#They like each other and are friends (in work)

[autumnistic-danmei]

I don't care if I'm practically just running a Marvel blog now, this is too funny not to reblog

The unparalleled power of Crimson Rain Sought Flower

[danysdaughter]

bucky seeing p0rn for the first time after the dating apps don’t work out👀

I'm deadddd, this was so vague so I just ran with it

The Education Of James Buchanan Barnes

pairing | post!tfatws!bucky x fem!reader

word count | 6.3k words

summary | when dating apps fail him and thirst traps become his downfall, bucky barnes finds himself spiraling down the internet’s most unholy rabbit hole—pornhub.

what starts as horrified research turns into full-blown obsession... especially when you, his sharp-tongued best friend, catch him red-handed and make very sure he lives out every filthy fantasy he’s been hiding.

tags | (18+) MDNI, smut, unprotected sex, rough sex, face sitting, breeding kink dirty talk, roleplay mentions, overstimulation, sexual humor, porn discovery, reader catches bucky watching porn, friends to very horny lovers, reader is a menace, teasing, flustered bucky, dom!bucky, subtle power play, consent is sexy, reader rides his face, doggy style, missionary? i hardly know her, mutual pining (solved by porn), no use of y/n, reader is a problem and bucky loves it, aftercare.

a/n | yeah, I definitely went overboard with this. I hope you freaks enjoy this

taglist | if you wanna be added to my bucky barnes masterlist just add your username to my taglist

likes comments and reblogs are much appreciated ✨✨

ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ

divider by @cafekitsune

You sipped your drink slowly, already biting the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing as Bucky glared into his beer like it had personally betrayed him.

“So,” Sam started, barely hiding his smirk. “How was the date with... what was her name again? Velvet? Vixen?”

“Vesper,” Bucky muttered, dragging a hand down his face. “And she asked if I’d be into choking her with my vibranium arm before we even finished our drinks.”

You snorted into your glass.

Sam leaned forward, grinning. “I mean... was she wrong?”

“Sam.” Bucky’s glare was instant, but mostly performative. “I just met her.”

You glanced at him over your glass, amused. “What app did you find this one on?”

He groaned. “The same one you said was ‘normal.’”

“No one said it was normal,” you said, raising a brow. “I said it was better than Tinder. That’s not a high bar.”

Bucky leaned back with a sigh, looking thoroughly done with the entire 21st century. “I miss when people met at soda shops and asked each other about their families instead of sending... pictures of their genitals.”

Sam barked a laugh. “Aw, poor Grandpa’s overwhelmed by the sex-positive future.”

“You know what’s not positive?” Bucky muttered. “The fact that I Googled ‘how to get back out of the dating app’ and it sent me to a subreddit with people just as confused as I am.”

You exchanged a look with Sam, both of you clearly enjoying this way too much.

“Have you... considered other ways to meet people?” you asked, trying not to grin. “Like not being a digital hermit?”

Bucky looked between the two of you, deadpan. “I’m this close to living in the jungle again.”

Sam raised his glass. “To Bucky Barnes, the only man who can bench-press a car but can’t survive Hinge.”

Bucky slammed his glass down—not hard, but with enough force to earn a side-eye from the bartender.

“I just don’t get it,” he muttered. “I’m trying to talk to these women like a normal person. I say, ‘Hi, how was your day?’ and one of them responds with—” he fumbled with his phone, squinting at the screen, “‘Send me a pic of the arm, baby, I wanna see what’s gonna rearrange my insides.’”

You choked.

Sam full-on cackled, grabbing his chest. “Wait—rearrange her insides? Yo, that’s poetry.”

“She sent a GIF after that,” Bucky went on, staring at the phone like it might explode. “A GIF. Of a hydraulic press crushing a watermelon. What does that mean?”

“I’m gonna die,” you wheezed, nearly spilling your drink. “She wants you to hydraulically press her coochie, Barnes. Come on.”

“I thought she was making a smoothie metaphor!” Bucky snapped. “And then another one asked if I was into CNC. I said I didn’t know what that meant, and she said ‘perfect.’”

Sam wiped a tear from his eye. “Oh my god—Bucky, you’re gonna end up in someone’s kink diary.”

“She sent me a TikTok about edging,” Bucky added, horror slowly overtaking his face. “I thought it was about gardening.”

You completely lost it, head in your arms on the table. “Please stop, I can’t breathe.”

Bucky scowled. “I’m serious! She said she wanted to edge me for hours, and I said that sounded peaceful, like a nice walk—and she sent back forty-seven emojis.”

Sam gasped between wheezes. “You’re getting sexted in hieroglyphics and you think it’s a hike, I’m begging you to never leave the house again.”

Bucky looked between you both, betrayal written across his face. “I survived Hydra. I survived seventy years of brainwashing. But I will not survive being called ‘daddy’ by a woman who lists her job as ‘freelance foot model and energy witch.’”

“Wait—did she have the crystals?” you asked, barely able to form the words.

He nodded grimly. “She said my aura was ‘screaming trauma kink.’”

Sam actually slid off the stool, wheezing on the floor.

He shut the door behind him with a dull thunk, then stood there for a moment in the silence. The kind that pressed in around the edges when no one else was around. Just him, the creak of the old radiator, and the words “rearrange my insides” still echoing in his head like a ghost.

Bucky sighed, tossed his jacket onto the back of a chair, and walked into the kitchen, opening the fridge as if disappointment wouldn’t be waiting there too. One beer left. Great.

He grabbed it, popped the cap off with his metal hand, and made his way over to his laptop.

It sat there on the table like a challenge.

He opened it. The familiar whir kicked on. A sigh slipped through his teeth.

“I fought in two wars,” he muttered to himself. “Survived Hydra. Took down a helicarrier. But this? This is the real enemy.”

He hesitated, fingers hovering over the keyboard.

Then he typed:

"What does CNC mean?"

Enter.

He leaned forward slowly, reading the top search result. Then the second.

His eyebrows pulled together. His mouth fell open just slightly.

"...Consensual non-consent?"

He clicked the link. Read further.

He leaned back in his chair like he’d just been shot.

“Why—why would anyone want that?” he muttered, scandalized. “That’s just... that’s just assault with permission.”

Still, he didn’t close the tab.

He opened a new one instead.

"Edging meaning (not gardening)"

More links. More acronyms. More trauma.

His face contorted in quiet horror as he scanned descriptions, diagrams, tips and techniques.

His beer sat forgotten on the table.

Eventually, he clicked a link that just said “beginner’s guide to porn kinks.” It was a blog. Fairly clinical. Until it wasn’t.

Then he clicked another.

And another.

Until eventually he wound up on a site with thumbnails—little videos with previews. Titles he didn’t fully understand.

He stared at one.

A girl, on her knees, mouth open, eyes wide.

Title: “Training My Pretty Submissive Brat”

He blinked. Then hovered. Clicked.

The video loaded.

He sat still, very still, as it started playing.

And then...

“What the hell—” he whispered.

The guy was talking. Dirty. Commanding.

The girl was moaning like someone had just whispered state secrets in her ear. She was calling him sir. Begging. Crying out when he—

Bucky slammed the spacebar to pause the video, hand clenched on the table.

He stood. Paced.

‘I shouldn’t be watching this,’ he thought, running his hand through his hair. ‘This is wrong. This is not—that’s not—’

He looked back at the screen.

Unpaused.

A few seconds passed.

He sat again.

Watched. Silent. Rigid.

His jaw clenched. His eyes darted across the screen like he was scanning enemy movement.

Then his hand—his metal hand—tapped the edge of the keyboard.

Paused again.

His chest rose and fell.

“I mean… he’s not hurting her,” he thought. “She’s asking for it. She likes it.”

Beat.

“And she’s loud.”

He sat back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, glaring at the paused screen like it had insulted him personally.

Then he muttered, “Is that what people want now?”

He reopened the search bar.

"How to talk dirty in bed"

The search results hit him like a grenade.

By the third article, his ears were red. His fingers hovered over the trackpad like they didn’t know whether to scroll or just snap the whole laptop in half.

He clicked another video.

This one was slower. More intimate.

The woman straddled the guy’s lap, whispering in his ear. He growled something back, then pushed her down on the bed—

Bucky’s breath caught.

He didn’t even notice his hand moving under the table at first.

Didn’t notice the low groan that slipped from his throat when the man on screen said, “Good girl—just like that.”

He froze. Eyes wide. Mouth dry.

He swallowed hard.

“…I need another beer.”

But he didn’t move.

Didn’t stop watching.

Because something in him had been starved for this. For contact. For control. For someone wanting him, even in fantasy.

The next video autoplayed before he could stop it.

Another couple. This time, softer lighting. Moaning, whispered praise. Her back arched under his touch as he moved slow, deliberate, like every second was sacred.

Bucky swallowed hard.

He sat motionless for a full minute.

Then his hand drifted down.

Hesitant. Awkward.

He undid the button of his jeans, fingers brushing over the bulge in his briefs. The contact was enough to make his breath stutter.

“Jesus,” he whispered.

He shifted in his seat, pushed his jeans down just enough, and curled his hand around himself. Warm skin against cool air. His metal hand clenched uselessly on the table as the other moved slowly, uncertain.

The sounds from the video—soft, rhythmic, intimate—filled the room.

And Bucky gave in.

His eyes didn’t close. He watched—studied—the way the man touched her, held her, spoke to her like she was something precious and filthy all at once.

“Such a good girl,” the man murmured. “Taking all of me. Just like that.”

Bucky bit down on a groan, his hand moving faster now, hips twitching in his seat.

He imagined saying those words.

And then—

He imagined you.

Your voice, sharp and sarcastic, going breathy and soft when he touched you. Your legs around his waist. Your fingers in his hair. Your mouth whispering his name like it meant something.

And that thought—you, under him, with him—wrecked him.

He jerked harder, gritting his teeth, chest rising fast.

A low moan slipped out. Sharp. Uncontrolled.

His head fell back, eyes clenched shut as heat coiled in his gut. His body trembled.

One more stroke—

And he came.

Hard.

He let out a strangled noise, hips lifting off the couch, body seizing as white-hot pleasure shot through him. His hand slowed, milked every last pulse, until the aftershocks faded and all that was left was—

Silence. Reality. Shame.

His breath was harsh in his ears.

The screen was still playing.

The woman moaned, laughing, pulling the man closer.

Bucky stared. Then looked down.

At himself. At the mess.

At the way his hand was still wrapped around his cock, softening now, shame creeping in like a slow burn.

He let go like he’d been scalded.

The aftershocks hadn’t even faded before the guilt hit—cold and immediate.

Not from what he’d watched.

Not even from what he’d done.

But from who he’d seen in his mind while he did it.

You.

You, laughing beside him at the bar. You, rolling your eyes at his brooding. You, calling him “grandpa” and meaning it with affection.

You—beneath him, moaning, touching, giving yourself to him in the fantasy that had just ripped through his body.

His stomach twisted.

He yanked his pants back up, hands clumsy, face burning not with arousal now—but with shame.

“Fuck,” he muttered, pacing, one hand raking through his hair, the other clenching into a fist. “Fuck—what the hell’s wrong with me?”

You were his friend.

You were real.

And he’d just used the idea of you like… like some porn star on a screen.

His jaw tightened. He couldn’t look at the laptop. Couldn’t look at himself. He felt dirty—not because he’d touched himself, but because it felt like a betrayal. A violation of something pure.

He sat down heavily on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, head in his hands.

That hadn’t been just need.

That had been you.

And now he didn’t know how the hell he was supposed to look you in the eye again.

A Few Weeks Later

There was a knock at the door.

Three knocks, then a pause.

Then two more.

“Come on, Barnes,” your voice called through the door. “I brought sacrificial offerings.”

Bucky hesitated.

He sat in the dark, boots still on, bruised knuckles resting against his knees. His hoodie clung to him, sweat-damp and rumpled, his mind still halfway in the mission, halfway in the same loop it had been stuck in for weeks.

But it was you.

He got up slowly and opened the door.

You stood there with a paper bag in one hand, a six-pack in the other, grinning like you had zero intention of leaving whether he wanted you to or not.

“You gonna let me in or should I start monologuing like a Bond villain?”

He stepped aside without a word.

You strolled in like you owned the place, already heading to the kitchen with practiced ease.

“Brought dumplings, noodles, and enough alcohol to bleach the taste of both from your soul,” you said, setting things down. “You looked like someone clubbed you with your own metal arm last mission, so—figured I’d play nurse. A sexy, underqualified nurse with boundary issues.”

Bucky closed the door quietly behind you.

“You’re not a nurse,” he muttered.

“Not with that attitude.”

You popped the beers open, handed him one, then flopped onto his couch like you lived there. Legs kicked up, food containers opened without ceremony, your usual grin in place.

He stood a few feet away, beer untouched in his hand.

He hadn’t seen you in weeks—not really. He’d ducked every casual run-in, bailed on team movie nights, even ghosted your texts under the excuse of "needing space." He figured you noticed.

You just hadn’t said anything.

Until now.

You eyed him, casually, between bites. “You gonna sit down or do I need to pull you onto the couch like a Victorian housewife?”

He sat. Slowly. Farther away than usual.

You noticed. Of course you did. But you didn’t call him on it.

Not yet.

Instead, you nudged a container toward him and said, “Eat, soldier. You look like a sad, haunted lumberjack.”

And still—he didn’t say a word.

Because all he could think about, sitting beside you again after a month of silence, was the way your mouth had looked in that fantasy.

The way your voice had sounded moaning his name.

The way he’d used the memory of your real, friendly, teasing self to—

He swallowed thickly.

You kept eating, casual, sharp, familiar.

Exactly how he remembered. Exactly what made it so much worse.

You wiped your fingers on a napkin, leaned back, and gave him a look.

“Alright. You look like you’re two seconds from overthinking yourself into an early grave. Movie time. Something with violence or explosions—your love language.”

Before he could protest, you were already standing and heading toward his desk.

“Wait—” he said, starting to rise, but too slow.

You flipped open his laptop. “Let’s see what Grandpa Barnes has in his—”

“Ah—ahh—yes, please—!”

The moaning hit like a tactical nuke.

You froze.

So did he.

Both of you staring wide-eyed at the screen as the speakers screamed filth into the otherwise silent apartment.

Bucky moved fast.

Too fast.

He lunged over the couch, hand outstretched like he was taking enemy fire.

You dodged.

Smooth, practiced. Years of training paying off.

“No—” he barked, face already crimson, “Please—don’t—!”

“Oh my god—” you laughed, holding the laptop just out of reach. “Is this—is this Pornhub? Are you seriously—you are! You’ve been watching porn, you absolute degenerate.”

He groaned, dragging his hand down his face, mortified.

“Please give me the laptop,” he said, voice low, wounded, like you were holding a hostage.

But you were already clicking the spacebar, pausing the video mid-thrust.

“Oooh,” you said, squinting at the tab title. “‘Brat tamer destroys needy sub’? This is what you’re into?” You looked at him, eyebrows raised. “Bucky.”

“Stop,” he muttered, pacing now, hands on his hips. “I was—researching.”

“Researching what? The anatomy of a throatfuck?” you said, howling with laughter. “Brat tamer—are you even on Tumblr, old man?”

He looked like he wanted the floor to open and consume him.

“Do you know how much I regret every decision that led to this moment?”

You hugged the laptop to your chest dramatically. “I can’t believe you’ve been hiding this. The secrets. The shame. The kinks.”

“Give. It. Back.”

“Nope. Not until we find out if you’ve got a whole ‘rough dom Bucky’ fantasy folder stashed somewhere. You into praise? Degradation? Impact play? Knife play?”

He growled.

Actually growled.

And for half a second, it stopped being funny.

Because the way his eyes locked on you?

That wasn’t embarrassment anymore.

That was heat. Low. Dangerous.

You grinned, too drunk on the chaos to stop.

“Come on, Barnes,” you said, laptop still clutched like a prize. “Own it. You like a little bratty backtalk? You want someone to whimper please while you tell her she’s being a bad girl?”

He was still pacing, but slower now. Controlled. Coiled.

You didn’t notice.

You were too busy poking the bear.

“Is that what you’re into?” you teased, stepping back. “All that repressed soldier shit finally coming out in dirty little commands and throat grips?”

His eyes met yours. Still embarrassed, sure. But behind it? Something sharper. Something hungry.

“Y’know,” you added, tone light, teasing, “I always pegged you as more of a soft dom. Gentle hands. Lots of praise. But this? This is dark. Kinda filthy. Kinda hot.”

That did it. He moved.

Fast.

Faster than he should’ve.

One second, you were smirking with the laptop; the next, it was out of your hands, clattering to the couch. You were against the wall, chest rising, his body a breath away from yours.

His hand planted next to your head.

His voice low. Controlled.

“Enough.”

You stared at him. The air was suddenly thick. Your heart thudded once, hard.

“You think this is a joke?” he asked, eyes burning into you.

Your mouth parted, but no sound came out.

“You think I don’t know you’ve been toying with me since the moment you walked in?”

That teasing smile faltered—just a little.

“You keep pushing,” he murmured, leaning in, breath brushing your jaw. “You laugh, you flirt, you play. But you don’t realize... I’ve thought about you. In ways I shouldn’t.”

You swallowed.

Hard.

“I know what I watched,” he went on, voice rough, low, dangerous. “I know who I imagined.”

Your breath caught.

His eyes dropped to your lips.

Then back up.

And when he spoke again, it wasn’t a threat.

It was a promise.

“You want to see what I’m into?”

You blinked up at him—cornered, caged—but not afraid.

Not even close. Your smile crept back, slower this time. Calculated.

“Oh,” you murmured, tone shifting. “You imagined me?”

Bucky’s jaw tightened.

His silence said everything.

You pushed your palms slowly against his chest, feeling the way his body tensed under your touch. Solid. Barely held together.

You leaned in, lips brushing just beneath his ear.

“So tell me,” you whispered, voice low and coaxing. “If you’ve already pictured it, Barnes... what did I look like?”

He exhaled harshly through his nose.

You didn’t stop.

“What was I doing?” you went on, dragging your fingers down the curve of his chest. “Was I on my knees? Bent over? Did I ride you while you begged for it?”

A choked sound left him—more breath than voice.

You smiled against his neck. “Or do you want to tell me what you were doing to me?”

His hands twitched at his sides.

You could feel it—the war inside him. Guilt, hunger, restraint. And under all of it, the ache.

“Go on, James,” you whispered, using his real name like a secret. “Tell me. What do you like?”

His head dropped forward, forehead nearly touching yours.

A beat passed.

Then another.

And then—

“I want you on top,” he breathed, voice ragged. “I want you to sit on my face and ride it until your legs give out.”

Your eyes fluttered closed for half a second.

That was not the answer you expected first.

His voice deepened, like now that he’d started, he couldn’t stop.

“I want you on your knees, begging. I want to fuck you from behind so deep you forget your own name. I want to feel you come around me and not stop. I want to stay inside you.”

His breath hitched. His hands were fisting at his sides.

“And when I’m done, when you can’t even move anymore—I want to come in you and keep coming until you’re full of me. Until it’s dripping out of you.”

Your thighs clenched instinctively.

Your nails curled tighter into his chest.

And your voice, still low, still teasing—but now breathy, just slightly—said:

“Damn, Barnes. That’s a whole lot of filth for someone who didn’t even know what edging was last month.”

Your last teasing whisper hadn’t even left your lips before Bucky moved.

One second you were pinned between him and the wall, and the next, his hands were on your hips, gripping tight. Then the ground disappeared beneath your feet.

You gasped as he lifted you—easily, effortlessly—hauling you against his chest like you weighed nothing.

“Jesus, Barnes—” you started, but his mouth was already on yours.

It wasn’t a kiss. It was a claim.

Hot, rough, needy—his lips crashed into yours with the force of every filthy thought, every sleepless night, every moment he’d spent imagining your mouth, your body, your sound. His teeth scraped your bottom lip. His tongue pushed past yours. There was no hesitation. Just heat.

You moaned into it, hands threading into his hair, pulling him closer even as he carried you down the hall.

Your back hit the wall once, then the doorframe, and then—

The bed.

He dropped you onto it like a man starved for touch. The mattress creaked beneath you, sheets rumpled and cool against your skin as you propped yourself up on your elbows, breathless and grinning.

Bucky stood at the edge of the bed, looking at you like you were his undoing.

You tilted your head, voice low and mocking.

“Is this the part where you get all commanding, Sergeant? Or are you gonna make me do the work?”

His jaw clenched. He stepped forward. Then dropped his weight onto the bed, climbing over you, hands already at your thighs, dragging you down the sheets toward him.

“I told you not to push,” he growled.

You smiled, voice syrup-sweet.

“And I told you I liked pushing.”

His hands slipped under your shirt, yanking it over your head in one smooth motion. Your bra was next, tossed aside without ceremony. He ducked down immediately, mouth hot against your collarbone, then lower—kissing, biting, devouring.

You gasped, head falling back as his mouth found your breast, tongue circling your nipple before he sucked it between his lips, hard.

And still—you teased.

“Careful, Barnes. Gonna make a mess before you even get inside me.”

He looked up at you.

Eyes wild, hungry, dark.

And then he dragged your jeans down—fast, rough, like he didn’t have the patience for anything else—and crawled up between your legs, pressing his body to yours until there was nothing between you anymore.

“Then shut up,” he growled, grinding against you, his cock thick and hard through his jeans.

“Make me,” you whispered, pulling him down by the collar.

And he did.

His mouth was everywhere—jaw, neck, breasts, stomach—kissing, biting, groaning like he couldn’t get enough, like he didn’t know where to start because he wanted all of you.

Then he pulled back, breathing hard, eyes raking over your body like a man finally allowed to look.

“Get up,” he rasped, voice dark and thick with want.

You blinked up at him, dazed and grinning. “What?”

He sat back on his heels, hands gripping your thighs.

“I said get up,” he repeated. “I want you on my face.”

Your breath caught.

Dead serious.

You didn’t question it. Didn’t tease.

Instead, your lips curved into a slow smile as you shifted, sitting up, climbing over him with fluid, easy confidence.

“As you wish, Sergeant.”

That name hit him like a punch to the chest.

His hands guided you—firm, reverent, needy—until your knees were braced on either side of his head, your body hovering just above his lips.

He looked up at you like a man who’d prayed for this moment.

And then?

He pulled you down.

No hesitation.

Just mouth.

Hot, wet, desperate—he groaned the second he tasted you, tongue already lapping through your folds, lips sealing around your clit like he was starving.

Your head tipped back with a sharp gasp, fingers flying into his hair as your hips bucked against his mouth.

“Fuck—Bucky—”

He growled in response, hands gripping your ass, holding you down, keeping you there.

You rocked against him instinctively, gasping as his tongue flicked and circled, licked and sucked. He was moaning into you, mumbling things you couldn’t even make out—except for one word that hit clear, over and over:

“Mine.”

You looked down at him, eyes wild, mouth open.

His eyes met yours.

Dark. Glazed. Possessed.

You could see the man he used to be—the soldier, the weapon—but right now?

Right now he was just yours.

And you were his.

You couldn’t stop moving.

Couldn’t stop grinding against his mouth, against his tongue, the pleasure slamming through you in waves, harder and sharper with every flick, every suck.

Bucky moaned beneath you, the sound filthy, shameless, needy—like your taste was saving him from something dark and deep and buried.

His hands held you tighter, guiding your hips as you rocked against his mouth, your thighs trembling around his head.

“Fuck—fuck—” you gasped, one hand gripping the headboard, the other buried in his thick, messy hair. “Don’t stop—don’t you dare stop—”

He didn’t.

If anything, he doubled down—lips sealing tighter, tongue working you harder, sloppier, his groans vibrating against your clit like a live wire.

He wanted this.

He wanted to suffocate on you, drown in you.

And you gave it to him.

Because when you looked down, saw those glassy, desperate blue eyes staring up at you, pleading for more, there was no holding back.

The coil snapped.

Your whole body locked as the orgasm ripped through you, sharp and searing, your hips jerking uncontrollably against his mouth.

“Bucky—” you cried, voice cracking, thighs clamping around his head as you came—hard.

He didn’t let go.

He held you there, arms wrapped around your thighs, mouth still working you through it, licking and sucking every shudder, every twitch, like it was a gift.

You collapsed forward, one hand braced on the headboard behind his head, the other still clutching his hair, your body wrecked, shaking, soaked.

And when you finally opened your eyes—chest heaving, heart pounding—you looked down at him.

His lips were wet, chin glistening, eyes blown wide with hunger.

He looked like he could live there. Like he’d happily die there.

And all he said, voice hoarse and full of worship:

“You taste like heaven.”

You were still trembling when he sat up behind you, hands stroking your thighs, your hips, slow and reverent like he needed to remember the feel of you.

“You good?” he rasped, voice wrecked from moaning into you.

You nodded, barely catching your breath, lips curving into a slow smile.

“Still waiting for that doggystyle fantasy to come true, Sergeant.”

That was all it took.

He growled low in his throat, grabbing your hips, flipping you effortlessly onto your stomach. Before you could even laugh, his hands slid under your body and lifted your hips high, chest pressed down into the mattress.

You moaned, the stretch in your spine perfect, delicious.

He leaned over you, his breath hot at your ear.

“This how you want it?”

You arched your back, ass pushing against him. “This is how you want it.”

He growled again—low, deep, possessive.

“Exactly how I want it.”

Then you felt him—his cock, thick and hot, dragging through your soaked folds, the head catching on your entrance.

He didn’t push in yet.

Just rubbed, slow, deliberate, teasing.

You whimpered, tried to push back.

He gripped your hips tighter.

“Not yet,” he murmured. “You’re gonna feel all of it.”

Then—he pushed in.

Slow at first, but deep, the stretch burning in the best way as he filled you, inch by thick, pulsing inch.

“Fuck—” you moaned, hands clutching the sheets as he bottomed out.

He held still once he was fully inside.

Like he was savoring it.

Like this—being buried in you, your body wrapped tight around his—was what he’d been starving for.

Then he moved.

Pulled out halfway.

And slammed back in.

You cried out, the sound muffled by the sheets as he started thrusting, each snap of his hips harder, deeper, rougher than the last.

His hands gripped your waist like you were his anchor.

His rhythm brutal, relentless.

He fucked you like he meant it—like he’d dreamed of this for weeks, like every fantasy had led to this.

You were gasping, moaning, clawing at the bed.

“Look at you,” he panted behind you. “So fucking tight—taking me so good.”

You couldn’t speak.

Could barely breathe.

And when his hand snaked around to rub your clit, you screamed his name.

He didn’t let up.

Just pounded into you harder, faster, until the sound of skin meeting skin filled the room, filthy and loud and perfect.

He was so deep in you.

Deeper than anyone had ever been—physically, yes, but also fully. Like this was where he belonged. Like this was where you belonged.

His hips rolled, the angle perfect, his cock dragging against that sweet spot inside you with every rough, claiming thrust.

And his voice—low, wrecked, filthy—poured right into your ear.

“You like that, sweetheart?” he growled. “You like being on your knees for me?”

You whimpered, nodding, voice breathless.

“Yes, Bucky—fuck—so much.”

He leaned over you, chest flush to your back, still moving inside you—slow now, torturously deep, like he wanted to feel every pulse of you clenching around him.

“Yeah, you do,” he whispered, lips brushing your ear. “My good girl. So fuckin’ wet for me. You were dripping on my face—you know that?”

You moaned, your body shaking, ass pushing back into him.

“I saw you,” he said, his rhythm stuttering just to drag the next thrust out longer. “When I told you to sit on my face? You didn’t even hesitate. You just gave it to me.”

You gasped as his hand slid down your back, curving over your ass, squeezing.

“And now you’re letting me fuck you like this,” he went on. “Taking every inch like a good little cocksleeve. You want me to fill you up, don’t you?”

You shuddered, squeezing around him so tight he groaned.

“Yes,” you panted, shameless. “Fuck, Bucky—fill me up—please—I want it.”

He slammed into you harder, rhythm picking up again, fast and unforgiving.

“That’s it,” he growled. “That’s what I like. You begging. You dripping. You mine.”

You cried out, bracing yourself against the mattress as he drove into you faster now, hand slipping beneath to rub your clit again.

“Say it,” he hissed. “Tell me who you belong to.”

“You,” you choked. “You, Bucky—I’m yours.”

He groaned deep in his throat, thrusts faltering for a beat like the words knocked something loose in him.

Then he grabbed your hair, gently but firm, pulling you up just enough to kiss your neck—bite it—then whisper:

“When I come, I’m gonna stay inside you. Gonna keep you full for hours. Walk around dripping with me.”

You whined, thighs shaking, the pressure building again—faster, sharper.

“Bucky—please—”

His voice was a growl, low and thick with promise.

“Come for me.”

And you did.

Hard.

Your whole body clenched around him, your scream muffled by the sheets as the orgasm ripped through you, sharp and messy, your walls fluttering around his cock.

Your moan was still echoing when he grabbed your waist, pulling you back—up, off the bed, into his lap.

You barely had time to gasp before you were straddling him, his chest pressed flush to your back, his mouth at your neck, and his cock still inside you.

“Not done,” he growled, arms locking around your waist. “Not until I come in you.”

Then he thrust up into you—hard, deep, devastating.

You cried out, your body already overstimulated, every thrust hitting that perfect spot inside you all over again. His hands were everywhere—gripping your hips, spreading your thighs wider, keeping you open for him as he pounded up from beneath you with bruising rhythm.

“Fuck—Bucky—” you whimpered, hands flying back to clutch at his hair, his shoulder, anything.

He was relentless.

Grunting with each thrust, hips snapping up into you, his breath ragged against your ear.

“Feel that?” he rasped. “How deep I am? How you’re still so fuckin’ tight?”

You nodded, moaning, body jerking with every thrust.

“You’re gonna take it,” he hissed. “Every drop. I’m not pullin’ out—you hear me? I’m comin’ inside you.”

“Yes,” you gasped, barely able to speak. “Please—Bucky—fill me up—”

He groaned, deeper than before, thrusts losing rhythm, his grip bruising on your hips as his body started to shake.

“Fuckfuckfuck—gonna come—”

One last thrust—brutal, final—and he buried himself in you, arms tightening, head thrown back as he came hard, deep inside you.

You felt it.

Hot.

Thick.

Flooding you as he groaned your name, holding you tight in his lap, still pulsing inside you.

And he didn’t let go.

Didn’t move.

Just stayed there—buried—chest rising against your back, his breath warm at your neck, whispering,

“You’re mine.”

You collapsed forward onto the bed, body still twitching with aftershocks, breath ragged and uneven. Bucky followed, slow and heavy, staying close, still inside you for a moment longer like he couldn’t stand to let you go just yet.

Eventually, he pulled out with a soft groan.

You whimpered at the loss, hips squirming on instinct.

He stayed behind you for a second, hovering—eyes locked on the way his release slowly dripped out of you, sliding between your thighs and onto the sheets.

You could feel him watching.

You tilted your head back with a lazy grin. “If you’re gonna stare like that, at least have the decency to offer a towel.”

He huffed a rough laugh—half-exhausted, half-stunned. “Sorry. Just... didn’t wanna forget what that looks like.”

You stretched like a cat, all smug satisfaction and afterglow. “Yeah, well. Take a picture next time, Barnes.”

He leaned down, kissed your shoulder—soft, slow, grateful—then flopped beside you, dragging the sheet up over your tangled bodies.

His arm wrapped around your waist, warm and heavy.

Neither of you spoke for a minute.

Just the sound of your breathing slowing. Your bodies cooling.

Then he murmured, voice quiet against your skin, “You’re in my head now.”

You smiled, eyes drifting shut.

“Good,” you whispered. “Took you long enough.”

You lay there, tangled together in the warm quiet, your body still thrumming, skin slick and flushed. Bucky’s arm was wrapped around your waist, his breath slow against the back of your neck, lips occasionally brushing your shoulder like he wasn’t even conscious of doing it.

You grinned.

Couldn’t help it.

“So…” you said, voice casual. “How long you been jerking off to me, Barnes?”

He froze.

You felt the heat bloom off him before he even said a word.

“Don’t.”

Your grin widened. “What? It’s a fair question. Based on how fast you devoured me, I’m guessing… at least a month?”

He groaned into your shoulder. “You’re the worst.”

“I’m right,” you countered. “Don’t think I didn’t catch the way you almost cried when I said ‘as you wish, Sergeant.’ You’ve been unwell.”

He muttered something unintelligible and buried his face in your neck.

You rolled to face him, propped on one elbow, smirking as you traced a line down his chest.

“So, tell me,” you purred. “Now that you’ve got a taste... what do you want to do to me next time?”

His throat bobbed.

You waited.

“I dunno,” he mumbled.

“Oh, you know.” Your nails lightly scratched his ribs. “Come on, be brave. Tell me.”

He grumbled. “You’re gonna use it against me.”

“Correct,” you said sweetly. “Now spill.”

He exhaled slowly, then muttered:

“...Sixty-nine.”

You grinned. “Classic. What else?”

He covered his eyes with one hand. “Breeding.”

Your eyebrows lifted, delight flashing in your eyes. “Oh? Really leaned into the ‘stuff me full, Sarge’ angle, huh?”

“Shut up.”

“I won’t, actually,” you laughed, leaning closer, lips brushing his ear. “Anything else you wanna act out, Barnes? Any other dirty little fantasies you been keeping locked up?”

He hesitated.

Longer this time.

Then—reluctantly, quietly:

“...Roleplay.”

You blinked.

Then broke into a slow, wicked grin. “Okay, now this I need to hear.”

“Nope,” he said immediately, trying to roll away. “That’s enough honesty for one night—”

You climbed on top of him, straddling his hips, pinning him down with a devilish smile. “Tell me if I need to show up next time in a pencil skirt and glasses, or if I should wear that SHIELD catsuit and call you ‘Sir.’”

His eyes snapped open.

And you knew.

You gasped. “Oh my god. You have a thing for the whole ‘secret agent mission gone sideways’ scenario, don’t you?”

He groaned, dragging a hand over his face. “Please stop.”

“You want me to cuff you to a chair and interrogate you,” you went on gleefully. “Or, wait���no—you want to interrogate me.”

“I’m begging.”

You leaned in, lips brushing his ear. “You want me in red lipstick and a wiretap, don’t you?”

“I’m never telling you anything again.”

You leaned down, lips brushing his.

“I’m gonna make all your little roleplay dreams come true,” you whispered.

“Kill me now,” he muttered.

“Nope. Gotta save your energy. You’re not done with me yet.”

You grinned, smug and sated, curling down against his chest, eyes closing as his arm wrapped around you again.

And beneath your cheek, you felt him smile.

[that-one-girl2020]

Saja Boys x Rumi’s Sister! Reader

A/N: K-Pop Demon Hunters has me in a chokehold and I have so many ideas floating around in my head but I’m really bad at actually writing and executing them. But I had to write something to help with this fixation. Also, I don’t know how the Honmoon works. Like, can anyone alter or control it after some training? Do you need to be born with a certain predisposition? So, I kinda just made some stuff up.

Edit: Now has Part 2!

‼️SPOILERS FOR KPDH‼️

“Okay, you guys are just going down there, right? I’m gonna go pick up some groceries,” You tell the three girls in disguise.

“Thanks, (Y/n)!”

“Thanks.”

“Thanks, (Y/n).”

Sighing, you wave over your shoulder as you separate from the girls. You managed their wardrobe and visuals, you were able to take the vague ideas in their heads and their music and bring them together in stunning visuals while maintaining their individual styles and own input.

But, you were also Rumi’s twin sister. You grew up alongside her under the guidance of your Aunt Celine. You trained with her, learning to fight, dance, and sing with her. However… You were never able to tap into the Honmoon like her or Mira or Zoey.

Which meant you couldn’t debut with your sister or help her with the Honmoon. All you could do was support her and the other girls how your Aunt Celine taught you: Cover up, keep your patterns hidden, cook for them, clean for them, make sure they always look beautiful, no fractures or faults in their image. And no faults of your own must ever be visible either.

You love your sister, there was never any doubt about that. And you love Mira and Zoey too, they were practically your sisters too. But you couldn’t help but feel… invisible and jealous sometimes. You wanted to perform too. Just once.

“Excuse me, miss?”

You were shaken from your thoughts by a smooth, male voice and a colorful flier being held out to you. Looking further up, your eyes widened and your face warmed at the sight of such a handsome guy right in front of you. You were no stranger to beauty working in the idol industry, but wow. Soft, black hair, warm brown eyes, clear skin and a soft smile. Your heart couldn’t help but skip.

“Uhm, I’m sorry,” You shook your head, trying to focus on listening to what the boy said. You couldn’t help but swallow thickly, your face still hot, “Can I help you?”

He smiled kindly, “My friends and I are having our debut performance this afternoon just a street over. We’d love for you to come watch and support us.”

Flustered by his charm and his beauty, you took the flier from him. “The Saja Boys…” You read. Looking around, you tried to spot the rest of his group.

You were startled when an arm suddenly landed on your shoulders. Actually, make that two arms.

Looking up, two more gorgeously unreal guys were on each side of you, an arm around each of your shoulders. One was a buff beauty with shorter magenta hair in a yellow beanie, his shirt hanging on for dear life. The other had longer pink hair that framed his face in a heart shape.

“That’s right,” the long haired guy smiled on your left.

“We’re the Saja Boys,” the buff guy on your right smirked. The two boys spun to slide into place on each side of the black haired guy, the three posing. “I’m Abby,” the muscle man posed, flexing which caused his shirt to strain.

“I’m Romance~” He blew a kiss at you.

“And I’m Jinu,” the black haired guy winked, smiling which made your heart pound all that harder to be the center of attention of three gorgeous guys. “We also have Baby and Mystery who are passing out fliers somewhere as well.”

“Right here, boss.” Oh great, more hot guys to make your heart explode.

A mint haired guy looked at her out of the corner of his eye as he walked past, joining the other three with a cool air. Another guy with long, pastel hair that covered most of his face walked past as well. Did he just smell you…? Was he purring…?

Oh boy. These boys were gonna give you a heart attack at this rate. Your heart was racing and you felt so flustered and awkward having their attention. “Uhm, wow, sorry, I’ll try to be there to support your debut! If you’ll excuse me,” You gave a small bow. Escape. Too many hot guys.

“You promise, sweetheart?~”

Your face flushed darker and you hurried away faster, “Y-Yup! See you there! Good luck!” You had groceries to get.

After getting enough groceries for you and the Huntr/x girls, you checked the time and noted that you had time to see that debut performance. The girls hadn’t texted that they headed back yet so they must still be at the doctors. Carrying the bags, you walked over to the other street, which was only a little more crowded than usual.

It seemed like you were just in time as a cloud of pink smoke grew in the middle of the street. You got closer as music started to fill the street and from the smoke, the five boys appeared.

“Don't want you, need you~ Yeah, I need you to fill me up~ 마시고 마셔 봐도~ 성에 차지 않아~ Got a feeling that, oh, yeah (Yeah)~ You could be everything that~ That I need (Need), taste so sweet (Sweet)~ Every sip makes me want more, yeah~” The black haired guy, Jinu, seemed to take the main vocals. The song was so bouncy and catchy that you couldn’t help but bounce your shoulders as the crowd grew around you. You got pushed to the front of the crowd and blushed as Jinu winked at you. You blushed, holding your groceries tighter.

“You're all I can think of~ Every drop I drink up~ You're my soda pop~ My little soda pop~ Cool me down, you're so hot~ Pour me up, I won't stop~ You're my soda pop~ My little soda pop~”

Okay, Huntr/x would always have your whole heartfelt support as your favorite group, but the Saja Boys were also really good… Like, if you weren’t Rumi’s sister, you might’ve jumped ship…

You were just a girl after all…

You blinked when some of the boys started blowing kisses into the crowd, launching hearts out of thin air. If they were just debuting, how’d they afford such great special effects…? These boys must’ve worked hard.

At least you thought so until you saw a flash of demon patterns and eyes on some of the boys.

You gasped. Were they… like you and Rumi? Part demons? Wait, no, they can control their demon features, you and Rumi can’t. No matter how much you tried to hide the growing patterns inching across your skin, it never worked. All you could do was cover up with long sleeves and pants.

They were just performing though. The girls would probably kill them as soon as they could once they caught wind of this demon idol group, because demons were all evil, emotionless creatures… But, if they were just demon guys performing because they wanted to perform, if they were nice demons, then wouldn’t that help prove that it was okay for you to live too…?

They helped the girl at the corn dog stand and gave those stressed kids some gifts, and they didn’t try to suck a soul once.

Your heart pounded, not just with how attractive the five were, but with hope.

The performance ended as the boys took their final poses before taking a moment to wave and send kisses into the crowd. As you scanned the group of boys, Romance sent you a flying kiss, Abby flashed you some finger hearts, Jinu’s smile widened at you, Baby raised an eyebrow at you, and Mystery gave a head nod.

What were you supposed to do now…?

[raevpng]

all these rumours

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

masterlist

summary: times azzi was sick of subtle and quiet hints and attempts to hard launch with her longtime best friend and girlfriend. frustration and chaos ensues however, when she fails. multiple. times.

a/n: thank u for ur patience once again lovelies 🥹 im still gonna edit this but this is my longest one shot ever so i hope it’s still enjoyable 😭 tell me ur thoughts <3

azzi knew more or less that there was a hefty price to pay for the dream life she chased.

she knew that eventually, the talent she’s harnessed and worked on for years would pay off – that the world would know what she could do. who she could be.

picture perfect form, unshakable morals, a humble yet competitive spirit.

that was who azzi fudd is. the kind of basketball player kids dreamed to be.

and she got it – she has what she’s worked so hard to do all her life. she got in the basketball capital of the world, she had a team that felt more like family, friendships that grounded her, people she’d bleed for.

and somehow, in the middle of all of that—she fell in love.

people were always stunned when she told the story. the story of how she met her soulmate, her twin flame, her everything.

paige bueckers.

every bit of a great athlete azzi is. she led with a kind of love and passion for not only the game, but for the people she played with. she had the kind of faith that swayed you, and a personality that left everyone wanting more.

and really, azzi understands. she understands why the internet obsessed over every interaction they had. every glance, touch, every shared laugh. they were absolutely enamored with their dynamic.

she understands cause she was living it.

she found a lover in her best friend. and god, azzi could never forget how softly their relationship had blossomed. how gently they had crossed the line between platonic and romantic. she remembers the soft confessions, the nervous first date, the jealousy they felt as they tried to hide from each other throughout their highschool careers.

she remembers how tough it was for paige had to watch azzi go with a boy to prom, and for azzi to watch as the media spun narrative after narrative of paige’s latest rumored boyfriend.

a hundred moments they had to swallow their love and smile like it didn’t sting.

but when azzi got to uconn, everything changed.

they were no longer living parallel lives — they were living the same one. suddenly it wasn’t just about quiet stares and lingering touches. it was about navigating something real, something tangible. they had a much harder time trying to bury their affections for each other. hands lingered a little longer than necessary, stares burned in a way that friends definitely did not do.

they tried to hide it. they really did.

nonetheless, everyone caught up to it pretty quick.

including their coaches and staff.

and safe to say they had a very thorough talk about media training and deal that yes – there was no rule that they couldn’t date, but it had to be very quiet, down low.

and it was easy.

kinda.

they were surrounded by the best team mates, who supported them through thick and thin. who, sure, maybe gagged at their quick kisses and cuddles during move nights or quick embraces in locker rooms before a game. but through it all, even with the chaos, azzi was content. grateful, even.

but now?

now it was different. they weren’t teammates anymore. they weren’t under the same roof, with the same jersey, following the same rules.

and azzi, has quiet as she had been during their years in uconn, was absolutely dying to show off her girlfriend.

because why not?

she can now.

and she was so damn ready.

–

forget about ending it with a bang, they started it with a bang.

the 2025 draft was much anticipated, not only for the fates of their future rookies in the league, but for the fashion, the glitz, the glamour.

and azzi?

she made damn sure she showed up. she pops out in the glittery black dress that hugs her curves perfectly, with her hair styled in curls that cascaded down the expanse of her bare, toned back.

and she came with a statement to make.

she made sure to stay by paige’s side for photos, smiling at her in a way that no longer held back adoration. heart eyes, the fans said. she posed for pictures as paige wrapped her hand around her waist, smiling with a love-sick, dopey grin that only fueled the flutter of butterflies in her stomach.

and if that wasn’t enough, she smiled to herself victoriously as she settled down in her very own seat.

in paige’s table.

she smiled knowingly, already anticipating the craze that is their fans, knowing that some of them doubted she would be there. she was excited to stir chaos, to send the clear message that she’s been by her girlfriend’s side and she’s here to stay. that no matter where she goes, she’ll always be close to follow.

her name wasn’t being called yet, but she looked like the proudest person in the room when paige’s was.

but to her surprise, as the night settled down and they returned to paige’s hotel room, it still wasn’t enough.

she remembers being tangled up in hotel sheets, bare underneath the covers as she ran her fingers through her tussled hair. the night had been nothing but hectic, and she half expected paige to pass out by the time they entered their hotel room with the amount of media, socialisation, and tequil shots she had downed in celebration of her draft night.

safe to say, the night had in fact not gone down that road, and instead ended with paige’s hands wandering and azzi not being able to resist.

cause who was she to deny her number one pick girlfriend? she couldn’t – not when she wanted it just as much. not when paige mouthed at her neck, whispering thanks and gratitude and confessions in a way that made azzi’s heart skip a beat and ignited a warmth in her stomach. she remembers the way paige had glanced up at her from between her legs, looking up as if she was the one who had been drafted. she remembers the gentleness, the passion, and the silent promises between each kiss and each release.

“you okay there baby?” paige had said as she exited the bathroom, her loose button up long gone as she climbed into bed again, quickly wrapping azzi into a warm embrace as she breathes in her scent.

“hm.” she hummed, setting down her phone by her pillow. she was scrolling through social media while paige had gone to clean up, and much to her dismay, her message still wasn’t clear to some.

she reached up to plant a soft kiss to her girlfriend’s lips. “saw some people saying we were ‘bff goals.’” she scrunched her nose, bringing a quiet giggle from paige.

“is that a bad thing?” paige laughs softly, brushing away azzi’s hair to kiss her forehead.

azzi gasped.

“what kinda best friend sits at a draft table and gets hugged first?” azzi shook her head, as if personally offended. “i am very obviously your girlfriend, thank you.”

paige just laughs, eyes fond as azzi sinks deeper in her embrace.

“let’s try again then.”

–

she’d kept the hints going, subtle but steady, while paige threw herself into her rookie season.

likes on tiktok edits, continuously coming to her games, even helping paige settle in texas barely a day after they had been “separated.”

the big one came unexpectedly, on a regular thursday afternoon.

she’d been cleaning her room, hair pulled up and sleeves rolled to her elbows, with paige propped up on facetime. on screen, paige was standing in front of her bathroom mirror, rambling about practice and the new weight room, her voice bright as she pulled her hair into a sleek ponytail.

azzi half-listened. mostly, she stared.

her eyes were fixed on the way paige’s biceps flexed when she tightened her ponytail. the gloss of her lips as she applied balm. the arch of her brow as she talked, animated and glowing.

“ma, you good?” paige smirked when she realised azzi was no longer listening, laughing at the glossy look in azzi’s eyes. “something distracting you?”

azzi coughed and rolled her eyes, though the blush creeping up her neck gave her away. “just admiring what’s mine, that’s all.”

paige smiled, almost shy as her cheeks tint a pretty shade of pink at her girlfriend’s possessiveness. “i miss you, baby.”

azzi’s smirk faded, replaced with something heavier. her voice dropped to a murmur as she sat on the edge of her bed. “i miss you more, p. it’s not the same here without you.”

paige pouted, like she felt it in her chest too. “it’s weird seeing you more on a screen again. i’m so used to just walking downstairs when i missed you.”

“now it’s six hours and a flight just to hug you for a day,” azzi sighed.

paige pouts even harder, sighing dramatically. “i just miss my girl. you’ve been looking too damn fine in my jersey. you trying to kill me?”

and that’s when it hit her.

azzi shot up, rummaging through the clutter on her desk—books, lip gloss tubes, tangled chains – until she found it.

she held up the delicate silver necklace, triumph written all over her face. a small heart charm beside a number 5.

“baby,” paige laughed, eyes lighting up. she knew that face. “what are you planning?”

“you’ll see.” azzi smirked.

see if they can deny this now.

spoiler: they can.

–

the tiktok blew up instantly – a dancing video with suni and anna. but that wasn’t what caught people’s attention.

no, it was the subtle glint of silver that caught the light every time azzi moved, delicate, gleaming, and undeniably there.

from the second the video went live, suni and anna had teased her relentlessly, eyebrows raised, smirks smug.

“oh they’re gonna eat this up,” anna said gleefully as she posted it, watching the likes skyrocket in real time. and azzi beamed, half proud, half smug.

suni leaned over her shoulder with a knowing grin. “you really wore that necklace for this?”

azzi shrugged smugly, beaming like the mastermind she was. “they better catch on this time.”

she thought this was it. they had to get it now.

and for a while, it seemed like they had. comments poured in. likes exploded. azzi refreshed the app every few minutes, heart racing, already imagining the thinkpieces, the ship edits, the finally, we have confirmation!! tweets.

but a few hours later, when she opened her phone, her jaw dropped.

comments flooded in:

“i wear my best friend’s number too lol”

“okay but this could still be platonic?”

“my bestie gave me a necklace like that 🥰”

what the fuck.

azzi slammed her phone face-down onto her bed, letting out a long, dramatic groan.

“you’re fucking lying.” she muttered under her breath, already on her feet and storming down the hallway to kk’s dorm with one mission in mind: complain. violently.

she flung the door open without knocking, mouth open and rants waiting to spill out when she heard it.

paige’s voice, warm and amused, drifting from kk’s phone screen.

“hey, fudd,” kk grinned, turning the phone to reveal paige’s face, all soft lighting and softer smiles. her girlfriend brightens up immediately, smiling that soft smile reserved only for her.

“hey, babe,” paige greeted. but her smile faltered as soon as she took in azzi’s stormy expression.

“uh oh. what happened?”

“oh, you know,” azzi drawled dramatically, flopping down on the edge of kk’s bed like the world’s most exhausted gay. “just the fucking allegations.”

kk blinked. “azzi. they can’t be allegations if you’re actually dating.”

“nah,” paige cut in, already catching on. she chuckled, leaning closer to the camera. “by allegations, she means best friend allegations.”

a beat of silence.

and then kk howled with laughter, doubling over as azzi swatted her shoulder.

“it’s not fucking funny.” she whined, ignoring how paige smiles fondly, eyes crinkling and bright.

“how are we still getting best friend allegations?” azzi rambled, pacing now. “i sat at her draft table. i’ve been in texas more in the last two weeks than my own parents’ house. i’m literally wearing her number around my neck like a promise ring.”

kk wipes a tear that escaped her eyes as she catches her breath, “you kill me, genuinely.”

“shut the fuck up kk.”

“okay, okay,” she wheezed, holding up her hands in surrender. “just be more obvious, then. you know how the internet is. unless you’re holding up a giant neon sign that says ‘i’m in a gay relationship with paige bueckers’ they’re gonna think y’all braid each other’s hair while you watch love island .”

“should i tattoo it on my forehead?” azzi deadpanned. “i’m dating paige bueckers across my fucking hairline?”

“i’d be down,” paige chimed in helpfully.

azzi shot her a look.

paige grinned sheepishly. “sorry.”

kk just rolled her eyes for what had to be the fifth time. “no one said that. just make another tiktok. with paige this time. don’t you literally have a visit planned soon?”

azzi groaned again but nodded, slumping down into kk’s desk chair with a dramatic exhale.

“fine. i guess i’ll try again.”

“aww.” paige cooed at azzi’s jutted lip, clearly dejected at her failed attempt at yet another hard launch. “don’t worry babe, we can do that trend you’ve been wanting.”

azzi’s head snapped up, a hopeful smile dancing on her lips, “really?”

“of course, baby,” paige said, voice low and warm, and if azzi had been any closer, back in her arms where she belongs, she would’ve kissed her silly on the spot.

“ew, gross.” kk gagged, “this feels like watching my parents kiss.”

azzi flipped her off without even looking, already envisioning the tiktok that would put rumours to rest. hopefully. maybe.

they’d stop calling it platonic.

–

the restaurant was bustling with quiet noise – the clink of silverware against ceramic, the soft murmur of conversations blending with occasional bursts of laughter. dim lighting bounced off polished wood and wine glasses, casting everything in a warm glow. it was perfect, not because of the fragrant waft of food everywhere, (although that did help) but because she was here, with her again, back where she belongs.

they were sat on a spacious round table. and even though they were in the middle of the restaurant, surrounded by people and different conversations, azzi barely heard the hum of the world around her.

all she heard was paige.

“and then nai says it’s because i’m pale like casper the ghost. what does that have to do with anything?” paige sighed mid-rant, her hands animated as she recounted something that happened during shootaround, her voice trailing into another tangent about a meme she saw that morning.

and azzi would like to think she was a great girlfriend. she’d say she was attentive and ready to listen. but right now, with her girlfriend so soft and so close to her again? she couldn’t help but stare.

she was watching. warm eyes fixed on paige’s every expression. the way her nose scrunched when she laughed, the way her lashes fluttered when she looked down at her plate, the way her voice softened just slightly whenever she said azzi’s name.

god, it’s sickening how in love she was. maybe kk did have a point.

paige leaned forward suddenly, noticing the face her girlfriend had when she was in her head again. reaching across the table, she laced their fingers together. like it was the most natural thing in the world.

and it was.

her thumb brushed slow circles into the back of azzi’s hand as she watched azzi register her gentle actions.

“anyways,” paige said, a little quieter, a little gentler. “how are you doing, baby? still bothered about the rumours?”

azzi sighed before she could help it, spine straightening at the mention of the issue. paige laughed softly, lifting their hands and pressing a kiss to the smooth skin just below azzi’s knuckles.

“you have no idea.” azzi rolled her eyes, softening slightly at the affection. she fished her phone out to show her girlfriend a screenshot of the many tweets and tiktok comments. “look. best friend, former team-mate, anything but girlfriend. it’s ridiculous!”

a blur of screenshots filled the screen as paige squinted. tweet after tweet, tiktok after tiktok, each one circled or underlined in red like she was building a case. best friend. former teammate. “normal friendship between girls.” platonic. platonic. platonic.

paige cackled at a particular comment. “yall reaching. i look at my best friend the way paige does and we’re not dating.” she read aloud, biting her lip to stop a very inappropriate laugh from escaping.

“someone tell her…” paige started shakily, “if she looks at her best friend the way we look at each other…”

azzi’s hands shoot up to cover her mouth, knowing her girlfriend’s next words.

paige was near tears. “they’re probably-”

“gay.” azzi deadpanned, snickering into her hands as she tried to remain quiet.

paige didn’t even try, doubling into a loud laughter as she hid her face from curious stares.

“gay,” she repeated, muffled into her palms, before peeking back up at azzi with tear-glossed eyes and the widest grin. “god, i love you.”

azzi just huffed, still scrolling. “tell that to the internet.”

she opened tiktok on azzi’s phone, still in her hand with a sly grin. “wanna make it now?”

azzi’s eyes brightened instantly, nodding animatedly as paige leaned in to plant a soft kiss on her forehead.

—

they filmed it first try – azzi tilted her head, eyes wide with innocence. “how much was it?” she mouthed.

paige looked exasperatedly at the camera. “two hundred dollars.”

azzi let out a cute little gasp, a soft smile contrasting paige’s reaction. “that’s not bad!”

azzi could barely contain the shake of her body as she cackled at the slow motion of paige’s reaction. they both cracked up the moment the audio cut, laughter bubbling as paige nuzzled her face into the crook of the younger’s neck. they rewatched it ten times before even moving, paige pointing out how soft azzi looked in her sweater and her innocent smile.

“they gotta get it this time.” paige reassured as azzi typed up her caption.

princess treatment everytime i’m with her. 😇💗 #spoiled

then she hit post.

hard launch.

again.

they got up to stroll to paige’s car, scrolling through the initial reactions. thousands of likes, comments, even videos in response to the tikok flooded in almost initially. paige peeked over azzi’s shoulder as they sat, scrolling, her free hand still tangled with azzi’s.

“see ma?” paige murmured against her ear. “i think they really get it this time.”

azzi beamed, sliding into the passenger seat and sighing at the familiar scent of paige’s car. her favourite car freshener, her laundry detergent, the faintest whiff of her favorite perfume. Home.

“finally,” she whispered, curling into her seat with a grin.

princess treatment indeed.

but later that night, after dinner and after kisses and after laughter faded into quiet, they lay on paige’s couch. azzi was nestled between her legs, back pressed to paige’s chest, scrolling aimlessly on her phone while paige mindlessly played with the end of one of her braids.

“babe?” azzi asked quietly, tone dull.

“hm?” paige kissed her temple.

wordlessly, azzi flipped her phone around and shoved it in her face. paige stared, blinked, then winced.

“oh fuck, you were serious.”

–

“i know that look.” kk narrowed her eyes, watching azzi through the mirror as she twisted her curls into place, securing them with quiet precision.

soft music flowed from kk’s speaker, the low hum of kk’s r&b playlist mixing with the gentle clatter of makeup brushes. paige had a game in connecticut today, and they had decided to get ready together before boarding the team bus to the game.

“whatsoever do you mean, kamorea?” azzi asked, tone syrupy and suspiciously innocent. she didn’t even look up, just kept applying mascara to thick, long lashes that fluttered innocently.

kk squinted, reading between every single line. “nah, don’t play. you’re gonna do something to ruin the internet again aren’t you?”

a smile.

“maybe.”

kk shivers.

–

they had finished the game with a high. dallas took the victory as the crowd went wild – paige had once again scored the most points within the team and god she felt like floating. she exuded an electric energy, that dizzying, dazed smile stretched across her face as her eyes scanned the crowd, searching.

they land on azzi. always azzi.

always azzi, cutting through the overwhelming noise and cheer. it was cheesy to think, but it genuinely felt like those cheesy rom-com movies azzi adored, even years in their relationship. the roar of the arena faded to a hum when their eyes met, and paige’s smile softened like it always did. like she only saw her.

they were ushered out quickly once the game wrapped, fans still screaming, staff buzzing. azzi and kk lingered back in a hallway as the crowd thinned. kk had been filming a vlog the entire day, azzi giggling into the camera, cheeks hurting from smiling as they goofed around, waiting for them to be allowed back to the venue.

“hey, y'all can come back in now.” a staff member had said, halting kk’s rambling to her phone.

“thank you!” kk replied politely before turning to the vlog, tone changing in an instant. “guys, we’re about to go see paige bueckers!” she squealed dramatically like a fan, making azzi roll her eyes and laugh.

kk skipped to paige’s side the second they stepped in, faking stage fright with exaggerated gasps, wringing her hands as paige blinked at her, amused. still, a slow yet fond smile stretched across the blonde’s features at her friend’s theatrics.

she opened her arms, inviting an embrace as kk squealed and jumped into a hug, acting like she’d won a contest. azzi giggled from behind the camera, heart swelling when paige’s eyes flicked up to find hers, warm and instinctive. she opened her mouth to probably call her over for a quick peck before noticing the camera, tilting her head in a silent question.

azzi mouths “she’s vlogging.”

paige nods swiftly in understanding, wrapping her arms around kk as she rants about her first tech. azzi couldn’t help but swoon, heart softening at how paige was just glowing. she was radiant even after a tough game, so full of life as she interacted with the team. everyone adored her, loved her in a way that only pure adoration and respect could bring.

she doesn’t even wanna know how googly-eyed she looked right now, admiring her girlfriend, thinking of everything they went through. years of hiding everything, their affection, their love for each other.

and suddenly, azzi had had enough.

she was not about to sit quietly while the world missed the entire point of the most important thing in her life.

and she knew exactly what to do.

–

she rummaged around her suitcase, looking for the item paige had gifted her months ago.

the phone case.

it was a joke, really. they had been scrolling through social media when paige started giggling at her phone – a case a fan had designed.

“look at this, baby,” paige had grinned, tilting the screen as azzi took a peek. “some fan really made this.”

it was obnoxiously pink, bold letters stamped across it like a headline.

“excuse me,” azzi had scoffed, pouting dramatically. “position’s already filled, thanks.”

but paige had only laughed harder, tapping on the link to buy it as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. she bit her lip to stifle her giggles as she silently ordered it, filling in her details with a mischievous smile. it didn’t take long for suspicious silence to get noticed by azzi though, gasping when she saw the screen.

“the fuck?” azzi gasped as paige snickered. “paige.”

“it’s for you,” paige said sweetly, azzi widening her eyes sassily. “you’re welcome.”

“fuck no.”

now though, azzi had never been more thankful for a phone case. “thank the lord for a weird girlfriend.” she muttered under her breath, snapping it onto her phone with a click and smirking as the lettering caught the light. bright pink. unmissable.

so, expect a lil something today.

the three bubbles appeared almost instantly, azzi smiling at how fast paige responded despite her being at practice.

should i be scared?

azzi giggled, biting back a laugh as she typed:

perhaps i’m using the phone case.

a pause.

the phone case? the one you swore you’d never touch?

maybe.

azzi typed with a smirking emoji, giggling as paige replied with a thousand shocked face emojis.

game time.

–

she was getting dolled up with her stylist when she decided to snap the picture. skin glowing from glam, hair curled to perfection by her stylist, the light hitting her skin just right. and yeah, maybe it was intentional that her legs looked perfect in the picture, almost distracting from the actual purpose.

the phone case clear as day with bright pink letters – a loud and proud declaration.

paige bueckers’ girlfriend.

“you menace,” hayley smiled, peeking over her shoulder as azzi typed out the caption.

azzi smirked, cheekbones sharp and eyes playful as she posed one last time in the mirror. “it gets to a point,” she sighed, tossing her hair dramatically, “where i’m like, maybe i do need to spell it out for them.”

hayley laughed, running her hands through curls gently, nodding in agreement. “baby, you’ve spelled it, shouted it, danced it, and now you really put it out there in bright pink letters.”

“real.” azzi nodded in agreement, looking over the story one last time.

post.

and then she waited.

the notifications came in like an avalanche: shocked emojis, screaming replies. fan edits already popping up her for you page with another taylor swift song. she tried not to let her hopes up too much, knowing the pattern from her previous attempts. still, she let herself breathe, heart thumping in her chest like she’d just sprinted across a court.

a buzz cuts through her thoughts, bringing a soft smile to her face.

paige bueckers’girlfriend huh?

azzi could already imagine the proud smirk on paige’s face, fingers dancing across the screen to reply.

you lucky woman.

paige’s reply came instantly.

god, i agree.

and just like that, azzi felt the warmth rush to her cheeks, biting her lip as she tried to calm the way her chest fluttered. she bit her lip, fighting down the stubborn blush paige still managed to coax from her, setting her phone down as she fanned her face. she glanced at hayley, who was definitely watching.

“don’t.” she warned, burying her face in her hands.

“you’re so in love.”

it was a simple sentence. one she’d heard multiple times from fans, friends, and family alike. she heard it when they posted a picture, played a game together, went to a family event together, or when a friend caught them staring at each other for too long. it was written in the way she and paige looked at each other, or in every quiet hug after a tough game, every stolen glance across a crowded room. yet, she couldn’t help but think back to everything – how it had started between them, and how this giddiness had yet to fade. she had a sneaking suspicion it never will.

because it was true. it was real, and it was theirs.

and maybe that was enough, the sure feeling she had when they made eye contact in a crowded room, the softness of paige’s touch even after a rough game, the unwavering support of the people around her and the fans.

that was enough.

she looked at the mirror, still smiling.

“yeah,” azzi whispered, almost to herself.

“i really am.”

[em1i2a3]

Adore Me

Pairing: Bob/Robert Reynolds/The Sentry/The Void x Thunderbolts!Fem!Reader!

Summary: When the air conditioner of the Watchtower breaks during peak summertime, Bob finds an odd solution to your overheating problem.

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI! Smut and Fluff yall. Bob and Reader are in an established friends with benefits relationship (that has hints of something more), Bob is a problem solver lol.

Smut Warnings: Unprotected P in V Sex (wrap it up yall), Temperature Play, Fingering, Oral Sex (fem! Receiving), Nipple Play, Dirty Talk, Bob is a bit freaky in this, but it’s a great change up, Spit Kink (kind of…An interesting take on it lol) Bob is totally a super soft dom in here to be completely honest and he’s an absolute tease, Aftercare (cause it’s essential and we love aftercare scenes!)

Authors Note: It is disgustingly hot where I live at the moment and I got this idea when I was writing something else and thought ‘Jesus Christ this is perfect’ and EUREKA 💡 it’s been made and created. And it’s so fitting cause today is supposed to be one of the hottest days of the year where I live and I’ve been sweating it up, so CHEERS TO THAT! Enjoy the read yall ❤️❤️

Word Count: 9,364

You felt like you were choking on the air you were breathing. It clung to your lungs like steam in a sauna, heavy and thick, each inhale a sluggish, labored thing that coated the inside of your throat with undeniable heat. The Watchtower had become a pressure cooker–walls sweating, tempers rising, body’s slowly melting into puddles of collective misery.

The central air system had sputtered its final breath two days ago, and since then, the compound had been thrown into environmental purgatory. Val, of course, couldn’t be bothered.

“You’ve been trained in worse conditions? So there’s a little bit of heat…” She said over the comms, dismissing the situation with a lazy flick of her tongue, “Adapt. Hydrate. Be resourceful. You guys are a bunch of trained professionals. Jesus.”

Bucky had tried to find a solution by rush-ordering industrial-grade fans for everyone’s room. It was a notable effort, but ultimately it turned futile–the machines just churned around warm air like oversized hairdryers, only adding to the misery. Everyone had begun to crack in their own unhinged little ways soon after.

Walker had abandoned his bedroom entirely, calling it a hotbox of death–because it was facing the sun head on–and was now taking refuge on the cool concrete floor of the weapons bay, curled up beside an icebox and using a half-eaten bag of frozen peas as his pillow. Nobody knew if he was the one who ate the peas, and truly no one wanted to ask.

Alexei had opted to walk around shirtless, unapologetically drenched, swearing in Russian every time his back stuck to the leather chairs of the common room. You hadn’t seen cotton touch his torso in thirty-six hours.

Ava had tried to stick her head in the freezer at least three times–silent, dead-eyed, standing with the door propped open like a statue. She once murmured, “There’s no use…Not even the freezer can cool me down,” Before slamming the door shut and stomping away angrily.

Yelena didn’t even pretend to tough it out. She booked a hotel in the city with central air and an infinity pool and sent a group text that read: Temporarily unavailable. Followed by a photo of her in a robe, flipping everyone off.

You, on the other hand, were stuck in the sweltering hellhole that used to be the Watchtower. Unfortunately, you had responsibilities. Paperwork, of all godforsaken things–an Everest-sized pile of clearance reports, post-op evaluations, requisition forms, and incident debriefs that needed to be reviewed and signed off yesterday. As you worked through it though you were convinced the paper pile was actively multiplying every time you blinked.

You had stripped down to bare undergarments midway through the first day of this whole ordeal–tank tops and boy shorts, cycling through a mix of fabrics and colours, and faded cotton that clung to your skin within minutes of putting it on. A real outfit felt like a joke at this point. The way your thighs stuck to chairs, the way your bra would turn into a soaked band of torture across your ribs–it was all unbearable. So you stopped pretending, cause everyone had seen you in much less–unfortunately. A little skin in the name of not dying seemed fair game.

You’d made camp in the common room, spread out across the wooden floor: limbs splayed, eyes half-lidded, lips dry, surrounded by open folders and half-filled forms. Your pen was stuck between your fingers, and your knees were damp from the humidity clinging to the floorboards. You used half-complete reports as manual fans, your wrist flicking back and forth in a tired desperate rhythm.

Under the dim overhead lights your skin was shimmering. Sweat collected in the hollow of your throat, slicked down your back in slow, miserable trails, and glistened across your chest in a sheen that was just enough to be maddening.

Especially to Bob.

Bob wasn’t bothered by the heat–not one bit. In fact, he seemed to be thriving in it. While the rest of the compound staggered around like melting wax figures, Bob was walking proof that some unholy fusion of celestial physiology and boyish stubbornness could, against all logic, turn a heatwave into a personal spa retreat. His body already ran hot, warmer than any humans should be, so the shift in temperature just…Matched him. Balanced him. He was in his element. You’d caught him once humming as he refilled your water bottle and didn’t even look winded. It had taken every ounce of your willpower not to throw a folder at him out of sheer spite.

But as much as Bob was coasting through the inferno like a Sun God in July, there was one thing the heat did make difficult, and that was you.

More specifically: being around you without physically attaching himself to every available inch of your skin. And that was a problem. Because all you wanted was to peel your limbs off your own body and shove your head in the freezer next to Ava’s.

The first night the central air had gasped its last breath, you had trudged into your room in a haze of exhaustion and heat delirium. Your tank top was soaked, your shorts were riding up in ways that made you irrationally furious, and your entire back felt like it had been slow-roasted on a rack. All you wanted was to collapse onto your bed, cool yourself down on your fresh pillow, and not die.

Bob had followed in behind you a few minutes later. Barefoot, shirtless in his boxer shorts, and radiating heat like a bonfire. You had barely flattened yourself on the mattress before you felt the bed dip and a very warm, very clingy arm wrap around your middle.

“Bob–no. No. You’re a human space heater. I am going to combust.” He had blinked down at you like you had kicked him, lip tugging downward, but he didn’t retreat. His eyes shimmered slightly.

”Just–Just my arm. I won’t move around and make it hotter! I pr-promise! How about my leg? Just a little le-leg.” You tried to slither out from his trap, but he was persistent, curling his body around you like a cat trying to fit into a shoebox, “You know I ca-can’t sleep without cuddling you…Please.” He begged.

In the end, you had given up just enough to let him have his victory–an arm draped over your waist, a thigh tucked between your sweaty ones. His skin was boiling, his breath stuck to your neck, and you were sweating so much your sheets were damp. But he sighed with such softness and content, like that moment of closeness was everything he needed. And even though you mumbled curses and threatened to sleep on the floor next time, you didn’t push him off.

Now, he was watching you from his usual perch in the common room, planted in one of the worn armchairs, looking relaxed, comfortable-and absolutely lovesick in shorts and a t-shirt.

Every movement made your tank top shift and stick in new ways. A bead of sweat curved down your chest, catching the attention of Bob’s traitorous eyes before he jerked his gaze away, returning it to the book in front of him, like he hadn’t been staring.

You weren’t even trying to be provocative. You were just trying not to pass out. But the heat had made you soft-limbed, loose-spined, and languid. It made you sigh out loud and stretch like a cat, chasing relief. And every time you did, Bob’s eyes trailed after you like he was tethered. He swallowed thickly when you adjusted your posture again, thigh flexing, tank top riding up a bit more, your sweat-dampened back arching ever so slightly as you reached for another form.

You didn’t look at him when you spoke, but your voice was low and teasing. “Your eyes are gonna burn holes in me if you keep staring like that.”

Bob stiffened in his chair, legs snapping closer together. “I–uh. Wasn’t–” You snorted softly, not buying it for a second.

“You forget how I can feel when you’re looking at me.” You said, still not looking up from your papers, “Your gaze is like a goddamn laser. Feels like I’ve got sunburn from the inside out.” You could hear the hesitation in his breath, the soft rustle of fabric as he fidgeted in his seat, gathering the courage to speak. And then–

“Well…Ev-even though you’re melting…” He started, voice cracking like a sun-baked sidewalk, “I still th-think you’re… pretty.” You paused, pen hovering above a requisition form like you were about to stab a signature into it, then slowly tilted your head up. Your eyes locked onto him from across the room, narrowing ever so slightly.

“Bob,” You warned, a soft edge to your voice. “You know I’m a softie for compliments and your face…”

His lips twitched into a nervous smile, hopeful–but you cut him off.

“…But I swear to God, I think I would kill you if you even attempted to take my clothes off to have sex with me right now.” Bob’s lashes fluttered rapidly and he swallowed hard, the book lowering to his lap slightly.

”I-I was just s-saying you looked p-pretty…” He mumbled, face turning scarlet. You squinted, pointing your pen at him accusingly.

”Yes. And then it escalates. It always escalates.” Bob’s mouth opened like he wanted to object, but you were already rolling, “You say I look pretty, then it’s something about how good I look in the outfit I’m wearing–which is barely even an outfit, mind you–then you get all sentimental and say something sappy like ‘I’m so lucky to have a friend like you’ and ‘I don’t know what I’d do without you’ and blah, blah, blah–I’m not falling for it.” Bob looked like a man trying to explain himself at a trial with no legal counsel.

”I–I didn’t–this time, I wasn’t gonna–“ You lifted a brow, and he wilted a little further into his armchair, “Okay…I might’ve said something sappy later…Maybe.” You snorted and went back to fanning yourself with a requisition form.

”Exactly.”

“But–“ He tried, hands wringing in his lap, “You do look really go-good right now. Even with the sweat…And the uh…Paper stuck to your thigh.” He added. You glanced down and sighed, peeling a requisition form off your leg and flinging it to the side. Bob let out a small laugh at the sight, before lowering his voice.

”I really wasn’t trying to escalate. I know you’d kill me if I even–tried. I’d pr-probably turn into the sun the second I touched you.”

“You would,” You replied firmly, wiping a drop of sweat from your collarbone, “I’d light you up like a match.” There was a pause, then he hummed.

”…It’d still be wo–worth it.” You looked up again, slowly. Bob looked sheepish, guilty, and totally sincere.

“You’re lucky I’m too exhausted to throw something at you.” Bob smiled a little wider now, cautiously hopeful.

”Could I at least get a hug?” You groaned.

”No…”

”A sweaty hug?” He corrected, as you dragged your hands down your face, shaking your head. He stood anyway, walking over with slow, careful steps. You felt his shadow fall over you, tall and soft at the edges, and when you peeked up, he was grinning down at you–dimples and all.

”I’ll just hover then,” He said, crouching next to you and pressing a gentle kiss to your temple, tasting a bead of sweat on his lips, before settling down beside your paper fortress, legs stretching out beside yours.

You let out a soft laugh through your nose–quiet, breathy, the kind of sound that would’ve floated past someone else entirely. But not Bob. Never Bob. He absorbed everything you did like a sponge pressed to water–hyper aware, quietly observant, and always aching in the silence between moments. No matter what you were doing, he always made it feel like he was watching an artist paint their biggest masterpiece.

You could’ve been cleaning blood off your boots, half–catatonic from fatigue, or wearing yesterday’s tank top turned inside out, it didn’t matter to him. He looked at you like he was witnessing a miracle, and it was never just lust that filled his eyes, never only want–it was that stunned, adoring kind of interest that made you feel like the world quieted when you moved.

Even now, in this godforsaken heat, when your skin felt slick and your hair clung to the back of your neck, he sat beside you like he was somewhere sacred. His shoulder barely grazed yours, but you could feel it–the press of his attention, the steady warmth of his presence folding over you like a second sun.

And despite your endless complaints, despite telling him time and time again that you were overheating and one more inch of skin contact might kill you, you were glad he hadn’t listened. Not fully. Because the truth was–you liked that he didn’t give you space. Not really. You liked the orbit of him. The magnetism. The strange, constant gravity that pulled him to you no matter the setting.

Ever since the two of you started hooking up though, that tether had only grown stronger. It didn’t matter if you were in bed or on opposite ends of the training floor–your bodies reached for each other instinctively. Your minds always seemed to be aware of one another in a way that felt cellular.

And though you were actively trying not to spontaneously combust under the heat dome that was the Watchtower, though you’d explicitly told him not to try anything, you still craved him. The pull of his voice, the shape of his breath, the way he sat beside you like you were something holy that made him forget himself.

But until something–anything–cooled you down enough not to literally die during sex, you had to suppress it.

You kept working, even as the sweat made your pen slippery in your grip. Even as your thighs stuck to the hardwood and your spine ached from the sticky angle of your slouch. You scribbled notes into the margins of reports for Val–“Slight concussion, extreme belligerence. Unsure if it was the wound.” All the while, you felt Bob watching you.

Now that he was close, it was worse. His gaze was warm. Not burning. Not greedy. But hot–like you’d stepped into late afternoon sunlight and knew it was going to follow you until dusk. He watched the way your collarbone caught the light, the slow trail of sweat that disappeared beneath the line of your tank top, the rise and fall of your chest like a tide he wanted to wade into.

He could smell you now, too. Your body wash–the mix of basil, blueberry, and lemon–had softened and bloomed in the heat, curling around you like a halo of late-summer air. You smelled like a drink he wanted to taste, a memory he wanted to bottle and keep forever. It made his throat feel thick. It made something ancient and hungry stir in him.

You swiped a hand across your forehead again, let out a huff, signed another sheet–and that’s when you felt his gaze sharpen.

”Bob,” You said dryly, not even glancing at him “Keep your eyes to yours–“

”There’s ic-ice in the freezer,” He interrupted, voice cracking slightly like it was tripping on the edge of his desire. You paused, turning your head toward him with a squint.

”Yeah? And why are you bringing that up so randomly?” His eyes widened at bit, then he flushed, his hand coming up to scratch the back of his neck–a tell that he was nervous.

”Maybe I want to…Cool you do–down?” Your eyes narrowed, the corner of your mouth twitching up in slow suspicion.

“Yeah? And how would you do that?” He hesitated–just for a moment–and then leaned in ever so slightly, his voice low, uncertain, trembling with barely-leashed tenderness.

”Why don’t you let me sh-show you?” God, the way he said it–it wasn’t a line. It wasn’t cocky. It wasn’t even seductive in the traditional sense. It was something softer than that. Sweeter. Gentler.

It was Bob wanting to worship, not possess. To soothe, not seduce. It was in the way his voice cracked around the word show, like he meant something more than just a practical gesture. Like he wanted to lay you down and press ice to every patch of you that felt too hot, not to make you moan, but to make you breathe again.

Like cooling you down would be an honor.

He wasn’t talking about sex. Not entirely at least. He was talking about the intimacy of care. The small, slow rituals that said I see you, I know you, I’ll take care of this part too.

You felt it in your spine–the way the suggestion settled, the weight of the moment bending inward like a candle flame curling toward its own wax. You turned your head slowly to look at him and found him already watching you with that same melted-lovely stare. Eyes wide. Lips parted. Hope curling behind his lashes.

He looked like he was waiting for permission to make the heat bearable. Waiting to touch you only if it meant relief.

Your throat worked once, then you set your pen down.

“…Alright then, Bob,” You murmured, tilting your head. “Show me.” Bob shot to his feet like a firework, the shift from softness to sudden motion making you laugh a bit. He offered you both hands, palms open, eyes bright with some boyish spark you hadn’t seen since before the heatwave hit.

“C’mon,” He urged, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips like he was already proud of whatever plan had rooted itself in his head. You glanced down at his hands, then back up at him.

”You’re not gonna do it here?” He shook his head quickly, his light brown, sun-kissed strands of hair flopping slightly.

”Tr-Trust me,” He said with a nervous unmistakable glimmer in his eye, “You want to do it in a be-bedroom.” Your stomach flipped. Not because it sounded dirty–though your traitorous mind was already sprinting toward some variation of shirtless–Bob dripping ice water down your spine–but because of the tone, and the way he said it. So sure. So gentle. So full of barely concealed affection. Your skin prickled from anticipation. He helped you up from the floor with ease, and turned, starting for the hallway.

You followed closely behind, your legs stiff and heavy from too much time on the floor. He stopped at the kitchen, and you caught the distinct sound of the freezer opening, the crinkle of plastic, the quiet clatter of something.

Curious, you poked your head around the corner–only to find Bob standing in front of the counter, brow furrowed in focus, tearing open a large bag of ice with his teeth and pouring generous handfuls into a wide stainless steel mixing bowl. The ice chimed and cracked as it landed, a sound almost obscene in the still, overheated silence of the Watchtower.

Your eyebrows rose.

Bob caught your expression immediately and looked sheepish, shrugging one shoulder at you.

”The mo-more the merrier,” He commented, lifting the bowl like a trophy. You huffed a laugh, low and incredulous.

”This is either going to be really sweet or very dumb,” You muttered, shaking your head as he approached.

”It’ll definitely be both.” He replied, not missing a beat.

He took your hand in his free one, fingers warm and steady even as he balanced the cold weight of the bowl in the other. His thumb slid along your knuckles as he led you back down the hallway, his touch grounding despite the faint sheen of sweat that coated you, it only took a few steps until you finally reached your room.

It was hot there. Thick, slow, swampy heat. The kind that stuck to the corners of the ceiling and refused to move. The blackout drapes you’d thrown up were trying their best, but the sun still managed to bleed in around the edges–gold streaks slicing through the air like knives. The only saving grace was the cracked window above your headboard, which at night had allowed the barest hint of a breeze to creep in. It didn’t help much–but it was something at least.

Your room was a lived-in kind of mess. A fan sat on your desk, humming uselessly. There were two half-drunk bottles of water near your nightstand, a crumpled hoodie discarded on the floor, and the sheets were tangled from restless nights. Still, it smelled like you. That same clean, citrus-sweet scent that clung to your skin. Bob inhaled it without even thinking.

He moved with purpose now, stepping around you to the bed, placing the bowl of ice on your side table before grabbing the nearest towel from your hamper–fresh, fluffy, cream-colored. He spread it over the foot of your bed carefully, smoothing out the creases like he was setting a picnic for something sacred.

“Okay,” He said, crouching slightly and patting the towel with one hand, “You sit th–there. And I’ll sit behind you.”

His voice was soft. Intentional. No teasing now–just quiet care threading every syllable. And it did something to you. Something that reached down into the heat-numbed center of your chest and gave it a gentle squeeze.

You obeyed without a word, stepping forward and sitting on the edge of the bed, the towel rough and cool beneath your thighs. You could hear the clink of ice behind you, the shifting of his body as the mattress shifted under his weight. And then, slowly, the warmth of him pressed close behind–legs on either side of yours, his knees bent so he could sit just barely higher, his breath ghosting near the back of your ear.

”Ready?” You nodded–immediately, instinctively–before the word even had time to form in your mouth.

The air was still thick and stifling, but the anticipation split through it like a thunderclap. You heard the soft rustle of movement behind you–the dip of Bob’s arm into the bowl, the telltale clink of shifting ice. A pause. A breath. And then–

Cold.

Your spine arched in reflex as the first piece of ice touched your upper back, the sensation so stark against your overheated skin that you gasped. The cube dragged in a slow, deliberate line between your shoulder blades, leaving a shivering trail in its wake. Your breath hitched.

Bob’s free hand came to rest against your waist–not forceful, not possessive, but anchoring. His palm was hot, fingers splayed across your damp skin like he needed the contact just to stay grounded.

He was slow with it.

The ice danced across your skin, trailing up and then outward over the curve of your right shoulder blade. And then the left. The path was meticulous, methodical, melting little rivers that trickled down the curve of your back until they disappeared into the band of your tank top.

You shuddered–eyes fluttering shut–just as you felt his breath behind you, warm and steady, before his lips grazed your skin.

Bob leaned in.

And then he licked the droplets off your back.

Your entire body jolted like it had been kissed by lightning. His tongue was hot, a perfect, obscene contrast to the cold that came before it. He followed the rivulets the ice had left behind, slow and deliberate, his mouth brushing against your skin with almost unbearable care. You could feel his breath between licks, the air stirring goosebumps in its wake.

“Jesus, Bob…” You whispered, voice already shaky, barely above a breath.

He didn’t respond. He just kept going.

He trailed the ice once more–lower this time, letting the cold slip just beneath the band of your tank top before dragging it back up in a long, trembling sweep. Then came his mouth again. His lips. His tongue. You felt his teeth graze your shoulder–not biting, just there, like he couldn’t help but taste the saltiness of your skin.

Every time he kissed the water from your spine, it felt like he was drinking in something sacred.

You leaned forward slightly, head bowing as your hands clutched at the towel beneath you. Your breathing was shallow, pulse thrumming behind your ears. Bob’s hand on your waist squeezed just once, steadying you.

And then his voice, soft and low and trembling with something barely restrained, broke the silence against the shell of your ear.

“Take off your sh-shirt.”

It wasn’t a command. It wasn’t even a request.

It was a prayer. A plea.

Like he couldn’t bear the barrier between you a second longer. Like he needed more of you, not just for heat or for want, but for relief. For whatever spell that had overtaken both of you in the dense summer silence of your bedroom.

Your fingers moved before your mind caught up. You gripped the hem of your soaked tank top and–slowly, shakily–peeled it upward. It clung to your skin in stubborn patches, lifting in jerks until it passed over your head, leaving you bare from the waist up. Damp. Glowing. Breathing hard.

Bob’s breath stuttered.

You could feel his eyes on your back–devouring, worshiping, stunned silent. You started to turn your head over your shoulder, to ask what he was thinking–but you didn’t get the chance.

Because the next thing you felt was the ice again–this time sliding down your spine unburdened by cloth. And then his mouth. Hot. Open. Worshipful. He let out a soft moan against your skin, the sound low and trembling like it had clawed its way up from somewhere deep. His breath was hot, reverent. “Tastes s–so good…” he whispered, the words pressed into your spine like a confession–fragile and feral all at once.

You felt the faint scrape of his teeth next, dragging along the sensitive ridge of your lower shoulder blade, making your back arch into him involuntarily. His hand–still splayed wide on your waist–tightened once, then slipped away with purpose. A soft clink sounded beside you. Another piece of ice.

And then–

Cold.

This time, not against your back, but your chest.

You gasped–body jolting forward, spine bowing–as the ice skimmed the swell of your breast. The contrast was devastating. Your skin was already buzzing from the heat and his mouth, but the sudden bite of chill stole your breath.

Bob’s lips chased the line of melting droplets down your spine, tongue trailing them like he was memorizing every bead. Every curve. Every shiver.

And then the second piece of ice–still in his other hand–dragged across your chest in slow, deliberate passes. He brought it lower, tracing under the curve of your breast, then–so slowly it almost broke you–up toward your nipple.

Your mouth fell open. A moan spilled out before you could stop it.

“Bob…H–Holy fuck, Bob.”

You felt the corners of his lips lift where they pressed to your back–smirking. Smug and innocent like he hadn’t just unraveled you with frozen water and heat.

“Wh–What?” He asked, faux-innocent, his voice thick and trembling with barely restrained want.

He circled your nipple with the ice–quick, swirling passes that sent lightning through your chest. Then, without warning, he moved to the other, just as devastating.

“Jesus Christ,” you whispered, half a prayer, half a curse.

Your body leaned back instinctively, seeking him. The moment your spine met his chest, you felt it–all of him. His warmth. The racing thrum of his heart. The hardness pressed beneath his shorts. The quiet tremble in his hands as he reached around you again.

His mouth hovered near your ear.

“Can I…” His voice was barely audible now, so close it vibrated in your bones. “Can I lick the droplets off?”

“Yes,” You breathed, without hesitation. “Yes…”

You felt him smile against your temple. Not greedy. Not cocky. Just grateful. Devoted.

He slipped off the bed slowly, deliberately. His palms ran down your thighs as he sank, and then he was there–on his knees in front of you, golden in the streaks of sun that leaked through the curtain’s edge. His eyes were glassy, wide with awe, his curls damp from sweat, sticking to his forehead. He looked like he was looking at a fever dream.

He reached for the bowl of ice beside him and set it gently on the floor, then looked back up at you with a question in his eyes. You nodded once, breathless.

Bob guided you forward with careful hands, his fingers feather-light beneath your arms as he encouraged you to lean down toward him, your chest close to his lips.

And then–

His mouth latched onto your nipple.

His tongue was warm and needy, lapping at the cold water like it was something holy. You cried out–soft and broken–as he sucked gently, pulling the chill into his mouth and swallowing your heat like he needed it.

At the same time, his hand reached into the bowl and lifted another piece of ice. He guided it slowly to your other breast, circling the nipple with glacial focus, letting it bead and drip while his mouth worked the other in steady, wet rhythm.

Your fingers tangled in his hair.

He moaned softly at that, tongue pressing flatter now, lips tighter, like he couldn’t help himself.

And when you looked down at him, flushed and kneeling between your legs, worshipping you with his mouth and melting ice, you swore you’d never been touched more sweetly in your life.

He pulled off your nipple with a soft, wet pop, licking it one last time, tongue circling tenderly before he released it. His lips grazed the curve of your breast in a gentle kiss, trailing heat in their wake. Then he shifted–slow, purposeful–toward the other, where the ice had melted into a glossy sheen over your skin. He didn’t rush. He paused to admire you, blue eyes glazed with something more than lust–adoration, worship, the kind of awe that made your chest cave in. He was drunk on the taste of your skin, and all he wanted was more.

His mouth sealed around your other nipple with a desperate hunger softened by devotion. His tongue moved languidly, drinking the cold from your body and replacing it with his heat, like he needed to balance you out. As his lips worked, he moved the piece of ice in his hand–down your ribcage, trailing it along the edge of your ribs with devastating slowness.

You gasped when it passed the under-side of your breast, the chill biting in contrast to the molten heat of his mouth, then lower, across the dip of your stomach, inching toward the space just above your navel. You flinched as it reached the sensitive skin right above the waistband of your boyshorts, and he groaned low in his throat in response–like your every twitch was a prayer answered.

Your hands tugged gently at his hair, not to pull him away but to feel something tethered, something grounding, because your entire body was floating–adrift in heat and cold and sensation.

He pulled away from your breast with a breathless sigh, mouth shiny and pink, and leaned in to chase the wet path down your stomach. You watched his tongue trace the same line the ice had carved, warm and wet, mouth open and panting against your navel as he moved lower and lower. Every kiss was a blessing. Every lick, a declaration.

And then he stopped at the waistband.

His nose brushed it gently. His breath was a humid puff across your lower belly. He looked up at you through damp lashes, cheeks flushed, curls curling slightly with sweat, his tongue running absently over his lower lip before he tilted his head–so soft, so careful.

“Can I take these off?” He asked, voice low and quiet, almost bashful despite everything. You nodded immediately, breath hitching.

”Y–Yeah.” He helped you stand with that same steady grace, his thumb sliding along the elastic at your hips, eyes never leaving yours–not even for a second. Then he slowly tugged them down. The fabric peeled from your thighs with a sticky reluctance, damp with sweat and tension and heat. He bent as he went, lowering himself with each inch until he was on his knees again, breath ghosting across your inner thighs.

Your hands trembled as he sat you down at the edge of the bed once more, steadying you with one hand on your hip, the other bracing your thigh. You watched as he pulled your legs gently over his shoulders, a smile coming up on his lips.

Bob’s breath hitched the moment he saw you–already glistening, already soaked, slick with heat and want and sweat. He stared like he couldn’t quite believe you were real, like he’d stumbled into something mythic, something divine. And then, without breaking eye contact, he reached for the bowl.

The ice clinked gently as he dipped his fingers in, searching by feel. When he pulled one out, the cube was already slick in his grip, catching the dim light like crystal. He held it there for a second–then looked up at you.

“C–Can I put this on you?” He asked softly, voice breathless with awe.

You nodded without a pause, lips parted, heart thudding somewhere in your throat. “Yes… do it.”

He smiled.

And then he moved–slow, reverent, a priest in the presence of a miracle.

He brought the ice to your center, resting it just above your clit, and immediately–you felt it. A single drop fell.

You gasped.

The cold dragged across your head, contrasting so violently with the flushed wetness of your core that your hips jerked. Another drop slid between your folds, trailing downward like a teasing finger. Your whole body shivered–and that’s when Bob leaned in.

He licked the first droplet as it passed your clit.

And then he lost himself.

His mouth met you with heat so sharp it made your knees lock around his shoulders. His tongue licked up the length of your folds, slow at first, but with increasing urgency. The chill of the ice was still there–he never removed it, just held it against you, letting it drip while he worshipped you with his mouth.

You moaned–a high, breathless, broken thing–and your fingers dove into his hair, yanking just enough to feel him groan into you. It was obscene.

The ice kept dripping. His mouth kept moving. And the contrast was too much. Cold sliding into hot. Wet meeting wetter. His tongue was everywhere–flicking, flattening, curling against your clit, lapping up the melting droplets like he needed them to survive. Every moan that rumbled from his chest vibrated into you. He wasn’t holding back. He was devouring you.

Feral. Controlled. Utterly consumed.

You tried to speak–tried to tell him how fucking good it felt–but all that came out were broken syllables and a whispered, “Oh my God… Bob, please–”

He answered by moaning into your core, low and guttural, dragging the flat of his tongue up from your entrance to your clit in one long, devastating pass. The ice cube shifted slightly, grazing your skin, making you cry out as your body jolted again.

And then–he slipped two fingers inside you.

You nearly sobbed.

They pushed in slow but deep, curling instantly. He knew exactly where to touch you, exactly how to fuck you with his hand while his mouth never stopped moving. His lips sealed around your clit, tongue swirling, licking away each cold droplet before it even had the chance to fully fall.

“Fuck–Bob–don’t stop, don’t you dare–” You whimpered, legs trembling.

He didn’t.

His fingers thrust harder. His tongue licked deeper. And when you rocked your hips forward–desperate for more–he groaned again, rutting subtly against the bed, lost in the taste of you.

The heat in your belly cracked wide open.

You felt the wave before it hit–felt your thighs tightening, your walls fluttering around his fingers, your back arching towards him.

“Fuck!” You cried, one hand gripping the edge of the sheets, the other twisted tight in his curls. Your orgasm ripped through you like wildfire, your whole body locking up before it collapsed into tremors, your thighs clamped tight around his neck, shaking. He held you through it. Tongue still moving. Fingers slowing just enough to prolong it, to guide you down from the cliff as gently as he’d brought you there.

When your body finally eased, when the waves started to ebb and your limbs stopped trembling, he pulled back–slowly, reluctantly.

His face was soaked.

Completely, reverently drenched. His lips were swollen, his cheeks glistened with your slick, your sweat, and faint trails of melting ice. His eyes were glazed with something carnal, but soft–softer than anything should be after what he just did to you.

He looked like he’d just returned from the edge of something sacred.

He exhaled, licking his lips slowly, pulling his fingers out gently before looking up at you like you’d just changed the orbit of his universe.

“…You ta–taste like fucking salvation,” He whispered, hoarse. Your thighs were trembling, your chest rising in ragged, shuddering breaths, your lips parting in the aftermath of the orgasm he had just wrung from you with nothing but his mouth, fingers, and a melting piece of ice. His tongue darted out again, slowly, to taste the last bead of wetness from your inner thigh.

Then, he lifted his hand–the one still holding the ice cube. It had shrunk to half its size now, slick and trembling between his fingertips. He raised it with the same care you might offer a relic, brushing it over your clit, before pulling it away completely.

”I wa-want you to open your mouth.” He instructed gently. You listened to him without hesitation. Bob brought the ice to his own lips, slipping it into his mouth. His cheeks hollowed as he chewed it slowly, the cold cracking and popping between his teeth. You watched every second like it was a ritual–like he was about to give you something sacred. And he was.

He slid your legs gently from his shoulders and rose to his full height, towering over you in the low, golden light. His face glowed with sweat and flushed a light red, as he cups your cheeks with his hands–fingertips damp, warm, trembling with care–and leaned in until his lips hovered just above yours.

Then–he parted his lips and let the water drip into your mouth.

You moaned at the first taste.

It wasn’t just water. It wasn’t just ice. It was you. Your taste lingered in it–your slick, your arousal, your salt and sweetness and heat. It tasted like shared sin. Like everything Bob had just taken from you with his mouth and was now giving back in liquid communion.

You swallowed slowly, lips brushing his, breath mingling.

And then—he kissed you.

Hard.

It wasn’t careful. It wasn’t sweet. It was intimate, filthy in how much love was packed between teeth and tongue. His lips crashed against yours, his mouth open, slick, tasting of melted ice and you and him. His tongue slid against yours, greedy and slow, like he was still trying to share the taste of you back and forth between your mouths.

You whimpered, hands flying to the waistband of his shorts, tugging at the tie. It loosened easily in your grip, and his hips jerked forward with a soft, broken sound.

Bob panted into your mouth, forehead pressed to yours. “You’re go–gonna get hot again…”

You shook your head, smiling through the haze of pleasure still coiling in your belly. Your voice dropped to a sultry whisper, lips brushing his as you said, “Not if my legs are on your shoulders and you’re fucking me with my hips on the edge of the bed.” His entire body shuddered. His throat bobbed in a tight, desperate swallow. He didn’t even respond. Just–moved.

His shirt was off in seconds, ripped over his head and tossed somewhere you didn’t care about. You moaned at the sight.

You always moaned at the sight.

His chest was flushed and glowing, the heat making every line of him more vivid–shoulders broad, chest rising fast, his skin glistening with sweat and want. And then–his shorts dropped. He stepped out of them like he was shedding a burden. His cock sprang free, hard and leaking, twitching at the air between you. He was painfully ready, his tip flushed, veins prominent along the shaft, his body trembling with restraint he no longer seemed interested in holding.

And still–he looked at you like you were a miracle.

He kissed you again before you could speak, devouring your mouth with a groan, hands gripping your hips with reverent, aching need.

Bob pulled back just enough to breathe, his forehead still resting against yours, his chest rising and falling with ragged urgency. His blue eyes flicked over your face, searching, drinking you in like you might vanish if he blinked. You could feel the tremble in his thighs, the barely-restrained hunger in the way his grip tightened on your hips.

Then–gently–he guided you backward.

Your body yielded beneath his touch, melting into the mattress as your back met the damp sheets. The towel beneath you was bunched and wrinkled now, forgotten. All that mattered was him. The way he looked at you like you were something sacred, and the reverent hush that settled over the room as he bent to his knees on the bed, positioning himself above you.

He slid one arm beneath your thigh, guiding your hips down the bed ever so slightly, adjusting your body with the same care one might use to arrange something fragile–something precious. His touch was patient, but deliberate, until your hips were at the edge of the mattress and your legs could rise, slow and trembling, to rest over his shoulders.

The moment your calves draped across his skin, he paused. His breath hitched. You watched the awe flash across his face as he looked down at you–completely bare, flushed, and glistening with sweat. Your fingers reached for his hand, and he found yours instantly, weaving his fingers through yours, palms pressing tight like a lifeline.

Then–

He pressed his cock against your entrance.

The head of him was thick and hot, sliding slowly through your slick folds, smearing himself in the mess he had coaxed from you with ice and mouth and praise. He nudged your entrance gently, gliding in just enough to make your breath catch. Your lashes fluttered. His hips paused, trembling with restraint.

And then–he pushed.

You both moaned–broken and breathless–as he sank into you inch by inch. The stretch was slow, deliberate, perfect. His cock filled you in a way that made your whole body seize with need, the stretch burning just enough to make you tremble. He pressed forward until he was fully seated inside you–his hips flush with yours, his body rigid above you, the head of him brushing so deep you swore you saw stars.

Your hand tightened in his. His head dropped slightly, lips parting with a shaky groan.

“F-fuck…You feel so good…” He whispered, his voice hoarse, eyes screwed shut in overwhelmed bliss. Then, after a breathless second, he leaned down and kissed your calf–softly, reverently–before he started to move.

The first thrust was slow. Gentle. A pull and press that made your hips rock into his instinctively. He dragged his cock almost all the way out before easing back in, groaning at the way your walls clung to him.

You gasped, back arching. “Bob…”

He began a rhythm. Measured. Loving. Each thrust slow and deep, dragging against every aching spot inside you until your thighs were trembling and your core was fluttering with need. The sounds were obscene–wet, slick, breathless. Every push of his hips made you gasp. Every roll of your body made him moan.

“Feel so perfect,” He panted, his free hand sliding to your waist to anchor you. “So warm…So fucking tight…Fuck–”

He picked up the pace just slightly, hips rocking harder now, deeper. Your body jolted with each motion, the slap of skin against skin echoing beneath the hum of the useless fan in the corner.

Your walls began to pulse around him. You whimpered, breath shattering.

“I’m–I’m close…”

That was all it took for him to unravel a little more.

He let go of your hand and leaned down, bringing his weight forward until your knees were nearly touching your chest, his chest flush with yours, his mouth capturing yours in a kiss so hungry it knocked the breath out of you. He moaned into your mouth as he thrust harder, deeper, every drag of his cock stealing another cry from your throat.

Your legs tightened around his shoulders. His thrusts grew rougher, more desperate.

“I’m go–gonna finish so deep inside you,” He groaned into your mouth, voice low and trembling. “I’m gonna fill you up so fuckin’ deep–you’re ne–never going to get rid of me.” Your entire body convulsed.

The orgasm hit like a wave, hot and endless. Your mouth fell open in a soundless cry as your back arched off the bed and your walls clamped down around him, milking his cock with fluttering, pulsing waves of pure pleasure.

“Fuck–fuck fuck fuck–” Bob gasped, his rhythm faltering. And then–with one final, deep thrust–he came.

He buried himself to the hilt, cock twitching inside you as he spilled into you in thick, hot waves. You gasped as you felt it–his cum filling you, warm and devastating, the heat of it flooding your already over-sensitized body. His cock pulsed with every spurt, deep inside, pressed right against your cervix. Your hands clutched his back, fingers digging into his shoulders as you gasped in pure, broken pleasure.

You could feel it.

The way it filled you. Coated you. Seeped so deep it felt like you were glowing from the inside out.

Bob moaned against your mouth, his hips stuttering once, twice, as he gave you the last of it, trembling. He stayed like that, buried in you, his forehead pressed to yours, your legs still locked over his shoulders.

The room was quiet but for the panting–your breaths, tangled and uneven, and his, rasping against your skin like wind through trees. Your hands slowly began tracing soft, lazy circles along his shoulders, fingertips dragging through the sweat and heat still clinging to his flushed skin. You could feel the way he was still trembling–just a little–from the aftershocks. Every breath he took made his chest rise against yours, pressed so tightly together it was hard to tell where your heartbeat ended and his began.

And then–he laughed.

Quiet and disbelieving. Almost dazed.

You tilted your head, blinking up at him. “What?”

Bob shook his head, curls sticking adorably to his damp forehead, a flushed, crooked smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. His eyes were half-lidded but glowing.

“You ju–just have so much control over me…” He murmured, voice still breathless. “And I lo–love it so much.”

Your lips curled in a slow, sultry smirk. You kissed him–soft and sensual, dragging your mouth across his like you had all the time in the world. You felt him melt into it, sighing, his hips still pressed to yours, his body heavy with contentment and heat.

Then–slowly–you slipped your legs down from his shoulders. The stretch burned instantly, a ripple of dull ache shooting through your inner thighs. You let out a soft groan, your face twitching at the sting.

Bob pulled back, eyebrows immediately knitting in concern. “You okay?”

You nodded, exhaling through the slight discomfort. “Yeah. Just…a little sore from the position. I may be flexible during missions, but when I have the weight of you pressing into me like that…” You gave him a pointed, teasing look. “It’s a different story.”

He flushed at the implication, letting out a shy little laugh before you reached up and brushed a strand of damp hair from his forehead. Your fingers lingered on his cheek, tracing the curve of it with a tenderness that made his lashes flutter.

Bob leaned into your palm instinctively, eyes slipping shut. Then he cracked a smile again, eyes twinkling with something mischievous.

“Y’know wh–what would be great?” He asked softly, voice low and hopeful.

You hummed. “What?”

He leaned forward until his nose brushed yours, his voice a conspiratorial whisper:

“A shower with you… Pr-Preferably a warm one. So neither of us are miserable.”

You huffed a laugh through your nose, shaking your head as affection welled up in your chest. “Sounds good…” You whispered. “Can you carry me to the bathroom?”

His brows raised like you’d just told him the sun rose for him. “Of co–course,” he said with no hesitation, already shifting. “Only you deserve the five star treatment.”

You let out a soft laugh as he gently pulled out, the stretch and warmth making you sigh, his cum slipping and pooling between your thighs with a hot, sticky glide. He moved carefully, placing a kiss on your collarbone before sliding his arms between your back and the mattress.

You yelped lightly as he scooped you up in one smooth motion–like you weighed nothing at all. His strength was effortless, infused with the serum but wrapped in the gentleness that was uniquely Bob. He held you against his chest like you were precious cargo, one hand tucked under your knees, the other cradling your back.

You looped your arms around his neck, resting your chin on his shoulder, your lips finding the warm skin there in a soft kiss. He smiled at the contact, turning his head to nuzzle your temple as he carried you toward the bathroom.

With one foot, he kicked the door open, stepping over discarded clothes and damp towels without missing a beat. The bathroom light flicked on, flooding the space with soft golden glow. You heard the quiet thud of the door shutting behind him and the click of the lock.

The air inside was warm already–trapped heat lingering from earlier, but not unbearable. You felt it shift as Bob moved toward the shower and set you gently on the counter’s edge, making sure you were stable before reaching for the faucet.

The pipes groaned as the water sputtered to life. Within seconds, warm steam began curling in lazy tendrils from behind the frosted glass.

Bob turned back to you with a smile, silhouetted in the hazy light, and asked softly, “Sh-shampoo or no shampoo?”

You grinned, eyes heavy, heart full.

“Shampoo,” You murmured. “Might as well go for the full spa package.”

He chuckled, Bob turned back from the shelf with your preferred shampoo already in hand, fingers slick from the steam curling up around you both. He stepped into the shower first, testing the water with his wrist, then held a hand out for you to follow. You took it wordlessly, skin still flushed and legs still weak, letting him guide you under the cascade of warmth.

The water streamed down your back in lazy waves, soothing the tension from your spine as Bob gently eased your head back beneath the spray. His touch was careful, reverent. Once your hair was wet enough, he tipped the bottle, squeezing a dollop into his palm, and then set to work.

His fingers threaded through your scalp like he was touching something sacred, slow and deliberate, working the shampoo in with gentle pressure. He never scratched too hard, never rushed. It was more massage than anything–his knuckles dragging lazy circles, thumbs brushing along your hairline, his eyes locked onto you the whole time like you were the most important thing he’d ever been trusted to care for.

Just before he let you rinse, he leaned in again–lips pressing to your collarbone in a kiss so soft it barely registered, just heat and breath and affection. And then his voice, low and warm and dripping with adoration, spilled over you like another layer of steam.

“You’re incredible…So fucking beautiful. Yo-You know that, right? So smart…So strong, and you let me–let me to–touch you like this, hold you like this. God, I’m so lucky. You taste like the sun. You feel like home. You make everything good again…”

You huffed a soft breath, overwhelmed and flustered, tilting your head just slightly to rinse the lather away. Bob’s hands helped guide the water down, careful not to splash you in the face. When you blinked through the droplets, still breathless from how he spoke like worship poured from his chest, you couldn’t help but murmur:

“You’re always so soft after sex.”

Bob stilled behind you for a moment, as if processing it. Then he leaned forward, voice tinged with surprise and a faint, teasing pout. “Am I no-not soft any other times?”

You laughed, turning in the warm spray to face him, droplets beading along his flushed collarbones. “You’re soft other times, Bob. But you’re way more soft after sex. Like…Melted marshmallow soft.”

He grinned, cheeks going red as he ducked his head slightly, the water slicking his hair to his forehead. “Well…We are releasing bo-bonding hormones, so…” He said with a small shrug, “How could I not want to be attached to you and be so–soft with you?”

You stepped closer, chest brushing his. Your lips met his in a warm, lingering kiss, water slipping between you as your hands smoothed up his arms. “You’re right…”

What followed was a slow, shared ritual of care. Bob washed your body in sections, treating each limb like it deserved a love letter. He murmured praise against your shoulder, your belly, the back of your knee. His hands glided with reverence, touching as if your skin might flake away like ash if he wasn’t gentle. And when it was your turn, you returned the care—rubbing slow circles into his broad back, tracing over his chest, lathering his curls with the same tenderness he’d shown you.

“You smell like sunshine and sin,” he whispered as you rinsed him off. “Like citrus and heaven. Like something I’m not supposed to touch, but I get to anyway.”

You giggled softly, pressing your lips to his neck. “You’re insufferable.”

“You love it,” He breathed, eyes glowing.

You were just about to pull him into another kiss–foreheads close, smiles sticky sweet–when a shout rang out through the compound, muffled by walls but unmistakably furious:

“WHO TOUCHED MY BAG OF ICE!?”

You both froze.

Then, slowly, your gazes turned toward each other–eyes wide, lips twitching.

“…Oh no,” You whispered.

Bob’s eyes went round with guilt. “I-I’ll buy her another one–”

“She’s gonna kill us,” You said flatly.

And then the both of you burst out laughing, muffling the sound in each other’s shoulders as the water kept streaming, and the heat of the Watchtower still pressed in around you–but somehow, in that tiny sanctuary of steam and love and whispered giggles, you barely felt it anymore.

[spideyjimin]

LOVE AGAIN | kth

—  pairing: taehyung x female reader 

—  genre: established relationship, fluff, and smut 

— rating: 18+ 

—  summary: your boyfriend, taehyung—or captain clumpsy, as you like to call him—is finally home after eighteen long months of military service. when he left, your relationship was new, but the distance only strengthened your bond. with every call, every stolen weekend, the craving slowly and deeply built. now that he’s back, everything you’ve held in finally comes to the surface, and neither of you holds back.

—  words: 5,415

—  warnings: mention of crying, mention of sex, oc is desperate, nervousness, strong language, swearing, some teasing, face riding, oral sex (f. receiving), penetrative sex, unprotected sex, rough sex, good old missionary, multiple orgasms, and creampie

—  author’s note: hiii angels ✨ i hope you’re all doing great!! sooo the boys’ discharges have been driving me wild & i had to write something 🫠 so here you have a pure filthy fic with our beloved taehyung because that man has gone wild!! hope you enjoy it loves ❤️

MASTERLIST

Falling in love wasn’t in your plans. Not until a certain Kim Taehyung appeared in your life. He came into your life in the most surprising and also very embarrassing way.

It was on a rainy friday. It was the kind of day when you felt like the universe was plotting against you to make everything harsh. On that day, work was incredibly intense, to say the least. You’d even cry in the bathroom out of nervousness. It was honestly horrible.

Due to that, you decided to order instead of cooking. There was that cute italian restaurant you especially loved—its food was your go-to comfort when you were feeling down.

You were distracted by your phone, venting about your horrible day to your best friend. And then suddenly, bam! Pasta all over your white shirt and bolognese sauce on his shirt. For a moment, none of you spoke; you were only eyeing each other with pure surprise before you laughed. It wasn’t a forced or polite one. It was a real, ridiculous, and oddly warm laugh.

Taehyung apologized a million times while offering napkins, although his shirt looked far more ruined than yours. He offered to buy you tiramisu to apologize for his clumsiness, but you politely declined because it was also your fault. You weren’t looking where you were going, too focused on your phone.

You ended up sharing a table, paying for each other’s food as an apology for the mess, and somehow, talking to him felt natural. It felt like you knew this man for an eternity. Everything just felt right with him.  

Kim Taehyung had a smile that softened everything and a very contagious laugh. That night was a wonderful one, and it closed what was supposed to be the worst day of your life.

Before you could even understand it, you were meeting him again in that restaurant. Then, met again over coffee at a coffee shop he liked. Then, went for late-night walks where your hands found each other without thinking.

Slowly, that man made you believe in love again, made you see that there was still magic in it. His arms became your safe place, and there wasn’t a day when you didn’t want to find comfort in his hugs.

But life had other plans. It tore him away from you when he was sent to the army for his military service. The man who had just become your lover was suddenly gone for eighteen long months. How were you supposed to live without him?

Well, turns out that it was hard. Obviously, he had some days off and had his phone, but everything was limited. In eighteen months, you barely saw him and talked to him. Whenever he was out, you were always encouraging him to spend it with his family, but he would always find time for you.

During that time, you got to meet his family. Apparently, he wouldn’t stop talking about you to his parents, his mom even begged him to introduce you. After that, he started inviting you over now and then, so he could spend time with you and his family. It made it easier for him.

However, you were more than impatient to see him again, because damn, he was getting bigger and bigger. And it was getting harder and harder to remain composed around him and his family. You’d always get wet, and man, your mind was dirty. And the worst of all was the fact that you never had sex with him. 

Your best friend never understood how on earth you never got that man between your legs. The answer was simple. You got together only a few weeks before he was called to serve in the army. Neither of you was really into having sex early on in the relationship, so nothing happened. But as time passed, you couldn’t help but regret that decision, especially with the way he was getting buffer and broader every time you saw him.

Honestly, you couldn’t wait for his discharge day.

And that day is today.

Well, he has already left, but he’s with his parents and siblings right now. You couldn’t join them because of work, but you promised to spend the night together. Your first night in eighteen months.

Even though you adore this man with your entire soul, you’re nervous. Actually, you’re terrified. And you can’t quite explain why, at least not in a way that makes sense.

Why? Because everything is different now.

When he left, you had only known each other for three months. You were still figuring each other out, still caught in that golden haze of newness. Back then, every touch felt like a discovery. Now? It’s been nearly two years.

So much has changed, and above anything else, he has changed. Although you got to see him here and there when he was off and through a screen during your video calls made on his free time, you noticed how much he was different. He’s been through things you can’t quite picture.

And now, you’re about to spend the night with him like you used to. Tonight, you won’t be hoping this could last because you know the army won’t be waiting for him the next morning. Tonight, Taehyung will stay and will still be here tomorrow morning. 

You stare at your reflection, adjusting your hair for the fifth time already. You quickly check the mirror before looking down at the phone in your hand. It’s a matter of minutes before he opens the door. Your stomach tightens, and your heart pounds like it used to before a first date, but heavier, because this isn’t new love.

You take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself. You know there’s no reason to be this nervous, but you’re too scared of what will happen from now on. You’re too scared that he won’t love you anymore. You’re too scared of everything.

Suddenly, your apartment’s door is cracked open, revealing your boyfriend’s face. He’s still wearing his army uniform, making him look hot as hell. You literally run to the door to jump into his arms. He catches you before you both fall, and the brightest and biggest smile grows on his face.

“I missed you, pasta girl,” he murmurs while holding you tight in his embrace.

“I missed you even more, captain clumsy.”

After your accidental encounter in the italian restaurant, he started to call you pasta girl. In an attempt to tease him back, you started calling him captain clumsy. Those nicknames became your everything during these eighteen long months. They were comforting. They were tiny reminders of where it all began.

For a moment, you both look at each other almost as if you’re trying to realize that you’re finally together after all this time. It actually looks unreal.

“Thanks for your service, Mr. Kim Taehyung,” you decide to tease him as you take a step back. “It was very much appreciated.”  

“You’re welcome,” he instantly replies. “I accept payments with kisses, by the way.”

“Well, not sure if you deserve it,” you clap back. “You left me here alone for eighteen months like I didn’t matter.”

“Eeeh, it’s quite not true, pasta girl,” he begins. “My country got my service, but you always had my heart,” he pauses for a moment. “And I was always running to you whenever I could.”

A smile creeps onto your face. You love teasing him. It helps to calm your nerves, especially when you’re around this ridiculously handsome man. He’s far too good-looking for his own good.

You still remember how nervous you were on your first date. You couldn’t stop thinking about how attractive he was, and for a moment, you even wondered how someone like him could be interested in someone like you. But you quickly pushed that thought away.

“Well, just for that,” you begin, “you deserve your kisses.”

The man doesn’t waste a second before crashing his lips on yours. It starts with tenderness, and you basically melt while kissing him. His hands find your waist, pulling you closer as if he’s afraid you’ll disappear, and your fingers curl into the fabric of his white shirt.

However, the kiss quickly turns into an urgent, almost desperate one. It’s as if he has been holding back for far too long. There’s nothing careful about the kiss. It’s messy, a little breathless, and full of all the months you spent apart and all the words you didn’t say.

When you pull back, he presses his forehead against yours, his fingers brushing your cheeks. For a moment, neither of you speaks. It’s like you’re both afraid to ruin this moment if you dare to speak.  

“God, I missed you,” his voice is low and rough. “Like really miss you.”

“Me too,” you whisper.

It was such a weird feeling to see your boyfriend knowing that in a couple of hours he’ll be leaving for weeks. You hated the time he was in the army.

“Sometimes I wish we had met a lot earlier,” you confess.

Taehyung is fully aware of your feelings. You told him like a hundred times, and he feels the same, but he fully believes this was meant to be. It was hard for him, too, to spend so little time with you for the past eighteen months, but those were the memories he cherished the most.

“Especially because it was torture to see you changing so much and holding back every wild thought that would cross my mind,” you continue.

Now that he’s finally here, you feel like you can say out loud what has been going through your mind for the past months.

“Oh,” he says with obvious surprise. “You’ve been having wild thoughts,” he repeats while a smirk arises on his face. “What kind of thoughts?”

Honestly, you don’t feel shy at all. You’ve been wanting to have his magic stick in you for months, and you deeply hope you’ll be having it soon. If it’s tonight, even better!  

“Well, at first, it would be thoughts of you naked,” you begin. “Your hands on my thighs, inching higher, just brushing where I wanted you most. And eventually, it was you inside me. Again and again.”

Taehyung is caught off guard by your boldness, but he’s absolutely liking it because damn, he has needs too. His mind has been driving him way too crazy. He’s been thinking about all the possible ways of having you while he was serving his country.   

His eyes darken, his jaw tightens, and you can practically feel the heat rolling off him. His lips get closer to your ear, his breathing caressing the skin of your neck. You feel goosebumps appearing all over your body. It’s crazy how this man makes you weak.

“You have no idea how badly I’ve desperately wanted to feel your pussy around my cock.”

He lets his hand rest at your waist, fingers tightening, and you almost moan with how tightly he’s holding you.

“I’ve imagined every part of your body, every sound you’d make. It’s driven me crazy.”

His breath is warm, his body taut with restraint, but barely.

“I need to have sex with you tonight or I’ll die,” he finishes.

You’ve dreamed of this reunion with him, but you never pictured it this way. You never imagined him being as desperate as you. And fuck, you want to have sex with him.

You grab his hand before guiding him to your bedroom. There’s no more time to waste. Not after eighteen months of late-night calls, quick visits, and longing that never quite went away. Taehyung follows without question, his fingers tightening around yours. You can feel the tension radiating off him. It’s the kind that has been simmering beneath the surface for far too long.

The moment your bedroom door closes behind you, the air shifts. His eyes roam over you like he’s trying to memorize every detail. You pause near the bed, turning to face him. Neither of you speaks, but everything is being said. In your breathing. In your gaze. In the heat of your skin.

You take a step closer. He meets you halfway.

“Are you sure?” he murmurs, voice husky and uneven, as if he’s giving you one last out.

You just reach for him, pulling him closer until there’s no space left between your bodies, until he can feel just how sure you are. You waited long enough. Now, it’s time to feel.

“Absolutely.”

“Okay,” he says instantly. “Then, remove your pants and underwear and sit on my face.”

Your boyfriend lies in bed, and without thinking, you follow his orders. As your eyes scan the man lying on your bed, you lick your lips before placing yourself over his head. Taehyung looks ethereal even with his army uniform.

Your heart starts pounding fast because you’re about to have sex for the first time with him, and honestly, by the looks of it, it doesn’t seem like a first time.

Neither of you is a virgin. It’s a fact that you shared quite early on, but you’ve never done it together, which can make you a bit nervous. You know nothing about his preferences or if you’re even compatible. All you know right now is how desperate you are to have him inside you. All you want is for him to calm the fire inside you.

“I hope I’m not going to suffocate you,” you teasingly say as you slowly bring your core closer to his face.

“I absolutely don’t care about that,” he honestly replies. “Suffocate me as much as you want, I’ll be happy.”  

His hands move to your hips, guiding you down to get closer to his face. The sweet scent of your arousal makes him hungry, like really hungry. He wants to suck and lap all your juices until his lips are only covered with your arousal. 

“Your cunt smells so good, pasta girl,” he whispers against your core. 

His nose brushes against your core, a small moan leaving your lips at the sensation. As he hears the barely audible moan, he deliberately breathes against your throbbing core, the cool air sending shivers down your spine. There’s absolutely no doubt that this man knows how to pleasure a woman.

“You’re already so fucking wet,” he mumbles with a growing smirk on his face.  

Well, being around this man always gets you wet, and if on top of that he’s wearing his military uniform, then, you’re soaking wet.

“Not my fault if you’re so damn sexy,” you reply.

Before you can even process what is happening, he wraps his lips around your clit, sucking at it. The man doesn’t even give you the time to breathe or to realize what’s going on. His nose tingles your core, sending goosebumps throughout your entire body. You bite your lower lip to suppress any moan from falling out of your mouth.

With your previous partners, being loud in bed was apparently not a good thing. That’s what they told you, and moaning during the act also felt almost wrong. The only thought that others could hear you was uncomfortable.

Automatically, you bury your hand in Taehyung’s hair, pulling it as he laps your sensitive clit with his tongue. A groan rumbles from his chest, the sound vibrating against your skin, which sends shivers down your spine. You close your eyes to savor having him under you with his nose in your core.  

This right here with him feels quite special, especially since he’s giving you quite a lot of pleasure with his mouth and nose alone. What would it be once he’s going to be buried deep inside you?

After a little while, he buries his tongue in your hole, causing fireworks inside you. The man laps at your arousal as if his life were at stake. In some way, it feels like he’s trying to make up for the time when you weren’t together. Today is all about taking care of you. 

His eyes glance up at you, enjoying the way your body is contorting with pleasure. An evil smirk appears on his face while he keeps lapping at your juices. Your back arches, causing you to push your pussy closer to his mouth. He instantly notices the way you’re holding back your moans.

“Don’t hold back, babe,” he mumbles against your core. “Scream as loud as you desire.”

“No,” you shake your head while completely lost in your pleasure.

He pushes his face away from your pussy, and his eyebrows furrow. He’s not understanding why you’re holding back. It’s a first time for him. His previous partners were loud as fuck, and it was also an indicator for him to know if he’s doing well or not.

“Why?” he asks.

“It makes me uncomfortable,” you admit. “And my exes made me understand they didn’t like it.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes. He’s heard your stories about your exes, and he hates them all. They were all assholes; he always feels sorry that you had to deal with guys like them.

“They were wrong, my love,” he says softly. “If it makes you uncomfortable, I’ll never push. But just so you know, I don’t mind it. Not at all,” his voice gets deeper and lower. “Actually, I’d love to hear you moan.”

His words make you blush. You never thought that a man would ever say that because you always believed that men hated a vocal woman. But Taehyung is proving you completely wrong.

“Okay,” you nod.

He offers you the prettiest smile before settling back to his previous position, which is his face pressed against your pussy. He’s lapping at you like there’s no tomorrow, and his words echo in your mind so you don’t bite your lower lip anymore. You try as well not to hold back any moan.  

“You’re so pretty,” Taehyung mutters against your core. 

Slowly, you start rolling your hips over his head, your hand running through your hair to push it back so it doesn’t stick to your face as you start to sweat. The moans start to leave your lips as the wave of pleasure begins to build strongly in your lower stomach. A smile grows on his face when he hears the sweet sounds you’re making.

His eyes glance down with marvel at your core. Everything about you is extremely wonderful. This man loves you with his entire soul, and most of the time, he wonders how he survived all this time without you by his side. You’re so fucking beautiful, and it was hard to keep his hands to himself.  

Taehyung senses the orgasm building stronger inside you at an extremely fast pace. Your body is moving more and more, your walls are clenching way too much, and your moans are also getting high-pitched. The man starts to suck harder on your core to make you come all over his face. That’s all he wishes for right now.  

Your free hand goes to the headboard of the bed to hold yourself onto something. The man below you is sucking and lapping every single drop of your arousal, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. It’s a matter of seconds before you come undone all over his face. But that’s what you both want.

“Fuck, Taehyung,” you mutter as your hips slowly roll desperately over his face. 

Your boyfriend detaches his mouth when your legs start shaking, indicating that your orgasm is finally hitting you intensely. His name leaves your mouth when the wave of pleasure explodes inside you, your back arching even more, and you close your eyes to enjoy every second of it. 

Your arousal leaks over his pretty lips while he watches with marvel the way you come over his face. Nothing makes him prouder than giving you such an intense orgasm for the first time. And man, the way you look when you’re on cloud nine is honestly the prettiest thing he has ever seen.

Taehyung moves under you, your core now pressed against his covered chest. It takes you a moment to come down from your high, and he can even feel your wall clenching against his toned chest. His hands caress your hips, trying to bring you comfort as you come down. His eyes never leave your pretty face. 

“Would you like to keep going?” 

He wants to be sure that you really want to have sex with him. Of course, it’s pretty obvious you want more, but who knows, maybe you’d like to stop here. He’s not going to force you to do anything; he has never been like that. 

Your eyes open to look at the man under you. His lips are all wet with your arousal, which honestly looks pretty good on him. Anything looks good on him.

“Yes, I want it,” you bend down, your face getting closer to his ear, “captain clumsy,” you whisper with a smile on your face. 

Taehyung bites his lower lip, goosebumps appearing all over his body with the way you just whispered “captain clumsy”.

“You’re such a tease,” he says before pressing his lips against yours.

When your lips meet, you instantly taste yourself. Again, this is new to you. Your exes weren’t the type to go down on you. They’d prefer to go straight to the penetration as they preferred it, but damn, being eaten out is way more worthy than any dick inside you.

“Let me undress, my love,” he says while tapping your tights.

You move aside to let him stand up. In seconds, he strips off all the pieces of clothing from his body, leaving no room for imagination anymore. The man standing in front of you isn’t just the charming guy you met in that italian restaurant anymore. He’s transformed.

His body is sculpted and more powerful. His chest is broader, his arms thicker, every muscle defined and glistening, and veins trail down his forearms, rising slightly beneath his skin in a way that makes your breath catch.

Then, your eyes slowly look down, and you freeze. There it is. The beast he’s been hiding from you for nearly two years. And it’s a lot. You’re not even sure how he managed to tuck that away in his military uniform.

“That’s huge,” you mumble.

“Yeah,” he replies with a grin. “That’s what people usually say.”

You raise an eyebrow, your eyes now moving up to meet his gaze.

“Oh? So people just casually admire your dick like it’s no big deal?” you ask in a teasing tone.

Your boyfriend rolls his eyes while shaking his head.

“Totally. I made it a habit to walk around naked during my military training.”  

“I’m sure they were all grateful for that,” you chuckle.

“Obviously,” he smirks.

Taehyung gets closer, like dangerously close, before his body hovers over yours. You fall backwards, your back pressed against your mattress. The smirk on his face turns into the softest smile.

“I wish I could have been there,” you smile at him as your hands cup his cute cheeks.

His hand gently caresses your face. It’s weird to think you’re about to share a very wild moment while he’s simply adorable right now.

“If you were there, I would have never been able to serve my country,” he admits. “I would constantly have had my hands all over you.”

You chuckle, but honestly, you know you would have never let him do his job because you’d always be around him. Most probably, he’d be tired of seeing you all the time, and probably would find you too clingy.  

Your boyfriend presses a sweet kiss on your lips, but it quickly takes a steamy turn. His fingers visit your wet core while still kissing you, and the cold sensation of his fingers makes you moan. A moan that he instantly swallows.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he mumbles.

“It’s always the case around you,” you admit.

“Naughty girl,” he teases.      

Before you can say anything else, he slides his length along your folds, teasing you and covering it with your arousal. As he does so, a soft whimper leaves your lips, your body aching for more. His eyes drop to where your bodies are meeting, watching the way your wetness clings to him.

Damn, you’re both barely holding it together. The anticipation is thick, and the thought of finally having him inside you makes your walls clench around nothing.

After a few seconds that feel like an eternity, his gaze lifts to meet yours again. His eyes are dark and filled with lust; he’s definitely desperate to push himself deep inside you. And there’s no doubt in either of your minds. He’s seconds away from giving in to the need to bury himself deep inside you.

“Ready?” he asks.

You simply nod. You’re actually more than ready for this. You’ve been craving this moment for months now.

With his hand still on his thick cock, he guides it to your soaked pussy before burying it inside you, stretching your velvety walls. His large hands find their way to your waist, caressing your soft skin while his eyes filled with lust look into yours. Both of you groan as he slowly pushes his long and thick cock inside you.  

“Fuck,” you mumble as your eyes roll back. 

The monster between his legs looked big before, but now, as he slowly pushes himself inside you, he feels even bigger. It’s overwhelming, but definitely in a good way. And above anything else, it feels simply right to have him inside you.

He pushes his dick as far as possible inside you, filling you up to the brim. This is definitely quite something. None of the guys you previously dated were this huge, but damn, this is incredible. Your pleasure is reaching levels you never knew existed, and he has only pushed his length inside you.

“Oh fuck,” he swears. “This feels so fucking good.”    

As you hear his words, your walls clench around his cock, causing him to moan. 

“Don’t torture me, pasta girl,” he groans, his voice rough around the edges. “If you keep going, I’ll come and completely embarrass myself.”

“I wouldn’t judge you,” you murmur, hand gently trailing over his chest.

“Yeah, but…” he leans in, brushing a kiss against your cheek, “I kind of want to impress you. First time and all.”

The wink he throws you makes your heart flutter.

Before you can add or say anything more, Taehyung slowly pushes back, leaving only the tip of his cock inside you. His eyes never leave your figure, watching you with delight.

He brutally pushes his cock fully inside you, a loud moan leaving your lips. For a little while, he doesn't move, hovering over you before his lips meet yours again for a sloppy kiss. Slowly, his lips move down to your collarbone, leaving sweet kisses all along. 

“Are we going to stay like this all night long?” you raise an eyebrow.

“Looks like someone is desperate,” he chuckles.

“I’ve waited so so long for this, Taehyung,” you confess with some desperation in your voice. “I can’t wait any longer.”

For a second, his eyes get lost on your body, groaning as he watches himself buried deep inside you. This is a sight he has desperately craved over the last months. His mind was going absolutely crazy, knowing that it wasn’t going to happen before his discharge.

“Let’s go then,” he says.  

He instantly pulls back brutally before slamming himself back into you. He leans closer again before licking the spot just under your ear. His hands slowly travel down your body to rest on your waist while his hips slowly thrust into you. The slick sound of your pussy soaking his cock as well as your moans quickly fill the bedroom. 

The feeling of his cock filling you up, his hips hitting against yours with every thrust he makes causes sparks of pleasure to shoot throughout your body, your arousal dripping from your core and creaming his cock. He licks his lips as he notices the sticky mess you’re causing. 

His cock is buried deep inside you, brushing against your walls which only causes you to moan even louder. You grip the sheets as hard as possible to steady yourself from Taehyung’s hard thrusts. 

This first time with your boyfriend tastes like heaven. It was an absolute torture to wait all this time, but god, it was worth it.

His hands press harder into your skin when he feels your walls tighten around him. Every time he pushes his hips back, he watches with delight the way his cock is completely covered with your arousal. It’s driving him so crazy.

Gradually, Taehyung thrusts into you harsher and harder. Even though you’re not holding back any moan, it feels so weird to be moaning louder and louder.  

Your walls suck his cock as he slams his hips into you harshly. His hands can feel the way your body quivers with each thrust, the way you’re losing yourself further into pleasure. 

“Fuck,” he groans when he feels the warmth of your walls wrapping tighter around him. “Your cunt is clenching so hard, my love.” 

As you glance up at him, you can’t help but find him extremely attractive. His eyes stare down at you with so much passion and desire as his tongue licks his lower lips. He keeps growling your name, thrusting into you with more urgency. Quickly enough, you feel the orgasm building within you.

“I’m gonna come so hard, captain,” you tell him.

His fingers move along your body before pinching your nipples while his cock twitches inside of you at your words, a low groan rumbling in his chest.  

“Don’t hold back, pasta girl.”

Since he wants to torture you more and more as you get closer to your orgasm, one of his hands slowly goes down on your body, landing on your throbbing clit. His fingers start to rub your sensitive spot as his cock keeps slamming roughly inside you. 

His fingers on your clit cause your orgasm explode intensely, making you come hard around him. Your walls squeeze him over and over again while you come all over him. 

Taehyung doesn’t stop at all. Actually, he speeds up the pace of his hips, chasing his own orgasm. The coil in his lower stomach tightens inside of him, completely clouding his thoughts.

The second his eyes look at the mess your orgasm is doing, breathy whines leave his pretty lips. He groans when his orgasm hits him hard, your name rolling off his tongue. His eyes roll back with pleasure as his body tenses up and paints your walls white. The feeling of his semen being released inside you almost makes you come all over again.

Taehyung collapses next to you, both your bodies covered in sweat. This was definitely intense, but honestly, a perfect first time with him. You both look at the ceiling while catching your breaths.

“The wait was definitely worth it,” you whisper while turning your face to look at him.

“It was,” he agrees with you.  

He turns his head too, eyes meeting yours with a softness that makes your chest ache. This man looks cute after being absolutely wild and dangerous.  

“You were worth it.”

You smile, your fingers instinctively reaching for his. He laces them with his own, still slightly trembling from the intensity of what just happened. You don’t understand how you got so lucky to have him. This restaurant incident will forever be the best moment of your life. No matter what.

“I still can’t believe you’re here,” you say, voice barely above a whisper. “I kept replaying this moment in my head so many times, and now it’s finally real.”

He lifts your joined hands to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

“It’s real,” he whispers before pressing another kiss. “I’m home.”

You both fall into silence again, but it’s not awkward at all. It’s just a moment where you take the time to process what just happened. After eighteen months of waiting for his return, you still need some time to fully understand that he’s here. He’s all yours now.

“So,” he lets out a breathy laugh. “Do I get a second chance to impress you?”

You grin, heart fluttering all over again.

“Only if you think you can top that.”

[munsonify]

drunk call

pairing. bucky barnes x fem!reader

summary. when you’re in need of a safe way home from the bar, the first person you think of in your drunken haze is bucky, who comes to get you in an instant

content warnings. sm fluff, unestablished relationships, pining, idiots in love, alcohol consumption, r being super drunk lol, thunderbolts era bucky, softie!bucky (my beloved), slightly affectionate&touchy reader (sfw), pet names (sweetheart), r being called pretty, not proofread

word count. 1905

a/n. thunderbolts era bucky and tfatws bucky are rotting my brain away i love him your honor. not proofread

———

admittedly, you’d maybe had one too many drinks tonight.

when you received a text from an old friend of yours saying she was in the city, claiming she had the night free, of course you were going to make some time to see her. it was a night well spent at the bar, too. the drinks were good, you’d caught up on a lot of life with her, jokes were thrown around that had you both doubled over in laughter in the small booth you were cozied up in. the odd glances thrown your way at your giggles only made things worse for the two of you.

your friend called it a night around 11. the only reason she was in the area was for work, and with her luck, they’d scheduled her with a meeting very early the next day. it was time for her to head out, especially now that her boyfriend had arrived, ready to carefully help her to their hotel.

“do you want me to stay?” your friend slurred, grabbing ahold of her boyfriends arm as he guided her up to her feet. “we can stay. wanna make sure you get home safe.”

“i’m okay,” you told her, a genuine, reassuring smile on your face as your words slurred just as bad as yours. “promise i’ll get home safe, i’ll text you when i do.”

the way you rose to your feet wasn’t the most elegant, though you fit right in with the atmosphere. you wrapped each other up in a large hug, bidding each other a giggly goodbye, promising to keep in touch. her boyfriend gave you a small wave before he helped her out of the bar and away from your sight. that’s when you let yourself slide back into the booth, fumbling with your purse in search of your phone. your promise was true to her, you were going to get home safe. while you only stayed a few blocks away from the bar, you weren’t quite comfortable walking home in the state you were in, not like you’d walked there three hours ago.

your mind slipped straight to the thought of bucky as you pulled up your contacts, searching for his name and number. your thoughts often slipped to the man, it was hard for them not to. in the few months you’d known the man, living in the rebuilt avengers tower, you grew quite fond of him. it was a little unexpected.

you weren’t searching for anything romantic when you’d somehow stumbled upon the new team. you were focused on a list of other things - your mental health, your career (though being a now nearly full-time superhero wasn’t exactly what you’d envisioned), your hobbies -, so it caught you off guard when you noticed your growing feelings towards bucky. you began to seek him out in a way you hadn’t with anyone else. despite being a little tough and uptight at times, not really the most talkative person ever, he was kind. he had a nice sense of humor, too. dry, sarcastic, a little playful. at times, you were convinced that playfulness with you bordered flirtation.

that’s why you had found your way to bucky again in your drunken mind. you always felt oddly safe with him, anyways. it was comforting how protective he could be, a subtle sort of thing that you admired about him. you pressed your phone against your ear rather harshly as you listened to your phone ring a handful of times. the noise had you zoned in to the point you barely noticed he’d picked up, a curious ‘hello’ ringing into your ears. your body straightened up at the sound of his voice, a dopey smile finding your lips.

“hey!” you said cheerfully, hand gripping your phone tight as you began rambling to him in an obvious slur. “i’m so sorry if you were asleep or if you’re busy, but i’m kinda really drunk right now, i’m a few blocks away at a bar. is there any chance you’d, i dunno, come get me and walk me home? so i’m not alone? it’s totally okay if not!”

you realized how desperate you must sound calling him like this. you weren’t sure if he’d caught on to your slightly obvious feelings for him yet, but if he had even an idea that you might like him, this call was incriminating. you were calling him of all people, rather than simply calling a cab or an uber, or even just sticking it out and walking anyways.

“of course,” bucky told you as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. his response was immediate, without a second thought. those two words alone made your heart flutter inside of your chest. you passed along the name of the bar, one he’d remembered from passing so many times. he knew his way around the city well, and promised to be there in 10.

the moment you’d hung up the phone, soft giggles slipped from your mouth, the same wide smile on your face still present. you ordered yourself one last drink while you waited, closing your tab while you were up before you left and forgot. you sat in your booth in silence as you waited, gaze settling on to the drink that you sipped on. your body was beginning to feel a little heavy, the alcohol and your sleepiness starting to settle in now that you weren’t so focused on an ongoing conversation.

you were so zoned in, in fact, that you didn’t realize bucky had finally found his way to the bar, beelining to you in a slow, steady strut. his head tilted to the side when he stopped at your table, biting back a smile. you still hadn’t noticed him yet.

“hey there sweetheart,” bucky spoke smoothly, sliding on the opposite side of the booth. he noticed you still had a drink and decided to give you time to finish. your head shot up to look at him, eyes wide and gleaming the moment you recognized his voice. you gave him the same dopey smile you had when you’d called him. “mind if i take you home?”

you giggled at his words, biting your lower lip as you began to put on a show, thinking a little for a response you already had. you gave him a hum, words slurring still as you respond. “well i suppose so.”

you sipped the rest of you drink away after you spoke, quickly wiping away the drop that slipped from your lips clumsily. whether that clumsiness was because you were drunk or because bucky made you nervous, you weren’t quite sure. regardless, your nose scrunched up a little in embarrassment, trying your best to shake it off. he didn’t seem to mind or even notice. bucky had a small, content smile on his face, his blue eyes shining gently as he gazed at you.

the moment you set the glass down, his fingers found their way to it, taking it into his hand. he pushed himself back up from the worn booth, watching as you fumble to grab your purse and phone. the hand bucky offered up was his left. the metal felt nice against your buzzing warm, buzzing skin as you accepted it, letting him assist you to your feet. despite how hard the metal was, he was gentle with the way he held your hand, guiding you towards the bar again to give the bartender your empty glass.

bucky’s hand left yours, only to grasp ahold of your purse and your phone to carry it for you. he helped you towards his right side, wrapping that arm comfortably around you, hand bracing your waist as respectfully as he could. he began walking the two of you out the bar and onto the streets in a comfortable silence neither of you broke. you began leaning into him, still a little unsteady on your feet as you stumble slightly down the street.

your head eventually found comfort in bucky’s shoulder, the weight becoming nearly too much for you to bear on your own. you missed the way he smiled, small and proud as he continues to guide you through the city. that’s when he started to speak in a low mumble, voice deep, his tone sending shivers down your spine.

“you look pretty tonight,” bucky complimented, his head turning to look down at you fondly. it wasn’t often he got to see you like this, a little skirt he’d helped you pull back down into place just a minute or two previously. the shirt you wore was a little low cut, too, just enough to show some cleavage. that’s not why he gave you the sentiment. he rarely got to see you put together. it was usually sweaty work out clothes or bloodied uniforms he saw you in. this was a nice change.

bucky watched the way you smile wide, nose scrunching up again at his words. you tilted your head up to see him, sincerity laced in every inch of his face. while collecting your thoughts, you pressed your cheek into his arm as you stare up into his eyes, clinging to his body for dear life as you try not to fall. his strong arm kept you upright, though, careful not to let you drop to the ground.

“thank you,” was all you could manage out in a small voice, a hand of yours gently grasping at the sleeve of his leather jacket. it was then that you’d finally made it to the rebuilt tower, bucky swiping the both of you in, before holding the door wide open for you. he watched the way you stumbled into the building with an appreciative smile, before looking back at him expectedly. you had your hand extended outwards for him, searching for his touch

bucky took your hand without a second thought, letting his fingers intertwine with yours, before you guys made your long way towards the living quarters. even when you’d entered the elevator, three empty walls and a long railing for you to grasp ahold of to find your footing, you still held onto him. he was already helping you, anyways, so why would you let go now?

he continued to walk you out of the elevator when it’d reached high inside of the tower, helping you all the way to your bedroom door. bucky positioned you in front of him, letting go of your hand only to reach to your hair, tucking pieces behind your ear and out of your face.

“think you can find the rest of your way?” he asked, his hands smoothing down your hair once, before dropping it to his side. you gave him a lazy nod, eyes beginning to droop with exhaustion.

“yeah, i think should be fine,” you answered, offering a small smile. before you could overthink, you took two steps forward, arms reaching up to wrap around bucky’s shoulders. he blinked a few slow times, arms finding their way around your torso carefully as he embraces you. he tugged you a little closer to him, letting his chin rest gently on top of your shoulder. the hand that wasn’t holding your belongings smoothed up your back, a weak attempt to soothe you.

“thanks for walking me home, buck,” you whispered. “it means a lot. you’re a great guy.”

“anytime, sweetheart. just give me a call and i’ll be there.”

[kaiasky]

on the one hand. yeah.

on the other hand I remember when I was maybe 12 the topic of assassinations of Iranian nuclear scientists came up at dinner w/ some family friends. (these friends are staunch pacifists so the context was presumably "god dammit, iran/israel, do not start a war")

& i remember being incensed like. science=good, scientist=non-millitary, the scientists are the good guys whoever killed them is evil. simple. fucking solved.

& yknow I think the family friend could have easily said hey kaia. do u know ANY facts about the Iranian nuclear program? about Iran or Israel in general?? no? ok shut up adults are speaking.

but to his enormous and eternal credit he was like ok kaia that may be right. are there any kinds of science that hurt people? If there was a scientist that was making a really bad disease and wanted to release it, would you call the cops on them? Ok what if they were making the disease for the cops to use so the cops said it was ok?

& idk, just generally works through baby's first introduction to "sometimes scientists are embroiled in the defense industry. and so while you're right that they're civilians I don't think we need to say that the side with the scientists is the good side, sadly. (and if you grow up to be a scientist you might need to decide what is the right way to do science.)"

ig the point is like? the internet is always gonna be a mix of people of different ages at different placed. for most of us, "we don't bomb people just because the government is bad" is pretty obvious. but for each person there was a first time hearing somebody make that case. whether that was in 1970 or 2004. & idk, yeah there are people who are old enough they ought to have got the message by now. but maybe they're newly ready to actually understand, etc.

idk. the curse of being right about shit is being condemned to explain it over and over forever. but that's just life

i kind of feel like if you take "don't bomb iran" as an endorsement of the iranian government, you're not intellectually ready to engage in conversations about real-world politics. Go talk about steven's universe instead

[vampmira]

put up your hands if you're my bff!

after their new global blow up in popularity, huntr/x get a call from bobby, announcing their new "co-manager in training". you're overly awkward with each other until he finds the ultimate solution – a sleepover.

pairing: platonic!huntrix & gn!manager!reader

warnings: movie spoilers

a/n: there's sprinkled korean in here — in hangeul, romanized, and translated — if that matters. lowk it's so i can practice my korean again 😭 also this one's longg i got excited to write again

a quiet penthouse in the center of seoul doesn't stay quiet for long; not when huntrix, one of the bigger girl groups of their current generation, just finished another perfect concert. their fans disburse through the streets, traffic picking up faster than the speed of light. there are groups of lightsticks along the sidewalks lighting their way home and the girls are doe-eyed as they look out the window at what's bloomed below them.

"they're so cute when you think about it." rumi leans against the window, voice soft and arms crossed in her tanktop and train pants. "getting with their friends, coming out to see us?"

"IT'S SO PRECIOUS!!" zoey's eyes are swallowed in tears as she wildly wipes them away with her arms. their lavender leader pets their youngest's head, demon marks sparkling in the moonlight.

mira looks on at the groups of fans, smiling against each other, protected under the golden honmoon, and nearly cries herself before her phone vibrates — a video call coming in, unfiltered by her activated do not disturb setting. she slides it between the three of them, answering immediately.

"hi bobby!" they respond unanimously to their manager.

"my girls!! you three were INCREDIBLE tonight, as always!" streetlights flash across his face, illuminating his proud smile. "listen! i know it's been a crazy night but i have a liiiiittle favor to ask– SO SMALL, you'll barely even notice it!"

the girls gather on their couch. bobby never asked them for much – maybe for them to stop playfully kicking each other in their makeup chairs or to drink water after concerts or to lean on him if they ever need anything – but never big favors. regardless, huntrix knew they'd do just about anything for him. he's always taken care of them on their best and worst days. their number one behind the scenes, from the stressful rush of comeback season to the grueling nights of unending practice when he waits for them in the car outside until 2 in the morning. so when they gathered the screen and told him to "hit them" with his favor, they knew one thing.

nothing would be too much for bobby.

then they met you.

not you as in you yourself, but you as in their new manager.

"a junior co-manager to even out some of the work around here!" bobby exclaimed when he entered the room. the girls tried not to stiffen when meeting you, this brand new stranger in their home, but their introduction was clunkier than it is on tv.

mira came in too early, rumi came in too loud, zoey came in too late.

"hello-" "hello, we are- are huntrix!" "hun.. huntrix...?"

they physically cringe at the memory.

there were bumps in the road getting you comfortable with each other

you'd get caught off guard by mira's intense stare

rumi would speak so formally with you, it'd make her stutter over her pronunciation

zoey would bow and apologize to you, which you would return with a deeper bow, and she would return deeper

... let's just say you got more flexible as time went on

until bobby had enough of the over politeness.

until the destined sleepover.

"okay!" bobby placed a mountain of chips, sandwiches, and popcorn on the penthouse table, enough to cover it like a river. "welcome to your manager and huntrix girls night! or uh... friendship night!"

"what's this all about?" rumi questions, her members far to excitedly staring at the popcorn to fully listen.

"i know i'm your amazing manager and all but we have a new member on the team!" he gestures over to you, sitting a few visible feet away from the very huddled up idols. "and, for them to do their job, you need to be closer! so, take tonight! have fun, play games, learn secrets- whatever!"

he walks out, waving at the mess of young adults he left behind — you all. it was quiet, unspoken small glances being shared between the four of you before the scary rapper cutely smiled behind her hands, cheeks stuffed with popcorn and eyes sparkling with mischief.

"you guys wanna play 딸기 (ddalgi / strawberry)?"

that game became a staple in your friendship

zoey's amazing rap skills kept her winning but you? oh she was THRILLED she FINALLY had good competition!!

when she, the undefeated champion of 딸기, wore her crown against you for the 3rd round in a row – that's when it got serious

the mario kart was pulled out.

before you knew it, you were leaning against rumi's demon markings, watching her take 1st place again.

"you're rigging the game! totally rigging!" their youngest in fourth place accused their leader, shaking her by her shoulders as she drifts across toad's turnpike seamlessly.

you hung behind her at second until that destined mystery box gave you the one thing you were looking for – a miraculous blue shell. its release was cinematic as it hit her biker princess daisy persona, allowing you to surpass her at the last second mid drift – akira drift style. it was slow motion, that switch of the neck and neck rivalry to a historic soar in the rankings, before the girls lost in fourth and twelfth jumped around you in triumph at the decrowning of their beloved leader.

all lighthearted of course !

rumi called for an immediate rematch but her smile told you it wasn't serious

the rest of the night barely called for icebreakers

no, the ice was thoroughly broken

in fact, the ice was broken, chopped, grinded, melted, refrozen into ice spheres, and plopped into the glasses of 화채 (hwachae) that you all prepared at 2 in the morning

if you asked the girls, there'd be small argument over which part of the sleepover you definitely became friends

zoey would say during 딸기

rumi would claim it was the mario kart

mira would put it on the time she accidentally smeared mascara on your face a week after you met for the first time and didn't tell you until you got in the van post-inkigayo win

...very embarrassing that day.

but for you? the 2am 화채 was it.

you sat against the penthouse's tall windows in your own pajamas, watching your idols excitedly scramble things together on the floor of their living room. chilled watermelon, blueberries, honeydew and kiwi cubes, lemon-lime soda, honey, and sugar are tossed in front of you with wild excitement.

"i can't. believe. you've never. had. HWACHAE." the huntrix maknae leans into you. she was just falling asleep on your shoulder during their 7th rewatch of extraordinary attorney woo a few minutes ago before their deep voiced compadre brought up her craving.

"you're gonna love it." her intense stare is softer now, a stark difference to how she is during rehersal or morning makeup. she looks at you the way she looks at hwachae. she looks at hwachae the way she looks at their fans.

you sat around the combination of fruit and sodas and cups as they start putting it together, the kdrama going on in the background. zoey makes a comment about the love interest being a green forest before absent mindedly pouring in soda, you being the one to stop her before it overflowed.

seoul was bright outside their tall windows, buildings shining with lights and cars passing by here and there, but it was quiet. the sky was clear enough to let the moonlight shine on the girls in front of you, as if they were the chosen ones, and when they looked at you for your first opinion of the sweet treat, you weren't just a manager with the rockstars they "had to babysit". you were a couple of teenagers having a sleepover. the epidemie of youthfulness, humanity, and friendship.

hwachae, k-dramas, and friends.

friends.

the next morning, you were surprised to see that your once fully scheduled phone calender was cleared

instead,, an email sent to you from bobbypearl@huntrix.com, titled "enjoyyyy the day offffff" in your notifications

you never shared this email with the girls, allowing them to sleep in until they groggly arose around noon, but the attatched photo of them laying around you, looking like a pile of emotionally attached puppies in your sleep, went framed in your apartment later that week

when the four of you showed up at work later that week, coffees in hand, engaged in a casual conversation of a show he couldn't recognize, he couldn't help but pat himself on the back, finally free from the collective awkwardness.

[kilojulietsierra]

It Means Family (Dr. Jack Abbot x FemNurse!Reader) Oneshot

Based on this request from @pear-1206 : Jack Abbot x fem reader. She had a younger brother (you can give him a name if you want) who is a bit skeptical toward Jack since he's very protective of her. She had been his guardian since their parents died and he was practically being raised at the Pitt by everyone. Jack is friends with her and helps her with everything until their feelings change toward each other. He accepted Jack as his sister's bf but still held his opinion because he didn't want to see her hurt. After some time, Jack knew that he wanted to marry her and wanted her brother's permission. Maybe a series of attempts of Jack trying to gain it and the boy just messing up with him😆😆. Maybe after he's given it, she asks her brother to handoff her at her wedding. Maybe you can do it in two parts or just a long one shot. Either way, it's up to you. Suggestive, friend to lovers, kisses, etc. Ask me if anything. Tag me later!!! Thanks!!! :))? (I hope I did okay!)

~~~~~~

He had been there the night you got the call.

You wouldn't even have answered it, it had been a crazy night, but after the fifth time your phone vibrated in your pocket you got a sick feeling in your stomach.

You had dropped to the floor in the middle of the ED, your vision blurred, heart rate pounding in your ears. Blurred images of Lena and Ellis running your way, then Jack appeared.

Through your blurry vision and ringing ears you could almost see him, almost hear him saying your name. "Tell me what's wrong."

"They're gone..." It didn't sound like you talking, more like an echo, someone elses voice. "They're gone."

Then it was bereavement leave, a long flight to Honolulu, two coffins, a twenty one gun salute and a folded flag. A house on base you had 48 hours to pack up and clear out. A kid brother well over a decade younger than you that just had the whole world fall out from under him.

Night shift changed to day shift, late nights out with friends changed to school drop offs. Everything changed.

If you had worked anywhere else you weren't sure you would have made it through the first year. Lena, Dana, Bridget and Perlah, every one of them a Godsend. Without them, without Robby, and Cassie, Mateo, Princess, Frank and his wife, without them you would have drown under the weight of all of it.

You had loved night shift, but there was no way to keep that schedule and take care of your brother. You loved Robby, he was a great attending to work with, a great chief, but he wasn't Jack.

It didn't take long for you to start finding reasons to show up early if you could, or stay a little late, just to be on Jacks shift even for a few minutes. He never made a big deal about it, but he did always take the time to check in. If you were okay, if Marcus was doing ok, if you needed anything. "If either of you need anything, don't ever hesitate to ask. Okay?" There was no doubt in your mind that he meant it.

~~~~~~

"Did it hurt?"

"Yeah bud, it hurt. Still does some days." Jack had his pantleg pulled up and Marcus was staring intently at the titanium and fiberglass that made up Jack's prosthesis.

"Marcus!" You hissed at him across the counter.

"He's fine." Jack had turned to look at you over his shoulder with a smile, "Just curious. Nothing wrong with that."

"Sissy, have you seen Dr Jacks fake leg?" Your little brother looked up at you from his seat on the floor, eyes wide.

You had to try not to flush from the embarrassment, "Yeah Marc, I've seen it. It's called a prosthesis though, not a fake leg. Okay?"

Your brother nodded, fumbled over the word, "Prosthesis." He nodded again, "Can I touch it."

"Marcus!" You thought you'd drop dead.

Jack just busted out in a laugh.

"Go grab your stuff out of the breakroom, please." You pointed towards the door, "We need to go." Once Marcus was gone you through a pleading look at Jack, "Dr Aboot, I am so sorry."

He stood up, shook his head with a smile, "Don't be, he's fine. Just wants to know how stuff works is all."

You gave him an apologetic smile and changed the subject, "How's night shift been?"

"We get by, not the same without you though."

"Oh I'm sure." You laughed it off but it spiked your heart rate none the less.

~~~~~

It had felt silly at first. The little crush you had always harbored for Dr. Abbot. Not in any gross or even serious way really. Just... appreciation.

You thought that it would fade after everything and with the switch to days, but instead it seemed to have magnified it. Every moment no matter how brief now had your stomach spinning and your heart racing. You lived for the little moments between shifts and had finally started to admit to yourself that you had started to seek them out. Not just to visit, to catch up with your old team mates, but because it felt good. Exilerhating.

That particular night though, you hadn't meant to see Jack. Honestly you hadn't wanted to see anyone. You had parked yourself on a bench outside the ER, grateful at first that Dana had let you slip out a little early. Then the heaviness had settled over you.

Abbot had seen you, stood and watched for a moment from the ambulance bay before heading towards you. He approached cautiously and his voice was soft, "Hey, everything okay?"

Your stomach dropped. Embarrasment, guilt, something else. "Yeah, yeah, just... needed a minute I guess."

He stared at you. Nothing new. Then he glanced at his watch and the hospital then back to you. His bag thudded on the sidewalk and he groaned softly as he settled into the bench beside you. "Want to try that again? More convincing this time?"

The laugh tasted sour, "Everything's totally fine!" You hadn't realized you had felt like crying until just then.

Jack nodded, a slim smirk at your attempt. "Where's Marcus?"

"Perlah's mom picked him up and took them over for a sleepover."

He nodded again, "That's good. Boys'll have fun."

You nodded in return and swiped at your eyes. "He talked about it all night last night, all morning."

Jack leaned his elbows on his knees and turned to try and catch your eye. "So, want to tell me what's going on?"

"I don't..." You choked out another laugh, "I would if I knew. I don't even know. How stupid is that? I just feel..."

"Exhausted? Alone? Like maybe you don't want to go home to an empty house?"

You turned to look at him so fast it made him chuckle.

"I recognize that look. I know it well."

"How stupid is that?"

"Not at all."

You were both quiet for a long moment before you added, "I don't know how I ended up here. I don't know what I'm doing. I just..."

"You're doing great. Marcus is a good kid. Just need to take care of yourself too." Jack finished for you with an encouraging grin. "Go home and enjoy your night off. Drink too much, watch trashy TV, stay up late." He smiled a little wider at your chuckle. "Or go do something, go out while you have the chance."

You laughed again, harsh and still a little rough, "Go out? You're funny."

Jack grinned a little wider, "Well then go home, enjoy your night off." He stood up and grabbed his bag and then grabbed yours too. He held it out to you and used your grip on the bag to pull you to your feet. Once you finally looked him in the eye, still fighting back the tears, his smile softened slgihtly. There was something else behind it though.

"Next time you have the night to yourself, I'll take you out."

The expression on his face never changed, he just held your gaze, nodded after a moment and then gave you a quick wink before turning away and heading into the ED.

For several long moments you stood there, watching Dr Abbot walk across the street, totally taken off guard.

~~~~~

Before dinner with Jack you thought were going to have a panic attack. You'd paced your apartment, made Marcus and the sitter both stare at you oddly, came up with a dozen excuses to cancel. You only came up with one reason to follow through though; you really, really wanted to.

After dinner with Jack you couldn't even begin to remember any of the reasons you had panicked. When he stopped you a few feet short of your door and pulled you into a kiss you thought you were going to pass out. Your head spun so fast all you could do was hold onto him and hope he could keep you on your feet. Of course he did, strong arms holding you close and keeping you steady. He chuckled against your lips when a little moan escaped and you flushed with embarrassment as he pulled away to look at you.

"Not gonna lie, I've wanted to do that for a long time." He cracked a smile and studied your face as his hands smoothed over your waist.

When you could think straight you nodded, eyes stuck on his lips, "You should have done it sooner."

Jack chuckled again as he settled his lips back over yours and walked you the last few feet to your door. "I'll make it up to you, if you let me."

You moaned again and your grip on his shoulders tightened. You glanced over your shoulder at the door, conflicted, but Jack grabbed your chin and pulled you back to look at him.

He gave you a quick kiss and shook his head, "Not tonight hon." Another longer kiss, and he kept his voice low, "He's gonna have a bunch of questions if I walk in there right now."

"He always has a bunch of questions." You laugh and lean your forehead against his shoulder.

Jack wraps his arms around you fully and chuckles, breath warm against your ear. "Yes he does." He dropped a kiss there, and then selfishly dropped a longer, heated one against the side of your neck. Not pulling away until you shivered and pushed him back. Eye to eye again he gave you that look, the one you knew and loved so well, "We'll figure it out."

You nodded, smiling, heart racing, "Yeah we will."

~~~~~

"How old are you?"

"So old."

"Have you seen Lilo & Stitch?"

"I have not."

"Would you let me have a pet alien?"

"That would depend on the alien I guess."

"We lived in Hawaii. Have you been to Hawaii?"

"Once, while I was in the Army. I've even been to the base your Dad was stationed out of."

"Did you see his boat!?"

"I'm not sure, bud."

"Are you missing any other body parts?"

"Just the leg?"

"Are you a vampire?"

"Would I be out in the middle of the day if I was?"

"Can you make cheeseburgers?"

"Awesome cheeseburgers."

"Have you ever had an actual girlfriend before?"

"Yeah bud, I've had a girlfriend before."

"Have you and Sissy kissed?"

"Yes, your sister and I have kissed. More than once."

"Was it gross?"

"Not even a little bit." Jack was enjoying himself way too much as Marcus bombarded him with questions from the backseat of the truck. More specifically Jack was enjoying the way you were slumped against the window hiding your face in your hand trying not to laugh or cry.

"Marcus, I think that's enough questions." You gave Jack a pleading look, silently begging him to shut it down.

"Dr. Jack said I could ask anything I wanted."

Jack smirked at you, eyes hiding behind dark sunglasses, but you knew they were shining with glee at your suffering. "He's right, that's what I said."

"Are you going to make me eat vegetables?"

"Does Sissy make you eat vegetables?"

"Yes." Marcus mumbled.

"Then yes, I'm gonna make you eat your vegetables." Jack reached across the console and grabbed your hand. He gave it squeeze when you finally looked his way you couldn't help but smile. Jack looked over his shoulder at your little brother, "So, when do I get to start asking questions?"

"That's not fair!"

"Oh yes it is and I think it's miy turn."

~

Jack was sitting at your kitchen counter watching you make a cup of coffee, still half asleep. "What's Marcus up to today?"

You sipped the coffee while it was still hot enough to burn, "Perlah took the boys to some action park thing they just built on her end of town, gokarts, mini golf, all that."

"Should be fun. What's that gonna cost you?" Jack smirked, content to watch you wake up and sip your coffee.

"Five shifts in a row. So, they can take a long weekend." You pushed off the counter and came around like you were going to sit in the stool next to Jack.

Instead he grabbed you gently by the hips and pulled you to him, settling you between his legs with his arms around you. "You sure you don't want me to leave you alone? You can just relax today if you need to."

You let out a grumble, the meaning of it not entirely clear, but the way your weight sunk into him Jack took it to mean he should stay right where he was. It feels good to hold you like this. Head on his shoulder, face buried in his neck, and all of your weight against him with no doubt he would hold you up. "Don't know why I'm so tired," You mumbled into his neck, "Feel like I'm the one that worked last night."

Jack squeezed you tighter, "Why don't you go lay down? No reason you can't be lazy for awhile."

You grumble again, your coffee cup gets set on the counter and then you quietly ask, "Come lay down with me?"

For a second Jack froze, a dozen thoughts racing through his mind. He moved his hands back to your hips and just as quietly he whispered into your hair, "Can do that if you want." He dropped a kiss on the crown of your head and had to bite back a smile when you nodded against his shoulder. "Okay, c'mon."

Before you could stand up straight Jack had a hold of the backs of your thighs and hoisted you up to carry you down the hall. Your arms and legs wrapped around him tight and he was pleasantly surprised when you didn't act surprised, didn't argue or give him a hard time. Just let him carry you to bed.

~~~~~

A few hours later you woke up, warm and comfortable, one of Jacks arms under your head like a pillow and the other wrapped around your middle. When you sighed and shifted deeper into his hold, the arm around you tightened and you felt him press a kiss to the back of your head.

"What time is Marcus going to be back?" He sounded like maybe he had nodded off for a bit as well, his voice rough and raw.

"After lunch sometime. Sent them money for pizza." You couldn't bring yourself to open your eyes. Didn't want to do anything that meant you would have to get out of bed yet. Not when Jack was there with you, finally.

He nuzzled into the back of your hair and kissed you again, "Ready to get up?"

You shook your head and shuffled back, just a little closer to Jack, eyes still closed. "Aren't you normally asleep by now?"

Jack just hummed, spread his one hand wide over your torso, his thumb brushing over the fabric of your shirt. "Took a nice nap." His breath was warm and suddenly directly beside your ear. When you shivered and moved to shift your hips back, his hand moved from your stomach to your hip and clamped down, stopping you. "Stay right there." His grip softened, but his hand stayed put.

In an instant your heart began to race, "Why?"

"Because we're cuddling, and it's nice."

You bit your lip, hearing Dr Jack Abbot say 'cuddle' nearly making you giggle. "Feels good."

Behind you Jack chuckled, something a little extra behind it. "Yeah it does." He chuckled again when you tried to move, "Hon, I said stay there."

When the thought finally occurred to you you chuckled with him, "Dr. Abbot, is something wrong?" "

Jesus." His hand on your hip squeezed harder than he'd ever gripped you, "Yes and that's not fucking helping." Jack let out a painful groan when you freed your hand from your blankets to pry his fingers lose from your hip. Not that you had to try very hard, he let you move him easily, pull his arm back around you again and finally shift your hips back flush with his. "Jesus Christ." He breathed out as both his arms caged you against him.

A shudder ran down your spine, his breath against you neck, his lips, the muscles in his arms and chest flexing as he held you tight and the shameless way he caved in ground his erection against your ass. Another giggle escaped you, this one breathy and unsteady.

"Happy now?" Jack teased as his kissed the back of your neck.

"Yes." You shifted back against him again, testing the waters, and smiling when his breath rushed out him. "What time is it?"

He twisted the arm under you so he could see his watch, "Little after ten."

You took a deep breath, building up the courage, your desire doing a lot of the work for you, "I'm not tired anymore."

Jack had always known you too well, and you were so grateful for that because that was all you had to say for him to snap. His hands moved exactly where he wanted them as he coaxed you to turn your head to kiss him. If the kiss hadn't knocked the wind out of you already his words would have.

"You're gonna be."

~~~~

Jack was still there when Marcus came home, changed from his scrubs into the spare jeans and shirt he kept in his backpack. He'd stayed out of sight while Perlah and you chatted by the door, neither of you quite ready for that round of questioning just yet. Or the dozens that would follow.

Your heart did a little flip in your chest when Marcus lit up upon realizing Jack was there. Your brother immediately began to explain in excruciating detail all the excitement of the adventure park and Jack seemed more than content to listen.

You watched from the kitchen, hair still wet from the shower you had taken after spending the last couple hours of your morning in bed with Jack. Your heart flipped again when you heard Marcus ask, "What are you doing here anyway?" No filter, your brother still had no filter.

Jack threw you a look and the tiniest smirk before he answered, "Came by to see your sister after work. Thought maybe I'd hang out here today and we could go out to eat later. Sound okay?"

"Yeah! Can we go to that steak place again?"

"Marc, we don't need to go someplace quite that nice."

"Why not?" He looked at you a little put out.

Jack turned to look at you again, barely holding back a full on smirk, "Yeah hon, why not?."

You knew your face had betrayed your thoughts, because that smug asshole smiled, actually smiled. "Because it's pricey" You snark back at him even as he makes his way around the counter to come stand behind you.

He sets his hands on your hips and pulls you close, "So?" He pries. Then quieter, just for you he adds, "We're celebrating."

"Stop it." You hissed at him, a flush creeping up your neck. You did your best to ignore the feel of him chuckling behind you and turned your attention back to your brother, "We aren't going anywhere until you finish your homework anyway."

"SIssy… It's Saturday." He dropped himself onto the couch dramatically.

"And we made a deal that you could go this morning and have fun if you promised to finish your homework this afternoon."

"But Dr Jack is here, we can go do fun stuff!"

Jack must have felt your deep sigh because he held you a little tighter and kissed the back of your head. He whispered, "If he get's it done can I take you guys to dinner?"

You hummed in thought and dropped your head back against his shoulder, "Ok Marc, how about you get all your work done, and then maybe we can all go to Saltfork for dinner? Seem fair?"

"Can I have the brownie skillet thing!?" He launched back up off the couch with wide eyes.

Behind you Jack full out laughed and all you could do was pinch the bridge of your nose, "We'll see."

He did a little touchdown dance in the middle of the living room and then sprinted to his room.

Once you were alone Jack turned you around and pulled you closer. Stared into your eyes, smirk still firmly on his face.

"You don't have to bribe him to like you, you know? You're like the coolest person he knows." You wrapped your arms around his neck and buried your face in his shoulder.

"Maybe I just like spoiling you both a little. Ever think of that?" His one hand slid down to cup your ass and squeeze. "Plus, like I said, we're celebrating." He snorted when you bit his chest through his t-shirt.

"Stop being so smug or it's not going to happen again." You mumbled.

Jack smirked, slipped his hand up and under the back of your shirt, warm against your bare skin, "So, you do want it to happen again?"

For a minute your embarrassment kept you silent, but you nodded and spoke into his shirt, "As often as possible."

That must have made him happy because Jack didn't say anything. He simply tipped your face up to his and kissed you. Deep, long, slow kisses that made your pulse skyrocket.

"Eww. Dr. Jack will you help me with my homework?" Marcus had reappeared.

Jack gave you one last kiss and a wink before he pulled back, "Yeah bud, what d'ya got?" He gave your hip a squeeze and then followed after Marcus as the boy ran back into his room.

~~~~~

"Is Jack going to move in?" Marcus asked one night while it was just the two of you eating dinner in the living room, watching Lilo & Stich. A treat for the both of you, acting like bums after a long week and watching a favorite movie. Even if Marcus swore it was for little kids. Never mind he knew it word for word and had watched it a thousand times.

"Jack has his own house Marc, he owns it. He's not going to move into an apartment with us." You fought down the nerves already spinning in your stomach.

"He's here a lot and normally, if you two had been together this long, you'd be living together. Right?" Marcus was a teenager now and you kind of sort of hated it. Raising your little brother was one thing, quote unquote raising your teenage brother was another game entirely.

Jack had been in Marcus's life for years now in one way or another. First as a friend of yours, then as your boyfriend, now it was clear that Jack Abbot was playing a big part in the young man your brother was becoming.

"Maybe." You pause to sip your drink, buy yourself time, "It's not always that simple though."

Your brother is quiet for a minute, watches the movie and shoves a handful of fries in his mouth. "So, are we going to move in with him?"

A week later he had asked Jack the same question. You had to work so Jack had gone to Marc's baseball game on his own. After the game they'd gone through the drivethru for food and while they waited Marc asked, "Would you want Sissy to live with you?"

Jack had a hell of a poker face, but he still nearly let it slip at that. "What do you mean?"

"If It was just you and her? You'd want to live together right?"

"Where's this coming from?"

"Just curious."

Jack thought for a minute, let the truck roll a few more feet ahead in the line. "Would you want to live with me?" He turned the question on the boy.

Marcus stared out the window, "I'd think it'd be kinda cool I guess."

"Don't think it would be weird?" Jack found himself getting his hopes up.

"Do you know how many times I have to explain to people you're not my Dad, you're my sisters boyfriend? It's already weird."

He couldn't help but laugh. Jack nodded a couple of times, "Fair enough."

~~~~~

In the middle of Jacks living room surrounded by storage totes you stood up to catch your breath and squint across the room at Jack, "Do you ever feel like we've been manipulated by a thirteen year old boy that just wanted a bigger bedroom?"

"Not a doubt in my mind." Jack laughs as he sets another tote down. "But," He closes the distance between the two of you and grabs your hips. Pulling you to him by the waistband of your shorts, "Jokes on him, I'm the one getting what I wanted all along."

You let him kiss you, enjoyed the butterflies in your stomach from making out in the middle of the house that would be your house now, not just his. Then you pulled away, "Have you ever lived with a teenage boy? You might regret this."

"I've lived in barracks." He pulls you back to him with a grin, "I've lived in a canvas tent in the middle of the desert, with twenty other dudes barely old enough to drink with no showers and eating MREs for three meals a day." You grinned along with him, while he made his point. "Think I can handle one thirteen year old boy." He sobered a little, eyes scanning your face, "Especially if it means I get you here in bed with me." Jack kissed you again, intention behind it this time as his fingers traced the waistband of your cutoffs.

When his fingers settled on the button you couldn't help but giggle against his lips, "Supposed to be unpacking." You still let your arms wrap around his shoulders, fingers combing through the curls at the nape of his neck.

"You're very distracting." He dropped his gaze down to his hands as they popped the button, "Especially in these fucking shorts." His fingers moved to the zipper, pulling it open so slowly.

"So I should probably get rid of them?" You teased, but it came out breathless and jittery as he walked you back towards the couch.

Jack bobbed his head to the side as he moved to kiss you again, "No, but you should definitly take them off."

~~~~~

The number of times you watched Jack over the years, sit down with Marc and talk about anything and everything. Talk through the loss of your parents, missing out on sports team tryouts, girl troubles, trouble with friends, life in general. From the time he was a young boy and barely knew Jack beyond Dr. Jack, Sissy's friend, Marcus had always seemed to see Jack as a source of knowledge and little to no judgement.

Bad behavior that sent you up the wall was nothing to Jack. A simple conversation or at worst a hard look and it was handled. To the point that you wondered what you would have done without him if it had just been you and Marcus.

Then one night while you were out with friends, something you were finally able to do again, Jack got a call. He nearly didn't answer, because he didn't recognize the number, but he was glad he did.

He didn't speak for a long while when he entered the hallway where Marc and his three friends were sat. He simply stared them all down. When he did finally break the silence, it wasn't the sisters boyfriend Jack that spoke. It was former Army NCO Jack Abbot, Dr Jack Abbot. Stone faced he simply said, "Explain."

To Marc's credit he stood up straight, looked Jack in the eye and told the truth. Something that went a long way.

Jack took him home, the drive long and painfully quiet, and when they got home he sat him down at the kitchen to wait for you to come home.

In bed that night you had stared at the ceiling. "At least it was just a gummy. RIght? And it came from a store."

Jack grumbled next to you. You both had lectured him on how dangerous it was to take any substance when you didn't know what it was for sure or where it had come from. Anyone could say they got it from a friend of a friend that was old enough. "He's a good kid, hon. He's smart. He told the truth and that's what matters I think. Just did a dumb teenager thing."

"Thank you for going and getting him."

"Of course."

You moved closer and cuddled into him, "I'm glad he has you."

~~~~~

One morning later that summer you were getting ready for work, watching Jack in the mirror as he slipped on his running blade.

Like always Jack sensed you, knew what you were thinking before you could say it out loud. "Coach told Marc if he wanted to make JV next year he needs to work harder." He stood up and shifted his weight back and forth on the specialized prosthesis. "So, he wants to start working out with me this summer." Jack came up behind you, eyes locked on yours in the mirror. "We'll see how he feels after today."

"Is it weird I think it's kinda sexy when you put that thing on?" You chuckled as he grabbed your hips.

"Yeah, it's weird." He dropped a kiss to the side of your neck, "I like weird though." You elbow him in the side and he only laughs, smacks your ass, "Have a good day, baby."

While he and Marcus jog around the neighborhood Jack can't help but let his mind wander. Half of him paying attention to Marcus talking about being able to take his driving test soon, and that he would need a car. The other half of his mind though, was occupied with a different conversation he needed to have with your brother.

Jack was a little ashamed to admit it took him the whole three miles to build up the guts to do it. They were walking down the street towards the house, cooling off. "Marc, I want to ask you something."

Your brother was still more than a little winded from the run, which honestly made jack feels a little better about himself, "Okay."

"How would you feel if your sister and I got married?" Just get it over with.

Marcus didn't answer right away, when he did it caught Jack off guard. "Why?"

"What do you mean why? Because we love each other, been together for years, because I want to."

"No, I mean," Marcus sucked in a deep breath, "Like, why now? You said it, you guys have been together for like ever."

Jack rolled his eyes behind his sunglasses, had to remind himself that to Marcus it was forever. Nearly half the boys life Jack and you had been together by that point. "Honestly bud, you're old enough now that her life doesn't revolve around you like it used to." Jack had always made a point in his relationship with your brother to be as upfront as possible. "You're older now, more mature. When you were a kid I didn't want to get in the way of you and her. That was more important." He didn't know if that made sense at all, to anyone but him.

Marc nodded as they crossed a street and after a few minutes he finally responded, "Is it alright if I don't know how I feel?"

"Of course it is." Jack stopped at the corner, knew that Marcus would follow his lead, "I love your sister, think you know that, and I love you too. It's important to me that you'd be okay with it."

"So, have you already asked her to marry you or something?"

He shook his head, "No, not yet. I wanted to talk to you first. Man to man."

Marcus nodded, "Nothing... nothing would really change right?"

Jack could see that kid in him then, the one that had once upon a time had the whole world ripped out from under him. "Not really. She might take my last name, that would be about it. It'll be easier for her to get my benefits and everything if something happened, but no, life will be pretty much the same."

"If you couldn't marry her? Are you going to get pissed?"

"Don't say pissed, especially around your sister. We'll both get in trouble. No bud, if she doesn't want it I'm not going anywhere."

"So, is this like, if our Dad was alive and you were going to ask for his permission to marry Sissy or something?"

Jack laughed, "Not quite, but sure you can think of it that way if you want."

"What if I said no?"

There was something in the kids eyes that Jack recognized all too well. "Then we're turning around and doing another three miles." Jack shoved him jokingly, "So, don't get a big head."

Marcus laughed as he caught his balance, "I don't know how I really feel about it I guess," He started as the two of them kept walking, "But, I think it would make her happy."

Jack didn't expect the stab of emotion in his chest. "Well, then how about you think on it and we can talk about it again later?"

It took Marc less than 24 hours to come back and tell Jack he thought it would be a good idea and then threaten him that if he broke your heart Jack would have him to deal with. Jack had laughed but nodded, "Understood."

~~~~~~

You had cried when Jack proposed to you, but now you could not quit smiling. Sprawled across his chest you stared at your hand in front of you, the diamond he had put on your finger, smiling.

Jack had one arm behind his head, but his other hand was drawing lazy patterns over your bare back, perfectly content to watch you in that moment. "Maybe I should have asked sooner."

Your eyes snapped back to his, "No, this is perfect." You moved to crawl up to meet him, kiss him, humming happily at the feeling of his two rough, warm hands settling low on your hips and then smoothing up your sides, over your back.

"Yeah?" He asked quietly, lips brushing over yours as he looked up at you, watching you intently.

"Perfect." You lowered more of your weight over him and he wrapped his arms around you, kissed you deeper. "Everything is perfect." You moaned when his hands moved back to your hips, pulling you straddle him. "I'm so happy Jack, you've always made me happy."

Jack nodded, cradled the back of your head and spoke directly against your lips, "Good. That's all I want hon," He paused to kiss you, the love and the meaning behind it bone deep, "Just want to make you happy."

You lost yourselves in it for a moment, kissing and touching eachother, both of you coming to terms with the knowledge that this would be the rest of your life. Jack was finally, officially, going to be a part of your tiny, broken little family. The missing piece that had brought it all together.

Suddenly you laughed, unable to stop it.

Jack grumbled, fingers dug into your hips, "Something funny?"

"I'm sorry." You kissed him, traced his tongue with yours in apology, "I just thought of something."

"Oh yeah?" Jacks eyes were laser focused as you sat up, still straddling his hips, your hands coming to rest on his torso. He let his hands slid down your thighs to rest, "Want to share?"

You bit your lip, "It's slly."

Jack just stared up at you, waiting. "Ohana."

Jack watched you, gently shook his head to say he wasn't tracking.

"Lilo & Stitch?"

Jack furrowed his brow, then shook his head, still confused. Marcus had forced him to watch the with him plenty of times when he was younger. Even still Jack would find the two of you on the couch watching the kids movie. He hadn't really put much thought into it.

"It's us." You shrugged and looked away for a second, "We watched it once, I'd only had Marcus with me for maybe... a month, if even, and I had no idea what to do so we watched movies. Like all the time." You nodded to yourself at the memories, your fingers absently tracing over the lines of muscle and a few scattered scars over Jacks chest and abdomen. "He said one day, ' Sissy! it's us.' and it is. A lost, sad, lonley, little kid, and an older sister just trying to do her best, but has no fucking clue what she's doing. Just trying to do what she can after their parents died. It's even set in Hawaii." You snorted out a laugh, "It's stupid but it was nice at the time, to see that, for both of us I think." You took a deep breath and smiled down at him.

"It means family?" Jack finally nodded, understanding he thought, his hold on you tightening, "It's little and broken, but still good, right? That's what they say?"

You nod, eyes burning again. Jack watches you, his eyes taking in all of you and then the corner of his mouth ticks up, "Does that make me the surfer dude boyfriend? WIth the muscles and the floppy hair that follows her around like a kicked puppy?"

The laugh rips out of you before you can stop it and you smack him across the chest, "I think it does." You're smiling like an idiot again as you stroke your hands over his strong core and chest, trace your fingers over the corded muscles in his arms and then you lean down. One hand combing through the graying curls you loved and your lips brushing over his. "Technically fiance."

~~~~~

It felt strange to be back in Hawaii. The last time you were here was for your parents funeral. So many emotions. You had woke up early, your internal clock messed up, but it gave you an excuse to sit and watch the sky light up over the early morning breakers. Your heart skipped a beat when Jacks arms wrapped around you from behind, his lips brushing over the side of your neck. You dropped your weight back into him, happy to feel him take it easily, keep you standing like he'd always done.

"Second thoughts?" He whispered against your ear, arms wrapped tight around you.

"Not a chance. You're stuck now, no getting out of it."

Jack hummed, a hint of a laugh in it, "Damn." His lips moved down your neck, over your shoulder. He didn't have to see you to know you had rolled your eyes. "Don't have to be up for a long time yet, hon." His hands moved to slip beneath the shirt you had worn to bed.

"Are you telling me to come back to bed?" You couldn't help but smile as you dropped your head back against his shoulder, let yourself enjoy the moment.

"Asking nicely." He chuckled into the side of your neck, "For now.'

"Well," You started, turned in his arms, "Since you asked nicely." You wrapped your arms around Jacks neck and kissed him as you let him take you back to bed.

For a few more hours anyway.

Then he was waiting for you, looking so calm and confident, smiling at you while your heart felt like it was going to rip out of your chest.

Beside you Marcus gave your arm a squeeze, and then he gave you an easy smile. His eyes locked on yours and unwavering. God, there was so much of Jack in him now. The way your brother stood, the way he carried himself, the confidence and certainty on his face as the seventeen year old boy stood in for your father, ready to walk you across the beach and up to the alter.

There had been a time, after that phonecall that had brought you to your knees in the middle of the ED, that you thought your life was over. Far from it you realized, It was just beginning. Sure, maybe your PTMC family was going to be a little annoyed with you when you get back from your "family vacation" and find out you and Jack had eloped, but they'd forgive you. Eventually.

~~ The End ~~

[odettecarotte]

I was thinking about this just yesterday. From 2009-2017, one of my "talents" in social justice spaces was to share how my own racist delusions had harmed me and others. I was "so brave" for sharing these ugly truths about myself and opening the way for other white people to do the same.

But...I was really good at it because I'm simply AMAZING at telling everyone what a piece of shit I am! I do it at any opportunity! Shame, shame, shame!!!

I love how Devon labels this a fawn response. The dark side of fawning is lying and manipulation. We fawn in face of a threat. And what is the threat, exactly? Hurting a comrade, or being yelled at for hurting a comrade?

It's hard to rely on each other when we're scared of each other, or when those with more power are basically showing up with trauma responses and personality disorders out the wazoo.

What would it look like to show up to organizing with our best attempts at secure attachment?

I have been heartened by two friends doing persistent organizing to pressure the US government to stop funding and facilitating the genocide of the Palestinian people. They have had typical drama within their orgs (someone using a leadership role to further their own agenda). In each case, this person was swiftly removed/relocated, and everyone refocused on the actual mission within, like, a week.

We need to trust each other to work together. The real threat is the people in the US government who are killing Palestinians, Iranians and Yemenis in this war, who are deporting and torturing migrants, who are softly killing their "own people" through cuts to benefits that provide housing, food and medicine. (And yes, yes, we all have a capitalist in our heads but let's not be so internal and metaphorical for a second.)

It is possible to work together, we need each other, it is possible!!!

The conversations about accountability & apologies that we've been having in social justice circles these last few years have basically trained everybody to fawn.

We've been telling people that if they are accused of any wrongdoing or of hurting anybody's feelings, it is their obligation to apologize immediately, and never to hedge, disagree, or to explain their rationale what they've done.

In their apology, we expect them to articulate every single thing that they have done that was damaging in the strongest language possible and to declare outright that they have harmed someone, often multiple groups of people, even if they are not sure of the impact (or could not even possibly be sure).

If a person's apology is anything but immediate and entirely self-excoriating, we accuse the person of downplaying the damage they have done, failing to be accountable, and manipulating others.

In this way, we've made it impossible for a person to ever take their own side lest that be taken itself as a form of wrongdoing. We have trained our fellow social-justice-minded people to believe that if they do anything but worsen the case against themselves, they are being irresponsible.

I say we, in all of this, because I have partaken in all of this rhetoric, made these kinds of criticism, given accused people this type of advice.

And I have followed it myself, often to a damaging effect.

I have taken responsibility for problems in which I truly did not believe I played a part, I've overstated the damage that I've done so as not to risk understating it, I've ascribed malice to my intentions when I knew it wasn't there, I've agreed with people's most negative, bad-faith narratives about conflicts involving me that they were not even present for, offered up information about myself that was not a third party's business in the name of transparency, apologized for things I haven't done -- and in doing all of this, I have denied my loved ones the opportunity to really hear me about what I was going through and my motivations when I was in conflict with them, things that any true friend or close associate would obviously want to hear about if they cared about me.

This aim of giving the perfect apology and taking perfect accountability has been nothing but an isolating force in my life, because it has barred me from openly entering into necessary conflict with people when our needs were incompatible or they had hurt me just as much as I'd hurt them. The fear of being a manipulative, unaccountable DARVO-er has led me to roll onto my back and expose my belly, falling over myself with panicked apologies and the most unflattering information possible cast in the least explicable light, almost outright begging for others to become angrier at me and believing that it was only way I could ever possibly be accepted back.

We've drilled into people that the way to be good and responsible is to allow people to view us as negatively as possible, to even arm others with information that will confirm that point of view, and to never insert our own perspective or needs on the matter at all.

And yeah, there are a lot of shitty people out there who dodge accountability easily because their power ensconces them from any consequences. but the primary problem with that was never that they wrote a shitty notesapp apology that used the unforgivable phrase "I am sorry if you felt XYZ." The real problem was that there was no community that held enough influence to hold them to account, and for their victims there weren't ever adequate supports or protections.

instead of addressing any of that in a remotely systematic way, we have taken to picking apart every accused person's every word and deed for evidence of inner moral failure and created a culture in which we think we can determine a person's safety by how artfully they put words together when they are under threat. and what do you know, plenty of bad faith actors and conflict avoidant cowards and people who just dont understand what they are even being accused of can do that just fine.

[ghostlyferrettarot]

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🥰Masterlist🥰🥰Masterlist 2🥰

💌♡✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚ Pile 1: 🀢🀣🀦🀤 Cards: 5 of Swords – The Tower – 2 of Cups – Knight of Wands – Justice – The Star.

Okay pile 1, you and your future spouse are starting off with a strange energy. There's some competition in the air. It's giving enemies to lovers, and Maxton Hall vibes (go watch it if you haven't ;)). There's strife, friction, a vibe of intellectual, professional, or ego rivalry. You may work together, have opposing opinions on everything, or you may simply not be able to stand each other because there's too much tension… emotional and other 👀. The Tower appears when something crucial happens between you. A heated argument, an unexpected confession, a situation that completely breaks the impression you had on eachother, etc. Whatever happens, it makes you see each other with new eyes. Something falls apart, and underneath there are feelings (even if you two dont want to admit it at first, i see you guys but it will be undeniable). There's vulnerability in this, like a "oh no… I like you" situation. This person will truly see you because you two are so much alike, you have the same fire as them. And then, without knowing how, you're sharing something real. Fights now end in laughter. Or kisses. Or both 👀. Justice shows me that you're learning to balance each other. That you're both intense, yes, but you're also learning to admire each other. To trust. To build. And the Star is pure healing. This bond transforms you. You don't just love each other: you polish each other, you elevate each other, you truly understand each other. You're going to have to swallow your pride. But it's completely worth it. It's giving rom-com, 10 Things I Hate About You, Bridgerton (season 2 specially).

💌♡✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚ Pile 2: 🀢🀣🀦🀤 Cards: 6 of Cups – 3 of Swords – The Lovers – Death – King of Cups – Temperance.

This story has HISTORY, I feel like this is some past energy. You and your future spouse have met before. Maybe it was young love, crushes that didn't quite work out, or someone with whom things just didn't align. There was a breakup. It hurt. Maybe you each went your separate ways, believing you'd get over it. Spoiler pile 2: you didn't get over it 🙃, and that's for the best. Maybe it was someone you met briefly and never forgot, or the other way around. Or even someone from another life. Something forced you to let go before your time. And it wasn't fair. It wasn't the ending you deserved. BUT. Fate didn't forget you. The Lovers mark the reappearance of this person. The reunion. Maybe years later. Maybe when you didn't even expect it. But love returns. And with the Death card, the energy changes radically, this time you are not the same. This time you choose each other with maturity. With awareness. And believe me, this reunion is no coincidence, it's karmic. You are not who you were. And that's good. Now you're ready. The King of Cups represents a wise, present, deep love. And Temperance is the calm after the storm. This relationship becomes a refuge. A safe space. A form of love that only exists when you've known pain and decided to heal with each other. Sometimes the timing isn't right… until it is. And then, everything falls into place as if it was always meant to be. Something that's coming to mind while i'm channeling is the movie Love Rosie, so I feel like that's the kind of story you two will have. Maybe this is a friend of yours as well, someone close.

💌♡✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚ Pile 3: 🀢🀣🀦🀤 Cards: The Fool – 4 of Wands – The World – Ace of Cups – Wheel of Fortune – Queen of Pentacles.

PILE 3 I'm really screaming, your romance that seems straight out of a book. This is the kind of story where you wake up one day, go about your routine like any other, and suddenly, you meet someone who completely changes the course of your life. It's that powerful energy. You're entering a new phase. Maybe you just moved, quit a job, decided to live for yourself. You're exploring, growing. And then, without even looking for it… they appear. A person who looks at you as if they've known you before. ITS GIVING SOULMATES SO HARD. You might meet at a wedding, a party, a ceremony… or even through someone else. Either way, there's an IMMEDIATE vibe of "why do I feel like I already know you?" This connection is cosmic. This person celebrates you. They're with you. They don't want to change you or rescue you: they want to see you shine. There are synchronicities everywhere, like repeated numbers, "chance" encounters, phrases that repeat themselves in your dreams. Maybe you already met them in dreams, or your higher selves have already met. With this person, you feel free, accepted, safe. The Wheel of Fortune screams to me: this is destiny. You didn't plan it. But you can't avoid it. And the Queen of Pentacles shows a stable love, the kind that is built day by day, with care, with mate in the morning and massages after a long day. With this person, you will build a beautiful life, with roots. There is emotional security, stability, and a love so real it brings peace. This is "I saw it and I knew it." It's your home in the form of a person pile 3.

💌♡✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚Thank you for reading and let me know if it resonated!💌♡✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚

[woso-dreamzzz]

Proud X

Hardersson x Teen!Reader

Summary: Your reward for Golden Girl

The actual ceremony is a bit of a blur.

You don't remember any of it at all.

It's like you were in your hotel room and then you blinked and opened your eyes on stage.

You're saying something in Swedish but the words are coming out too fast for your brain to catch up with. Swedish melts into English as you thank your old club for giving you the platform to show the skills that gave you the opportunity to win the Golden Girl award.

After that, it's another blink and you're in the car.

The award is on your lap and your mothers are sitting either side of you and, for the life of you, you still can't understand what you said.

But if what Pernille says is accurate, it was a very good speech.

It's only when you're laying in your bed days later that you decide that you can't be bothered to rewatch it all.

You've seen clips of the ceremony on social media and Pernille, like she usually is, is right.

Your name was called for the award even though everyone already knew you would win. You stood and turned.

You gave Magda a hug. Pernille kissed your head.

You walked onto stage to receive your award. You stood by the microphone.

You thanked a lot of people in Swedish, your mothers, your coaches on the national team, your friends. You thanked everyone at Arsenal for pushing you as far as you could go and supporting you in the games. You even thanked the Bayern staff for their continued support.

All in all, it was a good speech. A humble speech which you think must have driven Magda crazy. She's always telling you to be more proud of yourself and your achievements.

You bring the award with you to training and smile in your Bayern kit as the media team make you pose and take pictures from as many angles as they possibly can.

"Look at you, golden girl," Georgia teases as you slump down into your seat next to her," Coming to mingle with the rest of us normal people?"

You roll your eyes as you poke at the pasta on your plate. "The only normal you are, G, is normally annoying. That's not a good thing."

Georgia clutches at her chest dramatically. "You wound me! I'm wounded! How will I ever survive?!"

"I'm sure you'll find a way," You reply dryly as you stare at your food.

"What is up with you today? You're all...depressed!"

"Y/n doesn't like too much attention," Pernille says as she takes the seat next to you, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your seat as she does so," This award thing has thrown her a little bit."

You sputter out some unintelligible noises of indignation that Pernille smiles fondly at.

"It's the truth," She tells you," You'll have to get used to it, you know. You're a very exciting young player."

You groan and Georgia giggles. "Which journalist have you stolen that from?"

Pernille just laughs, pulling your plate towards her to pile more food onto it from her own. "You'll get over it soon. Just remember that this Golden Girl award is a good thing."

"Is it?"

Pernille nods with finality. "Yes. It is."

"How come?"

"You'll see."

Georgia whistles lowly. "Well that's cryptic."

Secretly, you agree with her.

In the coming days, you find her words playing on your mind again and again. It's amazing how the more time passes, the more Georgia's words seem like the best way to explain the situation.

Magda and Pernille are whispering every hour of the day. They're whispering to each other in the morning when you come downstairs for breakfast. They're whispering to each other when you all come home. You know they're whispering when you go to bed early and they stay up with their glasses of wine.

They're planning something and when the pair of them plan something, you stay on edge.

You can't quite work out what it could possibly be but you hope that it's not a party.

A party to celebrate your award sounds terrible right now.

You think they know you're suspicious too.

Magda does at the very least because she's started to dramatically creep around like she's in a cartoon when she sees you watching her.

You roll your eyes every time.

It looks like you'll have to be the mature one out of the two of you.

That's usually the case anyway.

Especially now when Magda's hands cover your eyes and guide you to sit on the sofa.

"Keep them closed!" She warns you.

"Well I can't exactly keep them open with you blocking everything out, can I?"

You hear her laugh and it makes the corners of your mouth poke up too.

"Okay," She says," Are you ready?"

"I don't know what I'm meant to be ready for."

Magda ignores you. "Okay, Pernille! She's ready!"

You strain your ears to hear Pernille's footsteps. They're slow and you frown.

"If this is a party-"

You don't get to finish though because something gets put into your lap.

It's kind of big and warm and...

Breathing?

Magda's hands leave your eyes and you look down at your lap.

"Baaa!"

A lamb looks up at you. White wool on its body but a perfectly round, black-wooled face.

"Baaaa!"

You look over in shock to your mums and Pernille hands you a bottle.

The lamb on your lap latches on perfectly, his little tail wagging as he feeds.

"Is...Is he?"

"Yours?" Magda hasn't stopped smiling. "Yeah. He's yours. Poor boy got rejected by his mum so he's going to need to be fed every few hours. You up for it?"

"What about training?"

"He's allowed to come with," Pernille says," We've already checked. You can bring him everywhere."

Your throat closes up like it always does when you're a bout to cry, completely overwhelmed by your mothers and this new little lamb that happily suckles on his bottle.

"I..." You fight to stop the tears from dropping down your cheeks. "Thank you. He's beautiful."

"Of course, sötnos. You deserve him," Pernille says with a warm smile.

Magda's got the same one on her face. "Just, er, make sure he doesn't sleep in your bed, okay? He's got his own."

You agree but you know the handsome boy in your lap is going to be sleeping in bed with you until he's too big to fit.

Magda doesn't need to know that though.

[archiveluna]

BSF!RAFE S1–S4! ₊˚ෆ INSPIRED BY THIS & THIS!

season one. what a horrible boy… literally the worst friend ever. honestly treats you like shit and he’s probably made you cry before—but also kinda overprotective? he can say mean shit to you but the moment someone else tries to do the same he is not having it! and more often than not, topper and you have to pull him away because he tries to start a fight with whoever said anything to you. constantly ditching you, forgetting any plans you’d made, and only offering half-assed apologies to get you off his back. it’s such a toxic friendship. you’ve tried cutting him off before, but it doesn’t really work because he refuses to let you go. you can block his number, block him on social media, but the next day he’s still showing up to your house like nothing happened, letting himself in. straight up laughs in your face if you tell him to get out. condescendingly calls you baby. “think you’re overreactin’ a little bit, baby. i already said i was sorry—dunno what else you want from me.”

season two. still kinda toxic, but let’s also add codependency and possessiveness now. he’s spiraling and you’re the only who’s there for him. he honestly scares you a little bit at times… but you genuinely do care for him. how can you not? it’s rafe—you’ve known each other your whole lives. and in his own way, you know he cares for you too, so you stick by him. doesn’t want you to look at him the same way everyone else does, so he doesn’t tell you about peterkin or any of the other shady shit he does, and you don’t ask either. he shows up to your house at unholy hours of the night, rarely ever calm. he’s always wide–eyed and jittery from the lines he’d done before leaving his house, seeking your comfort and reassurance. you show up to pick him up when he’s released from jail after ward ‘dies’ and you hold him in your arms later that night when he breaks down and tells you everything. now that you know what he’s done, he sees no point in keeping anything from you… but just know he’s never letting you go now. “don’t know what i’d do without you baby… you’re the only thing that’s keeping me from losin’ my goddamn mind.”

season three. you couldn’t leave with him when he’d left for guadeloupe with his family, so you don’t hear from him for a while. it’s not that he didn’t want to text or call you—he was dying to. rafe genuinely felt like he was going crazy without you, but he couldn’t risk it. when ward sends him back to the obx, you’re the first person he pays a visit to. you freeze when you open the front door, and there he is. he looks different. more… put together. the buzzcut makes him look mature, the way he was dressed—the way he carried himself. god and then he’s smiling at you. “hey baby…” he drawls. you throw yourself into his arms, gasping out his name, and rafe doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around you, gently swaying you both. “missed you so damn much,” he mumbles into your hair. apart from when he’s out with barry dealing with some ‘business’, the two of you are glued to each other. and he’s sooo touchy… <3 always has to have an arm lazily slung over your shoulders or around your waist. also likes to rest his hand on the small of your back. things definitely change between you two—in a good way.

season four. the line between ‘best friends’ and more is getting blurry between you two. but neither of you really talk about it—not yet, at least. he’s so sweet and attentive sometimes you can’t believe this is the same rafe who used to treat you like shit. now that he has his own house you spend most, if not all, of your time there. he even cleared one of his drawers out for you. you have makeup, jewelry, and other things scattered around his room or bathroom. and honestly? rafe loves it. he loves you. he doesn’t know why it took him this long to come to his senses but he’s never been more sure of anything than he is about this—about you. you’re his girl, the one person who stood by him through it all without judging him and he knows he most definitely doesn't deserve you, but he'll be damned if he lets anyone else sweep in and take you from him. rafe doesn’t outright ask you to be his girlfriend but his sudden change in behavior doesn’t go unnoticed by you. the way he calls you “baby” or “sweetheart” feels way more intimate and possessive now. ‘unintentionally’ kisses you once as he’s heading out. when you don’t immediately shut him down he keeps doing it until the quick kisses turn to making out, and making out turns into you two getting a little too carried away. gifts you a promise ring and officially asks you to be his girlfriend—proceeds to fuck you into the mattress later! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ “my girl,” he grunts against your ear, sliding in and out of you as the bed creaks beneath you both from the force of his thrusts. “never lettin’ you go baby. you hear me? you’re stuck with me forever sweetheart.”

[theballadofthesunandthestars]

Hello! I'm an aroace lesbian, here's my thoughts on the soulmate trope! I'll be talking about real life too, but I promise it all relates back to ship tropes and fanfic. And sorry it's kinda ramble-y!

So, I am not really a fan of the idea that each person has only one soulmate, and I especially hate the idea that soulmates are purely romantic. But I actually do believe in soulmates! I believe that each person has multiple soulmates, but soulmates are not necessarily a romantic partner that you're destined to be with. I believe that there are people that are meant to be in our lives one way or another, sometimes forever and sometimes temporarily. I think that soulmates can be not just romantic, but platonic and familial as well. All soulmates are just people that you are meant to have in your life.

A big aspect of this belief is that I don't see love between friends as lesser than love between romantic partners. I absolutely despise the phrasing "more than friends" when talking about romantic relationships, because friendships are just as nuanced, wonderful, and powerful as romances. And maybe that's just because I don't experience romantic attraction, but I don't think that's why. I know straight girls who have boyfriends, yet they share this deeply intimate connection that goes almost deeper than the feelings they have for their romantic partners. There's nothing romantic or sexual about their relationship; they just love each other deeply, and cannot imagine life without each other. In my mind, they're soulmates. They're meant to be in each other's lives, and they're linked to each other. In a romantic sense, we all have multiple people in the world that we could be romantic soulmates with. You can lose a soulmate due to bad timing or the relationship not working out, and there's still someone out there in the world for you if you want them. Some people dedicate themselves to one soulmate. Others have multiple throughout their lives. But one lifestyle is not above the other.

I've read one soulmate AU fic that I kind of liked. It was one where soulmates could feel each other's pain, and it was incredibly well-written. But there was one plot point I adored where it's revealed that one of the main couples in the story are actually not soulmates; both of them have different soulmates that they met, but realized that they were terrible with their soulmates romantically, and so while they keep in touch with their soulmates, they ultimately fell in love with someone who was not their soulmate, and found just as much fulfillment in that. And I LOVED that plot point; it made me like that relationship so much more. There was also an aroace character in the fanfic who had a soulmate, but he didn't want to be with him romantically, and so he wasn't. And I loved that plot point too because it showed that aroace people aren't incapable of deep love and aren't missing out on anything when they don't feel romantic attraction. That fic was super good in other words.

And I also think that my belief on soulmates is what makes me a multi-shipper and makes me not understand ship discourse in the slightest. Because first of all; polyamory anyone? I think that you can totally love multiple people at the same time, and it doesn't take away from the love you experience with any one person. Secondly, since friendship is not below romance in my mind and is just as valuable, I can totally be chill with a ship that I like being platonic or romantic in a given fanfic or universe. It doesn't feel like a loss in the relationship in the slightest.

I get the appeal of a soulmate trope; the idea that there is someone out there destined to love you no matter your flaws and shortcomings? Love that! But I guess I hate the idea that's usually promoted that everyone only has one soulmate, and it's romantic. And on the rare occasions when those fics include an aroace character, that character just doesn't get a soulmate of any kind. And that leaves a bad taste in my mouth. So I generally don't read those fics, though I hope people never stop writing them because you should not let some weird fuck like me on the internet stop you from writing what you want!

I recommend this world view personally though because I was able to heal so much for it! I was so scared that I was broken, that I was missing out on a big part of life, but no. Like Chappell Roan said, love is a kaleidoscope; even with all the colors and shapes, it somehow all boils down to the same emotion. And my friends that do have romantic attraction, I think that believing platonic connections are not lesser than can really help with a lot of insecurities and anguish that come from dating and engaging in romantic relationships. Because you don't need them to experience true love, and so there's no pressure anymore! You can explore romance at your own pace and leisure. You can be unafraid to let people go that you need to, because there's someone else out there who'll love you just as much! It makes life so much more fulfilling in my opinion!

But as I said, I'm a weird fuck on the internet and you know your life better than I do. So if this doesn't work for you, feel free to say "oh no thanks!" and live the life that's best suited for you! You got this!

Whew. Sorry for the cheesiness

Curious, I haven’t really seen any real trend among aspec people and the ship tropes they do like, however I think I kinda seen a trend in what they dislike. So in the tags tell me if you’re aspec (ace and/or aro) and if you dislike soulmates, and I mean the most straightforward romantic non subverted kind (but if there are versions you like feel free to elaborate)

[surely-sims]

📸 Story Poses: Love Triangle Trio Poses

Apologies for dropping off the face of the earth there. I've been so busy with work, (Yay! Employment!) and haven't had much time to work on cc at all. But since I recently got sick after traveling (boo, illness) but that gave me enough time off to wrap up these poses for ya'll! Additionally, I have a little CAS set about 90% done (again, thank you illness) but I hope you enjoy these in the meantime! These poses were requested by my sweet friend @molloopsytoo, and are inspired by the promotional photoshoot done for the recently released A24 Movie The Materialists! I think they're so joyful and fun and I hope you have fun playing with them too.

This pose pack is organized into 5 different pose sets, each with a couple different poses. It's like having tiny all-in-one animations instead of clicking through 60 individual poses. Set 1 is made for an Island Counter. Please place the teleporter knight in the center of the counter, or better yet check out this new mod by JohnBaccarat over on MTS. I've been using it to align sims and it's absolutely fabulous and worth checking out! There will probably be clipping with larger sims using these poses. Unfortunately with the tools we have right now, I can't IK hands to other sims rigs. BUT! Feel free to adjust anything you need for personal use if you're feeling adventurous.

That's all! Tag me if you use them if you'd like! I'd love to see what your sims are up to!

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