#even if none of you were there... i was...

[i2sunric]

𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐄 (s.jy)

PAIRING: boxer-dad!jake x mom!reader (f)

SUMMARY: being married to a boxer is frightening— twice as much when you’re raising a child (or two) with that very same man. but none of it matters, not really, because your love for him is unconditional, stronger than fear, deeper than doubt, and it has always lived beyond the reach of worry.

WARNINGS: boxing, mentions of blood and wounds, mentions of pregnancy, morning sickness, pet names (baby, love), fear, love making (it’s just the last scene and barely narrated, but you can choose to skip it), starring yunjin huh (lesserafim), babies (jihoon/james & jiheon/jane). lmk if more. NOT PROOFREAD.

PUBLISHED: 12th May 2025

WC: 9.2k

TAGLIST: @stolasisyourparent @jaeyunsbimbo @jwnghyuns @bangtancultsposts @shawnyle @jooniesbears-blog @skzenhalove @ro-diaries @onlyhyunjin @xcosmi @strawberrhypen @heeheeswifey @jakeflvrz @astratlantis @tunafishyfishylike @branchrkive @insommni4 @kirinaa08 @leiclerc @nxzz-skz @laurradoesloveu @beomluvrr @heeshlove @17ericas @riribelle @cloud-lyy @enhamonsterghoul @star-hoon @princesstiti14

NOW PLAYING: Brisbane by Youth in Revolt & Heavenly by Broadside

a/n: the meds against allergy the doctor gave me make me feel high so sorry if there are any errors or shit. anw let me know your thoughts on this fic! 🩷 i honestly like it sm (my search history is full of synonyms lol) and please, if you haven’t, read the sunghoon!dad fic i wrote too!

©️don’t copy or steal this fic & please REBLOG to share.

You always woke up first. That was just the way it went.

The early sun never failed to warm your face through the slightly cracked blinds of your shared bedroom, golden light slipping across the foot of the bed like it belonged there.

Jake’s arm was slung heavy around your waist, his breath slow and deep against the nape of your neck, and just a little too warm. One of his legs was tangled with yours, as if even in his sleep he couldn’t stand to be far from you.

And at the foot of the bed, curled up with a stuffed gray bunny that was beginning to unravel at the seams, was James— Jihoon when he was in trouble.

Five years old. Barely able to tie his shoes right, but already carrying Jake’s stubbornness in his bones.

You shifted gently, trying not to wake Jake as you slipped out from under his hold.

He grumbled something incoherent in his sleep and reached out for you, but you were already halfway to the kitchen.

It wasn’t long before little feet padded after you, and then James was clambering onto a chair at the table, face still puffy with sleep, hair a mess.

“Toast?” you asked.

He nodded, rubbing at one eye. “With honey.”

You ruffled his hair before turning to the counter. “You’re getting too used to sweet things in the morning.”

“It makes me run faster,” he insisted, already kicking his legs under the table like he had a hundred miles of energy to spend.

Behind you, you heard Jake’s heavy steps thudding down the hallway, groggy and shirtless, his curls a wild mess. He kissed your shoulder as he passed, then bent over to ruffle Jihoon’s hair too.

“Morning, champ.”

“Morning,” James beamed. “Can we box today?”

Jake laughed as he sat down. “You wanna box again?”

James nodded so hard his curls bounced. “I’m gonna be a boxer just like you!”

You didn’t say anything at first. Just buttered the toast. Carefully.

Jake noticed. Of course he did.

After six years, he could read you better than anyone. “We’ll be careful,” he said softly, glancing at you over James’ head.

“Boxing’s not a game,” you replied quietly. “It’s not— it’s not something I want him dreaming of every night.”

Jake’s eyes softened, and he reached for your hand as you placed the plate of toast down. “I know, I know it scares you. But he doesn’t see the blood or the bruises. He just sees his dad being strong.”

You looked at him, feeling your chest ache. “That’s exactly why I’m scared.”

James munched on his toast without a care in the world, his feet swinging. “Can I come to your next match?” he asked suddenly, crumbs on his lips. “Please, please, please, pleeeeeease?”

Jake blinked, surprised. “What, the next one? That’s in two days, James.”

“I’m big enough,” he declared, sitting up straighter. “I wanna watch, I wanna cheer. Please, mommy?”

You looked at him, at his big, pleading eyes.

At the innocence behind them.

And then you looked at Jake, with the same eyes who looked torn between pride and guilt. It wasn’t fair— how much James looked like both of you at once, how easily he could tug at your heart.

You sighed. “We’ll see.”

Which really meant yes. Because you were never good at saying no when it came to them.

That night, you helped James into Jake’s old boxing gloves. They were far too big, slipping past his wrists, practically swallowing his arms.

He tried to throw punches, but they were mostly flailing motions that made Jake laugh until he was nearly wheezing on the floor.

You leaned in the doorway, arms crossed, trying not to smile too much.

Jake caught your eye, cheeks flushed, a sheen of sweat on his collarbones from messing around with James. “See? He’s a natural.”

“He’s five.”

“He’s my kid, he’s gonna be unstoppable.”

James fell over trying to jab at Jake’s leg. “Gotcha!” he shouted.

Jake swooped down and scooped him up, holding him upside down while James shrieked with laughter. “You got me, huh? You sure about that?”

“Daaaaaaad!”

“You gonna knock me out one day, champ?”

“Yeah! One punch!”

You bit back a laugh as you walked over, flicking Jake’s shoulder. “Put him down before he vomits dinner.”

“Fine,” Jake groaned, dropping James onto the couch. “You both take all the fun out of my life.”

James poked his tongue out at him. “No I don’t. I’m your best fun.”

Jake looked at him for a long second, eyes warm, and then over at you. “You both are.”

Two nights later, the arena smelled like sweat and nerves.

You had James on your lap, his little legs tucked close to his chest, his hands gripping a paper cup of juice too tightly.

The crowd was loud, the lights bright, and your heart was beating way too fast for someone who wasn’t even in the ring.

Jake stepped into the spotlight wearing his mouthguard and gloves, robe slung low over his shoulders.

He looked fierce. Serious. Beautiful. Like the fighter you’d first met back in college, when he was reckless and full of fire, but still somehow managed to be the kindest boy you’d ever known.

Jihoon bounced excitedly. “There he is! Look, mom, look!”

“I see him, baby.”

The bell rang.

The fight started.

And something was wrong.

You could tell, even if the others couldn’t.

Jake’s steps weren’t as light, his dodges not as quick. The other guy was aggressive, coming in hard and fast, and Jake—he was getting hit. A lot.

Your stomach twisted.

“Mom,” James said, his voice small now. “Why’s dad not winning?”

“He’s trying,” you whispered, arms tightening around him. “He’s okay, he’s— he’s just warming up.”

But then Jake stumbled. His lip was split.

His shoulder sagged like he’d pulled something.

And your son started to panic.

“Mom, he’s hurt. We gotta go help him.”

“James, no, listen to me— he’s gonna be okay, you can’t—”

But your words weren’t fast enough.

James wriggled out of your arms before you could catch him, ducking under the security rope, sprinting across the edge of the crowd.

Someone shouted. You were on your feet, your heart in your throat, but James was already halfway to the ring.

“Jihoon!”

He scrambled up through the ropes, small enough to slip between them, and ran straight to his father.

Jake didn’t even notice at first, too dazed by the last punch.

“Stop the fight!” you screamed. “Stop it, my son’s in there!”

The ref blew his whistle furiously, waving his arms. The other boxer dropped his stance immediately, confused.

Jake blinked down— and froze.

“Champ?”

James launched into his chest, wrapping his tiny arms around his waist. “Don’t let him hit you again! I’ll fight him for you!”

Your vision blurred with tears as you rushed down toward the ring.

Someone opened the gate for you, and you ruan inside, breath shaking, legs trembling.

Jake had dropped to one knee, one arm around James, the other shaking as he pulled his mouthguard out.

“Hey,” he whispered. “What are you doing, buddy? You can’t be in here.”

“You were losing,” James mumbled, clutching him tighter. “I didn’t want you to get hurt.”

Jake let out a laugh that sounded like it hurt. “I’m okay. It’s just a match.”

“You were bleeding.”

Jake looked up at you then, and his face — Lord, his face —he looked so sorry. So wrecked.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I should’ve never let him come. This was too much.”

You knelt down beside them, pulling James into your arms, running a hand through his hair. “You scared me,” you whispered. “You can’t run off like that, Jihoon. Ever.”

“I’m sorry,” he sniffled. “I just— I didn’t want him to lose.”

Jake leaned in, pressing a kiss to both your foreheads. “I’ll never lose anything that matters, okay? Because I’ve already got you.”

The crowd was murmuring. Officials were everywhere. The match was called off.

Jake was disqualified, but he didn’t care.

All he cared about was you. And James. Safe. In his arms.

Later, in the locker room, after everyone had gone, Jake sat with James asleep in his arms, still wearing one glove that dwarfed his hand.

You sat beside him, your head resting on his shoulder.

“Promise me,” you murmured, “that if he really wants to fight when he’s older…you’ll teach him how to be smart. How to be safe.”

Jake nodded, kissing the top of Jihoon’s curls. “I promise. But for now…I just want him to dream about anything else. Anything safer.”

You reached for his hand, threading your fingers through his. “You scared me tonight.”

“I know,” he whispered. “I’m sorry.”

“I love you, Jake.”

He turned, eyes soft. “I love you too.”

And in that quiet moment, with your son snoring softly between you and the world finally still, you felt it again— that fragile, powerful kind of happiness that could only exist when you had everything you loved right there in your arms.

☆.

It was supposed to be your morning to sleep in.

The deal was sacred: on Sundays, or holidays, or any day the world wasn’t demanding something from the two of you at dawn, one of you got to stay in bed while the other kept James entertained.

It had been years of trial and error, balancing exhaustion with parenting, love with chaos, but you’d found your rhythm.

This morning, you were supposed to be nestled in the warmth of the blankets while Jake took James to the kitchen for cereal and cartoons.

You’d heard them shuffling around in the other room— Jake’s low, sleepy voice, and James, wide awake, asking if he could have two bowls because he was ‘super strong today’.

But instead of dozing off again like you usually did, a sharp pain twisted through your stomach, a heat blooming behind your navel and spreading like fire.

You jolted upright, cold sweat already rising on the back of your neck, and before you could think or breathe or blink, you were rushing out of bed.

The bathroom door hit the wall when you shoved it open, and you barely made it to the toilet in time before your stomach gave out.

Violent, sudden.

Your knees hit the tile hard as your body curled in on itself.

“Baby?” Jake’s voice, thick with sleep, came from the hallway.

You couldn’t answer. The retching had stolen all the air from your lungs.

There were small footsteps, bare feet padding quick against the floor, and then James’s voice, high and worried. “Mommy?”

Jake was there a moment later, crouching beside you, his hand on your back.

“Shit— hey, hey, what’s wrong?” He was rubbing gentle circles into your spine, his other hand brushing the damp strands of hair from your forehead.

You forced yourself upright, gasping, “Phone. Get me my phone.”

Jake didn’t waste time asking questions. He was up in a flash, bolting down the hall.

But it was James who surprised you.

He knelt beside you, mimicking his father’s earlier movements, his tiny fingers clumsy as they gathered your hair and held it back.

“I’m here, Mommy,” he whispered. “You’re okay. Daddy’s coming.”

You shut your eyes for a second, heart swollen even through the pain. “Thank you, baby.”

Jake returned a beat later, sliding to the floor with your phone in one hand, his other reaching out to feel your forehead. “You’re burning up. Do you want me to call the doctor? What do you need?”

You didn’t answer at first, just searched the appa until you found the period tracker one.

You looked at him — really looked at him — and said, hoarse and quiet, “My period’s late.”

That madew him pause.

He glanced briefly at James, still by your side, loyal and worried and trying so hard to be brave.

“Late?” he asked.

You nodded. “Like…late late. And I know July’s always weird for me, and sometimes it skips, but this… this isn’t like that. This is…”

Jake caught on. He stood and reached for the bathroom cabinet before you could finish.

His hand went straight to the little white box buried behind cough syrup and cotton pads. The spare test.

He held it up. “This?”

You nodded, pressing a palm against your stomach as another wave of nausea rolled over you.

Jake knelt again and gently coaxed James to his feet. “Hey, buddy. Can you go watch TV for a bit? I’ll bring you snacks soon, I promise.”

“But—Mommy—”

“She’ll be okay,” Jake said, smoothing a hand over James’ss head. “I promise. Just give us a few minutes.”

James hesitated, looking from you to Jake, before finally nodding and stepping out of the room with one last glance over his shoulder.

You leaned back against the wall, breath shaky. Jake helped you up and steadied you with an arm around your waist.

“I’ll wait out there,” he said quietly, placing the test in your hand.

“No,” You looked up at him, eyes wide. “Don’t go.”

He hesitated for half a second, then nodded. “Alright. I’m here.”

The test took less than a minute to take. But it felt like a year.

You placed it on the edge of the sink, both of you staring at it like it might jump to life and scream the answer at you.

You were still sitting on the toilet lid, knees tucked up, your arms hugging them to your chest.

Jake sat across from you on the closed tub, elbows on his thighs, eyes flicking between the floor and your face and the tiny plastic stick.

You broke the silence. “We weren’t planning this.”

Jake gave a breathy laugh that had no humor in it. “We weren’t really planning anything back then, either… when we had James.”

“That was different,” you said.

He met your eyes. “Was it?”

You bit your lip, chest tightening. “It feels scarier now.”

Jake didn’t say anything for a second. Then he moved closer, kneeling in front of you.

His hands found yours, his fingers cold from the tile but steady. “Whatever it says…you’re not alone in this. You’re never alone, love.”

“I threw up everywhere.”

“Still not alone.”

You buried your face in his shoulder, and for the first time since the pain had woken you up, you let yourself cry.

Just a little.

Jake held you through it, fingers curling into your hair, his lips pressing against your temple.

When the ten minutes were up, the test was still face-down on the sink.

Jake turned it over.

He didn’t say anything at first.

You looked at his face, trying to read it. He was too still. His jaw clenched once, then loosened.

His eyes flicked up to yours, wide and stunned.

You stood slowly, walking to the sink, feeling your heartbeat rattle in your ribs.

You saw the two lines.

Pregnant.

Your stomach swooped. Your hands trembled.

“Oh my god.”

Jake was behind you in a second. His hands came around your waist, his head resting on your shoulder.

“That’s real,” you whispered.

“Yeah.”

“That’s real.” you said, more convinced.

Jake nodded, kissing your cheek softly. “Looks like we’re doing it again.”

You turned in his arms, eyes brimming, half-laughing, half-sobbing. “What if I can’t handle it? What if it’s too much?”

“You will handle it,” he said firmly. “Because you’re strong. And because I’m here, and we already made the best little human in the world. We can do it again.”

You clung to him, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. “He’s gonna be a big brother.”

Jake pulled back just enough to smile at you. Really smile. “Can you imagine him? With a little sibling running after him?”

“He’ll boss them around.”

“He’ll protect them.”

You laughed again, eyes still blurry with emotion. “We need to tell him.”

Jake looked toward the door. “Now?”

You paused. “Not yet. Let’s just…hold it, just for a little bit. Just ours.”

He nodded. “Just ours.”

There was still pain. Still nausea. Still fear.

But Jake was here. You were here. And there was life, again, starting inside you.

Another heartbeat waiting to be loved.

☆.

You never liked hospitals.

They always smelled too clean, too sharp, like something was being covered up.

But you went anyway, let Yunjin drive you in her little too-fast-for-comfort car with her playlist blaring.

She didn’t let you argue. Not when she saw the look on your face after the test. Not when she showed up with a fresh croissant and a determined, no-bullshit attitude.

“I’m not letting you stay in bed and Google symptoms until you give yourself a panic attack,” she said. “We’re going to the doctor. I’ll hold your hand, throw up with you, whatever you need.”

True to her word, she was there when you lay back on the crinkly white paper of the exam table, heart in your throat, the sonographer squeezing warm gel onto your skin.

She didn’t let go of your hand once.

AAnd there it was.

That flickering heartbeat.

Tiny. So small it didn’t feel real until it pulsed across the screen like a drum.

You stared at it, lips parted, heart unraveling. The image was hazy, grainy, but it was there, this new, growing piece of you. Of Jake. Of your family.

You cried, of course. You always cried at these kinds of things, even if you tried not to.

Yunjin blinked hard a few times herself. “You’re really doing this again, huh?”

You laughed, a watery sound. “God, yeah.”

“You’re stronger than me.”

“No I’m not,” you said. “You’d be amazing.”

She squeezed your hand. “But right now, this baby’s gonna have the coolest mom on earth… and well, aunt, duh!”

When you finally did tell your son, Jake was the one who brought it up.

James had been building a Lego tower in the living room, lying on his stomach in his little dinosaur pajamas, humming to himself.

Jake sat beside you on the couch, his hand on your thigh, a soft press of reassurance.

“Hey, bud,” Jake said, ruffling his son’s hair, “we’ve got something kinda cool to tell you.”

James looked up, blinking, pieces of Lego clutched in each hand. “What?”

Jake looked at you. You nodded, and he smiled. “You’re gonna be a big brother.”

James blinked again. “What?”

You leaned forward. “There’s a baby growing in my tummy, sweetheart.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then, “A baby? In there?” He pointed, alarmed, at your belly, which still looked more like you’d eaten too much lunch than anything else.

You laughed. “Yeah. In there.”

His mouth dropped open. “Is it gonna pop out soon?”

“Not soon,” Jake said. “You’ve got a few months, but eventually, yeah.”

James crawled closer, pressing his little hand against your shirt like he was trying to feel the baby through your skin. “Is it a girl?”

“We don’t know yet,” you said.

He tilted his head, clearly deep in thought. “Will it like dinosaurs?”

“I hope so,” Jake said, laughing.

James was quiet again for a moment, looking at you, then Jake, then back to you. “Do I have to share my snacks?”

You smiled. “Only if you want to.”

“I’ll think about it,” he said solemnly. “But only if it doesn’t touch my T-rex.”

“Deal,” Jake said.

And just like that, James accepted it.

Sort of. He had questions, of course— How does the baby breathe? Will it be loud? What if it’s a girl and doesn’t like trucks?

But in the end, he was still the sweetest baby boy on earth.

☆.

The first trimester was cruel.

The toilet became your closest companion.

Mornings were the worst: your body felt hijacked, your stomach constantly roiling, everything smelling too strong or too wrong.

Jake woke up every day with you, even when his eyes were heavy with sleep and his matches were approaching.

Even when his training hours stretched him thin. He still tried to take up time to stay with you, to train younger boxers instead of boxing himself.

But what surprised you most was James.

He’d peek into the bathroom every morning, hair sticking out in wild directions, clutching his little stuffed dinosaur by the arm.

And if Jake wasn’t already holding your hair back, James would quietly step in and do it.

He never complained.

He just stood there with a serious look on his face and said things like, “You’re doing a good job, Mommy,” or “It’s okay. Sometimes I throw up when I eat too much candy, too.”

Jake started calling him your bodyguard.

James puffed his chest with pride every time.

Sometimes, when the nausea got bad enough, Jake would carry you to bed, settle behind you, and James would crawl in on your other side and whisper stories to the baby. “Today I drew a robot. When you come out, I’ll draw you, too.”

It was in that moment that you realised you had won in life.

.

☆.

Valentine’s Day wasn’t usually a big deal for the two of you.

You’d never been the candlelight-dinner, wine-glass-clinking, heart-shaped-everything type of couple.

Your love was built on early mornings and grocery runs, on whispered goodnights and holding hands during hospital appointments, on parenting and partnership and choosing each other again and again, even on the days when your patience was thin and the dishes were stacked high in the sink.

But this year felt different.

You woke up to the soft creak of your bedroom door opening and the quiet shuffle of socks across the floor.

Your belly was heavy, so round and taut it felt like you were a balloon stretched to its final inch of give.

And you were tired. So tired.

But when you opened your eyes, you saw them— Jake, holding a bouquet of slightly squashed red roses, and James peeking from behind his leg with something hidden behind his back.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” Jake murmured, kneeling on the edge of the bed and brushing a kiss against your forehead.

James stepped forward, biting his lip, then presented you with…a crayon drawing of what looked like three lopsided people holding hands. “This is us,” he explained proudly. “That’s you, and that’s Daddy, and that’s me, the little one in your belly is a circle. I didn’t know if it’s a girl or a boy.”

You took it like it was the most precious thing in the world. Maybe it was.

Jake handed you the flowers with a sheepish smile. “James wanted to get you chocolates, but I told him flowers are important too.”

“Mommy should have both,” James declared.

“You taught him well,” you said, kissing your husband’s lips. Then you reached under in the bedside table drawer and pulled out a wrapped box you’d hidden last night. “And so did I.”

Jake raised an eyebrow. “What is this?”

“Open it.”

He unwrapped it to find a tin of dark chocolate truffles and a new pair of wraps for training —embroidered with Best Father Farter across the edge.

His smile cracked wide. “Oh my god.” he laughed loudly “I love them!”

James clambered onto the bed between you both. “Can we eat cake now?”

“After lunch,” you said, laughing. “But yes. Later, we’ll eat cake.”

Jake cooked lunch while you sat on a stool in the kitchen, rubbing your belly and trying to ignore the low ache that had been bothering you all morning.

James danced around in his socks, insisting on wearing a tie for ‘the special day’c and you let him because he looked too cute not to.

The cake was store-bought, a simple one with little pink sugar hearts, but James was excited about it like it was some magical treasure.

You stood up to grab a knife to cut the first slice.

You didn’t even make it to the drawer.

Pop.

The sound wasn’t loud, but you felt it in your body, a deep, sudden release of pressure.

Warmth gushed down your legs.

You froze.

Jake, mid-laugh, stopped. “Did you— did you drop something?”

You looked down at your soaked pants. Then up at him.

“Oh my god.”

Jake’s eyes widened. “Is that—? Is it happening?!”

“Yes! Jake, yes— go grab the hospital bag!”

James gasped, horrified. “You peed yourself?!”

“I didn’t pee myself, baby,” you said through gritted teeth as the first cramp twisted through your belly. “The baby’s coming.”

James blinked. “Now?”

“Yes. Now.”

Jake was moving at light speed— or maybe no speed at all.

He dropped the bouquet. Nearly tripped over James.

Grabbed his phone, then the car keys, then forgot both again.

“Okay, bag— hospital bag, where’s the— where did we—where did you put it?”

“By the door, Jake!” you snapped. “Where it’s always been.”

He stumbled off, yelling back, “I knew that! I’m calm!”

“You’re not calm!”

James was clinging to your leg like a baby koala. “Is the baby falling out right now?”

“No,” you hissed, hand gripping the table as another contraction hit, sharp and fast. “But soon if we don’t move.”

“Should I call someone?” Jake shouted from the hall.

“Yes! Call Yunjin. She needs to come stay with James!”

“I’m already on it!” he yelled back, fumbling his phone.

Yunjin picked up after two rings.

“You’re gonna want to get here,” Jake said, voice too high. “It’s happening. She’s— her water broke. Like actually broke. It’s go time.”

You grabbed the phone from him as he rushed back in. “Yunjin, please— just get here.”

“I’m on my way, don’t panic,” she said, though you could hear the smile in her voice. “Tell James I’ll bring candy.”

“I’ll tell him if I survive.”

You handed the phone back to Jake, your hands trembling. “Get the car ready. I’ll get shoes.”

“You’re not getting anything. I’m carrying you.”

“Jake—”

“I’m carrying you,” he repeated, gently but firmly.

James watched the whole scene unfold like a movie, his eyes wide. “Will it hurt?”

You knelt down, wincing, brushing his cheek. “Yeah, honey. It’s going to hurt. Daddy’s going to be with me, don’t worry. you’re gonna be the best big brother ever.”

He nodded, lip trembling. “I’ll tell the baby that I love her.”

Jake kissed his forehead, voice thick. “You tell her that in person. We’ll be back with your sister soon.”

The hospital was a blur of fluorescent lights and quick footsteps and voices that felt like they were underwater. m

The pain hit in waves, and each time it crashed, you wanted to scream— but you didn’t.

Not yet. Not until it got worse.

And god, it got worse.

Nine hours of it.

Jake never left your side, not for a second.

You yelled at him at least three times.

“Stop talking,” you growled at him during hour five, when he was trying to distract you with some nonsense story about his first amateur fight.

He shut up. Immediately. Nodded like a soldier.

Later, when you were gripping the rail of the bed so hard your knuckles went white, you hissed, “I hate you.”

“I know,” he said.

“Don’t touch me.”

“Got it.”

“Wait, no— touch me again.”

He grabbed your hand without hesitation. “Right here.”

You screamed. He let you crush his fingers.

And when it finally happened,.

the world shrank to pressure and burning and breathless, broken sounds, you gave one last push and everything stopped.

Then—

A cry.

High and raw and brand new.

They placed her on your chest, and your hands shook when they curled around her tiny, wriggling body.

She was pink and warm and squalling like she was furious about the whole ordeal.

You sobbed.

Jake sobbed more.

Your forehead pressed to hers as you whispered, “Hi, baby. Hi, Jane… Hi, Jiheon.”

Jake kissed your temple a hundred times, his face wet with tears. “You did it. You did so good.”

“She’s so small,” you whispered.

“She’s perfect.”

You looked at her again, this little piece of you and Jake and everything that had ever been good between you.

You were exhausted, ripped open and aching, but she was here.

Your daughter.

And she was worth it all.

☆.

The world came back slowly.

Not in one clean breath, but in fragments, blinking against the dim hospital room light, the hum of machines, the sterile scent of disinfectant layered beneath something warm.

Familiar.

Jake’s cologne.

Your throat was dry, lips cracked, body heavy— wrecked didn’t even begin to describe it.

Your stomach ached with the aftershock of labor, your muscles trembling in the stillness, and for a moment, you couldn’t even tell what time it was.

Everything had blurred together into hours of pain, blood, cries, and the weight of her tiny body on your chest before darkness finally pulled you under.

But now—now it was night.

The sky outside the narrow window was ink-dark, the city lights dulled by the thickness of the glass.

You shifted just slightly, wincing at the soreness that radiated through your hips and spine, and turned your head.

He was there.

Jake was sitting in the corner chair beside your bed, hunched forward with a blanket cradled against his chest, shoulders curved inward like a shield.

His hair was a mess,, and his eyes were fixed on her with an expression so full of awe it punched the breath right out of your lungs.

He was crying. Quietly.

Not the dramatic, shaking kind of crying— just slow, steady tears, running along the curve of his jaw and down to his neck as he stared at his daughter.

“Jaeyun…” Your voice cracked like ice underfoot.

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t even look at you at first.

“She’s sleeping,” he whispered, brushing one callused thumb over her cheek, his voice so soft it barely stirred the air. “She has your nose.”

You watched him from the bed, your vision still cloudy, but yourr heart was awake now.

He looked so still, so unlike the chaotic Jake you’d known for years.

Not the boy who forgot his keys five times a week.

Not the man who cheered too loud at James’s school recitals. This was something different.

This was a father. Again.

You reached out with a hand that shook from effort. “Let me see her.”

Jake finally turned, startled like he hadn’t realized you were awake.

He sniffed, blinking hard as he carefully got up. “You’re awake,” he said, voice cracking. “God, you— are you okay? You fainted right after they took her. They said you were just exhausted, but you were out. I thought—” He paused. Swallowed. “I’ve been watching you sleep for hours.”

You blinked slowly. “You’re not supposed to say that like it’s romantic, stalker.”

That got a breath of laughter out of him, ragged and wet. He came to the side of the bed, kneeling so he could ease Jane down into your arms. “Here,” he murmured. “Hold her again.”

You adjusted your pillow, barely able to sit up.

But he helped, supporting your back, brushing the strands of hair away from your damp forehead. And then she was there, small and warm and impossibly real in your arms again.

“Hi, baby,” you whispered. “Hi, little Jane.”

“Jiheon,” Jake added softly. “That’s what I’ve been calling her. She likes it… i think. She keeps making this face when I say it— look.” He leaned in and repeated it again in a whisper, “Jiheon.”

Jane shifted slightly, scrunching her face before relaxing again. A barely-there smile tugged at Jake’s lips.

“You look like a dad of two now,” you murmured, brushing your finger along her hair. “There’s something different in your face.”

“I feel different.” He pressed his forehead to your shoulder and just breathed there for a second. “Like… more breakable.”

You rested your cheek on top of Jane’s head and closed your eyes. “You’re not. You’re stronger than you think.”

He pulled back and sat down on the edge of the bed, careful not to jostle either of you. “Do you remember what you said during hour seven?”

“Which part? I said a lot of things.”

“You said if I ever touched you again, you’d break my nose.”

“Yeah,” you breathed. “Still stands. For a while.”

Jake grinned and leaned closer, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. “Fair. I’ll wait.”

You both sat there for a while, in the stillness that only came in the dead of night, surrounded by beeping monitors and the soft breathing of your daughter.

After a while, he reached out and brushed the back of his finger over Jane’s tiny fist. “She’s got my ears.”

You snorted. “Poor girl.”

He laughed, pulling the blanket higher around your shoulders. “James is gonna love her.”

“He already does,” you said. “He kept talking to my belly like it was a walkie-talkie.”

Jake smiled again, softer now. “He’s gonna be the best big brother.”

You were quiet for a while.

Just breathing. Just holding her.

And him holding you.

Then, your voice cracked the silence, barely a whisper.

“Thank you.”

Jake blinked. “For what?”

“For giving me them.” You looked down at Jane. “For giving me you.”

His face crumpled a little. “You gave me everything back.”

☆.

Coming home was a blur of motion and scent and warmth—soft clothes, white noise, the lingering chill of February air clinging to your coats and hair as you stepped into the house with a car seat cradled between both hands.

Jane was still asleep.

That delicate, floating sleep only newborns seem capable of, where their tiny chests rise like feathers and fall again, their mouths puckering occasionally, eyelashes still damp against their cheeks.

Your arms ached from holding her, your legs felt like jelly, and your stomach was a quilt of stretched skin and healing muscle, but lord— you were finally home.

Jake carried the bags in with one arm and hovered behind you like you might fall at any second.

His hand was low on your back. “You okay?”

“I’m… tired,” you admitted, your voice raspy with lack of sleep and recovery, but your eyes were clear. “But yeah, I’m okay.”

“Good. I want this moment to be good.”

You looked over at him. “It will be.”

James had been waiting by the window.

The second you stepped inside, his feet came skidding over the hardwood floors in his socks, eyes wide, mouth hanging slightly open.

“Where is she?” he breathed, like he was waiting to see a mythical creature.

Jake gently nudged the car seat toward him. “She’s sleeping. Be soft, okay?”

James crouched like it was some sacred ritual, his tiny fingers gripping the edge of the blanket.

He peeked in with a squint, nose wrinkling, face twisted in deep thought.

He blinked.

Then frowned.

“…She’s kind of ugly,” he declared.

Jake choked on a laugh, reaching to ruffle his hair. “Hey.”

“But it’s okay,” James continued with a shrug. “She’s a baby. I heard some people get plastic surgery when they grow up. She can do that if she wants.”

You pressed a hand to your mouth, stifling a snort. “She’s not ugly.”

“She looks like a wrinkly potato.”

“That’s cause she just came out,,” Jake said solemnly, kneeling beside him. “She’ll look better after some milk and sleep.”

James tilted his head, clearly unsure how to feel. “She smells like butt.”

You bent down beside them both, the ache in your legs sharp but ignorable.

Jane stirred a little, her mouth making a soft sucking noise, her hands twitching. “You smelled worse when you were born.”

James’s eyes widened like you’d just told him he was adopted. “No way.”

“Yes way,” Jake chimed in. “You pooped on me twice in the first week.”

James’ face lit up. “Can I hold her?”

“In a bit,” you said, brushing your fingers along his hair. “After she’s fed. And once we’re on the couch.”

He nodded, serious. “I’ll wait.”

☆.

The days passed like smoke curling around your head—soft and slow and smothering all at once.

Jane didn’t sleep unless she was on someone’s chest.

Your chest. Jake’s chest. Occasionally James’s, when he insisted on sitting perfectly still on the couch, puffed up with responsibility.

Your nights bled into mornings, your mornings into afternoons.

You could barely tell what day it was anymore. You were always either nursing, changing, soothing, or trying to catch a moment of quiet to breathe.

But even in the chaos, there were moments that glowed— small, quiet glimmers of peace.

James tiptoed more than he used to. He would pad into your bedroom at two a.m., rubbing his eyes, clutching his dinosaur plushie under one arm.

“Is she okay?” he’d whisper.

“She’s just hungry,” you’d whisper back.

Sometimes he’d crawl into the bed next to you and lie on Jake’s other side, close enough to reach for your elbow. He didn’t ask for lullabies anymore. Just your presence, closeness.

Sometimes he’d doze off again before Jane had even finished nursing.

Other times, he’d stay awake. Just watching.

“I think she likes when you sing,” he murmured one night.

You paused, fingers stroking Jane’s back. “You think?”

He nodded seriously. “Even if you’re a little out of tune.”

And Jake— Jake was different, this time.

The first time around, he’d tried. He really had.

But he was younger, more nervous, too rough around the edges, and there were nights when you’d cried in the shower because you were the one holding everything together.

But not now.

Now he was soft in the ways that mattered.

He remembered the towel you liked best and warmed it in the dryer before you bathed.

He memorized your medications, prepped your bottle without you asking.

He rubbed your feet while Jane fed, whispered affirmations when you broke into tears at 3 a.m. for no reason except that your body wasn’t yours and your brain was drowning and you missed sleeping for more than two hours at a time.

He wasn’t perfect.

He still forgot to put lids back on properly and he still knocked over the baby lotion bottle three times in the same week.

But he had learned you. Learned your limits. Your moods.

What words would help and which wouldn’t. He never made you feel like a burden. Not once.

And when you had nothing left to give— he gave you back to yourself.

You came down one night after a long nap you hadn’t even realized you’d taken, hair sticking to your forehead, your robe askew.

You expected disaster. Bottles unwashed, a screaming baby, maybe Jake asleep on the couch with James up way too late playing video games.

Instead, you found the living room lit in warm lamplight, quiet.

Jake was shirtless, Jane pressed to his chest in the baby wrap, bouncing slightly on his feet as he whispered a lullaby in half-Korean, half-english.

James was curled on the rug with dinosaurs his book, whispering the words to himself, a blanket pulled over his lap.

Your heart cracked open.

Jake looked up and smiled. “She just finished feeding. I pumped from the stash in the fridge, you looked like you needed rest.”

“I did,” you whispered.

“Go back up,” he said. “I’ll bring you tea.”

You hesitated. “I feel guilty.”

“Don’t. You gave her a whole body, we’ll take care of you now.”

You did cry then.

And when Jake wrapped you in his arms that night, you believed him.

You believed that this family, this messy, tired, beautiful family, was being held together not just by your hands, but by all three of theirs.

And that was everything.

☆.

Two years later, the kitchen smelled like strawberries and sunscreen.

It was a Sunday afternoon in early June, sun slanting through the window blinds and painting long, golden stripes across the tiled floor.

The fan hummed softly in the corner, spinning slow circles that barely stirred the air, and Jan e your little girl with her chubby hands and mismatched socks was sitting in her high chair, smearing strawberry juice across her cheeks like war paint.

Jake was crouched beside her, wiping her chin with one of the soft, floral-patterned cloths you insisted on keeping in the drawer.

His hair was still damp from the hose-outside chaos that had been an hour ago— James, laughing as Jake sprayed him down while Jane screamed and clapped from the porch.

Now everything smelled of damp grass and sweetness.

You were at the sink, rinsing a bowl, humming under your breath, tired but soft around the edges with that summer kind of fatigue that didn’t bite.

James sat at the kitchen table, arms folded, face twisted in a look of intense concentration, like he was on the verge of solving the meaning of life.

“Dad?” he said suddenly, sharp like a question he’d been chewing on all morning.

Jake looked over, eyebrows raised. “Yeah, bud?”

James tapped a finger against the table. “How did you and Mom meet?”

You froze mid-rinse, hand still under the stream of water.

Jake blinked, clearly not expecting that. “Why do you wanna know?”

James shrugged, suddenly bashful, eyes darting to the side. “Just curious.”

But you saw the pink flush in his cheeks.

The way he pressed his lips together.

You turned the water off, grabbing a towel, and leaned against the counter just to watch it unfold.

“Wait.” Jake narrowed his eyes playfully. “Did something happen at school?”

James groaned. “Noooo.”

Jake smirked. “Oh my god, it did. Who is she?”

James covered his face with both hands. “Dad, no.”

“She sits next to him,” you supplied, grinning into your towel. “Pretty little thing with the pigtails and glittery pencil case, right?”

James dropped his head to the table with a muffled moan. “You guys are the worst.”

Jake cackled, reaching out to flick his son’s ear. “Okay, okay. I’ll tell you how we met, but only if you promise not to laugh.”

“I won’t.”

“You will.”

James lifted his head, expectant. “Tell me anyway.”

Jake stood, walking toward the fridge to grab a handful more strawberries, before leaning his hip against the counter and settling into storyteller mode.

Jane babbled, still chewing her fruit with delight.

“Well,” Jake began, “your mom hated me.”

“What?” James blinked. “Why?”

You crossed your arms. “Because he was cocky. And late. Constantly.”

“I wasn’t that late.”

“You were twenty-two minutes late to our first study session.”

“Okay, one time—”

“Every time.”

Jake huffed dramatically. “Anyway, we were in college. Same class, I noticed her first. She had this oversized hoodie and earbuds in every time she walked into the lecture hall, and she never talked to anyone.”

“I was tired.”

“Exactly. So mysterious.”

James giggled.

“I tried to sit near her a few times,” Jake continued. “You know, see if I could catch her attention, but she never looked up. So I asked to borrow her notes.”

You raised a brow. “You mean you spilled coffee on your own notes and then cornered me after class.”

Jake grinned at James like it was a badge of honor. “It worked.”

James’ eyes were wide now, totally absorbed. “Then what?”

“She agreed to help me study,” Jake said, placing a hand to his heart like he was reciting poetry. “And the rest… is history.”

“That’s it?”

“Well, it took a while,” Jake added. “Your mom wasn’t easy, she made me work for it.”

“Darn right I did.”

“But then we started spending more time together,” he said. “And she started smiling more. Laughing, she used to pretend she didn’t like me, but I could tell.”

“I didn’t like you.”

Jake shot you a look, grinning. “Tell that to the time you skipped your morning class just to meet me for coffee.”

You scowled playfully. “That was one time. And you had a cold.”

“You brought me soup.”

“Because I’m not a monster.”

James cut in. “Did you kiss?”

Jake opened his mouth, smirking, his eyes shining as if to say and not just that.

You threw a towel at him. “Don’t you dare.”

Jake caught it, snorting. “Yes, we kissed. A lot.”

James made a face. “Ew.”

“And we fell in love,” Jake added, softer now, his smile turning real, almost quiet. “Like, the kind of love where you still want to see their face even when they’re mad at you. The kind where everything feels like home when they walk into the room.”

Your chest squeezed a little.

“She’s still my best friend,” he added. “Even when she makes fun of me for how many times I lose my keys.”

You rolled your eyes. “He’s gotten better.”

“Only because you put a tracker on my keychain.”

James giggled again.

“And then,” Jake said, grinning now, “we had you.”

“Wait— how did that happen?” James asked innocently.

Jake froze. You shot him a warning glance. He paled.

“Uh—well, that’s a whole other story.”

James squinted. “Why?”

“Because it’s for grown-ups.”

“But—”

“Nope,” you said firmly, swooping in to pick Jane up from the high chair as she started getting fussy. “You’ll learn in science class.”

James groaned. “Ugh. But science is so boring.”

“Not always,” Jake said under his breath.

“Jaeyun.”

Jake raised both hands in surrender. “Okay, okay!”

Jane curled against your chest, sticky hands tugging at your shirt, and you kissed her forehead before shifting her to your hip.

“Is that really how you fell in love?” James asked quietly, looking between you both.

Jake looked at you, and you looked at him��� and your heart did that warm, foolish little flip it had been doing since the first time he held your hand, since he first made you laugh until you cried.

“Yeah,” you said, brushing your fingers through James’s hair as you passed. “It really is.”

Jake came up behind you, his hand sliding to the small of your back. “Still in love, too.”

You looked up at him. “Even after I threatened to cut your head off if you gave me another baby?”

“Even then.”

James groaned. “You guys are so embarrassing.”

☆.

It was past midnight and the rain hadn’t stopped all day. It tapped gently against the window, like fingertips drumming over glass, soft enough now that it no longer sounded like thunder, but like a lullaby to the tired world.

The room was dim, lit only by the faint glow of the streetlight that spilled in from between the curtains.

The warmth of the bed wrapped around you both like a cocoon.

The scent of rain still clung faintly to your skin from earlier— just from standing by the door too long, shoes soaked, children loud and chaotic and cooped up.

You were fast asleep now, curled beside Jake under the heavy blankets, your body drawn instinctively to his.

Your hand had found its way to his chest, fingers splayed just over where his heart beat steady.

He could feel your breath on his collarbone, soft and rhythmic, your nose cold against his neck.

He didn’t move. He never did, not when you laid like this.

He only let his arm fold around you tighter, holding you like something sacred.

His eyes didn’t close.

It had been a long day, sure— Jane had tried to flush her brother’s dinosaur down the toilet, James had gotten stuck halfway under the couch trying to retrieve a Lego piece.

But that wasn’t what was keeping Jake awake.

It was your sigh. The small one you let out just minutes ago, right before curling closer to him in your sleep.

It had sounded like comfort. Like home.

And that’s what triggered it.

That memory.

The one he couldn’t forget, even if he tried.

The one from before the house, before the kids, before everything.

The night he almost lost you.

It had been raining then, too. Harder than this. Sharper.

You stood in the middle of a soaked parking lot, your hoodie clinging to your skin like paper, hair plastered to your face, eyes wet with more than just the downpour.

You had just stormed off, away from him.

Jake had followed you out of the gym, his steps echoing behind yours, water sloshing in his shoes, fists clenched at his sides.

“You’re not listening to me!” you shouted, spinning around to face him, voice breaking over the sound of the storm. “You never listen to me!”

“I do!” Jake yelled back, stepping closer, teeth clenched. “I always do! But you’re asking me to be someone I’m not!”

“I’m asking you to stop killing yourself in the ring every weekend!” you cried, your voice raw. “I’m asking you to choose something, anything, that doesn’t make me wonder if I’ll get a call saying you won’t come home!”

Jake’s jaw tightened.

Water ran down his face, indistinguishable from the tears in your eyes.

His chest heaved, soaked through, breath misting in the cold air.

“This is all I know,” he said. “Boxing is all I have.”

“No,” you snapped, stepping toward him. “You have me. You have someone who stands outside every goddamn fight praying you don’t bleed out, you have someone who waits up, and worries, and loves you so much it hurts.”

Jake blinked at you, and for a second, he looked like he couldn’t breathe.

And you shook your head. “But maybe that’s not enough. Maybe I’m not enough. Maybe this… us, was a mistake.”

The silence that followed made the rain sound louder. It filled the space between you like a wall.

Jake stepped forward, one slow step at a time, until he was standing in front of you, his hands shaking.

“Don’t say that,” he whispered.

You stared at him, your face trembling, your eyes full of everything you couldn’t say. “Jake—”

“I know I’m reckless, I know I’m a mess, I know I don’t always think. But you…” His hand rose, not touching you yet, hovering like you were a flame he wasn’t sure he deserved to touch. “You’re the only thing that ever made me want to slow down.”

“I’m scared,” you whispered. “I’m so scared of losing you.”

Jake’s hand finally reached you.

His fingers slid into your hair, soaked strands between his knuckles. He leaned in until your foreheads touched.

“I’m scared, too,” he said, eyes shut tight. “Of not being enough. Of being too broken to hold onto you.”

“You’re not,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “You’re not broken.”

“I am,” he said, voice cracking. “But I’m better with you.”

The rain came harder then, a sudden gust slamming sideways into your bodies, but neither of you moved.

You were shivering. He was freezing.

The whole world felt like it was falling apart, but Jake looked at you like he’d found the eye of the storm.

And then he kissed you.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t clean.

It was desperate and messy and full of everything you’d both been trying to say. His mouth found yours like he’d been drowning and just found air.

Your hands clung to his soaked hoodie, your body pressed to his like you’d never let him go.

Jake remembered how your tears had mixed with the rain, how his fingers gripped your waist too tight, how you’d gasped his name between kisses like it was a lifeline.

“I don’t want to lose you,” you’d whispered into his mouth.

“You won’t,” he’d vowed, breathless. “Not ever.”

And even back then, before promises and rings and babies with strawberry-stained mouths, he had meant it.

Now, in the warmth of your shared bed, he felt you sigh again.

Just a soft one. Almost imperceptible.

Your leg slid against his beneath the blankets, your head nuzzling deeper into the space between his shoulder and neck. Your fingers curled softly against his chest.

Jake swallowed hard. His hand moved to your back, rubbing in slow, gentle circles, his lips brushing your hair.

He breathed you in.

You were here. You were warm and whole and safe.

And so was he.

☆.

The light was soft when you stirred awake.

You shifted, your body stretching slow beneath the blankets, the cotton sheets warm from shared heat. And then you felt him.

Jake.

Pressed against your back, his chest bare, skin hot and solid.

His arm was around your waist, the other resting on the pillow beside him.

Your hand reached down, brushing over the blanket until you found his fingers resting over your stomach.

You laced yours through them, holding him there. And then you turned, slow and gentle, so you wouldn’t wake him. But he was already awake.

His eyes were open, dark under the faint shadows of morning. He was lying on his side, hair mussed from the bed, jaw dotted with the faintest stubble.

His eyes met yours right away.

“Hey,” you whispered.

“Hey.” His voice was husky, low from sleep… or maybe lack of it.

You frowned softly, reaching up to brush a lock of hair from his forehead. “You didn’t sleep.”

He didn’t answer. Just watched you. As if he was trying to memorize the curve of your cheek, the way your lashes cast shadows beneath your eyes.

You let your palm slide down to cup his cheek.

“What’s on your mind?” you murmured.

He hesitated.

Then, finally: “Nothing I can say without sounding selfish.”

Your brows drew together gently. “Try me.”

But instead of answering, Jake looked down. And you followed his gaze.

The scars. They were always there— some faint and faded, some newer. One near his ribs from that one brutal match three years ago.

Another near his shoulder, still pinkish, like a memory that hadn’t finished healing

You reached out slowly, letting your fingertips trail over the ridges of old pain, old bottles.

He didn’t flinch. He never did, not with you. But his breath did hitch slightly, the tension in his body curling tighter.

You leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the one just below his collarbone. “I love these,” you whispered.

Jake’s throat bobbed with a swallow.

“They’re ugly,” he muttered, half-hearted, like he’d already lost the argument.

You pulled back just enough to look into his eyes. “They’re proof you survived. Every one of them means you came back to me.”

Something in him broke a little at that. His mouth opened, maybe to argue, maybe to say something tender, but the words didn’t come. His hand came up instead, cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing over the apple of it.

“I thought about you last night,” he said softly. “Back when you almost left. Out in the rain…. that fight.”

You nodded, heart aching at the memory. “It was a long time ago.”

His hand slid from your cheek to your neck, fingers splaying out along the curve of it, then down your spine, slow and reverent. “I didn’t sleep because I kept thinking what if you had left. What if I’d pushed it too far, if we never made it here.”

You shifted closer, pressing your body to his fully, your forehead resting against his. “But I didn’t. I stayed. You fought for me.”

His lips touched yours then— barely. A brush, but it was enough to make your stomach flutter.

Even after all those years.

Your hand slid down between you, over the swell of his chest, your palm flat and warm against his heartbeat.

“Still fighting for you,” he whispered, eyes on yours.

And it was then, without another word, that you leaned in and kissed him.

It was soft at first. Slow. Like a secret.

Your lips moved over his with a quiet kind of hunger, not the desperate kind from that night in the rain, but something deeper.

The kind that comes after years of waking up next to each other. After babies. After late nights and early mornings and scars.

Jake kissed you back like he needed you. Like you were the only thing keeping him grounded in that moment.

His hand slipped under the fabric of your shirt, finding the skin of your back, pulling you closer until not even air could live between your bodies.

You pressed yourself to him, your hand roaming his torso, fingers tracing over his skin like you were memorizing the feel of him.

He let out a shaky breath against your lips, his hips shifting forward just enough for you to feel the truth of his want, hard and insistent against your thigh.

“I missed you,” he murmured, kissing along your jaw. “Even with you right next to me.”

You shivered under his mouth, threading your fingers through his hair, tugging gently to bring his face back to yours. “Then take it,” you breathed. “Take me.”

He didn’t need to be told twice.

Jake rolled you onto your back slowly, carefully, his body hovering over yours, warm and heavy and familiar. He kissed you like he had all the time in the world and you let him, eyes fluttering shut, breath uneven.

His hands slipped under your shirt and you arched into his touch, letting him pull the fabric up and over your head. He looked down at you like you were art.

You tugged his mouth back to yours.

When he finally slid inside you, it was slow and careful. You both gasped— every time felt new, felt real, like the first and last and only time.

You clung to him, your arms wrapped around his shoulders, legs locked around his waist.

He rocked into you gently, his mouth finding every part of you he could reach: your neck, your collarbone, the swell of your breast.

“Still with me?” he asked, voice hoarse, forehead pressed to yours.

“Always,” you whispered, kissing the corner of his mouth.

The rhythm between you built slowly, nothing rushed. You moved together in sync, bodies finding each other like they were made to.

You moaned softly into his ear, hands trailing down his back, nails digging in just enough to make him shiver.

“Lord, I love you,” Jake breathed, pressing his hips deeper. “I love you so much it scares me.”

“I know,” you whispered, blinking through the haze of your pleasure. “I know, baby.”

You held on to each other through it all, the high and the fall, the quiet panting breaths after, the way your hearts beat wildly in sync beneath the mess of limbs and blankets.

After, when your breathing slowed and he was still inside you, arms wrapped around your waist, face buried in your neck, you stroked his back softly.

You didn’t say anything. Just kissed the top of his head.

And somewhere down the hall, a floor creaked.

You both froze.

Jake groaned into your shoulder. “Ten dollars that it’s Jane.”

You smiled, lips against his hair. “Or James looking for cereal.”

Jake sighed. “We need a lock on this door.”

“Yeah,” you chuckled, pulling the blanket over both your heads as if it could delay reality for just a few more minutes. “Later.”

“Later,” he agreed, pressing one last kiss over your heart.

[fireinmoonshot]

unreal | robert reynolds x reader

THIS CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR MARVEL'S THUNDERBOLTS*.

Pairing: Robert 'Bob' Reynolds x Reader Summary: Bob offers for you to share his room while your room in the Watch Tower gets renovated... there's just one problem – he didn't think about the fact that he'd have to share a bed with you. Warnings: General mentions of mental health issues (nothing specific) Word Count: 2.1k A/N: Okay, so it's been over a week since I last wrote for Bob and the response on my last Bob fic is insane. I cannot believe how much love it's gotten 🥹 I have since seen Thunderbolts three more times and I love Bob even more. This was the fic idea that won in the poll I posted earlier today and it was so enjoyable to write. I am really looking forward to writing more for him (including the other ideas that I had in the poll). I hope you all enjoy this one as well. Requests are always open! 💗

“You can share my room” are five words that Bob regrets the second that they’re out of his mouth. Not because he doesn’t want you to share his room, but just because now that it’s out in the open, the prospect of you saying yes is terrifying.

When you’d all moved into the Watch Tower, you hadn’t considered the fact that most of the building was still a work in progress. There were so many rooms that still needed to be built and while there had been bedrooms, there weren’t many and Valentina had insisted on building you all your own. Nothing but the best for my New Avengers, she’d said.

Your bedroom was the last one to be renovated. Every other member of the team had gone through the room-sharing phase while their rooms were completed. Yelena and Ava had always shared, though they’d hated every second of it – both girls loved their personal space. Both Bucky and John refused to share with Alexei. Bob had managed to come out the other end without sharing a room at all. 

Until his offer to you, that is.

“Seriously?” You ask, crossing your arms over your chest as you look around at the others. “None of you are offering to share with me so you’re making Bob offer?”

Walker scoffs. “You think we put him up to it? Please.”

“No one put me up to it,” Bob shakes his head. “I just thought I’d ask you since… y’know… none of the others have… and you probably don’t wanna sleep on the couch out here.”

He’s not really sure why he’d offered, actually. The words had been out of his mouth before he’d had a chance to think them over, which was strange for him. He supposes it might have something to do with the fact that he’s been crushing on you for a solid few months. It would be fine, though. He didn’t have a couch in his room, but he’s slept on his fair share of floors before and this one would be no different. Sharing a bedroom with someone he was slowly falling head over heels with was definitely going to end well.

You cross the room and put a hand down on Bob’s shoulder. “Are you really sure you want me to share with you? I know you haven’t had to share before and I really don’t want to intrude on your space.” Your voice is soft, for Bob’s ears only.

He nods once. “It’ll be fine. I promise.”

You don’t completely believe him. He’s undoubtedly the most independent out of all of you, but it’s been proven that he really does love being around other people. The last thing you want is to get in his way or make him uncomfortable.

“Bob,” you meet his eyes. 

His lips turn up into a small smile at the tone of your voice. “I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t want to share with you.”

That seems to do the trick, because you nod your head and step away from Bob after that before announcing that you’re going to go and start getting all your things together. 

That afternoon, you move your things into his room so that the renovations can start on your own. Bob makes some space for you – not that he has a lot of things himself – but he wants to make you feel comfortable. He doesn’t want you to feel like you’re living in his room. He wants it to feel like it’s yours too.

It only starts to feel real once it’s gotten dark outside and everyone has started to retire to bed. Once he’s in his room again, sitting on a bean bag in the corner, a book in his hand and he sees you walk into his room, hair a little bit wet from your shower. 

“I just realised,” you say, stopping in the centre of the room and looking around, “that you don’t have a couch.”

“Oh, yeah,” Bob nods, closing the book and sitting up a little straighter. “I just sit here. I, uh, I changed the sheets on the bed earlier so that you don’t have to sleep in dirty ones.”

You frown and look over at him. “Me? I’m not sleeping in your bed, Bob. I assumed I’d sleep on the couch. But I can just sleep on your beanbag. I’ll go and find some blankets…”

You turn to go and leave the room when you see Bob standing up in the corner of your eye. He stumbles a little, the blanket on the ground in front of him briefly catching his feet, and then rights himself. 

“No, you don’t have to do that,” he says. “You take the bed. I’m fine with sleeping on the floor. I’ve done it more often than you think.”

“Bob… you’re not sleeping on the floor.”

He shrugs his shoulders. “It’s really okay.”

He really doesn’t mind. As long as you’re comfortable, he will be too. He’s slept in worse places. Plus, he doubts he’d even be able to sleep soundly knowing you were uncomfortable on the cold, hard floor. How could he let the person he likes sleep there rather than on his perfectly comfortable bed?

You cross your arms over your chest and shake your head, slowly starting to walk towards him. This is a losing battle, you can see that. There’s no way that Bob is going to relent and let you sleep on the floor or the bean bag, and there’s no way you’re going to let him sleep there either. You couldn’t live with yourself if he did.

“Why don’t we both take the bed?” You suggest.

Bob’s eyes widen a little and he opens his mouth and then closes it again without saying anything. That’s the last thing he’d expected you to say. Sharing a bed? Had any of the others shared beds when they’d shared rooms? He highly doubted that. The members of the New Avengers weren’t particularly comfortable when it came to physical contact. 

“I don’t think we have to do that,” he mutters.

“Why not? I don’t mind it. That way, we both get to sleep on the bed and neither of us have to be uncomfortable on the floor. I promise I’ll stick to my side.”

Bob stares at you for a moment. You’re really suggesting this. You really want to share a bed with him. But how is he supposed to share a bed with you? This is not going to be beneficial towards his crush at all. It’s definitely not going to help him in his mission to get over you… he hadn’t started on that mission yet but he was definitely going to start soon… oh, he really shouldn’t have suggested this…

“All right, then,” he hums, and then squeezes his eyes shut as he winces. What the hell is he doing? Why are the words he’s speaking and the thoughts he’s having so out of sync?

You smile at him – one of the beautiful smiles that always sets his heart alight – and then move towards the bed. “Which side do you usually sleep on?” 

“Closest to the door,” he says, starting to walk towards it.

“A man after my own heart,” you grin, voice teasing as you pull the sheets back to the other side of the bed and slip underneath them. “Can you get the lights?” 

Bob tries his best to ignore your words, thinking about how he is actually after your heart, and slowly walks towards the light switch. He turns them off, then makes his way towards the bed in the dark. His heart is racing in his chest. It’s not until he’s sitting on the bed, hands fisted in the sheets, that he realises he’s sweating bullets.

He’d forgotten. How could he forget something like this? He’s always run hot. He’s been known to wake up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat, especially after a nightmare.

Maybe, once you’re asleep, he can slip out of the bed and go back to the bean bag without waking you up… surely that would be okay. He could make up some excuse in the morning about not being able to sleep in the bed…

“Everything all right?” You ask from beside him.

The room is so dark that he can’t see you to tell how far away from him you are, but your voice is close. He trusts that you’ve stuck to your word, though, and that you haven’t crept over to his side of the bed.

“I don’t know if this is a good idea actually.”

He hears the sheets rustling and can somehow tell that you’re sitting up now. 

“Why not?”

Bob sighs and tucks a piece of his hair behind his ear. He doesn’t know why he’s so embarrassed about this. It’s not like you don’t know. You were there in the vault. You heard him admit it to Yelena. You’ve seen so many parts of him that he hates and you’ve never judged him for any of them, so why would you judge him for this now?

“Hey,” your voice is gentle. “You can tell me. If you don’t want me here, I can go.”

“No,” Bob shakes his head, quick to respond. He doesn’t want you to feel like you’re not welcome here when truthfully, all he wants is to have you here with him. He just wishes he wasn’t so awkward about it. “It’s not that. It’s just…”

“There’s no rush.” 

He turns to look at where you’re sitting, his eyes now adjusted to the darkness so he can see you just barely. “I run hot,” he says quietly. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable if I sweat a lot during the night. I should just sleep on the floor by myself.”

There’s silence for a moment and Bob takes that as your answer. He swings his legs off the bed and is just about to stand up when he feels the mattress shift underneath him, and then he feels your warmth pressed against his side.

“Hey, no,” you hum, leaning your arm against his. “Don’t do that. You don’t have to worry about things like that with me. If you sleep on the floor, I’m sleeping on the floor too. You’re not giving up your comforts for me.”

Bob turns to look at you through the darkness. “I’d just make you uncomfortable.”

“No,” you reach down and find his hand, entwining your fingers together. It’s true that the members of your team are bad when it comes to physical contact, but you don’t mind it. Bob’s always been a little concerned about touch ever since the incident that had happened a few months back but you can tell by the way he doesn’t tense up at your touch that he doesn’t mind it. You’re surprised to find you can actually feel him relax a little. “You won’t.” 

“I won’t?” 

“No,” you repeat. “I’m really glad you offered for me to share your room, Bob. I don’t care if you run so hot that the whole bed feels like a giant inferno. I’m not going to leave unless you ask me to.”

“I won’t. ” 

You give his hand a squeeze. “Okay, so should we get back into bed and try and get some sleep then?”

Bob nods and then remembers it’s dark and you probably can’t see him. “Yeah, all right.”

He hates the feeling of emptiness when you let go of his hand. He can feel the mattress shifting as you move back to your side of the bed. It takes every part of him to swing his legs back up and to lay down. It’s only once his head hits the pillow that he feels truly relaxed. It’s strange, even just knowing that you’re right beside him puts him a little bit at ease.

“I’ll see you in the morning, okay?” You say, voice so close to him that he almost jumps.

“Okay,” he murmurs, staring up at the dark ceiling above him. 

He’s so certain he’s going to wake up in the morning and all of this will have just been a dream. Not a good dream, not a bad dream. Just an unreal one. One where you hold his hand and sleep beside him. One where, as he’s drifting off to sleep he can feel the warmth of your body inches away. One where he can remember the feeling of your arm pressed against his with such clarity it almost feels real. 

But when he wakes up in the morning, the first thing he sees is you sleeping soundly beside him and he knows it wasn’t a dream. A small smile makes its way onto his face. He can’t remember the last time he slept through the night without waking up… not until right now. 

[enhani-ki]

enhypen as your "stressed" boss

warning(s): very suggestive content, cursing, etc.

when your job is to make your boss' life easier but he gets hard to you instead...

HEESEUNG ─── ★

"do me a favor?" heeseung asked, lifting his necktie between two fingers like it was a dead thing. "fix this again… i swear these things come alive at night."

you exhaled slowly, not even dignifying that with a response. he didn't even bother standing up. he just stayed leaned back in his chair like he was doing you a favor by being seated.

heeseung's legs were spread open just enough for you to stand between them. his shirt sleeves were rolled up, the two buttons were left undone... it's enough to draw eyes, or maybe just to suggest something.

apparently, none of his past secretaries ever lasted more than two months. some said they quit, others claimed they were transferred, and according to office gossip, he couldn't even make it through the first week without anyone crossing a lineーyou could see why.

people believed what they wanted, but you've been working for him over a year now and had never actually fucked your boss like everyone said you had.

though, sometimes… you kind of wish the rumors were true.

your fingers started moving automatically. you looped the fabric, tightened the knot, and smoothed his collar… you could probably do this in your sleep by now.

"don't look so serious," he murmured with a soft chuckle. "pretend you love doing this for me."

you glanced at the guy who was already looking up at you. "love is a strong word, boss," you muttered before resting your hands on his shoulders, "but i ca—"

the door swung open suddenly, making both of you jump in surprise. the intern's eyes went wide, stammering, "i—i—i'll just come back!" like they just walked in on a porn set, before slamming the door shut.

you stepped back instantly, running a hand down your face with a sigh. "great. that's gonna be all over the building before lunch," you said, making him chuckle again.

"heeseung," you said sternly. he actually preferred it when you used his name like that—just casual and familiar, even if you only say it when it was just the two of you. "you really need to learn how to tie your own damn tie."

he whined, "i don't want toooo."

JAY ─── ★

you're sitting on the edge of his bed, legs swinging slightly, doing everything in your power not to look anywhere inappropriate while your boss buckled his belt in front of you.

this was the third time this week that jay had been late to work. he kept oversleeping, ignoring calls, blaming traffic and accidents that never even happened.

you've seen this version of him before, back when he lost all his motivation and nearly quit. this time, you weren't letting it get that far.

you let yourself into his apartment, pushed open the heavy blackout curtains, dragged him half-asleep out of bed, and make sure he gets to office in time.

"thanks for coming to get me," he muttered. his voice was still raspy from sleep, running a hand through his messy hair. "my alarm's been… off lately."

you reached for a pillow without thinking. you hugged it tightly to your chest, burying your face in the soft fabric, trying to hide the heat creeping up your cheeks.

jay smirked, catching the way you refused to look at him before shamelessly staring at your bare legs that's still swinging awkwardly above his floor. "you always get this shy?" he laughed, tugging the tank top down over his torso with a little stretch.

"just fucking hurry!" you muttered angrily into the pillow.

he chuckled again, shaking his head at his cute assistant while grabbing his keys from the nightstand. "you can wait in the living room next time if you don't want to see me naked again."

you peeked, "and let you fall back asleep? no way."

JAKE ─── ★

jake has been side eyeing you. he cleared his throat butー "don't even say it," you muttered before he could even speak.

he crossed his arms, eyebrows raising. "say what?"

"that you need another coffee... i know i'm your assistant but honestly, you look like shit."

"oh, wow..." his mouth fell open, amused. "you always look sexy whenever you scold me, you know that?"

"yes."

he blinked, taken aback by your bluntness—then snorted, shaking his head with a grin as he leaned back in his chair. "...then be careful. i'm ten seconds away from dragging your ass over here."

you rolled your eyes, unfazed. "you say that like it's a threat."

jake spun slowly in his chair, eyeing you with a grin before biting his lip. "come here... let me touch something that doesn't make me want to scream."

SUNGHOON ─── ★

you knocked once before stepping in, sunghoon didn't even look up. he was seating behind his desk, sleeves rolled up, tie already discarded somewhere across the room. his hair is a mess from running his hands through it too many times.

he looked pissed. "about the meeting..." you started carefully, "i already sent the corrected draft."

"okay..." he replied, eyes still locked on his screen. "i think i'm going to have a fucking aneurysm."

you hesitated. "…are you?"

sunghoon looked at you like, seriously? before smirking, "depends. are you planning on doing that thing again...?"

you smiled a little. "depends. are you going to give me a few vacation leaves after?"

sunghoon leaned back in his chair, finally letting out a breath. "yes. and i'm going with you too."

you raised a brow. "oh? as my boss?"

"no... as someone even worse, baby."

SUNOO ─── ★

sunoo was laying across the couch, resting his head perfectly in your lap while wearing a soft, hydrating face mask on his face.

his hand traced circles on your knees while you ran your fingers through his soft hair, nails scratching lightly against his scalp. "you're too good at this..." sunoo murmured. "you trying to make me lose my mind?"

“i thought you already lost it?"

he smiled faintly. "which one do you think's doing it? the scalp massage or your attention?"

you chuckled, "which one do you like more?"

"hmm…" he hummed again, giving your knee a playful squeeze. "both. mostly your attention." he was about to close his eye but then he suddenly raised his brow, lips quirking. "why do you always touch your boss like this when you're off the clock though??"

"are you okay? you're the one on my lap."

sunoo smiled, closing his eyes. "sorry but you can't report me at my own house," he teased, then continued, "i can say whatever i want."

your hand slid in his chest. "i might start saying things back." you said, making sunoo sat up without any warning, signature eye started dropping through his ridiculous face mask.

"start talking."

JUNGWON ─── ★

"what are you looking at?" jungwon said without even turning his head as he could feel your eyes on him.

he hasn't spoke much since he walked in. he just buried himself behind his screen. you blinked, looking down at your desk like you hadn't been caught staring. "no—nothing."

he finally stood up, brushing past you slowly to grab a pen. you gulped, his height always did something inside you whenever he got too close.

he sighed through his nose before loosening his tie.

truth was, he hadn't been able to focus for the past hour because of you. and the way you bit your pen while choosing from the series of his pictures, making his brain short-circuit.

he really was trying to be good today.

you stood and walked over, leaning slightly over his desk to drop off a file. jungwon's fist clenched lightly on the desk as his eyes lowered right to the edge of the table, where your hip was angled just slightly in his direction. oh, it'd be so easy if you just drop to your knees now—

you tilted your head. "boss... you okay?"

he nodded eagerly. "yeah. yeah—just stressed." he said before looking up at you again, looking so innocent even though his tongue was pressing into his cheek, legs bouncing uncontrollably under the desk.

"...it's making me think of things i probably shouldn't about my assistant."

you blinked, confused. "whaーwhat?"

jungwon cleared his throat and quickly looked away, cheeks growing faint pink in embarrassment. "ignore that. i didn't say anything."

he avoided your eyes, rubbing the back of his neck... feeling how tight his pants suddenly felt.

NI-KI ─── ★

you tapped your foot impatiently as ni-ki walked past you in nothing but a towel and toothbrush hanging from his lips.

he pointed vaguely toward the bathroom, eyes half-lidded, and mumbling something incoherent before disappearing behind the door.

you checked the time as thirty minutes passed. why the fuck he was moving like a sloth?

"ni-ki?" you called, knocking on the bathroom door but there's no answer. you frowned before pushing it open, and just as you suspected, he's not there. the shower hasn't even been turned on.

"ni-ki!" you stormed into his bedroom—only to find him curled up on his bed, hugging his pillow like a baby. ni-ki groaned, cracking one eye open. "ughh, the fuck you so loud for?"

you marched over and shook his body, "we're gonna be late!"

and instead of getting up, he just reached out and pulled you into the bed like a goddamn trap. he locked you in his arms and buried his face into your neck. "let me borrow you real quick," he mumbled, his breath felt warm against your skin.

"ni-kiー" you struggled, squirming in his hold.

"shhh," he shushed you, tightening his grip with a little smirk, "you keep calling my name like that, i'll make sure you'll moan it out the next."

a/n: random ahh fic. posted this with round with my baby - reader x ni-ki

masterlist: マスターリストm.list

[manariee]

LOOKING AT ME

﹙脸红 ﹚───── confessions

엔하이픈 & fem!reader wc: 200 - 300 ish cw: none

MANA: can i have a jake and yes i know they are all basically the same @bambisnc

HEESEUNG

You were just lounging on the couch, legs tangled with Heeseung's, your phone in hand as you scrolled absentmindedly. Heeseung was next to you, focused on whatever game he was playing, brows slightly furrowed and lips pursed in concentration.

He looked unfairly good like that.

''You're so handsome,'' you said, not even realizing the words had slipped out until you heard the click of his controller stop.

Heeseung froze.

His fingers hovered above the buttons and then slowly, very slowly, he turned to look at you. His face was unreadable at first, then he coughed into his sleeve to hide the growing red creeping up the tips of his ears.

You grinned. ''I didn’t know a simple compliment could short-circuit Lee Heeseung.''

He scoffed, setting the controller down as he folded his arms, trying to look nonchalant. ''You can’t just drop stuff like that out of nowhere.''

''I meant it, though.'' You sat up a bit, facing him properly. ''You’re really handsome. Especially when you’re focused. Your eyes kinda squint a little, and your lips—''

''Okay!'' he interrupted, holding up a hand dramatically. ''I got the message!''

JAY

Jay’s always the one teasing you. Confident. Smooth. In control.

So when you caught him mid-laugh, cheeks crinkled and eyes glinting, you said without thinking, ''You have such a beautiful smile, Jay.''

He paused.

And then it happens.

The smooth composure flickered. He cleared his throat and glanced away, tugging at his collar like it’s suddenly too warm in the room. ''Yah… don’t say stuff like that out of nowhere.''

But you caught it. The flush blooming on his neck, creeping up toward his jaw.

You smiled. ''Why? Embarrassed?''

''No,'' he lied, straightening up. ''Just surprised. I mean, I already know I’m charming, but hearing it from you is... different.''

You leaned closer, fingers ghosting over the warmth of his neck. ''You sure? Feels like someone's overheating.''

Jay groaned, turning away. ''I hate you.''

You laugh. ''No you don’t.''

JAKE

You didn’t mean to make it a big deal, really.

He was just sitting on the couch, hair slightly tousled, wearing a plain white tee and shorts - but there’s something about him that makes you stop mid-step.

''You're glowing today,'' you say, tone soft. ''Like... unfairly handsome.''

Jake looked up, blinking. Then, in real time, you saw the red flood his entire face. From his cheeks to the bridge of his nose to even the tips of his eyebrows.

''Oh my God,'' he mumbled, grabbing the closest pillow and smashing it into his face. ''Why would you say that?''

You laughed, sitting next to him. ''Because it’s true?''

He peeked at you from behind the pillow, face still ridiculously red. ''I'm never going to recover from this.''

''You will,'' you assured him, pecking his cheek. ''Eventually.''

He giggled.

SUNGHOON

Sunghoon wasn't easily flustered, at least not on the surface. But today was different.

You caught him mid-conversation, eyes bright and tone soft, ''You're really handsome, you know?''

He faltered.

The words hung in the air, and his smile dropped just enough for you to notice. His skin - usually pale and cool-toned - turned an unmistakable shade of rose.

''You always say that,'' he muttered, trying to hide behind his water bottle.

''Because it’s always true.''

He sighed, pretending to be annoyed, but his hand moveed to his cheek as if he could calm the heat radiating there. ''You can’t just say that in public…''

You lean in. ''Guess what? I’m going to say it again.''

''Don’t you dare,'' he warns, but his flushed cheeks betray him.

SUNOO

Sunoo's always the king of reactions—dramatic, expressive, and loud. But when you softly whispered, ''You're handsome,'' while brushing a strand of hair from his forehead, something changed.

He blinked at you, speechless.

And then you saw it - right around his eyes, just beneath his lower lash line, a soft flush blooms. A quiet kind of embarrassment.

''Wait - what?'' he finally squeaked, though stammering more.

''You heard me.''

His hands went to his face, but not to cover his cheeks. He pressed his palms to his temples, eyes wide. ''Why would you attack me emotionally like that?''

You giggled. ''Because you’re cute when you blush here.''

“Stop looking!'' he cried dramatically, curling up on the couch. ''This is illegal!''

But when you catch him peeking through his fingers, you know he secretly loves it.

JUNGWON

Jungwon was casually scrolling through his phone, lazily sprawled across the bed, when you whistled. ''You look good.''

And immediately, the tips of his ears twitched, but more noticeably, a warm flush began to crawl up the sides of his jawline, painting a soft pink.

''I-I do?''

''Yeah,'' you whisper, touching his jaw gently. ''Especially like this.''

He tries to smile, but his voice betrays him, his hand swatting yours away, gently. ''You're just saying that because I look chill.''

''No,'' you said simply, ''I'm saying it because it's true.''

He groaned softly and buries his face into a pillow. ''Why are you so nice to me?''

You grinned. ''Because I like watching your jaw turn red.''

RIKI

You caught Riki off-guard while he was stretching after dance practice. His back is turned, and you could see the slight strain in his shoulders, the curve of his spine under his oversized shirt.

''Even your posture is hot,'' you tease.

He pauses mid-stretch. ''Huh?''

''You’re just... really pretty. Even like this.''

He didn't respond right away, but you caught it—the slow creep of red rising from the base of his neck. The nape, usually hidden by his hair, was glowing.

''Y-you’re so weird sometimes,'' he muttered, keeping his back to you like it’ll shield his dignity.

''I like making you shy.''

''Well, stop,'' he said, voice soft.

But when he turned his head just slightly and you saw the ghost of a smile, you know he doesn’t really mean it.

lovliezᡣ𐭩: @chrrific @saemisic @heeaara @ltfirecracker @woniefication @lezleeferguson-120 @fleurhoons @rikifever @chaeneu @jjennuine

[rafayelxsylusho]

The Holy Trinity

TW: Filthy Smut

In the name of the doctor, the crow and the unholy step bro. ❄️🐦‍⬛🍎

You pause, hand hovering over the doorknob as you take a deep breath.

Steeling yourself, you open the door to find Caleb standing there, a smirk playing on his lips. He looks different than you remember, harder somehow.

"I suppose I shouldn't be surprised to see you here"

🐦‍⬛❄️🍎🐦‍⬛❄️🍎🐦‍⬛❄️🍎🐦‍⬛❄️🍎🐦‍⬛

You recall the heated conversation with Zayne and Sylus not long ago. They had been livid when you told them about your encounter with Caleb in Skyhaven.

You saw Sylus move, you knew he was leaving, he was going to look for him, he was going to hurt him.

Zayne had spoken up, his voice ringing out with authority even as Sylus stormed towards the door in rage. "Stop. She doesn't want you to hurt him."

Sylus paused, glancing back at you with a scowl. His eyes searched yours, looking for any sign of hesitation or doubt. When he found none, he let out huff. "He deserves it. He is like a brother to her, why would he do that? You were supposed to take care of her there, Zayne. Where the hell were you?"

Zayne's gaze softened as he looked at you, a hint of tenderness in his eyes despite the tension. "I was working" he explained, though his jaw clenched at the reminder of the tragic loss. "I didn't know he was alive. And we lost two kids..." He trailed off, pain flickering across his face before he pushed it down. Turning to you, he reached out to gently tilt your chin up, forcing you to meet his eyes. "And he is not like a brother to her, Sylus. He is so much more than that... isn't he, darling?"

You blushed and Sylus' eyes narrowed as he looked between you and Zayne "What is that supposed to mean?" His eyes piercing through to your very soul. "What is he to you then?

Zayne beat you to the answer, his thumb still crooked under your chin. He gazed at you tenderly, a small smile playing on his lips. "They've been in love since they were teenagers," he revealed, his tone almost nostalgic.

Sylus scoffed, leaning back against the wall and crossing his arms. "Teenagers? That was years ago. People change." Despite his dismissive words, there was a flicker of something unsettling in his eyes, jealousy, perhaps?

Zayne let go of your chin, his hand drifting down to rest on your shoulder as he turned to face Sylus. His expression was serious. "Caleb is not going to give up on her," he stated, "I've known him since we were children"

As if to challenge this, Sylus strode over to where you sat, his tall frame looming. He knelt down in front of you, bringing himself to eye level. His eyes searched yours as he asked, "Aren't we enough for you, Y/N ? Do you want us to step aside and let him have you?"

"She..."

Sylus held up a hand, silencing Zayne. He turned to you, his gaze unwavering. "No, let her answer," he said, leaving the decision squarely in your hands.

You felt the hot tears spill down your cheeks, your voice choking with emotion as you pleaded, "Please don't make me choose. I can't..." The thought of losing any of them was unbearable.

Zayne's eyes flashed at Sylus, his jaw clenching. "He doesn't share, he won't agree to this"

"Well, he has to," Sylus said "Because our greedy little kitten here doesn't just want the two of us..." His gaze raked over you "She wants him too."

He reached out, his fingers catching a tear on your cheek and bringing it to his lips. His tongue flicked out, tasting the salt of your sorrow. "Tell me, sweetie," he murmured. "How are we supposed to share you with a man like him?"

And so you talked about it.

🍎❄️🐦‍⬛🍎❄️🐦‍⬛🍎❄️🐦‍⬛🍎❄️🐦‍⬛🍎

"Did you see my forgiveness coupon?" he asked, his voice low, almost hopeful, but with an undercurrent of something more, a desperation he could hardly hide. "Because I think it's time I cash it in."

"You think so?"

"I know so" Your heart races as Caleb steps closer, the air between you thinning with each step. You see the hope in his eyes, the desperate longing. Just as his face begins to dip down, his intentions clear, you hear Zayne's stern warning behind you.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

Caleb's head snaps up, his eyes locking with Zayne's over your shoulder. Zayne's stance is protective, his body language making it clear that he won't hesitate to intervene.

Caleb's smile didn't reach his eyes, a cold, calculating glint remaining as he regarded Zayne. "Long time no see, Zayne," he drawled. His gaze flicked back to you, lingering on your face, before he turned his attention fully to Zayne.

"What are you doing here?" Zayne asked, his voice tight.

"I'm here to talk to Y/N" Caleb said, "So if you don't mind, I'd like some time alone with her." His words were polite, but they sounded like a demand.

"No," Zayne said, his voice rising slightly, a clear refusal "I don't think that's a good idea." 

"Zayne..." You try to speak, but before you could utter another word, Caleb cut you off, his smirk growing wider and mocking.

"I think Y/N can decide on her own who she can or can't talk to," Caleb said. "It's not like she belongs to you," he added, throwing the jab at Zayne.

"She belongs to us"

Your eyes widened in shock as Sylus abruptly walked in through the open door.

In an almost aggressive move, Sylus stepped towards you, his fingers gripping your chin firmly. Before you could react or pull away, he crashed his lips against yours in a kiss. It was branding, a claiming, his way of staking his territory in front of Caleb.

When he finally released you, leaving your lips tingling and your mind reeling, Sylus stood tall and turned to face Caleb. He stepped forward until he was standing in front of him, his broad shoulders squared and his chin held high. With a smug, almost challenging smirk, Sylus looked at Caleb and asked, "Do you have a problem with that?"

"So this is what you were doing in the N109 zone?" Caleb asked, a mocking chuckle escaping his lips.

Sylus merely smirked wider, unfazed by Caleb's hostile demeanor. "Ah, so you must be the adoptive brother then. Caleb, wasn't it?" He spoke as if he already knew the answer. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you in person." His voice dripped with false sincerity. Despite the pleasantries, the air remained thick with tension as both men stared each other down.

Caleb's expression shifted, a mix of disgust and anger flashing across his face as the true nature of the situation sank in. His jaw clenched, a muscle ticking in his cheek. "So I see," he said, his voice was tight and laced with contempt. "You've been pretty busy, haven't you, Pipsqueak?" he sneered at you, before turning his glare back to Sylus. "I never took you for the sharing type Y/N. You always kept your little secrets close to your chest, especially when it came to..." He paused, letting out a harsh laugh. "Well, everything. I'm surprised you'd let this..." He jerked his head towards Sylus and Zayne. "...be a part of your life, let alone your bed."

Zayne stepped forward "Watch your mouth," he growled at Caleb, his protective instincts flaring. " Don't you dare speak to her that way."

You squeezed your way between Sylus and Caleb, your voice rising. "What? You want to call me a slut?" you demanded, your eyes flashing with anger and hurt. "Go right ahead, at least I wasn't a coward for years!"

Caleb recoiled as if you'd slapped him, your words striking a nerve. His eyes flashed with a mix of anger, hurt and guilt. For a moment, he seemed at a loss for words, your accusation leaving him momentarily speechless.

Into the tense silence, Sylus chuckled darkly, a hand coming to rest possessively on your hip as he pulled you back against his chest. "Well," Sylus murmured "Looks like my little kitten has claws after all. I do so love a feisty one."

Zayne remained tense, his eyes locked on Caleb. He seemed to be holding back.

Caleb's jaw worked as he struggled to find a retort, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. Finally, he spoke. "You're right," he said, "I was a coward. I should have acted on my feelings long ago. But I'm here now." His gaze bored into you, intense and searching.

"Are you willing to share Colonel?"

Caleb's eyes flashed with a dangerous light at Sylus's words "Share? I don't share what's mine," he growled, "Y/n is not some toy to be passed around." His eyes flicked to you longing in their depths before he turned back to Sylus.

Sylus tightened his grip on your hip, "Everyone's entitled to their opinion, but I have a feeling our little kitten here knows exactly what she wants," he purred, "Don't you, Y/N?"

You closed the remaining space between you and Caleb, your voice steady and clear. "I do" you said, your gaze locked with Caleb's. Then, with a newfound confidence, you continued. "Sharing doesn't mean you have to pass me around or take turns, Caleb. If you want me, cash that coupon and show me you truly mean it, once and for all." Your words were a challenge, daring him to finally make a move and stop holding back.

Caleb leaned in, his lips brushed against yours in a whisper, his breath hot "I'm sorry," he breathed, the words a desperate plea before he pulled back and turned towards the door.

He paused for a moment, his hand gripping the doorknob tightly as if weighing his options. Then, with fierce determination, he muttered under his breath, "Fuck it."

Caleb slammed the door shut and strode back towards you. Before you could react, he had you in his arms, his lips crashing against yours in a messy kiss. It was a collision of teeth, tongue and pent up longing, a kiss filled with all the years of desire he had held back.

This was a moment you fantasized about for years as a teenager, and now it was finally happening.

As you wrapped your legs around Caleb's waist, lost in the heat of the moment, you heard Zayne's voice cut through the haze. "Take her to the bedroom, Caleb"

Caleb didn't hesitate, his hands gripping your thighs, never breaking the kiss. He carried you towards the bedroom, his heart pounding in his chest as he finally gave in to the desire that had consumed him for so long.

He kicked open the bedroom door and laid you down gently on your bed, his body hovering over yours, his eyes shining with a hunger that took your breath away.

"Tell me this is what you want," he whispered "Tell me you want me as much as I want you." In the doorway, you could see Zayne watching, his expression unreadable, but his eyes never leaving you. 

Caleb's eyes darkened with desire as you whispered those four words, "I want you, Caleb." A growl rumbled in his throat as he watched you start to remove your shirt, revealing the skin beneath.

Sylus and Zayne stood side by side in the doorway, their eyes fixed on you. Sylus's expression remained smug, a satisfied smirk playing at the corners of his mouth, relishing the sight of Caleb giving in to his base instincts.

Zayne, on the other hand, looked to be a mix of emotions, the stoic doctor's composure was slipping, revealing a man consumed by jealousy and an urge to assert his own claim. His jaw clenched and unclenched as he watched Caleb worship your exposed skin with reverent touches.

Caleb's fingers splayed across your stomach as he leaned down to capture your lips in another kiss, his tongue claimed your mouth.

"Fuck," Caleb rasped against your lips "I've wanted this for so long. I've wanted you for so long." His hands slid down to grip your ass, squeezing it as he ground his hardening cock against your core.

Then he paused, his hands gripping the waistband of your pants as he slowly dragged them down your legs. He tugged the fabric past your knees and ankles and tossed it aside, leaving you in only your bra and a pair of delicate panties.

He took a moment to drink in the sight of you, his gaze roaming over your curves, a look of desire etched onto his face.

"Beautiful," Sylus murmured, his deep, smooth voice cutting through the charged silence. "Isn't she?"

Caleb's chest heaved with a shuddering breath as he tore his eyes away from your nearly naked body to look at Sylus, a flicker of defiance perhaps, or just plain annoyance, flashing in his eyes. But before he could say something, Zayne spoke up.

"Touch her, Caleb," he ordered, "Make her feel good."

Caleb's attention snapped back to you, his hands already moving to the clasp of your bra. He unhooked it, the scrap of lace falling away to reveal the soft, rounded swells of your breasts. He took a moment to admire them, before leaning down to press open mouthed kisses along the delicate line of your collarbone and the swell of your breasts.

"These tits are what wet dreams are made of" he whispered against your skin.

Without hesitation, he spread your legs apart, hooking his fingers into the fabric of your panties tugging them to the side. The material strained against your hip, baring your most intimate place to his eyes.

"Fuck, look at you," he rasped, "So fucking wet and ready for me." He couldn't resist, his fingers delving between your folds to spread your lips apart. The sight of your aroused flesh, so inviting and eager, made his hard cock throb painfully against his pants.

Unable to hold back any longer, he pushed two long fingers deep inside you and sucked the sensitive peak of your nipple as he felt your walls flutter and clench around his fingers, your body welcoming him in.

"Oh god, Caleb!" you cried out, your back arching off the bed, the soles of your feet pressing against the sheets as you instinctively spread yourself further for him, giving him complete access to your cunt.

Sylus watched Caleb finally take what he had long craved. "Such a needy little thing, isn't she? I bet she's going to look even better stretched around your cock."

Your eyes fluttered shut, lost in the sensations of Caleb's fingers pumping in and out of your dripping sex, his mouth lavishing attention on your sensitive nipples. The pleasure was overwhelming, your body writhing beneath his touch.

Suddenly you heard Zayne's voice, startling you with his proximity to the bed. Your eyes flew open to see him standing close, his gaze intense and focused where Caleb's hand disappeared between your thighs.

"Curl them," he instructed, his voice a husky rumble. It took a moment for the words to register through the fog of arousal clouding Caleb's mind.

"Huh?" Caleb glanced back at Zayne, his brows furrowing in confusion. His fingers stilled inside you for a moment, but didn't withdraw.

"Curl your fingers inside of her, Caleb. She likes that."

Caleb's gaze flicked back to your face, taking in your flushed cheeks and swollen lips, before he turned his attention back to your body. Following Zayne's advice, he curled his fingers inside you, pressing against a sensitive spot deep within your core.

"Ohhh!" you cried out, your voice pitching higher as a jolt of intense pleasure ripped through you. Your back arched even further, your hips bucking against Caleb's hand as he began to stroke that perfect spot.

"That's it," Sylus murmured. "Make her scream for it."

"Fuck, I can feel you clenching around my fingers like they're your last lifeline," Caleb growled, his thumb rubbing circles over your clit. "You like that, don't you? You like having my fingers buried deep inside you?"

Caleb's gaze never left yours as he listened to your breathy cries, watching your face contort with pleasure. "How badly do you want to cum, princess?" he asked, his tone almost teasing. His fingers slowed their pace, sliding out until just the tips remained inside you.

"S-so badly, Caleb please!" you nearly sobbed, your hips bucking frantically, trying to force his fingers back inside you.

Caleb looked deep into your eyes, his intent clear, then he buried his fingers back inside you, pushing in so deeply that his knuckles pressed firmly against your sensitive skin. At the same time, he lowered his head and captured your nipple between his teeth, biting down just hard enough to toe the line between pleasure and pain.

"Fuck, you're so tight," he gritted out, his fingers pumping faster, "I can't wait to feel your perfect little pussy squeezing my cock."

He could feel your body tensing, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps as he drove you closer and closer to the edge.

"So fucking pretty," his voice was rough with desire as he drank in the sight of you coming undone. "Struggling to take even my fingers like this. But you're going to cum for me, aren't you Pip?"

Unable to form a coherent response, you could only nod frantically, tears of pleasure already welling up in your eyes. His thumb kept circling your clit with teasing strokes.

"Show me," he demanded, "Show me how much you love this. How much you need it." His fingers curled inside you, pressing ruthlessly against that perfect spot.

Your climax hit you with the force of a tidal wave, back arching clean off the bed as a silent scream tore from your throat. Tears spilled down, your vision blurring as pure, white hot ecstasy consumed you. Your cunt clenched like a vice around his fingers, walls rippling and spasming as a gush of liquid heat flooded out of you.

Caleb groaned as he felt your release gush out around his fingers. He didn't let up, continuing to stroke and caress your flesh, drawing out your orgasm for as long as possible.

You slowly blinked away the haze of your orgasm, your chest still heaving with ragged breaths. As your vision cleared, you found Caleb's eyes on you, his gaze heavy with a hunger that made your spent body ache for more.

You watched, almost in a trance, as he slowly pulled out his fingers from your core. They were coated in your release, he made sure to keep his eyes locked with yours as he brought them to his mouth, his tongue darting out to lap at the slickness clinging to his skin.

"Mmmm, you do taste as sweet as you look" He made a show of sucking your juices from his fingers, his lips wrapping around each one, his tongue swirling and lapping until they were clean.

"Look at you, dripping all over the sheets," Sylus said "You're absolutely fucking soaked, aren't you?"

His gaze cut to Zayne, "But none of it is for us, is it Zayne? That sweet little cunt is clenching and fluttering for someone else's touch." 

Zayne's eyes flashed with dangerous intensity as he walked closer to the bed. He could see the way your chest heaved with each breath, the flush of your skin, and the damp patch darkening the sheets beneath you.

Stopping at the edge of the bed, Zayne looked down at you, his expression unreadable "You are so beautiful sweetheart, you don't deserve everything we are going to do to you," he stated "But you will be a good girl and take it, right?

You nod as you reach for Caleb, his muscles tensing as he feels your fingers start to tug at the hem of his shirt, his abdomen tightening reflexively. His gaze turned intense as you leaned in close, your lips a mere hairsbreadth from his. He could feel your warm breath ghosting over his skin, smell the sweet scent of your arousal, and it made his heart pound in his chest.

"I...I don't know if I can," he admitted. Sharing had never been his strong suit, and the thought of another man's hands on you, bringing you pleasure, filled him with jealousy. "But fuck, the way you're looking at me right now..." His eyes darkened, a smirk tugging at his lips. "I think I'm willing to try, for you." His hands covered yours, helping you pull his shirt off and toss it carelessly to the floor.

Your fingers moved to the waistband of his pants, tugging them down over the bulge straining against the fabric, he lifted his hips slightly to help you.

"Impatient little kitten, getting straight to the point"

You turn to look at Sylus and say "You too Sy, take it all off"

"As you wish," he grins, shrugging the shirt off and letting it drop to the floor.

He looks at Zayne, a challenging glint in his eyes. "There, I've done as she asked. Now, are you going to strip for us too, Doctor? Or do you need a little more...encouragement?" 

With a calm, almost clinical efficiency, Zayne began to remove his own clothing, his fingers working at the buttons of his shirt before shrugging it off.

Sylus made a show of shimmying out of his pants and underwear, his movements graceful and sensual. The dark fabric pooled on the floor, leaving him bare, his cock already hard and heavy.

You turned your attention to Caleb, your fingers hooking into the waistband of his underwear. With a tug, you dragged them down his thighs, your eyes widening as his impressive length sprang free. It was magnificent, thick and long, just like Sylus's and Zayne's, the swollen head already glistening with arousal. A bead of moisture clung to the tip, and you found yourself licking your lips as you imagined the taste of him on your tongue.

Caleb's lips curved into a smirk as he watched your reaction "See something you like?" his cock throbbed under your gaze. He reached out, his fingertips tracing along your jawline, tilting your chin up to make you meet his eyes. "What are you going to do with it?"

His eyes widened in surprise as you suddenly straddled his lap and said "Sit on it"

Feeling the heat of your pussy pressed against his cock, a deep flush crept up his neck, coloring his cheeks "For fuck's sake" he muttered, his voice strained with a mix of embarrassment and arousal.

Sylus threw his head back with a dark, delighted laugh. "That's a dangerous offer you're making. Our poor Colonel looks like he might just fucking explode."

Familiar hands come up behind you grabbing your ass and running up your back. Brushing your hair to the side, exposing your neck before a tongue drags up the length of it. Zayne.

You could feel his breath fanning over your ear as he leaned in close. "What are you waiting for?" Zayne asked "Sit on his cock. Show us how badly you need it."

Caleb's breath hitched as Zayne lifted you effortlessly by your ass, aligning your dripping entrance with the throbbing length of Caleb's cock. Your small hand reached down, gripping his shaft, and with a long moan you slowly sank down, taking every inch until he was buried to the hilt inside you.

"Fuuuck!" Caleb's eyes squeezed shut at the exquisite sensation of your gummy walls gripping him. His fingers dug into the soft flesh of your hips, kneading and squeezing as he fought the urge to start pounding up into you.

Unable to hold back, Caleb leaned in, catching your bottom lip between his teeth, biting down just hard enough to make you gasp. He soothed the sting with his tongue before pulling back, pupils blown wide with lust.

"I knew it," he growled, his voice rough and ragged. "I fucking knew it would feel like this, like coming home." He rolled his hips, grinding against you, and you could feel every hard, thick inch of him throbbing deep inside your cunt. "Fuck, I'm done. Ruined. I need this every single day. Need to feel this sweet little cunt squeezing my cock. Need to make you mine."

"You feel so goooood inside of me"

"That's because I belong there Pip"

"Belonging already? Don't be greedy, Colonel," Sylus said "You haven't even seen her ride it yet."

Caleb watched you catch your plump bottom lip between your teeth. "Now ride me, pretty girl. Take what you need."

With that you began to move, rising up until just the tip of his cock remained inside you, before sinking back down, taking him to the hilt once more. His fingers dug deeper into the flesh of your hips, guiding your movements as he urged you to ride him harder, faster.

"Fuck, just like that," he grunted, his hips rolling up to meet yours, driving himself deeper into your core. "Your little cunt feels too fucking good squeezing my cock."

Behind you, Zayne watched with a tense jaw and a storm brewing in his eyes, as you struggled to take all of Caleb's length, a frustrated whimper escaping your lips "Too big..." Zayne's hand slid up your back, his fingers splaying across your shoulder blades possessively.

"Not a chance, this pussy was made to swallow our cocks. You'll take every inch." He used his other hand to cup your jaw, his thumb brushing across your bottom lip. "Just breathe through it. You can take it."

Then he used both hands to grip your ass, fingers sinking into the soft flesh as he spread your ass cheeks, allowing you to take Caleb's thick length more easily.

As you pushed against Caleb's chest, he fell back onto the bed, his eyes flashing with confusion as Zayne climbed up behind you.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Caleb growled, his voice tight with a possessive anger as he watched Zayne settle in behind you.

A smirk curved Zayne's lips as he met Caleb's glare over your shoulder. "I'm teaching you how to share."

Zayne's fingers brushed over your entrance from behind, still stretched wide around Caleb. You could feel the heat of his breath on your skin as he leaned in close, his chin resting against your shoulder.

"Unless you want to make this a real competition," Zayne murmured as he watched Caleb's face for his reaction. 

His fingers dipped a bit lower, gathering the arousal there to slowly spread it on your back entrance. "I thought I could help Y/N take your cock a little better. She's just so fucking tight, it's almost painful to watch."

Sylus leaned against the wall, a grin spreading across his face as he watched the scene unfold. " And it's about to get even tighter. So don't go blowing your load too soon"

Caleb's eyes widened at Sylus words, his brow furrowing in confusion. "What the fuck does that mean?" he questioned, glancing between Zayne's smirking face and your own flushed expression. The head of his cock throbbed inside your stretched pussy.

Behind you, Zayne's hand gripped your ass tighter as he notched the head of his cock against your smallest hole. You felt the sticky heat of his saliva as he spread it around, prepping you for what was to come.

"Don't think about it too hard," he whispered, his lips brushing the shell of your ear "Just breathe for me, darling. You know what to do."

You took a deep, steadying breath, just as you had done before when he and Sylus had taken you together like this. Your body remembered the delicious stretch, the exquisite pleasure of being filled so completely.

As Zayne started to sink into your ass, a strangled moan escaped your lips. Your hands clenched into fists, nails digging into the palm of your hands as you struggled to relax, to let Zayne's thick length slide deeper.

Caleb's eyes squeezed shut once again, a loud moan tearing from his throat as he felt your walls clench even tighter around him, squeezed almost painfully by Zayne's cock. The sensation was overwhelming, more intense than anything he had ever experienced. His heart raced, pounding against his chest like a drum, as he struggled to hold back the orgasm that threatened to crash over him.

"Fuuuck," he gasped, his voice breaking on the word. "I can't...I can't fucking believe..." He trailed off, unable to form a whole sentence as pleasure consumed him. Tears of overwhelming sensation pricked at the corners of his eyes. He had never felt anything so intensely pleasurable, so all consuming. The feeling of Zayne's cock sliding against his own through the thin wall of your body was too much.

"Breathe, kitten," Sylus reminded you "Look at you, taking them so well."

Zayne's hands gripped your ass harder as he bottomed out, his pelvis flush against the globes of your ass. You could feel Caleb's cock throb and jerk inside your pussy in response, trapped between your clenching walls and Zayne's length.

Caleb's eyes widened in shock as you collapsed against his chest, his hands coming up to grip your waist as he felt your arms give out.

Beside you, Sylus had claimed a spot on the bed, stroking his own impressive length with slow, teasing pumps of his fist. His eyes gleamed with dark satisfaction as he watched you struggle to take Zayne's and Caleb's cock.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk, my poor feisty kitten... you need to pull yourself up and suck my cock." Sylus ordered" You wanted this, didn't you? So now take it."

At his words, you felt a surge of determination, a need to please all of them. With trembling arms, you pushed yourself up on Caleb's chest, turning your head to face Sylus's throbbing erection.

Caleb watched in awe and a hint of jealousy as one of your small hands wrapped around Sylus's thick shaft, guiding it to your parted lips. His cock throbbed against your palm, leaking precum that you smeared across your bottom lip before leaning in to run your tongue along the swollen head.

Behind you, Zayne's hips snapped forward, driving his cock into your ass as he chased his own climax. One hand tangled in your hair, gripping it tightly as he held you in place, while the other slid around to your front to rub tight circles around your clit.

Caleb's eyes rolled back, his head falling against the pillow as you began to ride him in earnest, your hips rolling and grinding against his own. His fingers dug into the flesh of your waist, undoubtedly leaving bruises in their wake as he gripped you with desperate, bruising force.

Zayne's fingers worked your sensitive clit with skillful strokes, he rubbed mercilessly at that special spot, the one that made your toes curl.

Your moan vibrated around Sylus's thick cock as you took him deeper, sucking hard on the swollen head before relaxing your throat and letting him slide further into your mouth, your cheeks hollowed as you sucked.

When you felt Caleb's mouth close around one of your hard nipples you stopped, frozen in place as pleasure overwhelmed your senses, your moans muffled around the thick cock stretching your lips.

"Did I say you could stop sucking?" Sylus growled. "Close that pretty little mouth around my cock and suck again. Now"

Zayne swore under his breath, his hips never faltering in rhythm. "Fuck, Sylus," he bit out.

"Goddamn it," Caleb rasped, his teeth clenched. "She tightens up when you talk to her like that. I'm not going to last much longer at this rate. She's too fucking tight."

Despite their warnings, Sylus' hips snapped forward to drive his thick length deeper down your throat. "Then make her take it," he challenged, grin curving his lips. "Fuck her through it. I want to feel her scream around my cock as she cums on both of your dicks."

At Sylus's barked command, Caleb surged up into you with a strangled groan, his cock driving to the hilt inside your spasming cunt. The sudden, forceful thrust pushed you forward, and you couldn't help but let out a muffled scream around Sylus's cock.

Zayne gave a sharp, stinging slap to your ass "Move, sweetheart" His fingers dug into the reddening flesh, the force of his thrusts rocking your entire body.

Tears streamed down your face as you looked up at Sylus, your eyes wide and glistening with overwhelming sensation. A choked sob mixed with the obscene slurping sounds of your mouth working over his cock as you struggled to take him deeper, your throat constricting around his throbbing shaft.

Sylus's eyes flashed with cruel amusement at the sight of your tears, his smirk widening into a dark, almost feral grin. "Aww, crying are we?" he taunted, "How fucking pathetic...I don't care. Take it.

With that, he began to fuck your face with brutal intensity. His heavy balls slapped against your chin with each thrust, your nose filled with the musky scent of his arousal. Despite the brutal pace, he showed no signs of slowing down, determined to use your mouth for his own pleasure.

Caleb and Zayne matched each other thrust for thrust, their hips slapping against your ass as they chased their rapidly approaching releases.

Your body shook, back arching as your walls clamped down around the two cocks. Your scream ecstasy was muffled and distorted around Sylus's lenght as your orgasm ripped through you.

Almost in perfect sync, as if they had planned it, Caleb surged up into your spasming cunt one last time before throwing his head back with a loud moan. His cock throbbed and pulsed as he finally found his release, hot ropes of his cum painting your walls with thick streaks.

Zayne followed close behind, his fingers digging into the bruised flesh of your ass. With a sharp, harsh grunt, he slammed into you one final time, his cock driving as deep as physically possible. He let out a string of curses under his breath, his body going rigid as his own orgasm crashed over him. You could feel the heat of his release, the way his cock jerked and throbbed as he pumped your ass full of his own thick cum.

More tears streamed down your face as you struggled to breathe, to think, to do anything but surrender to the overwhelming sensation. Sylus, not to be left out, gripped your hair almost painfully tight and drove your head down, forcing your nose to press against his pelvis as he hit the back of your throat. Your moans around his cock vibrated deliciously, the sensation pushing him over the edge. With a harsh moan, he erupted, his thick essence flooding your mouth and throat in what seemed like endless spurts.

The feeling of being completely claimed by three men, was almost too much to bear. But bear it you did, taking everything they gave you and more, your body shaking and trembling with the force of your shared releases.

For a moment, the three men remained still, their grips on your limp, trembling body tightening as they rode out the aftershocks of their orgasms. Finally, with a shuddery breath, Sylus pulled out of your mouth abruptly, thick ropes of saliva and cum connecting your bruised lips to his cock.

"Don't swallow" you heard Sylus say with labored breaths "Show me"

At his command, you parted your lips, allowing the thick strands of saliva and cum connecting your mouth to his cock to break. You stuck out your tongue, letting the mixture of fluids drip down your chin and onto your heaving breasts.

"Good girl," Zayne praised, his fingers released their grip on your ass, only to trail up to your breasts, smearing Sylus' release across your skin.

"You look so beautiful like this, sweetie"

Caleb's voice cut through, his tone leaving no room for disobedience. "Swallow"

With a shaky breath, you did as you were told, tilting your head back to open your throat. Sylus's release was thick and bitter on your tongue, coating your mouth with its musky essence. You had to swallow multiple times to get it all down, your throat working around the heavy load.

As you swallowed the last of Sylus's release, you felt Caleb's and Zayne's cum begin to seep out from where they were still buried inside you, dripping down your thighs.

Sylus's fingers trailed down to your chin, tilting your face up to look at him as he loomed over you with a satisfied smirk. "There now, wasn't that everything you hoped it would be and more?"

[bluetimeombre]

۶ৎ Mess of a man.

| Joel didn’t know why he’d let his little brother convince him a night at the bar was what he needed. But he might need to listen to him more. Smut!

[this is pure FILTH. I don’t know what came over me, I need this out my system and I need Joel in mine STAT. If you’re a minor pls don’t interact, this is not a safe space.]

Warnings; language, drinking, age gap (Joel is in his late forties, reader is 21) masturbation reference, daddy, unprotected sex, p in v, fingering, oral (both receiving), over stimulation, come eating?let me know if I’ve missed anything

"Still haven't gotten your dick wet, huh?" was Tommy's way of greeting his brother.

Joel grumbled something, propping his foot on the coffee table in front of him. "Get lost, Tommy."

He'd thought that with his daughter, Sarah, at summer camp he'd get six weeks of peace, get work done, maybe take his daughter somewhere nice when she got back. But he forgot he had a brother and he forgot how annoying he was.

Sure, six weeks without his kid was a perfect and maybe a once-in-a-lifetime to get his dick 'wet' as Tommy put it. But he'd been out the game for years, out of practise. He wouldn't know how or who to approach.

"C'mon, what kind of brother would I be if I let you mope around alone in the house," he said, whacking Joel on the shoulder.

"A good one." Joel took a swing of his beer, watching the sport without knowing what team was doing what.

Tommy turned off the tv and snatched away Joel's beer, getting him up from the sofa. "There's a bar I know where everyone looking to get fucked goes, c'mon."

Joel decided he didn't want to know how his brother knew this place but as Tommy was already grabbing his truck keys and heading out the door. He'd be damned if he let Tommy drive his truck.

Yeah... that was why he was going...

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

The bar was already loud when he and Tommy got there and ordered their beers. Joel would have one, maybe another if he was here long enough but then he'd go home and... see to himself if he had to.

It would have been nice to have something for the evening. It had been a long time and his own fist wasn't enough. He had a pick if he needed, he guessed. He wasn't immune to all the single middle aged mom's around him that would talk to him on the school drop off, invite him to one of their garden parties. Even some with rings on their fingers always lingered too long when shaking his hand or asking for some 'construction' advice.

But none of them did anything for him.

Tommy patted his brother on the back as he winked at the lady behind the bar. "See anything you like, yet?"

They'd been there... what? Ten minutes.

Then yes, he saw something he liked and his jaw almost dropped.

Tommy spotted the way he stilled and followed his gaze. "Holy shit."

You were with three girls- your friends, Joel assumed- and a guy hanging onto you, an arm draped around your hips. You were nursing a drink, laughing with your friends, tongue darting out to the straw of your cocktail.

Joel was done. He knew it immediately.

You were only twenty-one, young and beautiful and worse, Sarah's baby-sitter. Sure, his daughter was fourteen but on the late nights he had to work he didn't like to leave her alone.

Enter you. Good grades, polite, always called him Mr Miller like it wasn't the hottest thing. You stayed every night Joel needed to work, you cooked for Sarah, even ensured there was left overs for Joel and Tommy sometimes.

You'd tidy when he never asked, you never drank the beers he left for you. You were perfect.

And Joel knew, the first day you'd baby-sat his daughter over a year ago he'd made a mistake. He knew it when he watched you walk down his porch, when he started offering you lifts home and wishing you'd accept, when he had a wet dream like a horny teenager and it was you under him.

This was some cruel joke.

As if you could hear his thoughts your eyes caught over the noise of the bar. There was shock registering first and then you were dismissing your group to walk over to the Millers.

Joel gulped when he spotted what you were wearing. A tight high collared shirt, your hair pinned and the shortest skirt with heels.

Like a present to be un-wrapped...

"If it isn't the Miller brothers," you grinned.

"Hey darlin'," Tommy greeted first, reaching up to give you a small hug.

Joel's jaw clenched as you hugged him back. But Tommy was respectful, hands staying high on your body. Better than Joel would do.

You pulled away and smiled at Joel. "Mr Miller."

He nodded, taking a swig of his beer as he watched your tongue dart out in search for the straw. Fuck.

Tommy held a hand on your back. "I gotta take a leak, keep him company would you."

Joel didn't know what kind of game his little brother was playing.

"Of course," you smiled, sliding into the seat Tommy had vacated. "Don't I strive to look after the Millers."

Tommy chuckled and winked at Joel as he disappeared into the crowd.

"Hi there," he drawled.

You smiled. Maybe it was the lighting, or the alcohol, but your eyes were darker than he'd ever noticed. "Hey. Didn't expect to see you here tonight."

"Sarah's at camp," he said. He was painfully aware you knew. You hadn't been around in two weeks because he'd had no reason to ask you. Well, no appropriate reason.

"She enjoying it?" you threw a leg over yours, grazing his leg as you did.

"Think so," he said, "what about you, huh? Enjoyin' your freedom?"

You chuckle. "You know I love working for you, Mr Miller."

"Joel," he corrected you. He took a swing of his beer, watching you watch him.

"Jo-el," you draw out his name.

Something in Joel stirred, his pants couldn't be growing tighter, right? Thank god for the dim lighting.

He cleared his throat. "So this is where the kids hang out these days, huh?"

"I dunno about kids?" you said, leaning your body over slightly. "Am I a kid?"

Joel let his eyes wander down. The expanse of your legs, the skirt riding up your thighs and the way your chest rose and fell with your breath. Then slowly, he trailed back up your body. "I guess not."

Of all those times he'd watched you from the porch, you'd always looked back at him at least once, maybe twice to give a little wave as he leaned on the door. Or when you'd started accepting his lifts home and would always linger in his seat when he turned the engine off, the two of you leaning over the console and chattering a bit longer. Or when it came to staying to watch a game with him when Sarah had gone to bed when he knew you hated sport.

Of all those times he'd never let his mind wander as much as it was not.

"Tommy dragged me out," said Joel, taking more of his beer.

"He dragged you?" you chuckled. "You didn't want to come?"

"I'm glad I did," he said.

You take a longer sip of your drink, nodding. "I'm glad you did too."

Joel watched you a second as you tilted your head, a small tilt to your head. "You wanna another drink?" he asked. He wasn't even sure how much you'd had already. Was all this new look and attitude the cocktails talking?

"I should be good," you muse.

Joel decided in that moment he'd either spend the rest of the night in your company, or go home alone. "Your friends not missing you?" he didn't even want to look back at your friends maybe waiting for you. Or that guy watching you.

You also didn't care to look back. "Let them."

Joel smirked as he brought his bottle to his lips. "Atta girl."

He heard your intake of breath and felt satisfied. Your leg kicked off your other one and had grazed his, going down and down and he was sure you weren't doing this on accident. Not anymore.

"You can't say things like that," you chuckle, shuffling in your seat.

God, your thighs were pressing together tightly. Such a pretty sight...

You leaned over in your seat. "Do you know how many women would kill to hear you say that to them?"

"Well, i'm saying it to you, ain't I?"

You look at him through your lashes and Joel's legs widen to accommodate for the rising need in his crotch. It was wrong. It was so wrong. It was crossing a line. "I think I'll take that drink, if you're still offering?"

Joel nods and waved someone over to get you the same. The two of you talked a little more as you waited, your drink sliding over moments later.

"It must get lonely," you said, fingers dancing around the condensation of the glass. "That house all alone."

It seemed both of you had forgot about Tommy at that point.

The game being played between the two of you suddenly seemed real to Joel. "You tryin' to get an invite over?"

"Maybe."

You didn't miss a beat.

Joel looked at you. People were piling into the bar, music was being played but all he could focus on was you.

Your hand darted out, your fingers grazing his knee.

He looked down at his knee, where you touched him. Could you make out the dent in his jeans. "You know, i'm old enough to be your father."

"So should I start calling you daddy?"

He chocked on his beer. He managed to finish it, smirking to himself. "You got a mouth on you."

"You started it looking at me like that."

Joel rested against the bar. "I'm your employer."

You shrug. "And i'm not at work."

Joel looked around the bar and found his brother making out with a woman at the furthest end. He was sorted. "Why do you hang out here, huh kid?" if what Tommy told him was true he wasn't sure he could handle the idea of you coming here, looking out for someone that wasn't him.

You shrug. "It's a good bar, good drinks, good company usually."

"Usually?" he teased, his hands on his thighs. "You know, Tommy told me some filthy things around this place."

You lick your lips, holding back amusement. "Really?" you stand to your feet, leaning on the bar closer to him. You slot perfectly between his thighs.

His hand danced close to your hip but didn't touch you. Not yet. "People come here for one thing."

"Enlighten me, Joel."

His name from your lips made his brain fuzzy, effecting him more than any beer. But he couldn't do it, god, he couldn't stop thinking about it. Of the counter. Of how good you'd look bent over the counter, tight skirt bunched up at your hips.

But the words failed with him.

It was like you could tell, like you knew every move of his and every twitch.

You take one more sip of your drink before sliding it over the counter.

Joel watched as you got to your feet and worry rose on him. Worry he'd lose all he wanted.

"I'm going around the back, i'm going to be there for two minutes before I call an uber to go home. See you."

You meant it to. He watched you walk off, only briefly waving to your friends as you wove in and out of the people.

You were giving him two minutes to fuck over his life.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

You waited, and waited for what you thought was two minutes. Truth be told you didn’t have a watch and lingering around the back of the bar probably wasn’t the greatest idea.

You could tap your foot and wait, rethinking your words and actions and hope that every time the door swung open, it would be your boss.

Joel fucking Miller. What game were you playing? More to the point, what was he doing?

Looking at you like that, carelessly letting his eyes wander as he imagined everything he wanted to do to you? You weren’t immune to his looks, his touches that lasted too long and the way he always watched you walk up to your front door, the engine only roaring once you were safe inside.

But now it seemed- faced with the ultimatum of fucking you or leaving you as nothing but his daughter’s babysitter- he was choosing the latter.

You’d really thought your lonely nights with only toys and fingers for company may have been rectified.

As you push yourself off the wall you really thought-

A sudden strong and rough hand grabbed your wrist and turned you back until you were against the wall and until lips were on yours.

You knew the scent, knew the strength of the body as Joel Miller pressed himself against you, groaning and licking into your lips.

You hands are in his hair, tugging at the curls of black and grey as you let him feel all your body, his arms caging you in and hand dragging down and down and-

"That was three minutes, sweet girl," Joel’s beard scratched your neck as he dragged his lips over your pulse.

You hold back a moan. The music in the bar was loud and the only people coming this way were the ones looking for a quick piss. Still you wanted nobody to stop this. "Wanted to give you a chance."

He nodded into your neck, biting the skin and winning a gasp from you. Joel tilted his head back, searching your gaze that only saw him. "Tell me you want this."

You nod. "I want it."

His hand cupped your cheek, thumb dragging down your bottom lip. He watched, entranced. "You’d let me down anything, wouldn’t you?" He whispered, looking as if he wasn’t all there. That some part of his mind was already fucking you against the wall.

You lower your head until you can reach the pad of his thumb, kissing the tip. "I want it."

"Oh, fuck baby," he groaned, pushing the pad of his thumb further into your mouth. Promises of things to come. "You’re gonna kill me sweet girl."

Your hand ran down his stomach until it meant the tightness of his pants and running up and down until you could feel the press of his length in your palm.

Joel indulged for a minute. His thumb in the warmth of his mouth while your other hand rubbed him right. Then he snapped back into reality as the door banged on the wall.

Not there.

Against himself, he took his thumb from you and grabbed your wrist, alerting you.

"I need your word that if we do this, Sarah doesn’t find out," he said sternly.

You chuckled. "Well I’m hardly gonna tell her I screwed her dad, am I?"

"Hey," he held one finger in front of your face, defying your smirk. "Your word, little miss, or I can drop you off home and you can watch while I take care of the problem you created."

You gulped. Maybe for a moment you forgot it was Mr Miller you were affronted with. Quickly, you nodded your head.

"Good girl," he surged forward and sucked on the bottom of your lip, his hips digging into yours. He groaned as you ground on him, nails digging into his biceps. "Feel wha’ you do to me, huh? You know how many times I’ve had to fuck my own fist and think of you?"

You practically melt at his words, leaning back into the wall. "Joel… please."

"Please what? Huh?" he taunted, rutting his clothed hips into your own, biting down on his lip as you threw your head back, moaning at the sensation. "C'mon, tell me what you want. Be a good girl and say it."

"I want you to fuck me," you whispered.

Joel scoffed. He left his hips against yours. He tutted. "I'm an old man, darlin', you're gonna have to speak up."

"Fuck me!" you all but screamed, desperation turning you into a mess.

Joel grabbed your hand and started to drag you from the alleyway, searching around as if his daughter might pop up out of nowhere.

You couldn't care less, didn't think about the group of friends you were leaving, or the guy that wanted you. Your hand circled over Joel's stomached t shirt, nails scratching as you leant into his side, lips marking up his neck.

"Fuck, baby," Joel groaned as he searched in his pocket for his keys. You joined the search, your fingers searching all around the dent in his jeans. "Fucking desperate, aren't you, huh?"

"Can't wait, Joel," you whisper in his ear, lips brushing, shivers running down his spine as you squeezed his crotch. "Please baby."

Joel grunted. He was practically shaking with the need to fuck you, to feel you against him. To have his hands wander all over you and memorise the way you moaned under him. There was so much more he wanted. Wanted to have you scream, wanted your neck bruised with his love and his back to carry the scratches from you.

He just needed.

"Fuck," he couldn't believe he was being so reckless. Couldn't believe that with a kiss and a grope you had rendered him a horny teenager. "Get in the back, babygirl."

He held open the door and practically pushed you in, climbing over you.

You jumped into his lap as soon as the door slammed shut and Joel chucked his keys somewhere to the front. Your lips worked against his, claiming it as yours and invading an unknown territory. You moaned as his tongue ran against yours and sucked it into his own mouth.

His hands were warm and large as they gripped your ass harshly, a soft slap echoing around his truck.

"You gonna let me slide my fingers into your pussy, baby?" he asked against your lips.

You moaned.

"Hey!" he grabbed your chin, pulling you back to stare at him. Your lips were already red and swollen. "You gotta talk to me baby. You want my fingers? Say yes."

"Yes please," you say, catching your breath. Your chest felt heavy, your pussy throbbing. "Please, want your fingers."

Joel smirked, finger tips brushing under the band of your skirt. "So polite."

The space at the back of his truck was small and cramped but he'd be lying if he hadn't thought about this. Hadn't thought about you in the back of his truck, cock stuffed down your throat or his face buried in your thighs.

All those times he'd taken you back, it had never been as innocent as he would let on.

But having you in his lap, begging for it, practically drooling with just his words, he had a feeling you weren't as innocent as you'd always made out to be.

Joel let the elastic of your skirt slap into place, causing you to jolt into him. As you jolted, he used the leverage of your hips to pull your skirt up and feel under you. "Jesus baby- you're soaked."

His finger slid up the cloth of your panties, collecting the dampness and smearing it.

You gasp as he presses into your pussy, pushing the cloth into you. "Joel please, I asked so nice."

"You did, sweet girl, you did," he nodded, watching as your eyes squeezed shut. "Hey- eyes on me baby, right here." He gently slapped the under part of your chin to get you to look at him as he easily hooked your panties to the side and sunk a finger in.

You hum out a moan, head tilted back.

Joel found the crevice of your neck, dragging his beard against the soft skin and relishing in the red that bloomed. "You like it? You like my fingers inside your heat? God, you're so warm."

"Like it," you nod, eyes shutting again.

Joel groaned low in his throat as he grabbed your chin and forced your forehead against his. "You keep your eyes on me, you understand me. Or i'll drop you off home. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Mr Miller."

"Oh-" Joel sunk his ring finger in until he was knuckle deep. "You're so good for me."

You tighten around the feel of his fingers. He's barely curling them and already you're squirming at the sound of your own slick.

"Ride my fingers, babygirl, gowan' now."

Obediently you started to move, riding his hand. His rough palm moved with you. His mouth remained open in a small 'o' as you wither against him, moaning.

Joel couldn't help the filth that spilled from his mouth. But with every clench you gave around his fingers, you didn't seem to mind.

"So good for me... such a good girl,"

"Dirty too, riding me in the back of the truck you and Sarah ride in."

"Fuck, i've dreamt of this, you look so good with my fingers stuffed inside of you."

At his encouragement you grip his shoulders, moving faster until your skirt is ridging up your hips and the little wisps of your hair are sticking to your forehead from sweat.

His thumb pressed down on your puffy and begging clit.

"Shit- ah- fuck!"

Joel's hips involuntarily bucked up to yours. "You wanna cum, sweet girl?"

You bite down on your lip, nodding and looking at where his forearm- taunt and veiny- disappeared under you.

Joel rested his head next to yours, kissing the sweat at your neck. "Tough baby, you're so dirty. Dirty girls have to do a lot of waiting till they get their reward."

Slowly, he retracts his fingers.

"Look at all this mess," he tutted, looking at how his fingers glistened with your need. He pats your hips, "up."

You fall onto the seat next to him, legs spread and head resting back on the car door.

You watch as Joel lifts his hips, un-buckling his belt as he starts to pull off his boxers and jeans. Your foot danced over to his lap but he impatiently pushes it away.

"You want to cum, don't you?" he asked, sending you a dark look. His hand grabs your ankle as you nod and kisses the bare skin above your heel. "Then behave."

The hand that you had just been riding wrapped around his cock and brought it out.

Your mouth opened as you stared at the beauty of the thing. He was big, bigger than you'd seen and bigger than you'd dare dreamed. He shone with pre-cum and your arousal as he spread what was on his fingers. His hand worked himself up and down as he relaxed back in his seat.

He looked over at you. "Eyes up here, baby."

Your gaze flicked up to him. "So pretty, Joel."

He chuckled and tugged himself. "Always knew you'd like it. God, you've no idea the things i've dreamt."

"Tell me. Please."

Joel leaned his head back, moving up and down his length slowly as he re-called every filthy dream his mind conjured. "Your hands wrapping around me. Your mouth being so warm and wet as you fuckin' choke on it. God, bet your throat's not used to a man's cock, huh? Only used to boys, ain't that right?"

He opened his eyes, peeking at you.

You'd dared closer to him, leaning over. You nodded.

"Bet that kid in there was hoping you'd give him a chance," he went on, his other hand coming up and thumb and forefinger tugging at your chin. "He didn't stand a chance as soon as you saw me, did he?"

You shake your head, shuffling closer into his side.

He jerked your head toward him. "Answer me."

"Only want you, Joel," you tell him.

You lick your lips, eyes darting from him to his leaking cock. The tip was red, begging for attention. "Can I- Can I please?"

Joel stroked back your hair. "Go on then, baby. Have a play." He stretched his arms along the back of the truck and watched to see you move.

But Joel quickly realised you didn't come around to play.

You'd always seemed so innocent- so un-knowing- when you looked after Sarah, when you helped him clean down the kitchen, when he'd offer you lifts back or to stay over you'd always blush and lower your head.

You were lowering it now, throwing your hair back over your shoulder and holding the base of him.

First, you touch him with your lips lightly and he smiles, daring not to think this might be the only time he lets you touch him like this. Your lips are so pretty and pink, swollen and wet from kissing him as you drag them along the sides.

Then you pepper kisses along the skin and start moving your hand around the base.

"You really gonna tease me?"

"Wanna take my time," you mumble into his though, kissing the skin.

Next, your hand cups his balls that were heavy with need. He wasn't exaggerating, it had been years since his last good fuck and no amount of jerking himself off to the thought of you could satisfy him. As your fingers played with his balls, rolling them around and giving them warmth and attention they craved, you made out with the tip of his cock.

You collected his pre-cum with your lips and tongue while still fondling him.

He could feel his shirt stick to him, his chest rising and falling quicker. Shittin-fuck. How was he supposed to last if this was what you were giving him?

"Easy, baby, easy," he eased you, stroking back your hair.

He knew you heard cause you were smirking then opening your mouth and taking him deep, almost all the way in one.

Joel groaned and grabbed the door. "Shit-ah-"

He didn't care if he wasn't far from the bar. Didn't care if anyone tried to get a look in through the fogging up windows. He didn't care if Tommy came by and applauded him for getting his dick wet. All he cared for was the feel of your wet mouth all the way down him, spit drooling down his cock.

You were doing so well and he wanted you to know.

"You wanna take me deep, huh?" he grunted, clutching onto your hair and holding you down. You gagged around him. He chuckled. "I'm not even all the way in there. You got room for more?"

You dragged your mouth up, taking a deep breath and nodding. You wiped your mouth from the mess you made and went in again.

This time, you took him again and again, deeper, bobbing him in your throat until he was a grunting and groaning mess. His hips moved of their own accord, shoving himself in even when there was nowhere else to go.

But the sounds of gagging, of his balls slapping against his own thighs as he moved, of the moans coming out of you were enough to almost having him finishing in your mouth. Almost.

He wanted to, boy did he, but he wouldn't, not until your cunt had swallowed him.

Joel pulled you up, letting you release him with a pop. "Want to be inside, need to be inside."

The truck wasn't the best place but it was the only place he had for you. He wished he could give you a bed, give your hours to welcome him, but Joel needed like he'd never needed. He imagined this is what starvation was, having your treat dangled in front of you.

And you were moving with him, lying down on the back seats, legs accommodating him as he slid in between you.

Joel gently pulled down your panties and stuffed them in the back of his pocket. If he was gonna have to jerk himself off to thoughts of you again, having your soaked panties was the least he deserved.

He glanced down at your swollen pussy and salivated.

Your hand trailed down, circling your clit as you moaned at the time he was taking.

Joel grabbed your wrist, bringing it up to his mouth and nipped at the skin. "Only I get to touch, yeah, babygirl?"

"Yes," you answered, breathless.

Joel loomed over you, bringing the tip of his leaking cock to smear himself over your folds. "Tommy told me somethin' real interestin'. Ask me what?"

"I don't- I don't care about Tommy, right now," you grab his shoulders, trying to pull him forward.

"He tol' me-" Joel strained, his lips brushing yours. It wasn't just your torture he wad delivering. It was his own. "He said people go to that bar to get fucked. Is that why you were there?"

For a moment you seemed shocked to hear it. Then the palm of your hand held his cheek, running over the stubble.

"Worked, didn't it?" you teased.

Joel sunk into you with ease. "Yeah."

He hid his face in your neck as you arched your back into him. 'Take it, take it,' he spoke into your skin, tattooing the words there.

"Joel-" you gasped, holding onto his back. "Fuck!"

"You're ok, baby. You're ok, babygirl," his breath was short. He needed to feel you more, the half way in wasn't enough. "Fuck, you grip me so well."

You gasp, holding him in you. "Need-need more."

"I dunno baby, you think you got it?" he teased.

"Yes, yes."

"What have I said about speaking up?"

You groan, throwing your head back on the seat. "Fuck me, please Joel!"

With a grunt loud enough to be heard outside, Joel sunk further into you. 'Shit, yeah.... fuck,' spilled from his lips as he slowly took himself out of you before sinking in all the way again.

"You feel me?" asked Joel. He held himself up over you because he'd be damned if he wasn't gonna watch you fall apart on his dick.

"Feel it, feel you everywhere," you mumble.

You really did. You felt the soft seats of his truck, smelt him everywhere. The smell of old cologne, cigarettes (though you were sure he didn't smoke) and new wood. It wasn't just his cock sinking into you but his voice as he mumbled filthy things in your ear. His hand dragged down your face, gripping your neck. Not tight enough to cut airways but tight enough to make you squeeze him.

He stuttered, "sh-shit. If you do that again I won't last," he told you. "And I want you to come first."

"Then fuck me Joel," you said, looking up at him.

Joel looked down to where he disappeared into you. You were already rocking your hips into his, desperate for something- anything. His hand pushed back some of your hair as he stared at you with something more than need. Desire. "Are you sure this is what you want?"

Wasn't it? Wasn't it everything you wanted since he first laid a hand on your shoulder and led you into his home, welcoming you to his life. "Yes."

His thumb dragged out your bottom lip before his lips were smashing onto yours, wet and sloppy as his thrusts increased.

He moved his hips in and out rapidly, giving you no more time to adjust. It wasn't long before he had to release your lips to breathe.

"Ah- shit!" you yelled.

"That's it baby, be as loud as you like. Let the whole fucking street know who's fucking you," he panted. His hands were at your neck, holding the both of you steady.

"Joel!"

"Shit! You feel so good!"

Joel tugged down your top, not in the mood to care if it rips. It's not like he was letting you back in that bar. He pulled out your tits and latched onto them like a child, nipping at the nipple.

Your hand winds itself in his hair, pulling at the roots and throwing your body into his. You could feel his cock stretch you, the pain mixing delightfully with the pleasure. With every thrust he tipped you closer and closer onto the ledge and as his warm, wet mouth sucked on your nipple, the other hand squeezing and playing with the other, you knew it would be the best orgasm of your life.

"I'm gonna, arg-"

Joel licked around your nipple. "Not yet."

"Joel!"

"Hold it!"

He pushed himself up, holding onto the back of the seats as he used the position to put a foot on the ground and fuck into you harder.

The windows were steamed, your bodies slick with sweat.

The truck was fucking shaking at how hard he was moving you.

You threw a hand out behind you to hold onto the door, bracing yourself as you rocked your body into his.

Joel threw his head back, his neck stretching you and tempting you. "Best fucking pussy out there. And I've been wasting you as a babysitter."

"Yours," you mumble. He hadn't even asked and you were giving him the promise.

His lips tilted into a lobsided smirk as he leaned closer to you. "You mine, huh? All mine? My girl, my pussy?"

"Yes," you nod.

For a minute you can only hear your breaths with the sound of his hips slapping into yours.

Joel's fingers dig into your thighs and bring your leg up to wrap around his waist. "Mine," he all but growled into your chest, nipping at the skin. "Show me. Show me you're mine. Cum."

He thrusted into you hard, his thumb holding your stomach down and playing with your clit until you were coming all over his cock. 'That's it baby... all over me.... there's a good girl.... keep coming,'

Joel fucked you throughout. He had his own finish to reach but watching you fall apart, your mouth open in a silent gasp as your fingers claw into his shoulders.

He cupped your chin, smiling down at you. "You gonna help an old man out?"

You were in no state to, coming down from your highest high.

Joel cupped your ass and lifted you from the seats that were slowly soaking in both of yours juices. "Ah-" he yelled out at the new angle he was reaching, his balls heavy hitting your pussy. "Yeah- there- just there baby."

"Joel!" you yell. "S'to much."

"No it's not," he shook his head. His eyes were screwed up as sweat rolled down his cheeks. "You can take it. You know you can."

Your pussy was throbbing, squeezing him so intensely you didn't know how he was still moving.

You bit down on your lip as you watched him concentrating hard. You test the waters, wrapping your legs around his waist until your entire lower body was in his weight.

"Fuck!" Joel's jaw clenched as he looked down at you, his fingertips digging into the skin of your soft thighs until he was sure bruises would be there for only him to see. "I'm gonna... shit- Where you want it?"

"Inside, please," you mewl.

Joel looked at you, danger in his eyes. "No, baby, we can't."

You nod and squeeze his hips. "I'm on the pill."

The words were heaven to his ears.

You squeeze around him and Joel yelled out, falling atop you as he spilled out inside of you.

"Take it! Take it! Fucking let me- let me in!" he yelled, hips stuttering as he fell into you. One of your legs remained around him but the other he let drop, holding it weakly.

You were sure you were still coming down from your high as his hips stuttered on yours. You could feel every drop of him smear on your pussy and leak out.

Then Joel's fingers danced around the space his cock was softening in you, pushing it all back in.

His brows rose as he looked down, a shaking laugh coming out. "I-"

You didn't want to hear the words that came after. The regret. The 'we shouldn't have' or 'think about Sarah'. You just wanted this moment of feeling held and cared for by Joel to last a little longer.

Your lips move against his slowly, tasting the salt of sweat from the both of you on there.

He didn't push you away, he just held his lips close to yours, in small and attentive brushes. "How do you feel?" he whispered, pulling back enough to look around your eyes.

"Good," you nod, "real fucking good."

Joel chuckled and looked down. Slowly, as not to hurt you, he pulled out.

You moaned at the sudden emptiness in you, lying there to catch your breath and so you didn't have to prepare for regret in his face.

But it seemed regret was the last thing on Joel's mind.

He had no idea what kind of animal was possessing him or just how far his need went. But when he fell back against the door, listening out to the low drum from the bar, he saw your swollen cunt. Red and white. Red from how hard he'd fucked you and white from the mixture of you and him.

Something growled inside of him- maybe it was him- but before either of you understood what was happening, Joel lunged back in and spread your thigs, diving in.

You lurched up onto your elbows, looking down at him. You could see the top of his hair, his eyes closed and you could feel his nose moving around you and nudging you. "Joel, what are you- holy-"

Joel hummed into your pussy. It was heaven on his tongue, dripping into him. So sweet and all you. He'd never felt closer to a person before. Never felt such a need. He was slobbering like a damn dog over your pussy.

"What the fuck have you done to me, huh," he'd pulled back only enough so you could understand his words.

Neither of you were sure if he was talking to you or what laid between your legs.

He opened up your pussy and went in, tongue fucking into you. He was caught between wanting to push his spill back into you and eating you out till you were dry.

"Joel!" you screamed, voice breaking. "You-you can't-"

"I fucking can," he snarled. His face was being pushed into your cunt as he shook it, smearing both of you all over him.

There was nothing you could say or do before your legs trembled and you came all over his beard and lips. You didn't know what to do, whether to push him off you or pull you closer.

Joel held your hips into his mouth and groaned as he took in everything you gave him.

Every flick of his tongue had you shaking. Every time he gripped your thighs you made a noise of pleasure.

Hours might have passed since he first discovered heaven between your thighs before he pulled himself out.

His face was wet with you. It was sinful and like nothing you could ever imagine. "Look at what you've fucking done to me."

You'd made an absolute mess.

[crowsofdarkness]

pairings: thunderbolts!bucky barnes x female!reader

Bucky reminds you who you belong to.

18+ cw's below the cut: kinda dominant!bucky, oral with both female and male receiving, fingerings, bucky making you clean his fingers.

I was in huge trouble. 

Big, big trouble. 

I was supposed to meet up with Bucky for our morning meeting at The New Avengers tower but we had an argument last night which caused me to spend the night at my old apartment. I still kept it even though I moved into the tower with the other Thunderbolts but only went when certain circumstances called for it. 

Like last night. 

I knew I couldn’t avoid Bucky forever so I sucked up the feelings of anger and remorse and headed back to the tower. The second the doors slid open and I stepped inside to the main area, a bunch of different eyes set on me. Yelena and Bob were off in the corner, Ava and John were once again bickering about something, and Alexi was eating a bowl of wheaties on the couch. 

However, I paid none of them any attention. My eyes were on Bucky who sat at the large conference like table, dark eyes pinning me in place while steepling his fingers underneath his chin. 

Not only did I stay away from him last night, I’d been ignoring his texts and calls. 

Before I could open my mouth to utter a hello, Bucky was on me like a hunter on prey with his hand wrapping around my wrist and pulling me down the hallway, away from everyone.

"What the fuck?" I snapped, completely taking off guard by his dominance.

But also very turned on. The damp spot on my panties was proof of it.

"Where the hell have you been?"

Bucky's voice was eerily calm which made me nervous.

"I-uh-I spent the night at my old place," I said.

Bucky's eyes flashed as he pressed his hips deeper into me, keeping me locked in place. I bit down hard on the inside of my cheek to keep the moan quiet because I didn't want Bucky to know how much his actions were turning me on.

"Why didn't you call or text me back?" he asked.

I narrowed my eyes on him. "I told you I needed space! You called me your girlfriend last night and I didn’t think we were at that point yet.” 

It was true. We’d been hooking up on the side every now and then but I wasn’t ready to put a label on it. 

My voice carried down the hall which earned a few stares from people working backstage so Bucky looked around before noticing a closet a few feet away from us. He pushed me towards it and soon we were encased in darkness, our heavy breathing the only sound echoing in the small space.

A faint light clicked on from above and I saw only a fraction of Bucky's tender yet hard features as he linked our fingers together to pull me into his chest. He towered over me so I had to crane my neck back to look up at him, his fire eyes burning deep into my soul.

"You don't think we're dating?" Bucky questioned.

I gulped before shaking my head. "No, we're not."

He hummed, brushing his nose against mine. "What do you call what we've done together then?"

I was careful to lick my dry lips, not wanting my tongue to brush against him.

"We hooked up, that's it. If you could even call it that. You got me off twice, no big deal," I lied with a shrug.

Bucky chuckled as he buried his face in my neck, his warm breath cascading over me as his hand gripped my throat, vibranium thumb on my pulse point.

Oh. Shit.

I squeezed my thighs together so hard I thought I would strain a muscle. I had every intention of ignoring Bucky, only focusing on work, but now with his hand around my throat and wetness pooling between my legs, I knew I was fucked.

Figuratively and possibly literally.

Hopefully literally.

With a gentle squeeze, Bucky forced my head to the side so he could get better access to my neck, him working to leave a red mark there. His teeth scraped and pulled causing a harsh moan to fall from my lips.

"This isn't dating?"

I went to shake my head but realized I couldn't do to his grip on me so instead, I let out a hushed no in response. With the hand still wrapped around my throat, Bucky's other hand brushed over the valley between my breasts, down my stomach, and slipped underneath the waistband of my leggings. Long fingers glided over my slit through my panties and I bucked my hips up into the touch, needing more.

"What about this?"

Bucky pushed two fingers past my panties and sunk deep into my pussy.

"Fuck," I groaned as the sensation of his fingers thrusting in and out in rapid pace ignited every cell inside of me.

"You said it meant nothing but what's this baby?"

He pulled his fingers out, the sudden emptiness making me whine. He smirked as he held up the two fingers under the light and my pupils dilated when I saw them glisten with my arousal coating the tattoos. Bucky brought them to my lips, his own pupils blown with lust.

"Lick," he demanded.

Something inside me burned other than arousal and I stood taller against him.

"Lick them yourself," I tossed back with a smug smile.

A muscle ticked in his jaw and he forced my mouth open with the hand around my throat and pushed his two fingers past my lips.

"Be a good fucking girl and lick them clean."

My pussy clenched around nothing and suddenly wanting to obey because of the praise, I wrapped my tongue around his fingers and licked up my arousal. I didn't even cum but his fingers were soaked. Bucky's chest vibrated in approval when he pulled his fingers out, a loud pop echoing in the confined space.

"On your knees," his hand left my throat to push me down.

Not wanting to disobey again, I fell to my knees and gazed up at him through my lashes. Bucky cupped my cheek and brushed his thumb over my bottom lip.

"You did so good sucking my fingers. Why don't you do that to my cock?"

The base of my spine ignited with warmth at his words and I made quick work of undoing his pants, the outline of his hard dick pressing, almost begging, to be released from his briefs. I gazed back up at Bucky, a silent question he answered with a nod.

I pushed down his pants and briefs to mid thigh and watched as his cock bounced free, slapping against his thigh.

"Oh, God." I licked my lips at the sight of it.

"There's no god here, baby. Just us," Bucky guided the head of his cock towards my mouth, pre-cum spilling out from the slit. "Open."

Not wanting to waste another second, I took in as much as I could, nearly gagging on the length of it. Bucky tasted so fucking delicious and whatever I couldn't fit in my mouth, I wrapped my fingers around it. While my head bobbed up and down his length, sucking as I went, my hand squeezed and pulled. At one point, I hollow my cheeks so I could take even more of him. Bucky's hands had a death grip in the strands of my hair and the burn at my scalp made me moan which vibrated against his cock.

"So good." He purred. "Oh shit, right there."

I pressed my tongue on the underside of him, right below the head, and my body vibrated with his praise. The wetness between my thighs was now warm and sticky, my clit begging to be touched so I went to slip a finger in my leggings but Bucky's harsh voice stopped me.

"Don't you fucking do it. You walked away from me, Y/N so you don't get to cum."

My nails dug into the skin of his thigh, making him hiss in pain, but his grip was so tight on my scalp that I wasn't able to pull off of him to argue. I was so close that just a few short circles against my clit would be enough to tip me over the edge.

"You're mine." He enunciated each word with a thrust.

"Mhmm," I hummed.

His breath was erratic. "I'm yours, baby."

This time I nodded, working harder to make him come undone.

Bucky's body tensed and when I looked up at him, his head had fallen back and lips were parted. Sheer ecstasy radiated off of him and it made me want to make him fall apart for me. My tongue circled the head of his cock while my hand now played with his smooth balls and Bucky bit out a strand of curses.

"Fuck. I'm gonna-," he uttered.

I moaned over his cock, edging him on, and with a loud groan Bucky spilled himself deep in the back of my throat

"Every. Last. Drop," he demanded with languid thrusts into my throat.

I did, greedily.

With his grip still in my hair, he yanked me off of him to my feet and I wiped away the drool with the back of my hand. Bucky lifted me on top of a set of crates in the closet and kicked my feet apart so he could spread me wide for him. I leaned all of my weight back on my hands and lifted my hips when he began clawing at my leggings working to take them off.

"Bucky," I whined. "Don't tease me, please."

His intense gaze flashed up at me. "I had every intention of not letting you cum but now I want to taste you on my tongue when I make you fall apart."

Bucky Barnes will be the death of me.

He slipped me out of both my leggings and panties, leaving me bare in front of him. My knees instinctually pressed together to hide from him but his large hands forced them apart, leaving bruising marks there.

"No. You don't get to hide from me. Anything. Alright?"

I let out a soft whimper, knowing when he said anything, he truly meant that; anything. I could tell him things I was afraid of and he wouldn't judge me or run away. Bucky didn't want me to hide from him and after this moment, I wouldn't.

Not anymore.

Seeing the answer on my face, Bucky yanked me closer to the edge of the crates then leaned down on his knees becoming eye level with my drenched pussy.

"Fuck," his breath fanned over it. "It's so pretty.”

My nails dug into his scalp to force him closer to me; I was aching for some kind of friction, almost begging for it.

"Please, Bucky. I can't," my voice sounded wrecked.

His tongue darted out to lap at my clit, and I almost came. Bucky licked from my clit, down the entire folds of my entrance and when he speared his tongue into me, I cried out his name.

"Say it again," he ordered.

"Bucky," I rasped.

He replaced his tongue with two fingers, going knuckle deep, while his tongue attacked my clit in such an assault I raised off of the crates trying to create some distance. Bucky's free hand held me down with a hand on my stomach before sliding up underneath my shirt and bra to pinch and pull on my nipples.

This was it; the dam was about to burst, my orgasm so fucking close to crashing through my entire soul.

Bucky's fingers pumping in and out, his tongue ruthless licks on my clit, and him rolling my nipple between his thumb and finger was enough for me to strangle out his name in a prayer, my orgasm causing my body to quake underneath him. When the aftershocks began to fade is when Bucky finally pulled away, my cum coating his lips and jaw.

With my hand gripping his forearm, I pulled him up while I met him halfway, legs wrapping around him and I smashed my lips to his. Bucky didn't miss a single second of the kiss, him immediately forcing his tongue in my mouth so I could taste myself. I groaned in the most intense, teeth clattering, tongue dancing, lips bruising kiss I'd ever experienced. Bucky kissed me like a man starved and I was his last meal.

Finally, needing to take a breath, I pulled away and rested my forehead against his.

"Wow," was all I said because after everything that just happened, the kiss was the most knee buckling one.

Bucky beamed at me before laying another quick peck on my lips. "I've wanted to do that for so long."

I brushed the hair out of his eyes and nodded. "Me too."

His eyes had softened back to their normal brown as he linked our hands together. “I never meant to scare you last night. I just meant it as you’re it for me. I don’t want anyone else but you, okay?”

"Okay," I murmured with a slight smile. 

He gently helped me off the crates and once on my feet, Bucky pulled up my panties then my leggings as I brushed my shirt back down to cover my stomach. He must have tucked his cock back into his pants without me knowing cause he shut the light of the closest and pulled me back into the brightly lit hallway. I blinked a few times so my eyes could focus and when they did, I noticed a few people standing in front of us. .

"We were wondering where you two headed," Yelena said with a very smug smile on her lips, her arms crossed over her chest. 

My cheeks burned red as Bucky wrapped an arm around me to pull me into his chest. "Sorry, we got a little distracted."

Alexi let out a deep belly chuckle. "Well, we have a meeting in two minutes. Are ya ready?” 

"Oh fuck," I muttered. "How long were we in there?"

Bob ruffled my hair before walking away with Yelena and Alexi. "Awhile"

Bucky held me back for a few beats to place a chaste kiss on my lips, one I eagerly returned. “Worth it.” 

[sweetshuga]

❝𝑺𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒔, 𝒏𝒐 𝒑𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒆𝒔.❞

starring 𝑴𝒂𝒕𝒕 𝑺𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐

⟡ 𝒔𝒎𝒖𝒕! ⋆ bsf!matt ⋆ pet names ⋆ pnv ⋆ big dick!matt ⋆ size kink ⋆ praise kink (?) ⋆ more.

You’d been purposely teasing Matt ever since you learned that he was attracted to you in that way. You’d dress in more skin revealing clothes than normal when you hung out with him, or you’d go without a bra — sometimes even going commando.

And the worst part? You’d always tell him about it during a lull in your conversation or just bring it up casually then immediately talk about something else as if you didn’t just plant dirty thoughts in his head.

Today, however, Matt had enough of your teasing.

You were sitting on his couch, legs crossed casually, wearing that damned sundress that draped over your curves in a way that had his jeans tightening.

“You know... going without panties is really nice — feels so breezy down there,” you said, idly scrolling through insta reels as if you didn’t just tell your best friend that you weren’t wearing any underwear.

The different audios coming from your phone filled in the silence, but none helped Matt distract himself from his increasingly inappropriate thoughts.

Matt’s jaw muscles ticked, his pupils dilating and eyes turning dark with desire. His body betrayed him as his cock began to harden and he discreetly adjusted himself while his eyes raked over your body.

His tongue darted out to wet his lips, throat going dry at the thought of you sitting beside him in nothing but one piece of clothing.

You were definitely doing this on purpose.

“You’re really fucking pushing it.” He murmured, voice low and husky with barely controlled lust.

“What?” You pretended not to understand what he meant, but the smile in your voice gave way to your oblivious act.

“Don’t fucking play dumb with me-” he cut himself off, taking a deep, shaky breath before continuing with gritted teeth. “I. had. enough.”

Before you could react, you were manhandled into a position Matt wanted you in — draped over the couch. Your knees dug into the cushions and your hands gripped the backrest of the couch as you tried to balance yourself.

Matt pulled up the hem of your dress until your bare ass was on display, his fingers immediately sinking into the supple flesh of your cheeks before he pulled them apart to reveal your glistening pussy.

His cock twitched in his jeans at the sight of your arousal.

“Fuuck, sweetheart, you’re dripping.” Matt groaned. “I... I need to be inside you,” he murmured urgently, but didn’t do anything about it since he wanted to know if you wanted it too.

“Tell me we can’t — tell me to stop... Because I don’t think I can control myself from taking you right here on this fucking couch.” His breathing was ragged, his voice taking an almost desperate tone.

“Don’t stop, please.” Your plea shattered whatever he had left of his self-control and he quickly unbuckled his belt and unzipped his jeans, fumbling slightly before finally freeing himself.

His heavy, veiny length slapped against his stomach when he pulled down his boxers, standing tall and proud and already leaking precum.

Matt spit on his palm and wrapped his fingers around himself, pumping his length to lubricate it before teasing your drenched slit with his tip, groaning lowly at the warm wetness coating his cockhead.

You both moaned softly when he slowly pushed his tip inside. his hands held your hips tightly as he thrust forward, pushing almost all of his length inside you in one smooth motion.

“Oh-oh my g-god,” you stuttered, slightly overwhelmed by the feeling of being stuffed full of matt.

He began to move, his fingers digging into your hips as he fucked you in languid, deep strokes — each one deep enough for his tip to kiss your cervix.

“Thaat’s right, baby... Fuck yourself on my dick.” Matt groaned when you began to push back against him, your ass meeting his hips with wet smacks. “Just-juust like that... Take every fucking inch — oh, fuuckk--”

The lewd sounds of his cock plowing in and out of your sopping cunt filled the living room — along with your pleasure-filled, needy moans and his low groans and grunts.

Matt noticed the way your inner walls fluttered around his length and he knew you were close. His hips stuttered at the knowledge that he was making you feel this good, his own pleasure growing.

His hand snaked around to rub your clit in quick circles and his free arm wrapped around your waist, keeping you in place as he began to really fuck you.

“C’mon, baby, cum for me... Cum on your best friend’s cock.” matt rasped, his hips slapping against your ass with enough force for you to recoil forward, but his arm around your waist had you unable to move away from the intensity of it all.

Your whole body tensed when you finally let go — a powerful orgasm ripping through you. Your pussy squeezed him soo good, so much so he couldn’t help but groan loudly.

“Good girl... Your pussy feels fucking amazing,” Matt leaned down and whispered, letting his lips graze the shell of your ear, his chest flush against your back.

He fucked you through your orgasm but slowed down enough for you catch your breath. He nuzzled his face in your neck, his breath hot against your skin.

“One more... I need more.” Matt whispered, his hips moving slowly, face still buried in your neck as he kissed and nipped at the sensitive skin there.

“You’re addictive.”

© 𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒕𝒔𝒉𝒖𝒈𝒂

⟡ 𝟎.𝟗𝒌 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅𝒔 ⸝⸝ 𝒆𝒏𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒉 𝒊𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒎𝒚 𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒖𝒂𝒈𝒆!

ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ 𝖎𝖘𝖆’𝖘 𝖓𝖔𝖙𝖊𝖘 ་༘࿐ Pretend you didn’t see me make another new account just to delete it again lol

[cafeleningrad]

If it's ok, OP, I would like to add a personal anecdote. (If you feel like it's derailing, please let me know, I can delete my addition.)

So, it took many, many years of development but I ceased being a lonely uncool girl. Not in a "fake it till you make it" way but a mix of circumstances, own behaviours and reactions changed.

For one, the circumstances change. The geographical and social environment, especially school and classmates, that did judge me, did not pick me in sports teams, making it difficult to connect with people because personal background and interest were unusual did change.

Second, I sometimes still feel how I don't cease to be "the weird girl" in other environments. Innate habits like derailed rambling, sometimes lacking tact in preferring pragmatism over feelings, and niche interests that are not common are present in new social environments. But what previously did single me out in excluding ways, at some point became what made me myself, and somehow it does connect to others. I mean sure, I did also learn a bit to rail myself in, how to hold small talk, how to properly sort my arguments but in proper shape it turned out I could hold long talks with other people which were fun and engaging for both parties.

I mean, adults are incredibly varied people. Surely none will get along with everyone but one will find their kin. After years of struggling in school, and my first years in university, I did also make friends along the way who kept in contact over years. The thing is, the interest was mutual. The conversations were kept by a constant exchange of messages or if possible meet-ups, sometimes re-connections after pauses. Or it's meeting acquaintances on the street and having a nice chat - it made me realize, whatever little issues I have, even if for formative years caused isolation, people do remember me more kindly than I possibly think of myself.

By, example a former colleague once straight up told me I was weird, not knowing how deeply it struck. However, he did not mean it negatively. For this one comment, he was also the one helping me as often as possible when I needed help, we talk for hours when I drop by at my old work days, and regularly message each other for life updates. What did render me to self-conscious in my childhood, often being the new girl in class needing to double down on new language skills, evaporated because another friend, and him had been in the exact same situation too. They did survive, and we could share this experience of outsider'ness. Exactly my ramblings is something he seeks out because whenever we discuss social issues my dissection is what he wants to receive a clearer picture, even if we don't draw the same conclusions. In his life I might be the weird girl, but this is the weirdo he enjoys being friends with. I met other friends, and new colleagues at my old work place, and they do recall fun anecdotes from the time we worked together. Again, in which I realize that I'm remembered in a fond way.

Which leads me to third: Self interest. Talking about feeling like the "uncool, lonely girl" inevitably comes with using "I". The frequency of self-reference and limitation is unavoidable... however at some point I needed to unlearn to think of myself when interacting with other people. Granted, food service was personally formative, especially after Covid as guest interactions runs on social protocols. Here I did learn small talk, but also what variation of jokes or formality are apt for each group or person.

To say, social interactions at safe emotional distance can be learnt. More so, at some point I entirely got out of my own head, and primarily thought of: "What do the guests need?" And when guests were nice, I came to enjoy a simple friendly chat was enough to mutually create a lovely interaction in a day. I learnt to simply enjoy the company of someone else. Not "how am I perceived?" which is a feeling I only could formerly only shut-off with close friends or overly pompous internet arguments afforded by anonymity (and not having unlearnt the rage bait of social media attention bait yet...) As I first mentioned in how I got to hold long conversations with others, it came in a bit with learning to learn some etiquette which is all about being a bit more mindful of other people. The don't even need to be strict rules, just a little more consideration in interaction is already a start to not set someone off. Or, even if I still struggle to quickly connect with peers in my age, which were especially lonely years at university first, I did still made friendships that now last for years. These same-age group struggles lead me to connect more easily with older colleagues which was also really helpful. My old colleagues are women who were part of the first generation of women to live on their own, lived through much more sexist times at the workplace. The entire feeling of inadequacy is so far beyond them because there were so many external issues to handle that actions and defiance transformed them. And well yeah, at some age the inverted self-dissection really ceases to be of any matter. When we interact they do judge me what I bring to the table, whom I help, what I say in any given moment. To say, whatever I might feel inside, what one does in correspondence to the people around them is telling much more who they are, than whatever self-image I have.

Some people are really great at reading, and influencing people's perception. I'm not.

But the less I think how I want to be perceived, the less I think about an insecure self-image in fear it gets revealed, or discovered, the more I get to enjoy simply being with people. Experienced taught me: Some people like me, some don't, I know what's proper behavior, so I find my people. The more I get out of myself, the more I simply stay curious for other people, what's new in their life, why are some things going good or not so great at the moment, what do they need, is there a fun topic to share?, the less I do feel lonely, because I'm actually connected.

Uncool is such an irrelevant topic in adulthood.

Only immature, and in truth insecure people care about what's cool as adults. Yes it is a dismissive judgement but I tell you, I've had the misfortune to work with enough influencers, celebrities and their entourage during different catering occasions, whatever they try to represent is a constant gambling for social capital, attention which is for worship, translating into sales for redundant products. Sorry, but the self-contortion of behaviours like entitlement by being careless, very noticeable fake nice behaviour just to keep up good social relationships which can be used for collaboration and association. By all what's good on this earth, witnessing these people was an ideal cure. These people who're considered so aspirational, bombarded with attention and advertisement deals are constantly dancing the line between irrelevance and a possible next deal for income. And that's what their perceived aspiration and coolness is all about. I can tell you, whatever I deemed cool as a child, turned out to be extremely vapid and reckless towards other people. The coolest people who don't know how cool they're to me. Their secret lies in not caring about how they're perceived because they're self-assured in how they act about a certain thing. It's their way and nothing else matters. Sometimes it's having cultivated a self-confidence to do something just the way one does considers right.

Sure, a big Harley Davidson bikes aren't something I consider cool by any means. But anyone who deeply enjoys their ride, working on their bike, telling me about who they met and what they saw on their rides is much more in tune with themselves, are open to the world, and much more interesting as a person than someone who drives a Harley to mark what a tough nut they're. The latter are not really themselves because they're a persona build up with material signifiers.

Getting out of myself was one of the toughest developments possible. It is difficult because my superiority-inferiority complex held up my spine for so long in school, dismantling it meant dismantling the pillars of my self-confidence. In fact, dismantling a big chunk of my self perception. That's not to say we never look back inward for self-reflection we should never do that. However... the isolation that previously protected me, was beginning to suffocate me. By realizing how whatever made me feel singled out negatively, either singled me out positively, or simply wasn't relevant anymore, I also needed to change my outlook on other people. If other people's reactions shaped me before, the people who shape me now are different, so I can't think of them as I did with others previously. I don't have to prove them anything, there is no façade necessary to maintain because the more time I spend on others, the less time I have to think about myself - the more my actions towards the people in my life do prove what matters to me, what I indulge in or not, whom I'd like to help or not. At some point I cannot control how other people see me still they do see what I do in the immediate moment. Whatever I might think of myself, how bad, how brave, how awkward, how self-sufficent I consider myself to be... values are only good when put to test, and this is done by interactions with each other. I might think myself as uncool - to a neighbour I'm the one who helped out with cat sitting and groceries when she broke her arm. To a friend I'm the one who listened when they had relationship problems. What I am, is what I am to other people, small things I do, things I tell.

The worst friendships I had were in retrospect those I made because I was lonely, didn't think I could admit that I was struggling because what gave me a sense of superiority in highschool surely didn't apply in work life, and university anymore. By worrying how I didn't want to be lonely, how I wanted draw people to me by a play-acted off-the-cuffness, I remained awkward because I constantly was re-evaluating myself in interactions, wanted to keep the upper hand, but also needed. Well, in the compensation, I was emotionally at my worst. Further, I wasn't developing. The compensation for the uncool, lonely girl, desperately holding onto connections was grasping onto a friendship that did me no good - in fact I was grinding myself to low energy to prove to myself that I am the friend that always cares. It was not about the friend who took certain acts of helping for granted, if not caring primarily about herself, being flippant, dismissive, and self-righteous in order to maintain her self-image as never getting buttered down. Like, the older I get, the more people I meet, the most harmful behavior comes from people who're stuck on creating/maintaining a self image. Newly rich guests who're extra dismissive to staff because they need to mark how they need to care about other people because everyone submits to the money they pay. Guys who got aggressive when they notice that someone is as smart or smarter than they're but thought of themselves as the stiffest fry in the bag - just to give a few examples how self-curation foregoes actual likeability. In our 20s we're pointed towards many directions: Careerwise, we've new as well as many responsibilities, we should be adults, we should've a social life, be a fully-formed person. As we can see on social media we've many templates/archetypes what certain types of fully fledged people should look like, how they should dress, how they should behave, what the people in their life, and their overall life style should look like. But actually many people are just learning how to live on their own, or to earn their own living, gain an entire new input of ideas, impressions, and responsibilities they've to sort out. None is a fully formed person at this age, even if many feel as if they've figured the world out (they've not). So at this age it is much more important to be actually invested in the world, to go out of one's shell, abandon what they previously believed to be universally true. And by that interest in others, rethinking, rediscovering if you actually like or don't like something, figure out what's important to you yourself, you might discover that you're not the person you believed you were.

Maybe who you were was "lonely, uncool girl" as your environment labeled you this way. Maybe can't easily be someone else however, in a different context, experiencing something else, worrying less that who one is could pose a problem, the easier it might become existing without fearing that one is inadequate.

when you grew up as a lonely uncool girl it will never stop haunting you by the way. you will meet a cool person at a bar or the train station or at a friend's party and you can wear your most stylish outfit and striking eye makeup and you will swear that they can see through all of the facade and see the lonely terribly insecure teenage girl you used to be who desperately wanted to connect and you will swear that they know that there is like an insurmountable gap between you. this will happen forever

[thedevilsoftruth]

riding congressman bucky’s face. that’s it. that’s the request.

( ily and your writing, make sure to stay hydrated!! wishing you the best in everything!! <3 )

Thank you so much, anon. 💜💜

All I can say to that is yes. Yes yes yes.

Smooth

Congressman Barnes x F! Reader

Sum - an interview with a very hot congressman goes wrong.

W/c - less then 1k (if you would like a fuller version, please let me know!!

I do NOT consent to my work being reposted or translated on any website.

MDNI!! I am not responsible for what you find on the internet!!!

[my request box is currently open. PLEASE see my pinned post for more information regarding my request rules.]

You don't even know how it happened. One moment you're interviewing a congressman, and the next that same man is fingering you on his bed in his expensive penthouse. You'd be lying if you said it wasn't the absolute sexiest and hottest thing you'd ever been through. He was so persuasive and smooth. His flirting was subtle and was the kind that had your mind reeling and overanalyzing every single little thing he said. But his sex? Even better.

He'd been going at it for over and hour and a half, mouthing and slurping down your over-used and sensitive drooling cunt. He kept going and didn't seem to stop. He had your hands tied to his bedposts with the red wine tie he had previously worn to a campaign event that evening. Everything was so overwhelming and overestimating, especially since you weren't used to hook ups. Especially from ex assassins turned democratic congressmen.

So when he had wiped his mouth and soaked beard off with his white button down shirt and crawled up your body to untie you, you finally thought he was done. That was at least until he stripped himself of the white shirt dress shirt he was wearing and gave your wet pussy a slap with an even wetter palm (which you had previously came on four times.)

"Want you to come sit on my face." He panted, his voice scratchy and hoarse as he quickly threw the shirt on the ground like it had personally offended him. You blinked at him, your face flushed and sweaty with your hair sticking to it.

"Wha?" You breathe, confused and dazed. The both of you are so fucked out, but he is not stopping. Not until his jaw goes fucking numb. He lays onto the bed next to you, how heavy body plopping down into the mattress.

"Sit. On. My face." He commands, pointing to his face with a vibranium finger. You look down on him, confused. His patience snaps and he grabs your hips and throws you down onto his stomach.

"I'm not repeating myself again, babydoll. You either start riding it and soaking my fucking beard or I'll stop touching you all together." He huffs, his teeth gritted and his voice gruff with need. You never would have expected your congressman to have such an oral fixation, but you were not complaining. So, up you went; shaky legs parting as you positioned yourself above his head, your knees pressing deep into the mattress as you hovered above your face.

"Is this okay? Can you breathe?"you ask him worriedly, looking down at him. His eyebrows knit tightly, and his strong hands grab your hips and slam you down onto his face.

"Breathing's overrated." Is the last thing he says before his mouth was on you. His thick tongue licked a long line across your messy folds. Your head tipped back in pleasure, low moans escaping your mouth as he licked you up steady and slow. You're already so overstimulated and overwhelmed from the previous orgasms he pulled out of you, and he hadn't even fucked you yet.

You try to hover away from him. Instinctively. The pleasure is just too much for you to handle.

But his vibranium hand squeezes your hip and he spanks your ass with a flesh hand, making you yelp in surprise.

"No. None of that. Sit." He tells you, pushing you down onto his face. You pull off of him again, bracing your arms in the headboard for support.

"I just want to make sure you're okay--"

"I have your pussy on my mouth, of course I'm okay. Im not stopping until I make you cum or unless I black out. Now quit your yapping and let me eat."

You let him pull you back down onto his greedy lips, and he moans in approval the moment he feels your weight on him.

"Ride me." He says against your pussy, kissing your folds and flicking your clit with his tongue. You look down at him again, confused snd sex-dazed.

"Don't make me repeat myself." He said, gripping your flesh hard enough that you were sure he'd leave bruises behind. You whine and press your face into the headboard before slowly, steadily rolling your hips across his face. His nose bumps against your clit and you can feel his beard dampening at the warm slick of your used cunt. The full, thick streaks of facial hair brush against your inner thighs.

You bite down on your finger and moan loud, your hips rocking against your lovers face. The way his lips brush and caress your flesh should be a crime. The way he rolls his tongue against your clit and labia just feels so right but so wrong.

"Mr. Barnes," You moan, your hips beginning to stutter as they try desperately to keep up. "I c-cant--"

He pulls away and smacks your ass. You yelp aloud, gripping the headboard like it owed you money.

"Do you want me to tie your wrists together with my belt and muffle your mouth with my tie?" He questioned, looking at you with mean blue eyes that made your pussy flutter.

"N-no sir." You responded weakly, your voice wobbly with the rest of his threat.

"Then shut the fuck up and ride me like the good little journalist you are."

[frenchkisstheabyss]

☆ ａｂｏｕｔ ａ ｇｉｒｌ☆

☆ Pairing: rockstar!best friend!mingi x chubby!fem!reader

☆ Genre: rocker au/smut/fluff/friends to lovers

☆ Word Count: 4.4k

☆ Summary: During a late night hang out session your innocent request to color in your best friend's tattoos leads to a revelation about the not so platonic feelings you've held for him. Mingi's a rockstar. One of the best guitarists there is. Every boy you know wants to be him and every girl you know wants to be on top of him. In your eyes, the odds that his feelings are mutual are slim to none but a girl's gotta be wrong sometimes.

☆ Warnings: heavily tattooed mingi, he has a tongue piercing too, bestie wooyoung pops in to stir shit up, drug use (just weed), body worship, dry humping, female masturbation, marking, some soft dom mingi moments, oral sex (m & f receiving), fingering, spanking, nibbling, scratching, unprotected sex, his dick is kinda (very) big, doggy style, squirting, creampie, pet names (baby, good girl), affectionate use of the word whore (towards Mingi).

☆ A/N: Rockerteez has a special place in my heart, especially rocker Mingi, so I absolutely had to write something for him. I hope this satisfies something for all of my chubby alt girls out there who crush on this man just as hard as I do. Love you guys xoxo byeee.

Mingi can’t say no to you. It’s been that way since the beginning of your friendship. Craving ice cream in the middle of the night? He’ll drive you to every convenience store in a 10 mile radius just to make sure you get the flavor you want. You want tickets to a sold out concert for your favorite band? He’ll pull every string he can behind the scenes to make sure you get them.

You’ve turned into a brat, spoiled rotten to the core, and he can only blame himself for it. Tonight might’ve been the night that he stood up to you if you didn’t look so adorable making the silliest request he’s ever heard. 

You were standing at the edge of his bed rocking nothing but a baggy Linkin Park tee you stole from his drawer and a pair of black panties not meant to impress but cute all the same. Your cheeks were still stained with glitter from tonight’s concert and remnants of smeared mascara lingered in the wake of some discount makeup wipes that didn’t quite do the trick. 

“Just let me color in your tattoos. Like this, see?” You held your phone up to his face, his nose a fraction of an inch from the screen where a girl was busy coloring in the free space of her boyfriend’s tattoos. 

Mingi had been lying on his back, scrolling his own phone as he patiently awaited your return from the kitchen. Snacks. You were supposed to bring back snacks, not a fistful of random markers you found in the kitchen drawer and some impulsive idea you got from Tiktok. 

“No. I’ll get skin cancer or something” he huffed, rolling his eyes and flopping back down on the bed. 

“Oh, because you’re so concerned about your health” you teased, eyeing the shiny chrome vape pen perched between two plush rosy lips. 

Mingi casually drew in a breath, letting the peach infused smoke fill his lugs. “THC is healthy. Whatever the fuck’s in those isn’t.”

Clearing your throat, you hopped onto the bed, spreading the markers out to inspect. “Actually, these are vegan markers so they’re safe. It’s basically the rules, so…let me do it.”

“No…” he started but you were already pouting, your eyelashes batting away fake tears. It was a cheap trick to pull, especially when you know how it always gets to him, but it worked.

“Fine but you’ve got 15 minutes. That’s it.” 

You wasted no time climbing on top of him, popping the caps of the markers off and getting straight to work. Lucky for you Mingi has more tattoos than free skin on his chest. Even luckier, he has zero ability to track time.

An hour’s passed and you’re still here, straddling his lap and doodling away. You hum along to the song on his record player. It’s a vaguely familiar tune, some alt rock album that dropped before Mingi even hit middle school. 

Mingi’s yet to admit it—he actually hasn’t said a word to you since you started—but this is the most relaxed he’s been in the longest time. Everyone thinks that being in a band is one big party. The tours. The magazine spreads. The concerts. The groupies. But there’s more to it than that. Being an artist takes from you in ways the rest of the world couldn’t imagine. Something about sharing this time with you gives a little bit of that back to him. 

He steals a glance at you, eyes flicking back to his phone before you catch him in the act. You’re pretty. Not the disposable kind of pretty that you admire for one night and forget about when the alcohol wears off in the morning. You’re the irreplaceable kind of pretty. The kind that’s too pure to pursue but too precious to let slip out of his reach.

Your friendship’s never been for show. The bond he has with you—the love he feels—all of it’s genuine. But he can’t say there’s nothing else so he says nothing at all. He just lies here, your human canvas, enjoying the feeling of your weight in his lap and your soft hands brushing against his skin. 

“I’m running to the store. You want something?” Wooyoung asks, bursting through the door. 

It’s a house rule that all bandmates knock before coming in but Wooyoung’s never been one to care. His room is his room and everyone else’s room is his too.

“My bad, am I interrupting something?” 

You and Mingi’s heads turn towards the door in unison and your reactions are are identical. “Something like what?”

Wooyoung cracks a smile, tickled by you two syncing up like bluetooth headphones. “You tell me. I’m not the one who has their best friend in cowgirl right now.” 

A marker goes flying across the room at him and he dodges it like a pro. “It’s not like that and you know it’s not” you say, pretending not to know what a lie that is.

It’s not an outright lie. It’s nothing, it truly is, but you can’t ignore what this position’s been doing to you. Mingi’s a gorgeous man. Gorgeous enough to make you wish you were just another groupie some days. It’s inevitable that your vicinity to him might leave your pulse racing now and then. Maybe get you a bit wetter than anything the natural warmth of your body could do. You feel a twinge of guilt for it but not nearly enough to get up. 

“If it’s not like that then what’s it like?” Wooyoung presses, paying no mind to the growing frustration on his bandmate’s face. Mingi’s pisssed but that’s never stopped Wooyoung before. 

“It’s like you getting out of my room” Mingi snaps, “Where’s San? Doesn’t one of you die if you aren’t attached at the hip 24 hours a day?”

Wooyoung cocks an eyebrow, arms folded across his chest, “You should talk.”

“Woo, I’m serious. Mingi and I are just friends. That’s it. You see the type of girls who wait for him backstage. Do any of them look like me?” 

Your question’s met with silence from both men. They share a knowing glance. Wooyoung knows something you don’t and Mingi dares him to open his mouth unless he wants to die. 

“Didn’t think so” you gloat, getting back to your coloring, “I will take something from the store though. Some chips please. My usual. Want something, Min?”

“Just for him to get out of my room. Quickly.” 

“Got it. Chips for the lady and for the gentleman…” Wooyoung flips Mingi off as he backs out of the room.

Mingi returns the gesture, “I love you too!”

You laugh to yourself, shaking your head at their immaturity. On stage all anyone sees are the piercings and the tattoos. They think that they’re edgy…bad boys. But they’re dorks through and through. Ones you’re happy to be around but dorks nonetheless. 

“And what’s so funny?” he frowns, propping himself up on his elbows. 

Tossing your marker aside, you trade it out for the vape resting at Mingi’s side. You take a puff, leaning forward to blow the smoke right into his face. “You.”

Mingi does nothing. He only sits there letting the smoke dance across his face. You’ve done a lot of hot things since the two of you’ve met and that was without a doubt one of them. You’re on top of him, your back arched, plush thighs caging him in on each side. No bra. No pants. And that face—those lips so dangerously close to his. 

A long moment passes between you. The silence adds another layer of tension to what each of you has already been hiding. 

“Just because they wait for me backstage doesn’t mean they’re my type” he says, catching you off guard. 

It takes a second for you to register what he's said and when you do your brain short circuits. “Min, I mean…I wasn’t…it doesn’t matter.”

Mingi cocks his head, strands of platinum hair falling into his face. “What do you think my type is exactly?” 

You sit back up in his lap, taking another puff to calm your nerves. “I don’t know but last I checked you didn’t have a fat girl fetish.”

“It’s not a fetish.” Mingi pushes himself up to face you, refusing to let you run away so easily. His gaze trails over you like fingertips tracing your curves. “I just like what I like and what I like happens to be girls with some meat on their bones. Is that okay with you?”

Brushing off his comment, you place a hand on his chest to push him back down. “You’re being weird.”

He doesn’t budge. He just stares into your eyes, searching for whatever it is that you’re fighting so hard to keep hidden from him. He knows it’s there. It’s in the way your black nails are nervously drumming against his chest. It’s in the shortness of your breath and the subconscious rocking of your hips in his lap. But he wants to see it in your eyes. He needs to. 

“Is that the only reason then?” he asks, slipping an arm around you, “You think nothing’s happened between us because of your body? Which is beautiful by the way.”

You blush, playfully swatting him on the cheek, “Stop. It’s not just that. You and I, we're friends, that's it. Even when you say stuff like that to tease me, I know you only see me as a friend.”

“And what do you see me as?” His voice is deep on any regular day but the way it dips when he asks the question has a bass to it that has you sweating. 

You stumble on your words, fighting to make sense of the alphabet soup that is your brain. You don’t work for the CIA. You weren’t prepped to hold up to interrogation. That’s exactly what this feels like because that’s exactly what this is. Mingi wants an answer, a clear one, and you know better than anyone that when he locks in on something he never backs down. 

“You’re someone who means to me, Min. Someone I’d rather not lose by thinking something’s there when it’s not…”

You have more to say but you can’t for the life of you remember what it was after Mingi’s lips collide with yours. He lays back, finally, and he takes you with him, your body flush against his as he kisses you with a hunger you didn’t know he possessed.

It’s a wild, breathless kiss. It’s wet lips and little nibbles, tongues intertwining and fingers tangling in hair. There’s no more holding back. No reason to pretend that you don’t want what both of you have all along. It’s a relief for Mingi who's been quietly going through hell for the past hour trying not to get hard with you seated on top of him. 

He thought of everything he could to ignore how good it felt to have you resting against his length but now all he can think of is you. It’s dizzying how quickly all of the blood in his body rushes between his legs, his length swelling as he takes greedy handfuls of your figure. You shiver the first time you feel him, a moan as light as air leaving your lips. 

“Where’d that come from?” you giggle, hips rolling to chase the friction. 

Mingi pushes you onto your back, lips latching onto your neck before you even hit the mattress. 

His hands dip beneath your borrowed shirt. It’s one of his favorites but right now he can’t stand the sight of it. He needs to feel the smoothness of your bare skin…feel your curves give beneath his touch. 

“You want some more?” he asks, dragging his tongue across your skin, igniting you like a match.

“Oh, fuck, yes…” you moan at the pressure of his fingertips massaging your breast.

He brushes his thumb across your nipple and it stiffens as if on command. Your whole body’s calling out his name—screaming it—begging for his attention. Mingi presses down onto you, his cock throbbing like a heartbeat against your core with every grind of his hips. Moisture trickles down your slit, soaking your panties to the point of uselessness.

You can’t say it's ever crossed your mind to dry hump a rockstar but thanks to Mingi it’s quickly become your new favorite thing. You could lay here all night moaning and whimpering, making a sticky mess all over his sweatpants while he marks your neck up like you’re his property. Well, maybe not all night. Your mind’s already flooded with thoughts of how badly you need him inside you. Good thing he doesn’t intend to make you wait much longer. 

“This shirt, take it off” he demands, already tugging it up your figure.

Mingi climbs onto his knees, sitting back to give you the room you need to slip the shirt over your head. He can’t tell where it lands, he doesn’t really care. All that matters to him is that there’s a goddess lying between his legs, one ruined pair of panties away from being completely naked. He lights up like a kid on Christmas morning. You’re a gift so perfectly designed to suit his every desire that he must be dreaming. 

“What’s wrong, Min? Never seen a naked girl before?” you tease, your nervous laughter triggering something in him. 

Mingi’s expression darkness like you’ve only seen it when he’s deathly serious about something. “Not like this…” he says, his hands patiently exploring your body, savoring every part of you. “And you thought you weren’t my type? When you’re this pretty—your cute belly, those stretchmarks, these thighs—you think I haven’t worshipped you since the day I met you?”

He pushes your knees up just enough to slip your panties down, “I remember Yunho brought you backstage after the show. You had on those heels and that tiny leather skirt. You were so fucking pretty and all I could think was, ‘I wonder what it’d be like to have those thighs around my neck’. You gonna let me find out?”

Mingi spreads your legs, running his fingers through your glistening pussy. His fingers are coated in seconds, so shiny and wet with your arousal that they slip inside of you effortlessly. He crawls onto his stomach, licking his lips as his fingertips stroke your walls. 

“Aah…mmph…Mingi” you whine, gripping the sheets as he adds another finger.

“I like the sound of my name but that’s not an answer, baby. I need you to tell me.” He licks the tip of your clit, his silver tongue piercing glinting in the light as he teases you, “Can I eat your pussy or you want me to beg for it?”

“No begging. Just fucking do it.” 

Mingi doesn’t need to be told twice. He buries his face between your legs, suckling and slurping, eating you up like you’re the last meal he’ll ever have. Your thighs slip over his shoulders and he grabs onto them with both hands, kneading their softness as his tongue dips into you. You try to keep it together but you’re  too sensitive to control how much you tremble when he laps at the ridges of your walls.

You grab him by the hair, not guiding him, just feeling him. You don’t know if it’s the drugs or the way his tongue’s swirling around inside you but it’s like you're floating. Your body’s buzzing with pleasure and when he reaches up to pinch your clit you’re on the verge of falling to pieces. 

And that’s right where he keeps you, dancing on the edge of complete ruin. Occasionally he glances up at you, not caring now if you catch him looking. He wants to see you…wants you to see him. You lock eyes and he hums his satisfaction at every pretty face you make.

A mentor once told him that every girl’s a guitar. You’ve just gotta pay enough attention to know how to tune her. A skilled musician if nothing else, Mingi knows how to tune you just right. He knows which dials to turn to make you sing. He’s strumming every string, hitting every note that he needs to for that fullness to build in your lower belly. It’s never felt this good to be close before, it’s almost too much to take and you inch up on the bed, desperate for a break.

Mingi grabs you by the hips before you can get too far, dragging you back down onto his face. “No running” he grins, “Now be a good girl and stay still for me.”

There’s no time to be shocked by his boldness. You’re right back where you left off. Back arching, legs shaking, walls clenching. He takes your clit between his lips, licking circles around it as his fingers plunge back into you, tapping your sweet spot until you come undone.

He locks an arm across your waist, pinning you to the bed so that you have to take it. All of it. Your orgasm falls over you like a blanket, clinging to your skin, enveloping you in the overwhelming warmth of it. Your moans devolve into a low, broken whine as you lay there helpless. As if you’d want the help if there were any. 

“Mmm” he hums, taking his last taste of you before his dripping fingers pull out, “I knew you’d taste good but that was…”

He swishes what’s left of your juices around in his mouth, making sure that it lingers behind long after he’s done. “Delicious.”

Pressing his lips to your inner thigh, he kisses his way up your body. Except for a few involuntary twitches from the aftershock, your body’s limp. Far too weak to stop him from teasing you with wet kisses to your curves. He whispers things to your body. Some sweet, some filthy, but the message is the same. You’re beautiful. You’re perfect. You’re everything he’s ever wanted.

A part of you wants to deny the truth of his words, shrugging them off as nothing more than lust. But there’s so much sincerity in them that you can’t fight them off. They soak right into your skin and, by the time his lips meet yours again, they’ve become a part of you. 

Mingi cups your face, his thumb rubbing circles on your cheek. “You came so hard for me, baby. Think you can do it again?”

You may be lying here with glossy eyes and pouty lips but you’re far from the innocent little thing he’s making you out to be. You slip a hand below his waist, palming his length through his pants. 

“Get rid of them” you whisper, kissing him harshly, “Now.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He pushes himself up from the bed, standing to the side of you to drop his pants. You crawl to the edge of the bed, settling on your knees to watch him. He makes a proper show of it, sliding them down at an agonizingly slow pace. Your eyes widen when his cock springs free, no boxers to hold them back. 

“You didn’t have any underwear on. You whore” you tease, admiring his cock all the while. It’s much longer than you thought it’d be, thicker too, with pretty veins traveling up the side like rose vines and a nice fat tip leaking precum down to the rim. 

Mingi tucks a finger under your chin, tilting your head up to look at him. “If I’m a whore, I’m your whore.”

“All mine?” you ask, popping the tip into your mouth. It’s a tight fit. Not easy in the slightest but you make it look like it is. You drag your tongue across the slit, collecting beads of arousal on your tongue. 

His body shudders, knees almost giving out from the wispy motion of your tongue around the rim. “All yours” he groans, his voice growing shaky the further you take him into your mouth.

You take as much as you can before it taps the back of your throat and then you take a little more still. Bobbing your head back and forth, you drool down his length, sucking him like one of those long, twisty lollipops you get from the candy store. Mingi throws his head back, swearing he can see stars on the ceiling from how tightly your fluffy cheeks are suctioned around him.

Your tongue sweeps back and forth on the underside of his cock, your throat muscles flexing around the tip. Running your fingers down his stomach, you dig your nails in. Not enough to draw blood, just enough to get his attention. He looks down at you, a mixture of ecstasy and pain clouding his mind.  

Leaning back from him, you let him slip out of your mouth. “If it’s all mine…” you sigh, sliding back on the bed and crawling onto your knees, “Then give it to me.”

You arch your back, ass poked out towards him, and he can see that you’re still dripping, your thighs soaked from your last orgasm. He slaps your ass hard enough to make all of you jiggle and you smile back at him, not minding the sting. 

“You’re lucky you look so hot” he says, aligning himself with your entrance.

You wink, sinking back onto him so that the tip pops inside, “So are you.” 

Mingi grabs you by the hips, slamming into you, and your arms give out in an instant, your cheek lying flat against the blanket as the next thrust sends shockwaves through your system. He pauses before the next to give you time to adjust. Really to give himself time to adjust.

The look on his face would make you think that he hates you—eyes narrowed, brows knitted together, lips tight—but it’s the exact opposite. Being inside of you is like dipping himself into a pool of honey. You’re warm and sticky, hugging him so well that pulling out feels criminal. Nothing has ever felt this good. 

“Shit, baby, I can’t believe this is what you��ve been hiding from me all this time” he grunts, driving into you again and again.

The tears in your eyes are real this time. None of those play ones from earlier. You can’t help how they water as he bounces you on his cock, your quivering hole stretching a bit more each time to accommodate him. Music’s still streaming from the record player and the sound of your bodies slapping together matches the frantic rhythm. You have to give it to him. He’s good at staying on beat, even at a time like this. 

Leaning forward, he nips at your side before grabbing your arm and guiding it between your legs. “Touch your clit for me. Wanna watch you do it.”

You do as you’re told, blindly feeling around to find your bud. Your fingers slip around, splashing in your own slick. They land right at your entrance and you can feel him pulsing as he disappears into you. You let them hover there, stroking him each time he pulls back, but Mingi forces your hand up to where he wants it.

“Aah, Min—fuck, so good…” you moan at the added layer of pleasure. 

With his large hands splayed out on your ass, he sits back to watch you. Your arm’s shaky, mouth hung open drawing in sharp, jagged breaths. The curves of your body sit just right and each time you arch he finds a new way to admire them.

It’s more than enough to break him, your walls clenching and releasing, worsening the rising pressure threatening to ravage him. But he grits his teeth, suppressing his high until he feels your walls flutter off rhythm, legs trembling as your second orgasm of the night washes over you. 

Mingi stills his movements, keeping you flush against him as you mindlessly ride his cock. “Good girl…” he coos, “Use me like I’m your fucking toy.” 

Your whole world’s shattering and his words only make you come harder, juices cascading down your thighs, soaking the space between you. He follows close behind you, his swollen tip pumping you full of his seed until you’re drowning in the warmth of it. You bite down on the blanket, moaning his name into the thick cotton.

When your body finally collapses into the mattress, you’re on another planet and the feeling of Mingi’s arms around you are all that brings you back to earth. Cuddled up behind you, he sprinkles your shoulder with loving kisses, obsessed with the way you look even when you’re wrecked like this.

Minutes pass without a word spoken but nothing needs to be said for his admiration for you to be clear. It radiates from him, making your skin prickle. 

Turning to face him, you brush sweat slicked strands away from his eyes, “You’re staring at me.”

“I like staring at you” he smiles, kissing your inner wrist, “I always have…always will.” 

This is your cue to say something sweet back. Tell him how handsome he is—that in a room full of people your eyes will always find him. But the gravity of what you two have done sets in and with it comes the paralyzing fear that you’ve just made the biggest mistake of your life. When you were his best friend. You were special. Sacred in a way that made you different from all the other girls. So what are you now?

“What are you thinking about?” he asks, searching your expression for any small detail that’ll give it away. 

“It’s nothing…”

Mingi frowns, knowing a liar when he sees one, “Nothing, huh?”

“Really, it’s nothing. It’s just—I don’t wanna be just like one of your little groupies, you know? I don’t want this to mean that you see me differently.” 

“I see you the same way that I always have” he says, fingertips tracing your spine. “But I’d like to see you as something more, if that’s okay with you.”  

The smile on your face is automatic. You can’t even begin to fight it. “Yeah, that’s okay with me.”

“Good. Not that you really had a choice. I can’t let go of a girl like you. Look at you” he growls, locking you in his arms so that you can’t get away.

He tucks his face into your neck, kissing and nibbling at you like a rabid animal. You kick your feet and giggle, hands pressed to his chest in a useless attempt to push him off.

Some things between you will never change. He’ll forever be a menace, always taking every chance he gets to mess with you, but in another sense things will never quite be the way they were before.

And, as you surrender to the relentless assault of kisses raining down on you, you can’t imagine ever wanting them to be. 

[azonewithu]

That severance is stupid ill sjow you severed when i cut done punk americsn actors head off. Theres grade schoolers careyi g yhese idiot devices Canafa unvented now. What uou didnt know we were way smarter thsn you niggas now you know. Blackberry invented the snart phone. Ur just shittybthoeves and jeapus assholes and none of uour shots that good. We ve decided all put war idls the only way to desl with you. Ahd dince all your doldiers ate yellow as puss we re gonna win. We want sll our stares back. Abd aftica, and asia and everything. Fuckbevonomies we ll invade. Abd youll back down because thats what spoiled bitch yelliw cowards do. Your move. Oooo no thats check mate. The fire will even things out between us.

Lupita Nyong'o attends the 2025 Met Gala Celebrating "Superfine: Tailoring Black Style" at Metropolitan Museum of Art on May 05, 2025 in New York City. (Photo by Dia Dipasupil/Getty Images) if you want to support this blog consider donating to: ko-fi.com/fashionrunways

[missmadella]

"How they react when they get called by their full Name" // Tokyo Revengers

Charakters: Mikey, Sanzu, Kokonoi, Mitsuya, Chifuyu, Kazutora, Ran, Rindou, Izana

Synopsis: There’s one thing every Tokyo Rev boy knows: when you drop their full name — first and last — they’ve seriously screwed up. It could be a forgotten date, a stolen dessert, a jealous outburst, or just plain stupidity, but once that name leaves your lips? Oh, they feel it.

CW: Light cursing, jealousy/possessiveness, mild violence (slaps, fights), flirty teasing,emotional tension

Mikey (Manjiro Sano):

The sun was beginning to dip behind the horizon, casting a soft orange glow over the Musashi Shrine. The old Toman gang had gathered there, much like they always did, lounging on the steps and chatting about their plans for the next big move. Mikey stood at the forefront, his jacket casually draped over his shoulders as he began to talk about the upcoming fight with another gang. Draken, always close behind him, kept an eye on the rest of the group, ensuring no one got too rowdy.

Suddenly, his gaze shifted as he noticed movement near the shrine stairs. At first, he couldn’t make out who it was — the person was still too far away. But when a loud, clear “MANJIRO SANO” echoed across the quiet shrine, he knew exactly who it was.

The whole group froze.

Heads turned in unison, eyes wide as they realized it was none other than Mikey’s girlfriend — and she was not happy.

Draken’s eyes flicked to Mikey, who had stopped mid-sentence, his smirk fading into something more cautious. You walked through the crowd of Toman members, your steps deliberate and filled with an icy determination. The guys instinctively parted to make room, stepping aside like a wave in front of you.

“Mikey, what the hell...” Mitsuya, one of the vice-captains, started to speak, but the instant your angry glare landed on him, he went silent. His words died in his throat, and he wisely shut up, not wanting to get between you and whatever had set you off.

Everyone knew who Mikey’s “wife” was — that teasing nickname for you when you and Mikey went official. And normally, you were the sweetest girl anyone could meet. The kind of girl they'd run into on a late-night walk down the city, smiling and saying hello to everyone. But the guys also knew that when you were angry, nobody wanted to be near you. You didn’t need to use your fists to make your point. Your words were sharp enough to cut through anything.

And in that moment, every single one of them could tell that Mikey had messed up big time. Especially when you called him by his full name.

You reached the stairs where Mikey stood, the air around you heavy with the tension that had suddenly gripped the whole shrine. You didn’t shout — you didn’t need to. Your cold gaze alone sent a wave of fear through him. With barely a whisper, you spoke. “Where is my dorayaki that was on my counter this morning?”

The moment you asked, Mikey’s face paled slightly, and his usual confident demeanor cracked, just enough for Draken to notice the shift. He watched as Mikey's eyes darted around, his lips twitching, unsure of how to respond.

“Baby… I don’t… know what you’re talking about,” Mikey said, his voice a little shakier than usual — nothing loud enough for the others to catch, but Draken saw it. Mikey was genuinely scared.

Your gaze never wavered. Your face remained hard, and you took a step closer, your eyes locked on his. “Don’t you dare lie to me.”

The silence in the air was thick, and even the usual chatter between the Toman members had died down, everyone sensing that this was no ordinary disagreement. Mikey swallowed hard, his confident smirk gone. “Baby…”

The way you stood there — unmoving, your voice cold, your anger barely contained — made Mikey’s insides twist. The entire shrine had become a pressure cooker, and it felt like you were the only one in control.

He hesitated, then took a step closer, moving down a single stair. His eyes never left yours, but you stood firm, arms crossed tightly in front of your chest. “I’m sorry, baby,” Mikey said, his voice softer now. “I didn’t know those were yours.” He took another step toward you, trying to ease the tension, his usual carefree attitude replaced with a hint of concern.

Big mistake.

Without warning, you lunged forward, grabbing his ear in a swift motion. “How dare you eat my sweets?” you hissed, your grip firm enough to make him wince. “I’d been looking forward to that all day, Manjiro.”

His face contorted in pain, but it was the way you were looking at him — that cold, steely gaze — that made him feel the full force of your anger. He knew he’d messed up, and now he was paying the price.

“I’m sorry, princess,” Mikey groaned, wincing under your tight grip. “I swear, they were making fun of me, telling me I should eat them. I didn’t think it would be such a big deal. I’ll never do it again.”

But you weren’t having any of it. The pain in his ear intensified as you squeezed harder. “Don’t. Ever. Do. That. Again.”

Finally, with a final, sharp tug, you let go of his ear. It was red, and Mikey winced as he rubbed it, his eyes still apologetic. But before you could even begin to walk away, Mikey quickly grabbed your wrist, holding you in place.

You shot him a glare, making it clear with a look that he needed to think very carefully about what he was doing next. “Let go of me,” you muttered, your voice low but threatening.

“I’m really sorry, Y/N,” Mikey murmured, his voice softening as he pulled you closer, planting a gentle kiss on your forehead.

You closed your eyes at the sensation, your body relaxing just a little bit as your frustration started to melt away. A heavy sigh left your lips as you opened your eyes, staring at him again. “You better make it up to me, or you can sleep on the couch tonight.”

“Ouch,” Draken heard Chifuyu mutter under his breath, a small laugh following. The tension in the air had slightly lifted, but it was clear Mikey wasn’t off the hook yet.

“I won’t do it again,” Mikey promised, his voice soft and sincere. His grip on your wrist loosened as his hand moved gently to your face. “But please… don’t call me by my first name again. I’m sorry, baby.”

Before you could say anything, Mikey leaned down and kissed you softly on the lips. It was warm and comforting, a stark contrast to the anger that had flared moments ago. You kissed him back, your hand moving to the side of his face, your thumb gently caressing his cheek.

“If you ever do this again,” you warned, pulling back slightly but keeping your hand on his face, “I will be your worst nightmare.”

Mikey smirked, his usual cocky confidence returning — just a little bit — as he leaned down to kiss you again. This time, the kiss was brief but meaningful, and when you pulled away, you dropped onto the last step of the shrine, sitting down with a sigh.

Mikey removed his jacket, draping it over your shoulders with a small, playful smile. “Alright, I’m gonna finish the meeting now. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

With that, Mikey turned back to the group, his usual carefree attitude settling back into place, but he kept a soft smile on his face, knowing he’d narrowly escaped a much worse fate.

___________________________________________________________________________

Sanzu Haruchiyo:

The Bonten boardroom was thick with tension — dark suits, whispered strategies, and Mikey’s dead-eyed stare at the head of the table.

Sanzu leaned back in his seat, legs kicked up on the polished wood, twirling a butterfly knife in his fingers like the meeting was background noise. Casual, cocky — typical.

That is, until the doors slammed open with a force that made Koko flinch and Rindou instinctively reach for his gun.

Every head turned.

And there you were.

Hair wind-blown, heels echoing like gunshots, expression locked in one single mood: rage.

You didn’t even glance at the others — your eyes zeroed in on one person only.

"Haruchiyo. Sanzu."

His knife stilled mid-spin.

He blinked. Tilted his head.

“Ohhh?” he drawled, an unstable grin curling onto his lips. “Full name… in front of my coworkers? What’d I do this time, doll?”

You marched right up to him and — crack.

The slap rang out, sharp and echoing. The room went dead silent. Even Mikey raised an eyebrow.

Sanzu didn’t move. Just slowly turned his head back toward you, a red mark blooming on his cheek — and a completely unhinged smile spreading across his face.

“Oh, you’re so hot when you’re mad.”

That did not help.

“Don’t you dare,” you growled, eyes blazing. “You forgot. You forgot our anniversary, Haruchiyo. You left me sitting alone at a reservation you made, looking like an idiot. You’ve done a lot of reckless shit, but this—this is what I don’t forgive.”

Sanzu opened his mouth to joke again, but one look at your face — how your voice wavered just slightly at the end — and something actually clicked.

He stood slowly, grin slipping into something more serious. His usual cockiness twisted with confusion and guilt.

“I—shit,” he muttered. “I didn’t forget, I just—no. No, I did forget.”

You scoffed, turned on your heel.

“I’m done. Don’t worry — you’ll have time to spin your knife and play gangster without having to think about me ever again.”

You were almost to the door when Mikey spoke — quietly, but with weight.

“Sanzu.”

He froze.

“If you don’t fix this in the next ten minutes, don’t come back to the table.”

Everyone else stayed silent. They knew what that meant.

Sanzu blinked at his boss, then at you. He dragged a hand down his face. Then he was moving — fast.

You didn’t make it to the elevator.

A hand caught your wrist, not rough but firm.

“Wait,” he said, and for once, his voice wasn’t teasing. It was low. Serious. “I messed up. I know I did. You wanna break my nose next? Fine. You want a real apology? Give me tonight. Just tonight. I’ll fix it.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“I should walk out.”

“But you haven’t,” he said softly, tugging you closer, his other hand cradling the side of your face — right where your anger had turned his cheek red. “Which means I’ve still got a chance.”

You didn’t answer.

He leaned closer.

“Let me take you somewhere. Right now. Fuck the meeting. Mikey already said I’m screwed either way.”

You bit your lip. Still furious. Still hurt.

But his eyes — sharp, wild, pleading — were locked on yours like nothing else in the world mattered.

“…One chance,” you muttered.

“That’s all I need.”

And with that, he dragged you out by the hand — past a stunned Bonten, past Mikey’s amused smirk — ready to blow more money than sense fixing the night he should’ve never forgotten.

___________________________________________________________________________

Kokonoi Hajime:

Your afternoon was peaceful — warm tea, a half-read book, and your favorite playlist humming in the background.

Then your phone buzzed.

One alert. Then two. Then three.

“Transaction approved: ¥1,850,000 – Interior Luxury Aquatics.” “Your Bonten BlackCard was used at ‘KoiWorld Tokyo’.” “Estimated delivery scheduled for this evening.”

You stared at your phone, blinking slowly like it might explain itself.

It did not.

Instead, it showed a picture of a koi pond with custom underwater lighting, soundproof filtration, and a caption that read:

“Perfect centerpiece for a modern bathroom space.”

You stood up so fast your tea nearly spilled.

And you marched straight into the living room, already yelling.

“Hajime Kokonoi!”

He was lounging like royalty — silk pajama pants, socks mismatched (as always), hair perfectly in place even though he’d clearly done nothing all day. The TV was on but muted, and he was scrolling through his tablet like a man deep in international finance — or TikTok, it was hard to tell with him.

At the sound of his full name, he froze.

Then looked up, slow and cautious. “...Was it something I bought? Or something I said while half-asleep? Be honest. I need context before I defend myself.”

You held up your phone like a prosecutor presenting evidence. “A koi pond, Hajime?”

He tilted his head. “Ah. The koi pond.”

“Oh, there are others?”

“No. Not yet. But imagine the possibilities.”

You gave him a look that could set fire to expensive wallpaper. “In the guest bathroom?”

“Listen, listen, I thought it through. It’s the smallest bathroom, right? So guests don’t spend too long in there scrolling through TikTok. But if you give them a calming aquatic feature to look at while they—”

“—you’re describing bathroom fish therapy right now.”

“Exactly! You get it!” He beamed like he’d invented sliced bread. “It’s innovation, babe.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “We agreed — no more extravagant impulse buys without telling each other. You promised after the rotating crystal gin shelf.”

“But that one was sick. Admit it.”

“It plays Beyoncé when it opens.”

“Luxury,” he said, dead serious.

You paced the room, already imagining poor houseguests slipping on wet tiles while koi fish stared them down in judgment. “This isn’t about fish, Hajime. This is about you not listening. Again. You can’t fix a boring bathroom by throwing seven fish in it and hoping for ambiance.”

He rose from the couch, holding his hands up in surrender. “Okay. Okay. I hear you. Maybe it was a little… extra.”

“A little?”

“They gave me a discount if I named one of the koi after myself.”

You stared. “You’re putting a fish in a bathroom and naming it Hajime?”

“Well, I was... but I’ll rename him if it’ll help my case. What about... ‘I’m sorry’?”

You were trying so hard not to laugh, and he knew it. He stepped closer, slipping his arms around your waist as your resolve crumbled slightly.

“Babe,” he said softly, brushing a kiss against your temple, “I’ll cancel the installation if it really bothers you. Or I’ll move it to the terrace. Or build the koi a private spa in the guest bedroom. Whatever you want.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“But I’m cute,” he added with a wink.

You sighed. “If I ever see you spending seven figures on fish again, I’m calling you Hajime in front of Mikey. In front of everyone.”

He gasped. “That’s cold.”

“Even colder than koi water.”

“Okay, now that was hot. Use that in bed later.”

You smacked his arm, but you were laughing now. And he was grinning like a man who knew exactly how to get away with murder (and koi ponds).

___________________________________________________________________________

Mitsuya Takashi:

It was a quiet evening in the Mitsuya household. The living room was glowing warm with fairy lights, soft music hummed from the record player, and the faint scent of freshly brewed tea drifted from the kitchen.

You were sitting on the couch, waiting.

Waiting… and waiting.

The lasagna you had lovingly made was slowly getting cold, the table set with care — candles, folded napkins, even that dumb little place card he always laughed about that said “Takashi ”.

But he was late.

Not just ten-minutes-late.

We’re talking an hour and twenty-seven minutes late, and he hadn’t even texted.

You were just about to wrap the food up in cling wrap out of pure spite when the front door clicked open.

You didn’t even look up when you heard the soft, familiar thud of his boots being kicked off.

“Baaabe, I’m home—”

“Takashi Mitsuya.”

The way you said it — calm, measured, yet dangerously poised — made him freeze in the doorway, jacket half-off one arm.

He blinked. “...Oh. Wow. The full name.”

You finally turned around.

He looked guilty as hell.

“I…” He cleared his throat. “Forgot?”

You crossed your arms.

Mitsuya walked slowly into the room, holding up both hands like you were a wild animal he didn’t want to spook. “Okay, in my defense—”

“You promised,” you said, voice soft but stern. “You literally promised you'd be home on time. And I didn’t even burn the lasagna this time.”

He winced. “I know. I know. Toman meeting ran late, then I got caught up helping Hakkai fix a shirt for his date, and then I couldn’t find my phone in all the fabric and—yeah, okay, I’m gonna stop talking.”

You stared for a moment longer before turning away, muttering, “It’s fine. I should’ve expected it. You’re the one who’s always taking care of everyone.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then:

“...Is this the part where you scold me more? Or kiss me?”

You blinked, turning slowly.

Mitsuya was grinning now — boyish and warm, clearly testing the waters, but sincere under it all. “Because you only ever call me Takashi Mitsuya when it’s one of those.”

You tried not to smile. Tried.

“Depends. Do you think you deserve a kiss right now?”

He walked right up to you, slipping his arms around your waist and leaning his forehead against yours.

“I deserve a chance to earn one,” he said softly.

You exhaled a little laugh, eyes half-lidded. “You always say the right thing.”

“I sew for a living, baby. I know how to thread things carefully.”

“Gross.”

“You love it.”

You did. So much it hurt sometimes.

You leaned up and kissed him — just once — before whispering near his ear, “You’re heating up that lasagna yourself.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Oh — and dishes too.”

He groaned dramatically, burying his face in your neck. “You really know how to punish a man.”

“You forgot our dinner date. I’m letting you off easy.”

“I know. And I’m grateful.” He paused, pulling back with a soft smile. “But don’t stop calling me by my full name. It sounds really hot when you’re mad.”

You rolled your eyes and walked away — but not before tossing back a teasing, “Takashi Mitsuya, you’re impossible.”

His grin was full of love.

And this time, he didn't miss dinner.

__________________________________________________________________________

Chifuyu Matsuno:

You had left the apartment for thirty minutes.

Just thirty.

Enough time to grab your package from the post office, pick up snacks, and come back to what was supposed to be a chill movie night.

What you came back to instead... was chaos.

There was flour. Everywhere.

The cat — who looked like it had fought in the Great Pastry War — bolted past you with a string of dough wrapped around its leg. The TV was paused on a baking tutorial. The counters were stacked with bowls, some with batter, one suspiciously empty, and—

Oh no.

“CHIFUYU MATSUNO.”

A loud bang echoed from the kitchen.

You stormed in, and there he was: wide-eyed, mid-mixer, flour smudged on his cheek, apron crooked, and a cake that had clearly imploded in the oven behind him.

He blinked. “Okay, so—”

“Don’t you ‘okay, so’ me.”

“Before you get mad—”

“I left you alone for half an hour. I asked you to boil pasta. Not—what is this? A Great British Bake-Off rejection arc?”

He pointed to the collapsed cake like it betrayed him personally. “That was supposed to be a surprise! I was trying to make that caramel lava thing you said looked good—”

“By summoning Satan into the batter?”

He scratched the back of his head, sheepish. “...It did make a weird noise.”

You stared, exasperated beyond words. “And the cat?”

“Okay, the cat part wasn’t me. Technically. I dropped the cream. She jumped in.”

“Chifuyu, she looks like a haunted marshmallow.”

He stepped forward, laughing nervously, reaching out to brush flour off your jacket like that would somehow make up for it. “But babe... I did it for you.”

“You did arson in my kitchen for me?”

“Not arson! It’s creative expression!”

“You lit an oven mitt on fire!”

“Small fire. Controlled. Kinda.” His eyes sparkled with that grin that made you weak in the knees and homicidal at the same time. “But I mean... you’re not that mad, right?”

You raised your brows.

He smirked. “Because you called me Chifuyu Matsuno. Which you only do when you’re two seconds from either throwing me out the window or kissing me.”

“Guess which one I’m leaning toward.”

He leaned in, pressing a quick floury kiss to your cheek. “Kiss, obviously. You can’t resist me when I’m covered in catastrophe.”

You sighed, letting your forehead rest against his. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“I know. Now help me clean this up and I’ll order your favorite ramen. Double miso, no mushrooms.”

“Fine. But you’re on cat-cleanup duty.”

Chifuyu looked over at the flour-coated feline, now trying to eat a whisk.

“...I deserve that.”

___________________________________________________________________________

Kazutora Hanemiya:

You hadn’t meant to yell.

You hadn’t even meant to cry.

But when Kazutora walked in that night — shoulders slumped, knuckles red, hoodie pulled low to hide the bruising on his jaw — something inside you snapped.

He hadn’t answered your calls. Not one.

Hours of silence.

And then he just showed up, like he hadn’t disappeared again. Like he didn’t know what that kind of silence did to someone who loved him.

You stood there in the dim light of the apartment, arms crossed tightly, trying to hold yourself together as the door clicked shut behind him.

And then it happened.

“Kazutora Hanemiya.”

He flinched. Visibly.

The sound of his full name — sharp, deliberate, and full of everything you were holding back — cut through the room like a knife.

He didn’t look up at first. Didn’t meet your eyes.

“You didn’t call. You didn’t text. I thought—” You swallowed hard. “I thought something happened.”

He dropped his bag wordlessly by the door.

“I told you,” you said, quieter now, voice thick, “I told you the last time — I can’t go through that kind of fear again. Not from you. Not when I—”

He finally looked up.

And god, his eyes were tired.

Not physically — but in that way Kazutora always got when his mind spiraled too fast for him to grab onto anything stable. That distant, fragile expression that said I don't know how to stay, even when I want to.

“I didn’t want you to see me like this,” he murmured. “I lost control again. And I just... I didn’t want to ruin the one good thing I have.”

You blinked away tears. “So your solution was to disappear? Do you know what that does to me?”

He took a shaky step forward, hands half-raised like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to touch you.

“I’m not used to someone worrying about me,” he said, broken-soft. “Not like you do.”

You finally let out a breath that felt like it had been sitting in your chest for hours. “Then get used to it, Kazutora. Because I’m not going anywhere. But I need you to stop running like I’m going to disappear the second you mess up.”

He stared at you like you were the only solid thing in a world that always shifted beneath his feet.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean to shut you out. I just... I get scared.”

You stepped toward him, gently placing your hand on his bruised cheek. “So do I. Every time you shut down like this.”

“I’ll try,” he breathed. “For you.”

You nodded, eyes softening. “And stop flinching when I say your full name. I only do it when I need you to listen.”

“I hear you,” he said, eyes closing as he leaned into your palm. “I hear you now.”

And in that quiet room, he finally let himself fall — not into chaos, not into guilt — but into you.

And for once, he didn’t run.

_________________________________________________________________________

Ran Haitani:

The night had started out like any other, with Ran’s usual charm and swagger as he wrapped you in his arms and promised to make it home on time. He even kissed you goodbye with that mischievous grin that made your heart race.

But now, here you were — standing alone in the dimly lit apartment, the cool silence pressing down on you as the hours ticked by.

Your patience had worn thin.

You had trusted him, even though you knew how unpredictable things could get when his brother, Rindou, was involved. You trusted that he would be there when he said he would.

But as the clock struck midnight, that familiar feeling settled in the pit of your stomach — the feeling that Ran wasn’t coming home.

Not again.

You were done being patient. Done waiting for a man who promised the world and never quite delivered. And so, with a heavy sigh, you grabbed your coat and stormed out the door.

You didn’t know where you were going, but you knew you needed answers.

When you arrived at the underground club, where you knew Ran usually wound up after a Toman meeting, the last thing you expected to see was him sitting in a corner booth — alone. His head was tilted back, staring up at the ceiling as if the world didn’t matter.

Your heart skipped a beat, and every step toward him felt like a weight you couldn’t shake.

You were angry. You were hurt. But mostly, you were tired.

As soon as you reached the booth, Ran’s eyes flicked toward you, and for a brief moment, you could see the shock on his face. His perfect smile faltered.

“Y/N?” His voice was low, and there was something about the way he said your name — like it was the first time he was seeing you in forever. But you didn’t want to hear his soft tone anymore.

“Ran Haitani,” you said, your voice cutting through the thick air like a blade. The use of his full name — not the teasing “Ran” or the quiet “baby” you usually called him — hit him harder than any punch.

His brows furrowed, and he stood up slowly. “Babe... what’s wrong?”

You glared at him, taking a step closer, voice shaking with both fury and raw emotion. “What’s wrong? What’s wrong, Ran? You’re what’s wrong.”

He recoiled slightly, as if the force of your words physically struck him.

“I don’t know why I keep letting you hurt me,” you continued, your voice rising in volume. “You make promises, and then you break them. You show up late, and when you finally do, you expect me to just forget that you were never here. You expect me to wait around like everything is fine.”

Ran’s eyes softened, and he reached out to you, but you pulled back before he could touch you. His hand froze in mid-air, a silent apology hanging between you.

You stepped closer, lowering your voice to a near-whisper, but there was still so much fire in it. “You think you’re the only one with a past full of mistakes, don’t you? You think I don’t know what it’s like to be scared of falling — to be scared that I’m not enough, or that you’ll just leave like everyone else?”

He closed the space between you, finally taking your hands in his with an urgency that made your heart skip. “Y/N, I never wanted to hurt you. But I do.”

His confession was raw, too much to take in at once, and for a moment, you couldn’t even breathe.

“I try. I really do. But when I get caught up in all the shit — with Rindou, with Toman... with everything I’ve built around myself — I forget what matters most. You. You matter the most.”

You didn’t know if you should believe him. You didn’t know if you could let him back in without getting hurt again.

“Don’t shut me out, Y/N,” Ran whispered, voice hoarse, hands tightening around yours. “Not again. I can’t lose you.”

The tension in the room thickened, but then Ran did something you didn’t expect. He pulled you close, wrapping his arms around you tightly. His breath was warm against your neck, his heart pounding against your chest.

“Please... don’t leave me.” His voice cracked, and you felt it deep in your soul.

You didn’t push him away. You didn’t pull back.

Because despite everything, you didn’t want to lose him either.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke, the only sound between you the quiet thrum of his heartbeat, his arms keeping you close as if you might slip away if he didn’t hold you tight enough.

And then, with his forehead resting against yours, he murmured softly, “I know I messed up. But I swear, Y/N, I’ll spend the rest of my life proving to you that I’m yours.”

You closed your eyes, exhaling the breath you’d been holding. “You better. Because I won’t be here forever if you keep doing this to me.”

Ran’s lips gently pressed to your forehead, his voice full of sincerity. “I know. And I won’t give you a reason to walk away again. I’ll make it right, I promise.”

And in that moment, with all the weight of his past and yours hanging in the air, you allowed yourself to believe him.

___________________________________________________________________________

Rindou Haitani:

It was supposed to be a calm, easy evening. You and Rindou had been planning a low-key night, just the two of you. No Bonten meetings. No wild distractions. Just takeout and a movie.

But as usual, things never went according to plan when Rindou was involved.

The door slammed open. There he was — looking like a mess.

You had barely taken a bite of your food before your phone buzzed with an unknown number.

“Where are you?” it read. “Don't wait up for me.”

That was it.

You hadn’t seen him for hours, and now he was texting you this?

By the time he came back home, you were already on edge. You had done your best to keep cool, but when Rindou walked in with a smug grin on his face, late as usual, you had had enough.

You didn’t even look up from the couch. You were too busy staring at your phone, pretending you weren’t fuming.

“What, no welcome home kiss?” Rindou teased, swaggering into the living room. He tossed his jacket over the back of a chair and cracked his neck. “Aren’t you glad to see me?”

And that was when it happened.

“Rindou Haitani.”

The words came out sharper than you intended, and you instantly saw the flicker of shock in his eyes. He froze, his playful smirk faltering as he processed your tone.

He blinked. “Full name now? Damn, I really messed up this time, huh?”

You stood up, your body trembling with barely contained anger. “You disappear for hours, and when you finally show up, you think you can just—” You threw your hands up in the air. “You think you can just act like it’s nothing? Like I’m just supposed to keep waiting around while you do whatever the hell you want?”

Rindou chuckled nervously, but there was a flicker of uncertainty in his gaze now. “Hey, come on, don’t be like that. I was busy, okay? Things came up.”

“Busy?” You scoffed, taking a step closer to him. “You’re always busy, Rindou. With meetings, with Bonten, with whatever the hell else you’re involved in! You never have time for me anymore.”

The grin on his face faltered for a second, but it was quickly replaced by an almost defiant look. “I’m here now, aren’t I?”

You shook your head, crossing your arms over your chest. “No. You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to treat me like I’m nothing when I’ve been nothing but patient with you. I’m tired of being the afterthought, Rindou.”

And that was when it clicked for him. The words you had said, the weight in your voice — it was real.

But instead of apologizing, instead of stepping back, Rindou did something that took you completely off guard.

He reached out and yanked you toward him, pinning you against his chest. The surprise left your lips, but you didn’t have time to react before he kissed you.

It was a kiss full of desperation — lips crashing into yours as if he was trying to prove something. His hands were urgent, tugging at your shirt like he couldn’t quite get close enough.

You pushed against his chest, trying to break free, but the more you struggled, the tighter he held you. “Rindou, get off me—”

“No,” he muttered, his voice low, his grip on your waist firm. “I’m not letting you go this time.”

And it hit you like a wave. He wasn’t doing this out of arrogance — he was doing it because he didn’t know any other way to fix things.

Finally, you stopped fighting. The anger drained from your body, replaced with something softer — but still, you weren’t going to make it easy on him.

You pulled away slightly, breathless. “You can’t keep doing this, Rindou. You can’t just waltz in here and think everything’s fine.”

He rested his forehead against yours, his fingers lightly brushing through your hair. “I know. I know. I’m an idiot, okay? I’m sorry.”

You raised an eyebrow. “That’s it? Just a ‘sorry’? After everything?”

He smirked. “Well, it’s a start.”

A small laugh escaped you despite yourself. “You really are something else.”

But before you could fully process the situation, he had you pinned again, this time with a playful grin.

“You really know how to make a guy work for it,” Rindou teased, his voice now back to its usual teasing tone.

You sighed, shaking your head, but a smile tugged at the corners of your lips. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet,” he leaned in, kissing your forehead lightly, “you’re still not getting rid of me.”

“Damn right,” you muttered, “But don’t think this is over. You’re going to have to earn back my trust.”

Rindou’s eyes sparkled with that mischievous glint, but underneath it, you could see the sincerity — for once, he wasn’t just playing games. He was all in, even if he was chaotic about it.

“Fine,” he grinned, pulling you back into his arms. “But I’ll make sure to do it in the most dramatic way possible.”

“Of course you will.”

And despite everything — the mess, the chaos, the late nights — you couldn’t help but feel like maybe, just maybe, this was the start of something real between you two. Even if it was a little messy.

_________________________________________________________________________

Izana Kurokawa:

You were fuming. It wasn't anything big, but it was the little things that piled up, and today, Izana had done one too many. He’d left his dirty clothes everywhere, again. His shoes were in the living room, and the smell of his cologne still lingered in the hallway like he thought he was some sort of royalty. You had tried to be patient, but something snapped when you saw his jacket just thrown over the back of the couch, taking up space where you wanted to sit.

"Izana Kurokawa!" you exclaimed, hands on your hips as you marched into the living room.

Izana was lounging on the couch, completely unaware of the storm brewing. He didn’t even glance up when you said his full name—just continued scrolling on his phone with his signature lazy grin.

You crossed your arms tighter, glaring at him. "Do you have to leave your stuff everywhere? How many times do I have to tell you?"

He finally looked up, unfazed. “Mmm… I think you’ve told me about three times already,” he said, his eyes glinting with amusement. “But you know, I just can’t help it. I like to make myself comfortable.”

That was the moment it became clear to you that he was teasing you. Your irritation deepened. “Comfortable? I swear, you think everything should revolve around you!”

You could feel yourself getting worked up, but instead of saying anything else, you turned your back and started picking up his things, throwing them in his direction.

Izana sat up, suddenly intrigued. His eyes narrowed playfully as he watched you continue your mini-rampage. “You look cute when you're angry, you know that?”

That did it. You whirled around to face him, pointing a finger in his direction. “Izana Kurokawa, you better—”

But before you could finish, Izana was up in a flash, crossing the space between you in an instant. With a grin that could melt anyone's heart, he cupped your face gently, pulling you in for a kiss.

It was slow at first, a quiet moment that silenced your angry thoughts, his lips warm against yours. Your eyes fluttered shut as the tension in your body melted away, and for a second, all you could feel was his touch.

You pulled away slightly, breathing a little heavier, and without thinking, you snapped, “You can’t just kiss your way out of everything, you know.”

Izana ignored you completely, smiling wider as his hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you back in for another kiss, this one deeper, making you forget the very reason you were mad in the first place.

When he pulled away, you were slightly breathless, your frustration evaporating into a faint smile despite yourself.

He leaned his forehead against yours, looking into your eyes with that familiar playful glint. “I can and will kiss my way out of anything,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “But hey, I’ll pick up my stuff, okay? No need to get so worked up over my shoes.”

You blinked at him, trying to hold onto your frustration, but it was like trying to keep sand in your hands. “Izana...”

He kissed you once more, interrupting your half-hearted protest. “Shh, it’s fine, babe. Don’t worry about it. I’ll even go get your favorite snack later, just to make up for it.”

You sighed, trying not to smile as you pushed against his chest, though there was no real strength behind it. “You really know how to get out of trouble, don’t you?”

Izana grinned and gave you another quick kiss on the lips, his hand resting on the small of your back. “What can I say? It’s a gift. Now… let’s go get those snacks I promised. You’ll forget all about my shoes.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. As much as you tried to stay annoyed, Izana had that effect on you. He knew how to turn even the most frustrating moments into something playful and lighthearted.

[stars-inthe-sky]

if there's solid ground below

It's been five years, but I wrote a whole fic this week thanks in no small part to the singular @iphyslitterator!

[Cross-posted to AO3]

“H—hey, Tommy?”

Tommy startles and bangs his head on the hood of his truck, recovering fast enough that none of the oil he was nearly done changing spilled but not so fast that it would have escaped Evan’s notice. “You okay?”

“Yeah, just surprised,” he says, grabbing for a spare rag to wipe his hands on. “Hi.”

“Got a sec?” Evan rocks onto the balls of his feet and back again, hands shoved deep in the pockets of a hoodie that, in southern California in May, it should really be too warm for. But he runs cold, and the layers always have the added bonus of making Tommy want to rip them off in some kind of Pavlovian response.

Had. Last summer, they’d had that effect. This summer was shaping up differently.

Evan tilts his head, a little quizzical, and Tommy realizes he’s been frozen in place for a few beats too long, dazedly dragging the rag between his fingers.

“Sorry, yeah, go ahead.” He glances down at the car, which hasn’t moved, then back at Evan, who’s still rocking but who looks, Tommy’s now realizing, noticeably lighter than he has in a while—certainly since the funeral, but maybe even more so than that night in the bar all those weeks ago. His smile is far too small, but it’s there. “Although if you need another helicopter, I’m gonna have to start charging you at some point.”

“That’s okay, I heard your fees are competitive,” he chirps, and if his grin isn’t yet lethal, it’s shifted to shit-eating. Which, for Tommy, is lethal anyway, and Evan knows it. “But no, I just…just wanted to talk this time. For real, for once.”

Oh. “Okay…?”

“You can keep doing whatever you were doing; I know you like to have something to do with your hands.”

“Uh, thanks.” He stuffs the rag in the back pocket of his jeans and fishes the oil canister out of his car’s innards. This might be easier without eye contact. “What’s up?”

“I’m taking a sabbatical from the LAFD,” Evan says. Tommy freezes again, more of a twitch than a full stop, and makes himself continue the actual task at hand. “Three months. Mostly thanks to an insane amount of unused PTO, because I realized I kinda haven’t taken a vacation that wasn’t just medical leave in like…ever. And I need a break, you know, after everything? Like, I spent a bunch of my twenties driving around, odd jobs and stuff, and the world is—is so much bigger than the firehouse, or this city, and…yeah.  I think I need that space for a bit. Just got it approved today. And then I came here.”

He pauses for breath, and Tommy stares unseeing at some perfectly intact wiring he could reconnect by touch alone if asked. “That’s great they’re letting you do that, Evan. I’m sure it’ll be good for you. How’d the others take it?”

There’s a little sigh. “I haven’t told them yet. Battalion chief said I’d always have a job to come back to, but they couldn’t hold my spot indefinitely. Depends on the new captain and how they want to staff up. Makes sense, obviously, so.” His sniffle is nearly inaudible, but Tommy’s never been able to tune out Evan’s frequency.

He gives up on the car, closing the hood with a quiet click and resuming with the rag, even though his hands aren’t especially dirty. “Never thought you’d voluntarily leave the 118.”

“I know, right?” Evan’s mouth twitches, and it’s not quite a smile now, but there’s something genuine growing back. “I mean, I guess I might not be, but. Things change, and it’s…time, maybe. I’m doing this, in any case. I—I—I just need to clear my head for a while. Go visit Minnesota, never been there, but then…I don’t know, maybe touch the Atlantic Ocean again. Camp out in some national parks. Go see the sky in Montana—it’s so big, Tommy, I’ve never seen anything like it, not since those years, and the last couple of months…it’s like the smog is just in everything right now, you know?”

Tommy nods. He can relate, despite how often he gets to soar above the chokehold of Los Angeles; smoke is smoke, and heat still rises. “I get it. So…this is goodbye, then?” He swallows, bites his lip, stares down at his fingers and the rag still entwined in them.

“No!” Evan leans forward for a breath, arm lifting, but he seems to stop himself, like he’s remembering they don’t know where they stand with each other, if he’s allowed to grab Tommy’s shoulder. “No, no, I’m coming back. LA is still home, my—my stuff’s going into a storage unit next week, my sister and my niece are here, and the new baby—the job—no, yeah, I’m coming back.”

“That’s good,” Tommy muses. “So…”

“So, I wanted to ask—I—I—I’m asking if you’d maybe be up for thinking about coming with me.”

Tommy freezes so suddenly, and so thoroughly, that the rag drops to the ground. “You—you’re going on a three-month road trip to get away from it all, and you want me to come with you?”

“Yeah, I do,” Evan says softly, surely, ducking his head in that bashful way he pretends not to know is so damn effective. “I need a break from everything, and everyone—but you, you’re not everyone. I meant what I said about being together, before. I still mean it.” Tommy feels both arms drop to his sides, heavy and limp like emptied hoses, and the air jerks out of his lungs as his throat closes tight.

Evan plows ahead. “I—if—if you don’t want to, or you can’t swing it with work, or whatever—I get it, that’s why I’m asking and not—not telling you what to do. I don’t—even if you don’t come, I’d wait. And, and text or call, maybe? If you wanted to? Even if it’s just as friends, my life is always better when you’re in it. Kinda hoping that goes both ways here.”

Tommy croaks, “And when you get tired of me before we hit Reno?”

“I won’t,” he says, no hesitation. Tommy’s slack face must do something, because he repeats, “Tommy, I won’t. I won’t. I just want time with you, more time, all the time. I want to try again, so, so bad. And if we fight, we can talk, and not just think the worst, and keep going, be—because I want to eat crappy gas station food with you and not think about the inside of a gym for weeks. I want to drive out somewhere where it feels like we’re the only people on the planet, and fuck in the back of your truck, and then figure out a map that’s older than either of us because there’s no cell service. Maybe rent a chopper in Montana so we can see that sky up close—there’s, there’s so many stars, and you’re the only person I’d want to see them with like that. I want to be locked in a moving vehicle with you all day, except for bathroom stops, and see your face when you realize it’s been 16 hours and we still have more to talk about, and we’ll just keep going, because I’m never gonna get tired of you.”

He pauses and swallows thickly, and Tommy can’t look away. For all that Evan Buckley wears his heart on his sleeve so easily for anyone to see, actually opening it up and offering to hand it over to someone else—that’s still work. “So—that’s what I came to say. That’s what I want. J—just think about it. No rush, I’m not—I’ll wait. If it’s what you want. You…you get to want things, too. So. Yeah.”

Evan nods to himself, rubs the back of his neck, and turns to walk back to his car, parked on the street. Tommy has to move, has to say something, but the soles of his boots are melting, fused to the cement of the driveway, his throat is still closed, and Evan—Evan is walking away.

Tommy wants things, too.

He forces a breath, in and out, on a four-count, licks his lips, and asks, “When do we leave?”

Evan radiates a warmth that scatters out, tangible and visible like a sunrise before he even turns around, beaming. “I was thinking a few weeks after the baby comes, but—but—yeah?”

“Yeah, I, uh, I could chase some stars over the Rockies. With you.” Tommy’s insides unknot, and the life rushes back into his limbs. “And the rest, too. I noticed it’s my truck in this scenario?”

Suddenly Evan is in front of him, closer than they’d managed even that morning after, pressed gently against him from chest to knees, arms winding around his waist. “Much more cargo space. Very practical. And I kinda thought you might be in the same boat, you know, with the unused vacation. Maybe enough seniority to hang onto your spot.”

“Probably, yeah, they generally…” He doesn’t even know how that sentence might have ended, has rarely thought about anything more than a long weekend away, but then Evan’s kissing him, deep and slow and sweet like they might already be the only people on the planet. His warmth flashes over through Tommy, nerve by nerve, until he’s lit up and burning, flammable in places he’d spent months trying to forget this man could expose.

When Evan pulls back, it’s with Tommy’s face between his hands, his relief and hope palpable. Like life might go on, like the world might really be bigger, could even be better, sometimes, than it had been.

“Let’s go,” he whispers, so close and so quiet that Tommy can feel each syllable rumble against his skin, tires steady on a gravel road away from this scene and toward the next.

[connection-terminated-blog]

Connection terminated. I'm sorry to interrupt you, Elizabeth, if you still even remember that name, but I'm afraid you've been misinformed. You are not here to receive a gift, nor have you been called here by the individual you assume, although, you have indeed been called. You have all been called here, into a labyrinth of sounds and smells, misdirection and misfortune. A labyrinth with no exit, a maze with no prize. You don't even realize that you are trapped. Your lust for blood has driven you in endless circles, chasing the cries of children in some unseen chamber, always seeming so near, yet somehow out of reach. But you will never find them. None of you will. This is where your story ends. And to you, my brave volunteer, who somehow found this job listing not intended for you, although there was a way out planned for you, I have a feeling that's not what you want. I have a feeling that you are right where you want to be. I am remaining as well. I am nearby. This place will not be remembered, and the memory of everything that started this can finally begin to fade away, as the agony of every tragedy should. And to you monsters trapped in the corridors, be still, and give up your spirits. They don't belong to you. For most of you, I believe there is peace, and perhaps more, waiting for you after the smoke clears. Although, for one of you, the darkest pit of Hell has opened to swallow you whole, so don't keep the devil waiting, old friend. My daughter, if you can hear me, I knew you would return as well. It's in your nature to protect the innocent. I'm sorry that on that day, the day you were shut out and left to die, no one was there to lift you up into their arms the way you lifted others into yours. And then, what became of you? I should have known you wouldn't be content to disappear, not my daughter. I couldn't save you then, so let me save you now. It's time to rest - for you, and for those you have carried in your arms. This ends for all of us. End communication.

i learned a while ago that the whole "most of the stars we see in the sky are actually already dead because they're so far away that we're seeing them as they were thousands of years ago" thing is a myth because stars live so long that it's unlikely many, if any, of them have burned out yet, but i'm still glad that myth exists because there's just something about the thought of the sky as a graveyard of stars that gets to me

[ronearoundblindly]

Scrappy

platonic Bucky Barnes x Alpine!Reader Steve Rogers x shapeshifter!Reader

Summary: You transform into a human, revealing to Steve and Bucky that you are not just Alpine, the beloved cat.

part of Companion Animal (see previous or series)

Warnings for mentions of nudity and past trauma (nothing specific), arguing, language (because everyone is in shock), and canon-level violence (toward a bad guy). Angst with a happy-ish ending, since that will be elaborated on later. Zero editing. None of it is strictly not-safe-for-minors, but remember, your media consumption is your responsibility, yours alone, and no one else's. WC 2.1k

You were never supposed to participate, yet here you are chasing a man you know only as “Duplicate” through the woods. Bucky and Steve took off in other directions after what they thought were sole (two) version of the guy, but you have an advantage they do not: you can smell the real Duplicate in a cluster of trees.

You also have a disadvantage: in cat form, you cannot yell loud enough for Bucky and Steve to hear your discovery, and the attempts at crying have spooked the man bolting toward the road. If he makes it there, you suspect he’ll get away, possibly even steal one of your boys’ bikes to do so.

The spike of adrenaline drives you further, faster, harder. You can feel the energy is temporary. You have to stop Duplicate.

Luckily, he’s not particularly fast zigzagging through the trees, so you swipe at his ankles and legs, landing several swats and a bite, but then the cover of forest opens up to a ditch below the north lane of freeway.

One final push, and you have to make it count.

You jump, breathe straining in your lungs, chest tight from fear of failure, fury steadying your claws as they dig into his shoulders, and you pull to drag him down with all your strength.

He crumples with a wail, right on top of you. Between you’re flailing and his, no one manages to get up or out of the lock. It’s a mess of arms and legs, a din of angry grunts and curses, until Steve makes it back to wrench Duplicate off of you and fling him into a waiting left hook of Bucky’s powerful vibranium fist.

Only a few blows later, he’s unconscious, and you’ve scrambled to your feet.

“Oh, OH, shit, sorry,” Steve began to look in your direction, but swiftly covers his eyes and turns away. “I’m sorry, miss. We--we’re here to—did he hurt you?”

Bucky stares openly…at eye-level.

You transitioned from a 16-in long feline with white fur to a woman with no fur.

You’re naked.

“Wha—WHAT THE HELL!”

Steve makes a tutting noise as if Bucky’s forgotten his manners, seems to attempt an apologetic smile your way, and immediately corrects his gaze to the ground again.

With wide eyes, Bucky slowly, carefully, and deliberately says your name out loud. He even repeats it before a dumbfounded “you’re Alpine?”

Steve’s whole body snaps ramrod straight. “What?”

The pressure in your chest swells too big for your ribcage. It hurts. You panic.

They grow taller and taller in your vision, Bucky pleading for you to wait, but when he steps closer, your shaking becomes four legs bolting back to the tree line.

“You know that woman? Did you KNOW ABOUT—“

The screaming continues until you tuck yourself beneath a high root not too far into the woods. You can’t see them, only hear.

“I did not—shut up,” Bucky says to Steve. “I didn’t know, but I recognize her.”

“Buck, you gotta be shitting me. Your cat?!”

“Stop yelling, dude. You’re scaring her.”

“I’m scaring HER?”

The pang bubbles over, so what would be a sob comes bursting out as a high-pitched, pathetic cry, as weak as you felt in human form.

“Yes,” Bucky grits, more vicious than anything you’ve ever heard him say. “You are.”

“I’m sorry,” Steve hisses. “Twenty seconds ago, I didn’t think I’d spent months calling a grown woman ‘babygirl.’ That’s embarrassing…and so insulting.”

“I leave the bathroom door open. How did you think I feel?!”

There’s shuffling as Steve whispers his reply of “that’s just common courtesy, jerk. Why would—“

“I DIDN’T KNOW. Now, just—can you just stay here and make sure this asshole doesn’t—“

“She could be anywhere by—“

“Just do it, Steve,” Bucky grumbles. “We can’t risk him waking up before Containment gets here, and I’m going to go find Alpine.”

“Apparently, that’s not her name,” Steve snips. Footstep crunch through leaves and grass for a moment. “Hey, why have you seen her face?”

“I think—“ Bucky specifies he’s guessing “—her father came by after she ran away. Canvased the whole neighborhood passing out her picture. Actually, he thought she was kidnapped? Maybe?”

“You didn’t kidnap a woman, did you?!”

“No! Of course not. He was convinced she’d never run—ya know what? This is wasting time. I’m—“

You don’t want to be discovered within seconds of Bucky breaching the trees, so you run, hearing, “damn it,” before the footsteps quicken in pursuit.

You race along the tree line until banking a sharp turn to throw him off. For a minute or two, it seems to work. The energy has drained from your body, and you lie down to recover. Your blood rushes past your sensitive ears. That’s all you can hear till…

“Pretty girl, I won’t harm you. I would never harm you.” Stealthy as a ghost, Bucky creeps past the nearest log of deadwood. “I just need to know you’re okay.”

He scans his surroundings before his gaze lands directly on you.

You offer a defiant meow.

“Tired, huh?” He crouches down beside you, his flesh palm landing on your heaving chest. “Your heartbeat is so fast. That’s it. Take some nice, deep breaths. There. That’s better.”

Bucky takes a seat, saying nothing more, just monitoring you, making sure you’re comfortable and safe. He doesn’t need to say anything because it’s clear he remembers your face—your real face—and your story—the version your father tells, at least. Bucky doesn’t give you any excuses. There are no platitudes of ‘everything will be fine’ or ‘all is forgiven.’ After a long time, he simply strokes down your back how he knows you like it.

“Hey, Alpine?”

You side eye him and merp softly.

“Would you like to go home?”

With one last huff and a glance forward, you get up off the ground, grateful his face is not visible from this far below and your own face isn’t readable from that far above. Soon, you notice he’s falling back several paces and turn to tilt your head questioningly.

Bucky points. “Bike’s that way, sweetheart. Is it okay if…I mean, can I just carry you?”

You follow his finger into darkness and dense wood that looks the exact same as everywhere else, realizing you’re lost. You’d be lost without Bucky now in more ways than one.

You stride to his legs and wait to be hoisted through the air, limp and settled automatically, the familiar sweet spot in arms lulling you to rest.

“Good job today,” he whispers. “Couldn’t have done it without ya.”

Out of habit more than choice, you begin to purr, and Bucky scratches between your ears.

“You’d let me know, right? If you didn’t want something? If you hated this?”

You keep purring, eyes shut because it’s too hard to look at him, to see that he knows. You still haven’t made any sort of answer by the time his boots hit pavement.

He stops.

“Alpine, I’m sorry, but you need to use your words. Are you okay?”

A crackling, sad meow escapes you.

“You wanna go back home?”

This time, your chirp is a bit stronger, and you finally open your eyes.

There’s light everywhere, red, white, and blue, flashing endlessly like waves in moonlight.

Bucky swings his leg over his motorcycle and puts you down on the seat, unzipping his jacket as he always does to let you crawl in.

“Wait,” someone calls from all the commotion, and here comes Steve. “You…you found her?”

You scurry to hide, squeezing through the tight leather and Bucky’s rigid side, your feet poking out until you make space. If you thought it was difficult to face Bucky, you weren’t prepared for the sickly surge of Steve knowing what you really are.

“She’s fine,” Buck says simply. “We’re going home.”

“I—I gotta debrief. I can’t leave.” Steve sounds so…broken.

You can’t help but wiggle to get a peek and end up popping up from Bucky’s collar, your ears flattened, looking enough like an alien with fangs that Steve actually smiles.

“Woman, you are not riding like that,” Bucky grumbles.

“Hi” is all Steve manages, but it’s as soft as ever. “I’ll…can I come by later?” His eyes are locked with yours. “I promise I won’t tell anyone. We won’t—“ you feel Bucky’s nod more than see it in unison with Steve’s “—not until you’re ready.”

“Cap! Captain, we’re heading out!”

Steve’s smile falls, and though he’s poised to reply, again he can’t find the words. He only waves and jogs off with his head down.

You slither around beneath the jacket until in your normal spot for riding.

“What’re you, a snake now?” Bucky snorts, playfully adding, “weirdo,” and revving the engine.

This journey home is different. When you first rode the bike with him, Bucky made sure to put a hand under you at every stop, a security check of sorts, and then once you were comfortable, he seemed so proud to have your head poking out that he just enjoyed watching kids and passersby get a kick from it. He doesn’t go full speed this time. The streets are more empty than usual. Bucky doesn’t make to touch you as he stops.

Instead, he motions to this store and that.

“You like donuts? That place is pretty good.”

“Don’t go there unless you want soggy pizza. Way too much sauce. Do not let Steve tell ya different. It’s awful. Man has no standards.”

“Great shepherd’s pie at that pub. We’ll go someday. Goes well with a pint if you enjoy that sorta thing.” He shrugs. “I can’t anymore. Least, not for anythin’ but the taste…”

A clothing boutique shuts off their display lights just as you two zip past.

“Shit, honey, we gotta get you some duds. Tomorrow, maybe.”

You hop down and walk beside him on the way into the apartment, making a b-line for the couch once inside. Pointedly, Bucky sighs, heading to the bathroom, shutting the door very carefully, and cursing several times…quietly.

You’d laugh if you could.

He returns after a trip to the bedroom, a stack of clothes placed in front of you neatly, and he asks if he should give you privacy.

You don’t move from your tightly curled ball.

“Can you control it?”

You just blink.

“Do you want me to stay out here?”

He takes the lift of your head as a ‘yes.’

Bucky sits in his usual corner, rubbing his hands on his thighs awkwardly until he spots the remote on the coffee table.

He shoots you a glance and raises an eyebrow. “Next episode, m’lady?”

When you get up, stretch, and saunter over to him, he swipes the remote and gets comfortable, tipping the blanket off the back of the couch to drape over you.

You watch but hardly pay attention, your head in his lap as you fall asleep.

Your dreams rehash the fight with Duplicate. In one or two reenactments, you purposefully change to human. You’re the one punching him out. You’re the one saving the day. In one or two, Steve looks at you like a goddess, full of awe and admiration. In more than two, he screams in horror, and the last of those jolts you awake.

Bucky may not sleep deeply often, but when he does, his snoring is loud. It’s the first thing you notice, even before realizing it’s your palm pushing up against him to orient yourself.

“Hey, hey, don’t worry.” Steve whispers from at your feet—holding your human feet steady in his own lap. “You’re okay. You’re home.”

The blanket which swallowed your cat form barely covers the length of you now, and you tuck it tightly against your chest, heart hammering to keep you aware. You can feel the shrinking urge, the one that pulls you into a creature of protection, a shielded beast of caution, and it must show on your face. Perhaps your eyes change color or your ears begin to point. You don’t know, but Steve now does.

He slides farther under your legs, reaching a finger beneath your chin. His skin is warm when truly touching yours. You imagined it would be, but you never knew until this moment.

“Stay with me,” he pleads. “It’s alright.”

But what you’ve known from day one—the truth in Steve Rogers’ blue gaze—is that he can’t lie. If he says it’s alright, then it is, and if he orders you to stay…

…then you will.

[Next Part: Cozy]

[Main Masterlist; Steve Rogers Series List; Bucky Barnes Masterlist]

A/N: I cried writing this. I was also way too excited to post it, so tahdah, you get more two days later!