#and supposed to come across as ''sweet'' and ''loving'' (with a side of ''brought it on himself by being bad and also dumb'' ofc)

[laufire]

problems I have as a jason todd fan:

I do want to read fics where he interacts with the bats. jason + bats are the juiciest relationships out there.

I'd like them to be written in the exact manner I interpret them.

failing that, at the very least, I'd like them *not* to portray a cheerful and unchallenged celebration of boundary violation and infantilization.

[softaestluv]

Breaking Bread

Simon Riley who is quite the anomaly of a man, or human, rather. Your lieutenant who’s only spoken a handful of words to you.

Simon Riley who happens to be sat at the only open table in the mess hall.

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Sergeant! Reader

This chapter does contain smut. 18+ content only!

Tags: Short n’ Sweet, Fluff, Pining, Slow burn if you squint, Food as a love language, Eventual romance, Military inaccuracies, Hand feeding, Smut, Vaginal fingering, Pet names, Creampie, Dirty Talk

Pt. 1, Pt. 2, Pt. 3, Pt. 4, Pt. 5 (final part!)

On ao3 here!

Usually, your leave goes by too quickly, as if you blinked and you found yourself on base again. Didn’t get enough sleep, didn’t stuff yourself full of enough expensive cuisine, didn’t see your friends long enough. Have to force yourself to drag your feet out of bed, into your car, and take the long trench back to a miserable occupation.

Except this time, it seems to drag; you can’t wait for it to come to an end. You don’t entirely know why, can’t seem to scratch the itch under your skin that only one person seems able to despite how mundane and insignificant the majority of your interactions have been.

So, you find yourself a little too eager to return, mind buzzing impatiently.

When you do finally see him, you practically swoon. Black cargo pants, black compress shirt, black balaclava makes you entirely too giddy. Feel entirely too guilty checking your lieutenant out, but you can’t help it when he’s ravaged your thoughts your entire leave. When you silently walk to his side, and he sees you after your bashful stare.

When you don’t look at him, don’t say anything; his deep voice comes. Melts over your body in warm strokes that has you biting your tongue to stop from smiling.

“Hi, dove.”

You look up at him, his eyes far too soft for a man of his reputation, “Hi, sir.”

You can tell he wants to say more, for the first time since the two of you have talked. Can tell from the way he stares at you, the way he leans a little closer to your frame.

But duty calls, sergeant’s yelling across the room, asking what they’re supposed to do next. You push on your tippy toes before he can get too distracted from you, press your lips as close as they can get to his ear.

“I have treats for you, come by my room after training?”

You smile at him sweetly when he nods eagerly. Laugh a little too loud when you hear him shout that training is over, cuts the day short just so he can follow slowly behind you to your room.

You perch the door open, wait for him to walk in. He’s been in your room countless times by now, examining your injuries with piercing eyes and soft hands, but not like this. From your own invite, the lack of a mission or injuries definitely blurs the lines of why he’s there, makes the air incredibly suffocating. Though, you continue like your throat isn’t tightening, chest beating far too loud.

“I didn’t mean end training now,” You tease, digging through the box you brought from home before displaying the Chantilly cake, “Made it for you yesterday before leaving; it’s not nearly as fresh as it should be, but I thought it would be better than the artificial food here.”

You peer up at him as he stares down at the cake in your palms. You’re not sure what the look in his eyes means, but he doesn’t say anything, makes you suck your lip between your teeth, nervously fidgeting from foot to foot.

“Do you want to try some?” You ask, embarrassed from the way your voice shakes, unsure if you made the right move to make him a fucking cake— should you just have brought him chocolate?

“Yes.”

“Okay, let me uh-“ You pause, realizing you didn’t think this entirely through, that you don’t have any utensils to cut the cake, “Ah, shit. I don’t have anything to cut it with.”

Ghost pulls a knife from a strap in his cargos, handing it to you without a second thought. It makes you chuckle softly, cutting a decadent cake with such a massive weapon, but it makes do. Quite fitting for the man you’re feeding.

Still, you feel a little stupid when you turn to him and tell him you don’t have a fork either. This doesn’t phase him; you watch him pull his gloves off in one quick move, pushing his balaclava up over his nose, and pick up the slice you cut with his bare hands. Takes a bite just like that, raspberry juice spilling over his fingers and knuckles.

You look at him wide-eyed, can’t really decipher the sight in front of you as reality. Not when he doesn’t stop until the whole piece is gone, vanilla cream frosting smeared over his lips and fingers. Stare dumbfounded as you watch him suck the cream from the pads of his fingers, moving lower to lick the raspberry juice from his knuckles.

“Do you want another piece?” You ask in shock.

He just nods, so you cut him another piece, watch the previous scene unfold in front of you a second time; the raspberries staining his fingers and lips red.

You offer him a third slice; you intended for him to have the whole cake, so you’re more than willing to give him every slice. He accepts, sits on your bed with a new slice, thighs spread wide.

“C’mere,” He says, two fingers beckoning you over to him.

You paddle over, of course, but not without hesitation, your mouth drying, nerves fluttering against your stomach. You stop in front of him, an arms length of distance between the two of you, but he tsks his tongue, not pleased with the distance. Pulls you between his thighs by your hip.

You gasp quietly in shock, your hands falling to his shoulders on instinct. Ghost acts like it’s normal, holds the cake to your lips like you’re not pressed so closely to him; your body shoved right up against the inside of his thighs. The two of you practically face to face even though he’s sitting and you’re standing.

You take a bite, try your best not to spill any of the berries between the two of you, but they land on his lap anyways. Maybe you should feel a little ashamed how he holds an item up to your mouth and you obediently swallow without a word said, but you can’t find it in yourself to really care.

The both of you take turns biting pieces of the cake until all that remains is the red juice staining his hands, white cream painted across his thumb, and raspberries in his lap. He sucks the frosting off his thumb— can’t help but feel a little remorseful that he doesn’t slip it into your mouth for you to lick clean.

You don’t offer another slice, and he doesn’t ask for one, don’t think you quite have it in you to push your way between his thighs again if you do. His palm is heavy on your hip, the air is heavy around the two of you. Seems to weigh you down, freezes the two of you in time. Though, his stare is thicker, penetrating, makes your fingers twitch on his shoulders.

“Made that just for me?” Ghost asks.

You nod, swiping your tongue over your lips like you’re trying to lick any remnants off, but really you’re just incredibly anxious. He grips your chin lightly, slowly pulls your face to his, and hovers your lips over his. Can feel his warm breath on your cheeks when he starts to whisper.

“Our little secret, dove?”

Your eyes flutter slightly at the tone of his voice, firm and rich, licks a searing warmth down your back. All you can muster is a another nod, don’t think you can do anything more with his strong grip on you.

Seals his lips over yours in one claiming swoop, fierce, possessive. Didn’t expect him to kiss you like this, breath stripped straight from your lungs over some cake. A Cake he tastes like, vanilla frosting and berries, sweet and tart. Causes you to lick into his mouth fervently, like you were trying to lick the taste clean.

It’s wet. Lewd smacking of saliva in the confines of your private quarters.

It’s hot. His mouth scorching against yours, burns the shape of his lips on your skin.

When the two of you separate you, you chase after his lips pathetically, think your knees might buckle under you. He seems to know, maybe it’s because your eyes are already half-lidded off one kiss or the way your chest is heaving, taking shallow breaths, but his large palm clutches the back of your thigh, thumb cupped under the curve of your ass.

His other hand dips under your shirt, spreads his touch on you wide and avaricious. Maybe you’re too eager, but your body is itching, stinging with a carnal desire. When it feels as if Ghost’s touch is the only thing that soothes your ache. So, even if you weren’t sure that he wanted more, you peel your shirt off hastily, drop it behind you without a care.

“No need to rush, sweeth’art,” He drawls, slowly.

“Wanted you for weeks,” You confess, struggling to unclasp your bra, “Don’t make me wait any longer.”

You’re not even ashamed of the desperation in your tone. You can’t go back now, it’s too late; you won’t continue to pretend. You let your lieutenant take without a word for months, let his talons hook into your flesh, and bury deep without recourse.

Ghost inhales deep when your bra finally drops, engulfs your breast in one hand. He’s seen almost every aspect of your body by now, traced his fingers over your injuries, but he’s never seen you like this, never touched you like this.

“Fuckin’ hell,” He breathes, closes his eyes to gather himself.

His touch is sticky on your skin from the raspberries, leaves red fruit stains on your hip and chest. Trails his fingers over the swell of your breast, brushing lightly over your nipple, pinches the bud between his thick fingers softly, eyes darting to yours when you exhale a quiet noise.

You squeeze your thighs together at the look in his eyes, dark and dilated. Makes your head spin as he consumes you whole with one look, arousal pooling thickly in your panties. Ellicit’s a squeak from your throat when he rolls the bud in his fingers, tugging at the sensitive bead. Repeats the motions on each nipple until you start to fidget impatiently, need more.

“G-Ghost,” You stammer.

“Hhm?” He hums, the hand just below the swell of your ass sliding up to finally squeeze the supple fat.

You don’t exactly know what to say, don’t want to sound too pathetic, so you start to unbuckle your pants. Hurriedly shoving the restricting material off your hips, standing in your panties in front of your lieutenant.

“Bloody fuckin’ hell, dove,” Ghost groans, low and strained.

“Already said that, lieutenant,” You tease, but it doesn’t have any real gusto behind it, not when he turns you around swiftly, and palms both of your ass cheeks.

Your panties join the pile on the floor, the first article of clothing your lieutenant has peeled off you, but it leaves you completely naked and bare. Makes you acutely aware of the fact that nothing covers your most intimate parts while he sits there fully dressed when you feel the air on your cunt. When one thumb spreads your cheek wide, your wet folds revealed.

“Look’atcha,” He hums, approvingly, “Pretty little sergeant aren’t you?”

You stutter over a moan when he slides two fingers through your swollen folds, knuckles teasingly brushed against your clit. When he draws his hand back you almost whine in protest, but he pulls you flush in his lap, back pressed to his broad chest, and spreads your thighs wide over his. You decide you like this much better despite the warmth scalding down your entire chest when he leaves your cunt bare and displayed.

Ghost’s hand snakes down your chest, presses his fingers back to your drenched pussy. Two fingers dipping through your folds to gather the slick dripping from your entrance. Your head rolls back on to his shoulder, one arm bent to grasp at the back of his neck, the other digging indents into your thigh when he strokes against your clit.

You think you might be going crazy when he starts to rasp filthy into your ear, when your lieutenant has been so restrictive of his words before this— ‘Soaked f’me, dove, eager little thing you are.’

Each syllable practically goes straight to your clit, makes you hypersensitive, clenching around nothing. His words sting with embarrassment, but you don’t want him to stop, cling to every word like you’re afraid he’ll never speak again.

“Made me a sweet little cake,” He lilts against your ear, drawing firm shapes on your clit, “Wanted an excuse t’get me in yer room?”

“J-Just wanted to make you a treat,” You explain, and you’re not necessarily lying, you hadn’t fully planned for this to happen.

“Yeah?” He muses, withdrawing his hand from your clit, “So, you want me t’stop?”

Your protest is a little too pitiful, high-pitched as you clamber your grasp to his wrists to stop his movements. You’re immediately grateful for pushing his hand back down despite how desperate it makes you look when a thick finger catches on your rim, when he puts up no resistance as you slip it in your welcoming entrance.

You instantly melt against his chest, a pleased moan ricocheting off your bedroom walls when he takes back the reigns. You’re being too greedy over your lieutenant, as you always are, but he never seems to give you enough. Always leaves you with a yearning ache in his absence, so you think you deserve to be, let yourself succumb to the pleasure.

His hand is massive, covers your entire pussy with it, palm pressed to your clit. And his fingers are deft, skilled and focus from years as a sniper. Curls and spreads two fingers in your throbbing cunt, scratches at the fire that’s been burning viciously in your core for months.

It’s almost too overwhelming, choking on your mewls after a few determined strokes. You know you shouldn’t, that it’ll make your impending orgasm spill from your control, but you can’t help it; you’ll regret it later if you don’t.

You have to look.

So, you lift your head to peer down at your body perched on his lap. One meaty palm pinching your breast, a brawny arm banded over your hip, and two beefy fingers disappearing into your pussy. Covered in your expense, glistening in the dark of the room.

You want to burn the image to the insides of your eyelids; your lieutenant pinching, gripping, claiming your flesh. White seeps into the corner of your irises at the sight, fighting the insistent coil that tightens in your womb.

You nearly double over when he ruts his hips leisurely against your ass and you feel the shape of his bulge in his cargos. It makes you pant like a dog, grinding back down eagerly against the curve. He lets out a low groan at the sensation, and you feel it in fucking your toes, curled tightly as you clench around his fingers.

“Feel that?” He purrs in your ear— yeah, yeah you fucking do.

Emphasizes his words with another rut, “All ‘cause of you.”

“Ghost, I-I,” You start, but you’re not entirely sure what you mean to say, not exactly sure what you want.

But he seems to know what you need, curls his fingers just at the right angle, has a delicious feeling washing over you. It devours you, eyes blurring as you lose control of the seal, spilling your expense in Ghost’s palm with a quick jerk of your hips.

He doesn’t stop, his motions unyielding. Fingers you steady through your orgasm, gumming your walls and mind into mush until you’re trying to scramble out of his demanding grip with floundering legs and clawing fingers, whining that it’s too much.

“Sit still, dove,” He demands, but he doesn’t have any real bite to it, not like his commands during training, removes his fingers from your over sensitive walls.

You try your best to listen to your lieutenant, but it’s nearly impossible when your climax is still thrumming under your veins. Fidgeting anxiously when you hear the metal clanking of his belt, when his cock finally springs free between your thighs. It curves long and wide over your pussy, your mouth watering when you see the fat of his cockhead poke through the tips of your thighs.

You can’t even stop yourself from grinding your puffy folds over his length. Dragging your drenched pussy from his tip to shaft.

“Fuuuck,” He grits through his teeth.

Lays his hand on your hip, but he doesn’t stop you, lets you smear your slick over his cock earnestly. Maybe your mind is muddled from your previous orgasm, everything still a little too fuzzy, but you find yourself keening and mewling into the room. Snapping your hips over his girth over and over again like you’re actually riding him, his tip tugging at your sopping entrance with each drag.

You want it more than anything, clenching and weeping for more, but you can’t stop your rutting.

“Ghost, please,” You beg, because he has to be the one to do it, “Oh, please— need it.”

“Such a sweet girl,” He lifts you slightly, lines his tip with your aching hole, and slowly lowers you over his head, “I got you, don’t worry.

Your walls pop over the curve of his swollen head, and you think you might pass out from how tightly you’re holding your breath. You almost wish you were facing him or pressed into the sheets, so you could scratch at something. Grapple onto anything to ground yourself.

Ghost pets softly at your side, “Breathe, baby.”

And oh fuck.

You think you might’ve been able to if he hadn’t called you ‘baby’ so tenderly. You know he only means well, but the word practically sends you into a frenzy when your rugged and brute lieutenant is treating you so gently, so obscure compared to his usual stoicism.

It makes you slam your hips flush over his shaft, take him in one full swoop, pussy pressed against his pelvis. It’s not what he wanted you to do, you know that, but it rips a breath out of your lungs, makes you finally breathe like he told you to.

“Fuckin’ hell, dove,” He snarls, bruises his hold on your hips, “I didn’t mean like that.”

You really can’t say anything more, his grip so strong on you that you can’t move either, so you just lull your head against his shoulder, place your hand over his on your hip. He stays still for a few seconds, lets your pussy morph into the shape of his cock.

You’re appreciative of the fact; you get to focus on how massive he is, how full you feel. Gives you time to really feel the burn of the stretch, brings you back to reality of sorts.

But when he starts whispering sweet nothings into your ear again, your pussy starts to drip down his cock and pools on his balls. And he hasn’t even started to move yet.

“That eager, baby?” He teases, drawing shapes against your hip, “Need me t’fuck you tha’ bad?”

It almost hurts waiting for him to move, but when he finally does, grinds low and shallow against your cervix you’re utterly fucked— literally.

And his mouth just doesn’t stop.

“Oh, dove,” He grunts, “When’s the last time you fingered yourself? Grippin’ me like a lifeline.”

Each thrust is followed by a new sentence, a long drawl of his Manchester accent. You don’t say anything other than the desperate moans he fucks out of you, enjoy the cadence of his voice entirely too much to tell him to shut up even if his words are humiliating.

“Jesus, your cunts fuckin’ warm, sweeth’art.”

But when he really starts fucking you, shallow strokes become determined thrusts, firm and unwavering, his words start to slur a little, like he can’t stop babbling your praises.

“So sweet to me you know that? My sweet little sergeant,” He slurs, “Brings me little treats ‘n now you give me yer sweet little cunt, too?”

“Gh-host,” You hiccup over your words, as a second orgasm builds in your core.

“Need t’make you all mine now, huh?” He asks, but you’re sure it’s rhetorical because you already are.

You think you feel him in your cervix, splitting you and two and ripping you to shreds.

You know you can when his hand presses to your stomach, right where his cock kisses and laps at your womb, and he tells you to look.

“Oh— god. Ghost, I—I can’t,” You wail when you see your stomach bulge with his cock after each thrust.

“S’good, baby,” He praises, struggling to thrust deep when you keep clenching around him, “Feel s’good. S’pretty wrapped around me. Jesus, look at you.”

You start to try and push yourself off him when the fire in your core becomes cruel and ferocious, ruptures a stinging warmth that you can’t take anymore, but Ghost doesn’t let you get far, keeps a solid hold on your hips.

He’s telling you something, you’re sure, but you can’t quite make out what he’s saying. Not when he turns your face towards his and meet his dark irises. You lose yourself after that, your orgasm ruptures, explodes and reaches an absolute crescendo.

Ghosts follows suit shortly after, kisses your womb, and paints it a pretty picture. Fucks his cum into you with a few languid strokes, pussy squelching loudly with both of your desires drenched on each other. Makes you one.

The afterglow seems to drag, your body pulsing softly from an intense orgasm. Your limbs practically bricks, lax and molded against Ghost’s chest. Lightheaded and blissed when his large palms pet at your sides, kisses your shoulders and neck.

Turns you in his lap so you face him, blinking slowly at him like a cat before his lips stamp a soft kiss to your mouth. He noses along your jaw; it’s sweet, raw.

“Should’ve done that a long time ago,” He says, and you burst out laughing, nodding in agreement.

The two of you don’t go to dinner in the mess hall that night; instead, you bask in each other’s warmth, eat the rest of the Chantilly cake as your meal. Ghost feeds you the cake again, but this time you’re not hesitant to suck his thumb in your mouth, and lick the vanilla cream off. Though, it only results in you bent into the sheets, Ghosts chest thick and heavy against your back. The both of you stained in red smears and marks from the raspberries.

When the next day comes you feel a little bashful when a couple sergeant’s see your lieutenant leave your room. But you can’t seem to care for that matter when the two of you walk to the mess hall together. Eat breakfast together, like you do most days, and drink a cup of warm tea he made you for the first time since your leave.

Lunch and dinner go the same, except now he pulls you to the seat next to him rather than in front of him. Keeps a warm palm on you as you two eat in comfortable silence.

You don’t mind the silence, never really did, especially now that you can’t get him to shut up when he’s between your thighs.

Or when ‘Our little secret?’ becomes his way of asking for a kiss, pulls you from the hallway into a secluded room, back pressed against the wall, his large hand splayed beside your head. Nudges his knuckle under your chin before whispering it against your mouth, and stamping his lips on yours.

Shared tea time in the rec room takes place in either of your rooms now. Still share one cup of tea, still let him press it to your lips because he seems to like doing it. Though, you never really get much reading done when you end up under his larger frame because he can’t keep his hands off you for long.

Neither of you have to say goodbye after the tea or wish him a good night anymore when you stay with him, tangle yourself in his sheets instead.

Simon Riley who is quite the anomaly of a man, or human, rather, but one you understand just a little better now. Still a little rough around the edges, even with his pretty dove. A man of few words, but what he says is enough, what he does is even more.

@identity2212

[shotmrmiller]

in which johnny gifts the love of his life a sex toy outta nowhere

when you mumble into the phone that you miss him, johnny, he pauses for a second, then tells you he's going to bring you a gift back home. "to keep ye company, hen." after, he locks himself in a bathroom stall and watches you play with yourself until you both come.

but you'd thought he'd bring you a pet. a live animal that needs a cage to be brought across the world, not a long, slim unmarked box.

it's a sex toy. and it's rather large, at that. your hand wraps around the base, fingertips still a good inch apart.

"and i'm supposed to be using that?" his arms wrap around your waist, his thick stubble grazing the sensitive skin of your neck, raising goose flesh.

"don't like it? only had ye in mind, hen." he presses a wet kiss on your fluttering pulse. you've never really talked about toys in your relationship. you don't need them, of course, and johnny more than makes up for the time lost between you two whenever he's home but this?

"i don't know," you mumble. "a bullet would've made more sense, i think. at most a rose." his hands run up your sides, to the swell of your breasts and give you a gentle squeeze. he doesn't believe the tripe of people valuing size over all else, does he? the thing is easily as thick as your forearm and it's corded with veins. and it's uncut. whoever is making these are going to extreme lengths to make it as realistic as possible.

he bucks his hips, prominent bulge in his jeans coming to rest in the small of your back. of course he'd get excited. menace.

"ye willnae have t'use it alone now tha' i'm here. 'sides, i think ye'd look perfect with my pretty kitty stretched thin around it." johnny grabs your hips firmly, creating small divots as his grip tightens. "maybe i'll watch ye fuck yerself on it, hm? lap at yer clit while ye do." liquid heat pools in your belly, pulsing hot between your legs.

he really wants you to use it, given by his ragged breathing and he rutting himself against you. fine. "okay. just, not right now, yeah? i want only you in me." his eyes burn fluorescent as he nods, his large hand cradling your head as he pulls you in for a kiss.

you missed this. the sweet sting of his cock sliding home in your aching cunt, the sharp pinch below your navel when his tip comes to sit snugly against the plug of your womb. you've missed this. missed him.

maybe he'll forget all about that monstrosity sitting in the box.

-

he doesn't. he's bringing it up hours later, his spend still dripping warm on your thighs. johnny cannot be serious.

"course i am, hen." his fingers sweep at the hair stuck to your sweat-slick forehead. "is it a crime to want to see ye split open on some- something else?"

you think nothing of his stutter. "alright," you groan. if that's what he wants. it'll be interesting to see just how much you can take. you'll never tell him that your pussy clenched around nothing at the thought, his cum trickling out faster, pooling on the sheets.

-

it's not warm. the tip of it presses against your swollen entrance, cold in contrast to your heated flesh. johnny watches you swallow a gasp, your trembling hands reaching for his as you slide down an inch, two, three. johnny's cum is wonderful lube, but the searing burn- the size of toy is overwhelming, your walls being wrenched apart as you glide down further. johnny presses a prickly kiss on your cheek, cooing in your ear all the while his clever fingers draw gentle circles on your clit. "focus on breathin', bonnie. yer tensin' up."

desire begins to bubble beneath your skin, pleasure causing your muscles to warm and slacken, and after a long couple of minutes, you find yourself at the base.

but then johnny grabs your hips from behind and pulls- oh. "that's it." if you'd thought the toy had originally been in your stomach, it's now in your throat. "pretty as a peach, hen. jus' wha' i wanted to see." a shiver dances up your spine, notches trembling as you get used to the unforgiving stretch of the toy. his breath warms the side of your neck. "on yer go."

you come around it no less than three times, leaving it milky and johnny cleans it up with his mouth before he cleans you up.

-

the girth of it is something you'll never get used to but it does get easier. when johnny goes back to work, he tells you that all he asks for are videos of you using it. for his collection, he greedily says.

you send him as many as you can, no matter the hours. just a quick nsfw text before getting his thumbs up and away it goes. it's incredibly fun. the relationship hadn't been dull by any means, but this just feels invigorating. you feel rejuvenated. that johnny is your biggest cheerleader while using it is such a bonus.

you oughta marry him. maybe you'll elope the next time he's home. but when the next time comes, johnny calls you instead of messaging you the usual be home soon text.

and it sends you reeling.

bonnie. the toy treat ye well while i was gone?

no better than you could me, but yeah. i'm still sore from using it in the last video i sent you.

that's great. if ye like the toy then ye'll love the real thing, i ken. we'll be there in 10.

[mylovingkiss]

. ݁ ˖ ⌗ 𝐏𝐎𝐑𝐂𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 . . .ᐟ ´-

♯ . 𝒇𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 : dante sparda x fem!reader 𖤝

# 𝒓𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕 : 𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵. 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭, 𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘥𝘨𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴. 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘦𝘵 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘢𝘭𝘴 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘦𝘨𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘧 𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘨𝘰 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘭.

# 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 : 3.1k +

. ‿̩͙ . ݁ᛪ༙ . ‿̩͙ .

the lock sticks again. you shoulder it open, and like always, no one's there to answer.

you don't call his name. the lights are off, but the TV flickers. a cheap static staining the walls.

dante's out cold on the couch. one arm slung off the side, fingers barely hooking a can by the brim. his mouth is parted, and his soft snores were beginning to get lost in whatever dream.

he doesn't stir. not at the noise of the screen. or the creak of your boots dragging mud across the boards. not when the door shuts behind you, sealing the night's luminance back into the dark.

he looked so peaceful. it would've been sweet if you simply ignored how the world had been trying to gut you alive. clawing at your throat whenever you'd even try and breathe.

“g'night,” you mumbled tiredly, then mockingly to yourself, “oh, how am i, baby? i'm doing okay, sweet of you to ask.”

you step in. the apartment colder than you remember leaving it.

your gear settles in the armchair. gods know how the zipper of your bag managed to get caught in one of the loose threads of the cushions. sometimes it felt as if life was testing the last strings of patience you held.

but ignoring so, you took a few steps that led you to the AC. turning up the temperature to something more human. letting the warmth settle before joining your thoughts in the bathroom.

the mirror greets you, cracked through the corner, warped in age.

for someone who saves the world on a regular, dante still lives in it like it's falling apart.

not ‘one for being in debt’ he says. . . ironically contradicting the certain situation he has you both against.

the reflection replicates the impurities the previous fight brought. the hollow eyes and split lip, the ribbon of already-dried blood down your temple. not to mention the pale hues poisoning your features.

going out feels less like a mission and more like a jest at your expense. instead of being paid money and assurance, like any other hunter would love, you're left with scars and fewer bullets in your mag.

y'see, dante forgot to mention that part.

you shake your head, reaching for the rag on the sink. it's damp. maybe from before, or from him. and let the water seep.

but the blood didn't rub off. you scrub, and drag until the cloth turns dark. it's stubborn and doesn't want to let go of your skin. over, and over.

it clings—like the things he says. or the ones he doesn't.

and suddenly. . . it's not just about blood you're trying to rid off.

you should've known.

you should’ve.

he's sparda's son. born of devils' skin and a woman's tragedy. you knew what he was before he ever touched you. you knew the look of their eyes was to warn and lips to deceive.

you think of what he said.

you think of how easily he said it. . .

“you knew what this was. come on—i'm not the settling-down type.”

he made it sound like a means to an end. some one-sided bond. nothing serious. . . it always did make you feel pathetic.

you breathe out and your reflection fogs up like it's trying to spare you the sight.

“this... isn't just casual, is it?” you asked, voice softer than usual.

he didn't even mind to look.

“what's that supposed to mean?”

you frowned, shifting the strawberry delight in your hands slightly. “i mean. . . like, we've been going out and doing this for a while. i thought… y'know.”

“you're reading too much into it.” he casually said, the spoon still in his mouth as it muffled some words, “don't make this into more than it is. i'm sure everyone does it, yeah?”

somewhere between the frustration, you hadn't realized you reopened a wound. with how carelessly you've tried to clean your skin, it was quick to irritate the area, pealing back a layer of deeper red.

you want to blame him. you want to call him what he is.

a demon. . . but the word didn't sound fair.

you bite it down, feeling it rot in your throat. but with everything you held back. it was impossible take control of it all.

tears glistened in your eyes, though the voice in your mind persisted you could only blame yourself for this.

. . .he never did promised you safety, nor promise you'd be loved.

and yet, you remember the way he looked at you that first night... held heavy by rain and devil guts, grinning like the world wasn't near its end. you remember his voice, and how it dipped when he called you “hotshot.” like it meant something.

or when his fingers would ever so slightly shift to hold yours. saying “just in case something tried to drag you away.” not that he cared. he made sure to say that. but the tone of his words, or the look in his eyes never helped that cause.

maybe you were stupid to believe that tone meant more than the words that followed it.

you told yourself it was enough. that it didn't hurt. that if you just stayed long enough, maybe he'd figure it out. after all, he's the only one you had. and you his.

maybe you could teach a man made of doubt how to trust. and potentially, how to love. . .

you subconsciously drag the cloth harder across the back of your hands. you feel the sting of another cut breaking open. the warmth of blood lingers longer now, caught in the lines of your palm. your fingers start to shake. whether from the texture or from everything else, it's so hard to tell apart.

you hate how ugly it feels. you hate that it's true. you hate that calling him a demon makes your chest tighten with guilt.

maybe caring makes you naive. or worse—selfish. because you weren't in love with the devil. you were in love with the man who tried not to look flustered when he was complimented. the guy who'd gift you dead flowers because he thought you could simply plant them over again and watch them grow yourself.

could that make you worse of a person?

does that mean you're cruel?

for choosing what part of him to love and which to discard.

for extending your arms to the part of him that told what you wanted to hear, and turn your face from the one that silently begged to be held the same. . .

or does it just make you human?. . . the want for affection. being drawn to solace like any other living thing.

you drop the cloth. and it limps at the bottom of the sink with a sickening sound. the water is gentle. but your skin is raw, proliferating a rose red beneath its surface.

there's a shift. not yours. a creak—barely audible over the faucet's hum.

you don't want to meet the reflection. but the water stills. and your iris finds that familiar shade...

his hand finds the knob to turn off, and he stays there, eyes the color of winter glass, trailing patterns down the porcelain's worn down edges.

you don't greet him. you're still mending your hands. like maybe if you scrubbed harder, the ache in your chest would come off with the grime.

“...why didn't you say you were back?”

his tone tries for casual. like it's just a question.

you stare at the cloth. unsure of what to even say. so you settle with silence.

somehow, that throws him hard. his lips shift like he wants to argue, like he wants to give some dumb quip about how he's unbothered by everything just so he could at least hear your voice. but he doesn't.

“. . . you were gone all day.”

he says it quieter. maybe that's the part he actually meant to lead with.

you nod, but it's faint. your shoulders don't lift much.

he wishes there was some awkwardness, something, anything to distract from the unsettling sensation of your quietude.

he rubs the back of his neck, glancing down like he suddenly noticed how red your hands are.

“…i have some leftover pizza.”

could you even call it an effort? it's more like a life raft tossed out of habit.

it has nothing to do with the conversation. but he always does this. dismissing the main problem like he's afraid of it.

you close your eyes, pressing your palms into the edge of the sink until your knuckles pale.

he notices your distress. “it's pepperoni,” he mumbles. like that's the important part.

you almost smile. almost.

instead, you rinse your hands again. the water runs clear this time, but you still don't look at him.

he watches you for a moment too long, then shifts his weight like he's preparing for something. because he knows after you're done, you're going to leave that door and not speak to him. . . and he doesn't know if that might be the last time.

“is this about yesterday?” it's barely audible.

you don't reply. and that's an answer enough on its own.

“listen, i didn't mean it like that... what i said. . .” he trails off, like he needs the right words to give peace of mind, even if just temporary.

you move to leave slowly, not because you're hesitant, but because your limbs are aching. and along with the strain of your feelings, you can't bring yourself to listen anymore of it.

he notices, and his voice cracks halfway through.

“i was tired—and i say a lotta crap when i don't wanna think about it.” his voice is low now, almost ashamed.

you brush his shoulder on the way past. he feels it, the empty space left behind.

his hand is out before he even realizes it, reaching for your wrist. fingers clumsily closing over it.

“just—wait a sec.”

“dante.”

“i don't want to argue about—“

“nobody is arguing.”

“then let me say something!”

“i'm tired—“

“you were bein' real. and i got scared, alright?”

you pause, feeling the resignation in his voice, and how the irises of your eyes dilate. because you swear this amount of emotion had never neared his lips.

and he hates it, because to him, he looks pathetic.

instead he just stands there. a little awkward in the way some are after being caught with the truth.

“it's not that i don't care,” he finally says.

and somehow, your heart pieced together his words.

i just don't know how to.

he sucks in a breath, and trusts you enough to let go of your wrist.

then quieter, “i’ve... i can handle demons, i can handle fights, and anything my father's name throws at me, but. . .”

his eyes gesture vaguely at you, it's kind of stupid. but he can't help the words out.

“see, this ain't how i wanted it to go.”

you tilt you head, squinting your eyes. “go. . . how?”

“i had a cooler version in my head...” he huffs out a short breath. glancing away, and dragging a hand down his face. “it's not coming out right.”

but you wait. not trying to fix it.

“look, you already know i’m—” he paused, and you notice the subtle twitch in his eyes as he lowers his voice, “a fuck-up. . .” like he flinches at the thought of even being honest with himself.

he finally looks at you. really looks.

“you said 'i love you’,” he says quietly. “and i wasn't sure how to say it back.”

his fingers twitch again at his sides, curling into a fist before unclenching. “and i don't get why you stay.”

“you could be doin' literally anything else. office job. photography. bartending, get weekends off. but you're out here gettin' blood on your shoes, draggin' me home, payin' for groceries i swore i was gonna cover—” his hand lifts to gesture vaguely toward the hallway where the kitchenette resides, a little helpless motion.

“—and when i ask you why, you shut me up with kisses, tell me you chose to do this with me and—goddamn it, i swear you're more worried about me skipping meals than the 10-foot demon hound chasin' us around.” he starts to list it off-not out of mockery, but out of disbelief. out of a desperate need to understand.

he pauses.

“and that scares me.”

“. . . i don't know what to do with that.”

the silence afterward is heavier than anything he's mentioned he doesn't fill it. just stands there, heart begging to crawl out of his chest, waiting for you to answer-or walk away.

“it's reckless, and i swear, i swear—i look at you and i forget how to be the guy i was before.”

he swallows hard. trying to press it all back down. everything he's never said, and never let himself say. rising anyway, thick in his throat, crawling up behind his ribs.

“before you,” he says, almost inaudibly, shame tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“i didn't think there was anything else for me. no future, no version of me that wasn't just. . . surviving.”

then he finally trust you enough. letting go of your hand. bracing himself for you to pull away and leave. but you don't.

“. . . i found you outside that eye-sore of a tower,” he mutters, almost to himself. “firing off rounds from some busted-ass pawn shop pistol.”

you do your best not to smile. he notices.

“world's ending, demons crawling outta hell's crack, and there you were. standing on a pile of rubble.”

his voice shakes with the effort it takes to say it. “and i thought, no way she's sticking around. no way someone like you stays in this mess. 'cause seeing you in itself is a blessing—i mean, damn it.”

“you had no clue what was going on," he goes on, and there's a laugh caught somewhere in his throat. "said you were just looking for a train station. i thought—hell, maybe you'd been hit on the head. or maybe you were just that badass.”

he swallows. you can almost hear it. that tight, dry click of someone dragging emotion through grit.

“you weren't supposed to get dragged into this shit. none of it. blood, demons, cults, hell gates... me. i'm the one who was built for this. born for it, even. i got nothin' to lose here.”

his breath catches a little. he doesn't look at you. “or i didn't have it before.”

“so yeah,” he mutters, quieter now. “i'm selfish. and scared. and real goddamn bad at this.”

“but if this thing between us is the last good thing i ever get... i'm not gonna be the reason it gets ruined.”

“. . . i didn't follow you,” you murmur. “you weren't leading somewhere.”

he blinks. not quite understanding.

“you didn't drag me into anything...” you add.

your voice softens an orphic sentence.

“i wanted to be here. and you're not nothing. not to me.”

he finally looks up at you. really looks.

like he's been surviving of off the idea that you'd never say those words. that he didn't deserve them.

and maybe that's what breaks him.

his hand trembles at his side. not enough to see, but you can feel it.

“…shit,” he breathes, half a laugh and not at all amused. “you've never heard me talk this much, huh?”

you shake your head, a slow blink. “i mean... you talk a lot. but not usually things that, well, you actually have to think through.”

that gets a soft scoff out of him. his smile—worn and faint, barely reaches the line of his lips.

and you watch it fall again, just as gently.

“i just want you to be safe,” he mutters, voice low and hoarse. “and if that means havin' you away from me... then maybe that's what i should've done.”

“but i didn't. and i'm not gonna lie and say i'd do it different, 'cause i wouldn't.”

he reached for the cloth, cleaning through and rinsing off whatever blood there was left on your hands, before placing it back down. “i tried, but, guess i only ended up making things worse.”

you blink through the selcouth feeling in your chest. the way his voice cracks when he acknowledges it.

“. . . so, what are we?”

he looks up again. like you offered him mercy. and that makes him laugh, soft and disbelieving.

“anything you want me to be.”

your lips curl into the softest of smiles. then tilt your head.

he blinks, rolling his eyes. “i'm bein' serious.”

“my over-leveraged moocher?”

“babe,” he warns, and you hear the smile threatening to pair his mouth.

you squint at him like you're thinking. “a guy that actually speaks out about how he's feeling instead of leaving me out in the open thinking he never cared about me?”

his jaw drops, and he quickly gains composure, running a hand through his hair.

“see, i thought for sure you'd bail out by now.”

“how come?”

“someone like you... sticking around in my kind of mess this long?” he scoffs. “yeah, right.”

you let the silence settle again, lighter this time. not raw as before.

then quietly follow-up.

“...it's because i'm cooler, isn't it?”

and you expect him to talk back. to scoff, to playfully deflect like he always does. you even tilt your head, waiting. but he doesn't.

his eyes linger on your face—your tired but amused expression, the tiny crease forming by your nose when you try not to smile.

he exhales, low. “we're on the same level,” he mutters, and you can already hear the eye-roll in his tone.

he finally smiles, faint, boyish in that half-awkward, sheepish way of his. like he can't believe he just admitted that.

and before you can brace it, he leans in, grabbing the back of your thighs, hoisting you up against him.

you gasp, interrupted by a laugh. a real, surprised breathless bubble of sweetest undoing. “what are you doing—“

“bein' romantic,” he deadpans, but you can feel the grin against your jaw. “thought you wanted an emotionally-driven guy.”

his arms hold you firm, his hands warm through the fabric of your clothes.

you're laughing too much to argue. and he kisses you before you can even get a word out.

slow and tentative. only to break messy.

he pulls back just enough to whisper it against your lips, “you are cooler, by the way.” like it doesn't need to be louder than this.

and it's stupid, and sweet, and so unmistakably him, but it lands so softly.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

𝜗𝜚 𝒎𝒖𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 : hi annon and everyone <3

i hope you see this, for some reason it's not letting me reply to your inbox request so that sucks. . .

i'm going to be so honest i'm a bit of a wuss so there's fluff at the end. . . and it might be ooc but there’s not a lot of material to base this off of.

but tysm for the request! feel free to give me as many ideas or corrections as needed—sorry if this is kind of short... i didn't want for it to be obnoxiously long or boring.

also if you couldn't tell i got a bit lazy at the end, i’m so super sorry, i'll update it as soon as i can! i just wanted to post something for the meanwhile. . .

anyway, i hope this was suitable for your enjoyment. have a blessed day!

© mylovingkiss. 2025 | feel free to request! but please don’t steal or translate any of my works, thank you! ༝༚༝༚

[archivingkal]

last updated: 25/05/2025

note: unless otherwise stated everything on this list is completed

BANG CHAN

LOVER OF MINE BY @sulfurcosmos (SMAU)

she doesn’t hate him, she just... doesn’t want anything to do with him anymore. “it’s bad for my heart”, she claims. and she succeeds for a whole year until her clown of a friend felix, decides to take up music production as a summer extra credit unit knowing absolutely nothing about writing lyrics or composing. now who else to ask for help other than a creative writing major who specialises in poetry, and the best music production student on campus?

FACE THE MUSIC BY @0x1lovebot (SMAU)

y/n runs an anonymous twitter fan account for the famous rap trio that goes to her school, 3racha and one day she professes her love and appreciation for bang chan on said account. now chan is on a mission to find out who it is.

SORRY, RIGHT NUMBER BY @/feelbokkie (SMAU)

Being an idol can be lonely and isolating. After one fun and adventurous night at a bar, Chan decides to text the girl he met the night before. Except, she gave him the the wrong number?

IF WE COULD TURN BACK TIME BY @/lieslab

After a Dispatch article leaks, your betrayed boyfriend kicks you out of your shared apartment and you're silenced in the worst way possible.

NIGHT AGAIN BY @chahnniesroom

in hindsight, visiting chan's studio right before a comeback isn't one of your best ideas. what was supposed to be a pleasant surprise leaves you spiraling into self-doubt, wondering if chan even wants to be in a relationship with you at all.

FATE BROUGHT US TOGETHER AGAIN BY @beautifulchris (SMAU)

after spending two years abroad, you come back to the only college that accepted you; the same chris goes to

the prequel: LOVE DIE YOUNG

CURE BY @gamerwoo (HANAHAKI AU)

Chan was in love with a girl that didn’t return his feelings, and as his best friend, you wanted to help him through it. But his options were either to make her fall in love with him, make him fall out of love with her, or for him to get the disease removed, and he was dead set on avoiding the latter.

🆕 SLEEP IS FOR THE WEAK BY @chancloud8 (SMAU - ongoing - 18+ MDNI)

you and chan get matched up on a forum for people who suffer with insomnia and spent most of your sleepless nights texting each other. neither of you expected to fall in love..

🆕 WHAT REMAINS UNSPOKEN BY @sunboki

Attached to the hip, you and Chris might as well have been twins in a past life. And yet, it’s always that tiny inkling, so many years where one of the two wants something more. So when you bring home a boyfriend one summer and both you and Chris begin drifting apart, you wonder if that denial will become something permanent.

🆕 A SAD CHOCOLATEY MESS BY @thevampywolf

Y/N cheers up a sad Noah (I didn't know dad!bangchan would have such a special place in my heart but he does. moreso - the sibling interaction in this is stellar — better than in some films I've watched)

🆕 I JUST NEED A QUIET PLACE WHERE I CAN SCREAM HOW I LOVE YOU BY @lieslab

Your boyfriend accuses you of cheating and leaves for his tour without a proper farewell.

🆕 STUPIDLY PERFECT BY @moon-ttokki-x (ongoing)

chan has never noticed how you feel for him, and one fateful evening, you let it all spill.

LEE MINHO

FELINE APPROVAL BY @ivyues

How Soonie and Lee Know agreed you were the one. (the definition of short and sweet)

THE JOURNAL BY @theright-sideofme (SMAU)

When y/n loses her most prize possession, what are the chances of her high school ex finding it? Apparently, suprisingly high.

SEO CHANGBIN

PUSH + PULL BY @yoongisleftearring (SMAU)

in which you are trying to survive college life but seem to have a thorn in your side in the form of Seo Changbin. After years of hating each other can you decide to remain civil with the handsome rapper? (let’s just hope he doesn’t come across that private thirst account you have for him)

THE ALTERNATIVE BY @astraystayyh

You've diligently chased the idea of being with Changbin out of your mind. That is until he picks you up from a bad date, making your steadfast resolve unravel all around you.

HWANG HYUNJIN

PRACTICE MAKES PERFECT BY @soobnny

hyunjin stresses how important it is that you help him practice for his role in your university’s upcoming play, especially the kissing scene.

THE WAY WE STOPPED BEING ALMOST AND BECAME ALWAYS BY @mykoreanlove

(the title for this one is pretty self explanatory and it's just as easily a wonderful read)

HAN JISUNG

NUMBER NEIGHBOUR BY @softyn (SMAU)

Jisung has been a fan of y/n since he can remember, what will happen when y/n posts her new youtube video texting her number neighbor who turned out to be Jisung?

SUNSHINE BY @svngbins (SMAU)

y/n’s only secret is that she’s in love with her childhood best friend, jisung. the only problem? y/n’s other best friend, aerin, has a not-so-secret crush on jisung.

🆕 STILL YOURS BY @kathaelipwse

Back in high school, she was the chubby outcast—bullied, bruised, and abandoned—while Han Jisung was the untouchable jock who broke hearts and ignored them all… except hers. When life pulled them apart after a brutal misunderstanding, she vowed never to look back.

Now, eight years later, she's a successful engineer—independent and guarded. But when fate throws them back together in the most unexpected boardroom, Jisung sees a second chance. And this time, he’s not letting go without a fight. (Please take care and heed the fic warnings)

🆕 LET'S FALL IN LOVE, IRL BY @feelbokkie (SMAU)

When she was a child, L/n Y/n was in a horrible accident that left her face disfigured. After getting bullied relentlessly by her classmates for her appearance, Y/n escaped to the digital world where she meets Felix. Now an adult, Y/n has be come a complete social recluse, only talking to her 4 childhood best friends and roommates and her only friends. When Felix goes AFK one day in the middle of a game, Felix’s roommates decides to step in. Is this the start a new relationship or will Y/n’s crippling social anxiety get in the way?

LEE FELIX

THE MIXTAPES BY @cookielixie (SMAU)

y/n is in love with her bestfriend. what other way to express yourself than posting mixtapes about your love on twitter?

SO NOT WORTH IT BY @lemon-boy-stan (SMAU)

felix joins the popular kids after becoming bang chan's roommate. when he and y/n collide, the twitter world goes beserk. (loosely based on the k-drama so not worth it).

KIM SEUNGMIN

MY VALENTINE KIM SEUNGMIN BY @pixiefelixie

your 17-year-old dog, who had survived chocolate poisoning, a bicycle accident, and a raccoon fight, finally passed away peacefully—proving that even the most legendary warriors must one day retire. in your grief, you completely fell apart, only to realize your usually sarcastic boyfriend might actually be capable of being soft and supportive—something even more shocking than your dog’s immortality finally running out.

YELLOW STICKER BY @/soobnny

kim seungmin, resident fuckboy turned soft boy, is on a mission to quit smoking

YANG JEONGIN

IT'S NOT THE END OF THE WORLD BY @staysuki (SMAU)

it was either you're a coward who couldn't confess your hidden feelings towards your crush who you've been best friends with since high school OR perhaps fate is just conspiring against you to make your timing with yang jeongin to never be quite right— it's definitely the second one, right? oh well, at least it's not the end of the world.

MY GIRL BY @/soobnny

the boys find out their youngest has a gf

OT8

CLUELESS BY @hanniebaeee

Just eight boys and their very chaotic group chat.

TRUE SOULMATE SERIES BY @imagine-a-life-like-this

(eight stories about different soulmate 'marks'/'systems' in a completely unconnected universe so you can read in whatever order your heart desires or just read the one that interests you the most but they're all very fun to read)

SOOBNNY'S MASTERLIST BY SUE

(as you can probably see I'm a little bit of a sue truther so please head on over to her masterlist and read her works - please and thanks)

more to come...

[kumkaniudaku]

101

Summary: When Asia's in need of a few lessons regarding matters of the bedroom, her colleague and friend, Kelvin, offers his expertise.

Pairing: Kelvin Harrison Jr. x Black!OC

Warnings: Mature Content (18+)

Word Count: 5.5k

MASTERLIST

"So…you come here often?" 

In a crowded bar tucked into a rapidly changing side of town, Asia sat perched on a barstool, listening to yet another potential suitor court her uninterested best friend. They always approached with unearned confidence, dropping some variation of the same tired lines only to be tossed back into a sea of misfit boy toys to make room for the next poor, unfortunate soul. 

Sabrina loved the attention, though. At a statuesque 5 '10", she didn't mind being worshipped like Aphrodite and choosing her favorite from the litter until she was bored and ready for the next man up. Asia loved it, too. Watching men fall all over themselves in a way they'd never done for her was weirdly empowering. She didn't get to take home any of the night's trophies, but she did get to listen to the stories of every Tom, Dick, and Devante that passed in and out of her friend's life. 

Barely interested, Sabrina sipped through a tiny black straw and regarded her latest contestant with tipsy indifference. "Not really. Why?" 

"Uh…I don't know. Just, uh, just wondering?" 

"Mhm. I'm drinking tequila." A loud slurp from liquid long evaporated from scratched glass filled with more ice than anything else brought the young man's attention to her hands and then back to her face. She offered him her best sweet smile and proposed, "Get me another?" 

Asia had never seen a man getting absolutely nothing in return move so fast to wedge himself between a handful of patrons vying for the bartender's attention. 

Sabrina let off a cackle loud enough to eclipse various pockets of chatter and music as she elbowed a laughing Asia. "That's, what, three for you tonight?" Asia asked, still swirling around the pity Jack and Coke she was gifted an hour ago. "One more, and you might get the record." 

"Girl, I'm not drinking that shit. I'm supposed to be meeting Eric later tonight, and I can't be drunk like I was last time. It's been a month, and I need that." 

"He's back from Portugal?" 

"Fuckin' finally," Sabrina gushed. "I don't mean to be a 'my man, my man, my man' ass bitch about a nigga that is not my man, but…" 

Sabrina didn't need to finish. Four years of their on-off whatever the fuck had been as much a part of Asia's life as it was Sabrina's. She'd been there for all the dates, all the late-night phone calls that pulled her friend away from plans, every blow-up and breakup, and the eventual reconciliation that would, once again, leave her as a lonely party of one. Unfortunately, she never got any of the fabled mind-blowing sex that came from their strange arrangement. Only the stories and the occasional video if Sabrina was feeling spicy. 

Asia downed the rest of her drink along with the jealousy brewing in her chest and slid the glass across the bar for someone to collect later. "Well, hey, as long as you're happy." Happy was relative. She really wanted to say as long as you're willing to keep your business out of my bubble, but swallowed the thought before it could breach her lips. "Should I keep my phone off DND just in case?" 

No immediate answer made Asia pause her casual scan of the room to look over at Sabrina, who'd all but buried her nose into her cell phone to grin at whatever was keeping her preoccupied. 

She called out to her friend again. "Sabrina!"

"Huh," she sputtered out, snapping from her Eric-mania. "N-no, I should be good. We're on good terms. Or I'll just go to my sister's house. Did I tell you she moved? Oh, shit. Let me take this."

Sabrina didn't leave much time for objection, though Asia couldn't say she would offer any if given the chance. She was used to flying solo. She liked moving around the city as a lone wolf, looking for any cocktail lounge or off-the-beaten-path late-night spot to slink into and observe the happenings of 20 and 30-somethings looking for something or someone to get into before trudging home when daylight came back around. 

The night was still young enough to hit up a cigar bar her old work friend Marcus had told her about. She didn't smoke, but the brown liquor was always smooth, and their food wasn't half bad. 

While she sat trying to get the bartender's attention to close her tab, a presence at her side made themselves known with an accidental shove that nearly knocked her off balance. 

"Gahdamn," she hollered, gripping the bar top for dear life to avoid starting a dangerous domino effect. Her mind didn't register the frantic apology from her newest enemy or the way he grabbed her waist to return her to a steady state. All she saw was his smile's familiar, gorgeous gleam when he realized who he'd bumped into just as his night was beginning and hers was coming to a close. "Kelvin?"

He slowly let go of her body and tried to appear taller than he was. "Good, I'm glad you noticed. Thought you might beat my ass. I know how you get down." 

"I still should. What the hell are you doin' in here, and did they card you at the door?" 

"Ha-ha. I'm a grown-ass man. Don't let the stature fool you." His fake laugh gave way to a real one shared between coworkers who cared enough about their jobs not to get fired but never enough for rapid advancement. 

Life as a creative in a city where just about everyone was a "creative" had a way of uniting strangers from all walks of life. When Asia stepped into her new agency searching for exciting new clients and an actual team of people to see in the office a few times a week, she didn't expect to be accosted by the bright-eyed Associate Creative Director who had no business fraternizing with the project management team. But there Kelvin was, half-sitting on her desk with his Nike-clad foot swinging while he rattled off lunch spots within walking distance for them to check out once she was done with her first meeting with HR. 

"You always this chatty," She asked while trying to make sense of her new Macbook. 

Kelvin sported a mischievous smile. "Only with the other Black folks. We gotta stick together. There ain't but six of us, and two of them are married." 

He quickly grew into one of her favorite people to see during the week while they worked side-by-side to meet deadlines and ward off culturally insensitive questions from well-meaning white folks trying to sell products to urban communities. She'd seen him be gregarious during long nights in the office filled with thumbtacks and beer from the bar cart. She'd also sat with him on Teams calls, saying nothing for some of the day while he quietly worked through lines to inspire consumers to do what they did best. 

But she'd never seen him outside the strict confines of work culture. In public, they were free to cross the lines of office politics and show their true selves. Asia's true self included a departure from relaxed trousers and professional shoes to make way for short shorts and sky-high heels that accentuated a figure Kelvin couldn't help but notice. 

His eyes slowly swept over her body while he finished his thought. "I'm in here because my boy just got his heart broken and needed some comfort. What you doin' in here? I ain't know Asia knew how to have fun!" 

"Nah, I can have fun. I just don't like y'all like that." 

"That is abundantly clear," he laughed. "You haven't had lunch with me in like two weeks. We got a problem?" 

Asia chuckled at him, trying to press her while she pulled cash out of her purse to pay the bartender. "I knew you missed me. I've been busy. Kam's been on my ass about the Moet timelines, and I'm trying to slim down a little bit for my birthday trip anyway. I can't keep eating smash burgers with you three times a week." Kelvin listened as he lazily pushed her hand away as soon as he could reach it and replaced her payment method with his. 

He lightly bit down on his bottom lip, trying not to look down at her legs again. "You definitely doin' that," he complimented, a flirtatious lilt thick in his delivery. "Make it up to me tonight." 

"How?" 

"Kick it with us. We won't be out that long." Kelvin used his head to gesture toward a table to people Asia assumed to be his friends. Two girls and three guys, leaving her to make the group even. He caught her trepidation and stepped a little closer so that she could see his face clearly under blinking strobe lights. "I got you. We can leave at any time if you want. Drinks on me."

Asia rolled her eyes. "I'm not askin' you to do that." 

"You don't need to. I aim to please, love. C'mon."

Part of her wanted to refuse his invitation and use Sabrina as her scapegoat. After all, she did step out as one half of a pair. 

Then, the other part directed her attention to the tall woman conspicuously making her way to the front entrance, her phone pressed to her ear, and an Uber waiting as her chariot to carry her away from the ball and to a man too shady to ever be a prince. 

Kelvin stood awaiting her answer, his eyebrows doing a bit of a cha-cha as he made them wiggle. 

Fuck it. "Alright. Start with a lemon drop, and make sure to introduce me as your favorite coworker. Really do your big one."

"Still demanding outside of the office. I like that." He bit his lip again, this time checking her out without shame. When she returned his brazen act with one of her own, he chuckled and flagged down someone who could really get the night going. "Aye, my man! Let me get something for my favorite coworker."

By the time he'd ushered her over to his group of way too cool art friends, Kelvin had dropped the coworker portion of Asia's title and shortened it to "my favorite."

They all sat huddled at a small booth in the back of the bar, nearly stacked on top of each other. It was Kelvin's idea for her to sit sandwiched between him and his homeboy, all but forcing her against his warm chest for any chance at comfort. It was his idea for the group to continue their conversation about sex and relationships even though it had fizzled to focus on a Black sitcom hierarchy debate. And it was absolutely his idea for him and Asia to hang back together once the other members of the group had set off to find comfort as pairs for the night. 

She could only take credit for dropping the frills in their cocktails and settling for straight shots of her good friend, vodka. 

Kelvin tossed back shot number he didn't know and let his mouth curl into a devious smirk while he watched Asia reapply clear lip gloss that caught the light just right. "You use dating apps, or you more of an organic meet-up type of lady?"

"I have profiles, but I can't tell you the last time I used one. And nobody is checking for me outside." Asia laughed quietly at the idea of someone approaching her for any reason other than asking for directions. 

"What's so funny?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. That you think people are interested in me to the point that they're swiping right of whatever the fuck."

"So you just be on there for fun? Nothing is happening?" He scoffed to himself and plucked a lukewarm fry from a basket in front of him. "You're at least hooking up."

"I've never hooked up in my life."

Asia tried to rush past her drunk confession, tried to push away the words just as quickly as they'd entered the atmosphere, but Kelvin had already heard them. 

He nodded, mostly to himself, then shrugged. "That's okay. Nothin' wrong with it. You waiting for marriage?" 

"Fuck no," she scoffed. "I'm just waiting for someone nice enough to not make it weird. It's embarrassing enough being 30 and a virgin. Not really trying to make it weird by discussing it over appetizers."

"Like we doin' now?" 

Asia laughed and finally took her shot while Kelvin watched her with the sheen of drunk thoughts clouding his eyes. He brushed her hair over her shoulder softly, his fingers lingering on her collarbone for a few seconds before he threw his arm over the top of the booth's seat and scooched lower, settling into a comfortable manspread.  

"This is different. You're easy to talk to and not being creepy about it." 

He nodded in understanding. "So somebody nice. What else?"

"I don't know. Somebody willing to teach and be patient. I'm a quick study. I just need the opportunity to learn somewhere safe." Vulnerability shared with a man she only kind of knew personally made Asia shrink in embarrassment as she rushed to clean up her verbal mess. "That's stupid to want, though. Nobody's trynna teach a grown woman how to fuck. I'm cool with missing out."

She'd started to try to cover her tracks so much that she didn't hear when Kelvin spoke back to her until the last words had tumbled from his lips in a broken sentence. 

She doubled back. "Wait. What did you say?"

"I said I'll do it. I'll teach you."

"Teach me what?"

"How to fuck," he said so matter of fact that he sounded like he was talking about his grocery list or errands to run and not having sex. He continued despite the clear look of shock on Asia's face. "Only if you want me to. I'm cool either way."

"I-I mean…I don't…if you want. Maybe we shouldn't –."

He cut in and pointed at her shot glass. "You done or want another one?" Asia sputtered out that she'd had all she could drink in one night, and he nodded, reaching into his back pocket to pluck a credit card from his wallet's inventory. He tapped her hip to silently tell her to let him out, and she followed directions blindly for a reason she couldn't explain. Once he was standing, he looked down at her with a soft smile and kind eyes. "Just think about it and let me know. No pressure."

Asia didn't know what made her text Kelvin after work the following Thursday evening. All she knew was that he told her that his Friday was booked, but Saturday was all hers. 

They agreed on him stopping by at 8:30 p.m., after anybody planning to go out had started their dressing routines and those intent on staying in had wrapped up any reason to leave the house and turned in for the evening. In her mind, that ensured none of her neighbors would see her bringing in a man clearly there for a singular purpose. 

His prompt knock on her apartment door scared her even though she was the one who told him how to access guest parking, gave him a visitor's code, and told him her apartment number. 

Wiping her sweating palms on her pajama shorts, she padded toward the door and took a deep breath before pulling it open. 

He smirked when she came into view. "On the first knock? That's hospitable."

"Shut up," she admonished, though the joke had done its intended job and chipped away at building nerves. "And take off your shoes. There's fresh slippers in the basket if you need 'em."

Kelvin took Asia turning her back to him as an invitation to enter her apartment and to take a gander at the space he'd partially seen in meetings and their solo "work sessions." 

Despite not being a hands-on creative, he could tell she had an appreciation for art. Reyna Noriega art prints and classic hip-hop album covers formed a gallery wall over her couch. A display of CDs that he had no idea people still collected sat stacked by a vintage boombox he was sure cost her a pretty penny. Potted monsteras and a well-loved fiddle leaf fig took up space beside a large window overlooking a bustling street below. It was clear she loved color from the maroon sectional in her quaint living room and the complementary pillows crowded in the corner he usually saw her sit in. He immediately recognized her desk and the lit 'on air' wall sign above it, making him feel like he knew something about her with the present situation carrying the kind of nervousness and uncertainty that typically came with first dates. 

This wasn't a date, though. This was business—an agreement—a short-term arrangement for long-term success. 

Asia cracked the seal on a fresh bottle of water before sliding it across the island to Kelvin, who took a generous sip from his spot in one of her barstools. She watched him intently as she stood on the other side, waiting for less abrupt words to populate her mind. They never came, and she couldn't stand the wait any longer. 

She ran her hand up the back of her head to adjust flyaways beneath her fresh bun before speaking. "We should discuss a few ground rules…if that's cool." 

"It's your world," he laughed. "I'm just here to help. By all means, go ahead."

Asia took a deep breath and then reached for her phone to navigate to the unnecessarily detailed note she spent the previous night typing out. "Okay. To start, I need to see your most recent test results, and they can't be older than three months from today's date." 

"Cool," Kelvin shrugged, tapping at his phone screen before placing it back on the counter. "Those are from, like, two months ago. I can get you something more recent if that isn't enough."

A soft buzz in her hand signaled the delivery of his test results neatly packed in a PDF sent via iMessage, making her swallow a lump in her throat. Things were getting too real. She continued. "I'll…give those a look," she started, semi-impressed that he was keeping up with his health in that manner. "Next, no bondage or sub/dom play. I'm not into it. I haven't tried it, but I just know I'm not."

"Me neither. What's the next one?"

"We gotta use protection every time." 

"Copy." 

"No staying the night." 

"I don't like it over here that much anyway."

Amusement tugged at Kelvin's lips while he watched her scroll further down her list. Deep brown skin. She had narrow hips that almost duped you into thinking there was no ass behind her. Strong thighs. A beautiful smile. A good head on her shoulders. Perfect lips. Pretty —

Kelvin blinked back into the present when he heard his name called. "Say that again. My fault."

Asia rolled her eyes and spoke a little louder. "We can't change our behavior at work. No one can know about this."

"Bet." He was so nonchalant all the time, so unbothered by the circumstances no matter the topic at hand. Deadlines didn't matter. Client gripes and regroup after regroup did little to deter him. He'd always shrug his shoulders under one of his many distressed hoodies and proceed unphased. Kelvin took another sip of water before answering the question he sensed in Asia's eyes. "I'm rolling off of the only work we share anyway, so we won't interact that much."

"Woah, how come?" Asia caught her reaction and tried to dial her sadness back a bit. "I mean, you're… you're not leaving, right?"

Kelvin flashed a toothy grin while adjusting the blue velour durag tied tight on his head. "Nah, I'm still around for now. I raised my hand to take on some pitch work for a challenge. I'm bored." He paused to turn his lips up in an accusatory pout. "You gon' miss me, huh?"

"Stop trying to distract me. Which brings me to my next rule: no kissing during sessions or otherwise. Let's try to keep this as platonic as possible."

"Oh, nah." The one rule Asia assumed Kelvin would accept with no pushback was the one that gave him the most pause. He twisted his face into one of instant disapproval. "I don't have sex with people I can't kiss or hang out with. I know it's just physical, but I still need to like you as a person. Nah. We gotta kiss. Go get some food every once in a while. Something. Nah."

He was adamant and unyielding in his need for physical and emotional intimacy despite their arrangement not being one meant for the comforts of a relationship. 

Asia noted his gripe and raised a hand in surrender while she backspaced in her note. "Okay, okay. We can kiss. I'm probably not that great at it, but — "

"You don't need to worry about what you're good at with me. Nobody goes to swim lessons expected to know how to swim. I'm teaching, and you're learning. That's the point of all this."

Stunned silence dropped Asia's jaw for a half second until she had enough nerve connections in her brain to pick it up and try to salvage her image. Kelvin tried to hide his smile behind his near-empty plastic water bottle while he watched her with satisfaction dancing in his eyes.  For someone usually so poised, so sure of themselves as they moved through the tiny world that overlapped between them, Asia was flustered easily. A crack in the armor. Endearing. It made her human to Kelvin, who saw her as a mythical creature filled with unattainable magic. 

Standing, Kelvin pulled his hoodie over his head, a question muffled as he disappeared behind thick fabric. "Can I ask you some stuff, or is this more of an interview? I know I got movie star charm, but I do like a back-and-forth every once in a while. Keeps me humble." 

"Oh, brother," Asia groaned. "Ask what you gon' ask, Kelvin, before I change my mind."

A glimpse at his abdomen as his disrobing incidentally lifted the crisp white tee beneath did all the heavy lifting to stir Asia into crackling embers of desire masked by a deteriorating cool exterior. 

He caught her looking, eyes wide like deer in headlights and winked on his way to plop down on her couch. "This is niiice," he drew out, scooting deeper to get comfortable. Where you get this? Don't let me find out you've been letting me pay for lunch, and you're rich." 

"That's why I gave you a break the last few weeks. See how I look out for you." she joked, earning a dimpled smile in return. "Now, ask your question." 

Kelvin called her over with a quick tilt of his head and a disarming smile. "Come over here first." 

In her inner monologue, Asia passed the blame for her slow walk toward him to the fleeting gleam of his earrings under her bamboo floor lamp acting as a homing signal. In reality, it was simple attraction. Bare bones, uncomplicated attraction. He was boyishly handsome, the type of man you meet in college and remain "friends" with until one of you gets bored. Clean facial hair, glowing skin, straight white teeth, a sturdy hairline – all the makings of a classically fine man. What he lacked in height, he made up in personality and a beguiling genuineness. 

That's what carried her the few steps from the kitchen to Kelvin's side, her eyes low until he tugged her down into his lap. He chuckled into her ear as his soft hands rubbed a soothing path up and down her exposed thigh while he cradled her. "You ever hear your neighbors in here?"

"That was your question, Kelvin? If I can hear my neighbors? Not usually, no." 

He quietly scanned the corners of the room, nodding to himself in silent confirmation, then looked back at Asia with a lazy smile. His lips pecked at her neck before he spoke against her delicate skin. "And I wanted you to tell me about Friday. I saw you got the Hustle this week. That's big, girl. Congratulations." 

His deep mumbles vibrated across Asia's body, awakening nerve endings in places she didn't know could feel so electrified. Her legs tensed as she fought for a response. "Thank you. I…I wasn't expecting it." 

"I don't know why. You been bustin' your ass. Stayin’ late…” His voice trailed as his fingers danced across her stomach to the waistband of her shorts, hovering. Waiting. Teasing. "Comin' early. Skipping lunches. The least they could do is recognize you."

All of Asia's words came out in a needy rush of air. "Yeah, I guess so." 

"I know so." Long, deft fingers slid into Asia's shorts and over her thin underwear, looking for tension to relieve. "Tell me to stop whenever you want." Kelvin kept his lips attached her neck just as his hold on her waist tightened and her eyelids started to flutter closed. He spoke low and smooth, like warm honey. "What'd you do today?" 

A sigh and a whimper tumbled from her lips, fragmented and surprised. "I…I went to the farmer's market. The one uptown by the Whole F-foods." 

"What'd you get? More of that fruit juice you let me taste?" 

"Mhm." 

Asia had something else to say, something possibly important, had it popped up at a different time. However, the words faded into a haze of disjointed thoughts once Kelvin started making slow revolutions against her clothed center. The spot grew wetter with each pass. He listened to her try to breathe for a few seconds with the ghost of a smile on his lips while he focused on easing her into more stimulation. 

He rubbed his nose against her cheek to gently direct her to say more. "And what else? Focus on that so I can focus on you." 

Heat came first. An uncontrollable, blazing internal heat radiated from Asia's shoulders to her clenched toes. The fire inside created steam in her mind that needed a minute to clear before she could mentally wipe it away and think about the moments in her day that meant more than having her body controlled by a man who, less than a week ago, had never even seen her ankles. 

"Lunch," she panted. "I had lunch at…at a, um, a vegan spot. It was terrible. I…oh my God…I wasted my money." 

"You're vegan?" 

"No. Just…thought I'd try something different today." 

"Oh yeah?" Kelvin pulled his hands away long enough to lick the tips of his fingers before returning them further south. Slick and searching for warmth, he carefully led them into her panties for skin-to-skin contact. "You're full of surprises today, huh?"

Asia's answer became a shuddering sigh that never quite let all the air out of her lungs before she went to inhale. 

They sat like that for what felt like forever. Asia breathing in an uneven pattern, eyes closed and twitching behind crinkled lids. Kelvin slowly, deliberately circling the center of her pleasure with his nose pressed to her neck, inhaling the shea and sandalwood body wash coating her skin. Both of them caught up in the rapture of an impromptu lesson one. 

Kelvin snuck his free hand beneath Asia's shirt, caressing his way to both nipples that ached for contact. He ran his thumb across his favorite one a few times over before cupping her entire breast to gently hold it in the palm of his hand. 

"I didn't know this was the first session," Asia whispered as her body grew rigid and wetness coated her thighs, the words almost lost to the low roar of her dishwasher across the room. 

"It doesn't have to be. Consider it a chemistry test," he answered. "Wanna stop?"

Asia rushed to answer, "No! Stay right there…please."

Hearing her beg for his touch, for the feeling he was producing, sent Kelvin into a tailspin of emotions that he fought to put back into the mental box he never planned to open. But he couldn't escape the burning desire to press kisses from her shoulder to the corner of her lips. "Look at you. I think you know what you want," he commented as he increased the pace to elicit the whimper she tried to keep tucked away. "Don't be shy. Speak up." 

She couldn't. Even with the words knocking against the container of her mind like cold rainwater on a tin roof, she couldn't fight the sighs and sultry mewls taking precedence over making requests. All she could squeak out as her stomach clenched to welcome the first shocks of impending orgasm was a measly whimper.

"That's okay," he murmured. "We can work on it. Breathe deep for me." 

Or don't breathe at all. Asia's lungs chose the second option, involuntarily holding in a breath to receive the single digit tentatively plunging inside her while tears leaked from the corner of her eyes. Kelvin kissed away the initial shock until she nervously returned the affection. 

It was all too good. The taste of mint on his tongue, the feeling of his hands dragging out every sigh and sound she could concoct, the way his moans mingled with hers, how his eyes seemed to try and convey something more than the carnal situation they'd found themselves in – all too good and far exceeding expectations.

Plush lips moved against each other like seasoned lovers, syncing up without much pomp and circumstance. Asia was right. She was a quick study. She'd learned the ebbs and flows of a solid kiss in no time as she relaxed into Kelvin's touch. Nervousness had quickly dissipated into familiar passion, loosening the bolts on what they both assumed would be an awkward first encounter.

Her hips swiveled against his lap in time with each push and pull of his middle finger. She could handle more. She deserved more. 

When his ring finger joined the show, Kelvin pulled away from their lip lock to let Asia's throaty moan ping off the walls and ceiling. "There she is," he cooed against her lips. "I knew you had it in you." 

Her private time had nearly gone unrivaled until he came along. She'd mastered how to get herself off efficiently with nothing more than a little mental stimulation and time on her hands. This was different. This was exhilarating. Having praise and pleasure in equal measure scratched an itch that she'd almost believed would never be satiated. Now, she had her first taste of a drug she wasn't sure she wanted to quit. 

Kelvin's reminder to breathe echoed through Asia's mind as her body welcomed release. Waves of warmth cascaded across her limbs to match the near sob in her throat. Sweat pooled beneath her t-shirt. He kept his lips pressed to hers, creating a heady feeling that juxtaposed the pressure quaking her insides and sending her essence all over his knuckles. Her breathing all but stopped until the slow tingle of feeling returning to her toes reminded her that not only was she still alive, but her coworker still had his hands in her pants and a silly, self-satisfied grin on his lips. 

"You sound so pretty when you're not yelling at me through a screen." Kelvin pulled his fingers out of her warmth and immediately stuck them into his mouth for the taste he'd been fiending for. Asia watched him with shock and intrigue on her face as he hummed in approval at his reward for all his hard work. "And you acted like you didn’t wanna kiss but you're not bad at it. I've had way worse." 

Asia's rolling eyes matched the deadpanned response she used to hide how flustered she was. "Oh, great. I was starting to worry," she scoffed. "Get out of my house, Kelvin. I'll see you next weekend. Same time?"

A pang of disappointment hit him as she stood to scurry toward her bathroom without sparing him a second look. "We don't have to be like that," he called after her. "It's up to you, but I got a Disney bundle and Uber One until the end of the month. And you gotta eat, right?"

"I guess so," Asia answered, leaning on the frame with her arms crossed while she quietly committed the dimples in Kelvin's cheeks to memory. "Can we get something I can put hot sauce on?" 

"You want your Wednesday usual?" 

She smirked and turned her back to leave. "Don't go browsing around my Netflix messing up my recommendations and shit. Wait 'til I come back!" 

Kelvin kept his smart remark to himself and sank deeper into the couch to scroll through dinner options until he found his target. An intentional lick of his lips when he knew he was completely alone brought Asia back into the room by taste and imagination, reinvigorating a stirring below the navel that he couldn't relieve until he was in the privacy of his own thoughts. 

Adjusting himself to find relief, Kelvin released a low chuckle and licked his lips again for the thrill. 

All business and no play was boring. Next Saturday couldn't come soon enough.

--------

Reply if you'd liked to be tagged. DM if you’d like to be removed.

TAGS: @planetblaque @wvsspoppin @thatone-girly @avoidthings @slutsareteacherstoo @eilujion @amyhennessyhouse @yaachtynoboat711 @jenlovey @pinkpantheris @blowmymbackout @onherereading @becauseimswagman1 @thiccc-c @hrlzy @urfavblackbimbo @blackburnbook @ashanti-notthesinger @xo-goldengirl @ariiijestertheklown @blyffe @tvchi @wabi-sabi1090 @blackmoonchilee @flydotty @aldrigmer444 @ash-ketchumzzz @nayaesworld @ms-mosley-ifunastyyy @writingsbytee @teddybeerz @trippyscotch @theogbadbitch @thevelvetwhispers

[seungfl0wer]

*Lee know Calling You Clingy*

Paring: Lee Know x Reader (GN)

Genre: Angst

Warnings: Arguing, Cursing, A sort of happy ending?

This is part of a series find the others here:

Bangchan, Minho, Changbin, Hyunjin, Han, Felix, Seungmin, Jeongin

-🩵

Cutting up some veggies as you watched your boyfriend cook dinner, he was always so handsome like this so in his zone. As you got done cutting you brought it over to him. Standing by his side as he went to grab something you would hand it to him, He moved you would move. You thought to yourself how sweet this moment was however that’s not exactly what he was thinking. He was getting frustrated cause as much as he really loved when you helped the kitchen was too small for you both to be doing stuff.

“Y/n can you please give me a little bit of space” he said his tone sounding annoyed. You looked up at him feeling bad for bothering him so you slumped back into the chair. “Why don’t you set the table?” He asked seeing your reaction. You nod feeling a bit upset as you did so. You both sat down to eat finishing the delicious food fast before plopping yourselves down on the couch to watch a movie.

You wanted to make it up to him for bothering him while he was in his element so you wrapped your arms around him snuggling up to him. He let out a small sigh as you did so, you looked up to the man who was trying to focus on the movie. His face stern looking still with a hint of that annoyance from earlier. “Hey babe is everything alright? You seem on edge today?” You said softly trying to read his face. “It’s fine” he said blankly still keeping his attention on the tv.

“Love please, talk to me I can tell something’s up. Is it work? Did I do something?” You went on rambling before he cut you off “y/n please. Can we just watch the damn movie.” He hissed his voice harsher than it was supposed to be “can’t you at least tell me what’s wrong?” You said not wanting to drop it, although you probably should have. “For fuck sakes y/n!” He said turning off the tv and getting up “you have been- been so clingy lately. You have been up my ass since we came back from the US. Why can’t I just get a few minutes of just peace. First you won’t leave me alone while I’m cooking and now I can’t even watch a damn movie without fucking 50 questions!” His voice echoed across the room.

Your heart was pounding trying all you had not to cry “I’m fucking sorry I haven’t seen my boyfriend in almost a month, god fucking forbid me for wanting to spend time with him!” You hissed back. You stood up quickly walking to your room, you grabbed a bag and packed some clothes as Minho continued behind you. “It’s one thing to fucking miss me y/n but it feels like you’d want to sit on my lap while I take a fucking shit cause you “miss me so much” you act like we didn’t talk at all which again had me no fucking time to myself!”

You put your bag over your shoulder “Fine you want alone time so fucking bad! Then be alone Minho!” You said storming towards the front door. Your mind raced as you could feel the tears pulling at the corners. No. No crying he doesn’t get to see that. “Good! That’s exactly what I fucking wanted, I’m happy you get the fucking message now!” He said still yelling behind you. You bit your lip his words cutting deeper each time he spoke. You turned around quickly feeling the tears coming “fuck you Minho! I’m- I’m fucking done!” You spat almost running out the door you could hear him before you were out “me fucking too!”

You had gone to a friend’s house to stay she held you close rubbing your back trying to console you. Everything hurt, your head was spinning, your eyes red from crying cheeks stained with tears. “Want me to get some of that cake you like so much and we can sit and eat it while watching horror movies” she said smiling “why horror movies?” You said smiling a bit “cause at least dumb men die in it” she laughed making you laugh too. She was always such a good friend knowing exactly what to say and do to make you feel better.

After Minho calmed down a bit he sat back down on the couch. He turned the movie back on but quickly turned it off “damnit, even when they’re not here they ruin it.” He said throwing the remote back down to the table. He laid back on the couch looking up at the ceiling he felt a heaviness in his chest “no I wanted alone time” he said shaking his head “I wanted this..” his words trailed off. “But why’s it feel so bad.” He said with a deep sigh.

He looked at his phone wanting to text you but not daring too. He knew he was out of line but he didn’t want to be the first to admit. Your words ringing in his head though “I’m done.” What did you mean? Were you ending the relationship? The thought of this made a lump in Minhos throat. Surly you weren’t serious right? .. Right??

Almost a week had passed with radio silence on both ends. It wasn’t like either of you didn’t wanna message the other but neither of you wanted to do it first.

You had thought about things a lot, you decided about going home and just staying in the guest room. You knew Minho wasn’t home at the moment and all though your friend had a great idea “just move out while he’s not home, give him the ultimate alone time he wants” you couldn’t afford that right now. And quite frankly why does he get to keep the place and you move?

You walked into your apartment thinking of what exactly to do. Your head spinning a bit from thoughts “what the fuck am I even gonna say?” You said to yourself “are we even together anymore?” You sighed loudly you stood there for a good minute or two before making your way to the bedroom. You scrounged up most of your things moving it into the guest room you felt yourself wanting to cry again “fuck you” you said softly. You locked the door, put on some music and just curled up into a ball. You had fallen asleep quickly the feeling of being in your home making you sleep easier.

Minho had come home late walking through the door to see your shoes on the floor. His face looked confused before he heard music playing “did she come home?” He said to himself making his way to what was your shared bedroom. He looked over it seeing you had taken stuff he felt his heart sink. He saw the small light coming from under the guest rooms door making the thoughts of you moving disappear. He walked to the door trying to open it realizing it was locked he was about to knock before stopping himself.

He signed a bit walking to the living room, he slumped into the couch all sorts of emotions whirling in his head. He slowly fell asleep only to be woken up by the sounds of you coming out of the room. You quietly tried sneaking to the door your belly rumbling. He quickly turned his head to meet your eyes locking. You both were still for a second before he let out a soft “leaving?”

You shook your head no “7/11” you said trying to keep it short. You made your way to the door putting your shoes on “I- I can make you something.” His voice barely a whisper at this point. “No thank you” you said before leaving out the door. This is how it stayed for about a week. Minho tried talking to you and you just giving him one word answers. He came home from work you’d slink back into your room. He’d come into the kitchen, you’d leave just as quickly.

He started doing small things for you like leaving you breakfast in the morning, or buying your favorite drink to keep in the fridge. He usually did these things always being thoughtful in these sweet kind of actions. It made your heart hurt more. One of the days he made you your favorite lunch, he didn’t do it often because it meant going about an hour away to the restaurant to pick it up but he did. He did in the morning before he had to be at work driving there and back before his already long day.

When you saw it in the morning you started to bawl like a baby. Minho had come back home after realizing he left his phone on the counter. You were curled up on the couch listening to some of his solo music crying into a pillow. He stood there not wanting to bother you but wanting nothing more than to hold you and make things right. He started making his way towards you before you heard him your head shot up eyes meeting his. Your body moved fast tackling him almost knocking you both down.

“Min I’m sorry- I’m so sorry” you choked out tears streaming down your face ugly crying “I’m sorry for being clingy I’m sorry for being a bother- I’ll change I’ll give you more space I’m sorry I just can’t- I can’t do this anymore I miss you- everything hurts-“ you said between sobs and wiping the snot that was running down. Minho couldn’t help but cry at your words, he really had broken you. “No- y/n please don’t change, this all was because of me I’m the asshole I’m the one that should be apologizing.” He said his chest heaving.

“Don’t change please I’m sorry for calling you clingy please- I miss you, cling to me. Hold onto me for dear life please I need you..” he voice getting stuck in his throat. You’ve never seen him like this, he always kept his emotions under control but he couldn’t hold it in anymore. “Life has no meaning if I can’t spend it with you, if I can’t have you by my side with that shining smile of yours. The smile that I haven’t seen in how long. I ruined everything. I hurt you I ruined us things won’t ever be the same.”

His voice horse crying even harder than you now “you should hate me, you should want me to jump off a bridge. I don’t know- I don’t understand why you’re apologizing.” He was rambling on. You felt your heart just braking again, he was so defeated and part of you wanted nothing more than to tell him this is exactly what he wanted. And you’d be right, but you just wanted him back, wanted things back to how they were.

You pulled Minho down to the couch both of you sobbing trying to calm yourselves. You both cried for almost a full half hour before you spoke “Things.. things will be different either way.. you.. we gotta build that trust back up” you said softly clearing your throat. “Let’s start off slow ok?” You said lifting his head to make eye contact with you.

“Well start small and work on things hmm?” You said repeating yourself. He nodded “can.. can you come back to our room?” He said whipping his nose “eventually, I will let’s start off with just trying to talk through some things ok?” You said kissing his cheek. “I love you Minho but what you said hurt and will still probably hurt in the future. But I really do love you and would rather work on things and hopefully fix it than just to through it away so easily.” You said pulling him into a hug.

“Anything, I’ll do anything to show you how sorry I am.” He said his words muffled by your shoulder. You nod sitting there in silence both of you trying to gather your thoughts and catch your breath.

💙 If you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it Here: Master List . Thank you for reading and if requests are open or you just wanna talk feel free to send me something🩵

[skyguytoast]

GENERAL! ANAKIN X SITH!READER: PART TWO (+18)

@hellokittyyloverrrr i said i'd write a part two just for u, so, take me some time, but i finally finish.... hope you enjoy ;)

“This isn't how I imagined a Republic interrogation room to be,” you drawled with mock surprise, lashes fluttering as the black hood was pulled off your head. The dim room came into focus—red-tinted lights, heavy velvet curtains, the scent of cigarettes and sex lingering in the air. Your messy hair fell across your face and you blew it out of your eyes, surveying the space with growing amusement.

Not a cruiser. Not a detention cell. And definitely not Jedi Temple protocol.

Your wrists burned faintly from the coarse rope binding them behind the chair. You shifted slightly, testing your range. You weren’t worried. Not yet.

“I’ve seen cleaner brothels,” you added, lifting a brow.

Across from you, General Anakin Skywalker flinched. Just a fraction. But it was enough. He stiffened like you’d struck a nerve, then coughed as if to cover it, stepping into the pool of moody red light that painted the center of the room. His tunic was slightly undone at the collar, his gloved hands flexing at his sides. Agitated.

Perfect.

“There wasn’t time for proper transport,” he said coolly, though the edge in his voice betrayed him. “You’re too dangerous to be left unsecured.”

“Mmm. Dangerous,” you repeated, tasting the word. “Now that’s a compliment. Especially coming from the Republic’s golden boy.”

You leaned back in the chair, legs crossing slowly, deliberately. The hem of your dark tunic slipped a little higher on your thigh, and Anakin’s gaze dropped before he snapped it back up with a clenched jaw.

Stars, this was fun.

“So,” you continued sweetly, “how long do you plan to keep me tied up in this charming little love shack?”

His mouth opened, then shut. He looked like he’d swallowed a sun. “As long as it takes for you to talk.”

“I am talking,” you teased, flashing a wicked grin. “Though I don’t think that’s what you meant, hmm?”

“Don’t play games.”

“Oh, General—” you leaned forward just enough to make him uncomfortable, voice low and syrupy, “you brought me to a motel and tied me to a chair. Who’s playing games, really?”

His blue eyes darkened. You saw the flash of conflict there—the sharp edge of discipline battling the heat simmering just beneath it. It thrilled you. He was trying so hard to be the Jedi. Calm. Controlled. Unshakable.

But you were already in his head, and you both knew it.

“You think you’ve got control,” he said tightly. “But you’re the one restrained.”

You tilted your head, smiling with dangerous innocence. “Restrained, sure. But not powerless. You didn’t hand me over to the Council. You didn’t even log my capture. That means this is personal.”

That last word hung in the air, electric and heavy.

Anakin’s jaw tensed. “I’m doing what needs to be done.”

You slowly shifted your hands behind your back, not to escape—yet—but just to remind yourself that you could, if you really wanted to. “Or maybe,” you whispered, “you didn’t want to let me go.”

A beat of silence passed between you.

Then, you smiled, triumphant.

“See, General? I might be tied to this chair… but I think you’re the one who’s trapped.”

“You don’t know anything,” Anakin snapped, his voice tight, raw—blistering with frustration. His cheeks flushed with color, betraying more than he wanted to admit.

But you only smiled, slow and wicked.

“Oh, maybe not?” you replied, arching a brow in playful mockery. You leaned back against the ropes, eyes glittering as they drank him in. “Because from where I’m sitting… it sure looks like I’m getting under that perfect Jedi skin of yours.”

Your gaze dragged down his body deliberately, then back up, watching how his jaw clenched under the weight of your words. “I mean, come on, darling,” you purred, voice soaked in sinful sweetness. “You’re supposed to be calm, composed, unattached—and here you are, pacing like a man about to detonate. If I touched you right now,” you leaned in, lips parting just slightly, “I think you'd catch fire.”

Anakin turned sharply, his boots thudding against the cheap motel floor as he paced. His cloak flared behind him, the tension coiling through his shoulders like a live wire. The room smelled like heat and dust and temptation—low red lighting throwing shadows across the wall, bottles of untouched liquor still sitting on the bed, remnants of an impulse he wasn’t even sure he could name.

He’d brought you here because you were dangerous. Because he needed control.

But somehow, you were the one in command.

Every shift of your body, every smirk or whisper wound itself around his will like a slow, strangling vine. You were dangerous in ways his lightsaber couldn’t defend against. He had mastered combat, outpaced his master, survived a high skilled combat test —but this? This pull, this maddening, molten craving?

It terrified him. And you knew it.

“Why do you keep fighting it, baby?” you asked softly, your voice like silk, like seduction wrapped in honey and sin. “You don’t have to play the Jedi tonight. No one’s watching. No code. No Council. Just us.”

He didn’t answer.

“Denying yourself?” you continued, voice dropping to a whisper. “It only makes it worse. You’ll break eventually, jedi. So why not just…” you licked your lips, tilting your head, “take what you want?”

Anakin stopped pacing.

The storm behind his eyes was raging now, and you could feel it—like the air before lightning strikes. He was fraying, splitting between duty and desire, between the man he had sworn to be and the one you saw clawing beneath his skin.

He stared at you like you were war and salvation all at once. And still, you smiled.

Anakin stood frozen, chest rising and falling with sharp, uneven breaths. Your words clung to the air like smoke, thick with heat and sin. The way you looked at him—those glittering, dangerous eyes and that wicked curve of your mouth—set his blood on fire in a way no lightsaber ever had.

“You play a dangerous game,” he growled, low and dark, every word roughened by the desire he could no longer bury. His fists clenched at his sides, his cloak twisting between tense fingers.

You just laughed—a slow, sultry sound, honey-sweet and sinful—leaning forward as much as the ropes would allow. They groaned in protest as you shifted, wrists bound behind the chair, the only thing stopping you from closing the distance and lighting the match between you.

“Is it a game, though?” you asked softly, head tilting, voice thick with challenge. “Or are you just... afraid?”

Anakin stepped forward.

Then another.

Until you could feel his presence like a heatwave, wrapping around your skin, licking up your spine. He was so close you could count every pretty detail across his cheekbone, feel the storm rising behind his blue eyes.

“I’m not afraid of anything,” he snapped, but his voice cracked—just slightly. A tremor ran through it like a fault line breaking. You saw it—the flicker of war in him. Between the man raised to follow rules, and the one who burned to break every last one of them for you.

You smiled. Wider. Bolder. Hungrier.

“Then prove it,” you whispered, words laced with heat and promise. “Show me you’re not just some golden boy shackled by Jedi vows. Show me you can feel.”

Your eyes dropped to his lips, then lifted again—slow, deliberate, daring.

“Kiss me, Jedi.”

Anakin’s breath hitched, heart pounding like thunder in a locked room. And in that moment, everything inside him snapped.

He reached out—no hesitation, no mercy—and cupped your face in his hand, his fingers weaving into your hair. The second your breath hitched in response, he leaned in. Close enough that your breaths mingled. That your lips nearly brushed.

And then he kissed you.

He kissed you like a man unraveling. Like a dam finally giving way. His mouth slanted over yours with a raw, ravenous hunger. Like he’d been waiting a lifetime and could wait no longer. His tongue swept into your mouth, tasting you—claiming you. You met him with the same wild heat, like you'd been daring him for this from the moment you locked eyes.

The kiss was molten. Fierce. Desperate.

Hands tangled. Teeth grazed. Time fell away.

And at that moment, the galaxy didn’t exist. There was no war. No Jedi Code. No allegiance. Just you, and him, and the ache that pulsed like a second heartbeat between you.

When he finally pulled back, lips swollen, breath ragged, eyes wild—you looked at each other like you had just committed the most beautiful sin.

And Anakin knew, with terrifying clarity, that he was already lost.

But he didn’t care. Because right now, he had exactly what he wanted. What he needed.

You smiled in amusement, a flicker of provocation. “You’re a good kisser, I didn’t expect you to learn about this in Jedi training, I’m surprised, but not disappointed.”

Anakin's eyes flashed with a mix of pride and possessiveness at his words. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as he leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear. "There are many things they don't teach you in Jedi training," he murmured, voice low and rough with lingering desire. "But I've picked up a few skills on my own."

His hand slid down from your face to your neck, his thumb brushing over the racing pulse there. He could feel it fluttering wildly beneath his touch, just like his own heart. The proof of the effect he had on your only spurred on his boldness.

"And I'm not nearly done learning... and teaching," he added with a wicked grin, his eyes glinting with mischief and promise.

Anakin's other hand found your hip, squeezing the soft curve of it as he pulled your flush against him. He could feel every inch of your body now, pressed tight to his own. The swell of your breasts, the dip of your waist, the flare of your hips... it ignited a fire in his blood that he couldn't ignore. That he didn't want to ignore.

"You're playing with fire, sith," he warned, even as he leaned in to nuzzle into the crook of his neck. He inhaled deeply, breathing in the scent of her skin. Something floral and sweet, with an underlying musk that makes your head spin. "You keep pushing me, and I might just... burn you."

His lips found your pulse point, and he pressed a hot, open-mouthed kiss there. He licked and sucked at the sensitive skin, determined to get some reaction out of you.

"You don't know what you're getting into," he murmured against your neck, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. "I'm not a gentle man. Not when it comes to things... and people... I want."

"oh, no gentle? I suppose I'm not out of the loop on the jedi games" you pondered mischievously.

He punctured his words with a nip to your neck, just shy of painful. Enough to make you gasp, to feel the sharp stinging of his teeth. Enough to make you shudder against him, your body trembling with a need that matched his own.

Anakin pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes blazing with hunger and intent. His hand slid from your hip to the small of your back, holding you tight. Keeping you pinned to him, trapped in his orbit.

"Tell me to stop," he challenged, voice rough and low. "Tell me you don't want this. That you don't burn for me like I burn for you."

He waited, barely breathing. His heart pounding wildly in his chest as he stared down at you, searching her face for any hint of hesitation or doubt.

But he knew you wouldn't say no. He could see it in your eyes, in the flush coloring your cheeks and the parted swell of your lips. You wanted this as much as he did. Needed it. Craved it.

And he would have you. No matter the cost. No matter the consequences. In this moment, nothing else matters. Not the war, not the Council, not the vows he'd sworn to uphold.

There was only you. Only the fire that burned between you. Only the desperate, aching need to claim you. I own you. And he would. He would have you. No matter what it took.

You spread your legs, allowing Anakin to fit in there to deepen the kisses, you tilted your head back, whimpering in pleasure. “Are you going to keep me tied up the whole time?” you asked, the rope rough against your delicate wrists.

Anakin's hands slid down to grip your thighs, his fingers digging into the soft flesh as he pushed your legs further apart. He stepped into the space you'd created, his body now nestling between your spread thighs. Close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off him, the hard length of him pressed against you through the fabric of his robes.

"Keep you tied up?" he murmured, a wicked gleam in his eye as he looked down at you. "Yes. I think I will."

His hands slid higher, pushing up the hem of his sith robe. Slowly, teasingly, until his calloused palms were caressing the smooth skin of your inner thighs. Your breath hitched, you back arching slightly off the chair as his touch set your nerves alight with pleasure.

"But don't worry, sweetheart," he purred, voice low and rough with desire. "I'll make sure you enjoy every. Single. Moment."

To punctuate his words, he leaned down and captured your lips in another devastating kiss. This one deeper, more demanding, his tongue delving into your mouth to claim you thoroughly. He swallowed your gasps and moans, drinking them down like wine.

As he kissed you, his hands continued their exploration. They slid higher, until his fingers were brushing against the lace of your panties. He could feel the damp heat of you through the silk, evidence of just how much you wanted him. How much you needed his touch.

Anakin broke the kiss to trail his lips down the column of your throat. He nipped and sucked at the sensitive skin, his hands pushed your panties aside, and then his fingers were there. Stroking through your slick folds, feeling the evidence of your arousal coating his digits.

"Stars, baby," he groaned against your neck, fingers delving deeper. "You're so wet. So ready for me."

He circled your clit with the pads of his fingers, applying just the right amount of pressure to make you write against him. His other hand slid up to palm your breast, kneading the soft mound and rolling your nipple between his fingers until it pebbled under his touch.

Anakin could feel the need building in you, the desperation in the way you rocked your hips against his hand. He knew you were close, could feel your body tensing and tightening as he worked you higher.

"Come for me, baby," he commanded, voice a low, rough growl. "Come on my fingers like a good girl."

He thrust two fingers deep inside you, curling them just right to hit that spot that made you see stars exploding behind your eyelids. His thumb rubbed tight circles around your clit, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

"Let go, sweetheart," he urged, voice hot against your ear. "I want to feel you come undone. I want to feel you squeeze my fingers like I make you mine."

And with a sharp cry, you did just that. Your body convulsed around his fingers, your inner walls clenching and fluttering as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you. Anakin worked you through it, fingers pumping and stroking, until the last aftershock faded away.

He pulled his fingers from her, bringing them to his lips to suck them clean. His eyes locked with yours as he did, a smug, satisfied grin on his face.

"Not bad for a Jedi," You gasped out, still trembling from the force of you release. "But I think... I think you're still wearing too many clothes."

Anakin chuckled, a dark, wicked sound. "Patience, sweetheart," he murmured, fingers trailing down your body teasingly. "We're just getting started..."

And with that promise hanging in the air, he leaned down to capture your lips once more. Ready to show you just how thorough his exploration of you body could be. No matter how long it took. No matter how many times he had to make you come undone, Anakin was willing to turn you into a hot, messy mess under his ministrations, wanting to wipe that teasing smile off your face, and make sure that this time he was in control, even if it was in control of your pleasure.

TAGLIST: @ihearthayden @anakinstwinklebunny @sometimescharlolette @awhhayden @dessxoxsworld  @speaknow-sw @freudsweetlamb

[etherealrin]

⋆˙⟡ he's a 10!

you call highschool!rin past midnight, accidentally confessing your attraction towards a certain number 10 that plays soccer.

warnings: slight ooc rin, mentions of cat unalivement (don't worry about it...) rin's a dry texter, pretty much just pure fluff // wc: 1.2k

note: i hope this makes sense the idea just came to me randomly heh & reader is a girl

you don't know why you're up at 2 am on a friday night. no, you guess it was technically saturday morning now. you should've been exhausted from school and sleeping, so why do you find yourself sitting inbetween the fuzzy blankets on your bed, whispering intently towards your phone as you facetimed your seatmate itoshi rin?

so maybe, you harbored a tiny crush on the jaw-droppingly attractive raven haired boy who sat next to you during class. maybe, you had fallen for his stoic yet somehow sweet demeanor (you swear he was friendlier around you and he had never called you lukewarm yet, but perhaps you were just delusional.) heck, you weren't even close enough friends with him to warrant such a midnight call, yet here you were. you had to keep your voice low, as to not disturb your family, who were all dozing off somewhere in dreamland by now. your windows are open, just a crack, and you're keenly aware that it's pitch blackness outside, save for the streetlight illuminating the front of your house.

"i mean, i was kind of in the middle of playing a horror game before you called," rin's voice echoed through your airpods.

"shoot, i don't mean to bother you!" you reply, voice hushed. "you can hang up right now, sorry!"

"it's fine, i don't think you're a bother." you peer at your phone, catching how rin's face is illuminated by the bright light coming out from his pc's monitor. you hope that on his side, he can't see much of you in the dimness of your room. you'd die if he caught the hot pink blush creeping across your face at his words.

"itoshi, you're actually a really nice person," you find yourself telling him. "i don't get why everyone labels you as standoffish and cold." you're absentmindedly fiddling with an avocado plushie on the edge of your bed, unaware that it was showing on camera.

"maybe it's because i threatened to unalive the cat of the last girl who asked me out?" rin offered, a hint of a smile in his voice.

"rin, what? please don't come after mine!" you exclaim. oops, had you spoken a bit too loud? well, it didn't seem like you had woken anyone up, so you continued. "i swear floof doesn't bite!" floof was the name of your very fluffy and very adorable kitten.

"well it's not like i'd say that to every girl who confesses to me," he notes. you wonder how his attitude could do a 360 so fast, he truly was an enigma to you.

"say, rin, do you like anyone?" you don't know what you're thinking, but the words spill out of your mouth anyway. you blush even harder, mentally screaming. did you really just ask the boy you liked that question? maybe you were asleep and dreaming, because there was no way you would have the guts to ask him so directly. an apology follows immediately from your end. "i didn't mean to ask such a personal question, i don't know what i was thinking!" you hurriedly stammer, not wanting to make him uncomfortable. you doubted that rin loved anything other than soccer, at any rate. actually, scratch that, did he even like soccer? sometimes you thought the boy with the number 10 on his jersey played like he loathed the game, and wanted to murder it or destroy someone's legacy.

"uhm," rin sounded like he was unsure. it was a contrast to his usual assured self and confident tone. "i'll tell you if you tell me?"

huh? you were at the verge of screaming for real this time. how could you answer rin, met with a question like that? you suppose you had brought it onto yourself, but you really were unprepared for the situation.

"i- uh," you hesitiate, unable to meet the piercing teal gaze on your phone right now. screw it, should you just tell him? "i like guys who are a 10," you whisper. oh god, you wanted to jump out your window and end it right there. of all the stupid indirect answers you could have given itoshi rin, you managed to choose what you think was likely the worst of them all. your voice was barely audible, but evidently rin had heard you loud and clear from the way he took a sharp breath.

"meaning?" rin prods, as if he were actually invested in who you liked.

"i don't know, like" you think you're starting to ramble now. "kinda like if they wear number 10 on their soccer jersey and stuff?" you prayed that maybe rin would think you weren't thinking straight due to lack of sleep and pretend that this conversation had never transpired once you went back to school next monday.

you don't know that on the other end of the line, itoshi rin was grinning like an idiot.

"i'll text you a picture of who i like," rin said suddenly, cutting your call before you could react (before he could change his mind about what he was going to do.) and you truly wish you could evaporate, turn into water vapor or something, and become nothing. he probably hates you now. floof was likely next on his hit list of felines to dismember.

you sigh into your hands, burying yourself under the warmth of your covers, when your phone lights up.

ping! you have one message and one attachment from rin! the display informs you.

your fingers ghost over the notification, scared to open it. but you steel your nerves, brace for the worst, and push down, squeezing your eyes shut. it takes about 30 seconds before you crack them open.

"i like her." he had sent. a picture of a...black screen followed? you press on it and the darkness engulfs your screen. you could see nothing in it, except for your own reflection staring quizzically back at you. your eyes widen with realization. there's no way, you think.

"is this a joke?" you type with trembling fingers and nervously hit the send button, trying your hardest to ignore the pounding in your chest. your heart was going haywire, and it only got worse as the bubble appeared in the chat, indicating that rin was typing.

"well, i didn't have any pictures of you." his reply reads. you want to explode into a thousand pieces, but to your credit you don't and start typing again. to your surprise, your phone buzzes once more. rin had double texted you.

"don't you see yourself in it?" he had sent. your heart now threatens to run away from your body and join the circus or something, as you stare at your crush's confession. you're aware of the stupidly wide grin tugging at your lips right now.

and because you're an idiot, you send:

"i've actually had a crush on you since we moved seats to sit together."

to which he replies:

"...same."

when you plop down into your seat beside him that next monday, he offers you a half smile and a "hey."

"morning, rin," you greet him. he knows, you think. you wonder how awkward it'll be now.

"do you want to come to my game later? heard you liked the number 10 jersey, it just so happens i have a spare i can lend you," rin offers, eyes sparkling with anticipation you've never seen before.

"of course," you answer, immediately understanding what he wanted. "maybe i should cheer loudly for that number 10 as well? rin raises an eyebrow, feigning confusion, but he's profusely grinning and fails to hide it.

you're vaguely aware of your classmates staring at your desks, wondering why itoshi rin was having a seemingly friendly conversation with the girl next to him, and why both of your cheeks were dusted a faint pink.

[nvrsaidiwasinurcloset]

Hiii love your writingggg, could you plsss do very innocent!reader and pervy!ethan 🫶🏻

Hiii! I hope you like it, even though you requested this MONTHS ago.

I'm not innocent, so I'm not the best at writing it🙃 Hopefully this is okay:)

Creep - Pervy!Ethan Landry x Fem!Reader

This contains SMUT - Minors DNI

Summary: You ask Ethan for help in econ, and once Mindy mentions the empty bedroom in the apartment she shares with Ethan and Chad, you agree to move in. But you realize that your sweet, dorky new roommate has been stealing your panties.

Contains: Pervy kinda creepy Ethan, innocent inexperienced reader, fingering. m!masturbation.

A/N: Okay...this needs a part 2 but I'm already at 5k words lmao. A lot of fics I've read along these lines had had Ethan more subby, but not in this one. 👀

*For the poll I posted earlier today, this one had the most votes at the time of me posting this fic. I'm going to write them all in the order that they're wanted:)*

It seemed like your life was starting to fall apart. You couldn’t stand your roommate, your boyfriend had broken up with you, and your grade for econ was starting to tank. When you brought up your grade to your professor after class, hoping to figure out some way to raise it, she suggested that you talk to Ethan Landry.

The next time you had class, you beelined towards him once he walked in. He noticed you, getting a little nervous the closer you got. He wasn’t the best at talking to girls, he even thought this could’ve been a figment of his imagination that the girl he struggled to take his eyes off was walking to him. He was chewing the inside of his cheek, his eyes not leaving you until you were finally face to face.

“Ethan, right?” you sweetly said, as he nodded. “I hear you’re the best for tutoring, and I desperately need your help if you have the time.”

“I’ll make the time,” he spat out, before he internally screamed at himself for sounding so desperate to help. “I mean, I can help you.”

“You’re a lifesaver,” you said, as you pulled out your phone. “What’s your number?”

“Oh, um…” he trailed off, racking his brain for those ten digits that he suddenly forgot. “I’m sorry, it’s been a long day.”

“It’s okay,” you smiled, “Are you okay with me just giving you my number and you can text me so we can set something up?”

“Yeah,” he said, as he pulled out his phone and went to create a new contact. He passed you his phone as you typed in your name and number, before you handed it back to him.

“Don’t forget to text me,” you said, a sweet smile playing on your lips as you turned to walk back to your seat.

“I won’t,” he said, tightly gripping his phone in his hand as you turned to smile at him once more.

He was struggling to focus as he sat through that class. His fingers kept rubbing over the phone screen that your thumbs had moved across, and he started to realize how pathetic he was for already being so addicted to you when you’d only spoken to him once.

Later that week, you were supposed to meet Ethan in the library to study. You both completely forgot about the renovations they were doing, the normally quiet space filled with the loud sounds of the various pieces of machinery on the opposite side of the room.

“Maybe we should try to do this some other time,” you yelled over the noise. “I can’t concentrate on anything you’re saying.”

“Oh, okay,” Ethan said, looking down so you wouldn’t see the sad look on his face. That’s when he started to get an idea. “My apartment is only two blocks away. It should be quieter. You want to come over to study?”

You liked to be cautious, and you normally wouldn’t go to someone’s apartment that you barely knew, but Ethan seemed innocent enough, and you desperately needed to pass the class so you wouldn’t have to take it again.

“Sure,” you said, wincing as the noise in the room got louder.

You walked beside Ethan as you went to his apartment, and even though it was just for studying, he felt a glint of pride as he walked with you. He hoped that anyone who saw you together would think you were his.

“Hopefully my roommates won’t be too loud,” Ethan sighed, as he stuck his key in the front door.

“Nothing is worse than what’s going on in the library right now,” you said, as he shrugged.

“You say that now…”

You barely made it inside when you heard arguing. Ethan sighed in defeat before he turned to you, “I moved in with my friends, and they’re constantly arguing.”

“Oh,” you giggled, as you followed him into the living room of the apartment. “Oh, hey Mindy,” you said, as she turned to you and smiled.

“Hey! What are you doing here?” she asked, as she walked over to you. Chad just stood there, still worked up from the spat they were having when you walked in.

“Ethan’s trying to help me not fail econ,” you said, as she nodded.

“I remember you mentioning you were having trouble with it.”

Ethan was confused as he stood there, because Mindy had never mentioned you, but she seemed to know you quite well. The two of you talked for a few minutes, and once Ethan heard another guy’s name get mentioned, he immediately got jealous.

“I’m proud of you for not giving him another chance,” Mindy said, as you let out a small laugh.

“I’m not going to say I didn’t think about it, but I don’t need him making my life any harder than it needs to be right now,” you sighed, “On top of the bullshit with him, my roommate is just so awful. Like, she woke me up blasting music before the sun even came up today. I’m trying to find somewhere else to live, but I haven’t had any luck yet.”

“Well, we’re looking for a fourth roommate…” Mindy trailed off, as Ethan’s eyes grew wide. “It’d be nice to have another girl here.”

“Don’t tempt me,” you joked, as Mindy smiled.

“Seriously, think about it,” she said, before she started to yell. “Chad!”

You noticed that the other boy was no longer in the room, but you saw him again as he turned the corner and groaned. “What?”

“Okay, don’t be rude,” she snapped, “I’m trying to convince her to move into the fourth bedroom.”

“Oh,” Chad said, his annoyed face turning up in a smile. “Hey, I’m Chad.”

“Hey,” you said, before he started to go over rent and other things you’d need to know. “Why would I want to move in when you two argue like this?” you joked, as Chad tried to play it off.

“We shared a womb, we lived in the same house until we moved into our dorms, and I finally got a break from her,” he said, as she scoffed, “But now we have to live together again and we’re trying to figure out how to do that.”

“I’ve never lived with boys before…and I’m sure my parents would kill me if they ever found out, but I’ll definitely think about it,” you said, before you turned to Ethan. “I’m sorry, you want to study now?”

“Yeah, let’s go to my room,” he said, as he led you there.

You both got settled on his bed. He sat across from you, his back against the headboard as you adjusted to get more comfortable, laying on your stomach. He bit his lip once he noticed the perfect view he had down your shirt, the neckline barely covering anything as your chest was pressed against his bed.

“So, where should we start?” you asked, your soft voice barely getting his attention as he kept staring at your chest. He wanted to squeeze your boobs, suck on them, fuck them, even. “Ethan?” you questioned as you looked away from your notebook, and opened your laptop, completely blocking the sight he was fantasizing over.

“Oh, uh…” he said, as he opened his laptop. “Maybe let’s work on the quiz that’s due this weekend. It’ll show me what you do and don’t need help with.”

You spent over an hour studying with Ethan, and you felt like you were having a little bit of a better understanding. You were starting to get hungry, so you closed your laptop. Ethan glanced over his screen the second he noticed, getting another peak down your shirt again. This time, he saw a part of one of your nipples peaking out of your bra, the sight making his pants grow tighter. He fought off the sound that was threatening to come out before you sat up, once again taking his perfect view away from him.

“I’m starving,” you said, as you started to put your stuff away. “But thank you so much for your help, and I hope you’ll want to keep helping me. You’re my only hope.”

He softly chuckled at your words, “If you move in, we can study whenever you want.”

“You’d be cool with it?” you asked, smiling at him. “You didn’t really say anything out there and I didn’t want to actually start considering it until you said something.”

“Yeah, I think it’s cool,” he said, “If you do want to, and you need help moving or anything, let me know.”

“Thanks, Ethan,” you said, smiling again before you made your way out of his room.

He wanted to walk you to the door, but he knew the second he stood up, his hard cock would be so obvious. He ran his hand over the spot you were laying on the bed, your warmth still soaked up by his comforter. The view down your shirt was burned in his brain as he got up and walked over to the door, shutting and locking it before he dropped his pants to give his aching cock the attention it desperately needed.

The next time you had econ, you walked in and sat down beside Ethan. He didn’t notice at first, but he soon smelled the familiar scent that he couldn’t get out of his head after you’d left his apartment a few days before. He wasn’t sure if it was your hair or the perfume you were wearing, but it smelled delicious.

“Hey,” he smiled, his pupils growing large as he saw you. “Are you okay?”

He took in the stress on your face, and how tired you looked.

“Yeah, are you sure you’re cool with me moving in?” you asked, “Because I can’t deal with my roommate anymore.”

“Yeah, of course,” he said, “What happened?”

“She invites her boyfriend to stay over whenever she doesn’t have class the next morning,” you sighed, “I don’t want to explain all the sounds I had to listen to while I tried to sleep last night.”

“Oh,” he said softly, “Well, your room would be beside mine, and I wouldn’t keep you up all night.”

“I bet that’s why I’m failing this class right now. I never sleep,” you said, as you looked over to him. “Wait, you don’t have a girlfriend that stays over?”

“No,” he said, his cheeks turning pink at your question.

“Sex is overrated,” you shrugged, “But I really thought you would’ve had a girlfriend.”

“Really?” he asked, as your professor walked in.

“Yeah, you’re a cutie,” you smiled, before you directed your attention to the lecture.

Ethan was thankful that you were so focused and didn’t see the cheesy smile on his face. The girl he’d been thinking about as he jerked his cock for the last few days called him cute, and his heart was swelling.

After a couple weeks, Ethan, Chad, and Mindy showed up to the apartment you currently lived in while your roommate was at her boyfriend’s to help you move.

“First, I want you guys to know that none of this mess is mine,” you said, as soon as you answered the front door for them.

“Whoa,” Chad said as he glanced around. “There’s no way you live with a girl.”

“Yeah, you’ll never guess what I found on the kitchen floor this morning,” you said, as Mindy started to think.

“With the mess, I’m going to guess…dead mouse?”

“Not even close,” you said, as you shook your head and shuddered as you thought about it. “It was a condom.”

“Like…in the wrapper or…?” Chad asked, as you, once again, shook your head.

“Used.”

“Ewwww,” Mindy said, cringing at the thought.  “Okay, is anything in the kitchen yours?”

“I already boxed that stuff up. Except the dishes that she’s refused to wash,” you said, as you led them to the living room. “The TV is mine, and that lamp,” you said, as you pointed, “But other than that, I really just have to worry about my room.”

“I think it’d be best to have all the heavy stuff in the living room so Ethan and I can worry about that,” Chad said, as you nodded and led them down the hall.

You had already packed up most of your room, which made it so easy for your new roommates to help you. Once Chad was carrying your mattress out and Mindy had ran out to get coffee, Ethan started to glance around your room. He noticed the hamper full of clothes in the corner, and he found himself inching closer towards it as he listened to you and Chad talk in the living room. Before he could stop himself, he grabbed a shirt off the top of the pile, inhaling its scent. He let out a deep breath before he went to put the shirt back in the hamper, before he noticed some black lace sticking out under a pair of your jeans. He snatched it out of the basket and put it in his pocket before he put the shirt back in it once he heard footsteps coming back down the hall.

“Did you need help with this?” Ethan asked, pointing to the basket, trying to make it not seem like he was being weird.

“Shit, I forgot to do laundry,” you groaned, as the realization hit him that the panties he’d grabbed had been worn. “I’ll carry that out.”

“Okay,” Ethan said, before Chad motioned for him to help with the dresser.

Later that day after you got your stuff moved into your new room, you flopped on your freshly made bed as Mindy popped in.

“So, I’m going to try to convince the guys to share a bathroom so you don’t have to share with Ethan,” she said, as you shrugged.

“It’s not a big deal,” you said, “I just hope he doesn’t mind all the girly stuff in the shower and the makeup and stuff.”

Ethan didn’t mind at all. In fact, he’d already been in the bathroom, smelling your body wash, your shampoo and conditioner. The skincare products you used. He realized that all those things together were the cause of the scent that made his head spin.

Later that night after you had takeout with everyone, Ethan excused himself to go to bed. He couldn’t stop thinking about your panties that were still in his pocket. Once he pulled them out, he ran his fingers over the lace before taking in your scent. He softly groaned before he dropped his pants, the thoughts of his face buried in your pussy making him harder by the second. He had them tightly clutched in his fist as he started to stroke himself with his free hand, small whimpers flying out of his mouth as he tried to imagine how soft your hand would feel wrapped around him. His bottom lip was in between his teeth once he started to get louder, the tip of his cock red as be brought himself closer to the edge. Just as he was about to cum, he deeply inhaled the scent of your panties one more time before he rubbed them against the tip of his cock, his thick, white ropes covering the lace.

You thought living with boys was going to be difficult, but your first month wasn’t bad. You were surprised at how clean they liked everything to be, and Ethan always put the toilet seat down. You started to get close to your dorky roommate, especially once you spent so much time studying together. You already thought he was cute, but once you actually got to know more about him, you realized that he was so sweet, so nice. He might’ve been a little shy, too, but he got to the point where he was doing cute little things to make you laugh.

One day, you went to do your laundry in the apartment. You walked over and were about to throw stuff in when you noticed clothes were already inside, and Ethan quickly rounded the corner with the rest of the stuff he needed to toss in.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” he said, “You want me to take my stuff out? I can wash it later.”

“No, it’s fine, I’ll wait,” you said with a smile, before you noticed something familiar in the washer. “Oh,” you said, your cheeks turning pink as you reached out and grabbed your panties out of the washer. “Must’ve dropped these in.”

Ethan’s eyes grew wide as he noticed them in your hand, the realization hitting you that they were sticky.

“Eww, what is all over these?” you said, a disgusted look on your face as you tried to figure it out. You looked over to Ethan, his face bright red and his eyes huge, when you pieced it together. “Ethan…”

He just stared at you, the silence deafening as he tried to think of something, anything to say to you. He’d gotten away with stealing your panties for a month, but it was a way for him to feel close to you, and satisfy some of the sexual frustration he had whenever he thought about you.

“What’s on my panties?” you questioned, as he tensed up. “Actually, I don’t think I want to know.”

You tossed them back in the washer and walked past him and headed straight to the bathroom to wash your hands. When you went to your room and shut the door, Ethan huffed and tossed in the rest of stuff that was in his hands before he started the washer.

As the day went by, you couldn’t stop thinking about Ethan, and how you’d noticed that pairs of your panties had been going missing ever since you moved in. But then you’d randomly see them again, in the top drawer of your dresser after a few days. You didn’t think Ethan was like that, and it made you feel a little uneasy to live with him.

Later that night, you had to say something to him. You walked out of your room and glanced around the apartment for him, before you walked to his closed door and started to knock. He eased it open after a few seconds, his eyes connecting with yours through the small crack.

“Can we talk?” you asked, as he took a deep breath and hesitantly opened the door for you.

You walked in and took a seat on the side of the bed, your gaze on his floor as you tried to think of the right way to talk to him.

“You want me to leave the door open,” he asked, barely above a whisper as you shook your head no.

“If Mindy or Chad come home, I don’t want them to hear the conversation.”

“Thanks,” he mumbled, before he took a seat beside you. “I’m sorry.”

“Why were you stealing my panties?” you asked, as he took a deep breath.

“I can’t explain it without sounding like the total creep you probably already think I am.”

“So…that was what I thought it was on them,” you said, as you turned to look at him. He nodded, looking away to not meet your gaze.

“Again, I am so sorry,” he said, “I know you probably hate me, and I understand if you don’t want to be around me. I’ll stay in my room so you don’t have to see me.”

“I’m just a little confused,” you said softly, as he finally let his eyes connect with yours. “What’s so exciting about my panties?”

At that moment, one thing you said to Ethan started to play in his head. ‘Sex is overrated.’ He was questioning how much experience you actually had.

“Do you really not know or are you fucking with me?” he questioned.

“Like, does it feel good? How does it even turn you on?” you asked, curiously staring at him.

“They uh…yeah, it feels good when I uh…rub them on myself. And they smell like you.”

“They smell like fabric softener and laundry detergent,” you said, a small laugh slipping out as he shook his head.

“I haven’t been stealing clean ones…they smell like you.”

“Oh,” you said, as you looked away from him. “That turns you on?”

“You have no idea,” he said, and even though the conversation was uncomfortable, he was getting hard.

“Why are guys so weird?” you thought out loud, laughing a little as you shook your head. “So does that mean that you like me? Or you’re like…sexually attracted to me? I still don’t fully get it.”

“Both,” he said, “I think you’re so beautiful, and I’ve had so much fun with you this last month…but I also think about you in a different way, too. Ya know?”

“I’ve thought about you that way, too,” you admitted, “It’d kind of hard not to. I hear you through the walls all the time.”

“You’ve heard me?” he asked, a blush spreading to his cheeks. “I’m sorry, I know you hated when you heard your old roommate.”

“I like it when I hear you,” you said so softly that he barely heard it.

“Do you touch yourself when you hear me?”

Your breathing got heavier at his question, and Ethan noticed. You were getting so flustered under his gaze.

“I…I’ve tried to,” you said, as you took in the curious look on his face.

“Tried to?” he asked, “What do you mean?”

“Like…I know what feels good, but I can never get myself…there, if you know what I mean.”

“You’ve never made yourself cum?” he questioned, admiring how cute you looked as you got embarrassed.

“No one has.”

“No one?” he asked, his throat dry at the thought. “Are you a virgin?”

“No…but I’ve never enjoyed sex. Like, it feels good, but I think it’s so disappointing when you hear how amazing orgasms are and then I just never get one.”

Ethan expected the conversation that was happening to go so differently. He thought you hated him, but there you were, telling him that you’d tried to get yourself off when you’d heard him. The thought of him being the first one to make you cum had him salivating, but he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable if he offered.

“Have you ever…given someone an orgasm?” you asked, as he nodded. “I’m jealous of whoever she is.”

“Don’t be,” he said, scooting a little closer to you. “Fuck, I’d make you cum all the time if I could.”

“Really?” you smiled, “If you ever want to, I’m right next door,” you joked, as he smiled and shook his head.

“Hey, don’t offer that or I’ll be in your room every day.”

You were starting to squirm against his bed, your thighs rubbing together so subtly that he could barely tell. The sexual tension was so thick, your breathing getting heavier as you thought about how good Ethan would make you feel.

“I think I need to go back to my room,” you said, as you started to stand up. That’s when you glanced at Ethan’s lap, noticing the tent in his sweatpants.

“Do you really want to?” he asked, “Because if you want me to take care of you right now, I will.”

“Seriously?” you questioned, as he smiled and nodded.

“Come here,” he said, reaching out to grab your hands, pulling you to him.

Once Ethan leaned in to kiss you, he was almost taken aback by how quickly your lips were moving against his. He was desperate for you, but you were just as desperate for him. He matched your pace before he pushed you back on the bed, his hand running from your hip, up your ribs, until it landed on your breast. You gasped into the kiss once he squeezed it.

You had massive butterflies in your stomach once you felt his cock pressing against your thigh through his sweatpants, your head was spinning, but you were loving every second of it.

“Hey, I have an idea,” he said, once he pulled away to catch his breath. “I think we should go to your room.”

“Why?” you asked because you didn’t want to stop. You needed his lips back on yours.

“Because you have that full length mirror leaning against your wall,” he said, chuckling once you noticed the confused look on your face. “I want you to see what I’m doing to make you cum…in case I’m never here to help you.”

“Okay,” you said, as he stood up and grabbed your hands.

Once he opened his bedroom door, he listened to make sure he didn’t hear anyone else in the apartment before he walked out and to your room next door. He shut and locked your bedroom door once he made it inside, before he pulled you into another kiss. His hands held onto your hips until they started to rub against the flesh under the hem of your shirt. He kept inching it further and further up, until he pulled away to pull it over your head. His lips went back to yours as he reached around to unhook your bra, his hands squeezing at your breasts once they were free.

His mouth moved to your neck as his hands explored your body, before they snaked under the waistband of your leggings. He moved them down over your hips as you shimmied out of them, leaving you in nothing but your panties. He recognized them as the first pair he ever stole, the black lacy ones.

“Fuck,” he mumbled, as his hand moved to rub you over your panties. The material was soaked as you moaned at the feeling. “That feel good?”

“Yes,” you said, quickly nodding your head just in case he needed the extra confirmation. “So good.”

“I hate that I have to take these off you,” he said, as he inched the fabric down your thighs, leaving you completely nude in front of him. “I’m going to sit on the floor in front of the mirror, and I want you to sit between my legs.”

“Okay,” you said, as he took a seat on the floor, his legs spreading for you to sit. You did as he said, looking at him in the mirror as he spread your legs, placing your feet on either side of his legs on the floor.

You watched him lick two of his fingers before he placed them against your clit, rubbing slow circles. Your eyes stayed on the reflection of his hand, your mouth parting as you started to breathe faster. He added a little more pressure as you fully relaxed back into his chest, the softest moans slipping out as he went a little faster.

“Ethaaan,” you whined out, the noise quickly becoming his new favorite sound.

“Shh, I don’t know if anyone else is here,” he said softly, “Just keep your legs spread for me, baby.”

He rubbed a few more circles on your clit before his fingers moved lower, one of them slipping inside you. He pumped it in and out for a minute before he added another, as you angled your neck to look up at him. He leaned down to kiss you as his fingers moved, before he started to mumble against your lips.

“If you ever finger yourself, this…” he said, as he curved them just right, a low moan flying out of your mouth, “Is the spot that needs attention. Okay baby?”

“Okay,” you whimpered, as he moved his fingers faster.

The sounds you were making just kept getting louder, and Ethan was just hoping and praying that no one else was home. One of your hands clung to his thigh as your other hand wrapped around his wrist, as you started to feel…different. It felt so good, and the last thing you wanted was for him to stop. Once he went even faster, the squelching sound of your wet pussy and your whimpers filling the room, your legs were trying so hard to close as your toes curled against the carpet on the floor.

“Oh my god,” you moaned, your fluttering eyes watching his hand in the mirror as your body started to tingle.

“Cum for me baby,” he encouraged, as you finally let that feeling wash over your body. You were jolting, your eyes screwed shut as his fingers started to slow, his free hand roaming your chest as you let out all your sounds.

Once you fully relaxed in his arms, he placed a kiss to the top of your head as your hazy eyes connected with his in the mirror.

“Now you can’t say no one’s ever made you cum,” he said with a smile, as he slid his fingers out of you. “Did it feel good?”

“That was better than I thought it was going to be,” you said, “Thanks, Ethan.”

“You’re welcome.”

You sat there in silence for a minute as you felt his cock pressing against you, and you wanted so badly to take care of him, until you heard commotion in the apartment.

“Hey, guysss,” Chad yelled, as he walked down the hall.

You tensed up as you glanced at your door, before Ethan whispered, “It’s okay, I locked it.”

You relaxed again before Chad started to yell again, “Tara’s here!”

You forgot about hanging out with Mindy and Tara for the night, and you didn’t want to pull away from Ethan, but you hesitantly did, your legs wobbling as you tried to stand. Ethan got up to help you, and once you got your bearings, he started to grab your clothes off the floor for you.

“Thanks,” you said, before you noticed him pick up your panties.

“No, thank you,” he joked, a smirk playing on his lips as he backed towards your door. “I’ll see you when you get back in the morning.”

“I better still have panties in that top drawer when I get back.”

[cassiemaebarnes]

Grumpy & the New Girl: Part 8

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Masterlist

Bucky x reader

Summary: She wasn’t supposed to meet him like that. He wasn’t supposed to let her in. But sometimes, things don’t go according to plan.

Word Count: 5903

Sorry for the wait!! I got busy this week with exams and work😭 but I made this chapter a little longer to hopefully make up for it! I'll try to get the next part out a little quicker😊

While the others made their way to the meeting, you crutched over to the couch and sat down, not bothering to elevate your ankle. It was feeling a lot better, and although there was still some bruising, it wasn’t very swollen anymore.

You scrolled through your phone for about an hour before you heard the elevator ding and the voices of the others cut through the silence. When you looked up, once again, Bucky was the first one into the common room, coming over and immediately taking a seat beside you. His arm went to the back of the couch and his hand found your shoulder like it was all second nature.

“Hey doll,” he said, smirking at you.

You just gave him a look, but you couldn’t stop the smile from coming onto your face as you let out a little laugh.

Before you could get a word in, the rest of the team started filing into the room one by one, voices echoing and conversations overlapping, but every single one of them seemed to slow their step the second they saw you and Bucky.

“Ugh,” Sam groaned dramatically, dropping into the armchair across from you. “The way you two look at each other makes me sick.”

Tony, trailing behind, sipped from his coffee and raised an eyebrow. “Speak for yourself. It’s kinda cute, actually. Like a dating site commercial. So in love, it’s nauseating.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, but didn’t move his hand.

Nat leaned over the side of the couch, glancing between the two of you. “Honestly, I think it’s sweet. Gross, but sweet.”

You groaned into your hands. “I can’t even sit on a couch anymore?”

“You can,” Clint said from the kitchen, “but do it like a normal person, not like you’re starring in The Notebook: Avengers Edition.”

You shot Bucky a sideways glance, and he looked far too pleased with himself.

Steve finally walked in, glanced around at the chaos, and sighed. “Alright, enough. We’re not doing this again.”

“You say that every day,” Sam muttered.

Steve ignored him and turned to you. “I actually wanted to talk to you for a sec. You’re cleared to start physical therapy tomorrow.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “Really?”

“It’ll be light,” Steve added, nodding toward your ankle. “But yeah. That means you should try putting a little weight on it today, see how it feels. Get used to it again.”

You glanced down at your ankle, then at your crutches resting beside the couch. “Okay…I can try.”

“I’ll help you,” Bucky added immediately.

A beat of silence passed before the others cut in.

Sam clutched his chest. “Oh my god, he's her emotional support soldier.”

Tony looked like he was about to cry. “They grow up so fast.”

Steve just shook his head, like he regretted every decision that brought this team together.

--

For the next hour, you were all lounging in the common room while conversations bounced lazily around the space. You’d been sipping water for the last hour, and now…nature was calling.

You sighed and pushed the blanket off your lap, slowly swinging your legs over the edge of the couch.

Immediately, Bucky sat up straighter.

“Where are you going?” he asked, already getting to his feet like he had a sixth sense for when you were about to move.

You gave him a look, amused. “Bathroom.”

He nodded without hesitation. “Okay. I’ll help you.”

You barely had time to react before the others caught on.

Sam practically fell off the chair. “Help her?” he cackled. “What are you gonna do, hold her hand while she pees?”

Nat nearly choked on her drink. “Oh my god, Bucky. Boundaries, man.”

Clint leaned forward, elbows on his knees, grinning. “Is this a two-person operation now? You gonna give her a pep talk from the doorway?”

Tony didn’t even look up from his tablet. “Let’s just be clear: if you’re gone more than 5 minutes, we’re shutting this whole thing down.”

You were laughing so hard you had to grab the arm of the couch to steady yourself, shaking your head. “I can pee on my own, guys. I just need help walking.”

“I’m just saying,” Sam added, “you two get more domestic every day. I’m waiting for him to start pre-heating the toilet seat for you.”

“Don’t give him ideas,” you wheezed.

Bucky just shook his head and offered you his hand. “C’mon, before they start planning our retirement.”

You took his hand and stood up slowly, still chuckling. “You’re not even denying it anymore.”

“I learned my lesson,” he said dryly. “Denial just gives them more material.”

As you hobbled your way toward the hall with Bucky at your side, you heard Tony call after you, “Remember to leave the door cracked, lovebirds. We need updates!”

You flipped him off behind your back without even turning around.

And as the two of you disappeared down the hall, the laughter behind you only got louder.

When you and Bucky returned to the common room, you walked in like it was no big deal – you leaning on his arm, walking a little better now but still wincing every few steps. He was quiet and calm beside you, his hand hovering near your waist like he was ready to catch you again if you so much as wobbled.

Naturally, the second you crossed into the room, you were met with more teasing.

Sam sat up straighter on the couch, eyes already glinting. “Well, well, well. Took you long enough.”

Nat smirked from where she was perched on the arm of the loveseat. “Everything come out okay?”

You stopped walking and gave them a flat look. “Really? That’s where we’re going with this?”

Clint let out a low whistle. “You sure you didn’t sprain more than your ankle in there?”

Tony looked up from his tablet. “I’m just saying, you could’ve walked on your ankle with your crutches for assistance instead of Bucky.”

You groaned, flopping dramatically onto the couch. “We were gone for two minutes.”

Bucky sat beside you calmly, completely composed.

Then–

“Well,” he said, voice casual, “I did help her with a few things.”

You froze.

So did everyone else.

“…Excuse me?” you said, blinking at him.

He turned to you with a fake-innocent expression. “What? You needed help standing… balancing…”

You narrowed your eyes. “Bucky.”

He smirked, slow and dangerous, the kind of smirk that meant he knew exactly what he was doing. “I mean, I offered more help. She said no.”

Gasps all around.

“BUCKY!” you yelled, eyes wide as your hand smacked against his arm.

Sam howled, falling sideways into the cushions. “OH MY GOD. He’s unhinged.”

“Buck!” Steve choked, genuinely shocked but laughing anyway. “What happened to ‘respectful silence’?”

Nat was doubled over, her face buried in a throw pillow. “He’s corrupted! He’s fully gone.”

“I take no responsibility,” Tony said, raising his hands. “This is entirely on Sleeping Beauty.”

You were still glaring at Bucky. “You are so lucky I can’t run right now.”

He just leaned back into the couch, completely unbothered. “Just saying…if she ever needs other help…”

You gasped again, smacking his chest with the back of your hand before hiding your face as the room exploded into another round of laughter.

“DID YOU HEAR HIM?!” Clint yelled, nearly in tears. “This man’s got material.”

Wanda wiped a tear from her eye. “Winter Soldier’s gone full flirt mode.”

Bucky glanced sideways at you, his smirk softening just slightly. “What? I’m just being helpful.”

You peeked at him from behind your hands, face burning. “You’re gonna get me murdered by this team.”

“Nah,” he murmured, “they’d never kill the star of their favorite rom-com.”

You let out a helpless little groan and dropped your face onto his shoulder.

And Bucky just wrapped his arm around you like he’d done nothing wrong at all.

--

A little while later, Wanda looked up from the puzzle she was half-attempting with Vision. “I’m bored, we should put on a movie.”

“I second that,” Sam said, tossing a handful of popcorn into his mouth.

“Since we can never decide on a movie, we should draw genres,” Wanda suggested. “Make it fair. Everyone writes one, toss them in a bowl, we pick blind.”

Everyone mumbled in agreement, and within minutes, a makeshift bowl of hastily scribbled paper scraps sat on the coffee table.

Steve was chosen as the unbiased picker. He dramatically shuffled them, reached in, and unfolded one with a raised brow.

He stared at it.

“…Rom-com.”

A beat.

The room groaned and cheered simultaneously.

Sam looked personally offended. “You’re kidding.”

Nat grinned. “Let the chaos begin.”

Tony threw his arms up. “YES. We’re going full heart-eyes tonight.”

Wanda turned to you with a knowing look. “You’re getting off easy. Rom-com’s practically your genre.”

You tried to hide your smile and shrugged innocently. “I have no idea what you mean.”

“Okay, okay,” Clint called. “What are we watching? It has to be a classic.”

“10 Things I Hate About You,” Nat said immediately. “It’s not even up for debate.”

There were a few half-hearted objections, but no one could argue.

Soon, the movie was up, lights dimmed, snacks passed around, and everyone was claiming their spots.

You were still on the couch beside Bucky, a shared blanket draped over both your laps. His arm was still settled comfortably behind your shoulders, fingertips just brushing your upper arm. You curled your good leg underneath you, your knee resting gently against Bucky’s thigh.

He didn’t move away.

As the opening scenes rolled, the background chatter faded, replaced by soft laughter and the sounds of popcorn crunching.

A little while into the movie, Bucky’s hand – the one not around your shoulders – shifted beneath the blanket.

Without warning, his fingers brushed lightly against your leg.

Then rested right on your thigh, just above your knee.

You froze.

Your breath caught for half a second. The contact was casual – warm and steady – but somehow it made your whole body buzz.

He didn’t look at you. Didn’t say anything. Just left his hand there, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

You tried to focus on the movie, you really did.

But your heart was pounding.

After a few moments, though, the initial jolt settled. His touch wasn’t demanding or heavy, it just was. And it grounded you, made your chest ache in the nicest way.

You exhaled slowly, eyes drifting toward the screen again.

And that’s when Sam, of course, turned from the floor, where he was sprawled on a bean bag, and narrowed his eyes.

“Hey.”

You and Bucky both looked over.

Sam pointed at the two of you under the blanket. “What’s Barnes doing under there?”

Your mouth dropped open. “Sam.”

“No, no, I’m just asking,” he said, hands raised. “Because that blanket’s suspiciously still and I’ve seen that man break necks with his pinky. You’re telling me he hasn’t moved in twenty minutes?”

Bucky, still calm, still casual, raised a brow. “I’m watching the movie.”

“Are you?” Clint chimed in from the armchair. “Because from here it looks like your hand’s on a side quest.”

The room erupted into snickering.

“Where’s the hand, Barnes?” Tony called dramatically. “We need visual confirmation.”

The room went quiet for a beat, anticipation thick in the air.

Then Bucky, without missing a beat, deadpanned, “Can’t show you. It’s classified.”

The group howled.

“BUCKY!” you gasped, smacking his chest with the back of your hand as your jaw dropped. “What is wrong with you?!”

He just shrugged, clearly proud of himself, that smug little smirk tugging at his mouth.

Clint nearly fell off his chair. “He said classified. I’m crying.”

Sam was doubled over, slapping his leg. “Is it stuck? Blink twice if you need help, y/n!”

“Oh my god,” you muttered, burying your face in Bucky’s shoulder as the laughter got louder.

Tony clapped once. “Confirmed: he’s gone full feral. I knew this day would come.”

Nat laughed into her mug. “Honestly? Kinda impressed.”

You were trying to bury your face in Bucky’s side now, half-laughing, half-horrified, your voice muffled. “You are never allowed to speak again.”

He just leaned a little closer to you, speaking so only you could hear, voice low and amused. “You’re cute when you panic.”

You turned your face toward him, still flustered but smiling now, and smacked his chest again. “Stop talking.”

The movie played on, but no one was really paying attention anymore.

Not when Bucky Barnes – Mr. Brooding himself – was cracking jokes like it was open mic night.

Finally, the room had quieted down again as the movie continued playing.

On the screen, Kat Stratford stood in front of the class, her voice trembling just slightly as she read her poem.

You felt it coming.

The tight ache in your throat. The sting behind your eyes.

You weren’t a crier, especially not in front of everyone, but something about this scene always got you, and after the whirlwind of the past few days, it hit even harder now.

You blinked rapidly, trying to be subtle, and quickly wiped at the corner of your eyes with your sleeve.

But Bucky noticed instantly.

He shifted beside you, his arm tightening gently around your shoulders. Then, without a word, he pulled back just enough to look at you – really look.

You didn’t meet his eyes.

His brows furrowed slightly in that way they always did when he was focused. Concerned. And then, softly, his hand slipped away from your thigh under the blanket and reached up.

He used the pad of his thumb to wipe a stray tear from your cheek.

You froze.

The motion was so gentle, so tender, your breath caught in your chest.

Then–

“Oh hell no,” Nat said, breaking the silence.

You flinched and turned your head just as she sat up straighter, smirking like she’d just uncovered the juiciest secret in the world.

“Did he just wipe your tear away mid-rom-com?!”

Sam leaned forward dramatically. “That’s it. He’s done for. He’s all in. That was a whole Hallmark Channel move.”

Clint clutched his chest. “We’ve reached peak softness! I REPEAT – peak softness!”

Tony made a fake crying face. “Someone get me a tissue.”

You groaned, half laughing, half mortified, and pressed your hands to your face. “I hate you all so much.”

Bucky leaned back slowly, completely unfazed. “Don’t worry,” he said calmly, “I’ll get you a tissue next time too.”

You smacked his arm with the blanket, which only made the others laugh louder.

“I’m surrounded by emotional disasters,” Steve muttered, sipping his coffee.

Wanda was grinning behind her mug. “No, Steve. You’re surrounded by love.”

As the team slowly recovered from their collective breakdown, you leaned a little more into Bucky’s side – heart still fluttering and face still warm – and whispered just for him. “Thanks.”

He didn’t say anything.

Just squeezed your shoulder a little tighter.

As the credits rolled and the soft soundtrack faded out, the common room slowly came back to life.

Sam stretched with a groan, mumbling something about needing real food. Tony announced he was “not cooking for you people,” and Clint was already halfway to the hallway, muttering about laundry. One by one, the others trickled out, Steve heading to unpack, Wanda to her room, Nat grabbing a snack before disappearing into the hall.

You stayed curled under the blanket on the couch, watching the room empty. Bucky stayed beside you, not saying anything, just running his thumb absentmindedly along your shoulder.

When the kitchen finally quieted down again, he turned to you.

“You hungry?”

You turned your head toward him, a little surprised by the question, but your stomach answered for you with a low, unmistakable growl.

Bucky smirked. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

You gave a sheepish smile. “Starving.”

He stood and held out a hand. “C’mon. Let’s make something.”

“You’re not just gonna cook for me again?” you teased, taking his hand as he helped you up.

“I mean I could, but what’s the fun in that,” he said, grinning.

You limped your way into the kitchen with him, heading straight for the fridge as he started pulling out ingredients. Bread, cheese, butter, a pan.

“We need to add garlic salt to the bread” you said, already reaching for the spice rack.

“Really?” he said, eyebrows raised.

“Yesss, it makes it 10 times better,” you said.

He grinned and opened the bread bag. “Fair enough.”

You walked over to the stove and grabbed a piece of bread out of the bag, starting to butter it, when you shifted your weight and immediately winced.

“Sit down,” he said, amused. “You’re gonna fall face-first into the skillet.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not.”

You rolled your eyes but gave in, hopping up onto the kitchen island with a slight grunt and letting your ankle dangle. “Happy?”

“Very,” he said, already back at the stove.

You helped from the island, passing him the cheese slices, sprinkling garlic salt on the bread, talking softly while he grilled everything.

When the sandwiches were cooking, Bucky stepped back from the stove and leaned against the counter for a moment. Then he turned and wandered closer – right up to where you were sitting.

He set one hand on the island beside you – not touching, but close – while you continued talking.

The conversation faded naturally, and you glanced up – suddenly realizing how close he was.

His face was just inches from yours, and his body was relaxed, but you could tell he was aware of every inch between you. Or, rather, the lack of inches.

Your heart picked up.

His gaze flicked briefly to your mouth – just for a second – and then back to your eyes.

You didn’t say anything.

Neither did he.

Then–

Ding.

The timer went off, and the skillet let out a loud sizzle at the same time.

Bucky blinked, like he’d just come out of a trance, and casually stepped back without a word, turning to grab a spatula.

You just stared at his back, trying to pull yourself together as he plated the sandwiches.

He slid your plate into your lap and handed you a water bottle from the fridge before jumping up next to you with his own plate.

The two of you ate your sandwiches right there on the counter like it was the most normal thing in the world – legs dangling, plates balanced on your laps – as your conversation continued.

“You’re telling me,” you said, chewing, “you had this level of domestic skill locked away this whole time?”

Bucky gave a small shrug. “Didn’t think it’d impress anyone.”

You snorted. “Bro, you literally wiped away my tears during a rom-com. You’re already halfway to husband of the year.”

He rolled his eyes, but there was a slight pink in his cheeks. “I’m just trying to keep the bar low so I look impressive doing the bare minimum.”

You bumped your knee gently against his. “Smart man.”

After you both finished, the plates were left beside you, and the conversation turned soft and easy, like it always did with him lately. You swung your good leg back and forth beneath the counter, while Bucky leaned back on his hands, head tilted slightly toward you as he listened.

And then, without thinking much, you said, “You know what sounds good right now?”

“What?” he asked.

You smiled. “Ice cream.”

Bucky let out a soft hum of agreement, but the topic drifted. You went right back to talking about something else and you didn’t think anything of it.

A few minutes later, Bucky stood up, walking over to the freezer.

He opened the door, rummaged around for a few seconds, then straightened up with a sigh. “Get your shoes on.”

You blinked. “What?”

He turned back to you, already reaching for his keys from the hook near the back door. “C’mon. I’m taking you to get ice cream.”

Your eyes lit up before you could stop yourself, and you tried to fight the giddy smile that came across your face. “Wait, really? No, Bucky, that’s okay. I didn’t mean–”

He tilted his head at you. “Do you want ice cream?”

You hesitated. “Well, yeah, but–”

“Then you’re getting ice cream.”

You bit your lip to hold back a smile, but couldn’t hide it. “Okay.”

You jumped off the counter onto your good leg as Bucky instinctively reached out to steady you. You walked over to the door and slid on your shoes.

“I just need to grab a jacket from my room real quick.”

But before you could take a step, Bucky reached into the hall closet, pulled something out, and turned back around – holding one of his black leather jackets in his hands.

“Nah,” he said. “You can wear one of mine.”

You looked at him, blinking. “Seriously?”

“‘Course,” he said simply, stepping closer.

He held it out for you and you slipped your arms into the sleeves. The leather was worn and soft, and immediately smelled like him – clean and familiar.

He helped adjust the shoulders, tugging it into place like he’d done it a hundred times.

“You look good in it,” he said offhandedly, but his voice had dropped just enough to make your stomach flip.

You zipped it halfway, glancing up at him. “You really didn’t have to do this, you know.”

“I wanted to,” he said, like it was the easiest thing in the world. “Let’s go get your ice cream.”

And with that, he held out his arm so you could loop yours through for balance and led you toward the elevator.

The elevator dinged softly and you stepped out, the garage cool and quiet this late in the evening.

You both walked around to the passenger side of the car and he opened the door for you, letting you get settled before he closed it and went around to the driver’s side.

You kept up the casual conversation in the car, and it wasn’t long before you pulled up outside a little corner shop, the kind of place that always smelled like waffle cones and childhood.

Inside, it was quiet, just the hum of the freezer and the soft bell over the door. He looked down at the options while you stared into the freezer, eyes wide. “Okay, I forgot how hard this part is.”

“Life-altering decisions,” Bucky said with a smirk. “Choose wisely.”

“You’re gonna judge me, aren’t you?”

“I’m definitely gonna judge you.”

You laughed and ended up pointing to your usual – something sweet and a little over-the-top with cookie chunks and brownie pieces and caramel swirl, of course. Bucky raised a brow.

“Figures,” he muttered, but he ordered it for you anyway.

He went with butter pecan, and you gave him an amused look. “That’s an old man flavor,” you said, giggling while the worker started scooping your choices.

He just side-eyed you, smile peeking through his attempt at an annoyed look. “I am old.”

You continued giggling as the worker handed you your waffle cone and Bucky pulled out his wallet.

After he paid, you grabbed a small table outside, the night air cool against your cheeks as you sat across from him.

You licked your ice cream slowly, then looked up at him. “Thanks for this.”

He shrugged like it was nothing. “Figured you deserved it.”

You gave him a soft smile. That shouldn’t have made your heart skip, but it did.

You continued eating, until a few minutes later, Bucky broke the silence.

“You’ve got…” Bucky motioned to the corner of his mouth.

You stuck out your tongue and licked it, but Bucky just chuckled, making it obvious you missed it.

He leaned forward without thinking.

“Here,” he said softly, reaching across and brushing his thumb against the corner of your lip.

Your breath caught.

His hand lingered for a second too long, eyes flicking down, just once, before he pulled away.

“Got it,” he murmured.

You tried to focus on your ice cream, but you could feel the heat in your face and the rapid beating of your heart like it was trying to break through your ribcage.

When you looked up at him again, he was already watching you.

The moment stretched.

And just like earlier, he didn’t push it.

He finally leaned back in his chair, taking another bite, and said, “so…what’s next after ice cream? You wanna rob a bank or just head back?”

You laughed, grateful for the shift but still feeling that tension humming under your skin.

“Let’s save the bank robbery for our second date.”

He paused for a half-second, then smiled. “Noted.”

On the ride back to the compound, you settled into easy conversation again, still teasing Bucky about his old-man ice cream flavor. When he parked the car and you both got out, you automatically linked your arm through his as you walked to the elevator and got in.

When the elevator doors slid open, you both stepped off laughing, still linked at the arms, walking close like you didn’t even realize how naturally it was happening now.

Bucky was giving you that boyish, slightly smug smile he only gave you, when you rounded the corner into the kitchen where Nat and Wanda were pulling ingredients out of the pantry.

They both looked up at the sound of your laughter.

Nat’s eyes flicked from you to Bucky, taking in the jacket, the linked arms, the flushed cheeks.

Wanda didn’t even try to hide her smirk.

“Wow,” Nat said, closing the pantry door. “Look who came strolling in like they just got back from a rom-com montage.”

Wanda nudged her and grinned. “And in his jacket, no less. Very subtle.”

You laughed softly and gave Bucky a look like see what I have to deal with? “We just went for ice cream.”

“Of course you did,” Wanda said, amused but kind. “Was it good?”

“The best,” Bucky answered easily, eyes on you for a second too long.

Nat raised a brow but didn’t push it – for once. “We’re about to make cookies. You in?”

“Ooooh, yes,” you said. You turned toward Bucky, expecting him to stay, but Nat stepped in quickly with a smirk.

“Sorry, Barnes. This is girls only.”

Bucky chuckled, totally unbothered. “Fair enough.”

You just laughed as you slipped your arm out of his. As he started to walk away, he gave you one last look, warm and lingering. “See ya, doll.”

You smiled. “See ya.”

He turned and walked off, hands in his pockets, still smiling to himself.

As soon as he disappeared down the hall, you started slipping off his jacket, and before you could even get one arm free, the girls jumped in.

“Oh my god,” Nat said, grinning. “You’re so in love.”

Wanda leaned against the counter, hands clasped. “He wiped your tears and gave you his jacket? You two really are straight out of a rom-com.”

You gave them a look, trying not to blush. “You’re being so dramatic.”

“You’re lucky we’re being nice tonight,” Nat teased, taking the jacket and hanging it over a chair for you. “A few weeks ago we would’ve sent a photo to the entire group chat with a ‘look who’s in love’ caption.”

“She still might,” Wanda added with a shrug.

You just shook your head, cheeks warm, but you were smiling too.

You walked over and joined Nat and Wanda at the kitchen island, ingredients spread out across the counter. You all settled into a steady rhythm of measuring and dumping them into the bowl as you talked, soft music playing in the background from Wanda’s phone. It was easy and comforting, the kind of energy you didn’t realize you needed.

Wanda handed you a spoon and sighed. “You’re on stirring duty now,” she said. “My arm’s about to fall off.”

You took it, and as you stirred the thick dough, Nat leaned against the counter beside you and gave you a look.

“So,” she said casually, brushing flour off her hands. “You and Bucky.”

You froze for just a second before looking up at her. “Oh boy.”

Wanda smiled gently and bumped your arm with hers. “Don’t worry, we’re not gonna ambush you. We’re just…curious.”

Nat raised an eyebrow. “It’s happening fast, huh?”

You looked down at the dough for a second, then nodded. “Yeah. I mean…I didn’t expect it. Any of it.”

Wanda leaned her elbows on the counter, chin in her hands. “But you’re not freaking out?”

You let out a quiet laugh. “No. That’s the weird part. It should feel like too much too fast, but it doesn’t. It just feels…easy. Like he was always supposed to be part of my life, and I just didn’t realize it until now.”

Both of them went still and quiet for a beat, so you glanced up.

Wanda looked like her heart had just melted.

Nat blinked once. “Wow. Okay. You’re in deep.”

“I know,” you groaned, dropping your head onto your arm on the counter. “It’s embarrassing.”

“It’s adorable,” Wanda said firmly.

Nat crossed her arms, but her smirk had softened. “You know, for a guy who used to look like he wanted to murder everyone who made eye contact, he’s been grinning like a golden retriever every time you’re together.”

You peeked up from your arm. “Really?”

Wanda nodded. “Like, disgustingly soft.”

“Gross,” Nat muttered. “But also…kind of sweet.”

You sat up a little straighter, a little less panicked now. “You really think he feels the same?”

Wanda smiled, eyes warm. “We know he does.”

Nat grinned and bumped your hip with hers. “And if he doesn’t make a move soon, we’ll force him to.”

You just laughed, heart full and cheeks warm as you continued to stir the dough.

When you were done, you each started rolling the cookie dough, placing them on a baking sheet as the conversation drifted to something else before popping them into the oven.

The first batch of cookies came out golden and warm, filling the kitchen with that perfect, rich smell of sugar and melted chocolate. Nat wasted no time breaking one apart, the chocolate still gooey in the middle, and popped half into her mouth with a satisfied hum.

“Okay,” she said with her mouth full, “we actually nailed it.”

Wanda grinned and grabbed one of her own. “We’re unstoppable.”

You took a bite of yours and immediately closed your eyes. “Oh my god. These are so good.”

The three of you stood at the counter, nibbling on cookies straight from the tray with chocolate smudges on your fingers, laughing in between bites.

Eventually, Wanda grabbed a cloth and started wiping the counter while Nat began stacking mixing bowls in the sink.

“You should take some to Bucky,” Wanda said casually, glancing over her shoulder.

You blinked. “What?”

Nat smirked, not even looking up from the bowl she was rinsing. “You know. Thank him for the ice cream. Offer a peace cookie. Maybe kiss him a little.”

You groaned, rolling your eyes as you started gathering up dishes and taking them to the sink. “You guys are obsessed.”

Wanda shrugged, very unbothered. “We just support love.”

Nat turned around, still smirking at you. “You’re the one who walked in here in his jacket, glowing like you just got kissed under a streetlamp in a rom-com, and we’re the obsessed ones?”

“I’m just taking him some cookies,” you said, grabbing a plate and stacking a few still-warm ones on it. “That’s all.”

“Uh-huh,” they said in unison.

You gave them both a pointed look, but your smile gave you away. “You guys are ridiculous.”

“We know,” Wanda said sweetly.

Nat just pointed toward the hallway. “Go on, don’t keep him waiting.”

You shook your head with a soft laugh and made your way out of the kitchen. Behind you, you could still hear them giggling as you disappeared down the hall.

When you got to his room, the door was slightly cracked, light spilling into the hall in a soft glow.

You nudged it open with your foot and leaned in. “Hey.”

Bucky looked up from where he was sitting on his bed, phone in hand, and the second he saw you, his whole face lit up.

“Hey. You brought cookies?” he asked, already standing and making his way toward you. “They smell so good.”

You held out the plate with a smile. “Courtesy of girls’ night.”

He took the plate carefully, his eyes never leaving yours. “I wondered whether or not I would get to taste-test.”

Then, gently, his free hand settled on your lower back as he guided you into the room.

“C’mon, sit,” he said softly, helping you over to his bed.

You walked over to his bed and plopped down, wincing when the pressure was finally off your ankle. You didn’t realize how sore it was until now.

Bucky didn’t miss a beat.

He set the plate down on the nightstand, gave you a quick glance, and without a word, crossed to the little mini fridge in the corner of his room.

He pulled out a small ice pack, walked back over, and knelt down in front of you, gently lifting your leg and setting the cold pack on your ankle.

You blinked at him. “I didn’t even say anything.”

“You didn’t have to,” he said, not looking up as he adjusted the angle. “You’ve been walking around on it all day. I knew it would catch up to you.”

Your heart squeezed in your chest.

He sat down next to you, close but comfortable, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Then he picked up the plate again, offering you the first cookie with a soft smile.

You took it as he grabbed one for himself and leaned over and grabbed the remote.

“What are we watching?” you asked as you took a bite.

“I don’t care,” he said, pressing the power button. “You can choose.”

You just hummed and reached your hand out while he immediately set the remote in it. You scrolled through some options before deciding on a comedy movie you’d seen a million times and handing the remote back to him.

“Never seen this one,” he said, taking another bite of his cookie.

“Oh, it’s so funny, you’re gonna love it,” you responded, smiling up at him.

You sat in silence as the movie started, sitting shoulder to shoulder and snacking on the cookies, laughing together after almost every scene.

You swore to yourself you were actually going to stay awake, wanting to see his reactions to all the funniest scenes, but as you were nearing the end of the movie, you could feel yourself drifting off.

You shifted slightly, your good leg brushing his, and let out the softest little sigh. “M’falling asleep,” you murmured, voice barely audible.

Bucky glanced down, smiling as he saw your eyes flutter shut.

“I figured,” he whispered, his voice low, gentle. “You’ve had a big day.”

You just hummed in response as you felt Bucky’s arm go around you, pulling you closer to him.

And just before you slipped completely into sleep, you felt it–

The soft press of his lips on your forehead.

Barely there, but real, warm.

And the last thing you heard was his quiet voice near your hair.

“Sweet dreams, doll.”

--

Part 9 | Masterlist

Tag list: @ordelixx @read-just-cant-stop @erinallene @crazycleo @magnoliamermaid @thewriters64 @nelachu2423 @kjah97 @awesompawsum @winchestert101 @buckyb-stan @crazyunsexycool @buckysmetalgoddamnarm @buckybarnesfic @ozwriterchick @multiversefanfics @blavikennbutcher @mysoggywaffle @nameless-ken @starfly-nicole @440mxs-wife @vicmc624 @lostinspace33 @prettylittlepluviophile @softpia @maryevm @glossy01 @ye-olde-trash-panda @bonnyclydecat

[jinxificada]

friendly sleepover

bf!jinx x bf!reader

summary: in the nature of your friendship, neck kisses are just the smallest of love expression.

notes: nsfw, modern au. wc 2k. no proofread bc if i do i wouldn’t even publish it 😆😆🫶🏼 enjoy

🃜🃚🃖🃁🂭🂺

jinx opened the door as soon as she heard your knocking. she welcomed you with messy hair and the smudged makeup she's been wearing all day.

"finally!" she pulled your hand, quickly guiding you to her room. "i was starting to think you were going to stand me up!" she dramatized, helping you strip off your backpack. it was late at night, almost 10pm, when you were supposed to arrive at about 8:30.

"sorry! i messaged you but i didn't have any service." you excused yourself as you made yourself comfortable in the familiar place. the dark gray walls filled with graffiti and metal bands posters gave you a sense of comfort, a sharp contrast to the intimidation from the first time you had come over. "i missed the bus and had to wait for the next one. but i brought the snacks!"

"excuses, excuses." she muttered playfully, throwing herself on her half-made bed, lots of pillows and blankets already occupying 70% of the space. "ok, i believe you. but you better have brought those gummy candies i asked for, though!"

you only hummed, barging in your backpack to find two small bags. you throw at her the gummies, followed by a couple of other snacks. jinx snickered, mouth soon full of sweets as you stripped off your street clothes. her eyes lingered on your form until you hid it with an oversized shirt you usually bring to sleep in. you didn't mind putting on shorts like her, being a hot summer night.

you sighed as you crawled into the bed, laying next to her. "i wanna watch a movie." jinx rolled her eyes, yawning while handing you the remote of the mid sized tv she luckily had in her bedroom. "stop yawning! don't you dare to fall asleep." you threatened with a frown.

"how could i? i'm way too excited to do anything with you." she intended to tease you, but it came out more suggestive than she anticipated. she mentally facepalmed herself, quickly speaking again. "but toots! your movies are boring."

"shut up, i have the perfect movie." you smirked, scrolling for a bit until you finally found what you were looking for.

"robots? seriously?"

"you'll like it! my baby brother made me watch it the other day, it's fun."

jinx groaned but quickly ended her small whim, focusing on the candy more than the movie. she honestly didn't really care, as long as she's with you.

both of you were around sixteen years old when you moved to her small town, accidentally stealing her private hang out spot under the old stairs at school. she quickly took a liking to you, interested in your sudden arrival and relaxed demeanor. besides your great sense of style and your pretty smile, or the softness of your hair, or the way you matched her physical love language and you silently reassured how much you like her presence with light touches. soft tugging at the edge of her shirt, tangling your arms while you walk side by side, resting your hands on her legs when she comfortably puts them across your lap, maybe even doing it yourself.

the movie barely started when you cuddled up next to her, opening your own snacks while you asked: “where’s your dad, by the way?”

“he’s out… he said he’ll be staying late at work tonight. dunno why, but at least we have the house for ourselves.” she said, looking at you for a moment before returning her gaze at the tv screen.

“yeah, this is better.” you contently rubbed your cheek on her shoulder.

“geez–” she huffed in feigned annoyance to hide the light blush, “you’re awfully touchy today…”

you react frowning, “i dunno what’re you talking about.” her call out doesn’t stop you, staying pressed by her side. “it’s just…” your voice wandering off caught her attention, tilting her head at you.

“what? what is it?”

you groaned quietly, reluctantly pulling away from her to grab your phone. now it was her face hovering over your shoulder, looking at your fingers opening instagram and your chat with ekko.

ugh, ekko.

jinx already had an idea of what got you in a bad mood, you two hated each other’s guts since the very first moment you befriended jinx. it wasn’t a mystery, jinx and ekko were former childhood friends. growing up, ekko developed a sweet crush on jinx.

too bad she didn’t reciprocate.

but even after rejecting him, he still thought he had a chance. his subtle insistence was the cause that made her blow him off completely. ekko simply couldn’t understand it, so he blamed you.

sadly you all shared the same group of friends, the hangouts filled with bickering and a slight tense air between the three of you. it was also common for ekko to reply to your instagram stories with unnecessary comments about you and your posts.

this time he replied to a picture of you and jinx earlier that day, when you spent your afternoon by the lake. it was a cute selfie, both of you with wet hair and pretty matching bikinis.

< you two look pretty close for only being best friends. > he said.

jinx stared at the chat with furrowed eyebrows, she was confused. is that it? that was enough to get on your nerves? of course you were close— what is wrong with that? aren’t best friends allowed to hang out all the time and post pictures together?

her mind wandered off briefly. she was conscious that maybe, just maybe, the line of your relationship was a bit blurred. she thought about her own comments under your pictures, a clear display of possession in every word, even only with emojis. she thought about the way you hug her from behind anytime you could.

she didn’t even have to go that far in her memory. that very same day, at the lake, what was supposed to be a friendly hangout seemed —and felt— more like a date.

she could still feel the warmth and weight of your body on her back when she playfully carried you around in the water. your hands untangling her long wet hair while she comfortably sat in between your legs. your quiet sighs of pleasure when she massaged your back as she applied sunscreen—

“jinx.” you snapped her out of her short trance. “did you hear me?”

“huh? sorry, what did you say?”

“i was complaining. like— what is his problem? i swear he will explode out of jealousy.” you grumpily muttered, laying your head back to rest on her shoulder. jinx buried her nose in the crook of your neck, it was only natural.

“i don’t know why you let him get under your skin, you don’t have to worry about him.” she tried to reassure you, punctuating her statement with a gentle kiss on your neck. “you’re the one in my arms, after all.”

you mindlessly hummed, relaxing on her arms. “i know, i know… he’s down bad for you. and not only him! my fingers aren’t enough to count all the people feening over you.” jinx snickered, listening to your jealous bragging as she placed butterfly kisses on the side of you neck. she felt you tilting your head to the other side, welcoming her affection. “every time we go out you have at least three boys asking for your number. your followers grow like two digits every day.”

“hm. i do have my user on a lot of walls, though.”

“not the point. i should just lock you up here by now.”

the feeling of your soft skin under her lips was making her dizzy. she didn’t understand how you could act so nonchalant when she was trying to mark you. maybe she was being too subtle.

“that’s so boring,” jinx groaned, sighing through her nose as she placed her chin on your shoulder to glance at you. oh— your cheeks were flushed. the slight tint of pink suddenly encouraged her. “how would you keep me entertained, hm?”

you took a long, deep breath. the possibilities were endless, hundreds of scenarios flowing through your mind in half a second. preparing your answer, you turned slightly to meet her eyes. is then when you noticed she stopped her ministrations.

an unamused small frown appears on your face, “i’ll bring you books.”

her face twisted into a pout as she pulled away from her neck. she raised an eyebrow at her response, “books? you’re gonna lock me up and expect me to stay occupied reading all day?"

“what else d’you want?” you raise an eyebrow, pressing into her chest as you laid back. now it was your turn to rub your cheek on her neck, easily reaching the soft edge of her jawline with your lips. ”your little trinkets and gadgets?”

jinx’s arms tightened their grip around your waist, pulling you closer against her. "i mean... those would be nice too..." she tried to maintain her casual tone, but the feeling of your lips against her skin was making it difficult to keep her composure. "but I'll need something else to entertain me..."

“so greedy…” you murmured, tapping the other side of her cheek to make her turn towards you.

her eyes meet yours for a brief moment before you mindlessly took her lips in a gentle, yet deep kiss.

a soft gasp escaped her lips when your mouth captured hers. for a few seconds, jinx was stunned by the sudden kiss, but she quickly gave in, melting against you. her arms enveloped your body completely, holding you close as she deepened the kiss.

she was greedy, alright. she wanted more and more, she couldn't get enough of your touch. the calm pace of the kiss warmed up her chest, you moved so naturally that it didn’t feel like your first kiss. yet the taste and feeling of your lips sent shivers down her spine, she could hear the imaginary fireworks and standing ovations.

when your fingers tangled in the hair on the back of her hair, a low satisfied hum escaped jinx’s lips.

the kiss was intoxicating, like a drug she couldn't get enough of. jinx's fingers traced the contour of your body, exploring every inch of your skin as she continued to kiss you with a growing intensity. it wasn’t long until things got messier, her tongue pushed past your lips as her hands started to confidently wander around, slipping under your shirt.

her cold hands on your stomach made you flinch, breaking the kiss with a quiet gasp followed by a giggle. “you’re freezing.”

“hm, you don’t like it?” she smirked, purposefully caressing up and down, almost reaching the underside of your naked breasts.

it should be strange, unnatural. but neither of you felt that way, it was more like… an improvement. the only proof of the fact that it was the first time you acted on your feelings was the raw hunger, the primal need to possess the other.

the steamy make out was only interrupted to change positions. now jinx straddles your lap with her milky thighs pressed tightly against either side of your hips. it was impossible to stop herself from grinding into you, and so was impossible to shut the small whimpers coming from her throat.

they grew louder and desperate when your lips attacked her neck, nibbling the skin. “feels good, jinx?” you whispered softly, combing the harsh graze of your teeth with open-mouthed kisses.

she continued to grind with increased fervor, clearly chasing the delicious friction of your bottom against her pussy. if she moved right, it was her clit receiving the pressure, making her squirm and moan messily.

“yeah— yes, feels s’good.”

your hand sneaked down into her loose shorts, a strained gasp escaped her mouth as her hips twitched against your touch. next thing she knows, her insides squeezed your fingers as she eagerly jumped on you. the heat that was building on her lower abdomen grew exponentially, jinx was sure that her release was close.

her body moved against your fingers more desperately, more frantically. she was on the edge, the need for a stronger connection was overwhelming her. "i-i’m so close," she managed to gasp out, her body tense, coiled like a spring ready to snap.

her body trembled, her muscles clenched, her breath catching in her throat as her release washed over her, a wave of pleasure and heat overwhelming her senses. she cried, her hips bucking against your hand involuntarily as she rode the wave of pleasure, your name a soft, shaky moan on her lips.

even after she relaxed her body, your fingers gathered up her cum and teasingly rubbed her clit with her wetness, enjoying the way her body shivered and squirmed to the overstimulation.

“ngh— too sensitive.” she protested in a soft whine. you chuckled quietly, deciding to be merciful.

“that was so hot…” you sighed dreamily, hugging her boneless body when her head fell to your neck. “this enough to keep you entertained?”

“fuck you,” she huffed, though you could feel the big smile that formed on her lips. “you could always just mark me up.”

[wordsofwhimsy]

❀ꗥ～𝐁𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭, 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐬𝐨𝐧 ～ꗥ❀

❀ꗥ～ Part Nine ～ꗥ❀

Pairing: Main!Mark Grayson x Southern Belle!Reader

Warnings: None

Tags: Fluff, so good, so sweet, I love them so much

Word Count: 3,561

Synopsis: After your trip to Georgia, Mark is living on cloud nine. He never thought he could be this happy – and it takes an off world mission for him to realize he can’t risk going the rest of his life without knowing you’ll be there when he comes home.

a/n: this turned out better than the original version i had written out & i’m sooo happy with it. MARK DESERVES HAPPINESS DAMMIT

read part eight ❀ꗥ～Here! ～ꗥ❀

It had been a couple weeks since the trip to Georgia, and Mark still couldn’t stop replaying it in his head.

Not just the peach cobbler or the porch swings or the way your mama had hugged him like she’d known him in a past life. Not just your brothers giving him a hard time at the dinner table, or your daddy watching with quiet eyes that said I see you, boy, and I’m lookin’ close.

No—it was you.

It was you in that sundress, swaying your hips in the kitchen while you helped your mama make breakfast like it was muscle memory. It was the way you looked at him across the yard, your hair caught in the breeze as you smiled all soft and shy like you didn’t know you’d stolen his heart from the beginning.

He didn’t fall in love with you in Georgia. He’d done that a long time ago.

But something did shift out there—some invisible string between you two tightening, cinching close, like the universe had finally stopped messing around and said this is it. This is your girl.

Mark had never been happier.

He felt like he was living in a waking dream. From the second he opened his eyes to the second he closed them, you were there. Not always physically—though you often were, curled up beside him with your cheek pressed to his chest and your hand tucked beneath his—but always present. Always lingering.

In the way his mind wandered mid-mission. In the scent of your perfume clinging to his shirt. In the ache he felt when he thought about the future and couldn’t picture a single version that didn’t include you.

Every time he left your side—even for a grocery run or a patrol shift—it felt wrong. Like he’d left the best part of himself behind.

And now, standing in a spaceship headed to a planet lightyears from Earth, Mark felt that wrongness in his bones.

He should be home. He should be with you. Sitting on the porch. Watching the sky. Listening to you complain about the mosquitoes like they were created just to ruin your life.

He should’ve kissed you one more time before he left.

Should’ve told you—really told you—just how hard he’d fallen.

Because somewhere between that first class senior year and the moment you pulled him into your childhood bedroom and whispered his name like it meant something… Mark had stopped imagining a future without you.

How could he now be expected to pay attention to the this droning voice go on about an alien debrief?

Some alien diplomat was rattling off intel about the mission—cultural norms, local customs, planetary terrain, and what not to do if they didn’t want to spark an intergalactic incident. It was all very important. Very official.

Mark caught maybe… seven percent of it.

He knew the basics: they were flying into a neutral sector to assist with an evacuation. He’d been brought on mostly for a show of strength, as usual—flex the muscle, give the impression that Earth wasn’t sending pushovers. And if things did go sideways? Well, that was when he’d be really useful.

Until then, he was just supposed to sit there. Look sharp. Absorb information.

He was doing a piss-poor job of it.

Because instead of alien terrain and potential conflict zones, all Mark could picture was you.

His head tilted slightly, lips parted, eyes blank and faraway as a single memory looped in his mind like some slow-spinning record.

You on the porch.

Hair still a little damp from your evening shower, tied up with one of those soft little scarves you always wore to bed. You were barefoot, of course—always were on that porch—and dressed in one of those sleep gowns you liked, the kind made of thin cotton with a row of tiny buttons down the front and lace along the neckline. It hit just above your knees and swayed when you walked, all soft and easy, like moonlight in motion.

Mark had no business staring the way he did—but God, you were pretty. Prettier than the stars. Prettier than anything he was about to fly off toward.

You were watering the flowerboxes with your little tin can, humming something under your breath. Barely even looked at him as he floated down from the sky, boots landing softly in the dirt path that ran along your fence.

“You back just to say goodbye again?” you’d teased, glancing over your shoulder with a grin that could’ve lassoed the moon.

He nodded, stepping closer.

“Mmhmm. Forgot my second goodbye kiss.”

You set the watering can down with a clink, walked over to him like he was just your man coming home from work and not someone about to rocket across the stars.

“I gotta tell ya baby,” you murmured, arms sliding around his neck, “someone’s getting awful greedy with their sugar.”

He kissed you like he wasn’t leaving. Like you were the only thing he ever had to do. Which, maybe, you were.

And when you pulled back—eyes bright, lips glossed with just a hint of his saliva—you tapped his chest lightly with your fingernail and said,

“Bring me back somethin’ weird—nothin’ illegal now. Just somethin’ shiny. And make sure it ain’t livin' neiher.”

He smiled even now, remembering it. The way you said it so breezy, like you weren’t worried at all. Like your heart wasn’t wrapped up in his ribs same as his was in yours.

“Ain't livin',” he echoed under his breath, mouth twitching into a half-smile.

God, he missed you.

—

They made landfall mid-morning, local time.

Mark stepped off the ship and into a haze of pale blue mist, the ground beneath him firm and spongy all at once—like walking across a memory. The sky above shimmered with soft clouds and hanging lights, the capital city blooming around them in quiet layers of movement. Not chaotic, not flashy. Just steady and strange and alive.

He was still mostly tuned out, but trying real hard not to be. Someone was speaking into his earpiece, explaining cultural expectations—how to greet the local leaders, which gestures were considered rude, what colors meant what. Mark nodded politely, taking it in where he could.

He wasn’t much help on the technical side of missions. Never had been. He wasn’t the planner, the strategist, the linguist. He was the muscle. The presence. The just-in-case. Half the time they brought him along just because he could take a hit no one else could and throw one even harder.

But he still paid attention. Still showed respect. Because his mom had raised him better than to tune out someone who was taking the time to talk to him.

So he kept nodding, following along, even as his mind drifted in and out. Not out of boredom. Just…

God, he really really missed you.

And that's when he saw it.

Tucked between two towering columns, draped in hanging vines that glowed faintly with movement, was a small vendor stall. Nothing fancy. Just a cloth canopy, a few low tables, and trays full of glimmering trinkets laid out like sea glass on sand.

And right in the middle of it all—there it was.

A ring.

Mark took a slow step forward.

His boots barely made a sound on the strange mossy path as he approached the stall. The rest of the diplomatic group moved on without noticing, voices fading into background noise. He didn’t care. Couldn’t.

He stopped just shy of the table, eyes locked on the ring like it might vanish if he looked away.

The vendor noticed him instantly.

They were small and soft-bodied, skin like polished jade, eyes dark and deep-set. Four arms moved in rhythmic calm as they adjusted trinkets and nodded in polite greeting.

“May I help you, traveler?” they asked, voice silky-smooth through the translator chip in his ear.

Mark hesitated, then pointed—not at the table broadly, but directly at it.

“That ring,” he said. “What is it?”

The vendor followed his gaze and gave the softest little hum, like wind moving through glass.

“Ah,” they said. “You see it.”

That gave him pause. “See what?”

“The bond,” the vendor replied. They reached for the ring with careful fingers and lifted it, cradling it in a small satin cloth before offering it for a closer look. “This was crafted on the moon of Arvalis, centuries ago. Their artisans do not forge with heat, but with harmony. Two metals wound together only when they vibrate in perfect resonance. No force. No binding. Only balance.”

Mark’s brows pulled together. “So it’s… symbolic?”

“It’s alive,” they said gently. “Not sentient, not in the way you or I are. But sensitive. Resonant. The stone at its center—virellium—reacts to the presence of emotional frequency. If it shines, the love is true. If it glows warmer, it is shared.”

Mark stared down at it.

The band was pale gold, soft and warm, twisted like two strands braided into one. The stone shimmered faintly, like sunlight through honey. And when he reached toward it, just barely brushing a fingertip against the edge of the satin cloth—

It pulsed.

Barely. Just a flicker of warmth. Like a heartbeat in the quiet.

Mark swallowed dryly. “Does that… mean something?”

The vendor’s smile was kind. “It means you are sure.”

Mark’s throat felt thick. “…I didn’t come here to get a ring.”

“Few do,” they replied. “But the bond calls when the soul is ready.”

Mark nodded slowly, gaze fixed on the tiny, glowing thing in front of him. It wasn’t just beautiful. It felt right. Like it already belonged to you. Like it had been waiting for him to find it and take it home.

He didn’t ask the price.

Didn’t even blink as he pulled out the currency chip and held it out.

The vendor accepted it with a bow. “May your union be eternal.”

Mark stared at the ring in his palm. And for the first time in his life, he wanted something more than strength. More than purpose. More than victory.

He wanted you. Forever.

—

Mark sat in the back of the ship on the way home, staring down at the piece of jewelry in his palm like it might start talking back.

He’d gone over what he wanted to say at least fifty times now.

“You’re my home.” No. Too vague.

“I’ve loved you since AP Bio.” Probably not the best – you might start thinking you were the reason he flubbed that class.

“Will you marry me?” Too fast. Too formal. Too not you.

He ran a hand through his hair and groaned softly, tilting his head back against the cold interior of the ship and shutting his eyes. Every version he tried sounded wrong. Too stiff. Too poetic. Too desperate. Too much.

And yet—not enough.

He wanted to get it right.

Not because he thought you needed some grand performance. Not because you were the kind of girl who needed sweeping declarations.

But because you deserved one anyway.

Because you made him want to speak in full sentences and not trip over his own heart.

Because he didn’t just want to ask you. He wanted you to know. Know what you were to him. Know what this meant.

He opened his eyes again, glancing down at the ring.

It glowed faintly in the low light. Warmer now. Like it had caught the edge of a thought and curled itself tighter in response.

“…She’s gonna kill me,” he murmured, almost fondly, “if she finds out this thing’s technically alive.”

“Romantic and potentially dangerous! Classic Earth bonding ritual!”

Mark jolted upright, nearly dropping the ring.

Shapesmith was leaning over the seat across from him with a theatrical flourish, arms wide like he was announcing the third act of a play.

“Jeez—How long have you been there?”

Shapesmith gave a knowing little smile, one hand pressed to his chest like he’d just witnessed a love confession in a soap opera. “Long enough to sense a powerful emotional climax in progress.”

“…It’s not a climax.”

“I humbly disagree,” he said, gesturing grandly at the ring. “The trembling hands, the brooding silence, the artifact of eternal union clutched dramatically in your lap—Invincible, my friend, this is textbook longing.”

Mark sighed, laughing despite himself. “It’s a bonding ring. Glows when there’s, y’know… love.”

Shapesmith gasped. “It’s sentient?!”

“Not—well, not really. It’s just reactive.” He tucked the ring back against his suit. “I’m gonna propose.”

Shapesmith’s face split into the most genuine grin Mark had ever seen on someone not born on Earth.

“Oh! OH. That’s wonderful! You’re to be mated!” He paused. “Or—married. That’s the word now. I’m working on it.”

Mark smirked. “Yeah, well… if I can stop messing up the speech part.”

Shapesmith leaned closer, tone suddenly sincere. “She loves you, doesn’t she?”

Mark didn’t hesitate. “Yeah.”

“Then speak like she already said yes.”

Mark stilled, suddenly feeling like the small piece of alien metal was getting warmer from where it was tucked away against his chest.

“Thanks, man,” he said quietly.

Shapesmith nodded solemnly, placing a dramatic hand on his shoulder. “May your courtship be legendary.”

—

By the time the ship broke atmosphere, the sky had already darkened.

Mark didn’t wait for formal clearance. Didn’t bother changing out of his suit. The moment they got within a hundred miles of Earth, he was gone—cutting through clouds, his heart racing faster than his flight path.

He touched down just past the edge of the gravel drive, the soft crunch beneath his boots swallowed up by the windchimes. The porch light was still on, casting its familiar glow across the little white farmhouse—the same one that looked like it belonged in another decade. Quiet. Private. Yours.

He’d told you once, half-laughing, “I didn’t even know places like this existed around here.”

You’d just smiled and said, “Well, now you do.”

Tonight, it felt like the only place in the world.

God, he hoped you were still awake.

The windows were dark. No movement. No voices. Just windchimes clinking lazily in the breeze, crickets chirping in the distance.

He lingered there at the edge of the gravel, boots sunk just slightly into the dirt, unsure if he should go knocking or just sit tight with the ring burning a hole in his chest.

Then he heard that familiar creak of the screen door.

His head snapped up.

And there you were.

Barefoot, nightgown catching the breeze, hair loose and soft around your shoulders like you’d just brushed it out. You looked like summer twilight—like a daydream half-forgotten and sweetened by time.

You spotted him immediately and leaned your hip against the doorframe, arms folded, grinning like he was late for dinner.

“Well if it ain’t my personal Wonderboy,” you called, voice warm and teasing. “Took your sweet time gettin’ home, huh?”

Mark’s breath caught.

God, you looked like everything. That porch. That voice. That nightgown. The way your silhouette framed against the glow of the house like he’d stepped into some dream he hadn’t dared ask for.

His throat tightened unexpectedly, and for a second—just a second—his vision blurred.

Not from speed. Not from altitude.

From you.

He blinked fast, grateful for the cover of darkness. Grateful you couldn’t see the way his eyes welled up out here in the yard, how hard he was gripping the ring against his chest just to keep from falling apart.

You gave a little shake of your head, eyes softening.

“Didn’t expect you back so soon,” you said, stepping onto the porch. “If I had, I’da made sure to have a plate ready for you.”

Mark swallowed hard.

She doesn’t even know, he thought. Doesn’t even realize I’d fly through stars just to hear her say that.

He took shaky steps up the porch, and before you could say another word—before he lost his nerve—he dropped to one knee onto the old creaking wood, love swelling so hard in his chest it hurt.

You gasped, one hand flying to your mouth, the other over your heart. Your whole body went still, eyes wide as saucers, voice barely above a whisper.

“Sug, what are you doin’?!” You weren’t teasing. Weren’t joking. You sounded almost breathless. Like someone had just knocked the wind right out of you.

Mark could barely get the ring out of the little flap in his suit where he’d tucked it away, but his fingers knew what they were doing even when his brain shorted out.

He looked up at you, the ring in his palm glowing brighter than he’d ever seen it—like it knew this was the moment.

You didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. Nightgown swaying gently in the breeze as you stood there like a painting come to life, eyes shining under the porchlight.

Mark swallowed.

“I’ve loved you since the day you sat next to me in class and handed me candy like you’d known me forever.” Your heart seized tight in your chest, a clamminess setting into your palms. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since.”

His voice cracked, and he blinked quickly, swallowing hard.

“The whole time I was gone, I was picturing you right here. On this swing. Reading one of your books. Talking to Meemaw about the weather, complaining about mosquitoes or how the tomatoes ‘ain’t ripenin’ right.’”

You let out a soft little laugh, watery and stunned.

Mark kept going, voice picking up with that classic rambling momentum, like once he started he couldn’t stop.

“I wondered if you were okay. If you were eating. If you missed me. I tried to focus, I really did, but every meal tasted like crap ‘cause all I could think was how you’d have made it better. Like—literally, you’ve ruined me. I can’t eat anything anymore unless it comes outta your kitchen.”

That pulled another breathy laugh from you, and you shook your head, lashes fluttering fast.

“And I kept thinking about your voice,” he said, “how it sounds when you say good morning to me, already dressed like a postcard before I even open my eyes. Like—your hair’s done, makeup’s perfect, wearing one of those little dresses that makes me lose my mind—and I’m just sitting there wondering how do you do that?”

He laughed softly, gaze warm.

“I’ve never once beat you out of bed. Not once. But I swear, even if I did—you’d still look like a dream.”

You were grinning now. Teary-eyed, stunned, but that signature little smile still crept across your lips like it couldn’t help itself.

“You goin’ somewhere with this, baby?” you asked gently, wiping at your cheek with one hand.

Mark exhaled a shaky laugh, heart damn near bursting.

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I am.”

He lifted the ring.

“Marry me.”

Your hand trembled with how it pressed harder over your mouth, as if you could hold back the onslaught of feelings threatening to overtake you.

“Markus Sebastian Grayson…” you whispered, barely audible.

The sound of his full name—dripping off your lips like honey—made something twist sharp in his chest.

He was smiling, but it was tight. Strained. His brows pulled together like he was bracing for impact. Like the silence between you had teeth.

And then you moved.

Carefully. Slowly. Sinking to your knees in front of him with a softness so deliberate it made him scared. Like you were trying to let him down easy.

His heart plummeted.

Oh God. Oh God.

She’s gonna let me down sweet. She’s gonna take my hand and kiss my cheek and tell me I’m her favorite person, but not the one.

He stared at you, ring still held out in shaky fingers, eyes starting to blur again.

But then—

Your hands rose.

Not to push him away. Not to stop him.

But to cradle his face like it was something precious.

Your thumbs brushed under his eyes, catching the tears he didn’t even know were falling.

“Sug,” you breathed, voice breaking on a laugh, “you coulda asked me with a gum wrapper and a piece of twine and I’d still say yes.”

And just like that—his whole body slumped forward, heart crashing into yours like a wave.

You smiled through your tears, eyes so full of light you practically glowed.

“Yes,” you said. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

He didn’t even have the chance to put the ring on your finger before you were kissing him—deep and breathless and a little messy, arms wrapped tight around his shoulders. His hands found your waist, your back, your face—like he couldn’t decide what part of you he missed the most.

When you finally pulled back, cheeks flushed and lips trembling, he leaned his forehead against yours.

“You sure?” he whispered.

You let out the softest laugh, hands still cradling his face.

“I been sure since the moment you tried to kiss my hand in AP Bio, bless your heart.”

And with that, he kissed you again.

Long and sweet, while the wind picked up and the porch swing creaked and the world spun a little slower—just for the two of you.

[antinousletmehit]

˚₊‧꒰ა Chapter 16 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

୨୧┇Pairing: Telemachus x fem!reader

୨୧┇notes: WRITTEN PRE-ITHACA SAGA. Don’t come for me guys. ALSO YOU GUYS MIGHT NEED TO READ BACKSTORY CONTENT ON ANTINOUS AND READER TO FULLY UNDERSTAND THIS CHAPTER.

────୨ৎ──── ────୨ৎ──── ───

The sun streamed into the hall as Antinous lounged in a chair, his boots propped up on a low table. For once, he was in a rare, cheerful mood. A servant brought over a fresh goblet of wine, which he accepted with a wide grin. Eurymachus sat across from him, lazily tossing a few dice onto the table.

“You know,” Antinous began, swirling his wine, “it’s a good day. The food’s decent, the weather’s perfect, and for once, no one’s done anything to piss me off.” He leaned back, exhaling contentedly. “I might even go easy on the servants today.” Eurymachus raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “How merciful of you,” he said dryly, rolling his dice again. “You’re practically a saint.”

Antinous snorted. “Don’t push it. What’s with the sarcasm? Is something up your ass today? Though, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“Not at all,” Eurymachus replied annoyed, though a sly grin creeping onto his face. “Actually, I’m just thinking about how you might not stay in such a good mood for long.” Antinous frowned, his good humor faltering just slightly. “What the hell does that mean?” Eurymachus leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Well, it’s just that…you know how I hinted the other day about your sister?”

Antinous stiffened, his cheerfulness evaporating. “Yeah? And I beat you at arm wrestling, so you’re supposed to stop talking in riddles like you’re about to reveal you’re Odysseus in disguise.”

Eurymachus smirked. “Right, right. But I couldn’t let it go, and, well…” He paused dramatically, clearly enjoying himself.

Antinous sat up straighter, his eyes narrowing. “Well, what? Spit it out, Eurymachus.”

Eurymachus shrugged nonchalantly, feigning disinterest. “Let’s just say I’ve seen her and Telemachus getting real close lately. Closer than I thought they’d be.” Antinous stared at him, his expression unreadable. “What do you mean, close?”

“Oh, you know,” Eurymachus said casually, inspecting his nails. “Sneaking off together, whispering in corners, kissing—”

“WHAT?!” Antinous bellowed, jumping to his feet so quickly his chair toppled over.

Eurymachus leaned back, unfazed, his smirk widening. “Relax, I’m just saying what I saw. A little kiss between your sweet sister and Telemachus—nothing to lose your head over.” Antinous’s face turned crimson, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “You’re lying,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. “Y/N wouldn’t—she hates him!”

Eurymachus shrugged again, still maddeningly calm. “Doesn’t look like hate to me.” He leaned in, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “I mean, if I were you, I’d be a little worried about where else that might lead.” Antinous slammed his fist on the table, the sound reverberating through the hall. “I’m going to kill him.” Eurymachus chuckled, clearly amused. “Oh, come on. Don’t be so dramatic. Maybe it’s love?”

Antinous grabbed the front of Eurymachus’s tunic, pulling him forward so their faces were inches apart. “If you’re lying to me, I swear—”

“I’m not lying,” Eurymachus interrupted, his tone still infuriatingly casual. “But hey, don’t take my word for it. Why don’t you ask Y/N yourself?” Antinous shoved him back, his chest heaving as he glared at Eurymachus. Without another word, he stormed out of the hall, his mind racing and his temper barely contained. Eurymachus leaned back in his chair, watching him go with a satisfied smirk.

“This is going to be fun,” he giggled to himself, reaching for his goblet.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Antinous stormed down the halls of the palace, his footsteps echoing like thunder. His jaw was tight, his fists clenched, and his chest heaved with anger. He didn’t bother knocking when he reached his sister’s room, instead slamming the door open so hard it ricocheted off the wall.

Y/N, sitting on her bed with tear streaked cheeks, jumped at the sudden intrusion. She hastily wiped her face, trying to hide her vulnerability, but her red, puffy eyes betrayed her.

“What the hell, Antinous?” she snapped, her voice hoarse but sharp.

Antinous didn’t waste time with pleasantries. “Don’t ‘what the hell’ me!” he shouted, stepping into the room and slamming the door behind him. “What is this I hear about you and Telemachus? Eurymachus told me everything.”

Her stomach dropped. Her face turned pale, and then red with frustration. “What!? He promised! That nosy bastard needs to learn how to keep his mouth shut,” she muttered, standing up. Antinous pointed an accusing finger at her. “Don’t you dare try to deflect! Is it true? You’ve been sneaking around with him?”

Her lip trembled, but she masked it with anger. “So what if I have?” she shot back, her voice rising. “What’s it to you, Antinous?”

“What’s it to me?!” Antinous roared, his face contorting in disbelief. “I’m your brother, Y/N! You’re supposed to have some dignity—some respect for yourself!”

“Respect?” Pandora scoffed bitterly, crossing her arms. “You think sneering at servants, bullying Telemachus, and drinking yourself stupid every night counts as respectable behavior?”

“This isn’t about me!” Antinous snapped, his face flushing. “It’s about you—and how you’ve humiliated yourself and me by running after that spineless boy!”

She clenched her fists, her body shaking with anger. “Don’t you dare call him spineless! He’s more of a man than half the fools in this palace—including you!” Antinous flinched as if slapped. His lips curled into a snarl. “Oh, so now you’re in love with him, is that it? What, are you going to run off with him to Pylos? Sparta?, leave your blood behind for some fantasy romance?”

Bee throat tightened, and her voice cracked. “He’s already gone.” Antinous blinked, his fury momentarily dampened by the raw pain in her voice. “Gone?”

“He sailed this morning,” she said, her tone wobbling as fresh tears filled her eyes. “And I had to watch him go, knowing he might never come back.” Antinous stood in stunned silence for a moment before the anger returned. “Good riddance,” he muttered. “At least one good thing happened today.”

Her head snapped up, and she marched forward, jabbing her finger into his chest. “Don’t you dare say that!” she hissed. “You don’t know anything about him, about what he’s been through, what he’s trying to do! You just see him as a threat to your stupid courting games.” Antinous slapped her hand away, his expression darkening. “He is a threat. A threat to you, to us, to the order of things. And you’re too blinded by your pathetic feelings to see it!”

She shoved him, hard enough to make him stumble back a step. “You don’t get to decide what I feel, Antinous! You don’t own me!” Antinous steadied himself, his chest heaving with rage. “You’re acting like a child,” he spat.

“And you’re acting like a tyrant!” She screamed back, her voice breaking. The room fell into a tense, suffocating silence. Both of them stood there, glaring at each other, their breathing heavy.

Finally, Antinous shook his head, his expression a mix of anger and disappointment. “You’re going to regret this, Y/N. I promise you. You think this is all a game, don’t you?” he growled, his voice low but trembling with emotion. She flinched, wiping her tears, but the sight of her crying didn’t deter him. If anything, it seemed to fan the flames.

“Do you even remember?” he said, his voice rising. “Do you even remember who was there for you when we had nothing?” She looked at him, her lips trembling, but she didn’t respond.

“I was the one who fed you when we were hungry!” Antinous shouted, pointing to his chest. “I was the one who went without so you could have enough! I put you first every single time, Y/N!” Her tears fell faster, and she shook her head, trying to block him out, but he wouldn’t stop.

“When we ran away from that skank we called our mother, when we had nothing but scraps and the clothes on our backs, who do you think kept us alive? Who do you think protected you, fought for you, made sure you had a future?”

“Antinous, stop,” she whispered, her voice choked.

“No!” he snapped, his eyes blazing. “You need to hear this. You need to understand that I am your blood. Not Telemachus. Not some stupid boy who doesn’t know the first thing about you or what we’ve been through. Me.” She pressed her hands to her ears, shaking her head, but Antinous grabbed her wrists, forcing her to look at him.

“I’m the one who took care of you,” he said, his voice raw now, breaking under the weight of his emotions. “I’m the one who sacrificed for you. And this—this is how you repay me? Running around with Telemachus like none of that ever happened? Like I don’t even matter?”

She yanked her wrists free, her face twisted in pain. “You do matter, Antinous! But you can’t control me! I’m not a child anymore!”

“You’ll always be my little sister,” he shot back. “And as long as I’m alive, I’ll protect you—even from yourself, even if it means I have to fight you on this!”

“I don’t need your protection!” She screamed, her voice breaking as she shoved him again. “I don’t need you to fight my battles anymore, Antinous! I can take care of myself!” Antinous staggered back, his expression torn between anger and hurt. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, his chest heaving as he stared at her.

Then, in a voice softer but no less intense, he said, “You think you can take care of yourself? Fine. Go ahead. But don’t come crying to me when that boy breaks your heart—or worse, gets you killed. Because he will, Y/N. He’s going to leave you behind, just like his father left him.” She gasped as if he’d slapped her, and her tears came harder.

Antinous turned away, his face hard and unreadable. “I was always there for you,” he said quietly, his back to her now. “But if you don’t want me anymore, fine. I won’t waste my time.” Her sobs were cut short by a sudden surge of anger. She pushed herself up from the bed, her body trembling as she shouted after him, her voice raw and broken.

“And what about you?” she wailed, her words spilling out like a dam bursting. “You want to stand here and act like the perfect brother, like you’ve done everything for me—but you didn’t!” Antinous stopped in his tracks, his back still turned to her. His shoulders tensed, but he didn’t move.

“You fed me, you protected me, fine!” Pandora cried. “But you want to talk about sacrifices? What about when you started leaving me? What about all those nights you disappeared into the streets, chasing after random whores and leaving me alone? What about when you stopped caring, Antinous?”

His head tilted slightly, but he didn’t turn around.

“You want to talk about blood and loyalty?” Her voice cracked as fresh tears streamed down her face. “You weren’t there anymore! You were too busy being a selfish, shitty brother to notice that I needed you!” That did it. In a flash, Antinous spun around, his face a storm of fury and pain. He crossed the room in two long strides, grabbed Y/N by the collar of her tunic, and yanked her close.

“Shut the fuck up,” he snarled, his voice low and dangerous.

Y/N froze, her breath hitching as she looked into his wild, furious eyes. For a moment, she saw the boy he used to be—the one who shielded her from danger, who promised her they’d survive no matter what. But that boy was gone, replaced by a man consumed by pride and disdainfulness.

“You think I neglected you?” Antinous hissed, his grip tightening just enough to make her flinch. “You think I didn’t notice? I noticed everything.”

She tried to pull back, but he held her in place. “Antinous—”

“You don’t get to talk to me like that,” he growled, his voice trembling. “Not after everything I’ve done for you. Not after everything I’ve given up for you.” She swallowed hard, her hands gripping his wrists as she tried to steady herself. “Let go of me.”

For a moment, it looked like he might not. His grip stayed firm, his chest heaving as he stared her down. But then, with a sharp exhale, he released her, pushing her back slightly as if disgusted—with her or himself, she couldn’t tell. She stumbled, clutching her collar as she glared at him, tears still streaming down her face. “You don’t get to treat me like this,” she whispered, her voice shaking. “Not anymore.”

Antinous ran a hand through his hair, his expression a mix of frustration and regret. “And you don’t get to throw away everything we’ve worked for over some boy,” he said coldly. “Grow up, Y/N.”

Antinous paced furiously outside her room after slamming the door behind him, but something about her broken sobs pierced through his anger. He clenched his fists, muttering curses under his breath before turning back and barging into the room again.

Y/N, still slumped against the bedpost, flinched at the sound of the door crashing open. Her tear streaked face lifted, her eyes red and puffy, as Antinous stood in the doorway, his face a mask of fury. “You want to play this game?” he snapped, stepping closer. “Fine. You think you’re so strong now, don’t you? So independent, so grown up.” His voice dripped with venom. She stiffened, wiping her face with trembling hands. “Antinous—”

“No, let me finish,” he interrupted, his tone sharp. “If you’re so desperate to abandon me, your own brother, the one person who’s always been there for you, then fine. Let’s see how well you do without me.”

Her eyes widened, and she opened her mouth to retort, but he cut her off again, pointing a finger at her. “You want freedom, Y/N? You’ve got it. But don’t come crying to me when the suitors start mocking you—when they say things to your face that you can’t handle.”

Her heart sank, but she forced herself to stand.

Antinous snapped, his voice rising. “You think they don’t already talk about you behind your back? About how you’re just another piece of meat for them to eye and dream? Do you think they respect you because you can throw a few punches?”

“Shut up,” she hissed, her hands balling into fists.

He laughed bitterly, his voice cruel. “What’s the matter? Can’t take the truth? Well, here’s another one for you: the next time they mock you, even if it’s right in front of me, I won’t step in. You’re so strong, right? Handle it yourself.” Her breath hitched, and for a moment, she looked like she might break all over again. But she held her ground, her chin trembling as she glared at him.

Antinous mocked, leaning closer, his face twisted with anger and hurt. “You’ve made it perfectly clear you don’t need me anymore. So why should I waste my time protecting someone who doesn’t even care about me?” Her knees felt weak, but she refused to let him see how much his words stung. She squared her shoulders, her voice trembling with defiance. “If that’s how you really feel, then maybe I don’t need your protection.”

Antinous stared at her for a long moment, his chest heaving as he tried to rein in his temper. Finally, he scoffed and turned on his heel, heading for the door.

“Good luck, Y/N,” he said coldly, not looking back. “You’re going to need it.”

And with that, he stormed out, leaving her standing alone, her tears threatening to spill over once more.

@procrastination20 @jackiepackiee @barrythestrawberry041 @blessedbyahuntress @eyuunho @f3r4lfr0gg3r @permanently-nothere @jackintheboxs-world @simpingmyassoff @sunshinewhosketches @xo-cuteplosion-xo

[revelboo]

Aughh idk if my earlier ask was ate up by Tumblr's bugs or anything but oh well (love your story btw I godamn are em for breakfast lunch and dinner)

Anywaysss lil story - because of dear Revel I ended up ordering like one Blookees from my local Walmart (was like 5$), got TFOne Megs and "wow, this was actually fun to build and is pretty cute! I might buy more lol"

And I (sweared) brought like two (was expecting to be small) boxes for a price of 10$ (this is important) and waited and I screamed when these got home

Ngl i wasn't expecting 2 boxes (with 9 small boxes each) - along with the Blookees said to be out of stock after I ordered - but heyyy, 18 small box for the price of 10$ is quite a grab lol

But honestly ty for inspiring me to buy them these are honestly quite cute and fun (what i build so far for now) - hopefully they add more series because I really want to fill my desk with em

🤣 Nice! That’s a lovely, little error in your favor. But they’re addictive little guys. Acquire a horde and you can do stupid stuff like this

The Future Freaks Me Out Pt 4

ES Bumblebee x Reader

• “This is relaxing? Playing in the dirt?” Smiling and glancing back at where the big Autobot is leaning against the side of your house watching you dig up the old flower bed, you stretch. Know he doesn’t get it. Resisting the urge to scoff at him, you gesture with the shovel at the wheelbarrow full of dead dianthus. The winter had been worse than normal and the hardy little flowers hadn’t survived. You can’t exactly leave their brown little shriveled selves in your flower bed.

• “It’s relaxing,” you say, swiping the back of your gloved hand across your forehead and leaving a smudge of dirt. Servos flexing against the urge to reach and try to wipe it away, he makes a face. “And it’s satisfying making the place look nice.” Knows he needs to check in before Optimus, or worse, Megatron comes looking for him, but can’t make himself move. Doesn’t want to. “So were you ever going to stop and say hi or were you just going to do drive bys forever?”

• Watching his shoulders hunch, you’re struck by how uncannily human his gestures, his body language is. “I was going to say hello. Eventually,” he mutters looking embarrassed and you laugh. “I didn’t want to bother you, but I wanted to check on you. Make sure you were okay.” Watching his door wings lift and fall, you reach to drag a tray of impatiens closer. He’s sweet, a bit awkward.

• “That sounds a little stalkery,” you tease breaking open the little plastic cup your plants are in and pulling one loose to set into the hole you’d dug. And he supposes that, yeah, it does seem a bit weird to keep tabs on you like that, but he’d needed to. Needed to take care of you after you’d taken care of him. Reaching to carefully pinch a tiny tray in his servos and hand it to you, he warms when’s you flash him a smile.

• “I swear I’m not going to kidnap you,” he says, lifting his big hand and you laugh. Like his sense of humor, his quick, easy smile. Like him. You’d just assumed the Autobots were all serious, but he doesn’t come across that way. Laid back and easy going, instead. Fun. And you want to hang out with him, listening to him and just talk. Wondering if he’ll keep swinging by or if he’ll stop now that he knows you know he’s watching over you. Hoping he keeps coming to see you, because it’s nice having someone to talk to.

Previous

Next

[bookishdreamer28]

More dad Azriel? More dad Azriel

Azriel was frantically walking up and down the hall of the winter house. You were giving birth. His beautiful and loving mate, was giving birth to your baby girl. A girl.

"I can't stand it. I need to go back inside right now!" Azriel outreached for the handle of the door but Rhys stopped him.

"You were literally freaking out in there earlier. You almost fainted and Y/N is the one who's giving birth!"

"Of couse I'm freaking out! How am I supposed to stay calm while hearing her screams and trying to wait patiently here as my kid is coming into the world?!" Azriel almost shouted. Cass chuckled behind him and brought a hand on his shoulder.

"Relax brother. Everything's going to be ok. Y/N is so strong and your baby is going to be great."

"Cass is right! Don't overthink right now. Just sit down a little, try to relax and everything will go on smoothly. Madja will make sure that both Y/N and your baby will be fine." Feyre's comforting hand came to rest on Azriel's shoulder.

Azriel felt like calming a little. They're right. You're strong. And courageous. And amazing. He knew you could do it.

Your scream pierced through the walls of the rooms and Azriel shoot up from his seat.

"That's it I'm going in!" His brothers tried to stop him.

"No Azriel wait-" Rhys sentence cut off as another scream could be heard now. More like a wailing. Azriel froze on the spot.

"Oh! She's here!" Elain exclaimed excitedly and everyone had a huge smile on their faces.

"Az? Are you ok? You're just froze-" Nesta watched in shock as Azriel bursted through the door of your room, and closed right in everyone faces. Before anyone could say anything, he opened the door again just to say:

"If anyone dare to come in here right now, you'll deal with heavy consequences. It's me, my mate and our baby now got it? Thank you" He closed it again and he slowly turned around to face you. He sucked in a breath as he took in your tired form. The way you looked so beautiful, made him weak to the knees every time. He went to your side immediately and slowly crunched down to take a better look on you.

"Sweetheart? It's me. I'm here now and I will never leave your side." He planted soft kisses on your hand. You smiled warmly at him and rested your forehead on his.

"She's here" you whispered.

"She's here" Azriel looked astonished at the image in front of him.

Madja walked in with you baby girl in her arms. Your baby. Your beautiful girl.

Azriel inhaled a shaking breath, trying to hold his cry.

"There you go. She's great and healthy. Congratulations you two!" Madja said and she placed your baby girl in your arms. Madja then decided to leave and when she opened the door she came across 7 heads trying to take a look.

"Come on everyone leave the couple alone for now" She said as walked outside. Once the door closed, Azriel and you just enjoyed the moment of looking at your girl.

"Az..."

"She's...oh my- She's amazing, sweetheart. You did it" he looked at you with glassy eyes. "Baby, you did it. You did amazing I'm- I'm so proud of you" he kissed softly and deeply, not being able to contain himself any longer.

A small whine heard, and you and Azriel looked down immediately just to fins your sweet girl staring back at you.

"Hi honey!" You smiled at her and booped her little nose with pointed finger. Azriel looked at the interaction in wonder. How? How could he ever be this lucky to have you and now your beautiful baby in his life?

Azriel stared lovingly at his daughter, not believing she was here with you.

"Hello my beautiful girl." His voice was full of emotion.

"Wanna hold her?" You asked Azriel. He looked a bit hesitant and you knew exactly why.

"Please my love, don't think like that." You took one of his hands and kissed it. That brought even more tears to the shadow singer's eyes.

With slightly shaking hands, he took the small form in his arms, and everything suddenly clicked. Like the missing piece of the puzzle was finally found. Having you and his daughter with him, was the most beautiful and extraordinary gift he could ever receive in his life.

Your daughter stared at Azriel with bright eyes.

"My daughter." Azriel murmured and leaned to kiss her forehead softly and carefully. He then turned to you and gave you one more kiss on your lips.

"Thank you for this gift my love. Thank you for making my life brighter by stepping in. Along with our sweet girl now" He murmured against your lips as he sealed your lips once more, wanting to do it again and again and again.

It was him, you and his daughter. Everything felt right. Everything were perfect.