud. The orders were to restrain himself while training. Her cell wasn’t meant as a place to train.

The asset groaned, attempting to push himself upright, but Soldat was already on him. In two long strides, he closed the distance, seizing the man’s throat with a crushing grip, lifting him up as if he weighed nothing. The asset’s eyes widened in panic as his legs kicked futilely against the air.

“Soldat!” a voice crackled through the speaker overhead. The handler’s voice.

He froze momentarily, loosening his grip just enough for the asset to suck in a ragged breath.

“Stand down,” the voice ordered, laced with the unmistakable threat of consequences.

His gaze flickered toward the camera in the corner of the room. He knew they were watching, assessing every move. But as he looked back at the asset, his grip tightened again.

She was still there, trembling against the stretcher, her wide, teary eyes locked on him. Her lip was split, and her arms were wrapped tightly around herself as though trying to hold her shattered pieces together.

A flicker of something broke through the red haze in his mind.

“Soldat,” the handler barked again, sharper this time. “Release him. Now.”

His hand twitched, and the hum of his arm vibrated faintly as if resisting the command. Slowly, deliberately, he dropped the man to the ground. The asset crumpled in a heap, coughing and clutching his throat.**

He walked toward the stretcher where she sat, frozen in place. Without a word, he leaned on the edge, reaching for the clasps of his upper vest and unfastening efficiently. The vest came off, revealing his beaten torso. His skin was mottled with bruises, and a sickly shade of purple spread across his ribs, the uneven swelling at the zone was a clear indication of fractures.

For a moment, the room was silent, save for the faint static from the intercom and the asset’s wheezing on the floor.

He turned his head slightly, meeting her gaze in a silent request. Her hands shook as she reached for him, steading when they met his skin.

“Soldat,” the handler’s voice snapped through the intercom. “Report back to the training room.”

He didn’t move. His gaze remained fixed on her, unwavering, unyielding. His hand twitched again, resting lightly on his thigh as though restraining himself from reaching out.

“I said, report back.”

******

“-cky… Bucky…” her voice broke the trance, bringing him back to the present.

He blinked, as his focus returned to the present. He saw her now, not trembling inside a depressing cell but sitting across from him in her living room, looking at him with concern.

“Sorry,” he muttered, scratching the back of his neck. The words felt inadequate, but they were all he could manage at the moment.

She sighed, leaning back in her seat. “It seems we still have a lot of shit to unpack,” she finally said. Her fingers toyed with the edge of her shirt as she continued, flicking her gaze back to him. “For some reason, you feel responsible for my captivity, and on the other hand, I feel responsible for prolonging your torment.” Her lips quirked into a faint, bittersweet smile. “Maybe we need to do some couple’s counseling.”

The joke was light, silly, considering what they’ve been through. Still, Bucky’s lips twitched into the faintest semblance of a smile.

Grabbing onto that tiny smile like a lifeline, she seized the opportunity to steer the conversation toward something more pleasant. “So, what’s in the mystery bag you brought?”

His gaze flicked to the paper-wrapped goodies on the coffee table. “Some... pastries,” he admitted, almost self-conscious. “Figured you might invite me for some coffee.” He quirked a brow, the faint hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“It was my intention, yes,” she replied, leaning back in her seat, “Also, I might or might not have baked enough cookies to feed an army to go with it.”

“That so?” His smirk deepened slightly.

“Well, for starters I know your metabolism screams at you to inhale calories even in your sleep, and... I was kind of nervous before our meeting,” she confessed, almost murmuring toward the end.

He blinked, caught off guard by her honesty. “Nervous?” he echoed.

She shrugged, brushing an imaginary lint off her pants. “Yeah, nervous. I mean, it’s not every day you have a sit-down heart-to-heart with someone you...” She paused, searching for the right words. “...went through hell with.”

He didn’t respond immediately, fixing his gaze on her. Finally, he nodded, “I get it.”

For a moment, they sat in a silence that felt lighter than before, and then she clapped her hands lightly and rose from her seat.

“Well,” she said, “How about we see what kind of pastries you picked, and I’ll grab the cookies and make the coffee?

“Seems like a plan.” He agreed, standing and following her into the kitchen.

She grabbed a tray and began arranging the pastries he’d brought, their golden crusts promising a delicious treat. Beside them, she added a generous pile of cookies she’d baked earlier. The hum of the kettle heating the water filled the small space.

Bucky’s eyes drifted to the counter as she prepped. He hummed in appreciation when he realized she was setting up for brewed coffee, and the familiar sight of a pour-over filter caught his attention.

“Don’t like coffee makers,” she remarked, noticing his gaze. “Tastes like dirty water to me.”

He smirked faintly. “I couldn’t have expressed it better. There’s a machine for almost everything now, but some things...”

“...are better the old-fashioned way,” she finished, flashing him a small smile.

Bucky nodded toward the tray. “May I?”

“Go ahead,” she said, motioning to the cookies.

He reached for one, and before he realized it, his hand kept returning to the tray. They were warm, buttery, and just the right amount of sweet, a huge contrast to the food he’d grown accustomed to over the years.

“You bake like this often?” he asked between bites, in an almost casual tone.

“Not really,” she admitted with a chuckle, leaning against the counter. “I had a lot of nervous energy before today. Figured I might as well channel it into something productive.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “They’re good.”

She grinned. “Glad you approve.”

By the time the coffee was ready, most of the cookies were gone. She blinked at the near-empty tray and arched a brow at him.

“Seriously?” she teased, pouring two mugs of coffee. “I don’t think the cookies were supposed to be dinner.”

Bucky shrugged unapologetically, the corner of his mouth quirking up. “Couldn’t stop. They’re better than anything I’ve had in a while.”

“Well, I’m taking that as a compliment,” she said, handing him a mug.

He took it, warming his hand with the cup. “It was.”

They settled at the small kitchen table, with the tray of pastries and the few remaining cookies between them. The conversation flowed easily, and their laughter mixed with the freshly brewed coffee aroma.

At some point, Bucky’s fingers tightened around his mug, lowering his gaze to its content. He hesitated for a moment, pressing his lips into a thin line before he spoke. “When you asked me about the dating app the other day... how long... when did you feel you were ready to, you know…”

He trailed off, cursing himself inwardly for the clumsy phrasing and lack of subtlety.

She tilted her head, “Well, you mentioned it as a joke, and then I took the opportunity to ask since, you know, I was curious about them.” She chuckled lightly. “Not that my attempts at normal dating have been anything to brag about. As you heard on the plane... pretty pathetic.”

Bucky’s lips quirked briefly, but his eyes stayed on the coffee, waiting.

She shifted slightly in her chair, toying with the edge of her mug with her fingers. “As for being ready... I don’t know. It’s been a couple of years since I started feeling the... the need to have someone. Someone who’s more than just a friend.” She paused, and her gaze drifted somewhere far away, before returning to him. “But, honestly, the world changed so much. Dating now is... different. Messy.” She offered a faint smile, “Well if it feels like that for me, I can’t even imagine what it’s like for you. You probably grew up around my daddy’s time.”

Bucky’s head shot up, quirking his brow in mock indignation. “Your dad’s time?”

She grinned, catching the faintest flicker of amusement in his eyes. “You were probably handing out love letters, not even using a phone.”

He huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “Hey, we weren’t that old-fashioned.” He paused, “But... yeah. It was different.”

“Guess that’s one thing we have in common,” she said softly. “Figuring out where we fit in a world that’s... moved on without us.”

He looked at her then, somehow the weight of her words made him feel less alone in his own struggle.

“Yeah,” he said finally. “I guess we do.”

Gathering her courage, she nodded toward his vibranium hand, “Can I see it? Properly, I mean.”

His body tensed for a fraction of a second, but he saw genuine interest in her eyes. Slowly, he lifted his arm, extending the sleek prosthetic toward her.

She reached for it with both hands, brushing her fingers trough the cool, polished surface. His gaze widened slightly as she turned it gently in her grasp.

“Wow,” she murmured, running her fingertips along the ridges and smooth joints. “The fingers are less edgy than the old one.” She traced a line along his palm. “How’s the sensory feedback?”

Her question startled him out of his momentary daze, and he cleared his throat. Her touch was making harder to stay composed than he wanted to admit. “neuro-connections are more advanced,” he began, in an almost clinical tone. “So I have better control over it. I can feel pressure and temperature more accurately. But that’s... all.”

Her thumbs brushed over the pads of his fingers, “That’s a lot, though,” she said quietly. “It’s incredible. Do you ever... forget it’s not flesh and bone?”

His lips twitched faintly, though it wasn’t quite a smile. “Sometimes,” he admitted. “Until I catch someone staring at it. Or...” His gaze dropped to her hands, still cradling his. “Until someone touches it. And I remember it’s not real.”

Her grip tightened slightly, an unconscious response. “It is real, Bucky,” she said firmly, lifting her eyes to his. “It’s you.”

“Thanks,” he said after a long pause.

Noticing that she still hadn’t released his hand, she let go quickly, feeling her cheeks warming under his stare. “Sorry, I got carried away.”

He shook his head lightly. “It’s fine,” he muttered.

She grabbed a pastry from the tray and took a bite to occupy herself. The silence lingered before she worked up the courage to ask, tentative but curious. “So... when did you feel ready to date and try the apps and stuff?”

He stiffened almost imperceptibly.

“You asked me,” she deadpanned as she gestured toward him with a half-eaten bun. “Fair if I get to ask you the same.”

He sighed, brushing his fingers over his temple as he scratched it absently. “I don’t think...” He trailed off, then started again. “Last year, my therapist suggested I start stepping out of my comfort zone. Told me it’d help with... things. So... I tried.”

“And?” she prompted, leaning slightly forward, encouraging but not pushing.

His gaze dropped to the table. “I’d be lying if I said it’s been great.”

She remained silent, giving him space to continue.

“It’s just...” He hesitated, his hand curling into a loose fist on the table. “Meeting new people it’s hard. Small talk feels fake, like I’m watching it happen instead of being part of it. There’s this constant voice in my head, reminding me of all the things I can’t tell them. All the stuff I can’t explain. I look at someone across a table, and they’re smiling, talking about their favorite movies or where they want to go on vacation. And all I can think about is how much they don’t know. How much they can’t know.” He paused, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. “That I’ve done things... that I’ve had things done to me. And if they ever found out, they’d run away.”

She set her pastry down quietly, folding her hands in her lap as she listened, letting him talk, suspecting he probably hadn’t spoken this much in years.

“And then there’s the other stuff,” he continued, lower now. “The touch. Sometimes, even a handshake feels wrong. Too close, too much. I can’t control how my brain reacts. Sometimes I flinch, or freeze. And how do you explain that to someone on a second date?”

“Yeah. Touching can be... hard if you’re not familiar enough with the person,” she murmured, dropping her gaze to the table.

They both understood why.

The silence stretched. He didn’t need to ask what she meant, and she didn’t need to elaborate. Hydra had ensured they both carried scars that made even the simplest gestures of connection fraught with hesitation.

She straightened in her seat, trying to shake off the heavy mood. “You know,” she said, with a faint edge of humor creeping into her tone, “for a conversation about dating, this has turned into a pretty depressing therapy session.”

He seemed to hesitate, curling his fingers slightly around his mug before he spoke. “It’s not like that with you.”

Her brow furrowed. “Uh?”

“Touching,” he clarified, his voice quieter now, almost as if he were confessing something. “Those days in Poland... I noticed.”

“Oh,” she said softly, as her fingers brushed the edge of her cup while her gaze flickered to him.

He looked down at his hands, gathering his thoughts before continuing. “I’ve been... thinking about it. And the only reason I can come up with is... because you were the only ‘good’ thing in that hellhole.”

She stared at him, unsure how to respond. Then she shook her head slowly. “After everything Hydra made me do to you, how can you feel-”

His gaze snapped to hers, sharp and unyielding. “I don’t blame you,” he cut her firmly. “I’ve told you that.”

She bit her lip, afraid to ask. “But... how much do you remember about-”

“Everything,” he said quietly.

She inhaled sharply, tightening her fingers around the mug and locked her eyes onto his. “E-even...”

“Everything, doll,” he said again, softer now.

She swallowed hard. “I see. And still...”

“Don’t blame you,” he repeated, resolute, as though daring her to argue.

******

It had been two days since they’d injected him with that burning substance, two days of his body rebelling against him in the most excruciating way. The unrelenting ache of the forced erection was a constant, painful thrum, and despite his silence, the slight tremor in his movements betrayed the toll it was taking.

At first, the staff had dismissed it as a side effect of the experiment. But as the hours stretched into days, and Soldat’s body refused to yield, it became clear that something had to be done.

The traditional methods failed. They’d barked orders for him to “take care of it himself,” but he stood motionless and unresponsive. They had thrown him into freezing water, and his body had trembled violently, but the condition persisted. Even a brutal beating did nothing to break the cycle.

Finally, they summoned her.

She’d entered the sterile room, and her stomach churned. He was shirtless, his skin flushed an unnatural shade, and though his expression remained stoic, she could see the tension in his jaw, the way his hands curled slightly at his sides.

“You,” the handler barked, gesturing toward him. “Fix the inconvenience.”

Her heart sank. She swallowed thickly, forcing herself to remain composed. “But... he’s not injured, sir. I don’t-”

The sharp crack of a slap cut her off, her head snapping to the side as pain bloomed across her cheek.

“I didn’t ask for your opinion, pet,” the handler sneered, his voice dripping with venom.

She bit down on her lip, as she nodded numbly. “Yes, sir.”

Approaching him hesitantly, she reached out and hovered her trembling hand over his overheated skin. He didn’t flinch, didn’t move, just stared ahead, his blue gaze void of anything human.

Tentatively, she placed her hand against his chest, and noticed the heat radiating off his body was almost unbearable. Closing her eyes, she tried to infuse him with her healing surge, willing it to work, to cool the fire that was consuming him.

Nothing.

She retracted her hand, “It’s no use, sir,” she excused herself in a whisper.

“Try harder,” he snarled, sharply.

Before she could react, he grabbed her trembling hand and shoved it between Soldat’s legs. He didn’t flinch. Didn’t react. He remained still, his lifeless gaze kept fixed on the far wall, as though none of this was happening.

Slowly, reluctantly, she wrapped her hand around him -or tried to-, her fingers barely circling his length. Her heart pounded in her ears as she forced herself to send another wave of her healing surge through her palm.

Nothing.

“S-sir, it’s not...” she stammered, withdrawing slightly.

“Try a different approach,” the handler barked, his patience wearing thin.

Her stomach twisted painfully. “B-but...”

“Don’t act like you’ve never seen a cock in your entire life, slut,” the handler spat with malice. “We both know very well that’s not the case.”

Shame and rage bloomed inside her chest, but she didn’t dare meet his eyes.

The handler’s cruel smile widened, and his next words were laced with venom. “Jerk him off.”

Her body froze. She stared down at her hand, still trembling against the Soldat’s unmoving form.

When she didn’t move, the man stepped closer. “Do you prefer if I order him to fuck your brains out?” he sneered. “I’m pretty sure he’d gladly comply. His fried brain probably can’t even remember the last time he did it.”

The Soldat’s jaw ticked imperceptibly at the words, a flicker of something passing through his otherwise blank expression. A muscle in his temple twitched, so slightly it was almost imperceptible, but she noticed.

“Do it,” the handler barked, his tone icy. “Now.”

Slowly, she shifted her gaze to the side, staring at the far wall to avoid looking at him, at either of them. Her hand trembled as she reached out, brushing against the overheated skin of his abdomen before curling around him again.

The Soldat kept being unresponsive.

Her fingers tightened slightly around him, and she began to move her hand in a clinical and detached way, trying to retreat her mind to a faraway place.

The handler leaned against the counter, and his smug smile made her sick. “See? Was that so hard, pet?”

She didn’t respond, focusing instead on keeping her breathing steady. Soldat remained as a statue, with his gaze fixed straight ahead. But she saw it again, the faintest twitch of his fingers, a subtle clenching of his jaw.

Was it anger? Pleasure? She didn’t know, and she couldn’t afford to dwell on it. She tried to focus on the rhythm of her movements, the hum of the fluorescent lights above, anything to drown out the humiliation.

“Good girl,” the man praised her mockingly.

At some point, the Soldat’s breath hitched slightly, a small, involuntary response. She froze for a fraction of a second, before forcing herself to continue.

The handler’s gaze was fixed on her with sadistic amusement. “See? The horny dog is starting to stir,” he sneered, chuckling darkly. “Keep going, pet. Put some effort into it.”

She kept going, trying to block out the handler’s taunts and the oppressive heat radiating from Soldat’s body.

“I can’t wait to see how this ends,” He stepped closer, and his boots clicked against the sterile floor as his shadow loomed over her. She could feel his cruel satisfaction like a physical weight pressing down on her.

He smirked, tilting his head as if studying a piece of art. “It’s almost poetic, isn’t it? The indomitable Winter Soldier reduced to this.” He leaned closer, his breath hot against her ear. “And you, pet... always so eager to fix him.

Her hand faltered for the briefest moment, and the handler’s eyes narrowed.

“Don’t stop,” he hissed, sharply.

Her fingers resumed their mechanical rhythm, trembling slightly as they moved over the heated skin.

Soldat’s body betrayed him, starting to respond to her ministrations. His chest rose and fell slightly faster, and the faintest sheen of sweat formed along his collarbone. A muscle in his jaw ticked again, and his metal hand twitched at his side, the slightest flex of his fingers betraying the struggle beneath the surface.

She noticed every subtle reaction, every unwilling signal his body sent. It felt like a cruel mockery, this was not a man choosing to respond, but a body manipulated and prodded to betray its instincts.

The handler’s smirk widened as he circled them, amused. “See? The body don’t lie, pet. No matter how much you both fight it, nature always wins.”

Soldat’s breaths were growing more uneven, and his nostrils flared as his chest rose and fell with increasing urgency. For a moment, his steel-blue gaze flicked down to her hand, a fleeting acknowledgment before snapping forward again, returning to the blank void.

The handler leaned against the counter again, crossing his arms, watching with sick satisfaction. “He’s close, isn’t he? Just look at him.”

Soldat’s fingers twitched again, curling slightly into a loose fist. His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, a small, involuntary moan escaping his lips. Barely audible but deafening in the oppressive silence of the room.

The handler laughed, cruelly. “There it is,” he sneered, clapping his hands mockingly. “Hydra’s fist reduced to nothing more than a desperate animal. Guess even the strongest aren’t immune to a good touch. Keep going, pet,” he ordered. “We’re almost there.”

Soldat’s gaze flicked down to her hand again, and the faintest flicker of something passed through his otherwise blank expression. Another quiet moan slipped out, broken and involuntary, while his body tensed beneath her touch, and the muscles in his abdomen started to tighten,

The handler licked his lips as his gaze kept glued to the scene before him. “Almost there, loyal pet. Finish it.”

Soldat’s breaths hitched again, and his body betrayed him further as his head tilted back slightly, exposing the vulnerable line of his throat. The faint sheen of sweat on his skin glinted under the sterile light, and every detail etched into her mind despite her desperate attempts to detach herself.

And then it happened.

His body went rigid, his metal hand clenched into a fist, so tight it trembled at his side. His breath hitched, and a low, guttural sound tore from his throat, a mixture of release and anguish that echoed in the sterile room.

She froze, retreating her hand almost immediately as though burned. Her chest heaved with shallow, shaky breaths as she stumbled back a step.

Soldat’s body sagged slightly, and his head dropped forward, while his breathing started to slow down, bleeding the tension out of his system. He didn’t look at her, didn’t acknowledge the handler either, his gaze fixed again somewhere distant,  unreachable.

The handler clapped, grinning wide and cruelly again. “There you go, pet. Good job. I knew you had it in you.”

Her hands clutched at her sides, biting her nails into her palms as she forced herself to stand still, to remain composed even as her world felt like it was shattering.

Sensing her discomfort, he kept his smirk firmly in place. “Now clean yourself up” he said coldly. “You look like cheap whore.”

Then he turned around. “You, take him to cryo,” he lazily ordered to the guards who had been standing silently by the door. “He’s done for now.”

******

“I know what it’s like to not have a choice,” he said simply, “I know what it’s like to be used, controlled, forced into something you’d never choose for yourself.”

Her gaze dropped to the table.

He leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on his knees. “I’m no saint. I’ve hated a lot of people, doll. Hated myself more than I can say. But you? Not once. You were there, real and raw. And, maybe, is because of that that I trust you.”

She stared at him, and her hands twitched on the table, wanting to reach out, to bridge the gap between them. But instead, she sat there with her heart pounding.

“Bucky, I-”  her voice faltered. The weight of his admission was almost too much for her to bear.

The way he looked at her then, open and bare, broke whatever restrain was keeping her still.

Her body moved before her mind could catch up. She stood abruptly, scraping the chair against the floor, and rounded the small table.

Without a word, she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace.

He didn’t flinch. Slowly, his arms came up to encircle her waist cautiously, as though afraid he might break her. She pressed her cheek against the crown of his head and put her hands around his broad shoulders.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice muffled against his hair.

She felt him shift slightly, dipping his head lower until his forehead rested lightly against her shoulder. His breath was warm against the side of her neck, and the subtle weight of his body leaning into her made her heart ache.

“For what?” he murmured.

“For not hating me.”

Next chapter

Taglist: @sunshinedayz19 @star-maker-rain-dancer @tumdlrnewb84 @mgchaser @buckys-arm-and-rios-dagger @gotminho @kaitlin013106 @startorrent @idontknowhowtonormal @mattmurdock42 @hnnhbananananana @aeriss-at-heart45 @jainaeatsstars @airixaram @seventeen-x @jaxz21 @zizzlekwum @hi172826 @valckenaux

Dividers by @/strangergraphics

[scoupsleftcheekdimple]

Drunken Tendencies...

starring: svt leader and husband! seungcheol x wife! reader; member! mingyu; member! seokmin; member! woozi; member! joshua; member! minghao; member! seungkwan; member! jeonghan; member! vernon; member! hoshi

aus: fluff!!

warnings: kissing

synopsis: Y/N goes out drinking with the seventeen members... and who else would come pick her drunk self up besides her loving husband?

word count: 1172

A/N: I think we all need a whipped seungcheol to take care of us when we are drunk...

He had received a text from Mingyu.

Brother Mingyu: Hyung... you should probably come pick up your wife.

Leader Seungcheol: What happened?

Brother Mingyu: She's drunk.

Leader Seungcheol: So? She can drink.

Brother Mingyu: She's currently pouting and trying to fight Seokmin over whether or not she could beat him in an arm-wrestling match.

Leader Seungcheol: ...

Leader Seungcheol: I’m on my way.

—

When he arrived at the bar, he was met with the sight of his wife (a phrase he was still adjusting to… but loving to say). His usually composed, sharp-witted wife was leaning over the table, dramatically pouting at Seokmin, her arms crossed like a child.

“I swear I could win!” she argued, her words slightly slurred but her conviction unwavering “You’re just scared!”

Seokmin, looking both amused and slightly exasperated, raised his hands in surrender. “Y/N-ah, I promise you, I’m not scared—” 

“Then arm-wrestle me, coward!”

“Hyung, please get your wife,” Woozi called out lazily from his seat, smiling as he nursed his drink. “She’s been challenging everyone here.”

Seungcheol sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose before stepping closer. “Y/N.”

The moment she turned and saw him, her frustration melted away, and instead—her face lit up like he was the best thing she had ever seen. 

“Cheollie!” Y/N squealed, suddenly all giggly and shy, covering her face with her hands before peeking at him through her fingers. “Oh my God, you’re so handsome… Who let you out looking like this?”

The members burst into laughter as Y/N wobbled to her feet, stumbling slightly before dramatically pointing at Seungcheol. “Did it hurt?”

Seungcheol blinked. “What?”

“When you fell from heaven?” She giggled, swaying on her feet. “Because you are so fine, sir.”

“This is amazing—I’m recording this,” Mingyu whispered, already holding up his phone.

Seungcheol sighed, shaking his head fondly before stepping closer to Y/N, steadying her with his hands on her waist. “You’re drunk,” he said, amusement clear in his voice.

“I’m not drunk—” she paused, swaying slightly. “Okay, maybe a little.”

Y/N gasped dramatically, pressing her hands against his chest. “Wait, wait, wait—” She looked up at him with wide, dazed eyes. “Hey, are you single?”

Seungcheol nearly choked on air. “What?”

“Because I totally have a crush on you,” she whispered, blinking at him. “Like, you are so hot, I want to marry you.”

“You did marry me,” Seungcheol reminded her, exasperated but endeared.

She gasped again, this time in pure shock. “I did?! Who let me do that?!”

“You did,” Minghao answered, grinning as he sipped his drink.

“And you are very in love with him,” Joshua added helpfully.

Y/N turned back to Seungcheol, grabbing his collar and pulling him closer, her nose almost brushing his. “Oh my God. Good for me,” she whispered. “I have taste.”

Seungcheol sighed, wrapping his arms around her waist before lifting her up effortlessly. “Alright, that’s enough pick-up lines for one night—time to go home.”

As he carried her out, Y/N continued mumbling to herself, still giggling. “My husband is so hot. I’m so lucky. I should kiss him—”

“Let’s wait until we get home, yeah?”

“Wait, wait, wait—” she slurred, blinking at him with wide, glassy eyes.

He sighed, already knowing she was about to say something ridiculous. “What is it now, Y/N?”

“I just realized something super important,” she said dramatically, squeezing his cheeks so his lips puckered.

Seungcheol narrowed his eyes. “What—?”

Before he could finish, Y/N smashed a big, exaggerated kiss on his cheek.

And then another.

And another.

The members, who had stepped outside to watch, exploded into laughter.

“Oh my God, she’s attacking him!” Seungkwan shrieked, doubling over.

“This is amazing,” Hoshi gasped, pulling out his phone. “I’m never deleting this from my memory.”

"Wait, let me get the other side—" Y/N mumbled, twisting in Seungcheol’s hold to press a dozen more kisses all over his face—his forehead, his jaw, even the tip of his nose.

"Y/N—" Seungcheol tried to wriggle away, but she held onto him with an iron grip, giggling against his skin as she planted another kiss near his lips.

"Mmmwah!" she announced proudly, finally pulling back to admire her work.

Seungcheol, now thoroughly covered in bright red lipstick stains, groaned. “You’re unbelievable.”

Y/N beamed. “Now everyone knows you’re mine,” she said smugly, her drunken logic making perfect sense in her mind.

Mingyu was dying of laughter. "Hyung, you look like you just came back from war."

"A romantic war," Vernon corrected.

"Wait, Y/N-ah—give him one more on the forehead," Jeonghan encouraged.

Y/N, still giggling, leaned in and smacked a final kiss right in the center of Seungcheol’s forehead. "There! Now you look perfect!*"

He sighed, closing his eyes. "I am never picking you up from drinking again."

"Yes, you will," she whispered against his lips, grinning.

Seungcheol exhaled through his nose, his patience hanging on by a thread. "Let’s just go home before I leave you here."

As he carried her away, Y/N cuddled into his neck, still giggling. “You’re so warm, my handsome husband.”

Seokmin wiped a tear from his eye. “That was the most romantic thing I’ve ever witnessed.”

Seungkwan shook his head. “That was the funniest thing I’ve ever witnessed.”

—

Seungcheol barely got Y/N out of the bar before she demanded—not asked, demanded—a piggyback ride.

“Oppa! Give me a piggyback ride!!” she whined, stomping her foot like an impatient child.

Seungcheol, who was already sighing in exhaustion, turned to look at her. “Y/N, you’re drunk.”

“And you’re strong!” she countered, grinning up at him. “So be useful and carry your beautiful wife home—c’mon, c’mon!”

The members, who were still standing outside the bar, howled with laughter.

“I vote he does it,” Joshua said, crossing his arms. “It’s what a loving husband should do.”

“Yeah, Ddaddu,” Jeonghan smirked. “Don’t you love her?”

Seungcheol glared at them before looking back at Y/N, who was now fluttering her lashes at him dramatically. “Pleaaase, oppa~” she cooed, tilting her head. “You love me, right?”

Seungcheol exhaled sharply. “Get on before I change my mind.”

Before he could even bend down properly, Y/N jumped onto his back, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. “Yay!!” she cheered, nuzzling into him. “My strong, handsome husband~”

Mingyu took his phone out. “Oh, this is going on Instagram.”

“Hyung, you’re the definition of whipped,” Seokmin teased.

“Shut up,” Seungcheol muttered, adjusting Y/N’s legs so she was secure. “I’m taking her home.”

As they walked off, Y/N swung her feet happily, her chin resting on Seungcheol’s shoulder. “You smell nice~” she murmured.

Seungcheol rolled his eyes but softened. “And you smell like soju.”

“That’s because I’m a party girl, oppa.”

“You’re a handful, is what you are.”

She giggled. “But you love me~”

Seungcheol sighed but squeezed her thigh gently. “Yeah. I love you. Now hold on tight before I really drop you.”

From behind them, they could still hear the members laughing.

tag list: @seungkwansflower!

check out my masterlist !

[maxxiemoa]

Erik Campbell x virgin reader

An: I LOVE WRITING FOR YALL! The response I’ve been getting on my posts, especially my Erik ones, has been so lovely. I can’t wait to write more for y’all. I hope you freaks like this one. It’s very long. Just like him. WHO SIAD THAT?!??!?

Summary: readers first time with Erik and first time in general. M4afab (no gender talk but afab anatomy)

Warnings: Nsfw, thigh riding, fingers in mouth, sex, lack of condom, virginity taking, piercings, talk of penis piercing (ps I’m imagining his is pierced with a bar right under his tip) , MINORS DNI

You and Erik have been friends since you started working at the shop. You love clocking into work. It’s like being payed to hang out with your best friend and bitch about your boss. You have recently been over to his house for bbq parties. His family is sweet. Bobby is so close with Erik so it’s no surprise you two became quick friends. Julia is so fun to gossip with. She tells you about what her weird neighbors have been getting up to late at night while the two of you watch terrible reality tv. You have come to learn that Charlie is basically the family’s adopted son. He’s sweet. He comes over after school and tells us all about his crappy teachers and girls he had a crush’s on.

Erik is sweet. He’s the perfect mix of stupid immature boy and a genuine friend. The two of you were up in his room working on your tattoo books. He was drawing some basic flower designs and I was working on some vine work.

I lean over to see how his work is coming along and one of the designs catches my eye. “Oh I like that one. I’d totally let you tattoo that one on my arm or something” he rolls up the sleeve of my jacket and points to where he thinks it would look best.

“Maybe one of these days after the shop closes I can do it. You want it in color?” He asks obviously knowing I don’t want it in color and that he is teasing me. “Yeah I want it in pink to match with my black wardrobe and other black ink tattoos. How did you know?” I shove him playfully and he exaggeratedly scoffs at me.

We start shoving each other and soon all of our drawing supplies is kicked off the bed. He picks up a pillow and swings it at my face. This means war. I pick up one of his pillows and start walking him with it unforgivingly. Somewhere in the fight he looses his pillow and wrestles me for mine. I put up a good fight but he eventually grabs the pillow from my hands and throws it away from me. He grabs pushes me down on the bed seeing that I was trying to make a grab for the pillows on the floor.

I am pined on the bed and trying to wiggle my way out. We are both laughing uncontrollably. “Not so strong are we now?” He taunts me as he pins my legs down with his.

“Ok, ok I give up. I surrender. You win. Now get off of me you are crushing me.” I look him in the eyes and realize just how close he is to me. His body is right on top of mine. His long hair is falling past his face and tickling mine. He has my wrists in his hands as he traps my legs between his. He is essentially straddling my body.

I suddenly became so aware of how immobilized I was. It made my body start to feel warm. Erik picked up on my sudden change in demeanor. “What You’ve never been pinned to a bed before?” He asks me raising an eyebrow at me. “N..no. I’ve never had anyone this close to me before” I can feel myself progressively getting more red. Sure I’ve noticed how attractive Erik is. Long brown hair, pretty blues eyes, and my god his pierced body. I haven’t seen all of his piercings but I know of them. What I wouldn’t do to see them. To feel them.

I am snapped out of my wander state of mind when I feel Erik pull me up and close to his body. “Are you telling me no boy has even taken you to his house and laid you on his bed and had his way with you? Really? A pretty thing like you?

At this point my heart is pounding in my chest. Being this close to him I can smell his faint cologne. He mostly smells of pen ink and sweat. He pulls me onto his lap and runs his fingers through my hair. “You seem shy babe. Now don’t tell me you are a virgin.” His questions pull me deeper into my venerability. He looks at me with a growing smirk on his face. “You are! I’m gonna have fun with you”

With his fingers tangled in my hair he pulls me close and our lips meet. It’s sweet and he tastes like mint gum. He starts off slow and lets me set the pace. Once he can tell I am getting the hang of it he pushes his tongue past my lips and rolls it around my mouth. The metal ball of my piercing is being pushed around as our tongues swirl into each others.

He parts his legs a bit and pats his thigh. “Swing your leg over and I’ll show you what to do” I do as he says and now I am straddling his right thigh. He gives me a look and I can tell what he is trying to tell me. I slowing start moving my hips back and forth on his leg. I start to feel the warmth grow in between my thighs. His hands are on my waist helping me along. One of his hands snakes up my back and sends shivers through my body.

He catches my lips with his and I increase my pace. With his hands guiding my hips I take the opportunity to explore his chest with my hands. I let my fingers run over his pierced nipples with caution. He lets out a breathy laugh.

“You like my piercings baby?” With one quick motion he pulls his shirt off his body and I am now face to face with his unclothed chest. The sight of his toned figure has me unconsciously whimpering. My hands ghost over his body and trace his tattoos. God I need him. I’ve never so much as kissed anyone before today and here I am whimpering and clinging to the little friction I am getting from grinding on his thigh.

I guess it’s quite obvious how desperate I am for more of him as he pulls me off of his leg and starts unbuckling his jeans. “We can start slow. I’ll show you what to do but you let me know if you want to stop at any point.” He tells me to kneel on the ground and I do as I’m told.

My head is now at the same level of his crotch. His bulge is very obvious through his black boxers. He is huge. Sure I have nothing to compare it too but I can’t help but notice it is above average. Before I can think about what he is going to have me do his boxers are now around his ankles and quickly kicked aside.

I had always thought he was joking when he said his cock was pierced. I thought he was just being funny and I never took the idea seriously. But here I am, face to dick with his pierced tip. The bar goes through the underneath of his pink tip. Thinking about the delicious pain he went through to get that piercing have my walls clenching around nothing.

“Fuck….” Is all I can manage to get out before he is sticking his fingers in my mouth. “Suck” he says is a subductivly demanding tone. He lets me swirl my tongue around his fingers curiously. He pulls them in and out of my mouth and with every thrust I can feel his fingers going deeper and deeper in my throat. Fuck it feels good.

He pulls his fingers out abruptly and I whine at the empty feeling I am left with. “I know baby I know” he coos at me brushing my hair sweetly. “Now I want you to be so good for me and take my cock in your mouth just like that baby. Do you think you can take it?” I nod eagerly and lick my lips in anticipation.

He lines his glistening tip up with my lips and I take his tip into my mouth. The taste of his pre cum is slightly salty and his metal tasting piercing have me wanting more. He grabs a fist full of my hair and slowly pushes more of his length into my throat. He painstakingly pulls in and out of my mouth and I moan around him.

Soon I am getting the hang of it and I am bobbing my head up and down his length. I get a little too ambitious and take more of him than I can handle and I gag hard around him. I pull off of him to catch my breath and he pulls away.

“You are doing such a good job for me baby. Come up on the bed now.” His voice is soft and makes me feel floaty. He guides me to lay down on the bed and he pulls my clothes off. I feel shy but safe with him. He once again sticks his fingers in my mouth. This time I don’t need to be told what to do and I suck on them moaning as they dip deeper into my throat. When he pulls his fingers out of my mouth they quickly disappear into me. The abruptness of his finger in my folds makes me squirm underneath him.

“So good and wet for me aren’t you. Do you think you can handle another finger?” He lays a few kisses on my thighs and I nod my head as I let my eyes close. Two of his long calloused fingers are thrusting in and out of my virgin cunt. Sure I’ve masterbated before but I’d really never fingered myself. But holy fuck does it feel good. It doesn’t take long before I become a complete mess moaning and buckling my hips into his touch.

He pulls his fingers out of out of me and uses one hand to pull my leg to the side and his other to line himself up with my hole. My own wetness makes it easy for him to teasingly slide his tip up and down my folds. God that piercing would feel so good inside me I just know it. And I don’t have to wonder for too long as he pushes the tip of him inside me. He takes my whimpering as a sign to push deeper into me. He stops moving and lightly dances his fingers up and down the inner of my thigh.

“Please…please more…please don’t stop Erik” I try and move my hips to continue the lovely feeling of him filling me up but he grabs my thighs and keeps me in place.

“Angel, I’m not even all the way in. It’s your first time, I want to take it slow and give you a chance to adjust.

I make eye contact with him and use my deer like eyes to plead with him. Whimpering and pouting my lips, he folds.

“You are so needy baby, do you really think you can take a few more inches?” He asks me and is suprised when I start frantically nodding.

After a a few more inches Erik bottoms out. His pelvis is flush with mine and it feels so good. He is not too big but just big enough to fill me up all the way. I will admit feeling him stretch me out I can’t help but wonder if it hurt because it is my first time or because of the girth of his boyfriend cock.

He holds my legs as he thrusts in and out of me. Slowly increasing the speed until we are both moaning and sloppily making out. His teeth nip at the soft flesh of my neck and it has me clenching around him. His pace starts to get sloppy and he starts to grab at my body. Pulling on my hair, nipping at my skin, clawing at my back. The sweet pain of his actions has him sending me other the edge. I grab onto the blankets on the bed and manage to mutter out “Erik….fuck..I’m gonna..”

He speeds up his pace and we both crash over the edge together. He pulls out of me but quickly fills me again with his fingers as he pumps his length. In a few moments he is cumming on my stomach and fingering me through my orgasm.

Erik and I are left trying to catch our breaths as we lay next to each other on the bed. After a few moments Erik gets up and pulls his boxers back on. He goes into the bathroom and come back with a warm wet towel and cleans my up. He throws the towel to the ground and pulls his shirt over my head. We lay together in his bed and drift off to sleep.

[wosospacegirl]

Bebita - Alexia Putellas

Summary: Turns out the captain’s toughest rival isn’t on the pitch-it’s her own baby, who smiles for the squad but not for her.

Warning: One adorable baby, one jealous Alexia, and two exhausted parents who are definitely too tired for anything even remotely sexy.

Word count: 2.7

a/n: This is a scheduled post, I'm sleeping.

MASTERLIST

..

The VIP area sat a few rows up–quiet except for the distant thump of the ball and the soft murmur of the crowd. Y/n settled into the seat, baby Clara balanced on her lap. 

Clara’s tiny brunette pigtails bobbed as she wriggled against Y/n’s chest, her hazel eyes fixed on the green pitch below. She was always like that, always trying to move away from Y/n and Alexia, even though she had barely learned how to stand on her own.

Out on the field, Alexia knelt on one knee, cycling through her familiar pre‑match stretch, every motion precise and powerful. 

Clara watched, leaning forward as though she understood that the woman in the Barça kit was her other mama.

“Look, mi amor,” Y/n whispered, angling Clara so she could see. “Do you see Mami?”

Clara squealed happily, reaching out to point. In her other hand, she clutched the battered cat‑culer teddy Vicky had given her.

It had been a gift for Clara’s first birthday, which had happened just weeks ago. How did a one-year-old manage to take off the cat's tails, bite down its ear and unsew its eyes? Y/n wasn’t sure, but she was sure that Clara loved the thing dearly.

Y/n brushed a strand of hair from Clara’s forehead. “She’s getting ready to play for you today.”

Clara shifted, trying to stand. Her little legs wobbled, and she toppled onto Y/n’s thigh with a surprised giggle.

“You’re going to fall,” Y/n laughed, scooping her daughter, sitting her on her lap. “You just learned how to do that–be patient.”

Clara patted Y/n’s cheek, then lifted Cat, pressing it against her cheek as if comforting herself–and everyone else too.

Through the railing, Y/n watched Alexia rise and take a final glance toward the stands, her eyes briefly meeting Y/n’s. 

Alexia gave a single nod, smiling shyly.

Y/n smiled and took Clara’s small hand and waved at Alexia. “Say hi to mami, Bebita.”

Clara babbled excitedly, watching her mom.

Y/n pressed her lips to Clara’s pigtail. “Ready to see Mama in action? The game’s starting.”

Clara kicked her legs and clutched Cat tighter.

Y/n put earmuffs on Clara, and they both waited for Alexia’s first touch of the ball.

..

Y/n stepped down onto the pitch, Clara cradled in her arms, the roar of the crowd fading into a soft hum now that the final whistle had blown. 

Alexia jogged over from midfield, still in her game‑worn kit, sweat-slick hair plastered to her forehead, a smile on her face, both from seeing her little family and from winning the game as well.

Clara’s hazel eyes gleamed–not at Alexia, but at the Cat teddy Y/n held. 

Y/n had just pried it away to stop Clara from yanking out its last button eye, but the little one was too quick; she snatched it back, buried her face in its floppy ear, and squeezed it as if it were the only thing in the world.

“Hey, mi amor–where’s my big winner's smile?” Alexia called softly, holding out her arms for Clara.

Clara peeked over the teddy. 

Y/n wasn’t sure, but somehow Clara has mastered the deadpan face at only one year and two weeks.

Alexia’s brow furrowed. 

Alexia’s brow creased in confusion. “Why so serious, bebita?” she asked, reaching to lift Clara into her arms—but each time she tried, Clara twisted away.

“She didn’t even give me a single grin,” Alexia said, casting a pleading glance at Y/n. “Do you think… is she mad at me?”

Y/n chuckled, rocking Clara gently against her. “She’s not mad, amor. I think she’s just tired.”

“Tired?” Alexia scoffed. “I saw her napping from the pitch.”

“Sleeping surrounded by thousands of people isn’t the same as snoozing at home,” Y/n replied, stepping closer. “But now, can the captain give me some attention?”

Alexia grinned, leaning in for a quick kiss, only to feel something wet against her cheek. Clara was pushing her face away,

“Okay, wow,” Alexia said, feigning offence. “What’s put you in such a mood, huh? Did Mama not breastfeed you today?”

Y/n rolled her eyes. “Of course I did.”

Before Y/n could even get a word out, Vicky and Jana appeared at the edge of the pitch, grinning like they’d just won the lottery.

“Bebita!” they called in perfect unison, spotting Clara from a distance.

Clara’s deadpan expression shattered instantly into a bright, gummy grin–her two little teeth front and centre like she was showing them off. 

As the two girls jogged over, she actually started to wiggle in Y/n’s arms, arms flailing in excitement.

Vicky scooped her up with practised ease, plopping Clara into her lap like they were old besties. 

Jana was already fussing with her pigtails, smoothing them down and cooing sweet nothings that had Clara giggling, soft and high-pitched, the kind of sound that made everyone around them melt.

Y/n and Alexia shared a long, stunned glance.

Alexia crossed her arms, deeply offended. “Wow. Amazing. My own filla [daughter] ignores me but loses her mind for these two.”

Y/n patted her shoulder with exaggerated sympathy. “Don’t pout, campeona. She does love you–just maybe not right now.”

Alexia sighed deeply, leaning over to tousle Clara’s hair in an attempt to salvage her dignity. 

But Clara, nestled happily in Vicky’s arms, gave her a very unimpressed wave–one lazy, pudgy little hand–and turned right back around to cuddle her beloved teddy and friend.

Y/n could swear she saw her daughter frown at Alexia. A warning frown. 

Alexia looked wounded. “Did… did she just glare at me?”

Y/n bit back a laugh. “Maybe. A little. You might have messed with her giggling privileges.”

“I hope she doesn’t expect me to pick her up from parties when she’s older,” Alexia muttered, arms wrapped lazily around Y/n from behind.

Y/n snorted. “Oh? So you’re already planning to let her go to parties now? Because last I heard, you said she wouldn’t be out of our sight until she turned 23 and a half.”

“Shut up,” Alexia grumbled, chin on Y/n’s shoulder, eyes narrowed as more players started to swarm their tiny queen. “She’s supposed to be obsessed with us, not… them.”

Clara, meanwhile, was thriving. Surrounded by teammates, she sat like a baby monarch on Vicky’s lap, accepting all compliments and forehead kisses.

Alexia checked her Samsung watch. Fifteen minutes.

“That’s ridiculous,” she huffed. “I carried her for nine months!”

Y/n said grumpily. “No, you didn’t. I did.”

Alexia rolled her eyes. “Fine. But I’m the one who wakes up every night to change her diaper.”

Y/n gave an exaggerated shrug. “Yeah… that’s fair.”

Alexia had already had enough. She pulled away and marched toward the huddle of players, determined to reassert her maternal dominance.

By then, Clara had migrated from Vicky to Patri, who had Pina crouched in front of them playing peek-a-boo with the intensity of a professional entertainer. 

Every “boo!” sent Clara into high-pitched giggles, her tiny arms flailing like she was trying to fly.

Off to the side, Salma had somehow gotten hold of the Cat Culer plush and was cradling it like a kitten, complete with exaggerated ‘mrow-mrow’ sounds and purring noises. 

Clara was enchanted. She squealed and reached both hands toward Salma.

She swivelled from Patri to Salma, a wide smile spreading across her face. It was a deadly combo: Patri’s over-the-top silly faces and Salma’s soft, ridiculous lullaby cat impressions.

Alexia barely made it back to the group before Clara let out a delighted squeal.

Too much. That was too much joy for one player circle.

Without warning, Alexia swooped in and plucked Clara right out of Patri’s arms.

“Come on, Clara,” she muttered, hoisting Clara onto her hip like a protective mama bear. “You’re ours.”

“Noo!” Patri gasped, hands dramatically outstretched. “Our amiga!”

“She was smiling!” Jana chimed in from seemingly nowhere.

Alexia blinked. “Where did you even come from?”

Jana just pouted and pointed. “She likes me more than you.”

Alexia raised her brows. “She drooled on your shoulder last week.”

Alexia ignored them all, bouncing Clara gently on her hip and muttering like a dramatic villain, “Your amiga needs to sleep in one hour, chicas. Back off.”

And that’s what did it.

Clara’s big eyes blinked once… twice… and then her lip wobbled.

The betrayal hit her in full force.

She let out a wail so dramatic, so raw and heartbroken. How did a baby have so many emotions? Who knows?

Alexia’s face fell in real time. 

“Oh, come on, bebita…” she cooed, trying to adjust her hold, bouncing Clara with expert panic. “Don’t cry. Mama’s sorry–”

“Give her back,” Vicky said, deadpan. 

“No!” Alexia turned, spinning away like she was protecting Clara, “She’s mine. I made her.”

“You did not!” Y/n called after her.  “I made her, remember? Forty-three weeks?”

Alexia didn’t turn around. “Fine, but I clipped her nails yesterday. Let me have this!”

Y/n stepped forward without a word and plucked Clara from Alexia’s arms.

“Shh, what’s going on with you today, huh?” she asked, settling Clara against her chest. Instantly, Clara melted into her, the cries slowing as she rooted for the breast like nothing had happened.

Alexia folded her arms and watched the scene unfold, tapping her foot. “She hates me today.”

Y/n leaned in and kissed her cheek, still swaying with Clara. “She doesn’t hate you. She just wants to party with the girls.”

Alexia’s pout softened. “Next time, she should save a giggle or two for me.”

Clara was nearly asleep by the time Alexia guided them toward the locker room, collecting her things so they could finally go home.

The walk to the car was slow, careful not to wake the tiny diva—but Clara, ever the drama queen, cracked her big hazel eyes open as Y/n buckled her into the car seat.

“Hi, Neneta,” Y/n cooed in a baby voice. “I bet you're gonna stay up the whole drive and absolutely not fall asleep at bedtime, huh? Yeah, of course you will.”

Clara giggled, like she was absolutely planning to sabotage their night.

Y/n frowned, struggling with the seatbelt–it wasn’t going over the right way, and it looked like it was pressing into Clara’s belly.

“Ale, I need help,” she called, glancing over her shoulder.

Alexia appeared behind her, now in a soft, oversized shirt, hair down and still damp from her shower. “What, amor?”

She leaned in to take a look–and that’s when it happened.

Clara smiled. Not just any smile. A big, two-toothed, gummy grin, arms shooting up toward Alexia.

Alexia gasped. Literal tears sprang to her eyes. 

“Oh, el meu tresor, has tornat a estimar la mameta, eh?” [Oh my treasure, have you come back to loving mommy, huh?]

She scooped Clara out of the car seat with no hesitation, kissing her all over while Clara giggled and wrapped a chubby hand in Alexia’s hair.

“Alexia, put her back!” Y/n scolded. “It’s cold! She’s gonna catch a cold!”

“My bebita,” Alexia crooned, ignoring her. “Mine.”

Y/n squinted. Something wasn’t adding up. Then her eyes narrowed in on the baby's fist, twisted lovingly in Alexia’s damp hair.

“Alexia,” she said slowly.

“What?” Alexia asked, still too busy baby-cuddling to notice the growing danger.

Without another word, Y/n stepped forward, gently took a handful of Alexia’s hair, and lifted it up into a mock ponytail.

Instantly–cry. A full-body, soul-deep shriek from Clara that echoed off the parking garage walls.

“What the-?”

Before Alexia could finish, Y/n let her hair fall back down. Clara stopped crying on a dime. She blinked twice, then went back to calmly playing with Alexia’s nose.

“She doesn’t like your hair up,” Y/n deadpanned. “She’s been mad at you all day because you put it in a ponytail. Diva behaviour.”

Alexia stared at her daughter in disbelief. “Is that true, bebita? I’m gonna have to figure out how to play football with my hair down, huh?”

Clara gave her a sleepy little grunt and patted her cheek, as if to say, finally, someone’s catching on.

The car ride home was full of Clara's babble–her favourite form of post-bedtime rebellion.

“She’s giving a full concert back there,” Alexia mumbled, one hand on the wheel, the other holding Y/n’s thigh.

“She’s practising for her world tour,” Alexia said with a small yawn.

From the backseat came a joyful “DA! and “MA!” followed by a long, dramatic sigh…Clara’s version of a mic drop.

Y/n twisted in her seat to look at her. “Clara, it’s sleepy time.”

Clara kicked her feet.

Alexia glanced at her in the mirror. “Bebita, no kicking mami.”

“Maybe she just needs to wind down,” Alexia offered. “You know, like a little story, some quiet time…”

“She just yelled at her own toes,” Y/n said hopelessly. “We’re not sleeping today.”

By the time they pulled into the garage, Clara was still going strong, waving her arms as if she was saying hi to a crowd, but Alexia didn’t care because she was giving her a gummy grin every time she looked back. 

Y/n unbuckled her with a sigh.

“We have ten minutes before she realises she’s a baby and not a woman in her twenties at a club,” she muttered.

Inside, Alexia took Clara while Y/n dealt with the diaper bag and Alexia’s game bag. 

Clara was clinging to her again, arms tight around Alexia’s neck, one hand firmly rooted in her hair like she was personally in charge of keeping it down.

“She’s obsessed with your hair,” Y/n said as she walked into the nursery.

“She has taste,” Alexia replied, swaying slowly with Clara in her arms.

“She has control issues.”

“She gets that from you.”

Y/n shot her a glare, but was too tired to keep it up. Instead, she leaned against the doorway, watching the two of them. 

Clara was slowing down now, her lids heavy as Alexia quietly hummed a lullaby in Catalan, her hand rubbing soft circles on Clara’s back.

It was quiet for a moment, just the gentle and occasional creak of the floorboards under their feet. 

Y/n felt something melt in her chest.

“You’re really good at this,” she murmured.

Alexia glanced over at her, surprised. “At what?”

“Being her mom.”

Alexia’s mouth tugged into the smallest, most fragile smile. “Only when my hair’s down, apparently.”

“She just missed you,” Y/n said, crossing the room to stand beside her. “You’re her favourite, you know.”

Alexia looked down at Clara, whose tiny hand was still tangled in her hair, her face finally tucked into her mom’s neck. “She’s my favourite, too–well, you and her.”

Y/n leaned her head on Alexia’s shoulder, both of them swaying now in the half-lit nursery. Clara let out a soft sigh–peaceful this time–and went limp in Alexia’s arms, fully asleep.

“Victory,” Y/n whispered.

“Don’t jinx it,” Alexia whispered back.

They waited another few minutes, just to be sure, then moved into the quiet routine that every young parent had. 

Alexia laid Clara in the crib. Y/n pulled the blanket up. Neither of them breathed until they were sure she was down for real.

Back in the hallway, Y/n pulled Alexia into a long, slow hug, burying her face in the damp hair. “I vote you never wear a ponytail again.”

Alexia chuckled, kissing her temple. “Deal.”

They padded off to their bedroom, tired and tangled in each other, both grateful that Clara had finally called it a night.

Y/n flopped face-first onto the bed with a groan. “Okay, but we both agree we’re too tired for sex, right?”

There was no answer.

Y/n turned her head slightly. Alexia was already on her side, eyes shut, breathing deeply, completely out cold.

She snorted. “Okay. Guess that’s a yes.”

She reached out blindly, grabbed the blanket, and yanked it over both of them, grumbling softly as she burrowed in beside Alexia. 

“You better be dreaming about me,” she mumbled into the pillow.

..

Hope you guys enjoyed it!

[ilovekkarnolds]

“We been knew”

juju watkins x female!reader

Juju wasn’t hiding you.

You both agreed early on—your love was yours first. Not the world’s. Not for clout. Not for hashtags.

There were subtle things: the way she made sure you always had floor seats but never got caught on camera. The way her captions were vague, but the songs she chose on her stories said more than words ever could. The way her lock screen was you, but turned face-down when she was in the locker room.

You understood it. The world was watching.

And some parts of it? Ugly.

But she still showed you love loud and clear—just in spaces you two could breathe in.

The texts. The playlists. The handwritten notes slipped in your carry-on every road trip.

“Private,” Juju had whispered once while you sat on her lap, her arms wrapped around your waist, “doesn’t mean unloved.”

And she meant it.

But the world was about to see you anyway.

And neither of you were fully ready.

⸻

THE PHOTO

It happened after a win in Phoenix.

You’d flown in, surprised her in the tunnel—matching hoodie, sneakers, her old college chain around your neck—and hugged her so tight her knees buckled. She buried her face in your shoulder and exhaled like she hadn’t breathed in a week.

You didn’t know a fan caught it.

You didn’t know that moment—a hug, her hand lingering at your waist, your soft smile back at her—would go viral 36 hours later.

@WNBAUpdates:

Juju Watkins seen embracing mystery girl after Mercury game.

“She doesn’t do this with anyone. 👀”

🔥 or 🥶?

The comments spiraled.

“That better be her girlfriend or I’m gonna scream.”

“She looks so happy though??”

“OMG is this THE girl from her IG stories???”

“Please let this be real. I love this for her.”

“Y’all see the matching sneakers?? Yeah, that’s her girl.”

“Just say it already, Juju.”

Some were sweet.

Others… weren’t.

⸻

THE NOISE

Your phone blew up first.

Friends. Fans. That cousin who always said she “don’t really follow sports but saw your name on Twitter.”

Then came the DMs. Most were kind. Supportive. Curious.

But a few stung.

“She could do better.”

“Why do studs always pick girls that look like—”

“Not who I pictured for Juju.”

You didn’t cry. You wouldn’t give them that.

But it burned all the same.

Later that night, Juju called you. Her voice was tight.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” you lied.

“Don’t do that.”

Silence.

You heard her sigh.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For not… saying it out loud. For letting you be the secret in other people’s eyes. For letting the world talk before I did.”

Your throat tightened.

“I wasn’t ashamed,” she added. “I was scared.”

You waited. Let her find her words.

“Scared that if I gave them this piece of us, they’d try to ruin it. But now I see… they never had it to begin with. We do.”

⸻

THE STATEMENT

Game day. National coverage. Juju walked into the arena in a crisp tan trench coat, black boots, and your name printed on her chain.

The cameras noticed.

But what really shook the world?

Her post-game interview.

After another 30-point performance, the reporter tried to slide it in smooth.

“You’ve been trending lately, off the court this time.

Any comment on the mystery girl from the tunnel?”

Juju smiled.

Calm. Confident. No hesitation.

“Yeah. That’s my girl.

She’s been my peace, my best friend, my biggest fan.

And I didn’t need the world to know to love her loud.

But now that they do?

Just know: she’s not going anywhere.”

The arena crowd—loud.

Twitter—exploded.

Your phone—unusable.

But none of it mattered more than seeing her step off that court, walk straight to you, and kiss you on the cheek in front of everybody.

“Hi,” she murmured, forehead pressed to yours.

“Hi, superstar.”

“You still mine?”

You smiled. “Always.”

⸻

“WE BEEN KNEW”

That night, Juju posted one photo on Instagram:

A blurry pic of you two holding hands at a food truck, laughing. No makeup. No angles. Just joy.

Caption:

been hers.

& she been mine.

love been loud—y’all just catching up. 💫

The comments were flooded:

“I KNEW IT. THE TUNNEL PIC WAS NOT A FLUKE.”

“This the soft launch and the full album drop.”

“They BEEN together huh?? 😭💖”

“I’m not jealous. I’m not. I’m happy for y’all. (lowkey jealous).”

“This is what peace looks like.”

⸻

HOME

Back at her apartment, wrapped in blankets and surrounded by takeout, you looked over at Juju.

“You good?”

She kissed your hand.

“I’m better now. You?”

You nodded. “Still private.”

“But not a secret.”

She smiled. “Never again.”

And when she pulled you into her arms and whispered “I love you” like it was the only thing worth saying, you knew—

The world could say what it wanted.

You and Juju? Solid.

Always had been.

Now everyone just… knew.

hey guys thank you for all the likes on my last one, hope you guys enjoyed this one!💙

[demie90s]

Can you do a nika x reader where nika is and the reader are married and have a babygirl together but the tean didnt know she was married. And she comes to a game with the baby in nikas jersey and so does the reader and everyone is like confused on who she is and stuff and social media goes crazy. The reader went overseas to Croatia for something and they met out there when they were in high school and they both came to uconn together and got married after her sophomore year at uconn.

Yours, Always Was

Nika Mühl x fem!Reader

MASTERLIST | MORE

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: No one ever guessed Nika Mühl—the loudest one on court, the calmest under pressure—was married.

ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: Fluff, romance, surprise reveal, slice of life, college basketball

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: Mild swearing, emotional reveal, public attention, found family

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: ~ 0.4k

It was loud in the arena—the kind of loud that makes your chest vibrate, where the court feels electric and the bass from the music thuds right under your feet. But my baby girl? She was knocked out in my arms, little fists curled against my chest like she knew she belonged there.

She was in a custom UConn onesie—white with navy trim—and across the back, in stitched bold letters, it said MÜHL. Tiny jersey number 10 on the front. Her curls were pulled into two little puffs, and I had slipped a matching UConn headband on her. She looked like a damn mascot. My whole world wrapped up in this seven-month-old firecracker who had Nika’s nose and my attitude.

I kept my hood up, sunglasses on. Not that I didn’t want to be seen—but nobody here knew I was Nika’s wife. Not even the team. Not officially. She liked having me to herself. Said the world didn’t need to know what was ours. And I never argued—because being hers? Was enough.

But tonight… tonight I wanted her to see us. And not just her. The team. The fans. Everybody.

The moment I stepped into the arena tunnel with our daughter on my hip, a few people looked. I didn’t pay them any mind. I was too busy scanning the court. The second I saw her—number ten, blonde bun bouncing as she dribbled across the floor during warmups—I grinned. She didn’t know yet.

Until she did.

Because she turned toward the tunnel and froze. Just dead in her tracks. Mouth parted. Ball still spinning between her fingers. Her whole body shifted like the wind had been knocked out of her.

I raised my hand in a slow wave and tilted our daughter toward the court. Nika’s smile… God. She lit up like she was seeing sunlight for the first time.

And the team? Confused. Loud. Ashlynn nudged KK. Paige literally dropped her water bottle. Azzi squinted like she was trying to zoom in with her eyes. The camera guy caught wind too, zooming in just in time to capture Nika pointing at us, yelling something in Croatian with her hand over her heart.

The announcers were clueless. But Twitter? Not so much.

@/hoopbabyy: WHO TF IS THAT WITH BABY MÜHL?!

@/courtvisionlive: sooo nika got a whole WIFE & BABY??

@/wnbaforlife: she really a playmaker on AND off the court 😭

After the win, we waited in the private tunnel. I sat on the bench with the baby asleep on my chest again, still holding her little wrist like it was habit. My hoodie was off now—revealing my matching MÜHL jersey—and a soft gold wedding ring glinted when I rocked her.

Then the locker room door burst open.

Nika was the first out. Hair damp, jersey swapped for her UConn hoodie, eyes locked on me like she’d been counting the minutes. She didn’t say a word, just walked straight up, leaned down, kissed the baby’s forehead—then kissed me. Soft. Sure. Deep like she’d been holding it in all season.

Behind her? They wildin.

“YOU’RE MARRIED?!”

“IS THIS WHY YOU SKIPPED MEDIA DAY LAST YEAR?!”

“A BABY?!”

I smirked, still not saying a word. Nika slid onto the bench next to me, looping her arm around my waist, resting her hand over mine as we both held our daughter.

“This is my wife,” she said, proud and plain. “And this is our daughter.”

The room went dead silent. Until Jana clapped slow and dramatic. “Aight. That’s hard.”

“Wait,” Paige said, “so y’all just been playing us like this?”

Nika looked at me. Then back at them.

“I told you,” she said with a shrug. “She’s mine. I just didn’t say how much.”

And me? I just smiled. Because finally… they knew.

[pitchsidestories]

all the stars are closer II Keira Walsh x Lioness!Reader

romantic masterlist | platonic masterlist | word count: 1284

summary: Keira's girlfriend watches from the bench as Keira scores her first goal for England and they share a sweet, unforgettable moment celebrating together after the match. requested

author's note: Hi everyone, a bit late and perhaps not the best timing after Tuesday's results, but we hope you'll still enjoy the oneshot. Happy reading !🤍🤍

disclaimer: everything in this fanfiction is purely fictional and nothing corresponds to reality.

You shrugged into your jacket with a smile as you took your seat on the subsitutes’ bench. That game had been so much fun. Everything had seemed to fall perfectly into place. Sure, you would’ve loved to stay on the pitch for longer, but you were more than happy to make room for one of the younger players. With 70 minutes of game time, you really couldn’t complain.

Watching from the bench wasn’t too bad either. It was just as entertaining, especially when the game had some surprises in store. Like when the ball landed right in front of Keiras feet. You expected her to pass, like she always did. But this time, she pulled back and took the shot.

“Oh my god!”, you yelled, leaping up from the bench and ready to celebrate the goal.

But the ball missed its target, rolling out of play.

Leah, already subbed off as well, gave you a lazy smirk: “Calm down, y/n. She missed.”

“But it was so close.”, you pouted playfully and plopping back down on the bench.

Ella leaned over to you: “Is it true that Kei has never scored for England? Seems like a curse.”

You opened your mouth to reply but Leah beat you to it: “You know her. She rather passes the ball to someone before actually shooting herself.”

“Nothing wrong with that.”, you added with a shrug.

Leah raised an eyebrow: “Even I scored more than her.”

“Yes but she makes other players shine with her decisions and position play.”, you countered which caused your teammates around you to groan loudly.

Elle let out a frustrated sigh and waved you off: “Stop talking to her, Lee. She only sees the girlfriend.”

“You’re right. Also it’s disgustingly cute how she’s Keiras number one fan.”, Leah rolled her eyes jokingly.

“Girls!”, Alessie cut in, directing the attention back towards the football pitch in front of you.

“What?”, Leah asked but you were already on your feet again, raising your arms in triumph.

“Kei just scored!”, you yelled, grinning from ear to ear.

Leahs jaw dropped: “No way.”

You hugged the defender in excitement: “She did it, Lee!”

“Can’t believe it.”

On the field, Keira was immediately embraced by her teammates, everyone immeasurably thrilled for her.

“Eight years in the making, I just googled it.”, Ella commented, holding up her phone and pointing to the screen.

Leah nodded: “Almost.”

You sank back into your seat with a contented sigh: “What a night.”

“She wanted to get that off her to-do list before turning 28.” Teasingly, the Lioness captain wiggled her eyebrows.

A cheeky whistle escaped Ella’s lips: “28? You girls are getting old, wait, is that a grey hair, Lee?”

“What? You’re only two years younger!”, Leah protested, her lips forming a pout.

With a playful glance at the Manchester United player, you quipped: “Not the brightest candle on the cake.”

“She still thinks she’s a youngster,” the Arsenal defender said, shaking her head in disbelief.

Alessia quickly turned everyone’s attention back to the pitch as the game came to an end: “Let’s join the others to celebrate the win!”

Excited, Aggie wrapped her arms around you for a quick hug as soon as your feet hit the grass: “Did you see her goal?! I told her to shoot more!”

“We did,” you replied, pausing before adding, “and well done yourself, Aggie.”

“Thanks,” she beamed at you, her eyes sparkling. The younger player had scored her first goal tonight too. There was definitely something in the air in Bristol tonight, something that made both the young and experienced player’s shine.

“You had a fantastic game.”, your words trailed off as your gaze found your girlfriend across the pitch. Your cheeks flushed, and you looked back at Aggie: “If you’ll excuse me for a second.”

"Sure, I’ll leave you lovebirds alone now.", the blonde smirked knowingly, clearly amused.

Still catching her breath, Keira greeted you with a smile that could light up the entire town: “Hi.”

“Hey,” you grinned at her, lifting her up effortlessly.

She let out a slightly embarrassed laugh, her hands running through her ponytail: “No, don’t.”

“Sorry, it had to be done,” you chuckled, slowly lowering her back to the ground.

Keira buried her face in the crook of your neck, mumbling: “You’re worse than Lee. She already squished me to death.”

“I’m not,” you disagreed. “She said you wanted to tick off the goal for England from your list of things to do before you turn 28.”

Keira groaned at the mention of a list she’d never even made. “That’s not true.” More seriously, the midfielder added, “It just felt right tonight.”

It seemed like the stars had aligned perfectly for this moment, under the lights, in front of home fans, with her family in the stands, and with you by her side. Everything about tonight felt destined to happen.

"Still proud of you, even if I know you don’t want to hear it," you said, your hands gently cupping her cheeks.

She smiled sheepishly: "You’re right, I don’t. But thank you anyway."

“You’re welcome.”, you replied, thrilled.  

Keira softly smiled at you, a hint of red creeping into her cheeks: ”I’m glad that I got to share it with you.”

“Me too. It was definitely a special night.”, you agreed sincerely and pressed a quick kiss to her cheek.

“It really was.”, she murmured, biting her lip.

Reluctantly you let go of her, smiling cheekily: “Come on, the people want to hear from you, goal scorer.”

“Oh no.”, Keira sighed when she spotted the journalists waiting impatiently for her, microphones in hand.

You chuckled quietly: “I know you can do this.”

“Sure.”, she said distractedly as she interlaced her fingers with yours and started to drag you along towards the press.

Once you realised what she was doing, you firmly planted your feet into the ground and stopped: “Excuse me? They don’t want to hear from me tonight.”

Keira nodded innocently: “Oh, they definitely do.”

“Liar.”

“I’m not!”

Still, you followed her, fingers brushing as you walked side by side. Just before parting ways to go to your respective interviews, you winked at her: “See you afterwards.”

“See you.”

In contrast to your girlfriend, you didn’t mind interviews at all. In fact, after nights like these you loved talking about the team’s performance and of course, you couldn’t stop yourself from praising the goalscorers.

While you were still mid-interview, Keira was already done, keeping things short and concise. She stood waiting on the edge of the pitch when Lucy walked over, a Belgium shirt slung over her shoulder.

“Done with media duties and waiting for your girlfriend, Kei?”, Lucy teased with a grin.

Keira nodded towards where you were standing behind a glass panel: “Yes. Apparently she can’t stop talking.”

“Typical for her.”, Lucy laughed.

“Takes forever.”

“There she comes.”

“Finally.”

You reached the, with a grin and wrapped your arm around Keira: “Time to go.”

“Please.”, Keira said with a pleading smile.

Together, you disappeared back into the dressing rooms, getting ready to go back to your team hotel. Just as you left the stadium to walk to the bus, your arm looped through Keiras, you pointed up towards the night sky.

“Don’t the stars look closer tonight?”

Keira followed your gaze, eyes squinting and nose scrunching: “Do they?”

“Yes, look.”, you nodded, insistent.

“I think you’re imagining that.”, the midfielder smirked.

“Hey, I don’t, okay?”

“Okay, whatever you say.”

You stopped and turned towards her: “Thank you.”

And so you stood there, under a sky full of stars, and kissed her once more, still basking in the glow of a night neither of you would forget.

As always, your comments, likes, and reblogs are greatly appreciated. <3

[starsinthesky5]

Okay people always talk about private time *wink wink* after Joe wins a game, but what about after a concert?? Like she’s high on adrenaline from performing, he’s high off of watching her do her thing on stage for hours. You know they’d be feral. In her dressing room after, in the car on the way home/to the hotel, in the shower that she desperately needs after performing. I’m unwell.

description: ask sums it up! the post concert/preformance adrenaline rush has you both all over each other ;)

a/n: this is the hottest thing i have ever written. i need water.

word count: 2.7k

series: you are in love

warnings: smut!!!, language, MDNI

───────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───────

oh YES. im so unwell too, it's okay.

for this, we’re going to have a little snapshot into the future since the fics aren’t at this point yet ;)

--

oh, you just know they're absolutely feral after a concert. the second she steps off that stage, still breathless, still riding the high of the crowd screaming her lyrics back to her, seeing all their smiles and excitement, joe is already waiting backstage. and god, the look in his eyes? it is sooo over for her. he's been in the tent, watching her for hours, completely mesmerized, taking in every move, every lyric, every sly little smirk she tossed his way from the stage. he's either a little drunk and delirious or a bit groggy after all the dancing and shouting, but that doesn't stop him from getting his girl.

--

and yes, he danced along with her from the tent, even matched her choreography in some portions which he memorized from a few of the rehearsals he sat in on. he even interacted with her fans who noticed him, he had the biggest smile on his face too. he'd never been one to talk to strangers outside of when he had to due to his anxiety and closed-off personality, but for her? for her he'd do anything.

even though she was far away, locked up backstage as he was waiting outside in the crowd, he still somehow felt at ease as if she was right next to him. you know why? because he was physically in her world right now. her touch, her presence lingered in everything from the light-up bracelets on everyone's wrists, to the stage in front of him, to the feeling of mystique in the air. he was in the bubble she had so carefully crafted with her bare hands over the past few years, so he had no reason to be nervous, anxious, or quiet. he was happily out there in the crowd, chatting up a storm with her guests, team, fans, friends, family, and anyone who wanted to hear him sing her praises. he was surrounded by people who loved her almost as much as he loved her. joe really had nothing to complain about. this was a physical representation of her hard work, a testament to the countless hours in the studio he had witnessed, a reward for all those nights when he laid next to her and wiped the tears from her cheek.

this was her legacy.

oh, and how could we forget him singing along to every song on the setlist like it was all engraved into his brain (lowkey, with how often he listens to her music, it was).

moral of the story, yes. joe is that boyfriend. he is her biggest fan.

anyway, back to the point.

--

she barely has time to catch her breath before his hands are on her, fingers pressing into her waist, pulling her into him. "you have no idea what you do to me up there," he mutters, his voice raspy, his breath warm against her ear, sending a shiver down her spine. she smirks, tilting her chin up at him, her own pulse racing. "oh, i think i do, quarterback," she said with a smirk, matching his confidence with some of her own.

they barely make it to the dressing room before he’s pressing her up against the door, hands gripping her hips, mouth trailing along the side of her neck. she’s still in her stage outfit, sparkly, barely-there, and it’s driving him insane. her chest is rising and falling rapidly, breathless from more than just performing, as she tugs him impossibly closer.

his hands roam lower, gripping her soft thighs, pressing her even harder against the door like he wanted to glue her to it. his mouth is everywhere--her jaw, the corner of her ear, her throat, the delicate curve of her collarbone--teeth scraping just enough to make her gasp. he loves that sound. loves the way her fingers fist the fabric of his shirt, desperate, like she needs him as badly as he needs her.

"god, you’re so fucking sexy up there," he groans against her skin, dragging his teeth over the shell of her ear again before dipping lower. his hands slide down, down, fingers teasing at the hem of her tiny outfit, tracing over the soft skin of her thighs once again.

"joe," she breathes, already dizzy, already melting. but he just hums, slipping a hand between her legs, pressing his fingers right where he knows she needs him most. she lets out a sharp gasp, her head falling back against the door with a soft thud.

he smirks, eyes dark and hooded as he watches her, watches the way her lips part, the way her chest rises and falls.

she’s so fucking responsive. that adrenaline is doing her wonders.

"this for me?" he murmurs, dragging his fingers over her, feeling just how warm, how wet she is for him. her breath hitches, and she nods, biting down on her lip.

he clicks his tongue, shaking his head. "nah, i wanna hear you say it,".

she barely managed to get the words out before he slipped a finger through her bodysuit, then inside her, slow and teasing, watching the way she fell apart for him. she gripped his shoulders, nails digging into him, legs trembling as he curled his finger just right.

"joey...fuck...,".

he groans at the sound of his name like that, adding another finger, pumping them in and out at a torturously slow pace. his thumb circles her clit, pressing just enough to make her hips jerk. she’s clenching around his fingers, making these soft, breathy little whimpers that are driving him insane. he presses his lips against her ear, his voice all rough and full of need. "you looked so good up there, baby. knew you’d be dripping for me the second you came off that stage,".

she lets out another choked moan at his words, her body arching into him, chasing the pressure of his hand. he groans, loving how fucking gone she is for him.

"you like knowing i was hard the whole time watching you?" his voice teasing her in so many ways that she was losing count. "thinking about how i was gonna have you the second i got you alone?".

she whimpers, her nails digging into his arms. "joe...,".

"shh, i got you, baby," he rasps, curling his fingers again to touch that one spot inside her, thrusting them deep, and dragging his thumb over her clit in tight circles again. her breath catches, and she’s right there, so damn close, her thighs squeezing around his hand.

he presses his forehead against hers, watching her fall apart. "cum for me, baby," he murmurs, and that’s all it takes--her whole body tenses, her mouth falling open in a silent moan as she comes undone around his fingers.

he keeps working her through it, fucking her with his hand until she’s whimpering, until her legs shake, until she’s gasping and clutching onto him like he’s the only thing keeping her up. he smirks, pulling his fingers from her, watching the way she shivers when he brings them to his lips, sucking them clean. "mm, sweet as always,".

she barely has time to catch her breath before he’s lifting her up, wrapping her legs around his waist. "we’re not done," he mutters, carrying her to the vanity table. "not even close,".

but unfortunately, they were when a knock at the door interrupted them.

so achingly close to a little more...

but it was always about timing ;)

--

and then there’s the car ride. 

oh goddddd, the car ride. she’s still coming down from the high of performing...and the high from the dressing room, legs draped over his lap in the backseat as they went back to her hotel. joe is just looking at her--like she’s the most intoxicating thing he’s ever seen. his hand traces slow, lazy circles on her thigh, his grip tightening every time she shifts closer. he leans in, murmuring something about how incredible she was tonight (singing her praises as usual. he's so obsessed with her like joe, hello? just marry her already damn), how he couldn’t take his eyes off her, how she belongs up there. and maybe it’s the compliments, maybe it’s the way his voice sounds so raw with admiration, but suddenly she’s tugging him in by the collar of his shirt, kissing him like she needs to.

he groans into her mouth, his hand sliding up her thigh, fingertips slipping just under the hem of her sweats. she’s all over him, fingers tangling in his hair, pressing her body against his like she’s trying to crawl into his lap completely.

"baby," he mumbles between kisses, his voice all strained and breathless, "we gotta—fuck—driver’s right there,".

she doesn’t care. can’t care. not when he’s looking at her like that, not when she can still feel the way his hands had been on her just minutes ago in her dressing room.

she presses a kiss to his jaw, then lower, lips brushing over the sweet spot on his neck, feeling the way he swallows hard beneath her mouth. "then be quiet," she whispers, a smirk tugging at her lips.

he shakes his head with an amused chuckle, "you are insane," he whispers back.

but he’s already pulling her closer, his hand sliding higher, his grip firm as his lips find hers again, deeper this time. slower. like he’s savoring her, like he’s reminding her—he’s not done with her yet.

--

then comes the shower back at the hotel.

that’s the thing about the shower—it’s necessary, but neither of them is pretending like it’s going to be just that.

her body is still buzzing with adrenaline, muscles aching in the best way from performing, and she knows she needs to wash off the sweat, the lingering heat of the stage lights, but the second she steps under the warm stream, he’s there.

joe is behind her in an instant, his bare chest pressing against her damp skin, arms wrapping around her waist, pulling her against him. the heat of the water is nothing compared to the heat of him, solid and burning, his body molding against hers like he belongs there.

he presses a slow, open-mouthed kiss to the back of her neck, "you’re unbelievable," he murmurs. his hands are already moving, trailing up her sides, palms rough against her soft skin, completely unable to keep themselves to himself.

she hums in response, letting her head fall back against his shoulder, sighing when his lips find the curve of her jaw. she tilts her head just enough to catch his lips with hers, but he barely lets her take control before he’s deepening the kiss, one hand sliding up to cup her breast, thumb rolling over her nipple. she gasps against his mouth, and he takes advantage of it, slipping his tongue against hers, swallowing every little sound she makes.

his other hand is moving lower now, fingers dragging down the slick expanse of her stomach, teasing the space between her thighs. "you’re still shaking," he mutters, smirking against her lips as his fingers brush over where she’s already aching for him, where he just was not too long ago. "performance high? or is this me again?".

she whimpers, hips rocking forward into his touch, but it’s not enough--he’s teasing her, fingers barely grazing, making her crave it, making her need it.

"joe...," she breathes, a little desperate, a little impatient, nails digging into his arms.

he hums, mouth dragging along the curve of her shoulder, one hand sliding lower, gripping the curve of her hip, pressing himself against her. "been waiting all night for this, baby," he rasps, his cock hard against the small of her back, twitching when she rolls her hips against him.

she turns in his arms, pressing her body against his, her hands sliding up his chest, her fingers tangling in his damp hair. his lips crash into hers, all a messy mix of tongue and teeth, desperate and hungry. the kiss is sloppy, wet, the steam curling around them as the water hits down against their tangled bodies.

"need you," she whispers, dragging her nails down his back, pulling him closer. "need you so bad, joey,".

his hands grip her thighs, lifting her like she weighs nothing, pressing her against the wall as the hot water continues to beat down on both of them. his cock is thick, hard, already pushing at her entrance, teasing her with shallow movements that make her squirm.

"so needy," he smirks, but there’s a softness to his tone, teasing her but filled with love. his lips brush over her cheek, then her temple, a contrast to the way he’s holding her captive against the tile. "you couldn't even wait till we got to the bed, huh?".

"joey....fuck, please. i can't," she pleads, the combination of the burning shower, the burning feeling in her stomach, and the sizzle of her skin under his gaze was all too much for her.

he grins, shaking his head because he just knows her too well, and then he slams into her in one deep thrust.

she cries out, head falling back, nails digging into his shoulders and leaving crescent moon marks. he groans from the feeling of how tight and wet she is around him, clenching like she was made for him. but even as he starts to move, rolling his hips in deep, punishing thrusts, his hands stay gentle on her--one gripping her thigh, the other splayed across her lower back, holding her close, keeping her steady.

"fuck, baby," he grits out, grinding his hips just right, making her feel every inch. "you were made for me,". his mouth finds hers, kissing her between gasps, swallowing the moans that slip past her lips. his movements are rough, desperate, but his kisses are soft, sweet, like he can’t help but adore her even while he’s wrecking her.

"you think i could sit there and watch you all night, looking so fucking hot on that stage, and not end up buried inside you the second we got alone?".

she whimpers, "ah, joe. p- please," as her her fingers tangle in his damp curls, pulling his mouth back to her. he moans into her mouth, his thrusts deep but unhurried now, savoring the way she feels around him.

"yeah?" he teases, voice thick, strained. "you like that? like how i fuck you after you get off stage all worked up, knowing i was watching, knowing i was losing my mind wanting you?".

she nods frantically, but it’s not enough. he needs words.

"say it," he breathes against her lips, slowing his pace, rolling his hips into hers with devastating accuracy--hitting every spot he knew she loved.

"love it," she gasps, nearly sobbing. "love when you fuck me like this--fuck, joe--,".

he groans, pressing his forehead against hers, his lips brushing over her cheek, her nose, anywhere he can reach.

"you gonna cum for me, baby?" he murmurs, feeling her walls flutter around him. "you gonna make a fucking mess all over me?".

"yes..yes, fuck--,".

he shifts his angle, tilting her hips, and that’s it--her whole body seizes, her walls clenching down hard, her moan high-pitched and desperate as she shatters, shaking in his arms.

"that’s it, baby," he groans, barely holding on, "so fucking perfect when you let go for me,".

her orgasm sends him over the edge--he thrusts once, twice, then buries himself deep, groaning as he spills inside her, filling her up, rocking his hips as he rides it out. he doesn’t pull out right away--just stays there, chest heaving, arms tight around her, pressing soft kisses to her jaw, her cheeks, her lips.

"mine," he breathes, forehead resting against hers. "always mine,".

he’s still inside her, but his grip turns tender, his touch light as he runs his hands over her slick skin, tracing every curve like he’s committing her to memory all over again.

"you okay, baby?" he murmurs, kissing her forehead, her nose, her swollen lips.

she nods, sighing contentedly as she melts against him. "yeah," she whispers, voice a little hoarse from well...everything. "i just love you so much,".

he smiles, tilting her chin up to kiss her again. "i love you more," he breathes against her lips. "always,".

--

when they finally make it to bed--bodies exhausted, skin flushed, sheets a tangled mess -- joe just holds her, pressing soft, lazy kisses to her temple, the same hands that had been gripping her with desperate need now were tracing light, soothing patterns along her spine. “i love watching you up there. you’re magic,” he murmurs, his tone just as soft as his touch. she smiles against his chest, completely at peace, completely his.

[nicolewritesthings]

Don't press your luck

Steve Harrington x Hopper!Reader

Summary: After the team wins their basketball game, Hopper!reader and Steve go to a party just as friends. But do you leave that way?

Warnings: a little bit of steamy time

Note: it's been a minute, and then I thought I got locked out of this account but I found my password!! This can be read alone, but also is an installment for my hopper x harrington series because I love that idea so much.

Read another part of that series here: What would Madonna do?

Enjoy :)

Spring 1985

Hawkins High School's gym is filled to the brim during a much anticipated match up this basketball season. The crowd cheers on their Tigers as the clock dwindles down to under a minute left of the fourth quarter.

Steve is having a particularly good game, leading the team in points. Boy, did he need the win. After everything that happened a few months ago with Nancy and another brush with death, he really needed some good energy. Dare he think, to get back a bit of the King Steve glory again.

He weaves down the court, faking out a player, and SWISH. Another basket. The crowd ROARS. Steve looks up at the scoreboard: 35 seconds, they're up by 4. Let's keep it that way.

From the crowd, little miss Hopper watches intently. Quite literally on the edge of her seat. She doesn't normally go to basketball games. Maybe she went to a couple with Nancy her freshman year, but basketball really wasn't her preferred sport. So, when she and Nancy naturally drifted apart and made new friends, she had no one forcing her to these games. That is, until now.

Her newly formed friendship with Steve started last Halloween when she was stuck babysitting a bunch of kids, fighting monsters, and getting beaten up by Hargrove. Trauma really bonds the least likely of friends.

Now the two really couldn't get enough of each other. And that is meant in the most platonic way possible. Well, sort of. The two are both major flirts, so it's not her fault when the banter crosses that line and there's a little too friendly of touching. It would also explain why she was at a basketball game for the first time in two years. Yeah, to support her new friend. But, she can't lie to herself, she really wanted to see him sweaty and aggressive and thankfully - winning.

So, Miss Hopper watched as Steve ran down the court again, bidding his teammate for the ball. It's passed to him and she stands up along with the rest of the crowd. They all watch in anticipation as Steve shoots and - SWISH, sinks it into the basket.

The buzzer sounds and the crowd erupts. Hawkins won! Against their rivals no less! She CHEERS, high-fiving the students around her.

Her eyes are on Steve as he celebrates with his team. She smiles, damn he needed this.

Steve breaks apart from his teammates and looks up to the crowd, easily finding her already staring back at him. He gives her an arrogant shrug, making her roll her eyes so hard, but that smirk doesn't leave either one of their faces. He nods his head toward the locker room, silently communicating to her in the very loud, packed gym.

------------

Hopper waits outside the gym in the parking lot, where some other students are waiting for their friends and most likely - boyfriends. Some of the girls look over at her and eye her "GO STEVE" sign. She know how this looks, but making the sign gave her a really good laugh. With all its glitter and pep. She knew Steve would crack up too.

But here, now faced with presumably other girlfriends, she feels just a slight bit of insecurity. Then Marissa Adams is striding over to her, and Marissa's other friend, Ashley something, follows. Marissa nods over at the closed locker room doors.

"You're Steve's girl now?" Marissa asks casually.

Hopper shake her head, "just friends."

Marissa nods, her hands in her pockets, and shares a look with Ashley. She eyes the sign then looks back at Hopper and says, "no girl's just friends with Steve Harrington."

Marissa's a senior like Steve, and it's safe to assume there's some history there. Hopper thinks back, trying to recall any rumor about the two of them together but comes up short. He's been with a lot of girls, she knew that much. But, she'll have to ask Steve about her later.

"Well, there's a first for everything," she says, smiling.

Marissa smiles, taken back by her casual demeanor. She's cool, Hopper thinks, and not your typical townie. Her parents are rich, like work in the city and vacation in Europe rich.

"My boyfriend's throwing a party after this if you want to come," Marissa says cooly, "bring the MVP with you."

Hopper nods as Marissa and Ashley turn toward the opening doors. A blonde boy, Mark, envelopes Marissa into a hug. Hopper shifts her attention to a certain dark head of hair racing towards her.

Steve smiles, pointing at the sign, "that is the best fucking thing I've ever seen." He quickly pulls her into a hug. She wraps her arms around him, face nuzzled into his chest, taking in the fresh soap smell and clean clothes.

She pulls back and he takes the sign into his hands, continuing to gawk, "is that blue glitter? So cheesy."

"You love it," she smirk, walking in tandem toward his car.

Steve throws his things and the sign into the back. She eyes Marissa and turn back to Steve, "I got invited to Mark's party tonight."

He laughs at this as the two get into his car, "wait, who told you? I was just going to bring it up."

"Marissa Adams. She thinks we're dating," she flips through the radio.

Steve starts the car, "oh yeah? What made her say that."

She points to the sign and settles on some rock song.

He nods his head, "yeah that is a bit deceiving. You know, I had a thing with her back in the day."

"I gathered that," she eyes him, "she said you're not friends with girls."

"What the hell does that even mean," Steve scoffs, "you and I are friends."

She throws her hands up, "that's what I said! There's a first for everything."

Steve sneaks a glance over at her, taking in her features. Her cute nose, big eyes, perfect lips. He always does this, sneaking a look here and there when he thinks she's not paying attention. But he's oblivious to her knowing smirk and her own stolen glances.

He lets the song sit comfortably in the car, lost in his thoughts of her. Marissa is right, he wasn't close friends with girls. But, that was his former self, his previous persona. Now he had Hopper and her witty humor and their study sessions and their movie nights and late drives to pick up the kids. Not to mention they ate lunch together almost every day, save for basketball practice or her english club meetings.

They were friends. His first close girl friend who he hasn't ended up romantically, or physically, involved with in some capacity. Which is a miracle because god, have you seen her?

Her perfect hair and soft skin that he gets to feel sometimes when she's a little too close or they're a little too touchy. Oh, he's in for it come summer. She'll probably lifeguard again and come by his pool in a tiny bikini and-

"Steve!" she practically yells for his attention. His bicep burns at the touch of her hand enclosed around his arm.

He scoffs, "sorry, what?"

"Let's park at yours and walk. I'll call my dad and tell him I'm crashing at your place again," she shrugs, retracting her hand from his arm.

He breathes out, "good idea. We can sneak some of my dad's booze."

"Fuck yes," she practically moans. Steve sucks in a breath. She continues, "your dad has excellent taste in tequila."

-------

After a night of dancing and drinking and an abundance of school spirit, Steve and Little Miss Hopper make their way up the Harrington's driveway.

"Really? Rob Lowe over Han Solo?" Steve whispers as he unlocks the door. Their game of who'd you rather has gotten very heated.

She follows him inside, slipping off her shoes, "have you seen him in the Outsiders?!"

Steve shushes her, "but does he fight intergalactic space battles?"

“Now you’re suddenly a star wars fan?” she asks in disbelief, “you fell asleep last time we watched.”

“Whatever, I still think he’s a cool dude,” he shrugs.

They head upstairs and into his bedroom. Steve flicks the light on and she immediately beelines for the bed, plopping down onto it.

"But Rob Lowe's eyes are to die for," she doubles down.

Steve fumbles around his drawers, pulling out extra clothes for her to sleep in. He sets them on the bed and sits down beside her. She sits up on her elbows.

Steve shakes his head, "they have the same eyes, don't they?"

She shrugs, "I prefer brunettes anyways."

"You do?" he smirks.

She rolls her eyes and smacks his arm, "get your mind out of the gutter, Harrington."

"Oh, I could go way deeper into the gutter if I wanted to, Hopper," he laughs, looking down at her.

She sits up now, giggling, "deeper, yeah?"

Now he rolls his eyes, and can't help but join her in laughing at their mutually childish sense of humor.

See, friends can laugh like this together, he thinks. He also thinks about how she's staying the night. In the guest room, of course, but still. They can go to the diner tomorrow for breakfast, sit in their favorite booth, and order their usuals. He'll feign disgust at her purely black coffee and she'll pick at his pancakes even when she insists on never getting the sweet option.

"I'm still surprised your dad let's you stay the night here," Steve ponders this every time it happens, "isn't one of his rules, 'no boys overnight.'"

She shrugs off her jacket, "I guess he doesn't see you as a threat. And actually his rule is don't get pregnant, but they go hand in hand."

Is that disappointment she catches in Steve's eyes? Is he seriously offended that her dad, the big scary Sheriff, believes they're just friends too. I mean, hell, he's grown fond of Steve over the past few months with how much he's been there for both of his girls. Also, the Sheriff knows his daughter and he knows when she's hiding something. She's not hiding Steve.

"Don't look all sad, Steve," she moves on the bed to face him, "it's a good thing you're flying under his radar."

"Yeah, but it's like your dad doesn't think I have a shot with you," he slips out, wincing as soon as the words leave his mouth.

Hopper's eyes glimmer. A mischievous look on her face as she debates her next move. She could do nothing and look past this falter in Steve's usual smooth confidence. Or, she could give in a little and entertain this whole conversation.

So, with the help of the few drinks in her system, Hopper eyes Steve, taking in all his glorious features. His long eyelashes and great hair. What would it feel like to run your fingers through it? To tug a little?

She smirks, "do you think you have a shot with me?"

Steve looks up, taken aback by her question. He nearly melts as her big eyes stare up at him. Fuck, what is she doing? Is she doing what he thinks she's doing?

Wait, Steve knows what this is. He's done this a bunch of times with girls. He's egged them on, gotten them to be the ones to make the first move. He's never the first one to lay all his cards out there on the table. He's definitely never felt shy about being attracted to someone before and yet, here he is with the most beautiful girl he's met, in his bedroom about to change into his clothes, batting her eyelashes at him like it's some game.

No way is he going to lose at his own fucking game.

So he does what he does best and reverts back to King Steve. Just this once is fine, he thinks.

He stands up and walks over to his dresser. With his back faced to her, he shrugs, "you tell me."

Hopper sits back, shaking her head in disbelief. She thought she had him for a second there, but now he's acting all aloof and-

She looks up to find him tugging his shirt off his body, leaving the perfect view of his bare back. Oh you got to be kidding me. Now he's playing with her.

The tension in the room is palpable as Steve turns around and leans against his dresser. He doesn't break eye contact as he slips on a loose white t-shirt to sleep in. She stares back, not looking down as he covers his bare chest.

What she says next will change the trajectory of their friendship, she thinks. So she debates her next move, thinking back to how well they know each other now and how if they move into this physical territory, they risk their friendship. Is it worth it?

But the pounding in her heart is distracting and she can't help but focus on the feeling of desire in the pit of her stomach and the way her skin buzzes by the mere thought of him touching her. This isn't the first time she's felt this way with Steve.

She thinks back to the first time she felt this spark with him. When they were walking down those train tracks with Dustin slightly ahead of them. How Steve grabbed her wrist to stop her from tripping over a broken track. The electricity shot through her in an instant. Something she's never felt before.

Then the memory of desire floods her system. When she and Steve sat on his couch watching Nightmare on Elm Street and he pulled her into his chest because he was anxious and spooked. She felt his warmth and could smell his fresh linen scent. God, she could have taken him then and there if she really acted on how she felt.

But now she's in his bed, on the precipice of changing their friendship forever and instead of making the logical decision, she lets the need for his touch consume her.

His statement echoes in her mind - 'you tell me.'

"Yeah, you do," she states cooly, eyes still locked with his.

Steve breaks momentarily, sucking in a breath. He did not expect that answer, but fuck it. He can't help but eye her pouting lips and big eyes looking back at him. Don't do it, don't do it, don't-

and then she looks down at his lips, briefly, but he still catches it and now all he sees is red.

Steve strides across the room and lunges down to her level, cupping her face in his hands. He crashes his lips to hers and oh wow, is it better than he's ever imagined.

She grips his wrists, pulling him into her as he stumbles onto the bed. Her skin buzzes as they kiss, she needs him to touch her - anywhere.

He sits beside her and puts a hand on her waist. She leans towards him, sitting up on her knees and lowering onto his lap. She deepens the kiss as Steve's hands wander over her body.

The pit in her stomach grows more and more as she pushes further into him, grinding onto his lap. He groans and grabs the side of her head and neck, gripping her to look back at him. They eye each other, waiting for the other to break.

Steve bites his lip, "don't do that."

"You sure?" she smirks, going to lean in. He grips her head gently, making her look at him still.

With hooded eyes, he drawls out, "don't start something you can't finish."

Oof.

King Steve strikes again.

It's subtle. This implication that she's going to put out, and that brings her right back to any other hook up with any other guy. Maybe he didn't mean it like that, but it rubs her the wrong way. It sobers her up completely.

She stares back at him and Steve feels the mood shift.

"Don't push your luck, Harrington," she scoffs, nudging his hands off of her and rising from his lap.

Oh god, he fucked up, didn't he?

He goes to stand and go after her, but his hard-on decides otherwise. Steve stays glued on the bed as she grabs her clothes and retreats to the door.

"Wait, I'm so confused right now," Steve says quickly.

Hopper pauses, turning to him, "I'm tired, okay? Let's just talk about this tomorrow."

Before he can respond, she's already shutting the door and crossing the hall to the guest room, leaving Steve very confused and still very turned on by his best friend.

[meracyn]

ꜱᴏᴜʀ, ᴋᴡᴏɴ ᴊᴀᴇ-ꜱᴜɴɢ

summary. kwon's words still ring in your ears, causing you distractions during your matches. you end up forgetting, though, when he asks you a question you certainly didn't expect.

notes. part 2 is here! click this to go back to pt. 1, click here for pt. 3

warnings. none?

The next round of the tournament arrived, every new challenge bringing the semifinals closer. Looking over at the board with all the points tracked for each dojo, guilt formed in your chest at the sight of Miyagi-Do being placed as one of the lowest. Your team was struggling, barely making it through the competition. You had to focus– for everyone's sake, but with Kwon around, you knew he wouldn't make it easy for you.

As the announcer called out your dojo being against Spain's team, your Sensei went over to you, a stern look on his face– it was Johnny. "Look, you know we're close to losing this thing," You gave a nod, though hearing those words felt like a slap. Noticing your anxious expression, he continued, "I want you to show me that you can win. Think you can do that?"

Mustering all the courage you had, you nodded again. "Yes, Sensei."

"Good. You're up first, be ready."

You stepped onto the ring, feeling the rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins. Across from you stood Maria Alvarez, the female captain of Spain's team. Getting into position, you took a deep breath, determined to earn a win. At the signal, you immediately went in, closing the distance between you both, doing a quick jab on her stomach, followed by an uppercut.

Maria staggered back, but quickly recovered, jaw clenched as she adjusted her stance before going towards you again. You swiftly moved around, blocking and attacking with precision at any chance. Just as you were going to strike a punch, your gaze looked over at the crowd– and amongst everyone, your eyes met with Kwon's, who was already looking at you with an unwavering gaze.

Before you had the chance to refocus, Maria took your momentary distraction as an advantage, throwing a right hook to your side. Being off balance, you struggled to block and dodge. As the captain landed a spinning back kick to your midsection, you stumbled, losing balance as your back hit onto the mat, making the bell ring—and signaling her victory.

── ⋆ ──

You slammed your fist against the wall, shaking in anger as you ignored the stinging feeling. Your team ended up losing again, resulting in now being on the verge of elimination. First, it was Robby who wasn't focused. Now it was you, too? You blamed yourself for getting distracted easily.

Hearing the door click, you turned around to see Kwon standing there, a slight smirk on his face. He walked towards you, hands in his jackets’ pockets. "Seems like your dojo didn't do well today." He remarked.

"What do you want, Kwon? You got what you wanted already." You scoffed, not letting yourself be intimidated by his antics. Seeing him was the last thing you wanted right now.

"Oh yeah? What did I get, hm?"

"Don't play dumb with me. You know what I'm talking about."

"Ah," Kwon chuckled, realizing that you were referring to the distraction he caused you during your match. He leaned in, his face mere inches away from yours. "But you know— that was your fault, love. Not mine."

"Is it really?" There was a brief moment of silence, just as you turned to leave, he spoke again, this time his voice was softer. "Do you think it's worth staying in Miyagi-Do?" His question caught you off guard, making you go quiet. Without waiting for a response, he left the room.

You definitely didn't expect to be asked that from him. Though it made you end up questioning your choices that night.

[dunmomee]

Let's Test Your Chemistry

Summary: You and Satoru go head-to-head in a How Well Do You Know Each Other? game, only to realize he’s been paying a lot more attention to you than you thought.

a/n: I’m really enjoying milking this AU. Honestly, it’s my favorite way to destress. Everything I write here is just stuff I’ve already daydreamed about, hehe… Have fun reading! And remember, I’m writing these one-shots in no particular order!

<<Previous one-shot ❤ Masterlist ❤ Next one-shot>>

********************************************************************

The set was all clean lines and soft glow, sleek white walls with gentle lavender lights cast behind sheer panels, cozy but elegant. Two modern armchairs faced the camera. You were seated on the left, Gojo on the right, a shared glass coffee table between you, with matching water glasses set neatly on top.

You wore a striking brown plaid blazer-dress that swept elegantly over your frame, paired with sheer black leggings and playful pink platform heels that added height and flair. Your hair was styled in cascading waves, soft yet polished, tumbling over your shoulders like they'd been set that way by a romantic breeze.

Due to the tight arrangement of your seats, your crossed legs ended up nestled between Gojo’s long ones, an accidental intimacy neither of you addressed, though both were acutely aware of it.

Offscreen, the segment producer’s voice rang out—clear and chipper. “We’re on in 3, 2…”

You both sat up a little straighter.

“She’s Y/N L/N.”

“And he’s the Gojo Satoru.”

In sync, you both said: “And this is Gravity’s ‘How Well Do You Know Each Other?’”

Gojo adjusted the sleeves of his oatmeal sweater with exaggerated flair. “Prepare to be humbled,” he said, flashing you a grin.

You narrowed your eyes, swirling your marker like a sword. “Satoru, you forgot your own character’s alias on day three.”

He leaned in, playful. “But I never forgot your coffee order.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Y/N goes first,” the producer said. “Ready?”

You nodded, uncapping your marker.

“So, first question,” the producer said from offscreen. “What’s Satoru’s favorite midnight snack?”

You immediately start scribbling quickly on your board with a satisfied smirk. Gojo, meanwhile, tapped the marker against his chin, eyes darting as if genuinely thinking it through, though you had a feeling he was just being dramatic.

“Ready?” you asked sweetly.

He gave a shrug and a wink. “Born ready.”

You both flipped your boards.

Yours read: Strawberry shortcake with that obnoxious whipped cream.

Gojo’s read: Strawberry shortcake (only from Shimokitazawa café).

He pointed at your board with a cocky grin. “The specificity wins.”

You groaned, throwing your head back. “Why are you like this?”

The producer laughed. “You both get a point.”

Gojo leaned over just slightly. “Admit it, you love that I’m predictable.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re lucky I knew it wasn’t those tragic instant noodles you pretend to hate.”

“It’s Gojo’s turn. What was Y/N’s favorite film growing up?”

He didn’t even blink before scribbling down his answer. You hesitated.

You: Mulan

Gojo: Mulan (1998)

You turned to him, eyebrows raised. “Wait… you actually got that right? Even down to the year?”

He smirked. “You mentioned it. Day five. Right before your second espresso. You expressly said you hated the live-action. And I quote— ‘Why’d Disney have to destroy such an amazing legacy? And what happened to Mushu and Cricket?’”

He pitched his voice high in a dramatic imitation.

You narrowed your eyes. “I absolutely do not sound like that, Satoru. And I remember you agreed with me.”

He leaned back, wearing that smug grin of his. “What can I say? You’re always right.”

The producer laughed before moving on to the next question. “Y/N, who was Gojo’s childhood celebrity crush?”

You bit your lip, thinking hard. Gojo already looked smug.

You: J.Lo

Gojo: Waka Inoue

You gasped. “That’s a lie! Suguru always said it was J.Lo—you used to gyrate to her music!”

He scoffed. “Definitely not. I have taste.”

“That’s three points for Gojo, Y/N,” the producer announced.

You pouted, lips curling into a dramatic moue. Gojo nudged your leg, subtle enough for the cameras to miss, his knee brushing lightly against your thigh in a slow, deliberate drag.

“Next question for Gojo: what are three things Y/N never leaves the house without?”

Gojo didn’t even pause. “Four things, actually,” he said as he scribbled.

You raised a brow. “We said three.”

“I’m an overachiever.”

You both flipped your boards.

You: Phone, gloss, notebook

Gojo: Phone, pink lip gloss, journal, good luck charm ring

You blinked. “You stalker! I’ve only ever had good luck with that ring. It’s a Japanese talisman!”

“Suguru and I got it at Target,” he said, grinning. “I know he’s going to murder me for this, but your cousin is a fraud.”

Your mouth dropped open, stunned for a second—then you swung your board at him. “You and Suguru are so dead!”

He caught your arm easily, smirking. “It’d be an honor if your face was the last thing I saw.”

He held your gaze and your arm, a beat too long before letting go.

You could hear the chuckling of the crew, then you adjusted yourself but then realized Gojo had trapped your legs in between his.

The producer chimed in: “Y/N, which scene gave Gojo the most trouble on set?”

You hesitated, thinking. Gojo, for once, took his time too.

You: The helicopter scene

Gojo: The upside-down kiss. I couldn’t stop laughing.

You turned to him, blinking. “You laughed during a kiss scene?”

“I did. Your expressions were killing me, especially when you kept fighting the nose mask.”

You groaned. “I just kept thinking of Kirsten Dunst in Spider-Man! I didn’t know I was making faces.”

“You were. Like you were going to sneeze and cry at the same time.”

“Rude!”

He shrugged, grinning. “Iconic, though. I still think we nailed the take.”

“Okay, last question,” the producer announced. “What’s Y/N’s most-used word on set?”

Gojo scribbled without even glancing down.

“Confident much?” you asked.

“I am. I know everything about you.”

“Asshole,” you muttered under your breath.

You both flipped your boards.

You: Badass

Gojo: Badass

The producer laughed. “Was that too easy?”

“She says it at least seven times a day,” Gojo said. “Different tones, different meanings.”

“Oh yeah?” the producer grinned. “Like what?”

Gojo held up his fingers theatrically. “There’s: ‘The coffee from downtown is badass.’ ‘Nobara from makeup is so badass.’ And my personal favorite—”

He shot you a sideways glance, smirk widening.

“‘Gojo, stop being such a badass tease.’”

Your eyes widened. “I have never said that!”

“Not in those exact words,” he said, flashing a wink.

You kicked his shin under the table. “Deserved.”

The producer’s voice loomed, “And that’s a wrap! Gojo wins with six points to Y/N’s four!”

Applause and laughter ripple through the set. You shoot him a playful glare, and he just grins, undisputed smugness in full effect.

A few minutes later, you both step offstage, flanked by your assistants. The evening air is cool, tinted with the buzz of post-interview adrenaline. As you approach your car, Gojo lingers beside you.

“You were kind of amazing up there,” he says, voice lower now, gentler. “And you look…” He trails off, eyes sweeping over you before finishing, “...breathtaking.”

Before you can answer, he reaches out and tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear, fingers brushing just slightly too slow against your cheek. His smile softens, all ego gone for once. Then, with a nod to your assistant, he turns and disappears into the dark with his team.

Later that night, you’re curled up on your couch, hoodie on, tea in hand, phone dimmed low in burner-mode scroll. Just catching up on harmless chaos.

Then you see it.

A candid photo. Grainy, fan-snapped.

Gojo Satoru tucking Y/N’s hair behind her ear outside the studio.

It's already viral.

Beneath it, fans are in full meltdown:

@dailygojofeed: “THE WAY HE LOOKS AT HER. POSTURE. BODY LANGUAGE. I CAN’T BREATHE.” @stephaniecho: “that hand-to-hair moment? it’s giving ‘in love for YEARS but never said it’” @ally/n: “you cannot convince me they’re not method acting into a real-life slow burn” @chefmartha: “her smile is so small but it’s THERE. I’m spiraling. @machalatte: "i can't wait to see the segment! @gravitystudios"

You stare at the screen, lips twitching into a helpless smile.

And you don’t even bother to log out.

Instead, you sit there, spoon stirring absently into your tea, wondering if the actual segment dropping would cause even more of an uproar.

Something told you… it absolutely would.

<<Previous one-shot | Next one-shot>>

[neeeooon]

heyyyy! Could i request a oneshot of karasu meeting ur guys’ future kid? Like that one series u did a while ago and put out a poll for the oneshots but karasu didnt win. So im formally requesting it now🙏

YES thank you for the reminder 🙏

three's my favorite number

karasu tabito x fem!reader. karasu and reader are divorced. oneshot takes place over several years. kid has a name for plot. fluff, cussing, continuation of karasu’s part in this post

“hey, kid.”

taichi slowly looked over his shoulder, chin grazing the strap of his blue lock backpack as he looked up to meet karasu’s eyes. his own sparkled as he gasped, “really?! you’re my dad?! for real?!”

you hated how your chest fluttered at your son’s excitement, and the guilt that hit you afterward was almost as intense. taichi told you all the time how badly he wanted his dad to come home, since the story you ran with was that his father was on the other side of the world doing great things that required all his time. it wasn’t exactly a lie, but it definitely wasn’t the truth.

before you could stop him, taichi spun out of your grasp and darted over to karasu. he threw his thin arms around the man’s legs and squeezed. “will you live with us, now?”

to your surprise, karasu’s smile didn’t melt at the question. he flashed a fatherly grin as he knelt down to match his son’s height, eyes sparkling. “not right now, buddy. but i do wanna see ya more.”

“i want that, too!” taichi flung his arms around karasu and wrapped his legs around his father’s waist when the man hugged him back and stood to his full height.

so much for talking to strangers, you mentally sighed as you rubbed your forehead. you weren’t ready for this yet. you planned to wait until taichi was older before introducing him to your ex-husband. now it was too late. he was already attached.

karasu read your expression easily, even after years apart, and his smile faded at the corners. he carefully set your son back down and ruffled his hair. “why don’t you run along now with yer ma. i’ll catchya another time, sound okay?”

taichi looked conflicted as he turned his head between you and karasu. then, he approached his father once more and held his pinkie up. “promise?”

karasu knelt down once more and wrapped his pinkie around his son’s before they pressed their thumbs together. “promise.”

☆ 🤙

you were surprised after opening your door at 7 in the morning to find your ex-husband there with coffee and doughnuts.

“tabi? what are you doing here?” you caught the nickname slip-up too late, and karasu smirked slyly at you.

“haven’t heard that one in a while, hun.”

you whacked him with the back of your hand but didn’t shove him out as he stepped into the house. “where’s the kid?” he asked after putting the goodies down, and you pointed at the ceiling to signal that he was upstairs.

karasu’s took a seat as you awkwardly shifted your weight between both feet. “listen…”

he shook his head. “we don’t need to talk about the past. i’m here now. i wanna be here.”

you swallowed thickly. you still didn’t know if you wanted him there. you had a good thing going with your son; a nice routine and a near-perfect schedule. karasu’s return tore a hole in all of that.

“i just—“

“dad’s here!” taichi screamed as he bolted down the stairs. karasu knelt in time to catch the boy when he flung himself at him and positioned taichi on his hip. “how’s it goin’, kid?”

you hated how soft your son’s smile made you. it took up his entire face as he rambled on and on about toys and school to karasu. to his dad. you shook your head.

"i brought some goodies," karasu said as he turned his body to show the treats off to taichi. your son threw his arms over his head and cheered. karasu glanced back at you with a grin. "yeah, yer mom never buys sweets for ya, hm?"

"ta—" you caught yourself and frowned. "karasu."

"she never does!" he put his lips to karasu's ear and cupped his hands around it. "and her rice is too squishy."

you felt scandalized, betrayed, as the boys giggled at your expense. flicking your hand at them, you spun on your heel and marched to the fridge. "fine. since clearly you both hate me, you can have him, karasu."

karasu's head fell back as he laughed, but taichi's eyes widened. "w-wait, i didn't mean it! love your rice! you make the best rice!" you kept your back to them, but could hear taichi shuffling around in your ex's grip. not a minute later, two little hands were tugging your pant legs. "mama, mama! please don't go away. can't we all stay together? three is my favorite number!"

"i thought your favorite number was six."

"nuh-uh! it's three!" he smacked a hand to his chest. "one!" then he pointed at karasu. "two!" and finally, taichi rubbed his face against your leg. "three!" damn this kid, you thought with a wobbly smile. you locked eyes with karasu, and something familiar sparked in them. your heart skipped a beat. damn him and his stupid, adorable face.

sighing heavily, you leaned down to pluck him up and hug him to your chest. "well, you know what? three's my favorite number, too."

☆ 🤙

you sat back against the couch, your five-year-old curled against your side, his feet on your husband's face. brushing your fingers through karasu's freshly washed hair, his head in your lap, you felt his lips against your swollen stomach and smiled.

with taichi's help, you'd been able to sit through a full conversation with your ex-husband, and he managed to worm his way back into your heart. of course, you were hesitant. you didn't want him to change his mind and leave, especially considering how quickly you'd run after a misunderstanding, but he proved himself time and time again that he was here to stay.

carefully, you tipped forward and pressed a kiss to your husband's temple. he shuffled, startling you slightly, and cracked an eye open.

"ya know," he whispered, and you furrowed your brows at him. "four is my favorite number."

[meimei-archives]

Wait cause I would love to see body party part 2 either there being sneaky behind closed doors when no one around or he wins a match and she’s has a surprise for him back in his hotel room

BODY PARTY PT2!:: rafe cameron

WARNING! :: professional!boxer!rafe, manager!reader, descriptions of; fighting, bleeding, and cleaning up injuries. (m&f!receiving )oral, fingering, choking,unprotected sex, slight strip tease, (munch!rafe)

SUMMARY!:: when Rafe gets offered a headliners match against the WBO champion, you decide to grace him with a surprise once your both back at his hotel room you managed to slip into it before bed.

A/N!:: wait I’m genuinely curious if I should make boxer!rafe into a mini series, like bringing him to meet your family for Christmas or something idk, but also, thank you for sending in this idea I love it and I’m sorry it took so long to answer!

You sort of had a reward system at this point. You and Rafe had been seeing each other for a few months now, he was now preparing for a fight that had been pretty hyped up in the press for a while now. They called it a dream match, two of the most talented brawlers within the lightweight division.

Rafe was on the rise for a past injury that set him back last year and now he’s back on the come up. He had taken his spot in the back of the line and had passed through opponent after opponent each fight, earning him his winning streak since his return. He buzzed with excitement taking on the baby face, the guy who was currently holding WBO title Rafe had held in the past and he was hungry for another run with it.

JJ Maybank was one of the hottest guys on the card, you had to consider yourself lucky to be in a main event with this guy. He was a sly dog, talked major shit, he could back it up with his hands, and that was another reason for Rafe to absolutely hate his guts, had it not been for the fact that JJ and Rafe grew up on the same little island of outer banks where they could never seem to mix well together.

You had talked to Rafe just before he was called to walk out to the ring, you find yourself sitting yet again front row this time you could see his family halfway down the row being blocked by Kelce and topper who sit nonchalantly next to your seat as the watch Rafe stand in his corner talking to his trainer and cut men as they retreat from the ring to the sidelines.

You don’t even spare a glance as JJ’s theme song hit for his walk out, the crowd having a mixed reaction, you keep your eyes glued to Rafe who almost like a magnet his eyes were pulled from the referee to you, a small smile finds his lips which earns one back from you. Mouthing the words ‘good luck’ and blowing an unnoticeable kiss to his which earns a grin from.

As the announcer talks about the premise of the match your eyes stick to Rafe’s figure, glistening under the bright lights almost giving your surroundings a sterile look as a small sheen of sweat prickles his skin. The stubble of his mustache growing in as well as the shaggy hair growing in after months with his buzz cut, you can’t help but eye him more as your eyes trail down his body.

The firmness of his chest, his sculpted abs that satisfied every itch in your brain perfectly, and the small happy trail that travels from his navel past his shorts that makes you bite your bottom lip thinking about what’s hidden past them. Sometimes you felt like a perv for how much space you have saved in the corner of your brain with thoughts of Rafe.

Taken out of your thoughts by the ring of the bell and the ref allowing the open space be used to go at it. The sight of the two men crowding the ring with their gloved fists up makes your stomach churn. Rafe had trained so hard for this fight alone, and you doubt he would go down at all. He had the height advantage, knowing he lost a bit of weight to match the blondes weight class for this fight.

The two don’t even bat an eye as they refuse to tap gloves and start slugging their fists at each other, the dull and short lived ‘thunk!’ That follows with every blow makes your body tense and cower. They both were hard hitters, and even if those gloves were there to at least cushion the hits the sheer power behind both of their hits were not made for the receiving end to feel any types of good.

And for some reason as you study the way JJ frolics about the ring casually with no fret and sweat beginning to make his hair stick to his skin he looked as if he was caught off guard with how much Rafe could easily want more after being untangled by the referee or even being pushed against the ropes, Rafe was never the type to back off in a fight, his libido and persistence was not as matched on JJ’s end; who subsequently enough was already succumbing to a swollen eye and bruises patching up on his face and body.

You had all high hopes for Rafe although you need he doesn’t need hope, he looked equally spent within the first round and only a minute left on the clock for their first go, he was breathing heavily with a touch of annoyance on his face, because even with a mouth guard in JJ Maybank has officially found a way to talk shit through the thick rows of rubber that slightly gives him an impediment.

They throw continuous stiff shots at each other, with a mixture of water and sweat flying off of them with each explosive blow to their bodies. You were a big ball of anxiety the second his trainer turns in his seat directly in front of you and mumbles “you think you could step in for me and talk to him. I know you got some advice for him- he takes it the best from you” his words come out slightly foggy due to the loudness of the crowd around you. “Yeah, he looks like he needs a couple of words” you respond quickly as he helps you over the barricade and onto the concrete floor your heels scrape gently making you cringe.

As the time runs out his trainer gives you a gentle pat on the back and gives you hand into your designated corner where Rafe meets you with half concerned eyes. “What’s the matter?” He readers your expression as you put down the small stool they gave to you for him to sit. “Nothings wrong, just came to talk; you gotta keep your head up, this kid likes to keep his low so it’s easier to lay those punches when all he does is retract from the high right hooks you throw” you cup his chin and pour water into his mouth and over his shoulders cooling his skin.

“He keeps trying to lock up with me” he rolled his eyes making you laugh as you guide him to breath slowly and deeply, the cut men rubbing Vaseline on the cuts and bruises forming. “If anything resort to body shots, if he’s backing you into corners head shots, you have the height advantage so it takes nothing for you to swing low” you advice pouring water past his pouty lips as he spits the water into the small bucket a cut man held out.

“Deep breaths, aim low, don’t let him wrap around you, alright?” You say sternly with only a few seconds on the time for their break before they’re ordered to clear ring, you give his chin a gentle squeeze “good luck” you mumbled once more before leaving the ring and using the empty spot next Rafe’s trainer Mike who looks at you with hopeful eyes. “So…?” He asks making you smile “He knows what to do, I think because Rafe is used to bigger guys he doesn’t really know where to focus” you watch intently as they change up the foot work; JJ coming out the corner looking less fresh faced and more sluggish with every step.

Rafe’s shoulders roll back as he takes on his stance with his gloves and head up, and an intense look in his eyes, his energy non-stagnant as they center and throw hooks and blows at each other, and it wasn’t until Rafe had backed JJ into a corner and throwing hooks and jabs straight to his ribs that makes you wince and actually lock into Rafe’s actions.

JJ had his guard up blocking his face with his gloves, and once Rafe knocks one of his hands guarding his face he dropped a mean right hook almost stunning you as your whole body tenses seeing how the young blonde wobbles a bit. Rafe pulls himself away and letting JJ find his footing in the center. You could tell by his body language that the punch square in the face had pissed him off, the both of them carrying fire in their eyes as they square up once more in the center.

Your eyes widen and could barely keep up in real time with the flurries of punches they were exchanging, in the moment it felt like whoever stopped throwing first was ought to be knocked out cold by the end of it, yet the crowd cheers on and they all sat on the edge of their seats in suspense. It was when the bell had rung for the second round to end and teams to flood the ring you watch Rafe retreat to his corner, his skin red with blood gathering at his upper lip you rush up the steps into the ring before anyone else with water and tissue in hand Rafe sits in the all to familiar stool.

“Jesus, you two are going at it harder than people during a Black Friday sale” you joke trying to lighten the mood, Rafe’s eyes don’t leave the opposite corner as his jaw ticks and tighten against his guards you cup his face making his eye look at you sharply before they soften looks up at you his eyes once a stormy blue almost instantly resorting back to their usual icy color. “Deep breaths, put your arms above your head” you whisper to him and he follows your instructions as the hands working with you continue their duties.

“You’re doing good, just keep doing what you do. He looks tired, it’s like he’s only running on adrenaline so keep pressing him; he’s trying to play the energy game and you’re already winning” you speak over the loud music as Rafe listened nodding his head taking in every word. “Do I look like I’m slowing down?” His voice beared genuine curiosity only getting a head shake “if anything you’re fighting like this shit just started. The move with knocking his glove down was smart, if you keep doing things like that I’m pretty sure you’ll win via knock out” you wince at the memory as you could see some of the sweat flying to the mat with how hard Rafe had punched his opponent.

“Okay” he whispered as you use the last few seconds of his break to give him more water and put in his mouth guard before exiting the ring. The match becoming more excruciating as it drags on as the both are exchanging blows and bleeding with busted noses and lips eventually Rafe throwing a nasty right hook to JJ’s jaw that makes him drop to the floor his body slumping against mat the referee immediately checking on the younger boy before calling it and proclaiming Rafe as the winner.

A rush of pride surges through your veins, entering the ring as Rafe pries off his gloves his focus immediately on you as you always down walk up to him with a shining smile that makes your cheeks sore, his lanky arms wrapping around you in a tight hug, as the heavy belt wrapped around his waist; shining and thick, it presses against your lower stomach “I’m so proud of you” your words are muffled as your face presses against his shoulder.

You both pull away keeping a professional mask on in these moments Rafe got to give his final statements on the fight before exiting back to his locker room letting him shower before you clean his cut lip and the small scratches on his face and body. Putting away the small first aid kit you hold his jaw gently “I have a surprise when we get back to your place” you whispered making a mischievous and all to familiar smile tug at his bruised pink lips “yeah?” He asked his fingers fiddle with the large golden ring that encapsulated his finger.

“You didn’t want a celebration party, but I say; me and you just need to have our own celebration” you smirk and rough lets out a husky laugh as he moves to change into more comfortable clothes and gather his belongings as the two of you plan to leave. “What kind of celebration?” His voice finding its usual flirty tone he has when it’s just the both of you “it wouldn’t be a surprised if I told you” you teased as he holds the lockeroom door open for the two of you to leave.

It had never been unusual for you and Rafe to leave events with each other, the public had grown familiar with the close ‘friendship’ between the two of you through interviews and social media since Rafe had begun his boxing career. Privately the two of you had changed the dinamic nature from being friends to an eerie limbo of being domestic and sexual partners with no real label yet.

Checking back in was a breeze as you had booked separate rooms to avoid suspicion; yet you know majority of your night was going to be spent in his room. The dim orange light fixing from the beautiful chandelier that filled the spacious room, the texture white walls detailed with gold paint around the edges, or the large drapes above the one singular window that was covered, and the wall behind the bed as neutral tones of creme and beige with dusty rose gold accent covers the room giving it an almost vintage vibe.

Rafe drops his bags at the foot of the bed frame with an exhausted sigh he takes off his navy blue bommer jacket that covered his polo shirt, you take the jacket out of his hands and set it on the arm chair in the far corner of the room, you grab his arm guiding him to the edge of the bed. “Why don’t you relax hm? I’ll be back in a second” you mumbled as you stand between his spread legs holding his face in your hands gently grazing your thumb over the bruise that was leaving a big purple splotch on his jaw.

“Are you coming back with my surprise?” He asks his eyes lighting up with excitement like a dog who can hear their owner entering the house. “Maybe” you shrug pecking his lips and turning away to the bathroom near the entrance to his room finding the silky robe in a navy blue with his last name on the back with a set of lingerie that hugs you in all the right ways and does every curve of your body justice under his sink where you knew he wouldn’t look.

The robe was actually Rafe’s, it was one of his favorite peaces of gear to match his shorts and gloves, you let the fabric swallow you, being more loose on you than him, you smile at yourself in the mirror as you tie it closed letting it compliment your waist. You give yourself the final touches before walking back out slowly Rafe’s eyes latch on to you with an unmatched ferocity that sends a shiver through your bones.

Walking closer to the dirty blonde haired man it seemed he finally realized what you were wearing as you slowly turn around to show off his last name on your back like a trophy you slip open the robe as you whispered “congratulations champ” as the silk pools around your feet revealing your skin and the warm air in the room shifts. “c’mere baby, let me see you close up” he groaned, his voice slightly slurred as the pain in his jaw twangs every time he speaks.

Holding out a hand to you which you take with no hesitation, putting on a show as you walk with a slight sway to your hips that makes him watch you close and calculated like he was on the hunt and your were his pray who so innocently was frolicking about. When you take up the same space between his legs Rafe’s hands drop from your hands to the back of your thighs groping at the fleshy skin “best surprise could’ve asked for” he mumbled as he presses himself against your lower tummy.

His nose grazing your skin making you tense only to relax at the feeling of his soft warm lips pressing underneath the wire of your bra, the room filled with a distant buzzing and heavy breathing. “Didn’t expect this huh?” You looked down at him as your hand races through his hair, your nails purposely scratching against his scalp making Rafe moan. His weakest point that you had discovered after 2 weeks of sex all over your shared apartment. “c’mon now you’re just teasing me” his voice almost twisted in a whine.

“Well how about you lay back and let me help you relax on your big night” you push his shoulder gently guiding him to rest against the mattress as his buff arms flex as they rest behind his head. You get on your knees as the dull ache is a second thought the moment you begin to unbuckle his belt and pull his boxers and pants down in one full swoop. He was already hard and eager in your grip, the sloppy sounds of your slick palm fisting over his cock.

A small wince leaves his lips and Rafe doesn’t know if he’s palpitating or if hearing his heartbeat in his ears was normal, but the thought loses his the second Flattening your tongue against the underside of his cock you dragged up against the vein running up to the tip— he let out a rich moan that ended with a groan "shit". His head was thrown back against the mattress and his breathing was labored.

His hand rests on the back of your head not moving as he watches you take him deeper and deeper, feeling the way his hips were grinding into your mouth makes you pull away as spit gathers messily at your chin as thin strings of saliva latch from his cock to your mouth making you giggle. “fuck” whispered as you swipe your thumb over his sensitive tip as you lick a long stripe from the base of his cock to his tip swirling your tongue around him before pushing yourself to take him in the back of your throat feeling an impeding gag as your eyes cloud with tears.

Rafe on the other hand felt like he was ascending to a parallel universe pure pleasure, as the slick sound that come from between his legs makes them shake as your hand wraps around his dick filling the space that your mouth couldn’t handle. “fuck you’re gonna make me cum quick” he groaned as his hand travels to cup your face he sits up watch the way you look utterly fucked out just by sucking him off.

His thumb presses against your plump bottom lip as he looks at the way your pretty lip combo smudge on not only your face but his cock, and it makes his head spin. “Wait baby, hold on” he huffs out, pleasure so apparent in his tone as you pulled off his cock you slightly pout looking up at him with smudged makeup and your hair messy, Rafe can’t help but instinctively smile “I want you to ride my face” he whispers as his chest rises and falls and baited breaths as he watches your face twist in confusion yet regardless you stand up stripping yourself of your panties and slowly straddle his lap, he lays back like once before comfortably as he reaches his hands out to guide you over his face.

Groaning at the sight of you glistening wet and ready for him “fuck s’so pretty” he slurs before he sensually licked from your entrance to your clit and sucked with fervor making you moan as your back arches and your hand pushes his face deeper between your thighs. The feeling of his tongue almost as if he had to lick every inch of your pussy his hands grab at your ass making you arch deeper making a raw moan cut through the heavy air “fuckkk Rafe” you squeal as your thighs tighten around him.

His hand travels between your thighs as he continues to lick sloppy stripes against your pussy lazily, you can already feel the trembling in your thighs as your fingers grip harder against his shaggy hair making him hum against you sending vibrations up your body “pull harder, baby” he groans lazily as if nothing could pull him away from latching his mouth onto you and making you finish on his tongue.

Once Rafe could feel the pressure and stinging sensation in his scalp he hums “that’s it, be a doll and cum for me” he groaned against you, your head tossed back as you feel the warm and tight sensation that was growing in your lower stomach, you don’t know how much more you could take but out of pure desperation for release you grind your hips against him.

He placed his hand on your ass, kneading the flesh harshly as the other finds your pussy; groaning into you before easing his finger past your entrance. the added stimulation had you mewling. The sounds you make are music to his ears. He presses his nose on your clit, inhaling your scent deeply before his tongue dives inside your waiting pussy. You pull onto his hair, writhing against his face.

The thickness of another added finger was making you dizzy It feels like you’re high, stomach tightening with each second “you’re gonna make me cum” you whine as if the feeling was pushing you to the edge you look between your shaking this to see Rafe absolutely lost in the taste of you; his eyes rolled back, and his face glistening with a flush to his cheeks and in that moment you melted away with the hot white feeling of your orgasm practically hitting you like a car.

Rafe licks up every trace of your orgasm until you wince and pull away with a whine you adjust yourself to sit on his lower stomach still sensitive yet satisfied. The man beneath you sitting up looking just as clouded with lust as you do, capturing his lips in yours with an unmatched intensity as you taste yourself on his lips.

The rough palm of his hands pulling you as close to him as possible like in any moment you’d disappear. Growing more and more desperate to feel you he pulls away from you with hesitation pressing his forehead to yours. “Lay on your stomach for me baby” he whispered and letting you move with calculated ease as you move to the headboard and grabbing a pillow you can lay down underneath you before arching your back and shiver slightly at the cold air that hits you between the thighs.

Arching your back gives Rafe the perfect sight of your ass. You could feel his palm caressing and needing your skin before giving it repeated harsh slaps that had you quivering. Nothing compared to the beautiful stinging feeling on your skin given by him.

"Want you inside me so bad" you mumbled as your fingers grip the sheets, you were so needy that you were dripping down your thighs and it didn't take much for Rafe to run his tongue over his lips and grab onto your hips pushing his tip against you and pushing into you slowly before bottoming out.

The sharp grip he had on your hips kept you grounded as he set a steady pace that had you panting and moaning. Hearing yourself made your face heat up, dropping your head into the sheets hoping to muffle the pleasure falling from your lips.

"Don't get all shy on me now" Rafe says as his hand pulls your hair into a makeshift ponytail, pulling your head away from the sheets "I wanna hear you. Don't hide from me" he says breathily as his thrusts become more sharp and the sound of him pounding into you was hard not to hear.

"I can't help it. It's too good" you slur your words as you begin to bounce and grind against him to meet his hips. It felt like he was in your stomach and you didn't mind at all, your hands clutching the sheets tighter as he used his other hand to wrap around your throat. As his grip around your throat tightens, you couldn't even gather your words as he hits a spot that has you breathing shakily and your moans are even more louder.

"Right here? Does it feel good here?" He asks as he drags his cock against that same spot again and again "yeah, it feels so fucking good Rafe" you moan as your eyes roll back. The feeling of his sweet lips on your skin as you feel like you're in heaven.

Your thighs are practically shaking at the feeling, pleasure practically taking over your body as Rafe pounds you into his mattress without a single care in the world. Pushing your face against sheets while he becomes sloppy and rougher with every passing second you could feel the pressure in the pit of your stomach growing and waiting to be released.

"I can't take it" you moan as you shake your head "I'm gonna cum" you whimper as you feel warm tears slide down your cheeks. "I think you can baby, you wanna cum so bad right? So take what I give you" he orders sweetly in a faux tone. His thrusts are non stop and you can't help but let the pleasure envelope you.

"Oh fuck" you gasp as the feeling of release comes closer "cum on my cock. I know you can '' he coos at you while pulling your hips into his harder than before tipping you over the edge as your walls clench around him sporadically earning a guttural moan ripping through Rafe's throat.

"I'm close, where do you want it?" He asks as he continues to fuck into you "inside. Please cum inside me Rafe" you beg before you feel the pressure in your stomach let loose "I got you, you're okay" he praised as his fingers rubbed down your spine leaving goosebumps up and down your body.

A few more thrusts slow and deep have your toes curling and sending Rafe into an orgasm struck daze. "Fuck you feel so good" he groans as his hands rub against the red warm skin of your ass. Leaning of you and kissing up your spine as you both bask in your pre orgasm clarity.

You both were practically glowing as Rafe waited until he softened inside you to pull out "you did so good" he whispers sweet nothings to you as he pulls out and watches his cum drip down your inner thighs.

The both of you settle into the bedsheets the body heat coming from the both of you feels comforting, Rafe doesn't want even the slightest bit of space between the both of you as he pulls you by your waist until your pressed flush against his chest.

“Congratulations champ” you huff out making Rafe snicker “thank you” his words are followed by an impending silence, although you do know eventually you would be walking back to your own bedroom with sore and shaking legs but that was something that you would have to worry about later.

As for now you would enjoy his warmth that radiates against your skin.

[meadowfics]

shop until we drop

cho hyun-ju x f!reader (ex-miltary reader)

shopping with your girlfriend headcannons

you've been with your girlfriend, hyun ju, for about two years now.

in thailand, the both of you built a wonder yet comfortable life.

the both of you moved in together just three months after the both of you became official.. is that fast? sure. however, you trusted this woman with your life.

it helps that she served in the special forces back in korea. it helps that you have military experience from your home country as well.

one morning, you were bored. super bored.

hyun ju laid peacefully in bed, her pink satin pajama's (which matched your purple ones) making her look as comfortable as she really was.

you played with her hair, hoping that it will distract you into going back to sleep.

it did not.

suddenly, you looked over at your open closet door.

its filled with clothes that you and hyun ju share together. mostly pink and purple colors due to hyun ju, and neutral colors because of you.

"I need more clothes.."

a thought ticks inside of your head.

at first, you shook it off. you're bored, thats all.

hyun ju and you have a lot of money.. her winning the squid games back in korea and you winning the squid games back in your home country.. you could go shopping anytime.

maybe you can today.

in the late afternoon, you brought hyun ju to the mall.

hyun ju is the kind of girlfriend who insists on holding your hand the entire time you're walking through the mall. the woman's grip is firm but gentle, as if she's silently promising to never let go.

she weaves your fingers together, swinging your hands lightly between you both, her small smile growing every time you glance her way.

the both of you are stopped in front of a makeup store at one point.

you catch her stealing little glances at you when she thinks you're too distracted by the window displays.

every time she gets caught, she grins sheepishly and squeezes your hand, saying,

"you're just too pretty to not look at."

"you're too beautiful, hyunnie."

shopping with hyun ju always starts with her saying she's just there to "browse," while you do the actual shopping

you both know that's a lie. hyun's eyes light up when she spots cute clothes, immediately holding them up against you to see if they'll suit you.

"you’d look amazing in this. try it on, please?"

when you go into the fitting rooms, hyun ju insists on sitting outside to be your personal hype woman.

the moment you step out, she gasps dramatically, clapping her hands together like you're walking the runway.

"i knew it! you’re stunning. we’re getting that one, no arguments."

the food court is one of her favorite stops after a few stores.

she insists on sharing everything, saying it tastes better that way.

you end up feeding her bites of your food while she pretends to look surprised, like she wasn’t waiting for it the whole time.

after moving onto the next store, you insist on buying hyun ju nearly everything.

every time you point out something you think she’d like, she acts all nonchalant, but you see the way her eyes soften.

"this blue would look so perfect on you love, it goes with your hair color."

as the day winds down, she insists on carrying all the bags, claiming it’s part of her girlfriend duties. when you protest, she smirks but still continues to hold them.

"I know you have 'special forces' arm strength, but I served in the military in my country too.. you know?"

"just let me hold the bags for you, sweetheart."

as you head home, her hand finds yours again, her thumb rubbing small circles against your skin.

"I had fun today love, thank you for coming."

hyun ju laughs,

"you do not need to thank me, I'll always be wherever you are."

I hope you loved this as much as I did :)