#this is mostly body language practice | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ilovebabyonboard · 27 days ago

Text

Everytime, I Choose You

PAIRING: Bob Floyd x Civilian Wife!Reader

CATEGORY: Fluff, slight angst

SUMMARY: You’ve loved Bob Floyd since before either of you knew what love was. Now, with a toddler in your arms, a baby on the way, and a Navy career pulling you in opposite directions, you’re learning what it really means to build a life across time zones—and hold on to each other through it all. Soft reunions, stolen moments, found family, and the quiet kind of love that stays.

WORD COUNT: 6.5K

WARNINGS: Pregnancy, parenting struggles, long distance relationship stress, mild emotional distress. not proofreade, did a whole lot of writting without knowing where I wanted it to go with it so bare with me

You’ve known Bob Floyd for as long as you can remember.

He lived in the little gray house next door — the one with the creaky swing set and the patch of lawn his mom could never keep alive. ou met the way kids often do��tugged along behind your moms because they were the kind of women who believed in neighborly cookouts and holiday potlucks, the kind who'd swap recipes and stories over sizzling grills while you two chased each other barefoot through sprinklers and smoky air.

He was the quiet boy with glasses that kept slipping down his nose, a buzz cut that made his head look perpetually surprised, and scraped-up knees from racing his bike down the cul-de-sac like it was an Olympic event. You weren’t much louder—soft-spoken, wide-eyed, often half-hiding behind your mom’s leg or the hem of your favorite overalls—but somehow, the two of you always found each other in the noise. You’d sit cross-legged on the porch sharing popsicles or wander through sprinkler mist like tiny explorers, not saying much, but never quite apart.

You didn’t declare him your best friend. You just were. The kind of kids who ended up in all the same photos, shoulder to shoulder, blinking into the sun. And he never minded—not the quiet, not the way you always hovered nearby, not even the way you both grew up without ever really growing apart.

You were inseparable—two halves of a quiet, unspoken language. Your parents joked you were practically siblings. But even then, something about the way Bob looked at you—careful, soft, like you were something rare he didn’t want to startle—was different.

You carved your initials into the same tree at the end of sixth grade. You made a dumb joke about it being your “friendship monument,” and Bob had smiled so wide you swore the sun got caught in his glasses. It wasn’t love. Not then. But it felt like something that mattered. Like someday, it might be.

By the time high school rolled around, things started to shift.

You still walked to school together. Still shared secrets and late-night phone calls and summer movies where he let you rest your head on his shoulder without saying a word. But Bob had grown into his body, grown to be 6'0, and developed a very unfair jawline. You noticed.

Worse, he started acting weird.

There were moments — tiny, fleeting — where everything felt different.

The time you caught him staring just a little too long when you laughed. The way his hand hovered near yours for a second too long during study sessions. The time you cried after your first heartbreak, and he held you like it physically hurt him not to fix it.

He never said anything. He was never that bold. But you felt it.

And slowly, your feelings started to mirror his.

You realized you were in love with him one night in your junior year, sitting on his roof after a school dance you hadn’t gone to. He was in sweats and a hoodie, leaning back on his elbows, talking softly about how the stars were already dead by the time we see their light. And your heart just… knew.

You turned to look at him and thought, Oh. It’s always been you.

You kissed him the next week.

It was late—past ten, a school night—and you were in your room, both pretending to study but mostly just laying across your bed with textbooks open and music playing low from your speaker. He was flipping through your notes, teasing you for your doodles in the margins, and you were trying not to stare at the way his mouth curled when he smiled.

At some point, you both got quiet. Not in a heavy, serious way—just the kind of quiet that settles in when two people are entirely at ease.

You looked up from your notebook to say something, and he was already looking at you.

And it just… happened.

Not dramatic, not planned. Just a kiss that felt like exhaling. Like opening a door you hadn’t realized was always unlocked.

He looked at you like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to want this, and you leaned in like you’d always known it would end this way.

It was soft. A little clumsy. But real. And warm. And safe. He froze. Then kissed you back like he was afraid he’d wake up from it. Like he didn’t know what to do with his hands (he didn’t — they kind of just hovered like he was buffering). And when you pulled back, breathless, he whispered shyly, “I’ve been waiting for that since the third grade.”

You were his first everything after that. His first real kiss. First hand held beneath bleachers, hearts pounding against linked palms. First person he ever trusted with the quieter, more fragile parts of himself—the ones he kept hidden even from his parents. You learned him slowly, like a language, and he let you. Word by word, moment by moment. He never made it easy, but he never made you guess, either. Not when it really mattered.

So when Bob told you, senior year, that he wanted to join the Navy, he said it like a secret he didn’t want to keep. Like he was handing it to you gently, scared it might crack open everything you’d built together.

You didn’t flinch.

“You’re gonna fly, huh?” you asked, nudging his arm with your shoulder. The two of you were stretched out across the hood of his truck, parked at the edge of that old service road no one else ever bothered with. The sky was clear. Stars above like a map you didn’t know how to read.

“If they let me,” he said, barely louder than the crickets. “I just… I feel like I’d be good at it. I want to do something that matters.”

“You already do,” you said, like it was the simplest truth. And it was. “But if that’s where you’re meant to go, then go. Just…” Your voice caught. You turned your head so he wouldn’t see. “Write me, okay? A lot.”

He was quiet for a second. Then he leaned in, warm and steady, and kissed your cheek. His lips lingered like he didn’t want to pull away.

“Every chance I get,” he whispered.

And he meant it. Every letter, every email, every slow Sunday phone call—he kept that promise like it was sacred.

Boot camp was hard. So was flight school. The distance wore on you in places you didn’t know could ache—quiet places, like the space between heartbeats, or the seconds between texts that didn’t come fast enough. Some nights, the silence felt louder than any goodbye ever had.

But Bob never made you doubt him.

Even when he was thousands of miles away, when his world became early mornings and aching muscles and orders barked through static—he made time for you. He sent hand-written letters whenever he could, the envelopes soft at the edges from travel, always filled with little sketches in the margins—birds he saw on base, clouds shaped like hearts, doodles of you in your overalls with hearts around your head. He told you everything. How tired he was. How badly the food sucked. How homesick he was for your laugh, your cooking, the way your fingers combed through his hair when he couldn’t sleep.

You FaceTimed at odd hours, each call a small lifeline. Sometimes the connection cut in and out, freezing his face mid-smile or distorting your voice until you both started laughing. Sometimes you just sat in silence, watching each other exist, breathing in sync. You whispered I love yous across time zones and bad Wi-Fi, clinging to the sound of his voice like oxygen.

And every time he came home on leave, he held you like the world had stopped spinning without you in it.

There were reunions on front porches, airport gates, parking lots—messy and breathless, tears caught in your lashes before he even made it all the way into your arms. He’d bury his face in your neck, whisper something like, “God, I missed you,” and you’d feel the truth of it in your bones.

Time moved. Seasons changed. You wrote letters and made playlists and sent care packages with little notes tucked between socks and granola bars. He flew. He grew. And through it all, you remained—each other’s constant.

He proposed on your fifth anniversary, in your old backyard, standing beneath the tree where your initials were still carved into the bark—faded, but there. You didn’t know he had a ring. You didn’t even know he’d planned anything. But he reached for your hands with a look you’d known since childhood, the one that said you’re home, and dropped to one knee like he’d been waiting his whole life for this one moment.

“I can’t picture my life without you in it, Y/N,” he said, voice shaking just enough to make your heart stutter. “You’ve been my best friend, my reason, my everything. Will you marry me?”

You were crying before he finished. Laughing, too, because of course. Of course it was always going to be him.

You said yes with your whole heart—before he could even finish the question.

And he smiled like he had that day you carved your names into the tree, like the sun was caught in his glasses again. Like everything had finally come full circle.

Marriage with Bob wasn’t flashy or loud — it was steady. The kind of love that didn’t need an audience, because it had roots too deep to be shaken.

It was built on years of shared glances and slow-burn devotion. On a friendship that grew into something sacred, something safe. A thousand little rituals became your language: the way he’d tuck handwritten love notes into your coat pocket before every deployment — folded three times, always sealed with your initials and a tiny heart. The way you’d greet him on the front porch after months away with his favorite meal already warming on the stove, lights low, arms open like a home he’d never left.

It was forehead kisses before sunrise and tangled limbs long past midnight. The soft rhythm of his hand rubbing slow circles on your back when you were sick or sore or simply worn thin. The way you cradled his face in your palms when the weight of the world — of the cockpit, of the distance, of the danger — grew too heavy on his shoulders.

With Bob, love was in the quiet.

It was in the way he memorized your coffee order by heart and always made it just right — even groggy, even rushed. The way he looked at you like you were still the girl next door in grass-stained jeans, even when you were pregnant and barefoot in the kitchen, hair a mess and eyes tired.

There were no grand declarations. No over-the-top gestures.

Just a million tiny choices, every day.

And the unshakable truth that he was yours — and you were his — in every way that mattered.

When Arvin came along — your sleepy-eyed boy. Another airplane-obsessed little one, a perfect miniature of his father right down to the dark blue eyes and thoughtful silences — Bob stepped into fatherhood with the same quiet reverence he brought to everything he loved.

He was gentle from the very first breath, holding your newborn son like he might break if he exhaled too hard. He whispered lullabies into soft baby curls at 3 a.m., slow and low, even when his voice cracked from sleep. He changed diapers without complaint, one hand always resting lightly on Arvin's tiny chest, like he couldn’t quite believe he was real.

He read bedtime stories in silly voices — sometimes dramatically bad British accents, sometimes with the gravitas of a Shakespearean actor reading The Very Hungry Caterpillar. Arvin would giggle and clap and demand “again,” and Bob would oblige every time, without fail, even when his eyes were rimmed with exhaustion from a long day on base.

He taught Arvin how to fold paper planes with surgical precision, adjusting wings and creases like it was an art form. He'd cheer when they soared, groan dramatically when they crash-landed, and patiently help him try again. You once caught them both lying on the floor for an hour, surrounded by a fleet of multicolored paper aircraft, Bob explaining lift and drag in a voice just above a whisper.

And when he thought you weren’t listening — when the house was quiet, the baby limp with sleep in his arms — you’d hear him murmur into the soft crook of Arvin's neck, “I love you so much, buddy. So, so much.” As if he was pouring every ounce of feeling into those five words, like they were sacred.

And now?

Now you're sitting alone in your house in Lemoore, the glow of the tablet screen casting pale light over your tired face. Your hand rests instinctively over the small swell of your belly — life growing again, a quiet miracle you wish he could feel beneath his own palm.

And on the screen, there’s Bob.

He looks tired. So do you.

But when your eyes meet, everything else stills — like the world exhales around you.

The video calls never feel long enough though.

No matter how much you try to pretend they do.

You were overjoyed for Bob when he first told you he’d been recruited for a special mission at TOPGUN. His voice had held that rare spark — the kind of excitement that only came when he talked about flying. It was supposed to be a temporary assignment, just a few weeks of intense training and high-stakes simulations.

But those weeks stretched into months.

Then the higher-ups asked him to stay longer — first through the summer, then into the fall. Every extension came with the same promise: just a little while more. And each time, you swallowed your disappointment and smiled, because you were proud. Because this was Bob's dream — and you had always known that loving him meant loving the sky that called him away.

Eventually, those few weeks turned into more than a year. From the start of your pregnancy to now.

You try to fill the space between your words, the ones you don’t know how to say, by smiling extra bright, by asking him about the weather or how his new flight simulator is working. You talk about anything, anything to make the minutes stretch a little longer — but they never do.

Bob’s face glows softly on your tablet screen, the dim light from his room casting shadows across his features, making him look younger, more vulnerable than he does when he’s in uniform. His hair is still mussed from the helmet, the lines around his eyes deepened from exhaustion, but there’s a softness there too, something just for you.

You watch as his gaze drifts to Arvin in the background. The boy is jabbering about airplanes and apples, or maybe it’s just a string of nonsense words he’s gotten attached to, you’re not sure. Bob watches him like he’s a miracle — like the sound of his son’s voice is enough to keep him tethered to this world.

You’re only half-listening, your gaze on Bob’s face, on his smile as he watches Arvin, but your hand rests lightly over the small curve of your stomach, the weight of it both grounding and quieting you in a way you can’t explain.

And then Bob notices.

He always does.

“Is he sleeping okay now?” His voice is quiet, tentative, like the question itself is a thread he’s afraid will snap if he pulls too hard. He leans in slightly, like he can close the distance with just the weight of his eyes. His gaze flickers to the side — to Arvin, to the room, anywhere but you, and then back to you, searching.

You nod, though it feels like a lie. “Mostly. Still wakes up crying for you sometimes.”

You watch as his expression shifts, as the words hang between you, thick with the distance neither of you wants to acknowledge.

Bob swallows hard, the movement of his throat so subtle, but you catch it. You always catch it. His jaw tightens just enough that you can see it, the silent, invisible tension that coils within him. It’s like he’s holding his breath, waiting for something he can’t put into words.

“And you?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. His eyes hold yours, steady and searching, and there’s a tenderness there — a rawness that almost makes you want to look away.

You hesitate, your chest aching, the weight of his question heavy in the space between you. You know what he wants to hear. You know it. You want to say, I’m good. I’m fine. We’re managing. You want to, but the words feel hollow.

Instead, you stay quiet. And somehow, that speaks louder than anything else.

Bob leans forward, his face coming into focus on the screen as his eyes soften — a small, fleeting thing, like a crack in a dam that might let the flood rush through. You see the way his brow furrows, the flicker of frustration that crosses his face, like he wants to reach through the screen and pull you into his arms.

“I hate this,” he says, his voice barely audible, as though saying it aloud would make the ache too real. “I hate not being there. Not… with you.”

Your heart aches at the softness of his words, the vulnerability in them. The quiet way he admits it, like it’s a secret he’s been carrying too long. You force a smile, but it’s thin, worn, fragile.

“I hate it too, Bobby.” Your voice trembles just enough for him to hear it, but you don’t let yourself say anything more.

The call flickers. The feed stutters once, twice, like the connection itself is reluctant to let go. And then, just like that, the screen goes black, and all you’re left with is the empty space around you. The silence stretches, suffocating in its weight.

You sit there on the edge of your bed, the cold light of the screen still lingering in your peripheral vision, the hum of the air conditioner too loud in the stillness of the room.

But there’s only the ache.

A quiet, persistent ache that pulses behind your ribs, that lingers even after the call has ended, and the miles between you stretch too far to bridge.

And you wonder, for the thousandth time, if this will always be the way of it — these small, stolen moments that never feel long enough.

A few days later — North Island, San Diego

You didn’t argue when Bob told you he was flying you out. You should’ve — you had your own command to report to, your own stack of overdue emails and unfinished reports — but the exhaustion had sunk too deep into your bones. It was the kind of tired that sleep couldn’t fix. So when he said, “Please, just come out here. I need you here,” in that low, quiet voice that always made something in your chest loosen, you didn’t even try to fight it.

Because the truth was, you needed him too.

Now, standing just inside the hangar, the scent of oil and sunbaked concrete mixing with the faint salt of the sea air, you shift Arvin higher on your hip. He’s dozing against your shoulder, warm and heavy and clutching your collar in one sticky little fist, the remnants of a cherry lollipop smudged near his mouth. His soft breaths tickle your neck, and you press your cheek gently to his hair, breathing him in.

Your flight jacket is unzipped halfway, the soft curve of your belly peeking beneath the edge of your shirt. The baby stirs — a slow, fluttering kick — and your hand moves instinctively to rest there. Protective. Quiet. A silent hello.

You feel exposed, somehow. Not from the eyes of others, but from the sheer openness of being here, in his world again — the place where he comes alive in ways he tries not to show you over a screen. There’s no buffer now. No distance to soften the weight of how much you’ve missed him.

And then, like the thought conjures him — you see him.

Bob steps out from between two aircraft, still half in his flight suit, sleeves tied around his waist, sweat-damp curls falling messily over his forehead. His helmet dangles from one hand, the other runs through his hair in a gesture you’ve seen a thousand times. Nervous. Hopeful. Tired.

He spots you instantly.

His whole face softens.

You don’t wave. He doesn’t smile. It’s quieter than that.

He crosses the hangar in long, purposeful strides — not rushing, but close. His gaze never leaves yours. And when he reaches you, he sets his helmet down without looking, cupping your face with one warm, calloused hand.

You let your eyes close. Just for a second.

“You came,” he murmurs, like he doesn’t quite believe it.

You nod, the lump in your throat making words impossible for a moment. “Of course I did.”

Bob leans in and presses a kiss to your forehead, slow and deliberate, lingering there like he’s trying to breathe you in. When he pulls back, his eyes flicker down — to your belly, to Arvin still asleep on your shoulder — and something flickers across his face.

Wonder. Gratitude. Love.

“Hi, baby,” he says softly, reaching out to run a thumb across the swell of your stomach, his touch reverent. Then his hand moves gently to Arvin's back, rubbing slow circles as he leans in. “Hey, little man. Miss me?”

Arvin's head lolls as he turns, blinking up at him. “Daddy,” he mumbles, drowsy but smiling.

Bob cradles him to his chest with practiced ease, like no time has passed at all. You watch as his fingers press gently against Arvin's back — counting, you think. Checking. Making sure he’s real.

And then he looks at you.

Really looks.

At your face, your tired eyes, your jacket stretched a little tighter over your middle than last time. His gaze lingers there, gentle and awed, and when it lifts again, there’s something raw in it.

“God, I missed you,” he says, his voice thick.

You reach up to fix his glasses from sliding down his nose, your fingers lingering. “I missed you more.”

He kisses you then — soft, sweet, a little breathless. The kind of kiss that feels like a beginning and a homecoming all at once.

And for the first time in weeks, maybe months, your world feels whole again.

Later That Night – Bob’s Quarters

The quarters are dimly lit, save for the warm glow of the overhead light above the small kitchen nook. The base housing isn’t big — just one long room split by a thin curtain and a kitchenette that hums faintly with the old fridge. But it’s clean. Lived-in now.

You’re curled up on Bob’s neatly made bunk, legs tucked to the side, with Arvin asleep on your chest — his little fingers curled in the collar of your shirt. Bob is across from you on the floor, back against the side of the bed, legs stretched out. His glasses have slid halfway down his nose as he finishes washing and drying a single baby bottle like it’s mission critical.

“I didn’t realize how much I missed this,” he says, voice soft enough not to wake Arvin. “You. Him. The burp cloths.”

You grin, brushing a hand through Arvin’s soft hair. “You say that now. Wait until he starts screaming at 2 a.m. because he can’t find his stuffy.”

Bob looks up at you, warm amusement in his eyes. “Then I’ll be glad I’ve still got my hearing protection from the cockpit.”

He stands and walks over, kneeling beside the bed so he’s eye-level with the two of you. He kisses Arvin’s temple, then your forehead. “Thank you for coming. I know this wasn’t easy.”

Before you can answer—

The door bursts open.

“Hey Floyd, you le— what the fuck.”

It’s Hangman. Behind him, Rooster, Coyote, Payback, Fanboy and two fresh faced recruits stand frozen in the doorway like they just walked into the wrong house. Phoenix lingers in the back with her arms crossed, clearly not surprised — but enjoying the boys reaction.

She was the only member of the dagger squad who knew of her WSO’s little family.

Everyone stares.

You stare.

Arvin stirs and lets out a soft grunt, then burrows deeper into your chest.

Bob doesn’t move. His hand stays on your knee, protective but not ashamed. “Hey, uh… guys.”

Hangman points, blinking. “What the hell is going on here?”

Rooster looks like his brain just blue-screened. “Are we in the right place?”

Phoenix smirks. “Yep.”

Bob clears his throat. “This is my wife. And that’s our son, Arvin.”

Fanboy mouths the word son and glances at Payback, who just raises his eyebrows and gives a low whistle.

One of the recruits awkwardly raises a hand like he’s in school. “Sir… you have a baby?”

Bob straightens a little. “Yes. And he’s sleeping. So... maybe keep it down?”

The room falls comically silent.

You press your lips together to keep from laughing. Bob's shoulders are tense, but he’s trying not to show it.

Then, Hangman recovers. He steps inside, looks around the room, and crosses his arms. “You mean to tell me quiet little Baby On Board has a whole-ass family he didn’t tell us about?”

Phoenix pipes up from the back. “Told you he had game.”

“I didn’t think you meant married with a baby game,” Rooster mutters, walking in more cautiously.

Fanboy edges over to the sleeping Arvin and crouches. “Man. Look at this little guy. He’s got Bob’s nose.”

Payback leans against the wall. “You been hiding this because you didn’t want us to babysit or what?”

Bob relaxes — just a little. “Didn’t think it was relevant to the mission.”

Hangman raises both hands. “Oh, no. No, no, Bob. This is the mission now. We are absolutely going to teach this kid how to dogfight.”

Rooster rolls his eyes. “He looks barely two.”

“Plenty of time to train,” Hangman says seriously.

You glance at Bob. His ears are red, but he’s smiling now — the slow, warm kind he only gives you when he’s too full of love to say anything else.

And somehow, in this tiny room filled with too many people and not enough space, it feels like home.

The fresh faced recruits are the first to bail.

The shorter one, nervous as a rabbit, nudges his partner. “Uh, Sir… we’ll, uh, just come back… later?” His eyes dart from Arvin’s chubby cheeks to Bob’s unreadable face and back again.

The taller recruit nods too fast. “Congrats, Lieutenant Floyd. Ma’am. Your baby is, uh… looks a lot like Lieutenant Floyd.”

They both retreat like they stumbled into sacred ground. The door shuts softly behind them.

Now it’s just the squad.

And they are settled in.

Rooster is sitting on the floor beside the bed with his back against the wall, chin in his hand as he stares at Arvin like the baby’s a new aircraft schematic. Fanboy has claimed a random pillow and is lying flat on the floor in front of the bunk like he’s cloud-watching. Payback’s perched on the tiny kitchen stool. Phoenix leans against the counter with a small smile, and Hangman…

Hangman is holding up one of Arvin’s tiny onesies like it’s a national treasure.

“Do you see how small this is?” he says dramatically, voice hushed like they’re in a museum. “This could fit on my forearm. I could wear it as a sock.”

You’re trying not to laugh too loud — Arvin sleeping peacefully, cheek smushed against your chest.

“Where’d you get this one?” Fanboy asks, pointing to the onesie in question. “The blue with the little jets?”

“Oh, that was from my sister,” you say. “She said if Bob’s gonna fly jets, Arvin should wear them.”

“Damn right,” says Coyote.

“How old is he?” Rooster asks.

“Fifteen months,” you reply.

Rooster smiles, amused. “And how long did Bob keep this from us?”

Bob, still standing at the foot of the bed, crosses his arms — but not in annoyance. In quiet defense. He’s close, just within reach, like his body’s trying to shield the three of you from the attention.

“It wasn’t on purpose,” he says, voice low. “We’ve just been… figuring things out. He was born not long before I got deployed. Didn’t want to make it complicated.”

Fanboy whistles. “Man. You were flying with us every day, then going home to FaceTime with this little dude?”

Bob nods.

“That’s baller,” Rooster mutters.

Hangman squints at you, suddenly serious. “So wait, how long have you two been together?”

You shift Arvin slightly to cradle him better. “Since high school." You smiled sheepishly, "Married three years."

“She helped me study during training,” Bob adds, quieter now, almost shy.

Phoenix perks up. “You helped Bob Floyd study?”

“I did,” you say, grinning.

“Did you know,” Phoenix says, turning to the group, “this man cried when he saw Arvin’s ultrasound photo?”

Bob glares at her. “That was classified.” He coughs awkwardly.

The room erupts into gentle laughter. Even Arvin stirs and lets out a sleepy little sigh, like he approves.

“Alright, alright,” you say, holding up a hand. “Any more questions before we pass around a sign-up sheet for bedtime stories?”

Rooster raises a finger. “Does Arvin like planes?”

Bob answers this time, stepping closer and crouching beside the bed. “He calls them ‘brrr-brrrs.’”

You nod, smiling. “He has a toy F/A-18 that he crashes into everything. Including our dog.”

“Wait,” Fanboy says, eyes wide. “You have a dog too?”

Hangman sits down on the other side of the bed now, hands behind his head, grinning. “Okay. New rule. We all hang out here every Friday. You bring the baby. I’ll bring drinks.”

Bob finally chuckles. “And what if we say no?”

“You won’t,” Phoenix says.

Bob raises an eyebrow.

“I mean,” she adds, “you tolerate us with remarkable patience.”

He doesn’t answer — just reaches over to brush a curl off Arvin’s forehead, his eyes soft and so full of quiet pride it nearly chokes you.

You meet his gaze and smile, mouthing, thank you.

He nods, mouthing back, Always.

Outside, the base is silent. Inside, it’s warm. Loud. Full.

And for the first time in months, Bob lets himself sink into the chaos, just a little — because this is the kind of noise that means you’re home.

After an hour the daggers finally leave you two alone.

The room is finally quiet again.

The door clicked shut ten minutes ago, leaving only the soft hum of the fridge and the rhythm of Arvin’s little breaths against your chest. You can still hear Hangman’s laugh echoing faintly in the hallway, followed by a muffled, “I’m just saying, if the kid’s already saying ‘brrr-brrr,’ he’s halfway to a call sign.”

You smile to yourself.

Bob locks the door behind them, then turns off the kitchen light, leaving the room in the low amber glow of a bedside lamp. He exhales as he leans back against the counter, watching you with a soft kind of awe — like he still can’t quite believe you’re really here.

“Sorry about the ambush,” he says quietly.

You shake your head. “Don’t be. They were sweet.”

He nods, walking over slowly, careful not to wake Arvin. “I think they were more excited about his onesies than I was when I got my flight suit.”

You laugh under your breath. “That tracks.”

He crouches beside the bed again, resting a hand lightly on your leg. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” You meet his eyes, and your voice softens. “I’m just… really glad we came.”

You shift, carefully sliding Arvin off your chest and onto the middle of the bed. He fusses for a second, then settles again, thumb in his mouth. Bob moves instinctively, pulling the small blanket up over him, tucking it just right.

Then he stands and, without a word, unzips his hoodie and slips into bed beside you, careful not to jostle either of you too much. He lies on his side, one arm under his head, the other resting lightly across your hip.

You shift to face him, your noses close, the space between you quiet and full.

For a long moment, neither of you says anything. You just breathe. The kind of silence that doesn’t need to be filled.

Then Bob speaks — his voice a soft thread in the dark.

“How long can you stay?”

You trace a line along the collar of his shirt with one finger. “A few days. I told my boss I needed personal leave.” You glance up. “They didn’t ask questions.”

Bob’s mouth lifts slightly. “Remind me to send them a thank-you card.”

You smile, but your voice is quieter now. “We’ve missed you. A lot.”

“I know.” His fingers brush your side gently. “I’ve missed you more than I can say.”

You reach for his hand and lace your fingers through his. “I don’t want this to feel like a visit. I want it to feel like a pause, you know? Like we’re not counting down already.”

Bob’s eyes search yours — slow, full of something fragile. “Then let’s not count,” he says. “Let’s just… be here.”

You nod.

He shifts a little closer, his forehead resting lightly against yours. “I was thinking,” he says, “we could take Arvin down to the beach in the morning. Just us. Before it gets crowded.”

You smile. “He’ll eat half the sand, you know that, right?”

“I’ll pack extra wipes,” he murmurs, and you both laugh quietly.

“And maybe,” he adds, hesitating, “we could find time for just us. Even if it’s just an hour. You and me. No schedules. Just… catching up.”

You reach up and trace the edge of his jaw, your thumb brushing the stubble there. “I’d like that.”

His eyes flicker — tired, but glowing. “We’ve been so many places apart,” he says softly. “I want to start building the places we’ve been… together.”

You blink once, hard, then lean forward to press your lips gently to his.

It’s not a kiss full of heat or hunger — it’s full of knowing. Of being known. A kiss that says: I’m here. I still choose you. Every time.

When you pull back, your voice is barely a whisper.

“So what’s the plan tomorrow?”

Bob exhales slowly. “Beach in the morning. Maybe breakfast after that. Arvin’s nap around noon.” He pauses, then smiles. “And if he’s down long enough, I thought maybe I could read to you for a while. The baby books, I mean. I’ve been practicing.”

You laugh softly. “I’d love that.”

He kisses your temple, then your cheek. “And I’ll make dinner. Nothing fancy, but—”

“You’re cooking?” you tease, eyebrows raised.

“I’ve improved since the incident with the instant rice,” he says solemnly.

“Have you?”

“Well… slightly supervised cooking.”

You laugh again, and then settle closer, your head resting beneath his chin, one arm across his chest. His fingers trace gentle circles against your back.

Bob exhales, his voice the last thing you hear before sleep starts to pull you under.

“I wish I could freeze this,” he whispers. “Just… hold it all still.”

You press your lips to his collarbone. “You don’t have to. We’re here now.”

Bob's gaze drifts to your belly.

“She been kicking a lot today?” he asks looking down at you , voice soft. God, you loved when he looked at you with his dark blue eyes through his glasses.

You nod, bitting your lip. “Like she’s doing laps in there.”

A small, crooked smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. He reaches out, hesitates, then places his palm gently over the curve of your belly.

“I keep picturing her,” he says, almost like he’s afraid to say it out loud. “Not just what she’ll look like — though I think she’ll have your face — but like… the little things. Her laugh. The sound of her feet on the floor. Her asking questions I don’t know how to answer.”

You watch him quietly, your heart aching in that full, overwhelming way only he can make it ache.

“She’s gonna be loud,” you say with a smile. “Louder than Arvin, maybe.”

Bob huffs a soft laugh.

A beat passes. Then, in a quieter voice: “Still want to name her Aubrey?”

You nod. “Do you?”

He swallows. “Yeah. I, uh… I was listening to the song the night you told me. And I just… I don’t know. It stuck.”

You can hear the song in your head now — Aubrey by Bread— soft and sad and full of things left unspoken. A strange choice for a baby’s name, maybe. But also perfect. Gentle. Old-fashioned. Honest.

“I love it,” you whisper.

He glances up at you, relieved. “Good. 'Cause I already made a playlist.”

You laugh softly, resting your forehead against his. “Of course you did.”

“She’s gonna have good music taste,” he mumbles. “I’ll start her early. Bread, Simon & Garfunkel, Fleetwood Mac…”

“You’re making a dad playlist.”

His ears turn red. “Is that bad?”

“No,” you whisper. “It’s perfect.”

He brushes his thumb lightly over the swell of your stomach, then looks down at Arvin, still nestled against you. “I just want them to feel safe. Always. Like… like no matter what, I’ll be here.”

“You will be,” you say.

Bob doesn’t say anything for a long moment. Just breathes. Then finally, voice barely audible:

“I still don’t feel like I’m enough for this. For you. For them.”

You tilt your head, resting a hand on his cheek. “You’re already more than enough. Every single day.”

He closes his eyes at that. Nods.

And then, so quietly you almost miss it: “I hope she has your laugh.”

You smile, feeling the baby shift inside you, almost like she heard him. Like she’s saying I’m here, too.

Sleep comes for you slowly, like the tide—gentle, inevitable, pulling you under in waves.

Your eyes flutter, heavy-lidded, and the warmth of Bob beside you lulls you deeper into it. His fingers are still tracing quiet circles on your back, and his breathing has settled into that soft, steady rhythm you’ve always found comfort in. Arvin is tucked between you, his tiny body curled toward yours, mouth slack around his thumb, breaths even and small.

Bob shifts, just slightly, and you feel his hand slide from your back to the swell of your belly, his palm resting there with the kind of reverence that says: I know you're in there, and I love you already.

The weight of his arm wraps around you protectively. Not tight. Just there. Grounding. Like a tether you didn’t know you needed until now.

And then—his hand stretches further, carefully, reaching across you until his fingertips find Arvin’s small shoulder, barely brushing. It's the lightest touch, but it holds all the weight in the world. A father holding his whole world in the span of two palms.

You’re somewhere between awake and dreaming when you feel his breath against your temple.

“I love you,” he whispers.

You don’t respond—can’t, really—but your body shifts instinctively, curling toward him just a little more. He presses a soft kiss to your forehead, then one to the top of Arvin’s head. His hand never leaves your belly.

Outside, the night is still. The fridge hums. Somewhere in the distance, a car passes, but it doesn’t reach you here.

Bob stays awake for a little while longer, just watching you sleep. He lets his gaze linger on the rise and fall of your chest, the gentle rhythm of the baby’s kicks beneath his palm, and the tiny hand of his son curled near your collarbone.

His chest tightens in that familiar way—love too big for his ribcage, like it might break him open. But it's the good kind of ache. The kind he’d carry gladly for the rest of his life.

Eventually, his eyes grow heavy. He shifts just a little closer, curls his body around yours and Arvin’s like a shield, and lets his forehead rest against your shoulder.

And finally, with his whole family safe in his arms, he exhales… …and sleeps

837 notes · View notes

digitald0rk · 5 months ago

Text

SPOILED ROTTEN.

pairing — mark grayson x gn!reader. [ established relationship ]

synopsis — in which you spoil your boyfriend mark with a well deserved warm bath and lots of love ♡ after he comes home tired from a mission, filled with doubts.

warnings — slight cursing. angsty? as in nolan continues to haunt him and his doubts, so mentions of blood. also gets kinda suggestive, mention of reader getting wet because im ovulating okay 0_o mark being babygirl as usual.

w.c — 2.1 k.

a/n — TYSM FOR THE SUPPORT ON MY PREVIOUS POST OMG BSJHJMPS. ALSO THAT FINALE WAS SO GOOD! and i have a final in an hour LOCK INN. again, english is not my first language so apologies for mistakes in advance :D

knock.

a knock on your window? at this hour? well you know who that is, your beloved boyfriend, the one and only mark grayson or well invincible, invinciboy if you feel like being a little shit :]

as soon as you slide your window open he's on you immediately, almost knocking you down onto the ground as he clings onto you for dear life. his face in your neck and arms wrapped around you tightly almost as if he's afraid.

"baby?" you ask, concerned but slightly amused.

you're met with silence.

so you try again. "love?" a little less amused this time.

he doesn't say anything, breathing you in as he buries his head further into the crook of your neck, as if trying to fuse his body with yours.

then it hits you, ah the fight on the tv.

you can practically feel the tension radiating off of him, he's all tense. you know he's hurt, both physically and mentally. mostly mentally.

he was once again forced into a situation where he had to hurt someone again, badly. he had no other choice, it's not his fault.

"sweetheart, you know it's not your fault right?"

you hear him sigh, he nuzzles his head against your shoulder like a cat, the action making your heart flutter.

you can't help yourself but kiss his forehead, cupping his face gently like you're the viltrumite here, not him, like you'll break him if you're not careful enough, like he's the most precious thing in the whole world, screw that in the whole universe.

and to you he is indeed the most precious thing in the whole universe.

you look into his warm brown eyes which look so unsure, unsure of himself and it breaks your heart. your thumbs lightly stroke his cheekbones while you press sweet soothing kisses all over his pretty face, hoping to take away some of his pain.

your onslaught of kisses and affection does bring a soft smile on his face, he's holding back a giggle as you keep peppering kisses on his face, showing no mercy.

his eyes seem a little brighter now, which is progress!

playfully nuzzling your nose against his, his face still in your hands, you kiss the tip of his nose, laughing when his nose scrunches a little in reaction, god he's so adorable.

"i love you invincib-" you start cheekily.

"don't." he warns with a knowing look, a small smile still adorning his lips. he knows you too well.

"-boy" you're never gonna let that go, are you?

"oh fuck off" he lightly shoves at your shoulder, feigning offense before pulling you in for a kiss.

"love you too dumbass" the banter's back, he's already feeling so much better. how do you do it? he honestly doesn't know.

a few kisses and sweet words later, you're running him a bath. he can't say no to you, you both know this. plus he could really use a nice warm bath right now, he needs to relax his tense muscles.

you put in his favorite scented bathbombs and make sure the temperature is just right before telling him to get in.

he lets out a small bashful chuckle at your whistle when he strips out of his clothes, making a show of flexing his muscles somewhat cockily and almost ends up falling face first on the cold wet marble of your bathroom floor.

he's such a dork.

you can see the way his muscles relax under the hot water once he gets in, the way his face is all blissed out is actually really cute or maybe you're just crazy whipped for mark grayson, a bit of both maybe.

you sit on the edge of the tub, watching him almost doze off, he must be really tired.

gently carding your fingers through his hair, you can't help but admire him.

"my beautiful boy" you whisper, leaning over to kiss his cheek.

the little flustered giggle he lets out has become one of your favorite sounds ever since you've started dating him.

his pupils turn into hearts when you offer to wash his hair for him, you're so sweet, a literal angel.

he doesn't deserve you.

he's killed people.

he has blood on his hands.

he has a part of his father in him.

as you lather your favorite shampoo and work it through your boyfriend's hair, feeling giddy at the thought of his hair smelling like yours, you can't help but think he's being awfully quiet. it seems even the soothing sensation of you massaging his head oh so gently like that isn't enough to drown out the voices.

he's usually rambling about something, well it's either you or seance dog usually but still.

he's overthinking again, you're sure if you close your eyes and focus hard enough you could almost hear it.

"markus sebastian grayson." you say in a playfully serious tone, squishing his cheeks and leaning in a little to peck his now puckered lips because of you smushing his face with your hands, "stop thinking for a bit baby."

"what if i turn out like my father" he doesn't hold back, voice cracking a little.

"mark-"

"no, you don't understan- what if i end up like him? god what if i end up hurting you-"

a beat of silence passes before you speak.

"what if you don't? "

that gets him to stop, mouth agape, his gaze on you. he forgets what he was going to say and the way you're washing his hair, rinsing the shampoo out, your nails softly raking against his scalp just right, the way you put a protective hand against his forehead so none of the shampoo goes in his eyes, it does nothing to him to remember what he was going to say.

"you are not your father", you press a kiss to his forehead.

"just because you're his son doesn't make you him", then a kiss to his cheek.

"you are not undeserving of love because of something your father did, not you", then your lips brush against the spot between his eyebrows, easing the tension between them.

"your father's action have nothing to do with you, my love", you press small kisses to his shoulder, his neck, his chest, over his beating heart.

you hear him suck a shaky breath in at the action, his shoulders slightly shaking, the unshed tears releasing without warning in the form of a small sniffle, it rips your heart in two :(

"because you are you, you are still mark grayson no matter what."

you are going to be the death of him.

your lips gently brush against his before pressing firmly against his soft lips, hoping to convey more with a tender kiss than your words ever will, knowing they don't do your feelings for him justice. your lips move in tandem with his, he pulls you close by the back of your neck, your hands resting on his chest and neither of you want to pull away from this moment.

his grip on you is desperate, the kiss feels searing on your lips, your heart is pounding against your chest, convinced it's gonna beat right out.

you refuse to let go of him, hands sliding slowly up and down his body, almost reverently.

it's intoxicating and dizzying, you feel like you're floating with the way he's kissing you, like an inch of space is going to kill him.

when you do manage to get your gears working, eyes opening up a little, you gently wipe his tears, pulling away only slightly to breathe because you don't want to die- actually, on second thought, that's not a terrible way to go out.

"no- please-" he begs, don't leave him please. he's chasing your lips and slipping his tongue in your mouth, he needs this.

he needs you.

soft moans are muffled between your mouths, his hands are everywhere, everything's too much yet not enough at the same time, his touch leaves a trail of fire behind that leaves you wanting more.

and of course, he ends up "accidentally" pulling you in the bathtub with him.

"mark!" you let out a small squeal, followed by a small laugh from him.

"sorry babe" oh he sounds real sorry alright.

your attention falls on the small, thin string of saliva, still connecting both of your mouths, your heavy lidded eyes lock with his, he's all flushed, lips swollen and shiny.

"that was hot" he sheepishly admits, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, all bashful like you aren't literally going crazy because of him. and now he's looking at you like you've hung the stars and the moon in the sky.

yeah, you're wet and not from the water i'll tell you that.

but that can wait, this night is all about pampering your beloved alien boy!

you see him open and close his mouth a couple times. words fail him, so instead, he grabs your hand and places a kiss to each of your knuckles one by one, a silent confession of the affection and love he holds for you that is downright overwhelming.

his eyes never leave yours, the whole thing feels raw and intensely intimate, no words are exchanged but rather they are felt, the unconditional acceptance from you and his immense gratitude, need no words.

"thank you" the sincerity in his voice is undeniable and so is the look of love in his eyes, that's reserved only for you.

you roll your eyes fondly when he playfully smears some of the bubbles from the bath onto your nose, typical mark behavior right there.

once he's all clean, both emotionally and physically for the night you help him out of the tub after getting yourself out first, trying and failing miserably not to stare at him. more like gawking but oh well that's his fault for looking like that okay.

he drys himself with the towel you gave him, wrapping it around his waist once he's done.

because of his earlier mischievousnes, you also had to change out of your wet pyjamas into new dry ones. his ass is not sorry about that, the annoying little smirk is proof.

the domesticity of it all however warms your heart, the way he's in nothing but a towel around his waist while you're in your pjs, brushing teeth together and giggling over dumb stuff, oh how you wish it could always be like this.

that little glint in his eyes is back again and you couldn't be more happy.

you even help him dry his hair with your trusty hairdryer, sitting him down on your bed as you work it skillfully through his soft hair which now smells like your shampoo, the blissful expression on his face is enough to make you melt right then and there. laughing when he shakes his head like a puppy, he's not beating the puppy boy allegations anytime soon. not that he minds as long as you're the one teasing him about it.

and he may or may not have a thing for you calling him that but you don't have to know that, well atleast yet.

he slips into a pair of sweatpants and boxers he left at your place awhile ago, picking you up easily and tackling you to your bed.

now it's his turn to return the affection, or well as sleepily as one can.

he kisses you like there's no tomorrow, like you're the only thing keeping him sane and alive, which wouldn't be too far from the truth.

good luck trying to tuck him in bed, he's so stubborn, "babe i'm not sleepy!" he says, he almost slept on your shoulder like a baby a minute ago. this fucker.

he's only doing this because he wants to spend more time with you, he still feels guilty, he knows he puts being a superhero over everything else, meaning he barely gets to send time with his beautiful partner.

however all those thoughts are out the window the second you trails kisses down his neck, his eyes flutter shut and he sighs, clearly pleased.

and when you do manage to tuck his ass in bed, a kiss to his forehead and countless "i love you's" are exchanged between you both, he rests his head on your chest and listens to your heartbeat, a firm reminder that you're here and all his to cherish.

he almost lets out a small moan when your nails gently scratch at his scalp and lightly at his nape, he loves when you play with his hair, nuzzling against your comfortable chest. he's in heaven.

soon enough he surrenders himself to sleep and to you, one last kiss right over where your heart is beating which belongs to him and him only, the action making your breath hitch and chest tighten with affection and before you know it, he's out like a light.

he's so grateful to have you. he knows he doesn't deserve you, eventhough you say otherwise but he'll be damned if he ever lets you go.

you're all his.

and he's all yours <3

and yes, he will drool all over your chest like a baby so good luck with that :3

#ㅤㅤ✶ㅤ digitald0rk's library !#NEED TO ROLL HIM IN A BLANKET AND KEEP HIM AWAY FROM THE HORRORS!!!!!#HE MAKES ME SICK UGH #mark grayson #mark grayson x you #mark grayson x reader #invincible fanfic #invincible x reader #invincible x you #invincible fluff #mark grayson fluff #mark grayson fanfic #invincible

1K notes · View notes

witherby · 7 months ago

Note

what would be littlest wayne's first word be?

I was thinking of something simple or sweet, but then I got the funniest idea on the planet.

The Littlest Wayne: First Words

You were babbling a lot more lately. Your family all knew it meant you were likely going to say your first words soon, and the fighting over who got to have your attention increased tenfold. It had gotten to the point that your brothers were practically kidnapping you to monopolize your time and attention. Bruce put his foot down and ended that whole charade when it stopped being endearing and became dangerous.

("Really, Damian? Your skill in combat is not in question, it has never been in question, but you cannot bring them on patrol with you on the off-chance they happen to say their first words in the middle of the night!")

So, Bruce takes you to the Watchtower anytime he has a Justice League meeting. It pisses off all of his sons, but he's arguably bringing you to the safest spot in the galaxy. Also, he's your father. It's not kidnapping if you're kidnapping your own child. Okay, it is, it very much still is, but that's not the point.

"Okay, Mouse," he murmurs, easing you onto the floor and handing you a stuffed teddy bear. "The meeting's only an hour, then we're going back home. Dada will take you home."

(Maybe he wants to steer you towards your first word himself. Sue him, he's just a man at the end of the day.)

You take the bear, staring openly at your father. You don't see him often in the Batman suit, so he's very visually appealing at the moment. Bruce allows himself a small smile, gently pinching your cheek, then he steps out of the way when Diana arrives.

"The babyyy!" She whisper-yells, kneeling next to the playpen. "Hello, little one! It's such a treat when Batman brings you around!"

You make some soft, babbling noises. Mostly you're making raspberries. It's a fascinating sound. Diana melts and wipes some drool from your chin.

"Someone's getting close to their first words. My mother said mine was "maim." I remember that conversation fondly..."

Bruce has to remind himself that Diana grew up on an island inhabited by immortal warrior women. "Maim" is a perfectly normal first word for an immortal warrior baby.

The other Leaguers start quickly filing into the meeting room, each of them stopping cheerfully to greet you. It makes something fond bloom in Bruce's chest, and you coo and openly admire all the people with bright, primary colors all over their bodies. You're busy trying to chew on Superman's cape when a glowing, green light enters your periphery, and you drop the fabric in favor of staring at the Green Lantern.

"Oh, bring your kid to work day, huh, Spooks?" Hal actually scoops you up out of the pen and cradles you to his chest, grinning down at you. "Hey, kiddo!"

"Mmmnnn," you mutter intelligently, reaching for his mask. Every time you manage to pop it off, he just wills another one on. You think this is the most entertaining game ever.

"The kids are taking them out into the field, now," Bruce sighs. "They all want to be the one to hear their first word. Which is fine. It's adorable. I love that they love the baby. But the baby does not belong on Gotham's streets in the middle of the night, especially if guns are involved."

"Oh, yeah, that's pretty bad," Hal says, smiling at you. You pop his domino mask off again, squealing when it dissolves in your fingers and another one materializes over his face. "Uncle Hal would never do that to you, would he? No! No he wouldn't! That's very dangerous!"

"Huh...Hal!"

Everyone freezes. Bruce's jaw actually drops.

"No fucking way," Barry blurts across the room.

"Language. There's a whole baby here, Flash," Oliver says, but he's grinning like an idiot.

"Hal!" You chirp again. "Hal!"

Bruce sinks to his knees. Clark looks like he's trying not to laugh. Barry and Oliver are definitely laughing. Diana is pouting over the fact that your first word was so tame and boring. J'onn doesn't understand why your first word is so important when it just means you'll eventually learn to say more.

Hal is nearly trembling with the flood of emotions. His thing with Bruce is very new, and he's been by the Manor often enough that you obviously know him, but he really hadn't anticipated his name being...being...

"The boys are going to kill me."

"Maybe," Bruce admits, still on the floor. "...it couldn't be dada? It couldn't be uppies? Or Mouse, or any of the other words you hear ten thousand times a day? Even Alfred thought you might try his name first."

"I think we're going to need to postpone the start of the meeting," Clark declares, coughing as a way of clearing his throat and definitely not to disguise his amused huffs. "Let's push it back fifteen minutes."

"Hal!" You chirp again, delighted. You finally pulled Green Lantern's mask off and it didn't disappear. You win!

#batfam x reader #littlest wayne au #adopted au #batlantern #only if you squint though #batfam imagine

2K notes · View notes

wosospacegirl · 5 months ago

Text

La reina - Alexia Putellas

Summary: Alexia fell for someone she never expected—Y/n, a younger college student who couldn’t care less about football. They have nothing in common, yet somehow, they just work. Here’s a little glimpse into their relationship.

Warnings: smut (+18); we have smut, we have fluff, we have angts, we have comfort we have Alexia eating Y/n out while making as 11 with her tongue...I'm sure you guys will feel fed <3

Word count: 7k

MASTERLIST

Notes: this was a request! So sorry it took me about a month to write it.

Y/n was practically bouncing on her feet when she saw Alexia at the airport. Well, it wasn’t exactly an airport since the Spain squad all travelled privately on their way back home.

The space was mostly empty, with only the player’s families present. There were no crowds asking for photos or cameras flashing since they weren’t allowed in.

But it didn’t matter. All Y/n cared about was Alexia. It had been three weeks since she left for camp in another country.

The matches the Spanish played were all friendly to prepare for real and important games–at least that’s what Alexia had explained to her, Y/n didn’t know much about football except that Alexia looked very pretty while playing it.

It was weird being at the airport knowing that in another two weeks, Y/n would have to come here, but to drop Alexia off as she had another game, this time in Portugal.

Alexia and Y/n didn’t spend a lot of time together. If they had gone on a date at least 3 times in the last 3 months Y/n would be lying. So she tried to be her best self around Alexia, tried to enjoy her and made sure Alexia was getting the rest she needed

T/n looked at the gate and saw that the first players to walk through the private airport doors were Pina and Patri, both girls quickly stopped to greet Y/n and do some small conversation, and then Aitana joined them, her well-travelled pillow hanging on her arm.

Y/n could not really focus on the conversation; she kept turning back to see if Alexia was there already.

“The staff on the plane asked her to take some pictures,” Aitana said, noticing how Y/n’s eyes kept bouncing from the group to the gate. “She’ll probably be the last to get out of the plane.

“She’s always the last, though,” Y/n said in a half-whined.

“Perks of being La Reina’s girlfriend,” Aitana said winking, before saying goodbye, taking Pina and Patri with her.

Y/n’s impatience grew as the minutes dragged on. Three and a half bitten nails later, Alexia showed up.

Her face was soft with exhaustion, her Barcelona hoodie slightly oversized, making her look unfairly huggable.

Her blonde hair was messy from sleep, falling over her shoulder as she had just spent the whole flight dreaming–which probably happened because Alexia was rather sleepy, even if she denied it assiduously.

I took her some time, but Alexia inevitably saw Y/n in the middle of the private airport lobby and instantly smiled, opening her arms, and letting Y/n come to her.

Their hug was long.

Alexia allowed Y/n to properly crush her torso all she wanted with her arms, but it didn’t bother Alexia; she had a load of muscle underneath her hoodie, and Y/n’s hug didn’t even tickle her.

“Hi,” Alexia said in Y/n’s ear, putting her hand on the girl’s head and pressing her even more against her body.

Y/n mumbled something incoherent and just pressed her face more into the Barça hoodie, listening to Alexia’s heartbeat.

Alexia’s hand let go of her suitcase, planting her palm underneath Y/n’s shirt, on her warm back.

Being apart for too long was hard on both of them, but especially on Y/n. She was a very affectionate, physical-touch-as-a-love-language kind of girl.

Naturally, she didn’t spend days sobbing in bed whenever Alexia was away–certainly, if she did that, she would die of dehydration–instead, she kept on with her life. The pressure in her chest never fully went away, especially during Alexia’s away games. It settled there, quietly constant, a reminder of how much she missed her.

The one way she found to cope with it was to bury herself in university work and focus on her classes and hobbies, like learning French and knitting. Alexia joked that every time she came back from a trip Y/n had learned something completely new from scratch.

“Missed you, mi vida,” Alexia said, breathing Y/n’ vanilla perfume on, one that she had got very used to, and missed whenever she was away. “Three weeks is way too long; I won’t ever do it again.”

Alexia bent her head a little just so Y/n could kiss her. First, she kissed her lips, then her cheeks, nose and forehead. Alexia was a very private person, and their relationship was still a secret to the public, but right now she could only care about Y/n and the way her kisses tickled her.

“I’ll hide you from Fifa for the rest of the year,” Y/n mumbled, bringing Alexia even closer to her. “They’ll never find you again and we’ll just stay together and live off of pizza.”

“I agree on the whole kidnap me from FIFA,” Alexia said, kissing Y/n’s head. “But I’ll have to pass the pizza thing, that wouldn't be very healthy, would it?”

“Look at you and your healthy diet,” Y/n rolled her eyes and jokingly pushed Alexia away “I forgot how much of a freak you are with food…I may or may not have like– a bunch of very unhealthy snakes lying around in your kitchens,”

“They made me so happy while you were away,” Y/n said, giving Alexia her best puppy eyes. “Please ignore them, and don’t–”

“I’ll throw them away,” Alexia started with a malicious smile.

“Oh come on!” Y/n huffed, crossing her arms. “They are my favourite flavour.”

The player took her suitcase with one hand and wrapped Y/n’s shoulder with the other, leading them out of the airport.

“Come on, cariño you need to have some healthy habits,” Alexia said casually if it was that simple to give up on chips.

“Where did you park the car?”

“You don’t understand that having a snack is essential for my mental health,” Y/n said, pointing at the black Cupra car parked a few meters away.

Alexia chuckled, opening her palm for Y/n to give her the keys. “You can keep half of your snacks and we’ll give the rest to the ninãs on the team.”

Y/n looked for the keys in her pocket and gave them to Alexia.

They had already fought multiple times over Alexia–possessive and annoying driving behaviour.

Alexia always had to be the one driving, it didn’t matter when or where; the keys were always hers. The only time Y/n had a chance to drive Alexia’s cars was when she wasn’t in Barcelona, that was the only circumstance she would allow her to touch the keys.

“It’s not fair that Vicky gets to eat chips without an earful and I don't” Y/n grumbled, getting into the passenger seat after Alexia opened the door for her.

Ever the gentlewoman.

Alexia went around the vehicle, got behind the wheel, and started the car. “Vicky is a professional athlete who actually cares about what she eats, you, otherwise, would eat only pasta for a straight week If I didn’t ask you to change up a bit.”

“Vicky might be a professional athlete, but I’m a university student.” Y/n put her hands to her chest dramatically. “Do you know how impossible it is to survive studying without snacks? I’m out here shaping tiny minds, Ale—I need fuel! It’s not easy to be an early childhood education major.”

“Sorry, amor.” Alexia rolled her eyes playfully, placing a hand on Y/n’s tight. “You can keep all your snacks, okay? Don’t want you losing your mind over…midterms? That’s what you call them?”

Y/n smiled triumphantly. She had to keep on her snacks, HA!

“Yep, but my midterms are over, remember?” Y/n said looking at Alexia. “I had my last test three days ago, I texted you about it.”

“Merda,” [shit] Alexia said looking from the road to Y/n. “Sorry, mi vida, I forgot about it. How did you go?”

It didn’t bother Y/n anymore. Alexia was very forgetful about personal things, even though they were important to her.

Her head was too much on football, on the team and the girls. Alexia took her duties as capitana very seriously, her job didn’t stop after she got off training or the pitch. But Y/n was learning, little by little, how to manage that, Alexia too.

Alexia and Y/n hadn’t been dating for a long time, they were together for a little over 8 months.

Their relationship had ups and downs, just like any other. Their main source of conflict was because of how different their words were.

They had an age gap, not too big, but enough to cause some generational conflicts; Alexia was like the best footballer in the world, while Y/n was ‘just’

a university student; and last but not least: their relationship was a secret.

Alexia didn't like to call it secret, she preferred ‘private’ but Y/n liked to call it what it was: hidden.

Y/n didn’t like it. She wanted to just be in a normal relationship. She didn’t want to go full 3rd base with Alexia in the middle of the street, but she did want to post a picture of her for Valentine’s Day or go out without pretending to be friends…

But again, they were always working around it.

“The grade isn’t out yet, but I think I did good!” Y/n said proudly. “It was for a philosophy test, so I had to write a lot, but overall it was okay.”

“La meva nena intelligent,” [my smart girl], Alexia, said, also sounding proud. “I’ll buy you something if you get an A.”

“You always say that and you buy what I want regardless of my grades,” Y/n giggled. “And my university grades are between 1 and 10, we don’t use the letter systems.”

“Well, it’s not my fault that you always work hard,” Alexia shrugged. “It doesn't matter your grade, I always know you do great.”

“Tell that to my children's psychology professor” Y/n said, rolling her eyes. “That woman is making my life a living hell.”

“Okay, do you have her phone or–” Alexia said deadpan.

“What?”

“To talk to your professor, she should be kinder to her students.” Alexia acted like ringing up a university professor because your girlfriend wanted to was a normal–casual– thing to do. “Professors are like captains on the team, the captain needs to be firm but also friendly and open to conversation, right?” She asked, looking at Y/n as they stopped at a red light.

“You really know how to ball while I know Aristotle, huh?” Y/n said smiling.

“Huh?” Alexia asked with furrowed eyebrows. “What do you mean? And yeah, I know how to ball, I won the Ballon d'Or, bebè, twice.”

For someone who didn’t know Alexia, they would think she was bragging, but she was simply stating a fact that she thought Y/n wasn't familiar with.

Y/n had missed this, having Alexia around, and talking to her… she just missed her girlfriend a lot, and unfortunately, in the last few months they had spent more time away than with each other, so she had to make the most of it.

“I know, Ale! I meant it like–” Y/n saw the confusion on Alexia’s face and decided to pick her battles. “Actually, just forget about it.”

“Why?” Alexia asked.

“Cause the green light is just on and we need to get home very fast,” Y/n said urgently, pointing at the traffic light.

Alexia looked at her anxiously while beginning to drive. “Why do we need to get home fast, are you car sick again?”

Y/n rolled her eyes. Alexia was killing the mode.

“No, Alexia!” Y/n said, a slight blush on her face “I just spent three weeks without my super hot girlfriend and I feel like I’m in the trenches, okay?”

Alexia understood what the girl meant right away, a grin growing on her face as she stepped up the speed.

“Don’t worry, cariño, I’ll take good care of you when we get home,” Alexia said as she pressed her foot harder on the accelerator pedal.

“Ale, I think you just went through a red light,” Y/n said, turning her neck to see the clearly red traffic light.

“It’s alright,” Alexia waved off. “I’ll just pay the car ticket later.”

Y/n’s underwear felt a well-known feeling in between her legs, she pressed her tight together, trying to find some friction.

Alexia barely parked the car when they arrived at Alexia’s house minutes later. A trio that was usually 20 minutes turned into 10. It was safe to say that Alexia went over and beyond the limit speed.

Alexia didn’t even wait for Y/n to step a foot into the house, her hands were already all over her, pressing, grabbing, touching every centimetre of skin she could find.

The blonde turned Y/n around and pressed her body against the closed door, her hand impatiently undid the button of Y/n’s jeans, her warm hand meeting Y/n’s wet underwear.

“Already this wet, cariño?” Alexia purred on Y/n’s ear, while her hand cupped Y/n’s tits under her shirt.

“Uhum,” Y/n moaned, moving her hips against Alexia’s hands. “I missed you.”

“I know you did, she did too,” she said. That's how Alexia would–sometimes–call Y/n’s pussy. “She’s so ready for me, I could just ease a finger right in.”

Y/n whimpered, feeling Alexia press her even more against the cold door as one of her fingers slowly made its way into her hole. She was drenched, having spent two whole weeks without Alexis was the same as not feeling pleasure at all.

Y/n did touch herself–Alexia allowed her– but it didn’t feel the same. Y/n craved more than just a touch, she needed closeness, she needed words and reassurance during sex.

She needed Alexia, and now she had her.

“Vols un dit més, cariño?” [Do you want a finger, cariño?] Alexia asked, not waiting for Y/n to respond before adding one more in her pussy. “I think you do, you’ve been so good while I was away, took care of yourself, and did well at uni, you deserve it, mi vida.”

Y/n could cum just with Alexia’s words, she knew how much Y/n was a whore for compliments and she used it as her weapon during sex.

“Ale,” Y/n whimpered, pressing her tits on Alexia’s hands. “Thank you, fuck–”

Alexia smirked, noticing the effect she had on her girl.

“That's what we’re going to do,” Alexia said, nipping Y/n’s earlobe. “You’re going to ride my finger right now, and then I’m taking you to bed and you’re riding my face, how does that sound?”

Y/n nodded frenetically. To be honest, she didn’t understand a word Alexia said, all she heard was ‘cum’ and ‘ride’, and that was exactly what she was going to do.

Alexia took her hand off Y/n’s chest, which earned her a whine from Y/n. “Be patient, I’ll give your tits more attention later.”

The player wrapped her hand around Y/n’s waist, steading Y/n as she began buckling her hip, making Alexia’s finger reach even deeper than before.

“Oh–uh,” Y/n moaned, mouth hand open as Alexia sucked a spot on the back of her neck. “Almost there, Ale…I–”

“You can cum whenever you want, sweetheart,” Alexia said, kissing the new purple spot she made on the girl's skin. “Go on, be good and cum on my fingers.”

Y/n was a very good girl, so she did just that.

She felt her body go still as shockwaves ran through her body, Alexia’s name coming out of her mouth as if it were a prayer.

When Y/n’s muscles went soft, Alexia held her tighter, but she didn’t let the girl recover, her fingers were moving against her wet walls again.

“Ale, amor–” Y/n whimpered, pressing her forehead against the door as the pleasure took over her body once again. “Please, hmm.”

It was like Alexias was all over her body; as if her cells had entered Y/n’s skin. She could only feel Alexia, and hear Alexia, all her senses belonged to the player.

“Give me one more,” Alexia murmured in her ear. “I know you want to, cariño.”

Alexia added a third finger and moved faster, her thumb meeting Y/n’s clit as she gently played with it.

It was enough for Y/n to cum again. Her breathing failed and for a second no air came into her lungs, but it didn’t matter because a wave of bliss consumed her body once again.

“Just like that,” Alexia purred, slowing the pace of her fingers, helping the girl come down from her orgasm. “I missed seeing you cum.”

Alexia turned her around and kissed her face, murmuring praises as Y/n tried to come back from her high.

“Now let’s go to my room,” Alexia said, wrapping her arm around the girl’s waist again. “Wanna taste you on my tongue.”

They were off to a wild and long night.

The next day Y/n woke up with Alexia’s mouth on her.

Alexia had taken her pyjama shorts off, and her mouth was on Y/n’s pussy, lapping at her wetness as her hands possessively grabbed her tights.

It took a few seconds for Y/n to understand what was happening, but when she realised, she welcomed it with a grin.

Alexia always ate her out when she could, it was almost part of her routine. But of course, she couldn't do that while she was away, so it was nice to have this part of her day back.

Alexia was extremely skilled with her fingers, her mouth, with her strap…It was like she was very aware of every movement she made all the time. She knew exactly what to grab, what to lick and what to pinch to make Y/n moan and melt.

“Baby,” Y/n whined, moving her hips, trying to make Alexias go faster. “More?”

“Don’t move, cariño.” Alexia firmed her grip on Y/n’s tight. “Let me do the work, just lay there for me.”

It was almost impossible to just lay there, especially after Alexias fucked her with her finger against it. The two middle ones were deep into her pussy, Y/n’s walls welcoming them as part of her own body.

“Ale, hmm, please–” Y/n whimpered, holding her hand to her side because she knew Alexia didn’t like when she pulled her hair while she was eating her out.

It was something about being in control, Alexia told her once.

“Baby, so go–” Y/n was interrupted when Alexia took the shirt she was wearing and stuffed the hem into her mouth, the fabric quickly becoming wet.

Y/n stared at Alexia with wide eyes.

“Shh, just enjoy it, bebè,” Alexia said, sucking at Y/n’s clit while making eye contact, her left hand marking Y/n’s hip bone with her finger.

Y/n closed her eyes and did what Alexia told her: she enjoyed it.

Y/n was grabbed tightly at the bedsheets as she felt Alexia's tongue moving faster, and then she noticed it.

Alexia was making the number 11 with her tongue, moving it up and down slowly before moving it to the side. She did it again, and again.

And that’s when Y/n felt that well-known feeling. An orgasm erupted from her body as she bit into her shirt, her body, her body shook and she came to Alexia’s mouth.

Then it all went black.

“You’ll hurt your jaw, cariño,” Y/n heard Alexia say as if she was far away. She quickly opened her eyes and was met with Alexia’s hazel eyes.

“Hi,” Alexia said, smiling. “Let go of it, baby,” Alexia tugged at the material in Y/n’s mouth.

Y/n looked at Alexia with furrowed brown, and then she looked down. She had forgotten Alexia had stuffed her shirt in. She dizzily opened her mouth and Alexia took the hem of the shirt from her.

Y/n was confused. She remembered having an orgasm and then… blank. When she was overstimulated she would sometimes black out and wake up minutes later.

“Lift your arms for me, let me take the shirt off,” Alexia asked while caressing Y/n’s cheek.

Y/n shook her head, still looking at Alexia, feeling safe in her presence. She was confused, but Alexia would make it better. She always did.

Alexia tilted her head. “Why not?”

“Cold,” Y/n said, leaning into Alexia’s palm.

“I’ll give you my shirt,” Alexia promised. “And you’ll be warm.”

Y/n obediently lifted her arms and let Alexia strip her. She was fully naked when Alexia came back from her closet, a red shirt in her hand.

Alexia carefully put it on Y/n and went to the bathroom, coming back with a few wipes in hand. She spread Y/n’s thighs open and cleaned her, reassuring her whenever Yn whined, telling her she was too sensitive.

At the end, Alexia tucked Y/n in and kissed her forehead.

“Are you feeling sleepy, cariño?”

Yn nodded, a pout on her face as she turned her head on her pillow and closed her eyes. Alexia had tired her out and the clock said it wasn’t even 6 am.

“Take a nap,” Alexia said as she got on the bed with Y/n, gently guiding Y/n’s head to her chest. “ I’ll stay here with you.”

Y/n fell asleep seconds later.

A few hours later, Alexia woke Y/n up with breakfast on the bed–or at least what Alexia considered breakfast– she chopped a bunch of fruits in a bowl and put them on a breakfast tray.

“Where’s the rest?” Y/n asked, still sleepy, rubbing her eyes.

Alexia sat next to Y/n and looked at her confused. “What do you mean the rest?”

“Hmm, the rest of the food?” Y/n said, pointing at the tray in front of her. “Do you want me to start the day off with two bananas and a mango? Where is the chocolate chip pancake?”

“You should always start your day with fibre, cariño.” Alexia crossed her arms. “We can go out for brunch and get whatever you want if you eat your fruit salad.”

“Whatever I want?” Y/n asked, a teasing smile on her face.

“Sí.”

“I want you then.

Alexia clearly wasn’t waiting for that answer because she got flushed hard and fast. It was cute, seeing Alexia, normally calm and chill, getting squirmish under her gaze.

It didn’t last long though, she was quickly back to her normal, confident self.

“Eat your fruit and you’ll have it,” she whispered against Y/n’ smooth, before taking the girl into a deep kiss. “Now go on, I want us to go on a run before noon.”

The mention of run made Y/n’s horniness disappear from her body.

“A run? But you just got back from camp!” Y/n whined. “You can’t be serious, normal people rest after they’re done working.”

Y/n could see Alexia's rigorous and inflexible persona coming right in.

“Cariño, I have to keep my routine, you know that,” Alexia said, nudging Y/N’s shoulder. “If I skip, I’ll regret it later.”

“Runs help prevent injuries, too, it makes my ligaments stronger.” She continued, kissing Y/n’s face to make her soften up. It worked.

Y/n didn’t have a chance to fight it and she knew.

Her shoulder gave up a little. “Fine! But can I go on the golf card while you run?”

“No,” Alexia said deadpan. “That wouldn't be running.”

“But you are the–oh so glorious– professional footballer, I’m just a future kindergarten teacher!” Y/n said. “Would you like it if I made you do class planning? I don’t think so.” Y/n crossed her arms.

If Alexia was insisting on her company on the run, she was doing it her way.

“Cariño! You never work out with me,” Alexia complained.

“That’s because I never work out, Alexia; it’s nothing personal,” Y/n said.

“You told me one of your New Year resolutions was starting to work out,” Alexia said, her turn to cross her arms.

“Yeah, yeah,” Y/n waved her off. “But that was a long few months ago.”

“We’re in February.”

“But it’s a leap year!”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Alexia asked exasperatedly.

“The more you argue the later you start your run,” Y/n said, taking a piece of banana and putting it into her mouth.

Alexia gave up.

“Fine, just finish it, ok? I’ll take a shower,” Alexia said, turning around and going to their shared bathroom.

"I’ll join you in a moment!" Y/n yelled from the bed, but in her mind, she was already planning the fastest route to avoid a run and the fastest way to get in the shower with Alexia.

She couldn't lose the opportunity of seeing Alexia naked and wet.

Y/n had never eaten a fruit salad so fast in her life.

Y/n and Alexia compromised.

Y/n did run with her for 2km, but Alexia did the rest of her run having Y/n driving a golf cart by her side.

That way Y/n did what she loved the most: just sit and look pretty while having quality time with Alexia.

The couple talked a lot during the run, mainly about Y/n's classes and about the time Alexia spent on camp.

The good thing about having a partner who lived a completely different life than you? The gossip!

How else would Y/n know about which gold medalist was sleeping with who? And how else would Alexia know about the two professors in the philosophy department who were going through an ugly divorce because of cheating?

“And guess what?” Y/n said, easily turning the wheel to divert from a hole in the ground.

“What?” Alexia asked, a little out of breath because of her exercise.

Y/n rolled her eyes.

“Guess!”

“I don't know!” Alexia said. “Tell me, cariño, please?”

Please. Huff.

Alexia refused to say please when they were having sex, but quickly said the word when she wanted to hear the biggest gossip around the campus–that she didn't even attend!

Y/n lowered her speed to keep up with Alexia, who was going at a slower pace.

“The professor cheated on a student! It's a girl majoring in social services!” Y/n disclosed the gossip. “If you had asked me, I would say social services were the last one on my list of students sleeping with professors.”

Alexia laughed. “And what major would be first?”

“Engineering major,” Y/n stated expressionlessly. “Any type of engineering major. I've heard stories.”

“What stories?” Alexia asked.

“Oh you wouldn't like to know,” Y/n said as she got faster leaving Alexia behind.

“Cariño, stop it,” Alexia said. “You're going too fast.”

“But I need to get home and pee!” Y/n yelled back. “Just get in the car with me and we'll go.”

“No!”Alexia said. “I have to finish my running.”

Y/n rolled her eyes and got faster, ignoring Alexia’s lecture and leaving her behind and she drove back to Alexia’s house.

When Alexia got home 30 minutes later than Y/n, she opened the door and found the girl lying on the sofa, fresh out of the shower.

Alexia bent down from the back of the couch to give the Y/n a kiss but was met with a pillow on her face.

“Excuse me?” Alexia asked, offended.

“Shower first,” Y/n said, still holding the pillow up while holding a book with the other. “And then you can have your kiss.”

“Are you serious?”

“Very.”

“I want a kiss now,” Alexia demanded calmly.

Y/n simply pointed at the hallway to the bathroom.

Alexia groaned but headed to the bathroom.

“No groaning,” Y/n yelled from the sofa.

Alexia replied by slamming the bathroom door shut.

Grumpy.

After Alexia emerged from the bathroom, fresh from her shower with her hair still damp, she made her way to the living room. She found Y/n exactly where she had left her—lounging on the sofa—but the book she'd been reading was long forgotten.

Noticing the amused smile on Y/n’s face as she scrolled through her phone, Alexia leaned over the back of the couch without a word, curious about the source of her laughter.

Y/n, still grinning, explained that she was watching funny videos from a new social media app—one Alexia had never even heard of.

She did her best to break down what was happening in the video, but no matter how much she tried, Alexia just couldn’t wrap her head around it.

All Alexia knew was that Y/n wanted them to participate in whatever the couple on the video were doing.

“–And then we start running,” Y/n said with a proud smile, holding up her phone as a TikTok played on the screen. “Easy, right? I won’t post it, of course. It’s gonna be in my drafts.”

“I still don't understand, cariño,” Alexia said.

The player had changed her position, and her shoulder was resting on the sofa’s arm as she squinted her eyes at Y/n phone.

“What you don't understand this time?” Y/n asked, slightly imapantient.

Alexia didn't know anything about social media. Nothing. Nada. Y/n wasn't an influencer but she knew her way around technology and trends and was very active on her Instagram.

Alexia, on the other hand, was happy if she didn't forget her Instagram password. Which she did, several times. Y/n had to be the one to get a new password for her.

“What's the propòsit d’aixop?”[What’s the purpose of this?] Alexia asked.

“Alexia, my love,” Y/N said, cupping Alexia’s cheeks dramatically. “It’s just a TikTok trend. It’s supposed to be dumb. That’s literally the whole point.”

“Dumb, bebè?” [baby] Alexia said, taking Y/n’s wrists in her hands gently and holding them under her lap. “I'm not tonta, and neither are you, why post us being silly?” [silly]

Y/n tried to free her wrists, but Alexia held tighter.

“Because everybody does it!” Y/n answered in a whine.

It was always like that with Alexia.

They spent most of the time away from each other, having to text or do video chats, and when they were together they couldn’t even do normal couple things because Alexia was Barcelona’s princess.

She had the whole world watching her all the fucking time.

“Cariño, we’re not like everyone else,” Alexia said, running a hand through her hair. “I have contracts and sponsors and… I just don’t want to do anything that could cause problems, you know?”

Y/n tugged at her wrist harder, and this time Alexia let her go with a huff. Y/n's eyebrows were furrowed.

“It 's a tiktok trend, Alexia! I'm not going to film you using cocaine or kicking a puppy!” Y/n said, the tone of her voice getting louder. “Everybody does it! Everybody! It's supposed to be fun, something that couples do.”

Alexia Pinched the bridge of her nose.

“We are not everybody,” she repeated as if Y/n didn't listen the first time.

“No! You are not everybody,” Y/N huffed, crossing her arms. “And maybe I just wanted to feel like a normal girlfriend for once—ever think about that? I miss spending time with you!”

Y/n loved Alexia, she had said it to her three months ago, she loved her so much it hurt, but moments like this, when she felt like a secret, when she felt like Alexia’s career was the most important thing in in life, she sometimes wished Alexias was just another normal person.

Maybe that way Alexia would have time for her. Maybe if she wasn’t La Reina, Alexia would walk with her and hold her hand, maybe they wouldn't have to spend all their time together because Alexia was too busy to be with her.

Someday she wished Alexia wasn’t La Reina. Today was one of those days.

Alexia opened her mouth, but Y/n didn't let her argue.

“Nope, I’m talking—because you just got back from a three-week camp, and now you’re leaving again! For another week! In Portugal! Do you see the problem here, Ale?”

“I know, cariño,” Alexia sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. “It’s just… My schedule is a mess. I don’t know how to fix that.”

Alexia knew it was coming, she just didn’t know it was going to be today. When she got back from long trips Y/n would always whine and complain about how much she was away, but she never screamed or yelled about it.

They had arguments over it, but it was always toned down, almost like very logical arguments. But this time Y/n seemed to have a lot of feeling boiling inside of her, waiting for the right moment to let them ou.t

Y/N stepped closer, pressing a hand flat against Alexia’s chest. “It means that I miss you, Alexia. Like, a lot.”

Y/n felt a tear on her cheek, but she quickly cleaned it, she wasn’t going to cry. She was angry and frustrated–with a very good reason–and

“I miss you! But even when you're around we can't do girlfriend stuff because of football, or because of the media, interviews, photoshoots–” Y/n counted down on her finger every little commitment Alexia had on her routine regularly.”

“–and I know you have your career, but–” Okay, maybe she was going to cry a little.

Alexia wrapped her arms around Y/n, bringing her close to her chest.

“–you have me too.” Y/n finished, finally letting the tears run free as she buried her face in Alexia's chest, letting herself be comforted.

Alexia sat back down on the couch, bringing Y/n with her; the younger girl was straddling her lap, her face resting on Alexia’s neck.

Y/n let out a shaky breath, pressing her forehead against Alexia’s shoulder. The weight of the moment settled between them, thick and unspoken.

Alexia didn’t rush to fill the silence. Instead, she tightened her hold, her fingers tracing slow patterns against Y/n’s back. “Hey,” she murmured after a while, voice soft but sure. “I’ve got you.”

“Calma, tot està bé." [it's okay.] Alexia continued in a soft tone. “Pots plorar, sóc aquí." [“I'm here, you can cry"]

Alexia patted Y/n’s back, chin on the younger girl's head. She rocked Y/n and let her cry for a few minutes, even though she hated the sounds of her girl’s sobs.

When Y/n seemed calmer, Alexia slightly pushed her body away so she could look at her.

Alexia cleaned some tears on her cheek and kissed the pout on Y/n's face.

“I’m sorry, mi vida," Alexia said softly, rubbing her thumb over Y/N’s cheek. "I didn’t realize how much this was bothering you.”

Y/n looked down, feeling embarrassed by her outburst. “No, I'm–I'm Sorry, I shouldn't freak out over a stupid TikTok.”

“No, don't say that,” Alexia said, kissing her forehead. “It's not stupid if you care about it, and both of us know it’s more than the TikTok thing,”

“It's just a TikTok trend” Y/n mumbled, feeling like a spoiled brat. “I'm not gonna lose a limb, it's alright, we don't have to do It.”

“We can do it, sí?” Alexia said. “But you have to explain it to me again.”

Y/n smiled at Alexia. “Ok, I'll explain again.”

“Great!” Alexia said, kissing in on the lips. “And after that, we can sit down and plan a trip just for us.”

Y/n sniffled, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand. “A trip?” she repeated, her voice still slightly shaky. “You don’t have any breaks until July, we can’t make any trips.”

“Not a long trip, no. But I was thinking… Maybe we can steal a weekend for ourselves. Just the two of us.” Alexia hummed, tucking a loose strand of Y/n’s hair behind her ear. “Soy la Reina, no? I’ll ask for a day off next Friday, so we’ll have the whole weekend for us.”

“You don't have to do that just because of me,” Y/n said. “Your career is important, I know it. I was just being… sort of a brat.”

“You weren’t being a brat, don’t say that,” Alexia cupped Y/n’s face. “I've been very busy, I know we haven’t spent a lot of quality time together; I’ll get better at it, okay?”

Y/n nodded, bringing her face to Alexia’s shoulder.

“I didn't mean it when I said I wanted us to be like everybody else,” Y/n whispered. “I'm sorry I said that.”

Y/n was embarrassed now. Y/n knew she was agreeing to all of this when she and Alexia started dating. She wasn't being fair to Alexia. The players had an opposite life compared to her, a very different one from most people, and Y/ should respect it.

Alexia sighed, rubbing Y/N’s back. “I know it sucks, cariño. I don’t mean to make you feel like an afterthought—it’s just… football takes over everything.”

“I’m sorry it took me some time to see it,” Alexia continued, putting her hand under Y/n’s shoulder and rubbing her back, feeling the slight movement of her breathing.

“I’ve always wanted to go to Tenerife,” Alexia said after a few minutes. “Alba went there last month and said it was very charming.”

“Tenerife is nice,” Y/N mumbled against Alexia’s skin. “It’s got beaches… a volcano… and probably a bunch of cute little cafés.”

“A volcano? That’s cool. Alba didn’t tell me about that.”

“Yeah, it’s a dormant one, but it's interesting, I guess.”

Alexia kissed Y/n’s forehead and rocker again, gently, wanting the girl to feel safe and comfortable.

“We’re going there next week, I’ll buy the plane tickets,” Alexia said. “You just worry about buying cute bikini sets and searching about dormant volcanoes.”

Alexia finally achieved what she wanted. Y/n let out a little giggle, but it soon faded.

“Ale, really, we don’t have to do it,” Y/n said, taking her head from Alexia's shoulder to meet her eyes. “I don't want to get between you and your calendar, I understand the International season is starting and all that.”

“Plus, if you really want to take some days off, you could use them to rest, you haven’t taken a break during the whole season.” Y/n continued.

“I’ll be on a beautiful island with a pretty and smart girl by my side,” Alexia said cheekily. “That’d be a proper holiday, of course I’m gonna rest.”

“Plus, it’ll be nice to just... be,” Alexia admitted, rubbing a hand over her neck. “No schedules, no press, no—” she huffed, shaking her head before offering a small, almost shy smile. “Just you and me. That sounds perfect.”

Y/n said nothing, she only buried her face in Alexia’s Barcelona hoodie.

“Are you feeling a little better now?” Alexia asked.

“Yes,” Y/n said. “But I’m sorry for crying and making you feel guilty,” Y/n said with a slight flush on her cheeks.

“No, no,” Alexia said, shaking her head. “You don’t apologize, I was in the wrong here.”

She took Y/n’s chin in her hand, looking her in the eyes.

“I’m not planning this trip out of guilt, alright?” The player promised. “It’s because I really miss doing fun stuff with you… You know, activities that don’t revolve around watching Love Island,” Alexia teased, poking Y/n’s side.

“Wait, what?!” Y/N blinked at her. “All this time and you were just pretending to care about Love Island?”.

Alexia scrunched her nose. “Yes, cariño, I just watch it because you like it.”

Y/n got out of Alexia’s lap, a betrayed expression on her face.

“Who are you?!”

“I don’t mind watching, I just think it’s boring.”

“Boring?!” Y/n said looking down in disbelief. “I can’t believe it, Ale! You always seemed so excited for the next episode.”

“Because I knew you were excited, bebè,” Alexia smiled at her sweetly.

“All this time… our whole relationship… built on lies?” Y/n clutched her chest. “Do you even love me, or was that a lie too?”

Alexia, laughing, pulls Y/n back into her lap. “Shh, cariño. No more questions.”

After a moment of exaggerated betrayal, Y/n huffed dramatically but let herself be pulled back into Alexia’s lap. She crossed her arms, still feigning offence.

“You're lucky you’re cute,” she muttered.

Alexia chuckled, pressing a kiss to Y/n’s temple. “I know.”

Alexia nuzzled into Y/n’s neck, placing a few lazy kisses there. “So, what’s next?”

Y/n hummed, pretending to think. “Well, since you’ve just shattered my trust, I’d say the only way to fix this relationship is…” She grabbed her phone, waving it slightly.

Alexia narrowed her eyes. “Oh no.”

“Oh yes.” Y/n grinned, already pulling up the TikTok. “So basically we just say ‘suspect and–”

Alexia kept the same smile on her face and Y/n explained it to her. Did she feel tonta doing the Tik Tok? Yes. Did she do it anyway because Y/n asked. Absolutely.

Notes: Please like, share and let me know what you think! Feedback is important and makes me want to write even more. :D

Read more of my work here -> Masterlist

#woso x reader #woso fanfic #alexia putellas #alexia putellas x y/n #alexia putellas fanfic #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas smut

949 notes · View notes

washingtonmarvel · 11 months ago

Text

Trapeze artist, strongwoman, and all around badass Laverie Vallee, stage name Charmion, flexes for the camera in this (colorized) picture from around 1905. Born in 1875 in Sacramento, Charmion was a pioneer. She shocked conservative Victorian/Edwardian men with her daring "Trapeze Disrobing Act" (which was the subject of one of Thomas Edison's first films) and her insanely jacked body. But the ladies loved her, and her performances, which were viewed as practically pornographic by the extreme standards of the time period, were mostly attended by women. Throughout her career, she inspired women to exercise and to free themselves of the restrictions society placed on them. Charmion criticized the prudish attitudes of the time and told women they could be just as strong as men (this was a radical claim for that era, but her own body was the proof). A brilliant woman, she was fluent in six languages and regularly lectured and wrote newspaper articles about fitness. She was the highest-earning performer on the vaudeville circuit for much of her career, sometimes earning as much as $500 per week (equivalent to almost $20,000 today). Charmion was known to curl 70-pound dumbbells as part of her workout regimen and she could walk 12 miles without feeling fatigued. Charmion's biceps reportedly were almost exactly the same size as those of Eugen Sandow, who was widely considered the world's strongest man, and in a friendly sparring match she fought on an equal footing with the then-famous boxer Terry McGovern. She retired in 1912 and lived a quiet life outside the limelight until her death in 1949.

EDIT: I made a second post with some more info about Charmion if anyone's interested:

#edwardian #victorian era #edwardian era #women's history #women in history #fuck the patriarchy #historyblr #vintage photography

2K notes · View notes

forthelorewick · 6 days ago

Text

Another one couldn’t hurt… right? pt. 3

WC 11.9k - you tell daddy Joel, but not in that way… that he’s gonna be a daddy again.

NSFW 18+ MDI!

warnings/content: no outbreak!au, fluff, domestic bliss, parenthood, established relationship (husband/dad!joel x wife/mom!reader), age gap relationship, some physical descriptions, results of childbearing, mentions of pregnancy, mild language/swearing, unprotected p-in-v, oral sex (m & f receiving), breeding/pregnancy kink (even if your eyes are wide open, you don’t need to squint), multiple orgasms, so sweet it’s almost sickening.

pt. 1 | pt. 2 / main masterlist

୨୧ ⏔⏔⏔♡⏔⏔⏔ ୨୧ ୨୧ ⏔⏔⏔⏔♡⏔⏔⏔⏔ ୨୧

pt. 3

It had started earlier in the week. Just little things, subtle shifts in the air of your body.

Your mouth tasted metallic first thing in the morning. You’d get waves of nausea around the same time, like clockwork.

And the smell of bacon? Joel made it Saturday morning and you’d nearly cried. Not from nausea. From joy. You swore it never smelled that good before.

By Thursday, you’d had enough unofficial confirmations, even if you’d already had an idea based on your missed period and the potential implantation bleeding you’d had.

You made the appointment. First thing Friday morning, your doctor confirmed what your body had already been whispering to you.

You were pregnant.

You were four weeks along, which seems so much sooner than you’d known than the last times, but you and Joel had been persistent, and also right about the general day it’d stuck.

You sat in your car for a long moment, hand resting over your lower stomach, the envelope in your lap practically glowing with proof.

Your heart was full. So full you thought it might spill over. With joy, with nerves, with love.

You didn’t hesitate to call your husband to share the news, and Joel picked up on the second ring.

“Hey, baby,” his voice rough with that mid-morning work rasp he always had. “Everythin’ alright?”

You smiled softly, biting your lip. “Yeah. Yeah, everything’s… good.”

There was a pause, and then his voice dropped even lower, knowingly, “Yeah?”

“Mhm,” your voice caught just a little. “I saw the doctor this morning.”

Joel went quiet again. You could picture it, him going still, bracing his forearm against whatever surface was closest, pressing the phone tighter to his ear.

“And?”

“And it’s real,” you whispered. “We’re having another baby, Joel.”

You could hear the breath leave him. A choked sound of disbelief and something more tender, “Darlin’…”

“I wanted to tell you in person, but I couldn’t wait,” you laughed quietly. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he murmured, voice rough and full. “Thank you for callin’.”

You closed your eyes and sighed deeply, “I can’t wait for you to come home.”

“Gimme a few hours,” he promised. “Don’t lift a finger until I’m there. We’re stayin’ in with the kids tonight.”

—

You spent the rest of the day a little floaty. Having taken the day off from work, you spent the day with the kids, well, mostly Ellie until you picked up Sarah and Artie from school. The kids now entertained with each other and their toys as you kept watch, your belly warm with your favorite tea as you curled up with a book you couldn’t focus on. You tried to nap while the kids had their quiet time and failed, then you thought about cleaning, but Joel would’ve scolded you. Your mood was too soft to want that.

You’d just started dinner when you heard the truck pull into the drive, you were already waiting at the door.

He stepped out with a paper bag tucked under one arm, flowers in hand. You didn’t even have to ask, he’d remembered everything.

Pickles. Green apple gum. That weird organic ginger ale you swore helped with nausea.

And the flowers were sunflowers, with a few wild sprigs of lavender tucked in, because he knew you liked those best.

Joel climbed the steps slow, watching you with that soft, awestruck smile that never failed to make you feel like the only thing in the world.

“Hey, mama,” his eyes dropped to your stomach as he stepped into your space. “You keepin’ my baby warm?”

The way he smells the second he steps close— earth and cedarwood, the faintest bit of gasoline and soap, and him. That familiar undercurrent that’s always been uniquely Joel, something sharp and grounding and warm. It hits you like a punch to the chest, stealing your breath and making your knees feel like jelly.

You take a step closer like you’re being pulled, pressing the ultrasound envelope to his chest as your other hand fists in the front of his shirt.

“You smell so good,” you murmur, eyes fluttering shut as you lean into his chest. “God, you reek of testosterone right now.”

He chuckles as he kisses your forehead, then your lips, then drops the bag on the counter to wrap you up in both arms, “You okay?”

“No,” you admit, your nose buried against his collarbone. “You smell like home and maybe a little bit like you should pin me to the nearest surface.”

He laughs again, louder this time, one hand slipping around your waist and dragging you flush against him. “That the hormones talkin’, or just you?”

“Does it matter?”

His thumb strokes along the side of your ribcage like he’s memorizing the feel of you again, and his other hand finally takes the envelope you’d pressed to his chest.

“What’s this?” he murmurs.

You lift your head just enough to watch him peel it open, calloused fingers careful and slow. His eyes scan the blurry little bean-shaped silhouette, and you watch the way his throat bobs when he swallows.

He stares at it for a long moment before whispering, “That ours?”

You nod, lip trembling.

“Goddamn,” he breathes, brushing his nose against your temple, “I’m gonna be a daddy again.”

You’re just about to melt into his chest when—

thump-thump-thump—

“Daddy’s home early!”

You barely have time to react before the sound of running feet echoes down the hall, and then three small bodies collide with Joel’s legs.

He grunts softly but chuckles, already crouching to catch them, “Hey, hey— slow down, ya little heathens.”

“Daddy, guess what!” Sarah says breathlessly, climbing halfway up his knee like a monkey. “We saw a frog in the puddle and it jumped so high and we didn’t even scream, okay maybe I did but it was just one time…“

Then Artie tugs at Joel’s bootlace, determined for full attention, “I drew you somethin’! It’s you, but you have a sword!”

Joel’s eyes flick to yours over the tops of their heads, amused and overwhelmed in equal measure. “A sword, huh?” he says, reaching into the grocery bag to hand them the snack he stashed there, a small pack of gummy bears each, “I love it, bud, I’ll hang it up on the fridge.”

Artie beams, practically vibrating with pride, and Sarah immediately peels open her bag like it’s the greatest treasure in the world. Joel’s still kneeling when a soft, sleepy voice pipes up from behind them.

“Daddy…?”

Little Ellie stands at the edge of the hallway, thumb in her mouth, curls tousled from her nap. She’s still in her footie pajamas, dragging her favorite blanket behind her like a lifeline.

Joel’s whole expression changes, he melts.

“There’s my girl,” he says, voice going quiet and syrupy sweet. He stretches one arm toward her and she toddles over, clinging to his shoulder as he pulls her into the mix.

“Were you sleepin’?” he murmurs into her hair, rocking her gently while the other two bicker about who gets the red gummy bears. Ellie doesn’t respond, just burrows closer with a subtle nod of her head as her little fingers curl into the collar of his shirt.

You lean against the doorway, watching them with a fluttering heart, watching him. He’s a mess of children and exhaustion, but there’s nowhere on earth he looks more at home.

He shifts his weight, still crouched low with Ellie tucked into one arm, his free hand smoothing over Artie’s wild hair as the boy chatters on about frogs and swords and a dream he had last night where Joel turned into a dragon. Joel hums through it, listening, nodding when he should, but his eyes meet yours again and something in them softens even more when he sees you standing there watching him. Like he can feel what you’re feeling, like your heart’s spilling right into his chest.

It had always been this way with him. From the very beginning, when he first told you, voice barely above a whisper, “I want all of it with you. The house, the babies, the mess, the love, we ain’t half-doin’ this.”

And you’d believed him. Because he meant it. Because he never said anything he didn’t plan to give his whole damn soul to.

Joel had always been meant to be a daddy. You knew it in the way he held Sarah for the first time, how his hands shook with awe instead of fear. You knew it in the way he rocked Artie on nights he couldn’t sleep, humming some old country lullaby under his breath. The way he let Ellie curl into him like a barnacle, so content just being close. And you know it now, watching him crouched in your hallway, half-crushed beneath the weight of your children and still looking at you like you were the greatest gift of all.

Sarah’s now halfway on his back, gummy bears forgotten as she wraps her arms around his neck from behind and rests her chin on his shoulder. He tilts his head to nuzzle her cheek, murmuring something that makes her giggle, that open-bellied kind of laugh only kids know how to make. Causing her to lose her grip and double over in a fit of giggles.

You watch the way his fingers curl protectively around Ellie’s tiny back, the way his thumb absentmindedly traces the hem of her blanket like it’s instinct. How even when his shoulders slump under the weight of the day and the weight of them, all of them, he carries it like it’s nothing. Like it’s everything.

Your heart squeezes tight.

He glances up through the mess of his curls and kids, eyes dark and warm like strong coffee. And when he sees the look on your face, like you’re falling in love with him all over again, his mouth lifts into a quiet smile, barely-there but full of knowing.

“Hey,” he says gently, voice just for you in a room full of chaos. “Come ‘ere.”

You cross the room, stepping around a plastic truck and a stray sock, and Joel rises slowly with a child in one arm and the other two clinging to his legs, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. He shifts his weight and wraps his free arm around your waist, pulling you in close, pressing a kiss to the side of your head.

You sniff, pressing a kiss to Ellie’s curls before cupping Joel’s cheek in your hand. He leans into your touch like he needs it, as he always has.

“Missed you,” he murmurs.

You press your face into his shoulder, one hand cupping Ellie’s back where she has her face mushed against him, the other resting just beneath his ribs.

Joel breathes you in, like the scent of your skin alone is enough to ground him. His nose brushes your temple as his lips graze your hairline, pressing gentle kisses to it, slow and lingering. Like he’s been waiting for this all day. Like this, you, pressed in close, wrapped around the weight of your family, is the only home that’s ever made sense.

“I missed you too,” you whisper.

Joel hums low in his chest, content and full, and then—

CRACK.

A sharp, plasticky snap draws your attention toward the floor just as Artie gasps.

“I didn’t mean to!” he cries, holding up the now two halves of what used to be his toy sword. “I was just showin’ Daddy!”

Joel sighs into your hair, the sound fond and exasperated all at once. “Alright, alright, no one’s in trouble. Just lemme see it, bud.”

Artie sniffles and shuffles closer as Joel squats down again, the movement making Ellie shift and blink blearily against his neck. “We can fix it, can’t we?”

“Yeah, we can fix it,” Joel says, inspecting the toy. “I’ll glue it after dinner. You’ll be back to fightin’ dragons by bedtime.”

That earns a quiet, “Yessss!” complete with a dramatic fist-pump from your son.

Meanwhile, Sarah’s tugging at your shirt now, her voice climbing higher with her excitement. “Mama, guess what? Guess what?”

“What, baby girl?”

She bounces on her toes like she can barely contain it, “I- I counted to a hundred today. By tens! Ten, twenty, thirty, uh… all the way! Miss Lewis said I was on fire!”

You laugh, brushing a stray hair from her cheek, “You’re on fire every day, baby.”

Sarah beams up at you, her missing front tooth making her grin look even bigger, “And we learned about mammals too! Whales are mammals, did you know that? Even though they swim!”

Joel huffs a soft laugh from where he’s crouched, glancing over at you like ‘you hearing this?’ In a soft, prideful ‘our kid loves learning’ type of way. You nod back with a fond smile.

“She told the whole class you love whales,” he murmurs, straightening with Ellie tucked against him and Artie’s arms still wrapped around his leg. “Said it was genetic.”

Sarah practically bounces out of her shoes, “Miss Lewis said I must be just like you!”

Your heart tugs a little, “That’s the best compliment I’ve ever heard.”

Joel chuckles, shifting Ellie to his other shoulder and reaching to ruffle Sarah’s hair. “Just wait ‘til she starts tellin’ people I’m the one who likes glitter.”

“You do like glitter,” you tease.

“Like hell I do,” he mutters under his breath, though his eyes are soft and gleaming as he watches all three of your babies orbit you like planets.

“C’mon,” you say, nudging Sarah’s back gently. “Let’s go wash up for dinner, little star student.”

She spins around dramatically, announcing to the room, “I’m gonna count the soap bubbles!”

Joel chuckles as he follows behind, Ellie still sleepily clutching the collar of his shirt.

You move to the kitchen, the floor warm beneath your feet as the last of the evening light pours across the counter. The table’s already half-set, the big pot of your favorite pasta sauce simmering low on the stove. A loaf of bread waits to be sliced, butter softening nearby.

Joel gently adjusts Ellie in his arms as he turns toward the hallway bathroom. “Alright, gremlins,” he calls, ushering Sarah and Artie ahead of him. “Let’s get those sticky little paws cleaned up before dinner.”

Sarah speeds off like it’s a race, and Artie happily obliges to the challenge and dashes after her. Ellie clings tighter to Joel’s neck, who mumbles something soft and unintelligible as he brushes a kiss over her temple.

“C’mon, baby girl,” he murmurs, nudging the door open with his foot. “Let’s get cleaned up.”

You hear the water run, the sound of Joel’s low voice guiding each child— “Palms too, Artie. Not just the backs,” and “Good job, Sarah, now dry off.” Ellie lets out a small whine, but Joel soothes her quickly, gently murmuring, “I know, sweetheart, just a little bit, we’re almost done.”

A few minutes later, he returns to the kitchen with a trail of kids behind him. Sarah’s already narrating her bubble count results, Artie excitedly babbling about a new dinosaur he learned about this week, and Ellie with her blanket now dragging behind her freshly clean feet. Joel crouches to guide each of them to their booster seats and chairs at the table, pressing kisses to each forehead as he goes.

Then he straightens with a groan, rubbing the small of his back, and finally turns his attention to you.

“Alright,” he says softly, catching your eye with that little smile that only ever belongs to you. “My hands are free, darlin’. Whatcha need?”

You gesture to the grocery bag and flowers that were left on the counter with a fond, teasing look, and he chuckles, walking over and picking up the bouquet, sunflowers and sprigs of fresh lavender bundled together like a warm-weather prayer. He holds it out to you, that crooked smile tugging at his lips, boyish and soft.

“For you,” he says simply, like it’s the easiest thing in the world to give you every beautiful thing he finds. A flush creeps up his neck, coloring his cheeks, and there’s something so endearingly bashful in the way he stands there, like he’s young again, asking you out for the first time.

You take them gently, fingers brushing his, and that small touch sparks something between you, something electric and familiar. Your smile deepens, the kind that reaches your eyes and then sinks deeper, curling around your ribs like smoke. “They’re perfect,” you say, voice a little breathier than intended.

Joel exhales through his nose like he’d been holding that moment in. His eyes track you as you move toward the sink, filling a vase while the early evening light paints the kitchen in gold. He watches the curve of your shoulder, the slope of your neck as you lean forward, and his hand drifts instinctively to the back of your waist like a tether.

“Wasn’t sure if you still liked the lavender,” he murmurs, stepping in close behind you, the warmth of his chest pressing to your back. “But I remembered you said once it helped when you were feelin’ queasy with Ellie.”

You pause, heart tightening, and glance back at him. “You remembered that?”

Joel nods, brushing his lips to your temple. “Of course, darlin’.”

His hands don’t wander far, just a palm splayed wide across your belly, thumb stroking gentle circles over the fabric of your shirt. It’s reverent and slow. His fingers curl protectively like he’s already cradling the life you only just confirmed, like his body is remembering what it was like to hold you swollen and glowing and made for this.

The tension isn’t rushed. It simmers low. It builds in the weight of his hand on your stomach and the press of his breath against your skin. The scrape of his stubble as he nuzzles into your neck and lingers there.

“Joel,” you whisper, fingers now grasping the wooden spoon, giving the pasta sauce a final stir.

“Mhm?” he hums, lips brushing your hairline.

You glance up at him, his hand still pressed low and warm over your belly. “We’ve got kids to feed.”

His nose grazes your cheek as he leans in, voice dark and honeyed with something unfinished. “I know. But don’t think for a second I’m done with you.”

You feel his words everywhere—low in your spine, deep in your belly. His hand slips away slowly, dragging across your waist as he finally steps back, eyes catching yours with a spark that promises later. A promise that curls heat through your body even as you turn toward the kitchen table.

He reaches for the plates while you grab the bread. “How many meatballs for Artie?” he asks, the quick change of tone never failing to leave you reeling.

“Three,” you answer, trying to keep your tone level as you pass him the serving tongs, “but he’ll say four, and then eat one and a half.”

Joel smirks as he spoons the specified helpings onto each plate, falling into step beside you like it’s second nature, which it is. He’s already sliding cups into tiny hands and catching the stray spoon Ellie tries to toss when she gets too excited. The soft clatter of dinner unfolding around you becomes its own rhythm. The soft thud of Sarah’s feet swinging under the table and against her chair’s leg, Artie’s constant sound effects, Ellie babbling sleepily between bites.

But even in the warmth and noise and scent of garlic bread and tomato sauce, you can feel him, his attention lingering. His touches stay just a little too long when he brushes past you for the butter. His gaze drifts over the curve of your hip when you lean to grab napkins. His voice lowers when he says your name, the way it always does when he wants to kiss you more than breathe.

Dinner starts with giggles and sauce-smeared chins and stories from preschool and first grade. But Joel hasn’t stopped looking at you like he already knows exactly how he’s going to finish what he started.

And god, you hope the kids fall asleep early.

Dinner winds down in a tangle of crumbs and giggles, pasta sauce smudged at the corners of tiny mouths and a nearly empty bread basket that Joel swears he only got a single piece from. Ellie is curled sideways in her booster seat now, humming softly to herself between little bites, her cheek smushed into one pudgy hand.

“Artie, don’t lick your plate,” you warn gently, already reaching for a napkin. “It’s not that kind of clean-up.”

“But it’s good,” he insists, licking one more stripe across the porcelain as Joel chuckles quietly into his water glass.

Sarah leans forward with the intensity only a six-year-old can muster. “Can we play outside before bath? Pleeeease? I’ll even help Ellie with her jammies after.”

You raise an eyebrow and glance at Joel, whose hand finds the small of your knee under the table like he can’t not touch you.

“Alright,” you say. “Before it gets dark.”

Cue a full-on cheer squad as chairs scrape back and the kids barrel toward the back door, leaving behind a table that’s still littered with crayons and a half-eaten carrot stick shaped like a dinosaur. You help Ellie out of her booster seat and she finds a burst of energy from who knows where and chases her older siblings out the door. You turn to follow, but Joel’s hand doesn’t move.

“Hey,” he murmurs, voice low and only for you as the screen door bangs open and you hear the sound of bare feet hitting grass.

You turn your head just slightly, your shoulder brushing his chest, the heat of him at your back like a pull.

Joel’s lips graze the shell of your ear, “That little dress you got on’s been drivin’ me insane since I walked through the door.”

Your breath catches.

His palm shifts higher on your back, fingers splayed wide now across the curve of your waist, thumb brushing just beneath the hemline, slow and possessive. “Keep lookin’ at me like that, mama, and you’ll be gettin’ more than a bedtime story once they’re down.”

You bite back a smile, warmth flooding your chest and sinking low, pooling between your thighs. “Mm,” you hum, steadying yourself with a hand on the counter like your knees didn’t just threaten to give out. “Then I guess you’re on bubble duty tonight, daddy.”

Joel chuckles, low and throaty, and gives your hip a playful swat before turning toward the door. “Deal,” he tosses over his shoulder, the screen creaking open. “But then you’re mine, darlin’.”

Joel steps out onto the porch and the back door creaks closed behind him. You follow barefoot, the soft swish of your dress brushing against your legs as you descend the steps beside him. The wood beneath your feet is warm from the day’s sun, the scent of fresh-cut grass and tomato vines thick in the air.

Sarah shrieks with delight somewhere near the garden bed, leaping from a rock with her plastic sword raised high. “I’m Queen of the Frogs!”

“Correction,” Artie yells back from under the swing set, “You’re Queen of the Frog Butts!”

Joel chuckles under his breath, shaking his head as he watches them, arms crossed loosely over his chest. “Real poets, our kids.”

“They get it from you,” you nudge him with your shoulder. He turns just slightly, and you catch that look again, his eyes hooded and warm.

“You’re really tryin’ to start somethin’ in that little dress,” he murmurs low, just for you, lips barely brushing your ear.

You smile, sweet and dangerous, and keep your eyes on the kids, “Just existing, hun.”

He lets out a slow breath like he’s measuring his restraint second by second.

Across the yard, Ellie plops herself down in the grass and begins pulling at dandelions with quiet concentration. You head over first, grabbing the picnic blanket from the porch railing and shaking it out before spreading it near her. Joel follows behind, grabbing the bottle of bubbles and tossing it gently onto the blanket.

The kids settle into their rhythm— Sarah giving a passionate monologue to a clump of ants, Artie blowing bubbles with his whole body, Ellie quietly humming to herself as she rests her cheek on Joel’s knee. He’d sunk down behind you on the blanket, one leg stretched long beside you, the other bent for her to lean against. His arm curls instinctively around your waist when you sit, pulling you in close.

You rest your head on his shoulder, watching the golden light catch in the wisps of Ellie’s curls.

“This is nice,” you whisper.

Joel hums, dipping his chin against your temple, “Yeah, it is.”

Your fingers tangle with his over your belly, slow and absent. The soft murmur of the kids, the chirp of crickets waking up with the dusk.

By the time the sun dips low behind the trees, casting long golden fingers across the backyard, Sarah’s spinning in dizzy circles and Artie’s shirt is mysteriously soaked.

Joel stretches, “Alright, ya little mud monsters, it’s bath time.”

The chorus of nooo! rises immediately, followed by giggles as Joel lifts Artie into the air like a sack of potatoes.

You scoop Ellie into your arms with a playful sigh, “I swear she gets bigger every day.”

Ellie tucks her head under your chin and murmurs, “No baff… jus’ cuddles.”

“You can have both,” you promise, kissing her temple and carrying her inside.

Joel herds Sarah along, who’s trying to negotiate an extension to her outdoor reign, and the five of you funnel into the warm glow of your home, barefoot and sun-kissed and brimming with life.

The hallway bathroom is already half-steamed from the hot water you started running, the sound of splashing and bubble requests filling the space. Joel gets Artie ready first, lifting him into the tub while you peel off Ellie’s footie pajamas, her little curls sticking to her forehead.

“Duckies,” she demands, outstretching her arms towards where they sat on the shelf behind him.

Joel obliges, tossing in the yellow army while Sarah supervises.

You perch on the edge of the tub with a towel draped over your shoulder, sleeves rolled up, one hand splashing water gently over Ellie’s arms as she sits contentedly between her siblings. Joel kneels beside you, sleeves pushed back, working shampoo into Sarah’s hair while she chatters on about whales and classroom pets and how she’s going to “be the first paleontologist astronaut ballerina.”

“Ambitious,” Joel murmurs, glancing up at you with a crooked smile.

You bump his knee with yours under the tub and glance down at the three soaked, soapy little ones. Ellie has a duck in each hand, chewing thoughtfully on one. Artie’s humming to himself, already drowsy. Sarah’s recounting the exact moment she realized counting by tens was “basically magic.”

Joel wets a washcloth and dragging it lovingly down Ellie’s back, “They’re gonna crash hard tonight.”

His voice dips just enough to make you glance sideways.

He doesn’t look at you right away, just keeps his eyes on the kids, on the way Ellie’s lids are already fluttering and Artie’s head is tipping toward Sarah’s shoulder. But there’s a pull at the corner of his mouth, a slight shift in his tone that’s all for you.

Your heart skips.

There’s no need to ask what else he’s insinuating. Not with the heat curling low in your belly from the way he said it. Not with the way his hand slides along the edge of the tub, fingers brushing yours. Not with the way he looks at you now… steady and full of all that slow-burning hunger he’s been holding onto since you told him the news.

You two finish rinsing your soapy kiddos off.

Joel squeezes the water from the cloth and lays it gently over the edge of the tub, rising to his feet with a quiet grunt, “Alright, c’mon, little raisins. Time to get out.”

Sarah groans dramatically, “But I’m not even pruney yet!”

“Yes you are,” you say, reaching for a towel and unfolding it, “You look like a baby grandma.”

She gasps, delighted. “I do not!” But she lifts her arms anyway, letting you wrap her up in the soft towel and plant a kiss to her forehead before helping her put on her jammies before sending her off toward the hall.

Artie’s next. Joel coaxes him up with a gentle hand under his arm, bundling him in a fluffy towel and rubbing his damp curls dry and hands him off to you to put his jammies on.

Ellie resists the most, she’s still chewing on the duckie, half asleep. Joel scoops her out with practiced ease, cradling her against his bare forearm as you hand him a towel. She curls into him without protest, thumb finding her mouth, her damp curls sticking to his chest.

You watch them, heart aching a little with the sight of it. Joel presses a kiss to the crown of her head, then glances over at you with that same look from earlier, low and smoldering and already thinking about what comes next once the house is finally quiet.

You handed him her set of jammies and she complied sleepily, sticking her little arms and legs into the soft fabric and then cozying back into her daddy’s arms.

You and Joel move through putting the kids to bed like a dance. Artie’s scraped knee gets a bandaid and kissed, Ellie fights off the slumber she’s been inching towards all evening until you hum softly in the rocker, rubbing her back until she melts against you. Sarah wants one more story and Joel obliges, letting her pick a chapter book and sitting on the floor next to her bed while he reads to her.

Artie’s breathing soft and even, one arm flopped over his stuffed rabbit. Sarah is curled beneath her favorite quilt, her eyelids already fluttering. And Ellie has fallen asleep across your chest as you rock gently in the nursery chair, her little hand fisted in the collar of your shirt.

Now Joel stands in the doorway after getting a glass of water which Sarah had requested yet forgotten in the haze of sleep. He’d already made sure the nanny cam was on and connected. Now, he was just watching.

After a moment, he crosses the room quietly, kneeling down beside you so he’s eye-level with Ellie, brushing his knuckles gently over her cheek.

“She’s out,” he murmurs, his voice the kind of quiet you feel more than hear.

“She fought it,” you whisper. “Like always.”

He smiles then leans in to kiss her forehead, then yours, gently shifting her into his arms and taking her to her bed.

He crosses the room again, slower this time. And when he reaches you, he doesn’t speak, he just offers his hands, tugging you up from the rocker with care. His fingers linger at your hips, eyes searching yours for something he already knows the answer to.

You don’t look away or say a word, you just let him lead you down the hallway and into the soft hush of your shared space.

When he closes your bedroom door behind you, it’s like the rest of the world falls away.

You stand there for a moment, close but not touching, the silence between you thick with everything that’s been building since you’d called him that afternoon to share the news… tenderness, longing, the slow ache of wanting him again, always.

Joel steps into your space, hands coming up to cradle your face, brushing his thumbs along your jaw like he needs to feel every part of you.

“Y’alright?” The question is soft under his breath.

You nod, swallowing around the lump in your throat. “I just… love you.”

His gaze softens, lashes lowering, “Yeah, baby,” his voice thick with affection, “I love you too.”

He kisses you like it’s the first time again, deep and warm and steady, like a promise. His hands find your hips, pulling you in until there’s no space left.

You breathe against his mouth, lips brushing his, “You always smell like coffee.” The scent clung to his shirt, it was faded, but there. His long days on the site and a couple cups of coffee throughout the day always lingered in some way.

He huffs a soft laugh, his hand sliding the curve of your hip, the soft fabric of your dress beneath his touch, “yeah, I know y’like my coffee breath, hun. You’ll get it in the mornin’, promise.”

You reach down between you, fingers tugging at the waistband of his jeans, your fingers sliding to unbutton them and unzip them slightly, just enough to make him groan.

“I like it when you’re like this,” you whisper, mouth brushing his jaw. “Warm and soft. All domestic and sweet… and a little bit dirty.”

His hands tighten at your hips, “Sweetheart, if you don’t stop talkin’ like that, I’m gonna bend you over the dresser and make the bed wait.”

You gasp, mock-offended, smiling into his mouth, “Would you make love to me on the carpet?”

“I’d make love to you in the fuckin’ pantry if you asked nice enough,” his lips trail down your neck, “but the bed’s softer. You deserve soft.”

“But I like it hard, baby…”

That makes him groan again, his fingers flexing against your hips like he’s holding back everything that’s already threatening to spill over.

“You say shit like that,” he mutters, voice thick and husky, “and you’re surprised I can’t keep my hands off you?”

“You never could,” you arch just enough to press your chest to his, teasing your mouth along the slope of his neck. “Not when I beg for it… not when I don’t.”

His hands slip beneath your thighs, lifting you effortlessly as he walks you backward toward the bed. “That’s ‘cause you’re always fuckin’ beggin’,” he growls against your skin, “even when you’re quiet about it.”

He sets you down by the edge of the bed, taking off your dress in one smooth motion, his eyes darkening like it physically hits him to see you like this every time. That familiar awe, that heat.

“Jesus, you’re so fuckin’ beautiful,” he whispers, almost to himself.

You reach for him in turn, pulling his shirt off, letting your hands drag along the strong lines of his chest, the soft edges of time carved into him. Your fingers trail low, through the line of coarse hair that disappears beneath his jeans, teasing at the waistband again.

He pushes you back gently onto the bed and kisses down your chest, your stomach, pausing just above your navel.

His breath fans hot over your skin as he lingers just above the waistband of your panties, hands spreading over your thighs.

“You know I’ve decided that I hate when these are in my way,” he mutters, snapping the elastic of your waistband gently against your skin.

You lift your hips in invitation, “Then do something about it.”

His fingers trace lightly up your inner thigh, you gasp when his hand finally presses where you need him most, fingers teasing just enough to make you arch. His mouth trails lower, kisses growing messier as he goes, like he’s losing control by the second.

He smirks and shakes his head lazily, then hooks his fingers under the waistband, dragging them down slowly. His eyes stay on yours the entire time like he’s daring you to squirm.

Once they’re halfway down your thighs, he pauses to press a kiss to your hipbone, then murmurs against your skin, “Always so fuckin’ eager f’me…”

He finishes peeling your panties down your legs and tosses them somewhere behind him without looking. Then his attention shifts to your bra, your chest heaving beneath it.

You arch your back and begin to reach behind you to unhook it, but he grabs your wrists, pinning your hands gently above your head, his hand fitting both of yours in its grasp.

“Uh-uh,” he murmurs and shakes his head, voice thick. “You know better, ‘s my job.”

You let your arm fall back with a soft grin, watching as he reaches behind your arched back with that practiced ease and undoes the clasp. He drags the straps off your shoulders slowly and reverently. The moment your breasts are bare, he groans, actually groans, and dips down to mouth at one immediately, tongue flicking over your nipple before he sucks it into his mouth.

Joel lifts his head a beat later, lips glistening, voice rough. “You keep lookin’ at me like that and I’m never gonna make it past your tits.”

You grin, slow and lazy, eyelids heavy, “I don’t see the problem.”

He growls, the sound low and real in his chest, and suddenly his mouth is on yours again— hot, commanding, hungry. His tongue slides deep, claiming, his hand on your breast still teasing the peaked nipple between two fingers.

When he pulls back, you’re breathless and dazed, and his hand wraps around your jaw, thumb brushing your cheekbone.

“Be good,” he murmurs, soft but firm. “Hands up. Wanna see you.”

You obey instantly, arms stretching over your head, back arching just enough to make his gaze darken.

“There she is,” he says, eyes raking over you. “My sweet girl.”

He kisses your ribs, your stomach, trailing lower, pushing your thighs apart with a slow, familiar pressure that makes your core throb.

“Can’t get enough when you always let me have you like this,” he murmurs, more to himself than to you, eyes fixed between your legs like he’s starved for it. “Laid out all pretty… arms up, legs open, fuckin’ soaked…”

His palms slide beneath your thighs and hook around your knees, spreading you wider, and his mouth waters at the sight of you already glistening and dripping for him.

His lips brush the inside of your thigh. Then again, higher. He takes his time, drags it out, teasing kisses and soft bites as he works his way in. You squirm, trying to tilt your hips toward his mouth, but his grip tightens.

“Uh-uh,” he says, voice low. “You stay still for me. Let me take care of it.”

Your whole body burns. And then he licks you, one broad stroke from your entrance to your clit, and you shudder.

“Yes…”

He hums like it’s the best thing he’s tasted all week and dips in again, this time sealing his mouth over your clit, tongue moving in circles while his fingers squeeze your thighs, holding you open.

Your hands twitch above your head, but you obey. You’re good for him, just like he asked, and it only makes him moan harder into you.

“Always so sweet for me,” he groans, pulling back just enough to speak. “You know how fuckin’ good you taste?”

You sob— yes, sob, because it’s too much. The pressure, the pace, the way his mouth moves with purpose and not teasing anymore. He’s a man on a mission.

Joel shifts, sliding two fingers inside you without warning, curling them perfectly while he keeps his mouth on your clit.

You cry out, hips jerking, but he growls into you, it’s possessive, dominant, and protective even in the way he holds you down.

“That’s it,” he rasps against your skin. “Cum on my tongue, sweetheart. Want you shakin’.”

Your thighs clamp around his shoulders and your body locks up as the orgasm slams into you, sharp and full and completely his. You gasp his name, eyes squeezing shut, your whole body trembling under the intensity.

Joel keeps going. Licks you through it, groaning like a man who doesn’t give a damn about anything except finishing what he started.

Only when your legs start to twitch uncontrollably does he finally slow down, kisses gentler now, featherlight and adoring.

He pulls back, lips wet, beard glistening, looking at you like he’s proud of what he just did.

“My good girl,” his voice reverberated through you as if you’re a livewire, hanging on his every word of praise, your chest blooming in pride and satisfaction. “Did so fuckin’ good f’me.”

And he knows exactly what he’s doing to you, the same goddamn thing he’s done for over a decade now, so perfectly fine-tuned to your every desire and never failing to make you melt against him and around him.

Your orgasm is still buzzing through you, thighs trembling as Joel finally pulls his mouth away from your soaked core, lips slick and beard damp, his expression absolutely wrecked with satisfaction.

He sits back on his heels, breath heaving, and drags his hand up your inner thigh before letting it drift over your stomach to your breast then up to your jaw.

“Sweetheart,” he says, voice rough with restraint, “you look so fuckin’ good like this.”

He leans in to kiss you and it’s deep and lingering, the taste of you thick on his tongue… and then he shifts back, rising onto his knees and then stepping off of the bed.

He pushes his jeans down, just enough to free himself, his cock hard and flushed, already leaking. His hand wraps around the base as he strokes himself once, slow and deliberate, watching the way your eyes darken at the sight and the way your mouth instantly waters.

He strokes himself once, watching you. “Look at ya,” he says, wrecked. “You think I ain’t gonna give it to you good when you’re lookin’ at me like that?”

You smirk, lazy and breathless, watching the roll of his forearms, the flex of his stomach as his hand works over his cock. “Oh, I know you will,” you murmur. “You always do.”

He groans at that and crooks two fingers towards him, commanding now, “Get it wet then, baby, show me how badly you want it.”

You drop to your knees slowly in front of him, never breaking eye contact, the corners of your mouth curling up just enough to make his cock jump in anticipation.

Joel’s broad and flushed over you, but completely at your mercy, his cock thick and heavy in his hand as he watches you settle in front of him. You rest your hands on his thighs first, fingertips dragging up the denim covered muscles before you slide your mouth over the head of his cock.

His entire body jerks.

“Jesus, sweetheart…” His voice is already unraveling, one hand reaching out to cradle the back of your head.

Your mouth is warm and wet and perfect around him, tongue swirling as you take him deeper, your eyes fluttering shut as you let him fill your mouth. You hum, and he swears under his breath.

He watches, completely enraptured by the way you take him deeper into your mouth, breaching the gag reflex of your throat and nearly taking him to the base, “Fuck, darlin’, jus’ like that…”

He grips your hair tightly and pulls you from him, saliva dripping from your mouth as you’re so rudely disrupted from one of your favorite pastimes.

“Can’t give it to ya the way you need if I cum down your throat now, can I?”

You blink up at him, lips swollen and breath shaky, spit still glistening on your chin. You look utterly wrecked, and so fucking proud of it.

“Well,” you rasp, licking your lips, “you better fuckin’ fix that, Miller.”

Joel growls at that, the sound deep and primal, his jaw tight as his hands haul you up off the floor like you weigh nothing.

“You got a mouth on ya, Mrs. Miller,” he mutters, tossing you onto the bed with a roughness that makes you gasp and smile all at once.

He grabs your waist, turning you easily, one hand pushing your upper back down until your elbows hit the mattress, your ass in the air, waiting for him.

You prop yourself up on your elbows, hair a mess, chest rising fast, “You married it.”

Joel kicks off his jeans the rest of the way, gaze dragging hot and heavy over every inch of you. He presses both hands to your lower back, hovering over your ready, wanting body, then leans in to press a slow kiss to your shoulder.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, “And I just can’t help but keep knockin’ ya up.”

His hand drags up the back of your thigh, palm warm and possessive, spreading you open with a grip that borders on brutal. “You carryin’ my baby again, sweetheart… fuck, best bad decision I ever made.”

You laugh breathlessly, your whole body already pulsing with anticipation. “Thought you said I was the best thing that ever happened to you.”

“I did,” he murmurs, pushing your knees even further apart, “Same thing.”

He lines himself up, and doesn’t waste any more time. He slides in slow, groaning as he fills you, inch by inch, until his hips are flush with your ass and your head tips back and a broken moan falls from your lips.

He stills, fully seated inside of you with his hands braced on your hips. “What’s that, baby?” he pants. “Where’s all that back talk now?”

You gasp, “Shut up and fuck me.”

Joel chuckles, but there’s no amusement behind it, just hunger. He pulls out halfway and slams back in, making you cry out, your forehead dropping to the bed. His hands grip your hips, bruising and greedy.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he mutters, breath rough against your spine. “Mouthy ‘til I’m buried inside a’ya.”

You whimper, trying to push back against him, but he tightens his grip and stills you. Control. He knows you love it when he takes it from you.

“Stay just like that. Let me take care of ya.”

He starts to move again— hard and deep, with no hesitation. Every thrust hits home with the kind of precision only he could give you. He knows your body too well. The angle that makes you whine. The speed that makes you shatter. His name’s already slipping from your lips in pieces.

Joel leans forward over your back, his chest brushing against your spine, the sweat of his skin warm on yours. One hand slides up, curling over your shoulder, holding you there while he drives into you, over and over, thick and relentless.

“You feel that, darlin’?” he breathes against your neck. “This pussy… you were made f’me.”

Your response is a broken moan, your fingers fisting the sheets.

He grunts as you clench around him, the rhythm faltering for just a second as he recovers. Then his hand finds your hair, fingers weaving into the strands and tugging just enough to pull your head back.

“So fuckin’ beautiful like this, my good girl, takin’ it so damn well.”

You gasp at the praise, at the rough way he holds you while still pressing kisses to your shoulder. It’s brutal, but it’s beautiful.

He adjusts his angle just slightly and you cry out, the sound ripped straight from your chest. You can feel his heavy balls slapping rhythmically against your clit and it makes you whine at the sensation,

“There it is,” he groans, pounding into that spot over and over, his voice dropping low. “Right fuckin’ there, huh?”

Your body’s shaking, you’re so fucking close, and he knows it, can feel it. He brings his arm around you and slides a hand down between your thighs, fingers circling your clit with that same confident pressure he’s used on you a thousand times before.

“Come on, baby,” he growls. “Cum f’me...”

And god, you do, your orgasm tearing through you, white-hot and blinding, making your whole body clamp down around him, white fists whitening at the harsh grip you have on the sheets as he fucks you through every wave of your release.

Joel groans deep in his chest, his rhythm faltering as he pushes in once, twice more before spilling inside you with a ragged breath, pulsing thick and warm as he fills you.

He stays there, buried deep, bent over your back and panting, one hand still between your legs, the other wrapped around your waist like he’s trying to anchor himself to you.

After a moment, he presses a kiss to your shoulder and murmurs, softer now, voice warm and reverent…

“You know I’ll never get tired of this, of you like this, right?”

You smile, cheek pressed to the mattress. “You better not. I’m your favorite bad decision, remember?”

Joel laughs, breathless and wrecked, then leans in and kisses the back of your neck. “Yeah, baby. You always will be.”

You’re still catching your breath, forehead pressed to the mattress, when Joel finally moves, easing out of you like he’s afraid to hurt you, even though he just split you open in the best way.

He exhales hard, then leans over your back to kiss your shoulder again. Then the space between your shoulder blades. Then the curve of your spine. One hand runs down your side… but then his eyes catch sight of his cum already beginning to ooze back out of you, warm and thick down your thighs.

You blink up at him over your shoulder, flushed and dazed, but your breath hitches when you feel his fingers trailing down between your legs.

“Joel—”

“Shhh,” he murmurs, kissing the small of your back. His other palm flattens across your lower belly, wide and protective, and you feel the shift in him instantly. “Fuck,” he whispers, reverent. “You’re really carryin’ my baby again…”

Your breath catches.

You twist just enough to look over your shoulder at him, and what you see floors you… his eyes glassy, jaw tight, his hand still firm on your belly like it’s the only thing tethering him to earth.

Then two of his thick fingers are sliding back inside of you.

“There we go,” he breathes, watching the way your body reacts to him, how easily you take his touch, even when you’re already spent. “So fuckin’ good for me. Always are.”

“I know this body so fuckin’ well,” he murmurs, kissing the curve of your spine, fingers stroking just right with each slow press. “Know every little sound you make. Know how to touch you, how to get you to fall apart f’me.”

Your breath catches, his tone intense and intimate. You fucking loved the way he talked to you… you pulsed around his fingers as they curled against the perfect spot inside of you.

He drags his fingers out just far enough to make you gasp, then sinks them back in slow and deep. Just that steady, unbearable rhythm that always ruins you.

“Joel…” you whimper, finally finding your voice again, your hips twitching and body shivering from the aftershocks and the way he won’t stop. “I can’t…”

“Yes, y’can,” he says, voice like gravel and honey. “Y’always say that, but y’always give it to me. Let me have it, baby.”

He curls his fingers again, dragging them right over that spot inside you that makes your knees go weak, and you keen, arching into his touch even as your body trembles with overstimulation.

“Come on, darlin’,” he whispers, lips ghosting over your shoulder. “Wanna feel your tight pussy clench down around me again.”

You cry out, legs shaking. “Joel, please…”

“That’s it…”

And when it hits, hot and bright and bone-deep, your entire body curls around it, your breath caught in your chest, your hands fisting the sheets again as you come undone for him all over again.

He doesn’t stop moving his fingers until he feels every last pulse of it, until your body is slack and spent and whimpering into the pillow.

Then, finally, he pulls his hand from between your legs and kisses your lower back, soft and slow, before wrapping his arms around your waist and guiding you gently onto your side, his chest warm against your back.

You can feel his smile in the kiss he presses just below your ear.

“Goddamn,” his voice thick with love and pride. “Ain’t nothin’ sweeter than you fallin’ apart like that. You spoil me, darlin’.”

You laugh weakly, a breathy, broken thing, your chest still rising and falling in uneven waves. Eyes fluttering closed for a beat, you let your head fall to the side, turning your body, your cheek brushing the warm pillow as you lay your head down and just look at him.

Joel’s lying beside you, heavy and golden in the soft light, his skin flushed and slick with sweat, muscles relaxed in that post-release sprawl. One arm tucked beneath his head, the other draped across your hip, his hand splayed wide against your lower belly, a possessive gesture he’d adopted every time he’s knocked you up or was in the process of doing so, it was like a magnet kept drawing his palm to that same spot, every time he had access to it.

There’s a crooked little smile tugging at his lips, lazy and so fucking pleased with himself.

“You’re awfully proud of yourself,” you murmur, voice hoarse and wrecked but tinged with that familiar teasing edge.

He hums and leans in close, nuzzling your shoulder with his scruffy jaw, his stubble scraping gently as he breathes you in.

“Can you blame me?” His nose trails the curve of your neck, breath hot as he murmurs against your skin. “You’re the mother of my babies. My whole damn world.”

He kisses your temple gently, “And now we’re doin’ it all over again.”

His hand curves tighter over your belly… gentle, protective, and proud. And when you glance down, you catch the way he’s looking at it, that soft focus in his eyes, like he’s picturing it already. The way you’ll swell. The way he’ll get to watch you grow all over again.

“I can’t wait to see you pregnant again, baby,” he whispers. “S’when you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Your throat tightens. Your hand covers his, lacing your fingers over that same spot, holding him there like you always do.

His body shifts beside you, so broad and warm, all heavy limbs and slowing breath, the faint scent of sweat and cedar clinging to him like second skin. The bed dips beneath his weight as he props himself up on one elbow, casting you in the long shadow of his frame.

You crack one eye open and roll it, even as your lips pull into a smirk, “You’re insufferable when you’re smug.”

Joel chuckles, low and content, and trails a finger lazily over the sensitive skin of your stomach, “And yet here you are, still wearin’ that fucked-out smile I put on you. And pregnant with my baby, gonna be all swollen and sensitive…”

“You are the worst,” you breathe, voice thick with affection, your smirk deepening.

“Mmm,” he hums, dipping his head to mouth at your jaw. “You keep sayin’ that, but your thighs were shakin’ a minute ago, so I ain’t exactly convinced.”

You swat at him, laughing through your exhaustion, but he catches your hand easily, and threads your fingers with his again, pressing them to the mattress above your head.

“Careful, sweetheart,” he murmurs, eyes dark as they trace your face, then lower, lingering on your kiss-bitten lips. “You look too damn pretty to tease and not expect consequences.”

Your breath hitches, because of course he knows. He always knows when your mood shifts, when desire returns, subtle and slow like a tide rolling back in.

He kisses you then, long and unhurried, just mouth and breath and weight. His lips are warm and full and a little chapped, and he kisses like he touches, like he means it. Like this is just another way he says I love you.

Your arm slips around to his back, fingers pressing into the hard muscle at his shoulder blade and massaging there, he lets out an appreciative groan.

When he finally pulls back, his voice is a murmur against your lips, “That mouth still got somethin’ to say?”

You smile and brush your thumb along his jaw, “Not right now.”

Joel kisses you again, but doesn’t deepen it, just content to be against you like this. Mouths molding against each other’s, his tongue sliding against yours in that rhythmic dance only the two of you knew.

“Carryin’ my baby again,” He shakes his head in disbelief, his forehead pressed against yours, “Don’t think I’ll ever get over that.”

Your eyes flutter closed, and your fingers trace a slow, aimless pattern across his back.

“People get a visual of how bad we are at keeping our hands off of each other for the last time.”

He huffs a laugh, warm and low in his chest. “Yeah, well… I like makin’ sure people know what’s mine, I’ll make that known one way or another.”

Your nose nudges his, and your laughter is soft, but it tumbles out helpless and giddy, “You’re insatiable.”

His hand slides to your belly again, splayed wide and possessive. “Damn right I am. Look at ya,” he says, voice dropping, eyes roaming like he’s already picturing you bigger, rounder, glowing. “Can’t fuckin’ help myself when you’re like this.”

“I’m not even showing yet,” you tease, breathless from the look in his eyes alone.

“Don’t need to be,” he growls against your skin, kissing just below your ear. “Your scent changes, your skin gets warmer… you start lookin’ at me like you wanna make me ruin you all over again. Drives me outta my damn mind.”

Your breath hitches, lashes fluttering as he mouths along your throat, slow and deliberate. He’s not rushing… no, this is worship. Like he’s already mourning the days you’re about to outgrow. The last time your body will carry an additional life. The last time he gets to see you like this. On the cusp of change, of becoming, of motherhood once more.

“You keep saying this’ll be our last baby like that’s supposed to make me calm the fuck down,” he mutters, voice thick with heat, “but all it does is make me wanna memorize every moment of ya like this.”

His hand cups the underside of your belly now, gentle as ever, reverent in that way only Joel gets. “Wanna remember what you feel like before you start showin’. Then again when you do. And again when you’re round as the moon and swearin’ at me that I’m the one who did this to you.”

“You are the one who did this to me,” you whisper, laughing softly even as your voice shivers.

He growls, mouth tracing the curve of your jaw, his hips instinctively rolling closer, “You think I’ll ever let you forget that?”

His other hand ghosts over your thigh, down the back of your knee, pulling you closer until there’s nothing left between you but heat and heartbeat. His palm glides up, tracing the slope of your ribs until it’s resting just beneath your breast.

“I know you’re barely even pregnant yet,” he murmurs, voice dipped in something darker now, “but they’re already gettin’ heavier…”

You shiver as his thumb brushes over your nipple, gentle but deliberate, the sensitive bud tightening under his touch. You’re not even sure when they got sore— only that suddenly, you’re aching for more. Needy and warm and already so fucking wet again, even with his cum dripping out of you, you could tell you were getting even wetter somehow.

His gaze flicks down, jaw tight as he watches the way your breath hitches, the way your back arches for him without even thinking.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “These tits always drive me crazy.”

His thumb swipes again, slower now, circling until your nipples pebble and your thighs shift instinctively, trying to relieve the pressure building there.

You reach for his wrist, but not to stop him. To ground yourself against the heat that starts rolling off his body in waves.

“You get so worked up when I’m pregnant,” you whisper, half in awe, half teasing.

Joel’s already leaning down, already mouthing at the swell of your breast, his stubble scraping your skin. “Can’t help it,” he says, voice muffled against your skin. And when his mouth closes around your nipple, sucking gently, everything in you tightens. Your hips roll without thinking, thighs brushing his. You feel the press of him between your legs, hard again, and getting harder by the second.

He groans against your skin, a sound thick with hunger. “Jesus, baby…”

He doesn’t need your words. He’s already shifting between your thighs again, one hand braced beside your head, the other still cupping your breast.

You barely get a gasp in before he’s lining himself up again, one hand on your hip, the other fumbling beneath your thigh, opening you to him again.

“Joel,” you try, breathless.

But he’s already slipping back inside you, one hard, greedy thrust that punches the air from your lungs.

“I just…” he frowns in concentration as he bottoms out and stills for a moment, letting you adjust to him around you again, “just need you, baby… can’t fuckin’ help it.. need..” his words are stuttering out now as your walls flutter around him and he can’t stifle the groan from deep in his chest.

You cry out, head tilting back, and he follows, burying his face in your neck as he fucks into you without a shred of restraint, hands everywhere… gripping your ass, cradling your thigh, pawing at your chest like he needs to worship every part of you.

Your legs lock tighter around him in answer, heel digging into the small of his back, anchoring him to you.

Your hands roam over his back, down the ridge of his spine, nails scraping lightly as you murmur broken, and reverent things against his skin.

Your mouth finds his shoulder, teeth grazing the skin there, and he groans, rutting harder, coming apart from the feel of you alone.

One of your hands cups his jaw, tilts his head up just enough so you can kiss him messily. You taste him like you own him as his tongue meets yours, frantic and hot, and your bodies slam together again and again like they need to break apart to be whole again.

He groans against your mouth, raw and needy, then pressed his forehead to yours as if grounding himself in the press of your skin. You feel every tremble, every stuttered breath as he ruts forward, desperate and greedy for more.

“Fuck… baby, please,” the words spill out, broken and helpless, barely held together by breath. His hips move without rhythm now, his hands everywhere, gripping your thigh, dragging down your waist, fingers splayed wide across your sweat-slicked skin like he can’t get enough.

Your hands find his hair, tugging hard, and he shudders. Mouth dragging down your throat, across your shoulder. “You feel so fuckin’ good,” he pants, hips grinding in hard and deep. “Always so hungry for my cock, so needy… droolin and beggin for ‘im to split ‘er open. ”

You whimper as he talks to you so filthily, you can feel your walls pulsing around him, “Joel, don’t stop, please, don’t stop…”

His rhythm is messy now, nothing slow or patient in the way he takes you. Every sound out of his mouth was wrecked and reverent.

“Need you to cum, baby,” he mutters against your jaw, words barely strung together.

Your body, always eager to give him whatever the hell he wants, breaks open for him, body seizing with a cry caught in your throat as your walls tighten and pulse around him. Your nails dig into his back with the intensity of it.

“There,” he groans, thrusts faltering, gasping against your neck. “That’s it, fuck, such a good girl f’me.”

He finishes with a strangled moan, spilling inside you, body collapsing against yours, all heat and weight and trembling limbs. His breath stutters against your skin, heart pounding against your chest.

You both lie there for a moment, a heap of tangled limbs and spent breaths, your heartbeat thudding in your ears.

Joel lets out a low, dazed laugh against your neck. “Been going for doubles lately, knockin’ you up makes me feel young again.”

You giggle, too spent to lift your head, “You sound about a hundred years old right now.”

“M’gonna take that as gratitude,” he mumbles into your shoulder, kissing the slope of it with an exaggerated groan, "I still got it.” He slowly slips out with a mutual hiss escaping from your lips.

You hum, smug. “You got something, alright. Probably need a damn chiropractor after that.”

His hand slides over your ass, giving it a lazy squeeze, “Ain’t heard you complainin’.”

“I blacked out a little.”

He grins, lips dragging across your skin, “Yeah, I felt that.”

You sigh, boneless, stretching slightly under him. “Well, congratulations, again, daddy.”

His chest rumbles as he shifts, propping himself up on one forearm so he can look down at you. There’s sweat on his brow, pink still high on his cheeks, and his hair’s an absolute mess, but he’s glowing. Pure adoration written into every line of his face.

“Last one,” you repeat, as if you needed to remind yourself and him.

Joel leans in and kisses your forehead, your nose, then your lips, “Then I better make this count.”

You laugh, breath catching as he rolls onto his side and drapes his arm around you, tugging you in close.

“Don’t worry, old man,” you murmur against his chest. “You already have.”

“I love you,” he says, quiet but certain. “So damn much.”

You squeeze his hand back, breath catching for a beat.

“I know,” you whisper. “I love you too.”

And then, everything’s still. Just your heartbeats, tangled legs, and the soft, rhythmic rise and fall of your breath shared in the dark. The sound of home.

—

The morning light spills golden through the kitchen windows, catching on syrup-smeared plates and a half-finished second pot of coffee. The kids are outside already, shrieking and thundering through the yard, leaving a brief hush behind them like the house exhaled.

You rinse the last plate in the sink, and before you can reach for the dish towel, Joel’s already behind you, easing it from your hand and tossing it aside. His arms circle your waist, chin resting heavy on your shoulder.

“You’re in a good mood,” you murmur, smiling as his nose brushes your cheek.

“Might’ve had somethin’ to do with last night,” he drawls, voice all honey and gravel.

You huff a quiet laugh, leaning back into his chest. “Is that right?”

“‘S your fault,” his lips brush the curve of your neck as he mutters against you. “You walk around this kitchen in my shirt as if you don’t know how it makes me feel.”

Your hands come up to hold his forearms, warm and solid around you. “I let you sleep in and made your favorite pancakes.”

“Yeah,” he says, swaying you both gently side to side. “Pretty sure I married up.”

He kisses your temple, then the space just behind your ear. His stubble grazes your skin and you feel it low in your belly, all flutter and warmth and the ache that never quite leaves you when he’s this close.

You twist in his arms until you’re facing him, and he doesn’t hesitate, his lips find yours instantly.

When you pull back, your fingers are still toying with the hem of his shirt, and his are resting, of course, low on your belly. You swear he was obsessed with that part of your body now, as if he was willing the bump to start showing, for the baby to grow faster so he could witness it.

You glance down at where he’s touching you, then look up again, your voice quieter now. “You still wanna wait? Before we tell anyone?”

Joel’s eyes soften. His nose bumps yours, “I like it bein’ just ours. For a little while longer.”

You nod, lips brushing his again. “Me too.”

Joel’s thumb strokes slow across the curve of your belly, his eyes are still on you like he’s seeing more than just the here and now, like he’s picturing everything ahead.

His lips just barely touch yours again when the brief moment of peace was inevitably interrupted.

“Mooommy! Daddy! Sarah locked me out!!”

Artie’s muffled yell slices through the quiet like a siren, followed immediately by the screen door slamming, tiny footsteps pounding toward the kitchen like a herd of buffalo.

Joel sighs into your mouth, forehead falling to your shoulder, “So much for a quiet moment.”

You laugh softly, brushing his hair back with your fingers. “You got thirty uninterrupted seconds. That’s practically a miracle.”

Sarah barrels in first, beaming. “I didn’t lock him out. There is no lock on the playhouse.”

Artie storms in behind her, face scrunched with betrayal. “You held it shut!”

Joel lifts a brow, “This true, Sarah?”

Ellie waddles in last, wearing a sparkly skirt over her pajama shorts, one rain boot on and a cookie clutched in each fist, “I didn’ do anyfing.”

You blink. “Why are you holding cookies?”

She shrugs. “Found ‘em.”

Joel mutters under his breath, “We really need to hide snacks better.”

You start rounding up the troops, brushing crumbs from Ellie’s face, smoothing Sarah’s hair, helping Artie yank a twig out of his curls. Joel watches the chaos for a second, then steps in beside you, reaching for his coffee.

As the kids chatter and bicker and pull at your sleeves, he leans down, mouth near your ear, “Still glad we’re doin’ this again?”

You glance at him over your shoulder, your smile slow and sure. “With you? Always.”

His grin is boyish and a little cocky, “Damn right.”

And with that, he sets down his mug and hoists Ellie under one arm like a sack of sugar, her cookie still clutched victoriously as she squeals.

You linger there a second, hands stilling. The hum of the fridge, the creak of the screen door, the light filtering golden across the floorboards, all of it blurs behind the slow thrum in your chest.

God.

You never thought life could feel like this.

This kind of love… it crept in quiet, threaded through grocery lists and toy-strewn floors, through baby giggles and tired kisses and the rasp of his stubble brushing your cheek at the end of the day. It stitched itself into every ordinary moment until it wasn’t ordinary at all. Just yours.

You reach for the dish towel again, smile still ghosting your lips. He always says you’re the one who spoils him, but the truth is he’s spoiled you every moment he’s been yours.

That soft Texas drawl. Those hands that always know where to land. That unshakable way he looks at you, like you’re still the best thing he’s ever done, even after all these years and stretch marks and sleepless nights and three kids with now a fourth on the way.

You press your palm to your belly without thinking, protective and reverent all at once.

You still can’t believe it. This new life. This quiet little secret just the two of you are holding for now.

His hand was there just minutes ago, splayed wide, protective and possessive, as you knew it would be for months to come.

You sigh, your whole body humming with it. With the fullness of everything you’ve made together. The chaos and the comfort. The hunger and the hush. The way he always reaches for you like you’re it. Like you’re home. The same way he is.

You glance up in time to catch him looking back at you from the doorway, Ellie still in his arms, Sarah climbing his leg, Artie tugging at the hem of his shirt.

And despite the noise and the mess and the ache in your lower back from standing at the sink too long… your heart could burst with how much you love him. How much you like him. How lucky you still feel.

He grins. That soft, crooked, unbearably Joel smile.

୨୧ ⏔⏔⏔♡⏔⏔⏔ ୨୧ ୨୧ ⏔⏔⏔⏔♡⏔⏔⏔⏔ ୨୧

Sorry this took so long to get edited, going back to school in a month! So I’ve been very busy and a little brain dead but more is coming in all regards!

I love this little family, and I doubt I’ll stop here with them, buckle in for the ride!

#joel miller x f!reader #joel the last of us #no outbreak au #joel miller fanfiction #no outbreak!joel miller #joel miller #joel miller smut #the last of us #joel miller x reader #joel miller fluff #joel miller x you

433 notes · View notes

pervoshi · 3 days ago

Text

SHY, SHY, SHY ! cam ( date everything )

fem!reader ⸝ sexual content ⸝ mentions of anxiety ⸝ cam is a warning himself ⸝ reader is inexperienced ⸝ heated make out session ⸝ thigh riding ⸝ teasing ⸝ dirty talk ⸝ neck kissing & biting ⸝ slight degradation ⸝ nipple play ⸝ light choking ⸝ manhandling

to put it simply, you were an anxious person.

it didn’t help that you now had a house full of sentient objects, each of them possessing varying personalities.

you got along with some of them, the ones who kept to themselves mostly, not seeming to mind that you weren’t one for talking.

of course, there were a few who didn’t quite understand why you were so, well, distant.

deep down, you wished you had the confidence to talk to them all, to not have this aching feeling of anxiety at every moment of your life.

however, what shocked you the most, was that out of everyone, your trash can seemed to be most normal with you.

cam wasn’t very talkative upon first meeting him, which honestly made things better for you overall.

the two of you would have small conversations whenever you’d offer him another piece of trash, usually consisting of cam rambling about the item.

it wasn’t much, and it surely wasn’t anything more then friendship — but, you’d grown fond of him, in your own way.

there were not expectations when talking to him, no worry of offending him (besides that one time you indirectly called him gross, but he let it slide), just someone you could confide in when you were wandering the house.

cam didn’t hate your company, he probably enjoyed it the most out of anyone.

he picked up on your anxiousness quite quickly, your body language spoke louder than the way you’d fumble over your words.

there was one time, however, where he made the slightest flirty gesture towards you.

“back again, already? seems you can’t get enough of the can.”

it was harmless in his head, something to make you smile or even giggle.

but what he didn’t expect was to see your face beet red, eyes wide while you practically choked on your words.

you didn’t talk to him for three days after that.

not because you weren’t into him, but because you were.

you’d spent those three days repeating what he said in your mind, analyzing his tone, his body language — absolutely everything.

was he into you? or were you overthinking it entirely?

well, you couldn’t avoid him forever, so you just prayed he wouldn’t mention it.

unluckily for you, cam couldn’t wait until you two talked again.

if just a small pick up line like that had you flustered?

oh, he was going to have fun with you.

the next time you went into the kitchen, dateviators snug on your face, he was already there waiting for you.

“thought i scared you off the other day.”

“s—sorry, ‘m just not used to um, well—,”

“people flirting with you?”

you nodded, trying to avoid eye contact with cam as his eyes were practically glued to you.

“hm, shocking.”

“what— what do you mean?”

“well, you’re hot, so it’s just shocking no one’s tried doing it to you.”

if you could’ve melted to the floor, you’d be a puddle.

“c—cam,”

cam took a few towards you, his body invading ounce of your personal space, towering over you.

yet, you didn’t move.

your eyes peered up for just a second, locking with his before looking away.

“y’know how hard it’s been for me? not seeing you for days?”

“i—i’m sorry.”

“yeah? you’re sorry?”

his hand cupped your chin, tilting it upwards so you were forced to look at him.

even then, you tried to avoid his eyes, darting your own to the wall next to him.

“c’mon, look at me.” his voice was laced with nothing but amusement, enjoying how much he was able to work you up.

finally, you met his gaze, pupils dilating at the mere sight of cam being so close to you.

cam guided his thumb to your lower lip, tugging the flesh as he swiped it across.

“anyone ever kiss you before?” he teased, a knowing grin on his face.

you squinted your eyes at him, pouting slightly.

“i’m not that inexperienced.”

“sure you aren’t, babe.”

he leaned down towards you, his face now inches away from yours.

your body felt hot, a lump forming in your throat as cam’s lips brushed against yours.

“do you wanna kiss me?”

“j—just do it already!” you yelped out, eyes closing in preparation.

“nah, you gotta tell me you want it.”

god, he was going to be the death of you.

“please— please kiss me.”

and with that, his lips pressed against yours.

you quickly realized cam wasn’t gentle, hell he was far from it.

the kiss was nothing but a mix of teeth and tongue battling each other, and all you could was sit there, whining against his lips.

all you could taste was cam and the blood oozing from your lips, lips bruised and red from just how rough he was.

his hands were everywhere — your waist, your hips, even your chest.

cam pulled away for just a moment, admiring how worn out you already looked.

without a thought, you reached out towards cam, pleading him to envelop you once again.

“already want more? how needy.”

so once more, he took your lips, somehow even more aggressive than the last time.

one of his hands trailed to your neck, squeezing it lightly to test the waters.

with the way you moaned against him, he took that as a sign to leave the hand there.

cam’s free hand tittered with hem of your shirt, lifting it slightly to expose your bare skin.

the feeling of his hand made you pull away from his lips, heavy breaths pushing past your lips.

“c—cam,”

“fuck—, c’mere.”

he grabbed hold of your wrist, dragging you along with him to the couch.

you watched him sit down, legs spreading as his arms stretched against the back of the couch.

“um—.”

cam patted his thigh, a certain glint in his eyes while he did so.

for a second, you didn’t move, that anxious feeling clawing at your back once again.

“i c—can’t,”

“don’t get shy on me now, babe.”

you shook away all the thoughts for now, cautiously approaching where cam was, settling yourself on his lap.

cam’s hands went to your waist, manhandling your body so it was sat atop his thigh.

“w—what are you—!”

with his sheer strength alone, he moved your body across his thigh, watching as you shot your hands up to his shoulders.

“you like that?”

when you didn’t reply, he did it again, harder this time.

your head fell into the crook of cam’s neck, teeth gnawing at your bottom lip.

“nah, don’t do that.”

cam tangled one of his hands in your hair, gently pulling your head up.

he sat you still for a moment, observing you quietly.

you shifted on his thigh, attempting to gain just an ounce of friction back on your clothed warmth, desperate for the stimulation again.

he threw his arms behind his head, eyes trained on the way you squirmed nervously against him, not knowing what you should do.

you knew you wanted more — you needed more.

so, you looked up at cam with those desperate eyes of yours, begging him to tell you to do something.

“p—please, cam—,”

“sound cute when you’re beggin’, babe.”

his hands didn’t come back to your waist though, and for a second, you were confused.

the man sighed, bouncing his thigh to knock your head straight.

“i gotta spell it out for you? ride my thigh.”

“r—ride it? like myself?”

“what? too embarrassin’ for ya?”

you shook your head, hands bracing on his shoulders before starting to move with slow, cautious strokes.

in just a few seconds, you were an absolute whining mess — rutting against cam’s thigh like a bitch in heat.

it took everything within cam to not pin you down right there and fuck his cock into you.

but, that was something for another day.

he needed to get you used to every little feeling he was giving you right now, his own selfish needs could wait.

“w—want, fuck—.” you finally managed to get something other whines past your lips, hooded eyes staring down at cam.

“hm? you want somethin’, babe?”

“touch me— wan’ you to touch m—me.”

oh, cam couldn’t help how wide he grinned at your words, thoroughly enjoying the way you slowly broke down in front of you.

he’d make you just as filthy as him in due time.

“so fuckin’ greedy when you’re worked up.”

“n—no—,”

“no? just look at yourself—,”

his hands were on you in an instant — one on your waist while the other snuck up your shirt, teasing the flesh of your tit.

“that’s—!”

“one fuckin’ touch from me ‘n you’re a mess.”

he wasn’t wrong, you knew he wasn’t.

but, even you couldn’t comprehend how depraved you were acting.

something was boiling up inside you, setting your entire body on fire.

“c—cam, feel s—so—!”

“you gettin’ close?”

“y—yes, yes!”

cam took this as sign to take your nipple between his fingers, twisting and tugging at it while he leaned forward, leaving a trail of sloppy kisses down your neck.

every single touch he left on you only made you edge closer and closer to your high, eyes squeezing shut as you could only let of whines of his name.

“yeah, that’s it — fall apart for me, babe.”

then, he dug his teeth in your flesh, sucking on the area like his life depended on it.

you couldn’t contain yourself any longer, your movements on cam’s thigh were erratic, nails digging into the flesh of his neck.

“cam—, ‘m gonna—,”

“cum for me, slut.”

cam cursed himself for letting that slip out, peering up at you quickly in case it caught you off guard.

what he didn’t expect to hear was the borderline pornographic moan you let out, head thrown back as you came all over his thigh.

now the man couldn’t stop talking as you came — it was like a lock came undone from your reaction.

“yeah, make a fuckin’ mess all over me.”

you went to slow down, but cam didn’t let you, his hands glued themselves to your waist to keep you moving.

“nah, we aren’t stopping now,”

“c—cam—, i can’t—!”

he slapped your side lightly, making your entire body stop resisting as he forced you to keep going.

“you can, i know you fuckin’ can, babe.”

his lips brushed against your ear, tongue licking the flesh before he whispered to you.

“gonna turn you into my filthy little slut.”

yeah, you were fucked.

#🌡️. pervoshi #🌡️. date everything #🌡️. cam #date everything #date everything x reader #date everything smut #date everything cam #date everything cam x reader #date everything cam smut #cam x reader #cam smut

416 notes · View notes

mercurial-chuckles · 2 months ago

Text

Blissful Summer Bruises

Pairing: Steve Rogers x F!Reader x Bucky Barnes | Stucky x F!Reader WC: 2.6k Warnings: Established relationship | Domestic fluff | Cavity-causing Fluff | Language | Hot supersoldiers alert | Protective Supersoldiers| A bunch of cheesy pick-up lines | Allusions to naughty times | Poly relationship | Unbeta'd | This is a buffed post from earlier, originally written for Essie's 300 follower celebration with the prompt: Why's it...sticky? | Lemme know if I'm missing anything. Note: Do not Steal, Copy, or Plagiarize any part of my work! I do not consent to AI scraping my work. Banner & Divider made by me. Picture credits to Pinterest. Check out my other works: Masterlist

Set in Captain Softly Stern and Sergeant Toughly Tender universe!

Indulge Away!

You picked up some seeds at the Farmers' Market last week, planning to sow them in the garden. This morning, you decided to wake up early and get to work before it got too hot.

But your men had other plans.

You didn't wake up to the alarm. No. It was Steve's relentless rutting into your ass and Bucky's sharp nips at your neck that woke you up.

Well, your morning turned into a very different kind of plowing. Not that you minded AT ALL.

Safe to say, you were famished after falling apart so many times. Bucky, determined to feed both you and Steve something delicious, had decided to prepare a special lunch today.

Never one to deny him the pleasure of any kind, you both agreed to let him take over the kitchen.

Not that Bucky gave you much of a choice, "Stay away, or I'll spank that fine ass," he'd said earlier when you sauntered into the kitchen to prepare something.

Like a good girl, you complied. Though you were itching to test him, you didn't, mostly because you were starving, and your body was already overstimulated from the morning session.

Despite Steve's longstanding reputation as the better cook, after you, of course, Bucky had been devoting himself to learning both cooking and baking. To your surprise, he was definitely starting to outdo you both.

So you let him be and decided to just watch. And boy, was he a sight for hungry eyes. He looked practically edible in those shorts and a faded blue, short-sleeved t-shirt.

That man could seduce you just by chopping vegetables.

Sadly, your hungry worshipping got cut short when Bucky insisted you leave since you couldn't stop staring at him.

Such a buzzkill!

You groaned, hopping off the island and heading out to see where your other man was.

"Don't roll your eyes at me, pretty girl," Bucky called out loudly.

You flipped him off, which only made him chuckle.

The sun was glaring down on your lakefront home. It was hot, but all the luscious trees cast cool, calming shadows. You lived far away from the city, just a few miles away from the compound, which made life much easier for the three of you.

You looked around for Steve and found him on the boat, most likely cleaning. You and Steve had bought the boat as a surprise for Bucky's birthday three months ago. It was the best decision ever. The three of you often took it out on the lake at night to stargaze or just relax during the day.

You walked onto the pier and tried to join Steve, but he denied you outright.

"Sit your fine ass down, relax, and gimme a nice view," he said, kissing your lips and squeezing your ass. You squeaked and obeyed.

That was fifteen minutes ago.

Honestly, you didn't mind being pampered. Who were you kidding? You needed it after all the inhumane hours you'd been putting in over the past few weeks. That was why your men had forced you to take a break from work. Tony had vehemently agreed, reasoning that you were getting more spiteful with all the lack of sleep.

And right now, lounging on your favorite chaise on the porch, a book in your hands, and the peaceful sounds of nature around you, it really did feel like a great idea.

The occasional trilling of the birds, married with the sounds of wind chime put you in a happy trance, and you were quite immersed in the book you were reading.

It was Bucky's grunted huff that broke your reverie.

He placed a bowl of freshly cut fruit with a fork beside you on the small table, a deep frown on his face as he stared at Steve.

"That punk," he mumbled, and you raised your brows in confusion. Bucky turned to you, his expression softening.

He placed his left hand behind you at the top of the chair and hovered over you, pulling your chin up with his warm hand. You felt the familiar heat spread through your entire body as he rubbed his thumb along your jaw and pulled you in for a kiss.

You moaned happily into his mouth. But he broke the kiss too soon, and you whined at the loss of his soft lips.

Placing a kiss on your cheek, Bucky winked at you, "You've had enough for today. You need sustenance," he smirked, tugging at your thighs and suddenly pulling you down. You collapsed haphazardly onto the chair, your book falling to the side.

"BUCKY," you yelled, trying to smack his stomach, but he dodged away quickly.

"I hate you," you mumbled, trying to use the armrests to straighten up in the chair, but Bucky gently picked you up and set you upright.

"No, you don't. Eat up. Food'll be served in an hour," he said, pecking your forehead. You grinned, placated for now.

"Now, I have a mission to get to," he added, pulling something from the windowsill. He glanced at you, lips twitching as he held up the sunscreen.

"Good luck," you snickered, already anticipating what was about to unfold.

Bucky chuckled, walking purposefully toward Steve.

Steve was just coming out of the garage with the mower, looking sinfully gorgeous in his black track pants, which hung a little too low for your sanity. Such a slut! He'd discarded his white shirt on the porch banister near you a while ago, and you'd folded it and set it aside on the swing.

As soon as Steve spotted Bucky from a distance, he visibly withered.

Far more interested in the scene unfolding before you than the story in your hands, you let the book rest on your lap, the cover felt pleasant against your skin.

You watched as Steve rolled his eyes and took a step back.

"Bucky," Steve groaned, glancing toward you for help.

You blew him a kiss and pulled your book up to cover your face, just peeking. Steve scoffed, shaking his head before turning to the menace walking toward him.

"Buck," he tried again.

"Come on, Steve," Bucky said exasperatedly.

"I'm fine. I don't need it."

Bucky shook his head, stepping closer. "You say that every fucking time, and then you suffer and bitch. Just let me do it."

You tried to stifle your laughter as you watched the back and forth. Gosh! They're fucking adorable.

"Don't test me. I WILL tackle you, punk," Bucky warned.

Steve held his arm out, stopping Bucky, "I can do it myself."

Bucky raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced, "Yeah, because you did such a great job last time, right?"

Steve Rogers hated sunburns and loathed sunscreen. It was funny, really. For a supersoldier, he sure whined a lot about sunscreen.

Not that his sunburns lasted more than a few hours- thanks to the serum- but boy, did he bitch about it, making you and Bucky coo and soothe him. The last time you went out on the lake, Bucky had gotten so irritated when Steve avoided sunscreen and ended up burned. So now, he'd taken it upon himself.

"Fine, but make it quick," Steve huffed, turning around reluctantly and muttering under his breath. Bucky squirted a generous amount of sunscreen, starting on Steve's shoulders.

"And he faced Thanos," you added gently, wiggling your eyebrows. Bucky sniggered with you.

"This stuff is sticky and smells weird," Steve grumbled, wincing slightly as the cold lotion made contact with his warm skin.

"We bought the unscented one," you told him.

"Oh, but I can still smell it, sweetheart," Steve retorted. Bucky smacked his ass, winking at you.

"Of course, you do," you muttered playfully, fully aware he heard you just fine.

You did forget you lived with super soldiers. In the domesticated bliss, you three fell into such a natural rhythm that their super strength felt entirely normal.

"You want to smell like burnt skin instead?" Bucky teased, his hands moving expertly over Steve's back and front, ensuring every inch was covered.

"Buck, you're using too much," Steve whined, his voice muffled as he hung his head.

"Shut up," Bucky shot back, "Besides, I'm almost done. Quit being such a baby."

You couldn't stop giggling, watching Steve squirm.

Steve sighed dramatically, glancing over his shoulder at you with a pleading expression. "He's using too much, isn't he?"

"No, he isn't. Come on, Stevie. You got this. You can do this all day, can't you?"

Steve rolled his eyes, and after a beat, he added, "You know I could do you all day."

Well, facts!

Though his remark shot straight to your core, you laughed. So did Bucky.

"You have a really dirty mouth, Captain," you exclaimed.

"But you love it," he replied smugly.

You did.

Bucky pulled Steve into his arms, hooked his fingers in the waistband of Steve's joggers, and tugged him closer before planting a smothering kiss on his lips.

"That's for being a good boy," Bucky said, and proceeded to smack Steve's ass again, "And that's for whining."

"BUCKY!" Steve roared after him mirthfully.

"Can't really blame him, Stevie. That's one fine ass!"

Bucky simply laughed and headed inside to check on the food.

It was always so endearing, seeing how much they loved each other. You were so frickin' lucky.

You caught the faint blush dusting Steve's cheeks. Biting your lip, you tried to keep your own laughter in check as you absentmindedly turned a page in your book.

"Cut it out," he guffawed, when he caught your gaze, before getting back to mowing the lawn.

You finished the last of your fruit and decided to get up and tend to the garden because if you stayed in that chair any longer, you were definitely going to fall asleep.

"Oi, Rogers," you called out, setting the shovel aside and grinning wildly at him as you stood and dusted off your hands.

"Are you a garden? 'Coz I'm diggin' you."

Steve shook his head and gave you a mock glare. You'd been catcalling him with the cheesiest pickup lines, and though he was clearly amused, he was doing his best to hide it.

"Okay, wrap it up. Food's almost ready," Bucky yelled from the kitchen window.

Steve gave him a nod, and you threw up a thumbs-up.

"That means shut up and get inside," Steve said, smirking.

"Oh, come on, Steve. You love them, and you love me," you giggled.

"Only one of those is true," Steve mumbled playfully.

"I love you too! Okay, I've got another one: are you a campfire? Because you're hot, and I want s'more!"

"That's it," he said, stepping toward you.

You squealed and took off running toward the porch, only realizing too late how stupid it was to think you could outrun him. Steve was on you the very next second, cornering you at the far end of the porch.

"C'mere," he said smugly, hands on his hips.

Not thinking it through at all, you jumped right off the banister, landing on your ass with a thud a good three feet down.

"What the hell, sweetheart?" Steve's face morphed from amused to horrified as he rushed toward the railing.

You giggled, hardly believing you'd just done that, and took off running again.

"Oh, you little shit! Get back here," Steve laughed, shaking his head as he vaulted off the porch with far more finesse.

You glanced over your shoulder, only to see him right behind you. You picked up your pace, laughing as you went. Steve, meanwhile, was barely jogging, clearly letting you think you stood a chance at outrunning him.

"You've been teasing me all day. Do you need something? All you had to do was ask," he drawled, closing in.

You gathered your wits, barely, and shot back smugly and quite breathlessly, "I don't need anything. Besides, I don't like to beg." You shrugged.

Lies. All lies. You were just baiting him.

"LOOK OUT!" Steve shouted suddenly.

You realized too late you were about to crash straight into a tree.

Steve reached out quickly, placing his large palm on your forehead, and pulled you into him to soften the blow. Still, your right knee slammed into the bark.

"Ouch," you winced, the pain flaring instantly.

"Jesus!" Steve immediately pulled you into his arms, carefully taking the weight off your legs. He carried you back to the porch and sat you down in a chair. Then he knelt before you, lifting your leg onto his thigh to inspect it.

"It's sticky. Why the fuck is it sticky?" you hissed, eyeing the bruise.

"Where did you trip now?" Bucky appeared, mostly disappointed, slightly amused.

"Oh, she fell twice," Steve said, and you flicked his forehead. That didn't really stop him from narrating the whole thing anyway.

Bucky squatted beside Steve, eyeing your knee.

"That looks like tree sap," he said, blowing gently to ease the sting.

"Yeah, I figured," you pouted.

"Should we take her to the hospital? Is that stuff poisonous?" Steve asked, glancing at Bucky.

Your heart warmed. Gosh! How much you loved him. Steve was smart as a whip- linguist, strategist, and blessed with an elephant memory, but when it came to you or Bucky, he worried about things as small as paper cuts.

You rolled your eyes just to tease him, sharing a look with Bucky, who chuckled and leaned over to press a quick kiss to Steve's temple.

"You're adorable," Bucky teased, winking at him.

"Don't patronize me," Steve scoffed.

"I'm not," Bucky answered. He slid one arm under your knees, the other behind your back, and lifted you effortlessly.

"You are," Steve muttered as he followed you both inside.

"He is," you chimed over Bucky's shoulder.

"Shut up," Bucky groaned, biting your nose.

"Hey," you yelped, swatting at him.

Bucky set you on the couch.

"Let's clean that wound," he said. Steve was already back with the first-aid kit.

The oven timer beeped.

"I got this," Steve said, as he settled sideways on the couch before you, pulling your leg over his.

"Buck, just hand me…" Steve didn't even get to finish, and Bucky already handed him the isopropyl alcohol and cotton swabs before walking back into the kitchen.

Steve cleaned it gently with so much tenderness, and it made your insides flutter.

You knew exactly what he was thinking.

Gawd! This man!

"Steve. Stop worrying, will ya? I'm not that hurt," you told him, your voice gentle but firm.

"But you did get hurt, and I didn't catch you in time, doll," he muttered.

"Steve." You sighed.

There was no use arguing with him. Distraction it was then!

"Where's your shirt?" You asked playfully, eyeing his bare, sweat-slicked chest.

"Where are your pants?" he asked, blue eyes gleaming as his large hand rubbed your thigh in slow, soothing strokes. It was sweltering outside, and all you had on was an oversized T-shirt and panties.

"Touché." You chuckled.

"Food's ready," Bucky announced, walking back to the couch happily and leaning his arms on the back.

"Damn. It smells delicious," you said, smiling widely at Bucky.

"I can't smell anything over this stupid sunscreen," Steve mocked. Bucky and you rolled your eyes in tandem.

Steve huffed, applying the ointment now. You hissed loudly, gripping the back of the couch. Bucky pulled your hand into his warm one, placing a kiss inside your palm. You smiled up at him.

"Hey, Buck," you called out.

He leaned in. "Yes, pretty girl?"

"Did you just come out of the oven? Because you're too hot to handle," you said with a straight face.

Steve groaned.

Bucky looked at you, deadpan, and shook his head.

"Whaaat. That was soooo good!" you exclaimed, throwing your hands up.

"Where are you getting these lame pickup lines from?" Steve asked, squeezing your calf.

"theknot.com disagrees with you, Captain," you told him smugly.

"Why do you need pickup lines?" Bucky frowned, gently pulling your jaw up toward him.

Such a possessive little shit. Yours, though.

"Calm your horses, old man. I've been doing some research for Darcy. She made an account on a few dating apps."

"Good," Bucky breathed against your lips before placing a kiss.

"Oh. Oh. Steve, this one's for you. Do you have a Band-Aid? I scraped my knee falling for you," you grinned proudly.

Both your men scoffed in sync.

Steve chuckled, pulled out a large Band-Aid, and exaggeratedly rolled his eyes before placing it over your knee.

"You both are tasteless! Ugh!" you faux-scoffed.

"Tasteless? That's not what I heard you moaning this morning," Steve winked at you.

Bucky laughed, smacking Steve's shoulder proudly, and you teetered off the couch, blushing. He quickly steadied you.

"I dare you not to fall for one whole day," Bucky challenged, looking into your eyes intently.

You frowned at him.

"Yeah, not happening in this lifetime, Buck," Steve said, pulling you into his lap and kissing your frown away.

It didn't matter if they groaned at your pickup lines. You were going to test every single one on them anyway, mostly for your own amusement and partly for Darcy.

Blissful was an understatement.

Set in Captain Softly Stern and Sergeant Toughly Tender universe!

Well? 🤭 Did this tickle your fancy?

Psst...I might be a hopeless case myself, but just so you know, I make a pretty good wingwoman. 🙂‍↕️😆 Just an unnecessary piece of info about me for your cache.

Leave your thoughts if you enjoyed reading it. 💞✨

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

547 notes · View notes

heegyukeluv · 1 year ago

Text

a hundred sunsets (sjy)

pairing: jake x afab!reader

synopsis: Using a dating app in order to find a lover rarely worked properly to you, which was the reason you never planned to do so. But bumping into someone so charming as you texted your possible future love interest wasn’t on your plans either.

my's note: hello!!! it's not only my first time writing in english but also my first time using tumblr to post a story i’m honestly kinda nervoussjdjdjs. a few things I want to say before anything: those are fictional characters, also i know almost nothing when it comes to other country’s educational systems sooo i’m sorry if something is off, and mostly important: enjoy!!!

i wasn't planning to write this much but i think i got a little carried away lol

warnings: quick mention of alcohol (all characters are of age!), slow burn kinda?, at least one ‘kms’ joke srry, strangers to friends to lovers, pet names (sweetheart, pretty, sugar, etc..), lot of language, jake is downnn baddd, there’s a slightly jay x y/n moment (they go on a date lol) but not too much dw!!!, reader blushing/turning red! eventual smut (MINORS DO NOT INTERACT) - jake is kinda a sub, oral sex (both), unprotected sex (don’t do it!!!), j. cums inside (consensual), overstimulation (m), slight dacryphilia. enha’s jay, sunghoon and heeseung + lesserafim’s yunjin and chaewon as side characters. LMK IF I FORGOT SOMETHING.

wc: 22k

NOT PROOFREAD.

EXTRA (epilogue kinda?)

As comfortable as your couch was and even though you very much loved watching “Pitch Perfect”, that wasn't the fun weekend you had planned, actually you didn't plan anything at all. But there you were, licking your fingertips in order to clean up the salt flakes of the chips you devoured during the last minutes.

It wasn't like you really cared about what your lifestyle was turning into during the few months that passed by, opting to stay at home doing your little things here and there, taking a fair break from the crazy parties at suspicious places alongside a lame try to hang out with very random people...

The initial excuse of "I'll focus more on my studies" was holding a bit, however you couldn't help but feel bored at your choices at this point.

You sighed, opening the message app on your phone and re-reading the last texts you received in your friend group.

Jinnie 💘: my sweet little y/n i’ve been here watching you ROT down in your apartment and i’m tired!!! sure you don’t wanna party anymore or wtv BUT FOR GOD’S SAKE i love you but truth be said YOU NEED TO GET LAID!!!! download the app pleeeeasseeee it’s not like you’re gonna match with a weirdo (i guess Chaebae 💖: Worst case scenario you just call me and I go to rescue you with my very muscly arms Best case scenario you win a good fuck !

You laughed again at the texts, picturing Chaewon with her baby face and a very packed body. Would she be able to really punch someone on the face in order to protect you? For sure she would. And she didn't even need muscly arms or whatever.

Being friends for God knows how long you thought about trusting them. They wouldn’t try to mislead you, right?

You always had little to no interest in dating apps. The few times you tried you constantly felt like you were practically selling yourself as some product with specific traits, where the buyer doesn't have enough chance to get to know more parts of you before anything, chasing for the next step so eagerly.

Although your heart beats fast for people you just met seemingly outwardly interesting, the real feeling of wanting to be with them, to go out on dates, to trust enough to let parts of yourself to be shown comfortably needs time and usually grows slowly.

You never really dated anyone in order to fulfill momentary desires, your own body wouldn't let it happen as you lose interest as soon as you feel too pressured by the other part or when the connection wasn’t clicking right.

Chaewon and Yunjin were different though. They had the free spirit to just hit that one night stand and be happy about it. You were happy about it, loving to listen to their crazy dates and nights out, sharing the most terrific stories about it while drinking some wine on your balcony.

Nevertheless, you were kinda desperate. Your last relationship ended one year ago, the one you rooted for a very long time – two years and five months, to be exact, until one day you caught him cheating on you with one of his "best friends that you don’t have to worry, baby". Very much cliché but also a big trauma in your life, leading you to this very moment of neediness but not enough courage to trust someone again.

Since then you have been hooking up once and a while with random people you met at parties, but never felt right or enough especially because you tried so hard to either not get attached – and with that lose the brief sexual interest – or on the very other side of the hand, to build up some kind of relationship.

Every single one turning into a big failure.

Sighing again, your fingers typed on the screen keyboard.

You: Can you send me the name again? Chaebae 💖: OH??? YUNJIN Jinnie 💘: I KNOW [LFS] hope you enjoy!! hihi You: What's with the acronym lol Chaebae 💖: "Love at First Sight" You: Oh god And you rly think it’s a good idea? Chaebae 💖: ..yeah? Jinnie 💘: a great idea actually! You chuckled. What could go wrong?

Everything went wrong.

Not every single thing, but a bunch for sure.

You didn’t know if your taste was too specific or if overall men were just that boring. You had good features, your pics weren’t that bad either and your personality… Liking video games, some astronomical stuff, movies and dogs couldn’t be a big red flag, right?

But every match got you thinking “what happened to the old ‘hi, how are you?’”. Maybe because of those exact traits you put on display made the weird nerds attracted to you as a potential match, thinking their fantasies would be fulfilled by you.

Of course you understand people on those kinds of apps sometimes have very clear goals setted, but how frustrating is it to try to have a good conversation and the least creepy answer be “is it weird that i want you sucking me while i play league of legends? lmao”?

No matter how defeated you were feeling you weren’t one to give up. And that leads to this very moment as you type fast on your phone with your current attempt.

Park Jongseong, or just Jay, was hot. Like, very hot. And his talking wasn’t going to weird places so far, which at this point was a big win. He was funny and somewhat endearing, sharing avidaly about his travels and his music interests with so much passion that you started to rethink your own life choices thus far – was the ongoing college degree a good choice? Should you give up everything and start to live as an artist?

Lost in your train of thoughts about maybe having found somebody worthy of your time as you walked down the hallway heading to your next lecture of the day, you didn’t expect to hit your face straight into someone’s chest. A very strong and hard chest by the way, you thought briefly, scented with some woody essence that got straight into your senses. The sweet voice of the owner wasn’t expected either.

“Oh shit, I’m so sorry!”, the boy uttered with a worried tone looking down at you trying to see if he had hurt you in some way. You almost didn’t catch his thick accent. “Are you okay?” he questioned softly, still concerned. You blinked a few times before coming back to reality, looking up confused at his face and answering hurriedly with slightly widened eyes.

“I’m the one who should be sorry! God, I’m so stupid, I should be more careful,” you started to blather as you lost yourself in that pretty face you just hit into. The whole combo was breathtaking. Plump glossy red lips and puppy eyes full of worry; the silky brown hair was just as normal as any other brown hair but what the fuck was that face? “I was looking down at my phone and I didn’t see y–”, you were interrupted by the honeyed voice again “I mean, I was also using my phone and didn’t see you either,” he chuckled. “You’re fine, sweetheart.”

Your eyes widened even more at the same time as a smirk decorated his beautiful lips. You don’t know what got you more flustered, the pet name or the double meaning of that simple phrase. You could feel your cheeks burning hard and your first instinct was to look down to the floor and wonder if hiding yourself beneath the tile was a good option.

“Well, sorry again,” he said and you forced yourself to swallow down the saliva that got stuck on your throat and to look up again, facing now a cute small and shy smile that made your heart beat fast. Too fast. “See ya!” and just like that he went his own way, not even waiting for your response.

You were sure someone had glued the sole of your shoes on the ground while you two had that small and awkward talk, because there’s no way your legs stopped working properly just because of him.

You looked over your shoulder in order to see his back going away but it was already too late, since he wasn’t around anymore. You thought to yourself he was certainly a new student, because you would have noticed him sooner. How could you not?

His chocolate eyes and sweet voice were the only things on your mind as you picked up your phone to text back Jay, trembling a bit from the encounter still.

You: of course we can see each other this friday!! :)

You tried your best to fully focus on your upcoming assignments, but your library time has reduced quite a bit and even in your house your attention was wandering constantly. For the last three days you walked around your whole campus trying so hard to bump into that good-looking visage one more time, going back and forth that hallway hoping to see that guy.

Describing his appearance to Chaewon and Yunjin didn’t help a bit, especially because everything you could remember was his sweet voice, his silky brown hair and his very beautiful smile. Just like any other guy.

But he wasn’t.

He looked smooth, confident and whatever other compliment you could build to him – like, you never really met him to know more than just the appearance, and his looks exuded that so you just guessed. The fucking “sweetheart” coming from his mouth sounded too good for your own heart. And that was everything you got from him. Not even a glimpse of something else like what classes he got or anything like that.

“I don’t know, I’m starting to worry you are seeing ghosts or making people up, girl”, Yunjin said as her hands unwrapped her sandwich right before she took a big bite.

“I’m not!” you whined with a pout. “I swear to god he exists. I need him to exist. He’s too fine,” you whispered the last part, even though they both heard you.

“This is definitely something someone who is starting to see things would say, y’know that, right?” Chaewon said with a laugh, making you chuckle a bit because, well, it’s true. How does one prove a person exists given that no one but you saw him?

The campus was big enough for you not to see him ever again, however after the quick encounter you noticed he walked towards the end of the hallway, to classes that only someone with an area of study similar to yours would go to.

“This is frustrating,” you stated, looking at the people wandering around still hoping to see him. Your lunch already forgotten in front of you.

“Don’t you have a date in like a few hours?” Chaewon questioned with a raised eyebrow. “Shouldn’t we be worrying about you and that hot Jay guy instead of you and the we-don’t-even-know-if-he-exists guy?”

“She’s right, baby,” Yunjin added. “Jay looks adorable. You should focus on him.”

You nodded defeated, sighing and forcing yourself to re-read your texts with the said guy. “You’re right”, you smiled a bit.

Jay: Looking forward to our date tonight! <3

You: yeah, me too :)

And just like that the afternoon has arrived and you got yourself in a dilemma of clothing and accessories and shoes and makeup and even between your perfumes! Everything seemed terrible together, nothing was right, no cloth piece looked good enough to match Jay’s insane visuals and taste in style. Through his photos you noticed the way he fashioned himself, wearing fancy brands with a generous constancy, looking too good for yourself.

You were on the verge of crying when Yunjin called you, as if she felt in her guts you needed her.

“Hey,” you answered the call, quickly accepting the change to a video call and propping your phone on your desk. “How we doin’, baby?” She asked curiously with a big excited smile. “Why aren’t you ready yet?” You noticed she had makeup on and was doing her hair while talking to you.

“Not doing well, Jinnie…” you pouted, looking at the mess around you. You were dealing with a lot of emotions at the same time and felt so lost. “I don’t know what to wear,” you said sincerely. “I feel like nothing I have here is enough to match Jay’s.”

In your defense, it’s been a long time since you ever went on a date, especially a dinner date and with someone so elegant like Jay.

You weren’t expecting Yunjin almost screaming at you. “Don’t you dare to say anything like that ever again!” You startled. “Y/N, you will look good in any clothing you decide to wear, because you are hot. Not your clothes or accessories or anything. They just complement your own beauty!”

While Chaewon normally was the one who would speak up for the whole group in terms of defending her girls, Yunjin worked on the other part of bringing the mood and the self esteem up. And both of them always did a great job.

“You are so fucking right, Yunjin,” she smiled proudly after you spoke, continuing her job on doing her hair.

You looked around one more time, getting out of the frame just to change yourself in a simple black dress long enough to cover half of your tights and the exact amount of tightness that hugged your curves with close perfection. “Thoughts?” You appeared again in front of the camera after a few minutes of trying some accessories.

“Sexy. And pretty. You are so getting laid tonight!” You chuckled. “I think I’m not the only one, though?” You wiggled your eyebrows playfully and she just giggled, before saying a quick goodbye and ending the call.

Just like you, she had things to get done.

Putting on some lip gloss as a final touch, you were ready. And just in time as you felt your phone vibrating inside your purse with Jay's text.

Jay: I’m here :) You: Coming!

The big car greeting the door of your building was expected at some point, nonetheless your shocking expression was hardly disguised with a nervous smile. As Jay stepped out of his car, you quickly analyzed his outfit and had to take a breath because his white button up shirt with the sophisticated black trousers was getting yourself out of orbit. You felt a little dizzy when his hand positioned on your waist as he leaned to greet you with a little kiss on the cheek and a pretty smile.

He opened the door for you and when you both had settled down on the car seat, he said “You look great, Y/N”. With his help, you put on the seatbelt and thanked with a kind smile. "You look good yourself too, Jay."

The drive to the restaurant was quite normal, a few words being exchanged here and there, the conversation was pretty ordinary. You were a pile of nerves and you had to almost physically stop yourself from moving your legs up and down due to the feeling of anxiety. It’s not like Jay was making you uncomfortable, but you didn’t felt too comfortable either. The whole fancy type of thing was getting you too hesitant for a first date. You were more like a cafe date girly, stargazing at some open air park or maybe a picnic. Now you were blaming yourself for not letting that out beforehand.

Jay parked the car at the parking lot. “We’re here”, his voice broke you out of your mind and when you glanced up at the restaurant you felt like dying inside.

Too fancy.

“It’s… amazing,” was everything that slipped out your mouth as you got out of the car with Jay’s help. “I’m glad you liked it, princess.”

The pet name didn’t get you the much you hoped it would, actually it made you think about the fucking hallway guy and his smooth “sweetheart” saying, sending shivers down your spine.

When both of you reached the table reserved under the name Park Jongseong and you looked through the menu, you knew you were fucked up. With no shame, though, you asked “Could you order for me? I know little to no ingredients on this paper.”

Jay let a small breathy laugh and nodded ordering for both of you. He picked a wine impressively saying the name and the year and whatever other things wines have in its description trying to impress you. However, your focus was on the view that you finally noticed on your right side that faced a big window. The night sky was impressive and the moon was shining prettily.

“Enjoying the view?” he asked after sipping a bit of his wine. “Yeah, it’s incredible. I love the moon, actually I–” you didn’t had the chance to even start on your probably long talk about how much interested you are in the moon, being cutted of by Jay.

“Did you know that once I almost had the chance to go to the moon?” Your head snapped so fast towards his direction that you thought you would break your neck. “What?” The discredited and doubtful expression adorning your face was so clear still you were not afraid of showing it off.

With that, you discovered a not so good part of Jay: his somewhat annoying and exaggerated personality of trying to impress you with exorbitant things, too different from the texts you guys had exchanged. You had no interest knowing that his first birthday present was diamonds or that his dad bought him a car even before he turned eighteen. Let alone that he traveled to every single place you said during the conversation.

The way he would blurt out interrupting you in order to say "It's so amazing there! You would love the beaches and the museums, and the..." so it goes, every single time was really angering you.

Feeling left out in a duo talk was a new experience to you. How could someone be so full of himself and act like his life is the only one that matters? His gentlemanly aura was falling down very fast.

“You don’t seem to be enjoying our date,” he pointed with elegance when you went full quiet, looking directly at you. You sipped a bit of the wine that actually tasted too bad for your palate, noticing how half of your food was left out on your plate. You forced yourself to eat as much as you could handle, but the aftertaste of that food was worse than the taste itself.

“Oh, now you noticed me,” you artificially smiled.

“What do you mean by that?” he asked, a bit offended. You got nervous, but didn’t let that get on you. “I mean that for the past two hours all you talk about is yourself. At first I was like ‘okay, this is how we know each other!’, but since then I haven’t had the chance to talk about anything related to myself, like my likings or whatever,” you vented, having to take a deep breath and drink some more wine afterwards.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t get it,” Jay seemed honestly confused.

“Are you stupid?” the question slipped your tongue a bit too fast for your own thinking. You widened your eyes and covered your mouth with your hand. “I’m sorry I–”

“I don’t think I’m stupid, but I really don’t get it. It’s my first date in a while and I don’t really remember having to listen to the girls at all…”

Squinting, you questioned genuinely, “What do you mean? Like, the girls you took out on dates just… listened to you bragging about diamonds and travels?” He kinda mimicked your expression and replied as if it was obvious “...Yeah…”

After you blinked a few times you recomposed yourself and drank the whole wine on your glass at one go wishing you could just get drunk enough to forget that night. Jay watched you with a fazed expression as you got up from your chair. “I’m sure you’ll find someone that likes you the way you are. But with all due respect, to me, you kinda… Y’know. So I’m leaving.” You pointed with your thumb to your back, not even knowing if the exit was that way. “It was… an experience, I think.” You forced a smile. “Do I have to pay for something?”

“No, don’t worry about that,” he was quick in his response, feeling a bit ashamed and soon adding “But I can get you home, you just have to wait for me to p–”

“Nah, I’m fine. I’ll call a cab or whatever,” you interrupted him as soon as you could, not wanting to spend any more second with him. Being in a closed space with him for more than a few seconds would be too embarrassing.

“Y/N, come on. It’s the least I can do for you. You don’t have to walk alone at night, it can be dangerous.” You sighed, tapping his shoulder softly when you got closer to him. “Jay, it’s fine. It was not meant to be,” you tried to sound certain but what left your mouth was a mix of sneering with a doubtful tone. When he said nothing more, you left.

You were free. And also hungry. And a bit tipsy.

Maybe it was not the best idea to walk alone at that time of the night, but somehow you managed to feel better outside than with Jay. He was great, but definitely not for you.

You questioned yourself if calling Yunjin or Chaewon or maybe both could be a good idea, but knowing them they would show up in no time and try to beat the crap out of Jay and you weren’t in the mood to witness a murder. Actually all you needed was food. And maybe a cozy place. Nevertheless you typed on your phone just to update your girls.

You: Date went down the hole Guy’s kinda suck ngl Chaebae 💖: WDYM ARE YOU OKAY DO YOU NEED ME TO GET THAT BASTARD OR WHAT WHAT DID HE DO WHERE ARE YOU Jinnie 💘: i’m very much drunk rn but tell me his address and i'll kick his ass and get you home or are you home already?

You laughed at the quick replies you received and typed some reassurance to them while continuing your walking process. Your goal at that point was to find a convenience store where you could get some lamen and perhaps a soda.

While you wrote down your last message walking slowly not to trip, you bumped into someone, face straight to their chest.

Firm and cunning hands held you by the waist since you lost balance because of your heels, preventing you from falling. Before you could even say anything, that fucking woody essence went directly through your senses and it was as if history was reescribing itself, like a gift from fate. This time, you were fully in his arms.

You looked up. “I’m so– Oh, you again?” He showed his charming smile. Because of the proximity you noticed how the corner of his lips were a bit curvy. So attractive and for what?

Just like the last time, you blinked twice before realizing what really was happening, feet fixed on the ground. “I’m starting to consider that you like bumping into my chest, sweetheart,” he said with a grin, his mentoled breath hitting straight on your face.

Thank god his hands still held your waist, otherwise you would definitely fall. Your baffled expression had him chuckling a bit. “Did I hurt you?” he asked with care, looking directly at your eyes. His pretty chocolate eyes were hidden behind black specs this time.

You kept gazing stupidly at him like he was a distinct specie, an alien or something, not being able to say a word. Your throat was dry, you were sure you had lost the ability of talking. “Have you forgotten how to talk, pretty one?” He sniggered and bold but gently placed a strand of your hair behind your ear with his free hand. You shivered and almost leaned into the touch. “I remember you having such an endearing voice,” and just like that you finally let your body respond and blushed, taking a deep breath while starting to move away from him “I’m sorry, I didn’t see yo–”

“Cut that off, sweetheart," he let you go, making sure you were stable on your feet. You missed the warmth of his body on yours right away. Also you took your time to appreciate his clothing. The deep red shirt with white stripes covered with a black jacket looked too good on him. "I’m worried our encounters will keep happening like this. You might end up getting hurt for real,” the concerned tone did not go unnoticed, even mixed with the teasing-flirtatious one.

Your eyes wandered his face quickly before you let out a chuckle and diverted your attention away. You decided to ignore the buzzing sound of your phone as you put it inside your purse. “That wouldn’t be fun, would it?”, you said.

“Definitely not,” you looked back at him, caughting the shining eyes staring at you already like all he had down his sight was you. “A beautiful face like yours cannot be hurt, am I right?” And again there was that too attractive sly smile adorning his lips. You decided to smile back but shyly yet unable to hold the visual contact for more than a few seconds, cheeks still reddened.

“I don’t know you enough to say that but you seem a bit… off”, he was now looking at you with his gleaming puppy eyes, head slightly tilted to the side. “Yeah, I might be a little bit tipsy.”

Normally you would be mad at the fact the small amount of wine was hitting that hard, blaming your weakness towards alcohol for making you feel kinda dizzy and too bold for your own good – you internally debated if that dizzines came from the alcohol or from other sources, like the very good looking man standing in front of you.

Still you thanked the fearless feeling running through your veins at that very moment, otherwise where would you find enough courage to say what you said next?

“Are you down to get some lamen at some random convenience store with me?”, you had no idea what your words could mean to him and honestly weren’t expecting much, but as soon as his face lit up like you told him he won a good amount of money, you felt victorious. “Is this your way of flirting? Because if it is, it’s working on me.”

“That’s good to know, nameless boy”, you scoffed with a seductively undertone, the little smirk on your lips and your now boldness to maintain eye contact making him laugh as a failed attempt to hide his flustered self. The next moment you both were greeting each other with a quick handshake after he offered his hand to you. “I’m Jake”.

The hallway boy finally got a name, and not only that, you were now sure of his existence.

Sitting on a bench at the little shop you managed to find, the angry owner’s expression facing you two was as clear as crystal water and got you thinking if you were being too loud. Without caring much you just let it be, since being with Jake apparently meant you will be noisy eventually. It was not necessarily his fault, the both of you just shared too many common interests that made it difficult not to get overly excited during the conversation.

It all began with just a normal “no way you like this flavor!” – with a very strong Australian accent from his side – and since then the flow went smoothly. His company had been greatly enjoyable so far and you let yourself be more and more comfortable about sharing some self information.

For example at some point you discovered he was a physics student, and with that you instantly shared about your love for the moon – also the lack of acknowledgement about it. You explained that you were affectionate to the moon because of its beauty, shining brightly in the sky even when behind heavy clouds. Looking at it always made you feel somehow free, especially when some breeze hits your body simultaneously.

Jake carefully listened to you with fond eyes and after you finished, he started to explain a bit of theory to you, sounding too smart. He looked very attractive saying words you didn’t even know the meaning behind and you noticed you were paying way too much attention to the way his charming lips were moving as he did so.

And just like that you traveled around many subjects. You being more emotional and Jake more rational, respectfully giving each other the chance to speak, constantly but easily finding ways to match one’s energy. You finally felt heard that night. And one of the topics being, of course, the whole date situation.

“Ok, so what you’re telling me is that this Jay guy told you about his whole financial status, which I admit makes me kinda envious, and you still managed to end up here with me at some very random convenience store eating cheap lamen?”, he shook off the empty package of said lamen, staring at you with an amusement look.

“Yep,” you nodded, slurping the last bite of your food. “And also I called him stupid.”

“At his face,” he completed the very important piece of information, finishing his food as well. Jake licking his lips to clean it up didn’t go unnoticed by you. “I swear if I was Jay I would be crying right now,” he stated as a fact and you groaned.

“Don’t make me feel bad for him, please,” you uttered with a whine and he laughed at you, his eyes turning into little crescents as he did so. “I swear he was nice and prolly had good intentions, but y’know…” you left unfinished, but Jake concluded for you. “He bragged about diamonds hoping you would fall for him or something.”

You furrowed your eyebrows and shook your head before drinking the last sip of your soda, “yeah, definitely not my type.”

Jake decided to restrain the urge of asking what your type would be, a little afraid he was off league. “Well, at least you got on a date with me,” he sneered. You chuckled.

“I knew I would hit my pretty face directly on your so toned chest when I walked out that date,” you said sarcastically and then added “that’s why I decided to go in the first place.”

You were feeling way better now, belly full of good food that really pleased your taste buds and not drunk anymore, although you still let the boldness command your words through the talking once and while. You found out that behind Jake’s flirtatious and teasing way of speaking to you, there was also a very sheepish boy that would get flustered from time to time, like right now. He laughed off and drank the rest of his soda in order to run away from your very sharp but playful eyes.

Jake was so entertained by you. The way you expressed yourself so cheerfully and vibrantly. Whenever some topic of your liking was on the track your eyes would instantly get an almost childish sparkle as your hands motioned in a very exciting way and your detailed explanations would be voiced out.

Also he discovered you were a lot more confident than he thought you could be. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t liking this side of yours, audaciously flirting with him whenever you got the chance to do so, without holding back your bold responses. The feeling of the top of his ears burning knowing they were very much red was starting to become common for him. He did not had to know that you not only noticed his reactions, but was loving every minute.

Despite that, he tried to keep his cool.

“What are you up to after here, sugar?”, Jake asked forcing a nonchalantly tone while playing with the rings adorning his fingers, and yet again you were forced to remember the fucking cute pet names that got you flushed everytime he dared to say them. You looked away for a bit before answering.

“I don’t know, maybe go home… Watch some videos until I fall asleep”, you shrugged. Early on that day you weren’t expecting to find yourself in a situation like that, actually the whole program was to get “dicked down” – as Chaewon worded. However, you weren't disappointed either with how the evening turned out to be.

“Come on, Y/N,” your name went out too smoothly on Jake’s plumpy lips, his honeyed voice never failing to make you flutter slightly. Still you tried to keep your composure. “It’s friday and you’re wearing such a beautiful dress to what? To go home, watch videos and sleep?” He mocked the last part and you chuckled before lazily smiling in his direction, fully facing him. You recognized the tiredness starting to consume your body slowly which did not go unnoticed by Jake. Your tinted cheeks from the compliment also did not go unnoticed by him.

“And what would you recommend me to do, Jakey?”

“Jakey?” He raised an eyebrow, liking the way you pronounced the nickname a bit too much, thinking it was definitely something he could grow used to.

You just kept smiling, looking up at him through your eyelashes. You perceived how close on the seat you both were as if a magnet pulled you two together through that night, your bare shoulder slightly brushing against his clothed one from time to time.

“To be honest I just wanted an excuse to point out how gorgeous you are in this dress,” he licked his bottom lip as a habit while you didn’t even have the chance to properly receive the compliment, Jake being too smooth with it. “I don’t have any good recommendations, but if you’re down we c–”

The sound of your phone ringing interrupted Jake’s possible plans, making both of you startle. You saw Yunjin’s name on the screen and wondered whether to answer or not.

“Aren’t you gonna pick up?” Jake asked with curiosity.

“Actually, yes I will,” you remembered you left your friends hanging on your texts and have been unintentionally ignoring them, so it was only fair to give a quick update just to make them sure you are still alive.

“Hi baby”, you picked up the call with a smile, hearing a very drunk Yunjin on the other side. “No, I’m not home yet”, Jake watched as you talked on your phone with a neutral expression. He himself feeling a bit worried with the usage of nicknames and with your cute tone towards the person.

He knew you just went out on a date, assuming that you were at least looking to have some fun, however that fact should not be enough to stop you from being unavailable. Jake thought that a pretty girl like you probably already had a love interest in line.

“Don’t worry, Jinnie. You don’t have to come pick me up”, you glanced over at Jake who was now paying too much attention to the table in front of him, lost in his own mind and also trying to give you some privacy. You grinned, “I’m not alone.” Jake accidentally heard a very loud “WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU’RE NOT ALONE?” through your phone and had to hold back a laugh. “I’m with… Someone,” you kept your eyes on him as you spoke to Yunjin, grabbing his attention when you indirectly mentioned his presence. “I’ll talk to you later, yeah?” and then you ended the call with a “Love you, bye.”

“I didn’t mean to hear it, but I’m intrigued…” you knew where Jake was going with that, so you just kept your smile. “‘Someone’, huh?” He said with a smirk, clearly messing with you.

You turned your head to someplace else because no matter how bold you can be sometimes, the following line that you let out made you hesitate a bit beforehand.

“Well, in my defense I don’t plan to introduce you to my friends through my phone, let alone as a mere guy I just met,” although you tried to keep your cheekily tone, it was obvious how shy you were feeling, gazing briefly at Jake’s direction as you said.

Jake hadn’t noticed until now that he was holding his breath a little, relievedly letting it out as he watched your pretty face and expressions. Regardless, the whole phrase made his head spin, replacing previous thoughts with new, more intense ones, all at once. What do you mean by that?

“Then how are you planning to introduce me?” he boldly questioned leaning towards you a little in order to find a way to look you in the eye again, finding adorable your demeanor right now breaking every little eye contact way too quickly.

You giggled.

Jake thought he had just found his favorite sound in the world.

“We’ll see, Jakey.”

Jake rode you home.

He noticed how lazy your hooded eyes started to look and decided to end the “date” instead of taking you to somewhere else, which you particularly found endearing. The bar was low, you admitted to yourself, but a cute guy being considerate for your entertainment other than just leading you anywhere else for his own amusement made your heart flutter.

However, the moment he offered to take you home you immediately refused, emphasizing that he didn't need to worry and that you would not let him waste gas for nothing. The reply he gave was a not so subtle “I don’t care”, alongside with “I’ll not let you freeze outside waiting for a cab and I don’t trust you enough to let you borrow my jacket for tonight,” making you laugh at his little mischievous tone, especially because as soon as you both were in his car he put his black jacket on your shoulders.

“I thought you don’t trust me enough to have it?” You referred to the jacket, feeling too inebriated by its smell.

“There's a big difference between leaving it to you alone without knowing if you'll ever hand me back and letting you have it under my watch, sweetheart.” His smug face looked too charming as he spoke and the damn sweetheart again got to you with ease. You chuckled while watching the street lights passing by.

The ride was calmer than you expected. The radio played on some random station working as a beautiful background to the soft words exchanged between you two. You noticed Jake’s attractive side profile as he focused on the road rambling some physics thing in a very excited way. Your body felt too tired to keep any thoughts on track, leading you to just listen to his sweet voice embracing you mildly until you both arrived in front of your apartment building.

Of course he didn’t let you open the door and also helped you to get out. The touch of his warm hand under yours sended a shiver down your spine.

“Thank you for the ride, Jake,” you said with a gentle smile.

“My pleasure, sugar,” your cheeks reddened hard as you started to take off his jacket. “You don’t have to,” he shook his hand in front of him, refusing to get the clothing piece back. You looked at him with a stunned-confused expression, lips parted a bit. Before you could even protest he interrupted you. “I need an excuse to see you again, right?” And send you a wink.

As if he said just a normal thing, he confidently got back to his car, letting behind a very flustered you.

Little did you know how shaky his hands rested on the wheel as he drove off, looking forward to meeting you again.

Of course you had to spend your whole weekend waiting for Monday to come – a peculiar behavior you admitted to yourself. But neither you nor Jake got each other's phone number so all you could do was to wait and hope for the best. You didn’t even know if you would meet him again at the campus because you searched for him nonstop the last few days and never got the chance to do so, making you regret even more about not getting any information about where to find him.

His jacket rested on your desk chair as you deeply stared at the little stars adorning your bedroom ceiling. Stars that remembered how shiny Jake’s eyes looked when he started to talk about Theory of relativity or anything like that. You also remember paying just enough attention to understand and to keep the talking flow, focusing more on the way his lips moved as doing so.

You groaned, rolling on your bed sheets. How long a weekend can be? You were acting like a teenager for having a crush on a stranger! You knew little to no things about Jake. You knew his age – one year older than you, you knew his majoring and you also found out the reason behind him being at your campus block – he had to deliver some paperwork to a friend of his. But other than some common interests and his music taste, that was it.

Was him a good person? He showed you a good personality for sure, to the point your heart sank with the idea of losing all that excitement to see him again just because he’s good looking and has a great talk. Still you kept questioning yourself. What if he was the player type? Just hitting for one night stand and that’s it?

Monday morning arrived but you did not had enough time to develop any more thoughts when you got to the university. As soon as you reached it, Chaewon and Yunjin flooded you with a very long investigation about what the hell happened that friday.

Talking in person was always an option for the three of you, the feeling of looking eye to eye and reading each other's expressions was more interesting than having to guess it over a phone or video call. Normally you three would pick a place to go and have a little "friends date" and talk about the stuff that happened for hours. However this time you choose to use the excuse you were busy studying, having too many assignments left behind which neither of them bought it from you.

“So Jay sucks?” Chaewon asked. “I don’t like putting it like that,” you murmured. “But yeah, we just didn’t hit it off, y’know?” You just shrugged.

You three were walking towards the class you shared that morning, not caring much about being a little late.

“Baby, you’re too nice,” Yunjin hugged you sideways and smiled at you. “You can say a man is stupid.”

“Actually I did,” you smiled mischievously and they both looked at you with shocked expressions. “Not my proudest moment, but I said it to his face. Unintentionally, I swear!”

Chaewon and Yunjin broke down the shocked expressions to laugh out loud with the idea of you calling your failed date a stupid right to his face.

“And what’s with the jacket?” Yunjin questioned when you stopped to grab your things from your locker.

She knew every clothing piece you had as if it was hers because of your constant need for help in terms of putting together what you like, and even though the jacket looked good on you, definitely wasn't part of your wardrobe.

“It’s Jake’s, I’m planning to send it back to him today.”

They already knew about Jake, but not too much. You shared a little through texts not wanting to fill too much of their expectations. Knowing your two best friends, they would go crazy if you detailed your night out.

They both exchanged glances before Chaewon spoke “If he really exists.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, picking up all you needed from your locker before answering. “He does. And he’s… pretty nice.” You tried your best not to sound too whipped at that time, especially because you were still worrying if he would be loyal to his words or if the whole talk about meeting you again was just a big bluff.

But apparently one thing about Jake it’s that he can counter you with ease. As if you summoned his presence, the honeyed voice that you didn’t realize until now you missed hearing, said from behind you.

“Hey, pretty one.” your head snapped to the direction faster than you would like to admit, meeting the beautiful plump lips turned into a little smile. He looked you up and down, checking on you. “I don’t think I’ll need the jacket back. You look better on it anyway.” His eyes were locked at you, and only you. You had to remind yourself to breathe, because, God Jake was so hot.

That day he opted to wear just a normal white shirt with dark jeans and black shoes. At first he thought about really getting his jacket back, because you didn’t know that but that jacket was his favorite. But as soon as he put his eyes on you and noticed how cute you looked with his clothing piece seeming too big like an oversized one, he gave up.

“H-hi,” you damned yourself for stuttering, being fully aware that your friends looked as astonished as you at that moment, but for different reasons. You started to get the jacket off your body by saying “Of course I have to give it bac–”, he shushed you with his index finger before you could finish and your eyes widened, making you stop all your movements.

“Don’t worry, I meant it when I say you look good on it,” you gulped as you nodded speechless. “Here,” he handed you a little paper and your shaky hands took it, you saw numbers written. “It’s my number, you can text me whenever, yeah?” He licked his lips suddenly feeling nervous.

Apparently being around you was an easy break of his flirtatious self. However, he forced himself on this one and said “I gotta go now, I’m kinda late,” he ruffled your hair gently before leaning close to whispering on your left ear, lips lightly touching your skin “See you around, sugar.”

You immediately choked on your own saliva, your cheeks burning like hell, fully unable to say a word. “And bye to you both as well!” Jake referred to the girls as he started to run down the corridor to his own campus building.

“Bye!” both Yunjin and Chaewon said in unison. You had to blink twice before realizing what just happened. “Girl!!!” Yunjin screamed and you noticed Chaewon covering her mouth as well. “What the fuck?!?!”

“I–” you tried saying anything but you couldn’t, not only because of your own brain turning into mush, but because your friends were way too hyped and interrupted you.

“The way he looked at you?”

“THE PET NAMES!!!”

“‘Pretty one’!? He so down bad, what the actual fuck?”

“And he’s cute as hell!!!”

You were overwhelmed with all of that, walking just because the two girls were forcing you to move forward while keeping squealing about Jake's actions.

“I know that nose can do wonders,” Yunjin said cheekily as soon as you sat in your class seats and you immediately turned to look at her with a terrified expression.

“Huh Yunjin!!!”, you smacked her shoulder with wide eyes and she just laughed together with Chaewon.

As your ordinary Monday normally would go, you were now sitting under a tree reading the latest book your teacher assigned for an assignment. You always loved to take a break from the library and to literally touch some grass, using your free time to catch up with all the paperwork you needed.

A shadow approached you, blocking the sunlight and catching your attention. You didn’t expect to see Jake hovering over you. With a raised eyebrow, you asked. “Are you following me?”

“No, I just missed you.” He ironized, taking a seat near you and looking at your book. “You’re such a nerd,” he mimicked your position, so his head was also resting on the tree behind you two but he was facing you. Too close.

You nervously gulped before saying, “Yeah, cuz I’m the one who likes to show myself off to a girl talking about Theory of relativity and other physical terms”, you sounded too sarcastic and instantly felt bad. “I’m not complaining, by the way,” you whispered looking away, part of you hoping for him not to hear but due to the proximity he obviously heard. And smiled.

Jake was afraid you could hear his heartbeats at that moment. Your side profile enchanted him in ways he could not describe. Your shy little smile got him thinking if it would be too weird to take a picture to have it with him forever.

He looked away, enjoying the silence.

“It’s very calm over here,” he said in a deep low voice, resting his chin on his knee. You took advantage of him not facing you anymore and watched him as he watched other people wander around, almost forgetting to say something back.

“Yeah, I like it here because it’s always calm like this,” he looked back at you when you talked. You forced yourself to keep eye contact for as long as you could, trying your best to ignore your burning cheeks.

Jake looked away. You noticed he was flustered too.

“And what about you, Jakey?” The little nickname spilling out your mouth like sugar, he almost melted. “Isn’t your campus like a few blocks from here?”

He chuckled, “Yeah, but I’ve got like an hour to spare before my next class.” You hummed. “So I decided to come over and thought I could maybe bump into you again,” he slyly smiled at you. You laughed at the term he used.

“But I can go away if you want me to, sweetheart.”

You instantly shook off your head and almost grabbed his arm as if trying to stop him from getting up. “You can stay.”

“Okay.”

And he did.

There was a brief silence moment before you plucked up the courage to ask. “What’s with the pet names?”

“You don’t like them?”

The worried puppy eyes he gave you almost broke your heart. “It’s not that… It’s just, y'know…”, you shrugged, trying to find the right way to put it. “Do you use them with everyone?”

You needed to know. You noticed Jake shuffling on his seat a bit, as if he was uncomfortable. And well, he wasn't fully comfortable either. There was no good explanation to why he called you all of that, and no, he didn’t use pet names with no other people but you. He dated two other girls before and of course called them cute pet names while being with them, but now you were the only one on his mind since the first encounter and he could not help it.

Jake was a believer of “love at first sight”, however he understood the necessity of getting to know the other person if he wanted to build something with them and never really got carried away with the primary delusional feeling.

With you he was kinda different. He let his flirtatious side shine way more easily than he would normally do. When he noticed how cute the girl who bumped on his chest that day was, he just let it all out. Little did you know that his first instinct of flirting with you was due to his nervousness.

Now he would be down to a one night stand type of thing if you wanted to, but didn’t sound right to do so. You looked too precious to him. He wanted to be close to you and get to know every single piece of you before anything. He wanted to know your likings, interests and overall personality.

He could let himself fall in love with you.

Immersed in his own thoughts, he didn’t even realize he had become quiet and left you hanging kinda in a compromised position.

“You know what? Forget it,” you shook it off, feeling embarrassed. It wasn't like he owes you any explanation about his life or what he does with it. If he decided to play with your feelings, then you should know your position of not falling for it. “Tell me something very nerdy about your area,” you asked brightly. “I’ve got a few minutes still.”

You noticed how bold you became around Jake. Apparently that's how it worked between you two.

He would be the one starting the whole thing, making you get too flustered for your own good with the cute names and shameless flirting, until he breaks out the character for a few seconds, enough for you to be the audacious one and make him blush.

At some point you started to get used to Jake’s presence in your everyday life. Both of you would constantly reach for the other during free time just to hang out, and sometimes to grab some food together. Yet you never let him get too close, fearing that you would let yourself get too attached to the feeling. You made it a rule not to fall for him and you’ve been holding on so far, even with Jake making it way too difficult.

Jake was sweet, caring and not afraid to express his feelings when he needed to. Not only that but he also would remember little details about you, like your favorite coffee order or the fact that you can only listen to the first half of a song because you think the rest sucks – Jake always skips it when playing on his car radio.

He got along with your friends easily as he’s a well spoken person as well, and even introduced you to his own friends. You met Heeseung and Sunghoon, the last one being a classmate of Jake while Heeseung studied music, both older than you. You found out that Heeseung was the said friend who made Jake wander around your campus causing the whole bumping-into-each-other situation and it became an inside joke among all of you.

Jake made it normal to ask you out from time to time within the excuse that both of you were overwhelmed with the university duties and deserved to see the outside world.

So after today’s classes you walked down the parking lot after receiving a text from him saying he would take you to a place – he refused to tell you where you were going.

He was already waiting for you, being too attractive as he leaned against his car while looking at something on his phone. Your heart started to pump fast in your chest, making you take a few deep breaths beforehand.

“Hey,” you greeted when you got closer and he glanced over at you, immediately opening a big smile and embracing you in a hug.

“Hi, gorgeous,” you took your sweet time to feel the warmth of his body and perfume. “Ready to go?”

You moved back from the hug and watched as he opened the door car for you.

“Mhm, but you got me extra curious, so I’m having high expectations,” you tried to exaggerate in your words in order to get a little hint, but of course Jake was already getting immune to your tricks at this point so he just laughed.

“I’m sure you’ll like it, sweetheart.”

You settled yourself in his car, feeling way too comfortable with the amount of time you already spended there with him as you threw your bag on the backseats and chose the song for the trip.

Jake dared you to show him your favorite songs every time you two drove together, but you wanted to get to know his music taste as well so you two decided to alternate who chose the songs for that day. And it was your turn.

“Paramore for today, huh?” He pointed out with a small smile.

“Yeah, you don’t like it?”

“I love it.”

One of the reasons your heart beat fast when around Jake was the freedom to be yourself and just do whatever you wanted to do, without even noticing you caused the same to him with your charming behavior. Every time he stopped at a red light he would look at you bobbing your head and lip syncing to the lyrics excitedly while doing a little dance.

He tried his best to not show how dearing he was looking at you, but you caught the cute brown eyes facing your side from time to time and the only reaction from both of you was to look away and blush.

As the conversation flowed, he shared a bit of his day to you, telling about how stressed he has been because of his study partner being a pain in his ass, and the only hint of where you were going he let out was “And because of that, I need to de-stress and that’s why we goin’ where we goin’”.

You pouted and forced the best puppy eye you could while looking at his direction. He almost broke out. “You’re mean. You don’t make a girl curious like that.”

“Don’t worry, we are almost there.”

You gave up trying to figure out where you were going and hoped for the best. You knew that with Jake nothing could be bad, because his presence alone was enough.

Jake felt similar to you, not admitting out loud that just the fact that you were with him already reduced a lot of his stress. You may not know that but everyday he was eagerly waiting for the moment you both would meet during the day, and when you couldn't find time to do so, he was thrilled to receive a simple text from you.

Your presence was enough to make him happy.

It didn't take longer than a few songs for you to arrive at the place you instantly recognized as a beach.

“A beach?” You sounded excited, but also a bit confused. You don’t think you have clothes to enter the water and the sun was already starting to set, so you didn’t get much of his idea at first.

Jake parked the car and as usual, he opened the door for you. “Yep. I know it’s kinda late for a swim or anything like that, but it wasn’t planning to do anyways,” he helped you to get out.

Normally he would let your hand go as soon as you felt stable on your feet after leaving the car, but that day he decided to hold your hand as he gently pulled you in the direction he wanted to take you.

You said nothing. How could you? The slender fingers holding yours had broken you down. The air felt thick in your airways as you walked alongside him, heart beating louder and louder while you watched the beautiful view of the sun finding its way down the horizon. The cold breeze hit your face and brought so much peace to your inner self. You could live forever like that.

Jake suddenly stopped walking and since you were a bit behind him, you bumped slightly at his back, hands still together. You looked over his shoulder and gasped. The place you two were now had a better view of the sunsetting and the waves calmly hitting the rocks sounded way too heavenly.

You blinked slowly, reluctantly letting Jake hand go as you walked a bit forward. Behind you, he watched as your hair flew due the breeze.

"It's so pretty..." you uttered under your breath, mesmerized by the look of the orange and pinkish colored sky. You felt like crying.

He took a few steps and glanced at your serene expression.

While you enjoyed the view, Jake enjoyed you.

"Yeah, very pretty."

You had no clue of how fast Jake’s heart was beating right now. He was hypnotized by you, a sudden urge to kiss you building up his mind right away.

“I now understand why you come here to de-stress”, you said after a while, the sound of your sweet voice bringing him back to reality. He had literally lost himself on you at that very moment.

You lazily smiled, feeling extra calm and glanced at Jake, who was already looking at you with soft eyes.

“Thank you, Jakey,” you hugged him sincerely. “For bringing me here and for being here with me. I needed that.”

Jake sighed, hugging you tightly. At this point there was no way he could hide the thump-thump in his chest, and honestly? He stopped caring if you noticed or not.

He stopped caring if you noticed he was – not so slowly – falling for you.

It was a stressful week for you, not only were you on your period but also dealing with a bunch of deadlines. You considered throwing yourself in front of a bus when you realized how left behind you were in your assignments. Your finals getting closer and closer didn’t help either.

For good and long days you almost locked yourself at the library in order to catch up with everything, because even with the help of some friends that shared the classes with you you were barely holding on.

Jake would appear out of nowhere and give you a cup of warm coffee, some muffins and a little kiss on your forehead before heading out and letting you do your thing.

“I just wanna make sure you’re eating well, princess,” he would say every time. And no matter how lovingly his actions would be, you couldn't allow yourself to feel them because of your anxiety of failure.

And yes, ever since you asked about the nicknames and stuff he started to use them more often than your heart could handle, especially after he discovered that you liked them, even if you didn't admit it out loud.

Friday arrived. You wished you could get excited about going out to the little party Jake said Heeseung would be throwing that evening, but you needed a good night of sleep and your whole body was aching due to your period. You just wanted to sink on your bed sheets after taking a hot shower.

One thing that became normal in your life was getting a ride with Jake some days of the week, unfortunately he didn’t have any classes on fridays so you just had to walk your way home. You took your sweet time to feel the cold autumn breeze hit you on the face hoping it would take away all your stress. The buzzling sound of your phone caught your attention as you saw Jake’s text on its display.

Jakey 🐶: Hey there princess It’s been three days since I last saw you and I’m ngl, I kinda miss your pretty face lol I hope you’re doing well I left you a little smth at your apartment. At the door, ofc Don’t freak out, I didn’t stole your keys or broke into your house or smth Please, don’t stress yourself too much <3 And dw, I’m not mad you’re not going to the party Have a good rest, pretty girl. AND PLEASE don’t forget to eat!!!!

You almost cried reading all of that and blamed your hormones for being a mess of feelings.

You: Hi Jakey!! Kinda miss you too you left something to me? i’m kinda scared I’m dealing with cramps rn so I’m not so fine, but I’ll eventually, dw! And yeah, I’ll make sure to eat and rest well enjoy your night, pretty boy <3

You noticed you felt much braver through texts than in person, but this was the first time you were the one using a nickname so you were shaking a bit.

Jakey 🐶: AJDKSSJDJS SORRy I Yeah, uhm No need to be scared, princess, I’m sure you’ll like it Cramps? Take on some medicine, please!! Do u want me to come over? Are u home yet?

He sounded so desperate and nervous that genuinely made you laugh out loud. But with a simple text back saying “no, you go enjoy your night out and I’ll enjoy my bed” you finished the conversation as you finally arrived home.

Near your apartment’s doormat, there was a pretty bouquet of daisies alongside a little box of chocolates. You noticed a little hand note inside the bouquet.

“I remember you saying you like these flowers and everyday I pass by a flower shop and always think about buying it for you, so today I finally did. There’s chocolate too. Hope you like it.

Have a good rest, princess.

Jake”

You took a deep breath in order to hold back the tears trying to escape. Not falling for Jake was a difficult rule to follow, and you didn’t know if you wanted to keep doing it anymore.

“So what you're telling me is that Jake left his house on a fucking Sunday morning and brought you ice cream because you... were feeling too lazy to go buy it yourself?”

“When you put it like that…”

Chaewon, Yunjin and you were sitting at one of the furthest tables in the cafeteria that you usually went to when the three of you wanted to gossip or just meet to catch things up. It was a late afternoon on a Tuesday and you barely had time to see them in the last few days, mainly because you had missed a few classes to finish reading other teachers' required books.

“The real question is: why aren’t both of you dating already?”

Yunjin was flabbergasted by what you were describing about Jake. There’s no way that guy wasn’t in love with you at this point. She didn't understand what was taking you so long to ask him out already, especially because she noticed that Jake was kinda holding himself back.

“Yeah! He follows you like a little puppy and looks at you like you are a goddess or something!” Chaewon added. “I mean, you are a goddess, but to get someone to look at you like that?!”

“Girl, you gotta bag him ASAP!” Yunjin playfully pushed your shoulder, but you weren't feeling that happy about all of it.

You sighed. “But what if I’m just a fun little game to him?”

“What?!” It was funny the way both of them said in unison, but instead of laughing you just continued with a sad voice tone.

“Y’know, he’s been flirting with me since the very beginning. I don’t know. Part of me believes his words and actions, they seem genuine. But the other part is way too afraid of trusting too much,” a single tear ran down your cheek as you frowned. “I don’t want to be hurt again.” You whispered as you looked down.

“Baby,” Yunjin, who was sitting next to you, hugged you sideways and planted a sweet little kiss on top of your head. “We know you’ve been through a lot of shit because of your stupid ex, but I don’t think Jake’s like that.”

Chaewon, who was in front of you, took your hand in hers as she spoke. “Yeah, and you know, If he tries something or if he dares to break your heart, you’ll always have me to make his life a living hell.”

You smiled through the tears running down all over your face. With a reassuring look, Yunjin asked.

“Give it a try, yeah?”

Jake knew what he was getting himself into. He would be fine if you put him in the friendship side, but the thought of having you to himself pleased him way too much. The idea of other guys touching you the ways he wanted to, knowing that none of them would treat you right, consumed his mind as much as the vision of your pretty smile.

The urge of getting physically closer to you was itching him incessantly.

Ever since he discovered that he was in fact falling in love with you, he became unable to get you out of his head. It was like a kind of mantra that chanted your name every time he saw something that reminded him of you, and almost everything reminded him of you.

He didn't had the courage to ask you out on a proper date so far, because even though the both of you had developed an incredibly nice friendship, he was too afraid that he was seeing beyond reality because of his delusional self, and more than that he was scared as hell of losing you.

You probably only thought of him as a friend who you could playfully flirt with, he would say to himself. At the same time, the way he sometimes caught you looking at him seemed much more loving than it should.

There seemed to be more love than friendship in that relationship of yours.

He was also having to deal with the hard job of avoiding kissing you. Recently he found himself getting lost on your lips too often. A dangerous play. Still he kept you as close as he could, hugging you or having at least one of his arms around your shoulder or waist in order to fulfill a bit of his neediness.

Thinking about you and only you, he sighed, finishing his business at his locker, finally reaching the book he was looking for and placing it in his backpack.

"Ok, quick question", Jake almost screamed at your sudden appearance when he closed the metal door, widening his eyes and dramatically putting a hand on his chest. You laughed.

"Firstly, what are you doing here?” He said after catching his breath. “Secondly, why do you like to scare me so much?", he kinda whined and you laughed.

"I just wanted to know if your name is really Jake or if it's a nickname", you smiled innocently. Jake on the other side of the hand didn't buy your "pure" expression, glancing at you with a raised eyebrow.

"Why would you run all the way through here just to ask about my full name, which I’m pretty sure you already know?" He wasn't buying any of that.

"Because I wanna manifest you in my life," you answered like it was obvious and you both began to walk side by side. You were going to be very late to your class but your professor has to understand that sometimes you have more important things to do other than attend classes.

"I thought I was already in your life...?" Jake was trully confused.

"Yeah, but I kinda wanna you in my life more than just what you are right now.”

"What are you talking about, Y/N?" Saying your name was an indicator that either he was serious or very confused, either way you didn't care much so you just carried on with your talking.

“Go on a date with me.” He stopped walking and so did you. Jake looked at you, blinking without saying a word. "On a date, you know,” you motioned with your hands, losing a bit of the courage you had to build up to do all of that. “We go to someplace, grab some food, wait for the night to fall down and boom, stargazing while we talk about our amazing theories of life or whatever.”

Jake gulped, scratching the back of his neck nervously. Normally he would be the one programming the whole thing and just saying you are both heading to somewhere, but to have you asking like that… If he understood it right, you were asking him to go on a real date.

"Sounds like something we already do." He let out a breathy and nervous laugh, still trying to thoroughly understand what you were saying, looking if there was some kind of joke hidden behind your eyes.

You looked extra attractive today, as if you dressed yourself up just for this moment. Just for him. He noticed you were wearing his jacket as well.

"It pretty much is, but at the end of this one I want to be able to kiss you,” you said in one go. “On the lips, if it's not clear."

Jake now was more speechless and completely baffled than ever. He was sure he was dreaming. It became normal routine for him to dream of you lately so of course this was all a trick of his own mind trying to compensate for his neediness of you.

He was so fucking dreaming.

With the lack of response, you thought you fucked up.

“I-I’m sorry, I–”, you started as you felt your confidence running away from you immediately. “Just forget about what I just said, I should not have said anything to begin with. I’m so sorry, ok?” You noticed your hands trembling. Due to your nervousness, everything you had on the back of your mind just went out. “I don't know what I was thinking when I decided to come here and try to take our relationship to a next level or something. But it's been so hard to be around you without wanting you even closer,” you whined. “And I finally got the courage to ask you out on a proper date, but you clearly don't see us like that so forget about it. I’m sor–”

No one. Not a single soul could prepare you to be silenced by Jake’s lips on yours. His hand automatically grabbed your waist as yours went to rest on his chest.

Kissing in the middle of the university hallway wasn’t the ideal way of tasting each other's for the first time so Jake decided to not take too long on holding the contact, breaking it to say “I’m sorry, I needed you to shut up.” His lips brushed on yours as he spoke. You blinked twice and breathed heavily, feeling the touch of his warm hand on your skin as he cupped one of your cheeks. You looked for his brown honeyed orbs, catching them exchanging glances between your lips and your eyes.

“We can go out on a date,” he brushed his thumb softly on your bottom lip. “The one where we go to some place, grab some food, do whatever you want and I can properly kiss you.”

Jake was fighting demons not to kiss you again. He was absolutely certain he would go crazy, just a little taste of you and he already felt like he was starving, his body totally dependent and reactive because of you.

“Okay,” your voice was barely a whisper and you had to use all your strength to stop yourself from leaning in to feel his touch again. Instead, you reluctantly pulled away, immediately missing all of his touches; you felt your skin tingle in every place he had touched you. Still his hand rested on your waist, unable to let you go. “I gotta go,” you noticed how his eyes wandered all over your face, like he was taking a picture with it in order to save it from the rest of the day.

You smiled, hesitantly sliding your hands away from his chest.

“Alright, sweetheart,” before you could let him go, he grabbed one of your hands and planted a gentle kiss at the back of it. “I’ll text you later then?”

“I’m looking forward to it.”

You had to hold a scream when you heard your doorbell ringing. Chaewon and Yunjin who were in a shared video call squealed for you.

They looked more excited than yourself and you really appreciated the effort they took to help you out even with their busy schedule for the day, deciding to call you not only because they knew you would be nervous as fuck but also because Yunjin was willing to help you with your outfit choice.

You ended up wearing something cute, but cozy and warm: a matching pair of a top and long loose skirt, patterned with a black background and some stars and moons, a black boot and as a final touch: Jake’s big jacket. You also did a little hairstyle with two small braids at the front and the rest of your hair loose.

Yunjin noticed how confident you were in choosing the clothing and even doing your hair, showing that you didn’t need much of her help – which normally she would dramatically react to, but today she just felt proud and happy for you.

Jake made you comfortable enough to be yourself whenever you were with him.

And you were going on a date with him.

A fucking proper date.

You said a quick ‘goodbye’ to your girls who replied with a very high pitched ‘good luck!’ and then hung up, walking towards the door and needing to take a few deep breaths before opening it.

As you did, you greeted a very smiley – and hot – Jake.

He was glowing.

Not only was his face glowing but he seemed overall confident. He was wearing a reddish flannel jacket that covered an oversized black shirt together with his everyday silver necklace, jeans and black boots. A perfect combo, especially to you who loved to see a man in red – you once told him about this preference of yours and was questioning if he did it on purpose.

The silky brown strands fell perfectly in place again when Jake ran his hand through it and licked his lips after shamelessly checking you out.

“Hi b– Oh my god, you look stunning.”

Early the day through your texts you decided to go simple but special on the planning due lack of time. The whole idea was kinda in a hurry, but after getting to taste a little of how it is to kiss Jake, you needed the action of kissing him to become an everyday routine as soon as possible, so the initial plan – the date will be happening on a chill day for both of you, mostly likely Friday – was replaced by a very eagerly “Ok, I’m taking you to a place” said by you.

“And you look hot,” the wording flew out your mouth faster than you expected and instantly your eyes went wide.

Jake smirked as he leaned into the door frame. “Appreciate it, baby.”

Baby.

You were so fucked up. There’s no way your heart could handle this the whole night.

Jake noticed the way you just blinked at him without saying a word and he just knew you were absorbing the whole situation before becoming confident over him. It was the way you worked and he loved that.

So he decided to take his sweet time and take a bit of advantage over your flustered self as he walked closer to you. “I brought what you asked,” he sounded a bit too sexy saying such simple words and little did you know that he deepened his voice a bit just for fun.

Due to the closeness, Jake scented your perfume and swore he was getting drunk, too intoxicated by your sweet smell.

You looked at the bag he lifted and nodded, fully in a trance. You forced yourself to snap out of it as you reminded yourself you have a fucking date and finally spoke “Oh, right. I’ll go pick up what I’ve prepared for us!” You walked towards the kitchen. “Do you want anything? Water maybe?”

“Just you.”

You choked on your own saliva as your cheeks started to burn. You foolishly thought that at least Jake wasn’t aware of your reaction, but as soon as you got back from the kitchen after picking up the picnic basket with the sandwiches you made, you realized he was very much aware and messing with you with the flirting as usual. You could see in his eyes a strange mix of false innocence and mischievousness. And of course, in that little game of yours you would always win.

“Well, you already have me,” you winked at him as you pulled yourself together and now was time for Jake to lose his composure, blushing. “Let's go?”

“Y-yeah.”

You gave him an address and he drove you both to the place, fully trusting you. You wanted to surprise Jake since he was usually the one who surprised you, but you hadn't gotten your driver's license yet so you needed him to do the driving in order to achieve your goal. That's why you decided to give him an address a little further away from your final destination, so both of you could walk there without him suspecting anything.

Jake was feeling like a happy puppy, very excited about what was going to happen tonight.

He was curious about your plans, especially after you asked for a picnic blanket and some beverages – “a night picnic?” he asked as you two texted. He remembers you just replying with “lol don’t fool yourself”.

He didn’t know what to expect about the place really, and not only that, he couldn’t stand the urge to kiss you properly. God, he was so in need of you it hurted. Having you next to him, your scent all over him, your sweet and lively presence, and not being able to touch you was driving him insane.

“I don’t wanna you to get high on expectations, Jakey,” you said softly after a while with a concerned voice. Jake had stopped at a red light and the silence wasn’t awkward, but it was undeniable that you were worried about the outcome of that night.

What if Jake doesn’t like what you’ve prepared? What if he thinks you’re too dumb and leaves you? What if he doesn’t really wanna be with you?

“I’ll like whatever you’ve planned, sweetheart,” just like Jake was reading how anxious was your mind, he uttered. “You are my company for tonight. That’s all I need,” he reassured you, holding your hand and resting it on your thigh.

You glanced over at him to see his lips turned into such a gorgeous smile you almost cried. Jake was perfect.

“Okay,” you brought his hand to your lips and planted a small kiss. You tried to let it go after, but he refused.

Jake drove the rest of the way holding you, only letting it go when needed, but catching it again as soon as he could.

The warmth and softness of his touch took all the worry out of your head in a minute, and just like you arrived. Jake parked where you told him to do so and opened the car door and helped you to get out as usual. This time though he intertwined your fingers as he let you guide him through the way.

“Don’t we need to bring the things?”

“Nah, we have something to do before,” you tried to sound enigmatic, forcing an expression which made Jake laugh, totally endeared by you.

“Ooh, so mysterious.”

You both walked for a bit rambling about the surroundings. It was kinda in the middle of nowhere, with nothing much around and plenty of open space. Jake noticed there was a big building and before he could say a thing, you began to explain.

“So I know we both like astronomical stuff, right?” He nodded, looking at you. So pretty. “May I say you especially in a very nerdy way,” you softly pushed his shoulder with yours and he playfully rolled his shining eyes while failing to hold back a smile, full of adoration for you. “I thought about this when I realized I wanted to be more than just friends with you,” you stopped walking to completely face him, holding both of his hands. “Behind you at this exact moment there’s a stellar observatory,” you stopped him from turning around wanting to finish your speech first. “Apparently fate had worked through this, since today they don’t normally open to everyone. Only for reservations or something like that.”

You finally let Jake turn around and take a proper look at the place. You watched as his eyes began to shine even brighter, it looked like he was about to cry. You also noticed how his hand tightened around yours, as if he was nonverbally thanking you.

Jake was genuinely flabbergasted. How the fuck did he managed to find someone that amazing?

“I’m not gonna ask how you managed to get a reservation here,” he joked.

You raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean by that?” He just laughed it off. “Well, I kinda didn’t,” you suddenly felt small, even tried to restrain your hand from his but he refused to let you go.

You ran away from his intense gazing, not wanting to see the disappointment on it as you kept talking “We’re not going into the observatory. We’re gonna use the telescopes they have open for use down here,” you explained. “Since today it’s a reservation only or whatever day, we get to use it freely. It’s definitely not the same thing, but I’m sure it can be cool.” you forced a smile still afraid to look at Jake’s direction. “I tried to book it for us I swear I did, but it was too expensive,” you uttered apologetically and again you were rambling due to your nervousness.

Jake not saying a thing helped nothing either. Little did you know he was as speechless as amazed with your witty self for figuring out a way of making that night special in such a short amount of time. He knew how hard it is to come up with ideas like that and to make it work. And you did it. Flawlessly.

He was so falling in love with you.

“...I’m so sorry if I raised your expectations too high. I wanted to do something nice since you’re always doing nice things to me, you deserve bett–”

Jake once more interrupted your nonsense speech by pressing his lips on yours and you instantly melted in his arms, your hands moving up to find comfort on his shoulders as his own went down your back until they rested on your waist, squeezing lightly.

You moved your head to the side wishing to deepen the kiss, the whole fantasy of waiting for the special moment to finally kiss him was already blown apart as both of your bodies searched for the other’s.

Your heart was beating fast and all your senses were heightened and sensitive, as if Jake had awakened a new sensation in you. A genuine sense of desperation for closeness. You needed more. Like reading your mind, Jake’s tongue touched your bottom lip at the same time your fingers scratched the back of his head, getting lost through his soft strands as you pulled him closer.

Jake touched you with care, he was kissing you so tenderly yet you could still feel his hunger for you. You weren’t different either. One of his hands came up to hold your face to help with the movement of your heads. You quickly found a pace, like two puzzle pieces being a perfect fit.

Neither of you wanted to part away, feeling too addicted to the contact. So whenever one broke down to breathe the other would reach over and start again, until your lips were a little bit sore. You pulled away unwilling, leaving little pecks on his plump lips as he did the same on yours.

Jake was unable to hold back his smile and didn’t even tried to, too happy about finally kissing you. “We have a little problem, baby,” he whispered as his dazzling eyes wandered all over your features. You looked even more stunning under the moonlight. “What?” You quietly asked back. “I don’t think I can or want to stop kissing you.”

You giggled, feeling shy under his intense but gentle gaze. He was adoring you and you could feel every piece of it.

“You don’t have to stop.”

And just like that you kissed again. And again. And again.

You felt like a drug to Jake, so addictive, so intense, so you. He had the impression that all his problems would be solved instantly if you just kissed him. He decided that from now on at the end of a stressful day, he would search for your touch and your touch only.

“But I kinda want you to stop for a bit, so we can go see the stars,” Jake chuckled when you broke the kiss to say.

“You love stars, don’t you, pretty girl?” He gave you a final cute little smooch while hugging you tightly.

“Yeah.”

And even though you had observed dozens of stars that night, none of them shone brighter than your eyes together.

You were dating.

Actually there was no big difference from what you and Jake acted before, other than the fact that everyday that he went to pick you up to the university, you got to kiss him, which made you two develop the routine of waking a bit early just to get enough moments together.

Also you started to feel comfortable to call him cute names, your favorite being pretty boy, very effectively when you wanted to fluster Jake and see him giggling.

The dynamic was similar, but way better.

When you told your friends about the night, they literally screamed. Of course you kept as a secret how romantic it was to lay down under the moon and starlight with Jake as you cuddled and shared kisses. But everything about Jake sounded dreamy.

He was so cute and you were not so slowly falling in love. He would leave you at your classes everyday and kiss you good luck. Due to his recent research project his time was getting tighter, nevertheless he would squeeze his whole schedule just to see you for a minute or two. And of course, to steal a kiss from you.

Most of your lunch time was with him, either when you had time to grab some food and eat in peace or when some of you two were in a hurry. On days like that, you normally would find him in the library, leaving him some snacks, water and a sweet kiss. He would do something similar to you.

Gradually your relationship was growing stronger, however you still hadn’t done anything on the bed yet other than kiss and sleep together. You weren’t complaining! You loved to kiss Jake and to feel his warm body embracing yours.

He was very respectful towards you and you really appreciated that. He would initiate the kisses sessions most of the time, but rarely deepen it waiting for you to do it. His hands would never go further down your hips, even when you tried to force him to do it by putting it on your ass he relocated them back up.

But you were a woman after all. A woman with desires and needs. Strong desires and needs.

Even though you had a long-term relationship, it was only after the breakup that you discovered that your ex didn't give you any pleasure – or gave you anything at all. Your previous relationship was a mess, to be honest. Talking to people and listening to their experiences made you realize how shitty you were being treated back then – in every aspect!

You knew how to please yourself and most of the time was enough. However, it’s been a while since you last had sex and you could live without it normally, but there was Jake, all over you.

His smell, his pretty face, his touches, his lips, his fucking nose and his slender fingers… The way his veiny hands would hold the steering wheel drove you insane. You needed him.

It was a cold Saturday and you were watching him play your video game. Yeah, apparently Jake liked your video game more than you – this was you being dramatic every single time he stopped to pay all of his attention to you and decided to play something, but as soon as he starts to celebrate for defeating a boss, you just smile and forget about the drama.

Today was a bit different though. Normally you would pay attention to either the screen or to his pretty face and reactions, loving how expressive he was, always thinking Jake was a sculpture or something. But on this very specific day you paid more attention to his hand movements.

The way his grip was strong on the controller and how his fingers moved on it was making you mad. He was biting his lip more than usual as well in order to concentrate and, God, you could feel your panties get wet just by watching him like that.

Part of you felt like a perverted.

At some point he groaned. Apparently something bad happened to him on the game, but you didn’t gave a fuck. The sound he left woken a strong feeling inside you.

“Why is this so difficult?” Jake asked frustrated, throwing the controller away on the couch in defeat and looking at you.

He wasn't expecting to meet your intense gaze on him, eyes darkened as your tongue traveled through your lips to wet it.

His confused puppy eyes and parted lips were your last straw.

You straddled over his lap, hungrily kissing him. You almost instantly sucked his bottom lip, looking for a more intense contact. You could feel he was a bit confused, hesitantly resting his big hands on your hips, not knowing what to do.

When you bite his lip you heard a whimper and that alone made you grunt against Jake’s mouth in response, pulling him even closer. You pulled a few strands of his hair and again he let out a sound for you, feeling him getting hard beneath your body.

Before you could continue doing your job, he said in an urge, his breath heavy. “I gotta go.”

You shook off your head whispering “No,” and pulled him again to keep making out with him, lewd kissing sounds filling the room, a total mess happening in your living room.

The feeling of his hardened bulge hitting directly on your covered wet cunt was making you rub yourself against it, hoping to get more friction. At this exact moment Jake forced you to move away from him, gripping your hips to stop your movements.

“I really gotta go, I have some uni stuff to do,” he was breathless. You noticed how his eyes were different from ever, face red and skin hot. You blinked a few times as you just watched him put you back on the couch and stand up, trying to cover his obvious boner with his oversized jacket. He gave you a little kiss on the cheek and said goodbye to you before rushing out of your apartment.

You had to satisfy yourself alone that night. And after that, you cried.

You started to question yourself.

Yeah, Jake looked at you like you were the only one in his life. But was it enough? Does he find you attractive? Or better: does he find you desirable? Sexy? Hot? Sensual?

Since that day Jake started to run away from your more passionate touches like he was running from death.

At first you thought he could be a virgin, and no problem with that. You would let him feel comfortable enough with you to try to do something more, however you knew he had other relationships and weren’t inexperienced either.

Actually you even went to Sunghoon and Heeseung to ask them about it, to which they answered that Jake may be “boyfriend material” and only have intimate moments with people he somehow trusts, but he definitely wasn't inexperienced in that field.

So doubting yourself was your only option. You could also ask directly why he never did more than just kisses with you, but that option needed more courage from you than you had.

“What’s with the frown, baby?” Yunjin asked you one day as you both decided to lunch together. You were giving excuses to Jake during the whole day in order not to talk to him, saying you were too busy and that maybe today you wouldn’t be able to meet him.

You sighed, playing with the food on your plate. “I don’t think Jake likes me.”

“What? There’s no way. He almost licks the floor you walk on. What did he do?” She was ready to throw hands.

“The real problem it’s the opposite. He don’t do it.”

“Do what, baby?”

“We’ve been dating for weeks and we haven't had sex yet. I’m almost crawling on my bedroom walls.”

“Wow,” Yunjin was shocked, eyes widened. For the way you two acted together, she thought that every single room of your house was blessed already. “Well, have you asked him why? Because that’s pretty much a ‘he’ problem as it seems.”

“I’m afraid,” you stated sincerely.

“Of what, baby?”

“Of him saying something I don’t wanna hear. I don’t wanna lose him, Jinnie,” you uttered with sorrow.

“Y/N, my pretty baby, remember we are talking about Jake. The man who woke up in the middle of the night and went to your house to kill a cockroach because you called him. The man who has a photo of you in his wallet. The man who had literally skipped classes just to spend some time with you because apparently he can’t live without you,” you started sobbing. “He likes you very much, Y/N. And he has shown to be someone who listens to you with adoration. Anything you say or ask him he would do his best to listen and talk about it, you yourself said that to me once when we were ranking green flags, remember?” You nodded.

It was the truth. He was Jake. The man who demonstrates so much affection in every action.

“I’ll talk to him. Thank you, Jinnie.”

“You don’t need to thank me, sweetie.” She kissed the top of your head. “You know I’m always here for you and just want you to be happy. You deserve it.”

You decided to talk to Jake on the next day. You weren't planning to “arrange a sex meeting with him” or anything similar, but to talk about it. So you invited him over that day, knowing he would be completely free because it was a Friday. You did a test early that day and were free as well.

Since he was going to your apartment quite often you gave him a key to make things easier for both of you, so when you heard the front door opening as you drank some water your heart started to beat fast in advance.

His scent followed all the way through your house directly to you. You felt his arms hugging you from behind and for a few seconds you let yourself get lost in his warmth. “Hey, gorgeous. How are you?” He whispered close to your ear, kissing your neck. You turned around to face him. “You look sad. What happened? Are you ok?” He flooded you with questions as his eyes worriedly wandered over your face. You just pecked him quickly before taking his hand on yours and leading him to the couch.

Jake felt his heart sinking.

He maybe was going crazy, but he felt that you had purposely ignored him the day before, constantly finding a rather lame excuse for every solution he gave. He preferred to believe that you were not having a good day and respected your decision. But when you invited him over, it became undeniable how anxious he was feeling.

And the way you welcomed him at that moment made him even more worried, especially when you said the cursed phrase.

“I wanna talk to you about something.”

He swallowed, trying to keep it cool by saying gently “What is it, sugar?” as he reached for your hands to mildly squeeze it in reassurance.

Even though Jake was quite tense, he would always prioritize you and the fact that you had some difficulty verbalizing what normally was bothering you, so he knew it was consuming you just as much.

“I– Actually I don’t even know how to say it,” you started shyly with a low voice, avoiding Jake’s gaze. “But I’m…”

“Y’know you can say anything to me, right?” Jake tried to encourage you as he gently pulled you closer and just like that you moved to sit on his lap, each of your knees on either side of his legs as you trapped him underneath you.

Without saying a thing, you hugged him to hide your face on his neck. Jake wasn’t fully aware of what was happening, but he wanted to give you some comfort so his hands caressed your back slowly.

After a while you muffled his skin with your breath while asking “Do you think I’m unattractive?”

Oh?

Jake had a delayed reaction to your question. “Baby, what?”

You drew apart from him enough to see his confused expression before looking away. “I don’t know if you aren’t sexually attracted to me or what, but you can always tell me y’know. I’m sure we can figure something out,” your voice was almost a whisper due your worried self about confrontations.

“Baby, I’m so confused right now. What are you talking about?”

“I– I’d prefer you saying to my face you don’t wanna have sex with me instead of pulling me away from you every time we go further with our kisses,” as you finished saying, you felt your cheeks burning.

Jake frowned, completely baffled.

Little did you know that Jake lost track of how many times he woke up with a painful boner after dreaming of you. Or how fast he would run away from you after a makeout session with you because of his body response to it.

He would first try to cool down with a shower, but everytime he ended up jerking himself off to get some relief, you being the only one in his mind, always moaning your name when cumming.

But, God, every single time he felt nasty, disgusted with himself. You deserved better. You're like a divinity to him, a beautiful and sweet woman, you needed to be handled with care and love and he was so afraid of hurting you.

The day you told him about your ex and how badly he treated you, especially in the sexual field by not caring about anything but his own pleasure, Jake got mad. Really mad.

How could one in their right mind leave you hanging, when your expressions of pleasure alone were enough to drive any man crazy? He could treat you way better.

Sometimes Jake would get carried away while kissing you, going down to your neck to trail his lips over there biting and sucking slightly. And when he backed a bit to look at your face, he always met you with closed eyes nibbling your bottom lip, a ridiculously lustful view.

Too hard to handle.

He had to almost physically hold himself back every time. He was afraid of scaring you with how much he needed you, with how much he wanted to get lost between your legs, making you scream nothing but his name, with how much he was willing to make you feel good.

And now he got to know that his actions were the ones making you doubt yourself, making you doubt his feelings and needs for you… He was feeling so dumb.

“I– I’m sorry, Y/N.”

You froze. No nicknames, just your regular name.

“I never wanted to make you feel like this. I’m really sorry.”

You gulped the guilty feeling down your throat. “It’s okay, Jakey, I get it,” you smiled awkwardly, not knowing what to do next. That meant that Jake didn't want you in that way, right?

You were about to start rambling as usual and before you did so, Jake shut you up with his mouth on yours. You startled before reacting, moving your tongue with his and dipping your fingers into his silky strands, both of your bodies starting to get hotter.

Jake squeezed your ass while pulling you closer. “I want you, Y/N,” he was serious when you drew apart to catch your breath. “I want you so bad, my darling,” he was so desperate, your panties dampening just by how his voice sounded.

“Yeah?” You smirked, breathing heavy. “How bad, Jakey?” You noticed his eyes darkening. “Show me.”

Getting back to work with his mouth in yours, kissing you very messily, Jake impulsed to stand up with you in his arms. You surrounded your legs around him to keep yourself steady as he stumbled a little on the way to your room. You giggled against his lips when he dropped you softly on the mattress and hovered over you, not breaking the kiss for a second.

Jake’s mouth tasted so sweet and hot on yours, you couldn't help but scratch his back and neck with your fingernails thinking how good he would be doing all that job down your cunt. His dick was getting harder and you could feel it, your mouth watering at the thought of sucking him off. You wanted so bad.

He parted away from your lips just to trail his own plump ones to your neck and collarbone, kissing, sucking and nibbling all the area before finally whispering against your skin, sending chills throughout your body.

“I really wanna eat you out,” Jake sounded determined. “I wanna taste you before anything, sweetheart,” your only reaction was a sigh mixed with a “please” that you were unsure if he heard.

But Jake was catching all of your sounds, from the quietest little whimpers to the slightly more intense ones, like the one you released when he removed your shirt and bra to work on your tits, his mouth sucking your left one while his hand cupped the other before he switched to do the opposite.

Before he continued to get down on you, you quietly asked him to remove his shirt and as he did, he revealed to you part of his perfect body. By the superficial touches over his clothes and of course the preview bumps, you knew he had a toned chest, but to see it all on display to you… You literally moaned at the view.

You promised yourself that later on you would give every bit of that skin the attention it deserved.

You watched him smile shyly before kissing your inner thigh, without breaking eye contact. Jake was absolutely certain he would cum in his pants at any given moment. The mix of your little sounds with the way you were looking at him like you were about to eat him alive triggered a strangely pleasant feeling.

“Can I remove these?” He asked between kisses on your skin, pointing to your shorts. You nodded. “And these?” He pointed now to your panties and you nodded again, head resting on your pillow. “Yes, please. I want you.”

Jake noticed how wet you were through your last clothing piece and he literally had to hold himself back to not just dive right into you. He was getting dizzy by your smell, eyes hooded as he removed the only thing that stopped him from touching you like you deserved.

Jake salivated admiring your pussy, breathing heavily as he swallowed nothing.

At this point you were on the verge of crying due to your desperation and his unnecessary slowness, so you spread your legs even more and pleaded. “Please Jakey, I really want you,” you whined, grabbing his hair with your hand and forcing it down your cunt. “I don’t want you to hold yourself on me, pretty boy.”

And as if you casted a spell, Jake looked at you one more time before burying his face in you.

You gasped.

He felt you dripping on his mouth and grunted, collecting some arousal with his tongue to spread all over your area before flicking it on your clit, sometimes sucking just the right amount and sometimes doing big licks. His tongue worked so damn well, you just rolled your hips in order to get more. You were so sensitive and so needy. His grip on each side of your body got stronger as he pulled you closer.

You moaned Jake’s name when he decided to use one of his fingers together with his mouth, pressing it on your entrance with care, just to familiarize you with the sensation before adding one more. After all, he just wanted you to feel good and not to be hurt.

You kept rubbing yourself on his face and now grinding on the two fingers inside you. Jake was doing such an amazing job on you, curling his fingers the moment he needed to like he knew you from inside out, using the tip of his nose to rub your clit as his tongue and mouth worked in the rest.

“You’re doing such a good job, pretty boy,” you praised between moans and heard Jake groaning between your legs and intensifying his movements, eating you out as his life depended on it.

“I wanna you to cum all over my face, princess,” he said, muffled. His skilful fingers moved at a steady pace. “I need that, give it to me, babe, please.”

Your orgasm was already building up inside your core. You felt the familiar sensation growing bigger and bigger until you let it out the loudest moan of the night as your back arched. Jake’s words and all the combo of his warm mouth and fingers inside you were enough to make you achieve your climax, trembling beneath his touches, grabbing his hair tightly.

Jake drank you like it was his favorite drink, licking every single drop of you with pleasure, his dick now painfully compressed in his boxers. He could get himself off just by eating you out.

He drove you through your high, movements slowing as he felt your grasp on his hair softening and your body less shaky. He kissed your pussy a few times and then crawled over you to kiss you on the lips. You watched your juices decorating his chin, nose and a bit on his cheeks before you felt your own taste in your mouth.

Jake's hard, covered bulge rubbed against your bare cunt and you whined, breaking the kiss to down your hands all the way to his cock and to utter “Babe, you’re so hard.” Jake whimpered against your mouth and you flipped over to be on top of him. “Let me help you with that.”

And as you promised yourself, you trailed kisses all the way down his chest, putting your mouth and tongue to work through his soft skin, making him squirm a bit underneath you.

You stopped once you got to the waistband of his pants, taking it off with Jake’s help and removing his boxers as well. You sighed, mouth salivating at the view of his veiny dick right in front of you.

However, you needed to feel him inside you, so you let your other desires for later, starting to move in a way you could sit on him.

“I wanna ride you,” you announced as if it was your only goal in life. “Like, really bad.”

“Fuck, babe,” Jake groaned, watching you positioned yourself comfortably on top of him, quickly moving his hands to hold your hips. “Go on. Use me,” he threw his head back to just enjoy the sensation of finally feeling your walls around him, before realizing something was off. “But wait– Sugar,” he said with widened eyes, sitting up to hold you before you did anything. “You’re going in raw?” Jake questioned in disbelief.

You blinked at him, confused. “You’re clean, right?”

“Yeah, but–”

“So am I. And on birth control, don’t worry.”

Since you were still wet due your orgasm and because Jake’s little sounds aroused you enough, you pushed him back to bed, giving him a little peck before holding his dick and placing it on your sensitive area.

Jake knew he wasn't getting out of there alive. There was no way. How would he survive you? God, you were insane. And the way you slowly slid down on his length, using its precum to lubricate, sent him out of orbit in an instant.

He did nothing but open his mouth and moan, eyes rolling back to his head with the amazing feeling of your pussy coating him so tight and warm. He could feel you everywhere. He almost cummed just because of that alone, having to close his eyes tightly in order to concentrate enough to not let it happen.

“Oh, fuck,” Jake bit his bottom lip the moment you moved a bit, adjusting yourself. “You feel so fucking good already, fuck.”

You watched every reaction of his, enjoying it as a show. The frowned face in pure pleasure, the red wet lips, face all flustered and glowing, not to mention the dim light of your room working to make the view even more gorgeous and pleasant.

Jake felt you staring and how you stayed still for a while, finding support on his chest with your hands. He opened his eyes to glance at you. You gave him a little smile and he reciprocated, caressing the skin of your body under his touch as he waited for you to feel comfortable enough to move by yourself. Jake watched as you started to move back and forth slowly on his cock, your eyes closing with how good he was filling you up.

Although Jake's hands rested on your hips, he didn't force a single movement, letting you find your pace. He admired you for a moment, “you look so, so pretty right now, baby,” he praised sincerely, watching the way your expressions changed to pure pleasure as you moved faster.

You leaned forward to find his mouth with yours, kissing him, missing those pretty lips of his on yours. Your moans got lost between your mouths as you continued to move faster until you found the pace of your liking, Jake now helping you to keep it going.

Lewd sounds of your bodies shocking against each other filled the room, mixed with whimpers as well as the wet kissing sounds.

Jake reached down with one of his hands to rub your clit, and by the way his cock twitched inside of you, you deduced that he was close to cum and didn't want to do it alone.

You drew apart from the kiss to rest your head on the curve of his neck, sucking the skin as well as whimpering against it. The position leaded Jake to have his mouth directly on your ear, and with all the stimulus happening at the same time, his dick hitting your g-spot, his finger rubbing your sensitive nerve and his voice moaning your name in your ear, you started to clench furiously on Jake’s length.

“Wait–”, you barely heard him saying, too lost in your pleasure already. “Where do I c–”

“Inside,” you answered quickly before he tried to pull off.

“Fuck.” Jake’s head was spinning, he was seeing stars. “Be my girlfriend,” he let it out in one breath.

“What?” You asked back under your breath, questioning if you were hearing things due pleasure.

“Let me be your boyfriend,” he said panting. “Officially. Be my girl, please. Be mine,” he begged with a groan, cumming inside of you.

You openly moaned his name, rolling your eyes back as your orgasm also hit you. You thought that alone could answer his question, keeping on the movement to ride you two through your highs, his strong hands gripping you tightly and your whole body shaking.

You stood over Jake's body for a while after you stopped your movements, catching your breath and feeling his liquid leaking from inside of you.

He helped you to lay back on the bed, both still panting, both so happy about what just happened. You forced yourself to stand up just enough to kiss him before you said, looking deep into his eyes.

“I’m already yours, pretty boy.”

That weekend was intense. Still, you just couldn't get enough of Jake. And he wasn't too different.

Now your routine had changed a little more. He was still the sweet and kind Jake, worrying about you, asking about your day, listening to you rambling about random things, and always bringing you food on your busiest days. But it seemed like you had awakened a monster inside him.

Of course you didn't complain, especially because the one who was getting the benefits was you, who wasn't that different either, never getting enough of him.

Whenever Jake was stressed, he would usually take you somewhere to watch the sunset or to stargazing while talking about life and theories and obviously, kissing you.

Now he started eating you out. Almost every time. And sometimes he would mix these two, taking you somewhere beautiful and eating you out inside his car.

Jake had eaten you out in every room of your apartment, saying that him eating you out got him off more anything else, and you actually witnessed him cum untouched a few times, looking so fucking hot while doing it.

Nevertheless you still couldn't had the chance to give him a proper head. Jake would be saying you didn't have to do it, like you felt obligated. Little did he know that you wanted to feel his dick filling up your mouth and his cum going directly down your throat. Oh, you wanted so badly.

At this exact moment, you were sitting on your kitchen counter with your legs spreaded being supported on Jake’s shoulders as was getting lost between them, diving in your juices, making you cum with his tongue deep inside you. You reached for his hair with your hands, grabbing to bring him up and kiss him fervorous.

“Take me to the bedroom,” you demanded with an urge.

And how would Jake deny such a sweet request?

The moment you got into your bedroom, you tossed him on the bed. You were hungry for him, and him only.

You saw his already hardened cock marking his sweatpants and without giving Jake time to complain, you removed all his clothing pieces – he was already shirtless – and had him naked underneath you.

As usual, he thought you would ride him. Out of all the positions you’ve tried so far, this was a favorite of his – to look at you while you use him for your own pleasure felt too insanely good, so he got excited in advance. But you decided to surprise him this time, contradicting his expectations as you bend over to be at the same height of his pulsing cock, head pretty close to it.

He panicked.

“What are you doing, sweetheart?” He asked and tried to sit, but as soon as he did you pushed him back to the bed.

“Imma suck you off,” you said like it was obvious. You wrapped your hand around his length and started to pump it.

“Y–you don’t have to, princess,” he stuttered, feeling hot under your soft touches. “Let me fuck you, mhm? You deserve to feel good.” He tried to sit again and you pushed him back one more time.

“Sucking you off will make me feel good too, Jakey,” you blew a bit of air on his shaft, he shivered. “Don’t you get that?” Your hands worked slowly on his dick, moving up and down, smearing the precum out of his slit with your thumb. He bit his lip to hold back a whimper. “Or do you think you're the only one who gets horny by giving pleasure to others?”

You ran your tongue all over his shaft, closing your eyes as you felt the salty precum taste spreading through your mouth, playing a bit with his tip.

Jake kept hiding his sounds from you.

His hands were squeezing the duvet under his body to the point his knuckles started to get white when you gave a little more attention to his head, realizing that this was his sensitive area. You took advantage of that.

Without a warning, you put his whole cock in your mouth in one go, feeling it hitting on your throat.

“Mhm,” he tried to contain his grunt, hips thrusting forward slightly and his left hand smacking the bed one time before grabbing the sheets again.

You held your position for a few seconds, making sure to breathe through your nose, before moving back and forth twice. Jake squirmed under you, still quiet.

“Why are you hiding from me, pretty boy?” You asked with a low voice when you backed off to breathe, hands replacing your mouth as you did so. Jake finally let it out a little whimper and you smiled. “I wanna hear you, baby.”

“I’m sorry,” he said apologetically, once more biting his lip in order to contain himself.

The reason behind his choice of behavior under your touches was literally due his fear of scaring you off. He would be a total mess if he let it all go as he really felt. Your hot mouth around his dick sent him to hell and heaven all at once, you didn’t had to do much for him to start seeing foggy and being a whimper mess.

Jake felt your lips coating him again and groaned, back slightly arching.

“So gorgeous, Jakey,” you backed off only to encourage with a smile, jerking him off before going back to suck him. He couldn’t hold back his loud moan, eyes rolling when you sucked his sensitive tip. You quivered. You wanted more of him. “Keep on making these pretty noises for me, yeah?”

Although he was afraid of scaring you off, one thing he loved to do was to obey you, to fulfill all of your requests. Whatever you told him to do, he would do it. So when you told him to be vocal, he started to be vocal.

Your mouth swallowed all his throbbing cock, his tip going deep in your throat, precum going down on it. Jake threw his head back, open mouthed, spilling all the little noises you loved. “Fuck, mhm, that’s it, babe,” he breathed out between groans and put one of his hands on your head without forcing you down or anything, just resting there.

The way your throat was pressing his sensitive tip as you swallowed around it, God, he was getting stupidly close. Jake dared to look down at you, meeting your strong gaze as you devoured him like a last piece of meal. “Fuck, you’re doing so good,” he gasped, rolling his eyes. Jake felt a familiar burning wave all the way through his body. “Fuck, I’mgonnacum”.

You kept your movements steady, lightly scratching his thighs before you felt Jake’s body start to shake, his moans intensify and his cum hitting down your throat. You swallowed every drop of it before letting his dick with a pop and using your thumb to clean up the corners of your lips as you crawled back to kiss him passionately.

At this point you were already horny again, so as you kissed him, feeling his shaky hands all over your body, you pressed your bare cunt on his softened shaft and moved a bit. He parted the kiss, trying to push you away.

“I– I don’t think–”, he tried saying. “I’m sensitive, baby– Ahh...”

“Yeah?” You rubbed your bare cunt on his dick with a sly smile. “So you don’t want me to ride you, Jakey?” You kept waving your body on him, forcing a disappointed face with a fake pout.

Jake trembled, feeling his eyes water in a painful pleasure. “Of c–course I– I do, fuck.”, his voice cracked, eyelids closing. He was fully unable to stop you at this point, and he didn’t wanted to anyway, so he just started to sob as you kept sliding on him, back and forth, slowly, painfully slowly.

You were sending him into overstimulation, loving his reactions, loving how desperate he looked. Legs squirming beneath you, eyes tearing up, hands messily trying to figure out what to do, facial expression switching in a mix of pain and delight.

“Please…” He begged. He didn’t even knew for what. Neither did you, so you asked. “Please what, Jakey?” You stopped moving. “You want me to stop?”

He hurried to answer “No! Please, don’t– Don’t stop.” Definitely his begging wasn't about stopping. His breath was short as you started to move again, still slow. Too slow. “Go faster, please darling.”

And how could you deny such a sweet request?

The wet sound of your pussy rubbing against his cock was too lewd. You leaned to kiss Jake, who wasn’t able to kiss you back properly due his undergoing situation. His was dick hardening again against your folds and that was your last straw.

Yeah, he was desperate because of overstimulation, but you were desperate to feel him inside you. So you repositioned yourself to slide him deep on you in one go, making both of you scream.

You threw your head back and instantly started to grind on him, making circle movements, sending both of you to cloud nine.

“Babe I– I’ll not last long– damn.” Jake said breathlessly, hands helping your hips to move.

“Make me cum with you, please,” you begged and of course he would never leave you hanging, so he did his work, rubbing your clit at the same pace as you bounced on him.

You felt your climax building up rapidly, breath getting heavier and heavier, body shaking as you heard Jake saying under breath "I'm cumming", while throwing his head back and filling you up with his warm liquid. You shivered, moaning louder and achieving your peak right after.

Your body fell over Jake’s, who immediately hugged you, panting, all sweaty. “This was…” He started to say after a while, still inside you.

“Good?” He analyzed your expectant eyes when you got up to look at him and chuckled at the difference of the demon eyes you were giving him earlier. “Incredible,” he kissed your forehead. “You are always incredible, my love.”

It was a weirdly sunny day when Jake seated you on his car hood, fitting himself between your legs while his hands rested on your hips, drawing little circles there.

You both decided to go out that day to celebrate your new job. But instead of going for a fancy dinner or anything similar, you decided to follow the roots of your relationship and asked Jake to take you to see the sunset.

And he would never deny anything to you. So here you were, looking at the pretty sky behind Jake’s back when he himself was sunk on your neck.

"Why does the sky turn orange during sunsets?" You asked nonchalantly, feeling Jake's kisses on your skin. He was inebriated by your scent and acting as if he was getting drunk on you.

He loved that.

He loved you.

"It has something to do with the light traveling through the atmosphere. Don't make me do my homework right now, baby," he said muffled, unable to leave your warm embrace. You chuckled.

You loved that.

You loved him.

"Sorry," your fingers slid through his hair, scratching slightly. He hummed in response.

It’s been two weeks since you started to call him your boyfriend and he started to call you girlfriend, the honeyed voice always making you melt.

Nevertheless none of you said I love you yet. Not that you two needed to. You felt Jake’s love on every action of his. The way he would look at you so dreamily at any point of the day, how he would embrace you so tightly at the end of a stressful one. Or how he would always clean you up after the sex, even when he was tired as hell. He treated you like a goddess. You felt it.

It was as clear as crystal water that you loved him too, at least you thought.

You would purposely ask questions about astronomy just to have him speaking animatedly in technical terms that you often didn't understand very well, but loved to see him sparkle in joy. Or when you cooked his favorite meal just to see his puppy eyes widening in surprise and thank you with a sweet kiss. Or even when you watched him play video games for hours without complaining, actually enjoying and hyping him up, sometimes playing together when he asked you to.

Jake, actually, noticed every bit of it.

He himself making sure to love you every moment of his day, making sure you were safe, fed, warm, and most important: happy.

Jake loved your smile. He loved to see you ramble about your favorite songs and flowers and chocolates and movies and everything.

He loved everything about you.

You exhaled. The feeling was consuming you, you had to let it out. The ache of holding it to only your actions wasn't enough. You needed to say it.

And you did. In one go.

“I love you.”

Jake lifted his face off your neck to look you in the eyes, kind of shocked by your sudden statement. “I don’t care if you don’t love me back, but I love you. More than stargazing, more than feeling a cold breeze under the moonlight, more than listening to my favorite artist. None of those feelings overcomes the feeling of having you around,” you caressed his cheek. Jake listened to you with attention.

“You color my world by just being around. Every part I go I look out for you,” you could see Jake’s eyes watering. “And I do find you in everything, because, Jake, you became my everything. It’s scary how much I need you. It's scary how much I can love you,” you rested your forehead on his, closing your eyes. “So yeah, I love you,” you whispered at the end.

Jake's breath got heavy as he assimilated all your words.

God, he loved you as much as you did. Lately he had to deal with the urge of telling you the three words, afraid of scaring you off as always. But now he knows you are as much in love with him as he is with you, and he felt so damn lucky.

"You wanna know something that has nothing to do with physics?" Jake spoke softly after a while in silence trying to find the right words. You weren't expecting that question after your confession. "What?" you asked in a whisper.

He looked so gorgeous under the golden light.

"I can watch a hundred sunsets with you," he said softly, loving eyes at you. He gently put a strand of hair behind your ear, as usual, and continued, "And you’d still be the prettiest view."

Jake didn’t had to verbalize “I love you” after that, but he did.

He did it continuously. He did it before you went to sleep and when you woke up. He did it before leaving you at your classes and as soon as he picked you up. He did it out of the blue, while you were vacuuming your apartment and he was dusting the furniture. Because no matter how much he said, it didn't seem enough.

It was love at first sight, blessed by the moonlight keeping their love secrets and under the sunset light, keeping their sweet passion burning.

#jake smut #jake sim x reader #jake x reader #jake sim hard hours #jake sim hard thoughts #jake imagines #jake hard thoughts #jake hard hours #enhypen x reader #sim jake #enha smut #enhypen smut #heegyukeluv works

2K notes · View notes

colouredbyd · 2 months ago

Text

Hold On Tight, It’s a Wild Ride!

cowboy!remus lupin x fem!reader x biker!sirius black

synopsis : saddle up, trouble’s here! after getting caught by sirius, the towns sweet baker slips out of remus’s reach, leaving him lost in a haze of desperate need and restless nights. sirius is dead set on breaking through that sweet, guarded shell—ready to ride hard and take whats been teasing for far too long. three wild hearts tangled in a dirty game, with a brat determined to push them both to the edge and ride this madness straight to hell.

warnings: NSFW, explicit sexual content, graphic language, dirty talk, sexual tension, alot of teasing, semi-public sex, dirty thoughts, exhibitionism, lots of cum, eating out, oral sex, penetrative sex, blow jobs, spitting, fingering, eating out, degradation, praise kink, bratty behavior, brat taming. porn but with plot, everyone in this is horny!!!

w/c: 8.6k (pure filth)

a/n: this is 8k words of horny thoughts then smut <3 (posted at 4 am, therefore not proofread)

part one masterlist

Remus has a serious fucking problem — and that problem is you.

Not that he’s the kind of guy to moan about it out loud. You’re not some nuisance he wants to shoo away. He doesn’t hate you, doesn’t think you’re annoying, and damn sure doesn’t want you anywhere but near.

Hell, it’s the exact opposite — he likes you too much. Way too much. And that’s the goddamn problem.

He tries to look anywhere but at you when you bend down to pick up that jar you dropped. That dress you’re wearing is way too fucking short — and sure, Remus tells himself he ain’t staring (he totally is), but everyone else at this godforsaken town sure as hell notices.

That includes Lily, who’s already stepped behind you, blocking the view of your white panties you’re practically handing out like candy to every poor bastard around this town.

Remus doesn’t know if he should thank Lily for covering you up or tell her to move the fuck aside so he can see better.

Then there’s Sirius. That son of a bitch is leaning casually against the porch rail, smirking like the cocky bastard he is, eyes locked on Remus like he’s watching a damn rodeo. The way Sirius looks at him — it’s not exactly friendly.

That look on his face is a mixture of mischief and something more dangerous, like he knows exactly what kind of mess he’s stirring up.

Remus feels his jaw tighten. Him and Sirius? They go way back. Old friends, yeah — but the kind of friends who messed around casually, no strings, no promises.

That was supposed to be the past, something Remus told himself was done and dusted. That was before Sirius started slipping back into his life like a ghost, dragging all those old, confusing feelings with him.

Remus wants to convince himself it’s over, that he’s moved on. But every time Sirius shows up, with that damn smirk and those sharp eyes, his brain shorts out and his dick wakes the hell up like clockwork.

He shoots Sirius a glare, half pissed off, half... well, he doesn’t know what the hell else it is. Desire? Frustration? Both? But mostly irritation that the bastard has this power over him.

Still, Remus tries to keep his gaze on you — because you’re the real problem here, standing so goddamn close, making it impossible not to want more than just friendship. And if that wasn’t enough, here’s Sirius, watching the whole damn thing unfold like it’s his personal entertainment.

Remus still remembers the exact second Sirius Black walked through the bakery door five days ago. The bell jingled sharp and clear, cutting through the quiet heat between you and him.

You’d been caught in the middle of something—pressed close together, breathless and more than a little tangled—and then suddenly, the moment shattered.

“Am I interrupting?”

You jolt like you've been caught stealing something, which, to be fair, you sort of were—Remus’s breath, his body, his quiet unraveling.

The bell above the bakery door jingles again as it swings shut behind the voice.

“—because I was promised a raspberry tart and a man with manners. So far, I see neither.”

Remus swears softly, forehead thudding against your shoulder with a muffled groan.

“Sirius,” he mutters, like the name physically pains him.

You look up, and there he is—Sirius Black. Leather jacket, loose black hair dangling messily at his nape, a smirk so lived-in it might as well be stitched into his mouth. He doesn’t seem even a little sorry.

“Remus,” he returns, stepping further into the bakery like he owns the air. His eyes flick to you. “And you must be the infamous baker.”

You try to pull away from Remus, but his hand on your waist tightens just enough to say: don’t.

Sirius’s gaze drags slowly down from your flushed cheeks to your parted lips to the hand Remus hasn’t moved. There’s no shame in the way he looks at you—just curiosity, interest, something too alive to name. His tongue runs along his bottom lip, and he smiles like he’s already halfway through the punchline.

“Well, this is cozy,” he says. “Didn’t realize I was walking into a bloody rom-com.”

“Don’t you have a bike to crash?” Remus growls, still leaning into you but straighter now, all tense muscle and wary heat.

Sirius shrugs. “She’s cooling off.” His eyes stay on you as he adds, “Thought I’d do the same.”

Ever since that fucking day Sirius showed up at the farm, you’ve been avoiding Remus like he’s some goddamn plague. Like, you’ve been ducking him harder than a shitstorm you don’t want to get caught in.

You don't visit him, don’t meet his eyes when he’s in the same damn road as you, and for the love of everything holy, you haven’t come near the Lupin farm for a goddamn chocolate restock in what feels like forever.

Hell, when Remus finally dragged his sorry ass over to the bakery, you nearly pretended not to see him—almost walked right past like you hadn’t seen the dude who’s been circling your life like a fucking shark.

And Remus? Jesus Christ, he’s losing his fucking mind. Since you started ghosting him, he’s been pacing that goddamn farm like a caged animal, snapping at thin air and muttering all sorts of pissed-off nonsense under his breath.

He’s so desperate it’s pathetic — like, you can almost hear the poor bastard begging himself to grow a spine and just say something.

Every second you keep avoiding him, the harder he spirals, pacing and cussing like the farm’s about to fall apart around him because you won’t give him a single goddamn minute of your attention.

Sirius’s arrival hadn’t just interrupted whatever was between him and you—it threw everything Remus thought he’d settled into into a chaos he wasn’t ready for.

And deep down, Remus knows it’s going to take more than a few days—and a lot of stubborn fights with himself—to keep that old fire from burning everything down again.

Meanwhile, you’re behind the counter, wiping down the worn wooden surface, exchanging smiles and small talk with a regular customer when suddenly the familiar loud rev of a motorcycle engine cuts through the quiet street outside.

You already know who it is before the bell over the door jingles sharply.

And then he steps in.

It’s an odd sight—Sirius Black in your cozy little bakery. Tall, wild black hair falling in unruly waves, too many piercings glinting under the soft light, a leather jacket worn like a second skin, and the unmistakable scent of smoke and cigarettes clinging to him like a shadow.

The contrast between him and the warm pastel walls, the scent of fresh bread and cinnamon, feels almost surreal—but there he is, smirking like he walked into heaven itself.

He steps in like he owns the place, and for a moment—just a moment—it feels like he does. He belongs everywhere and nowhere at once. And he looks so damn amused to be standing in the middle of a bakery painted blush pink, with frilly curtains and little glass jars of pastel meringues lining the shelves.

His eyes flick over you once, slow and lazy. “Well, this is domestic.”

You don’t even blink. “Can I help you, Black? Or are you just here to loiter and bring down the property value?”

He smirks. That same crooked smirk that probably had girls unbuckling their skirts behind barns in three diffRemust counties. “Actually, I’m here for something sweet.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Try the exit.”

“Tempting,” he murmurs, sauntering to the counter. “But I see something better.”

His fingers tap the glass as he surveys the baked goods, but you’re not fooled. His gaze keeps sliding back to you, flicking down your apron to the hint of skin where your neckline dips. You feel it like a stroke. Like he’s undressing you one glance at a time and enjoying every damn inch.

Your thighs press together behind the counter. It’s instinct. Desperate, shameful instinct, truly.

Sirius’s voice cuts in. “Cinnamon roll, big one, drowning in icing.”

Of course he picks that one. The messiest fucking thing in the case.

You box it up wordlessly, fingers shaking just a little as you hand it over. He doesn’t take it away. He peels the paper back right there at the counter and bites into it slow, like sin made flesh.

Icing smears his lip. His tongue swipes it off in a way that makes your breath catch. And then he licks his finger. Slow. Sucking it into his mouth like he’s thinking about sucking something else.

Jesus fucking Christ.

Your brain short-circuits.

Because it’s not just the way he eats it—it’s the sounds he makes, low and satisfied, half a growl, half a groan. It’s the smug glint in his eyes when he catches you watching him, cheeks burning, mouth slightly open, thighs clenched tight.

“You always make ‘em this sweet?” he asks, licking a stray bit of glaze from his thumb. “Or is this one just for me?”

You want to say something clever, something biting. Instead, your voice comes out thinner than you like. “You’re disgusting.”

Sirius grins like it’s the best compliment he’s ever gotten. “You’re blushing.”

You are. And worse, your head is filled with the filthiest thoughts. Like how that mouth would feel sliding down your stomach. How his rings might dig into your hips. How it would feel to straddle that stupid, loud bike of his with his hand up your skirt and his tongue in your mouth–

Okay stop. You look away.

Because if you look too long, you’ll do something you’ll regret. Like asking him to stay or like begging him to touch you.

“Bit jumpy today, sweetheart,” he says, licking a streak of icing from his palm. “Don’t worry. I bite soft.”

You swallow around the lump in your throat, fists clenched at your sides.

He leans a hip against the counter like he’s got all the time in the world, licking icing from his thumb with deliberate slowness, eyes still fixed on you like he’s imagining how you taste instead.

“I said you’re disgusting,” you snap again, more breathless this time. You hate how he gets under your skin. How you can already feel your pulse between your thighs.

“And you keep saying that,” he says, cocking his head. “Yet here you are. Still standing there. Still looking at me like you want to lick this sugar off my mouth yourself.”

“You’re delusional.”

He chuckles—low, dangerous. “You think Remus doesn’t notice, sweetheart?”

Sirius steps closer.

“You think he doesn’t see the way you flounce around this little bakery in that short-ass dress, bending over the lower shelves every chance you get?” His hand gestures vaguely to the glass display, to you. “Like a desperate little bunny just begging to get caught.”

Your mouth opens, but the words short-circuit under the heat of his stare.

Then you move. A little too fast. Pretending to tidy something, needing to break the tension, needing air—anything honestly.

You crouch down, grabbing a container, the skirt of your dress riding up dangerously high.

You feel it before you hear it.

Sirius moves behind you—slow, steady footfalls across the floorboards. The heat of him right at your back before you can stand fully. His hand reaches out and cups your jaw, tilting your face toward him. The grip is gentle, but there’s nothing soft in the way he looks at you.

“Don’t play dumb,” he says, voice dipped in honey and smoke. “I know what you’re doing. All that innocent bakery girl shit. Sweet smile, pretty apron, acting like you don’t know how you’re driving every man in this town to fucking madness.”

His thumb brushes your cheek, then down—drags lightly over your bottom lip.

“You don’t want me to stop, do you?”

He’s close enough that you can taste the cinnamon on his breath. Close enough that if you moved just a little, your mouth would be on his.

You hate that he’s right. You hate it more that your body’s betraying you—heart hammering, thighs pressed tight, panties damp and clinging, soaked through from just the way he’s looking at you.

“Sirius…” It’s meant to be a warning, but it comes out like a plea.

He grins like sin itself, thumb still resting on your lip, a smear of sugar on your skin. “Say it again.”

Your breath catches, but before you can respond, he tilts his head, eyes flicking lazily down your body, the way your dress clings, how your nipples are hard through the thin fabric, how your thighs shift like you’re trying to stop yourself from rubbing them together.

“Gonna drive poor Remmy crazy, walking around like that,” he mutters, almost to himself. “All soft and soaked and ignoring the poor man.”

And something in you snaps. Maybe it’s the way he says “Remmy,” maybe it’s the condescension, maybe it’s just the filthy heat pooling between your legs—but suddenly you’re stepping forward, tilting your chin up, pressing your chest lightly against his.

Your voice is syrupy sweet, but your eyes don’t flinch.

“Well then,” you purr, “why don’t you go tell Remmy what a filthy little mess I am?”

You smile—slow and dangerous. “Tell him how I’ve been thinking about him every night since he kissed me in this bakery. How I keep fucking myself with my fingers imagining his hand on my throat and your mouth between my legs.”

He’s dead silent. Frozen. His hand tightens ever so slightly around your jaw.

You keep going, drunk on the thrill. “Bet you’d both like that, wouldn’t you? Watching me fall apart on my knees, moaning for one of you while the other ruins me.”

His breath catches audibly. And then he laughs—sharp, guttural, mean. It sounds almost like pain.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “You really are the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.”

His mouth is open, lips parted like he’s ready to either spit the filthiest thing he can think of or bite.

He’s leaning in—you can see it, feel it, the lazy drag of his breath against your mouth, the way his eyes darken as they drop to your lips. His hips shift forward, almost like he’s going to pin you right up against the counter and do something about that little speech you just gave–

–You step back.

“Oops,” you chirp, sweet as poisoned honey, like you didn’t just wreck him. “Looks like you’re not the only one who wants cinnamon today, Black.”

The bell above the door jingles just as Sirius’s mouth clicks shut, his body still strung tight like he’s about to lunge.

A middle-aged woman walks in—regular customer, probably here for her usual almond croissant—and she gives you a polite smile, completely clueless that she just stepped into a goddamn storm of unspoken filthy tension and raw, aching need.

Sirius doesn’t move. In fact, he’s never hated some poor innocent old woman this much for cockblocking him. Because right now she’s the biggest motherfucking wedge between him and what he wants.

If looks could kill, she’d be six feet under by now.

He’s still standing there like he’s been punched in the stomach, watching you swish back behind the counter like nothing happened, like you didn’t just whisper the word ruin into his ear while smiling about Remus.

“Hi, Mrs. Vance,” you say sweetly, already ducking behind the counter, cheeks flushed but not from embarrassment. “Croissant and lemon loaf today?”

“Please, dear.”

You serve her like it’s any other morning, grabbing the still-warm croissant from the rack and slicing her lemon loaf with practiced ease.

Sirius doesn’t move. He stands in the center of your soft, pastel bakery like a devil dragged into a prayer circle—black leather jacket, too many rings, silver chain glinting under the lights. Watching you with hooded eyes, tongue flicking over his bottom lip, catching stray sugar.

You slide the bag across the counter, take the woman’s cash, and chirp, “Have a lovely morning!”

She’s barely out the door before Sirius mutters, “You’re good at that.”

“At what?” you say, stepping away from the register, grabbing a napkin to wipe your hands, heart still hammering behind your ribs.

He follows you with his eyes, slow and slick. “Playing innocent.”

You scoff, but your dress sways dangerously high as you reach for the tub of cinnamon glaze on the prep counter. “It’s because I am.”

Sirius snorts. “Sweetheart, you were grinding on my best friend like a bitch in heat five days ago. You wanna tell me that was innocent?”

You pause, reaching over to the counter and dipping your fingers into the glaze you had set out earlier while prepping. Slowly, deliberately, you turn to him and suck a dollop off your finger, locking eyes as you do.

“Don’t act like you didn’t love watching it,” you purr.

He starts toward you again, like he’s about to crowd you into the counter—but you’re faster this time.

You sidestep just before he touches you, tossing the glaze-stained napkin in the bin and licking the last bit from the side of your mouth, letting it linger.

“I mean, if Remus was actually fucking me that day,” you add, voice light, “you wouldn’t have had to guess.”

Sirius’s nostrils flare.

You blink up at him all innocent, tilting your head like you’ve got no clue what kind of filthy-ass tornado you just whipped up in his gut.

You’re standing there in that damn dress that’s way too short, grinning like a devil, fingers dripping with some suspiciously white, sticky glaze—hell, Sirius doesn’t even wanna know what kind of sweet, slimy shit it is, only that he really is trying not to let his perverted thoughts wonder.

Then your lips part again, this time in mock surprise, fingers pressing against your temple as if some great tragedy has just struck you.

“Shit,” you gasp dramatically, eyes wide. “I just ran out of cinnamon powder—Remus had some stored in the back of the barn.”

You say it like it’s nothing. Like you haven’t just said his name with that soft, familiar note that Sirius swears does something rotten to his chest. Like you don’t know how close he is to yanking the apron from your waist and pinning you against the prep counter.

You untie the apron with one hand, dropping it onto the hook with the same lazy grace you seem to do everything with. Like being hot was just something you were born knowing how to weaponize.

Sirius watches, helpless, as your dress hikes even higher during the motion—bare thighs, that sway of your hips, the soft dip of your waist. It's a visual kick to the teeth.

“Well,” you chirp, already walking toward the back exit, your voice syrup-sweet and oblivious. “Catch you later, Black. I’ve gotta go grab some things from Remmy.”

You say it like that, and Sirius’s jaw clenches.

He hates—hates—how the image rushes in uninvited: you in that same dress, climbing the hill toward the Lupin farm, sun on your shoulders, dirt under your heels, lips parted just a little because you’re always flushed from the heat when you get there. And Remus is probably out back, sleeves rolled up, hands dirty, hair wild.

Sirius knows how that ends. He’s seen how that ends. You in Remus’s lap, whining into his neck, grinding like you can’t help yourself, like you were made to fuck on bakery counters and wooden barn tables and motorcycle seats and wherever the hell else your pretty little body wants to be worshipped.

Sirius blinks hard.

Fuck.

He shouldn’t be thinking this.

But he is.

He doesn’t like town girls. Never has. He grew up in places where girls wore lipstick sharp enough to draw blood, where they took shots faster than you could blink, laughed with mouths wide open and eyes dark. He fucked girls in pub bathrooms with his rings still on. He liked it filthy and fast and forgettable.

But you?

You walk barefoot through the market with your basket of flour and blueberries, leave pink gloss stains on straws, tuck daisies behind your ear without even trying.

And somehow, somehow, Sirius feels more perverse imagining what you sound like when you beg than he ever has with girls who would’ve let him tie them up in a booth at The Dog & Bone bar.

He swallows.

You’re halfway out the backdoor when his voice snaps through the haze. “I’ll drive you.”

You stop and turn around, eyebrows raised like he’s grown a second head. “To the farm?”

He shrugs, trying to play it cool, ignoring the way his throat is dry and his jeans are suddenly too tight. “Why not?”

You glance between him and the bakery, lips quirking. “Not getting on that glorified deathtrap you call a bike, Black.”

He grins slow, stepping closer. “Come on, you don’t trust me?”

“Nope.”

“I’d never hurt you.”

You pause at the door, one hand on the frame. “You sure?”

He means it. He thinks he means it. But the way you’re looking at him now—mouth glistening with sugar, neck flushed, dress riding high like you want him to see—you’re making it impossible to remember where the line is. If there even is one.

You tilt your head slightly, like you know exactly the kind of chaos you’re causing.

His throat’s dry. Jeans tight. Every logical cell in his body tells him to knock it off—but logic doesn’t stand a chance when you’re looking at him like that.

You sigh, all mock annoyance, but there’s a flicker in your eyes that’s anything but innocent. “Fine,” you say, letting the word drag a little. “But if I die, I’m haunting you.”

You turn and walk out into the alley, hips swinging like a fucking metronome.

Sirius follows like he’s under a spell.

He knows he shouldn’t be thinking what he’s thinking. Not when Remus’s name is still fresh in the air. Not when you smell like vanilla and innocence and everything he’s ever sworn wasn’t his type.

The engine’s rumble echoes through the alley, low and feral, like something breathing beneath the concrete. You hesitate at the edge of the curb, the hem of your dress flaring in the breeze kicked up by the motor.

Sirius is already astride the bike, long legs planted, black boots grounded like he owns the damn earth. He pulls a cigarette from behind his ear, lights it with a flick and a hollow click, and takes a slow drag—like he’s got all the time in the goddamn world. Smoke curls from the corner of his mouth as he looks back at you over his shoulder, eyes half-lidded, a grin tugging lazy and cocky at his lips.

And the problem is—he knows exactly what he’s doing.

You narrow your eyes. “You’re gonna smoke and drive?”

He blows out a slow stream of smoke, eyes not leaving yours. “Sweetheart, if that makes you nervous... you really shouldn’t see how I handle the curves.”

Your breath catches—and he smirks wider, smug and dangerous, the kind of man who doesn’t just walk into trouble.

“All that attitude in the bakery,” he laughs, tilting his head, lips tugging into a smirk. “And now what? Nervous, sweet girl?”

You try to scoff, but it comes out breathier than intended. “I’m not nervous. I’m—”

He cuts you off with a laugh, slow and indulgent. “Sure, sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes, but your fingers twist at the side of your dress. “I just didn’t think you’d actually drive me.”

His grin deepens. “Wouldn’t be a gentleman if I let a pretty little thing like you go wandering off alone, would I?”

You don’t answer. You can’t, because suddenly, Sirius Black is off the bike.

He moves fast, faster than you’re ready for—two strides and he’s in front of you, hands landing firm on your waist.

Big hands, warm even through the leather, gripping like they’ve been there before in some fever dream you’ve barely dared to admit to having. And then—

“Oh—” you gasp as he lifts you like it’s nothing, like you’re made of silk and air.

Your hands flutter uselessly against his shoulders, but he’s already got you seated behind him, legs falling around either side of the seat. The leather’s warm beneath you, but not as warm as the heat starting to pool low in your stomach.

“There you go,” Sirius says, and it’s filthy, the way he says it—quiet and rough, like a man proud of what he’s just done. He steps back slightly and looks you over like you’re his work. “Pretty girl.”

The air gets knocked clean out of your lungs.

Fuck.

That means two things, your brain helpfully supplies in a scream.

One: He’s great at sex talk. Like, dangerously good. Like he’s probably the type to press his mouth to your ear and say filth until you’re begging, soaked through, clawing at him just to make—God, please—let you come.

Two: He clearly wants you.

Because no one touches someone like that unless they’re thinking about what else they could be doing with those hands. No one says “sweet girl” with that kind of revRemusce unless they’re already undressing you with their eyes. And Sirius Black? He doesn’t do sweet.

You're already pressed flush to his back as he settles in front of you again, heat rolling off him like fire. Your chest brushes his jacket, and your cheek hovers just near his shoulder. You can smell the smoke in his hair, the faint bite of leather and clove.

“You good?” he asks, glancing back just slightly, voice low.

You nod, barely.

He revs the bike and that filthy little smile is back. “Thought so.”

But just before he pulls off, he glances down at your hands, still clutching his sides, and says, “You might want to hold on tighter, baby. I don’t take it slow.”

And fuck.

You swear your thighs tense up around the seat like instinct, like survival. You want to say something back. You want to snark or flirt or bite. But you’re too busy being halfway undone by a man who hasn’t even touched you where it matters yet.

So you grip tighter.

And when the bike tears down the street, wind in your hair, engine loud in your ears, Sirius Black between your legs, the only thing you can think is: I’m going to hell for this.

The ride out of town is a blur of roaring wind and roaring thoughts. Your arms wrapped around Sirius’s waist, your cheek brushing his back, and the sheer warmth of him bleeding through the layers of leather and tension. The world is a smear of golden fields and trees flying past — but your brain? Loud.

Because fuck, the way his thighs flex when he leans into turns. The way he half-tilts his head sometimes, murmuring something under his breath like “you enjoying the ride, sweetheart?” without even needing to say it aloud.

He knows exactly what he’s doing. And you know exactly what you’re letting yourself fall into.

By the time you see the faded Lupin farm sign and the soft stretch of earth around the property, your legs are sore from gripping him and your head’s a mess.

Sirius slows as he pulls into the drive, engine purring now, low and idle, as if the damn thing knows how to tease just like its rider.

Gravel crunches beneath the tires. The house looms ahead—modest, sun-dappled, framed by apple trees—and out front, beside the barn, stands Remus Lupin.

And God help you, again.

He’s in a henley, sleeves rolled up over his forearms, chest straining just slightly at the seams. There’s a faint sheen of sweat at his collarbone from the heat, his golden-brown curls tousled, jaw clenched as he leans on the counter by the shed—talking to someone.

You squint a little, your stomach curling.

She's pretty. Like, effortlessly pretty. All soft eyes and airy sundress, laughing at something he’s just said while tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

Remus is nodding, polite and charming, his hands moving as he explains something about produce or jam or fuck if you care.

Because you’re suddenly, violently aware of the fact that Sirius is still between your legs and your thighs are still aching with want — and Remus Lupin, tall and golden and gentle-looking, is smiling at another woman.

And worst of all? You want him to look at you like that. Even worse than that? You want him to look at you the way Sirius has been all damn day—like he could eat you alive and never get full.

Sirius kills the engine and glances back at you. His voice is low, amused. “What’s with the stare, sweetheart? That your Remmy?”

You bristle, sliding off the bike. Your dress hikes high again as you land, and Sirius’s hand definitely lingers on your hip a second too long as he helps you down. “You’re so annoying.”

He doesn’t answer. Just lights another cigarette and leans back against the bike like he’s watching a play.

You smooth your hair, trying to ignore how Sirius is blatantly eyeing the hem of your dress, and stride forward.

You march up the Lupin farmhouse steps like you’ve done it a hundred times before, even though your heart’s thudding out a reckless, bratty rhythm that has nothing to do with familiarity and everything to do with proving a point.

Your dress clings to you in the heat, riding higher with every step, and you don’t bother fixing it. Let them fucking look.

Remus is still out there, leaning against the porch railing like sin draped in denim, the late sun pouring over him in gold, and that girl’s beside him—fingertips twirling in her hair, laugh soft and sugar-spun, like she’s never once had to try, and maybe she hasn’t. She doesn’t look at you, doesn’t even seem to notice, but he does.

The moment your boots crunch against the gravel, his gaze snaps to you and stays there. It drags, slow and hot, over your frame like he’s searching for something he lost and only just remembered where to find it, like you walked out of one of the dreams he pretends he doesn’t have, the ones that leave him hard and desperate and too wound up to sleep.

You toss him a vague, disinterested wave, keep your chin up, and sashay right past the two of them like you didn’t just spend the last ten minutes gripping Sirius Black’s waist and thinking about what else those hands could do.

The breeze lifts your skirt at just the right angle when you pass, and you hope he sees the sway of your ass.

Inside the farmhouse, you make a beeline for the pantry, yanking open cabinets like you own the place, lips pursed, movements loud and pointed.

You’re not even really looking for anything in particular–fuck the cinnamon powder. You’re just mad, jealous, and turned on. All of it simmering under your skin like a burn you keep poking.

You hear them come in behind you—boots on floorboards, the shift of male bodies in too-small doorways.

“You always walk into other people’s houses like this?” Remus asks, voice warm but confused, like he’s trying to balance you against the version of you in his head—the soft girl who fed the geese.

You glance over your shoulder with a smirk. “If you can show up at my bakery any time you want, I can show up here.”

His brow twitches at that. Sirius lets out a low whistle from behind him.

And then, suddenly, it’s all a little too quiet.

Remus is staring at you like you’ve grown horns. His eyes flick down—slow, slow, slow—from your smirking mouth to your chest, where the sweat is gathering beneath the thin fabric of your dress, then lower, watching your thighs press together, the little rhythm you can’t stop, the ache in you practically glowing in the late afternoon light.

And you know he sees it. You want him to see it. Want him to finally understand what kind of game you’re playing.

Christ, you think, heart hammering. He’s actually looking.

You should be embarrassed. You should say something innocent and cute and bakery-girl sweet.

But you don’t.

You lean forward just slightly, pressing your hands to the old wooden countertop, swaying your hips back as you pretend to look at something on the lower shelf.

“Out of cinnamon again,” you mumble, purely for show, because you’re fully aware of the way both of them go still behind you—aware of the absolute filth that’s probably collecting in Sirius’s head and the deep, tightly-reined tension in Remus’s.

You straighten, turn with a little too much purpose, and glance between the two of them like butter wouldn’t melt on your tongue.

“You boys just gonna stand there staring or are you gonna help me find the cinnamon?”

Then you look at Remus.Your lashes flutter, your lips pout just slightly, like you’re daring him to do something about it.

He doesn't. Of course he doesn’t.

So you roll your eyes and push up from the chair with a dramatic sigh, hips swinging as you strut past them toward the pantry. “Fine, I’ll just help myself. God forbid one of you offers.”

Christ, Remus thinks, rubbing his face with a mix of exhaustion and frustration as you storm off to the pantry.

He can’t help but notice the way your short dress rides up, teasingly revealing that perfect, round ass—firm and daring him like a damn invitation.

That dress belong in the fucking trash or on a pedestal where Remus can properly thank it and worship it.

Inside the pantry, you make a show of standing on your toes, your dress riding indecently high as you pretend to reach for the top shelf. You hum to yourself—off-key, childish, annoying on purpose. You want him to hear you, you want him to snap.

Still nothing.

So you reach up higher, let your back arch, your legs press together in that spoiled, lazy way that says someone should be helping me right now.

You pout, much louder this time.

“Remmy,” you call out, all false innocence and dripping entitlement, “your shelves are stupid. Why are they so high? Honestly, it’s like this place wasn’t designed for anyone with a sense of proportion.”

There’s a pause. A shift in the air. You know what’s coming.

You just don’t know if it’ll be him or Sirius who breaks first.

Then: “Top shelf. Cinnamon’s in a jar with a blue lid,” Remus says, voice clipped.

You scoff. “I see it. I just can’t reach it.”

You spin around and lean against the counter, crossing your arms over your chest.

The pose pushes your tits up, makes your dress slip a little lower on your shoulder. Deliberate. “You gonna be a gentleman and help me, or are you just gonna keep staring like a perv?”

That does it.

Remus steps into the room, slow and controlled, but there’s heat underneath—barely leashed. Sirius stays leaning in the doorway, grinning like he’s watching a play written just for him.

“You always this difficult?” Remus asks, voice low.

You tilt your head. “Only when I don’t get what I want.”

The way you say it—sweet, teasing, a little cruel—hangs in the air like smoke. And you know he hears it for what it is: a challenge.

You wander a few steps toward the shelf by the window, pretending to scan for what you came for—what was it? Cinnamon? Apricots? Something dumb. Something you don’t need, not really.

You hum under your breath and let your fingers trail carelessly along the edge of the table. “Honestly,” you add with a dramatic sigh, “I thought someone like you would be more helpful.”

You hear Sirius let out a low chuckle behind you, probably still leaning in the doorway like a smug bastard. But you don’t turn to look.

You’re watching Remus out of the corner of your eye, watching the way his jaw ticks, how his fingers curl at his sides like he’s trying—really trying—not to react.

He does that a lot, doesn’t he? Keeps his composure. Wears that patience like armor.

But today? Oh, today, you want to peel that armor off and see what’s underneath. You want to see if he can snap.

Because he deserves it, you tell yourself. You’ve been nothing but sweet—so sweet—until five days ago. And then you ignored him. Cold-shouldered him like a fucking pro.

And yeah, maybe it was petty, maybe it was dramatic, maybe it was your own twisted little game of making him sweat. But he had it coming.

And now you’re here. In his house. In that tiny little sundress. Acting like you own the place.

You know exactly what you’re doing.

Remus hasn’t moved. But you feel the shift in him. It’s in the weight of his silence, the tight line of his mouth, the way his gaze drops to your legs—your thighs, your fingers, the hem of your dress. Like he’s cataloging all the sins he’s about to commit if he stops holding back.

And god, it’s thrilling.

You let out the tiniest huff, pout just enough to be bratty. “Ugh. This is taking forever.”

You stomp—stomp—over to the pantry like some spoiled little thing, throwing the door open with more force than necessary, and bend over, hips swaying as you scan the shelves.

You know what this looks like. You want to know what this looks like. You want to see how long Remus Lupin can last before he snaps the leash.

Because what you don’t say—but feel like wildfire in your blood—is that you missed him. Stupidly. Intensely. And you’ve been wanting to get under his skin the way he’s been under yours since the first time he walked into your bakery and complimented your cinnamon scones with that slow, unreadable look in his eyes.

You turn back around, half-expecting to still find him at the door—but no. He’s stepped closer.

Close enough that you feel the heat rolling off him like sunlight after stormclouds. His mouth is tight and his eyes sharp.

This is it, you realize. This is the breaking point.

And Remus?

God, he’s unraveling.

Because five days without hearing your voice had nearly driven him mad. You hadn’t stopped by with leftovers or pies, and the farm had felt colder without your footsteps, without your voice talking to the geese like they were friends. Without the smell of sugar and sass trailing behind you.

And now you’re here. Acting like nothing happened. Acting like you didn’t wreck him by simply being gone.

And worst of all?

You showed up on Sirius’s bike.

Wrapped around his best friend.

Wearing that fucking dress.

Remus is a patient man. But he’s not a saint. And every second you pout, and whine, and rub your thighs together like you're not even trying to hide the tension coiling inside you, it digs deeper under his skin. You’re all attitude and heat and need—and he’s drowning in the storm of you.

This girl, this version of you? She’s not the one who left him cherry pies and kissed his cheek after sending her apples from the orchard. She’s not the one who fed his chickens and giggled at his horses.

No. She’s bratty. Entitled, temptation in its purest form.

And Remus Lupin would sell the whole damn farm—barn, land, livestock, house—for just one more taste of your pussy.

But you don’t know that. You don’t know what you’ve done to him.

Not until you look up, meet his eyes—and see that all his patience has turned into something dark, and hungry, and shaking with restraint.

You run your tongue over your bottom lip, teeth catching the skin just enough to make his eyes flicker down.

And then you roll your eyes, toss your hair like you’re bored. “God, if I wanted a man who just stared at me, I could’ve stayed in Sirius’s lap.”

There it is.

That sharp, awful silence, like all the oxygen just left the room. You can feel it when it hits. Like lightning in the chest.

You didn’t even mean it, not really. Just a jab, a bratty little dig. But you knew it would hurt. Knew it would burn. That was the point.

And Remus—

Remus doesn’t say a word.

He doesn’t shout. Doesn’t bark.

He just moves.

Your back hits the wall in the next breath. His hand is at your waist, the other at your throat, not squeezing, just holding you there, keeping you still. Not letting you pretend anymore.

And his voice is low. Ruined. “Say that again.”

You blink up at him, heart pounding, mouth gone dry. But there’s still a smirk curled at the corner of your lips.

“I said…” you hum, saccharine and infuriating, “…Sirius is a much better ride than you’ve been lately.”

That’s it.

That’s the fucking match.

Remus exhales something like a growl, and the hand at your waist slides down—gripping, digging into your thigh, dragging your leg up around his hip like he needs you anchored, needs you open. His mouth is at your ear now, hot breath grazing your skin, and his voice is no longer calm.

“You think this is a game?” he murmurs, all grit and gravel. “You think acting like a spoiled little slut is gonna get you what you want?”

You gasp, breath stuttering, your fingers clenching at the front of his shirt like you might float away otherwise.

“Five days,” he mutters, mouth brushing your jaw. “Five fucking days of silence. Of you pretending I don’t exist. Of watching you climb on Sirius’s bike like a little tease, walking around in that dress like you’re daring me to break.”

He shifts closer—grinding into you, firm, deliberate—just enough to make your breath hitch. Just enough to make your head tip back against the wall.

“You want attention that bad, sweetheart?” he whispers, mock-gentle. “You want to act like a brat, make me jealous, throw your pretty little tantrum until someone fucks it out of you?”

You bite your lip, breathless.

“Then you should’ve just said so.”

Remus Lupin has finally snapped.

You scoff, pushing back against the counter with a defiant grin. “Yeah, you are. Got me pinned here and you’re still talking. Honestly, Remus, maybe I was wrong about you. Maybe you can’t handle me after all,” you tease, wriggling as you try to stand, but his hand presses firmly into your back, holding you in place.

The heat pooling between your legs is undeniable—you feel the dampness soaking through your panties. You clench your thighs, desperate for some relief, but the way he’s got you, there’s no chance of that.

Then it hits you—this is exactly how Remus must hold people when he’s trying to keep them in line on the farm. The strong, silent type who doesn’t need to shout.

Holy hell, that’s unbelievably hot to think about. So steady, so grounded, so damn reliable. The man who fixes fences by day and somehow always knows when you need comfort at night. Remus, who probably hides his desire behind that calm facade, who might even blush if he thought about ogling you outright—but that quiet restraint only makes you want him more.

And then he’s tugging your dress up, your panties sliding down your legs until they’re bunched at your knees, exposing your bare skin.

“You really are something else, you know that?” he murmurs, fingers tracing over the smooth curve of your ass.

Then, without warning, his hand slaps down hard enough to make you flinch—if you wRemus’t already trapped beneath him. It’s sudden, sharp, and damn intoxicating.

You’ve fantasized about Remus spanking you before, hell, you’ve been practically begging for it with all the stubborn, bratty shit you’ve been throwing his way these past few days.

“You act like you’ve got it all figured out—switching between this innocent girl act and that spoiled little brat whenever you think it’ll get me to look your way. I’m not dumb, you know. I see right through it. Just let you think you’re running the show, ‘cause honestly? It’s adorable how much you want to be in control,” Remus’s voice drops low, rough and teasing, as his hand comes down again and again, each smack burning with the promise of more.

You whimper—half indignation, half need—and Remus lets out a low laugh.

“Oh, now she gets quiet, c’mon sugar, don’t act shy now- let him hear you.”

There’s a creak behind you, floorboards shifting with the unmistakable weight of someone else stepping in.

You glance up through your lashes and catch Sirius, still lounging in the doorway, but now his grin has faltered—just slightly. His eyes drag over the scene with lazy hunger, like a man who’s seen this storm brewing and is finally watching it break.

Remus leans down, mouth brushing the shell of your ear. “Since you’ve been acting like such a spoiled little thing… maybe it’s time dear old Sirius gets a turn. What do you think, sweetheart?”

Your breath catches.

Sirius hums thoughtfully, pushing off the doorframe as if he’s just decided this is worth getting involved in. “You know, I was gonna be a gentleman about all this.” He saunters forward, boots thudding against the old farmhouse wood. “But you make it real hard when you’re like this.”

You glance over your shoulder, lips parted, spine still arched from Remus’s hand. Sirius’s gaze flicks down, then back up with a smirk. “Aren’t you just the prettiest thing when you’re being taught a lesson.”

You shiver.

Sirius’s hand closes around yours. “Come on, pretty girl. Let’s get you somewhere softer.”

They lead you through the quiet farmhouse, your feet brushing the old wooden floorboards, the air thick with heat and something unspoken. Remus’s room is tucked in the back—cooler, quieter.

The door creaks open, and you swear your pulse is loud enough to hear.

Sirius nudges you toward the bed with a wicked smile. “Let’s see if that bratty little attitude holds up when you're actually being taken care of.”

And gods, you're not sure whether you're burning from the anticipation or from the fact that—for once—you’ve got both their full attention.

Sirius drops you hard onto the bed before standing upright again, he and Remus standing side by side, smirking like they own you. The raw, dominant energy radiating off them makes your skin prickle with want and delicious fear.

“Isn’t she fucking gorgeous, Sirius? I can’t wait to break her in,” Remus murmurs, his voice low and rough. Your breath hitches, eyes wide and burning with heat as you try to steady yourself, pressing your thighs together, cheeks flushing red-hot.

You want to crawl away, but you know better. You’re their plaything tonight. Their little spoiled brat who’s been testing boundaries and pushing limits.

“Don’t get shy now, baby. You’ve been teasing us all day long, making us wait,” Remus leans over you, lips close enough to brush your ear. His voice is a wicked promise.

“You’re gonna take every inch of what we give you, and by the end, you’ll be begging for more.”

Sirius growls low, his hands sliding under the hem of your dress, pulling it up over your hips.

You sit up just enough for him to strip the damn thing right off you, leaving you naked in nothing but white lace.

You feel so exposed, so damn delicious, and they’re drinking it all in—the way your skin gleams, your chest rises and falls, the way your pussy clenches uncontrollably just from their hungry gazes.

They toss their clothes off without a care—boxers only now—revealing bodies carved like sculptures, muscle and strength you ache to touch and worship.

Sirius climbs back onto the bed, back resting against the headboard, and without hesitation, he grabs under your arms, hauling you up until your back presses hard against his chest. His arms are strong and possessive, holding you exactly where he wants you.

You’re straddling his lap, trembling with anticipation.

His calloused hands grip your thighs, prying them apart, and suddenly Remus is there too, lowering himself between your legs. His pretty brown eyes lock onto yours, dripping with want. Your breath catches. You’re drowning in the heat between them, your pussy slick and throbbing just at the thought of what’s coming next.

You want to scream, to beg, to lose yourself in the way they claim you like their most prized possession. Your body aches for them—every touch, every look setting your nerves on fire. This is exactly where you belong. Between them, broken and begging.

Remus kisses along your thighs, the warmth of his exhales teasing you, purposely skipping over your dripping cunt. You groan, bucking you hips toward his face, only to be held back by Sirius's firm grip on your hips.

“Ah-ah, sugar,” Sirius murmurs against your ear, voice low and teasing. “That ain’t how good girls behave, sweetheart.”

Your breath catches, both from his grip and the heat pooling low in your belly. You whine softly, already desperate, and Sirius chuckles, his palm splayed possessively over your stomach.

“Tell him what you want,” he murmurs. “Use that mouth you’ve been running all day, come on, baby”

“Please, Remus,” you whisper, your voice a breathy mess. “Please touch me. I need—”

“More than that,” Sirius coaxes, brushing his lips over your shoulder. “You were such a brat earlier. You think we’re just gonna give in without hearing you beg a little?”

Your cheeks burn, not from embarrassment, but from how much you want to be seen, undone, wanted.

Remus looks up at you with those amber eyes, gaze dark and hungry, but still so tender.

"Tell me what you need, love," Remus murmurs, dragging his nose lightly along your thigh, just shy of your aching heat. "Use that pretty voice."

“P-please,” you gasp. “I need your mouth—I’ve been so good, Remmy, I swear—”

“You think that was good behavior?” Sirius laughs softly against your neck, teeth grazing the skin there.

“You’ve been brattier than ever. Back-talking, strutting around town in that little dress. You’ve been begging for this.”

Your cheeks flame with embarrassment and arousal, your thighs trembling in Remus’s grip. His thumbs stroke you open gently, deliberately slow.

“She’s soaked,” he says, almost to himself, eyes fixed on you like you’re the only thing he’s ever wanted. “All worked up from nothing but a little teasing, such a slut.”

Sirius presses a kiss to your temple. “Look at you,” he murmurs. “Our pretty little plaything. You want to be ruined, don’t you?”

You nod helplessly, fingers fisting in the sheets, aching for more—anything. Remus leans in, finally, finally letting his breath ghost over the place you crave him most.

“You’ll take everything we give you,” he says, voice low and revRemust. “And thank us when you’re done.”

Remus's tongue delicately dancing up and down you slit before taking your swollen, needy clit into his soft lips, sucking hungrily.

You tangle your fingers in his tresses, pulling gently. Remus groans into your cunt, the vibrations bringing you even closer to the edge.

"You sound so fu-fucking good 'fa me, sweetheart," Remu stutters out, trying to speak and eat at the same time.

"You k-know it's rude to talk with your mouth full, right ahh.. right, Remmy?", you try to retort. Sirius's chest vibrates against your back with a chuckle.

His mouth hangs open, the gushing wetness of your pussy and the sounds you're making in response to his best friend devouring you fills the room. It's almost unbearable for Sirius to resist pushing Remus away and taking you all for himself.

"She's a sweet one, isn't she, moony?" Sirius raises an eyebrow at his friend, who peers up from between your legs and nods in response.

"Mhmm, she tastes so fucking good," Remus murmurs against you in response, his tongue still thrashing against you.

Remus teases one finger against your hole before plunging it deep inside you. Pumping in and out rhythmically, he finds your g-spot with ease.

He massages into you with the rough pads of his long, slender fingers. His lips latch around your swollen bundle of nerves, sucking greedily. You feel the coils tightening in your stomach, arching your back away from Sirius.

"I...ahh f-fuck..I'm s-so close, Remus," you cry out, trying to close your legs around his face. Sirius pries your legs apart and holds them open.

"Let go, baby. C'mon, be a good little slut...cum for him. Show him how good he's making you feel," Sirius whispers in your ear.

Remus pumps his fingers deeper into you, sucking even harder on your clit. The tightness in your tummy finally snaps, eyes rolling back in your head, a small yelp leaving your lips.

You feel yourself spray your release all over Remus's face. His eyes widen in surprise before he laps up everything you give him, relishing in the way your sweet juices coat his tongue.

You're shaking as he cleans you up with his tongue, riding the fine line between pleasure and overstimulation.

"Mmmm, you saw that Sirius?" asks Remus, "We found ourselves a squirter". Remus's tongue continues to lap you up. Sirius's eyes darken at that.

He pulls his digit out of your dripping pussy, presenting it to Sirius so he can taste you, too.

Sirius can't take it anymore. He's been rock hard against your back this whole time, fighting every carnal urge that's raking through his body.

When he finally gets a taste of you, the restraint he had been so desperately clinging to snaps.

He sucks you off Remus's fingers hungrily, eyes rolling back in his head at your sweetness.

Remus scoots back as Sirius pushes you onto your stomach, your chest against the mattress and hips in the air, his head dipping to meet your cunt.

He drinks up what Remus so generously left behind for him before straightening up again, sliding his boxers off. He positions himself behind you, teasing your clit with the head of his thick cock.

You groan at the sensation, the aftermath of your first orgasm still making your clit sensitive. You push yourself back against Sirius, only to be stopped by his hands taking a hold of your hips.

"Tell me what you want, sweetheart", he says, still teasing your clit with the head of his cock.

"I want you inside me...need to feel you stretch me out...please, Sirius," you beg, trying to push back against him again. Sirius chuckles at this.

"Dirty slut is learning fast isn't she? Being such a good fuck toy for us."

With that, he lines himself up with your dripping hole, and plunges deep into you, giving you no time to adjust to how thick he is as he drives himself deep into you. Your slickness from your orgasm is the only thing saving you from his thickness.

Remus leans down to kiss you, pulling his boxers off and discarding them. His long cock bounces out and sits rock hard in front of your face. You lick your lips at the sight of his pretty pink head dripping pre-cum, eyes half open, head bouncing from getting fucked into from behind.

"So fucking wet for me, sweetheart. You're taking me so well. Such a good little slut," Sirius gritted his teeth.

"C-can I please...oh-h fu-fuck...can I please suck you off, Remmy? W-want you to come down my throat," you stumble over your words, trying hard to keep your head upright as Sirius continues to drill into you, ramming directly into your sweet spot, his cock stretching you out so painfully, so perfectly.

Remus moans at your question. Because fuck were you such a sight for his poor sore eyes.

"Thought you'd never ask..go ahead, sweetheart. Be a good girl and let me fuck your mouth." His hand cups the underside of your jaw, keeping your head up for you.

You open your mouth and stick out your tongue for Remus, inviting him in. His hands tangle in your hair, wasting no time before plunging deep into your throat.

You gag around his length, eyes watering at the sudden intrusion.

Sirius is fucking into you so deeply, his powerful thrust pushing you deeper onto Remus's length.

Gagging and sputtering, you inhale deeply through your nose, adjusting to the pace before opening your throat for Remus.

"Jesus Christ, what a pretty pussy, she's fucking milking me," Sirius spits out, his unrelenting hips still plowing into you.

You can only moan in response, the vibrations running from the back of your throat into Remus's member, causing him to buck his hip, shoving his cock all the way down your throat.

"Such a pretty mouth..wrapped so tight around me..it's-it's so warm..o-oh fuck," Remus rambles, one hand on the back of your head, the other under your chin, holding your mouth open for him.

Your stomach begins to tighten up again, and you desperately clench around Sirius. One of his hands leaves your hips and reaches around to start rubbing vicious circles into your clit.

The added stimulation pushes you over the edge, and you cry out around Remus's cock, tears trickling down your face as your second orgasm rakes through you.

The sight of you succumbing to Sirius's relentless strokes while choking and moaning around his cock was enough to push Remus towards his own release, and he bottoms out in the back of your throat before shooting his come into your mouth.

His hips sputter and he hunches over, holding your face against his pelvis. Your eyes are rolled back in your head, your own squirting orgasm making it difficult for you to keep upright.

Remus pulls out of your mouth with a pop, your aching jaw still agape from Sirius continuing to slam into you, chasing his own orgasm. Your chest falls to the bed, unable to keep yourself up anymore, before you're lifted back up by Remus.

"Stay with me, pretty girl,," Remus coos.

"You're doing so good...let him keep fucking into you. You're taking his cock so well".

Sirius's head falls back, still pounding his hips roughly against your ass.

"I'm gonna fill you up, baby," Sirius pants. You turn your head to protest, but before you can utter a word, Remus's hand covers your mouth.

"Shut up and take my cum, slut. Be a good fuck toy and let me fill you." Sirius says through gritted teeth.

You moan against Remus's hand in response as you feel Sirius release inside of you, his hot, creamy ropes coating your insides.

He thrusts a few more times, letting your tight cunt milk every last drop out of him. When he pulls out, you feel your foundation waiver and you collapse onto the bed, your head falling into Remus's lap.

"You did so, so good for us, princess, lemme have a turn now, yeah?" Remus says, you head resting against his thigh, trying to regain your composure. You can only hum quietly in response, eyes fluttering.

Remus manhandles you and flips you around so that your face is in the mattress and your ass is perked up. He roughly spreads your cheeks apart and slips into your cunt with ease. You moaned out at the feeling of being overstimulated and fucked twice in a row.

“Fucking love this pussy,” He whined in your ear, the desperation nearly sending you over the edge, “Can’t fucking wait to feel you cum ‘round my cock. Do it better than anyone else.”

Remus’s nimble fingers slipped between your legs as kept up his brutal pace, his middle finger rubbing quick circles onto your sensitive, throbbing clit as he angled his hips to hit your G-spot so deliciously you were seeing stars.

The way his cock repeatedly slammed against that sweet spot deep inside you that had you creaming and crying out his name like you wanted someone to hear, and had you fucked utterly dumb.

“‘M close, Remmy — ‘m there!”

“Yeah, give it to me, baby. Let Remmy feel you cum on his cock — yeaaaah, such a good girl.” He coaxed, fingers speeding up ever so slightly and increasing pressure as your eyes rolled back, the coil in your stomach on the brink of snapping as Remus smirked against your neck, pressing open-mouthed hot kisses to your warm skin.

“That’s my girl.”

The phrase that once sent shivers down your spine in shame, was now pushing you over the edge to squirt on his cock.

You cried out in ecstasy as Remus bucked his hips harder into you, his cock driving deeper as you came harder than before, your juices coating this thighs.

“S-shit, baby, you squirtin’ again? Fuckin’ squeezin’ me so tight.” He huffed, grinding his teeth together as you milked his cock, feeling his own orgasm approaching as you writhed on top of him.

“Rem!” You whined, feeling suddenly overstimulated as he continued to ram his hot length into your fluttering walls, your eyes squeezing shut as you gripped his tense forearm.

“Sshh, baby, I’m there, God, ‘M fuckin’ cummin’,” He warned, his face tensing as his mouth fell agape as you clamped down on him once more, “Fuuuck, yeah, that’s it, yeah, take it, take it, take it—!”

Remus was extremely vocal as he let out a low groan, almost growling as he pumped his sticky load deep inside your willing cunt — pushing his cum so deep it squelched out the side of his cock and onto his already soaked thighs.

You whined deeply from your chest as you felt Remus fuck his cum deeper into you, wanting to make sure you took every drop.

“Shiiiit, sweetheart.” Remus laughed as he lifted you off his softening cock with a hiss, “‘Made a fuckin’ mess.”

You looked over to the side to see Sirius heavily panting as he jerked off to the sight of Remus fucking hard into you.

Gosh, it was so obscene, the way he was sweating and practically whimpering as he stared at Remus. These two really needed to fuck each other.

The two men look at each other before looking back down at your fucked out body. Remus rubs your upper back gently as Sirius massages your shaking thighs.

You all sat like that for a moment, relishing in the pleasure still coursing through your veins, the hot smell of sex sitting heavy in the room.

Suddenly, Sirius's deep, sultry voice cuts through the silence. "Don't quit on us now, sugar. We're just getting started," he taunts.

You barely have time to catch your breath before Remus is moving again. He presses a kiss to your temple—soft, deceptive—then pulls back with a look that’s pure wicked.

“You think that was punishment, sweetheart?” he murmurs, voice gravel and heat. “That was nothing but a warm-up.”

Your pulse jumps. That was a warm-up?

Remus crosses the room, opens an old cabinet, and pulls out a length of coarse rope—thick, strong, stained from years of real use. He tests the weight of it in his hands, like a farmer selecting the perfect tool.

Sirius lets out a low whistle. “Told you she was overdue for a real lesson,” he drawls, already shifting behind you. His arms slide around your waist, holding you steady as your body threatens to tremble apart.

“Hold her,” Remus orders, and Sirius grins against your neck.

“With pleasure.”

You don't even resist when Sirius gathers your wrists behind your back, firm but careful, while Remus climbs onto the bed with predator grace.

“We’re gonna tie you open and fuck you in both holes, how about that, baby?” Remus says, voice husky and low as he begins looping the rope around your thighs, spreading you just enough to make your cunt on full display for both men, practically gushing out with their cum.

“Gonna keep you right here, pretty and helpless. Just how you act when you’re trying to get your way.”

Sirius smirks. “No running, no hiding, no bratty little tantrums.”

Remus knots the last tie, then leans down, forehead nearly brushing yours. His voice is a dark, filthy promise against your lips:

“You wanted our attention, baby? You’ve got it. And now—you’re not going anywhere.”

Remus’s smirk deepens, fingers trailing slowly up the inside of your thigh like a warning and a threat all at once.

Sirius leans back, grinning like the devil, his hands still firm on your waist as he murmurs low:

“Buckle the fuck up, sugar—’cause you’re in for one hell of a ride.”

taglist: @lou-diaries @yuptha-tsme @lovelyygirl8

956 notes · View notes