#I’m no lip reading expert

[atticrissfinch]

I’ve Got My Red Dress on Tonight | (joel miller x fem!reader) (18+)

Part 5 of Meet Me in the Back

pairing: sleazy gas station clerk!joel miller x fem!reader summary: When your Valentine's Day date doesn't show, you decide there's one person who would be happy to see you. warnings/tags: [18+ MINORS DNI] age gap (no specifics), drug use (marijuana), daddy!kink, fingering (vaginal and....anal!!!), v brief foot fetish, squirting, praise!kink and degradation!kink (use of slut/whore), unprotected PIV, creampie, some ~touching in public, smoking, taking pictures mid-coitus, really nasty gross fluff i'm sorry about it. lemme know if i forgot something i gotta go fast i wanna post word count: ~7.8k jesus christ | ao3a/n: much thanks for the anon who suggested a V Day fic for these two <3 Thank you to my love Iris @papipascalispunk for making sure my commas and em-dashes are where they're supposed to be. ALSO. Chloe, resident sleazy!joel expert, wrote a little drabble inspired by Joel in this fic!! Please check it out after you've read this chapter! The Sighting by ChloeAngelic <3 Divider by @saradika-graphics ❤️ Taglist Update: I have decided to decommission my taglist in favor of an updates blog! Please follow @atticrissfinchupdates and opt in for notifications to get notified when I post a new fic! Series Masterlist | Masterlist | Kofi

The dress feels ungodly tight, but you had figured it would be worth it. 

It wasn’t. 

In fact, the dress hasn’t seen anything but the inside of your apartment. 

Your hair was done just the way you love it, you pulled out all the stops with your makeup, and you had squeezed yourself into this glittery, red mini dress that makes your tits look stunning, which you bought just for this night. 

You’d been out with Brent twice before, and even though you’d thought it was a little early in your “relationship” for a Valentine’s Day dinner, when he asked to “make it a special night” for you, you agreed. The last thing you wanted was to be alone on this godforsaken holiday. 

Well, at least he’d had the courtesy to give you twenty minutes' notice that he was bailing on you instead of just leaving you waiting on your couch wondering if he would come at all. 

Now you’re just waiting on your couch, wondering what the fuck to do. 

You open your messages on your phone and swipe away from your broken plans. The next thread under it is Joel’s. 

Joel: i swear 2 god i saw one tho

You: you did not see a UFO, Joel 

Joel: yes i did!!! it was way the hell up there flashin its lights!!! saw it clear as day!!!

You: that was most definitely just a normal plane, old man. Turn off Ancient Aliens once in a while. 

Joel: ur gonna be real sorry wen im FAMOUSS for findin the first REAL aliens 👽 🛸 

You: I’m sure I will be

Joel: u can make it up 2 me by flashin me them headlights of urs again 😈

Joel: honk honk 😈

You: Bye 🙄 😒

Joel: 👅

A smile tugs at your lips as you read through the conversation from earlier this evening. You hadn’t told him about the date. Or dates, rather. If this one had gone well, you might have. If things wound up back at your place and actually moved a step toward something. 

You deflate against the back of your couch. Because there’s nothing now. Just you, your suffocating dress, and your stupid heels. The vicious claws of insecurity start to scrape at the back of your neck. 

Brent didn’t want you. You weren’t good enough. You’re not good enough for anyone.

Tears prick at your eyes and you dab them with the side of your finger to keep your mascara intact, following it up with some deep breaths and your head tipping back between your shoulders, forcing the tears back into your skull.  

That’s not true, you recite to yourself. You know there’s always someone who’s happy to see you. 

Another deep breath. 

Someone who would be dead on his feet seeing you dressed like this. 

On your next breath you’re already shimmying out of your panties and checking the mirror to make sure no one is getting a free show who doesn’t deserve it. 

You scurry as quickly as you can to your car, shivering so fiercely it feels like your goddamn pussy has goosebumps from being exposed like this. You weather through it, chanting in your head some quote you heard about how hoes never get cold. 

When you get to the gas station, you scamper from your car into the store, shuddering when the heat hits you once you open the door. You tug your dress down and glance around, not immediately seeing Joel anywhere. He’s not at his usual spot, parked behind the counter. You venture further into the shop, peering down the aisle. 

“Evening,” someone says just behind you, and you jump, whirling around. 

It’s not Joel. It’s some other schmuck with a scraggly, graying ginger beard and a crooked, lumpy nose. His smile is friendly enough, but it lacks that trademark sleaziness that typically oozes from the person you’re accustomed to seeing man the store. His name tag reads Walter. 

“Evening,” you squeak out, cringing and clearing your throat when your voice spills out much higher pitched than you expected. You tug on your dress again. 

“Help you with anything?” he asks, and you’re relieved to find his gaze holding steady on yours, not drifting elsewhere despite the swathes of skin on display in your chosen outfit.

Joel wouldn’t even be able to begin to know where to fucking look, your mind provides, and you find yourself trying to come to terms with the apparent fact that… Joel isn’t here. 

He isn’t here – on Valentine’s Day. 

“I’m, um…I’m actually looking for Joel?”

Walter’s eyebrows shoot up, then fall into a furrow. “He been hiring on the clock again? Goddamn it, I told him not to fucking do that anymore,” he mutters, shaking his head down at the floor before looking back up at you. “Miss, I’m real sorry, I know you’re doing honest work and all, but I can’t have that shit here.”

It takes a moment for you to fully register what he’s saying, but when you do, your eyes go wide. “Oh, sir, I’m not— you’ve got— no, no. I’m just a friend of Joel’s.”

“I'm sure you are, Miss, but I—”

“I’m not a prostitute,” you insist under your breath, glancing around to ensure no one is in the vicinity. “I swear to god, I just had a date tonight, or I was going on a date, and then I wasn’t, and— I swear, I’m just dressed for a date. A normal date.”

You’re not sure your frantic insistence has Walter very reassured, but he just nods, a skeptical look in his eye. “Well, in any case, he’s not here. He’s got the night off.”

“Got it. Okay, thank you,” you say, wincing a little at the palpable awkwardness. You rush past him to leave, your heels clicking loudly, and apparently, whorishly, across the floor. 

“Stay safe out there, honey,” Walter calls after you. 

Your car is blessedly still harboring warmth as you clamor back inside and start the engine. You catch your breath and mull over what to do next. 

He wasn’t there. On Valentine’s Day. You feel like that can only mean one thing. Something squiggles and squirms in your belly at that thought. 

You have one more shot, and you take it, speeding off toward the outskirts, hoping you can go fast enough to drown out the weird feeling in your stomach. 

—

His truck is there. And it’s alone in the gravel next to his trailer. 

You see light through his weeping blinds, a warm yellow glow accompanied by periodically flickering colors that you assume is his television. A good sign, you think. 

The wind whips around your bare legs as you climb his steps carefully in your stilettos, staring up to admire the waxing gibbous moon shining absurdly bright against the speckled black sky. You lean against the dilapidated railing of his tiny porch in front of his door. The sky is never this bright where you live. It fills you with a sort of warmth. Comfort. You hear the distorted sound of voices on his television and the faint aroma of weed seeping out the frame of his door. 

You don’t hear anyone else. 

So you knock. 

You hear a nasty cough from the other side of the door and the volume of the TV ticking down. The door swings open and you’re hit in the face two-fold—with a wall of smoke and a wall of bare-chested man. 

Joel blinks and squints reddened eyes as he blocks the entire doorway, billows of haze attempting to escape around him to the fresh air. Then recognition glows in his eyes and his gaze drifts. Up and down. And his jaw goddamn drops. 

Your arms clasp at your back as you rock on your teetering heels. 

“Hi.”

Joel crams his eyes shut again, shaking his head like a dog like he’s trying to clear a fog over his vision. But he opens them again, and you’re still standing there, and he expels a long, narrow breath through his lips. 

“Jesus fucking Christ. This is heaven, right? Or— jesus— fuckin’…hell, in that devil of a dress,” he shakes his head again, slower, more like disbelief, and a smile pushes at your mouth. “You just showin’ up on my doorstep? Dressed like that? I must be fuckin’ dead.”

You temper your broadening grin, reining in your utter delight at receiving exactly the reaction you were craving. “So, you’re saying me, weed, and…” you crane your head to peek at his television, “And SVU is your idea of heaven?”

“Damn near fuckin’ close,” he says, a reverence about his tone as he drinks you in gratuitously. He pulls himself out of his stupor and hurriedly gestures inside. “Jesus, sweetheart, come in. Gotta be freezin’ your gorgeous tits off out there.”

His hand falls to the small of your back as he ushers you inside, the sweet tang of his evening stress relief burning stronger in your nostrils in his living room. 

Joel shuts the door behind you both and lets out a sharp whistle. “Sweet Mary Mother’a God. That fuckin’ ass,” he mutters under his breath. 

You peer your head around your shoulder to take in the sight of him, just as he does you. One hand frozen against the door, soft belly poking out over the hem of his sweatpants, dark hair sweeping over the curve of it and up his chest. And, of course, that fucking tent at his crotch, growing larger by the second. 

“Be still my fuckin’ heart – the hell are you doin’ here in that, darlin’ girl?”

Your cheeks begin to heat. 

He’s never said it like that. Darlin’ girl. It’s usually some iteration of one or the other, but never together. 

Darlin’ girl. 

You fill in a blank for yourself — unintentionally, but so fucking naturally. 

My darlin’ girl. 

Where your stomach was squirming, it now flutters. You swallow it down. Pull your mind back. You just want to feel wanted. That’s why you’re here. 

Then he’s at your back, pressing all of him against you. The softness of his torso, the scratch of his facial hair, the hardness of his cock. Planting feathery kisses along your neck with teasing bites. 

A giggle bubbles up your chest and you free up more of your neck for him to devour. “I’m here to see the stupid aliens, you dumbass.”

His lips pause on your neck. “Oh yeah?” he mumbles against your skin. 

“Yeah,” you laugh lightly, “Where’s your flying saucer? Your flashing lights?”

Joel’s hands sweep up your sides and cup your breasts through your dress, squeezing them tight in his grip. “Right fuckin’ here, baby,” he growls into the underside of your jaw, “Let me turn ‘em on for ya.”

You throw your head back with another easy laugh and you feel the shape of his smile against your cheek as he massages your covered tits. 

“Mmmm,” he hums, rocking his hips against your ass, his massive length nestling and sliding between your cheeks over your dress. “Come smoke a bowl with me. ‘N then tell me why you’re dressed like living sin in my living room.” 

“How about you just fuck me,” you sigh, tangling your fingers into Joel’s hair and holding his lips to your neck. 

“‘Cause I wanna stare at you in this dress a little while longer ‘fore I rip it to fuckin’ shreds,” he says, his words increasingly muffled by the exposed skin of your spaghetti-strapped shoulder. 

A shiver trembles down your spine and you take a steadying breath. “Okay. Then you better detach before all that shit goes out the window.”

Joel takes a deep breath and rolls his forehead over your shoulder with a moan. “Smart. You’re so goddamn smart. So goddamn pretty. Got my Peter pipin’ up a storm down there.”  

You roll your eyes and will yourself forward, toppling onto his sagging couch with him trailing along behind and groaning as he sinks into it. 

Your hands go to the straps on your heels and you begin to unfasten when you hear a definitive nuh-uh. You glance up and Joel’s eyes are fixated on your blood-red satin heels. “Don’t you fuckin’ dare.”

“Really?”

“Really. Those naughty fuckers stay on,” he orders, and you have no choice but to let your hands fall away. 

“Okay, then.”

Joel’s tongue darts out to wet his lips briefly. “Shit. Alright. Where the fuck was I?”

Joel busies his hands – his focus – with topping off the contents in the bowl of his bong. He graciously offers it to you. 

“Light it for me?”

Joel smirks and flicks his lighter as he holds the glass contraption steady. 

Once you’ve taken a healthy puff, Joel sets the devices aside and crooks a finger under your chin, coaxing you forward. The burn curls in your throat as you hold the smoke. Joel’s nose traces a delicate line down your cheek before hovering his parted lips over your mouth and tracing his thumb over your painted red lip, smearing the color down your chin. 

“Let it out,” he mutters, his heavy, rosey stare shimmering into yours. 

The smoke cascades from between your lips into Joel’s waiting mouth where he inhales it with practiced ease, holding it for a moment before exhaling the remnants of it over your face with a lazy smile. 

“So fuckin’ sweet spillin’ outta that mouth, little Sugarplum,” he croons, continuing to futz with the color on your lips. 

You wrinkle your nose at him and laugh. “Dude, you’re so fucking high right now, my asshole would probably taste sweet.”

“It does,” Joel drawls, rolling your bottom lip down and watching it snap back up. “I got first-hand ‘xperience. Or…first…mouth…” Joel’s train of thought floats off from there as his eyes transfix on your lips. 

“Another hit, please.”

That refocuses his attention and he nods, a little sluggish. You take the reins this time, lighting the bowl yourself and savoring your pull. 

As you exhale again into the thick air of his trailer, Joel takes another, more modest puff to maintain his already achieved high. 

“Shit, I needed this,” you groan, feeling more and more boneless as you melt into his couch. “That’s good shit.”

“I don’t skimp on what’s important,” Joel mumbles, slumping over until his curly mop plops into your lap. 

You chuckle at him, stroking a hand through his hair and receiving a very pornographic moan in response when your nails scratch against his scalp. 

“Fuckin’ Christ. You’re my fuckin’ angel. Angel in devil’s clothes.”

Cleverness begins to fail you as the cozy tendrils of the weed start to lighten your brain into something a little more relaxed. So you just sink into the couch, playing with his soft locks and humming to his lethargic babble. 

When you’ve waded through the deepest of the haze, Joel sits back up, cradling his cheek in the crook of his arm as it balances on the back of his sofa. “So what are you doin’ here, Sugarplum? You get all dressed up for me? ‘Cause I somehow doubt that.”

You smirk at him in what you hope is playfully, but lands somewhere closer to dopey. “Why do you doubt that?”

He just fixes you with a telling look, and you concede. 

“Okay. No, I um– I had a date tonight.”

Joel nods, a little exaggeratedly in his current state. “Pretty little thing had a date. ‘Course she did.”

“Well, I did,” you say, pulling your legs up onto the couch and folding them to your side, maintaining what seems like a silly level of modesty given your present company. “Until he canceled on me about twenty minutes before he was supposed to pick me up.”

The divots between his brows seem to grow impossibly deep at that. “You gotta be goddamn jokin’ me. No fucker in his right mind would stand up a thing like you.”

You dip your head down, picking at the fraying threads of his couch cushion. “Not so sure about that.”

“I am. I’m damn sure.”

You shrug, “I just didn’t want the dress to go to waste.”

“Sure as hell didn’t.”

You hum in response. Picking. Tugging. Picking. Tugging. Until you feel fingers pinching your chin and guiding your attention up. And his eyes are still watery, still tinged with red, but are so unwavering as they burrow into your own, brimming with wetness for a wholly different reason. 

“Hey,” he utters, soft as anything, soft as his hair, soft as his belly, soft as his eyes. “It sure as hell didn’t,” he repeats, and waits for you to acknowledge it. 

And you do, with a small nod and sniffle. 

“Good girl.”

Your lip quivers at that, and the words tumble out. “Fuck me. Right now.”

Your back hits the seat cushions and his mouth is on yours, tasting sweet and a little bitter as his tongue strokes between your teeth. His noises pitch upward as you tug lightly at his hair, and his knee situates itself between your legs, providing you with delicious friction against your already dripping core. 

Joel’s breath wafts hot over your ear as he rasps, “You take your panties off for him or for me?”

“For you,” you reply breathily, moaning as he nips and licks at your ear, his increased breath reverberating in your head so loud it makes your pussy throb with the influx of intimacy. 

“All for me?” he asks, maneuvering a hand down to where you’re wet and begging for him, “Goin’ commando in this tight ‘n tiny little number, riskin’ givin’ anyone on the street a flash of your drippy little slit?”

Your moan bounces off the walls when he slips two fingers inside of you, pumping and curling them with a rehearsed accuracy that has pleasure fraying your edges as soon as he sets his pace. 

“And you brought it here to me? Brought me this sexy, heart-shaped box of yours all wrapped up in a pretty package?”

“Yes, daddy,” you breathe out, wrapping a heel-clad foot around his waist to spread yourself open for him, “Brought it for you. All for you. Please.”

“You gonna come for me, you naughty little angel? Come on daddy’s fingers.”

You whimper as he strokes at you with those fingers, his other hand descending on your clit to rub circles with his thumb. Your hips buck into his hand on your clit and down onto his fingers pistoning inside you, and you feel yourself coming apart all at once, your voice breaking as you call out for him. 

Joel showers you in praise as he fucks you through your release, resting his forehead on your temple. “Good fuckin’ girl. All that for daddy. Good girl. Squeeze daddy’s fingers, just like that, baby. Fuckin’ shit. So fuckin’ pretty.”

A whine kicks up in your throat as the overstimulation starts to throb in your clit, and you bump at his hand to stem the sensation. Joel’s fingers web through yours as he pins your hand above your head on the arm of the sofa, his two fingers slowing to a methodical crawl within your pussy. 

“Love how you feel around my fuckin’ fingers, sweetheart. Love seein’ how tight you clench around ‘em, knowin’ I’m about to stretch you wide open on my cock and feel you just as tight.”

“Fucking love your cock, daddy,” you keen as your hips undulate in time with his continued ministrations inside you. “Wanna be filled with it right now.”

“You want daddy’s cock now?” he teases, the tips of his two fingers dragging delightfully against the most enticing spot of your inner walls, drawing a tender gasp from your lips. 

“I really, really do,” you whimper, grinding onto his hand harder, “Need you to split me open, daddy.”

“Can I get a ‘please’ all pretty-like for me?”

You whine again and nod. “Please, daddy. Fill me with your cock.”

“You deserve it, don’t you, sexy girl?”

And the way he asks it, the way his eyes bore into yours when he does, you feel like he’s asking you to admit to more than you’d otherwise be willing to offer yourself. 

Tell yourself that you deserve good things. You deserve this pleasure. 

“I—” your breath hitches as his fingers crook inside you again, your nerve faltering at your lips. 

Joel’s lips part as he keeps drawing your pleasure tighter again, and you feel your core building that pressure again. “Tell me. Tell daddy you deserve his cock.”

“I— I deserve it,” you force out through the mounting pleasure in your brain, gasping when his fingers pick up momentum. “Oh, god, that…it feels…”

“Yeah, pretty girl? You’re doin’ so fuckin’ good for daddy, I can feel it too. You deserve this, baby,” he coos, releasing your trapped hand to press firmly above your pulsing cunt. “Fuck, you’re so goddamn wet for me. Show me how wet you are for daddy, make your little hole gush for me.”

“Daddy, I…oh,” you squeak out as a wave of pleasure washes over you, pulsing out your limbs. And more than that, you feel a steady stream of liquid flow out of you, you hear the wet slap of Joel’s fingers, his palm, as it floods his hand. 

“Oh fuck, that’s it, baby. That’s it, darlin’ girl. Soak my fuckin’ hand. Such a naughty little bitch. Squirtin’ out your filthy little snatch for daddy. That’s fuckin’ right,” he babbles as his palm smacks lewdly up against your cunt with a fresh wave of wetness. 

Your hips jolt with the heightened sensation, and you can’t muster anything more than barely audible moans as Joel fucks you until you have nothing left for him to coax out. 

“Fuckin’ shit, sweetheart. Messy fuckin’ girl,” he grunts as he wipes his dripping hand on his sweats before tucking both behind your knees and spreading your legs to admire your drenched, finger-fucked cunt. “So juicy for daddy, huh? Daddy’s gonna slide his big straw into that sloppy little juice box of yours. And when I’m done you can suck on his big straw like a good little girl. How’s that sound, sweetheart?”

“Can you please just fuck me?” you beg, slipping the straps of your dress off your shoulders to push your dress and strapless bra below your tits. Joel stares hungrily as you play with them for him. 

“Fuck me. Yeah, your little box is ready to get stuffed, ain’t it?” he moans, tilting his head to the side to kiss up your calf and up to your ankle, still encased in your shoe. His teeth bite at the strap and buckle, skimming his lips wetly down the curve of your foot to the arch of it and sucking at the side of it he’s able to reach. 

“Joel,” you whine helplessly, desperately as your pussy screams for that bulge in his pants to bury itself inside your body instead. “What the fuck are you doing.”

“Worshippin’ my slutty little goddess. You blessed me with this little dress, this tasty little puss, so I’m gonna show my appreciation,” he mutters into your foot. 

And it shouldn’t feel good, but you’ve never had anyone put their lips on your feet before, and you’re so fucking horny for this man, you let yourself feel it. Your other heel drapes over his shoulder as his mouth drags over the slope of your foot and back up your ankle. 

“Such a pretty outfit, so I’ve decided not to tear it apart. Nasty little whore, you made it easy to access whatever I want anyway,” he chuckles a bit, gliding his teeth up until he can bite at the skin under your knee. 

You groan and press your head into the couch cushion, “Not the first person to accuse me of being a hooker tonight.”

Joel pauses for a second with a suspicious look. “Who was the first? Better not’ve been that shitty fucker who stood you up, or I’ll deck his lights out,” he says with a gentle aggression that has a rolling heat burgeoning in your stomach for a reason you can’t quite place.

“No, it was that old guy at your work tonight.”

Joel cocks his head. “Walter? Walter said you were a hooker?”

“I said I was looking for you and he just…assumed, I think. You hire hookers on the clock? ‘Cause he seems to think so.”

“Only a handful of times,” he mutters, his eyes going shifty, uneasy, almost…embarrassed. “I don’t wanna talk about that. Not with your slutty little hole winkin’ at me like that.”

“Fair enough,” you dismiss, tapping your heel against Joel’s back to spark his attention. “Stop making me fucking wait for what I came for.”

“Already came twice,” Joel says under his breath, but he uses the hand not gripping the back of your knee to work his cock out of its confines, springing out angry and red and as intimidating as ever. He leaves it bobbing free as he takes up his hands behind both of your knees to spread you wider. “Guide it where you want it, pretty girl. He’s all yours.”

You bite your lip at those words. He’s all yours. Your hand wraps around his girth before you let your mind race too far. You stroke him softly and revel in the way his chin droops down to his chest and a groan rumbles in his throat at the first real stimulation of his cock. 

“Let me feel that red velvet pussy, baby.”

You finally notch the fat head of him at your entrance and wiggle your hips down the couch, gasping as it parts your opening with a dull sting. When you capture Joel’s gaze, you beg softly, “Fuck it, daddy. She’s all yours.”

His face caves into an expression so aroused it almost looks painful. And then he’s groaning to fill the hush of the room and spearing into your cunt with every inch of him at once. 

You’ll never get used to the sounds that he pushes out of you when he fucks you full, when he enters you for the first time and smacks you in the face with how gigantic he is in comparison to the tight ring of your pussy. Like a wounded animal, like prey falling to a predator, like you’re irreversibly changed once he’s claimed you for his own. 

His rhythm sets off harsh and frantic and consuming, keeping your legs spread to feast his eyes upon your ravaged flesh. 

“Fuck, so goddamn perfect. Feel so perfect around my cock. Milkin’ daddy just right with this tight little hole, aren’t you, baby?”

“Yeah,” you whimper, tweaking your hardened nipples between your fingers and massaging at your tits as his hips smack against yours, the drenched state of your pussy enhancing the sound. 

Joel secures your legs over his shoulders and leans in over you, bracketing your head with his hands and snapping his hips into you as you cry out with the change in angle, pulling him deeper inside you. 

“Yeah, daddy’s so fuckin’ deep, huh? You love this fuckin’ cock? You love daddy fuckin’ this dirty snatch so fuckin’ deep?”

“Yes,” you keen, flinging your hands back to dig your nails into the arm of his couch and using it as leverage to fuck yourself down onto his length as he shoves it in, falling into a blissful harmony. 

“Fuck daddy’s cock, slutty girl. God, I fuckin’ love that. Suckin’ it right up your cunt like a pro. Pussy’s so tight I got it molded to my cock now, don’t I? Ain’t gonna fit right with no other cock, is it?”

“No, daddy,” you whine, plunging yourself down onto him again and again just to feel the tip of it dragging along your cervix in that way you have come to fucking crave. Joel’s cock fucks you open and curves up into that perfect spot inside of you in the most flawless rhythm, and it has you spiraling into another orgasm with no discernible warning. You pussy clenches and spills around his cock, soaking the both of you with what Joel had already primed you for with his fingers. 

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, baby,” Joel moans as he lets his cock slip out of you to watch you gush onto his thoroughly soiled couch. He fucks back into you in a single push and withdraws again, just to see more of it rush out. Joel fists his cock and slaps it down onto your spread folds in a series of heavy smacks, then rubs the head of it against your clit as the rivulets cascading from you subside. “Gushin’ like a fuckin’ jacuzzi. Where you been hidin’ this little party trick?”

“I don’t fucking know,” you pant out, trying to get a grip on your shaking thighs as Joel’s cock slides through your folds. “Fuck. I didn’t know…”

“Well if anyone was gonna teach you, it would be your big dick daddy, now wouldn’t it?” Joel brags, smacking the full length of him against your lips and lower belly. 

You twitch with residual aftershocks as the weight of him jostles you, and Joel chuckles. 

“You’re shaking like a leaf darlin’,” he says, tapping one of your quivering thighs. “Flip over for me. Daddy’s gonna dick you down real good.”

“Gonna?” you squeak out, staring at him incredulously, “What have you been doing so far?”

Joel presses his lips together to stifle a laugh and smacks at your thigh again. “Ego’s already big enough, darlin’. Don’t go pumpin’ it up for me now.”

“Can say that again,” you mutter with a small smile, but flip over until you’re flat on your stomach and resting your head in your arms. “Big dick, bigger ego.”

Joel grunts behind you as he settles on top of you, slipping his arm under and around your shoulder and nuzzling into your neck. He grinds his cock into the cleft of your ass before pulling back and aligning it at your entrance again with his hand. He hums in your ear and says with laughter in his voice, “Imagine if it was my ego I was shovin’ into this tiny cunt. You’d be fucked.”

Your reply is replaced with a gasping moan as he presses back into you at a different angle, this one rubbing intensely along the front wall of your pussy. The groan you release is embarrassing, abhorrent to your own ears, but Joel’s answering moan has all concern fluttering from your conscience. 

“How’re you still so fuckin’ tight after I’ve fucked you open so many times, huh, Sugarplum?” he asks, voice clearly forced out through his teeth, like he’s fighting for his life not to spill his load inside of you in the next few seconds. But he bottoms out and fucks you slow, staying balls deep and making a home for himself there in the deepest part of you. “Jesus, need to dust off the ol’ cock ring. Wanna fuck you for hours, baby. Fuck you raw and stupid on this dick. Fuck you ‘til you fall asleep on it, you’re so goddamn tired. Fuck you ‘til you forget what it feels like to not be stuffed full of me.”

“Daddy,” you whimper into your arms, already overwhelmed by the sheer heft of this man making room for himself inside your body, not even giving your pussy an ounce of space to relax that isn’t around him, isn’t on his terms. “Feels so fucking good inside. So fucking big.”

“I know it, sweetheart. So good at takin’ this cock. That first time I thought you was gonna pass out on it. And look at you now – shakin’ and beggin’ for it like a bitch. You daddy’s bitch, nasty girl?”

“Yes,” you whine as Joel starts to slam his hips harder, faster into you, “Yes, I’m your bitch, daddy!” And you’re suddenly screaming it for him as his fingers dig into the back of your shoulder, holding you steady as he uses you. 

“Fuck yeah,” he growls out, hoisting himself off you and hauling your hips into the air along with him. He fucks down deep into you as you moan into the couch, allowing him to take what he’s rightfully earned from you, simply by appreciating you, knowing how to make you scream, knowing how to make you come. 

And you’re fairly dizzy with the experience, but you aren’t far gone enough to not feel the slippery thumb massaging circles against the tight ring of muscle he’s only ever explored before with his tongue. 

A mewl escapes your lips as the tip of the digit teases your resolve. 

“You gonna be my little slut, baby? Let daddy put his thumb in your ass. It’s real good for ya. It’ll be real good,” he speaks in breathy pants as his cock maintains its devastating tempo. 

You let out a pitiful whimper, and you’re only partially surprised that the only answer in your head is yes, yes, yes. 

It’s apparently also on your lips, because without even registering that you’ve said it aloud, Joel is rumbling out a deep and resonant, “That’s my darlin’ girl.” You swear you feel your eyes roll back in your head as the possessive praise inextricably clings itself to the sensation of his thick, meaty thumb gliding into your asshole up to the knuckle. 

It shouldn’t feel this good. It shouldn’t feel this good having his cock filling you to the brim and then even more of him filling your ass. You’ve never liked anal, you’ve never even been interested in it, but this fucking tornado of a man has everything spinning in your head, disorienting your thoughts, screaming at you that what you thought was wrong is so, so right. 

“Lemme get a picture of this, sweetheart – of you all plugged up with me.”

“Okay,” you gasp, constricting your grip around his thumb as if needing to hammer into your head that there’s a finger in your ass. A thick finger. He can probably feel his own cock through the separating skin. 

Joel groans as you flex around his finger. “Spread yourself for the camera, baby.”

Your hands move to your cheeks and you can’t bring yourself to feel shame for this. Not for shit like this, with him. Not anymore. He makes you feel dirty and sexy and beautiful and worth his time. Why the hell wouldn’t you want to document this?

“Fuckin’ hell. Just like that.” You hear a series of shutters, and then his thumb slides out of you and he uses it to pull at the small established gape he’s made of your asshole. A few more shutters and Joel is muttering perfect, fuckin’ perfect, as he tosses his phone aside.

The words flow through you like hot honey tea, even if you weren’t meant to hear them. How does a man like him make you feel so treasured when you’re with him? You don’t belong to him, but he treats you like you do, in the most respectful of ways. He drags you down with him into the depths of his depravity, and yet once you’re there, you’re pleasured like… like a goddess. Like his goddess. 

Joel’s hips ramp up again, timing his thrusts with that of his thumb as he fucks you in both holes at once. “God, so fuckin’ beautiful like this. Wanna stretch this hole open until you can take this whole cock up your ass, baby. Spill my load in there, watch it drip down your cunt.”

And you had said unequivocally no. You had said, not tabling. Off the table. But, god, deep down you know he’d make it feel so good. Somehow, he’d make it worth it. And it’s fucking killing you. You can’t admit that to him, you can’t let him know that you’re convinced he could make anything feel good. That’s too close to something. And this isn’t something. This is I make you feel good, you make me feel good, and we go our separate ways. 

So you just moan for him in response. A verbal confirmation is too much. Giving him too much power over you. And Joel seems too lost in the clutch of your body to parse the difference. 

“Velvet fuckin’ pussy, darlin’,” he chants to the rhythm of his hips colliding with yours, and you’ve come to recognize the telltale signs of his impending orgasm. His sounds start to fluctuate in pitch, his hips more stuttered in their movement, his fingernails indent your skin as he frantically clings to the final moments of euphoric crescendo before the cymbal crash. 

And crash it does, announced with an unabashed groan of sheer pleasure as he spills himself inside of you again, so many times now you’ve lost count, lost sense of the level of responsibility in your actions. Too feral, too dependent on the soothing, post-fuck tranquility of his come dripping from the deepest part of you. A balm to your stretched, aching wound that he caused, because you asked him to — keep asking him to — again and again. A reminder of where he’s been, what he’s done to you, what he’s done with you in all these private moments. 

He slips himself free, and you feel the trickle of him, evidence of how much he’s pumped into you. Leaving you open and gaping, yet so fucking full of him, even after he’s gone. Pulled out and dripped free of your heat and hold. 

Lazy kisses paint up your back where your dress has ridden up your spine, and then back down to bite more reminders of him into the flesh of your ass, until he guides your hips flush to the couch and blankets you with his weight. 

Minutes of quiet breath-catching tick by, feeling the scratch of his hair where your bare skin meets along your bodies, until Joel breaks the silence to say, “Stupid bastard was out of his fuckin’ mind.”

And you’re not positive why, but you feel tears stinging your eyes again. You steel yourself, refuse to let them fall, force them to dry out before they betray you. 

You clear your throat of any traitorous frogs before you speak again. “Sorry about your couch.”

“Nothin’ to be sorry ‘bout,” he reassures, grunting quietly as he shifts himself off you and slips behind instead, pulling you into him, “Plus, Doreen’s got one of them special little steam cleaners she lets me borrow from time to time. Get it cleaned up real nice.”

“Doreen?”

“Little old lady ‘cross the way,” he says into your hair. 

You do your best to turn slightly and look at him. “You’re friends with the little old lady across the way?”

“You doubt my charm?”

Your eyes search his face — the wide, dopey smile, the drooping eyelids, the dwindling glassy rose in his eyes from the weed — and you smile back. 

“Maybe. Feel like you would be a kind old lady’s worst nightmare.”

“Nah, I’m a good boy. Just ask my mama,” he quips. 

“Sure,” you joke, positioning yourself back into a proper little spoon. 

You feel a kiss on the back of your head. “Gonna step out for some fresh air and a smoke. Keep me company?”

You grumble as Joel props himself upright on the couch and pulls his sweats back up. “‘S’cold outside,” you groan, watching him as he stands and slips on a shirt from where it was strewn onto the back of a chair. 

Joel studies you where you lie, your dress a flimsy accordion with the top and bottom convening at your torso, leaving Joel’s favorite bits on display. And as much as you assume it probably pains him to have your body hidden from his view, he says, “You can wear my coat.”

Your eyes light up. “Yeah?”

Joel masks a grin and grabs the coat off the peg by the door, throwing it to you. You know this coat. You’ve worn it before. And although you don’t want to give yourself away by inhaling its scent too gratuitously, you don’t capture any hints of your perfume on the fabric in your covert sniffs. It’s been too long. 

You push yourself onto only moderately shaky legs and work yourself back into your dress properly before slipping your arms through the coat and zipping it around you. You feel a bit like a giant marshmallow in the padded utility jacket, but when you look back up at Joel, there’s a shimmer of something in his eyes, on his face. And something like a twitch in his mouth, like he wants to say something, but thinks better of it. 

You’re not sure you’ve ever seen Joel hold his tongue over anything, so it’s likely just a trick of the light, the lingering effects of your high. 

Joel’s eyes only tear from you to swipe up his smokes and lighter from the coffee table and step into a pair of slides before he’s leading you out the door. 

The cold is bitter, but Joel’s coat is warm enough. Your legs prick with the chill breeze as Joel sticks two cigarettes into his mouth and lights them both, handing one off to you. You rest on the railing with him side by side, taking reasonably synchronous puffs as you stare up at the moon, the stars. 

A couple screams at each other a few lots down, their voices only muted by the distance and the persistent, humming buzz of Joel’s porch light. 

“Right on cue,” Joel mumbles around his cig as he scratches his beard. “Kev can’t keep it in his fuckin’ pants for the life of ‘im.”

“Mmm. Sounds like someone I know.”

Joel’s sidelong glance is sprinkled with a sort of childlike mischievousness as the corners of his mouth lilt. “Maybe so. But I wouldn’t step out on my girl, though.”

His lingering gaze has the back of your neck growing hot. You hum in agreement as you take another drag, tapping the ash with fingers half-obscured by the length of Joel’s sleeves and watching as it falls to the gravel below. 

Joel flicks the ash of his own smoke against the railing to plop down next to yours, and exhales a cloud as he stares off in the direction of the feuding couple’s trailer. “When I got a girl, that’s all I need. And it’s been a rare blue moon that my girl ever went and got it somewhere else.”

He takes in a steady, clean breath and shrugs with his head before continuing. “And whenever they did, they came crawlin’ right back. Always come to find that their daddy lays the best pipe. Ain’t never seen one of my girls spread ‘em open for no one else after they stepped out the first time. Not ‘til after it was over.” 

Your focus catches on his lips as they wrap around his cigarette again, the barest concave of his cheeks as he sucks, the pout of him as he expels into the night air. And you ache to say something. You feel heavy with it. 

The opening chords of a melodic ballad fall upon your ears, and you both swivel your heads in the opposite direction of the screaming pair. Instead, you’re graced with a couple coming together in an embrace, slowly rocking to the music floating from their porch. 

A soft laugh escapes you as you watch them wistfully. “Now that is how a Valentine’s Day is supposed to end.”

Joel glances at you. He takes one last drag from his smoke and tamps it out on the wood before dropping it into a chipped mug on the railing, housing a dozen cigarette butts. He holds a hand out to you and tilts his head toward the pavement. 

You stare at his outstretched hand, and your mind trips over itself to unravel the intent behind it. “What are—”

“Dance with me.”

Your eyes snap up to his, and you’re met with an easy smile on a disheveled, glassy-eyed, gorgeous man. Braving the cold in sweats, a wrinkly and hole-riddled Henley, and slides on tube-socked feet. Asking you to dance while clad in his coat and your stilettos. 

You chew on your lip as you watch his fingers wiggle impatiently as your cigarette butt kisses Joel’s in the mug when you discard it. And then as your hand slides into his. 

“Atta girl,” he praises you softly, tugging you down the steps with him and onto the pavement. 

Joel isn’t fancy with it. He just pulls you close into him, wrapping his arms around your waist as you drape your head on his shoulder.  He sways the two of you from side to side following the beat of the music. Your heels scrape the asphalt, your nails scratch the back of his neck, and his hands dip below the hem of his coat to tease at the round of your ass over your dress. 

“Sure I ain’t said it enough, but you’re a goddamn knockout tonight,” he rumbles quietly into your ear, his fingers groping at the bottom curve of your cheeks to emphasize his point. 

And after your date flaked on you, after you got dolled up for him, got your hopes up for a nice night, and had your plans disintegrate between your fingers, just for Joel to swoop in and illuminate your sky with stars, those words spear right through your heart. 

And you know you should say something traditionally sweet back. Something like thank you or you too. But as those softer words rattle around your brain, you feel wetness trickling down your inner thigh, and you opt to whisper something more personalized. Something you know Joel would find sweetest of all to fall from your lips. “I can feel you dripping out of me.”

A groan vibrates up his chest and one hand slips between your bodies until you feel the cool press of his fingers at your cunt. 

“Fuck me, darlin’,” he breathes, bringing up two thick fingers for you to see, glistening opalescent in the moonlight. 

He doesn’t ask, you just drop your jaw and stick your tongue out for him, sucking your shared juices off his skin as your eyes lock. He pulls them free and replaces them with his mouth, tasting the two of you off your tongue. Joel’s hand nestles under your dress once more to cup your pussy. Not to slide inside, not to get you off. Just to hold you as close as he knows how. To catch where the two of you fall. 

He nuzzles your nose with his and tucks your face into his neck with his other hand as he sways with you. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Sugarplum.” 

You sigh into his neck and lay your hand over his beneath your dress. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day, daddy.”

Next

Read Chloe's Account of Joel's UFO sighting here!

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[tasteracha]

a/n: hyunjin’s piercing got me. this is not proofread this is a mess of my incoherent thoughts. can be read as idol hyune or non idol! gn!reader. smut - minors dni!

he’s a little too nonchalant when he walks through the door, the hi, love he throws at you a little too casual.

he did something. and he’s afraid to tell you.

you’ve known him too long, been with him too intimately, for him to be able to hide things from you. you can read him better than a violinist reads sheet music.

“come here,” you call out to him, eyes trained on him as he moves towards you, shaking his hair into his eyes in the process.

strange. he didn’t like his hair in his eyes, if anything he would more likely push it out with expert fingers.

he sits on your right side, which is definitely not the seat he prefers on the couch. he chooses the seat by the armrest so he could lean against it, most of the times with you draped halfways over him and halfways over the rest of the couch.

the suspicion is stacking up like perfectly placed dominos, and before he could protest you’re taking his chin in your hand and turning him towards you, pushing his hair back with the fingers of your other hand.

and there it is. a shiny set of metal, embedded into the skin above his eyebrow. an eyebrow piercing.

“what the hell is that,” you ask him, voice just tinged with hysteria as you take in the new piercing.

“do you not like it?” he asks, mistaking your shock as displeasure. the way his face falls a bit makes your heart ache.

“baby no, i love it,” you scooby closer to him, making his own space yours. “i just can’t believe you didn’t tell me!”

“i wanted it to be a surprise?” he says, bashfulness lacing into his words. “you really like it?”

“shut up,” you give into the urge to straddle his lap, swinging one leg over him so you could look at him fully. “you’re so hot, oh my god.”

“i’m not god, i’m your boyfriend,” he teases, a smile quirking onto his face, and there he is. any shyness he had bleeds away into preening under your attention.

instead of telling him to shut up, which in your experience never works, you crash your lips against his with a fervor you almost didn’t expect from yourself. you run your hands down his chest as he responds in kind, his hands bracing on your waist to keep you steady against him.

you release him, lips popping against the suction, and when you lean back he looks wrecked. already. his lips are reddened and wet, eyes blown wide with pleasure, evidence of his lust pressing against your crotch.

you can’t help but reach up to cup his face, your thumb brushing past the reddened skin around his piercing and he hisses.

“sorry,” you mutter, moving your hand away, but he stops you with a burning hand on your wrist.

“like it,” he doesn’t meet your eyes, but the tips of his ears burn red. oh. memories of him moaning at the feeling of your teeth sinking into his neck, him throwing his head back in pleasure at the feeling of your nails raking down his back, him coming to the sharp, twisted movements of your hand in his cock flood your head; this shouldn’t have come as a surprise to you. he’s always been a little bit of a slut for pain.

you massage your thumb across the skin there for a bit, soothing him with kisses to his jaw and his neck and his lips until he was almost shaking.

“let me suck you off?” you toy with the wisps of hair at the nape of his neck and he shivers under you.

“you literally never have to ask,” he sighs as you slither off his lap onto the floor, kneeling between his legs. he’s painfully hard when you take him out of his pants, his cock red and glistening and so wet that the first glide of your lips against him is so easy.

it doesn’t take long to get him close, expert motions of your hands and your lips and your tongue bringing him to the edge in record time. you almost feel bad not drawing this out, but this isn’t for him. it’s for you.

you graze your teeth along his shaft and he breaks, thick ropes of cum coating your tongue and lacing around your mouth. you make a show of licking him clean, pushing his release into your mouth and swallowing it obscenely. he groans and throws his head back when you swipe little kitten licks against the head of his cock, making sure every bit was taken care of.

“maybe you should get this pierced next, hmm?” you look at the head of his cock pointedly, letting out a laugh at his horrified expression.

[stevesjockstrap]

Alone on Thanksgiving? Mad at your dad?

Based on this post

Or, Steve invites Craigslist!Eddie to Thanksgiving as his fake boyfriend for entertainment and drama purposes

Rated: T? Always with the swearing idk | read on ao3

ETA a/n: shout out to @rocknrollsalad for a direct quote in here and putting up with me and @machtaholic for encouraging this 🖤

“Are you serious?”

Steve sighed. “Yes, Robbie. You know how much my parents have been on me since they’re losing what little power they have left. This is going to be awesome.”

She was pacing around their living room, making him anxious. “But why are you going to take this stranger from Craigslist? Why can’t you find someone you know? Argyle would do it. What if this guy doesn’t show, or he comes and steals something?”

“If he doesn’t show I’m in the same boat anyhow, but hey, there’s a thought. You think I can pay him more to steal something from my parents? I’d love to see that.”

“Steve!” She rounded on him, eyes wide. “You’re paying him? You didn’t tell me that!”

“For fuck’s sake, Rob. He didn’t ask for money, the post actually said he would do it just for food. But the guy’s driving half an hour and I’m willing to bet my family is worse than he’s expecting. Sit down, you’re making me dizzy. Read this and tell me this isn’t exactly what I need.” He scrolled on his phone and handed it to her.

Her shoulders relaxed as she read on, laughing finally, “You’re not going to make him propose or fight your dad on the front lawn, right?”

“Maybe for Christmas,” he smirked.

His parent’s house was always so cold and empty. It was his childhood home but he had never really felt any attachment to it. His apartment with Robin was small and cluttered but cozy, and full of memories of them and their friends. They had done a Friendsgiving the previous weekend that had been a dangerously good time. (The smoke detector had only gone off three times, a new record.)

Running his hand through his hair again, he looked at the clock. Would Eddie show? He checked his phone again, knowing there were no missed texts because he had just looked thirty seconds ago. Why was he more nervous about meeting him than introducing him to his family? They’d had one phone call and some texts, mostly arranging the time and place and Steve already apologizing for his family.

Eddie had laughed, “It’s okay, Steve. Trust me, I’ve dealt with worse.”

He went to the bathroom, just to kill time.

And of course the doorbell rang.

He quickly washed and dried his hands, sparing a second to pull his hair into a less raked-through mess.

Quickening his pace when he saw his mom still holding the door open, not allowing whoever was on the stoop in, he craned his neck to see out the door.

Oh fuck.

“If you’d just go get him, ma’am, we could clear this all up,” Eddie was saying. The words were polite but there was an edge to them, just the tinge of a sneer on his lips. It was perfect.

“He’s mine,” he heard himself say. His mom whipped around, eyes crazed and mouth open. “Uh- I mean,” his eyes returned to Eddie standing on his doorstep. Taking in the long thick wavy hair, big brown eyes, his lips pulled into a toothy grin now. He’d clearly attempted to dress up, grey slacks and a black button down, paired with heavy combat boots. The sleeves were rolled up to reveal tattoos up his forearms and the backs of his hands. There were more tattoos on his neck, and Steve’s eyes glued themselves to the ring through his lip. Guh. “He’s, uh, here for me.”

“Hi Steve,” he watched the lips form. “Was just meeting your lovely mother.” Again there was nothing wrong with the words themselves, nothing anyone could pinpoint or take offense to. But that slithery way he said it with a razor sharp sting, Steve was impressed. He was clearly an expert at this.

Steve tried to school his own expression and voice. “My apologies. Mom, this is Eddie, my boyfriend.”

There was a long silence where he thought his mom was going to combust. She opened and closed her mouth several times, her eyebrows furrowed. He’d never seen her speechless before.

Eddie sent him a smirk and he almost matched it but his mom looked at him finally and stammered, “Y-your, ah, I’m sorry.” She closed her eyes and pulled in a steadying breath. When she opened them she asked, “He’s your boyfriend?”

“Yes ma’am,” Eddie answered from almost behind her now as she turned to question Steve.

“And why is it you didn’t tell us he was coming? Why is he ringing the doorbell like a stranger?”

“I, um, well I did think he’d text when he got here or something…” Steve started, meeting Eddie’s eyes over her shoulder.

“What, and miss out on this warm welcome?” Eddie winked at him but quickly settled his face when his mom turned to him. Doing the exact thing he’d hoped for, Mrs. Harrington remembering she’s leaving a guest out on her doorstep.

Steve delighted in the fact that this was going to be a chess match and his mother was already several moves behind.

Her eyes narrowed and she held a hand out to welcome Eddie in, walking them all into the foyer. “Well, don’t let me stop you, go ahead and greet your boyfriend, Steven.”

It was a challenge, he knew, but they hadn’t discussed this. Eddie was on the ball, however. He continued his momentum to slide a hand under Steve’s suit jacket to settle on his ribs and the other he brought up to cup his face, leaning in and angling their heads together. Steve tried to relax and closed his eyes. Eddie pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth, but from where his mom was standing she wouldn’t be able to tell.

“Hey, baby. Missed you,” he breathed when he pulled away. Steve was halfway to believing this himself.

“Yeah,” he sighed stupidly.

Eddie pulled his hands away and he almost reached back for them before stopping himself with a shake. He found he’d only gone a foot away when he opened his eyes though. Oh he was in trouble.

His mother cleared her throat from behind Eddie like she hadn’t put them up to this. Steve reached out for his hand and held onto it.

“Okay so I’m going to go introduce him to everyone else,” he said quickly and walked further into the house. Holding his hand.

They made their way through the dining room, Steve taking more and more pleasure with each stilted interaction Eddie weaved through with his family members.

His dad was propped in the living room with his uncle and Steve could feel his eyes on him as they made their way around. He knew his mother had ran to tell him all about it but he wouldn’t take being ignored well. It was making his skin crawl but he knew it would further piss off his dad so he kept it up.

After everyone else had been formally introduced to Eddie and Steve had gulped half a glass of wine, he felt almost ready to go deal with him. He took Eddie’s hand again and turned, but navigated them to the sliding glass door and outside instead.

It was chilly, late November in Indiana, but it felt amazing after the stuffiness of the house.

Steve remembered he still had Eddie’s hand in his and he quickly dropped it. “Uh, you smoke?”

Eddie grinned, all teeth and tongue as he held a battered pack of Newports out to him. “Not usually, really, but it makes for a good prop. Sorry they’re shit.”

“Holy shit. You’re amazing. I mean- perfect, I mean- fuck.” Steve laughed and shook his head. “The on-the-spot fact checking of my aunt’s political shit was next level. You could do this year round and make a killing, man.” He did pull a cigarette out of the pack and Eddie leaned into him, clicking the lighter for him, meeting his eyes as Steve sucked in.

“I don’t-“

The door slid open behind them and Mr. Harrington walked out.

“Looks like you and your date are avoiding me, Steven,” he said. Steve watched as he gave Eddie a very slow up and down look.

“No, dad. Just needed a break. It’s warm in there.” He made his face remain neutral. It’s not like anyone was cooking anything, his mom always got their big family meals catered.

His dad narrowed his eyes at him as he held eye contact, taking a drag from his bummed cigarette.

“Where is Robin today?”

He sighed. “With her family, dad. And for the last time, I’m not dating Robin. She’s a lesbian. This is Eddie, by the way. My date? He’s my boyfriend.”

When Steve had tried to come out as bisexual to his parents, his dad especially had made it clear that he did not accept that about his only child. As the years went on and he hadn’t spoken much about this part of his life, it seemed his dad had hoped it just went away.

Mr. Harrington scoffed, “I don’t understand why you want to throw your life away, Steven. I thought we’d raised you better-“ Eddie made a noise next to him and Steve knew he couldn’t look at him or he’d burst out laughing.

“Save it, dad. Believe it or not I love my life. Which is something I’d never thought I would be able to say. Can you even say that?”

His dad shook his head disappointedly and walked back inside.

“Excellent job. I don’t think you need me here after all,” Eddie joked.

Steve propped himself against the wall of the house, deeply tired from having to defend his choices to his dad for the umpteenth time.

“Maybe not need. But it’s been really fun having you here. Usually dinner conversation is about how big of a disappointment I am. Oh, I guess I didn’t give you that backstory. I’m graduating with my masters in psychology in the spring, and I’ve been early accepted into a PhD program. And there’s no money in helping people,” he chuckled. “So.” He scuffed out the butt with his heel and left it on his dad’s pristine patio.

“Steve. That’s amazing! Congratulations.” Eddie seemed genuinely excited for him and it brought a small smile to his face. “You look like you could really use a hug, man. Can I hug you?”

“Of course.” If he let himself hold on for a few seconds longer than strictly necessary, Eddie allowed it.

Dinner was quiet. His uncle asked Eddie what he did for work and he enthusiastically explained he was a line cook and worked nights at a bar. Steve surreptitiously looked around to take in everyone’s expressions and quickly covered his mouth with his napkin. He actually enjoyed himself during a holiday dinner for the first time he could remember.

Eddie at one point threw an arm around the back of his chair and he leaned in a bit into him, catching the disapproving stares they got from the corner of his eye.

Pie was passed around and by then Steve had had another glass of wine or two. He reached over to thumb the whipped cream from the side of Eddie’s lip without thinking, before popping the thumb into his own mouth. Eddie’s eyes widened and it was on the tip of his tongue to apologize but he caught himself.

“Thanks, babe,” Eddie said with a chuckle.

After saying their awkward goodbyes to everyone, Steve walked Eddie to his van. He looked down at his feet, fiddling with his keys.

“Hey, um, this may be out of left field and let me know if it’s too much, okay?” Eddie waited for Steve to nod. “Do you want to come to my uncle’s with me tomorrow night? It’s just the two of us and he always volunteers to work the holiday. But we do a thing, you know. A-and he’s always bugging me to bring someone.”

Steve blinked. “Would it have to be a fake date? I’m not as skilled at that as you are.”

“No, I mean, it wouldn’t- god I suck. I’m actually asking, like for real. If that’s okay? Just be you. And I’ll just be me.”

“That’s very okay. I’d really like that.” He couldn’t hold back his smile. Taking the chance, he leaned in, Eddie meeting him in the middle to finally press their lips together.

[thevillainswhore]

New Tricks: Celestial Heavens

Pairing: Virgin!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Word Count: 9.4k

Summary: Life couldn’t seem any better — your life long crush, and the football star of your fantasies is now your boyfriend, and your relationship is running smoothly. It’s a dream come true. But when Bucky admits he’s ready to take things to the next level, you’re anxious to make sure losing his virginity is an experience he won’t forget — for all the right reasons.

Which means, a first date is in order.

A night beneath the stars brings the two of you closer together, where emotions run high and confessions sit on the tips of tongues.

Warnings: College AU, Smut, kissing, grinding, dirty talk, praise, reassurance, fluff, fluff and more fluff, pet names, swearing, teasing, first dates, Bucky is a smooth little shit, cute astronomy puns.

Author’s Note: Happy Valentine’s Day my loves 🥰 here is the highly requested part two for New Tricks 🥹 the support I have received for part one has been so overwhelming and I want to thank all of you who expressed your love 😭

Beta and divider graphic credits go to @rookthorne - I can’t thank you enough for spending hours of your time helping me bring this AU to life, you’re incredible — this one is for you ❤️

I hope this follow on lives up to your expectations and does our favourite college babies justice. Once again, from the bottom of my heart, thank you. Happy reading my lovelies 💜

New Tricks Masterlist 🌼🐾

New Tricks Playlist 🎵

‼️ Small disclaimer ‼️- while I have done some research, I in no way consider myself to be an astronomy expert. If any of the facts or information I have included are wrong, I apologise profusely.

Standing outside of your brother’s apartment, you hum a tune to yourself while waiting for the door to open. 

The impulse to knock again after only a moment of waiting is overwhelming and your impatience begins to wane. You grip the canvas strap of your tote bag which is full to the brim with notepads and books, when the door suddenly swings open to admit you.

“Hey–! Oh, it’s you.” Disappointment sours your tone upon seeing Steve in the doorway. You push past his broad frame and enter his apartment to look for the true reason you are there, paying no mind to the scoff that falls from his lips. 

 

“Yes, hello sis. So good to see you, too!” Steve stays by the door, unmoving and starts conversing with himself. “How am I? I’m great, thanks for asking—how about you? Come on in, we’ll have a drink.” 

You shake your head, huffing a laugh while you scold him playfully, “Oh hush, Stevie, don’t be so butthurt.” From down the hallway, you see a light casting shadows along the floor — the source coming from a slither of an open door. A flicker of red hair disappears around the door frame. “Huh,” you muse, a smirk dancing on your lips. “You should know by now I’m not here for you. Where is he?” 

Steve sighs. “He’s–”

“Buttercup!” Bucky’s shout from his bedroom interrupts Steve, and it snaps your focus towards the direction of his voice. “Baby!”

The heavy thud of his rapid footsteps echoes down the hallway towards the living room, where you currently stand waiting for him, and you can’t help but giggle with amusement at his excitement. 

He appears in a blur, skidding into the room with grace akin to a drunken swan — a pink blush dusts over his cheekbones and the boyish charm of his eager smile makes your stomach flutter. His Adam’s apple bobs up and down when he swallows, and he covertly attempts to catch his breath from the sudden burst of excitement. 

“–There,” Steve finishes, lamely. 

The bright, pretty smile on Bucky’s lips and how his eyes grow wide when he sees you makes you feel like you’re floating on cloud nine. “Hi, Buttercup,” he breathes, and the pure innocence of his greeting melts your heart.

You can’t help but copy his smile as you make your way towards him, where he positively vibrates in place. “Hi to you too, handsome.” The cotton of his shirt is soft under your palms, and you meet his lips with a small kiss. The brush of his plush lips against yours makes you sigh against his mouth, and his hands sneak around your waist to grip your hips, keeping you in place against his chest.  

He wasn’t going to let you sneak away with just the one kiss — he never does. 

A more insistent press from his lips makes you part your own, and he runs his tongue over your bottom lip.  

“Guys,” Steve whines, “Get a fucking room — I don’t want to see that shit!” 

The effort to pull away from Bucky’s lips is beyond tolerable, but you refuse to turn and look at Steve as you say, “Sorry, bro,” with little to no remorse for his fragile disposition as the older brother. Bucky does not tear his focus from you, rather, his lips quirk in a playful smirk at your snark. 

Unbeknownst to you and behind your back, your brother’s mouth upturns in a smile; the two most important people in his life finally together and so sickeningly in love. 

As of a few weeks ago, Bucky and you started officially dating after a shy, whispered question during the late Sunday morning of your first weekend together. 

Bucky’s small, timid question of what the two of you were once he dragged you back to bed — after the clean-up from a spilled gift basket in his haste — set the butterflies in your stomach aflame. 

Of course, there was no other answer but to rid the doubt in his mind and reassure him. 

From then on, the two of you lived in your own bubble of bliss. You, over the moon to finally be with your long-time crush; Bucky, unbelieving of the reality that he has and is deserving of the girl of his dreams, who loves and nurtures all aspects of him. 

The only way to describe you both during this honeymoon phase is inseparable — spending every single spare moment through college life with one another. 

But no matter how badly you wanted to be with him, and spend more time staring at his handsome features, your art finals were also crucial business — as was keeping Bucky’s GPA intact. The scholarship he revered depended on it. 

Steve’s voice brings you from the torrent of memories and back to the present where Bucky held you fast against his chest still. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

You reach around Bucky’s neck and twirl your fingers through his hair before whispering loud enough for only him to hear, “Ready to go, Puppy?”

The red flush of his cheeks and the part of his lips has you trying to hide the satisfied smirk that threatens to pull at the corner of your mouth — his new nickname borne from a quick-witted quip you thought nothing of, truly is one of your greatest accomplishments to date. 

You remember it perfectly.

Bucky leaned against the headboard, his lips in a full pout, and arms crossed tightly across his chest. The bare expanse of skin was shadowed by the low light of your bedside lamp. “No,” he grumbled, furrowing his brows with his sudden, foul mood. 

“Bucky— come on, we have to eat something,” you reiterated for the umpteenth time. 

“No.” The dramatics of his brooding had you struggling to rein your laughter in. 

“We’ve been cuddling for three hours,” you insisted, deciding to reason with the stubborn idiot. “I literally heard your stomach rumble an hour ago. You need food.” 

Bucky sulked. “No. Only need you.” 

“Oh my god,” you giggled, “you look like a kicked puppy, Bucky.” 

There was a deep, impatient huff, and then he stared at you, an expression of longing covering his features. It only exaggerated his puppy eyes. 

A bright idea came to you then, the comparison may just be what you needed to make the boy move… “Here, boy,” you called, patting your thigh with one hand and snapping your fingers with the other. “Come on, who’s a good boy? Huh? You want a treat, baby? Do you wanna be a good pup for me?” 

Bucky’s reaction was more than you could have ever hoped for — his entire body became deathly still for a moment, then his arms slackened to fall onto the bed and a deep flush of blotchy red trailed up from his chest and up to his neck. 

You would have been worried about overstepping if you hadn’t spotted the dazed, glassy look in his eyes, darkening the cerulean to an Aegean blue.  

Bucky liked it. 

The praise, humiliation, spliced with a pinch of demand — the entirely accidental recipe for how to break him. 

Ever since then, Bucky’s new nickname causes the most visceral reaction he so desperately tries to hide, with very little success. The quiet hitch of his breath has you trying to keep your composure, and if only to tease him a little more, you wink at him. 

In the present, he chokes on a sharp intake of breath and coughs. 

There’s a quiet, short bout of laughter behind you from Steve, but you focus on Bucky while he catches his breath, still beet red. “You ready to go, Buck?” you repeat, squeezing the back of his neck.  

The rapid semblance of composure did nothing to hide the effect your words have. He blows out a breath, and stutters a determinedly stoic, “Y–yeah— almost, just gotta— um— run and g–get my jacket.” 

You hum and bump your nose against his before stepping back to let him breathe, “Okay, Buck. I’ll be waiting by the door.” 

Bucky wastes no time in spinning around before taking off like a shot down the hallway towards his bedroom. As he disappears, you chuckle to yourself and wonder how embarrassed he will be when he realises that he is already wearing a hoodie.  

“You’re wicked.” Steve stands with his arms crossed and a raised eyebrow. But by the small smirk upturning his lips, you know he’s just as entertained with Bucky’s fumbling than you are. “He’s so whipped.”

Before you have a chance to retort, a honeyed, feminine voice calls from your brother’s room. “Steve, stop hounding your sister and leave her be! You promised me a foot rub.” 

“Oh?” It's your turn to cock your eyebrow, and you watch, all too righteously, while his cheeks turn bright red. “Remind me who’s the whipped one again, hm?” 

Steve flounders in place, his mouth opening and closing while he searches for the words to no doubt put you back in your place, but another voice beats him to it by calling out to you from the hallway. “Flower, you have no idea! Last week I got him to–” 

“Okay! That’s enough of that,” Steve interrupts, quick to shut down the reveal before it knew the light of day. He stalks down the hallway towards his bedroom, and as he goes, he yells over his shoulder at you, “Enjoy your time with Buck, sis, please don’t break him, we’ve got training tomorrow. Love ya — see you next week!” 

The door slams shut just as Bucky appears around the corner, clad in both a hoodie and a jacket, and his eyes dart everywhere around the room but at you. The realisation must have hit him, and he was far too stubborn to come back empty handed. 

Decidedly, you don’t question him on it. Instead, you hold your hand out to him and say, “Come on, handsome, we’ve got some studying to do.” 

And just like that, Bucky’s face lights up and he bounces towards you to interlace his fingers with yours. He follows you with ease while you lead him out his apartment to the elevator, the doors opening for you instantly for the both of you to step in. 

The floor numbers descend on the screen, and a companionable, comfortable silence floats in the air. Until you turn to the side when you feel the stare of your boyfriend. 

Bucky’s blue eyes shine brightly while he looks you up and down, taking you in once more, and your heart flutters against your chest with the soft smile pulling at his lips. “You look beautiful today,” he whispers, a line of worship that makes your stomach flip. While holding your gaze, he lifts your hand up to his mouth and places a kiss to the back of it. 

If the heart eyes from the cartoons were real, then your boyfriend takes the gold. 

You barely fight the urge to squeal out loud with the show of heartfelt adoration. “Thank you, baby.” 

The elevator doors open with a swoosh as you reach the ground floor. Squeezing his hand gently, you begin to lead him out the lift and towards the exit. “Let’s get going — we gotta make sure you ace this test.”

In the beginning, it took a while to process that you were Bucky’s girlfriend — an ease unlike any other helped you both fit together so seamlessly, as though you had been dating for far longer. 

That same ease also makes itself known in your shared sexual compatibility.

Ever since that fateful movie night back in Steve and Bucky’s apartment, the two of you went no further than making out at every opportunity that presents itself (or that you make) and grinding against each other until you both came — though it didn’t stop you both from doing it a lot. 

Sex for the first time is a big deal. Bucky’s admission of still being a virgin, and his comfort being your priority, you take every old and new venture into pleasure at his pace. But your hesitance is met with an unprecedented hunger that leaves you breathless with need, every single time. 

Bucky’s eagerness to feel you against him, the heat of your bodies intermingling as best they can between the layers of clothing always made him feral with want, and each time he ventures closer, further than he did before in his exploration of your body, it grows with such passion it scorches your skin.   

You were going to wait on his signal no matter how long it took. But a few signs were telling you, however, that Bucky wants it. 

Recently, your boyfriend has been a little more desperate, more so than usual. 

His whines and whimpers turn from breathy and high, to deep, animalistic sounds that send shivers up your spine. Bucky was already putty in the palm of your hands at the best of times, and to witness him let go of his inhibitions was addicting — you wanted more of him, and you have the inclination that he longs for the same. 

And although the both of you swore to one another that you would head to the campus library to focus on your studies, somewhere along the way, your feet took you straight back to your dorm room and into your bedroom. 

Your giggles and sighs echo off the walls, along with the rustling sound of your bed covers. “That tickles!” 

Bucky, the clever, sly boy he is, figured out far too quickly where the sensitive spots on your neck are. “‘M sorry, baby,” he whispers against your neck, his breath hot and fanning over the delicate skin. His sweet, tender kisses start to turn heated — more passionate and intense as his hands begin to wander over your body. 

“Fuck,” Bucky breathes against the curve of your jaw. “You smell so good, Buttercup — could jus’ eat you up.” 

You softly moan in reply. The sudden hunger in his tone makes a shiver run down your spine and settle heavily between your thighs.

“C’mere,” he growls, and he rolls his body over yours, forcing you to lay flat against the mattress. You quickly wrap your legs around his waist as he trails sloppy kisses from the curve of your mouth and down the slope of your neck. “Atta girl, good girl.”

The feel of his lips against your skin makes your eyes flutter closed, and it’s entirely impossible to withhold your upper body rising with the arch of your back, pushing your covered breast up against his chest.

You can’t help but think of how confident Bucky has grown in such little time — his boldness only adding fuel to the fire.

Bucky firmly grips your waist in his hands with a thready moan, and he slowly, torturously inches them up towards the bottom of your tits. You feel the brush from the tips of his thumbs through the fabric of your bra and shirt, the pressure of them indescribable. 

“God, you’re so fuckin’ pretty.” He squeezes his eyes shut as he tests a roll of his hips into you. The high moan that tumbles from your lips jolts him, and he thrusts forward with a small, disjointed groan — the heavenly pleasure of grinding his cock against your clothed cunt almost too much for him to bear. “Feel so good, Bee — holy fuck.”

You grin up at him, squeezing your knees against his hips. Another thing Bucky grew confident in: being vocal in the bedroom. His litany of curses and range of vocabulary comes to life if he loses himself enough; bold in his actions, he takes charge more and it leaves you a wreck every single damn time.  

“Gotta keep going, baby,” he pants into the juncture of your neck and shoulder, “don’t make me stop, please don’t make me stop.” The desperation in his voice is as addicting as the pleasure he so freely gives, and you moan loudly to the ceiling. His pure, feral need to take what he wants only sends you closer to the edge. “Fuck–”

Your whines and pleas for more mix with his deep grunts on every grind into you. “Bucky, don't you dare stop,” you gasp, grabbing at his shoulders and wrinkling his shirt in your grip. “Oh my god, please don’t stop.” 

“Not gonna stop,” he promises as he pants against your neck. “Not gonna stop till you fuckin’ cum for me, Buttercup.”

You grab onto the back of his thighs, forcing him to rock against you faster. Harder. 

Bucky’s whimpers only serve to drive you crazier and with wild abandon, you buck your hips to meet his thrusts. “So close, baby. Almost there— oh, fuck,” you cry. 

Bucky bites the skin of your neck, causing you to gasp loudly and moan. 

“Fuck, doll,” he groans, and he swallows your whines with frenzied need, his tongue laving over yours. The harsh pants for air when he pulls back to speak send you into a whimpering mess. “Drivin’ me crazy, Bee. Need you so bad, you got no idea—” 

“Keep going, please, keep going!”

“—Gotta have you,” he grunts. “Need these fuckin’ clothes off — wanna see your perfect body.”

It’s hopeless to keep your moans at bay. His ferocity has you on the edge and your thighs shake as you balance on the precipice. “Gonna— gonna cum.” You tangle your fingers into his damp hair and pull. “Bucky, baby—”

“I know, pretty girl,” Bucky coos. “I’ll get you there, don’t worry—” 

“Please, please, please!” you frantically beg. The knot in your stomach is wound tight; the fast rhythm of Bucky’s thrusts pushing it to the point of shattering. 

With a slight shift in angle of Bucky’s hips, the tip of his cock rubs against your swollen clit through your leggings, and you scream from the sheer ecstasy that flows through your veins with your climax. “Cumming! I’m cumming— oh my god, I’m cumming!”

Bucky’s hips falter, and he chokes out a raspy moan, “Fuck!” 

The shattering of built-up tension rushes over the two of you; harsh moans fall from Bucky’s parted lips while he rides out his high, his hips continuing to grind against you. 

It all falls on deaf ears while fire still runs through your veins.  

“Holy shit,” Bucky whispers, finally slowing down his breathing and stopping the faltering, aborted thrusts of his hips. The growing wet patch that stains the crotch of his sweatpants no longer makes his cheeks flush with shame. 

Quiet whimpers and gasps for breath leave you unable to speak, to utter just how wrecked you feel beneath him. 

“Holy fuck,” Bucky repeats, and he gently rests his lower half against yours while carefully keeping his upper body propped up on his elbows. “That was–” Hot breaths fan over your lips as he rests his forehead against yours. “So fuckin’ good.”

You laugh breathily and squeeze his shoulders, the press of your fingertips meeting hard, strong muscle.

It’s a peaceful moment; a serene bliss you only find in the comfort of Bucky’s arms. It feels right to be cocooned in his warmth — your boyfriend always making you feel safe. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Bucky says softly, placing a quick kiss to your nose, then a lingering, passionate one on your lips. “I can’t– fuck, can’t believe you’re mine.” 

You smile brightly up at him, lost for words, and with a tired huff, he rolls off of your body to lay beside you. Your chests rise and fall in a soothing sense of synchronisation. 

The slow drain of adrenaline from your body erupts in a sudden fit of giggles.  

Bucky blinks, then smiles hesitantly, a confused quirk of his lips. “What’s so funny, Buttercup?” 

“I just–” You bite your lip in an attempt to stop your laughter so you’re able to respond to him. “Sorry– it’s just a little crazy to me how you’re not as shy as you used to be.” A teasing smirk pulls at your lips. “You’ve gone a little rogue, Pup.” 

Heat creeps up Bucky’s neck and covers his cheeks with an adorable red flush. Even if your man has gained a lot of confidence, he will never be able to rid the bashful puppy inside of him. 

“I should be worried,” you tease. “You’re giving me a run for my money.” 

“Right, that’s it.” Bucky suddenly shoots up and climbs over you, pinning you in place with his hips and thighs. One of his hands snakes up your arm, then the other, and you shiver with the ghost of sensation, only, he smirks. “I’ve got you now.” 

Your wrists are suddenly together, unable to move from the top of the bed and in the grip of his hand. “Hey–!”

There’s a wicked, playful glint in his darkening eyes as he looks down at you. “You’ll learn, Bee, that I’m not a man to be teased.” The hand he has free begins to flit over your ticklish spots. 

“Bucky,” You warn as you nervously chuckle, trying to edge away from his touch. “Don’t you even think about it.”  

That doesn’t deter him though. He runs the tips of his fingers, a feather light touch, underneath your tank top. “Oh, no– no, no,” he tuts. “I have the upper hand now, baby.”

“No!” you loudly squeal, trying to kick your feet to dislodge the weight of Bucky’s athletic build over your lower half, but it’s of no use. 

You burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughter — tears start streaming down your cheeks while your boyfriend watches in cruel amusement above you. “Where did all that fighting talk from earlier go, huh, Buttercup? Where did it go?” 

“Okay, okay! I– I lose, you w–win!” 

With a satisfied sigh, Bucky yields and lets go of your wrists to bring one hand down to your waist, closely following with the other as he starts to gently stroke the exposed skin of your middle. 

“You’re too easy, baby,” he chuckles, fondness bursting over his features. 

“Yeah, well,” you sigh in defeat. “You played dirty. Best believe I’ll get you back, big guy.”

A comfortable silence stretches between you both while you breathe heavily and close your eyes against the exhaustion overtaking your limbs. The rush of endorphins and all manner of happiness still flowing through your veins.  

Until, “Did I go too far?” Bucky asks suddenly, his voice timid, small. 

The tone of his question indicates a sense of duality — he’s not just asking only about the tickle fight. 

You open your eyes to the view of his long hair hiding the two of you from the world; your room obscured by the curtain of it. The bright, shining blue of his irises steals your breath with the depth of emotion swimming in them — keeping you firmly within the bubble the two of you created in your passion.  

“Oh, Bucky,” you whisper soothingly, bringing your hand up to cup his cheek — the soft strands of his hair against your fingertips sends an unprompted shiver down your spine. You move your hand from his cheek so your index finger could press against his nose, then up to smooth over the furrow between his brows. “Not at all, handsome.” An effortless smile pulls at your lips, one that he hesitantly returns. “It was perfect, I promise.” 

Though he doesn’t seem to settle. Something is on his mind, that was obvious — his tells are easy to decipher from the time you spent studying his expressions. When he is unsure, hesitant, the tip of his tongue runs over his bottom lip; when anxious, his shoulders hunch inwards in an attempt to make himself smaller. 

Bucky swallows thickly. 

You frown. “Are you okay, Puppy?” 

The soft lilt of your voice soothes his worries, and he takes a deep breath before responding with a wavering, “I think I’m ready.” 

The implication of such a comment makes your eyes widen slightly — while the possibilities are endless for what he could possibly be referring to, you’re almost certain you understand exactly what he means. 

As though he suddenly realises how it could be interpreted, he barely whispers, “I w–wanna have— have sex.” There’s a slight tremble in his voice despite his courage to confess. 

You blink once, twice, hesitating only for a second before opening your mouth to reply, to question him, but Bucky rushes to add, “With you.”  

It’s your turn to swallow — despite the harsh dryness coating your throat. In the past, you had partners, summer flings. Few stayed, and even fewer were worth the trials and effort of a proper relationship. And through those couplings, sex became something that didn’t faze you. 

With Bucky it feels different. 

The connection is far more meaningful to you than any casual hookup from a club, and to know he is in a space where he is comfortable enough to place such vulnerability in the palms of your hands… It is not lost on you, the importance of his choice. 

You look deep into his eyes while you seek his full consent — if only just to quell the doubt that swells within yourself. “You’re sure about this?” 

“One hundred percent,” Bucky confidently assures. “I want all of you, Buttercup. And I wanna give you all of me.” 

Fuck, you curse to yourself. You didn’t deserve him. 

You nod, then say, “Alright, baby.” Bucky grins at you, and this time you rush to add, “Let me do this properly though, okay? I want to take you out; treat you like you deserve.” 

A sudden sheepishness clouds his expression, and his eyes dart downwards to your lips while he licks his own. “Mhm,” he mumbles quietly, “Y–You can do that if— if you like.” 

You take both of his cheeks in your hands, and you tilt his head up to place a soft, loving kiss to his swollen lips. When he makes direct eye contact with you, you whisper against his mouth, “You deserve the world, Pup — nothing less. So yes, I would love to.” 

The night of the long anticipated date night arrived faster than you realise — after classes, study sessions, and accompanying Nat to the boy’s football training to cheer them on, time flew by in a blur.

As much as Bucky begged you for a scrap of a hint or clue for what you planned, you kept it under tight wraps; a lock and key that will not budge for even the sweetest of pleas.  

It hasn’t been an easy task to stay strong against his wide, puppy eyes — on more than one occasion, you almost let slip. But with severe determination, you successfully keep it a secret. 

And by god are you proud of yourself for such an achievement. 

You know for sure that Bucky is going to enjoy himself tonight — every last stop pulled, and with the help from your brother for the venue, you feel confident in the plan.

That is, until you smooth over the invisible wrinkles of your dress for the umpteenth time while you make your way down the hallway towards their apartment, your stomach roiling with anxiety of the unknown. Will Bucky truly like it? What if he hates it–?

A hand with perfectly manicured, blood red nails grabs yours, and pulls your fidgeting fingers away from the seam of stitching to the pockets of your dress. “Babe, please stop panicking.” Natasha’s soothing tone brings you back down to earth. “You look incredible — Bucky isn’t going to know what hit him.”

After hearing of your plans from your brother, she was quick to offer her help with your makeup and hair, which you graciously and gratefully took her up on. You were desperate for some feminine support, and Nat came in the form of an angel sent from the heavens.  

The way she worked her magic left you unable to believe it was you staring back at yourself in the mirror; hair flawlessly styled and makeup ethereal. A shaky sigh escapes you. “You really think so?”   

All in all, as you walk down the hallway to the door that hides your date from view, arm in arm with your guardian angel, there is not one reason for why you are so anxious — though the pressure you place on yourself to make sure this date is perfect is among one of the chief suspects. 

You meant, wholeheartedly, what you told Bucky before — he deserves the world, and you crave to hand it to him. “I mean–”

“Listen to me,” Nat says fiercely as she steps in front of you, blocking your path to the door of the apartment and stopping you in your tracks. Her hands grip your arms, tethering you to reality. “I know for a fact that boy is going to positively die when he sees you.” 

The tension releases from your body with her comforting words, but Nat still goes above and beyond to bring you out of your spiral. “Hell, if I wasn’t already with your brother, I'd have snatched you up myself.” 

You can’t help the small smile that quirks your lips for her instilled confidence, and she winks. 

You’re grateful that Steve has found someone so genuine who you easily get along with. Natasha is a beautiful woman both inside and out, faultlessly honest and loyal — traits that are hard to find in a person, yet here she is, extending her help with little thought or expectation of it being returned.  

“Thank you,” you murmur, trying to convey how much you appreciate her. “Y–You didn’t have to do all of this.” 

“Maybe not.” Her hair bounces as she shrugs. “But us girls gotta stick together — especially now that we’ve got two helmet heads stuck to our back.” 

“Come on.” Her arm hooks around yours, and she pulls you along. “Let’s go get your boy.” 

Before you can blink, you are standing outside your brother’s apartment, and with a deep breath and moral support of the redhead on your arm, you bring your closed fist up to the wood. “Here we go.” Three, firm knocks ring through the silence, and you step back to wait. 

The anticipation doesn't last very long at all before the door swings inwards with a flourish. 

Steve stands in the entryway, his back turned towards you while he shouts into his apartment. “Hurry your ass up, Buck–!” You lightly switch your weight between your feet, waiting for him to turn around. “They’re at the door!” 

There’s a clattering bang and more curses from inside the apartment, when Steve finally turns around to greet you. “There’s my favourite girls—” He freezes in place, mouth slack from shock, and his eyes trail up and down your body. “Flower,” he gasps in awe. “Oh sis, you look so beautiful.”

The sincerity in his words immediately brings tears to your eyes, and Nat hisses at her boyfriend, “Hey, don’t ruin her makeup!”  

“I’m sorry,” Steve says slowly, still taking you in. “I just– you’re so fucking beautiful. Look at you.” 

Nat hums happily while her hand rubs your shoulder. “Isn’t she? I said Bucky’s going to die when he sees her.” 

“Guys,” You whine, the hot flush of embarrassment leaves you feeling utterly flustered.  

Steve ignores you though, readily agreeing with his girlfriend as he opens the door wider to let you both enter. “She’s right, Flower. It suits you perfectly.” 

A surge of giddiness hits you — after a time of intense deliberation of your wardrobe, you chose one of your favourite sundresses to wear for the special night, a spaghetti strap in a soft, cornflower blue. A small surprise and homage to someone special. “Thanks Stevie, I really appreciate–”  

“Okay, okay, wait–” Bucky rounds the corner from the hallway as he enters the living room, interrupting you. “What about this one?”  

The cufflinks on his navy blue button-up steal his whole attention, while his long, chocolate hair conceals you from his view. He struggles fastening the cuffs with the subtle shake of his fingers, and you can almost hear his inner frustration when he huffs an annoyed breath, blowing strands of hair from his face. “Dammit, I swear–”

You stand there with thin lips to contain your laughter while waiting for him to look up.  

“Steve?” Bucky asks frustratedly after he doesn’t receive an immediate response. “Do you think Buttercup will like this outfit or not–” His head tilts upwards, hair falling either side of his handsome face that is painted with exasperation at being ignored, and his words falter.

Blue eyes widen in surprise to find you standing there next to his best friend. 

“Oh– fuck,” Bucky gasps, and his jaw slackens with the gravity of your presence; truly awe stricken by the sight of your opulent outfit and appearance. His Adam’s apple bobs as he gulps uselessly around his inability to speak. 

The click of your shoes against the floorboards doesn’t snap him out of his daze let alone register in his mind, so deep in his fixation of you.  

You take the chance to admire his appearance. 

The navy, button-up shirt clings to his broad shoulders, accentuating the definition of the muscles all the way down to his forearms, and with each movement, the material tightens sinfully. The top few buttons of his shirt are left undone — a choice you’re most thankful for because of the tease of his bare chest. Black slacks fit snug to his hips and grip his thick thighs. 

On any normal day, when Bucky wasn’t out in the field in his football gear, he normally stuck to his casual clothing of an old t-shirt and sweatpants — comfort over presentability, not that you ever complain about the sight of him in sweats. But this is the first time you’ve ever seen him remotely dressed up.

You walk towards him and grab his hands with yours, stopping his absentminded fidgeting — gravity keeping him routed in place. 

“I think you’re absolutely gorgeous, Bucky,” you say, gazing into his eyes while you wonder how lucky you are to hold his attention in a room of his favourite people. “If that answers your question.”

“My god, Bee,” he whispers, finally able to give a voice to the flock of thoughts circling his mind. “You look stunning, baby — ethereal.” He laughs, a little deliriously. “You’re kinda killing me here.” His large hands encircle yours, bringing them up to hold against his chest. 

There’s so much emotion in his eyes as they dart over your figure like there’s not enough time in the world for him to take you in. 

“Give us a spin!” Nat calls into the charged air while she clings onto Steve’s arm, who watches on teary eyed. 

Bucky takes one of your hands and lifts it into the air, encouraging you to twirl. The skirt of your dress fans out around your thighs, and you can’t help but grin wide as your boyfriend whistles low. “You're a goddamn dream, Buttercup.”

He guides you back into his hold, before gently gripping your chin between his thumb and pointer finger to bump his nose against yours. “And all mine.” 

The way Bucky’s stare burrows deep into your soul and makes a home where he rightfully belongs — it takes everything you have to not blurt out the three words residing on the tip of your tongue, but something has you biting your lip against the impulse. 

Instead of declaring aloud what your mind and heart feel, you settle with another truth, “And you, Bucky Barnes, are a sight for sore eyes.” 

A dusting of pink spreads high over his cheeks, and you take pride in being able to fluster him so easily — your adorable Pup would never lose his bashfulness. 

“What did I tell you, honey?” Natasha bumps her hips against Steve’s as she snickers into her hand. “He’s practically drooling over her.” 

You join in with their laughter while Bucky pulls you close and buries himself into your neck, even more flustered from the insistent teasing, and he grumbles low into your ear, “Great, now there’s two of them.” 

Leaning back to better look at his flushed face, you assure him, “I think you’re adorable, baby.”

His eyes twinkle with a spark only you could ever bring out of him. “I’m excited for the night, Bee,” Bucky declares, honest and sweet. 

“Me too, handsome,” you readily agree while you step back, the small hops of uncontainable excitement making Steve and Nat chuckle. “Are we all set to leave?” 

“Oh!” Nat cries, “Before you forget—” She slips out of Steve’s hold and rushes into the kitchen, coming back a second later with a wicker basket full of food, the very same that she insisted on when she first found out about your date. With a wink, she hands it to you. “You can’t leave without this.” 

“You’re an angel,” you praise, walking towards her and holding your arms wide for a hug. She readily accepts it and kisses you on the cheek. “Thank you so much for this.”

Just as you step back from her embrace to grab her offering, Bucky swoops in and grabs the basket before you can even touch the wicker handle. “Hey! Excuse me, Barnes,” you scold, frowning at him. “I am more than capable of carrying that.”

“I know,” Bucky teases while he walks backwards towards the apartment door, a devilish grin on his lips. “But I don’t care for a picnic basket gettin’ in the way and ruinin’ the view of my girl in a pretty dress.” 

Your jaw drops from his suave words, and you stand there, flustered as you watch his retreating form. Without looking, he opens the door with his free hand and bids farewell to his best friend with a nod, then he smiles at Nat. 

Bucky then looks to you. The flick of his hair as he nods towards the hallway pulls you from the reverie. “Come on, beautiful. The night is young; the possibilities endless.” 

Where the hell has he gotten his silver tongue from? your mind questions. 

“He’s gotten too smooth for his own good,” Steve comments as though he read your mind, a smirk playing on his lips. 

“You don’t say,” you reply easily. To get to the door, you walk past your brother, and he slips a folded piece of paper into your hand while Bucky is walking into the hallway, his back turned. “I’ll be back tomorrow.” 

Steve grins. “Have fun, Flower — you deserve this.” Naturally, it wouldn’t be a traditional sibling farewell without a departing shout of, “And make sure you wear protection, shithead!” 

The Brooklyn streets are aglow from the overhead lights while the moon creeps up the horizon, watching over you and Bucky holding hands. He blindly follows you towards your best kept secret.  

“Let me get this straight.” Bucky swings your arm with his gently. “You’re telling me I can’t have any clues about where you’re taking me?” 

“Nope,” you respond, staying strong to your oath of silence. “We’re a couple of blocks away, you dummy. You’re going to find out in five minutes — be patient, I know it’s hard.” 

“C’mon, Bee,” Bucky begs. “You don’t wanna put a poor man out of his misery?” He lightly tugs on your intertwined hands to spin you into his chest. 

“Hey–” You look up at him to find his eyes hooded with barely restrained lust.  

“I almost died already after seeing you in that dress for the first time, and now you’re torturing me, I have to watch you walk in front of me in the damned thing.” 

Oh, you laugh to yourself. He’s really turning the charm up. 

“Puppy,” you whisper breathily, intentionally running a hand down his chest. The action and your touch makes Bucky shudder. “Believe me when I say I could make you do a lot worse.” 

A deep flush of red paints his cheeks and spreads blotchily down his neck, and his breath hitches when you cup his jaw in your palm. “Be good for me, and be patient,” you warn, the fan of your breath over his lips only worsening his flustered state. “I promise the wait will be worth it.”

“Y–Yeah, okay–” He clears his throat and sets you back onto your feet, though he does not release your hand.  

A flash of mischief darkens his eyes when you pull him onwards, and you look over your shoulder at him when he says, “Yes ma’am.” 

That is something you could get used to hearing. “Atta boy.”

The rest of the walk is quiet but calm — a mutual contentment stretching between the two of you where words aren’t needed. 

You know that around the next street corner lay your surprise, and Bucky still has no idea what is in store — the piece of paper that Steve gave you begins to burn a hole in your dress pocket.  

The exclamation of surprise that falls from Bucky’s lips when he lays eyes on the museum makes all the effort worth it, though it grows to a state of clear confusion from the furrowing of his brows. “Wait, it’s late — isn’t it closed?”

“Come on,” you say in reply, and instead of going to the main entrance, you lead Bucky towards an alleyway where Steve told you the back entrance for staff is situated.  

The crinkle of paper is louder than the cheering crowd at a football game, and you grip the invaluable information as you near the locked door. Steve’s offering rings in your mind: It will get you into the main foyer, from there, you’re gonna need to get sneaky.

Bucky’s hand squeezes yours in an attempt to get your attention. “Bee?”

You’re too homed in on the memory of Steve talking to you about your plan — one of their teammates works within the museum, and he was able to pull a few strings and call in a couple of favours for the gold mine in your hand. 

You determinedly walk towards the keypad built into the wall next to the door and unfold the note. In the process, you let Bucky’s hand go — you instantly feel the loss of connection.    

“Um— Buttercup,” he chuckles nervously, glancing over his shoulders to spot any onlookers. “I think this is classified as illegal trespassing right now.” 

“I mean,” you say, then you stick your tongue between your teeth as you work the six-digit code from the piece of paper to the keypad. The low tone press of each digit covers up the shuffle of feet behind you. “Bucky, it’s okay — it’s safe.”

“But–” He hesitates when the mechanism clicks to signify it's open. 

You look at him and suddenly grasp the idea that he is anxious — his football scholarship and prospective future could be ripped away from him within the hour should the two of you get caught by the authorities.

“Hey, hey, we’re good — no one’s gonna catch us, I swear,” you assure. Though he still looks on edge. You don’t want Bucky to feel apprehensive for the sake of his headspace or the rest of the evening, and your only option is to offer him your most sincere form of faith. You hold out your hand, palm up. “We’re gonna be okay. Trust me?”

  

There’s a small, nervous twitch of a smile on his lips, and then, finally, his tense shoulders and posture relax as he steps forward and sets his hand into yours with an ease that shocks you, only strengthening the solid connection you have. 

“Come on.” Bucky follows behind you, a slight laugh on his breath as you all but run into the museum. 

Different eras of evolution pass by in a flash; hundreds of exhibits dedicated to all corners of the world go ignored in lieu of taking Bucky to one place that, normally, was not an easy area to walk through and explore, given how popular the exhibit is. 

By the time you reach the doors hidden behind a set of double, velvet curtains, you’re out of breath. “O—kay,” you pant, hands on your hips as you slightly bend forward. “We’re — we’re here.”  

Your boyfriend, the teasing bastard he is, chuckles while he extends a hand to your shoulder, “Are you okay?” 

The bastard hasn’t even broken a sweat. 

“Fine — I’m fine,” you gasp, and you gesture at the curtains. “Come on, I can’t hold it in any longer–” The heels of your shoes click over the floor, and you push aside the curtains to reveal the door — only then do you turn around and smile at Bucky. “Here we go.”

The doors fly open with a flourish and reveal a domed planetarium with the signage above a giant moon: A Journey Through The Stars. 

It is a coveted event within the science community, and only after you hear of it through whispers in the halls of your dorms and classes did you realise it was perfect. 

Darkness cloaks and envelopes the two of you as you step inside — Bucky moving slowly in his daze of amazement. On strings and platforms above and lining the dome ceiling are twinkling lights and stars, the only source of lumination to show the wonderment in his cerulean blues. 

You watch from a distance with bated breath while Bucky stares to the ceiling, mouth agape, taking in the moving three-dimensional hologram above him and everything it has to offer. 

The galaxy, with its swirls of pinks, purples, and blues among millions of stars, are brought to life before his very eyes. Planets thousands of times bigger than the two of you cross and circle one another above your heads, closer than either of you could have ever thought possible, and yet, still only just out of reach — the concept achieves the impossible. 

In the end, you realise as you stare at Bucky, your heart swelling with the love that courses through you, that you have gone beyond the very goal you were desperate to attain; to give Bucky Barnes the world. 

He spins on the spot, eyes bright with a childlike awe you have only ever seen on the mornings you've woken up in his arms. The glow of the celestial wonders captures in that second, a memory that will last forever — the sight of your man, the centre of your world, underneath the stars. 

Ever so slowly, Bucky delicately brings his gaze back down to earth, and notices the distance between the two of you. His voice echoes across the room, off of the planets and stars as he asks with a waver in his voice, “H–How did you know?” 

You smile. “That you’re kind of an astronomy nerd?”  

Bucky only nods his head, still at a loss for words. Strands of his neatly tucked hair fall over his eyes, and you take a deep breath and steady your own voice. “Do you remember our first movie night with Stevie and Nat?” 

There is a small hum of acknowledgement from deep in his throat. 

“Well,” you continue, “I remember the two of them were arguing, it took them ages to settle on a film choice. I was beginning to lose my tether.” The recollection of the memory — their voices and banter make you chuckle. “Anyway, a trailer came up on the TV for an upcoming film about an astronaut getting stuck in space — the Martian, maybe? I’m not too sure.” 

He is purely focused on you as you speak, and you begin to recall your favourite part of the memory with a fond smile, ignoring the slight lump in your throat from the overwhelming flood of fondness and adoration. “But I watched– I watched as your head snapped up instantly. You were enamoured, Bucky — I’ve never seen you so hooked into anything more in my life.”

Time freezes as Bucky stands there, unmoving and speechless. The lack of reaction from him makes your stomach twist with nerves, and you rush to fill the silence, rambling on, “Then I noticed the smaller things. Your stack of astronomy books on your nightstand, the NASA merch I find when I steal one of your sweaters.” A small laugh escapes then at his incredulous expression. “And so, I went out on a whim, piecing everything together, and I– well, I thought I should try my chances.” 

“You really—” Bucky swallows the lump stuck in his throat. “You noticed all of that?”

“Of course I did, Bucky,” you tell him with reverence. “How could I not notice something you’re in love with?” The colours of the night sky shimmer over his face and over the sheen in his eyes as he stares at you. Hesitantly, you ask, “D–Do you like it?” 

“Do I like it?” He repeats, huffing a breath. “Do I– do I like it–?”

There’s a thud as the basket he was holding falls to the floor, and you gasp while he storms towards you and picks you up around your waist to spin you around in the air. 

His grin is wide while you squeal with shock. “Damn right I like it!” he shouts with pride. “My girl is the fucking best!” 

“Ah–! Bucky!” The skirt of your dress flutters over your thighs as you hold onto his shoulders.

He whoops and yells his happiness, and after a few rotations, he carefully places you back down onto the floor, only he doesn’t stop his persistent touch — kisses scatter over your face, never lingering in one place for more than a second. 

“You’re — so — amazing.” His lips move downwards from your face to your jaw, then your neck. “Can’t — believe — you’re — actually — mine.” 

The ache in your stomach flutters from your laughter, though you are on cloud nine and find it difficult to care when the boy you’ve had a crush on for so long is kissing your face like there is no tomorrow. 

Eventually, Bucky begins to calm down, settling his forehead against yours while wrapping his hands around your waist. “This means everything to me, Buttercup.” He grants you a slow, final kiss to your lips. “Thank you.” 

“You are more than welcome, sweet boy.” You move closer into his chest and peck him on the lips. “Now let’s have that picnic.”

The two of you sit under the largest planet, and you dive into the contents of the picnic basket to find Natasha has packed a whole range of finger foods from sandwiches, mini cakes, to strawberries and grapes. A small bottle of your favourite drink is tucked into the side of the basket, next to two glasses.  

After a toast, “To what the universe has planned for us,” you both bask in one another’s company — two tiny specks of the universe coming together as one. 

You listen intently as Bucky excitedly rambles about the different planets, as well as his love for Mars in particular. The gesticulation and smile on his face is priceless, and you only wish you had thought to bring a camera. 

Bucky continues endlessly — listing interesting facts about each planet and star he knew, and he goes into detail about any active NASA projects or upcoming ones he’s been keeping track of. 

Not only is he an avid storyteller, he makes sure to involve you in the conversation, engaging you with silly questions on whether you believe in other life out there, and any of your thoughts you have about historical space ventures. 

It is easy to fall into step with his passion, and you know that you could stare all night as his whole face lights up, especially his eyes, while he talks about something he thought no one noticed before. 

But you did. 

The highlight is when Bucky begins to talk about star constellations — his love and adoration surpassing that of anything you had heard from him before.   

He sits behind you, legs resting either side of your body while he holds you to his chest with one arm, the other pointing up towards the dome ceiling. “You see that one there, Bee?” There’s a cluster of twinkling stars in the direction of his gesture. “The large rectangle one — that’s Orion.”

The soothing rumble of his voice against your back is remedying — home.  

“It’s also known as Orion The Hunter,” Bucky explains further. “A Greek name, but its true origin is believed to come from the ancient times of Babylon.” 

“It’s beautiful, Bucky,” You sigh happily. The cluster and the whole of the night’s sky is truly beautiful — once they were just a pattern of lights in the sky to you, now they hold far more meaning. 

“Yeah,” your boyfriend agrees. You don’t see how his eyes flicker down to you, rather, you only feel his cheeks rising in a smile. “It is.” He clears his throat. “The constellation includes two of the brightest stars in the sky.” 

“Really?” You hunch forward a little to look upwards. 

“Mhm,” Bucky confirms with a hum. 

With a huff of effort, you push yourself up onto your feet, and walk closer to the constellation until you are directly underneath the pattern of stars. It’s with a new appreciation you stare up at the twinkling lights that you didn’t have before — admiring the complexity of the placement but the simple beauty of it. 

The reflection from the dome ceiling illuminates onto your skin, tattooing patterns of a realm that will never be discovered for its full existence. 

Bucky, however, focuses entirely on you — his girl, in a reality the two of you once never thought possible. 

A shuffling of feet comes from next to you, and Bucky stands and makes his way towards you. He places both of his hands onto your cheeks to tilt your head back down, to be back in the present with him. “Maybe not the brightest. But that’s okay, because that one is only meant for me anyway.” 

It’s sudden, but it consumes you whole — mind, body, and soul — of the realisation that Bucky Barnes is the love of your life. 

You fight the tears threatening to bubble to the surface, though it’s futile — a few escape and trail down your cheeks to collect on Bucky’s thumbs. Those three pesky words fight to spill from your heart and out into the open, to hang in the closing distance between Bucky and you. 

But somehow, it doesn’t seem like the right time. A fragile moment that while you know could truly never break, uttering those words feels like it will shatter the last of your resolve. 

And so, you save them; sealing your mouth closed with a sworn promise to let them go soon. 

Seconds go by as you collect yourself, and then you manage in a choked voice, “My, my — What have you done with my Bucky?” 

“He’s still here,” Bucky vows. “You just make me so dizzy — so goddamn fuckin’ dizzy — that I’ll spill whatever comes to mind.” 

That makes two of you.

You place your hands over his, still encapsulating your face. “Well, you certainly know how to make a girl swoon, handsome.”

His lips turn upwards in a lopsided grin that shows a slither of his pearly whites. “I would find a way to pull the moon out of the sky if you asked me to, Buttercup.” 

There is no doubt in your heart over that — Bucky would go to the ends of the earth for you. But you didn’t need that, you have everything you could wish for already in the palm of your hands. “Lucky for you, I’ll only ask for a dance underneath it.” 

Bucky’s lopsided grin turns into a thousand-watt smile, as bright as the stars above you both. “Now that is something I can make happen.” 

There’s no music, no beat for the two of you to follow, but that doesn't stop Bucky from gathering you closer to his chest — his arms cross over your back to pull you flush with his front. 

You turn your head to the side and lay your cheek against him, wrapping your arms around his neck to better hold him. 

The steady rhythm of his heart guides the steps to your dance, the slow sway side to side of your bodies. You feel the brush of his lips at your temple, then he mutters something under his breath; a barely there string of unintelligible words that do nothing but add to the peace of the moment. 

Bucky sighs and hugs you tighter. 

The night is only just beginning. 

Part Three

[i-am-hungry-24-7]

Standing a step behind you, watching you from afar, is already my biggest happiness.

Sorry for spamming I accidentally put the post in queue two times, this is the proofread and correct one the previous one is not :']

Price + Ghost*Reader

Price

Price doesn’t want to bind you to him. He’s nearly 40, plus the rank difference between you two, he’s a mature superior, no personal feelings should be involved in the workplace.

Not to say, he doesn’t sense even a tiny bit of romantic love from you, every time he tries to hide his affection towards you, he only sees respect for comrades in your eyes.

Even till the day you jump out and take a bullet for him as he gets knocked down accidentally, which ends up with the enemy dying, but you become lifeless in his arms, blood painting his palms and gear, he still believes you just view him as a teammate.

As he steps into your silent quarter and reads the words written in the journal, he slumps onto the bed, speechless as sorrow swallowing him that he needs to bite his lips until he tastes the bitter to stop him from crying.

“Personal feelings won’t be allowed, I can see Captain comply with this rule without exceptions.” “but it’s okay if it means I can stay beside him.” “It’s already a bliss that I can watch him from afar.”

He’s seasoned with gravel and pain, which ends up making a choice to free you from caging with him and hide his love, but unknown to him, you’re better at secreting yourself.

Ghost

He’s an expert at hiding and perceiving other’s feelings, not a single human —even his captain— is able to conceal the true thoughts running in their mind from him.

He knows he views you differently , not the family love like he owns for other 141 members, but the need to stay beside you forever, become old together if you both are pardoned from dying on the field at a young age.

The emotion plants a seed in his heart, sprouting as time flows, and when he realizes, the branches are already entangled with his heart.

Yet he chooses to lock those feelings inside the deepest part of him, he stares at you secretly with an amount of distance, always got your six and protects you, but never closer.

He’s afraid if standing too close to you, the sentiment will break through his mask and reveal it to you.

No one left behind, that’s his motto, yet he derogates it the moment he watches you shove the enemy badgering him off his body and over the railing, but he can’t catch your hands as he helplessly witnesses you tumble over inevitably.

You leave nothing, not even your body has been found, since the bomb exploded and perish you and the enemy together.

But when he flips through your journal in your room, he takes off his balaclava, letting it fall to the floor carelessly, as he discovers it does nothing to hide the truth from you.

“Something’s holding Ghost back, but I can wait, until he’s comfortable enough to take a step, even if it means years.” “I imagine we getting old together, but am I provided with such privilege?” “Maybe not, hence I’m already extremely satisfied to have a chance to watch him from afar.”

He assumes he’s excels at observing people, but what he’s unaware of is after he stares at you across the room and turns away eventually, your eyes land on him and never dart either.

a/n: thx for reading, have a nice day/night! :D

[thoughtless-muse]

“for whom the tongue craves to taste,” [d.d]

“the cdc showers”

a/n: quick disclaimer – this is actually just a snippet of a larger piece that I’m putting together (a smutty 5+1 prompt, five times daryl made you cum, and the one time he let you return the favor) but as it’s my first real attempt at smut, I wanted to post this as a means to garner some constructive criticism before finishing the piece. If you’d be so kind to read and lmk your thoughts/critiques, I’d really appreciate it!

EDIT: I know it’s not how the majority of 5+1 prompts are done, but I’ve decided to post each segment as they are finished. I just think it’s an easier/less stressful method for me, so I hope you guys don’t mind the posting choice. the posts will be linked together for easier access.

the cdc showers – arrow mishaps lead to frisky fun – ever done it in a loft? – cold iron bars – the watchtower – I want a taste, too

c/w: explicit sexual content, cunnilingus, shower cunnilingus, tongue fucking, fingering, language, dirty talk, undisclosed age gap, 18+

word count: 2.4k

that morning, had anyone scooped you off to the side and told you that mere hours after arriving at the pipe-dream that was the CDC you’d be corralled into a hot shower with none other than daryl dixon squished between your thighs, you’d have laughed straight in their face and directed them towards the nearest mental institution – not that that would do anyone much good, given the state of things; but had anyone declared a statement that outrageous, you’d have thought their mind already gone, much like the drooling, shuffling, decaying bodies wandering the earth.

yet here you were, a steady jet of hot water battering the sore muscles of your back, liquor-laden torso slightly slumped, thighs spread open by broad shoulders and daryl dixon’s wicked tongue licking your little cunny straight to nirvana.

how the fuck did you even end up here, anyway?

it was so uncharacteristic of you – you knew next to nothing about daryl dixon. he was simply a mutual stranger. you’d never even had more than a few fleeting conversations with the man, for fuck’s sake; if you could even call them that. daryl was brusque and wholly unapproachable, and his attitude left a lot to be desired. due to his unpleasantness, you’d opted to keep your distance and observe rather than to interact. to be completely honest, you’d been more judgmental rather than observant of the man before, back at the quarry, internally critiquing his sour attitude, accent and frayed clothes; and, shamefully, even at times presuming that he was some forty year old virgin that had been holed up in his mother’s basement before the world went to shit – but, fuck, were you ever wrong.

maybe he was forty, maybe he had been holed up in his mother’s basement, who the fuck knows, but he sure as fuck wasn’t a virgin – at least, his tongue wasn’t. the way he moved it, fucked it into you, made a mess of you with it, there was no way he wasn’t experienced with it.

you let out a loud, trembling gasp when daryl suddenly broke his tender tongue-flicks to slide his teeth gently against your clit before wrapping his lips around it and sucking.

okay, fuck, scratch that. he was experienced with his whole mouth.

unlike the few other men you’d allowed to taste the heaven between your legs, daryl used his entire lower face to devour you – his tongue was the star of the show, of course, but his lips, nose and chin made a hell of a supporting cast. when his tongue was busy fucking your walls, his nose was right against your clit in its place, his head shaking side to side, applying just enough pressure to bring you pleasure but not enough to stimulate you into orgasm; and then, as if he could simply innately sense when you were becoming desperate for more, his tongue would slip from your hole and return to your clit once more, circling and flicking it with expert movements, quickly bringing you right back to that sweet precipice.

how long had he been at it?

the water wasn’t cold yet – or maybe your body was just too hot to register that it was; but with the amount of times that daryl had built then robbed you of your orgasm, you drunkenly surmised that it had to of been a good fifteen minutes. any other man would have tapped out from exhaustion already.

of course, there were times when his tongue would get tired, but even then, unlike your previous lovers, he seemed loathe to leave you without any contact – he would alternate between giving your clit chaste little kisses and moving his lips against your entire cunt as if it were a second mouth that he was intent on claiming; then, when his tongue was rested enough, he would dive right back into devouring you.

it was absolutely wrecking you, in the best and worst ways.

maybe it was simply the affects of the alcohol swimming through your veins that fed you the illusion of this being the best damn head you’d ever received; maybe it was because you certainly didn’t have a lot of other experiences to compare it to; or maybe it was the warmth that came with the comfort of hot water and a full stomach that made it so much better – either way, you were almost at the brink now, again, thighs quaking with the effort of holding your body upright and staving off your impending orgasm; you knew daryl would more than likely take it away if he sensed it, and you weren’t sure if you could handle that.

“oh, god,” you hissed out when daryl flattened his tongue against your clit, flicking it with short, harsh movements, before slipping it down to part your folds and lick up your slit. he transitioned between the repetitive movements at a near imperceptible speed, without ever having to trade out accuracy and rhythm for it. it was a dangerous cocktail of pleasure that had you damn near seeing stars. each harsh swipe of his tongue against your clit sent zips of electricity up your spine, and built a familiar tension within your gut.

“ya like tha’, sweetheart?” daryl parted from your cunt just enough to inquire huskily, his voice so low that you barely even managed to catch it over the volume of the hissing spray. you nearly whined at the loss of his tongue, and, rather than answer his question, which you could hardly even decipher at the moment, you reached a hand down to tangle your fingers into the short hair at his nape, using what leverage you had to push his head forward until the tip of his nose brushed against your sensitive clit once more.

“no, d-don’t – don’t talk…” you slurred out, tugging at his hair insistently and pulling a deep, rumbling chuckle from the man below you.

“some manners you have,” daryl drawled, but to your delight, returned his tongue to your slit, parting your wet folds and slipping it past the rim of your tight entrance. your fingers twitched against his nape as you released a high, airy sigh, and your hips began to move of their own accord, humping your cunt against his face and pulling even more vibrating vocalizations from his throat. you just wanted firmer friction, damn it.

your stomach was stirring, tight, that pressure slowly mounting. it felt fucking good, the way he was thrusting and wiggling his tongue against your gummy walls, fucking you with the thick muscle, his nose bumping into your clit and sending subtle jolts up your spine, and those vibrations and sounds, fuck! – but it just wasn’t enough. you needed something different, something more.

“do… do what you were doing before…” you requested breathlessly, hips trembling, fingers digging into the skin of his nape in desperation. “‘m so close, daryl… just need more.”

the thought of keeping your impending orgasm away from his awareness seemed to have slipped away in the midst of the tremulous pleasure he was bringing you, and maybe you shouldn’t have let the information out, but you were so desperate. your tummy was so fucking tight, that coil winding and winding to a painful climax, and holding it in just seemed impossible, you needed to let it go – and at the moment, the only way you could possibly reach orgasm was through daryl.

daryl flicked his eyes up to meet yours, and though your vision was a bit hazy from the steam and alcohol, you swore the man was smirking up at you from within your cunt. daryl was silent for a moment, all movements against your cunny paused, before he leaned back slightly and said, lowly, “why don’ I do somethin’ better, instead?”

before your drunk, horny, fuddled mind could truly decipher his words daryl was in motion; his warm hand gripped the back of your knee, bending your leg easily and hoisting it atop his shoulder – distantly, you registered a strange sensation against the skin of your calf (was that a shirt? was daryl fully clothed right now?) – and once your leg was stabilized, he skirted the fingers of his other hand up your other leg, the one that was still planted to the floor of the shower.

his fingertips grazed your knee, then the plush flesh of your thigh, before reaching between your hips. you jumped slightly when you felt the pad of his finger run over your slit, the thick digit parting your folds smoothly, the tip dipping ever so subtly into your entrance every so often. like he was testing the waters, or something.

“d-daryl, what are you doing?” you inquired, heart tripping over itself, apprehension twisting in your gut for the first time since he’d invited himself into your shower and initiated this whole thing.

wait, had he invited himself? or did you do that?

you couldn’t remember.

“shh, jus’ trus’ me, sweetheart. This’s gon’ blow yer mind.” daryl responded back, calmly, warm breath fanning over your sensitive clit as he spoke. your breath shuddered in your lungs, but any further objections died in your throat when daryl’s hot tongue met your sex, circling, flicking, flattening, devouring – his pace was much faster and firmer than before, the pleasure much more intense than what had previously been given.

“o-oh, fuck! daryl!” you moaned, your hand sliding up from his nape to the crown of his head, fingers fisting into his hair to hold his head still as you rutted your hips forward to meet his skilled tongue.

“shit, that’s it, baby,” daryl panted, muffled, into the slick heat of your cunt, tongue drawing lazy circles between his words. “jus’ fuckin’ lose it. use my tongue, sweetheart.”

it felt so fucking good. it felt like your cunt was melting right into daryl’s mouth, searing hot and drippy, sloppy, coating his lips, jaws, nose, and neck with copious amounts of your arousal – all the while daryl growled, groaned, and moaned as he slurped it down, as if it was the very nectar of life itself.

your gut felt like it would burst – at any moment, with any flick of his tongue, in time with any of those vibrating groans, you’d be exploding all over daryl’s face, releasing every single ounce of the pent-up arousal daryl had inflicted upon your body over the last fifteen minutes in a single second.

“daryl, daryl, god, yes… fuck, don’t stop… don’t s-stop.”

you continued to repeat those words, falling like a river from your mouth, a mantra that seemed to keep you grounded as daryl’s tongue threatened to send you floating away –

a sound akin to a scream bubbled in your throat when daryl suddenly slipped two of his thick fingers into your cunt; the sensation was far from unpleasant but far too close to overwhelming – and when he began to pump them in time with the flicks of his tongue, and curled them just so on every outward pull, scraping against something at the top of your gummy walls, you simply couldn’t hold it in.

your entire body locked up, muscles freezing as your lips fell open to release mute moans, both hands now swinging down to grip daryl’s hair.

those silent moans you were releasing quickly morphed into loud, wanton, downright sinful vocalizations as daryl pumped his fingers into your cunt, still rubbing that sweet spot, fingerfucking you through your high and bringing stars to your eyes. you pressed daryl’s head impossibly closer to your cunt, humping whatever you could and burying his fingers deeper inside your walls with desperate, short, shaky movements, releasing a litany of his name and curses in between breathy pants and moans.

when the waves of your high had begun to recede, you slowed your hips until they came to a complete stop, your chest heaving from the deep lungfuls of steamy air you pulled in. your body felt incredibly fuzzy, your mind pleasantly foggy; but your body, and everything else, felt too hot, too cramped, too everything, and when daryl decided to give your throbbing, sensitive clit one last tiny flick of his tongue, you damn near smacked him in the head.

if only your arms would move.

a small gasp was pulled from your lips when daryl slipped his fingers from your sloppy cunt, the friction against your sensitive walls almost enough to have your entire body seizing, and it was only when daryl lifted his hands up to grip your wrists were you able to disentangle your fingers from his hair; only with his help, of course.

daryl then grasped the plump flesh of your thigh, the one that was still tossed over his shoulder, and pulled it down slowly, not releasing his hold until your foot was planted firmly on the wet floor of the tub.

when your balance was secured daryl scuttled back from between your legs, and when he’d rose to a standing position, his chest now centimeters from your own (which you distantly realized was bare) you couldn’t help but stumble backwards until your back hit the cold wall. your lids felt incredibly heavy, and exhaustion gnawed insistently at your muscles; but through the fog, you were able to register daryl, who was indeed fully clothed, the fabric of his shirt and jeans soaked and clinging to his body like a second skin – and you were certain that was a smirk on his lips.

a smirk that said he knew he had just blown your mind, even if you would never admit it to him.

it seemed as though your orgasm had sobered you up a bit, because when daryl sidled up to you, right beneath the harsh spray, and placed his large hands on your naked hips, you were able to lift your hands and plant them on his chest. he didn’t attempt to move closer to you, but his hands didn’t fall from your hips either; and when he spoke, his voice was chock-full of cockiness that you found simultaneously alluring and irritating.

“if ya ever want yer mind blown again, ya know where to find me.”

with that, daryl slipped his hands from your hips and turned, ripped open the shower curtain with little effort and then stepped out, as if he hadn’t just performed an intimate act on you. water dripped noisily against the linoleum floor as he stalked away, and, not one to give up the chance at having the last word, you croaked out,

“in your dreams, dixon.”

the only thing you got in reply was a haughty chuckle, echoing into the bathroom from somewhere within the quarters you’d claimed for the night.

[luveline]

I've read your vampire eddie fic and its soo lovely I adore them being weird toghether <3 and I thought how will reader and eddie pass the summer? I totally see her saying shit like Vlad please put on some sunscreen lol and eddie be so grumpy

“It’s not that you don’t like it,” you’re saying. 

“No, that’s exactly what it is.” 

You sit down on the picnic blanket by his hip with a plate of summer fruit sweating in your hands. You’ve dotted a few ice cubes through the mountains of it, water melting, turning pink from the melon and yellow with the pineapple juice as the sun bears down.

“The sun is good for you,” you say, taking a slice of apple with green, bright rind in between two fingers. You have very pretty hands, Eddie’s thought that ever since you met, and they’re prettier still because of how you use them, you’re oh so gentle. “Just like this.” 

He won’t let you feed him, taking the apple as you press it to his lips, juice and water wetting his fingers. “The sun does nothing for me. I’m dead.” 

“Are you?” you ask, a genuine curiosity to your tone as you put the plate in front of him. Eddie, on his front, anticipates your next move before you’ve decided, not just because of his super senses but also because you’re a predictable creature, who loves him very much. Unlikely and true. “I thought you were only half dead,” you say, resting a hand by his ribs and leveraging yourself across his back in a hug. “Well, I thought you were undead.” 

Eddie is regrettably undead. “I forgot you were the expert on my condition,” he says, putting the apple slice in his mouth whole.

“Your condition,” you say, your face slotting into the back of his neck, forcing him to close his eyes and settle into the blanket, grass beneath it crisp from the heat. 

“My vampirism.” 

“Ah, I thought you meant your behavioural issues.” 

“Of course you did.” 

You don’t say anything back. Quiet, your hands slide up in front of his armpits, your head lolling heavily to one side. You mouth a word against his neck, a second and third, but Eddie can’t decipher what it is you’re saying even with his incredible hearing, can only feel the soft curve of your lips as they shutter closed, hot like a fresh bruise beneath his ear. 

Eddie nudges you to slide off of him, turning, cautious of the plate, to offer you his arm, and to see your face more clearly. You’ve forgone any of your fun makeups today, weary of the heat, all your wrinkles and lines in stunning detail under his gaze.

You lay on your side and Eddie lifts the arm that isn’t supporting him with his finger bent into a tight ‘n’ to stroke the skin under your chin. “You’re pretty,” he says, his knuckle rubbing back and forth. 

“You’re beautiful,” you say back. The hair at the nape of your neck is damp with sweat, and as you both lay there in the humidity, a bead of it races suddenly to sink into the fabric of your top. 

“You’re really pretty,” he says, ignoring your deflection —though for you, he doubts it’s a deflection at all, only a thought you’d had and spoken without qualm— in favour of lavishing you with some more love and praise. He opens his palm and touches his fingertips to your cheek, conscious of the heat, stringing the words together slow as the heavy pour of a maple tapper, “I don’t like the sun, it’s hot, and I’m melting, but I don’t think I mind it when you’re here too.” 

Your heart does a jump, to his smugness, an audible caper of your pulse. “Everything’s better when we’re together,” you say. 

He nods severely and lifts your chin just a touch, tilting his head to the side to kiss you. The pressure of his fangs is forgotten, a blood sate too far away to ignore the more nefarious longing that thrums at the centre of his chest, but overpowered anyways by practice, and desire; he’s gotten a thousand times better at kissing you, because you like to be kissed, and he likes to give you anything he can. 

He can’t pretend he doesn’t like this, either. You cover his hand with yours and wade in like a quick tide, pulling back and pushing in, like nips without the pain. Your hand slips into his hair. “I love you,” you say, “but you’re sweating like crazy.” 

“You’re sweating worse,” he says. 

“We’ll have to take a vacation.” 

“Where do you want to go?” 

“Literally everywhere cold.” 

Eddie can’t leave Hawkins. He needs blood, and there’s only one sheriff who’s willing to source it for him. But it’s a nice idea, a fantasy he won’t ruin for you. “Where’d you want to go first?” 

“I wanna go to that place with the Northern Lights. We’d never complain about sweating again.” 

You squint at him. 

“What?” he asks. 

“Where do you want to go?” you ask. 

“Anywhere with you.” 

“Well, you’d have to.” 

“Oh, yeah? Why’s that?” he asks. 

“I’m your only portable blood bag, Eddie.” 

He lays back on his back, covering his eyes with an arm as the other comes to rest on his soft stomach, whirl of a scar thick beneath his shirt. “Never gonna happen.” 

You shuffle closer to him. “One day,” you say, laying down next to him with your face nearly flat to the blanket, the heat of your body a palpable thickness he wouldn’t change for the world, dehydration inevitable. “You’ll give me a nice sharp kiss and that’ll be that.” 

“Never.” 

“Imagine it.” Your voice turns to a whisper. 

“Never, babe,” he says, he promises, the weight of his arm over his eyes like an iron. 

“I’ll just have to bite you instead.” 

You open your mouth and press your teeth to the hill of his shoulder, dull and wet, your breath like a kiss before you let your lips drift shut and give him a proper one. “Love you,” you say. 

“Love you, freakazoid.” He wrestles you into a cuddle he’ll regret sooner rather than later, wishing his vampirism were better at keeping him cool. He’s cold to the touch most of the time. Right now he’s baking. “But I’m not biting you,” he says into your forehead. 

You laugh breezily. “Not today you’re not. That’s why I made fruit salad.” 

[daisynik7]

I blinked and suddenly I had a Valentine

Author's Note: modern setting, no curses, high school setting. ~1.3k words. Divider credit to @/cafekitsune. Title from the song “Valentine” by Laufey. Rice bear bathing in Japanese curry looks something like this (reddit link). Part of the past lives vignettes series. Thank you for reading!

It’s almost the end of January and you’ve spent the past three weeks at your new school eating alone, either in the classroom or in the cafeteria. You’re too shy to socialize with your peers, who are already well-established in their own social circles. This is what happens when you transfer in with less than three months left of the schoolyear. No one wants to be friends with the new girl, right? 

Well, two people prove this theory wrong. 

Yu Haibara is the first to approach you in the cafeteria during lunchtime. “Hi there!” he greets, taking a seat across from you, a cheerful smile on his face. You can tell from his aura alone that this is someone easy to get along with. Jovial, optimistic, kind-hearted. You’d normally feel nervous interacting with someone you’ve never met before, but his welcoming presence immediately puts you at ease. 

He’s followed by a blonde boy, slightly taller, a bit lanky, and sulking behind him. His name is Kento Nanami. You recognize him from your homeroom, though you’ve never spoken before. Occasionally, he eats his meals there, usually in the back with his headphones in, listening to music, while you’re in the front, indulging in whatever homemade bento box you decide to make for yourself that day. It’s crossed your mind more than once to join him so that neither of you are alone, though you’ve chickened out each time, convinced that he’d rather remain that way than be bothered by a nobody. Unlike Haibara, his lips are pressed together in a natural frown. You don’t sense unhappiness or animosity from him; rather, it’s indifference, apathy. When he sits down next to his pal, he gives you a nod, acknowledging you. 

Haibara does the courtesy of introductions. You hold your hand out to him, doing the same. He takes it enthusiastically, beaming at you. “I know who you are. I’m a first-year too!”

It doesn’t strike you as odd that he’s already somewhat familiar with you. Instead, you’re relieved to finally be making friends in this cutthroat environment called high school. After this first meeting, the three of you are inseparable. You get on well with Haibara, who’s an expert at keeping the conversation flowing. Nanami doesn’t say much, though you notice his subtle mannerisms that speak volumes more than what his actual words do. You can tell he admires your homemade lunches each time you uncover them at the table. His eyes light up, marveling at whatever creation you’ve concocted the night before: yakisoba, onigiri, chicken stir-fry. He doesn’t say anything, relying on Haibara to do the complimenting. You appreciate how intently he listens to you, even if he doesn’t have much to contribute. In homeroom, you sneak glances at him when your teacher says something particularly ridiculous, to which you spot the faintest hint of a smile flitting on his lips. And you realize that every time you’re walking beside each other, he makes sure to switch his bag to his arm away from you. Part of you hopes the real reason behind this is to be closer to you, but you try to keep those lovelorn thoughts buried in the back of your mind, being certain that’s not the case.  

You eventually find out that Haibara has severe allergies, especially during the seasons of Winter and Spring. He explains how he has to take at least a few days off once a month, sometimes an entire week. Today, he dons a face mask, already anticipating it. “Don’t miss me too much,” he jokes, his bright smile noticeable even behind the mask. It’s February now; the three of you sit together at your regular spot in the cafeteria. Nanami eats his rice bowl in silence while you say to Haibara, “You’re going to miss Valentine’s Day.”

He crosses his arms over his chest, smirking. “I guess the two of you will have to be each other’s Valentines.”

At this, Nanami almost chokes on his food, face turning scarlet. He reaches for his water bottle, which is empty, still clearing his throat as he excuses himself to refill it. When you’re alone, you glare at Haibara, scolding him. “Why would you say that?!”

He shrugs innocently. “What’s the big deal? He likes you.”

Your jaw drops at his surprising statement. You’ve always thought that Nanami tolerates you, but you never truly believed he could ever like you. “What do you mean?”

Haibara blinks at you, as if the answer is so obvious. “He told me about you. Said how you always had the most amazing bento boxes for lunch. How cute your smile was whenever you’d take a bite. He was too shy to talk to you first, so he had me do it. You…didn’t know that?”

You stare at him, shaking your head slowly, stunned by this revelation. 

He laughs nervously, scratching his head. “Oops.”

Nanami returns, back to his normal self now, remaining quiet. There’s still the faint blush on his cheeks; you pretend not to notice it. Nothing else is mentioned about Valentine’s the rest of the day, though it lingers on your mind the remainder of the week.

Haibara is out sick February 13th, leaving you and Nanami alone together for the first time since you befriended them. You’re curious to see if the dynamic would change, if Nanami would actually speak up now that his buddy isn’t around to fill the void with his amicable chatter. But lunch ends up being a quiet affair. You do your best to ask questions, start conversation, but he’s even more tense than he usually is. When you mention Valentine’s Day tomorrow, the familiar rosy tint spreads across his face. You drop it, not wanting to make him uncomfortable, though you can’t help thinking how sweet he is for reacting that way.

He likes you. The words have been replaying in your head since you heard them. And the truth is: you like Nanami too.  Based on what Haibara said, he might be too shy to tell you. 

So, you take matters into your own hands. 

The next day, February 14th, you come to school carrying a box wrapped in red ribbon. Inside homeroom. You greet Nanami politely, catching the way his gaze drifts to your hands. You smile wider to yourself, excited to present it to him later. At your seat, you can smell the decadent scent of homemade chocolates and heart-shaped candies from the other girls in your class. You get increasingly nervous about the gift, wondering if he’ll receive it well. Still, it’s worth a shot.

When class is over and it’s time for lunch, Nanami waits for you near the door to walk to the cafeteria together. Ready to leave, you stop him, clearing your throat before you announce, “I have something for you.”

His eyes widen, his jaw clenches. It’s obvious he wasn’t expecting this. 

You don’t hand it to him, afraid he wouldn’t know what to do with it. Instead, you untie the ribbon yourself, uncovering it. Inside is the bento box you prepared special for him. “I made this for you. Happy Valentine’s Day, Nanami.”

He reaches inside, holding the bento in his hands like found treasure. He snaps the cover off slowly, revealing rice balls formed into a cute bear, bathing in Japanese curry. A sheet of seaweed cut into a heart is placed directly in the center. 

You watch him for his response, heart racing against your chest. He inspects it carefully, his expression softening to one of adoration. When he looks at you, he smiles, and you swear you’ve never seen anything more beautiful than Nanami Kento smiling. 

“Do you like it?” you ask, needing to hear it in his own words. 

He nods, still smiling. “I love it.”

You spend your lunch in the classroom, eating your matching bento boxes together while listening to his music on shared headphones. 

For the first time in his life, Nanami has a special Valentine.

[jarofstyles]

Buttercream

Hello my loves! This is the first part to our Patreon exclusive series, Buttercream. The ready is available on Patreon (over 18 parts) and is still being updated. You all asked to see what’s available to read and I’m giving you sneaks of it!

A series featuring an Alpha Architect Harry, a bossy bakery owning omega Y/N, the sweetest treats taste tested and some steamy smut.

Check out our Patreon for all parts of the series and 150+ exclusive writings.

——-

The smell kept him coming back.

In his life, Harry had been to a quite a few bakeries. He could be considered an expert on fudge brownies, a specialist on cupcakes and the swirls of icing, a connoisseur of croissants. He treated himself a bit too often, if his mother had anything to say with it. His sweet tooth had always been prevalent in his life.

The new bakery down the road from his job, though? That had made him a true problem.

Every day before work, he stopped. Suit and all, pulling into the parking lot and nearly drooling the moment he got out. His feet carried him towards the door and the smell hit him immediately. Sweet buttercream, frothy vanilla, spiced cinnamon, and… something else. That something else that had him nearly vibrating, and now on a mission to have the whole menu to figure out just what the hell that scent was.

It was intoxicating. Mesmerizing. If Harry didn’t have work, he would spend hours just sitting here to smell it. It had a weird hold on him, and he didn’t quite know how to ask if it was an air freshener. That was unlikely for anywhere but restrooms anyways considering how offensive it could be for the noses of alpha’s and omegas alike. A bad scented one could send them into moods. Or even sickness. The sense of smell was very important.

“Mr.Styles.” The teen manning the cash register saluted him. He came in every day and was known to the cashiers, so he had ruled out it being one of them. Thank god. They were either young enough to not have a scent or too old for it to be possible. “What will it be today? Y/N’s been whipping up a storm for the holidays. New recipes. We’ve got a peppermint bark brownie that would go well with the peppermint mocha you like.” She chirped, watching as he scanned the cases.

Harry was a little intimidating but he was exceptionally charming. He smiled, he conversed, he tipped well, but he always seemed to be looking around. Trying to find something that no one could really place. The bakery was empty besides a mum and her friend with their kids, munching on treats and coffee as they watched the traffic go by. It wasn’t them. Harry’s ears did perk up when he heard an unfamiliar name.

“Y/N?” He asked, tilting his head as his attention went back to the cashier. “Who’s that? The owner?” Harry had never met the owner. For some reason, every time he came in the morning she had stepped out for her own break. It didn’t bother him so long as his compliments to the baker got passed along, but hearing her name stirred something in his chest.

“Yep.” She popped the p in her word. “She’s awesome. She started this all on her own after she went viral on the internet. She got the funds from online orders. You see the custom cakes and stuff but she does awesome experimental flavors. She doesn’t care if they’re hits or misses and let’s us go home with leftovers.” There was obvious pride to be working for someone like Y/N. It peaked his interest.

“Oh?” He asked, leaning his body against the counter. “That’s incredible. I’d be very happy to taste some of the new things.” He flashed a smile, tapping his card against the wood of the counter. “What would you think Y/N would suggest?” And why did saying her name make him feel silky and hot? Like it was meant to live on his lips? They tingled as the word left his mouth, making him shift his stance slightly. His skin was buzzing slightly as he heard someone else come from the back.

“She would suggest the peppermint bark brownies, the s’mores donut, the lemon cream cookie and the chili chocolate cupcake. Spice and sweet work surprisingly well together.” The airy voice went to his bones.

Harry could smell it fully now. The scent that laced the bakery was now engulfing him. Filling the space, making him inhale it with each breath. His hand tightened on the card, curling into a fist at his side as he caught a glimpse of her. She had been the source. It wasn’t a baked good or a cashier, but it was the baker herself that was making him addicted to the sweets laced with her scent.

He was silent as he observed her, a smile quirked on her lips. Slightly glossy and deliciously plump as she greeted the cashier with a simple hey and asking her to go to the back to grab the other new tray of cinnamon buns. Sliding them on to the rack, she used her hip to gently nudge the counter open and grabbed one for Harry.

“Here. On the house.” She slid the bag over to him with her soft simper, hands tapping on the wood.

She was marvelous.

Harry was speechless. Something he never usually was- the alpha could talk to a brick wall if he needed to- but this sweet little omega has been slowly hypnotizing him with her scent over the course of a month and now he was finally seeing her. He loved delayed gratification, a fan of edging, but this? He wished he had seen her far earlier.

“Hi.” He peeped. His face looked like he saw a ghost. The woman in front of him was like a mirage- and he wasn’t trying to be dramatic. He swore she was familiar to him in some way. Some how. She was all omega in the ways that called to him. The curve of her face and her soft voice… he could have started purring if he didn’t have some semblance of self control in his body.

“Hi.” She returned the greeting with a soft chuckle that heated his chest. “I hope you like the suggestions. I recognized your voice. You’ve been in here every morning we’re open and I figured it was about time to meet the loyal customer.” She chirped, brushing the stray hair that had fallen from her ponytail behind her ears. The adorably disheveled look added to her appeal.

A candy apple red apron was dusted with various baking material, tied around her waist snug. It showed the curve of her waist went deeper than what he could tell under her sweatshirt that appeared to have the bakery name printed on it. A swipe of flour was decorating her forehead, like she had wiped hair from her face and simply forgot about flour coated hands. Little details he was memorizing to think about later.

“I love the smell.” He blurted out. Immediately, he winced. That hadn’t been what he had meant to say, at least how he had meant to say it. Heat crept up further under his cheeks as he opened and closed his mouth, watching her giggle a bit as he tried to find his bearings.

“Fucking hell- I meant to say, I love your bakery. It smelled amazing when I went past it so I decided to stop in a few weeks ago and now it’s become a part of my daily routine. I bring in pastries for the office.”

“Aren’t you a star coworker.” She cooed, turning from him with a wink as she grabbed one of the red boxes and began to construct it. “They must love you at the office. I have on good authority that the one that brings the snacks, gets the pats on the back. Especially hand made, beautifully crafted baked goods.” She teased, opening up the case and beginning to place some sweets into it.

“I’d hope they like me. I’m their boss.” He laughed quietly, scratching the back of his neck. Never has he felt more like a schoolboy talking to a playground crush. He was head to toe in a suit good enough to meet his best clients, and a girl with flour on her face was sending him to his knees. Each time she moved, a gentle waft of her scent was given his direction and made that ever loved self control hang by a thread.

“Ooooo. Bossman.” She grinned, wiggling her brow as she placed another iced brownie with crushed peppermint bark sprinkled on top into the box. “Should have guessed. Love the suit, by the way. You look very handsome.”

That little compliment made his day. The pretty omega with the prettier smile and mouthwatering scent thought he looked handsome. That would be lingering in his brain all day. How she thought he was handsome. The casual compliments.

“Thank you.” He preened. “We do interior and exterior design for businesses. Up and coming places and remodels. So if you ever need a guy- I’m here.” He placed his hands in his pockets and lifted up on his toes rocking back and forth.

“Oooo. Is it that bad in here? Do I need a renovation?” She sucked her teeth, tilting her head. It had him freezing, mouth falling open to grovel. He hadn’t meant to offend her at all, hadn’t tried to insinuate it needed a remodel.

“Shit- no, I’m sorry. It’s very cute in here, I didn’t mean to insinuate it needed any help. I’m sorry, I didn’t realize how it would sound-“

“Cool it, bossman.” She cooed, laughing at how he had nearly fallen over himself. “I’m just messing with you. The place does need some exterior work, actually. I hadn’t had the budget when we first started, nor the time. But I didn’t take any offense to it. You’ve got to market yourself. Don’t worry.” Her reassurance made him melt into relief, leaning into the counter. This whole encounter had him feeling a bit on edge in the weirdest way. He wanted to snuggle this woman, yet he was almost afraid of her. An omega. He was afraid of an omega.

Anyone else would laugh at him, perhaps, but he felt the nervousness creeping in his bones. He wanted her to like him. He wanted her to think he was cool and want to know him better. Y/N, Y/N, Y/N. She had unarmed his normal charm and made him feel like a nervous bundle of sweat and it was exhilarating.

“I’ll take a card, though.” She placed her hand out flat. “If you’ve got one. I’m gonna check out your website.”

Harry fished one out of his wallet, thankful he kept them on hand. It had his office number, and part of him wanted to offer his personal cell but he knew that would be a bit weird. Especially if she wanted to use his services. He almost hoped she didn’t- asking a client on a date wasn’t good for the image, was it? He wasn’t sure.

“If you’ve got any questions you can reach out on the email there, it’s a direct line to me- or uh, I come in every day so.” He shrugged. “Around this time. You’ve got very good coffee too. It’s been a while since I’ve had a good hazelnut. People put a lot of syrups and things… but your shop does it the best.”

“Thank you.” She seemed chuffed with his praise. “I taste test everything with the crew here. You’ll be in for a treat. If you’re coming in every morning, do you think you’d want to be a bit of a guinea pig for me?” She slid the box across the counter. “I’ve been experimenting like my lovely employee was saying. But I’d love a real customers opinion. Even if it’s bad. I want to know what the consumer likes.”

Harry was shocked. Y/N was kind of treating him like a friend, like she valued his exact opinion. He couldn’t deny he felt exceptionally special. Having not only the owner of the bakery but an omega he had some sort of crush on suddenly want to sample the new things she sells and get his opinion on it.

“Oh- uh. Alright. Of course! I can do that.” He grinned shyly, handing his card over for her to pay for the things she had put into the box. “I come in every morning during the week so… you can just let me know what’s new to taste.” There was a giddiness in his stomach. An excuse to talk to her every day. Or at least a few times a week. He’s never really reacted this way to an omega before, the scent craving, the shyness he suddenly felt, all of it was so new to him and he was unsure how to navigate it but he didn’t want to stop. He only wanted more.

“Perfect. What is your name, by the way?” The card was handed back to him and there was slight disappointment their fingers didn’t brush, but Harry took today was a victory.

“Harry. Harry Styles. It’s lovely to meet you.”

“Y/N. I’m glad to meet you too. I hope to see more of you soon.”

[suashii]

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ 𝒮𝐸𝒳𝐼𝒩𝒢 𝒮𝐸𝒯𝒯𝐸𝑅𝒮 — the setters and their top kinks

info ⭑ includes: miya atsumu, oikawa toru, akaashi keiji, sugawara koushi, semi eita ﾉ f!reader, nsfw (minors do not interact) ﾉ degradation ﾉ impact play ﾉ daddy kink ﾉ dumbification ﾉ edging ﾉ body worship ﾉ praise kink ﾉ dacryphilia ﾉ virgin kink ﾉ corruption kink ﾉ all characters written 18+.  

₊˚ପ⊹ ATSUMU + DEGRADATION & IMPACT PLAY

he’d never call you such lewd, dirty names outside the bedroom, but he can’t ignore how each one goes straight to your pussy. his personal favorites are “whore” and “toy”. he never thought he’d find so much pleasure in bullying, humiliating, you. and he’ll never get over the way you tighten and flutter around his cock when his hand makes contact with your clit or ass. your surprised squeals are like music to his ears and the marks he leaves behind are always a pretty reminder of the night’s activities the next day.

“listen to you, whimpering like a whore when i slap your ass. i’m starting to think you like getting spanked. mm, maybe i should give you another one.”

₊˚ପ⊹ OIKAWA + DADDY KINK & DUMBIFICATION

he gets some sort of rush from hearing you call him daddy. maybe it’s the way you peer up at him through your lashes as you do so. or maybe it’s the blatant embarrassment that you try and fail to hide by biting your lip. can you blame him for wanting to see you completely fucked out? you’re just so pretty when your eyes are staring off at nothing, tongue lolling from between those soft lips. he can’t help the sense of pride that swells in his chest when you’re reduced to such a mess, and all because of him.

“you stopped talking, princess. did daddy really fuck you that hard? can’t even think straight while you’re taking this cock, huh?”

₊˚ପ⊹ AKAASHI + EDGING & BODY WORSHIP

his hands wander about your figure as his mouth travels down every inch of your skin, only ever stopping to tell you how gorgeous you are. you deserve the world and he’s set on giving it to you, even if his method seems slightly cruel. by now, he’s an expert at continuously getting you nearly to your climax and pulling you back just before you can reach it. he’s a patient man and is more than willing to spend all night in the bedroom if that means giving you the most earth shattering orgasm you could imagine.

“god, you look so beautiful like this. you want to come? don’t worry, you only have to wait a little longer, angel. i promise it’ll feel good.”

₊˚ପ⊹ SUGAWARA + PRAISE & DACRYPHILIA

you’re such a sweet thing for suga, always doing what you’re told and making the prettiest noises for him. why shouldn’t he let you know how much he adores you—how proud he is of you? the smile that graces your face and the sparkles in your irises at his approval are really all he could ask for. but a little part of him can’t help but get excited whenever he sees tears of pleasure pooling in your eyes, threatening to spill over your lash line. maybe he’s greedy; or maybe he just wants a reward of his own.

“you did so well for me, my good girl. and you look so pretty with tears streaming down your cheeks. should i clean them up for you?”

₊˚ପ⊹ SEMI + VIRGIN KINK & CORRUPTION

he has this unexplainable desire to take you—someone that was once pure and untouched—and make you his own, to ruin you as he pleases. of course, he’d never tell you so; where’s the fun in that? he’s fixed on watching the authentic experience of your first time. he wants to see how your face scrunches up in pain before it turns to pleasure. he wants to hear your breath catch in your throat before you’re moaning in ecstasy as your orgasm hits. he needs to be the one who gives you a taste of what you’ve been missing out on.

“is it everything you thought it would be? yeah? i never pegged you as the type who liked being used. guess i got lucky with you.”

hihi~ manz here :3 ! thank you for giving this a read! if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging and/or leaving a comment! much love from me to you ❤︎

[haetrack]

study buddies

haechan x f!reader (ft. doyoung)

wc: 5.6k

warnings: sex mentions, dry humping (MDNI), nothing too graphic, haechan makes a bet against doyoung over you

this is a continuation of me and @hrts4doie nerd!haechan, read part one and part two if you would like! this is the first part, @hrts4doie will post the second part on their account, read here!

“i can’t believe that you haven’t even studied for this test.”

“well, i’ve been busy.”

doyoung rolls his eyes, scrolling through a powerpoint he swears he’s seen a hundred times already. “busy with your new girlfriend? can’t believe she actually asked you out.”

haechan lets out a sarcastic laugh, “you’re so jealous of me, it’s crazy…”

doyoung scoffs, shoving his face closer to his laptop, ignoring the proud smirk on haechan’s face.

haechan never expected to talk to you, never expected to sleep with you, and most definitely didn’t expect for you to to ask him out. he’s always kept to himself, making few friends, like doyoung, from group projects. he didn’t mind his social life, never really care for being alone. but with you by his side, he realized that he could never go back to how he was.

even before he had sex with you, he always found himself staring at you. all he had with you was one shared class, which he was so sure you didn’t even know he was in. you always looked so good, and it was his lucky day when you asked to be in a group with him. when the project was done, he thought you would never talk to him again.

except, you did. you kept up with him, listened to him rambling on about whatever video game, listened when he ranted about a class. you listened when he accidentally confessed that he thinks you’re attractive.

he had immediately taken his words back, to which all you did was laugh. you “accidentally” confessed that you thought he was cute, too. he remembers how the air in the room shifted, how your eyes glanced to his lips, moving to slide the glasses off his face. you pulled yourself into his lap, his fingers twitching at his side.

he suddenly hears doyoung calling out to him, followed by doyoung’s hand shoved in his face, snapping to get his attention. haechan blushes, realizing that he got too caught up in his thoughts, thoughts of you sitting so prettily on top of him. he quickly looks up to find an unimpressed look on doyoung’s face, “i called you here to study, not to daydream.”

“i, uh, i’m sorry,” haechan says, batting his eyelashes, “just remembered how boring you are.”

doyoung, already used to haechan’s teasing, can only huff in response, “you do realize that we’re studying for a midterm. a midterm. this is serious.”

“if you’re still sad about your breakup, feel free to talk to me anytime. now i’m the relationship expert!” haechan smirks, clearly showing off.

“how did you even get with someone like your girlfriend? does she like nerds like you or something?”

“hey! i have appeal, i’m not just some random nerd!”

“yeah, well i just know you’re into some weird stuff,” doyoung says, finally closing his laptop, “you’d probably like it if she pushed you around.”

haechan shifts in his seat, trying to ignore the image of you on top of him forming in his head. “w-whatever!” haechan splutters, “at least i have a girlfriend and i’m probably still going to do better on this exam than you will!”

doyoung has to stop himself from laughing out loud at haechan’s offhanded admission of being pushed around in bed. doyoung clears his throat before speaking, “well who’s the one who’s been studying and who’s the one who’s been getting fucked by their girlfriend?”

“i’m smarter, anyway! you’re acting like you wouldn’t beg to fuck my girlfriend, either!”

doyoung looks at haechan in shock, quickly trying to form a coherent sentence to get back at haechan, “we both know that i could fuck her better, don’t lie.”

a pout quickly forms on haechan’s face, “don’t think about fucking my girlfriend!”

“you literally just said that i would beg to have sex with her,” doyoung falters, “you know what, i don’t want to talk about this in a public library.”

haechan is silent as doyoung slips his laptop into his backpack. doyoung sees haechan bite the inside of his cheek in thought, probably thinking of a nice apology for his friend. once he’s packed everything away, he realizes that haechan is staring at him, his hands pressed onto the table.

“if you score higher than me on this test, i’ll let you fuck my girlfriend.”

okay, so maybe not a nice apology.

doyoung doesn’t really know what to say, doesn’t know how to react, and he doesn’t even know how he’s still making eye contact with haechan. his mouth opens and shuts, haechan still staring at him. doyoung manages to speak, “what… what?”

haechan doesn’t flinch at doyoung’s shock, “i said, if you do better than me on the midterm, i will let you have sex with my girlfriend.”

doyoung’s face is pulled into a frown when he realizes what haechan says this time. he has to stop himself from yelling into haechan’s face, “literally where did that come from?”

haechan just shrugs and pushes up his glasses with his finger, “i just know i’ll do better than you on the exam, and i kinda just want to show off.” 

“in what world do you have to make a bet like that just to say you’re better than me? just, i don’t know, say you’ll do good?”

“but where’s the fun in that? and plus, it’s not like i’ll lose.”

“and if i win?” doyoung challenges.

haechan whines and shoves doyoung’s shoulder, “you won’t.”

doyoung sighs, suddenly too tired and wanting to go home. haechan exhausts him, and tonight proves that. haechan just laughs and shoves his stuff into his backpack, standing up and looking down at doyoung. doyoung glares at him, standing up just to intimidate him a little. “lets just go already, you’re stressing me out.”

haechan just smiles and laughs, ushering doyoung out of the library. doyoung walks with haechan to the bus stop, to where haechan will eventually go to your place to be with you. doyoung isn’t jealous, but he does miss being around someone that he likes. maybe he’ll try studying on his own for this exam.

doyoung eyes haechan while walking with him, acting as if nothing even happened. he’s harping about some random game event, almost too casually. doyoung tries not to think about you, but he can’t help but think you are pretty. he’s seen you around campus, he’s seen you more with haechan. he can’t help but stare sometimes.

it doesn’t help that doyoung did go through a breakup, his ex saying that they should both move on. doyoung bites down on his lip, trying not to think too much about it. he should focus on his grades, focus on his studying, focus on this bet. the worst that could happen is losing. the best thing that could happen is the possibility of good sex.

while they’re both waiting for haechan’s bus, doyoung raises the question, “is your girlfriend even okay with this?”

“well, it was a spur of the moment kind of thing, so… i’m not sure yet,” haechan laughs into the quiet air.

once again, doyoung is rendered speechless by haechan, “how do you even know that she’ll agree to this?” 

haechan spots his bus rolling down the street, “she’ll say yes. and like i said, you’re definitely not winning.”

doyoung shoves haechan, sending him off to his bus as haechan laughs loudly. before haechan boards, he turns to look at doyoung dead in the eye, “i’ll see you on exam day. good night.”

doyoung nods, bidding him farewell. he goes his own way, hands shoved into his jacket pockets as he’s lost in thought. he will do better than haechan.

haechan finally makes it to your apartment. the bus ride felt too long, and it feels like it’s been years since he’s seen you. you’ve both been busy with your own exams. haechan used to not mind exam weeks, but now that he has you, it pains him to be away from you for so long.

he had tried studying with you, but it always ended up with haechan being too needy to focus. he can’t study by himself either, always disrupted by the thought of you fucking him. he’d send you a quick text, and you always agree to let him come over. it eventually turned into you scolding him, telling him he needs to find someone to study with him.

of course, it had to be doyoung.

he texts you that he’s at your place, making his way to your apartment door. he knocks, waits a bit, and is then greeted by the sight of you. you look tired, but he can’t help but still find you pretty given the circumstances. you smile at him, pulling him into a quick kiss, grabbing his hand to bring him inside.

he’s brought to your bedroom, watches as you plop yourself into bed. you turn to him, cocking your head to the side as you ask, “how was it with doyoung?”

he opens the separate drawer you made for his stuff at your apartment, pulling out some house clothes so he can lay down with you. he pulls off his shirt, hears how you whistle at him, and he immediately gets shy. he shushes you, “it went fine, we studied for most of it, and then we just kept on talking at the end.”

“that’s good,” you hum, watching him shimmy out of his pants with a smile on your face, “what did you guys talk about?”

he crawls into bed with you, caging you in his arms, legs intertwined with yours. after officially dating haechan, you realized how touchy he is. it’s cute considering how he’s still shy, not seemingly thinking too hard about the skinship he offers you. he nuzzles his face into your shoulder, “he was just telling me about his ex, everything that happened.”

you, not one to miss out on gossip, gasp as you pull yourself away to look at him properly. “please tell me you’re gonna talk about his drama. please.”

he laughs a little, moves to lean on his shoulder as he begins, “it’s been maybe, four months since he’s gotten broken up with?” he then leans in to whisper in your ear as if there’s other people around you, “but do you know what?”

you lean into him, whispering back, “what is it?”

“he still goes to see his ex. i don’t know if they’re still friends or they’re just…” he clears his throat, “having sex, but they still meet up.”

you gasp, eyes widening as you laugh at his words. doyoung doesn’t really seem like the type to do that, so knowing he might be just that desperate makes you giddy. “poor doyoung,” you start, threading your fingers into haechan’s hair, “i hope things get better for him.”

he’s not exactly listening, the feelings of your fingers in his hair making his eyes flutter shut, a natural pout forming on his face. you kiss him, and before haechan can pull you any closer, you pull away. you look at him expectantly, waiting for a response as he tries to remember what you said.

“um, speaking of which, there was something else we talked about.”

you curl into his side, eyes closing as you hum in response. he shifts a little, an arm wrapping around your waist. you’re waiting for him to talk, but you get no response. you call out his name, and he grips onto you. “is there something wrong?” you ask, a little worried.

“no, well, me and him have an exam coming up, and we kinda… made a bet on it.”

“yeah, what about?”

“so, i kinda said, if scores better than me, i’d let him…” his words trail off, mumbled out into your room. you move away from him to try to see what exactly has gotten into him. you’re surprised when you see his cheeks flushed red, teeth biting down on his bottom lip as he looks away from you. you raise your eyebrows, encouraging him to continue.

he takes a deep breath before he lets out his words all in one go, “i said if he scored better than me i’d let him have sex with you.”

you blink at him. once. twice. you can’t really say you don’t expect this coming from him but… still. rather than the actual bet, it dawns on you that he might talk about you more than you expect. you wonder if he talks about your sex life. you wonder if he says that he takes control in the bedroom.

“how… how did you even come up with that?”

haechan dryly laughs, “doyoung said the exact same thing. i just felt bad for him? and he kept on complaining how i wasn’t studying, but i’ve been busy!”

“and what made you think i would say yes?” you laugh at his outburst, and haechan relaxes a little at your comfort.

he continues, “i wouldn’t have made the bet if i knew i wasn’t gonna do better than him! i know i’m better, this bet is just gonna prove that.”

a small smirk appears on your face, “i like seeing you all confident like this,” you roll him onto his back, moving on top of him. his hair is splayed behind him, his glasses crooked on his face. “of course my baby is smart,” your lips are dangerously close to his, “are you gonna show me how smart you are?”

he nods, eyes losing focus at your proximity. you lean in to kiss him, his hands grabbing your ass, groping at the flesh. you can feel his dick twitch against your thigh, you can feel how fast he runs out of breath. you realize it’s been awhile since you’ve seen each other, and his desperate movements prove that.

you’re no different either, you can feel how wet your panties are as you grind against him. his hands push you against him, making you grind down onto his cock as he whines into your mouth. your hands make their way to his hair, slightly tugging at the strands as he bucks his hips into yours.

the room is filled with the sound of your lips against his, his loud whimpers, and your soft breaths. moans of your name are ushered out when he gets close, his hands touching every part of you that he can reach. “needed this so bad,” he whines, “been needing you since i’ve been at the library…”

“yeah? thinking gross thoughts in public, in front of your friend?” he frantically nods, arms wrapping around you to pull you close. he can feel the heat on his face, so sure his glasses are embarrassingly fogged up, begging you to continue.

your lips move to his neck, feeling your warm breath on his skin as you speak, “probably why you made the bet, right? you were thinking about me too much, hm?”

your words trigger his orgasm, cum spurting into his boxers as he lets out a whimper of your name. at the sight of your boyfriend falling apart under you, looking fucked out from just some humping and kisses, you cum. haechan moves your hips, helping you ride out your orgasm as he fights off getting hard again.

it’s quiet in the room again, save for the heavy breaths you both let out. haechan’s hand soothingly traces patterns on your exposed skin. your head lays on his chest, nuzzling close to him.

a few moments pass before you whisper out, “i’ll do the bet.”

he opens his eyes to look at you, “really? you don’t have to, i’ll tell doyoung that-”

“no, it’s okay, baby. i know you’ll do good. after all, you’re my little nerd, right?”

haechan doesn’t argue when you call him your nerd.

a few days pass without interruption.

doyoung doesn’t try calling haechan to study, and haechan blasts music in his ears to avoid any thoughts of you crawling into his mind (not that he would mind, but the bet is putting everything on the line). at any chance, haechan goes to see you, seeking praise for being such a good student. he blushes when you do, pulling you into a kiss.

haechan doesn’t try too hard at studying, considering that it was half of his argument saying he didn’t need to study to be good. he’s making sure it won’t backfire on him, glossing over terms and dates as he studies. he tries once more to study with you in a call and repeat way. it’s ruined when you call him a good boy, haechan not being able to stop his cock from twitching.

it’s the day before the exam, and haechan texts doyoung to see if he’d like to meet up.

doyoung: i don’t think you distracting me is going to help

haechan: why are u trying so hard to fuck my girlfriend

doyoung: ?

haechan gives up on him.

there’s no study guide for him to go over, all he can do is go over his notes once more. he considers calling you, but you're either busy, or he’ll just end up getting distracted. he doesn’t think it’s a bad thing with the amount of time he spends with you. he likes it, likes you, he’d rather you take up all his time than him being holed up in his dorm.

he spends the rest of his afternoon at the library, multiple tabs open on his laptop for different classes. he almost forgot about the other exams he has to take, too caught up in his one shared class with doyoung. this bet, he thinks, could be the best decision of his life.

haechan, fully confident that he will win, thinks about what he can do. he’s obviously going to ask if he can have sex with you, but he might have to beg to be more in control. he might send doyoung a quick picture of you under him, crying out for him to fuck you. he doesn’t want to show you off or anything, but he does want to gloat. just a little.

he’s happy that you agreed to do the bet in the first place. you’ve always indulged in his little fantasies, and this is another one added to the list. it makes haechan’s heart beat faster knowing he’s the only one that can make you feel good. it doesn’t matter if he’s not in control, doesn’t matter if he’s the one begging, you’re the one calling his name every night.

which is why he made the bet in the first place. doyoung can complain all he wants, can think about you at any time, but you’re his. haechan tries not to be too possessive of you, but it’s hard not to when he’s so obsessed with you. he was made for you, made to be your boyfriend.

his thoughts are interrupted by a text from you, asking where he is. a small smile forms on his face, fingers tapping against the screen to let you know what he’s doing.

you: if ur not busyyy, then u can come over if u want

haechie: literally just yelled yipee in the library

haechie: packing up my stuff as we speak

you: ur so silly

you: see u soon baby

haechan tries to fight the blush from forming on his face, hastily pushing up his glasses as he rushes out of the library. even if there might be a bet going on, he’d much rather be with you, keeping you close as you press kisses to his skin.

you wait for haechan to text you that he’s outside. you haven’t really done anything today, except for study and taking multiple naps. exam season has always been hard for you, taking up so much of your time when you could be spending it with your boyfriend.

you find it funny how easy it is for him. he always looked like he knew what he was doing, and it was only confirmed once you worked on a project with him. you remember him shyly saying that he’d tell you all his studying secrets, trying to ignore how your eyes focus on his fingers writing something down.

his advice did help, but you still struggle like every person. haechan is just too smart for his own good. it only makes you prouder as his girlfriend.

you get a text saying that he’s at your place, and a knock is followed soon after. you trot to the door, opening it up to see his bright smile. he whines out before he wraps his arms around you, his head falling onto your shoulder as he breathes in your scent. you laugh at him, reciprocating his hug as he buries his face into you.

“you don’t know how much i missed you, it’s been forever.”

“you always say that. come on you big baby, let’s go lay down.”

he follows you into your room, his hand intertwined with yours. he can’t stand not being able to touch you when you’re so close.

when he sees you lay down, looking so comfortable, he practically rips his outside clothes to the clothes he has with you. he quickly scrambles to your bed, joining you in the comfort of your bed. he presses you against himself, silently begging for you to spoon him. you sigh out a laugh, wrapping your arms around him.

you can feel him relax at your touch, shoulders untensing, eyes shutting in the quiet of your room. one of your hands move to his hair, messing with the overgrown strands at the nape of his neck. he shudders slightly, pressing his face in the pillow as he gets more comfortable.

“how was today, baby?”

he mumbles out, “was fine… all i did was study.”

“me too, i think my professors must hate me or something.”

he lets out an airy laugh, grabbing the hand that’s not in his hair to press a kiss onto it. you press a kiss to the top of his head in return, hearing the satisfied hum he lets out at the feeling. if you could, you would want to stay like this forever, him in your arms. you just wish you both weren’t so busy.

“what are you gonna do tomorrow?” you ask.

“i have that exam with doyoung,” he groans, “i’m not worried, but i just need to get it over with already.”

“i know you’ll do good,” you say, watching a pink blush begin to form on his cheeks, “my baby always does so good.”

“thank you…” he whispers, embarrassment in his voice.

“don’t worry about the bet. in the end, it’s up to us, hm? even if doyoung wins-”

haechan cuts you off, “hey! he won’t!”

you laugh out, “i know he won’t, but on the small chance he might, you’ll show him how good you treat me, right?”

you can feel him squirm against you, trying not to let your words get to his head, “y-yeah, he needs to know how good i make you feel.”

“exactly,” you say as you press a kiss to his neck, feeling goosebumps form from your touch, “that’s what’s gonna make you do so good tomorrow.”

he nods, turning himself over to face you. his hands grip at your hips, eyes shining in the darkness of your room. he licks his lips, pulling you close to him as he kisses you. he moans into you, trying hard not to grind into your thigh.

it’s when you can feel him press his hard cock onto you that you pull away, smiling at the desperate look on his face. you shush him before he can whine, tucking yourself under the covers as haechan tries to form a coherent sentence.

“you have an exam tomorrow, you need to sleep early, baby.”

“but i-” he interjects, his eyes looking down at his cock that presses against his shorts, “you- can’t you help me?”

“nope! my baby needs all the rest he can get,” you smile, patting the space besides you, “now come lay down with me.”

he lets out a small groan, ignoring his twitching cock as he lays next to you.

“and no getting yourself off without me,” you assert.

haechan can only let out a whine.

it’s finally exam day.

after waking up, haechan finds you wrapped around him, cuddling up at his side. he stares at you sleeping (in the most non-creepy way, he swears), a smile on his face as he watches you sleep so peacefully. he likes having quiet mornings like this with you, wishes he could stay in bed with you all day.

except, your alarm for eight am rings, immediately waking you up.

haechan watches you groggily reach for your phone, shutting off the alarm, slamming it against the sheets when you do. he laughs at you, pull you in closer, kissing the top of your head as you snuggle yourself in his chest. he’s warm, almost making you doze back to sleep.

the sound of his voice wakes you up again, “do you think i should just skip my midterm?”

his voice is soft, yet serious as he contemplates sacrificing his grade if it means to get to stay in with you. your voice comes out muffled in his chest, “hm, you know i can’t let you do that, baby…”

he lets out a chuckle, the sound soothing you. “if i don’t get up now, i don’t think i’ll be able to move from here.”

you try to untangle yourself from his hold, but he’s the one who’s keeping you in place. you let out a whine of his name while he watches you with a smile. he eventually lets you go, making himself sit up alongside you. he reaches for your hand before speaking, “i wish i didn’t have to go.”

“i know, baby, but you have to take this test. you have to show everyone how good you are.”

he tries not to smile too hard at your words, choosing to slide out of your bed to stretch. he doesn’t miss the way your eyes stare at his exposed stomach from his shirt lifting. if he had the time, he’d ask for at least a makeout session, but even that might turn into something too much. he quickly changes into whatever clothes he can find, ridding the thought from his mind.

“anyways, you have a bet to do, right?” you remind him, “you’re going to show doyoung how smart my boyfriend is, hm?”

“of course,” he hums, “gonna show him what he’s missing out on.” he finishes his sentence with a soft kiss on your lips. it’s always nice like this, having him so close, no shyness detected when loving you. he chases your lips when you pull away, his pretty eyes looking to yours as you walk him out.

your both at your door, hands intertwined when you say to him, “i know you’re going to do great. don’t worry about anything, i’m right here.”

his eyes shine at your words, a faint blush on his cheeks as he turns to walk away from you. before he can fully step out, you softly call out his name. his head snaps towards you, expectant eyes waiting for you.

“one more thing,” you step out towards him. you place a quick kiss onto his lips, his hands twitching in surprise. “just a good luck kiss. if you do good, i’ll give you even more than that.”

he nods, forcing himself to walk away from your door. his hands are in fists at his sides, nails digging into his skin.

he can’t wait to see you again.

he makes it onto campus, calming himself down on the walk to his classroom. he hasn’t seen doyoung anywhere, not that he was thinking he would. it’s quiet on campus, everyone either taking an exam or stuck at the library studying.

he takes a deep breath as he enters the building, watching as other students enter his classroom. still no sight of doyoung as haechan heads towards class. he’s quick to open the door, scanning the room for his seat. he’s happy to see that no one’s taken his usual spot near the front of the class. 

he does see doyoung in his spot next to him, scrolling through his phone as he waits for the exam to start. he easily slides in next to him, startling doyoung from his scrolling. he glares at haechan, haechan ignoring him as he clears his throat, “you’re here early.”

“i’m always early though?”

“feels like you might be excited about something.”

“like finishing this exam, yes.”

“or maybe the bet?”

doyoung scoffs, and as soon as he does, his professor begins to explain the rules. haechan drone out the words, shoving his phone away and taking out a pencil. it shouldn’t be hard, it should be easy for someone like him. what’s distracting is knowing that doyoung is thinking the exact same thing, the same goal in his mind.

having sex with you.

haechan won’t let it happen, though. before the professor starts handing out the exam, haechan turns towards doyoung. haechan extends a hand out to him, doyoung hesitantly shaking it back. haechan grins, “may the best student win.”

it’s been a few days since he’s taken the exam. he remembers feeling confident during the exam, remembers walking out of the class with a proud smile on his face. he remembers texting you right after, asking if you’d like to go out and eat anywhere. he remembers telling you how good the exam went over food, a proud smile on your face as you listen to him.

he only remembers being confident that day.

he’s only talked- texted doyoung once after the exam, only after their professor said when the grades will be released. it was a quick chat of haechan gloating while doyoung glosses over it. he doesn’t need to talk to doyoung too much anyway, knowing he’s just as busy as haechan is.

today, he’s at your apartment again, lounging around as he waits for his grade. you’re seated with him on your couch, legs on top of his as you mindlessly scroll through your phone. you’re done with your exams, he’s done with his. it went as good as it could’ve gone, and he’s happy with this exam week.

the cherry on top would be winning the bet, and even after the test, he’s sure that he’s won. he can’t help how his leg shakes under you in excitement, not really reading what’s on his phone as he thinks about what he wants to do. he bites his lip, trying to drown out his thoughts.

after what feels like forever (read: 30 minutes after), he gets an email from his professor saying that grades have now been posted and uploaded. he scrambles to his feet, scaring you in the process as your legs are thrown off the couch. he quickly apologies, his fingers tapping against his screen to check his gradebook. there it is.

he got a 95 on his midterm.

he turns to look at you, immediately squealing as he throws himself onto you. you laugh as you wrap your arms around him, his face nuzzling into your chest as he lets out high-pitched noises. you shake him a little, asking what he got on his exam.

he grabs you by the shoulders, pressing you into the couch as he looks down at you, “i got a 95.”

a smile forms on your face before you pull him down to kiss you. he’s smiling against your lips, a hand on your cheek as he kisses you. you can feel how happy he is, satisfied hums as he kisses you. your hands are around his neck, keeping him close to you. one of his thigh slips between yours, a hand resting on your hip as he continues.

he can feel you grind down onto his thigh, small whimpers coming out of your mouth as you do. his cock twitches at the feeling, adrenaline rushing through his body. you eventually pull away from him, catching your breath before you speak, “i am so proud of you. you worked so hard, i’m glad it all paid off.”

his eyes flutter shut when you palm over his bulge, “don’t you think you deserve a reward?”

he quickly nods, moaning out a yes as he moves to kiss you again. you’re both desperate, hands moving all over each other, feeling needy from how long it’s been since you had sex. you can feel his cock press into you, your hips rolling to meet his. his warm hands reach under your shirt, squeezing your hip when you moan out his name.

it’s not until he feels a buzz from his phone, followed by another as his mind clears. “h-hold on,” he says between kisses, “what if it’s doyoung?”

your head falls back, your hooded eyes peering up at him, “you’re gonna check your phone now, just to see if it’s doyoung?”

“i know, sorry. just really quick, i swear.” his phone turns on, a satisfied grin on his face as he sees the texts are from doyoung. doyoung’s asking what he got on his exam, and haechan quickly texts him his answer. haechan’s about to put his phone down to get back to you, but before he can, doyoung texts him back.

doyoung: that’s funny

doyoung: i got a 96

he sends a picture as proof, and haechan falls back on his heels. you watch as he stares at his phone in shock. he doesn’t move, and you softly call his name to get his attention. “what’s wrong?” you start, “what happened? is it doyoung?”

he slowly shows you his phone, watching as you quickly read the texts on his screen. your face falls in shock. you’re both sitting there in silence, shock painted across your faces. his phone eventually falls onto the couch, trying to think of what to say.

you choose to speak first, “well, i mean… you still did well on the test.”

“but he did better! by one point!”

your hand moves to soothingly pat his head, “we’re just gonna have to see what happens. he did say yes to the bet, right?”

haechan pouts, his head nuzzles against your hand, “yeah…”

“this could be fun for both of us. i get to show off how much of a good boy you are.”

he pouts even harder, “wanted to show him that i fuck you good.”

you laugh, “well, that wouldn’t be true, would it? i’ll make sure to show him how good i can fuck you.”

a/n: I AM SO HAPPY TO BE POSTING THIS WITH WINNIE!!! finally one of our ideas coming out of the drafts... i can't wait for their part to come out... its gonna be crazy... a threesome perhaps (in a way... u will just have to wait and see...)

[itsjusthockey]

Hey hun!! Could u write about something about Jack getting injured pretty bad with him being his clumsy self and catching his edge or something. Reader feels obligated to pamper him every second of everyday and is just so gentle with him it gets to the point where Jack is like “babe just because I hurt my leg doesn’t mean we can’t make out or do it” cause reader is like so scared of hurting him but Jack is just super needy

Smooth - Jack Hughes

Summer Series Open Now

This was a request, keep sending them I love them (if I get more than five new request, I drop a new fic tomorrow)

I changed a few little things but I love how this turned out

Much longer than expected, whoops

w.c 1,516 (credit to gif maker) (slight suggestive content)

You’re honestly surprised Jack has lived to see the grand age of 22. He may think he’s agile, smooth even, but you know better. In fact, you’d dare even to say that your boyfriend is one of the clumsiest people you know. It’s honestly a miracle he hasn’t broken anything, especially since this summer; he’s really been pushing his limits.

“Babe, Babe! Look.”

You turn your head up from the book you are currently devouring to stare at your boyfriend. You watch as he does a cute little flip on the wave and throws you a couple of peace signs. You smile, give him a thumbs up, and not a second later, he dives off the board and into the lake.

He quickly gets into the boat, grabs a towel, and shakes out his hair. As soon as he’s only a little wet, he walks toward you, sitting right next to you and placing your legs on top of his.

“That must be a damn good book. Usually, you can’t take your eyes off me.”

You roll your eyes at him, gently placing the book down. “Well, if you must know, it is very interesting. Lots of murder, lots of mayhem.”

As soon as the sentence leaves your lips, he snatches the book from your lap, reading the back insert. After a couple of seconds, he hums.

“Looks kinda good.”

You smile and snatch it back. “I’ll add it to your list.”

Jack nods, smiling again at you, and leans over to kiss your forehead. When he pulls back, he nods toward Luke, who is currently surfing at the back of the boat.

“I think I’m gonna go again; try that thing Luke saw on TikTok.”

Once he says that, you narrow your eyes at him.

“The last time you tried something like that, both of you almost drowned.”

This time Jack rolls his eyes, shaking his head wildly.

“Please (Y/N), your lack of faith is insulting. We’re experts.”

You shrug your shoulders at your boyfriend; you honestly don’t care; you know that sometimes their little tricks can become problems.

Mere minutes later, the two of them are hooked up and gliding effortlessly on the water. Quinn is driving the boat, and you’re watching, realizing this may be something you want to see. You’re also sitting beside Trevor, who’s filming the entire thing.

It’s starting great; they do a few little tricks while you and Trev cheer them on. You also catch when Jack does another turn a throws a wink your way, dragging his hand through his hair which he knows you love.

You’re honestly pretty impressed at the pair, not that you’d ever let them know that, but they look good. Everything seems to be going great until it’s not.

You’re all still cheering them on when they reach their final move. One second they’re both good, then in a blink, they both go down, but not before you hear a slight yelp from your boyfriend as he hits the water.

As soon as they fall, Trevor’s eyes dart to you, both of you sharing the “oh fuck” look. Quinn notices this, too, and weaves the boat around quickly.

When you finally get to the pair, they both look a little nervous. Trevor moves first, quickly moving to put down the ladder. Seconds later, he’s helping pull Jack up, Luke also helping to push him into the boat. You can’t help but wince yourself as you watch your boyfriend's nose scrunch up in pain.

As soon as he gets into the boat, he swings his leg up, and everyone can see the blood dripping down and a giant purple bruise forming.

Without saying a word, you grab the first aid kit from the front of the boat and swing into action. You sit across from your boyfriend, wordlessly opening a few supplies. You’re not mad, of course; you’re just worried. Injuries aren’t ideal for hockey players, even if they're small.

“Oh, son of a bitch,” Jack hisses as you wipe some alcohol pads over the rather large cut.

You glance up at him to see some tears welling up in his eyes, and as soon as you meet his eyes, he rips them away. You know he’s mad at himself and, obviously, in quite a bit of pain.

“Is he gonna make it?” Luke asks, watching behind you.

“Don’t know, might have to cut it off.”

You look toward Jack as you make the joke, trying to ease the slight tension, but he doesn’t seem very impressed.

Ten minutes later, you’re docked, and Trevor and Luke are tasked with getting Jack to the house. You stay behind, helping Quinn get the boat settled and doing the glamorous job of wiping your boyfriend's blood off the boat floor.

“He’s lucky that wasn’t worse.” Quinn breaks the silence. “I should’ve backed you up more.”

You shake your head, throwing away the bloody paper towels. “They were gonna do it anyway. He’ll be fine.

You both finish up and go to the house, seeing Luke and Trevor in the kitchen, but no sign of Jack.

“He’s upstairs,” Luke says, gesturing toward the stairs.

You walk by and ruffle his hair slightly, to which he wacks your hand gently away, throwing you an uneasy smile.

You head up the stairs to the bedroom, and when you enter, you see your boyfriend lying on the bed, his foot propped up with some ice on it. As soon as you enter, his eyes follow your figure as you move toward the dresser, grabbing some clothes to change into.

Before you go to the bathroom, you stop.

“Do you wanna shower all the lake and sunscreen off you?”

Jack whips his head toward you, and after a bit of silence, he nods. You move to help him, getting him into the bathroom and helping him peel off his shorts.

Soon you’re both in the shower, and you’re making sure he keeps his weight on the good leg. In the bathroom's light, the bruise and the cut look terrible, and your heart breaks everything he winces.

“I’m sorry.” He blurts out after minutes of silence.

You give him a confused look. “Why? It’s not like you planned on getting hurt, J.”

You quickly swipe some hair from his face, forcing him to look at you.

“I know. I just should’ve listened. And also, I was being a dick, which you don’t deserve, but I know if I talked to you, I’d start crying.”

His admission makes you even sadder, and you quickly pull your boyfriend down to meet you. Placing a gentle kiss on his lips.

“It’s okay, J.”

You finish the shower, and for the rest of the night, you dote on your boyfriend. You make sure he’s comfy, get you both snacks and turn on his favorite movie. Minutes tick by, and you’re comfortably tucked into his side when you notice he isn’t watching the movie.

“You okay? Tired?”

He shakes his head, and m he pulls you into him, connecting your lips. You smile into the kiss and then pull back away from him. This causes him to pout, and he leans back in, pulling you into him, but you resist.

"Hey now, let's not add more injuries to the list, shall we?" You give him a sweet smile and another quick peck, "How about you settle for snuggling? We don’t need any more dangerous stunts, and we can save that for when you're back to your agile, smooth self.”

Your teasing causes Jack to pout further and rolls his eyes, ducking down the meet your lips again. You slightly let him win, letting him deepen the kiss a bit before you pull back once again. As soon as you do, he leans down to whisper in your ear.

“I appreciate the concern, but I still have two legs, babe.”

He raises his eyebrow at his suggestive comment, and you roll your eyes back as far as they can go.

“Gross.”

He snickers, pulling you back in and moving his lips down your neck, stopping at the place you go crazy for. You can’t help but squirm as his lips send tingles down your spine.

“Jack, you're impossible," you laugh, trying to maintain some composure while he continues his teasing assault.

He lifts his head, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Well, if I can't be agile on the water, at least I can be smooth here," he winks, earning himself another eye roll from you.

“Smooth, huh?" you quip, a smirk forming on your lips. "I'll believe that when you can walk without limping."

He smiles another big smile, and his eyes grow soft.

“Please, I’m 100% sure you will heal me, and I promise I’ll be careful.”

You stare deep into his eyes, and you feel yourself breaking.

“Fine, but I’ll do most of the work.”

Jack's eyes darken as the words leave your lips, and at record speed, he pulls at your top.

“If that’s the case, I think I want to stay injured forever.”

[intoxicated-chan]

i just read a corruption kink daryl and im feral- PLEASE WRITE

𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐧❜, 𝐃𝐨𝐧❜𝐭 𝐋𝐢𝐞, 𝐈𝐭❜𝐬 𝐎𝐤𝐚𝐲 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐂𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐌𝐞

Summary ➳ The second Daryl learned that you were a virgin, all shame flew out the window. Not like he had any to begin with.

(A/n) ➳ Inspired by “Worship Me” by Ari Abdul. I’m feeling more confident in writing smut. Am I an expert? Hell no! But I like it! I hope you guys like it too! This is also a mix of two requests!

Word Count ➳ 860

Content Warnings ➳ Female Reader, perverted Daryl, sexual content, loss of virginity, swearing, pet names (darlin’), titty sucking, oral (F), p-in-v, unprotected sex (WRAP IT UP DAMMIT), creampie…

“Ya serious?” Daryl grabbed the sides of your face and forced you to look at him. “C’mon, ya ne’er used ya fingers?”

Daryl hummed. “Why the hell not?”

You shrugged. “Everyone said it would be painful.”

“Ya did nothin’? Anythin’?”

“...Nothin’.” You whispered.

Daryl grinned. “Say it again.”

“Nothin’.”

“Louder.”

“Nothin’!”

Daryl’s hand traveled down your chest, pulling at the buttons of your pants. “Looks like ya can listen.”

Your hands covered your flushed face, your hot breath made everything feel like everything was one fire.

Your back arched off the bed, but Daryl remained on your chest, sucking and biting at one of your nipples while he twisted and pulled at the other.

You whimpered in your hands, a barely audible sound. Your shirt was pushed over your breasts and he laid in between your legs.

You felt his hard on grinding against your soaked cunt. You had tried begging… Hours ago.

But Daryl was so focused on your breasts, they were becoming painfully sore. He refused everytime you tanked at his hair, laughing at your misery that he took pleasure in.

He finally lifted his head, snatching your hands. “Lookin’ pretty.” He mumbled.

He sat up, kicking off his pants and underwear, revealing his cock.

He started to jerk himself off, his other hand sliding down your stomach and slowly rubbed your clothed clit with your thumb.

You let out gasp, looking down to see his hand in between your legs. “F-Fuck.”

“Feel that?” He asked you. “Feelin’ good?”

You attempted to sit up, reaching for his hand which made him stop. “I… I wanna make you feel good.”

He clicked his tongue. “Not tonight darlin’. Not tonight.”

“Please Daryl-” He leaned over and kissed you, shutting you up.

“Ya talk too much.” His hand slid under your underwear. “Jus’ relax, let me do the work.” Daryl pushed you back on the bed. “Jus’ relax.” He repeated.

Your eyes stared at the ceiling, hearing Daryl rip off your underwear, feeling the coldness hit your cunt. His fingers lightly trace the outside of your lips.

Suddenly, you feel him dragging his tongue up the length of your slit, he needed to hold back, no matter how much he wanted to break you.

Fuck, you were delicious and he takes it, he takes all of it. He shoved passed your slit and into the cavern of your cunt, lapping up everything.

He could feel your thighs trembling, your hands coming to his hair as something to pull on as the most pornographic moans left your lips.

It was music to his ears.

He wasn’t going to lie. He has been waiting for this moment for a while now. He watched as some of your clothing would ride up and reveal your skin.

How he would take glances at your cleavage or your ass. And those days where you would wear nothing but your underwear under your skirt and you walked up the stairs, he was always behind, his eyes on your panties.

Daryl withdrew his tongue, wiping his mouth and licking off your remaining essence.

He lined himself up. “Deep breaths baby.” He told you before pushing himself.

He gritted his teeth, fuck, he never imagined for you to be so tight. You were sucking him deeper.

You moaned rather loudly and Daryl felt you clench around him, letting you know you had cum.

You moaned into his ear, your nails digging into his back.

Daryl couldn’t hold back anymore, he was pounding into you, roughly.

He panted, he couldn’t get enough. The way your walls clamp up around him. He heard your moans, how they became higher, weakly hitting your fists on his back.

He couldn’t stop even if he wanted to, he wanted more and more, he wanted you to feel it with him.

You have your legs wrapped around him, pulling him closer to your body,

Yet he was still careful when kissing you, it was soft unlike the sex.

And the room reeked of it, it was hot, filled with the sound of skin slapping and your moans.

Daryl blocked out everything else other than you. His eyes shut, his head resting on the pillow.

He flinched when he felt you planting kisses on his neck, managing to whisper sweet words that weren’t cut off by provocative moans.

With another slam of his hips, everything came crashing down, your next sentence cut off by a scream.

Daryl let out a loud grunt as he released inside of you. You felt him fill you to the brim.

When Daryl pushed himself up and slowly pulled out of you, hearing a wince. He saw some of it oozing out.

He chuckled. “Fuck.” He grabbed the back of your knees to spread him, watching closely.

“Daryl!” You shouted, covering yourself. “Don’t!”

“C’mon, ain’t no reason to be embarrassed.” He commented, letting go of your legs. He got off the bed, helping you sit up. “Any pain?”

“You brutalized my chest.” You hissed, carefully putting on your shirt.

“Couldn’t help maself.” Daryl planted a kiss on your shoulder. “Besides, always been wantin’ to hear ya scream.”

“You’re shameless Dixon.”

“For ya? Always.”

© Intoxicated-Chan 2024, I do not allow my work to be copied, translated, modified, adapted, or put on any other platform without my permission.

Taglist ➳ @celtic-crossbow , @mrdixon , @itwasntaphasema , @duffmckagansbandana , @raspberryslxt , @gamingfeline , @lor-geeked , @thegeorgiahuntsman , @snailss , @the-lonely-abyss , @number1bashbabe , @xmaeyonaise , @suniloli , @ladylincoln , @of-storms-and-sadness , @annhells ,

[ramhaiba]

𝖢𝗁𝖺𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗈𝗇𝖾 (𝖸𝖺𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖠𝗍𝗌𝗎𝗆𝗎 𝖷 𝖱𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋)

Masterlist Contains- college au, bullying, dubcon, oral (f receiving), virginity loss, unprotected sex, slight breeding kink, manhandling

It’s not Atsumu’s fault you can’t handle a little teasing. Why are girls like you always so sensitive? So what if he’s tripping you in the dining hall, making you drop your food all over yourself- frankly, he thinks it’s your fault for not paying attention. 

He doesn’t care if he has to go out of his way to make your life a little more miserable because of the frustrated look you give him afterward. Where your lips are formed into a pout, teeth grinding in anger, eyebrows furrowed- yeah, that look just makes it all worth it. 

“I know you took my wallet, I want it back” 

Atsumu heard your annoyed voice from behind him, he's turning around to see your pissed-off expression, arms crossed.

“Princess, I don’t know what you mean. I’m just trying to get back to my dorm” Atsumu replied, a friendly grin on his face as if he wasn’t lying straight through his teeth. 

“You’re such an asshole, y'know that? Just give back my wallet. It has my ID in it” you sighed. “Well if I did have it- which I do not- I would say your ID picture managed to make you look worse than you already do. I guess rock bottom does have a basement, after all, huh?” Atsumu teased.

“I-it’s not my fault, I was in a rush when they took that picture and couldn’t freshen up properly. You could just keep my wallet, all I need is my ID back” you huffed, feeling slightly embarrassed.

“I don’t know, I kinda wanna keep it for hmm- three to four business days. Does that  sound good for you, sweetheart?” Atsumu suggested. “I need it today, Miya” you demanded, tone stern with a hint of anger.

“Is that so? What’s so important about you getting your ID back today” Atsumu interrogated. You could try lying to him- but that never turns out well for you. Years of playing volleyball made him an expert in reading body language, he’d call your bullshit from a mile away. 

“I’m going to a party today and I need my ID to get in” you sighed, closing your eyes as you didn’t wish to see whatever cocky expression he had on. 

“Is lil goody two shoes Y/n finally going to her first college party?” Atsumu cooed, his hand pulling out your wallet from his back pocket, holding it in front of you. Just as you were about to grab for it, Atsumu raised it above your head.

“Which one,” he asked.

“Which what?” you repeated. 

“Which party are you going to tonight?” Atsumu added, teasingly swinging the wallet above your head, just centimeters out of reach. The first thought that came to mind was - wait there are multiple parties going on tonight? Maybe you do live under a rock. 

“Why do you want to know” you questioned. “So, I know which one not to go to. A girl like you would totally cramp my style” Atsumu waved off your concerns. 

“The one tonight at Oikawa’s penthouse” you sighed. “You’re going to Oikawa's party? You know that guy always has weird themes for all of the parties he throws” Atsumu commented.

“So what? I’m still going. Now- can I please get my wallet back” you huffed. “Alright, alright- here you go princess. But you should know-”

“I heard Oikawa’s last party ended in an orgy”

Atsumu whispered the words in a teasing tone causing your face to boil, he sneaked his hand down your back pocket, sliding your wallet in there before pulling away to show his obnoxious innocent smile

“Don’t have too much fun without me, ya?” he cooed.

Atsumu was right.

Oikawa really does throw strange-themed parties. That’s why your face is covered with a white bunny-like masquerade mask, the pale animal mask outlined in gold paint. 

“Do I really have to wear this?” you asked your friend, Yui, who was the one to encourage you to go to a party. 

“Yes, and you look great! It’s totally on theme” Yui beamed. “And what is the theme exactly?” you questioned.

“Humanity’s inner animal” Yui quoted, shaking her hands to add some ‘pizazz’ to the ridiculous idea. “And I’m a bunny?” you added. “I didn’t have any other masks, I’m sorry- but the bright side, you’re finally going to a college party. Maybe you’ll even lose that pesky virginity of yours, huh?” Yui cooed, nudging you with her elbow.

“Yeah- yeah. I’m just hoping this night isn’t going to end in a disaster” you laughed.

---

The walls were highlighted by the flashing LED lights, music was booming in your ears, and you could feel the vibrations of crowds of people dancing around you. Of course, with the enormous amount of people at the party- you lose your one friend. All your senses were useless- it was too dark to see anything, it was too loud to hear your friend's voice, or the loud music drowned out your voice if you tried to call out for her. So you wandered aimlessly into the crowd, clutching onto your red cup until you bumped into someone’s chest. 

“Christ-” he huffed, solid black shirt with the sleeves scrunched up now splashed with your drink, it was hard to take a good look at the unfortunate man in front of you but you could tell he had light hair by the way the LED lights shined on it.

His outfit was casual, a black shirt, silver chain around his neck, and khakis pants. He wouldn’t be on the theme at all if it wasn’t for the solid bronze fox-faced mask that he was wearing.

“I am so sorry” you yelped, as you tried to search in your purse for napkins. “Don’t worry about it, I didn’t like this shirt anyways.” he laughed, putting your hand away from your bag. 

“I really didn’t mean to bump into you- I’m just looking for my friend-”

And just like that, from the corner of your eye, you spot Yui talking to a familiar officer-in-training, your hope is lost.

“I’m guessing your friend is a bit occupied, huh?” he questioned. “I knew coming here was a mistake” you sighed in defeat.

“Hey- c’mon, bunny. The night ain't over yet. Forget about your friend. I’ll be your chaperone tonight” the masked man offered. “You don’t have to, I don’t think I like parties anyways” you rejected, turning around to retreat to the door.

 “You only don’t like it 'cause you haven’t done anything fun yet. Now, let’s get you a new drink and maybe that could loosen you up a lil, yeah?” he interrupted, his hand on your shoulder spinning you to face him.

There is just something about the way he talks to you, perhaps there is a reason why he’s wearing a fox mask, he’s too cunning to say no to.

That’s how you end up playing a couple rounds of beer pong with a stranger, dancing with him to a song you never heard before, and why you’re leaving the party with him, laughing as you exchange kisses. 

You’re blaming it on the alcohol in your system when you agree to follow him back to his dorm, grinning against his back as he unlocks the door to his room.

Once it’s open, you both barge inside, hands desperate to tear off each other clothes, managing to pull off the black shirt he was wearing, lips pressed against each other.

That’s when you finally notice, you know this room- you know this room because you’ve barged into it before when you demanded Atsumu to unpost that terrible picture of you online. The stranger in front of you could sense your realization because you pulled away from him.

“Don’t look at me like that” he chuckled as he leaned over to lay wet kisses on your neck, his now clearly blonde hair grazing your chin.

“Get off of me-” you yelped as you pushed him off of you. There it is. His classic obnoxious grin, the one annoying smile that he does every time he wins. 

He slowly undid the ribbon that tied his mask, letting it fall to his feet as he maintained eye contact with you. Atsumu Miya. 

You left the party with Atsumu Miya. The man you’ve hated for years, the man that has tortured you for years, and you were minutes away from actually letting him take your virginity. 

“I thought we were having fun, Y/n” Atsumu cooed.

He knew- he knew it was you and he let you believe that it wasn’t him under the mask? 

“This isn’t fun, this is you lying to me like you always do. God- I can’t believe you” You commented, throwing your mask off in frustration, your intense anger boiling your cheeks.

“Lying? Sweetheart, it’s your fault for never asking for my name before you came home with me” Atsumu remarked.

“You know what I meant. W-were you actually planning to have sex with me? Y’know what? I don’t want to know the answer to that. God- why are you so obsessed with me? I get that you like making my life a living hell but you seriously went too far this time” You begin to raise your voice, years of anger from being harassed constantly finally coming out of your thoughts and into your words.

“Y/n- 

“I’m leaving- th-this was so wrong” you huffed, aiming for the door, only for his forearm to corner your face, his hand pressing against it, forcing it closed.

“You’re. Not. Leaving”  he uttered, eyes narrowing as he looked down at you, playful tone morphing into something much more stern and dark.

“ Atsumu, you can’t force me to stay here,” you remarked. 

“ I told you, you’re not leaving, not 'til I’m done with you that’s all,” he responded.

“W-what are you talking about” you questioned, slowly backing away from him.

It’s ironic that you decided to wear a rabbit mask tonight and he wore a fox because that’s exactly how you feel- like a rabbit being hunted by a fox. 

He’s pouncing on you, his hand curling over your nape, shoving your face closer to his, lips crashing onto each other as his tongue slipped out of his mouth, aggressively pressing against the softness of your lips.

You’re struggling, trying to push him off of you by his stern chest, gasping for air as his lips move towards your neck, sucking, biting at any exposed skin, blonde hair tickling your chin, legs becoming weak.

“ A-Atsumu, stop it” you whimpered,

“ Why? Bet your pussy is liking it,” Atsumu responded, licking a stripe up your neck, smirking against the skin.

“ She’s fucking beggin’ me to play with her, ain't she?” Atsumu teased. “ I don’t want this” you uttered.

Atsumu pulled away, averting his eyes as he recollected his thoughts to turn them into an idea,

“ Show me you don’t want this and I’ll let you leave,” Atsumu responded, lips turning into an innocent smile.

“ How do I exactly do that” you questioned,

“Get on the bed and show me that your cunt ain’t wet and I’ll let ya go without a problem, easy right?” Atsumu suggested, tilting his head towards his dorm’s mattress.

“I-I’m not going to strip for you” you argued,

“Fine then. I’ll do it for you, sweetheart “ Atsumu replied, easily flinging you over his shoulder due to his ridiculously muscular arm and then dropping you on the mattress. Before you can even register, his palm is pressed against your stomach, effectively holding you down, while the other is sneaking under your dress. Your breath hitches once you feel his finger tracing your slit through your panties until he’s sliding them down.

Atsumu didn’t need to look at your cunt to know it was wet and needy, he could already feel the dampness through your panties, still, that didn’t stop him from ducking his head under your dress, to make eye contact with your cunt. You tried to push him away only to receive a harsh bite on your inner thigh.

“ Settle down sweetheart, just gonna take a closer look. Wanna make sure this cunt is wet f’me” he hummed.

You hate him. You hate him because you know he already knows the shameful answer but he still decides to tease you anyway.

You’re snapping out of your thoughts the second you feel his hot tongue slip between your folds,

“ Atsumu” you gasped, hand going to reach for the blonde locke you hate so much.

“ Just gonna take a quick taste that’s all. ” Atsumu cooed.

Then he’s lapping at your cunt, tongue rolling over your swollen clit, fingers pushing deep into your walls, thrusting in and out.

‘Quick taste’ yeah- right, there's no way in hell he’ll be stopping soon because he’s getting off at the feeling of your cunt clamping down at his thick fingers, your thighs trembling around his head, and how you’re failing to prevent a slutty moan from slipping out of your glossy lips. 

“Gonna make a mess f’me baby? Go ahead. Wanna see how slutty my girl is” Atsumu uttered against your cunt, pressing a kiss on your throbbing clit, the tips of his fingers hitting so deep in your cunt that you wonder how you’re going to cum again without them. When you’re orgasm is hitting you Atsumu’s tongue is collecting every last drop he can get from your sopping wet pussy. 

When he’s finally pulling away, you can see how damp his chin is, how his eyes narrow at the sight of your messy cunt when he finally looks up with you, his lips curl into a smirk.

“Wanna taste baby? Promise you’ll like it” he teases, showing you his slick coated fingers. “Fuck off” you cursed, averting your eyes from the erotic sight as you tried to hide your embarrassment with your attitude. 

“More f’me then” he replied, letting his fingers sink into his mouth, licking them clean. Just as you think it was over and you’d get to leave, go back to your dorm, and pretend this never happened, you glance back at Atsumu leaning his head back to your cunt and throwing his spit onto it, chuckling at the sight of his saliva dripping down your pussy.

“Atsumu-that’s enough. You got what you wanted” you yelped as you tried pushing him away, only for him to laugh. “You really think that was enough to satisfy me? Baby, can't ya see how hard I am for you? Fuckin’ thought I was about to cum in my pants while eating you out” Atsumu responded. 

“C-can’t you just use your hand to get off then I-I want to go back to my dorm” you mumbled, voice quiet due to embarrassment. 

“Use my hand? And waste this perfectly tight virgin pussy I got wet f’me. Ya were so eager to lose your virginity to some rando you met at a party. Ain’t this better? To fuck someone who actually knows yer name” Atsumu remarked. 

“H-how do you know I’m still a virgin?” you asked. Atsumu hummed, as his lips curled into a sadistic smile.

“Cause I made sure of it. Can’t let another man touch my girl, my Y/n” He answered. The truth is finally hitting you, all those guys who ghosted you, all those boyfriends who dumped you on the first week of dating, fuck even the first guy you kissed was sent to the hospital afterward from a serve injury caused by an ‘unknown’ culprit. 

You thought Miya, Atsumu was only capable of verbally teasing you, annoying you, and sometimes even getting a little physical with you but he’s been tarnishing your love life since high school. All so he can get this moment. Being the first guy to give you an orgasm, being the first guy to play with your pussy, and now he’s going to be the first guy to fuck your pussy. 

And if everything goes to plan. He’s going to be the only person who’s ever going to put his dick into your pussy.

Atsumu’s sadistic laughter is snapping you back into reality. “Ya scared, sweetheart?”Atsumu asked, his tongue licking his front teeth.

You couldn’t respond, Atsumu having to force out a reply by slapping your cunt. “N-no” you yelped, pathetically lying to him even though he could see right through you.

“Usually, I just fuck girls, I don’t give a shit about going slow, or ‘makin' love’ type of bullshit” Atsumu confessed- unbelievable, he’s really talking about other girls right now?

“Lucky for you, there's a difference between you and those dumb bitches I fucked in the past” Atsumu added. 

“And wh-what is that?” you panted, looking down at Atsumu between your legs, a sick smile forming on his lips, as he unzips his pants, pulling down his boxer just enough to release his painfully hard erection.

“I won’t be picturing someone else when I’m fucking you” Atsumu confessed.

Then his cock sank into you, each inch causing an unbearable stretch, tears of frustration forming in your eyes.

“ Atsumu- ‘S too much” you cried, trying to back away, only for him to grab your waist, and slam his entire cock inside of you, a gasp erupting from your lips.

“Forgot how fuckin’ tight virgins are” Atsumu laughed,

Completely disregarding your concern, no- He seems to be getting off at the sight of you all nervous, eyes teary, chest heaving with anxiety, legs shaking as he relentlessly drilled his cock into you.

He’s leaning over, tongue poking out of his lips as he licked the salty tears off of your flustered cheeks, “ such a crybaby, Y/n” he teased.

You feel like he’s about to split you into two by how harsh his pace is, how your brain is going dumb with every thrust of his cock. You could try to close your eyes, and imagine that someone else is taking your virginity but Atsumu looked memorizing. You feel like a deer in headlights. How could you possibly not be attractive to him at this moment?

His brown eyes were narrow as he was immersed in the image of his cock slipping in and out of your wet pussy, his eyebrows furrowed, toned abs on displayed, arm muscles flexing as his hands gripped your waist.

He grins when he glances back at you, noticing how flustered you’ve become. 

“It’s like you were made for me by the way this pussy keeps sucking in my cock. M’gonna put a ring on that pretty finger the second we fuckin’ graduate. Then you’ll be all mine, baby. Mines to touch. Mines to hold. Mines to fuck” Atsumu huffed, thumb reaching down, rubbing teasing circles on your swollen clit.

“‘Tsumu- Stop can’t anymore. Gonna-” You’re howling his name, nails curling into the bedsheets as you felt your climax approach, your legs shaking as he continued to thrust deep into you, his cock bullying your cunt.

“Gonna cum f’me, sweetheart? Go ahead, make a mess on my cock. I’m all yours, pretty girl” he interrupted.

You're sobbing as your orgasm hits you, so loud you’re pretty sure the room next door could hear you, your walls clamp down on Atsumu’s cock. He's surprised he managed to fight back the urge to bust right there, fill your tight pussy with his cum and watch it drip out. But he can’t get you pregnant yet at least. Can’t let a baby interrupt his plans. He promises he’ll take good care of you, once he manages to play professional volleyball after college then he’ll fuck a baby into you on your wedding night. 

He manages to pull out last second, spilling his cum all over your bare thigh, his chest heaving as he admired the mess he made, how your legs are still twitching, hickeys on your neck, bite marks on your inner thigh, and soon, they’ll be a shiny ring on your finger. He lays down next to you, gently pushing a strand of hair out of your face so he can get a better look at your face, watching you as your eyes slowly close from exhaustion.

He knows that by the morning you’ll be gone, probably hiding in your dorm from him and he’ll be forced to drag you out.

But that’s not his fault, you should really learn how to handle his teasing.

[incogrio]

omg I loved your soobin fic btw! I was wondering can you do ot5 txt being jealous/protective of the reader?

ot5 - jealousy, jealousy

pairing: ot5 x reader (separately)

genre: fluff, bit of smut and angst

synopsis: how the members show jealousy!

warnings: jealousy, possessiveness, smut, anger etc!

a/n: thank you so much for the request!! hope u enjoy!! this isn’t proof read don’t kill me pls!!

yeonjun:

i feel as though yeonjun would show his jealousy in a more whiney manner

like, he wouldn’t outright say anything to you or the person making him jealous in the moment

i imagine you’re also an idol, maybe even in txt and an interviewer makes comments about your appearance and how you’re the most desirable of the group

yeonjun, being ever professional simply smiles and laughs

lingers behind you as you reject the guy once the cameras are off

but after… he’ll come to you like a big baby all like

“he flirted with you right in front of meeeee..!!” he’d whine out with a slight high pitched tone as he tucked his head into your neck

“i rejected him, i only want you jjunie,” you’d reassure

only for him to respond with, “but i was right thereeeee!!! don’t i look boyfriend enough!!!!” and his perfect lips would form a perfect pout and you couldn’t resist but to kiss his sad face away :(

that would most likely lead to him smiling against your lips and the craziest sex ever.. like full on

“bet he has a smaller dick than me, huh? bet he couldn’t make you drool the way i do. he wishes he could see you like this doesn’t he? too bad only i can see you all disheveled.. only me, right baby? just daddy right?”

yes jjunie has a daddy kink argue with the WALL.

as for what made him jealous, i think he’s a little crazy and would be annoyed when someone so much as looks at you for too long

he would never blame you or your outfit, simply the pervs who wish they could have you

thinks it’s funny whenever you’re jealous, doesn’t really see that he’s just as hot as you

also finds it crazy that you’d think he’d want anyone else

just remind him that you only want him and kiss his pouty lips and maybe give him a blowjob and he’ll be fine…

until you do promotions again

soobin:

sigh… loser soobie doobie.

i feel like soobie would be annoyed by it if anything

also VERY passive aggressive

let’s say you’re in a library, looking at a book that you might want

a rando comes up mansplaining the novel you’re holding and soobin comes up behind you like 😒🤨

FR LOOKS AT HIM WITH SUCH DISGUST.

yall know that clip of him during that live where he’s looking at the members w that disgusted look? yeah that’s him rn

the guy reaches forward to touch your arm all like “i just think this book might be too complicated for you”

ha. ha ha. soobin pulls you back into his chest before the guy can touch you and looks at him so angrily. “they’re fine. they can pick their own book.” he says it with such an eerily calm tone despite his aggressive gum chewing and fingertips digging slightly into your waist.

mf just gives an awkward smile, raises his hands in surrender and walks away

soobin literally mutters “pussy” under his breath LMFAO

he doesn’t really say much after that, only keeping a hand on you till you get to the car

“bunny, do you think i should read this book or this one first?” you ask, lifting up both books as he pulls out of the parking lot.

he rolls his eyes slightly, driving (hotly) and looking only at the road before saying: “dunno. ask your new book expert boyfriend.”

you literally have to stifle your laugh. for soobie, he’s a sucker for your cuteness

soooo u just pout at him cutely and rest your elbow on the console and your head in your hand

“don’t be mad bunny… only want you :(“

he does that thing where he smiles and pokes his tongue to his cheek in faux annoyance (i’m horny)

just smiles and shakes his head, reaching to you and holding your thigh tightly, you rest your hand on his

he may seem all tough right now, but don’t worry soon you’ll have him tied up and whimpering after making him cum over and over to make sure he knows his worth 💋

tbh seems like the type to bring it up randomly too LMFAOO

beomgyu:

beomgyu… hehehe

i imagine this to happen outside of a food truck

he’s waiting w you, probably talking to you about something stupid and you suddenly get a poke on the shoulder

you turn around, and beomgyu looks with you and sees a guy

as you’re rejecting the guy, gyu is literally snickering and giggling to himself

you are so embarrassed by him this mf is literally cackling

you’d think there was a witch behind you

the guy is definitely STILL in earshot as he walks away dejectedly, and beomgyu immediately giggling and smoothly tugging you to be in his arms

“did you see his face???? he thought he had a chance w you???!!! my girl?? yahhhgh!!! he’s soooo stupid!” he says all loudly and dramatically. he has that little smirk on his face as he says this, but has his arms tightly around you as though the guy would come and kidnap you

you see behind the facade, simply reaching up and pressing a kiss to his lips. “only want you,” you mutter, and he hums and smiles against your lips

“ahhh i knowww!! that’s why it’s so funny!”

he’d rather die than admit insecurity in the middle of a goddamn food truck line.

probably doesn’t talk about it until it’s late at night and you’re cuddled in bed

he might even start crying :(

for gyu, i don’t see sex being a good reassurance thing for him

i think he’d prefer to just sit with you, watching a bad movie and making fun of it together

randomly kissing you and every time you know what he wants to hear: “only want you, bear”

if you were to fuck, he’d deffo want to eat you out

“only i can taste this pussy, only your bear,” he’d grumble as you twist his long hair in your fingers, tugging him closer to your sopping cunt

taehyun:

mickey mouse voice: oh boy!

if you think you’re getting any other reaction other than silence, you’re WRONG.

hmmm let’s say you’re at the gym, watching him work out bc wow free show

at one point he walks away to grab weights from the other side of the gym and you wait for him to come back

suddenly, a sweaty yucky man is getting closer to you, and oh wow look he’s staring at you

as taehyun turns around, he sees you talking to him but doesn’t really mind because he knows you’re his

but then he gets closer and hears the guy complimenting your body… he just pauses for a second, making brief eye contact w you and continuing to set up his little work out thing (i don’t work out can u tell)

he knows you’ll tell the guy why you’re actually here

“so… why don’t we go grab protein shakes after you finish working out?” you wanted to scream. you were wearing jeans. WHO WORKS OUT IN JEANS?? you hadn’t touched a single machine and you hate protein shakes. is this guy a dunce.

“oh no thank you, i’m here to watch my boyfriend. he’s right there,” you point at tae, who is now bench pressing over 100 pounds and woah.. hehe

yeah no the guy could not have left faster. tae still doesn’t say anything.

you keep watching him, now sitting on the floor until he gets up from the bench and sits in front of you

before you can ask, he gestures for you to hold his feet and starts doing sit ups

except, after the first one, he starts puckering his lips when he sits up

oh!

sit up after sit up, he kisses you as he comes back up

he literally did over one hundred and you were drunk on him by the time he finished

his way of staking his claim i suppose… probably made sure that the guy was watching too

tbh… that’s all the reaction you’re gonna get

after, you ask why he didn’t say anything and he just shrugs and is like, “i know you’re mine. and you know i’m yours. i don’t need to prove anything.”

then you’re like, “so why did you do the sit up thing”

“i was horny.” you literally choke on your smoothie

when you guys get home he definitely fucks you but not super roughly or anything… super romantically actually

his thought process, conscious or not, is: you could go out and fuck someone and they’d do it emotionlessly. he’s going to fuck you like you built the very universe your souls found each other in. (you did)

huening kai:

just a warning… he’s my bias so this might be a little crazy

you’re in a grocery store, he seems like one of those cringy bfs who’s steer the cart but have you in between him and the cart

i want him.

every few moments he’d press a kiss to your hair or simply lean down and have his face near yours until you got the hint

his chest is against your back… his huge broad chest… i’m ill.

OKAY LET ME GET TO THE ACTUAL JEALOUSY PART

okay so you guys stopped to look at the cereal because you wanted to get the one w his face

as you’re looking, hueningie squats down and checks the very bottom shelf

and thus, the worker that goes up to you does not see him

“hey! you need any help over here?” you look over, pointing to yourself in silent question. the guy nods. kai is immediately tuned into the convo as he pretends to look for more cereal

“hm? oh no! we’re good, just looking for a specific cereal,” you remain vague as to not reveal kai’s identity.

lol imagine you’re like “yeah my bf has a cereal w his face on it! yeah my bf who’s a famous idol!” LMFAOO

the guy nods, and you think the convo is over so you keep looking for cereal as you reach down and pet kai’s hair absentmindedly. you don’t know how reassuring it is to him.

“okay well… i just saw you and thought you were so super cute. like.. how do you not have a boyfriend?”

“i do actually,” you respond without evening looking at him. you tug kai’s hair, silently telling him to make himself known. he gets up, all six feet and muscles wearing a fitted top so you could see all of his strength and hard work as an idol.

“they’re not here,” he says plainly, without the usual sweet tone he’d give you. he also doesn’t even look at the worker.

the guy doesn’t even have enough time to apologize before kai’s leading you and the cart elsewhere. he gets quiet, but a different quiet to the other members. a sad one.

the moment you get home, he breaks down

he sobs, barely able to get out the fact that he doesn’t understand why you’re with him, why you wouldn’t want someone w a normal life, someone who’s more attractive (no such thing), someone who could love you publically

oh my baby :(((((

you pull him into a hug, his head ducking to be hidden in your neck, reassuring him quietly.

“huening… i promise you, you are the most attractive man on earth to me.” you say sternly, “the universe, even. it pains me that you can’t see that. i don’t want anyone else, just you, hyuka. and i love you enough to endure the fact that you can’t be public with us.”

he’s just whining now, not responding. he’s holding you so tightly that you’d think you’d turn into thin air.

after a lot of cuddles with his plushies, he’s okay :)

but then his members come home and see the tear stains on his face

they don’t know what happened and call him a baby and make a bunch of maknae jokes

yeah that’s the last straw. he takes you to his room and shoves you onto the bed (makes sure that not only are you comfy, but also that all his plushies are turned away)

he fucks you until you’ve both cum at least 4 times, and he’s borderline shooting blanks.

he’s moaning so loud, hips are shaking as he keeps pumping into you, filling you up

you’re even louder, legs shaking and hands pushing against his stomach in a faux plead for him to stop

every so often, he’d say something like, “not a fucking baby,” oh negative kai i want you.

“could a baby maknae fuck you like this? oh fuck honey, clench me like that. could that guy at the store make you shake like this? hm?

OH BROTHER!!

yeah neither of you can walk after that. and the members for SURE heard your moans and are now never calling him a baby ever again

unless he does aegyo bc come ON he’s baby then

probably becomes an inside joke between you guys

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[forlix]

"i did a thing." or, hyunjin needs an expert opinion about his newest piercing.

words・1.4k / pairing・idol!hyunjin x gn!makeup artist!reader / genres・fluff, established relationship / author's note・takes place in the same universe as places, places! and crying lightning but can be read on its own. @astraystayyh your children are back :’)

The parlor door jingles. Hyunjin emerges onto the chilled pavement with his phone pressed to his ear, and you pick up on the fourth ring.

“What is it? I’m busy.” The way your voice shrinks substantiates this claim, like you’ve darted to the other end of the room promptly after accepting his call. “And you’re on speaker.”

Hyunjin ducks into his car and sits back against the nylon with a grateful sigh. He finds himself constantly ill-prepared for Seoul’s Januarys. “Busy with who? Remind me.”

“You wanna say hi?” You ask the person in your company. Who is it? He hears them ask, to which you answer: Hyunjin. You say it softly, in the sense that you’re far away and speaking under your breath, but softly, in the sense that your tongue caresses every syllable of his name with that tacit fondness he’ll never tire of.

He notices the ditzy smile on his face only when he glances into his rear-view. He’s long given up on wiping it off.

A familiar voice drifts into your receiver. “Mr. Hwang!”

Ah, that’s right—you’re working on Aespa’s new music video for the next two weeks. Today must be the first day of filming.

“Hey, Ningning! How are you?”

“In a predicament, honestly. I have the biggest crush on my stylist, but so does this other guy…”

“Damn, sounds tough. Best of luck.”

“Oh, I won’t need luck. I said predicament, not competition.” 

His jaw hits his wheel. “Okay, we’re boxing. Let’s go. Earrings off.”

“Say less!"

You’ve withstood enough. “Alright, nobody is boxing anyone—do not touch your earrings, Ning, what’s wrong with you? God, Hyunjin!”

Now you say his name sternly, hopelessly, like he’s just knocked ten years off your lifespan. He almost likes this version more. He fell in love with you listening to it, after all.

“Did you call for any reason aside from threatening my clients?”

Oh, right. He did.

Hyunjin glances into the rear-view again, intentionally this time. He moves aside a lock of maroon hair to review the silver studs glinting off his right eyebrow.

He smirks.

“Am I allowed on set?”

Half an hour later, Hyunjin reaches the filming site and runs into a few staff members who are so surprised to see him they nearly forget to question what he’s doing there.

But they do their job, and he humors them, utters your name and the word “boyfriend” back to back. Then he watches their eyebrows disappear into their hairlines and basically prances into the dressing rooms.

He loves that everyone knows you. He loves that everyone knows that he loves you.

You were out of bed before he opened his eyes this morning, and he blooms at his first sight of you today, alone in the lounge, curled up on the couch and browsing through your phone. Eyeshadow stains your fingers and a pen sits behind the cuff of your ear. Your figure is framed in a (his) white cardigan with a red heart stitched over its left lapel. So professional, so pretty, that he doesn’t know what to do with himself, so he uses his words instead.

“I did a thing,” he says, plopping onto the cushion next to you.

You look at him, shut off your phone. “I figured.”

“Promise me you won’t get mad.”

“No.”

It was worth a shot. “Can you blink, at least? You’re scaring me.”

In turn, you stretch open your eyes and hold them there. “A blink would be more than you deserve right now.”

Insufferable. He unleashes a bashful laugh and singular clap and looks back at you just in time to see a matching smile on your cordate lips. And to see you blink.

“Seriously, though, no more suspense,” you plead. “What on earth did you do? Should I be worried?” 

You tuck your hand around his bicep and tug lightly at his arm, and his insides pirouette at the gesture.

“No, no,” he answers, letting you pull him close, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “I was being dramatic. It’s nothing, really.”

You catch him as he’s trying to leave. A light finger hooks beneath his chin, an anchor to keep his face a mere few inches away from yours.

You look him in the right eye, then in the left, your expression stoic, scrutinizing. He doesn’t remember where he looks, in the meantime. He’s slipping and sliding out of his right mind, drinking in your long lashes and curved cheeks, wondering what heroic deed he performed in his last life to be able to study beauty in such proximity in this one.

“It’s not nothing, is it?” You query, tracing the tip of your pointer finger over Hyunjin’s cupid’s bow.

“No,” he exhales. “It’s not nothing.”

“Did you get it on your face?”

Of course you already know.

He nods, and the finger moves to his lower lip, gently indenting the glossy plush. 

“Hot or cold?” 

“Cold.”

The finger runs over the bridge of his nose, then the perimeter of its prominence, like the drag of a feather. 

“Warmer.”

You lift a brow, give the side of his face a small nudge, and say, turn. The word comes out in a very stylist-esque manner, and you and Hyunjin realize this at the same time, judging by the synchrony of your quiet chuckles.

“Force of habit,” you murmur, and move his hair out of the way and lean in to examine his ear. Nothing new there. He turns his face the other way before you have to ask. Nothing new there, either.

When he looks at you again, your gaze has locked onto his eyebrows. You cock your head slightly to one side as it dawns on you what he’s done.

“Warmer,” he offers anyways, his smile small, his pulse rapid.

With a flourish of movement, you push his purple locks all the way off his forehead. Hyunjin holds his breath. Your expression goes blank. 

But it’s not blank, not really. One just has to know where to look. (He does.)

Your eyes darken fast as if caught in a solar eclipse, your pupils doubling in size, your irises quivering slightly. Your mouth opens, then closes, then purses into a thin line as if suppressing something explosive. Your cheeks blush at their very outskirts, along the edges of your face and the slants of your cheekbones, like how the first rays of sunlight always skim the mountaintops first.

He hardly notices the finger you bring to brush over the studs, so carefully he doesn’t feel the contact.

He’s too busy basking in his victory.

Neither of you say anything for a long while. You lean back, then right, then left, your hand pinned to his hairline, your gaze superglued to his brow. He simply sits still, feeling like one of your French girls, simpering, simping.

“You really did it,” you finally say.

“I did,” he chirps. “Any notes?”

At the next part of your lips, your waiting smile overtakes them at long last. You duck your head to conceal it like he hasn’t already melted at its mere image. You deliver your answer to your knees.

“No?” He repeats incredulously, teasingly. “That’s a shame. I really could’ve used an expert opinion.”

You roll your eyes hard enough for them to tug at your sockets. His boyish grin wipes away your feigned irritation like warm cotton.

“Fine,” you grouse. “Look at me.”

He does. You look back.

“It's nice," you deadpan.

Your resolve wobbles.

"Complements your face…shape.”

The ‘p’ sound pops, and you lose your shit.

The sun fully risen now, you bury your burning face into your hands, your shoulders shaking with silent laughter. Meanwhile, the raucous cackle that leaves Hyunjin’s lips causes the intern hurrying past the lounge outside to jump so high he actually lets go of his coffee cups before snatching them back out of the air with a relieved groan. He doesn’t get paid enough. 

You think you’re getting paid too much. 

“I love it, Hyun,” you whisper. “You’re beautiful. I don’t tell you that enough."

His heart beats so rapidly he thinks it might take off into a sprint; his laugh dwindles into a ditzy smile, one he’s long given up on wiping off.

“You know nothing about that word,” he replies, softly.

You bring your lips to his. His fingers wrap around the crook of your elbow. Yours begin curled in the silken hair at the back of his head. The pen behind your ear falls into the cracks of the couch.

“I’m still mad at you,” you sigh against his mouth, your own statement debunked by the inevitable drift of your touch back to the metal lodged in his face.

He doesn’t need to call you out. You do it yourself: “Ugh. I’ll be mad at you later.”

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