#also the little dots ! the little dots on his arms and over his shoulders

[bro-atz]

"they're like ocean waves"

in which: every time you see mingyu, you're hit with feelings of melancholy, nostalgia, and regret.

pair: non-idol!mingyu/author!afab!reader

word count: 7.7k

content: heavy angst, smut x 2!, slight hurt/comfort?, reader lives near the beach, reader is a loner, probably the worst communication you will ever see, bedroom sex, beach sex (they do it on a towel and under an umbrella no sand goes anywhere pls), romantic sex, oral sex, a pregnancy and a miscarriage, unprotected sex (PLS REMEMBER TO WRAP UP IRL!), completely consensual! and a happy ending i promise

rated: R | nsfw — minors do not interact

author's note: i actually wrote this as a very self indulgent fluff/angst y e a r s ago (2017) and stumbled upon it the other day, so i decided to fix her up, expand on her as an adult (aka add nsfw scenes lol), and reintroduce her to the world... also thank you sososo much to @yunhoszn for helping me work some details through!

You hated the ocean. You hated the beach. You hated the salty sea breeze that would hit your nose and last all day in your hair and on your skin. The worst part was that you hated the memories, and you hated the man that brought the memories.

His name was Kim Mingyu, and his name left a bad taste in your mouth. What was once sweet and rolled off your tongue like a knife through warm butter you now hesitated to utter and choked you like the salt in the ocean, in the sea. In complete honesty, the name itself was so foreign at that point, but his eyes, those eyes that promised her empty lies, his eyes were so darned familiar that you couldn't help but remember them.

You were usually cooped up inside the house frequently as you slaved away at your endless manuscripts that kept piling up but never saw the light of day, and you would force yourself to take breaks. Yet, the second you stepped foot outside, you froze. You were terrified that you were going to run into him because you genuinely wanted nothing to do with him at that point. So, you usually stayed at home, and you drowned in words and papers.

One day, though, you were forced to go outside. Although you hated the beach, you needed to head back to the beach just one last time to develop the setting for your story. You pulled yourself to the beach and stood with your toes buried in the sand and your arms crossed over your chest. There was a beach towel you had laid down on the ground and an umbrella driven into the sand that went over the towel, but you couldn't bring yourself to sit just yet. The warm ocean breeze swept through your hair as you gazed at the setting sun. Orange hues filled your vision as you thought back to the first time you met him, the first time you set foot on the beach.

"Hey there. What's a pretty girl like you doing alone on a beach like this?"

You were sitting on a beach towel on the sand and enjoying the view one fine evening. The sky was painted with different warm colors, and it was truly beautiful. You were so enamored by the sky that you didn't even bother to look in the direction of the person who spoke to you. That, and you kind of wanted to be left alone because his pick up line was a little too sleazy for you.

"I'm enjoying the view," you answered simply.

"Mind if I join you?" the man asked.

You were so ready to tell him off, but he was saved by his devilish good looks. You looked to see him, and you were met with the view of the most breathtaking young man in the most breathtaking backdrop. His golden, sun-kissed skin glimmered in the setting sun, and his eyes sparkled like the ocean when the sun hit it just right. His hair was wet with ocean water and swept back, little beads of water dotting his neck, shoulders, and chest. He shot you the most marvelous smile, stunning you into complete silence. You barely managed to nod, the man sitting down on the beach towel right next to you.

Originally, you had your legs crossed and your back slightly hunched over, but you were suddenly so self-conscious in your two-piece swimsuit around this stunning man that sat next to you, so you hugged your knees to your chest, doing your best to cover up most of your body.

You couldn't help but glance to your side every so often to catch the side profile of the man, and he would glance back, causing you to look away abruptly. That was the extent of it that day. The two of you merely sat on the beach together and shared stolen glances, the sound of the ocean waves crashing filling the silence between the two of you.

What was crazy to you was that it became a recurring thing. You were at the beach every single day for an entire week partly because you actually needed to get into the right mood to work on your latest manuscript, and partly because you were hoping that you would run into the beautiful man; and you did. Every single day for an entire week, the man would meet you at the same spot around the same time and just enjoy the view of the setting sun with you before leaving once the sky got dark and the moon was starting to rise.

The two of you had yet to speak until one week later; you mustered up all of your courage and finally decided to interrupt the crashing waves to talk to him.

"I don't believe I've introduced myself," you stated as you turned to face him.

You stuck your hand out and told him your name, a slight look of shock crossing his face, only to be replaced by the friendliest smile you had ever seen. Your heart thudded wildly in your chest as you tried to figure out what took you aback the most: his gorgeous smile, his warm, inviting hand, or his eyes— his wonderful, sparkling eyes. He took your hand and held it lightly as he said, "Kim Mingyu."

That was all he said. He only told you his name that day.

As the suns kept setting, and as the days rolled by, you found yourself more and more enthralled with the ethereal being that kept appearing before you. Thankfully, you talked a little more day by day, and day by day, you learned more and more about Kim Mingyu. Not only had you learned more and more about Kim Mingyu, but you also got closer and closer to him as well.

First, your shoulders brushed. Next, you were bumping shoulders. Your fingers touched and laced with each other. Your head leaned onto his shoulder, his arm wrapped around your waist, and you gazed at each other fondly. You got closer to each other gradually, naturally, easily.

At the time, everything seemed so simple for you. You had gone to the beach to enjoy the orange sunset and get inspired, but you ended up enjoying Mingyu's sparkling, hopeful eyes more. You enjoyed the way he would talk to you about anything and everything while lightly flirting with you in between conversations. You liked how his eyes would completely light up when he talked about the things he was passionate about, how his smile would get wider as you showed interest in the things he liked, and how he was so completely focused on every single word you said when you told him about the things you liked, the stories you were working on, and even mundane things like how your day was going.

The day that made your heart beat so fast that you wanted it to stop beating so that you could finally breathe was the day he kissed you. You were talking animatedly about God knows what when you saw his slightly narrowed gaze and his subtle smile. 

"W-What? What is it?" you stuttered, suddenly startled by the way his hand moved from your waist up to your ribcage.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered as leaned in closer to you, his face mere centimeters from yours. "You always look so beautiful when you smile and laugh..."

Your heart skipped several beats for several reasons: the words leaving his mouth, his hand pulling you into him, and his nose brushing against yours. His lips were dangerously close to yours, but they didn't meet yours until you quickly moved forward and left a peck on his. He exhaled softly, a smile playing on his lips before he kissed you again. His hand moved from your body to the back of your head, his fingers running through the roots and massaging your head lightly.

At first, his kisses started tenderly, his soft lips just pressing against yours over and over again, but when you moved your hand to cup his cheek, he couldn't help but take it one step further (not that you were complaining). His lips sucked gently on your lower lip before taking it in between his teeth and tugging lightly, making you moan slightly. You moved your hands to his bare waist and gripped his hips as if it would help you keep your grip on reality, but your mind was slowly melting, and you were sucked into his affection to the point where you didn't even realize he had you pinned to the beach towel you had been sitting on.

The sun was still taking its sweet time descending into the ocean when you brought Mingyu back to your place. Mingyu was bathed in the golden light that seeped through the window in your bedroom as he knelt on the bed before you. He removed the white button-up he never had buttoned up, giving you a complete view of his muscles. You had seen him shirtless a countless number of times, but that didn't stop your heart from threatening to leap out of your chest.

Mingyu silently held his hands out for you to take, guiding you so that you were kneeling on the bed as well so that he could hold your waist with a firm but gentle grip. When his hand slipped behind your back and brought you closer to him, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. He kissed you passionately several times before brushing his nose against your jawline so he could leave kisses along the curve of your neck. You sighed sensually when you felt him trail his kisses along your shoulder, his fingers moving up to slip the strap of your pale sundress off your shoulder.

However, Mingyu's patience wore thin. He bunched up the fabric of your sundress and pulled it off you, leaving you in nothing but your panties— but you were quick to take those off yourself because you, too, were impatient. His eyes scanned you from head to toe, taking in every square inch of your bare body. You were starting to feel self-conscious, but he didn't give you the chance to doubt yourself more. He pulled you flush against him and kissed you hungrily, his fingers dragging along the curve of your waist before he wrapped his arms around you and slowly laid you down on the bed.

Mingyu knelt between your legs. He trailed his kisses down your neck, over your collarbones, and to your breast. He licked your nipple before taking your breast into his mouth, both of his hands moving to massage your breasts. He looked up at you with lust filled eyes as he sucked painfully hard on your tits, your back arching as you let out a pleasure-filled whimper. It did not help when he switched breasts, making sure he gave both of them equal amounts of love.

"Ah—! Mingyu..." you sighed blissfully when he moved away from your breasts to suck on your clit. That sigh turned into a loud whimper when he fully committed to eating you out, his mouth slurping on your arousal. You cursed under your breath and ran your fingers through his hair when he slipped two of his fingers into your cunt.

Mingyu refused to let up. He ate you out as if he was a starved man, unable to get enough of your sweet taste. You could help but roll your hips in rhythm as you chased your high. What did it for you was him sitting up and fingering you hard, his fingers rubbing against your G-spot with enough force and speed to make you cum. Your cunt quivered as you came, a sweet, loud moan leaving your lips and echoing in your bedroom and Mingyu's ears.

Your chest heaved as you gasped and tried to regulate your breathing. Through half-lidded eyes, you watched Mingyu move back towards you. He brought the two fingers he had buried in your cunt to your lips. You looked up at him as you ran your tongue along his fingers before taking them into your mouth and sucking them. Mingyu bit his lower lip, a smirk threatening to cross his face as he watched you listen to his silent instructions so obediently.

"God..." he whispered when he took his fingers out of your mouth and brought his face down, his lips ghosting over yours. "God..."

He gave you a good taste of yourself when he kissed you, his tongue diving deep into your mouth. While you couldn't get enough of the way he kissed you with such intensity, you wanted more. You felt empty now that his fingers weren't inside you, and you needed him to fill you up again. You brought your knee up between his legs and rubbed against his insanely stiff crotch, the man breaking off the kiss immediately to inhale sharply. Looks like he couldn't wait much longer either.

You pushed yourself up and leaned on your elbows when Mingyu moved away from you completely. Hooking his thumb into the waistband of his shorts, he tugged them down slowly, his other hand pulling his erect cock out of his shorts in the process. You couldn't help but widen your eyes when you saw his length and girth, your heart thudding faster at the thought of having something so massive inside you.

Mingyu took off his shorts and dropped them off the side of the bed while stroking his cock. The bedsheets rustled as he moved so that he was right before you once again. You heard him chuckle lightly when you gulped nervously seeing his cock closer. It was twitching and raring to go, and while your body craved him, your mind was swirling with worry.

"I'll go slow, I promise," Mingyu whispered as he read your thoughts.

You felt your face heat up slightly— you didn't realize that you weren't being conspicuous with your feelings at all and were slightly embarrassed. You didn't have much time to sit in the embarrassment, though, because Mingyu started rubbing the tip of his cock along your folds. You felt it prod inside you a couple of times, but he had yet to fully enter.

The anticipation was driving you crazy. You flung your head back and arched your back while whining, your entire body craving him.

"M-Mingyu... Hurry," you whined quietly.

"What's the rush?" he asked somewhat cheekily as if he was trying to get a rise out of you, as if he was trying to get you to beg for it.

You whimpered and whined, the words refusing to formulate. You just wanted him. Plain and simple. You looked up at him with desperate eyes when he placed his hand next to your head, his face hovering above yours. A quick look of surprise crossed his face, making your heart skip a beat. He looked down and guided his cock to your entrance once more, preparing to enter you.

"All right, sweetheart," you shivered hearing his choice of nickname for you. "I'm going to start, okay?"

You nodded, and Mingyu started moving. His cock made its way inside you, spreading you wide open, filling your vision with fireworks. You choked on a gasp as his cock seemed to just keep going and going. When he bottomed out, you were absolutely certain he was going to hit your cervix with his size, making you extremely nervous but also excited as well.

Mingyu rolled his hips slowly at first, giving you a little more time to get used to his size. You reached for his shoulders and held onto them while he fucked you, the pads of your fingers pressing into his skin. The two of you were breathing shallowly, the mattress springs beginning to quietly squeak as he slowly sped up.

"You feel good?" he asked you in a low voice?

"So g-good," you murmured, your eyes fluttering as you let the pleasure begin to consume you.

"Can I— Shit— Move faster?"

"Mmhmm..."

Mingyu wasted no time. You felt like his cock was going to rip your insides out when he got faster and harder, the friction inside you just making everything more intense. You cried loudly as you felt his waist slapping against yours, your legs wrapping around his waist. Mingyu lowered his body further, his lips right next to your ear. You could hear him breathing and grunting erratically, his hot breath sending tingles through your body.

Suddenly, Mingyu sped up. The bedsprings squeaked loudly and the entire bed shifted with every thrust. You screamed, your nails digging into his skin as you felt your entire body swell with more and more pleasure. With one particularly strong thrust, Mingyu actually managed to ram into your cervix, immediately filling your vision with stars. You squeezed your eyes shut and cried as you came again.

The fluttering and clenching of your cunt was too much for the man to bear. You heard his breathing hitch and a groan rumble in his throat while his waist continued moving rapidly.

"Fuck! C-Cumming!" Mingyu grunted loudly.

He pulled out and stroked his cock several times before ropes of white shot out and landed your stomach. He continued to grunt and sigh as more cum spurt out of his cock, his hand slowing down as he released his entire load to decorate your skin.

The two of you were breathing hard. Your breathing slowed down, and your eyes could barely stay open as your body relaxed more and more into the mattress, the pleasure still lingering within you.

You ended up falling asleep just like that, and when you woke up, you saw that Mingyu had cleaned the two of you up but that you both were still nude, the only fabric covering your skin being the duvet on top of you. He was fast asleep and hugging you close to him as the two of you laid side by side, his hold on your waist only getting stronger when he felt you shift in his arms.

Mingyu's face was right before yours. You watched him breathe softly, peacefully, your heart fluttering as you observed his beautiful features. You wanted to reach out and run your finger along his sculpted face, but at the same time, you felt so at peace just seeing his relaxed, sleeping face. You settled for pressing your ear to his chest and listening to his beating heart as you drifted off to sleep again.

You and Mingyu had spent a countless number of nights together after that, and every single time, he was so overwhelmingly generous and passionate with you that you couldn't help but fall for him— and you fell hard.

Yet, you didn't think to tell him about your feelings. Truthfully, you were too scared to. You didn't know how he felt about you, and you seriously couldn't tell sometimes, especially when you saw him talking to other people.

Sometimes, while you waited for Mingyu at the beach, you would spot him talking and laughing with a couple friends. One day, however, you saw him with another woman. Technically speaking, you and Mingyu never made any sort of commitment to each other, so he was free to talk to, flirt with, or sleep with anyone he wanted to, but you still couldn't help but feel your heart drop to your feet. He looked so happy with her, and every time she touched his arm in a flirty manner, he would accept it and reciprocate.

You were hurt. You thought you and Mingyu had something a little more special. You thought that he didn't treat all girls the same way he treated you, that he wasn't like every other man, that he wasn't actually a player. All of those thoughts completely shattered when you saw him with her. You were upset with him, but you were also upset with yourself for never saying anything to him, and based on the way he was interacting with that woman, you felt like you probably shouldn't say anything.

That was the last time you saw him... for a while. The day you saw him with the girl, you left, and he texted you asking you where you were, but you didn't respond. He didn't send a single message after that. You were left alone— well, actually, you weren't completely alone.

A couple of weeks later, you went to the doctor because you were unwell. You were throwing up all the time, and you were unable to focus or do anything properly. You thought it was a stomach flu, but it was a baby instead, and it was his baby; it had to be his baby because you hadn't been with another man ever since.

After finding out, you didn't really know what to do with the information. You debated telling Mingyu, but no matter how you thought about it, your mind kept drifting to him and the other woman. You didn't want to disrupt his life, but in the same breath, he deserved to know. That being said, seeing that his last text to you was weeks prior always stopped you from sending a message, and if you couldn't even send a text, where the hell were you going to call him?

You ended up living with your little secret kept close to your heart. You took care of yourself, and you were on top of things. You thought about what your life was going to look like after you gave birth, and when you looked around your desolate apartment, you thought about sharing your life with someone. You thought about it, but at the end of it all, you could only think of one person you actually wanted to share it with, and it made you spiral all over again.

One particular day, you felt completely off. You had horrible cramps, and you were so dizzy that you couldn't do anything but keep your head in the toilet and dry heave because you literally had nothing in your system but your body was going through it to the point where you were delirious. In fact, you were so delirious that you called Mingyu right before you passed out.

When you came to, you were in a hospital, and you were confused as hell. It was nighttime. Moonlight filled your room along with the beeping of the heart monitor. You pushed yourself up and looked to your side to see Mingyu fast asleep while kneeling at the edge of the hospital bed. Your heart skipped a beat seeing his perfectly chiseled face before your brain questioned why he was there in the first place.

Mingyu stirred when you tried to shift to a more comfortable position, and the second he blinked some of the sleep out of his eyes, he fully awoke and stood up quickly to stand right by your side.

"Hey," he whispered. "How are you feeling?"

"Okay, but, what's going on? Why am I—"

"Shh, just get some rest... You've been through a lot."

You were getting nervous with the way he was talking to you, raising more questions. There was no way in hell you were going to sleep without getting some answers.

"...Why am I here? And why are you here?"

Mingyu took a deep breath. He knew you weren't going to rest until you knew what was happening.

So, he told you everything. You called him right before you passed out, and he immediately picked up. When you didn't speak, he at first thought you butt dialed him or something, but your phone was right by your face, and he heard your shallow, shaky breaths. He, thankfully, remembered where your spare key was and immediately got to your apartment to see you on the ground in your bathroom. He called the paramedics, they brought you to the hospital, and after running through all of the tests, the doctor told him what happened.

"You... You were pregnant," Mingyu whispered.

"Yeah, I'm pregnant, but—"

"No," Mingyu cut you off. "You were pregnant."

White noise filled your ears. The words, with the infliction, sunk in, and you felt everything around you collapse. You felt like Mingyu hit you with a right hook when he said that, and you were close to knocking out.

Were.

How could that even happen?

The doctors explained it to you, but you weren't listening; you couldn't bring yourself to listen. Your head was muddled, every voice that spoke to you was muffled, and your heart was muzzled.

You were so lifeless throughout your stay at the hospital that Mingyu couldn't help but stay by your side. Granted, you thought was doing it out of pity, but it was mainly because he knew that if you were left alone, you would fall over again, and he didn't want that to happen to you ever no matter how big the distance between the two of you grew.

Even after discharge, Mingyu stayed with you. He kept reassuring you that if you wanted to cry, you could, and that he would be there for you, but you didn't have it in you to cry. You were mindless from the moment he told you, and you remained mindless as you tried to find normalcy in your life once more. You were so mindless, in fact, that you expected Mingyu to just up and leave after knowing you could feed yourself, but he didn't. He stayed with you for a while— until he found out the truth.

You and Mingyu were in the kitchen one evening. You were cleaning, and Mingyu, who originally entered the kitchen to rifle through the pantry, held the handle to the pantry door before sighing and facing you.

"Hey," Mingyu broke the silence. "Can I ask you something?"

You nodded while mindlessly wiping down the kitchen countertop.

"Who was the father...?"

You froze. You knew he was going to ask that at some point, but you thought he would give you a little more than several days to prepare for it. You set the towel aside and looked at him. You wanted to tell him, but the words were stuck in the back of your throat.

Mingyu saw the look on your face and immediately looked away uncomfortably. He ran his hand over his face and took a heavy breath.

"...Tell me something," his voice came out rough, as if he was choking back a sob.

You waited for him to say something, but he just looked at you instead. You nodded and whispered, "Yeah?"

"In the time we haven't seen each other..." he started slowly. "Have you slept with anyone else?"

You shook your head. You wanted to confirm verbally, but there was no way you were going to— not when you felt your chest tighten up uncomfortably.

"So..."

Mingyu definitely choked on his words that time. He chewed on his lower lip nervously. He covered his mouth with his hand and sighed slowly, shakily. The room was heavy, and both of you knew exactly what this awkwardness meant, but you were waiting for the other one to say the words. Unable to take the tension any longer, you spoke.

"It was you..."

Mingyu pressed his lips together in a tight line. He took a step towards the kitchen island and grabbed the edge as if to steady himself. You watched his knuckles turn white the longer he gripped it. He looked down at the countertop before looking right at you, his eyes red and watery.

"Me?"

You were near tears. You blinked them away quickly while sniffling and nodding. You knew what was coming. You knew he was going to be upset, and you needed him to know why you did what you did, and there was no way that was going to happen if you got emotional.

"So, let me get this straight. You were pregnant, and I was the father?"

You nearly flinched when you heard his voice get louder.

"Yes," you confirmed before choosing your next words very carefully. "I was pregnant, and you were the person who got me pregnant."

You definitely flinched when Mingyu slammed his hands down on the countertop. He was shaking, and his face was twisted painfully as the realization finally completely hit him.

"You— You were pregnant— You were pregnant with my child?!" Mingyu yelled; he was in complete and utter disbelief to the point where he was tripping over his words. "Did— You— You didn't think to tell me?!"

"I didn't know how you were going to respond, Mingyu! We're not married, we're not engaged— I'm just some girl you knocked up, and I didn't want you to feel the need to marry me just because I was pregnant!"

"So, what, you were just going to have the kid without telling me?! You were going to let me go blissfully unaware that someone who shares half of my DNA is just walking around without even knowing who their biological father is?!"

"Does it even matter?!" you shrieked.

The two of you fell silent. The weight of the matter hit you like a ton of brick, and the room got more stuffy by the second. You ran your shaking fingers through your hair and exhaled slowly, your heart clenching as you thought about everything that led to that moment. You closed your eyes and massaged your temples as you did your best to hold your tears back.

"It doesn't even matter anymore," you sighed, your voice shaky as you spoke quietly.

You could tell Mingyu wanted to comfort you. His hand reached out hesitantly before falling at his side. You faced him and locked eyes with him. His eyes weren't sparkling the way they used to whenever he saw you. They were bleak, sorrowful, resentful. You knew he resented you for not telling him about your unplanned pregnancy and that he found out because of the hospital.

"You know," Mingyu started, his voice choked back by a sob. "You could at least..."

He shook his head. He wasn't going to say it, and as much as you wanted to demand that he say it, you didn't need him to.

You could at least apologize for not telling me in the first place.

And you did want to apologize, but the words got stuck in the back of your throat because you were just as hurt by him as he was by you. Plus, he wasn't the one who had to bear the weight of losing a child— you were.

Neither of you uttered a word after that. Mingyu wordlessly left your apartment, and you remained in your kitchen this time actually completely alone.

Years later, you still carried the resentment against him. You couldn't figure out why either. Maybe it was the fact that he seemed to have moved on with his life and that you were still stuck in the past. Maybe it was because he never tried to find you to comfort you. Maybe it was because you wish he fought for you to stay with him.

You stared aimlessly at the sunset before you, your arms crossed over your chest as the yellow and orange hues grayed out in your glazed view. The waves were calmly patting the large rocks, and the wind was sweeping by you warmly, but you felt anxious and cold. You ran your shaking fingers through your hair and took a shuddering breath as you tried your best to appreciate the sky's canvas through your teary eyes.

"Hey there..." you heard a familiar voice over the sound of the ocean waves.

A tear immediately slipped out of your eye. You refused to turn, you refused to look— you didn't need to see who it was.

"What're you doing alone on a beach like this?" he continued.

Your heart clenched. It was like the first time the two of you met all over again, but you were anything but happy. You shook your head and looked away. Honestly, you wanted to run away, but your feet refused to carry you, your toes sinking deeper into the soft sand.

"Come on... Please look at me..."

The catch his throat stabbed at your heart several times. You bit your lower lip and tried your best to keep it together as you turned to look at him, but all of that effort was in vain.

It was the first time in years that you saw him, and dare you say it, he looked even more stunning as a slightly older man. His muscles had gotten more refined, and his facial features had gotten sharper. The biggest change, however, was his eyes. They weren't sparkling at all anymore, but there was something else there— something you couldn't quite place. It was unfamiliar, but in the same breath, recognizable.

"Mingyu..." you breathed out unintentionally, your voice trembling. "What are you doing here?

He took a single step towards you. You were still frozen in place, so he kept approaching despite you wanting him to stay as far away from you as possible.

"I... I miss you... And I want to—" Mingyu stopped himself the second he saw you shaking your head.

"Please don't, Mingyu," you whispered.

A warm ocean breeze swept past your ankles and through your hair as silence filled the space between you. You turned away from him and looked at the ocean again, Mingyu continuing to stare at you. You wiped the lingering tears by your eyes away before crossing your arms over your chest again. Even after everything, you still refused to cry, especially in front of him. Yet, when Mingyu approached you tentatively and carefully wrapped his arms around you, you broke. You let him hug you, and all of the tears you had been holding back not just then but over the last several years came pouring out.

You wanted to say something, but you couldn't. You were too busy wailing into his chest, your hands grabbing at the fabric of his shirt as you pulled him closer to you. Mingyu kept one secure hand around your waist while the other petted your head in a soothing manner.

"It's okay... Cry it all out..." Mingyu murmured, making you cry even more.

The two of you had slowly sunk down to the ground and sat on the towel under the umbrella which you had brought to the beach to sit on earlier. Mingyu refused to let you go even as your sobs died down. He rubbed your back, the feeling of his large hand on your back and the sounds from the ocean easing your pain and finally calming you down.

You sat in silence after you cried it all out. Mingyu's hold on you loosened slightly so that you could lean back and look at him, but he still didn't let go of you— there was no way in hell he was going to let go of you now.

"How are you feeling?" Mingyu asked in a hushed voice.

"A little better..." you couldn't help but admit— the lack of bottled up emotions in your chest did make it easier for you to breathe.

You looked up at him. This time, when you gazed into his eyes, you were able to figure out exactly what it was in his eyes: hope. You felt the emotion swell up in your chest again, but instead of crying, you took a deep breath and relaxed a little more in his arms.

"Why did you..." you sighed as you trailed off, trying to figure out exactly how you wanted to say this. "You're here because...?"

"Because I miss you," Mingyu said, reiterating what he was saying earlier. "I miss you so much..."

"...Why did you come here, then? How'd you know you'd find me here...?"

"I didn't, actually. I was thinking about going to your apartment, but I didn't know if you still lived there, and when I turned around to go home... I saw you standing here..."

"I actually still live at the same place," you couldn't help but chuckle dryly. "You'd think I would have moved after all this time... But I couldn't bring myself to do it..."

"Why is that?"

"Because... Even after everything... I never wanted to— I could never get over you... I really missed you too, Mingyu..."

Mingyu cupped your face after you stopped talking. He tilted your head up, and you saw his lower lip quiver. He took a breath as if he was about to say something, but he immediately closed his mouth. He didn't need to say it— you knew what he wanted to say.

"Then why did we wait so long to find each other again?"

You knew what kept you from reaching out, but you weren't sure how Mingyu was going to respond, nor were you sure you wanted to know the answer. However, enough was enough, and you needed answers.

"Can I ask you something?" you asked, your voice hushed.

"Yeah, of course," he nodded. "You can ask me anything."

You swallowed nervously. You were still unsure of how to broach the subject, so you just decided to be candid and let your ears get as hot as they wanted as embarrassment took control of your brain.

"What about that other girl?"

"What other girl?" Mingyu asked, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"Back then... You were talking and laughing with another girl..."

Mingyu just looked even more confused. Taking a deep breath, you finally laid it all out.

"We didn't... We didn't really talk about what our relationship was back then... So when I saw you with another girl, I assumed it was because you had your options open," you explained slowly. "And since we weren't officially dating or together or anything, I didn't want to ask you about it because you were free to see other people..."

Your gaze slowly lowered as you explained your train of thought, so when you finished, you looked up again to see a wide array of emotions painted on Mingyu's face. He closed his eyes and sat silently for a moment, and you waited for him to gather his own thoughts before responding. Finally, he reopened his eyes, and for the first time in a while, you saw that sparkle you were hopelessly infatuated with return to his eyes.

"Sweetheart, there's never been anyone else," Mingyu said softly as he reached for and held your hand. "I've only ever had eyes for you, and I have not stopped thinking about you..."

You felt your eyes well up with tears. There were so many thoughts swirling around your head, most of them being regret that you didn't talk this through with Mingyu in the beginning; but he made all of the negative thoughts leave your mind the second he cupped your face and met your gaze.

"I only want to be with you."

A tear slipped out of your eye, the man immediately brushing it away. You pushed yourself into his arms and hugged him tightly while sobbing, Mingyu immediately hugging back and petting your head to soothe you. He whispered reassuring words to you while resting his chin on the top of your head, and he let you cry it all out. His white shirt soaked up all of your tears as you buried your face in his chest.

"I'm sorry, Mingyu... I'm so sorry..."

"It's okay... Don't think about it now," he said softly. "Let's not dwell on the past... Let's focus on now..."

You shook your head, prompting him to counter your apology.

"If anything, I'm sorry for leaving you like that," he whispered. "I hated that I wasn't there for you when you needed the support... I should've been there for you."

You sniffled and moved your head back. You opened your mouth to say something, but the words were stuck in the back of your throat, choked back by a sob.

"But I'm here for you now, and I promise I'm always going to be here for you. Always."

With that, Mingyu pressed his lips against yours tenderly, your heart swelling with a multitude of emotions. You kissed him back softly, slowly, conveying all of your unspoken feelings to him.

The sun was long gone by that point, and the stars were out as you and Mingyu found yourselves entangled with each other. Mingyu's hands roamed all of your body. The warmth of his touch lingered on every spot of skin his fingers brushed as he took in every last bit of you. His kisses started sweet but slowly got more hungry and desperate as every single cell of his body craved you— after all, it had been years.

If the two of you hadn't been hidden to the world under an umbrella and behind a strip of large rocks, you wouldn't have been okay with Mingyu taking things further with you. He slid your dress up as he trailed kisses from your ankle up your leg and to your knee. Your dress rested on your stomach, and he turned you to the side before lying down alongside you, his hand bringing your thigh up and over his legs. He placed his hand under your head as a makeshift pillow, and you immediately nuzzled your face into his hand, making his breathing hitch slightly.

The two of you were silent, and you let the sound of the waves lapping fill the void the more intimate you got. Mingyu pulled his cock out of his shorts and started to rub it between your legs, your body trembling with want, desire, and a little fear. Since it had been so long, you forgot how big he was, so when he pushed your panties to the side before slipping his cock inside you, you immediately moaned loudly. Mingyu cut off your moan with a kiss, his tongue keeping yours occupied as he bottomed out.

You moaned into Mingyu's mouth as he began to move, his waist softly slapping against yours. You felt like your cunt was going to tear apart with his size, and as much as it hurt, it also felt so good that you desperately needed him to keep going.

"You doing okay, sweetheart?" he moved his lips to your ear and asked, his voice low and raspy.

You hummed and nodded, the pleasure starting to overwhelm you. The pleasure only continued to build when he started bucking his hips upwards rashly, your whole body lurching. You cried softly and pushed yourself closer to him. You were so close, but you needed just a little bit more.

Mingyu's hand slipped under your dress, his large hand palming your breast. You sighed and moaned the stronger his grip on you got and the more rash his thrusts got. Finally, he thrust into you with enough force that his cock hit your cervix multiple times, the pleasure surging through you like anything. You buried your face into the nook of his neck and groaned as quietly as you could as your orgasm washed over you. Your cunt clenched, and your toes curled. You had been holding onto Mingyu's forearms, and when you came, you dug your nails into them, leaving deep crescents in his arms.

"Fu-uck," Mingyu groaned when he felt you tighten around him.

You truly thought that Mingyu was close when you heard him curse, his sexy, rumbling voice making you tingle with excitement again. However, he apparently was far from done. He moved his hand from your head to your ass, and cupping the underside of your ass, he turned you so that you were on top of him. He pulled you down so that your chest was pressed against his before moving his hands back to your ass. He guided you as your ass bounced on his hips, the new angle making pleasure surge through you once more and your eyes fill with tears.

"I'm— Hnngh— I'm gonna cum inside, okay, sweetheart?" Mingyu whispered, his breathing getting shallower by the second.

Your heart couldn't help but thud wildly against your chest. You whispered, "Please, Mingyu. I'm all yours... I'll always be yours...."

Mingyu's eyes widened slightly before a gentle smile appeared on his face. He ran his fingers through the hair on the back of your head and brought you down to kiss you passionately. When the kiss ended, he let you go to turn you to your side. He buried his face into the nook of your neck and sighed deeply before fucking you as quickly as he could.

Right before he came, a groan rumbled in the back of his throat. He moved his head to your shoulder, his canines digging into your skin as he bit your shoulder lightly. You felt his hot cum fill you up and his dick continue to throb  and spasm as he moved a little more to get the rest of his load out. The two of you sighed softly, blissfully, peacefully as you fully relaxed.

The stars were out as you laid in Mingyu's arms, your eyes closed, your breathing peaceful. The sound of the soft ocean waves rushing onto the sand made you stir. Your eyes fluttered open to see Mingyu staring at the lonely sky above you. You moved away from his chest slightly to get a better look at him, the man immediately shifting his gaze to you. He smiled as you blinked at him. His eyes were sparkling once again, and dare you say it, they sparkled brighter than the stars in the sky. You felt tears well up in your eyes again, and Mingyu wiped them away before they could stain your cheeks. Hushing you softly, he hugged you gently and held you close.

You still hated the ocean. You still hated the beach. You still hated the salty sea breeze that would hit your nose and last all day long in your hair and on your skin, but you welcomed the memories. You welcomed the memories, and you once again loved the man that brought the memories.

networks:

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apply for the permanent taglist here!

[hiraethwrote]

i prefer it, actually

summary: after being called in the middle of the night, megumi comes over to take care of you while you're drunk

[ loner!megumi x popular!reader ]

cw: college au, f!reader, sorority!reader, pure fluff, intoxicated reader, party but mostly going on in the background, throwing up, aged up characters

word count: 2.2k

“Hello?” Megumi answered the phone in a confused haze, the blaring ringtone waking him up from his deep sleep.

“Megumi? I think you should come down here.” The voice that greeted him wasn’t one he recognised, and his confusion only strengthened when he checked the caller ID to see a picture of you.

“Who is this?” He asked, slowly rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he sat up in his bed.

In the background, he heard muffled music interrupted by a loud gag. “It’s Kasumi.”

Kasumi? There was something scarily familiar about that name, and after a few silent moments of thought he connected the dots, remembering she was a part of your sorority.

And as the pieces fell together, the concern started to fill his body, serving almost as an alarm clock as his sleepiness become nothing but a distant memory in a matter of seconds. “Is she okay?”

“Well…” Kasumi trailed off on the other end of the phone before another horrible gag interrupted the line. “She’s just really drunk.”

His shoulders dared relax just an tad. “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes,” he sighed before another sickening sound he only assumed was you hunched over a toilet bowl. Some of his worry had settled when he knew you weren’t in any immediate danger at least, but he also knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep again until he was certain you were safely in bed.

As he promised, fifteen minutes later he walked through the door of your sorority, the party still in full swing as he bullied himself through the thick crowd to get to the stairs.

God, he couldn’t stand this. Too many people shoved into a house where the mere concept of personal space was long abandoned. Obnoxious music that was so loud you were unable to hear your own thoughts — and not to mention how incredibly annoying people got when drinking.

Therefore he could not for the life of him fathom why you loved it so much. Only a handful of times had he accompanied you to parties like this, and you always managed to have a good time. That might be the only thing he has ever found himself liking with these things; seeing how much you enjoyed yourself.

So for the most part, he just decided to stay in when you wanted to go out so he wouldn’t ruin your evening by moping around, constantly checking the time to see when it was acceptable for him to go to bed. He didn’t want to be that boyfriend who stopped you from doing the things you liked just because he didn’t want to.

When he reached your room, his head cleared up as the people and music from downstairs was shut out, transforming into muffled background noise through the floor. He placed three knocks on your bathroom door before it creaked open, spotting the blue haired girl he assumed had to be Kasumi. “Hey,” he whispered, leaning against the doorframe as she opened the door further.

“Thank god you’re here. She’s been begging for you for like two hours,” she groaned, not hesitating to walk out of the bathroom so she could return to the festivities. "I think she's pretty much finished in there, just tired now."

He cleared his throat. “Thanks for taking care of her,” he said awkwardly as she was about to exit your room.

“Of course,” she smiled sweetly. “She would have done the same for me,” and she was gone.

He turned back around, pushing the door fully open to reveal you just in the position he had excepted. Your hair was tied back in a ponytail, makeup slightly smudged from throwing up for who knew how long, a constant little shiver running through your body.

“How you hanging in there?” He asked, a small amused smirk creeping up on his face.

Lifting your head from where it was resting on your arm, you turned to look at him, face lighting up the second your eyes landed on him. “Megumi, you’re here!” You nearly cheered, both hands immediately extending towards him, needy for him to come join you on the floor.

He does as you wished, his hands instinctively stroking away the stray hairs that hung in front of your face, behind your ears. “Feeling okay?”

“Better now that you’re here!” You slurred, flashing your teeth at him in a huge grin. The annoyance and frustration caused by the party below was quickly forgotten at the sight of you beaming at him. Even though you looked tired, appearance tainted by the evening, it did nothing to smother beauty. “I didn’t think I’d see you tonight.” You were clearly still intoxicated, eyelids droopy as you mumbled sentences he could barely make out.

“A little blue birdie told me you needed me, so,” he shrugged, as if it was nothing to think about.

“Awe, baby,” you squealed as you fell forward, head landing on his chest. “You’re too good for me,” you sighed, melting into his body, the heat radiating off of him soothing the shiver present in your own body.

A gentle hand finds your upper arm to give it a light squeeze. “Do you think you can get up?” He felt the movement of your head agree to his request. He stands up first, grabbing ahold of your clammy hands and pulling you to your feet, instantly lacing his arm around your waist when you nearly fell over the second you were stood up. “Easy there,” he chuckled quietly.

“I’m fine!” You rushed in a high pitched tone, grabbing onto him for support, feeling the room spin a lot more now than when you were leaned over the toilet. When you weren’t nuzzled up against his warm chest anymore, the tremble quickly found its way back to your muscles. “‘m cold.”

“You’re cold?” He asked for confirmation. You only nodded, bottom lip sticking out in a dramatic pout. “Okay,” he whispered to himself before letting go of you by the sink before walking into your room to get you something.

“No, not that one!” You whined when he came back with one of your hoodies in his hands, earning you a confused frown from your boyfriend. “Want yours.”

He just rolled his eyes, acting as if he genuinely thought you were being a nuisance — but in reality, his heart did a little skip at the fact that you so persistently wanted to wear something of his instead.

At the foot of your bed he spotted a familiar hoodie, where you’d thrown it after waking up. Whenever the two of you didn’t spend the night together, you made sure to have a piece of his clothing nearby so he didn’t feel so terribly far away.

Could you be considered a clingy girlfriend? Probably — but you preferred the term devoted.

“Thank youuuuu,” you cooed as he simply tilted his head to signal for you to raise your arms. You happily obliged and he pulled it over your head, a satisfied hum slipping out as you hugged your arms around yourself to take in the familiar scent of your boyfriend.

Without saying anything, he grabbed your toothbrush with one hand, and your face with the other to hold it still, fingers softly digging into your plush cheeks. He finds it surprisingly unproblematic to help you brush your teeth, suspecting your drunken state might actually have served as help, paralysing your usual restlessness.

He gently grabbed your hand and guided you back to your room again, but was abruptly halted when you decided to stop dead in your tracks. With pinched eyebrows, he turned to you.

“Babe, I can’t go to bed with my makeup on.” You let go of his hand to retreat them into the sleeves of the sweater, hoping the warmth it usually provided would find you soon.

“Okay?” He asked, nervously moving his hand to his neck, rubbing it slightly as he waited for you to give him the right instructions.

“There’s makeup wipes under the sink,” you said matter-of-factly.

“Yes, ma’am,” he answered under his breath and went to get the wipes. When he returned, he nearly stumbled over your limp body. During his short trip to the bathroom, you had suddenly decided to just lay down on your back in the middle of the floor. With another sigh, he positioned himself on his knees by your head before carefully lifting it into his lap.

He started with your eyes, lightly rubbing the wet wipe across your eyelids. It didn’t take long before he managed to draw a drunken giggle from your lips. “What?”

“You’re so gentle,” you opened your eyes to stare up at him, thinking he was upside down but you couldn’t be too sure as the room was still spinning. The frown — you once had thought was a chronic condition — was very much present.

“I don’t wanna pop your eyes out.”

You only laughed. “You’re not gonna pop my eyes out. C’mon, you can put a little more pressure.” He let out a long and stressed exhale before going back to work, grimacing in fear as he did as you’d told him.

Eventually, the makeup came off, but you continued to lay completely still. You kept your head in his lap, eyes closed and a small smile ever present on your face.

“Did you have fun tonight?” His voice was soft, barely audible — especially with the banging from the bass downstairs seeping through the floor.

“Meh,” you said simply as you shrugged.

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” you breathed as you open your eyes to meet his gaze again. “You weren’t there.” He snorted, slightly rolling his eyes at your statement, believing you were only lying to make him feel better about coming all the way down to your sorority in the middle of the night.

“Yeah, right. How much did you have to drink?”

“No, Megs, I’m serious,” you giggled as your hands acted on their own, raising to cup his cheeks. “There’s only so much fun I can have when you’re not here.”

He felt his cheeks heat against your hands — you didn’t seem to notice however. He always thought it strange, that even after the two of you became official, it didn’t take a lot of effort from you to bring that redness to his face, a colour that had only grown familiar to his features after getting to know you.

“Sure, so fun having me sulk at your heels all evening.” There’s nothing but sarcasm in his tone as he continued to try and hide his flushed cheeks.

“I don’t mind,” you said softly as you gaze directly into his eyes, his blush only amplifying. “I prefer it, actually.”

His soft eyes roamed your face, lips slightly parted in awe. He still didn’t understand how you, who was so sociable, always the life of the party, beyond stunning, had decided he was the one you wanted to be with. And time and time again you confirmed it to him that it was for real.

Without much more thought, he simply leaned forward to press a tender kiss on your lips, your lips curling up in a giddy smirk. You were unable to contain yourself, breaking the kiss by hiding your face behind your hands, strangling the sweet giggles spilling out of you.

“You still make me nervous,” you said in between the cute sounds that was like music to his ears.

“I make you nervous?” He scoffed. “Alright, you’re clearly still drunk. Time for bed.” He gently tapped your shoulder, trying to get you to lift from his lap.

“You can never take a compliment,” you grumbled, wearing the frown that was more often seen painted on his eyebrows. He didn’t entertain your complaints, merely helping you up before leading you to your bed.

When he was about to turn around, your hand grabbed a hold of his wrist, surprised by the strength in your clutch. “No, you gotta stay here tonight!”

“I’m not leaving,” he laughed. “I’m just going to get you some water,” he said as he grabbed your hand to force you to let go.

“Oh.”

He can’t help but shake his head a little. You were probably the only drunk person he liked — of course, he was biased. During the parties, you were so outgoing, in a way he always admired. And then, when it was time to turn in for the night, you became so incredibly cute.

After having fetched the glass, he returned to see you wrapped up in the covers, having pulled the hood over your head and nuzzled further into the clothing.

A content huff left his nose as he put the glass down on your nightstand before stripping down to his t-shirt and boxers, then he carefully climbed over you. He knew he’d only receive grumpy grunts of annoyance if he tried to shove you to sleep closest to the wall.

The second he closed his eyes, he felt you snake your arm tightly around his torso and burying your face against his back, wanting to consume as much of his body heat as possible. Two light taps on your hand caused you to loosen your grip before he wiggled to turn around so you were now burying your head in his chest instead.

A deep, much needed, breath filled your lungs before you simply melted into him as his arms wrapped around you, humming in satisfaction as his hands slowly began to rub your scalp.

tags (taglist is open) @sad-darksoul, @nyahctrl, @ssetsuka

a/n the layout for these drabbles and short entries will be a little different, but yeah hope you like it. oh, and if you wanna be in the taglist, just lemme know <3 - btw, all warnings will be in the masterpost at all times

reblogs, likes and comments are appreciated plagiarism not authorized

[dearobinchwan]

𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐝𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 ?

featuring : gn!reader + Zoro, Mihawk and Ace

warning : none

masterlist

Roronoa Zoro

His heart suddenly beats more rapidly whenever he sees you smiling, laughing, or even doing the most random thing. On top of that, Sanji's overly complimentary remarks towards you make him want to reach for his swords. No, this can't be. He's stared death down a thousand times, cut through countless enemies. Yet, this new feeling blooming for you – it's terrifying.

Zoro coming to terms with his feelings for you? Buckle up, because it's going to be a hilarious journey. Denial will be his middle name for a while, trust me. This dense swordsman will be in for a wild ride before he finally connects the dots.

Thanks to Nami's interrogation skills (and a little sake), the whole crew knows Zoro has a thing for you. Now, expect endless teasing from Luffy and Usopp, who'll probably try to spill the beans before a certain mosshead gives them his best glare.

Zoro finally figuring out his feelings for you? Great! Now comes the real test: talking to you about them. Because let's be honest, under that tough-guy act, he is probably a nervous wreck, sweating bullets at the thought of rejection.

Zoro's not exactly the Romeo type. So expect a confession that's straightforward, maybe a bit awkward – but heartfelt nonetheless. If you feel the same, a weight will lift from his shoulders. But if not, he'll respect your decision and try to keep things smooth between you.

Dracule Mihawk

Don't be fooled by Mihawk's stoic facade – because he is quite aware of his feelings for you. Years have honed his instincts, and unlike his pupil, he has no time (and he is too old) for childish denial. His emotions are clear, even if unspoken.

That man has a very calculating mind. He'll dissect every interaction, every glance, searching for a sign that you love him as mush as he loves you. Despite his solitary nature, his mind might already be constructing a future by your side – a future dependent on your response.

Mihawk is probably one of the few men in One Piece who are very romantic (Oda told me so). His brand of romance is subtle yet charming. Imagine leisurely strolls through his gardens or watching the sunset with a glass of wine by his side. A subtle offer of his arm, a hint of a blush from you – that might be all the encouragement he needs to take things a step further.

Once confident your feelings mirror his own, Mihawk will approach things in an (VERY) old-fashioned way. Be prepared for a carefully crafted dinner invitation, where he can formally request the honor of courting you. His pride lies in being a gentleman, and rushing into things is simply not his style. He prefers to court you slowly and respectfully, allowing your relationship to develop naturally.

After a series of thoughtful dates, Mihawk will finally take the next step and ask you to be his partner (Perona and Zoro might have placed a bet on the timeline, of course). Like everything he does, Mihawk will approach this new chapter with utmost seriousness. Your well-being will always be his top priority.

Portgas D. Ace

Ace isn't the denial type. The ache when you're gone, the quiet competition with Marco and Izo for your laughter – these are the clues that tip him off. Ace falling for you? It's written all over his flustered face. He stutters and turns red like a tomato when speaking to you unexpectedly.

The entire crew is a nuisance and teases him constantly about his love for you. They have grilled him mercilessly – “When will you confess?” they ask, convinced you feel the same.

Denial ? Once again, not Ace's style. But baring his heart, admitting his love for you ? That's a terrifying vulnerability he fears more than anything. On top of that, I believe he is also afraid of losing your friendship by making things awkward if you don't feel the same about him.

Thankfully, Marco, ever the voice of reason, is there to guide this lovestruck dummy. And honestly, this old man is tired of watching you two pining from afar. A stern talk from Marco might be just what Ace needs to understand that silence could lead to a missed opportunity for a great relationship.

Ace's confession? A masterpiece in the making, at least in his head. Daily mirror pep talks and a meticulously planned romantic gesture – that's how he plans to declare his love. Just imagine the blushing, the stammering, the potential for minor explosions (caused by Ace's nervousness, of course).

Dinner over, Ace reaches for something hidden in his pocket. His nervousness is palpable, a sheen of sweat forming on his brow. But then, with a determined glint in his eye, he throws caution (and the letter) to the wind, ready to confess his true feelings directly from the heart.

[iconchae]

✿︎ — YOU LIKE IT SWEET OR ROUGH? | 18+

╰ alternatively, enhypen hyung line’s sweet vs rough side during sex.

sweet/rough hyung line ! × female ! reader : : smut + established relationship : : warnings; nsfw, mdni, shibari style tying, kisses, sensual play, blindfolding, spanking, dirty talk, suggestive content, marking, food play, rough (?) , hair pulling, degradation, knot forming, lmk if I missed anything. : : m.list

♫︎ REBLOGS + FEEDBACKS ARE ALWAYS APPRECIATED

✿︎ LEE HEESEUNG

— HIS SWEET SIDE !

• During sex Heeseung showers you with sweet nothings, his voice barely a whisper against your skin. "You're so beautiful," "I love you," "You're mine, only mine."

• He brushes your hair back, his fingers gentle against your scalp, as he peppers your face with soft kisses. His touch is tender, his hands exploring your body as if it's the first time. He intertwines his fingers with yours, pinning your hands above your head, his gaze locked onto yours, his emotions bare for you to see.

• Instead of biting down hard, Heeseung gently nibbles your neck and shoulders, the tender love bites a gentle reminder of his passion for you. He'll dot them with soft kisses afterward, caring for your skin as if it were his own.

• But once it's all over, Heeseung wraps his arms tightly around you, holding you close as if trying to shield you from the intensity of your orgasm, his own movements slowing to a gentle rocking motion.

— HIS ROUGH SIDE !

• He sometimes enjoys rough play during sex, including slapping, biting, and hair-pulling. He often takes charge, commanding you to get on your knees or bend over as he takes control. He sometimes leaves bruises and hickies on your body after passionate sessions, and he seems to enjoy the sight of his marks on your skin.

• During these episodes, he might engage in activities like face-fucking, choking, or using objects to stimulate you in harsh ways, not caring about your comfort in the moment. He'll only stop when he's satisfied or passes out.

• He can be a bit of a sadist, but he always checks in with you to make sure you're at least fine, and he never pushes your boundaries without your consent. He has a deep, caring side that comes out when he sees you in pain, often soothing your wounds with gentle touches and soft kisses.

• He likes to incorporate food into your play, like dripping honey on your body and licking it off, or using whipping cream as a lubricant. He also enjoys temperature play, alternating between hot and cold sensations.

• “does it hurt a lot?” he might ask after you're done, giving you the proper after care as he cleans the remnants gently.

✿︎ P.JS / JAY

— HIS SWEET SIDE !

• As he makes love to you, Jay's sweet side would shine through in the way he touches you. His fingers would trace gentle patterns on your skin, his thumbs brushing against your cheekbones as he kisses you softly between thrusts.

• His thrusts would become slower and more deliberate, each movement designed to bring you maximum pleasure. He'd rock his hips gently, his hard length stroking against your sensitive walls in a soothing rhythm. He'd whisper sweet, heartfelt words into your ear, telling you how much he loves you, how much he cherishes you, and what you mean to him as he makes love to you.

• Jay murmurs endearments in his native language, his voice gentle and loving. "사랑해요" (I love you), he treats you like a precious princess during sex, gently removing your clothing and placing it in a neat pile, covering you with a soft blanket, and catering to your every need with tender care.

• His movements would become more passionate as the pleasure grows, building up to a shared climax that leaves you both breathless and satisfied. He'll hold you close, unwilling to let go even after the moment has passed.

— HIS ROUGH SIDE !

• But if he's feeling particularly horny or if you've been teasing him all day, he might be a little bit of the rough type. His hands would clamp down on your wrists, pinning them above your head as he drives into you with powerful, relentless thrusts.

• He has always had a dominant side that he keeps hidden under his sweet exterior. His voice would grow darker, issuing commands like "Wrap your legs around me," or "Grip the headboard," expecting full compliance.

• He might use silky, soft restraints to bind your wrists and ankles to the bedposts, allowing him free rein to tease and tantalize your helpless body. He gently fastens the plush cuffs around your wrists and ankles, pulling your limbs taut so that you're spread wide open for him.

• He'd grab handfuls of your hair, pulling your head back to expose your neck, or yanking it forward to force your face into the pillow, adding to the intensity of his rough, passionate kisses.

• He might spank you hard on your bottom or bite down on your shoulder, alternating between the two sensations to keep you guessing and heighten your arousal. He'd soothe the marks afterward with gentle kisses.

• Even during his roughest moments, he knows how to show you tenderness and affection. He loves to mix rough and sweet moments, for example, slapping your face one moment and caressing your cheeks the next, or spanking you hard before planting gentle kisses.

✿︎ S.JY / JAKE

— HIS SWEET SIDE !

• He likes to whisper sweet nothings in your ear during intimacy, making you feel cherished and loved. He enjoys foreplay that builds a strong emotional connection between you two, with kisses and caresses all over your body.

• He's more likely to ask, "Is this okay?" "Do you like that?" "Look at me..." He wants you to feel comfortable, safe, and pleasured. He might also have a thing for ear play or gentle hair pulling.

• Jake looks deeply into your eyes as he enters you, letting you see the depth of his affection and desire. His gaze is warm and inviting, a silent invitation to share your deepest secrets and dreams. Between passionate kisses, Jake whispers sweet nothings to you, calling you his angel, his heart, his everything. His voice is soft and reassuring, a soothing balm to your soul as he makes love to your body.

• Jake whispers naughty, playful things into your ear as he moves inside of you. His breath is warm and ticklish, sending shivers down your spine as you laugh and moan in response to his words.

— HIS ROUGH SIDE !

• But if he's feeling horny or if you've been teasing him all day long his rough side might emerge. He grips your wrists and holds them above your head, using his weight to keep you pinned beneath him as he pounds into you relentlessly. His rough handling leaves you breathless and helpless, completely at his mercy.

• With a growl, Jake leans down and whispers filthy words into your ear, describing exactly what he's going to do to you, how hard he's going to take you, and how much you're going to love it. “good girl.” “look at you, taking me so well, mm?”

• Jake takes great delight in binding your wrists and ankles with silken ropes, expertly tying intricate knots that allow for just the right amount of give. He'd pull your limbs taut, spreading you open for his pleasure.

• Jake spanks you hard, the sharp impact sending waves of pleasure-pain through your body. He alternates between hard slaps and gentle caresses, keeping you on edge and eager for more.

• But when he's giving you punishment for making him jealous he might stuff your mouth with a ball gag or his own boxers, muffling your moans and cries as he continues to pleasure you ruthlessly. Jake blindfolds you and uses earplugs to block out sound, heightening your other senses and intensifying every touch, every sensation.

• Jake, eager to possess every inch of you, might wrap his hands around your neck, careful not to cut off your breathing completely.

✿︎ PARK SUNGHOON

— HIS SWEET SIDE !

• Sunghoon runs his fingers softly along your skin, from your shoulders to your waist, his touch as light as a feather. He cups your face gently, his thumbs brushing away tears you didn't even realize had fallen. Sunghoon leans in close, his breath warm against your ear as he whispers endearments. "You're so beautiful," "I love you so much," "You're mine, all mine,"

• Sunghoon syncs his breath with yours, inhaling as you exhale and vice versa. This synchronized rhythm deepens your connection and heightens your sensations. Sunghoon gently tugs on your hair, using it as a handle to control your movements or to guide you into a particular position.

• Sunghoon presses soft, languid kisses along your collarbone, on the soft skin of your inner thighs, and along your ribs. He treats your body like a precious artifact, worshipping it with his touch. He might also have surprising playfulness. Sunghoon tickles you, causing you to giggle and squirm. He playfully nips at your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

• Sunghoon takes photos or videos of the two of you during intimate moments, capturing memories that only the two of you will ever see. He stores these in a secure, private cloud, labeled with dates and loving notes.

— HIS ROUGH SIDE !

• Sunghoon takes charge, dominating you and guiding your movements with his hands on your hips or shoulders. He grips your thighs firmly, his fingers digging into your flesh as he lifts your legs higher, opening you up to his passionate onslaught.

• Sunghoon's hands roam your body with possessive intent, gripping your breasts firmly, his thumbs brushing against your peaks with rough precision. His touch is urgent, bordering on painful, but you crave more. Sunghoon's voice drops an octave, his tone demanding as he whispers filthy nothings in your ear. "You're so tight," "You like that?", "Cum for me,"

• He also enjoys the act of knotting. He enters you slowly, his pace deliberate, until his knot expands inside, locking you both together in a intimate embrace.

• Sunghoon flips you over, his hands gripping your hair as he forces his face into your pussy. He eats you out aggressively, his tongue thrusting deep into your folds, his nose pressed against your clit.

• Sunghoon, not shy about exploring your body, pushes a lubricated finger into your ass. His movements are slow and deliberate until you're open enough for his cock. Sunghoon loves to tease and torment, bringing you right to the brink of orgasm only to stop, leaving you panting and wanting.

♫︎ thank you for reading !

masterlist.

© iconchae | tumblr

[solbaby7]

Hi! Could you write one where the reader somehow ingests a magic aphrodisiac while out on a mission. And she is in a ton of discomfort but her mate (any male maybe rhys) isn’t able to get there quickly so he gives cassian or azriel permission to give her some relief until he can arrive ?? :) a little angsty but also sexy

Blurred Lines

pairing: rhysand x reader x az

warnings: swearing, boyfriend lets his best friend fuck his girlfriend, mentions of aphrodisiacs, probs typos

[ part 2 ] [ part 3 ]

—

You’d felt uneasy, stomach churning like curdled milk after inhaling so much of the suspicious purple powder that had been blown in your face. “It burns,” Your body stumbles into Azriel’s, fingers pinching at your nose as you tried to ease the tingle that was beginning to prickle behind your eyes and nostrils.

He doesn’t answer for a moment, piercing eyes scanning the crowd for the figure cloaked in a red so deep it was nearly black but not even his shadows find a trace of them. “We need to get out of here. Do you have it?”

The thrum of the pages hum in the satchel strapped tightly beneath your arm. It had taken weeks to even locate a trace of them, just barely realizing anything was missing from the Book of Breathings until Nesta discovered the tattered remnants of torn pages tucked in the book spine. “I have it.” It comes out slightly slurred, your vision distorting as the powder began to take effect. The uncomfortable heat begins in your sinuses, spreading like venom in your bloodstream until every inch of your body felt like it was pressed up against the crackling flames of a fire. “Whatever that was—it’s really potent.”

Azriel grips you close, shadows cloaking your whole body until he’s winnowed you a safe enough distance away to properly evaluate you. “Gods, your eyes.” You squirm under the warmth of his hands. A simple touch sending every nerve into a frenzy and you’re abnormally aware of the steady throb between your thighs.

Your heartrate spikes, fingers slightly unsteady when snatching for the dagger strapped to your thigh and once you see your reflection it falls from your grasp. Embedded in the natural color of your iris was a smattering of shiny purple dots. “What the hell was that stuff?”

“I don’t know.” Azriel’s worry only grows, eyes glazing over as he no doubt was relaying everything that had happened to Rhys—to your mate. The very thought of him has arousal pooling between your thighs but the pleasant tingle of pleasure that usually followed is nowhere to be found. Every muscle seized with stress, fingers digging into your hair to alleviate the pulsing pressure all over. “Just hang on,” He pleads, holding you close despite your discomfort but there’s no other choice but to winnow as close as the wards around the safe house would allow. “Rhys is on his way.”

The words barely register, sweat beading at your hairline and even with the temperatures slightly lower than usual, the heat refused to subside. It radiates through your clothes, micro particles of sparkling purple transferring from your leathers to Az’s the longer he had to support your weight.

You scramble away from him the moment the door opens, fingers frantically pulling at the buttons keeping the tactical gear in place until it’s left in a heap on the floor. Gods, the floor. So cool against bare skin and the momentary relief is too good to even notice the fact that you were so exposed, the thin straps of the flimsy undershirt slipping down your shoulder; the hem hiking up the length of your stomach.

Vaguely aware of the sounds around you, the floor barely rumbles as Azriel shifted through the space. It was a little cramped but big enough for a kitchen and a bedroom with a small bathroom tucked within.

Too soon does the cool fade away, pained whines follow and every brush of your fingers against bare skin is worse than most other tortures you’d endured. It’s accidental, the scrape of your nail against your nipple through thin material and the moan that rips free is more like a choked cry. Every move after that feels like another is in control of your body, forcing your limbs to move, willing your fingers to trail beneath the waistband of your pants and past the soft cotton of your underwear.

“I ran you a bath—“ The rest is abruptly cut off, every single muscle in Azriel’s body going stiff at the sight of you sprawled out on the kitchen floor with so much skin on display. Golden eyes catch on the heaving fullness of your breasts spilling from the confines of your top, the frenzied hand tucked in your leathers and Azriel physically stumbles back when the intensity of your scent fully hits him. “Fuck.”

“I’m sorry,” Words slur together, frustrated tears falling down the curve of your cheeks and you’re too caught up in the temporary solace to be embarrassed about the crude behavior; the obscene squelching between your thighs. “I’m so sorry, I just can’t help it—hurts so bad.”

Azriel doesn’t reply, stunned in place and distantly he recognizes a familiar pressure in his brain. A feline voice laced with worry snapping him from his stupor. “Please tell me you’re close.”

“I need more time, Az.”

“She doesn’t have it,” The sight is pushed at Rhysand at warp speed, the sounds of his mate filling the conclaves of his mind.

There’s a pause, one that lasts a beat too long and Azriel begins to catch on to the plan his High Lord was brewing. “Then, help her.”

“Rhysand.”

“I trust you,” Rhys says a little softer, even if the words are laced with that territorial gruff. “Help her. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

He can’t move, even if his shadows slink forward at the permission given. They’re cautious before touching you, just barely ghosting over the curve of your shoulder and the whimper that it pulls makes Azriel’s stomach clench. You lean into the cool touch that comes with the wisps of darkness, back arching at the feeling. “Where’s Rhys?”

“He’ll be here, he just needs a little more time.”

More tears fall, even if you do nod in understanding but your thoughts muddy together, unable to differentiate one sentence from the next as you forgo pants altogether. “I can’t wait anymore, Az. Please.” You’re not sure what you’re asking for exactly but you’re positively certain that your fingers aren’t enough. “Please touch me.”

He says your name so softly, crooning soothing words and tucking your hair away from your forehead. “Are you sure?”

You don’t answer with words, just eyes half-lidded and grip surprisingly gentle when grabbing for his wrist, guiding his hand to the sodden mess between your thighs. Azriel can’t fight his reaction to the slick arousal coating his fingers through your lacy underthings, head dipping back and eyes daring to close—savoring the feel of you. “I need you to make me feel better,” You don’t even sound like yourself, tone whiny and desperate as you hike your shirt over your head. “Please, can you do that for me? Please, please, please.”

Your hips buck up into the pressure of his fingers against you, squirming uncontrollably as he slowly pulls the fabric to the side and the first swipe of skin on skin is almost enough to bring you over the edge. “Alright,” Your name on his lips sends your nerves into a frenzy, hips wiggling just enough for one finger to sink into your cunt and the relief is instant. “I’ll make it better, just breathe for me, okay?”

It’s a simple request and yet still you have difficulty obeying as you chase the icy chill that quenches the burning inferno. Another finger follows the first and Azriel can’t tear his eyes away from the way your spine curves with each delicious drag of them against your walls. “Yes,” It comes out in a near hiss, teeth biting at the fat of your bottom lip as you grope at your chest. “Feels so fucking good.”

Maybe Azriel indulged just a little, taking extra time exploring the spots at had your eyes going lazy and when moans shift into breathy whines—Azriel submits completely. The taste of you on his tongue was unlike anything than he could’ve imagined, warm and sweet against his tongue like cookies dipped in warm milk. A string of swears tumble from your lips so fast he briefly wonders if it’s another language. He hums all the same, low vibrations sending goosebumps along your flesh and shadows take the place of your hands. Kneading at supple breasts and tugging on pert nipples until the onslaught of pleasure has you tensing beneath him. “That’s it,” He mutters against your sex, acutely aware of the throbbing erection straining against the binds of his leathers. “Feel better?”

Your body answers for you, tugging him close enough to feel the hardness of his length against your pussy. “Need more, Az.” One long drag against the stiff material and he’s groaning into your neck, holding up his weight on two strong arms and you can’t help but think about them holding you up against a wall, fucking up into you until your lungs gave out.

Azriel stares down at you, eyes dark and lips parted as if he could see exactly what filthy things were flashing behind your eyelids. “Relax, pretty girl.” Shadows tug at the binds holding his pants in place, dragging them down, down, down. Your mouth waters at the sight of him, arousal pooling between your legs with a slutty squelch. “I’m gonna take real good care of you.”

[lvlystars]

29 reasons i love you — c.sc

pairing. choi seungcheol x fem!reader

genre. fluff. just pure, teeth rotting fluff.

summary. gifting your boyfriend by just handing him the gift is overrated!!! (pls kill me i suck at summaries)

warnings. none

a/n. SEUNGCHEOL BIRTHDAYAYAYYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYYAYAYA (also happy 1 year to this blog!!!)

wc. 1.2k

you chew at your lip as you scroll through a blog, talking about how to gift your partner in various special ways. of course you had a special gift for him—you just felt like you wanted to do something small as a thoughtful little present.

“birthday kisses…their age equates to how many kisses you give them…too simple…” you mumble to yourself. your eyes widen when the next idea says the idea can apply to how many gifts you give them in the day.

no matter how much you love him, there’s no way you can gift seungcheol 29 gifts. your wallet would sob.

“baby?” you shove your phone under your pillow as your boyfriend walks into the room, drying his damp hair with a towel. you eyed the oversized white t-shirt he wore, the shirt hanging loosely over his broad shoulders as he hums to himself. 

“wanna help me with skincare?” he asks, pointing to the bathroom for you to follow him, and you nod. it was endearing how he never forgets every night—your nightly routine of doing his skincare for him, despite the fact that he is very much capable of doing it himself.

a comfortable silence envelops the both of you as you rub in seungcheol’s skin products into his soft skin, the way he grips your waist softly and stares down at you with that stupid boyish smile he always looked at you with awakening all kinds of butterflies in your stomach. that stupid smile that never seemed to give you a break ever since you met him at your old local library—when he shot that smile at you every time you spotted him on fridays, studying for your university courses, or just finding a book to read for some pass time.

“daydreaming?” his voice pulls you out of your little trip down memory lane, making you smile softly before applying some lip balm on his plump lips. you shake your head. “no, just thinking about tomorrow.” seungcheol’s eyes lit up at the mention of the special day tomorrow that he looks forward to every year: his birthday.

when his birthday rolls around, seungcheol claims that he can ‘tell’ when people are his true friends—through the test of how fast they wish him happy birthday. god knows how many times your boyfriend has sulked over one of his friends not wishing him at 12 o’clock on the dot, and lucky for you, you haven’t missed a single birthday ever since you met him. you’ve held the longest streak so far.

“sooo…what did you get me?” seungcheol grins teasingly, and you huff, rolling your eyes. “just a few more hours, you big baby. you can wait.” you scold him, making him pout just a little, his stance deflating.

“now let’s go to sleep. i promise to wake you up and wish you at 12 on the dot, i have an alarm too. now come.” you reassure him, grabbing his wrist and leading him to the bed before sliding in. seungcheol’s arm immediately wraps around your midriff out of habit, pulling you flush against his chest as he softly inhales your scent and presses a chaste kiss to the crook of your neck.

“even if you didn’t get me a gift, you’re the best present, y’know? waking up next to you is like…the best thing in the world. the best gift in the world that i get everyday.” he hums, making you chuckle at his groggy words as he slipped into his slumber.

———

you wake up and check the time, mentally thanking whatever forced you to wake up at this time, since it was about half an hour before midnight. you try to unravel yourself from seungcheol’s hold, making him stir a little before sighing again, lying on his back.

you pull out your phone, reopening the blog, and you wait for the page to refresh when an idea pops into your head, making you immediately pull out every sticky note you had in your study.

you were quick to grab a pen and doodle on 29 sticky notes, each sticky note having a small drawing and under it a little 'nth reason why i love you: check (certain location where another sticky would be)', boasting at your original idea and giddy at how your boyfriend would react.

a while later, the clock finally strikes 12, and you sigh in relief when you finally put the finishing touches in your gift before running to your shared bedroom to wake seungcheol up, who was snoring softly in the covers.

“seungcheol…” you hum, coaxing him to wake up softly, and he doesn’t respond. frowning a little, you pat him, and he groans, shaking his head. finally, you yell at him.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY SEUNGCHEOL!” he jolts awake, eyes snapping open as they dart around the room in panic before settling on you, pouting while squinting from the hallway light hitting his face. “wha…?”

“get up! i have to give you my gift!” you pull on his arm, and he groans, sitting up while rubbing his eyes awake. he whines something about it waiting until the morning, until he finally realises why you woke him up.

“birthday surprise?” he grins, his eyes now wide awake, and you nod.

“it’s like a scavenger hunt. i placed sticky notes around the place up until the present, and they’re numbered. each sticky note has a clue for where you should look for the next sticky note.” you grin, proud of your little idea, and he raises an eyebrow, endeared at your little activity for him. “there are 29 sticky notes for your age. go look!” you urge him, pushing him to the night stand. as he starts looking, you quickly go to hide with the present.

———

after what seemed like eternity, you finally hear the door to the study room open, and seungcheol pokes his head inside, his hand filled with yellow sticky notes. you held a small jewellery box in your hands, along with a birthday cake lit on the desk, and seungcheol beams when he takes in the sight.

“happy birthday, coups.” you smiled, and he walks up to the desk, his face in awe as he admired the cake, which had a small lion perched on the top with a tiny birthday hat. “for me?” he murmured, looking at you softly, and you nod, handing him the jewellry box excitedly.

when he opens the box, his eyes widen as he admires the charm bracelet you bought, the charms carefully picked by yourself as a small gift for how much he’s done for you ever since you met him. a cherry, a charm of his star sign constellation, and a series of certain charms that had him begging you to tell him the meaning behind each one.

“what about this one?” he asked giddily, pointing to a book charm, and you stared at him with a deadpan look on his face. “how we met? at the library? when you would harass me every single friday by—” “OKAYYY i get it i get it.”

you both walk back to bed once you finish explaining every single detail about the charm bracelet, seungcheol picks up his phone to be bombarded with numerous ‘happy birthday’ messages. he eagerly showed you every single message, showing you all the people who wished him a happy birthday as you cuddle up next to him in bed, lying your head down on his chest and smiling up at him. once you both get comfortable, seungcheol finally puts his phone away, hugging you close to his chest and kissing your temple.

“happy birthday, cheol.”

tags 🏷️ – @arafilez @etherealyoungk @fairyhaos @georgia-hong @gyuguys @voidsatoru @kyeomyun @starshuas @welcometomyoasis @wqnwoos @wheeboo @yoonzinuhh @seuonji @shieunviya @mykpopficblog @chaatandchai @haowrld

networks 🔗 – @c-bouquine @cacaokpop-fics @k-labels

SVT WORKS

send an ask or drop a comment if you want to be added to my general taglist!

ⓒ lvlystars

[1800jjbarnes]

◇ 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟐 : 𝐒𝐢𝐳𝐞 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤/𝐒𝐢𝐳𝐞 𝐃𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 - 𝐒𝐭𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 ◇

【Synopsis】 : Your two professors were more than happy to show you some tips and tricks to help you study.

『W.C』 : 1.36k

-> Genre: Colleg Au. Suggestive. 

Pairing: Professor!Stucky x Student!Reader 

[Warnings] : Swearing. Pet names. Hints of sex. Teasing. Dirty talk. Some man handling. Some pussy play hehe.

Masterlist | Kinktober List | Part Two

There was a secret code in college, an unspoken rule if you will. Never, ever, by any means, fall in love, or sleep with your professors. And yes, they might be handsome, and they might be only seven or so in age difference. But never, EVER, be romantically or sexually involved.  And this rule stuck by most students and more professors. There were young girls who always fawned over the brooding, tall, and mysterious drinks of water known as their English or History teachers. And boys that would whisper among themselves who was the hottest, Ms. Romanoff, the Health and fitness teacher, or Mrs. Maximoff, the criminology professor.

But you? You swore the minute you only got barely accepted to the college―since you were late for the cut―that you would not look at your teachers in such an inappropriate and unprofessional way. Besides, you were one day going to be joining them as a professor once you pass your training exam. You always wanted to teach visual arts and Theater and this college has allowed you not only to study such majors and degrees but also train so that one day you’ll be able to teach them yourself to others.

You worked hard, studied instead of sleeping. Sleeping instead of hanging out with friends. Your life revolved around your work, and yet when you met the stand-in, since your normal teacher was away for a couple of weeks. It was like your brain no longer understood how to function. And the worst part…

Theres two of them.

Both are strong, tall, and deviously handsome. One had a voice so deep you could feel the vibrations of his vocals every time he spoke, and the other had eyes as piercing as the sun and a smile that could kill. To say they were your ideal type would be an understatement. And what was the icing on the cake? They are huge. Beefy broad shoulders, thick biceps and thighs, heavy chests. They were like super soldiers, and oh, how that made you swoon. Wanting nothing more than for them to pick you up and throw you around as if you weighed nothing. If you were to stand in between them, you surely would be caged in the best way possible.

You met them during the first term, six months ago. And every day since was a little unspoken game of cat and mouse. You didn’t flirt at first, still wanting to be professional but as your late hours at the library grew or the time spent sitting in an empty classroom for some quiet as your dorm was too loud to considerate became more common. Mr Rogers and Mr Barnes came to your aid to help you with your studies, of course. First, they would sit at the front of the classroom while you were at a row of desks. They would explain about being a teacher, cheat sheets of sorts, and tips for when to do your first training shift. Helping you understand the ins and outs of navigating college students. And then it slowly moved to one of them sitting next to you, Mr Rogers, you could smell his cologne, the musk of his natural scent. His arm would brush yours, occasionally making you see how his large biceps were. And they were definitely the same if not larger than your thighs. Your body felt so small next to him.

And then Mr Barnes sat on the other side of you. The feeling of being caged was coming to reality, and it was burning a fire inside of you. You tried to brush away these feelings. They are your professors, after all and one day, co-workers, not some school crush to dot over. But they were so smooth-talking, charming, with flirtatious smiles, and your mind couldn’t help but wonder since they are so naturally big, were they big else where…

“You get all that peach?” Mr Rogers's voice snapped you out of your lewd thoughts, redness suddenly pooling on your cheeks. You see that’s why Mr Rogers had given you such a nickname, Peach, was because of the shade of pink your cheeks would be whenever he made eye contact with you. Deep down you knew your professor shouldn’t be nicknaming his student but then again you didn’t take the classes they taught, and the longer you thought about it, the more okay it was to flirt back. After all, you were all adults.

“You seem a bit distracted today?” Mr Barnes grumbled behind you, making a shiver dance down your back. My god, if that man sounded like that on a regular, you wondered what his bedroom voice sounded like, or even better, his morning voice. “Is something bothering you?” he asked, placing his large hand on your shoulder, stopping you from turning to the side to see him. No, instead, he slowly rubbed his fingers deep into your tense muscle, making you feel relief surge through you. You almost forgot to answer the question, too focused on the older man's hands doing wonders on your shoulders.

“I-I uhmm…” You were lost, suddenly feeling Mr Rogers's hand grip the top part of your thigh, rubbing circles on your exposed flesh where the hem of your shorts are. “It’s just. M-mr Rogers…”

“Don’t worry, Peach, and I said already. Call me Steve. We are going to be co-workers soon. You should address me and Bucky as such.” He included his friend and co-worker at the end, letting you know what you’ve been told for the thousandth time, call them by their first names. “You seem tense, darling. What could ever be the cause of so much tension in this pretty body of yours.”

Your eyes snapped open now, looking at Mr Rog―uh you mean Steve―in his intense stare. Did he just call you darling? Now, your face was definitely redder than a tomato at this point. “S-Steve…”

Steve groaned, biting his lip while rolling his eyes slightly. he had to pull back for a second before returning his hand to your thigh. “God, my name sounds so good when you say it.”

You looked away for a moment, feeling your heart was going to beat right out of your chest. The next thing you knew, a pair of large beefy arms pulled you by your waist until your ass was placed onto a board, hard, lap. “Say my name Doll Face. I wanna hear what my name sounds like coming off your pretty lips.” All barriers were gone and lines were being crossed. But none of you cared anyone. The flirtation became too much, more so for the men it seems and with Bucky's lips finding the sweet spot behind your ear you couldn’t help but moan;

“Bucky…”

“Fuck, that’s it. Such a good girl.” The hold Buck had on you got tighter, and his huge biceps caged your back against his heavy chest. Your mind was spinning at the sheer thought that all Bucky and Steve had to do was squeeze you tight enough that you’d break. They are so much bigger than you, stronger than you. They could throw you around and do as they pleased to you and all you could―would―do is lay back and take it.

“We knew you’d be such a good girl for us peach. Just look at you, head empty already when we have barely touched you.” Steve chuckled, squeezing your thigh, letting his long fingers slip towards where you needed them most. “you want us to touch you, darling? Teach you some real lessons?” He emphasized the word ‘real’, all knowing that He and Bucky were going to teach you anything but a real lesson in this moment.

“Please…” you retched out for Steve, gripping his perfectly iron button-up, pulling him towards you. “Please show me…” He drew his lips to yours quickly as Bucky bit down onto your shoulder while his hands loosely move to open your legs, letting Steve cup your entire wet cunt with his huge hand. You were most definitely in for a night of your life.

[nilpill]

Sort of Mine

dad!leon x daughter!reader

!!! - 18+, age gap, dead dove do not eat, incest, p in v, daughter is a bit of a cunt, guilty dad leon, panties in mouth, idk blah blah blah

WC - 4.3k

note - title is from the song sort of mine by heavenly! this is my first fic so there is progress to be made. as mentioned, there is incest in this fic so if that is not your thing, please continue on with your day or just block. also thank u sm to d beloved wife @ivmp for reading this for me on multiple occasions bcs i didn't know wtf i was reading myself LMAO. also if it feels rushed... that's bcs it was... i swear i will do better next time LOLOL

The clock strikes 1:30 AM, and you're startled awake by the sound of keys jingling and the door opening and closing. Dad was out late again, probably trying to get in another woman's pants back at the bar. He’s so desperate it makes you feel bad for the guy, really, but at the same time, it irritates you. Dad’s the only man you’d ever need in your life, so shouldn’t his sweet daughter be more than enough for him? Obviously not if he’s too busy chasing girls in an attempt to move on from your whore of a mother

But poor daddy, no one wants a single dad who looks like he’s gone through hell and back. It’s a shame, though, because dad is really handsome and has the sweetest personality ever. Oh, and that body of his is to die for. You would do anything to die under him while he was– You shake your head to get rid of the thought, climbing out of bed and softly padding down the stairs and towards the entrance of your home, greeting him with a small smile as you go up to hug him.

“Hey, kiddo,” he softly speaks, his arms lazily wrapping you as you cling to him. “What’re you doing awake? It's late.”

“I just woke up; you’re not exactly quiet when you come home,” you murmured, pulling away to look up at him.

“Well, maybe you’re a little too light of a sleeper,” He jokes, pinching your cheek affectionately. Dad lets out a long, tired sigh, shrugging off his suit jacket and tossing it on the coat hook.

It was clear this day took a toll on him because he of messy hair, and his eyes looked darker than usual. It was an appearance you were all too familiar with seeing from him by this point.

Dad steps out of his shoes before walking further into the house and over towards the living room couch, flopping down onto it and letting out a deep, weary sigh. You sit down beside him, studying the exhausted look on his face as he turns his head to regard you in a silent manner.

“You look like shit, dad… you should go to bed.”

“Thanks for the observation,” He replies, letting the hint of sarcasm lace his tone. “I’ve already had a stressful day at work; the last thing I need right now is a smart-ass kid,” He grumbles, draping an arm around your shoulders to pull you close to his side.

Leon leans his head down and rests it against the top of yours, his thumb subtly rubbing against your shoulder in slow, gentle drags.

Your nose picks up a faint, feminine scent of perfume mixed in with your dad's natural musk and the faint hint of alcohol when you move closer to adjust your seating next to him. It was a familiar scent that you recognized as your perfume. The more it registers in your head, the more you connect the dots in your head that dad must’ve tried to get with another woman.

That knowledge has you quietly fuming on the inside, and that feeling of possessiveness has you shifting your body to press against him even more. He glances over at you and sees that you have a slightly disapproving look on your face, causing him to let out a quiet huff.

You didn't know that he only went for her due to the scent reminding him of you, silly girl.

“What’s wrong, princess?” He probes, rubbing your shoulder even more. “You’re makin’ a face,” he mumbles to you lowly, his large hands reaching up to gently cup your face.

"Nothin'," you grumbled under your breath with a slight eye roll.

Leon’s lips quirk into a slight frown as he listens to your answer. It was clear to him that you were lying through your teeth now, and he gently rubbed his thumbs in small, soft circles on your cheeks, silently pleading with you to be honest with him.

“You’re a terrible liar, know that?” he murmurs disapprovingly, his thumbs gently pulling your cheeks down to make you pout.

“Dad, knock it off; you know I hate it when you do that… makes me feel like a kid.”

“Well, you are a kid. My little girl,” he replies, tugging on your pouting cheeks once more before letting out a heavy sigh, giving up now. He pulls his hands off your face to instead wrap them around your torso, pulling you more against his side.

“Now tell me, what’s buggin’ you?”

"Dad, I can't, like- ugh, seriously, I shouldn't."

“Shouldn’t what?” He questions, pulling his head away to look at you with confusion. “You can tell me anything, baby. You know that.” He softly reminds you, his gaze roaming over your face with concern.

You sighed heavily as you gathered the courage to tell him the truth before finally speaking up. "I just don't like how you go and meet with other girls, dad. I mean, I'm here, aren't I? You don't need them..." you managed to say, your gaze avoiding his.

His hold on you loosens for a moment, his body shifting so that he’s facing you fully now. He doesn’t say anything momentarily, quietly taking your words with surprise. He looks a little speechless, which is ironic as he’s usually the one running his mouth.

“Kid,” he softly begins, gently grabbing your chin to make you look at him. He notices you glance away as you speak, and his brows furrow as he studies your face.

“You-” Leon stops himself for a moment, seeming to gather his thoughts before continuing. “That’s not how it works, sweetheart. I’m a man, and I have needs.”

“I know, and I can help-”

You manage to say those words before his eyes widen, and he quickly clamps his hand over your mouth, cutting off the rest of your statement. You can see the shock on his face now as he stares at you.

“Jesus Christ, kid, you can’t just say stuff like that.” He tells you with a firm tone, his face a mix of surprise and a bit of horror now.

You frown as you pull back the hand on your mouth by his wrist, eagerly leaning forward as you are about to climb onto his lap. “Dad, come on, please…?”

He leans back on the couch, his eyes wide as you push toward his lap and begin to climb onto him. “H-Hey, what are you-“ He stutters, trying to keep his body from reacting as you begin to straddle his thighs.

"I'm a good daughter, aren’t I? I just wanna help you with your needs, daddy... I wanna make you happy, and I will, I promise. You just have to let me."

Your words manage to render him utterly speechless as you look up at him with big, pleading eyes. He stares at you with wide, shocked eyes, trying to process what you are saying to him.

“Kid-“ he tries to speak, his brain trying to find words, but they all stay stuck in his throat. “You can’t- I mean, you’re my little girl,” he manages to speak. “And you know you’re my little girl… this- this isn’t right,” He murmurs, his voice growing weary with each word.

Of course, he’s rejecting you. Dad has some morals, and it makes you question what the hell happened to yours. But hearing him protest against you causes you to roll your eyes, making you grow more irritated than you already were. "Oh, please..." You scoff, "Who else is going to give you attention? Not those women at the bar, that’s for sure.”

It was clear that your words were starting to affect him. The way you roll your eyes and your scoff is enough to make his eyes narrow down on you. Dad’s nostrils flare slightly while you speak, and his jaw is set tight as he responds.

“Damn it, kid, what’s gotten into you?” He snaps back, his hands gripping your hips to try to keep you at bay, but you’re starting to frustrate him with the way you were refusing to back down. “Jesus, princess, I can get attention from whoever the hell I want-“

“Except they don’t want you,” you bite back, your hands grabbing his shirt and balling them into fists. “They don’t want you like I do-” you continue, sitting on his lap fully now, your legs straddling his own. You can feel the way his body tenses underneath yours as you try to persuade him, and you let out a huff as he continues to reject you.

“Please, daddy,” you pout up at him, looking at him with pleading eyes. “I can make you feel so good if you just-“

“Dammit, kid…” He swears under his breath, trying to keep his eyes off you and at a respectable area. “You’re my baby girl…”

Your persistence is starting to be difficult to fight against, and it’s starting to piss him off how you’re so determined. You’re like a leech that stuck itself on him, and you refuse to let go. You’re starting to drive him crazy.

“I know I am, daddy, but I’m an adult too,” you reply, moving your hands from where they were on his chest and up towards his hair, letting your fingers run through the messy locks. You look up at him with pleading eyes, leaning closer and pressing against his chest more. “Can’t I take care of you like the big girl I am?”

His breath hitches at your touch, and it’s taking all the control in the world to keep his hands on your hips instead of letting them wander. Dammit, why does this feel so good? But he can’t let it go further. You’re his little girl; you’ve been his little girl since the day you were born. It doesn’t matter if you’re technically an adult now; you’ll always be his princess.

He tries to pull his head away from your hand, which is messing with his hair, but he’s unable to do so with his back pushed up against the couch. “This is so wrong… it’s-” he stutters out, his eyes drifting down to your figure on his lap, taking in the way your body looks pressed against his. “It’s so wrong, princess,” he mutters again, his hands on your hips subconsciously starting to grip tighter.

“How can it be wrong if I’m doing it?” You whisper to him, your hands trailing from his messy hair to his face, cupping his cheeks as you keep him in place. “I want to do this for you, daddy. Please, just let me make you feel good for once… you always do everything for me.”

He can feel his mind becoming fuzzy now, a small part weakening at your pleading looks and words. He was only a man, after all.

His hands on your hips start to dig into your flesh with bruising strength, but you don’t mind. Your eyes were too busy locked onto his and watching how his expression was slowly starting to change.

“Please, daddy, you don’t need other women,” you whine softly, your hands running down from his face to his muscular chest. You start unbuttoning his shirt slowly, your gaze looking down to watch as you unbutton each small button.

“You’ve got me right here. I’m better than all of them. I just want to make you happy,” you murmur, looking back up at him as you finish unbuttoning his shirt.

“Princess,” He mutters quietly, his hands finally starting to wander from your hips, slowly moving up your sides and towards the front of your body.

You were always such a good girl for your dad - the thought alone made him grin. He couldn't imagine himself as a perfect father in the past, but the gods had indeed blessed him with an absolute jewel of a daughter. Leon would often do whatever he could for you as long as it kept you happy.

One of your hands moves downwards from his chest to the front of his slacks, and with a quiet noise of surprise, his hand clamps on your wrist to stop it from reaching for his growing bulge, and his grip on your hip tightens as a warning.

You can see how he’s trying to hide his desire for you, his hand keeping a death grip on your wrist as you keep your palm flattened against the front of his slacks. You’re starting to drive him crazy with the way your body is pressing against him, and in response, you slowly grind down on him again, a low groan instantly leaving his lips as he squeezes your hips harder.

“Jesus, kid, you have to stop for a second-,” He grits out to you, his hands trying to still your hips again, but you feel his body start to lose focus. He’s starting to get too lost in the moment now. “-I can’t think when you-” He stops and lets out a sharp gasp as you rock your hips against him again, his grip loosening on your hips for a split second.

There was no way he was able to hide the way his breath stuttered when you started undoing his pants, and his hands that had been holding you still started roaming over your body more now. Both of his hands start roaming upwards, grabbing and fondling with your breasts under the thin material of your shirt. “Fuck…” He groans out, his hips subconsciously starting to roll up against you.

“This is-“ He stops for a moment and lets out a strained pant, “This is so wrong…we shouldn’t be doing this,” he murmurs, his hips continuing to roll up against you lazily.

His words contradict his actions, but you know that this moment was what the both of you secretly wanted. You bite your lip as you look at him, seeing the warring expressions all over his face as he tries to fight against your touch.

“Shhh, daddy,” you murmur, palming him through his boxers. He lets out a loud, shameless moan at your touch, his head falling back with his eyes shut. "You’re so touch-starved, aren't you? Just need your little girl to help you out, hm?"

The feeling of your hand palming him was driving him insane, and his body reacted accordingly to your touch, letting out quiet grunts and moans. He’d never admit it out loud, but you were right; he was touch starved. It had been a long time since he got to feel the touch of another woman… but never his sweet, innocent little girl.

A quiet hum left his lips as you moved your hand again, his eyes opening as he looked up at you. “This is bad, we can’t-”

“Oh my goddd,” you groan as you roll your eyes for the hundredth time that night, pushing off of him so you can pull your panties off and shove them into his mouth before settling back down onto his lap.

His brain takes a second to process the action, but when he realizes what you just did, he is at a complete loss for words. His eyes were wide as saucers, his mouth hung open wide, and his face was bright red as he stared at you in shock.

You were sure he would protest and pull the dampening material out from his mouth, but he didn’t. He was sitting there quietly, his chest rising and falling quickly as you sat back down on his lap, your body pressing up against his again.

His hands slowly grabbed your hips as you looked at him, your face leaning closer to his. He made a soft noise, his head tilting to the side as his eyes closed and a small puff of air left through his nose.

“You know I’d never hurt you… and you know I’d take such good care of you.” You coo softly to him, your hands trailing across his chest. “I know what you need, and I’ll give it to you…”

He was unable to speak with your panties shoved in his mouth, but all he could do was listen to you and nod. His eyebrows were furrowed as he looked at you through half-lidded eyes, panting and letting out small moans as he took his turn to grind up against you softly. He looked so helpless and so pent up. You’d always seen him tall and strong, someone unwavering and in charge. But god, seeing him like this was driving you wild… seeing him like this because of you was even better.

Your hands reach down to tug at his boxers, trying to move them down just enough to let him free. He lets out a frustrated-sounding noise, but once he feels you start to tug again in a more insistent way, his hands slowly pull your hips off of him. He leans forward to help you push his boxers, along with his pants, down to his thighs as he stares up at you with wide, pleading eyes.

He looked so desperate, his gaze boring into yours as he tried to convey just how helpless he felt. His head was falling forward to rest on your chest, and he made a noise against you, begging you to stop with the pathetic look on his face.

You knew he didn’t actually want you to stop; he was just whining to make himself feel less bad about this whole situation, but as long as he kept being good, you’d make sure to leave him feeling satisfied.

“You need this, don’t you? After all this time of not having someone?” You gently pull his head back by his hair so he’s looking at you.

He lets out a sound of agreement against the material in his mouth, his head nodding pathetically. His body started to move forward, his hands reaching to grab at you once more, trying to pull you closer to him. He was getting more desperate by the second, and he wanted to be as close to you as he possibly could.

You let out a soft chuckle as he tries to pull you back on top of him again. “Oh, so greedy now,” you tease him, grabbing his wrists to still his movements, but all he does in response is let out another pathetic noise, trying to squirm against your grip as his eyes pleading you to give in to his nonverbal requests.

You position his dick between your folds and slowly start to grind down against the length of him, letting your wetness coat his shaft, allowing his tip to repeatedly bump against your clit, and his body immediately responds as he lets out a muffled moan. He’s looking up at you with wide, pleading eyes. His eyes looked so cute like this; they were filled with a desperate, begging look as his mouth opened wide to let the panties fall from his mouth.

“Don’t worry, dad… I won't slip it in.” you softly assure him as you delicately caress his cheek, keeping the pace of your hips at a slow pace.

However, something snapped in him the moment you told him you wouldn’t slip it in, and his hands roughly grabbed your hips to force himself into you, causing you to cry out due to the sudden stretch that caused you pain.

“Fuck— princess, you can’t just tell me that after saying you’ll take care of me.” he groans, keeping a tight grip on your hips to hold you still as he thrusts up into you, not giving you a chance to adjust.

You sob out a moan as he roughly fucks himself into you, your nails raking down his chest in an attempt to ground yourself to gain control again, but you can’t.

He drops a hand down to harshly rub at your clit, earning another startled moan from you as he feels your body tremble in his grasp.

“Daddy loves you, princess," he murmurs, lips brushing against your skin as he presses a loving kiss to your temple. It was something he told you daily. But you had a feeling he meant it in a not-so-fatherly way.

You let out a whine as he suddenly pulls his thumb away. God, that whine. You're not making this easy for your poor dad, are you? The feeling of your wetness on his thumb makes him huff, a rumble coming from his chest as he presses his forehead against yours, bringing the digit to press into your mouth to let you suck on it.

He’s feeling possessive, just as you did, feeling like he wants to bite and mark you as all his - but with you this close, this sweet and wet, how can he just focus on that?

Well, actually, he could hardly focus. That same damn perfume on your skin has him feeling dizzy. The soft, sweet scent had reeled him in and left him feeling more intoxicated than the whiskey that was in his system earlier.

“My baby, my sweet darling girl, do you like being fucked by the same dick that made you?” he quietly whispers to you as he pulls his thumb away, watching the string of saliva snap.

You couldn’t let a single word slip past your lips, dumbly nodding as nothing but moans came from you as you turned into putty.

It’s kind of embarrassing how easily you melted in his hands, letting him mold you however he wants until he’s satisfied with the outcome.

Fuck, what was he supposed to do once this was over and came to terms with what he did?

He’s not too worried about that at the moment, though; his eyes are so trained on your expressions, and his head is only filled with the sounds of your moans. He’s so fixated on you that he doesn’t even notice the way you’re squeezing him so tight as you reach your orgasm.

The only thing that broke him from his trance is when he sees your tears gliding down your cheeks, realizing he drove you to overstimulation. The realization alone has his thrusts growing sloppy as he nears his own release, grunting and shaking as he cums hard inside of you, not even sparing a single thought to realize what he had just done.

He’s careful as he lifts you by your hips to pull himself out, watching the way his cum drips out of you with a low groan.

“Dad…” you whimpered, your body going lax against his chest as you struggled to come down from your orgasm.

He hums softly, his touch gentle and soothing as he runs his hand through your hair to help bring you back down to earth. “Dad’s here, kiddo… I got you.”

You both lay there in the afterglow, sweaty and spent as you lay on top of him. Both of his arms are wrapped around your midsection, holding you tightly against his chest, almost as if he never wanted to let you go again. Your head was tucked snugly into the crook of his neck as he gently moved to pull the blanket on the couch onto your bodies, his grip not loosening.

The house was silent, except for the sound of the both of you trying to catch your breaths and calm your racing hearts. Both of you stayed sitting there on the couch in a daze, not wanting to say anything and let reality sink in. All while your father softly placed sweet kisses on your forehead.

“Daddy?” you murmur against his skin, a small hand rubbing gently over his skin soothingly. “You ok?”

He lets out a shaky breath before answering you. “Yeah… yeah, I’m alright,” he whispers, placing another kiss on the top of your head. Leon’s arms wrap tightly around you as if trying to savor the moment a little longer.

The silence between the two of you was starting to feel awkward now, and the realization of what you both just did was finally setting in.

He lets out a deep breath, one of his hands rubbing slowly up and down your side as he tries to calm his breathing down even further. “I’m... I’m so sorry, kid,” he says, his voice a little broken. “I’m so sorry. I just- I don’t know what came over me, I just-”

“Hey, hey, it’s ok… it wasn’t your fault; I was the one who started it,” you murmur to him, gently silencing him before he can continue, a small hand moving to rub gently over his chest to soothe his racing anxiety. “We both wanted it… I knew you needed it, and I was more than willing to give it to you,” you reassure him, gently tracing over his muscles.

He takes a deep breath, his body slowly relaxing under your touch. “I’m sorry I was so rough at the end. I just… I lost my head for a moment, I was so caught up in that I didn’t even think-” He paused for a moment, pausing to take another deep breath before continuing. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

You shook your head, looking up at him with a sheepish smile. "It's ok, dad... I’m fine." you softly assured him, leaning forward to press a delicate kiss against his lips. "I love you.."

He sighs against your lips, his grip on you tightening again at your words. “I love you too, sweetheart… I love you so much.” He responds, pressing another kiss against your lips in return. He had a hard time believing that any of that had just happened, but there was no denying that it all felt too good to be a dream.

UM… I ACCIDENTALLY DELETED THE ORIGINAL POST LMFAOKAOAKWOW sorry guys 🙏 evil pill took over i fear

[theclairvoyage]

Sour Lemonade (One-shot)

AO3 | Main Masterlist

Your nephew's little league baseball games take up many of your summer evenings, and it's not the dust or the concession stand treats that keep you coming back - it's one of the coaches, Joel Miller.

Pairing: Little league coach!Joel Miller x f!reader

Warnings: 18+, MDNI! alternate universe, adult language, alcohol consumption, smut, unprotected p in v, oral (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), fluff, flirting, angst, mentions of physical violence, light choking, baseball talk, mentions of child death, mentions of infidelity

WC: 12k

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Dust flies into your face, obscuring your view of the baseball diamond. “Fuck,” you spit, the sudden inconvenience enraging you. Aggressively, you wipe your lips with the back of your forearm, noticing now how sticky, slimy, and itchy your skin is from all the sweat and dirt. And the pirate bugs are relentless, tiny daggers pricking your pores at every moment. Each swat of your exposed skin produces a tiny black smear, only to be replaced by another miniscule, predatory black dot.

“Does anyone have some goddamn bug spray?” Anger invites itself to the baseball game now, alarming some of the innocent parents watching their 8-year-old sons try to play America’s favorite pastime. Your sister, who dragged you to this hell hole, tugs on your sleeve as she hops up from the bleachers.

“Jesus, can’t go anywhere without you cussing up a storm… no wonder your nephew knows all these colorful words,” she scolds you, your name rolling off her tongue with a sharp bite as she stomps over to the bathrooms. The rage inside you cools a bit, returning to its home in the corner of your stomach. She swings her tote from under her arm to her front, digging in the bottomless pit for some bug spray. She pulls out a pink spray bottle with feminine letters, and you already know it doesn’t have DEET.

“Sorry, Mer—for the cussing. But also, do you have anything containing any carcinogens? Need ultra strength right now,” you say, trying to ease the tension. She snorts and rolls her eyes, exchanging the pink bottle for a familiar green one. OFF! is plastered in big font on the front.

“Ahhhh,” you sigh, spraying the familiar harsh scent on your skin and clothes. She laughs, taking a big step away from the cloud of haze surrounding you. The mist cools your skin, though you know it’ll stick once it’s dried—you don’t care at this point. It’s the third inning, and you can’t handle another hour and a half of being a trained insect assassin.

“Thanks. Also, how d’ya know Noah isn’t learning cuss words at school? Or on YouTube,” you remind her, pointing a DEET-covered finger in her face. She ponders it for a moment, jaw ticking back and forth.

“Well, either way—these parents are going to blacklist you if you don’t put a filter on it.” You wave her off, grimacing.

“Meredith, let me put it bluntly—I don’t give a fuck,” you say, accentuating the last word and sticking your neck out. She laughs loudly and smacks your shoulder.

“Y’know, Noah loves that you come to his games. And I want to keep you around, so… I guess I can tolerate it,” Meredith says with a half-smirk, snatching the green bottle from your sticky fingers. “Let’s go back before the damn game is over.”

“Hey! Language!” you point at her, eyes widening in mock shock. A throaty laugh leaves her lips. The wind picks up again, sending a twister of dirt and dust your way, so hard it stings your legs. You curse yourself for not wearing pants.

Back at the bleachers, you find that your language is the least concern of these parents. It’s the bottom of the fourth inning, and the score is 2-9. Noah’s team looks somber as they take the field. Moms are perched on their bleacher chairs with crossed legs, quietly fanning their faces with paper programs with pursed lips. Dads spit their sunflower seeds and tobacco into the grass aggressively with arms crossed, shaking their heads with each dropped ball and fumbled groundout. A sharp contrast is the cacophony of shrill screams and boisterous laughter from children running around the nearby empty fields, with not a care in the world. They’re just happy to be here.

“Sheesh… tough night,” Meredith says solemnly in your ear. You nod, sucking your lips into your mouth. The pitcher on Noah’s team walks another batter, and a man, presumably one of the coaches, emerges from the dugout and steps onto the field, holding his palm up to the umpire.

“Time!” The umpire calls, waving both hands in the air a few times. You study the man as he approaches the pitcher, surprised at what you see.

He’s taller than average, but not too tall. His trim body is lined with lean muscle, though he’s somewhat soft in the middle. Broad shoulders stretch his gray t-shirt. Graying brunette curls peek under his hat, kissing the top of his strong, tanned neck. Strong legs stride quietly, though confidently, toward the poor boy, who is clearly distraught. The man kneels and puts a hand on the pitcher’s shoulder as he speaks to him. The boy nods, cracking a small smile and sniffling as the man jostles him softly. He told a joke, perhaps—whatever it took to get the kid to smile. You find yourself smiling, too, watching the pair interact. The man has a calming presence that seems to have trickled into the crowd. The tension in the air is less frigid, palpable. He high-fives the boy and stands, returning to the dugout. His gaze sweeps the field, giving his players a thumbs up, before turning to the crowd and locking eyes with you.

Shit. His face takes your breath away, complete with a curved nose, high cheekbones, plush lips crowned with a full mustache, and an angled jawline dotted with brown and gray hairs. His smoldering chocolate eyes, though, are what hypnotize you the most. He’s still staring at you, likely analyzing the structure of your features like you are to him. You notice his stride falters momentarily before catching himself, but his eyes never stray from yours as he returns to the dugout. Heat radiates from your cheeks. Your heart thuds in your chest, pulse racing at this gorgeous stranger checking you out. Meredith nudges you with her elbow.

“I’ve never seen anybody get eye-fucked like that,” she whispers, and you can’t prevent the loud guffaw that escapes from your mouth. You clap a hand over your mouth quickly and whip your head toward her.

“Who is that?!” you squeal, clutching her wrist.

“That’s Joel Miller, one of the coaches,” she whispers, craning her neck to look at him in the dugout. “His nephew is on the team. Brother is that guy sitting behind home plate here,” she points, alerting you to an attractive Latino man with shiny black curls and a similar strong nose. Damn. He’s fine as hell, too. Before you turn to look at him again, Meredith grips your leg.

“He’s staring over here, don’t look,” she whispers. You can’t help but smile and feel giddy, like a sixth grader developing their first crush.

The game ends on a higher note, with Noah’s team lessening the gap and ending 6-10. As parents trickle from the stands to wait for their boys out by the dugout, you try to catch a glimpse of Joel, who is picking up stray baseball bats and gloves, handing them to their rightful owners. Noah ambles over to Meredith and you, grin plastered on his dirt-stained face. He wraps his sweaty arms and hands around your midsection.

“Hey, buddy. You did great,” you beam at him. He sighs heavily and looks up at you, big blue eyes laced with disappointment.

“We didn’t win, though,” he laments, wiping his dirty face off on your shirt.

“S’not all about winning, my dude. Gotta have fun and try to get better every day,” you comfort him, patting the back of his sweaty jersey.

“That’s some good life advice right there,” a deep, sexy, Southern-accented voice interrupts. You snap your head up and see Joel, who’s already looking at you. God, he’s even more attractive up close, and he smells good, like pine and musk. His eyes travel your face before dipping down to your lips, quickly reverting to your eyeline.

“Joel! This is my sister,” Meredith introduces you, pulling Noah from your grasp. Joel holds out a hand. You grab it and shake, relishing the warmth and size of his hand. The two of you stare at each other for a moment before he lets go.

“Nice to meet ya. I think some of the parents are gettin’ drinks later, after puttin’ the Rugrats to bed,” he says, flashing a jaw-dropping smile at you. Meredith chimes in, saving you once again from your own awkward silence.

“That sounds great! We’ll definitely stop by, right?” she asks you, nudging you. You tear your eyes from Joel’s and nod.

“Yes—though I need a shower. I stink,” you admit, scrunching your nose. A deep chuckle emits from Joel, shoulders shaking with laughter. Your heart skips a beat.

“Y’can’t be that bad—at least y’look good,” he says with a grin, pearly whites blinding you. Your heart falters completely at his compliment and you’re frozen, like a mosquito inside a solid block of amber. Meredith, for the umpteenth time today, saves you from looking like an absolute fool.

“Joel, wait ‘til you see her all cleaned up! We gotta go get this kiddo showered and ready for his sleepover, see you in a bit!” she says, clutching your wrist and leading you and Noah toward the parking lot. Peering over your shoulder, you catch Joel’s eyes drifting up and down your figure. His smile fades, expression morphing from excitement, to astonishment, to desire. Oh, fuck.

Two hours later, Meredith and you are arm in arm, walking up to the bar the parents and coaches had chosen for the rendezvous. The summer heat has loosened its grip on the city, with gentle summer gusts and a Starburst-colored sunset replacing it. Your dirty and sweat-ridden clothes are replaced with some jean shorts and a fresh muscle tee, and you remembered to put lotion on your legs for once.

Meredith opens the creaky wooden entrance door, and you spot the baseball group in a corner of the bar. Eight parents and all coaches are here, each sporting a mug of some light and probably domestic beer. All greet you with either a wave or a loud greeting—they must’ve gotten started drinking early. You spot Joel sitting next to his brother, Tommy—both are staring at you as you approach the group.

“Since you’re late, you have to buy shots,” says one of the moms, lifting her empty beer glass.

“Fine, Katy—but it’s gonna be tequila!” Meredith quips, inciting a grimace from Katy and cheers from all the men at the table. “Let’s go up to the bar,” Meredith murmurs in your ear, setting your purses down on two empty chairs the group saved for you. You try not to look at Joel but feel his magnetizing gaze on you, and you make eye contact with him. His eyes are molten dark chocolate, sweeping over your face with a glimmer of want. You crack a small smile and his eyes latch onto your lips immediately. Before your knees buckle, you break eye contact and follow Meredith to the bar.

“So, you gonna fuck him, or what?” She teases once you’re both out of earshot of the group. You land a playful slap on her arm and drop your jaw.

“Mer! I don’t even have his number! Or know how old he is, or if he’s an ex-con, or a child molester, or a serial strangler,” you ramble, pulling a laugh from her.

“He’s not any of those things, but he’s in his fifties, I know that. Doesn’t look like it, though,” she says, eyebrows arching. He’s got some years on you, for sure, but you’ve had an experience or two with an older man—though this one terrifies you. His eyes alone could convince you to do almost anything.

The bartender pours up double-digit tequila shots, garnished with salted rims and limes, and plops them on a serving tray. Meredith hoists it up and you walk back to the table, making sure to put some extra swing in your hips in case Joel’s watching. You can tell from your peripheral that he is, in fact, staring at you. Something fizzes in your chest—warm, wanting.

“Cheers to not getting run-ruled today!” Tommy cheers as everyone clinks their shot glasses together. You down yours quickly, anticipating the spicy aftertaste. And boy, it burns like hell as it glazes down your throat. You suck on the lime and try not to shiver. Whoops and cheers fill the empty bar as everyone finishes their shots.

After a few beers and shots later, you’re feeling loose and giddy. Your end of the table is talking about the godforsaken umpire from tonight’s game, somewhat split from the other half of the table, which is discussing the MLB playoffs. Feeling a familiar pull, you turn and see Joel smiling at you. Once you make eye contact, he winks, which sends you reeling. He’s about to get up from his seat when one of the moms waltzes her way over to him, curling her polished claws around his shoulder.

You wouldn’t be surprised if he preferred her over you—she’s petite, with long blonde hair, tan skin, blue eyes, and perky fake boobs. She looks great, you admit, and she’s closer to his age. Sadness looms in your belly and your smile fades as his attention diverts to her. Oh well, you think. Good thing it didn’t go too far. Resigned, you join the conversation and try to focus on anything but Joel.

The night carries on, and you find yourself unbothered by Joel. Meredith completely let loose, singing along to the music echoing throughout the bar. Everyone at your end of the table is telling jokes, clinking glasses, and enjoying each other’s presence. It’s a fun night, you admit to yourself. You made every effort to not pay attention to the other end of the table but felt Joel’s eyes on you constantly.

What you didn’t realize was how much he wanted you to be the one pressed up against him, with his arm curled around your waist or his rough fingers stroking the smooth skin of your thigh. He needed to get away from this kid’s mom—she was newly divorced and obviously ready for a rebound. Yeah, she was attractive, but nothing about her excited him—if anything, he was irritated by her blatant advancements. The final straw was when she crept her hand up his denim-clad thigh and squeezed close to the apex.

“The hell are you doin’?” he says with a laugh, incredulous. She licks her glossy lips and leans in toward his ear.

“Oh, I think you know, big boy,” she murmurs in her sexiest voice. Joel is turned off. Not wanting to be rude, he lightly grips her wrist and pulls her hand back. You, unfortunately, look over right as he grabs her hand.

“Not interested, dear,” he murmurs back, watching the frustration grow on her face.

“Fine, Miller—there’s plenty more who want it,” she boasts. She snatches her manicured hand away and moves onto your side of the table, picking another innocent victim.

Annoyed, you stand and walk up to the bar, back facing the group. Guess her little routine worked on Joel—he really ate it up, even touched her arm. You chide yourself for letting this unnerve you—you don’t even know the guy, and for all you do know, he might be a sleazeball.

“Need a break from the loudmouths?” the bartender asks, half smiling. You nod, rolling your eyes playfully.

“Too much testosterone over there,” you retort, “I’ll take a Sprite.” She nods and punches a button on the soda gun, filling up a tall glass. Staring at the bubbles fizzing over the ice cubes, you feel a breeze on your side. It’s Joel, finally separated from his bimbo of the night.

“Hey, darlin’, can I get you a drink?” he asks, smooth, sugary voice tickling your eardrums. He sounds sexy as fuck. You hold his gaze but don’t smile, creating an icy wall between the two of you.

“Is your girlfriend okay with that?” you sneer, turning to take a sip of your Sprite. His shoulders sag just slightly, but you see it from the corner of your eye.

“She ain’t my girl, promise. She’s tryna find a rebound,” he murmurs apologetically. You shrug.

“Seems like she was getting close to getting one.” Ouch. It hits low and painful in his belly, though he understands.

“Listen, I know what it looked like. Promise ya, it ain’t nothing. She ain’t my type,” he says, eyes sweeping your face. Guilt pangs you, and you turn to look at him. Fuck. His eyes are solemn, repentant—he’s saying sorry, and he doesn’t even need to. You sigh deeply, feeling that the alcohol is forcing you to be honest with him.

“Joel, look—I’m sorry, I shouldn’t ha—,” you start, but he interrupts you, putting a calloused palm up and shaking his head.

“No need t’apologize, sweetheart. I get it. She was all over me,” he says, end of his sentence filled with a playful tone. You giggle quietly.

“Oh yeah, she was two seconds away from sinking her teeth into you,” you joke, chuckles exchanging between the two of you. Relief fills you, warm and cleansing. He stares at you for a moment before speaking again.

“So, that drink…” he says, a lopsided grin plastered on his rugged face. God, he’s handsome. You can’t hold off much longer.

“I ‘spose,” you tease, “Guess you owe me one, anyway.” His half-grin turns whole, smile sending a zip of desire down your spine. He leans close to your ear, sweeping your hair over your shoulder. The touch of his warm skin on yours and the proximity of him almost makes you jump.

“I’ll make it up t’ya, swear on it,” he says, voice an octave lower and Southern accent dripping with something you’re not quite ready to identify. You clamp your thighs together instinctively, another shiver rippling through you like that of the tequila shot. Joel waves the bartender over and orders your drink of choice and whiskey neat.

“So… you live with Meredith?” Joel inquires, watching you as he sips the amber liquid. You shake your head, twirling the straw around your drink.

“Nope, but I might as well with how much I’m over there, helping with Noah and whatnot.” He nods.

“I had a daughter once. Y’know what they say… it takes a village,” he says, tone laced with melancholy. Once?

“I hate to ask, but… what happened to her?” you ask carefully, hesitant to look at him.

“She passed away when she was little. Car accident. S’alright, though—it was a long time ago,” he says, smiling at you wistfully. You put a hand on his bare forearm, and he almost melts into a puddle.

“I’m sorry, Joel. That’s so awful. I can’t imagine experiencing something like that. Noah’s my nephew, but I wouldn’t be able to go on if something happened to him,” you add, hoping to soothe his pain.

“Enough about me, darlin’, I wanna know more about you,” he says, covering your hand with his. His touch is electric on your skin.

“Nothing exciting, trust me,” you say with a shrug. He scoffs.

“I’d be shocked to hear that you’re single,” he says, winking at you again. You shove him playfully.

“Prepare to be shocked,” you quip. He shakes his head and looks up at one of the TVs.

“S’a damn shame,” he laments. The alcohol sends courage racing through your veins.

“For whom?” you tease, mirroring his wink. His smile fades just slightly as he takes you in, desire washing over him. When he speaks again, his voice is even deeper than before.

“Not for me, that’s for sure.” Your stomach drops at his admission, though your face doesn’t show it.

“Yeah? Why’s that, Miller?” He takes another sip of his whiskey, eyes locked on yours.

“You kiddin’? Look at you,” he says, whistling lowly, eyes traversing your frame. If you weren’t blushing before, you are now. You wave him off and sip your own drink.

“Oh, stop. I bet you get the best of the best coming up to you,” you say, playing it cool. He takes another sip, swallowing with a hmm-mm.

“Darlin’, the best of the best is sittin’ next to me, and I reckon I got some groveling t’do if I wanna see her again,” he admits. He takes his baseball cap off, revealing thick, gorgeous curls, hairline swept with gray locks. He runs a hand through them before sliding the cap back on. Admiring his profile, you watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows. Your gaze travels down to his neck, which might just be your favorite part of him at the moment—thick, tan, jugular vein bulging. You can almost see his pulse pounding at his carotid. Fuck, he makes your pulse pound. Sucking in a deep, calming breath, you avert your gaze to your near-empty drink, swishing the ice cubes around nervously. Joel nudges your arm with his elbow. You look at him, trying your hardest to maintain a straight face, but seeing his smile makes you grin.

“What?” you ask, noticing his eyes dipping down to your lips.

“Was just thinkin’,” he says, finishing the last of his whiskey as he eyes you inquisitively.

“About?” you press, tilting your ear toward him and raising your brows. He laughs at your facial expression and leans in, lips brushing your hair and nearly grazing your ear.

“’Bout what it would be like t’kiss you,” he hums, voice dripping with lust. Your eyes widen briefly, shock quickly morphing into nervousness, then anticipation as your stomach twists.

“Think I need another drink before then,” you say, slowly turning to face him. He’s close, close enough that you feel his breath on your face. He’s half-smiling again, brown eyes spanning your face.

“Nervous?” he taunts lowly. You look up at the TV and nod slowly.

“Darlin’, y’got nothin’ to be nervous about. I ain’t gonna make ya do anything y’ain’t comfortable with,” he says, face still close to your ear. You face him again, staring intently into his eyes.

“Oh, it’s not that. I’m afraid… you’ll be hooked,” you test him, hoping your bravado overshadows your nerves. His nostrils flare just slightly before he clears his throat.

“Reckon I need another drink, too—I might not survive,” he says, catching you off guard. A loud laugh escapes your lips. Joel is delighted at the sound and wonders how you’d sound doing other things, like underneath him or as his tongue unravels you. Suppressing an erection, he waves the bartender over and orders both of you another round.

“Wanna get some air?” he questions you, tipping his head toward the patio area. You nod, chewing on your straw nervously. The idea of being alone with him makes you squirm. You stand and he guides you outside, firm hand on your lower back. His fingertips burn into your back.

“Lemme just tell Mer I’m stepping outside,” you say. He nods. “Meet ya out there?” he offers, and you clink the rim of your glass to his in agreement. You watch him saunter over to the patio doors, salivating at the way his jeans hug his hips and ass. Meredith isn’t worried by your absence at all, still laughing and talking loudly with the group. She’s drunk.

“Mer, I’m stepping out back if you need me,” you say into her ear. She turns to you, holding your chin.

“Y’gonna kiss him, finally? He’s been tryna do it for the last hour!” she spits into your ear. Your lips quirk into a smile.

“Maybe, dunno. We’ll find out shortly,” you reply nonchalantly, shrugging as you turn to leave the table. She pinches your ass as you walk away.

Anticipation bubbles in your chest as you get closer to the patio. With a deep breath, you push the doors open and see Joel leaning up against the railing, hip cocked to one side. The patio is dotted with dim string lights and overlooks a small pond with a fountain, moonlight glimmering on the surface. The trickling of the water is soothing, a nice contrast to the loud music and voices inside the bar. He turns his body toward you, arm leaned against the railing as he watches you.

“Thought maybe I scared ya off,” he teases. You stand next to him, arm brushing his as he turns to face the pond again.

“Not in the slightest. Your girl back there, though? Not going within 20 feet of her,” you tantalize him, and he rolls his eyes as he chuckles.

“She ain’t even a blip on my radar, darlin’,” he says, voice shifting from playful to sensual. You feel his hot gaze on your face. Slowly, he dips his head closer to yours. You turn and lock eyes with him. You want him, though your expression is almost hesitant—his is pliant, asking permission. You look down at his plush lips and lean in while closing your eyes.

When your lips finally meet, a sensation roils through you like you’ve never experienced. You feel like a fishing boat in the North Sea, tossed around, dizzy, and soaked by the icy waves as they threaten to pull you under. You’re completely at the mercy of his lips, his touch. The kiss is slow, yet fiery—unlocking passion in both of you that has either been dormant or never existed. At some point, Joel turned to face you and pulled you flush to him, thick arms wrapped around your torso, squeezing you like he can’t afford to let go. You reach for his hair and knock off his baseball cap, and he laughs against your mouth.

It doesn’t take long for your tongues to tangle and the kiss to reach a new level of hot and heavy. He’s gripping your ass; you’re shoving your hands up his shirt. He’s breaking the kiss to nip at your neck and jawline; you’re moaning softly. He’s groaning into your skin at the sounds you make, telling you how good you are; your nails are carving shapes into the skin of his back.

You pull back, panting, fingers still latched onto his curls. Concerned eyes stare into yours, worried he crossed a line. You shake your head and laugh incredulously, glancing over at the moonlit pond. It’s surreal, the way you’re feeling now—none of your dreams have ever been so enchanting as this moment. Joel strokes your cheek softly, needing to know your thoughts.

“Everything alright?” he murmurs, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheekbone.

“Yes! Oh god, everything’s—amazing, I just didn’t know if—,” you stammer, trying to force the thousand thoughts swirling in your mind into a coherent sentence.

“D’you wanna get outta here, darlin’? I understand f’you say no, but good lord, I want you,” he breathes, searching your eyes for a semblance of hesitation or uncertainty. He doesn’t find either. Your pupils dilate ever so slightly, tongue darting out to lick your lips.

“Fuck yes,” you breathe, sending him over the edge. He smirks and releases you momentarily to pick up his fallen ball cap, tossing the sweaty fabric over his curls before grabbing your hand to guide you back inside. It’s hasty, the way he closes his tab and signs his receipt, tossing the pen back behind the bar with a chuckle.

“Let me tell Mer I’m leaving,” you tell him. He nods.

“I’ll wait here for ya, don’t need ya walkin’ in the dark parkin’ lot alone this time of night.”

“A gentleman, too? Hopefully that doesn’t carry over to the bedroom,” you coo, putting on your sultriest voice. His eyes are black as sin, sweeping over your body slowly.

“Oh, I am—ladies first,” he quips, enjoying the view as you turn to walk toward the table. Meredith is perched on the lap of one of the dads, whispering in his ear.

“Mer—I’m leaving. I’ll call you in the morning, yeah?” You shout over the loud chatter of the group and the music. She winks at you and gives you a languid thumbs up. Still drunk. You narrow your eyes at poor lad she’s sitting on, giving him a silent warning. He throws his palms up in the air in surrender. Meredith rolls her eyes at you before turning back to him.

Joel takes your hand as you walk out of the bar, giving the back a quick kiss. The excitement and thrill of leaving with him has you giddy, springy. Your steps are bouncier than before, confidence buzzing inside you. This fine man wants you, has wanted only you since he laid eyes on you, and is taking you home. Your past one-night stands have never been so exhilarating.

Joel leads you to a big silver truck, opening the passenger door for you and helping you into the plush leather seat. He swats your ass as you hop in, laughing at the yelp that escapes you. Trotting over to the driver’s side, he hops in and wastes no time getting out of there.

“Your place or mine?” He asks as the truck cruises onto a main road.

“Mine,” you reply, starting to feel nervous. Maybe a familiar location will calm your nerves a bit.

“Lead the way, darlin’.” You guide him to your apartment, which is maybe 10 minutes from the bar. He grabs your hand as you both speedwalk into the building, eager to rip your clothes off and finish what you started at the bar.

As soon as you’re inside your apartment, Joel rips his cap off and hoists you up, your back pressed against the door. Your legs encircle his waist and pull, crashing your hips together. His lips devour you hungrily, teeth nibbling your lower lip and hands frantically roaming over you. “Where?” he murmurs in your mouth, and you point to your agape bedroom door. You didn’t make your bed, but you couldn’t give less of a fuck right now, and neither does he. He carries you inside the dark room and lies both of you on the bed, your legs still wrapped around his midsection.

“Need t’see you,” he pants, and you point to the lamp on your bedside table. He twists the knob, filling the room with dim, amber lighting. His mouth latches back onto yours before moving down to your soft neck and collarbone.

“Off,” he says, tugging at the collar of your muscle shirt. You lift your arms up and let him tear the fabric from you, remembering that you didn’t wear a bra once you hear him curse.

“Fuck,” he groans, “look at you.” He squeezes your breasts, taking a nipple into his warm mouth. You inhale sharply, running fingers through his tousled curls as he sucks on one and moves to the other. He kisses down your stomach until he meets denim, sitting up and grasping the waistband of your shorts. He peers at you from poignant, hooded eyes.

“Can I take these off?” he asks softly, surprising you. He’s gentle, obedient, almost submissive to you, though you don’t realize what a treasure you are in his eyes. He wants to savor this, make sure it’s perfect for you. Your chest is heaving, nerves so alight that you almost forget to respond.

“Please,” you affirm, and he doesn’t need to be told twice.

You’re already soaked—you felt it once you sat down in his truck, the damp fabric of your panties pushed up into you. He unbuttons and slides your shorts off, leaving your green thong on and licking his lips as he notices the wet spot.

“Jesus… this for me?” he says, returning his needy mouth to your hot skin. You’re squirming in his grip, breathless.

“Yes, fuck,” you huff, whimpers leaving your mouth as he kisses his way down your left hip and bites your inner thigh. You moan, the painful prick of his incisors heightening your pleasure.

“You like that, baby?” he asks, peeking up at you from down below. Bashfulness washes over you at the sight of him between your legs, worshipping your body. You nod feverishly, lower lip between your teeth. He growls lowly and kisses down your leg, stopping at your instep and watching your response before retracing his path. He stops over your clothed mound and kisses featherlight, pulling a groan from you. You feel his smile curve against your core, but he doesn’t oblige you—he kisses down your other leg. You tug on his hair, needing his mouth on your most sensitive spot.

“Needy, ain’t she?” he teases you, breathing hot air on your clothed, throbbing pussy. Your back arches and you sigh heavily at the sensation.

“I’ma give you just what y’need, darlin’, just hold on for me,” he soothes you, teeth pulling the waistband of your thong back slowly. He needs help from his hands, though, so he loops his fingers in the waistband and rids them from you. His gaze is boring holes in you, looking at you like you’re the most precious thing he’s ever seen.

“Tongue-tied?” you tease him, watching his eyes roam over your naked body.

“Fuckin’ perfect,” he growls. He shifts downward, lower half on the floor before hooking his arms under your thighs and pulling you toward him. He stares at you as he blows softly on your clit. The chill of the air on your wet core drives you mad, your hips circling involuntarily under his grip. At what seems like a glacial pace, he leans in until his lips touch your clit in a featherlight kiss. Though light, the contact feels like the floor has dropped from underneath you, making you dizzy. His teasing has you so riled up; it won’t take much for you to reach the zenith. His tongue slips out and slowly, almost agonizingly, licks from your entrance to your clit.

“Shit, Joel,” you gasp. He smirks against your core, impressed with himself for learning your cues early on. He continues licking you languidly, sensually, changing his approach based on your moans, curses, and sighs, each twitch of your hips and death grip of his hair and arms, relishing all of you.

“Like hearing y’say my name,” he purrs, “Y’taste so good.” White-hot pleasure keeps shooting up your spine, like fireworks on July fourth. Your stomach feels tight, like you might snap any second.

“I’m close,” you whimper, hips rolling on his face. He hums in approval into your pussy. You reach down and grip his hands before he pulls one away to prod at your entrance. He curves two broad fingers into you, groaning at how warm and tight you are. A strangled cry escapes your throat at the stretch, part of you worried about how his cock will fit. He pumps his fingers quickly, and you snap, your orgasm taking over every fiber of your being. He talks you through it, praising you and trying not to come himself at the sight of you trembling, arched in pleasure.

After a beat, he removes his fingers and slots himself between your legs, head dipping down to kiss you, giving you a taste of yourself on his wiry mustache and smooth lips.

“Taste good, don’t you?” he croons into your mouth, pulling a low moan from your throat. Gripping the fabric of his shirt as you kiss him, you realize he’s still fully clothed. You tug the hem of his shirt up and he sits on his heels to pull it off, revealing a strong, toned torso with a softness that makes you melt. He notices you admiring him.

“S’not as good as it used t’be,” he chuckles, smiling at you as he tosses his shirt to some corner of the room.

“Shut up. You’re perfect,” you breathe, hands roaming his chest and stomach before landing in his waistband, pulling him back to you. He resists, only to unbutton his denim and slide it off his legs, leaving only his boxers. You reach out and grab his hard length through the thin fabric, gasping at the girth of him. Your fingers don’t even reach all the way around. His head tips back, breathy sigh escaping his lungs at your gentle but firm touch.

“Off,” you parrot his command from earlier, fingers tugging at the elastic waistband of his boxers. Eyes locked on yours, he stands and pulls them off his figure, cock springing as it releases. A mischievous grin creeps over his features after seeing your reaction to his manhood.

Fuck. He’s big, probably bigger than most you’ve had. The length is up there, but the girth is what worries you—he’s so thick.

“Don’t worry, darlin’, I’ll take care of you,” he soothes you, settling between your legs. Confusion contorts his face, like he forgot something—until frustration sets in.

“I don’t have protection, d’you have anything?” he asks, stroking a slow path from your inner thigh to your hip, making you squirm.

“No, but I’m good—I’m on birth control, and it’s been forever since I’ve had sex with anyone, so I’m clean,” you reply. You can’t even remember the last time you slept with anyone—months, perhaps.

“Me, too,” he adds, “minus the birth control.” His witty response makes you giggle. You sit up and lean forward to kiss him, stopping just before your lips touch.

“I want you inside me. Now,” you whisper, gaze flicking over his face. His eyes flash obsidian before he crashes his lips against yours and lies you both down. He rubs the head of his cock against your soaked folds, the sensation setting your body on fire. Aroused and impatient, you tip him back until your positions are switched, Joel’s head almost hanging off the edge of the bed. He chuckles at you but beams at your confidence. Perched on his lap, you lean back slightly and grind your hips, guiding your lips over his rock-hard length.

“Need a picture of this,” he says, bewildered at the gorgeous woman grinding on his lap, naked and needy for him. His rough palms caress your hips, stomach, breasts, before landing at your shoulders. He pulls you down for a kiss, the new angle pressing your slit flush against his cock, and you shudder.

“Fuck me,” he rumbles, mouth agape, messy salt and pepper curls dipping down to his brow. You sit up, bracing one palm on his chest and using the other to guide him to your dripping entrance. Making sure to watch him, you slowly sink down on him, the stretch splitting you open almost immediately. Your mouth drops and eyebrows arch, the pain and pleasure slowing your movements.

Joel’s face mirrors yours, your tight, soaked cunt squeezing him deliciously. He grits his teeth and grips your ass so hard you’ll have bruises, urging you down further onto him. You slowly take inch by inch until bottoming out, the sudden press of his tip against your cervix making you yelp.

“Okay, baby?” he asks. Your eyes are squeezed shut, breath coming out in heavy pants and hands clawing at his chest as you adjust to the size and thickness of him. A strand of your hair has fallen in your face, moving with each puff of your breath.

“Yes, j-just need a sec,” you whimper. Finally, your inner muscles acclimate to the intrusion of his cock, and you start to move. Each roll of your hips pulls a filthy moan from Joel, whose calloused hands are guiding you up and down his length. You’re whimpering with each thrust, the tip of his cock sending painfully pleasurable shocks up your spine as it slams into the deepest parts of you.

“Just beautiful,” he groans as he watches you bounce on him. It’s a good thing you’re on top, because he would’ve come by now had he been spearing himself into you. “Not gonna last long. Where d’you want me?” he spits.

“Inside me,” you mewl, and before he can react, you take the opportunity to press your chest against his, sweaty foreheads stuck together as you clap your ass against him as hard as you can. Your second orgasm washes over you suddenly, causing you to tuck your head in the crook of his neck as you cry out. Joel takes over, thrusting up into you a few times before grunting your name as he spills into you. Both of your pants and whimpers fill the room as you come down from your high. You’re still on top of him, arms wrapped around his neck, pussy wrapped around his cock still as he softens. He rolls you over and pins your arms above your head before dipping his lips down to meet yours in a messy postcoital kiss. You moan into the kiss, and his cock twitches at the sound inside you—he’s not quite hard, but enough to still stretch you out.

“Wanna do it like this next time,” you pant, cupping his cheek. He turns to kiss your palm and moves down to your wrist before latching his lips onto the slope of your shoulder.

“I’d like that, baby,” he purrs into your sweaty skin, “And I like that there’s gonna be a next time.” He rests against you for a moment before slipping out of you with a grunt and standing to find your bathroom. He returns after a minute with a towel, sitting next to you on the bed and wiping his spend from you.

A pang of disappointment washes over you suddenly, not wanting him to leave. One-night stands really aren’t your thing—you don’t want him to get the idea that this is a frequent habit of yours.

You speak his name softly, quietly. He slides back into bed, propping himself on one elbow and giving you his full attention. He tucks some stray hair behind your ear, your eyes closing at the tenderness of his touch.

“Hmm?” he hums, thumb tracing your eyebrow, forehead, temple, whatever part of your face is closest. You open your eyes and see warm, affectionate amber staring back at you. His eyes are so beautiful, so full of emotion, you find yourself unable to talk for a second. He quirks one eyebrow at you, lips sliding into his cheek as he waits for your response.

“D’you wanna stay?” you ask, hesitant. You really don’t know him, or if this is something he likes to do often, or if it was a spur of the moment decision made during your moment of passion at the bar. He leans down and kisses your forehead before pressing a slow kiss to your lips. Pulling back ever so slightly, his breath fans on your face and gaze flicks between each of your eyes before he opens his mouth to reply.

“Yes, I’d love to,” he says. You can’t help the grin that pulls at your cheeks. He twists the lamp, darkness spilling into the room, and tucks you into his chest before pulling the covers over both of you.

“Goodnight, darlin’,” he whispers into your hair, and before you can reply, you’re sound asleep.

Morning rolls around, and you find yourself pressed against Joel’s warm back, arms wrapped around his torso and moving up and down with his expanding ribcage. He’s still sleeping, or you think—he woke up not too long ago with you curled into his chest, torn between needing to use the bathroom, and not wanting to let go of you. You looked so serene, so beautiful as the sunrise painted your features. When he came back and tucked himself under the covers, you immediately latched yourself onto him, arms wound tightly around his belly.

Now, you find yourself in the same predicament, needing to use the bathroom but not wanting to disturb him. You slowly unfurl yourself from his broad back, stand from the bed and tiptoe to the bathroom connected to your room.

Joel had opened his eyes once he felt you rise from the bed and watched your naked figure travel across the room, the sight stirring his already half-hard cock. Fuck, you were gorgeous, and he wanted desperately to see your body trembling with pleasure again, the memory of your face twisted in euphoria sewn into his brain. When he heard the bathroom door open, he snapped his eyes shut again, wanting you to think he was asleep.

You, on the other hand, didn’t want to wake him and had a primal urge for some fresh coffee. You search the room for your robe, startling when two warm hands grasp your waist and pull you onto the bed. Joel props himself up against your headboard, legs spread as he pulls you into the open space between them. His strong arms loop around your stomach, pulling you tight until your back is flush with his chest. He tucks his face into your neck, pressing gentle kisses behind and beneath your ear, down the column of your neck.

“Where d’you think you’re goin’?” he croons, Southern voice raspy with sleep, igniting something inside you. You moan as his lips and teeth mark spots on the map of your skin.

“Coffee, I swear,” you groan, covering his arms with yours and squirming as his mouth continues adorning you.

“Mm. Not done with you yet,” he murmurs, unwrapping one hand from your stomach to palm your breasts. You arch into him, head tipping back on his shoulder. He growls.

“Feel good, sweetheart?” he presses, rolling one nipple between rough fingertips before moving to the other. You gasp sharply and nod against his shoulder, hips gyrating and ass rubbing against his hard length. He inhales deeply, the scent of your hair invading his space and heightening his arousal for you.

His palm dips lower, spanning your soft stomach before reaching your inner thigh, goosebumps erupting in its path. Lightly, he scratches at your skin there, loving how pliant your body is underneath his touch. He needs to see your face.

“Look at me,” he orders softly, and you turn your head to see him. God, he looks fucking good. His hair is fucked up from slumber, eyes wanton and full of sleepy desire. There are hints of intrigue and mischief sketched on his face.

Then, he kisses you, teeth tugging on your lower lip. It’s hot, the way he needs you in this moment, the way his tongue reaches for yours, the way his grip tightens around you. His hand dips further south, fingers feeling firsthand how much you want him. He moans at it, the wetness trickling from you.

“Joel,” you whine, his calculated touches teasing you. He swirls his fingers around your bud, almost excruciatingly slow.

“You want me this much?” he breathes into your mouth. Your hips are still rolling, ass feeling how much he wants you.

“Yes—please. Need you,” you moan softly, eyes opening to see him. He looks down, watching and moaning at how your slick coats his fingers. He prods his middle finger at your entrance, inserting it lazily into your tight heat with a groan. You gasp at the soreness of his cock from last night and at the stretch—his finger is thick, close to the size of two of your digits.

“Baby—need to stretch you out. So tight.” He pulls his middle finger out and adds his ring finger to the mix. He curls them once they’re fully sheathed inside you, pads stroking your soft walls. He pumps them in and out of you slowly, yet with enough pressure to send you reeling. The pleasure builds inside you, knotting tightly in your belly. You moan as he continues to unravel you, hips circling around his hand, his teeth sinking into your shoulder.

“Come for me, sweet girl,” he coaxes you, mouth moving to graze your earlobe. He holds it there, between his teeth, pulling it as you come apart on his fingers.

Your orgasm rolls through you slowly, vision spotting as the knot untethers inside your stomach. Joel fucks you through it and praises you, spurring you on more. It’s new for you, someone talking you through your orgasm, and something you didn’t realize you needed.

“Good girl, just like that—did so good for me, baby,” he soothes you, removing his soaked fingers from you. He takes the middle one into your mouth, brushing your tongue, and you suck lightly, moaning at the taste of yourself. His cock jumps.

“Need to taste you again,” he hums, placing his ring finger in his mouth. You watch him relish the taste of you, eyebrows arching and a deep groan escaping his throat.

“Can I fuck you now, baby?” he asks, syllables like chords of a sweet cello. You nod, tugging the back of his head down for a passionate kiss. He maneuvers both of you until you’re underneath him and he’s hovering over the cradle of your hips.

“Gonna go slow,” he says, palms cradling your face.

“Want you to fuck me however you like, Joel,” you whisper, searching his eyes. Brown irises flecked with gold, desire-filled pupils threatening to swallow them. He sits up, tugging your thighs toward him and tucks your knees at his sides. He grips himself and breaks eye contact to watch where your bodies are about to join. He looks up at you as he slips the head of his cock inside your warm entrance, jaw dropping as your walls swallow him.

Carefully, he feeds you inch by inch, eyes never leaving yours until he’s at the hilt. He commits to memory the morphing of your facial expressions as he fills you up—wide eyes, mouth dropping slowly, head tilting back and eyes snapping shut once he reaches the end of you. Only then does he look down to see where he has vanished inside you, moaning at the way your pussy stretches around him as he pulls out slowly.

“You feel so good,” you whine, fingernails lightly scratching his chest and stomach. His head tips back as he sets a pace, your muscles squeezing him and coating him in warm slick.

“Best I ever had—fuck,” he curses, fingertips bruising your hipbones. He pulls you up so your hips are propped up on his lap, leaving space between your back and the bed. You arch, head lolled back and hanging off the edge of the bed.

“Beautiful,” he moans, reaching a palm down to lightly squeeze the column of your throat as he continues pounding into you.

Blood rushes to your head, heightening the pleasure of each thrust. Your body is tingling, almost levitating.

With no notice, your second orgasm zips through you like a gasoline fire, flames scorching your neurons. Joel follows suit, lifting you into his lap, arms wrapped around your torso as he cries into your chest. You tug his curls, tipping his head back in a kiss as he finishes emptying inside you.

You pull back and run your fingers through his hair, stopping to cradle his face in your hands. He beams at you.

“Can I make coffee now?” you tease him, pressing a light kiss to his nose. He laughs warmly, squeezing you tightly and picking you up as he stands from the bed.

“I think that’s acceptable,” he replies, squeezing your ass before letting you stand on your own legs.

“So… when can I see you again?” Joel asks as he puts his shoes on. You’d typed your number into his phone per his request just moments ago and sent yourself a text with his name.

“Are you saying… you want to do this again?” you say, winking at him and dropping your mouth open in mock surprise. He rolls his eyes, standing to pull you into a hug.

“Yes, but not just sex. Unless, uh, that ain’t your thing,” he says, hesitation flashing over his features. You shake your head.

“What we just did isn’t usually my thing. I’d love a date. And more sex if that’s okay.” He snorts.

“It’s more than okay. You showing up to the baseball game tomorrow evening?” he asks, absentmindedly stroking the skin in front of your ear. You nod.

“Got a thing for the hot coach. Need to make sure I have my best jean shorts on.” He snorts again, raising an eyebrow at the prospect of seeing you with some short shorts on.

“How about I take you out later this week, then?” You swipe your eyes around the top of the room, lips sliding into your cheek as you try and remember your schedule.

“Friday? I have a busy week at work. Late nights, probably,” you offer. He nods with a big grin.

“It’s a date.”

The next day arrived in blistering fashion. Not a single cloud graced the blue skies, nor the tiniest gust of summer wind. By 5:00 PM, it was still in the lower 90s. You packed a large cooler full of water bottles, Gatorade, various other liquids stashed in your fridge, and snacks for Noah’s baseball game. Excited to see Joel again, you made sure to wear your best jean shorts and threw on a cropped tank top.

You pull up to the baseball field, searching the parked cars for Meredith’s SUV and Joel’s silver truck. You find both, parked at opposite ends of the lot. Your stomach drops slightly when you see his truck. He’s here, obviously—he is one of the coaches. Meredith waits in her SUV for you, hopping out when she sees you strolling up, big cooler in tow.

“Any booze in that?” she winks at you. You nod.

“I had some stray shooters in the fridge. All yours.”

“I believe you have something to tell me, yeah?” she says as both of you walk up to the entrance of the baseball complex. You look over to the field and see Noah’s team warming up in their familiar navy and red uniforms.

Joel is in the grass, hitting pop flies at the outfielders. His broad back is turned to you, the familiar shape sending a pang of anticipation up your spine. The flexing and jumping of his muscles and tendons is getting you hot. Meredith nudges you.

“Hey, I’m talkin’ to you here! Stop reminiscing,” she scolds you.

“I kinda have to if you want my account of the story, yeah?” you add, mocking her tone playfully. She guffaws.

“Spill. The man was obsessing over you since he saw you at the game.”

“Let’s just say he’s very good at what he does. And he’s a gentleman. He’s taking me out later this week,” you gush, cheeks burning at your recollection of yesterday’s events.

“Knew it. Could tell by the way he walks and looks at you. Mans is whipped. My guy on the other hand? Couldn’t even get it up. Passed out before anything meaningful could happen,” she seethes, eyes rolling.

“All old men are not created equal, Mer,” you joke, jostling her with your elbow.

As you two find home in the bleachers, you see Miss Blonde Ambition eyeing you from the concession stand. She looks pissed off, Juvéderm-filled lips contorted in a scowl and lifeless eyes swiping up and down your frame as she sloshes her Stanley cup around aggressively. Meredith notices, too.

“Guess she’s not too happy her usual antics didn’t work,” she gripes. You try not to give too much attention to the woman.

“What’s her name? I don’t even think Joel knows it,” you ask, noticing her return to the bleachers from your peripheral.

“Cassie. Divorced. Her kid is one of Noah’s closest friends on the team, unfortunately. I think he spends most nights with his dad.”

“Can’t imagine why.” Meredith chuckles at your jab.

A cloud of strong, overly floral perfume invades your nostrils, and you turn to see Cassie, manicured hands planted on her hips and face pinched in irritation.

“Hey, Cass,” Meredith says coolly, not looking in her direction.

“Is this your sister?” Cassie spits. Her voice is shrill, accent almost Valley girl. It would make a lot of sense if she was from Southern California. Meredith, having none of this hostility, whips her head at Cassie.

“It is. You got a problem? Because this is not the time nor the place,” she says, eyes narrowing briefly at Cassie.

“Just wanted her to know that she shouldn’t get too excited about her little escapade with Joel. He does that with every young thing that sits on these bleachers,” she boils, face and neck turning red. Ouch. Joel never seemed the type, but then again, you don’t know him. She could be telling the truth.

“Except you, yeah?” Meredith shoots back, unfazed by Cassie’s low blow. You, on the other hand, don’t miss how your stomach sinks and throat dries up at her words. Cassie’s mouth drops open. She cocks her hips to one side and lifts a finger at both of you.

“Oh, don’t worry, I’ve been there, done that. Nothing to ride home about. Enjoy my sloppy seconds,” she hisses. Meredith stands up, hackles raised and blocking you from Cassie’s view.

“S’at why you were all pissed off he didn’t want you last night? ‘Cause it’s ‘nothing to ride home about’?” Meredith fires, neck rolling. Anger boils in your belly, though you find it best if you don’t speak—Meredith has always been the verbal fighter, you the physical one. It’s not a road you plan on traveling any time soon.

Other parents in the bleachers are observing the confrontation, along with some players in the dugout, little claws gripping the chain link fence and wide eyes glued to the scene. You’re glad you have sunglasses on. You notice Joel turn his attention to you, shoulders drooping at what he sees. Embarrassed, you look down at your feet as Cassie continues her tirade.

“Tell your slutty little sister he’ll find a new spectator to fuck very soon—and I think it’s best if our sons don’t hang out anymore!” she screeches. It’s silent at the ball field—both teams have stopped their warmups to tune into the drama. A pin could drop here, and everyone would hear it.

Meredith hops off the bleachers and gets close to Cassie’s face. She points in her face.

“Slutty? That’s rich, coming from the lady who cheated on her husband with half the single dads at the last State Tournament!” Cassie’s mouth drops open in shock, taking a few steps back from Meredith. Some gasps ring out in the bleachers. Tommy walks over, stepping between the two sparring women and putting his hands up.

“That’s enough!” he booms. Meredith, nostrils flared and fists clenched, points a finger at him.

“Tom, you know damn well what she’s trying to do here. I’m not about to let it happen. She chose to do this in front of everyone to embarrass my sister. Ain’t my problem what comes out.” He pinches the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes, shaking his head.

“I get it, Mer. Just didn’t need the kids hearing this stuff.”

Nausea squeezes your stomach and takes hold of your throat. You stand and grab your purse. Meredith turns to you, worried.

“Y’alright?” You shake your head.

“Need t’go sit in my car for a bit,” you reply, voice shaky. You turn and walk to your car, paying no attention to wandering eyes. Joel sees you ambling to the parking lot and sets his bat down, raking a hand through his stubble as he walks toward the dugout and out to the bleachers. He’d heard the entire conversation and knew you were probably hurting from Cassie’s remarks.

“I’ll talk to her, Joel,” Meredith says, stepping in between him and you, though you’re far away by now. He shakes his head.

“She needs to hear it from me. None of that shit is true,” he huffs, frown lines etched into his forehead. He jogs frantically to your car.

Hunched over your steering wheel, a knock at your window interrupts you. You jump and look up to see Joel. He looks worried. Shoulders sagging, you unlock the doors and tilt your head as you wait for him to get in. The door opens and he reaches for your hand. You snap it back involuntarily.

“I just wanna be alone right now, Joel,” you lament.

“Just let me explain, alright? I heard everythin’ she said to you,” he says, voice calm. You refuse to look at him, knowing that if you do, you won’t be able to stand firm.

“Look at me, darlin’,” he pleads, voice quiet. You sigh in defeat and turn to look at him. His amber eyes are filled with sadness and frustration.

“None of that shit she said is true. I’ve never slept with anyone that comes to these games, save for you and my ex-wife. Ain’t she ain’t been to a game in many years. Swear,” he says, voice tight, speech rushed.

You look back and forth between his eyes. Why would he lie to you? What could he possibly gain from fucking you—after all, he is a coach, and it might make him look bad to the parents and players. If anything, it was a risk on his part.

“I believe you, Joel. It just hurt,” you finally speak. He reaches for you again, hesitant from your previous rejection. You give him your hand and he kisses the back of it, eyes locked on your face.

“M’sorry. I knew she wasn’t gonna let it go easy. Promise ya, ya got nothin’ to worry about. I—I really like you,” he says, pained. You lean over the center console and kiss him, almost feeling his relief pouring into you.

“I really like you too… old man,” you tease. He roars in laughter.

“Y’gonna pay for that one, darlin’,” he says, half-grinning at you. He kisses you again before pulling back and checking his watch.

“Game’s gonna start soon, I gotta get goin’. I’ll see you later, alright?” You nod, smiling weakly at him. He gives you a quick peck before exiting the passenger side and trotting back to the field.

Noah’s team played an excellent game, which lifted the moods of all the parents and coaches. Cassie’s ex-husband, Byron, showed up and convinced her to leave, which was a relief for everyone. He apologized to you and Meredith for her behavior. Apparently, he already knew about her cheating escapade before they divorced.

Meredith, feeling badly for you, decided to splurge on concession stand snacks and got you a giant Bavarian pretzel and cotton candy, and supplied hot dogs to all the parents. You had fun, too—apprehension quickly turned to relief as parents took turns sympathizing with you and making you feel welcome. This was not Cassie’s first run-in with another woman in the bleachers, you found out—she made this sort of thing a habit.

Noah hit his first home run of the season, eliciting cheers and whoops from the stands. Joel, who had been working with him on his hitting mechanics, gave him a big hug after he returned to the dugout. The team finished 10-3, a great turnaround from yesterday’s loss.

The parents were eager to return to the bar and close it down again. You opted not to, feeling tired and needing a hot bath from the sticky summer night. You and Meredith chatted with Byron for a long time in the parking lot as families filtered out, discussing how to best keep Cassie away from the boys. They had a strong friendship, and neither Meredith nor Byron wanted anything to affect it. Byron shared that Cassie didn’t even have custody of their son—her cheating and drinking during their marriage put a bad taste in Byron’s mouth, and apparently the judge’s—he was awarded full custody.

After saying goodbyes, you were eager to get home, almost forgetting the most important goodbye. You scan the parking lot and see a familiar handsome shape leaning against the bed of his silver truck, eyeing you as you saunter over to him.

“Good game, Coach Miller,” you say slyly, sticking your hand out for him to shake. He grasps it, glancing down with one eyebrow cocked, before pulling you into his chest.

“Lotta motivation coming from the stands tonight,” he croons, wrapping his hands around your waist.

“For you or the boys?” He chuckles.

“Take your pick.” You shake your head and smile, watching the sun drop the last of its shape underneath the horizon. The sky is a beautiful cotton candy color, not unlike the treat Meredith bought for you earlier tonight. You two stand there for a moment, the only sounds being the quiet buzzing of the cicadas and crunch of cars leaving the gravel parking lot.

“Headin’ to the bar?” Joel asks you, holding your chin with his forefinger and thumb. You shake your head.

“Need a hot bath and some relaxation. You?” He smirks, thinking of your naked body undressing and stepping into a bubbly tub.

“Nah. Need the same.” Your lips twitch as you study his face, painted with a little mischief and a little fatigue.

“Want to join me?” you offer, watching a slow grin creep on his face.

“Hmm, need t’think about that one,” he says, eyes flicking over your face.

“What’s there to think about? You, me, naked in a tub. What could possibly go wrong?” You’re flirting now.

“That’s exactly what I’m thinkin’ ‘bout, darlin’, not whether I wanna go,” he says, pulling a goofy laugh from you.

“Meet you over there, then,” you say, turning to leave. He holds onto one of your fingers, preventing you from walking to your car.

“Y’want somethin’ to eat first?” he says, rubbing the skin of your finger.

“Sure. Something on the way?”

“I’m thinkin’ McDonalds. Text me what you want, and I’ll bring it over.”

“It’s a date.”

Not too long thereafter, you and Joel are sitting in your bathtub, backs at opposite ends. He’s tracing shapes on the skin of your knee, asking you every question that pops into his head.

“Shoe size?”

“Eleven. I have big ass feet,” you say, sticking a foot out of the water. He chuckles.

“D’ya want kids someday?”

“Nope. Noah is good enough for me. Never really wanted to be a mom. Would you have another?” He shakes his head.

“I’m too old to be a new father again. S’a lotta work. I had a good run with Sarah,” he says quietly, hand tiptoeing further up your leg.

He stares into your eyes, slicking his wet curls back from his forehead with his free hand.

“Why are you single?” His gaze bores into your face. You avoid it, focusing on mussing up some bubbles floating by your knee. You shrug.

“Haven’t had time, or the energy,” you finally say after a beat. “Haven’t found anyone worth giving either of those things to,” you add, tilting your head and meeting his gaze. He half-smiles at you.

“Yeah, me neither. ‘Til now,” he says, deep voice echoing throughout your bathroom.

“Oh yeah? Cassie, right?” you tease, and he snorts.

“Y’got me there. Alright, last question,” he says, hand stopping at the seam of your thigh. You tighten your muscles a bit, nervous.

“Shoot, Coach,” you say, flicking a bubble at him.

“Can I touch you, baby?” your eyes widen briefly, aligned with the quickening of your pulse. You’ve been wet since he ran the bath water for you and undressed you, fingertips gently tracing your skin as he removed your damp clothing.

“Yes,” you breathe. His finger grazes your mound, the sharp stubble like sandpaper against his skin. He grips your knees and pulls you into his lap. You look down at him, mesmerized by his face and the way he stares at you.

“One more question,” he says, warm, pruny hands traversing your back, warm water trickling from his fingertips to your skin. You thread your fingers through his wet tendrils, leaning your lips close to his, but not touching.

“I’ll allow it,” you whisper.

“Can I kiss you?” You nod, closing the gap between your mouths with ease. His lips are gentle against yours, somewhat chapped from the dry heat of the summer day and salty from sweat. He tastes like salt and mint, which he must’ve snuck into his mouth after you ate earlier.

The kiss deepens, wet sounds of your mouths and the splashing of water now echoing in the bathroom. He’s rock hard against you, cock only a few inches from your needy hole. He pulls back and stares at you.

“Alright, promise this is the last question,” he coos, rubbing his nose against your jaw and then your neck as you tip your head back to give him access. The stubble of his mustache and chin scratch at your skin.

“Fine. Last one,” you agree.

“Can I fuck you?” You nod.

And he does.

Some months and many bubble baths later, Joel wormed his way into your heart. And your apartment. He’s got a baseball cap or two hanging on your mantle, throws his keys in the dish on the kitchen counter when he walks in.

You spend most nights together during the week, either at his cozy home or your apartment.

He calls you his, you call him yours.

He fills your car up with gas when you’re out and about and your fuel light comes on, holds your hand when you walk into a restaurant, tells you how beautiful you are at least a few times a week—and not just when his cock is sheathed inside you.

He kisses you each morning before he leaves for work. Shares his food with you, even when he’s starving. Washes you in the shower and puts lotion on the spots you can’t reach after he dries you off.

Introduces you to his family, and shows you pictures of his late daughter.

Goes to the movies with you and doesn’t complain that you talk during the. Entire. Movie.

Lets you wear his ratty, baggy tees around the house, and even asks you to keep them on sometimes when he makes love to you.

Makes fun of how you use a hammer and that you can’t name the 31 different types of wrenches but corrects you each time with a warm smile.

Plays catch with you before the boys show up for warmups and lets you set up the dugout, though he’ll redo it later on anyway.

And when he finally tells you how much he loves you, you’re not shocked. Warmth ebbs inside you, like it does most days with him. You knew it all along, even if he never had the courage to say it—it was evident with each kiss, touch, and thrust, each bag of food he brought for you, each time he held the door open for you, each time he guided you somewhere with his strong hand on the small of your back.

You oftentimes wonder if he is your soulmate, though you already know the answer.

He makes lemonade with each lemon you give him, without complaint or judgment. And that’s all you can ask for.

[cocteaucherry]

another silly gojo thing I wrote with pregnant reader (I was inspired by Kali’s pregnancy announcement 🩷)

a/n- (I promise pt 3 of LTLM is coming out later today or tomorrow)

cw- pregnancy, talks of sexual situations, gojo being gojo :p

The day Satoru found out you were pregnant was a day you’ll never forget.

It was a freezing morning in January and you had just finished taking down the Christmas decorations (yeah it was a few weeks after Christmas but you both were lazy) you let out a huff wiping your hands as you stared at the old cardboard boxes that housed the glittery decorations, it made you feel more emotional than usual seeing yet another year pass.

You heard the door burst open and you turned to find your husband dragging in a bunch of wires and lights, “ six hundred twinkling lights taken down by your one and only!” He exclaimed, dropping the lights and using his foot to close the door, “you sure? I could’ve sworn I heard you on the verge of using Hollow Purple.” You said playfully as you gazed lovingly at your husband.

“What?! No! I was of course gonna take you out of the house first!” The blue eyed male chuckled as he walked towards you immediately wrapping his arms around your waist, “I think I deserve a kiss for my bravery and perseverance.” He hummed his hands running over the slight pudge in your stomach, “Do you really?” You peered up at his face to be met with a very shocked expression, you chuckled nervously staring at his over exaggerated face.

Gojo could tell something was off for the past few days, frequent bathroom trips, slight nausea in the morning and your missed period. (He might be the strongest but he’s not the smartest) and now your cursed energy was changing he sensed it when he walked in it was almost doubled. “I mean this is the BEST way possible, let me stress BEST, are you somehow maybe- just a little bit ermm.. pregnant?”

Your mind went blank at the question, “Maybe?” You shrugged your shoulders, “it would make sense..” your mind tried to calculate the last time you and Gojo were intimate but Gojo calculated for you, “Christmas.” He said his mouth was still wide open, “yeah , maybe wrapping myself like a present wasn’t the best idea.” You giggled and Satoru was quick to retort with a red face, “you practically had nothing on! You can’t blame me!” Gojo pouted, rubbing the back of his neck, “can we go buy some tests to confirm your theory?”

About seven tests later it was confirmed, you were pregnant.

Of course tears and hugs were shared and you wanted to share the news with your friends but Gojo stopped you claiming he wanted to see how long you both could go unnoticed, he also opted to buy a camcorder to track your happy moments. It was more of a nostalgia thing. (Even while you're pregnant he’s still dramatic.)

By the time you were breaching your second trimester a lot of things changed, for worse and better, the spare room in your house was converted into a full baby room, all constructed by gojo himself since he was terrified of you getting injured. The baby room was filled with expensive baby materials and toys, “Satoru.. are you sure this isn’t too much?” You stared at the room in disbelief, your hand stroking your bump, He grunted, placing a heavy box with more materials down, “What? Think I can go bigger?” He winked and opened the package.

“We don’t even know the gender yet? you yelled walking down the hallway to lay down.

Everyone in Satoru’s life knew something was up, he walked with more pep in his step and glowed even more than he already was.

“So does anyone know what’s up with Gojo-sensei?” Yuji questioned sitting on his bed, Kugusaki and Megumi on the floor visibly not listening. “Don’t know, don’t really care either.” Megumi deadpanned which earned a grin from Kugisaki, “Not sure Yuuji, have you tried asking his wife?” she asked, peering from her phone. “She hasn’t been around here in like months!” The pink haired boy exclaimed failing to connect the dots but Megumi did for him.

“Maybe she’s expecting.” He shrugged it off going back to type on his phone, “What?! You mean they-they-“ yuuji stuttered.

“Yuuji they are adults, plus it would make sense right after the holidays too. So she’d be about.."Kugisaki counted in her head, “second trimester?”

“You guys are taking this a little too well?!” Yuuji exclaimed, “oh Kugisaki and I made our own theory a few weeks ago-“

“And you didn’t tell me?!-“

Later that day you had a teary eyed pink haired teenager yapping at the door about how you didn’t tell him sooner.

[ya-zz]

Hello, if you're taking requests currently could I request the overwatch guys: Ramatra, Genji, Hanzo, Magua, Life Weaver, Cassidy and Lúcio taking care of a fem reader on her time of the month if you write for any of them?

-sincerely a reader suffering cramps <3

Sorry this took awhile to get to, but hopefully this will suffice 💜 I’m also doing this from my phone so apologies if formatting is off

RAMATTRA

Like most arrogant omnics, he didn’t care at first.

It was just another weak, human thing that didn’t concern him.

But when it came down to you, he softened up and offered to help when he could.

He knows your cycle and everything that comes with it.

He’s done his research, wanting to make the days go by quickly and comfortable for you.

The few days before when your mood is low and you feel lethargic, Ramattra would bundle you up in a blanket and put your favourite movie on.

Everything was prepared afterwards. Hot water bottle for the cramps, your favourite snacks and drink on standby for when you needed them.

If you needed space, he’d oblige… sort of. He’d be in the same room, but distance himself from you.

If you needed more products, he’d get them for you, already knowing which were your preferred coverage.

Ramattra would snuggle up to you at night and warm himself up so you were comfortable.

Should you happen to leak, he’d clean up, no questions asked.

He’d help you through it all, despite the mood swings putting him on edge sometimes.

GENJI

He’s had his fair share of mood swings with the females he had dated, but he was more than happy to make sure you were okay during your time of the month.

Genji didn’t rely on dates, he relied on your mood.

He was quick with making sure you were comfortable before moving away from you to give you space.

When your arms would open up to him, he would scurry over and hold you until you told him to let go.

You were, in theory, in charge.

If you needed something, food, water, products, he’d get them in a heart beat.

Movie nights were a must, Genji swore by them and while they did help you forget about the pain, it was nice to be close to him.

Your favourite takeout would be ordered for the perfect night in.

He would also, somehow, get you out of the house for a little while. A small walk for some fresh air helped immensely on the bad days.

The ninja stayed with you as much as you would allow him to, and yes, he did tease you about your mood swings when it was all over.

HANZO

Calendars were made for a reason, and alongside birthdates and events, a small dot to signify the start of your period was on there.

He’d put it in his phone too, just in case he was away.

If it happened to be irregular, he’d rely on your mood, just like his brother would.

Hanzo would grow softer, hands massaging your shoulders when you sat with him.

The bathroom would always be fully stocked too, never seeming to run out of your products.

The archer had reserved a cupboard in the kitchen for your favourite snacks for this exact moment, bringing you what you needed whenever you asked.

Hot water bottles were filled when required, and when they eventually grow warm, Hanzo would gently rub his own hands over the pain.

Hanzo would do anything you asked of him, even if it was as simple as turning the light off because you were in the perfect position in bed.

MAUGA

First time writing anything Mauga so shhh

He’s staying with you throughout it all.

Protest as much as you want, he ain’t leaving.

Hot water bottle?? Not needed, his hands are hot enough.

He’d let you lay on him at all hours of the day if you wanted.

His hand would soothe over your head when you’re in pain and teary eyed from how bad it is.

He’d tease you over your mood swings, wanting to get a rise out of you because you look “so damn cute.”

Mauga would do anything to take your mind off of it all.

You name it, he’d do it.

He loves you that much he’d kill for you.

He’s one for overbuying snacks and drinks like this would last longer than a month so there’s always extra food laying around for later.

He’s not one to shy away from buying products should you need them, either.

So long as you’re comfortable with him, he’s happy to be there with you through it all.

LIFEWEAVER

He’s always prepared.

Doesn’t matter if it’s on time or irregular, he’s there with everything you need.

Extra blankets and pillows were pulled out so you were comfy in bed or on the sofa.

Products were always fully stocked in the bathroom and he’d even carry some whenever you went out just in case.

He’d always stay composed when your mood changed quickly, instantly bringing you back to a calm state of mind.

He was careful and gentle, not wanting to make it worse for you.

Niran would ask to cuddle with you and wouldn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around you the moment you let him.

Soft hands would rub against the sore and aching parts of your body, easing the tension that had built up.

When he couldn’t be around, he’d leave small notes around the apartment that’d make you smile.

Coming home, he always had a little bag of snacks he bought on the walk back for you.

Just a little something to bring your mood up.

He’d spoil you too, small gifts and flowers that’d take up the table.

Niran would be soft and supportive, giving you exactly what you want whenever you needed it.

CASSIDY

Don’t expect this cowboy to let go of you anytime soon.

If you push him away, he’ll be the one pouting.

He’ll respect your wishes, of course, but he’d mope.

He'd forget occasionally, but would always make it up to you as quick as he could.

Cassidy would hold you close, hand soothing over your stomach in an attempt to calm the pain.

He'd be affectionate, more so than ever, it makes you question him each time, but he'd shut you up with kisses.

The cowboy would wrap you up in his cowl, his scent easing all worries for you.

No matter how snarky you would get, he always found it fun to verbally battle you.

Cassidy would let you lay in bed for as long as it happened, bringing you everything you requested.

He was happy to be your little servant for a few days, always laughing and joking about the circumstances, but never belittling you over something you couldn't control.

He would always reassure you about how much he loves you when you're teary eyed and doubtful.

LUCIO

He'd be the type to carry products in his bag just in case it started whilst you were out with him.

Always has spares on hand, each depending on the flow for that month.

If it became painful, he'd give you his homemade hot chocolate and a hot water bottle to put on your abdomen.

Lucio would put on your favourite playlist and let it loop until you got sick of it.

He'd make sure your favourite drink was prepared for you, chilled or hot, whatever you needed, he'd get it ready for you.

Snacks? He'd go shopping right then and there and pick up everything on the list you had given him.

He's a softie, pulling you close in bed and cuddling up close to you.

Blankets upon blankets would cover you both as he'd hum a tune to help you sleep.

If your mood plummets, he would sit with you until you calmed down, not wanting to leave you.

His hand would hold yours until contact would break, but he'd come back the moment he could.

Anything for his brest friend and partner.

[lqvesoph]

Right person, wrong time || LN4

lando norris x childhood sweetheart/ex gf!reader

summary: lando and reader haven’t seen each other since their break up 6 years ago, now at a grand prix where her current boyfriend is invited, they meet again

kind of like the "in a room full of people i know who i would run to but i also know who i would stare at the whole time"

masterlist | taglist

You really did hope you wouldn’t run into him today…

But standing opposite of the Mclaren hospitality and inside your boyfriend’s arm, you knew it was a lie. Because who are you kidding? The whole time you have been inside the paddock you looked around you, almost waiting to catch a glimpse of the curly headed McLaren driver.

But now you locked eyes with him from opposite of his teams home and all the emotions dared to come up.

Lando shook his head as if to escape the trance the eye contact with you had put him in and turned around, walking hastily back into the hospitality.

"Right, baby?", you heard your boyfriend Theo smile and felt his hand squeeze your hip. You tore your eyes away from the orange building and put a fake smile on your face. "You never were really into motor racing growing up? That was until you met me", Theo repeated, helping you with the conversation.

"Oh, yes totally! My dad is a huge fan but I rarely watched", you lied. "Of Mercedes, I hope", Toto Wolff joked, making you chuckle. "In fact, he is."

*~*~*~*~*~*

The sight of Lando didn’t leave your thoughts for the rest of the day.

He looked so much different. So much taller, broader and older.

Theo was off with a few team members showing him this years car while you stood back a little.

"Y/n, is that you?", an all too familiar voice asked behind you, making you turn around. "I thought it was you", George Russell smiled, opening his arms to give you a hug. "It’s been ages! I haven’t seen you since you and Lando-", George started talking but let his words trail at the end.

"Anyways, how are you? What have you been up to?", he quickly put a smile back on his face. "I‘m good, thank you! I just finished university", you told him. "Interior Design still?", George smirked, remembering what you had told him over six years ago. You chuckled and nodded. "Yes, Interior Design."

George had always been one of you best mates when you and Lando were together, you just clicked. But when Lando and you called it quits, you disappeared from the paddock, cutting off everyone and everything that reminded you of Lando.

You even stopped watching Formula 1. You tried to but when they showed a nervous small Lando before his first race in Australia, you started bawling your eyes out at the feeling of missing him.

You thought now, six years later, the memories and scars would have faded at least a little while, which is why you agreed to join your boyfriend when he was invited by Mercedes. But now being here, back in the paddock, the wounds still felt as fresh as on the first day.

"Darling, you have to see this!", Theo called, a huge smile on his face. George and you turned around. A frown creeping its way on George‘s face as he connected the dots, figuring out that the guy that had called you must be your boyfriend.

"Coming!", you called, giving George a smile and hurrying over to your boyfriend.

Seeing George reminded you of Lando and of memories you tried so hard to push away.

*~*~*~*~*~*

After Theo had excitedly explained to you the different parts of a Formula 1 car to you, you told him you need to get some fresh air and would be back in a few minutes.

Theo didn’t know about your past in this world, including Lando. You knew every little part of that damn car, you even sat in one when Lando tested the McLaren cars the year before he debuted in Formula 1.

You quickly walked down the paddock, breathing heavily at the thought of all those memories until someone called your name, making you stop in your tracks.

You closed your eyes until you felt a hand on your shoulder, sending sparks through your whole body.

"I can’t believe it’s really you", Lando whispered as you turned around.

Being this close, you could even see the dark stubbles on his chin, smiling at the memory of 17 year old Lando complaining about not being able to grow a beard.

"Hi", you breathed, not quite knowing how to act. Lando chuckled. "Hi."

"Uh- what… what brings you into the paddock?", he then asked, nervously fiddling with his fingers, a habit that he hasn’t broken in all those years.

"I‘m here with my boyfriend", you said, watching as hurt flashed before Lando‘s eyes and a frown sneaked on his face.

"Oh", he simply said, trying to play down the hurt he felt. "That‘s- uh great."

"You wanna come to the hospitality?", Lando changed the topic. And against your better judgment and your head screaming at you not to say yes, you nodded, making a relieved smile make its way on Lando’s face.

You tried to ignore the glance the two of you got when you walked passed the McLaren team members and up to Lando‘s driver room.

You hesitantly looked around the small room as Lando closed the door.

"So, what have you been up to?", he broke the silence, making you move your attention to the curly headed boy. "I- uh just finished university and we‘re moving to Spain this fall", you told him, still avoiding his eyes.

"Spain, huh? Where in Spain?", Lando continued, ignoring the 'we'. "Madrid." Your reply made Lando frown. "Why not Barcelona? You love Barcelona!"

"Well, Theo liked Madrid quite a lot so…", you said, making Lando huff. But you ignored it.

"How have you been?", you asked. "Good, uh, yeah. The car‘s pretty good and the team is just amazing", he smiled, but you could tell it was forced. "That‘s great!", you said, wondering why you even agreed to come to talk to him. In private. In a closed room. In his driver room.

A rather awkward silence settled over you until Lando broke it once again. "What happened to us?", he carefully whispered which made you close your eyes. You assumed this conversation would eventually lead to this point.

"We grew up, Lando", you replied quietly. "But why didn’t we grew up together?", he asked, looking directly at you. "We didn’t want the same thing anymore or more like we couldn’t have the same thing anymore", you said, still not looking at Lando.

You never had a proper conversation about what led to your break up. Maybe it was because you were too young and the pain of it overshadowed all the logical thoughts on how to handle it.

"I, for my part, was so happy for you. I knew this was all you dreamed of. But somewhere between summer and winter of 2018 we started to drift apart. You were busy and away quite a lot, and I‘m not entirely blaming you for that, I also didn’t really put in an effort and for that I’m sorry", you spoke softly, thinking back on your teen years.

"I‘m so sorry, darling. I should’ve made more of an effort, to visit home more often or to at least call", Lando apologized, fiddling with his fingers. "Me too, Lando, me too", you mumbled, feeling the tears forming in the corner of your eyes.

"You were the person who taught me everything. Taught me how to ride a bike, how to have fun and most importantly how to love. But Lando we were kids, merely 18 years old. We both weren’t mature enough to actually hold that relationship. Hell, we weren’t even mature enough to talk about our break up", you spoke, your eyes on the verges of tears.

"But what about now?", Lando asked hopeful and reached for one of your hands, wrapping it in his.

You let out a painful laugh. "I‘m in a relationship and I love Theo, so much", you muttered. "Then why are you still in here with me?", Lando posed the question that you had asked yourself already, not daring to give yourself and answer.

"Because… a part of me will always love you. But sometimes that just isn’t enough", you whispered, pulling your hand away from Lando‘s and standing up.

Walking back to your boyfriend, all you could think about was the conversation you just had and if you had made the right decision.

You forced a half smile when Theo spotted you and opened his arms. "Where have you been, the race is almost starting", he smiled, pressing a kiss to your temple.

"You know just wandering around, discovering the paddock", you lied, settling in your boyfriends’ arms and focusing your attention on the TV.

But without meaning to, your eyes immediately searched for Lando during the national anthem, your heart beating slightly faster when they showed the line up and even more when he overtook Max Verstappen to take the race lead after the first corner.

Still, you stood in Theo‘s arms till the end of the race, watching Lando up on the podium from afar.

masterlist | taglist

@im-an-overthinker @buendiabebeta @hungryhungariann @ohthemisssery @kenopsiababe @sawendel @enjoymyloves @ricsaigaslec @ravenqueen27 @temqr1 @leclerc16s @theamazingsimplethings-blog @coldmuffinbanditshoe @hotchnisscm97 @andtheworldiscrashingdownonme @moneymasnn @justme2042 @amulhermaisfelizdomundo @pleasantducktimetravel @anthonykatebridgerton @lisannehus @hannahholland1811 @lighttsoutlewis @mydutchproblem @dan3avocado @alwaysclassyeagle @cocomiracle @allthisfortommy @soleilgrec @cheeryara-blog @person2345-blog @aquamariene-me @judespoision @sbgal @teti-menchon0604 @darleneslane @flower-name @mehrmonga @paolexsstuff @paolexsstuff @kiskso

[jolapeno]

14. soft periwinkle

frankie morales x f!reader | chapter fourteen of do me yourself

summary: a meet-cute in a hardware store? impossible, out of the question. except, that's exactly what happens. a need for screws leads you to a broad-shouldered, brown-eyed man who you're sure is about to change your day, never mind your life.

wordcount: 3.8k chapter warnings: dad!frankie, luca appears. frankie calls you 'rainy' (paint-related from chp.1) no other descriptions or name used. no use of y/n. brief mention of frankie’s sobriety. an: thank you so much for being patient for this chapter, things are still odd at home but I've missed this pair so much <3

prev chapter | series masterlist

key: frankie is in bold, you are in italics

Limbs stretching out, sheets rustling, your smile grows as your hand remains clasped around the phone as you bring it to your ear—

Good morning, baby.

It’s a sound that's so perfect. Just for you.

It's a sound that's so perfect. Just for you. A treat to enjoy each day—sometimes this way, sometimes in person. Still, it's almost cruel when a day starts so perfectly but doesn't end that way. You whisper your response back, even though there's no one in the house you need to be quiet for.

But it’s instinct, just like loving him is.

I love you, Frankie whispers—deep, a little gruff, voice muddled still with sleep. I love you, you repeat back, eyes staring at the photograph on your bedside table.

The one on his side of the bed. Because you have sides now.

You’d printed it the other week and chose the frame a week before that. Eyes flicking over photo-him, how his chin is raised, eyes closed, little lines in the corners from how much he’s laughing as one arm keeps you close, and he rests his other hand on the top of his abdomen.

You hadn’t taken it, Benny had. Sent it to you thirty minutes after he’d snapped it without the two of you knowing.

When will you be here? Frankie's honeyed voice asks, making you sit up from the pillows, push down the duvet. Once it’s delivered, I’ll head right to yours. I’ll be there soon, you whisper—hearing him groan as he stretches.

But soon hadn't needed to feel this long.

Busying yourself, mug in hand—warm against your palm—you lean in the doorway of the office he's built, noticing the time. How it rudely ticks on, widening the gap from the end of the call to the moment you'd hoped to be with him.

You’ve found yourself lingering in this doorway a lot lately, piecing it together, almost trying to recall what it looked like before he’d gotten his magic touch on it. The final touches are almost ready to be made, with the blinds due to be fitted soon.

And this morning, the sun has been trying to show, ready to drape the space in warm gold—little rays of light trying to break through clouds, show more than just spots of cyan between the fluffiest white.

Phone buzzing, you pull it from your back pocket, finding you’re the next stop. A thing you already knew from tracking it since you’d risen. Glancing at the little dot as it bounced around the streets as you checked your emails, showered, dressed and made coffee.

His coffee. Not able to go back now you’ve tried it.

The bubble of anxiety in your chest flares as you drain your cup. It doubles when you place it in the sink. Wiping your hands on a dishcloth, you linger close to the front window, hoping it’s perfect—knowing it needs to be.

Not that there’s any time to fix it if it isn’t.

Not even a backup plan made, a thing you half-kick yourself for as the truck pulls up outside. As your fingers flex and you dig your nails into your thighs—not wanting to open the door and wait, appear impatient; but also not wanting to spare any seconds from not being able to check it.

Not that you’d even needed to worry.

A thing that made you grin the entire drive over, keys jangling up his drive, pushing open Frankie’s front door, closing it behind you as you shout, “Luca?”

There’s a pause.

Then you hear him.

Excited bare feet slapping against the floor, thrill filling your chest, eroding all earlier worries as you move to the living room, kneel on the rug as the little boy runs to you dressed in a white onesie, various shades of dinosaurs at all angles covering it.

An outfit you remember Frankie telling you about the other week.

“Oh, well don’t you look cool?”

Grinning, spotting the smallest gap in his smile, remembering the panicked conversation Frankie had reenacted when he’d called Sam, as the man himself waves at you from the kitchen.

“You like?”

“Of course, you look so cool, Luca!”

“Cooler than Daddy?”

Flicking your eyes to Frankie, half-smirking. “Don’t tell him, but yes. Anyway, I’ve got something for you.”

Pointing at himself, he grins even wider—if that is at all possible. “For me?”

Crouching down, you slide onto your knees, before pulling open the paper bag that crinkles as you gently take out the white t-shirt inside, unfolding it, showing it to him.

And the look, as you expected, is priceless. His eyes widen, joy exploding in them as his finger gently, all but cautiously, scratches at the drawn image now ink-printed on. All you can do is watch, practically fixated on his little brown eyes tracing every element of the thing the two of you had huddled around your laptop over. How a few weeks ago, he had huddled close, dug his knees into your thigh and let you show him how he could arrange it all. His little finger guided by yours until the drawn image he’d crayoned into paper sat where he wanted on the screen, joined by the photo Frankie had found of Luca and Sam were in position. Wanna add some dinosaurs? you’d asked, aiding him in choosing cartoon dinosaurs and stars until he was happy.

“You made this! Can you believe it?”

Nodding, he continues to stare, finger-stroking at one particular photo on the t-shirt. “Mommy will like I thinks.”

“I think she’s going to love it. I bought some gift wrap—do you want to try and do it with me later?”

Nodding again, but more enthusiastically, his hands interlock in front of him. Doing a little wiggle as he stares, as he moves from the t-shirt to you.

“Thank you.”

“Anytime,” you say. “I’m going to fold this up—just so we don’t get it dirty. And then later, we can wrap all the other things for Mommy before she picks you up.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” you repeat, watching him hesitate.

A beat occurs. The t-shirt slid safely back into its bag before you feel it—little arms, the familiar scent of laundry and the softness of new fleece. A warmth exploding in you that makes you almost well up, a desperation to cling a little tighter when your arms instinctively move around him, hugging him back as little breaths tickle your ear.

“Thank you, Rainy.”

Your face shifts, trying not to choke up at the nickname coming from his mouth as your eyes meet Frankie’s in the doorway—the biggest smirk on his face.

“You’re welcome, Luca,” you whisper, as the two of you release.

It’s not even a second, barely a moment to take in what has happened before Luca shouts (enthusiastically) that he has a new toy—running back off, barely aware of the size or significance of his hug.

Fingers wiping your eyes, giving Frankie a don’t start expression as he offers his hand out to you.

“Coffee?”

Laughing, letting him pull you up, you nod, “Please.”

Sliding your arm around his back, half walking and half being led to the kitchen, unsure how you could ever begin to describe the content feeling pulsing inside of you.

“You okay?”

Nodding, you wipe another tear, staring at him, before you press a kiss to his lips. “Hi.”

“Hi, baby.”

Have I told you how happy it makes me when I get the notification that you've posted and I find you looking so good?

Do I need to know how to build decking in Will's yard? No. Do I suddenly want you to dick me? Yes.

When did you start uploading hour-long videos?

Morales, I don't think you know how hot you look laying planks of wood.

Didn't know laying decking would get you so worked up.

Anything you do gets me worked up, keep up.

How worked up are you?

Worked up enough that I'm wondering if your lunch can be extended or whether I should go for an afternoon nap.

Your code for naps is broken. I know what that means now.

I trust you with my secret. Especially since you love my naps.

I do. But then I love everything about you.

Am I going for a nap alone, Morales?

No, but start without me, but do not finish.

Did you send flowers to my house?

The card saying Frankie didn’t give it away?

I got a card saying Maurice. Are you telling me your name is Maurice Francisco Morales?

Fuck. They must have misheard me when I called them at drop-off.

Well, they’re lovely, Maurice. I’m very excited to be wined and dined by you—are you sure 8pm isn’t too late for you?

Hilarious.

Do you have to be careful of what you eat? In case you’re up all night.

I’m hoping to be up all night anyway.

You mean with me right? Not with indigestion.

Have I told you how funny you are?

Not today. They are really pretty, Frankie.

I can’t wait to pick you up tonight.

I can’t wait to forget to put underwear on.

Fuck.

For the amount of time it’s taken for the two of you to get here, as soon as he holds the door for you, you can see it was worth it.

A thing you feel you should have known before now, when he’d showed up to pick you up with flowers in a nice shirt and a pair of slacks eyes widening at the sight of you—a scratchy, syllable broken fuck, you look beautiful leaving his lips as you try not to drag him into your home.

You only stop yourself from doing so because he’d insisted on treating this like a real date, and not just going out for food. Something you’d reminded him when his mouth slid over yours, when your spine met the front of your door and his knee tried to slot itself between your legs—hitching the fabric further and further up your knees. Chest heaving, already sure that the thin fabric between your legs is damp with want.

“If you do this now, you’ll ruin your surprise,” you say against his parted lips, eyes flicking up, finding pupils almost swallowing brown. “It’s a good surprise too. Lacy. New.”

You were still thinking of the groan he emitted when he told the hostess his name.

Tearing your eyes away from his, you sweep them slowly over the restaurant, the urge to tighten your fingers around his hand almost unbearable as your heart swells with a tender ache.

Because the restaurant is nice, really nice. It’s nothing short of warm, romantic—cosy. Each table is graced with a flickering candle, casting a gentle, golden glow that pirouettes on the walls. Fairy lights drape like delicate garlands over the bar area, the twinkling reflections like constellations in a night sky.

The deep red walls are decorated with local art, each piece telling a story with little tags beneath them highlighting the name and price of the creators as your gaze lingers on a particular painting. It’s a street, one a few blocks from here, Harold’s in the corner, nestled close to the edge, yet it holds its presence with quiet confidence.

By the time you’re seated, the sounds and murmurs of other diners have blended into a soft, melodic hum that mixes with the soft acoustic music. The air is tinged with rosemary with cooked dishes that flutter past on trays with swirling steam.

You can understand why it’s a place he’d wanted to bring you. Why there had been nothing but disappointment in his voice when he’d had to cancel all those months ago.

Your eyes gaze at him as he sits, dropping the stare when you brush your fingers over the leather menu—lips curling into your cheek at the sight of the candle flickering between the two of you.

“Big enough for you?”

Smirking, you bite down a laugh as you unfold your menu. “More than appropriately sized—you undersold yourself.”

Reaching across for you, your hand slides into his—finding itself home as his thumb slides over yours. Staring at the appetisers, the mains, it all sounds far too good, making it far too hard to choose. Eyes scanning over each, unsure what it is that you both want to eat or feel safe to eat—not sure if you’ve packed mints or if there’s a convenient way to brush your teeth between getting back and taking him to bed.

“I think I mentioned it, but you look good.”

“Oh, do I? I… I was not aware. Must have gotten lost in you pressing me against my front door.”

Snorting, he shakes his head, eyes lingering, something there etched and hanging.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

You don’t buy it, gripping his hand a little tighter—tilting your head to ensure your eyes lock onto his. “Frankie,” you say softly. Silently letting tell me to be spoken wordlessly.

“Sometimes I can’t believe that you’re mine.”

Tightening your hold on his hand, ignoring how your neck is warm, your chest and ears, you let a smile broaden out. More so, when his palm twists, interlocking your fingers.

“Believe it, I'm not going anywhere.”

Your lips remain parted, more words wishing to fall, willing themselves to. But you stop, staring at his thumb as it circles over your knuckles.

“Not… even to the bathroom?”

Laughing softly, you squeeze his hand again, feeling the warmth of his skin against yours. “Well, maybe for that. But I promise to come straight back.”

Smiling, it sliding into his cheek, he swallows before whispering okay.

“Can’t believe I met you because I decided to be spontaneous and try and dabble at DIY.”

Brushing his thumb over your fingers, he grins—that one which crinkles his eyes and makes his teeth show. “Can’t believe I gave such good service you stalked me a few days later.”

“I did not.”

“I don’t blame you Rainy, I look good in an apron.”

Shaking your head, exhaling loudly you lower your gaze to your menu. “Look better in just your hat, Morales.”

“Glad I’ve got it in the truck then.”

Just finished the project, I’m done. All signed off. No more Mr Grump. So, how’s the second grump in my life?

I’m not grumpy.

It’s okay that you are, your son is on vacation.

I ate chicken nuggets and waffle fries for dinner.

Oh, baby. But was it good?

Ridiculously good. No wonder the kid is mad for them.

Do you want me to come over? I know you have work early and I can bring my laptop, work from yours tomorrow while you’re out.

I’d like that. But only if you want to.

Yeah, of course I do! I get to use my key!

You still at home?

It shouldn’t make you smile, but it does.

Blooms over your face, makes you feel ridiculous, like you want to kick your feet out from under his blanket and shriek with joy. Because it’s simple; you know it’s a slip-up as he likely rushes from thing to thing.

I am. You/we are running low on groceries? Wanna go grocery shopping with me Rainy? Only if you let me push the cart.

He’d already called you on his lunch, told you how Harold had struggled with his breathing again, that he should be done in an hour, maybe two. I’m not going anywhere. Yeah? You’d only realised you’d been nodding when he called out your name and you quickly responded with a year.

In truth, you hadn’t left his home in four days.

A thing you’re beginning to feel increasingly guilty about. Like you’d moved in without as much as asking. Your things had found themselves even more with his, and deep down—later confirmed when you’d called a friend to catch up—you realised you didn’t even really miss your own place.

A thing which should feel odder than it does; a thing you turn over when you lock his door and head out to him as he pulls up to grab you. It turns over and over, almost folding in on itself by the time he’s parked up and exiting, still telling you about how he’d helped a man who knew even less than you—a thing he hadn’t known was possible.

It isn’t until he collects a cart, and wheels it to you with ease, do you realise he’s made you. Known right under your smile and humour that you’ve been thinking something.

“Tell me.”

Smirking, you exhale, walking in with him through the automatic doors as you’re both washed over in air-conditioning. “I’m wondering whether I go back to mine tonight for just underwear and clothes or…?”

Adjusting his curls under this hat, he steps behind you to avoid shoppers leaving the store. “Do you... want to go home?”

You’re thankful his hand doesn’t move from your back, allowing you to root yourself to it, letting him lead you to the fresh produce.

“I don’t want to overstay my welcome, that’s all.” You watch as he grabs a plastic bag, glancing at you. An unreadable expression gliding across his face. “What?”

“Baby, if I could have my way, I’d never let you leave.”

“You’re just saying that.”

“I’m really fuckin' not.”

Swallowing, you feel a flutter. A spread of warmth slides out across your chest and through your lungs—the same one you feel when he looks at you for a little longer than normal. When his smile catches yours when you’re talking to Benny and he’s fetching drinks with Will.

Watching him tie the bag, placing it down carefully, he straightens back up.

“Do you want to go home tonight?”

Biting your lip, you shake your head. “I’m also worried if I stay for another week, like I want to, it’ll be really hard when I do go back.”

Snorting, he ties another bag—an assortment of shades beginning to make a pile in one corner. “So, for your sake—and mine—I should tie you to my bed?”

Glancing around, mouth open and eyes wide, you smirk. “Francisco.”

Shrugging, he grins, grabbing the end of the cart, leading you to another aisle—one quieter, fewer people.

“If I had brought my croissant pajamas, you’d want me to go home.”

Holding up two items to you, you point at one as he nods in agreement, shelving the other where he found it and adding the other to the cart. “Your croissant pajamas?”

Licking your lips, you pretend to be enamoured with some dried sauces. “Well, I have my sexy ones where I aim to be naked, then my cute-but-he-could-still-make-me-naked ones, and then I have my food ones.”

“The fact you’ve not shown me these before now upsets me.”

Laughing, you feel him tug on the cart, as you reluctantly follow. “Because you want to laugh?”

“No, because I think you’ll look hot in them and then I can see how many puns I can do before my mouth is between your thighs.”

He makes sure to look over his shoulder at the last part. A thing you both like and rather loathe all at once, especially here—in a place with people. Where you can smother your little tells, but likely not hide them well enough from him and the way he knows you so well.

“I do really like your cockiness.”

“Oh, Rainy. I know you like the first four letters of that last word.”

Nudging the cart into him, his laugh makes your chest bloom. Almost explode. A sound you’ve had the chance to experience in person more lately—a treat, a thing you’re not sure if you can so easily give back up.

“You fancy something in particular for dinner?”

“Not sure—we should buy dinosaur-shaped nuggies, though.”

Adjusting his hat, he comes to a stop before some frozen doors. “I can grab those before Luca is back—”

“For us, Morales.”

Narrowing his eyes, Frankie slowly tilts his head. “You been eating dinosaur nuggies, Rainy?”

“I cannot confirm or deny. But I will say there’s not an age on dinosaur nuggies.”

“Fuck, you have! You like dinosaur nuggets.”

Shrugging, mirroring him from before, his gooey smile slides up into one cheek—making that dimple appear, making it hard not to reach out and brush it with your finger and then your lips.

“We should buy some granola—maybe fruit? Be adult-like.”

Rocking his head from side to side, he shrugs, nodding,

“Hey,” you say, passing some cakes—large ones, lots of frosting, “It’s your birthday soon, isn’t it?”

Tearing his eyes from a shelf, thinking, he slowly nods.

“And, does that mean it’ll be your sixth year too?”

Fingers sliding over the cart handle, waiting, not pushing, he slowly grabs a box, placing it down with the other things, before moving closer around the cart. “You remembered?”

“Well, I love you, Morales. What’s important to you is important to me.”

Nodding, he scratches at his arm, momentarily looking lost in the cereal aisle. Like he's shrunk, lost. The shadow of his smile having faded, almost flattening to a thin line.

“Frankie?” you ask, watching in real-time as he comes back to you.

Like the world goes from black and white to colour.

“Do you... want to do anything for it?”

“My birthday?”

Smiling, you look down briefly before meeting his gaze. “No, your six years.”

Shrugging, he picks up a box, stares at the back of it, likely pretending to read it. To be in awe of it.

“What if I said I wanted to do something for it? To celebrate you. Would that be too much?” You wait a beat, watching him re-shelve the box, and his Adam's apple bobs in his neck. “It can be small. Just us. I can even just get you a cake, but no candle, of course.”

Snorting, he runs his palm along his chin. “Of course.”

“Think about it. Let me know,” you say, pushing the cart closer, nudging him with the end of it as he flicks his eyes to you.

And then it's slow, cautious.

Begins with a gradual lift of his knuckles under your chin when he's beside you, tipping your mouth up to meet his—and you swear you taste a thank you on your lips as he kisses you. As he places another, and another. Your hand slips to his lower back, feeling yourself want to turn and momentarily forget how public the two of you are, when you feel him ghost his mouth over yours, eyes slowly opening, practically drinking you in.

“Don’t go home just yet,” he says, your lips rolling together, fingers slowly splaying out on his back. “Unless you want to go, that is.”

“I don’t.”

“Then stay.”

“Okay.”

He doesn’t step back, not immediately, whispering an okay himself as his eyes flick from one of yours to the other. “Please bring your food pajamas.”

“You gonna promise me you’ll still love me?”

Pressing a kiss to your forehead, sliding your other hand from the cart as he steals it from under you, he grins. “Forever and ever.”

“I might hold you to that.”

He just grins. A knowing grin.

You find you don't hate the look one bit.

NEXT CHAPTER ->

we're almost to the end of this pair, and that hurts my soul. i'm going to miss them so much. thank you for all the support until now, and going forward. i adore each of you for coming along this ride with me, even if all i gave you was hardware frankie and some texts.

[luveline]

hi hello!! I want to say I absolutely adore and love your writing and have for a few years now! I have a steve request (could fit with kbd or not!) (also so self indulgent lol) where reader grew up with a very emotionally distant father and was determined to make her own family so different than the one she grew up with, and sees steve be so kind and loving towards their children and is so happy her kids won’t feel how she does with her own father and thanks him for being wonderful 🫶🏽 sorry so long and personal but i know you would write this so beautifully!!

thank u for requesting! dad!steve x mom!reader, 1.4k

“What do you want to get your sister for her birthday?” 

You can barely hear his whispering, let alone Avery’s response. “We want…” she’s lisping and listing, unfamiliar with her own voice even as her vocabulary grows, “to get her… um, a big teddy bear.” 

“How big?” Steve whispers back. 

You hold Bethie’s face above your shoulder, your arm around her, the other patting the base of her spine. She’s getting heavy, but she’s only little. She can barely speak, only mumble nonsense into your neck as she fights sleep. “Shh, shh,” you shush her gently. “It’s okay, Bethie.” 

Across the landing, Avery and Steve lay on their stomachs in her room. There’s a pad of paper between them and crayons spilled rainbow across the carpet. Steve draws without looking up; he’s a brilliant artist even now he doesn’t have time for it. Avery chokes a purple crayon with each of her fingers and draws a huge jagged line under his work. “What’s that?” he asks. 

“Lightning. I think we should get her a big teddy, like, big as your hands.” 

“That’s not big in terms of teddy bear, honey.” 

“Oh.” 

“What’s the lightning for?” 

“The cloud.” 

“You want me to draw some puddles?” 

She thinks Steve being able to draw things near immediately is as magical as the television, and the radio. Something seemingly out of nothing. She doesn’t understand how often he’d practise, didn’t see his box of sketchbooks, the hundreds of iterations of your face, your hands, the trees lining the street on the way to your first apartment, her baby wrinkles. 

“What else should we get for Beth?” 

“Um.” Avery pauses, lifting her face to Steve’s. An odd feeling swells when he immediately looks up from the paper pad to meet her eyes. He smiles at her. She smiles back. “Why are we smiling?” she asks eventually. 

“I’m just looking at you. You know you’re beautiful.” 

“I don’t know!” she says, immediately flustered. 

“Yes, you do. You’re sooo pretty, like mommy.” He reaches over to chuck her chin gently with his knuckle. “That’s why I’m smiling. Looking at you makes me happy.” 

“Looking at you makes me happy.” 

His chin tucks in gently. “It’s ‘cos we love each other.” 

“Yes,” Avery says, like she’d suggested it herself. “That’s what it is.” 

You feel Beth fall asleep though you can’t see her. She curls into you all warm and soft, her pyjamas and her hair tickling you, her soft snores damp against your shoulder. You press a kiss to her arm.

Laid to bed for the night, you dot another kiss onto Beth’s smooth forehead and turn out her light, shutting the door carefully so as not to make any noise. 

Avery and Steve are still on the floor, though she’s climbed over the pad to hug him. They look funny, both on their tummies, Steve’s long legs out. He’s sort of curling around her, his nose to the side of her neck, his one arm up on an elbow and the other behind her back. 

“I love you too,” he’s saying. 

“A lot.”

“Yeah, Avery. So much they don’t have a word for it.” 

“It’s a big feeling.” 

“Love is the biggest feeling.” 

She laughs as he starts to tip onto his side. One moment she’s on her belly and the next he’s pulled her onto his chest, totally corkscrewed her and then put her right. “Let’s stay here forever,” he says. 

You’re pretty sure your father would’ve had a heart attack rather than confess he liked you. It’s a weird thing to know you’re loved —to be told you’re loved without being told, to expect it because you should— but to feel the absence of it more strongly. Your father never would’ve laid down with you like that. He wouldn’t have kissed you behind the ear, or talked about big feelings without hesitation. He never looked after you like that. 

“Your back will hurt.”

“Avery, my back always hurts.” 

“Not good. You can go to the hospital.” 

“I don’t think I’ll go to hospital, I’ll,” —he feels you watching, and smiles at you as he tips his head to see you— “be okay without that. Maybe I’ll go to the doctor at his office instead.” 

“Okay.” 

“Okay.” He rubs her back. “Thanks, honey.”

Later, after you’ve knelt down to draw with them for a while and Avery’s succumbed to the childhood pain of feeling sleepy, you’re sliding clean towels onto a shelf in the linen closet with Steve beside you choosing new sheets for the next two (or four depending on how busy things get) weeks. It’s not work that needs talking, and after a few years together you start to run out of things to say, but you decide you’ll fill it anyway. 

“Thanks.” 

“For what?” 

“You’re a good dad.”

Steve kisses your cheek, squeezing your arm as he bundles the new linens to his chest and passes back out of the closet. You follow him out. 

“Hey, I mean it,” you say. 

Steve looks at you in surprise. “Oh, sorry. That’s the miscommunication thing, right? I was supposed to say something, not just kiss you.” 

“No, I don’t need you to acknowledge me, Steve.” You laugh softly, “Just need you to know. You’re such a good dad. It means a lot to me that you’re so good because I know they can feel it. The girls.” You clear your throat. 

You hadn’t been expecting to get teary. Heat burns behind your eyes unbidden. 

Steve’s eyebrows jump. “You’re upset?” 

“It’s such a relief to know you’re you.” 

And Steve must understand how you feel about it, his parents stunningly absent for the majority of his teen years and even now. You don’t see them much, but when you do you’re greeted with handshakes and strange looks, like this is a blip in both of your lives. Like somehow your children will grow themselves and Steve can be the man they wanted him to be. He knows what it’s like to be alone and not enough. To miss the mark. To physically feel the space between you and the person who should love you most. 

He puts the linens on the end of the bed before standing in front of you. Your cheek is warm in his hand when he gives it a brief squeeze, your shoulder less so, your hand similarly cold. He threads your fingers together for a playful yank. “What are you thinking about?” he asks seriously. 

“Avery’s never gonna question if you love her.” 

He shakes his head. “Nope.” 

“You’re very emotionally mature.” 

“Wouldn’t say that.” 

“Me neither.” 

He looks tired tonight, hair falling into his eyes, t-shirt ill-fitting, rumpled at the hem, and his voice slightly scratchy as he murmurs, “Loving you makes me who I am, maybe you should be thanking yourself.” His lips twitch. “I should’ve said that at our wedding.” 

“You should’ve, I bet your mom would’ve cried.” 

“I doubt it.” 

He opens his arms invitingly, and you fall into one another for a quick, tight hug. You’d been expecting a longer embrace with a sweeter touch, but you know why he’s doing it this way: he doesn’t want to cry before bed, and the wound of your absent parents is a weary one. It’s taken too much time and energy from you both already. 

“Love you,” he says. 

You weasel your head back to take him in, savouring the stretch of his hands behind your shoulders and his genuine smile. “Biggest feeling in the world,” you say. 

“Liked that one?” he asks, encouraging your face back into his neck. “You gave me a family,” he adds, quieter, “I don’t really get how there are parents walking around who aren’t obsessed with their kids. I love them so much I can’t breathe sometimes. All i want is to make sure they know that… I was looking at Avery earlier and I couldn’t believe she was mine.”

“Steve.” 

“I think she has my two moles on her cheek. That’s crazy.” 

“What?” 

You and Steve creep into her bedroom to investigate. Sleeping, she’s his carbon copy, and sure enough, on her right cheek just adjacent to her lips, she has two small moles just like him. 

[izvmimi]

cw: crack, fluff, insecure bakugou. izuku and shoto have unnamed female partners.

“Are you good?”

Izuku doesn’t hear him the first time, and Katsuki makes a grunt of frustration before raising his voice again to repeat the question.

“What the hell is going on with you, Deku?”

Izuku startles slightly at the question as he zips his duffel bag closed then turns to his friend/coworker. His left arm is still bent with his hand rubbing his flank, just as he has periodically for the past hour. 

“Yeah?”

“Why are you acting like you have the spine of an eighty-year-old?” Katsuki inquires, closing his own locker. Izuku gives him a look of confusion initially, then his eyebrows raise as he connects the dots.

“Oh, yeah my back hurts a bit. The couch we have isn’t that comfortable.”

“Couch?”

Shoto looks up, still hunched over tying his shoelaces, also curious. Izuku notices his sudden interest and laughs, scratching the back of his head.

“Well, uh... ___ had a dream that I was cheating and-”

Bakugou grimaces and cuts in. “So you slept on the couch?”

Izuku’s embarrassed laughter worsens. “Well it’s easier to just do that than to explain to her that she doesn’t have premonition...”

Katsuki sighs and rolls his eyes, not intending to inquire further about his friend’s girlfriend’s insane behavior, but Shoto suddenly snorts as he stands up. Surprised, the other two glance at him. 

“And why are you laughing?” Katsuki is the first to ask. 

Shoto slings his far-too-expensive gym bag over his shoulder, smiling. 

“Because for once I actually get this sentiment.”

Katsuki raises his eyebrows. “What do you mean you get it?”

As Shoto leads the way out of the agency locker room, Shoto explains that the last time he slept on the couch had a similar tone - 

“Apparently there’s a wrong way to answer ‘would you love me if i were a worm’?”

Izuku frowns.

“Yeah, you should have dodged that..”

“I mean, she did curl up next to me afterwards to sleep so it was okay... eventually... after a lot of tears.”

Shoto and Izuku laugh while Katsuki follows along, suddenly realizing he’s the only one who might be left out of the experience of having an insane partner. The elevator down to the garage opens, and the three step out with Katsuki still lost in thought. 

“Wait, they both act like this?” he asks. 

Izuku and Shoto exchange a look then shrug.

“I guess love makes you a little ridiculous,” Izuku offers. Shoto grins in agreement and suddenly Katsuki has the sudden feeling that he’s losing.

---

When Katsuki shows up to your apartment an hour, you can practically feel the tension in the air, emanating from the deep frown on his face.

You raise an eyebrow at him as he makes eye contact with you, wondering what the problem is this time. It’s not that he’s never been prickly coming home, but usually he softens when you greet him; this time however, you welcome him home and he gives you a less than enthusiastic response before dropping off his keys on the counter and running to the bathroom.

You give him 2 minutes to do his business and flush, then when he comes out decide to deal with his pouting gently.

“What’s the problem, baby?” There’s a tiny bit of playfulness in the way you reach for his cheeks and pat them, and he leans into your touch, even if he’s grumpy. Placing his hands on yours, he asks, completely seriously, 

“Don’t you have something silly to ask me?”

Your hands drop from his face slowly and you tilt your head to the side, slow-blinking. 

“What?”

He takes your hands and replaces them back on his cheeks, an action that almost brings you to laughter but you opt instead to remain serious.

“Don’t you wanna ask me if I’d marry you in every lifetime or something?”

You watch him stunned then laugh.

“What is this about?” 

He pouts.

“Do you even get jealous over me?”

The two of you watch each other in silence as you take this in, and then you burst into laughter for real, unable to hold it in.

“Katsuki-” you start between giggles, “- what’s this about?”

“You’re not crazy enough about me,” he finally admits, then his hands lower for his arms to wrap around your waist, pressing you flush to him.

You give him a sly look.

“So you’re giving me permission to be crazy?” you ask. A finger is pressed to his chest and you draw circles on it. As you look up at him furtively, your teeth now biting your lower lip in mischief, he wonders if he’s making a mistake. 

And yet he takes your fingers in his hands and kisses them.

“Yes.”

You giggle and pull back, putting your hands on your hips.

“Have you considered that you might be the crazy one?” you tease.

And that goes over fine at the moment when he hugs you and kisses you and decides to move on to dinner, but it’s an idea that suddenly plagues him in the middle of the night. 

Don’t say it, don’t say it, don’t say it...

He turns over to you in bed and nudges you. Your eyes creak open and he looks positively distressed, as he asks:

“Would you still love me if I were a worm?”

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

On Muddied Stones

Part Three of this pirate!au. Stubborn, self-sacrificing love because sometimes we don't realize what's best for the people you love is you. 18+ warning, beginnings of smut that gets cut off, MDNI. Angst and a bit of a cliffhanger. ~2.5k words

Your husband guides you into the store, smiling easily as he leads you towards a mannequin, "Welcome to Vixen's. Mari is the best at what she does."

You tilt your head curiously, "And pirates would know which seamstresses are the best?"

He laughs a little, "She is the best designer, treasure, you'll see," and he lowers his voice to lean down and whisper, "But she's also the best weapons smuggler on this coast."

"Oh," you murmur, surprise pitching in your voice.

He grins widely at you and pulls your hand up to kiss your fingers, "Pick out anything you want, love, I'll be right back." You watch quietly for a moment as he steps away and disappears behind a curtain leading to the back of the store.

You start to busy yourself by picking over materials and colors of the displayed clothes, eventually settling on a dark gray, cotton cloak with a hood. It will suit the purpose of blending in with a crowd. You fidget with the material between your fingers, lost in thought.

"Is that all you picked?" Jason's voice draws you to attention and your gaze flicks to his.

"It's all I needed," You tell him, eyes trailing to the women gracefully walking out from behind the curtain. She gives you a knowing smile and a wave.

"Ah, I figured as much. Mari will have some things sent to the ship for you," he says idly, taking the cloak from your hands.

"Things?" You question, "But I don't need–"

"You do need, my love," Jason cuts in, gently pulling the cloak around your shoulders and fastening the clasp. "I took you to my ship with nothing but the clothes on your back. Allow me to remedy that, and have things of your own brought to our cabin."

He leans forward and presses a kiss to the crown on your head, then draws the hood up, voice fond, "A perfect fit. Do you like it?"

"I do, thank you," you answer softly, and you find yourself leaning into his touch.

"Good, I'm glad you approve, darling," Jason says, tracing his thumb over your cheek affectionately, "I would keep you like this forever, if I could, but I believe we have more things on your list to buy."

"Don't we have to pay?" You ask, eyes darting over to Mari, who offers you a sly smile and a wink.

"All taken care of," Jason answers, nodding to Mari as he takes your hand, leading you back out onto the streets. "Shall we get your hair pins next, my love?"

"I– yes," You mumble, reeling slightly at how sweet this is. How much of your husband you still recognize in the man most people fear. It makes guilt coil in your stomach, at the thought that you've been planning to leave. But how much can a few weeks of kindness make up for years of separation?

He squeezes your hand, and leads you along to a stall with a variety of scarves and pins and handkerchiefs, "Here, treasure. Take your time."

You pick over the hair pins slowly, selecting three. A simple, glossy black pin. A shiny silver pin, dotted with glistening red gems. And pin engraved with a golden snake, its eyes made of piercing green emeralds.

"And this one," your husband says, holding up a pin with a rose etched from silver.

You falter, "Our gardens had roses. You planted them after we got married."

"Aye, I remember," he says fondly, and carefully sets the pin in your hair. He nods in approval and digs a few coins out of his leather pouch, dropping it in the vendor's hand, all without taking his eyes from you, "You look beautiful."

He steps closer to you, guides you to his body with his hands on your hips, "So beautiful. I always remembered you in our garden. Surrounded by flowers, petals in your hair. I'd imagine children running past your skirts, a babe in your arms. And your laughter. Always you smiling." He's rambling, his voice gentle as he leans down to press a kiss to your shoulder.

You exhale shakily at the thought of children, "It's a shame we can't have a garden on the ship."

He laughs and nuzzles your throat for a moment before pulling back, "Mm. Yes, treasure, a shame. I could build you a new garden, a little place to keep your flowers. Would you like that?"

You blink at him, and the pins in your pocket feel heavy. You're keenly aware of the rose in your hair. You feel your voice come out unsteady, because you've always been able to see that life with him, "What about your ship and crew?"

He lifts your hand to press a kiss to your knuckles, "My ship will be fine. My crew is more than capable of keeping her afloat. And I've enough gold to keep us comfortable for the rest of our and our children's lives."

You're not exactly sure what to do with that, "I guess raising children on a pirate ship might not be the best environment," You murmur and your eyes fix on a merchant's caravan for a moment.

He laughs, his hand settling on the small of your back to lead you to the next stall, "We can have both love. A few weeks at sea, a few in your garden. There's nothing I wouldn't give you. Now, books next, darlin'? Something to fill your lovely head and the ship's library?"

"The ship has a library?" You ask curiously, wondering if you had missed it when you were exploring his ship.

"I'm having one built," he drawls, like it's nothing at all.

"You're- What? Where?" You stumble out, trying to figure where there could possibly be room on the ship for a library.

"In one of the storage rooms, treasure, it wasn't being used anyway. Ah, here we are," Jason nudges you towards a vendor with more books than you've ever seen, effectively ending your line of questioning, "Pick out whatever catches your eye. I'll be right back."

He presses a kiss to your cheek, and you watch as he lazily heads over to women selling baskets.

You hastily pick out the first book that looks interesting, and Jason raises an eyebrow at you when he strolls back to your side, "Only one book, love?"

"Just one is fine," You answer, reaching to take the basket.

He moves the basket from your reach, "Pick out a few more, darlin'. You're not being greedy. It'll be good to have something to do at sea, right?"

He watches you closely as you nod, and go to pick out two more books a little more carefully, "Good. Now pick out two more."

You frown, "This is enough."

"Two more, treasure," he says softly, reaching for the three books in your hands. He pulls them from you gently and sets them in the basket, "go on."

He hums in approval when you pick out two more novels, and he drops coins in the old vendor's hands. He takes the books from you, "Very good, love. What did you want next?"

"That was everything," You answer quietly.

He smiles brightly, "Then, there's a bakery I'd like to show you. They have croissants, love, with chocolate on the inside. But, first," he says, mischief glinting in his eyes as he leads you away from the marketplace, and into an empty alley.

He places the basket on the cobblestones and gently pushes your hood back, admiring your face as you watch him with confused eyes, "What are we doing, Jason?"

"This," he mumbles, pressing a firm kiss to your lips. It catches you off guard, and he kisses you again and again until you're both panting, "so perfect, my treasure." He trails kisses up to your ear, nipping at your skin, "so clever and lovely and sweet."

"Jason," You protest as he starts to lift your skirts. He hums softly, kissing your throat as he turns you around to face the wall, pressing his stiffening cock to your backside.

"Jason," You try again as he traces his fingers up your thighs, exploring and relearning what makes you shiver.

"You're trembling," he notes, pressing more kisses along your neck, "Don't worry, love, I've got you."

"Someone could see," You mumble, eyes darting as you brace a hand against the wall, his weight behind you making you unsteady.

"Let them," he says simply, and the sound of his belt clinking makes you tense.

"Jason– wait, I–" You stumble out and he freezes, fingers stilling against your thighs and mouth leaving your skin, "I feel like a whore."

He makes a choked noise and drops your skirts, turning you back around with panic in his eyes, "Love, no, I would never– the last thing I want in the world is to make you feel that way. You're my partner, not some wench," he says your name, strangled and pained, "I love you. I swear it. I wasn't planning to– this was the first secluded spot I could think of, treasure. All I ever think of is how much I want you by my side. This wasn't supposed to hurt you. I never want to hurt you."

"I'm not hurt," You mumble, embarrassment and unease settling in your stomach as you avoid his eyes.

"Love," he breathes out, "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," You say quickly, adjusting your clothes and cloak, "I– this is what your life is, isn't it? Danger and thrills and all that comes with being a pirate."

He frowns, reaching for you, starts to say your name. "Will you take me to the pastry shop?" You cut him off instead.

He studies you, concern and apologies written clear on his face. He then nods slowly, and bends down to pick up the basket filled with your books, "This isn't– treasure, I've only ever been with you. You know that, right?"

You nod, "I know."

Jason doesn't quite look like he believes you, but offers you his hand hesitantly. You don't miss the way his shoulders drop in relief when you take it, "The bakery, then," he says gently, leading you slowly through the winding alleys and back onto the streets lined with stores.

"Jason," You call, pausing outside an expensive looking shop.

His gaze snaps to you immediately, voice eager yet careful, "Yes, love?"

You gesture to the store, "They sell rings."

His eyes light up and he steps closer to you, "You want me to buy you a ring, love?" He exhales softly when you nod, and he lifts your hand to kiss your wrist.

"Can I wait out here? With the books? I'd like to sit on the bench. And, ah, be surprised by what you pick," You say, drawing out your words.

"Of course, darling. Anything," he agrees easily, immediately guiding you to the bench and placing the basket next you. "I won't be long." He hesitates again, before bending down placing a tender kiss to your cheek.

You watch as he disappears into the store, and every fiber of your being knows this is your only chance. If you're ever going to leave, to let him go so both of you can move on, now is all you're ever going to get.

It makes you sick with guilt, thinking of the way he looks at you with adoration, but he's in love with a memory of the past. He should be focused on his future. He's a pirate lord now, and he has a full life, a new family, and new adventures where you don't fit.

To tie him to a life of flower-filled gardens when you've seen first hand how much he loves the salt and sea, is something you could never do.

You stand on shaky feet. You leave the basket of books on the bench, you take the hair pins. Jason will look for you. His crew will look for you. He might even think you've been kidnapped. So, you have to be clever. You've always been clever.

You force a practiced, perfect smile to your face, one you've worn for the past two years around Gotham's finest nobles. You approach a young woman, "Excuse me, Miss? I love your cloak, would you want to trade it for mine?"

She looks surprised, but when her eyes dart over you and lock on the insignia engraved on the fastening of your cloak, she seems much more interested, "Oh? That's– a cloak from Vixen's?" You nod innocently, and she smiles greedily, "yes, let's trade."

You both unpin your cloaks, and as you walk away, drawing the light gray material over your head, you hear her chirp about how naive people from outside Star City are, how they don't appreciate how hard it is to get any clothes by Mari.

You have to be fast. You've learned how to be fast, to disappear into crowded streets during the years Jason was gone. It's not long before you're standing in front of an elderly man ticking off items on a list. "Sir?"

He looks up at you kindly, but looks can be so deceiving. It's a risk you're willing to take, you decide, and force back the thoughts that it's unfair to be testing your husband in this way. You hadn't meant for it to become a test, but in a way, it is.

Lies spill easily from your tongue, "I heard your wagons are traveling to a village near my sister's home. Is it possible I could pay for passage to ride with you?"

He smiles at you, eyes still soft and kind, "of course, Miss. There's room. You're welcome to sit in the wagon," he offers you an aged, calloused hand, and you take it as he helps you into the wagon.

"Thank you," You murmur, grateful you didn't have to steep to bargaining with the hair pins just yet.

He nods, voice soft and knowing, "We'll be leaving in just a moment, Miss," he draws the canvas of the wagon closed, and you settle yourself between boxes and sacks of goods.

You busy yourself with picking at your sleeve as the caravan starts to move, the rumbling and shaking doing nothing to calm your nerves. You keep your head down, and wonder if he's even noticed you're gone.

The horses whine and cobblestones turn to dirt roads, the sounds of the city grow dull. You risk a glance out the wagon towards the port city. There's no smoke from fires, no screams or alarms raised.

It had been so easy. So painfully simple. And there's no way for him to track you down. No way for him to know if you're still in the city, on ship, or in a carriage. There's no trail for him to follow. No lighthouse that leads to you.

Tears start to spill down your face before you even realize you're crying. You tug your knees to your chest. You're heading inland, far from any ports where ships could chase you. If you went through enough towns, you'd be impossible to trace.

You could disappear almost entirely. And why would he look for you? Abandon his crew and the sea to find you?

It was for the best, you tell yourself as you muffle your tears into your traded cloak, for both you. It had to be done. You had to leave.

There was never any other choice for either of you, than to end the dying chapter.

Part Four | Even More Headcannons