#these two are going to TALK and if i have to be fancy to make it work so be it

[jyunhology]

oh, honey lady ˖.𖥔 ݁ ˖ smg (m)

summary: when you get stood up and cancelled on one too many times, your friend takes it upon herself to get you to enjoy a night out. but you’re faced immediately with the source of your woes pressed up to another and a bartender who catches on quickly. the latter offers to dance with you; will you say yes?

a/n: have been getting a lot of feels for mingi lately .. i blacked out n wrote this aft watching the recent ateez whodunnit because jesus christ that man looked FINE acting as a bartender.

wc: 6.1k

warnings: MINORS DNI!!!! bartender!mingi, softdom!mingi, sub!reader, reader's (ex) bf is a loser, reader lowkey traumatised from her (ex) bf, mingi is very understanding, consumption of alcohol (however, they’re not drunk during the deed, just a little tipsy), grinding in a public space (a club lol), lots of teasing, oral (f! receiving) / cunnilingus, fingering, praise, use of pet names (baby, honey, doll), bit of fluff in the middle, clit stimulation, unprotected p -> v sex (pls wrap it up irl), creampie, slight aftercare, mingi is so soft and patient with reader .. ❤️

No matter how much you knew this wasn’t your fault, you still can’t help but find fault with yourself — looks, personality, fashion. You passed it off the first time as something akin to a mistake, a miscalculation with the overtime your boyfriend, Hyunjae, had to do because of his recent promotion.

With mumbled apologies into your hair and fairly enjoyable sex, you thought everything between you both was going to be okay. It was just one dinner date, plus, he made it up to you with a fancy trip over the weekend and several, impressive gifts.

But you think you should’ve known better, because it happened a second time not even a month later, and the cycle repeats itself: sin, repent, and fall back into temptation all over again.

The only mistake you were making was thinking too highly of Hyunjae, assuming temptation was reports and hard work for extra cash, and not having a fucking affair with another woman in the printing room.

By the time the third incident came around, your friend was quick to propose a night out the next day despite your protests, but you know it came from a place of love. With the way she comforted you with memes and funny reels and words of advice, you realised it was the first time you’ve laughed since the supposed dinner at seven.

Ignoring the sinking dread settling in your heart the next afternoon, you shoot a simple ill be out late tonight to Hyunjae before dragging your body out of bed. You moved on autopilot, then, choosing not to acknowledge that he didn’t even return last night, preoccupying yourself instead with picking out your outfit.

And it was easy enough with a clear vision in your head; you weren’t afraid to dress up even after getting together with Hyunjae. This time it wasn’t any different — miniskirt, a cute fitted top and boots — that you already felt a bit better upon arriving at a bar for some pregame. The alcohol felt good, the company was better, and the both of you were already giggling and tipsy when you entered the club.

“Isn’t this way better than crying over that dumbass?” Yunjin nudges you gently before offering you a small smile.

You sigh, “I guess. I just don’t want it to be a recurring thing and make you responsible every time.”

“At least you know your limit now,” She loops an arm around you to keep you close as you two walk deeper into the club. “Still, as much as I love you, it was difficult trying to get you out of the club because you’d only be talking in counts of 8.” 

Ever the teasing friend, you nudge her back before breaking into laughter together, heading right to the bar for a lighter drink. It’s buzzing with orders left and right with the (possibly) poor newcomer trying his best to work the counter with all its confusing buttons. But he’s saved by another, a taller, more experienced bartender who was definitely carved by gods.

You try not to gawk, though, feeling guilty even when he shoots the two of you a small customer-service smile. “Give us a minute, alright? We’ll get to ya soon.” The moment he’s turned around, Yunjin shakes your arm excitedly.

“What? what?” 

“Don’t ‘what?’ me! Tell me you didn’t see the way he was looking at you.”

“Yunjin…” You sigh. “You know Hyunjae and I aren’t broken up—”

“Yet.” She interrupts with that single word and you shoot her a half playful, half serious glare.

“Okay, but, I have no business looking at other people just ’cause I’ve been stood up thrice.” The words leave a bitter taste in your mouth, recognising that it really didn’t sound good out loud.

“Yeah, but don’t you think those are enough times to call things off?” She faces you completely now with both hands on your arms, trying to look you in the eye while you shrink, flustered and a bit embarrassed at how easily you seem to crawl back to Hyunjae.

Because you felt that if you let this go, you’d never feel this way ever again, having someone else walking out your life again like clockwork.

Your fingers tense subconsciously; clenching, unclenching. You settle for taut hands to your friend’s, removing them with the little fight left in you. “Yunjin, can— can we please drop this for now? I came out to forget my boyfriend for a bit, and then I’ll go back home and everything will be f—”

But the universe has other plans for you, conversation cut short from the handsome bartender asking about your orders now.

“Sorry to interrupt, ladies. What will you two be having?” In the midst of wiping his hands on the towel, he leans over the counter just as Yunjin gives her order, but you swear over the booming music, the bass reverberating, the screamed lyrics, you hear familiarity.

It’s funny how habitual you can become with someone; hearing that same laugh in your skin on slow mornings and during reruns of B99 that you can’t help but search the dancefloor frantically.

You weren’t even sure why you did it, but you think you were chasing that familiarity and safety of having someone even though they were shit at showing up.

But along the desperate scans you do with your eyes, you register that you were simply accustomed to having Hyunjae in your life, accustomed to coming back again to an empty house. Yet, you can’t even remember the last time you said I love you to him.

And always trust your gut, because that sinking feeling from earlier comes back tenfold when your eyes lock onto two people on the floor with bodies leaving no space.

Hyunjae has no qualms about getting caught, his hands roaming all over her body and practically grinding from behind that you feel your knees buckle a little.

“Yunjin…” The lights were too blinding, the music now too loud, but you don’t have to say anything to know she’s already helping you onto a bar stool. When she turns to where you were looking, her jaw tightens and wordlessly places a hand on your lower back.

You go through emotions, fast — denial, and then anger and then a hint of sadness. But what you’re mainly feeling is a thirst for revenge knowing he thinks you’re a coward, a girl desperate for love.

Maybe you are, and there’s nothing wrong with mourning what you had. Though, being cancelled on three times within two months and spewing lies about overtime, ignites your resolve easily.

All the while, the bartender watches the interaction carefully, skilled hands still able to fulfill people’s orders, but he’s got you and your boyfriend all figured out. Not that he meant to eavesdrop, though, exchanging a glance with your friend until you raise your head with unshed tears.

“Thought I lost you there for a moment. That your boyfriend?” He nodded in the general direction and had probably used that line countless times, but you give credit where credit’s due; he was attractive and didn’t choose to comment on your glossy eyes.

With semi-long hair, pretty moles and plump lips, you want to enjoy this seat a bit longer, proposing a silly idea as you nod.

“Ex-, now. Do you have any chance to get them both kicked out?” You smile, small and unsure, but he replies with an even sweeter smile laced with sympathy that makes your heart skip just a little.

“No can do. If he’s not causing trouble, our bouncers have no reason to throw him out. Sorry, ladies.” For a moment, he’s back to being professional and tries not to steal glances at you as you blink away tears and attempt to appear unaffected.

He serves the drinks he’s already made, helps the counter boy again with orders until he hears your friend beg again when he comes ’round to your side.

“Oh please, Mr Bartender!” He raises an eyebrow, eyes trained on the both of you while capping his shaker before shaking. You purse your lips teasingly despite your blurred vision and the heat on your cheeks, “She can be pretty persuasive.” God, you didn’t even know what you were feeling at the moment.

He shrugs. “Well, tell you what — I get off my shift in about fifteen, and you’re looking for some retribution. Why don’t we do a little dance of our own?”

With a sigh, you ponder over your cards — Hyunjae might be pleasantly surprised and you’d end up with a hot bartender in your arms to boot. But if this is only going to leave a hole in your heart after everything, what really was the point?

“It’s your call, doll. If you’re still holding this,” He holds up a slim piece of metal that matches the club’s colours with its letters engraved in stark white, “by the time I come back, I’m taking you onto the floor for a dance. Deal?”

It’s dropped into your palm before you flip it over, running a thumb over the debossed name.

“Mingi.”

“You got it.” Mingi gives you a dazzling grin and a wink while you stifle a smile.

You spend the next ten minutes debating your options that you can’t count the amount of times Yunjin had to get your attention back on her. Revenge sounded delicious before.

Now? Now you’re waddling deep in doubt, worried about the aftertaste; all you wanted was to go home and sleep this whole thing off. Even the name tag was weighing heavy in your hand.

But the late nights cooking dinner, sitting alone at restaurants and the sheer indifference Hyunjae’s currently dancing with, did you in.

If you were chickening out only so someone this terrible stays, then you might regret this single night with someone else who already has shown you more respect than Hyunjae ever did.

The music is a bit clearer to you, now, and less suffocating as you call out to the bartender with five minutes left until his shift ends. You play with the pin at the back, unfastening and popping it back into place repeatedly. 

“I’ll take a Lemon Drop.” A knowing smile, a swipe of your card, sugar sweet on your lips. It hits great, and with a bit of liquid courage in you, you wait.

Mingi is quick to show up by your side a few minutes later, but he manages to take your breath away all over again with a more casual look.

Jewellery, messy hair and unbuttoned shirt down to his pecs that gives you a glimpse of a pretty little pendant resting nicely on his chest and rings adorning his fingers.

“Care for a dance?” His deep voice up close already has your stomach turning, opening your hand to show how you still had his name tag and he grins. “Keep it for now.”

You barely hear the whisper into your ear, but without any second thought you place your hand in his, the metal of his rings sending shivers right up your arm and down your spine. A faint cheer from Yunjin encourages you on, already feeling the addicting beats of the music playing.

Mingi is considerate above all else, looking back to see if you were still there, clearing a path for the both of you until you’re a few bodies away from Hyunjae. But standing out here now brings another wave of panic and embarrassment.

You were really about to do this, but—

What if he doesn’t like the way you danced? What if he’s a clean freak and would rather not have his hands over your already sweaty sides? What if Hyunjae creates a scene?

The thoughts are never-ending, swirling in your mind until you can feel Mingi’s hand enclose around your other hand, halting you from adjusting your outfit, from scratching at your skin.

It’s hot, too crowded for a dance floor and he knows that you’re nervous again with the increased proximity to your boyfriend.

Without words, Mingi brings your hands to rest on his shoulders. “Is this okay?”

You nod. Bodies beside you cause you to inch closer to him and his hair is so soft. Your tongue tingles from the lemon’s sourness and you want nothing more than to balance it out with his mouth that smells of rum. 

“Hey, I realise I haven’t gotten your name just yet.” The smile he has isn’t teasing, cocky, and you manage a small one back. He leans down to get your answer.

“It’s (Y/N).”

“Pretty. Follow my lead.”

And slowly but surely, you get out of your shell as you both lose all formality with the ear-splitting songs. The cocktail makes your hands wander, trailing over his nape, over his broad shoulders. He still hovers.

You don’t know whether it’s Mingi, the dim lighting or the song but you don’t hesitate to force his hands to your sides and he takes it as a sign.

He’s pulling you close until you’re pressed to his front, head immediately going for your exposed neck, and the laugh that escapes feels so different from Hyunjae, so free that you giggle with him.

It turns from wanting to Hyunjae to see you could do so much better to genuinely enjoying your time with the bartender that you don’t register the shock forming on Hyunjae’s face when he spots you just a few people over. Mingi doesn’t miss it, squeezing your waist softly to bring it to your attention.

“B-babe? What’re you doing here?” He acts like he doesn’t even know the girl dancing with him, yanking her off of him as he tries to preserve his dignity. But you knew better — you’ve seen her face at company dinners, on his Instagram story.

“Why are you here?” He sputters out an answer, not expecting you to fight back. Hyunjae’s smaller than ever now.

The bartender resists the urge to scoff at his lack of explanation, about to tell him to piss off when you push at Hyunjae with a finger. “I’ll tell you why I’m here. Witnessing you and the girl you told me not to worry about. Talking crap about overtime just to fuck her in your workplace.”

“W-What? That’s bullshit, where’d you even get that from?!”

Thank God for Mingi’s Lemon Drop, because you shove Hyunjae harder than before, angering the people behind him who push him back towards you.

“Guess you’ll never find out how. Get your shit out of my apartment and leave before tomorrow morning or else I’ll be telling your boss about inappropriate workplace conduct.”

Hyunjae rolls his eyes and waves you off, “You wouldn’t dare.”

“I hope the job market’s ready for someone who promised overtime hours only to soil the printing room. Keep checking your emails babe.” You purposefully drag out the pet name he likes to use on you, which now sounds cheap and tacky. Mingi can’t help a cackle from escaping, tugging you closer as if you’re his.

And you might just be by the end of this night. 

Hyunjae doesn’t bother to one-up the bartender one bit, only throwing Mingi a scowl before elbowing himself through the crowd. Unknowingly, your body relaxes, melting into the other’s arms easily and wanting nothing more than to turn off your brain for the night. It makes Mingi smile.

You’re bolder when the night deepens. It starts with running your hands down his chest and grasping softly at his waist. There’s whispered lyrics into your skin, letting him trail kisses down your jawline to your sternum and you feel like you’re on top of the world. 

His body’s flush against yours, tensing and breathing hard. The heat’s suffocating and the kisses sweet, hovering over just where you both need each other desperately.

“Heard you’re a dancer,” Mingi mumbles, sneaky hands going past your hips to your ass and kneads. You laugh. 

“You heard whatever Yunjin said? It was one time,” You reminisce about the time you went out for her birthday before getting shit-faced drunk and talking to her only in counts, “and she was struggling to understand what I was saying.”

It takes a beat for you to take the leap. “Want me to show you?”

A pretty laugh leaves his lips, “Your dancing or your innate ability to only talk in eights?”

Fuck, he’s handsome and funny.

“Har-har, very funny.” The moment’s playful but charged with underlying tension that only increases once the song changes. With a hand, you lift his head from your neck, taking advantage of his surprise to turn around.

Pushing up against him, you make sure he’s feeling every part of your ass on him, swaying your hips until you get a small groan from him. Tempted, Mingi places his hands along your waist, helping you grind down on him while arousal pools in your panties.

He’s enamoured with how well you fit against him, even more so when you lace your fingers with his, tugging one up to rest on your chest.

He takes the bait with how you turn your head, boasting your pretty lips with eyes closed. But you’re not letting him get what he wants that easily, finger pressed against his lips.

“Did the Lemon Drop do this, hm?” He’s back on your neck like it’s his home, slurring his words in that deep, deep voice of his that you want nothing more than to hear that for the rest of your life (and hopefully in your bed tonight).

“Maybe.” You can’t help but chuckle triumphantly, but it’s cut short when he suddenly yanks you back to his front; shit, you can feel his hard-on — he’s big.

You subconsciously gulp and pull him closer (not without a mildly surprised “oh”), overwhelmed with the feeling of his chest against yours, of his hips moving in tandem with yours, of his breath on your lips.

“I’m full of surprises, too.”

“That was so corny.” Biting your lip, you try to stifle a smile but it bleeds out past your lips, “You’re lucky I still want to fuck you.”

“Aw, only fuck?” He feigns sadness as he bats his eyelashes at you. That question probably would’ve made you think twice, but with Mingi’s little pout, the vodka in your system and Rihanna in the background, you throw all complicated feelings out the window.

“Shut up, Mingi.” 

That elicits a low chuckle. “Gladly.”

He collides with you immediately, lips moulding into yours like two parts of a whole that you stumble a bit from the force. But you waste no time in reciprocating with neediness of your own, tugging him down to you with hands tangled in his black hair.

You could care less about your ex, about Yunjin excitedly texting you from the bar, nor the people around you.

Not when Mingi’s slipping his tongue into your mouth and your pussy’s just desperate for relief that you moan softly into his mouth.

“God, you sound pretty,” He pulls away for air, but he’s already hooked onto your taste, leaving pecks on your lips again and again. His hands rest comfortably on your sides, caressing, squeezing. “Need to hear that in my sheets.”

You mutter a soft fuck before licking your lips, “Your place?”

Mingi hums into your lips, “You have my name tag, baby. It’s up to you,” and grins when he sees you jolt. The pet name affects you. He knows.

Fuck it. You need this man now.

With a quick text to Yunjin, everything that happens on the way to Mingi’s doesn’t exist. The ride was both a torment and a blur when his hand trails so closely to where you need him and his hips adjust uncomfortably in the driver’s seat. You’re so horny that you’re sure you’ve sobered up already.

You lunge forward once the front door’s closed, eagerness undermining both your abilities to remove your shoes, too preoccupied with devouring the other.

Mingi tastes like sage and citrus, a flavour you’ll keep locked away forever; he breaks the kiss reluctantly, and that taste travels down your body, taking his time.

Mingi’s anything but composed, though, larger hands wrapped around your middle while he takes in your scent and sweat, nose pressed against your heaving stomach.

Just a mere bartender, a one-night stand acting like a lover when he fully goes onto his knees and zips open your boots. Torturously, agonisingly slow, and removes them even slower.

By the time the second shoe’s off, your hand has already messed up his hair. You push him to you, he pulls back.

“It’s my time to tease, doll. Patience.” You whine softly in disagreement, letting him plant soft kisses along your ankle, up to your shin and knees and finally your inner thighs that threaten to tighten in his hold.

“Mingi…” You don’t mean to sound so desperate off the bat, but your cunt’s pulsing and the AC’s sending goosebumps all over your skin and possibly the hottest man alive is on his knees in front of you.

“Fuck, baby, I can smell you from here.” Like a gentleman, he helps you to shimmy out of your miniskirt and underwear before tossing it somewhere and you’re suddenly self conscious about being all exposed.

But Mingi simply doesn’t care about decorum as he lifts your leg, prompting you to place it on his shoulder. He marvels at your arousal illuminated by the doorway lighting, stifling a moan.

“Look at you.” Sighing, he plays with your folds, trailing a finger up and down and smirking when he feels you shiver under his touch. “So perfect. All this for me?”

“Y-Yeah, just for you,” Your words are muffled from your hand, trying to hold back your sounds but Mingi isn’t having any of that. He thinks your ex-boyfriend may have something to do with it.

“Let me hear you, alright, honey?” Mingi takes your hand and interlocks it together with his, a promise that you’ll be the star tonight. “We’re safe here, there’s no need to hold back.”

You nod just as he blows into your cunt, making you clench around nothing and he smiles. “For now, let me eat my meal.”

And Mingi eats, convincing yourself that you’ve definitely driven a hole through his shoebox cabinet with how hard you were leaning against it. Your hips buck against his face, tongue flicking over your clit as you relish in the pleasure.

“Oh my G-God, Mingi…” You can barely hold eye contact with him as he latches onto your pussy like a vice, addicted to your taste, your sounds and how you drip endlessly all over his tongue.

“That’s it, doll, tell me how good you feel.” Mingi continues to inch closer on his knees, trapping himself under your thighs as his tongue works wonders.

With an experimental finger, he circles your pulsing hole and pushes in ever so slightly, making you almost keel over from the overwhelming feeling.

“Fuck, Mingi, that feels so—!” Your moans fill his house together with the lewd sounds of your pussy, feeling the vibrations of his hums on your sensitive clit. His thumb plays with it as he comes up for air, adding a second finger easily before starting to pump them with determination.

“That feel good?” He’s brutal in his thrusting, but it’s not even a minute when he returns with his merciless tongue again, swearing that you were seeing stars from this alone.

If Mingi was this pussy drunk, who knows how you’d feel when he’s in you? You tremble at the thought, fingers pulling at his hair until it stings.

But Mingi loves it, loves seeing your eyes flutter close and your toes curl in sheer pleasure as the prettiest mewls fall from your lips. You’re full on grinding into his face now, holding onto his hand like a lifeline, while there’s the audible slick sounds of your juices. 

It’s hotter than it was on the dance floor, and fully knowing you’d be buckling to the ground if it wasn’t for Mingi’s secure hold on you. Because you can feel yourself getting weaker and weaker the more the coil in your stomach turns, clamping down hard on his fingers.

“I-I’m close, baby—” Your words slip, every part of your body tingles and he pants out a plea.

“Call me that again for me, doll.” He’s ravishing you, ruining you for any other person and you wouldn’t have it any other way. His rings feel so cold on your cunt, while his mouth’s hot and he’s dizzy off of you.

“Gonna cum, baby,” If your friend couldn’t understand you while drunk, Mingi’s chest puffs with pride making you babble nonsensical things while you’re both tipsy with his name being the only coherent thing, “Mingi, Mingi, Mingiiii.”

The name becomes a chant together with needy whines that’s drowned out by your soaking pussy. Mingi lets the force of his palm stimulate your clit instead, and the visual of seeing him on his knees with this tongue out—

“F-fuck…” Your orgasm hits you in sudden waves, sending you jerking against his hold even when his fingers don’t slow down, “Feels s’good, Mingi—”

“There we go, baby, keep cumming… Taste just like honey.” Mingi groans and drives his tongue along your folds for a taste, but now he takes and takes, savouring whatever you have to give. Sweeter than his Lemon Drop, you taste so heavenly that he wants seconds.

But you have other plans, trying your best to regain your balance and simultaneously drag him up by the biceps. Mingi traps you in between the cabinet, and you trap him with a passionate kiss. Moaning into his mouth at your taste while he soothes your aching thighs with his gentle touch.

“Bed. Now.” Your cheeks warm as he laughs against your lips at your request. 

“You got it, doll.” With a hand outstretched, you grab hold and let him lead you just like the club. Along the way, you slip on your underwear just so you won’t be butt ass naked and he throws you a small smile. Except this time, you’re not performing for anyone, not for Hyunjae, not for yourself, and hopefully not for Mingi.

Though, if riding Mingi’s tongue had you thrashing left and right, you think you’d be safe, knowing he’ll take care of you.

His room feels strangely familiar — posters and records plastered up everywhere with a portable closet and pretty lights. There’s a few guitars in cases with one displayed proudly while his desk is littered with cute trinkets and a gaming set-up. It’s a lived-in bedroom, worn down from years of tape on walls and accidents from silly dance moves.

“Hard to believe I’m an adult with this room, huh?”

You smile at him, finding it endearing he’s still kept his hobbies and favourite things close to him. “No no, it’s charming. I like it.”

You continued, “I don’t think having a ‘serious’ job like bartending immediately eliminates your other hobbies.”

Mingi shoots you that boyish grin again, “You think my job’s ‘serious’?” and mimics your air quotes.

“Well, you are handling alcohol — it seems pretty serious, don’t you think?” There’s no choice but to giggle when Mingi’s expression turns from all-knowing to pondering. “And— And there’s always the usual brooding persons that come in to vent their problems to you.”

Mingi bursts out laughing at that with an attractive rasp to it, plopping on his Queen size. “You’re not wrong about that. I guess I’m sort of like a therapist too.”

Like a magnet, you feel the pull into his arms just as he whispers a c’mere, finally able to see his face properly when you stand in between his legs.

The glistening juices on the bottom half of his face make you flush just a bit, but up close, Mingi feels so familiar. Not the way Hyunjae was — that was habit disguised as familiarity.

But despite your unconfirmed fate and the possibility of never seeing Mingi again, he enchants like no other. Fuck, you were talking crazy. 

The other seems to see your dilemma, reaching for your hands. “We don’t have to do anything, you know?”

His touch is so tender, it makes your heart ache, “I know we only danced to scare off your boyfriend but I genuinely did want to know you. And… I know you feel it too, but I don’t wanna pressure you after seeing such a shitty thing in the club.”

“You’re… not wrong, Mingi. It has been only a few hours and you’ve already made me feel more worth than he ever did but, I’ll need time to process my feelings too.”

Slowly, you remove your hands from his but only to straddle him in the next second, whining softly when he tugs you closer if that was even possible. 

“But tonight, I want you to fuck all the feelings out of me. I don’t wanna think, I don’t wanna—” You heave a heavy sigh, swallowing when you think back to Hyunjae and his colleague. 

Mingi applies light pressure to your side to ground you. “(Y/N), hey, it’s no problem. Your wish is my command, tonight.”

“And after—”

“We’ll talk about the after later, don’t worry your pretty little head ’bout it.” You don’t even realise he’s flipped you over but he takes his time to remove his pants and boxers, ego stroked just a little when he sees your wide eyes at his size.

“You’re…” 

“I know, baby. We’ll take it slow, alright?” Mingi is steady even as he reaches over for a condom, but you stop him.

“Wanna feel all of you.” He swears his heart bursts at your cute pout. “I’m clean and on the pill, that okay?”

“More than okay. I’m clean too. You sure you’re okay?” He asks as he tugs your panties to the side, interrupted briefly from your impatient hum.

“Yes, Mingi. Please just fuck me already.” Your voice is less bratty, more pleading, but it strikes a chord within him. He obeys immediately. 

“Okay, okay!” His deep laugh elicits one out of you, too. At least you don’t stop him from taking the lube — he spurts a good amount and strokes himself with a soft grunt, mixing in with his pre-cum. Relief. “It’s gonna hurt. Need you to breathe and relax, okay?”

Mingi’s already much thicker than your ex, and you hiss slightly at the stretch once he inches his cock in. But it’s nothing you can take, eyes trained on how he’s pushing through slowly. 

“F-Fuck, baby, you gotta stop clenching. So tight—” You whimper at the sight, but Mingi uses his body to push you down, distracting you with deep kisses that subconsciously relaxes your body. His intoxicating smell and presence does the rest of the job.

“Taking me so well, good girl.” He mumbles into your skin as you become obsessed with the way his body engulfs yours, towering but certain.

His pendant’s movements are messy, colliding with your chin over and over but Mingi is just so deep it doesn’t register in your head. “Just a little more, honey, you got it.”

In the next minute, Mingi’s loud groan fills your ears, bottoming out in your walls that feel so warm that he never wants to pull out.

His furrowed eyebrows with sweat lined along it paired with his beautiful parted lips is enough to make your cunt pulse and heart full — making a pretty man like him lose his mind over you, desperation and profanity spilling over.

“M-Move, baby, please—” With a slow thrust of his hips, he has to drop his head to yours because you just feel too fucking good wrapped around his aching length. Both your shaky breaths mingle as he sets a comfortable pace that allows you both to feel every part of the other.

And his languid movements have never felt slower and more intense, the obscene noises of your soaking pussy stuffed full reverberating off the walls. It surrounds you like a cloud, making the feeling, the sensations rise to an all time high.

It’s worse when Mingi folds your legs to your chest, the image of his shaft disappearing into your pretty little pussy searing itself into his brain.

Mingi keeps his promise to you, taking your one-worded pleas and turning them into repeated “ah’s” with no room for any word or any doubt left in your mind. By now, he’s pistoning in and out of you, your release from earlier merging with the lube until both you and Mingi are filthy and soaking, juices flowing down your thighs and right into his sheets.

“You’re so wet, holy f-fuck—” His eyes are the ones struggling to stay open now, drunk off of everything you that he can’t even move his hips properly, stuttering every now and then.

There’s the delicious squelches every time his skin meets yours, the dizzying pap! pap! pap! that hypnotises you. “Listen to how wet your sweet pussy is, baby.”

You’re past words, only babbling incoherence as Mingi grunts above you, continuing to fill you up with his cock. His thrusts start to turn erratic, so lost in the feeling that the grip on your legs loses its hold. You take the chance to wrap them around his waist, barely catching his pendant and yanking him towards you.

“Kiss me stupid, Mingi.” The long, drawn out moan against your lips sends heat bubbling up from inside you. And the kiss he lands on you leaves fire along your skin, burning indefinitely until a particular thrust has your eyes rolling back.

“Cumming— f-fuck—!” It comes out in broken sobs as you see white, cumming so hard on his pulsating length that your juices spray everywhere and your legs shake uncontrollably. The slight sheen along his cock starts to form a ring of white and he whines at your warmth.

Everything — the craving for you, your tight cunt, how you leak all over him — makes him cum right after. “I-I’m gonna pump you full, baby— shit…”

Your eyes can’t help but roll back again at the sensation of Mingi painting your insides white, cum spurting so deep in you that you can feel it flow out. It’s so warm that you squirm as he holds your hips down, making sure your hole gets every last drop.

Without pulling out, he admires your sweaty top that’s been pushed past your tits, your heaving chest and the remnants of your trembling thighs with a lip bite accompanied by a smile.

Silently, he caresses your outer thighs, slowly bringing your feet down to rest on his soaked sheets. You whimper when you feel him pull out, the salacious sight of cum leaking out from your pussy comes out in blobs; it takes everything in Mingi to compose himself. 

Because you were utterly fucked out, eyes constantly blinking with a light-headed expression that tells him he might’ve fucked you dumb. Your little sounds are just adorable that he rubs his cum just one last time over your folds, claiming you.

“Okay okay, baby, I got you.” With a peck to your forehead, Mingi promises to come back with a wet rag and some water and the last thing you remember is sage and citrus wafting through the air as he plants a sweet kiss to your lips. “And then tomorrow, we’ll figure everything out, okay honey?”

You drift off easily, but you’ll find that for now and possibly forever, Mingi always keeps his promises.

A dream — you think, when you wake up, but you recognise that the bedroom is not yours and the ache in your body persists. But to your dismay, Mingi is nowhere to be found. Not until you hear faint humming coming from the kitchen and smell the lovely aroma of pancakes.

“Morning, baby.” Mingi says like you’ve always been in his life, like you’ve lived here for many years, like you’re familiar to him.

“Y-Yeah, good morning, Mingi.” Awkwardly, you take a seat at his island, but as you watch his broad back cooking breakfast for his one-night stand, you relax for a bit.

Mingi piles a few pancakes for you effortlessly, sliding the plate to you, followed by the butter and then holds up maple syrup in his left hand and honey in the other. The question is unsaid, but you nod towards his right with a small smile that’s returned.

“Eat.” With a plate in his hand as well, he plops down beside you as if one-night stands don’t complicate feelings and makes things messy.

But Mingi, the bartender, with a pure heart and even lovelier soul (you have yet to discover this), eats a meal beside you like you’re tied together by fate (maybe).

(You are).

Now, his deep voice sounds small, but sure. “And then we’ll talk feelings after. And we can talk about the ‘after’ after.”

A deep breath for good measure and luck. “And also maybe about the date I’d wanna bring you on.”

by. janus, from me to you ♡ also major thank you to this video which made me lose my mind n inspired this...

[booksandteaandtears]

A proposal

Michael 'Dr. Robby' Robinavitch x f!prosecutor!reader

summary: after two years together you are ready to call Robby your husband, but he's not acting on your hints

A short, slightly angsty, but mostly fluffy one

masterlist

Robby had noticed you'd been off the last few days. Work had been quiet for you for a couple of weeks, so you'd been able to spend a lot of time together. You'd gone on some nice dates, eating at fancy restaurants, going for hikes.

Robby knew your work was going to pick back up the day after and he wanted to confront it, to figure out what was going on.

You were sat on the couch, reading some report when he sat down next to you, looking anxious. You raised your eyebrows at him. "Something the matter, Michael?" He scratched his throat. "Did you enjoy yourself this week?" "Yes." You answered. He thought your answer was too short to be very truthful.

"Are you angry with me?" You looked up at him. He looked at you expectantly. You put the report down on the coffee table and forced yourself to sit more upright on the couch.

"I am, as a matter of fact. Don't get me wrong, I loved the dates, they were perfect. But I expected something this week, Michael, and you haven't so much as given a hint about it."

Robby looked confused. "I don't understand, what did you expect?"

You sighed. "Are you really that dense?" The confusion hadn't left Robby. "That hike we took, remember how I described that a couple months ago?"

Robby scratched his beard. "You said the view at the top would be an ideal proposal spot." "Yes!" You gasped at him.

Robby could not look more confused if he tried.

"What are you saying, did you expect I would..." You threw your hands in the air. "I thought you would propose! I've had this day marked in my calendar since we planned it, I even got my nails done for it. I've been hinting for months."

Robby seemed to have stopped listening after you said the word propose. "You want to get married? To me?"

"Jesus christ, Robby! Of course I want to get married to you. I told you when we first started dating that I'd like to get married some day. It's been two years since then. We've bought a house together. I've been talking about my dream engagement ring for the past three months."

Robby blinked at you. "I thought that was just hypothetical thing?"

"Oh my god. Michael. I sent you a link. I gave you my ring size. I even sent it to Dana and Abbot as well, in case you forgot or something."

"So that's why they were asking me if I bought "it" yet. I couldn't figure out what they meant."

You laughed at him. "You may be a very smart and accomplished doctor, but if I didn't know better I'd say you were really dumb."

He laughed with you and pulled you closer to him on the couch.

"So," he whispered, kissing you, "You want to get married?"

You held his chin in your hand. "Desperately. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to call you my husband. I want to grow old with you. I'd spend every minute of every day with you if I could."

He kissed you again and pressed his head against yours.

"Will you marry me? Will you please be my wife and make me the happiest man alive for the rest of our days? Even if I am a little stupid and unaware sometimes? Even if it's a proposal without a ring?"

You couldn't stop smiling. "Yes. Yes! I will!" You kissed him again.

When you came up for air his grin matched yours. "I will marry you," you told him, "But you will have to get me my ring, because I consulted all my colleagues on which one was the prettiest and I am terrified to show up without one when I've been hyping it up for weeks."

He smiled at you, wondering if he could ever feel happier than in that moment. "I better get you a ring, because Dana will kill me if she hears how I handled this."

[seitmai]

Many thoughts

You stared blankly at the spreadsheet open on your laptop screen, wondering how you’d gone from “just us, barefoot on a beach” to twelve-person string ensemble and a four-tier cake. You didn’t even remember how it happened. Just that it was spiraling now. Too fast and too big.

Well that spiraled quickly

“Shhh,” he murmured. “Come here.” He pulled you into his lap, your legs draped over his thighs as he settled back into the couch. His hand slid under the shirt you were wearing, his shirt resting warm and steady over the gentle swell of your belly. “First of all,” he murmured, lips brushing your temple, “you already gave me perfect the day you said yes.”

He is the cutest 🥹

“We can call off the whole thing right now and go to city hall in whatever we’re wearing,” he whispered, “and it’ll still be the best day of my life. I swear to God.” “You’d marry me in sweatpants?” “In a heartbeat. With mustard on my shirt and the courthouse AC broken. Don’t care.”

Oh he so means it, she has to say the word and they are on their way to city hall

 “You’re not doing this alone. I’m here, Baby. For all of it.” You nodded slowly, sniffling into his neck.He pulled back just enough to look at you. “Now, what do you need? A nap? A foot rub? For me to throw this whole planner into the ocean?” “Honestly? All three.” “Done.”

He truly knows what the right answers are

Not because the stress was gone, but because Bucky Barnes knew how to hold you steady when it hit.

This is so accurate and important!

“You’re glowing, by the way,” she said, settling on the couch beside you.  “Even if you’re panicking. Still glowing. Like, annoying-level glowing.” “I don’t feel glowing. I feel deranged. I cried over a centerpiece. A fucking centerpiece, Peach. Bucky had to talk me down like he was disarming a nuke.” Peach laughed, flopping over until her cheek was resting on your shoulder. “Sounds like he passed the test.”

Leave it to Peach to bring some positive vibes and laughter!

“The one that actually matters. You already knew the sex was good. You already had the chemistry, the intellectualism, the obsession. But the way he holds you through this? The hormones, the wedding spreadsheet meltdowns?” She grinned. “That’s the forever part.”

So true!

“I knew the second I saw him in Hilton Head. I wanted to strangle him. And kiss him. And break every plate in the house.” You smiled. “Sounds romantic.”

Romantic in their own crazy way 🤭

“If you still want simple, you can have it. But don’t hide from what you want because it scares you. If it’s fireworks and a string quartet on an island with your belly full of baby Barnes? Then bitch, do it.”

Yes!

“Now. Are we crying into this gelato like the emotionally unstable icons we are?” You grabbed two spoons. “Of course.”

Obviously 😌

Your mom finally stood and crossed the room to cup your face like she had when you were small. “He’s going to lose his mind,” she murmured. “Not that he isn’t already crazy about you.”

She's not wrong 🤷🏻‍♀️

Bucky: I’ll bring dumplings. One glimpse for every sauce container.

“We’ll practice,” Peach grinned. “We’ll make a TikTok. Bucky’ll cry watching that.”

She's so funny 😅

You: Stop trying to bribe my honor.

She so much better than me! I would have folded with that offer hahah

“You know he’s parked outside, right?” You turned toward the window and there he was, in his sportscar, sunglasses on, and pretending to be normal. He was parked illegally and completely unrepentant. “Already in full simp-mode.”

Truly! And he wouldn't want it any other way

You’d spent the afternoon at your final fitting with your mom and Peach. He’d tried to bribe someone, anyone, to get a peek. The designer, the assistant, the poor delivery driver who’d dropped off the steaming food Peach ordered from a fancy Thai place. But no one cracked.

Wow my respect to all those people 🫡 I know Bucky would have paid a lot

“You’re quiet,” you called, not looking up. “That’s dangerous.”

That's always suspicious haha

“No panties next week.” You laughed. “Excuse me?” “You heard me,” he said, one hand gliding down to cup between your thighs. “None. I want to be thinking about this sweet little pussy while you walk down the aisle. About how soaked you’ll be by the time I say I do.” “Just picture it, baby. You walk down that aisle, glowing, mine in every way. Everyone watching you. No one knowing you’re bare under there except me.”

I mean 👀

“You think you’re glowing now? Wait until you’re wearing my name, my ring, carrying my baby, and soaked for me on our wedding night.”

If she wasn't already pregnant, she definitely would be after the wedding night 🤭

“We’re getting married in front of my entire family.” “I’m your family and I’m gonna fuck you now,” he said simply as he rose.

🤭🤭🤭

“You’re gonna walk down that aisle,” he whispered, “and I’m gonna lose my fucking mind.” You kissed his jaw. “You better.”

I'm sure Peach would drag him there if he wouldn't 😅🤭

“You know what’ll help?” You sighed happily. “What?” “No panties.” “We’ll see.” He grinned against your temple. “No. We won’t. That’s the whole point.”

Ahahah he really wants this😂

🥹🥰🥹🥰

“He’s not exactly a prince.” “No,” she said softly, brushing a lock of hair from your face. “He’s better. He’s yours.” “You’ve always been sunlight, but with him? You shine. And that baby already knows how lucky they are.”

“You gonna cry?” you asked without turning around. “No,” Peach sniffled. “You’re gonna cry. And ruin your lashes. So don’t.”

Fair point

Your body was already beginning to shift, soft in places it hadn’t been months ago, glowing with the quiet strength of what you carried. And the dress wasn’t there to hide it. It was designed to honor it.

That's such a beautiful description!

Peach held up a tissue like a threat.

Only Peach can hold a tissue like a threat 😅

 “Don’t you dare. We’ve got twenty minutes. You cry now, and the stylist will have to reapply your entire face. And Steve’s already crying and pretending he’s not, so that’s my job for later.” You smiled. “He is?” “Oh, he’s wrecked. I caught him sneaking a look at Bucky, who’s pacing the beach like a caged panther. He’s muttering to himself and holding the rings like they’re gonna disappear.”

Aw that's so cute 🥹

Then you whispered to your reflection, “Let’s go get married.”

I love when people say this like a motivational mantra 🤗

Today, his hands were waiting to touch you, his future wife. And for the first time in years, he was nervous in a way that had nothing to do with power, and everything to do with love.

He is a true romantic

Fair

You had insisted on a first look. Said he couldn’t badger his way into seeing the dress ahead of time, but you’d give him this moment before the wedding.  Something private. Just for you two. And thank God for that, because Bucky already felt like he was going to drop to his knees.

“If you pass out, I’m not carrying you.”

Haha Steve 😅 and we all know he would carry Bucky

He shut his eyes for a second. Took a breath like it was his first in years. Then he turned. And the world fucking stopped. His voice cracked as he said your name. You stepped forward, nervous for only a second until you saw the look in his eyes. “Arăți ca pentru totdeauna. You look like forever,” he said hoarsely. He reached out, fingers brushing your waist like you were made of spun sugar, like you’d disappear if he held on too tightly. But you didn’t disappear.

So cute 🥰

“She’s coming,” Steve said under his breath as Peach walked toward him. “Try to stay upright..”

He really doesn't want to carry him 😅

Bucky swore the sun dimmed itself just to let you shine. He’d seen you earlier, kissed you, held you, but this was different. This was sacred.

🥹🥹🥹

Reaching the altar, Peach dabbed her eyes discreetly, and tucked in beside Steve. He reached for her hand. His grip trembled and he leaned close and whispered something only she could hear. She nodded, then pressed a kiss to his knuckles.

They are so cute and probably ecstatic for these two important people in their life 🥰

But Bucky couldn’t see them anymore. He saw only you. And you were looking right at him. Like there was no one else. No crowd. No ceremony. Just him.

That's how it should be 🥰

“Okay?” he mouthed. You nodded, eyes shining. “You?” His laugh was pure joy. “Not even a little.”

That's just so sweet 🥹

Too late. You were already reaching for him, grabbing his lapels and pulling him in like you couldn’t wait another second. The kiss was deep, sweet and improper. The crowd gasped. Peach hooted. Steve muttered “Jesus, you two,” and shook his head, but there was a grin on his face big enough to rival the ocean.

Haha of course Peach hooted 😂 and Steve is the one talking as if he and Peach are any better lol

“No panties. Just like you said. And shaved bare, too.” Bucky didn’t stumble, but he damn near did.

That's the moment he actually need Steve to catch him from hitting the floor 🤭

He’d kept himself in check all day. Ceremony, photos, dinner, the toast that Peach gave that wrecked you both, he’d kept it buttoned up. But now he was unhinged. It shocked him how much he wanted you.

Is he really shocked tho?

“You’ve been teasing me for days,” he said, breath hot against your neck. “All that talk about the dress. And what you’d wear underneath.” “You like?” you asked, breathless. Bucky smirked. “I love you bare. Shaved. Soaked for me. So gorgeous.” 

His favorite wedding present 🤭

“It’s not just how perfect you look. It’s everything. Your laugh. Your voice. The way you make me feel. The way you look at me.” “It gets me hard, Frumoasă. Really fucking hard. But that’s not why I love you. You’re kind. You’re sassy. You’re good. And you’re real.”

This is wholesome and horny at the same time

“Still with me, Mrs. Barnes?” “Always,” you whispered.

🥰🥰🥰

Later, he carried you to the bath, washing you gently, like something priceless. You curled between his thighs as warm water lapped at your skin, the scent of gardenia rising with the steam.

Because she truly is priceless to him 🥰

“You’re everything,” he whispered. “My love. My future. My family.” You turned in his arms, pressing your lips to his. “And you’re mine.”

🥰🥹🥰🥹

At Last

Make it So | Knock You Down Masterlist

Summary: Bucky makes you his wife. And you let him.

Word count: 4.8 K

Pairing: Art Dealer (mob boss) Bucky Barnes x Reader; Steve Rogers x Peach

A/N: This fic is in the Knock You Down AU, and the wedding is finally here. It comes after the events of Make it So. This universe obviously intersects with the Peach verse, and would come after Show Off. It also will intersect with the Muse AU in the future of this story. Being on the couch for the past week is coming in clutch to catch Bucky and Steve up to Ari. I'm nervous because I haven't written for these two in a while and wanted to get the wedding just right. Please let me know how you feel by commenting, reblogging, and interacting. 😉

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Read at your own risk. Reader is 3 months pregnant. Anxiety attack, wedding stress, destination wedding, wedding dress shopping, sex in an established relationship, pregnant reader, Bucky is a simp and feral for Furmoaså, flirting, teasing, Bucky speaking google Romanian, praise so much praise, oral, (f receiving) more bathroom sex, bump worship, raw p-in-v, after care.

Not Beta'd. All errors my own.

I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

-----

The coffee table was buried in color swatches, RSVP mockups, half-emptied takeout containers, and a half-full glass of ginger ale you’d been too nauseous to finish.

You sat cross-legged on the floor in one of Bucky’s dress shirts, hair up in a messy bun, your phone in one hand and your planner in the other. 

You stared blankly at the spreadsheet open on your laptop screen, wondering how you’d gone from “just us, barefoot on a beach” to twelve-person string ensemble and a four-tier cake.

You didn’t even remember how it happened. Just that it was spiraling now. Too fast and too big.

The tightness in your chest was creeping up your throat. That shallow, dizzy feeling again, not hunger, not nausea. Just too much. Your vision blurred and your hands trembled as you shut the laptop.

And that’s how Bucky found you.

“Hey. What’s going on, Frumoasă?”

He was fresh out of the shower, his hair damp and curling. His chest was bare, sweatpants riding low on his hips. He was drying his hair as he stepped into the room, but when he saw your face he dropped the towel.

In two strides he was in front of you, crouched between your knees, warm hands cupping your cheeks.

“Baby,” he said softly, thumbs brushing away tears you hadn’t even noticed. 

“Breathe with me, okay? In…”

You inhaled shakily, eyes locked on his.

“Good girl. Now out…”

Your exhale caught, but you pushed through it.

“There you go,” he murmured, forehead pressed to yours. “Again.”

You followed his rhythm until the wave of panic ebbed, just enough to let your lungs expand again. You felt yourself calm just a little.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice cracking. “I’m trying to do everything right. I want it to be perfect. I want you to be proud. I want the baby to be okay, and I just…”

“Shhh,” he murmured. “Come here.”

He pulled you into his lap, your legs draped over his thighs as he settled back into the couch. His hand slid under the shirt you were wearing, his shirt resting warm and steady over the gentle swell of your belly.

“First of all,” he murmured, lips brushing your temple, “you already gave me perfect the day you said yes.”

“And second… proud doesn’t even begin to cover it. I look at you every day and think, how the fuck did I get this lucky?”

You closed your eyes and let yourself sink into him, your forehead against his neck, your body melting against his chest. His other hand moved to your hair, fingers cording through the thickness gently.

“We can call off the whole thing right now and go to city hall in whatever we’re wearing,” he whispered, “and it’ll still be the best day of my life. I swear to God.”

You let out a broken laugh. 

“You’d marry me in sweatpants?”

“In a heartbeat. With mustard on my shirt and the courthouse AC broken. Don’t care.” 

His lips grazing yours.

“You’re not doing this alone. I’m here, Baby. For all of it.”

You nodded slowly, sniffling into his neck.

He pulled back just enough to look at you.

“Now, what do you need? A nap? A foot rub? For me to throw this whole planner into the ocean?”

You laughed again, watery and real. 

“Honestly? All three.”

“Done.”

And just like that, the storm passed.

Not because the stress was gone, but because Bucky Barnes knew how to hold you steady when it hit.

—---

It was past eleven the next day when Peach arrived, holding a pint of salted caramel gelato.

“Tell me you’re not still doom-scrolling BridalTok.”

You didn’t answer. The open Pinterest tabs on your laptop, the silk robe you hadn’t changed out of since breakfast, and the vanilla candle you’d lit twice today were damning enough.

Peach kicked off her sandals and padded inside.

“You’re glowing, by the way,” she said, settling on the couch beside you. 

“Even if you’re panicking. Still glowing. Like, annoying-level glowing.”

You groaned and pulled the throw blanket over your face. 

“I don’t feel glowing. I feel deranged. I cried over a centerpiece. A fucking centerpiece, Peach. Bucky had to talk me down like he was disarming a nuke.”

Peach laughed, flopping over until her cheek was resting on your shoulder. 

“Sounds like he passed the test.”

You peeked at her from under the blanket.

“What test?”

“The one that actually matters. You already knew the sex was good. You already had the chemistry, the intellectualism, the obsession. But the way he holds you through this? The hormones, the wedding spreadsheet meltdowns?”

She grinned.

“That’s the forever part.”

Your throat tightened a little.

You sat up slowly, tugging your knees to your chest. 

“Was it like that for you and Steve? When you knew?”

Peach went quiet, her teasing softened by memory.

“I knew the second I saw him in Hilton Head. I wanted to strangle him. And kiss him. And break every plate in the house.”

You smiled. “Sounds romantic.”

“It wasn’t. Not then. But when I saw him again in Brooklyn, and I wasn’t mad anymore. Just wrecked and happy to see him? That’s when I knew.”

She turned to you, all mischief gone.

“But this wedding? This is you. Big, golden, joyful you. And Bucky sees it. He wants it. Not because it’s shiny, but because it’s yours.”

You blinked hard, breathing shallow now for entirely different reasons. Peach nudged you with her foot. 

“If you still want simple, you can have it. But don’t hide from what you want because it scares you. If it’s fireworks and a string quartet on an island with your belly full of baby Barnes? Then bitch, do it.”

You wiped your eyes. “I love you.”

She grinned. “Obviously.”

She stood and stretched dramatically. 

“Now. Are we crying into this gelato like the emotionally unstable icons we are?”

You grabbed two spoons.

“Of course.”

—

The boutique was a quiet sanctuary tucked between two noisy cafes in SoHo, and for a few hours, it belonged to just the three of you. 

A sign in the window read Private Appointment – Bride Inside, scrawled in looping script, and Peach had immediately posed in front of it for a photo.

Inside, soft jazz filtered through the air as you stood on the pedestal, hem floating just above your bare feet, silk and tulle whispering around your thighs.

You tried not to cry.

Your mom sat on the velvet settee, hand pressed to her lips. Peach held the other, and even she was misty-eyed, despite teasing you the whole drive over about being “the chill bride, remember?”

“You look like a goddess,” she whispered. “A divine entity. They should retire white after this.”

The gown had been a long shot,  a last-minute sample pulled out of storage by a determined assistant who said, “I just have a feeling.” 

And somehow, it was everything.

Soft and stunning, romantic without being fussy. Ivory silk with a gentle shimmer, delicate cap sleeves that slipped off your shoulders just enough, and a deep V-back that draped like liquid. The front skimmed over your three-month bump, subtle enough to feel like a secret only Bucky would notice up close.

The veil was still in its packaging. You hadn’t decided on it yet. But when the assistant gently pinned a cluster of pale blossoms behind your ear, you suddenly saw the whole picture.

A villa. The sea. Golden hour.

And Bucky.

Your mom finally stood and crossed the room to cup your face like she had when you were small.

“He’s going to lose his mind,” she murmured. “Not that he isn’t already crazy about you.”

You laughed, thick with emotion.

“I don’t even know how to walk in this.”

“We’ll practice,” Peach grinned. “We’ll make a TikTok. Bucky’ll cry watching that.”

The fitting ended with a rush of photos, none of which you sent to Bucky. You’d barely stepped out of the dress when your phone buzzed.

Bucky: How’s it going? Are you still in the dress? What if I promised not to blink. Just a peek.

You: Absolutely not.

Bucky: I’ll bring dumplings. One glimpse for every sauce container.

You: Stop trying to bribe my honor.

Bucky: Your honor already said yes to marrying me. Let me worship you. …I’ll throw in a foot rub.

Peach leaned over your shoulder and read the thread, grinning.

“You know he’s parked outside, right?”

You turned toward the window and there he was, in his sportscar, sunglasses on, and pretending to be normal. He was parked illegally and completely unrepentant.

Your cheeks flushed.

“Oh my God.”

Peach cackled.

“Already in full simp-mode.”

—---

Bucky couldn’t stop imagining you in that dress.

He hadn’t even seen it, just chased the outline in his head, by the way your voice caught when you described how it shimmered, and by the way your hands had brushed your own hips when you whispered, “It just floats, Bucky. Like a dream.”

Well, now he was the one dreaming. Hard.

You’d spent the afternoon at your final fitting with your mom and Peach. He’d tried to bribe someone, anyone, to get a peek.

The designer, the assistant, the poor delivery driver who’d dropped off the steaming food Peach ordered from a fancy Thai place. But no one cracked.

So now he was pacing the penthouse while you did your hair in the ensuite, wearing one of his old tees and nothing else. The same legs that would walk toward him in that dress next week were currently propped up on the vanity, lotion glinting on your thighs like an oasis illusion.

He was losing it.

“You’re quiet,” you called, not looking up. “That’s dangerous.”

“I’m picturing you in white,” Bucky said, appearing in the doorway.

His eyes were starving.

You smirked at him in the mirror.

“That bad?”

“No,” he said, stepping closer.

“That good. Too good.”

He leaned down, mouth brushing your neck, hands sliding up the backs of your thighs. 

“I can’t stop thinking about how you’ll look. But even more? About what’ll be underneath.”

You raised a brow.

“You won’t be seeing that during the ceremony.”

Bucky raised himself to full height.

“No panties next week.”

You laughed. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he said, one hand gliding down to cup between your thighs. 

“None. I want to be thinking about this sweet little pussy while you walk down the aisle. About how soaked you’ll be by the time I say I do.”

You gasped as he dragged his nose along your neck.

"Vei fi atât de frumoasă..."

“I thought you said you didn’t want to jinx anything,” you whispered, teasing. 

“I don’t,” he murmured, lifting you up onto the counter with ease. “I just want what’s under the dress.”

His hands were hot on your thighs, spreading them open as his mouth found your neck, his voice wrecked with want.

“Just picture it, baby. You walk down that aisle, glowing, mine in every way. Everyone watching you. No one knowing you’re bare under there except me.”

You moaned softly, head tipping back as he kissed just beneath your jaw.

“You’ll say your vows, let me put that ring on your finger, and I’ll be standing there thinking about how my cum’s gonna leaking out of you that night.”

“James…”

“That’s right, mama,” he smiled into your neck, while slipping two fingers under your shirt to roll your nipple between his fingers.

His other hand was between your legs, thumb dragging a slow, teasing circle.

“You’re soaked,” he growled, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“This all for me, Baby?”

You nodded, dizzy.

“Been thinking about you all day.”

“Yeah?” His fingers dipped lower, spreading slick heat. “You ache, sweetheart? Want me to fix it?”

Your hips rocked into his palm, desperate and needy.

He chuckled.

“I’ll take care of it.”

Bucky sank to his knees.

He lifted one of your legs over his shoulder, his hands gripping your hips, spreading you open with no shame. His mouth hovered over you, hot breath ghosting across sensitive skin.

And then he devoured you, his tongue firm and greedy, lips wrapping around your clit and his groan vibrating straight into your core. You cried out, fingers clutching the edge of the counter, spine arching as you came, so sensitive with pregnancy.

“You think you’re glowing now? Wait until you’re wearing my name, my ring, carrying my baby, and soaked for me on our wedding night.”

You whimpered, thighs rubbing together for friction. Bucky smirked, cock hard against your back, his lips brushing your ear.

“No panties,” he repeated, voice wrecked. “That’s final.”

As if he wouldn’t let you do anything and everything you wanted. He was grasping at straws, desperate.

You shivered.

“We’re getting married in front of my entire family.”

“I’m your family and I’m gonna fuck you now,” he said simply as he rose.

“Right here.”

You were already nodding when he turned you around and bent you over the counter, dragging your panties down and pushing your thighs apart. He didn’t bother teasing this time, just slid in deep and slow, your walls fluttering around him as he groaned your name like a prayer.

“God, you feel like heaven.”

One arm locked around your waist, hand splayed over your belly. The other cupped your breast through the shirt, thumb brushing your nipple. His thrusts were rougher now, driven by something raw.

“You gonna come again for me?” he growled into your neck.

“Come on, sweetheart. Give it to me.”

You shattered with his name on your lips.

And he followed with a broken moan, spilling inside you with a possessive groan, his body curling protectively over yours as he kissed the sweat-slicked skin at the back of your neck.

“You’re gonna walk down that aisle,” he whispered, “and I’m gonna lose my fucking mind.”

You kissed his jaw. “You better.”

“You know what’ll help?”

You sighed happily. “What?”

“No panties.”

You laughed and buried your face in his chest.

“We’ll see.”

He grinned against your temple.

“No. We won’t. That’s the whole point.”

—---

The bridal suite smelled like pressed linen, sea air, and gardenia. You’d dreamt about this as a child.

But nothing about this was childish.

The silk under your fingers was real. The gold initials stitched in your train were real. The diamond on your hand caught every beam of sunlight through the balcony doors.

And Bucky Barnes was real.

You stood barefoot before the full-length mirror, the final zip of your gown still undone, your hair swept up in curls, a halo of pins and fresh petals glinting beneath your veil.

Peach was in the hallway chasing down earrings. The stylist was packing up brushes. And your mom stood behind you, hands gentle on your shoulders, looking at your reflection in the mirror.

“My beautiful girl,” she whispered.

You turned to look at her.

There were tears in her eyes, but she was smiling.

“You used to twirl around the living room with a pillowcase on your head and say, Mama, one day I’m gonna marry a prince.”

You laughed, already crying.

“He’s not exactly a prince.”

“No,” she said softly, brushing a lock of hair from your face.

“He’s better. He’s yours.”

That hit deeper than expected.

“You’re brave, you know,” she added.

“Not just because you’re marrying him. But because you’re letting yourself have this. Love, joy, your dream. You’re not shrinking for anyone.”

You swallowed hard.

“He loves you so much,” she continued.

“You’ve always been sunlight, but with him? You shine. And that baby already knows how lucky they are.”

You rested your hands over the small swell of your belly, blinking fast.

She stepped closer, adjusted a strand of hair, and kissed your temple.

“Take a deep breath, baby. This is the start of the rest of everything.”

Peach was showed up behind you in a sage-green slip dress, grinning like she had a secret.

“You gonna cry?” you asked without turning around.

“No,” Peach sniffled.

“You’re gonna cry. And ruin your lashes. So don’t.”

You huffed a soft laugh.

“Help me with the back?”

She stepped up behind you, fingers gentle as she zipped the dress slowly, smoothing it with a reverent touch.

“Holy shit,” she breathed.

You finally looked at yourself.

Your body was already beginning to shift, soft in places it hadn’t been months ago, glowing with the quiet strength of what you carried. And the dress wasn’t there to hide it. It was designed to honor it.

A deep neckline, silk that draped like water over your hips, the faintest shimmer that caught the light every time you moved.

Your hand found your belly, still barely visible. But you felt it. Bucky’s child. Yours.

“You’re not just a bride,” Peach said softly behind you. “You’re a monument.”

You turned, blinking back tears.

Peach held up a tissue like a threat. 

“Don’t you dare. We’ve got twenty minutes. You cry now, and the stylist will have to reapply your entire face. And Steve’s already crying and pretending he’s not, so that’s my job for later.”

You smiled. “He is?”

“Oh, he’s wrecked. I caught him sneaking a look at Bucky, who’s pacing the beach like a caged panther. He’s muttering to himself and holding the rings like they’re gonna disappear.”

Your stomach fluttered with nerves, joy, and a little nausea.

Peach stepped forward and took your hands.

“You ready?”

You nodded. “I think so.”

“Good. Because this wedding? It’s not about proving anything. Not to family. Not to guests. Not even to yourselves. It’s just the loudest, brightest way to say what you already know.”

Your voice was barely above a whisper.

“That he’s mine.”

Peach nodded.

“And you’re his. For good.”

You took one last look in the mirror, breathed in deep, and exhaled slowly.

Then you whispered to your reflection, “Let’s go get married.”

—--

Bucky’s palms were sweating.

Which was absurd, given what his hands had done in past lives. They done some dangerous things and they had been steady. Always. 

But not today.

Today, his hands were waiting to touch you, his future wife. And for the first time in years, he was nervous in a way that had nothing to do with power, and everything to do with love.

He stood at the edge of a terraced garden that sloped down toward the sea, the salt air heavy with hibiscus and lavender. The villa behind him had hosted billionaires and heads of state, but none of them mattered.

The only thing that mattered was the sound of soft footsteps behind him.

He adjusted the cuff of his navy linen jacket, one of three that had been custom-made for this day. Steve had rolled his eyes earlier, muttering something about Bucky becoming a goddamn peacock in his old age.

But then again, Steve hadn’t seen you yet.

You had insisted on a first look. Said he couldn’t badger his way into seeing the dress ahead of time, but you’d give him this moment before the wedding. 

Something private. Just for you two.

And thank God for that, because Bucky already felt like he was going to drop to his knees.

“Buck,” came Steve’s voice from behind him, sarcastic.

“If you pass out, I’m not carrying you.”

Bucky cracked a shaky grin but didn’t turn around. Not yet.

He heard your laugh before your voice. The sound of Peach’s heels clicking nearer. 

And then…“James.”

He shut his eyes for a second. Took a breath like it was his first in years. Then he turned. And the world fucking stopped.

You stood in the garden light, hair swept up, veil fluttering slightly in the sea breeze, and the gown…Jesus.

Bucky couldn’t breathe.

You looked like a dream he was afraid to wake from. The silk clung in all the right places and glowed against your skin, soft and strong and completely you.

His eyes dropped to your hand and the ring he gave you glittering in the afternoon light, and then lower, to the barely-there swell of your belly, where his child grew.

His voice cracked as he said your name.

You stepped forward, nervous for only a second until you saw the look in his eyes.

He was ruined.

Bucky’s throat worked as he blinked hard.

“You look…”

“Yeah?” you teased, suddenly shy.

“Arăți ca pentru totdeauna. You look like forever,” he said hoarsely.

He reached out, fingers brushing your waist like you were made of spun sugar, like you’d disappear if he held on too tightly. But you didn’t disappear.

You stepped right into his arms, melted into him, and he kissed your temple carefully.

“I love you,” you whispered into his neck.

His voice was raw. “I love you more.”

You pulled back to look at him, hands resting lightly over the lapels of his jacket. 

“Still nervous?”

He shook his head.

“Not anymore.”

—---

The ceremony was held at golden hour on a bluff overlooking the Aegean. The aisle curved through native sea grass and white stone, petals scattered with the ocean spread wide behind the altar.

Bucky waited, heart racing, jaw tight, in the very center of it all.

Steve stood at his side, a rare look of reverence on his face. The man had been his right hand through everything it took to build an empire. But nothing had ever made Steve sniff back emotion like this.

“She’s coming,” Steve said under his breath as Peach walked toward him. “Try to stay upright..”

Bucky didn’t reply.

And then he saw you and everything went still.

You stepped into view, arm tucked gently through your stepfather’s, veil floating behind you, dress glowing like it had been dipped in starlight.

Bucky swore the sun dimmed itself just to let you shine.

He’d seen you earlier, kissed you, held you, but this was different.

This was sacred.

Reaching the altar, Peach dabbed her eyes discreetly, and tucked in beside Steve. He reached for her hand. His grip trembled and he leaned close and whispered something only she could hear. She nodded, then pressed a kiss to his knuckles.

But Bucky couldn’t see them anymore.

He saw only you.

And you were looking right at him. Like there was no one else. No crowd. No ceremony. Just him.

He pressed two fingers to his lips, then to his heart.

You felt it. A vow without words.

Your stepfather leaned in and whispered, “He loves you, baby girl,” before placing your hand into Bucky’s.

The officiant spoke, but neither of you heard a thing.

“Okay?” he mouthed.

You nodded, eyes shining. “You?”

His laugh was pure joy.

“Not even a little.”

The ceremony passed in a blur of gold and sea wind and reverent silence. There were a few readings, a pointed look from Peach when the phrase “in passion and peace,” was spoken, and Steve chuckled under his breath.

Bucky barely registered it.

He watched your lips shape the words “I choose you,” like they’d been written into his skin.

And when it was his turn, his voice cracked.

N-am crezut niciodată că merit așa ceva, dar jur pe Dumnezeu că voi petrece fiecare zi demonstrând că merit.

“I never thought I’d deserve something like this,” he said, eyes fixed on yours. “But I swear to God, I’ll spend every day proving I do.”

The officiant smiled.

“I now pronounce you…”

Too late.

You were already reaching for him, grabbing his lapels and pulling him in like you couldn’t wait another second.

The kiss was deep, sweet and improper.

The crowd gasped. Peach hooted. Steve muttered “Jesus, you two,” and shook his head, but there was a grin on his face big enough to rival the ocean.

You and Bucky walked back down the aisle hand in hand, both of you beaming, radiant with something wild and holy.

He leaned close as the cheers swelled behind you, eyes flicking down your body. 

You bit your lip and winked at your new husband as you leaned in to give him a kiss on the cheek.

“No panties. Just like you said. And shaved bare, too.”

Bucky didn’t stumble, but he damn near did.

You kept walking, serene and glowing beside him, your veil floating like a flame in the breeze.

Bucky was wrecked.

And the happiest he’d ever been in his life.

—-

The villa was quiet when you arrived and bathed in candlelight, the ocean’s rhythm a soft pulse through the windows. Someone had come in ahead of you; peonies floated in the clawfoot tub, and bottles of water chilled beside a tray of honey-dipped figs and dark chocolate.

But you didn’t notice any of it right away.

You noticed Bucky.

He kicked the door shut behind him, jacket already off, shirt unbuttoned halfway down his chest, his gaze raking over you like he was starved.

He’d kept himself in check all day. 

Ceremony, photos, dinner, the toast that Peach gave that wrecked you both, he’d kept it buttoned up.

But now he was unhinged. It shocked him how much he wanted you.

“Come here,” he said, voice raw.

You turned slowly, silk rustling as you moved toward him like a dream he’d been chasing his whole life. And when you were close enough to touch, he did.

His hands found your waist and then lower, gathering your gown in his fists, dragging the fabric up inch by inch until the whole thing slipped off your body and pooled at your feet.

And Christ.

There you were.

“Fuck,” he whispered against your mouth. “You’re so goddamn beautiful, sweetheart. Look at you. Mine.”

His lips dragged over your collarbone as he walked you backward toward the bed, relishing the fact that you were bare under his hands. He groaned as his palms found your breasts, thumbs grazing over sensitive nipples.

“You’ve been teasing me for days,” he said, breath hot against your neck. “All that talk about the dress. And what you’d wear underneath.”

“You like?” you asked, breathless.

Bucky smirked.

“I love you bare. Shaved. Soaked for me. So gorgeous.” 

He sank to his knees in front of you, pressing a kiss to the gentle swell of your belly. His hands were splayed over your hips, grounding himself.

“But it’s not just this,” he murmured, voice thick.

“It’s not just how perfect you look. It’s everything. Your laugh. Your voice. The way you make me feel. The way you look at me.”

You were already shaking under his praise, thighs trembling, breath catching. His tongue dipped into your navel and swirled, making goosebumps peak.

“It gets me hard, Frumoasă. Really fucking hard. But that’s not why I love you. You’re kind. You’re sassy. You’re good. And you’re real.”

You whimpered, hips twitching.

“To find someone gorgeous, sweet, smart, hilarious, and mine? That shit’s not real. It’s not. But you are.”

His mouth moved lower, and you barely had time to moan before his tongue slid through your folds, filthy and slow. He groaned like a man who’d been craving this all night, gripping your hips and dragging you closer.

You cried out, one leg lifting automatically over his shoulder, and he buried his mouth deeper. Your hands tangled in his hair, tugging hard. But he didn’t stop. Not until you shattered against his tongue, sobbing his name, your body convulsing from the force of it.

Only then did he rise, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he stared you down.

“You’re already wrecked,” he rasped. “And I haven’t even fucked you yet.”

He undressed without looking away. Shirt, belt, trousers, all gone in seconds. His cock was already hard, thick and heavy, flushed dark and wet.

And when he crawled over you, he took a beat to just look at you.

“Still with me, Mrs. Barnes?”

“Always,” you whispered.

And then he sank into you, slowly, inch by agonizingly thick inch, stretching you around him until he was seated to the hilt and barely breathing.

“Goddamn,” he groaned, forehead pressed to yours, eyes shut like he was in pain.

“You feel like…fuck, you feel like coming home.”

You whimpered, your hips rolling to meet him. He started to move, deeper with each thrust, building a rhythm that made the headboard knock the wall and your name fall from his lips like he didn’t know how to stop saying it.

He kissed your breasts, your neck, your mouth, his hand slipping between you to trace soft circles over your clit. But what wrecked him, what destroyed him, was when his hand slid to your belly again.

Right over where your baby was growing.

“We made something,” he choked out, voice breaking. “Right here. Inside you.”

“You made me yours,” you whispered.

“I always will.”

You came again, sobbing his name, your walls fluttering around him. And Bucky followed with a groan, burying himself deep inside you as he spilled, clutching you tight, and shaking from the force of it.

Later, he carried you to the bath, washing you gently, like something priceless. 

You curled between his thighs as warm water lapped at your skin, the scent of gardenia rising with the steam.

He kissed your shoulder and the back of your hand.

“You’re everything,” he whispered.

“My love. My future. My family.”

You turned in his arms, pressing your lips to his.

“And you’re mine.”

——-

Well? Whaddya think? 🤔

[retireddaddyric]

“Let’s go see the dolphins.”

Synopsis: Daniel and fem reader are in Malvides for their honeymoon. They are fire, him being the dominant part, she’s his baby. But one night..

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, S M U T (like a lot), age gap, soft bondage, degrading kink, dom/sub swing, fluff, romance, established relationship.

Notes: REQUESTED, this is fiction, I’m not a native English speaker, this doesn’t contain a single AI dot, worked on this with all my heart.

The day after our wedding we left for our honeymoon in Maldives.

Away from the world, just us.

When he turns his head I smirk at him and he grins. “Don’t.” He says chuckling while our hands are entwined. His steps are longer and I’m wearing heeled sandals that click on the wooden path that take us from the overwater luxury bungalow to the beach where our dinner table awaits us.

He hasn’t shaved in two weeks and his beard is very long for his usual self. But I don’t complain: he looks relaxed. And he deserves it after everything life threw at him in the last year.

“Your ass looks like a panettone in those linen trousers!” I say smugly.

I can feel his eyes roll while I look at the back of his head, the longer than usual curls.

“You heard me caveman? A panettone. You know that italian christmas sweet tha-“

“I know what a panettone is, I lived in Italy. But you can’t bodyshame me like that, I’m an old man after all.”

I giggle and loose the grip to his hand just to hug his waist from behind and kiss his shoulder blade from above the shirt. “What I meant is that those wide hips of yours make my knees weak.”

“I know.” He says in a nonchalant tone. Then he laughs and his arm reaches for my dress and he pulls at the fabric to push me ahead of himself. He smacks my ass playfully and I squeal, he winks. “Naughty girl.” He mutters when a couple a few meters ahead of us turn their heads to look at us.

I giggle adjusting my little white summer dress, the wedding band shining under the after sunset purple sky.

“Manhandling your little wife like that in public.. might create bad gossip.”

“Fuck the gossip, my wife is a sub.”

I gasp laughing. “Shut the fuck up.”

“You are, you have been one since forever.”

“In bedroom only.”

“In bedroom in particular.”

“Shut up.”

“You shut up.”

He throws his arm around my neck, his taller frame engulfing me completely, and he kisses the top of my head. That’s when I feel our age gap and I find it so cute.

We have the most perfect dinner at a white cloth covered table, with fancy dishes and candles, feet in the sand, him taking pictures of our joined hands displaying our wedding bands- no, he’ll never post them on Daniel.jpg because he doesn’t want you to know he’s a romantic.

We laugh to te point my flute drops to the sand and he spits the wine in his napkin: he’s a billionaire but we’re just two grown-up dirtbags.

At dessert time he steals two spoons of my red velvet cake - he said he didn’t want any when the suit wearing waiter asked him, with a white napkin on his arm that Daniel looked at with a frown. I told him it was for the saliva on his beard since he was drooling over his perfect wife.

After dinner we walked on the beach that we spent the whole day at before we went to shower and get ready for dinner. The warm sand and the starry sky above us are the perfect frame for a memory I will hold forever. We joke and talk about a boat trip we’re gonna do tomorrow to swim with dolphins.

“Dolphins have proper names, you knew that?”

“No shit.” He laughs but looks at me interested.

“I swear to god, each of make a unique sound so that when they have to call each other they make that exact sound.”

“You would ‘aaaaah Daniel’!” He makes a stupid moany sound that sounds a lot like when he eats me out and I hit his chest.

He laughs and says “I know a better one.”

“What.”

“Dolphins are I think the only animals that have sex not only to procreate but for pleasure too.”

“They’re not the only animals..”

“Yeah me too, but I was talking about dolphins.”

I laugh when I understand he got the joke before I could even say it. he laughs and grabs my waist. Kissing my neck from behind, squeezing my hips in his firm hands.

He presses his front at my ass and I smile closing my eyes. He’s already hard.

He licks the area underneath my earlobe and whispers hotly into my ear “Wanna be a good little dolphin?”

I burst out laughing and pull away. “Why would you say something like that in the middle of a horny act?”

He smirks not letting me go, instead his grip on my hips tightens. “You love it when I am a goofy shit.”

“I love you always.”

“Because I’m always goofy.”

“And shit.”

He barks, literally, and picks me up over his shoulder, slaps my ass and walks towards the wooden path to our overwater bungalow, making sure one of his hands covers my ass since it’s all on display. Cheers guests, I guess.

Inside the dimly lit apartment he throws me on the bed and grins looking down at me from the edge. “Here comes the best part of the honeymoon.” He says smiling.

“You’re saying you spent thousands to fuck me but you do that already weekly.”

“I’m saying I get to fuck you with the courtains moving in the wind and the sea waves in the background.” He says while he grabs my ankles and flips me effortlessly on my stomach.

“Hey wait.” I tell him while I stand on my knees but he pushes me back down again with a hand behind my neck, pushing my cheek on the mattress.

“No more waiting, I need to fuck the shit out of my dolphin.” He says pulling down my white lacy thong and exposing my wet folds to him. “Dripping dolphin I meant.” He says and spits on my pussy.

“Daniel!” I scold him but my voice is too husky to really sound like I am stopping him.

His fingers smears his saliva all over my dripping cunt and when he slaps it I jump letting out a moan.

He bites my asscheek crawling on bed behind me and that’s when I grab his shirt collar and push him. He falls on the floor and I jump on him straddling him and taking the string from my bathrobe that was discarded on the floor since the earlier shower.

He frowns “What the-“

I put it on his mouth, pushing it between his teeth and twist it around his head. His eyebrows shoot up but he lets me. I smirk.

His hands grab my thighs but I shake my head.

“Nah, I don’t think so.” I swat them away with mines. I grab the phone charger’s wire from the nightstand and he looks at me with a surprised questioning look. I tie his wrists together with it. He looks at me with smiling eyes, letting me, because, yeah, if he struggled only a little bit he could stop me without even using any effort.

When I smile proudly at my work I push his wrists up above his head.

“Keep them here.” I say in a low voice. He smirks and looks at me with challenge in his eyes. I know what he’s thinking - that I’ve learned a lot from him during these years of him tying me up to beds or various furnitures.

We never did this before, me taking control, we always thought it wasn’t in our nature, maybe it isn’t.

But something snapped inside me today when I saw him kneeling in the shower looking up at me with those big brown eyes. It was moments before he started barking orders but still, that fleeting moment tugged at my chest, it almost whispered into my head “tell him to put his hands behind his back and open his mouth”. I didn’t.

But fuck it, that thought stayed in the back of my head all evening, even when he stole food from my plate and I wanted to feed him myself.

I unbutton his beige shirt slowly, the grown hair of his chest coming to view. I open the fabric and slowly make my index nail trace a straight line that goes from his Adam apple down between his pecs, the middle of his sternum, his abs, his belly button, the happy trail that makes me go feral. I see his skin shivering. Good sign.

Then I grab his jaw firmly and whisper “Say you’re mine.”

“I.. I ahh yooh.” He’s gagged, he tries, looking me in the eyes.

“Louder.”

“Yooosh.” He says firmer.

I slap his cheek lightly and smirk. He thrusts up with his hips and looks at me deadly. that sounds like a warning.

“Tsk. You don’t look at me like that.” I scold him.

He smirks.

I push down his hip with my hand. “And you don’t move until I say so.”

I undo his pants still looking at him. I take them off, making sure I kiss his tattooed muscles on his thigh while i slide down his body. I kiss the tattoo on his foot while he looks at me amused.

Then i grab the waistband of his boxers and pull them down too, his cock is incredibly hard against his abdomen.

“Looks like this dolphin is a bottom after all.”

He smiles and shakes his head.

“No?” I ask.

He shakes his head again.

“Your dick says otherwise.” I say fisting it.

He lets out a groan, his head thrown backwards. I start stroking it slowly. His chest rises and falls deeply. A little drop of pre-cum seems to be calling me and I give it a little kitten lick. His cock jumps and he hisses.

And that’s when I wrap my lips around it and start sucking him with intention, my tongue feels every vein underneath it, my nose hitting the hairy pelvis. I suck him like I am starving, like I’ve been waiting to do this freely for so long, at my pace, without his hand to guide my head and pace. His moans are loud over the towel chord which does little to shut him up.

His stare is wild on me, he bends his knees and thrusts upwards so I pull away.

“Ah ah.” I say, a string of saliva connecting my swollen red mouth to the tip of his cock. “Be a good boy.”

I pinch one of his balls lightly and he flinches. I smirk and lick it, suck on that spot. And he is a whimpering mess.

“Beg.” I say standing up between his legs and taking my dress off.

His eyes eat my curves alive, he’s panting. I put a foot on his mouth and he turns his head to the side so I smirk and I tread his cheek a bit.

“I said beg.”

I straddle his face grabbing his curls with both my hands. And I start grinding on his gagged mouth, my wet pussy drenching his lips, his beard, my clit hits his nose.

He’s looking at me like I am a dream, his eyes almost closed, he inhales deeply anytime my pussy drenches his nose.

“Fuck-“ i moan softly, too softly to sound like a dom. His eyes get so dark, like I am awakening his real side and his arms flex.

“No!” I breathe stopping his arms above his head with my hands. “Let me drive, tonight.”

He smiles challenging but nods.

I start to ride his face again and I hear him say something. But he’s gagged and I don’t catch it.

“What?” I ask breathlessly.

“Eeeaaah” he repeats.

“That sounded like a beg..?”

He rolls his eyes, he is panting. Then he looks at me again.

“..hhuuck hme” he shouts.

I smirk stopping my hips. “Did you ask me to fuck you?”

He nods.

I smile. “Be a good boy and ask nicely.”

He takes a deep breath.

“Eeeaaassh, huuuckk hmee!” He says.

I grin and slide down his body until I am lined up above his cock.

I put my hand on the towel chord and pull it down to free his mouth.

And in that moment I lower my warm pussy to his hardness, until I hit the base of it.

“Ffffuck!” He groans.

My hips shake slightly at the fullness and I whimper a bit.

Breathing heavy he searches my eyes and whispers softly “you okay baby?”

I nod and put my hands on his chest for steadiness. “Yeah just a but overwhelmed.” I laugh.

He smiles and whispers “go ahead, move slowly.”

“Shut up, you’re not the dom here.” I laugh slowly starting to move my hips. I moan, he groans. Both in relief.

“Didn’t know my good girl had this in her.” He says breathy, his voice tone showing how aroused he is.

“Don’t call me that tonight.” I say and put my hands on his large neck.

“Fuck it, you’re my good girl anyway..” he says closing his eyes.

I smile and bend down to kiss him, still moving slowly. He kisses me back, his tongue delving in, we moan into each other.

I suck his bottom lip and start moving my hips faster. He looks at me when I sit up, at my tits, at the way my tanned belly moves anytime I reach his base with my pussy lips.

We’re need, raw, unstoppable want. Lust. Love. We’re one.

“You want it harder?” I ask him.

“Please.” He whispers.

I giggle, he grins.

And I start moving faster, taking him deeper while I roll my hips. I put my hands on his thighs behind me and move throwing my head backwards, letting it hang between my shoulders, my curls tickling his knees.

And that’s the position makes him hit the right spot. I feel it, growing fast.

I let out a loud moan and he stills when i start bucking my hips.

Then in a second i hear the charger cable that was around his wrists fly and fall somewhere. I gasp. And i am up in the air, him carrying me to the bed.

He flips me and bends me at the edge of it, ass up, the loose towel chord that he had around his head is at my throat, and he pulls it towards him so that i have to weight on the covers with my hands.

He’s inside of me again, i moan half choking with that chord at my neck, like I am a damn horse.

“Now be a good girl and ask nicely.” He roars in my ear, his forehead against my temple, his teeth at my ear.

“Can I come?” I whisper breathy.

The sting on my ass and the echo of the slap tell me I can’t.

“Please.” I whisper breathlessly.

And my face sinks forced on the bed while i feel him fuck me as hard as he can, the skin to skin sound hitting the walls.

I start whimpering and my legs shake.

He withdraws, pulling out fast.

I let out a cry in the mattress, my pussy starting to spasm around nothing, my fists grip the bedsheets.

“Sh sh shhhh.” I hear him say. “Will you ask me next time you want to play dom?”

I nod. He grabs my hair and pulls backwards, looking at me from behind, above my head, straight into my eyes.

“What did you say?”

“Yes..”

“Yes what”

“Yes Daniel.”

“Tsk.” He says shaking his head once.

Silence.

“Yes.. daddy.” I whisper.

“Damn right!” He mutters proudly slamming back in and hugging me so tight from behind, his face in the crook of my neck, moving like life depends on it.

And I come so hard I see stars, i can’t hear clearly anymore except the ping of my head deleting every thought that is not my husband.

And he comes so hard, moving erratically, biting my shoulder while he groans and pistons in: once, twice, three times. And he stills.

We’re both panting. He’s completely spent on me.

“You’re heavy.” I say half choking.

He smirks and rolls to the side, looking at the ceiling, panting.

I find the strength to crawl on the bed, his cum running down my thighs. He watches, smirking, putting a hand behind his head and with the other one grabs the end of the chord that still hand around my throat and pulls.

“You look like a bitch like this.” He grins.

I smack his chest falling on it, completely dead. “Asshole.”

He unties the chord and makes it fall to the floor.

We’re glued to each other with sweat, the white curtains move in the sea breeze, the soft noise from outside making us start to fall asleep.

“That was surprisingly good..” He says lazy, his hand caressing my spine.

“What about you let me do it once a week?”

“Once a month, deal.”

“You don’t wanna be my good boy?”

“No, I am a dolphin.”

“A bottom dolphin.” I laugh.

He pushes me and settles between my thighs. “That makes you a dom dolphin?” He teases.

“Yeah?” I smile.

He smiles caressing my hair, looking at me too softly for the stupid conversation we’re having.

“Dolphins make sex for pleasure and for.. little dolphins..”

I smile and nod, a little blushing.

“Dolphins don’t take contraceptive pills..” he whispers caressing my bottom lip..

“..then I am not a dolphin..” i whisper pouting playfully.

He looks into my eyes and I do too. My smile disappears. We’re dead serious now.

“You want me to be a dolphin?” I ask, my voice a little shaky.

“You want to be one?” He whispers, his eyes shiny.

“You want little dolphins?” I ask grinning.

“You like little dolphins?” he smiles.

I smile back and nod.

We kiss, softly, slowly. And then I whisper on his lips: “We can both be dolphins starting from tonight.”

We hug and kiss again, he reaches between us with his hand and guides himself back inside of me.

And we make love, slowly, kissing each other softly, smiling, caressing our faces and hair, whispering our love.

The morning after we take the boat to go see dolphins. And when we’re under water, mask on and deep blue surrounding us, the animals dance around us.

A little one comes close to me. I smile broadly and turn my head looking for my husband.

And daniel’s already smiling behind his go pro, capturing the moment with his greatest smile.

(Thanks for the person who asked in my DMs, this made me dreeeeam. Also, feedback is always appreciated, love to all those who weekly reach out to me, makes me want to go ahead!)

[redheadsramblings]

Ship Sleep Dynamics

I was tagged by the lovely @aetherflowers for this 🥰

I need more screenshots of the two of them. All the ones I have, someone has their eyes closed or is pulling a weird face 🤣

So I have to keep reusing the few good ones 😅

💚Emmrich Volkarin 💀 Rowan "Rook" Ingellvar💜

How often do they sleep together?

Once the relationship is a go every night, but not in a sexual sense as Rowan is not ready (also I haven't quite decided if their first time is the coffin or not) and he would never ever think of rushing her. Emmrich is horrified when he sees Rowan's sleeping situation at the Lighthouse. And will not hear of leaving his darling to sleep in a cold, damp room on that abominable sofa with nary a pillow or blanket that isn't her pack and cloak (his exact words).

It starts with them just in the same bed, he being a gentleman offers to go sleep elsewhere, but Rowan asks him to stay. So he puts a bolster pillow down the centre of the bed so she feels safe and as a barrier. Which lasts all of her first nightmare. He knew she sleepwalked because of bad dreams, what he didn't know was how it all started before she started walking. Lots of whimpering, talking in her sleep (he didn't know his heart could break over such innocuous phrases like No, Don't, or It hurts) so how can he not hold her and try to soothe her and the rest is history (OK the rest is kind of written but not really, and I want to keep some things a mystery for later fic chapters)

Where do they sleep?

Once the relationship is a go they're both in Emmrich's bed in his room at the Lighthouse (I am an Emmrich has a secret bedroom behind a bookcase truther) and again in Emmrich's bed in his flat/house in Nevarra once they go home. Before, Rowan didn't have a bed either in the Lighthouse or Nevarra. She barely had a room in the Necropolis before she had to leave after the War of the Banners.

How do they prepare to sleep?

Emmrich I see as have a very structured routine. A bath followed by applying his various lotions and potions to his hair and skin, I'm not saying the man has the Thedas equivalent to a Korean skincare regime, but I'm also not not saying it. Puts oh his fancy pyjamas (he strikes me as a silk pjs kind of man) then a calming cup of tea before brushing his teeth, getting his clothes ready for the next day, putting the ones from that day in the laundry basket. Then finally gets in to bed to read for a while before going to sleep.

Rowan in comparison is a lot simpler, not because she doesn't want to, but because she couldn't afford the lotions etc and never had the time or space. A wash if she can, then braids her hair, puts on her old worn shift and heavily darned socks (she's always cold), brushes her teeth, and then crashes out on the nearest flat surface. If she even bothers going to bed in the first place. She, Lucanis and Neve are giving each other a run for the worst insomniac in the Veilguard. Bellara is disqualified because she actually falls asleep while she's working.

Once they're sharing a bed, suddenly Rowan has a multitude of lotions, potions, and oils that Emmrich gifts her. She also has beautiful nightwear and warm slippers, stockings, and wraps to wear if she gets cold. Her old shift may have "accidentally" got burnt after a mysterious, very localised fire.

What do they wear to sleep?

Emmrich is an absolute silk pyjamas man and nothing will make me change my mind. In sumptuous jewel colours and no doubt embroidered with gold wherever it won't be itchy.

Rowan had a simple linen shift that is very old, faded, much mended and while it used to be black it is now a dingy grey shapeless thing that she has slept in for years. It's also the shift she wears under her "formal" dress when needed, or is her other dress that she wears when she's not on an expedition or patrol. It's ugly, shapeless, but it's all she has.

After Emmrich sees it, he makes it his mission to a) make sure she has beautiful things to sleep in and b) remove that shift from existence entirely. It's not that he doesn't think she's beautiful in it, she is stunning in his eyes no matter what she wears or looks like. It's the sheer magnitude of neglect and a life bare of anything like kindness or affection, it encompasses.

Do they cuddle?

Yes. Rowan is always cold and Emmrich is warm, so she always ends up draped over him and snuggled in, no matter her intention when she goes to sleep. Add in her nightmares and Emmrich noting that if he holds her, they are less frequent, then he sees no reason why they should deny themselves the pleasure of sleeping in each other's arms.

What are their preferred sleep positions?

Emmrich is a side sleeper preferably and Rowan is a curl up as small as I can to keep warm and maybe no one will find me if I'm small sleeper by necessity/upbringing to start. Once they're in the sharing a bed stage, then Emmrich is still a side sleeper with Rowan cuddled to his chest with her legs draped over his hips and her arm over her chest.

They do also often end up with Emmrich on his back and Rowan draped over his chest more often than not. She's unconsciously trying to get as much of her on his warmth, and even in his sleep he could never refuse her anything.

How easy do they fall asleep?

Emmrich falls asleep relatively easily, as long as he's not deep in his research or too deep in his own head.

Rowan just doesn't sleep unless she is just about ready to pass out, and even then it depends on how much caffeine she can get in her system before she crashes. Until she's sharing a bed with Emmrich. It's the first time she feels absolutely safe and secure, add in how warm she is, and she's out like a light.

It's not always effective as she's very good at ignoring her body's needs, but Emmrich knows if he can get her horizontal and next to him, then she'll sleep. That's the easy part. Catching her and getting her to listen is the hard part.

Do they toss and turn a lot?

Emmrich no unless he's in his own head.

Rowan to start, yes. She has nightmares, or a Dread Wolf in her head, or just bad headspace. Again, it gets better once they're sharing.

Do they snore?

Emmrich has been known to on occasion snore, but it's not all the time. And it's more gentle wuffles than full on snoring.

Rowan doesn't.

Who hogs the blanket?

Emmrich. Mostly only at the start and because he's used to having blankets to hog. Rowan doesn't fight for herself, even in her sleep. But as they're usually cuddles together, the blanket hogging quickly becomes a non entity.

What do they dream about?

Emmrich has mostly innocuous dreams, lots of whimsy and fade walking. He does have nightmares occasionally of losing his parents, losing Manfred after Blackthorn and after Tearstone losing Rowan and his fear of death.

Rowan has nightmares more than dreams. It's part of why she doesn't like to sleep. Not going to go into her nightmare subjects because a) Spoilers and b) dark subject maters.

How easily do they wake up?

Emmrich wakes up easily, but he typically sleeps deeply, so he doesn't wake up to every noise or movement once he's asleep.

Rowan sleeps like a 9-tailed cat in a rocking chair factory. She sleeps poorly if she even sleeps at all and every little noise or movement wakes her. It's from all her years of solo expeditions deep in the Necropolis, where sleeping too deeply was the fastest way to die quickly.

Once they're sharing a bed, she sleeps a bit better because she feels safe, but she still wakes up at the drop of a pin.

How awake they are afterwards?

Emmrich is fairly awake and chipper after waking, even if he had a late night.

Rowan is wide awake as soon as she opens her eyes and is usually on the move before then. She's not happy about it, but her survival hinged on it for too many years to easily unlearn it.

She gets more relaxed as they continue to share a bed and feel safe to grumble and take her time as she wakes up. But it's rare.

OK, this was so much fun, so I need to more people to do it so I can read about your ships and their sleep habits 😍

No pressure tagging:

@the-font-bandit @officialnostradamus @serbarris @emmg @themontess

@mosoderbergh @randomnonsensedragonage @galacticsparkles @sunny374940 @tinygameralec

@mistressandry @draco-illius-noctis @jukkaricity @holdingontojupiter @crimsen-khalessi

@pseudospaceship @notyourmamasdeerbat @curiouswisp @guacamolleee  @thequeenofthewinter

@queenmuzz @andthekitchensinkao3 @lavenderprose @caughtnyact @hedwigoprah

@sofiemystique @omabell-illustriert @soeasilyswayed @paramortality @theyearningghoul

@novaobscurity @ermagerdperpehs @kirain @razildor @mojo-bro-tho

@theshotsheardacrossworlds @dymme @mercars-musings @ar-ghilas-vir-banal @silshinobii

@serstolas @woundedsoul12 @dragonracer @starfleetteddybear @blightedcrow

@ferocious-notes @avoskorm @basic-x-witch

And anyone who sees this and fancies a go tag, you're it 😁

Dividers are by flowersforthemachines and can be found here

If you would like to go on my tag list, I have a post here where you can sign up

[lanadelreyscokewhor3]

WHATCHA DOING- M. MURDOCK

day twenty six of the june bug masterlist

pairing: ex- boyfriend! matt murdock x fem! reader (fake dating)

word count: 3.7k

summary: your distant cousin invites you and your ex-boyfriend matt to her wedding, under the impression the two of you are still together. wanting to keep the peace, you decide to invite him with you as your "fake" partner, in hopes it can rekindle the flame.

warnings: SMUT, praise kink, petnames, choking, flirting, sexual tension, fake dating trope!, kissing/ making out, mentions of alcohol, swearing

 “whatcha doin' to me, baby? i’m scared to death/ that you might be the one to change me, you're in my head/ and now you're cloudin' my decisions, got me headin' for collision…”- whatcha doing, dua lipa

 The corner of the envelope dug into your skin as you grasped the thick material, scanning over the fancy cursive, in bright red ink.

A smudge on your name, making it appear as if it was blood.

A scarlet letter.

Matt’s name next to yours was something you hadn't seen in months. It was as if time had stopped for a second, and you were no longer in a rush to scramble out of your work clothes and to pour a glass of wine.

It had been a long, tiring day at the office, the piles of papers seeming to stack so high they’d topple over with a single touch. It was dark when you entered those clear, revolving doors, and it was dark when you left them for the rush and bustle of the city's nightlife.

But the day had slipped out of reach as you saw your name next to your ex-boyfriends from your cousin.

It had been months since you and Matt were together, and you had tried so hard to put that past you. Things had ended on decent terms. No fall outs, no vicious fights or nasty words shouted. Things had just… disappeared.

Long, lonely nights became too much for you to bear. Now they were your typical nights.

Your cousin couldn't have known, of course.

You barely spoke to her, as she lived hours upon hours away- both of you too wrapped up with work and your own lives to make time to talk. But here her name was, on an envelope- containing a wedding invitation.

The words “You’re Invited” seemed to stare back at you, permanently etched onto your eyeballs.

Of course you would go, it only seemed right to support Hannah. She was your family, after all- and you were sure she would do the same for you…

Thoughts of what you and Matt could’ve been swirled around in your mind, covered by a translucent white wedding veil.

No. No, this was not about you- this was about her. You would do this for her, no matter how painful it was.

You took a deep breath, tossing the paper to the side. You’d deal with this later. Now, you just needed a hot, hot shower and sleep. Forget the wine. All you wanted was your head against your soft pillow as soon as possible.

As you trudged to the bathroom, all you could think of was Matt. How would you possibly explain this to him? Or your cousin? You were sure you could send her a letter back explaining everything… but… did you really want to?

You missed Matt more than anything.

This was… an opportunity.

An excuse, if you will- to see him again.

Did you really want to let that slip through your fingers?

You peeled your clothes off, running a hand through your hair as you stared at yourself in the mirror which had started to fog up, hot water running from the showerhead. It was so hot it burned as you stepped under the trickling water, and you let it.

You were stumped on what to do. At least that's what you told yourself as you let the steam scorch your skin, washing yourself with lavender soap.

But no amount of soap could wash away the memories of Matt Murdock, even as they spun down the drain.

·•—–٠✤٠—–•· ·•—–٠✤٠—–•· ·•—–٠✤٠—–•·

Listen, I need your help with something. I know it's been months since we’ve really talked, and we aren't together anymore but you  said if I needed anything to call or get you so here I am, at your law firm.

You almost laughed out loud at how stupid that sounded. Here you were, on your way to Matt's office on a Friday afternoon, practically about to get on your knees and beg like a whining puppy. You didn't want to call him and ask, that seemed too… fake.

You had been together for three years, the least you could do was ask him to be your fake boyfriend/ date to this wedding in person. You owed him that much.

Unless he wanted nothing to do with you anymore. Then the phone call would be better, the rejection wouldn't be visible on his face and it wouldn't cut as deep.

It was too late now. You were nearly at his firm, nothing with you but your purse, and the invitation. Your pride and dignity was left at home. You felt yourself start to slow, taking a deep breath as you turned the corner to a street you knew all so well.

It had been a while since you had been around this area of the city. But it was as if you had never left. Nelson and Murdock reflected in the sunlight, the gold freshly polished, catching your eye. A contrast against the bright red brick, just like the envelope.

You were tired of red. All it reminded you of was Matt.

You yanked open the door, the lock seeming faulty as you struggled to twist it open. It was cold as you entered, the air on full blast- the walls in the hallway empty, and plain white. Your heels clicked against the tile floors past the empty offices before finally reaching theirs.

It had been months since you had seen Foggy or Karen, and you hoped they were there. Just because you and Matt were not speaking as much didn't mean you had to have a falling out with your mutual friends. It was just a lot more difficult when they were so far and worked with your ex.

You finally reached their office, ignoring the ‘Back in Thirity Minitues’ sign draped over the handle. From what you remembered, they usually had their lunch break here.

“Oh I’m sorry we’re just on bre-” She paused, realization coming across her features as you walked in.

“Y/N! Ohmygosh!” You smiled as Karen skipped over for a hug, gripping you tightly, swaying you back and forth.

“Its so good to see you again!”

“Its been so long. I’ve missed you.” you smiled, squeezing her hands as she entangled them with yours, squeezing them back. She looked well and happy, cheeks a rosey tint, smile bright on her face.

You really did miss Karen. She was always so kind to you, even when you and Matt had split.

“Is Matt here?” you asked, and her smile faltered.

“Yeah, just in his office. Why, is everything okay? I mean I figured you were here to see him but ya know, you havent been here since things..”

“I’m okay, really. I just need to speak with him. Do you think he’d be okay with me coming in?”

She nodded. “Of course! Just go back and knock.”

You thanked her, sending a wave to Foggy through his opened door, his legs crossed up on his desk. You took a deep breath, hand resting on the doorhandle. You knew Matt could hear your uneven breaths, and he knew you were here.

If anything, it made you more nervous.

You rattled your knuckles against the wood, poking the door open a sliver. “Matt? Can I come in?” you asked softly, and he poked his head up from his papers, his fingers leaving the braille.

“Y/N. I was waiting for you.” he smiled softly, that boyish grin so familiar to you.

You missed it. You slipped through the crack, shutting the door softly behind you.

“You were?”

“Well yes, your anxious pacing down the hall could probably be heard down the block.”

You snorted, rolling your eyes. “Hardy har. Very funny Murdock.”

He smiled, rubbing his hand through his hair. “How've you been?” he asked, all teasing dropped from his voice. You sighed, letting out a gentle laugh. That was a loaded question.

“I’ve been okay. Just.. ya know.”

His eyebrow raised. You sighed, sitting down in the chair across from him.

“My cousin is getting married soon, Hannah- you know, you’ve met her. And she sent us an invitation.”

“Us?”

You anxiously fiddled with your fingers, wringing them out. “Yeah… she didn't know we broke up. And she sent an invitation to both of us, and I just don't wanna trouble her with everything, and make things more difficult than they need to be.” you mumbled.

“Understandable.” he said, tilting his head. You didn't know if he knew where this was going or not. Hesitant to go on you cleared your throat anxiously.

“Well, I was wondering… could you maybe be my fake date to the wedding?”

He laughed. “Fake date? Of course princess. I think I’ve had some practice with that.”

“You- you mean you’ll do it? Seriously?”

You let out a small sigh of relief. Jesus. Okay, this wasn't going as bad as you thought it would.

“Course I will. Is there an open bar?”

“Yes. At least I think so.”

He nodded, extending his hand out for you to shake. “Then I’m there. It’s a deal.”

You gripped his hand, the skin slightly caloused and rough against your soft skin, but he was so warm compared to your chilled body. You savoured the warmth as he took your hand and brought it to his lips, planting a little kiss to your knuckles.

“A deal. Thank you Matt, seriously. It really means a lot.”

“I told you you could ask for my help anytime, for anything did I not? I still care about you, Y/N.”

Yeah, but not the way I want you to care about me, you thought- clinging to the ghost of the past as his hand brushed yours. Your skin prickled with little needles as you slipped it back in your lap, replacing his touch with your own to self soothe.

“I know.” was all you could slip out meekly, biting your lip hard enough until you tasted coper.

“Just call sometime and tell me the details okay? I think I’ll have the hang of pretending to be your boyfriend. Past experience and what not, it's already on the resume.”

You couldn't help but giggle at his remark, so overcome with relief you felt slightly dizzy as you stood, a foot already out the door before you could muster a goodbye and another thank you.

Okay, so this was really happening. Matt was going to the wedding with you, as your boyfriend.

Your fake boyfriend.

·•—–٠✤٠—–•··•—–٠✤٠—–•··•—–٠✤٠—–•·

You stared at yourself in the mirror, the dim, yellow hotel lighting making you look almost sickley.

You felt sick.

You felt like your entire breakfast was going to come back up and out of you, all over the reflective surface.

You didn't know if you could handle Matt's touches and looks towards you when others stared, knowing deep down it wasn't real. But you had asked him- for Christ's sake to do this. You had to pull yourself together.

You brushed the anxiety to the side, trying to push down the nausea as you pulled up your dress. It fit perfectly, and you couldn't help but feel a smidge proud of yourself for how well it suited you. There was just one little problem.

“Matt?”

You stepped out of the bathroom, clutching your dress. His head turned to the sound of your voice as he sat on the end of the hotel bed, waiting for you.

“Could you um… help me zip up this dress?” you asked, wincing slightly at how coupley it felt.

He smiled, fingers curling- indicating to come over to him. He stood as you turned in front of him, breath hitching as he stood, towering over you, fingers tracing your curves before the bare skin of your lower back to find the zipper.

You sucked in a breath as he took his sweet time, slowly inching the zipper up until it was done up.

You didn't move. He took a deep inhale, as if trying to ground himself before mumbling in your ear.

“You smell really, really delicious.”

You reached for your clutch, then froze. And yet, he acted like nothing had happened.

“Shall we go?” he asked, placing his hands on your shoulders tenderly as he slipped by, off to the door with ease.

Like this was second nature to him.

·•—–٠✤٠—–•··•—–٠✤٠—–•··•—–٠✤٠—–•·

No amount of champagne could dull the thudding of your heart each time Matt touched you.

Which was a lot.

Always near you, a hand resting on your wrist as you sat at dinner, chatting with extended family- feeling your thumping pulse. An arm wrapped around your middle whenever you stood off to the side- giving you a little squeeze. He hadn't been so bold as to kiss you- but you wouldn't put it past him.

You had to give credit where credit was due- he was playing the shit out of this role. And the worst part? It didn't even feel like he was acting. It was as if the two of you had never changed. The dynamic was the same- from the way you looked at him- to the way his body seemed to mold perfectly next to yours.

And you couldn't even get upset at him for acting this well- because you had asked him to do this.

You had asked him to break your heart all over again, because it was a glimpse into the past, and the future. What could've been. You had placed that burden on yourself- letting yourself get pulled into this fantasy, this make believe that a spark was still engited. Despite it being a happy day, you couldn't help but feel a twinge of disappointment that things hadnt worked out between you and Matt.

This had just solidified the pain.

Maybe this was a stupid idea, you thought, nursing another glass of bubbly in the corner, sulking in the shadows.

Matt had disappeared to god knows where- which was good, it gave you time to be trapped with your thoughts as punishment. But before you could get too wrapped up in the chain of regrets, a hand brushed your lower back, just barely grazing your ass.

“You okay sweetheart?”

He had appeared as if he had heard your thoughts screaming for him telepathically. You hated him, for how well he could read you.

“I’m fine.”

He raised an eyebrow. “No, you’re not. You forget that I know you.”

“I know you know me.” you snapped, instantly regretting your harsh tone. “Sorry, fuck. I’m really sorry Matt I didn't mean to snap. Its just been a long day, and still is going to be a long night, I’m just tired and a little intoxicated, my feet hurt and- now I’m rambling arent I?”

He chuckled, giving your ass a little reasurring pat, feeling pairs of eyes on you two. You sucked in a breath, hating yourself for how much the simple flirtaous touch effected you.

“Go on sweetheart. Act like no ones watching us, yeah?”

You nodded, sighing before you took another sip of your drink. “I just- I kinda regret inviting you. Honestly.”

“Am I not doing good? Shit I’m sorry Y/N I thought things were going well-”

“No, no its not that. I guess I’m just, not handling this as well as I thought I could. And I’m honestly, a little bit jealous of Hannah. Which is such an awful thing to say, especially today.”

You shrugged, chugging back the rest of your glass. You felt his thumb start to rub your back soothingly, feeling the emotions bubble to the top.

You savoured it. There was a part of you that just wanted to say fuck it, and give up all control around him. He was dangerous, in that way. All decisions were clouded- as if you were speeding on a highway in nothing but fog.

Perfect for collisions.

Surely, he had to know what he was doing. He was being too perfect. And you desperately craved to find something wrong- and it worried you that you couldnt. Matt Murdock still had your heart captured, held between his fingers.

All he had to do was squeeze.

“Its not awful to say. And I get it, its weird to be here, us- together but Y/N… I’m really happy to be with you again. I’ve missed you. And I’m so, so honoured you asked me to come.”

You froze. “You missed me?”

He nodded, shrugging, as if it was the most obvious thing in the whole wide world. “Who wouldnt?”

That made you flustered. “I-I um… I missed you too Matt. A lot. I’m glad you feel the same.”

He smiled, that charming, handsome smile that sucked you in over three years ago, leaving the same warmth in your chest.

“Shall we dance? To escape your aunt who is rounding the corner as we speak?”

Not wanting to listen to her ramble on for thirty minutes, getting you both caught up in the cross-fire, you set down your empty glass and followed him onto the dancefloor.

Hands free, and heart soaring with hope at the idea maybe, just maybe- this was a good idea afterall.

·•—–٠✤٠—–•··•—–٠✤٠—–•··•—–٠✤٠—–•·

You wanted to scream at him.

What are you doing to me?!

His hands wandered, whether it was for show or sincere, you couldn't tell. But they were everywhere. On your hips, on your ass, stroking his fingers delicately up your bare arm, caressing your skin softly as they captured your jaw.

It was intoxicating.

You couldn't help but laugh at his ridiculously jokes, following him by the arm as he went and got more drinks for the two of you. It wasn't long before the night had gotten the best of you. Now you were screaming at him.

For different reasons.

“F-fuck Matt-” you moaned, clutching the marble vanity as he fucked you from behind. It hadn’t taken much longer before slow teasing kisses on the sides of the ballroom turned into hauling him into some rich, fancy bathroom.

You prayed the music was too loud for anyone to hear you if they walked by. But you couldn't control your noises. He felt too good. And he didn't you want you to control them either.

“Yeah sweetheart you keep making those pretty noises. I’ve missed them. And I’ve missed her- that sweet little pussy of yours that fits me just right. Like you were made for me.”

Your eyes rolled back at his filthy praises, thrusting in deeper as he hiked your dress skirt around your hips. You clung for dear life, the counter practically imprinting your palms as he showed you no mercy.

And you loved it.

You prayed to every god he would come undone, be the needy, desperate, controlling man you loved so dearly between your sheets before. That, it seems, had never left.

“You know that sweetheart? Couldnt fuck anyone else after you. This pussy is too fuckin good. Thought of her everynight with my hand around my cock.”

“Mhmm missed you s’much baby..” you panted, watching the way your tits bounced against the restraint of your dress, your lipstick smudged from when he had hoisted you up against the locked bathroom door and ravaged them like a man starved.

“I know. I know sweetheart just- fuck- just like that. Doing so good for me.” he praised, hand wrapping around your neck, squeezing it gently, just the way you liked- guiding you to arch even further as he kissed you.

Broken moans were swallowed by his tongue- the music outside cranked even louder.

Fuck. You prayed no one was looking for the two of you right now. In fact, after this- you’d find a way to sneak away with Matt- to who knows where, just to get another taste.

“Matt- Matty I’m gonna cum-”

“I can feel ya honey, s’okay. Just let go for me, I got you. I always got you.”

A kiss was planted to the top of your head, so gentle and loving it nearly sent a tear dripping down your cheek. You hadn't realized just how much you had missed him, not only his touch but the way his words, and the way he just… understood. It was like some patched hole in your heart had been fully healed, hearing his praise.

And it was wrong, and you prided yourself on your independence. But you'd do anything to crawl back to him. And it seemed he was right there, down to crawl and meet you there.

You came around him with a cry, legs quivering slightly as he held you up with ease. Your head was so foggy you could barely even register his praises- sounding like they were coming from above the surface of the sea.

Sweet whispers of I got you baby, or You did so good honey, gonna cum inside okay? N’fill you up? Sounded like sweet melodies, and you nodded absent mindley as he filled you up to the brim, the warmth coating your insides.

“Matt- t-thank you.” you whispered as he slowly slipped out, planting a sweet kiss to your shoulder as his cum spilled down your inner thighs.

“Why are you thanking me honey?” he asked softly, grabbing some paper towels to try and clean you up the best he could.

“For making me feel so loved.”

You felt a tear slip down your cheek and he froze, a concerned crease in his forehead as he spun you around, wiping the salty tear with a thumb, letting it slowly rub coaxing circles on your cheek.

“I’ve never stopped loving you sweetheart. I’m so, so sorry it had to be the way it did.”

You nodded, your lashes fluttering against your cheek as he pulled you in close, supporting your weight, your burdens, your fears as he held you to his chest. Letting you get out everything you needed to- no words spoken, just silent tears as your hands found their way to his suit jacket, fidgeting with the fabric.

“You wanna get out of here and feel loved some more?” he murmured, planting another kiss to the top of your head as he started to sway you side to side, like a rocking horse. Just as he used to do, when you were barefoot in the kitchen, in nothing but his t-shirt, slow dancing in the moonlight.

It was so calming you almost felt yourself drifting off against his beating heart, before you fully registered his words. Let yourself smile, and wipe away the tears.

“You really can read me, Murdock.”

[sydwritess]

The Life of Racing Pt. 2

Lando Norris x fem!reader

Summary: through it all, the racing, the media, the meetings. What matters to Lando the most is you. His home life is just as important as track life. Some days, he doesn't balance it easily. But through it all, the both of you try. Going through some challenges, but always coming out together, hand in hand again.

Second Person POV

Notes: my first F1 series! Requests are open!

01 02 03 04 05

You woke up early to your alarm. You pick your phone to turn it off. You look at the time 5:30 a.m.

You get up slowly, the sun slowly rising. You go over to your suitcase which was in the corner of the room, getting a pair of clothes out for today.

You turn back around to walk to the bathroom, only to find Lando in your bed. You quickly rush over to him, shaking him awake.

"Lando! You need to leave."

"What? Why?"

"You need to go, you didn't wake up early like you said!" You say, pulling the covers off of him.

"So?"

"So you could get caught leaving my god damn room."

"So I could just say we were talking about work." He said, smirking and standing up.

"At 5:30? In your clothes from yesterday? Seriously?"

"What? I do have multiple shirts you know. I could say I have extras."

"Go, now. I'll just- see you at work." You say, walking into the bathroom and changing.

"Jeez, you act like you have a secret boyfriend or something." He said through the door.

You open the door slightly, brushing out your hair. "Not funny."

"It's a little bit funny." He said, stepping closer to you.

"Not. Funny."

"Relax, you're too... high strung." He said calmly wrapping his arms around your waist.

"And what are you going to do when you get fired? Get hired by Nascar?"

"I could." He shrugged.

"Cute."

"I know I am." He says, smiling sweetly.

You continue doing your hair. Lando still clinging on to you like your going to fall off the face of the earth. You make your way out into the kitchen area, grabbing water and some food today, packing your work bag to leave.

"You should seriously leave." You say.

He sighs deeply. "I know, I know." He says, going over to the door and getting his shoes on.

"I'll see you at work." You say. He walks over to you, pulling you into a big hug.

"I'll see you there." He says quietly. You can't help but giggle at him.

He pulls away from the hug, walking over to the door and quickly leaving.

You finish packing the last of your things, giving Lando time to get down the hallway at least. You walk over to the door, putting your shoes on, grabbing your keys and heading out of your room.

You walk down the hallway, stopping in front of the elevators in the middle. You quickly go on your phone, going through notifications as you click the button on the elevator. It slowly rises down to your floor and opens.

You walk in, still on your phone, you go to press the lobby button but noticed it's already lit.

"Morning stranger." A deep voice says. You turn your head to see Lando and Oscar standing there.

"Morning." You say.

"Late night, early morning?" Lando asks. You look at him confused. Really, confused.

"What?" You genuinely ask confused.

"Are you two okay?" Oscar asks, looking between you and him.

"Yeah, well I'm just asking a question. We do work together right?" Lando says.

"Right." Oscar says slowly.

"Well, I see your fashion sense has changed." You say, looking at Lando's clothes. He has on a matching leather jacket with pants.

"What does that mean?"

"Oh you know. Better from what you were wearing yesterday? Actually, who helped pick that out for you?" You ask, playing his game.

"I-"

"Well whoever it is, they have good fashion taste." You say. The elevator finally comes to a stop.

"Who ever she is must be one lucky lady." You say, smirking as you walk out of the elevator.

You walk through the lobby. There were only few people in there. You walk outside, the sky painted many warm colors.

You open he car door, throwing your bag in the backseat.

"Fancy car mate." Lando said, walking up next to you.

"Better then your Porsche 911?" You ask.

"Hmm. That need's some thought." He said, putting his hand to his chin.

"What is this?" He asks.

"BMW M5, 2023." You say.

"Wow, you know your stuff."

"What can I say?"

"You know- we should ride with you." Lando says loudly.

"What?" Oscar asks, closing his car door.

"What are you doing?" You whsiper.

"Well, we're all going to the same place."

"I leave later then you."

"It's okay."

"No- no."

"Yeah, watch it's fine." he says calmly.

"No-"

"Osc, were going with y/n today!" Lando shouts, walking over to the passenger side.

"Uhm- okay." Oscar says, getting his things and walking over slowly.

You get in the car as Lando stands on the passenger side, waiting for Oscar.

"Wipe your feet off." You say, Oscar does before he get's in the car. Lando starts to wipe his on the inside mat

"On the outside not the inside!"

"Oops sorry." He said. You roll your eyes.

"I feel like Oscar should be in the front. He always get's left behind." You say.

"Thanks y/n. At least someone appreciates the well being of a human." Oscar says.

You start the car, and slowly back out of the parking lot.

"That was clean." Lando says.

"What?"

"The engine. Sounds good."

"Okay, you sound like a total weirdo." Oscar says, leaning forwards.

You continue to drive through downtown, the traffic seemingly getting heavier. You drive over Pont De La Concorde bridge, slowly coming to a stop due to traffic.

"Wouldn't it be cool if a shark just jumped out of the water just now?" Lando asked. His voice cutting through the silence.

"Mate, are you high or something?" Oscar said.

"Just... having a good day." Lando smiled.

Oscar then turned his head towards you. You saw him through the rear view mirror. You looked at him through it and shrugged, focusing your eyes back on the road.

Traffic had started to lighten up, and you were moving slowly across the bridge again. You exited off the highway and pulled into the circuit. You went towards the other side, driving to the employee parking lot and parking the car.

All of you got out of the car, grabbing your bag's before walking down to the paddock past the many garages.

You made it to the McLaren garage, setting your stuff down at one of the desk.

You got your laptop and notebook out, copying down notes from last night and creating them into and article.

"Did you get those published yet?" Zak asks, walking up next to you.

"No, I just have a few more things to do." You say.

"Alright. Maybe try working on them on the plane ride tonight." He says.

"The plane ride?" You ask quietly.

"Yeah, to New York. For the Premier?"

"Oh right. Yeah I can do that."

"Okay, cause I really need these done."

"Yeah I know. I'm sorry." You say. He nods and walks away, back to where Lando and Oscar were sitting.

You turn your focus back to the computer, but not before meeting Lando's eyes.

You continue typing away for an hour straight, not lifting your eyes off of the screen. One article published after another.

You lean back in your chair, looking over the last paragraph you wrote when Zak had sat next to you. He logged into the computer and started reviewing some data sheets.

"I'm going for a quick walk." You say, standing up and grabbing your phone next to you.

"Alright. We have a team meeting in an hour. You don't have to come if you don't want to." He said.

"Okay, I'll be back." You say, walking out of the garage.

You walk down through the paddock, walking among the crowd. There were still media tents set up, and camera's everywhere, which you didn't expect for the last day.

You were coming to the end of the garages, media still going down the strip. There was little commotion going on in one spot. It was pretty loud throughout the paddock, but this was somewhat louder. You walk ahead through the crowd, seeing what was going on.

In the middle, you a little girl crying next to a camera man, he looked like he was trying to talk to her.

"Everything okay?" You ask. The man looks up at you quickly.

"I don't know, I- I found her crying here but she won't talk." He said nervously. You crouch down to her level, the guy stepped aside, letting you to her.

"Hey sweetie, are you okay?" You ask gently. She shakes her head.

"What's wrong? Are you lost?"

"I don't know where my mom is." She said, her voice shaking. You look back up at the guy, he looked at you and took the hint to leave.

"It's okay, we can find her. Do you mind telling me your name?"

"Adeline."

"That's a pretty name Adeline. Where did your mom go, do you remember?" You ask carefully.

"No. I don't- it's to loud." She cried. Your heart broke.

"Okay. It's okay. What does she look like?"

"Her hair is brown, and she's wearing a blue shirt, and black pants, and she has my backpack on her back." She said.

"Okay. Do you want to come with me? We can look for her." You say. She nodded and took your hand.

You walk through the crowd, walking along the garages to see if she was there. You walk up and down the strip, eventually walking back to the McLaren garage.

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

Lando's POV:

"Yeah, I don't know." Oscar said. Me and him were talking about this upcoming meeting in the garage.

"Are you going to the premier?" I ask.

"Yeah, flying right out..." Oscar said. He continued talking. I blocked him out.

I look over his shoulder to see Y/n come into the garage, a kid attached to her hip.

"What- Lando!" Oscar claps.

"What?"

"Did you hear anything?" He asked. I shook my head. He looks back at Y/n to.

"You like her don't you?" He asks.

"Shut up." I mumble.

"Did you know she has a kid?" He says, looking over at her again.

She looks panicked.

Stressed even.

"She doesn't"

"And how would you know?"

"Just a guess."

Hey loves! Pt. 2 is here! Comment to be added to the tag list! Requests are open!

Tag list:

@landofotographyy @latay7

@mimisweetz

[secondpersonpoetry]

you’ve probably already read it before, but the poem Party by Kim Addonizio really got me tonight. first thought was “oh man. yeah” and then my second thought was “how can i make this about my hockey guys somehow………..”anyway! have a good one! 

oh. oh.

​

[leatherbookmark]

I'm trying to monitor the speed with which things sell out in pop-up stores, right, so I looked up "barcelona sold out" on twt, annnnd apparently there was a lucky draw event going on there -- buy a set number of albums, get a set number of bonus ~exclusive~ photocards -- and apparently there was someone who was doing a group order, so they bought a whole suitcase of albums (the limit was like... 30 sets of 8 albums, or 240 albums, per person, so the sellers let them do that) and they ran out of bonus stuff in like 4 and a half hours. Now people on twitter are saying it's okay to film the person who bought all those albums because they're doing "heinous shit in public" (and so they deserve it).

I really like being into kpop ! it's great fun

[imabiscuitinthousandworlds]

sometimes all it takes is One Silly Talk to suddenly have a solution for something you've actually accepted for the next few years

[hogfetish]

my favourite side episode that ive been planning for 5ever is the team gets invited to a fancy ball and aja gets a handmade gown for it and feels really Normal about all this

[luna-azzurra]

How to Write a Character

↠ Start with the basics, because obviously. Name. Age. Gender. Maybe even a birthday if you’re feeling fancy. This is step one because, well, your character needs to exist before they can be interesting. But nobody cares if they’re 27 or 37 unless it actually matters to the story.

↠ Looks aren’t everything… but also, describe them. Yes, we know their soul is more important than their hair color, but readers still need something to visualize. Do they have the kind of face that makes babies cry? Do they always look like they just rolled out of bed? Give us details, not just “tall with brown hair.

↠ Personality isn’t just “kind but tough.” For the love of storytelling, give them more than two adjectives. Are they kind, or do they just pretend to be because they hate confrontation? Are they actually tough, or are they just too emotionally repressed to cry in public? Dig deeper.

↠ Backstory = Trauma (usually). Something shaped them. Maybe it was a messy divorce, maybe they were the middle child and never got enough attention, or maybe they once got humiliated in a spelling bee and never recovered. Whatever it is, make it matter to who they are today.

↠ Give them a goal. Preferably a messy one. If your character’s only motivation is to “be happy” or “do their best,” they’re boring. They need a real goal, one that conflicts with who they are, what they believe in, or what they think they deserve. Bonus points if it wrecks them emotionally.

↠ Make them suffer. Yes, I said it. A smooth, easy journey is not a story. Give them obstacles. Rip things away from them. Make them work for what they want. Nobody wants to read about a character who just gets everything handed to them (unless it’s satire, then carry on).

↠ Relationships = Depth. Nobody exists in a vacuum. Who do they love? Who annoys the hell out of them? Who do they have that messy, can’t-live-with-you-can’t-live-without-you tension with? People shape us. So, shape your character through the people in their life.

↠ Give them a voice that actually sounds like them. If all your characters talk the same, you’ve got a problem. Some people ramble, some overthink, some are blunt to the point of being offensive. Let their voice show who they are. You should be able to tell who’s talking without dialogue tags.

↠ If they don’t grow, what’s the point? People change. They learn things, make mistakes, get their hearts broken, and (hopefully) become a little wiser. If your character starts and ends the story as the same exact person, you just wasted everyone’s time.

↠ Flaws. Give. Them. Flaws. Nobody likes a perfect character. Give them something to struggle with, maybe they’re selfish, maybe they push people away, maybe they’re addicted to the thrill of self-destruction (fun!). Make them real. Make them human.

↠ Relatability is key. Your character doesn’t have to be likable, but they do have to be understandable. Readers need to get them, even if they don’t agree with them. If your character never struggles, never doubts, and never screws up, I have bad news: they’re not a character, they’re a mannequin.

↠ You’re never actually done. Characters evolve, not just in the story, but as you write them. If something feels off, fix it. If they feel flat, dig deeper. Keep refining, rewriting, and letting them surprise you. That’s how you create someone who feels real.

Now go forth and write characters that actually make people feel something. And if you need a reminder, just ask yourself: Would I care if this person existed in real life? If the answer is meh, start over.

[maskedbyghost]

Part 3 of fuck buddies with Simon

You didn’t wear anything fancy. Just jeans, a sweater you didn’t have to think too hard about, and your hair pulled back because you didn’t have the energy to fight with it.

You weren’t even sure why you texted him. It was impulsive, sort of. A moment of weakness, maybe. Or maybe it wasn’t weak at all—maybe it was brave, letting him back in even just a little. You told yourself it was just coffee. Just a talk. Just two people who used to mean something meeting up like civil adults.

But your hands were shaking a little on the steering wheel the whole way there.

You parked down the block from the coffee shop, needing the walk to settle your nerves. It didn’t help. Your stomach was twisting up like it always used to when he’d come over—when you didn’t know if he was going to be gentle or cold, if he’d stay the night or leave without a word. You hated that the nerves felt the same now, even after everything.

When you pushed open the door to the café, the little bell overhead jingled like something out of a movie. And there he was—already sitting at a table near the window, back straight, fingers wrapped around a cup. He looked up as soon as you walked in, like he’d been watching for you, like he hadn’t taken his eyes off the door since he sat down.

And he smiled.

But something about it made your chest tighten. Your legs felt suddenly heavy, and you paused just inside the door, your fingers curling in the sleeves of your sweater like you needed something to hold onto. You stood there for maybe three seconds—maybe four—and then you turned around.

You couldn’t do this. You thought you could, but you couldn’t. Not when your heart felt like it was ready to give itself away again, not when your head was screaming that he could still break you with a single word.

Your phone was already in your hand as you pushed back out into the street, your fingers moving fast.

I’m sorry. I can’t do this.

You hit send, and at the exact moment, it started to rain.

Of course it did.

It wasn’t even dramatic rain—just that soaking kind that gets into your clothes and hair and makes your shoes squish with every step. You didn’t have an umbrella, nor have the presence of mind to pull your hood up. You just walked fast. Like if you could get far enough away, none of this would feel so raw.

And then you felt it—arms wrapping around you from behind, firm but not forceful. Strong, familiar, and warm, even through the wet fabric of your jacket.

“Don’t go,” Simon said, his voice low and right against your ear. “Please, just… don’t walk away again. Not like this.”

You didn’t say anything at first. You couldn’t. Your whole body was tense, like you were stuck between wanting to lean back into him and wanting to shove him off.

“I get why you left,” he said, and his voice was a little shaky now. “I deserved it. I didn’t give you anything to hold onto. I made you feel like you were just... convenient. And I fucking hate that I did that to you.”

The rain kept coming, dripping down your face and clinging to your lashes, and still, he didn’t let go.

“I don’t want anything from you right now,” he said. “I’m not trying to push. I just wanted to see you. Talk to you. I miss hearing your voice. I miss the way you laugh when you’re annoyed and the way you go quiet when you're thinking too hard. I miss knowing that you were somewhere in the world thinking about me, even if I didn’t deserve it.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

“I’m scared,” you said, finally, voice soft and small in the rain.

“I know, love,” he whispered, arms still around you. “I’m scared too. Scared I already lost the best thing I ever had. But I’d rather take a thousand chances to show you I’ve changed than go back to pretending I don’t care.”

You didn’t answer; you didn’t have the words. But you turned slowly in his arms, your hands resting lightly on his chest, and he looked down at you like you were something fragile, something he was terrified of breaking again.

“Come on,” you said after a long moment. “Let’s get out of the rain.”

You brought him back to your place, not because everything was fixed, not because you’d forgiven him, but because you wanted to be warm and dry and maybe not alone tonight. You gave him a towel and made coffee the way you always used to—strong, with just a little bit of sugar because he never took milk.

You didn’t sit on opposite ends of the couch. You sat beside him. Close, but not touching. You talked for a while. About small things. Big things. He told you he started seeing a therapist. You told him about work. You both avoided talking about what would happen next.

For the next few weeks, it was like that. Texts. Calls. The occasional late night spent watching old movies without touching. He didn’t try to kiss you. Didn’t push. He just... showed up. And stayed.

And then one night, you were both laughing about something—some dumb story from years ago—and you turned to him, and he was already looking at you. Not with hunger or desperation, but with a much softer look.

You leaned in first.

Just a little.

And he met you halfway.

And when he kissed you, it wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t like before. It was slow, and warm, and full of everything he hadn’t said and everything you hadn’t asked for. Like a promise he didn’t know how to make out loud, but was trying to anyway.

And for the first time in a long time, you let yourself kiss him back.

He pulled back just a little, like he was giving you the space to change your mind, like he was scared you’d vanish if he touched you for too long. But you didn’t move. You just looked at him—really looked at him—and felt your heart beat so hard it hurt a little.

“You okay?” he asked, voice low and rough around the edges.

You nodded, even though everything inside you felt scrambled and upside-down. “Yeah. I think I am.”

He smiled—barely—and brushed a thumb across your cheek like he was memorizing the feel of your skin. Then he sat back, but not far, not like he was pulling away completely. Just enough to give you space again. And you knew right then he wasn’t going to ruin this by rushing. He was trying, really trying, and you felt it in your chest like a weight slowly lifting.

You both stayed on the couch for a while after that, talking about nothing and everything, voices soft and close.

Eventually, it got late. You stood up to stretch, and he watched you, his gaze lingering on your face, not your body. Like he was trying to read your mood before he made a move.

“I should head out,” he said, standing slowly.

You bit the inside of your cheek. “You don’t have to.”

He looked at you, eyes flickering with surprise. “You sure?”

You nodded. “Yeah. Just… don’t make it weird.”

He let out a breath, something between a laugh and a sigh. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

So he stayed.

You handed him an old T-shirt and a pair of sweats you forgot he left behind once, and he changed in the bathroom while you got into bed. And when he climbed in beside you, he didn’t touch you right away. He laid on his side, just close enough that you could feel the warmth of him under the covers.

“Do you want me to—” he started.

You reached for his hand under the blanket. “No talking now. Just stay.”

And he did.

You fell asleep to the sound of his breathing. Not tangled up like you used to be, not desperate for skin or heat. Just… close. Like two people learning how to be near each other again without breaking apart.

In the morning, you woke up before him.

For a moment, you just watched him sleep—his brow still furrowed a little, like even in rest he was carrying something heavy. You could see the edge of an old scar near his temple, one you never asked about, and you wondered how many more there were now. On his skin, in his mind.

You weren’t sure what would happen next. But for the first time in what felt like forever, you didn’t feel like you were waiting for the other shoe to drop.

He shifted a little, eyes fluttering open, and when he saw you, he smiled. That same small, quiet smile.

“Morning,” he said.

“Morning.”

And when his lips found yours, it didn’t feel like a beginning or an ending—it just felt like finally coming home.

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

my girl @daydreamerwoah gave me an idea about the rain scene <33

@kylies-love-letter @ghostslollipop @kittygonap @alfiestreacle @identity2212 @farylfordaryl @rafaelacallinybbay @hiraethvita @scaleniusrm @cosmic-sleep-demon @roastyyytoastyyy @salfetkablog

[ilovolderman]

Almost Caught

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: You sneak out with Bucky for a secret date and almost get caught.

Word Count: 723

Warnings: humor, fluff, secret dating, lying to friends (for romance reasons!)

A/N: this is kind of a sequel to "you said what?" — it’s the same vibe, same chaotic energy, but it can totally be read on its own! just think of it as part of the same soft universe 💕 hope you enjoy this <3

You never thought your most romantic date would start with crawling out of a window and jumping two stories down into Bucky’s arms—right behind the dumpsters.

“I can’t believe this is how we have to go out,” you whisper, pulling your hoodie tighter.

Bucky grins at you, eyes sparkling. “Come on. You love the danger. Sneaking out like spies.”

You roll your eyes— but he’s right. You do kind of love it. Especially when he leans in and kisses you, right there in the alley, his hand cupping your jaw like you’re the best thing he’s ever held.

The two of you walk a few blocks, laughing quietly, until you reach the rooftop of an old bakery. It’s not fancy, but it’s cozy. Your spot. The stars are out tonight, the sky clear and dark, and it feels like something out of a dream.

Bucky opens a bag he brought with him. “Ta-da.”

You peek inside. Burgers. Fries. Milkshakes. From that place you both secretly love, Cheesy Billy’s Burgers, but refuse to tell the team about, because Tony called it culinary war crime once.

You sit side by side, your legs swinging over the edge of the roof. You eat, you talk, and you laugh so hard you almost choke on your soda. Bucky watches you with that soft look of his, like you’re the most important thing in the universe. Like the stars are nice, sure—but not better than you.

“Y’know,” he murmurs, “if we didn’t have to sneak around like teenagers—”

“We’d still come here,” you say, nudging his foot with yours. “This is our spot.”

He smiles and leans closer. “Yeah. Our spot.”

And he kisses you. Soft, slow, perfect. The kind that makes your heart ache in the best way.

Then—

You hear voices below. Familiar ones.

“Wait—this is where they get the good fries?” Sam says. “Why have we never been here?”

You both freeze.

You slowly peek over the edge of the roof. Sam and Peter are standing below, staring at the bakery’s glowing sign.

“Oh my god,” you whisper. “We’re gonna get caught. On our date night. While eating greasy fries.”

Bucky’s already stuffing fries in his mouth. “I’m not giving these up.”

You stare at him. “Are you serious right now?!”

“I have priorities,” he mumbles around a fry.

You both scramble to hide. Bucky throws his hoodie over your head like a blanket and pulls you into the shadows. You’re both giggling, trying to be quiet. Bucky looks like he’s having the time of his life.

Below, Sam looks up for a second, squinting. “…Did you hear something?”

Peter shrugs. “Maybe a raccoon?”

You whisper, “We are the raccoons.”

Somehow, you manage to escape without being seen.

Back at the compound, breathless and laughing in the hallway, Bucky presses you against the wall and kisses you again.

“Next time,” he murmurs, “I’m buying us disguises.”

“…Like wigs?”

He grins. “I was thinking matching mustaches.”

You snort-laugh so hard, someone passing by stares at you suspiciously.

In the next morning , you’re minding your business in the common room, nursing a coffee, when you hear “Yo, Bucky… since when do you eat at Cheesy Billy’s Burgers?”

Your stomach drops.

You turn just in time to see Sam waving a greasy, crumpled receipt like it’s evidence in a murder case.

“Found this in your jacket pocket, man. Thought you hated that place.”

Bucky blinks. Looks at you. Then back at Sam.

“I… don’t remember going there.”

Classic.

Natasha, from the couch “Wasn’t that the night you said you were doing recon?”

Tony walks in with a mug. “Wait, wait—Bucky Barnes ordered a Double Cheesezilla with extra onion rings and a milkshake. Who are you?”

You’re biting your lip so hard trying not to laugh, you might bleed. Bucky looks at you, then back at them, completely straight-faced.

“Maybe it was Steve’s jacket?” Bucky offers. “Old jacket. Probably Steve.”

Steve, walking by “What?”

“Nothing.” Bucky blurts.

Later, in the hallway, you tackle him into a storage closet and whisper, “You kept the receipt?!”

“You said it was the best burger you’d ever had. I panicked and wanted to remember the order.”

Your heart melts. “You’re unbelievable.”

He shrugs, grinning. “You love me.”

You kiss him, just once. “Unfortunately, yes.”

A/N: i wrote a part 3 about them. if you want to check it out here it is <3

[luludeluluramblings]

Neglected!Pregnant!Reader x Yandere!Bat Family Part Three

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Part One ☁️ Part Two ☁️ Part Four ☁️ Part Five

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A/N: Sorry for the delay. My motivation fled for a bit and exhaustion hit me hard right before thanksgiving. I had to buckle down and just finish this.

A/N: I really wanna answer all my ask, there’s some things in there that y’all have sent me that I want to do for an AU of this. There’s just so many ideas I wanna try.

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Warnings: Yandere themes, possible non-con (I only say possible, because Reader was drunk when consenting), fem!reader, possible violence towards Jason, my own made up headcanons.

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When you told Stephanie you were going to find out the gender of your little bean, you weren’t exactly surprised she wanted to have a gender reveal party. Though you did talk her out of the party aspect. You loved your friends, but you hadn’t told them about your pregnancy. Mostly because you knew they’d either accidentally spill the beans about said bean to someone they shouldn’t or they’d freak out and pester you about the unknown father.

It’s a shame you can only faintly remember dark hair, loving touches, and the heat from that night. You’d like to at least thank the man for giving you such gift. Even if said gift was making you throw up nearly every morning, constantly tired, and craving the oddest things with heartburn to follow.

Overall, things were going.

That was it. Things where just going. You were still looking for an apartment, but you were getting sidetracked a bit by nurseries. You knew you would love your child regardless of what they are or who they are. But, the little swan lake nursery was precious and the air plane nursery was darling. Both made you cry and change your mind on apartments at least six times. Hormones did not help with house hunting.

But, the day came. You went to your ultrasound and had them put the gender in an envelop to give to Stephanie for her to plan your day. You had to fight yourself from peaking at the paper, but, still, you waited the three extra days until you would find out the big reveal.

Unfortunately, Jason fucking ruined it.

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Jason had been poking around the fridge. It was common for him to dig around the manor for food when he was there. Bruce was rich and groceries were expensive. (If he was looking for some of the princess’s cooking? That was his business.) But, he spotted something that stood out from the usual expensive organic fruits and vegetables and occasional meat.

“Hey, Alfred. Why is there a small cake in the fridge?" He could tell from the packaging it was from some fancy bakery. Probably one on the shiny posh side of Gotham. Which meant it would either taste like overpriced shit or absolutely delectable.

"That would be the young Miss's. I believe Miss Brown purchased it as a surprise." Alfred had replied from where he was currently taking inventory of the pantry. Maintaining a well supplied stock of the after mission snacks to proper management after all. Still, he did eye Jason from where he stood with his note pad. Knowing that Jason had a slight habit of causing trouble.

"Those two have been really close lately." Jason muttered suspiciously, mentally debating on if the cake was worth it or not with Alfred watching him.

"Dick is right. You really are starting to sound like Bruce." Duke and Cassandra had been sitting at the counter. Duke, having just gotten off patrol, had been in the kitchen to refill his water. While Cass had been munching on some snacks that she had hidden from the rest of them.

"Can it, light bulb." Came Jason's snarky voice as he silently popped the lid on the much to fancy cake open and pulled it out of the fridge. Alfred to far across the kitchen to stop him. "You know… This is a pretty big cake…"

"Jason, no." Even Duke knew it was a bad idea. If you had just gotten bold enough to through tubberware at Jason, God only knew what you might do if he ate a gift you'd been given. Plus, Steph would be on everyone’s ass for it. She was stingy with her money and everyone could tell she splurged for that cake.

"I would advise against that, Master Jason. Miss Brown already informed the young Miss of the cake and I believe that they wanted to have the first slices when they got back from their outing." Alfred knew you would happily share the cake, but, while he wanted to defend your sugary gift, he knew that that cake had a secret and for once Alfred couldn't restrain himself from wanting to be the first to discover it.

That drew both Cassandra and Duke's attentions away from the crime that was about to be committed. Both curious. The two of you really had gotten close. Cass only slightly tilted her head in curiosity while Duke had been the one to speak.

"Oh, they went out?"

"For pedicures, I was told. They are due to arrive back here shortly. "

"Well, if you wait, they might- Jason! Seriously?!" Duke had looked back to watch Jason slice into the cake with a spare butter-knife. Thankfully with enough finesse to not completely ruin your cake.

"What? The princess can share her damn cake-" He defends himself, about to grab a fork when he notices Cass looking directly at Alfred. "Why are you looking at Alfred like that?"

When she says nothing, Duke and Jason look at the tearful expression of Alfred's face. "Alfie, what's wrong?"

It takes a moment for them to realize that those aren't tears of anger or sadness as Alfred tries to compose himself. It takes Duke a few seconds longer to look at the slice of cake to connect the dots with a swiftness that would put Tim's title as second greatest detective to shame.

However, the only words that stumble out of his mouth in his shock are, "Jason, that cake is blue."

"Yeah, I know. Which is weird, but it taste great. Steph picked something really fancy for princess’s taste." Jason says finally taking a bite. It was good, Steph picked a good bakery. Not as good as Princess's homemade goods, but good enough.

"NO! Jason, why would a cake be blue?" The realization of what exactly Jason just ruined filled Duke with panic. This was going to be so much worse than the tubberware if he was right. So much worse.

Even Cass was a bit confused about the massive deal with the cake. She was more interested in the joy she was reading off of Alfred since that cake had been cut. She'd never seen the man so giddy, despite the only sign of any change in him was the misty look in his eyes.

"I don't know- Oh, great. The princess has returned." The sound of excited footsteps were heard heading towards the kitchen while Duke looked at Jason with anxiousness. Even Alfred seemed to brace himself.

As soon as you and Stephanie walked in the smiles dropped from your faces.

"Jason…. Tell me you didn't…" Stephanie murmured as she glared as Jason. Inwardly, she was excited. She had guessed correctly and won her own personal bet with herself. But, she comfortingly put a hand on your arm as you stared at the blue cake you didn’t get to cut.

Just from your expression, Duke can tell he might have been right and starts looking at Jason with an expression that screams, ‘Plead for mercy, you idiot.’

Alfred, thankfully, had enough sense to come out of his joy the moment he watches you walk up to the counter and look down at the cake with a despondent expression. His words comforting as he tries to ease the budding tension. “I'm so sorry, young miss. But, on the bright side-"

"Oh, come on, princess. You and Steph weren’t going to be able eat it all. You can afford to share. Besides, you’ve been looking a little pudgy lately anyway. Really need to stop acting like you’re eating for two."

Everyone looks directly at Jason in horror at what he just said. Seeing the spark of rage in your eyes makes Alfred take a step back in caution and Cassandra warns an aghast Duke of what she sees about to go down.

“Duke, duck.”

“Where?” He says in terrified confusion before suddenly your cake is slammed directly into Jason’s face with your hands coated in frosting.

"OH SHIT!”

"MISS!"

"Are you fucking crazy?" Jason stumbles back from the velocity of the cake to his face while he tries to wipe the buttercream from his eyes as you start berating him. Throwing everything in reaching distance at him. The bowl of fruit on the counter, the snacks Cass had been eating, even a pot from the stove.

"You ruined it! You ruined it! Alfred, where's the cast iron? I'm about to knock the dumbass outta him.” You start looking for something heavy, moving to dig through the cabinets with sugary fingers that are shaking with anger.

“About time someone did…” Stephanie mutters while she hides behind the counter to hide from the onslaught.

Before you can complete your search, Jason reveals just how well he preforms under pressure. Realizing a little too late what he might have just right when your hands find the cast iron skillet and your taking a swing at him.

"Wait! Wait! I'm sorry!" He barely dodged the hit with the sudden click of the information settling into his brain.

"You about to be sorry! This is the last straw, asshole. You fuckin' ruined it." You go to take another swing at him, nearly slipping in some frosting.

Jason’s eyes go wide before he risk a skillet to the face to catch you.

"You're right! I- Put that down, you're going to hurt yourself." He struggles to pull the pan from your sticky grip, not wanting to hurt you. This isn’t something he imagined having to use all his skills and talents for, but he thanks fuck he has them.

"Don't you tell me what to fuckin' do." You snarl while trying to hit him in the throat with your fist, causing him to almost let you slip.

"Jason!" Duke shouts out, knowing how bad it’ll be if you fall.

Jason tightens his grasp on you to the point your practically immobile, trying to calm you down with apologies and a panicked tone.

"Look, I'm sorry! I didn't realize-"

"That doesn't excuse you acting like a dick." You hiss, causing him to go silent as he tries to figure out how to fix this situation.

"You're right. It doesn't. But…" he trails off, leading to an awkward moment of silence

"Dude, you suck at this." Duke says before popping his head over the counter now that the cake and kitchen utensils have ceased to be airborne. Stephanie popping up next to him to give Jason an icy glare of her own while Cass stares at her ruined snacks. Alfred sighing as he runs the bridge of his nose from the similarities between old memories and the current scenario in the kitchen.

"Shut up, twinkle twinkle." He snarls before looking down a very pissed and most likely very pregnant you with a wince. "I… I know I'm a jackass."

"Astute observation, Master Jason." Alfred mutters while he behind to search for some cleaning supplies for the buttercream incident.

"Damn, Alfred's roasting you." Duke quickly shuts up when Jason gives him a lethal glare despite your futile attempts a wiggling out of his grasp. "Shutting up now."

Eventually you stop struggling, heaving in exhaustion and pitifully fighting back tears at your ruined gender reveal.

"I… Shouldn't be acting like a such an asshole. To you, specifically. You don't deserve that and I'm sorry." Jason tries as soon as he sees your lower lip start to wobble. He knows he’s prickly, but this is a new low that he’s not proud of.

"Now, you wanna apologize?" You’re honestly too emotional to deal with this. But, it’s the fact that he’s actually trying to give a meaningful apology when hardly anyone else does that makes you listen. Even if you’re mentally tearing him to shreds with your teary eyes.

"Yes. Now, I want to apologize." He sighs, putting you down. It’s quite a sit. Him not only apologizing, but him also doing it covered in white frosting and blue cake crumbs. "I'm… I'm not going to give you a bunch of excuses. I'm a jerk. But, I'm not heartless. I took this too far."

"You took it too far when you ate my frickin' fried cornbread." Comes your deadpan tone as you cross your arms. The fabric of your hoodie moving slightly to reveal the faintest of baby bumps.

"You're still mad about- You know what, fair enough. Don't eat the pregnant chick's food. Lesson learned." He starts to say exasperatedly before changing course at your stare and realizing he needed to suck it up.

“But, in my defense, it was really good.” He pipes off quickly, as an appeasing compliment.

Judging from the way your eyes further narrow and the reigning silence, he can tell he missed the mark.

Instead he tries to change course.

"Listen, I know this won't make up for it, but… I did see some vintage baby stuff in the attic when I snooped up there once."

"Oh, you found Master Bruce's old thing." Alfred exclaims with slightly raised brows. Coming back with Clorox wipes and all sorts of other supplies for the mess you had made. (He blames Jason, however. Don’t fret, dear one.)

"Wait, pause. Did you say those were Bruce's old baby clothes?"

"Yes, Master Jason.”

“I thought those were little girl’s baby dress. They looked like something a goth Victorian child mixed with a pilgrim would wear."

“I assure you they are Master Bruce’s.”

Everyone suddenly has a collective thought and a mighty need. Cake forgotten momentarily.

"Alfred, are there pictures of him in those clothes?" You ask with barely contained mischief, all anger and sadness gone as delight fills you. Mood swings could be such a blessing and a curse.

“Why, I do believe so.” There was a hint of knowing in Alfred's tone. One that also was finding delight in the idea he knew was passing through everyone's minds.

Immediately, and with renewed vigor, your head whips to Jason.

"Help me find the pictures and get me some Jokerized fries-."

"And, throw in a foot massage." Stephanie adds before you can finish. The suggestion causing Jason's eyes to widen while Duke shudders.

"What?!"

“Eww.”

"I kinda don't want him touching my feet. Too weird." You say. Even if they do ache often your not sure you really want the guy who had made your life hell before touching you so much. Even if he was apologetic.

“Oh, thank god.” He mutters under his breath before Stephanie speaks up again.

"Then let me have one. I bought the cake and I was looking forward to it. I had to fight the temptation not to spoil the surprise."

"I feel like that was a pun." Duke mutters.

"It wasn't."

A lighter tone settles over the kitchen as Alfred starts to clean. You tried to help, feeling embarrassment at having made such a mess. But, everyone else had stepped in to pick up the slack on account for your condition as Duke called it.

"Did you ever figure it out, Cass?" You asked curiously as you sat at the counter. A bit surprised that she hadn't disappeared as soon as the whole things had started. You both had always been cordial with each other. However, you knew she preferred to be alone at times. Hence, your lack of interaction. You had assumed she would have fled by now.

"Thought you had a stomach bug. Not a baby. This is better." Comes her short response. There's a subtle hint of wonder on her face. She's gotten better at sharing her feelings with other's so it's nice to see such an expression.

"Am I the only one terrified of how calm she is after she just threw an entire cake at Jason and was about to cast iron him?" Duke says while he finishes wiping the frosting from the skillet you had wielded earlier. The question causes Alfred to chuckle when you give Duke a narrowed look yourself.

"I remember Miss Martha throwing a chair at Master Thomas when she was pregnant with Master Bruce, so this, I dare say, is quite tame."

That comment makes more than a few eyebrows to raise and Jason to let out a whistle, while also realizing that is could've been worse for him in the long run.

"Why'd she do that?"

"Bruce decided to grace the world with his presence in the middle of the night."

"Ha!"

"I always knew he had been more in the dark."

Snickers could be heard before Alfred continued to explain. It was rare he got to share such stories.

"And, Thomas made the foolish mistake of asking her if she could hold Bruce in until a more reasonable hour."

"Alfred, he was a doctor." Stephanie points out.

"In his defense. Neither had slept for that entire week from the anticipation of Master Bruce’s arrival. But, really should have kept quiet on the matter. We would still have that lovely cherry wood chair if he had."

A round of laughter could be heard. You had laughed so hard that there were tears in your eyes as you giggled your way up to the attic.

Things had been ruined, but things had gotten better. If only they could stay better.

Down in the Batcave, Tim had gotten a message in between a few of the cases he was currently working on.

"Jon and I will stop by tomorrow, my dude." He read while taking a sip of this third energy drink for that afternoon. He only nodded in acknowledgment before going back to his work.

Elsewhere, on the Kent family farm, Conner grinned excitedly at his phone before tucking it away and stretching. He'd be seeing his favorite person tomorrow. Hopefully when they saw him they'd remember the best night of their life. It was definitely his.

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A/N: As funny it would be to have Conner just be a sweet goof, I want him to be yandere for this. I struggled to include that last part to show it, but hopefully it works.

A/N: Also, this is the calm before the storm. I kinda wanna try to make it angsty next chapter. And, not gonna lie, it might be brutal. But, I wanna challenge myself so when I make an AU I can do a good job on it.

A/N: Thank you to everyone who voted in the poll! I had been planning on a girl for Reader, so I was a bit surprised. Might save that for the AU. Time to name pick, and if y’all want y’all can suggest nurseries. Can’t guarantee we’ll do polls for them, but it’ll still be fun.

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Taglist

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[rafeslvbug]

rafe helping maybank!reader after an encounter with luke…

your sobbing into your brother’s shirt, burying your bloody face into him while his bruised arms hold you. he should’ve been there. should’ve come faster. should’ve helped you.

luke’s gone now, leaving behind the stench of alcohol and disappointment, jj scared him off. now, it was you two, and he needed help. he couldn’t do this alone, and as much as he hated it : he needed rafe.

his fingers dialled rafe’s number over the phone. it hung up. he tossed the phone onto the floor, grappling around for yours, the one rafe got you for your birthday, equipped with all that fancy face id stuff too. but that wouldn’t work while you were in this state. so he tapped in the passcode - rafe wouldn’t hang up on you.

and thankfully, he was right.

rafe picked up on the first ring. “hey baby?” his voice spoke through the phone, and jj held you tighter, holding the phone up to his ear.

“not her rafe, you need to come over,” he says, trying to keep his voice as steady as he can, ignoring every ache in his body.

“jj– why the fuck d’you have her phone?”

“not now asshole, get over here, she’s beaten, badly, if you care about her i– she needs your help,” he sighs, unsure if he’s annoyed or relieved that for once in his life, jj isn’t the person you need, or can solely rely on.

rafe hangs up after a firm, “coming.” the car that pulls up, looks incredibly out of place on the cut, but jj doesn’t question it. he knows it’s rafe.

getting up, he supports you against the couch, heading to the door and opening it for rafe who doesn’t even spare him a glance, pushing past to you. jj says nothing, looks back at you sorrowfully, knows rafe has got it handled and mutters, “i’ve gotta take care of somethin’, you okay with her?”

“always,” rafe nods, listening to the click of jj shutting the door.

then he’s knelt in front of you, pulling your hands away from your face to see the bruises blooming across your cheek, the blood running from the corner of your mouth and your red eyes. “holy..baby d’you need to get to a hospital?” he asks concerned, cupping your cheeks gently, trying not to press down on your injuries.

only managing a shake of your head, unable to speak through the sobs bubbling at your throat, rafe pulls you in, arms wrapping around your huddled form and tucking you under his chest. rafe softly rocks you, pressing kisses into your hair until you’ve settled and the sobs you unleashed have been subsided.

it’s safe, in his arms. a type of safety you’ve never felt unless with the pogues, but this is far more intimate. you could fall asleep here, live in the comfort of him, his gentle words and reassurances.

before you know it, he’s carefully lifting you into his arms, carrying you to the car and settling you in. he drives slow, careful even though he wants to speed and get to tannyhill as fast as he can. when he does get there, he makes a beeline for his bedroom, helping you to wash off after you feel better. his arms support you, fingers lingering over each and every bruise, across your stomach and arms, the blood running down you.

he helps you change into his hoodie and sweatpants, tucking you into his bed even if it’s broad daylight. you’re not going to move from there if he can say anything about it. having refrained from pushing you to speak this whole time, he now sat next to you, stroking back your hair and murmuring, “baby..you okay to talk?”

sniffling, you nod, “yeah.”

“how d’you feel? does it still hurt?”

“mhm,” you hum.

rafe’s brows pinch together, being able to do nothing other than you bring you into his arms again, delicately kissing the bruise across your cheek.

“don’t go back there again.”

he says it so simply. whispered into your hair, like an order over a suggestion. don’t go back, as if it was that easy.

“stay with me,” he murmurs, down heartened when you shake your head against him.

“i can’t.”

“why not?” he pulls back an inch to see your face properly, the tears already beginning to pool at your eyes which he quickly brushes away.

“i couldn’t leave jj an–“

“jj’s got john b. he stays there most the time, you said it yourself once. just stay with me, you’re safer here.”

you sink your teeth into your lip, holding back tears and trembles. “i’ll talk to jj first,” you whisper, and rafe nods, before pressing a kiss to your head and muttering something about leaving to get medicine and food.

when he was gone, you stared at the ceiling of his room, buried in his blankets and as much as you don’t want to leave jj, you don’t want to leave this bed either.