#he'd be such a tease with his touches too ... ......

[fic-girlie]

Can you write something about Joel dealing with his heavily pregnant and sinfully horny wife? I guess he'd be a little amused about how needy she is, but would be happy to help soothe her ache 🤭

Ache

Pairing: jackson!Joel Miller x pregnant!wife!reader Summary: Joel takes care of your needy, pregnant body all night—only for Ellie to tease you both the next morning over breakfast. Warnings: established relationship, sexual tension, explicit smut (+18), pregnancy kink (kinda), fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, p in v sex, soft Joel, aftercare, cuddling, slow mornings, Ellie teasing Joel

You’ve been insatiable for days now.

It’s a slow, coiling sort of ache, made worse by the way your body moves differently these days — how every shift, every sway of your hips, even the subtle roll of your thighs when you sit down too fast, lights you up from the inside. It’s the weight of it. The fullness. The heat. You’re not even embarrassed by it anymore — not when Joel looks at you like he does.

Because he knows.

He sees it in the way your hands linger a little too long over your belly when you stretch, your fingers drifting down as if they might wander further if no one’s looking. In the way you shift restlessly on the couch with a soft grunt, as if no position feels right unless it’s pressed against him. In the way your voice gets breathy when you ask him to reach something, just so he’ll come close enough to brush past you.

You’ve been needier than ever today, and Joel’s been... patient.

“Y’gonna tell me what’s really got you all squirmy, sweetheart?” he’d muttered earlier, watching as you rocked your hips ever-so-slightly in your chair after breakfast.

You’d played dumb. Just shrugged. “Back’s tight.”

“Uh huh.”

He didn’t press. Just smirked under that greying beard of his, then went back to washing the dishes with sleeves rolled up, forearms flexing while you sat there watching him like you wanted to crawl under his skin.

You didn’t even realize your thighs were squeezing together until he looked over his shoulder and raised an eyebrow.

It’s evening now. Late. Jackson’s gone quiet outside, soft snowfall casting the windows in hazy blue, and Joel’s just come in from stacking firewood on the porch. You’re in bed, propped up on pillows, nightgown pulled down low where it clings to the curve of your belly. One hand resting right beneath it, the other lazily tracing along your inner thigh beneath the blanket. Not quite touching yourself — not yet. Just pretending to be casual.

Joel notices the second he walks in.

You see the hitch in his breath, the way his eyes track the movement under the blanket.

“Still got that ‘back ache’?” he asks, voice low and warm as he pulls his jacket off and hangs it on the hook.

You hum noncommittally. “Maybe.”

He chuckles, dragging a hand through his hair. “Jesus, baby. You’ve been wound up all day.”

“Not my fault,” you murmur, trying to play innocent. “It’s the hormones.”

Joel’s already walking toward the bed, shirt still clinging to his chest from the cold. His hand runs down your calf beneath the blanket as he kneels beside you, eyes softer now.

“No, it ain’t your fault.” He kisses your knee through the sheet. “But it is mine if I don’t take care of you.”

Your breath catches. Your thighs twitch. He feels it, and smiles.

“I’m serious,” you whisper. “It’s... bad today.”

“I know, sweet girl.”

He slips beneath the blanket, one hand bracing against the mattress as he leans in and kisses your stomach first — that round, heavy curve of the life you’re both waiting on. Then he looks up at you with so much love it makes your chest hurt.

“Let me help,” he says.

And you nod.

Joel is careful. Gentle in the way he peels the nightgown up over your belly, exposing your soft skin inch by inch. He presses a slow kiss there first, his beard scratching lightly against the sensitive swell. Your hips lift without thinking, trying to chase something — friction, contact, anything.

His voice drops lower. “Tell me what you need, darlin’. Use your words.”

You can barely manage it.

“Touch me.”

Joel raises a brow, pleased. His hand coasts up your thigh now, fingers spreading along the inside until he finds the edge of your panties — soaked through, clinging to you.

He groans softly. “Christ, baby.”

“I told you.”

“I know you did.”

He tugs the fabric down slowly, watching as it pulls away from your slick skin. Then he leans in again, kisses right above your mound, and murmurs:

“Always so sweet for me. Always so ready.”

Your legs try to part wider, but there’s not much room left with how big you are now. He helps, settling between them on his knees, keeping everything slow and careful. One hand rests over your belly while the other moves between your thighs, fingers grazing through the wetness until you’re trembling.

“I got you,” he soothes. “Let me take care of it.”

His fingers slide lower, stroking along your folds with maddening tenderness — not quite giving you what you want, not yet. You whimper, trying to rock your hips up, but he presses your belly gently to keep you grounded.

“You’re so sensitive now,” he murmurs, watching the way you react to every stroke. “Feels like you’re already close, huh?”

“Joel,” you pant, “please—”

“Shh,” he whispers, smiling, and finally — finally — presses his thumb to your clit. Just the lightest pressure, slow circles that have your toes curling instantly.

“Oh my god.”

“Mmhmm. That’s what you needed, huh?” His voice is low, teasing. “Been feelin’ you squirm on the couch all day. Knew you were just waitin’ for me to come home.”

You can’t even answer. It’s already too much. His fingers know you so well — firm and steady, drawing lazy, perfect circles while you buck against his touch. He leans down to kiss the inside of your thigh again, then moves up, resting his cheek on your belly while he works you.

“Look at you,” he murmurs. “So fuckin’ pretty like this. Full of me. Drippin’ for me.”

You whine, writhing beneath him.

“Think you can come like this, sweetheart?” he whispers, thumb stroking faster now. “Just from my hand?”

You nod frantically, hips jerking. “Yes—yes, I can—Joel—”

He presses a kiss just below your navel and keeps going, relentless now — and you come hard, thighs shaking around his wrist, breath catching in a sob as pleasure floods through you.

“That’s it,” Joel groans, watching you fall apart. “That’s my good girl.”

Your body’s still twitching in the aftermath when Joel leans over you, hand smoothing up your belly like he’s calming something wild.

You’re flushed. Glowing. Lips parted, breath unsteady, but it’s clear in your eyes — that restless, lingering tension — that it didn’t settle the ache completely. It was a tremor, not a release. You still feel hollow. Still too full and too empty all at once.

He sees it.

Joel kisses you softly, lips brushing over your cheek before moving lower — along your jaw, down your throat. Then he murmurs:

“Still needin’ more, huh?”

You nod without hesitation. Desperate. “Please…”

“Alright,” he breathes. “Lay back for me.”

You do, trembling as he slips further under the blanket. His hands spread your thighs again, one large palm cupping your belly as he kisses his way down — reverent, slow — until his mouth is between your legs.

His breath is hot. His beard is rough. And his tongue—

God.

He flattens it against you in one long, unhurried lick that makes you cry out. Then again, slower, until you’re writhing under his mouth.

“Joel,” you whimper, “please—”

“I know, sweet girl,” he murmurs, voice muffled against you. “Just relax. Let me taste you.”

And then he devours you.

There’s nothing hesitant now, nothing tentative. Joel licks like a man starved — wet and messy, moaning low in his throat as he sucks your clit into his mouth and flicks his tongue just right. He uses his fingers to spread you wider, deeper, careful not to apply pressure to your belly as he works.

You’re already there. Already spiralling.

“Oh my god, Joel—”

“That’s it, baby,” he growls, gripping your thighs as you rock against him. “Give it to me.”

Your second orgasm crashes harder than the first. Your whole body arches off the bed, thighs squeezing his head as you cry out, choking on a sob that borders on relief. Joel groans like it’s the best sound he’s ever heard and doesn’t stop until you’re shaking.

Only then does he finally pull back, chin wet, eyes dark with heat.

He crawls up your body slowly, kissing your belly again, then your chest, pulling your nightgown the rest of the way off before cupping your face in both hands.

“You okay?” he murmurs, thumb brushing your flushed cheek.

You nod frantically, eyes wide and heavy-lidded. “I need you.”

Joel doesn’t make you ask again.

He undresses slow, methodical, like he’s savoring the moment — shirt pulled over his head, then the belt, the jeans, until he’s bare and solid in front of you, that heavy length already hard and leaking for you.

He watches your eyes track him, watches the hunger in them. His own breath shakes as he settles between your thighs again, guiding himself to your entrance.

“Nice and slow,” he whispers. “Let me in, sweet girl.”

You’re soaked — open and fluttering from the aftershocks — and he slides in with a slow groan, stretching you thick and deep, inch by inch. Your head falls back with a broken gasp, hips arching up to meet him.

“Fuck—baby, you feel so good,” Joel groans, hands on either side of your belly as he rocks into you, careful but deep. “Been thinkin’ about this all goddamn day.”

You moan, overwhelmed, clawing at his arms. “Joel—”

“Shh,” he soothes, stilling inside you. “I got you. Just let me—”

But you can’t wait.

Not anymore.

Your hands press against his chest, and with a strength that surprises even you, you push him back until he’s flat against the pillows. His eyes widen, but he lets you — hands on your hips, guiding as you climb over him.

“Jesus Christ, baby—”

You settle over him with a desperate noise, bracing one hand on his chest as you sink down, taking all of him inside you. You’re panting, trembling, so full you could cry — but it’s perfect. Right. His hands stroke up your sides, careful of your belly, thumbs brushing your nipples as you start to move.

“Fuck—look at you.”

You ride him slowly at first, grinding your hips in slow, deep rolls, moaning shamelessly. Joel watches you with awe, jaw slack, hands gripping your thighs.

“So needy,” he rasps, voice breaking. “Goddamn—look at what you’re doin’ to me.”

You press a hand over your belly, feeling your child shift lazily with your movement. The weight of everything — love, lust, the family you’ve built together — it’s too much.

“I need it,” you gasp. “Joel, I need—”

“I know, baby. I know.”

He helps you now, hands steadying your hips as you ride him harder, the sound of your slick skin meeting his echoing through the room. You’re crying out every time he hits that spot inside you — wild, overwhelmed, every nerve singing.

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful,” he growls. “Pregnant with my baby, takin’ me so deep—fuck, I’m not gonna last long like this—”

“Come with me,” you whisper. “Please—please, Joel—”

His hand moves between you, rubbing fast tight circles over your clit while you ride him, and your third orgasm hits like a wave — a slow, crashing swell that drowns everything else. You cry out, walls fluttering around him, and Joel groans loud and raw as he spills inside you, jerking his hips up with every pulse.

You collapse over him, shaking, panting, his arms wrapping tight around your trembling body.

You stay there for a long time. His lips press to your temple, your shoulder, your belly. His hand strokes your back.

And when you finally lift your head, he’s smiling at you — tired, proud, and completely gone.

“You alright now?” he murmurs, voice rough.

You nod, eyes glassy with love.

“For now,” you whisper.

Joel just laughs and pulls you closer.

——

Your body is wrecked in the best way — muscles twitching from overuse, thighs sticky, chest heaving against his — but you don’t move. Neither of you does.

Joel is still inside you, deep and warm, his hands smoothing slowly up and down your sides like he’s trying to calm something wild in you. And maybe he is. There’s so much inside you right now — his release, your own, your child — all of it pressed close in a body that never feels like enough space anymore.

But here, tangled with him, you breathe easier.

He presses his mouth to your damp temple, breathing you in like you're something sacred.

"You alright, baby?" he murmurs against your skin, voice still rough with the echo of what you just shared.

You nod slowly, cheek resting over his chest. "Yeah. Just… floatin'."

Joel’s chuckle is quiet, low in his throat. “You earned it.”

His hands never stop moving. One strokes your spine, the other cups the base of your neck, his thumb brushing the spot just behind your ear. Your belly is pressed between you, warm and heavy, and Joel's free hand eventually slips down to rest there too, splayed wide over the life the two of you made.

"You’re amazin’, you know that?"

You hum. “That’s the hormones talkin’.”

“No,” he says, gently but firmly. “It’s me talkin’. Man who just watched his wife ride him like that at seven months pregnant.”

You smile against his skin. “You didn’t seem to mind.”

He pulls back enough to look at you — sweaty hair sticking to your temples, lips swollen, eyes half-lidded. He smiles, all soft and full of quiet pride.

“Damn right I didn’t.”

Joel kisses you slow. Not rushed, not hungry. Just his mouth on yours, warm and open, a reminder that he’s still here, still holding you, still yours. When he finally pulls back, he murmurs, “C’mon. Let me clean you up.”

You groan. “Don’t wanna move.”

He laughs and sits up gently, his arms guiding you off him with care. “You don’t have to. I got you.”

And he does.

Joel eases out of bed slowly, grabbing the clean rag he left folded on the nightstand before you’d even started — always prepared, always thinking ahead. He dampens it with warm water from the basin nearby, then returns, lifting the blankets and easing your legs apart with hands so reverent it makes you ache all over again.

“This alright?” he asks, glancing up.

You nod, breath catching.

He cleans you with slow, steady motions, careful around the sensitive parts, murmuring little things the whole time — how good you did, how beautiful you looked, how proud he is of you. Once he’s done, he slips a fresh pair of soft cotton panties up your legs, then gently helps you into a clean nightgown. You’re still hazy, limbs heavy, but you manage to sit up just enough to let him.

“There we go,” he says, cupping your face. “Good as new.”

He tugs the blankets back over your lap, then reaches for the balm you use on your stretching belly. You expect him to hand it to you, but instead, he twists the lid off and starts massaging it into your skin himself, palms firm but tender.

You blink down at him. “You don’t have to—”

“Yeah, I do,” he says quietly. “You been sore all day. You were beggin’ me to take care of it — now let me take care of you.”

You swallow hard. That warmth, that ache in your chest — it’s so much bigger than lust. Bigger than the need that drove you to climb into his lap hours ago. It’s love. All-consuming and wide as the horizon.

You reach for his face, cradling his jaw with your hand. “I love you.”

Joel’s eyes soften, going darker the way they always do when you say it like that — not as a routine, not in passing, but as a confession. A truth.

“I love you too, baby,” he murmurs. “So damn much.”

He finishes rubbing the balm into your belly, then crawls back into bed beside you, wrapping one arm around your shoulders, the other slipping beneath the curve of your stomach to hold it from behind. His hand rests there like a promise, thumb brushing back and forth.

You settle into him with a sleepy hum, cheek against his chest, listening to his heartbeat as it slows.

Outside, the wind whispers through the trees. Jackson is quiet.

Joel presses his lips to your forehead and murmurs, “Let’s get some sleep, sweet girl. We’ve got all the time in the world.”

——

You wake slowly, blinking against the soft, pale light pouring in through the curtains. Joel’s body is wrapped around yours from behind — one arm tucked under your belly, the other draped over your hip, hand curled protectively over your side.

He’s warm. Heavy with sleep. Breathing slow and deep against your shoulder.

You don’t want to move.

But the smell of breakfast reaches you before the sunlight fully registers. Coffee. Eggs. Bacon.

Your eyes blink open again.

“Joel,” you murmur, nudging his forearm.

He doesn’t budge.

You turn your head, just enough to catch the sight of his scruffy jaw against your pillow. “Joel. Someone’s cookin’.”

His eyes blink open halfway, confused. Then: “Shit.”

You can’t help the little laugh that slips from your lips as he stretches behind you, groaning.

“She beat us to it.”

“She?” you echo, but then it clicks. “Ellie?”

Joel’s face crumples as he sits up, hair sticking up in all directions. “Yep.”

He swings his legs out of bed, muttering under his breath, “Hope she didn’t break the damn coffeemaker again…”

You follow slowly, feeling the dull, deep ache settle into your bones — but it’s good. Satisfying. Your thighs are sore, your belly full and tight, and your whole body hums with that lingering heat from the night before.

You both pull on some soft clothes — Joel in his old worn sweatpants and a T-shirt, you in one of his flannels buttoned over your belly — and pad out to the kitchen.

Ellie’s already at the table, legs kicked up on a chair, a mug of coffee in one hand and a smug look on her face.

“Morning,” she sings.

Joel grunts.

You offer a sheepish smile. “Hey, kid.”

Ellie grins at you, then turns back to Joel — zeroing in with the laser focus of a teenager who knows exactly how to get under his skin.

“Soooo,” she starts, dragging out the word. “You two have a good night?”

Joel freezes halfway to the coffeepot. “Ellie.”

“What?” she shrugs, completely unbothered. “I mean, I was gonna read, but some people decided to put on a whole fuckin’ performance.”

You choke on your own breath, biting back a laugh.

Joel glares at her. “Don’t talk like that.”

“I’m just sayin’,” she sips her coffee, “walls aren’t that thick. And someone —” she shoots you a look, teasing but not unkind “— is real vocal these days.”

You cover your mouth, mortified and laughing at the same time. “Ellie—”

“Hey, I’m not mad about it,” she goes on, still grinning. “Just impressed. I thought Joel’s back was gonna give out halfway through.”

“Alright,” Joel growls, grabbing the pan and flipping the eggs too hard. “That’s enough.”

You’re wheezing now, hiding your face in your hands.

Ellie’s trying to keep a straight face but losing it too. “No, seriously, that one part? Where she—”

“Ellie!”

“Okay, okay!” She throws her hands up, laughing. “Damn. No need to pull an old man muscle.”

Joel just mutters something under his breath and plates breakfast in silence, shoulders hunched, ears red.

You finally recover enough to speak, resting a hand on your belly. “To be fair… I was kind of a menace last night.”

Joel shoots you a sideways look. “You think?”

Ellie snorts into her coffee. “She begged, Joel. Like, out loud. Multiple times.”

He slams the plate of eggs on the table with a little too much force.

“I’m movin’ out,” he mutters. “Buildin’ a shed. No more shared walls.”

You giggle and reach for his hand, tugging him back toward your seat. “Oh, c’mon. It’s not like she didn’t already know we have sex.”

“Yeah,” Ellie nods, mouth full of bacon. “I just didn’t need the full play-by-play.”

Joel covers his face with one hand.

You lean in and press a kiss to his arm. “She’s just teasing. You know she loves us.”

“I tolerate you,” Ellie corrects with a smirk. “But she’s cool.”

Joel sighs, finally sitting down beside you with a mug of coffee and a quiet, amused groan.

And when you rest your hand on his thigh under the table — just a small, affectionate squeeze — he gives your hand a squeeze right back. Grumbling under his breath. Blushing like hell.

But still smiling.

Because this is home.

[xichilie]

Phainon x (fem)reader

Where the Light Rests

The world outside had stilled.

Golden light stretched across the room in languid beams, soft and honey-warm, pouring in through sheer curtains that moved faintly with the summer breeze. Dust floated lazily in the air, catching the light like tiny, weightless stars. Somewhere far off, a wind chime stirred.

Phainon lay sprawled on his stomach across the couch, bare-chested and warm beneath the touch of fading sun. His coat had been discarded over the backrest, boots left by the door, the layered weight of his armor replaced by nothing but calm breath and the familiar scent of lavender from the open window. His silver-white hair was messier than usual, pushed back from his forehead, untamed and soft.

Y/N sat beside him with one leg tucked beneath her, fingers gently combing through his hair. She wasn't thinking about anything in particular. Her mind had slipped into that rare and precious place where there were no worries, no goals, no missions—just the rise and fall of his breathing, the softness of his skin beneath her fingertips, and the way her other hand rested idly between his shoulder blades, feeling the slow rhythm of his heart.

Phainon didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. The sound of his breath—deep, slow, steady—was enough. He'd been restless for days, always moving, always smiling through something unspoken. But here, now, with his head turned slightly to press against her thigh, eyes closed, his entire body at ease… he looked at peace.

Her fingers traced lightly down the nape of his neck, where his choker rested, before sweeping over his shoulder. The sun cast gold along the sharp edge of his collarbone, dipping into the shallow curve between muscle and skin. There were scars, faint and familiar—she’d seen them before, in battle, in the dim light of campfires—but touching them now, without urgency or pain, felt different. More intimate.

Phainon shifted slightly, and one of his arms moved, curling around her calf where it rested on the couch. His hand, warm and calloused, splayed against her leg as if anchoring himself there. He didn’t open his eyes. But she felt the faintest smile at the corner of his lips, almost hidden, like the contentment was too quiet to speak.

She leaned forward slightly, brushing a kiss into his hair. A few strands stuck to her lips, light and feather-soft. Her hand stayed in his hair, thumb tracing the side of his temple in slow circles.

Time passed like that—unmeasured. Outside, the breeze shifted. Shadows crawled further across the floor. The world changed, just slightly, but the stillness between them didn’t.

Eventually, Phainon stirred, just enough to tilt his head and look up at her with heavy-lidded eyes. His gaze was gentle, bright even in the low light, and he looked at her like she was the only thing that existed in the universe.

No teasing. No bravado.

Just quiet awe.

Y/N met his eyes, brushing a few strands of hair from his face. Her fingertips lingered against his cheekbone, then trailed down to his jaw.

Without a word, Phainon moved. He sat up slowly, never breaking eye contact, until his arms wrapped loosely around her waist and he pulled her into his lap. She let herself be guided easily, knees on either side of his thighs, her hands slipping to rest on his shoulders.

His skin was warm beneath her palms. Golden in the light. Alive in every way that mattered.

He rested his forehead against her collarbone, arms curling around her lower back. Her fingers found his hair again. Neither of them spoke.

She felt the way his chest rose against hers, steady and calm. She felt the way he exhaled—a slow, grounding breath, like letting go of everything he carried. Her hand slid down, tracing the curve of his spine, then up again to cradle the back of his head.

She kissed his temple.

His hands tightened slightly against her back, and he pulled away just enough to look at her. His expression was open, quiet, almost reverent.

Then, slowly, he leaned in.

The kiss was soft—softer than she expected from someone who always filled the room with laughter and light. His lips met hers gently, no rush, no pressure. Just a steady, deliberate closeness. The kind of kiss that asked for nothing and offered everything.

When they parted, their foreheads stayed pressed together, eyes closed, breathing shared.

She didn’t move. Neither did he.

There were no promises spoken aloud. No declarations.

But in the hush of the moment, with fading sun painting them in gold, they didn’t need them.

This was enough.

This was everything.

[jikookncity]

Brother’s Best Friend Jaehyun x Reader (Smut)

WC: 4k, smut, dirty talk, oral sex, unprotected sex, shower sex, etc.

Jaehyun hasn't seen his best friend's little sister in 2 years and a lot has changed.

It started the day Jaehyun walked back into her life.

Two years away. Two years without his lazy smirks, his low voice, his teasing comments that always seemed to toe the line between playful and absolutely filthy. But when he strolled into his and Johnny’s kitchen—sun-kissed, hair blond and messy, tattoo just barely peeking from under his sleeve—Y/N swore her knees nearly gave out.

And Jaehyun noticed.

Of course he noticed.

“Look who grew up,” he murmured, eyeing her up and down shamelessly. “You always this pretty, or is it just fucking with my head today?”

Y/N flushed scarlet. She hadn’t her brothers best friend in two years and that’s the first thing out of his mouth? Moving back in with her brother and Jae was gonna be tough.

“You’re one to talk,” she mumbled, trying to look away.

But he stepped closer, eyes locked on hers, smirk playing on his lips. “Say that again, angel. I liked how that sounded.”

She scurried off, cheeks burning.

It only got worse after that.

Every time they crossed paths—Jaehyun alone in the hallway, shirtless in the kitchen, sprawled on the couch with that stupid smug smile—he’d say something.

“You know your skirt’s riding up, right?”

“Careful looking at me like that, baby. Someone might think you want something.”

“You keep biting your lip like that and I’m gonna start wondering what else that mouth’s good for.”

Each time, her throat dried, her heart raced, and her body responded way too fast.

But Jaehyun never touched her. Never crossed the line. He'd crowd her into a wall, whisper things into her ear, and back off with a lazy wink—just enough to ruin her for the rest of the day.

And she kept letting him. Kept loving it.

The Party

She wasn’t even supposed to be going. Johnny had said it was mostly older friends, college guys, exes—“boring,” he’d told her.

But when she heard Jaehyun would be there, Y/N made a choice.

A tight black dress. Strapless. Short. Paired with heels and gloss and a teasing perfume she hoped he’d notice. The moment she walked into the apartment, she saw the way heads turned—and more importantly, she felt his eyes on her.

Jaehyun was leaning against the wall with a drink in hand, laughing with someone. But the second he saw her, his jaw went slack. His gaze dragged over her—slow, dark, deliberate.

And he didn’t look away.

He didn’t approach her all night. He didn’t say anything. But she felt him everywhere—watching, pacing like a predator, drinking her in from across the room.

And finally, when she slipped into the kitchen for air, he followed.

“You wore that dress for me.”

Y/N spun around. Jaehyun stood in the doorway, shirt open at the collar, hair wild like he’d run his hand through it too many times. His voice was low, rough, already half-wrecked with frustration.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” she whispered, clutching her cup.

He stalked closer. “You knew I’d be here. You knew what that dress would do to me.”

“I didn’t think you’d even notice.”

“Bullshit.” His eyes dragged down her body again. “You wanted me to notice. You want me to look at you and forget all the reasons I shouldn’t bend you over this counter right now.”

She swallowed, heart hammering. “We’re not doing this.”

His jaw ticked. “You think I want to want you?” He stepped closer. “You think this is easy for me? Knowing every inch of you is off-limits? Knowing I can’t fucking touch you because your brother would bury me alive?”

Y/N gasped as his hand flattened on the counter beside her hip, boxing her in without touching.

“You walk around like you don’t know what you’re doing,” Jaehyun growled. “Like you don’t see how I stare at your legs. Your lips. How I can’t stop thinking about the sounds you’d make if I had my mouth between your thighs.”

“Stop,” she whispered.

“Why?” His face was inches from hers now, voice ragged. “Because if I say one more filthy thing, you’re gonna let me pull that dress up and show you exactly how long I’ve been waiting to fuck you?”

“Jaehyun—”

“You want me to stop?” he asked, chest rising and falling fast. “Say it. Say you don’t think about it too. Say you haven’t imagined me fucking you so hard you forget your own name.”

She couldn’t speak. Her body was shaking.

But then she whispered, “We can’t…”

His forehead touched hers for a second, hot and desperate.

“I know we can’t,” he breathed. “But don’t lie to me, baby. Don’t lie to yourself.”

A pause. Their lips almost brushed. So close it hurt.

“I want you,” she admitted, barely audible. “So fucking bad.”

He let out a rough, broken sound—half a groan, half a curse—and stepped back like it physically hurt to leave her.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “Me too.”

Another beat of silence. Then he looked her over one last time, hunger still sharp in his eyes.

“This tension’s gonna kill us.”

She nodded. “I know.”

They didn’t kiss. They didn’t touch.

They just stood there, burning alive, trying not to destroy everything.

Later that night...

Jaehyun hadn’t moved in twenty minutes.

He leaned back in a chair on the balcony, nursing the same drink while the rest of the guys hollered over some drinking game inside. His jaw was tight. His eyes tracked every shadow that passed near the kitchen—her. He hadn’t seen Y/N since she slipped out, cheeks flushed and lips parted like she wanted him to ruin her right there.

And fuck, he wanted to.

But he couldn’t.

“Bro,” one of the guys nudged him. “You good?”

“Hm?” Jaehyun looked up.

“You haven’t flirted with anyone all night. Usually by now you’re halfway into someone’s pants.”

Jaehyun gave a lazy smirk. “Guess I’m just not in the mood.”

But his voice lacked its usual cocky bite. His mind was still in that kitchen—her body inches from his, breath catching when he told her how much he wanted her.

“Not like you,” the guy muttered, squinting at him. “You’re not sulking over a girl, are you?”

Jaehyun rolled his eyes. “Relax.”

But the guy didn’t drop it. “Wait... are you—”

A sudden commotion cut him off.

Shouting. From the front lawn.

Voices raised, sharp. A girl’s voice.

Jaehyun was already standing before the others processed what was happening. He recognized it immediately—her voice. Her angry voice.

By the time he pushed through the door and onto the porch, a small crowd had already formed near the edge of the lawn.

There she was—Y/N, flushed and furious, backing away from some drunk asshole with slick hair and a cocky stance.

“I said no,” she snapped, voice shaking. “Don’t touch me.”

“Come on,” the guy slurred. “You’ve been giving me looks all night.”

Jaehyun didn’t hesitate.

He was down the steps in two strides, pushing through the crowd, voice sharp and deadly.

“She said no. Back the fuck off.”

The guy blinked at him, confused. “Who the hell are you?”

Jaehyun stepped between them, towering over him now. “The last person you want to piss off tonight.”

The guy scoffed, tried to square up—drunk and dumb.

And Jaehyun didn’t give him the chance.

He punched him—clean, hard, right in the face.

The guy hit the ground like a sack of bricks, groaning, hands clutching his nose.

The crowd gasped. Someone laughed. Someone cheered. And Jaehyun just stood there, chest heaving, teeth clenched, fists still curled like he wanted to throw another.

Y/N stared at him, breathless. Eyes wide. Lips parted. She grabbed his hand and he unclenched his fists and gave her a soft look.

Johnny came out seconds later, saw the scene, and rushed over, both of them quickly letting go.

“What the hell happened?”

Jaehyun didn’t even look at him. “Your sister was dealing with some creep who didn’t know what no meant.”

Johnny looked between the guy on the ground and Y/N—who was visibly shaken—and then back at Jaehyun.

His expression softened.

“Thanks for stepping in, man,” Johnny said, clapping a hand on Jaehyun’s shoulder. “Seriously.”

Jaehyun nodded once, barely. “Anytime.”

But he wasn’t thinking about the fight anymore.

He was thinking about the way Y/N looked at him just now—like she wanted to fall into his arms and never come out.

Later That Night – Jaehyun’s Room

It was quiet.

The party had died down. Most people had left. Johnny was still out back finishing drinks with a few stragglers.

Jaehyun lay on his bed, shirt off, muscles tense, replaying that moment over and over. Her voice. The way her eyes had found his. The heat still thrumming in his chest.

Then a soft knock.

He sat up fast. “Yeah?”

The door cracked open. Y/N slipped in.

Short shorts. A thin tank top. No bra. Hair down. Barefoot.

Every nerve in Jaehyun’s body snapped awake.

“I… just wanted to thank you,” she whispered, stepping in and closing the door behind her. “For earlier.”

He swallowed hard, trying to keep his eyes on hers. “He shouldn’t have touched you.”

“I was handling it,” she said, a smile playing on her lips.

“Not fast enough.”

They both laughed softly. The air between them buzzed.

Then she walked closer.

So close.

He sat on the edge of the bed, and she stopped in front of him. Her fingers brushed his knuckles—light, unsure. Then her other hand cupped his cheek, gently, tenderly.

Her lips pressed against his cheek. A soft kiss. A thank-you.

But then she lingered. Just a second too long.

And when she pulled back, their lips brushed.

Soft. Barely-there. But real.

Jaehyun didn’t move.

Neither did she.

Her breath trembled. “Jae…”

Then—

SLAM.

The front door opened. Johnny’s voice echoed through the house.

“Yo! Anyone still awake?”

They froze.

Y/N stepped back quickly, cheeks flushed, heart pounding.

Jaehyun stood too, tension radiating off him in waves.

“We shouldn’t…”

“No,” he agreed, voice tight. “We shouldn’t.”

But their eyes said everything else.

She slipped out of the room a second later, heartbeat still in her throat.

And Jaehyun sat back down, fists clenched in his lap, jaw tight, cursing every goddamn reason he couldn’t have her.

The Next Day

The backyard smelled like grilled meat, sunscreen, and summer sweat. The gang was loud—music playing, beers clinking, people laughing too hard at nothing. Y/N sat on a bench under the umbrella, trying to pretend she was listening to Johnny talk about some dumb lawn game.

But she couldn’t focus. Not with him there.

Jaehyun.

Laid back in a white tank top that clung to his chest, golden skin glowing under the sun, hair pushed back lazily as he nursed a beer. He looked like sin in human form. And every time he glanced at her—every slow drag of his eyes—her thighs pressed tighter together under the table.

He hadn’t said a word to her all afternoon.

Not a single filthy whisper. Not a single cocky smirk.

Which made her want it more.

And he knew it.

Later, she slipped inside to grab napkins from the kitchen—and the second the screen door shut behind her, she felt it.

His presence.

She turned, startled, just as Jaehyun’s hand shot out and grabbed her wrist, pulling her down the hallway.

“Jae—what are you—”

“Shhh,” he muttered, glancing over his shoulder. No one noticed.

And then they were in the narrow hallway, alone, hidden from the windows.

He backed her into the wall—crowding her in. One hand on the wall beside her head, the other gripping her chin, thumb grazing her lower lip.

“Wearing those little shorts again,” he murmured, voice low and deadly. “Trying to make me lose my mind in front of all our friends?”

Y/N couldn’t breathe.

“You haven’t even looked at me all day,” she whispered.

His eyes darkened. “Because if I looked at you too long, I’d drag you inside and make you scream my name.”

Her knees buckled.

“You want that, don’t you?” he murmured, leaning closer—his breath hot on her ear. “You want me to take you right here. Up against this wall. My hand over your mouth so they don’t hear you moan.”

Y/N whimpered.

Jaehyun groaned, deep in his throat. “You’d be so fucking loud for me.”

Before she could stop herself, her hands slid up his chest. Her thighs pressed together. And then she ground herself on his leg—slow, needy, shameless.

“Fuck, baby…” he hissed, thigh flexing under her. “You’re dripping for me, aren’t you?”

Her fingers gripped his shirt. Her hips kept moving, grinding up the length of his thigh like she couldn’t help herself.

His forehead touched hers. Their lips brushed.

Barely.

She let out a breathy, desperate moan straight into his mouth.

And Jaehyun snapped.

Not all the way.

But enough to shove his hand over her mouth, breathing hard as he held her there, both of them trembling.

“Stop,” he panted. “Y/N, stop—fuck—”

She slowed.

But she didn’t back away. Her eyes were glassy. Her cheeks flushed. Her body buzzed with the tension still thick between them.

He leaned in, whispering against her ear again, voice wrecked. “You do that again and I won’t stop next time.”

A beat passed. Her thighs clenched.

Then—voices.

“Where’s Y/N?” “Didn’t she go inside?” “Yo, Jae! You seen her?”

They froze.

Jaehyun exhaled sharply, composed himself. Dropped his hand from her mouth. Straightened his shirt. Ran a hand through his hair.

Y/N looked equally wrecked.

They took a breath.

And then they walked out together—calm, casual, like nothing had happened.

“Oh,” Jaehyun said easily, slinging an arm around Y/N’s shoulders. “She spilled juice in the kitchen. We were cleaning it up.”

Johnny blinked. “You cleaned a spill?”

Jaehyun smiled lazily. “What can I say? I’m helpful.”

Y/N laughed—too high-pitched. “So helpful.”

And no one questioned it.

But under the table, Jaehyun’s hand brushed her thigh. Just once.

A silent promise.

When they had a moment alone later Jaehyun thought it over. They can't keep going like this. He was too attracted to her and it wouldn't end well. Even a little bit isn't enough. He had to cut her off.

"We can't be friends." Jae said guiltily when they were alone.

"What?" Y/n looked in shock.

"I can't be your friend. Because I'll never think of you or see you as my friend. And every time we have a normal interaction I'm just thinking about everything I wanna do to you and how your brother would kill me if he found out."

Y/n scoffed offended. "You don't even wanna be friends? That's a lame excuse Jae, even from you. But fine. You got it, we're no longer friends."

Over the next few days tensions grew with their constant bickering and y/n wearing more revealing clothing around the house.

It started with another fight.

Jaehyun had been moody all day—gruff responses, tense jaw, barely speaking to anyone. Y/N finally snapped after he gave her yet another cold stare when she passed him in the hallway.

“What the hell is your problem?” she hissed, arms crossed tight.

“You,” he bit out. “You’re my fucking problem.”

Her heart stuttered.

“You don’t want me. You don’t want to be friends. So what do you want from me, Jaehyun? We both live in this house so suck it up.”

“I want to stop thinking about you every time you breathe in the same damn room!” His voice cracked. “I can’t—fuck—I can’t pretend this is normal. I can’t act like I’m not dying to touch you every second.”

Y/N stared at him, chest heaving. Her cheeks burned with anger and something else. “Fine,” she snapped, voice cold. “You don’t want to deal with me? Then don’t.”

That night, she went on a date with someone else.

Later That Night

The restaurant was awful. The guy was worse. He talked over her, laughed at nothing, stared at her chest the entire time.

And when he leaned in, trying to kiss her outside by her Uber, she shoved him away and ran.

Tears burned in her eyes as she called the only person she knew would come.

“Jae…” she whispered when he answered. “Can you… can you pick me up?”

He didn’t hesitate. He picked her up and drove her back to their place, the car ride thick with silence. 

It was pouring.

The sky cracked open above them, rain spilling like it had been waiting for this moment—just like them.

Y/N got out of the car and stood at the edge of the driveway, soaked and seething, arms crossed under her chest as thunder rolled in the distance. Her white tank clung to her breasts like second skin, completely see-through, nipples clearly visible. Her tiny denim skirt was soaked and hitched up high, the hot pink waistband of her panties teasing just above the fabric.

And Jaehyun—black shirt plastered to his chest, cargo pants hugging his hips, tattoos glistening in the storm—stood there with his jaw clenched, looking like he was on the verge of tearing something apart.

He was.

“What the hell are you doing calling me?” he snapped, stepping into the rain. “Didn’t you run off to your perfect little date?”

She spun around, drenched hair whipping over her shoulder. “Don’t start.”

“Don’t fucking start?” His laugh was humorless. “You go out, dressed like that, trying to pretend I don’t exist, then cry for me to come save you like I’m still the good guy?”

“I called you because it's your fucking fault I went on that date in the first place. I didn’t know who else to—!”

“No,” he growled, stepping closer, “you called me because even when you’re pissed at me, you still want me.”

Her breath caught.

Jaehyun's eyes dragged down her body, tongue darting out over his bottom lip. “You really think I didn’t notice that tiny little skirt, that wet tank, those bright fucking panties begging to be pulled down?”

Her eyes widened, but he wasn’t done.

“You walk around dripping wet, tits out, skirt barely covering your ass—and I’m supposed to keep pretending I don’t want to bend you over every surface I see?”

Y/N’s lips parted in shock.

“You think I haven’t pictured it?” he hissed. “Your legs spread in my backseat, you wrapped around me while my tongue is down your throat? Or your mouth gagged on my cock, crying while I throat fuck every thought of every other guy out of your head?”

Her knees buckled slightly. He saw it—and grinned. Dark. Filthy.

She shoved at his chest. “You're such a—”

But he grabbed her.

Fisted her skirt and panties, yanking her flush against him. Her gasp was swallowed by the sound of rain, her breath catching when she felt how hard he was through his pants.

“I’ve had enough of pretending,” he rasped. His lips brushed hers. “I’m fucking done.”

Then his voice dropped, hot and filthy against her mouth:

“Fuck it.”

And then he took her mouth.

It was wild. Open. Tongues colliding. His lips crushed hers, tongue shoving into her mouth like he was claiming it—like he’d been waiting years to taste her. His hand stayed tight on her panties, holding her body against his while he devoured her, spit and rain mixing between them.

Y/N moaned into it—helplessly—gripping his shirt like she needed something to hang on to.

Jaehyun groaned, deep and rough, sucking on her tongue before biting her bottom lip just to hear her whimper.

“You feel that?” he growled between kisses, grinding into her soaked skirt. “That’s what you fucking do to me.”

She was panting, dazed, lips swollen.

And he wasn’t done.

“I swear to god, if Johnny wasn’t your brother—” he shoved her back against the wall of the house, kissing her again, even harder this time— “I’d have fucked you right here. In the rain. With your panties still on.”

When they finally broke apart, both wrecked and breathless, her voice trembled.

“I want you.”

He wiped the rain from her cheek, staring at her like she was his breaking point and salvation at once.

“You’ve got me,” he whispered. “Now I’m done hiding it.”

The kiss didn’t stop.

Even as Jaehyun dragged her back into the house, their mouths stayed fused—wet, frantic, tongues tangling while their soaked bodies bumped into walls and doorframes. His hand stayed tight on her waist, the other sliding up under her clingy, dripping tank, fingers kneading over bare, slick skin.

He kicked his bedroom door shut and slammed her against it, lips pressing into her jaw, her throat, her collarbone. He groaned when he felt the heat of her body through the thin fabric, both of them soaked to the bone and breathless.

“Clothes,” he growled against her mouth, tugging hard at the hem of her top. “Off. Now.”

She whimpered as he peeled the wet fabric off her—tank top first, tossed somewhere on the floor. Her skirt followed with a harsh tug, panties bunched with it. His black shirt clung to his abs, tattoos snaking over soaked muscle as he pulled it off over his head.

She barely had a second to breathe before his lips were on her again—hot, hungry, starved—pushing her backward until her thighs hit the edge of his shower.

Jaehyun spun the handle.

Steam rushed out as hot water poured down from above.

He walked her straight into it, fully naked, his mouth still locked on hers. Their bodies collided under the stream, her back hitting the tile wall with a wet slap.

He didn’t let up.

His hands roamed—fisting her ass, dragging her against his thick length, sliding over her hips and ribs and chest, palms rough and greedy. His mouth dipped to her neck, sucking hard enough to leave marks, biting just below her jaw before kissing her again—deep and messy, with his tongue shoved so far into her mouth she could barely breathe.

“You feel that?” he growled, grinding into her under the water. “That’s what I’ve been hiding. Every night. Every time you walked past me looking like a fucking dream.”

“Jae—” she gasped, nails digging into his back.

“You don’t even know what you’ve done to me,” he snarled, grabbing her thighs. “But I’m about to show you.”

Then he lifted her.

Y/N yelped, arms wrapping around his shoulders as he pinned her back to the wall, her legs hooked around his waist. His cock pressed hot and hard between them, and then—with one deep thrust—he was inside her.

She cried out, head snapping back.

Jaehyun moaned—a filthy, guttural sound—his forehead resting against hers as he started to move, slow at first, then harder, faster, relentless.

“You’re so tight,” he groaned, biting her bottom lip. “So fucking perfect. You were made for this. For me.”

Water rushed around them. Their skin slapped wetly with every thrust. She clung to him, moaning into his mouth, and he kissed her through all of it—tongue tangled with hers, hand gripping her ass as he pounded into her.

“You wanted this too,” he panted against her lips. “You’ve been teasing me, dressing like that, looking at me like you needed me to ruin you.”

And god, he was ruining her—completely.

When they came, they came together—loud, messy, full-body shudders against the tile wall, mouths fused as they moaned into each other’s throats.

But Jaehyun wasn’t done.

Still breathing heavy, he set her down gently, kissing her temple as her legs shook. She barely had time to process the comedown before he dropped to his knees.

“Jae—” she gasped, wide-eyed.

“Don’t stop me,” he said darkly, voice hoarse with want. “You think I’m done tasting you?”

Then he spread her thighs, still trembling, and buried his face between them.

Y/N nearly screamed—clamping her own hand over her mouth just in time.

His tongue was ruthless. Flicking, sucking, dragging through her slick folds like he couldn’t get enough. The water poured down around them, hot and pounding, but all she could feel was his mouth—his filthy, expert mouth—and the way he groaned like he was addicted to the taste of her.

“Keep that hand there,” he muttered against her, tongue dragging up again. “You don’t want Johnny hearing how much you love this.”

And she couldn’t even reply.

Because her body was already shaking again—under the water, on the wall, around Jaehyun’s mouth.

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Sneak peak below of what comes next:

Johnny wandered in, sipping coffee, squinting at him.

Jaehyun raised a brow. “What?”

Johnny gestured at his chest. “You’ve got scratches. Everywhere.”

Jae froze mid-bite. “Huh?”

“And hickeys,” Johnny added casually. “Neck. Collarbone. Even your ribs, bro. Who the hell were you with last night?”

Jaehyun choked—literally—on the toast.

Coughing violently, he reached for his water. “I—uh—just… a girl. From the party. I don’t… remember her name.”

Johnny narrowed his eyes. “Huh. Funny.”

[sturniolobliss]

⌗ . . . ❛ 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 ❜ christopher sturniolo.

warnings ◞ ˚˖ ࣪ ex!chris, emotional vulnerability, explicit and suggestive content, mentions of marijuana, oral (f receiving), aftercare . . . etc.

note ◞ ˚˖ ࣪ bow divider by @/bernardsbendystraws · · ୨୧

read part one first!

you didn't call him back the night he left those voicemails. or the next. the ones where he sounded raw, fractured, and more vulnerable than you'd ever heard him be before. you kept replaying his voice in the dark—his apologies, his confessions, the way he whispered your name like a prayer meant to heal something broken.

it hurt. ached deep inside, the part of you that never stopped hoping. but it wasn't enough to push you over the edge right then. not yet.

instead, you sat with your phone in your hand for three days, his voice like a ghost settling in your chest. you tried to convince yourself you were moving on, but when the silence around you felt too loud, you'd play them again—those voicemails where he admitted everything he couldn't say when it mattered.

how he'd shut down every time you tried to get close. how he'd pushed you away instead of letting you in. how much he still wanted you, even if he'd never known how to show it.

and then, late one night, something inside you cracked too. a part of you still needing to hear him—not just his voice, but the broken man behind it.

you dialed his number.

the phone rang once before he answered, voice low and thick, like he'd been waiting, just as breathless as you felt.

"hello?"

"hi," you said, heart pounding so loud you thought he might hear it on the other end.

a silence stretched between you—thick and pulsing—before he finally spoke, his voice trembling.

"y'called."

"yeah," you admitted. "i didn't know if i would. but here i am."

his breath hitched. "i thought i lost you."

you closed your eyes. "you did lose me. maybe for a while. but i'm still here."

"m'sorry," he whispered, and you could feel the weight of those words like a tide pulling you under. "for everything. for shutting down. for not fighting for us the way you deserved."

you wanted to believe him. to say it was okay. but the truth hung heavy.

"i didn't want perfection," you told him softly. "just you. the real you."

his voice cracked with something fierce and aching. "i want to be that for you now."

you swallowed hard. "do you?"

"god, yes."

the space between you dissolved, replaced by something charged, almost electric.

"are you high?" you asked suddenly, heat starting to rise throughout your body.

a rough laugh. "yeah. tried to smoke it away. didn't work."

you swallowed again, the memory of his hands and lips flooding your skin.

"y'sound so good," he murmured. "always worse at night. the things i want to do to you… your voice, your moans, your scent."

heat pooled low in your stomach. "chris... no."

"why not?" his voice was thick, slow, like silk slipping over steel. "y'called me. y'wanted to hear it, didn't you?"

"…maybe."

"honest tonight," he teased. "makes me wonder what else you'd say if you were here. what you'd let me do."

your breath caught. "chris."

"you'd let me touch you. slow. soft. like when you were mad and tired but still begged me to make you cum."

you said nothing, the silence answering everything.

"i'd be good this time," he whispered. "kiss every part i never appreciated. let you use me however you want. make up for all the times i failed."

your chest burned. "i shouldn't be talking to you like this."

"no," he said, voice dropping. "but you are."

you don't remember deciding to go, only the weight of wanting—needing—him too much to stay away. his building loomed familiar and cold as you stepped inside, elevator climbing to the 23rd floor like a countdown to something you weren't sure you wanted.

the door opened before you, and he was there—barefoot, messy curls, eyes red and searching.

he held the door, silent invitation heavy in the air. you stepped inside, the door clicking shut behind you.

he didn't say much as his lips crashed onto yours, desperate and hungry. his hands slid under your shirt, fingers tracing every curve, every inch of skin that had been aching for him.

when his hands found the hem of your underwear, he pulled them down slowly, deliberately, as if savoring the moment of rediscovery.

you felt him kneel between your thighs on the plush couch, breath warm against your skin. his mouth found you, and the world narrowed to the exquisite pressure and taste of him—tongue flicking over you, slow and reverent, coaxing soft sounds from your throat.

"fuck, you're perfect," he whispered against you, voice trembling with need.

you tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer. "chris…"

"let me make you cum,” he begged quietly. "jus' once. i swear i'll be gentle. i want to do this right."

the sensation built, slow and intoxicating. his mouth worshipped you, every movement an apology, a promise. you gasped and moaned, the tension inside you mounting until it broke in a shuddering wave.

when he finally lifted his head, his eyes were dark and wild.

"god, you taste like home."

you reached for him, pulling him up, lips crashing back together in a fierce, needy kiss.

his hands roamed over your body, finally settling with possessive heat between your legs.

"let me take care of you," he murmured, voice husky.

you nodded, breathless.

he lined up with you, slow and careful, sliding inside with a groan. his touch was firm but gentle, every movement measured like he was memorizing you all over again.

the room filled with the sounds of skin against skin, whispered names, and ragged breaths.

"mine, mine, mine," he groaned low, voice thick with need. "no more runnin'. no more hidin'."

you clung to him, every nerve ending alive and screaming.

when you finally came, his name tore from your lips like a prayer.

after, you lay tangled together in the soft glow of city lights streaming through the window. his arms wrapped around you tight, a quiet shield from the world.

"thank you," he murmured, voice gentle now.

"for what?"

"for stayin'. for givin' me another chance to show you how much you mean."

you traced lazy circles on his bare skin, heart still pounding.

"i'm scared," you admitted softly.

he kissed your forehead. "me too. but we'll figure it out. together."

you smiled, leaning into the warmth of him. for the first time in a long time, it felt like maybe, just maybe, you'd both come home.

꒰ 🏷️ ꒱ : @sturniolo-szn2 / @mattscoquette / @sturnsflirt / @tezzzzzzzz / @chrepsi / @adorechris / @zenithsturniolo / @jacsismattswife / @sturnslutz / @devotedlyteenagemusic / @xoxbunni / @bbgirlmatt / @sturniolonationsblog / @sturnl0ve / @fratbrochrisgf / @lovesturni0l0s . . . .ᐟ

comment or message to get added · · ୨୧

a/n ◞ ˚˖ ࣪ i actually hate this, but i hope y'all enjoy it lmao.

[lcvelycait]

these are some of my little thoughts if the obey me older bros were yanderes :3

Lucifer... he'd be calculated as he is beautiful. You'll never know what he'll do, he wouldn't let his plans slip up from his own mouth anyway. A sadistic man, as we all know. He can play the waiting game, tease you enough 'til you're wanting more. Until he's the only one you want. His touch lingering for too long, reading you perfectly. You're going to be his, you have no other choice.. He's already decided that a long time ago. He whispers praise in your ears, and when you're in the slightest bit of danger, he'll tell you you're a fragile human, in need of protection. And who other than Lucifer, strongest of his brothers, would be able to fulfill such a role?

Mammon... he's occupying most of your time. He is the avatar of greed after all. His arms one your waist, face buried in the crook of your neck as he begs you not to go out with your friends with a whine that he knows will get you to comply. He may seem like he's just sick in love with you, like you've got him wrapped around your finger, but it's deeper than that. That's what he wants you to think. You already fell into his trap. For now, he'll keep playing into the fantasy in your head that he's under your control.

Leviathan... he'd guilt trip you, saying he doesn't have any other friends to play with, or how you should be thankful he even tolerates the presence of a normie like you.. He's stalking your socials, when he sees you post pictures with you, Mammon, and Asmo at the club, he's spamming your phone with possessive messages. You're supposed to be his. Now you're leaving the club with a sulky expression, and once you're at the house of lamentation, he's already at the door. Greeting you and scolding you about going to places without his knowledge for a bit then tell you about how he set up his room for the two of you for a movie and gaming session. He put in so much effort... don't you have any empathy?

sorry if they're ooc, I tried my best trying to make sure it fits their sin 😭 sorry for being inactivee, I'll post a draft soon!

[warfaredoll]

𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬

[𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐟𝐚𝐫𝐞] 𝐑𝐚𝐲 𝐱 𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Ray was always disciplined, proud, careful. but one night, one mission, tests both of you

thank u anon for requesting this ‹𝟹, smut w plot, SMUT SMUT, wc 6k, back to my roots 🫦

the floor beneath your back was hard, cold, and covered with fine gray dust. the night was quiet except for the sound of Ray's breathing beside you

he laid flat on his back, eyes closed, one arm bent behind his head. not sleeping he never really did during watch but his body was still, his face soft and calm. you turned your head just slightly, watching him in the dim light coming through the busted wall. the light caught on the faint stubble along his jaw, on the old scar slicing through one of his eyebrows

god, he was handsome. and it wasn't just how he looked, it was how he was with you. the way he always carried extra gear without being asked, just so you’d have less weight. the way he touched your shoulder when you were tense, the way he made it a point to lead you to the quietest spots during downtime the ones where no one else wandered

your eyes slipped down to his mouth. you’d thought about kissing him more times than you could count. imagined what it would feel like to run your fingers through his short buzzed hair, to pull him down on top of you in some dark corner of this room. you’d thought about his body on yours, the weight of him, the feeling of his mouth, his hands. how slow he might be, or maybe not slow at all maybe rough, desperate, the way he sometimes looked at you when he thought you weren’t looking.

but you were always looking and you weren’t imagining the way he stared either. you saw it when you passed him equipment, felt it when he brushed too close behind you and his hand rested on the small of your back longer than needed

now, lying beside him watching the way his chest rose and fell, you felt that feeling building again curling in your stomach. your fingers itched to reach over and trace the veins on his forearm, the scar on his wrist, the curve of his jaw.

Ray kept his eyes shut, body loose beside yours, but inside he was a fucking mess. it was a miracle he hadn’t just rolled over and buried his mouth in your neck

Ray thought you were beautiful. not pretty, not cute, beautiful. strong, capable, independent when you needed to be but you were sweet and patient with him, it all made him feel so needy and desperate on nights like this

he hadn’t touched anyone in months. hadn’t felt anyone, not the way he wanted to feel you. and every night you ended up beside him like this on the floor, with the rest of the unit fast asleep. he had to clench his jaw and will himself not to do anything

he wanted to. jesus, he wanted to

there were nights he'd spent with his hand down the front of his pants, cock gripped tight, as he fucked into his palm. imagining how you’d ride him slow at first, teasing, your thighs spread wide over his lap, your hands on his chest, with that little look you gave when you were this close to taking the upper hand in comms arguments

he thought about your mouth too much. about how you licked your lips when you were tired. how you bit the inside of your cheek when you were concentrating. how those lips would look stretched around his cock, eyes glossy, spit slicking your chin

his cock twitched just thinking about it, stiffening slow against the zipper of his pants, and he breathed in through his nose, hard and deep, counting every fucking second to keep from groaning. every part of him ached for you. not just the sex though that part felt unbearable some nights but the connection. the feel of someone real wanting him back

you didn’t even know what you were doing to him just lying there. and that made it worse. because Ray wasn’t going to cross that line unless you dragged him over it, unless you climbed on top of him and took it

but he dreamed of it. of you whispering his name, hips grinding down on him while his hands gripped your thighs, pulling you deeper. he wanted to run his fingers under your uniform and feel the warmth of your skin, the curve of your ribs. he wanted to pin you down and fuck you hard, rough, until you sobbed his name like it was the only word you knew. he wanted to kiss you through it all, wanted your hands tangled in his hair, your legs around his waist, your voice breaking as you finished around him

Ray clenched his fists against the floor, his cock twitched in his pants, hard now. he shifted just a little hips tilted away from you to hide

you kept your eyes on him, he looked so peaceful at first lids shut, lashes casting shadows on his cheek, jaw clenched like he’d just had a heavy thought

then he stirred, a small movement at first. his eyes opened slowly, and he stared at the ceiling for a second, then he moved his head to the side and his eyes locked on yours

you couldn’t look away. you’d spent so many nights memorizing his face the slope of his nose, the hard line of his jaw.

his lips parted like he was going to say something, but no words came out. then finally “can’t sleep.”

you didn’t hesitate to respond. “me too.”

and that was all he needed to hear. he moved, turning his whole body toward you. he curled one arm under his head, the other resting just in front of him, inches from your chest. his legs bent slightly. he was close, so close you could feel his warmth. his brow furrowed a little like he was struggling to keep it together, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to keep looking at you the way he was.

you saw the way his mouth opened slightly, lips soft and pink. you didn’t know what you looked like to him right now, but his eyes trailed down briefly to your mouth then back up

neither of you said anything. you moved a little closer as your foreheads nearly touched, his eyes didn’t leave yours, but his tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip

you didn’t know it, but under that blanket Ray’s cock was hard and twitching against the inside of his thigh, your hand rose between you and hovered over his face

Ray didn’t flinch, didn’t move back, just watched you. when your fingertips brushed his cheekbone he closed his eyes like it hurt in the best possible way

his skin was warm. rough in places from long hard days, but soft too around the corners of his mouth where he sometimes smiled just for you and no one else. you let your hand drift down cupping the side of his face, thumb brushing along the stubble over his upper lip, your finger running over the bridge of his nose and Ray let you

you traced the edge of his lip, and his mouth parted open under your touch, he was so hard beneath the blanket he felt dizzy. his cock throbbed against the fabric of his pants, something small that had been building for months, and now he was here, your hand on him.

you traced the line of his eyebrow, the scar on it, the soft arch above his temple. he let out a long sigh, he was so touch starved. not just for sex, but for this.

he moved closer, his chest brushing yours, legs tangling. his nose skimmed yours, his eyes were half-lidded, yours widened startled by how close he was, how close you’d let him get you weren’t supposed to be here. not like this. not with him. all the protocols and rules set, you were supposed to be on watch duty

his gaze went down to your lips, and when he leaned in just a little more there was no question left between you. no doubts, just need. his lips pressed to yours

and then he pulled back only slightly, just far enough to see your face. he leaned back in without hesitation, hand lifting to cradle your cheek like he’d been dying to touch you this whole time, thumb brushing just beneath your eye, the kiss deepened, lips parting wider, teeth grazing just enough to sting

your leg shifted unintentionally and rubbed up against the hard bulge pressing through his pants. he groaned into your mouth, hips jerking slightly before he even realized he had. you gasped against him, and your voice broke the kiss

“Ray…” you whispered, not even sure what you meant by it. his response was only a low hum, like he hadn’t even heard the hesitation in it. his mouth moved to your jaw, the corner of your lips, your throat, then back

“Ray stop…” you said again, breath catching over the words like you weren’t even sure if you really wanted it to stop

“What?” he murmured, lips grazing yours “What’s the matter?”

“we can’t…” you whispered trying to remember the rules, the protocols, the reason you were even out here “we shouldn’t…”

his breath was warm against your mouth as he smiled into the kiss, the kind of smile that made your stomach curl “think so?” he whispered

“what else do you think?” he asked, and kissed you again, slower now “what if someone catches us” you whispered, “what if captain Erik-”

“Good” Ray said “let them.”

he kissed you again deeper “they won’t know what we do”

his hand slipped behind your neck and pulled you in again, and you were gone

his body shifted over yours, the weight of him pressing you harder down into the floor beneath. his leg came between yours, hips grinding just enough for you to feel how hard he was. you hands slid up his chest, you reached the hem of his uniform, fingers fumbling, tugging upward you needed to see him

he smiled into the kiss, his hands moved obeying. his lips still on yours open and panting, as he reached down between you and started unbuttoning the front of his uniform. each pop of a button exposed more of the tight olive green shirt stretched over his chest, clinging to every muscle and sweat damp line

when he shrugged out of it, the hidden dog tags fell free, swinging softly to rest against his chest with a soft metallic clink. your eyes caught them just briefly they were of proof of what he was who he was, of where you both were, of all the rules you were breaking. but they clinked again as he leaned back down

his hand found your waist, your own hands rose to the buttons of your own uniform shaking now, both from nerves and need and you fumbled the first one, breath catching as you tried again. but then his hand was there brushing yours aside gently, and his fingers took over. he didn’t look down just kissed you harder, deeper, his tongue licking into your mouth as he worked at your uniform buttons one by one

he tugged your uniform the rest of the way down your shoulders, he couldn’t believe you were letting him do this. the fabric pooling behind your back, your olive undershirt joining it a moment later. and then you were there half naked under him, your bra the only thing left clinging to modesty and even that felt like a lie now

his eyes took you in visibly swallowing hard. “shit” he breathed, his eyes moved from your chest to your face and back again, and then unable to wait he shoved his pants down, boxers coming down in the same movement, his cock springing free, flushed dark, and hard. he hissed through his teeth at the contact with cool air, one hand wrapping briefly around the base

you did the same, fingers moving down to undo your pants, lifting your hips as you slid them off, until you were left in nothing but your panties, his knees settling between yours as his weight shifted down, and then he murmured something you almost didn’t catch

“better than I imagined” he said against your throat mouth finding the sensitive skin there and trailing lower “so, so much better…”

his lips trailed down your neck, your collarbone, moving toward the swells of your chest. you squirmed instinctively hips moving up as the friction of your soaked panties rubbed against his cock. it had been months, too long. the feeling of being touched like this was almost too much

your fingers reached behind you, struggling with the clasp of your bra, then you undid it with a soft snap, letting the straps slip down your arms. your nipples perked in the cold air, hard and flushed, and his gaze went down again lips parted

his mouth found one, warm and wet, tongue flicking slow as he groaned low, and your back arched up into him

you wanted him like this raw, dirty, sweat and skin, his mouth stayed latched to your nipple, tongue swirling, lips sucking deep until it ached, while his hand came up to the other breast, fingers pinching and rolling your nipple until you gasped into his mouth, your moans muffled by his tongue when he kissed you again

he brought his hips down into you, his cock sliding against the soaked fabric of your panties, the tip smearing precum across the thin cotton that was already dark and damp with your slick

then his hand moved down, hooked a finger into the side of your panties, and pulled them aside with a rough pull that exposed your wet pussy to the cool air and his eyes. you whimpered, arching up into him instinctively, thighs twitching, trying to guide him in with nothing but your hips

“I know” he breathed “I know…”

his hands slid under your thighs bringing your legs up and around his waist so he could settle into you completely. the head of his cock brushed your folds before he slid it up and down your slit, opening you up with slow, heavy strokes that left your entrance twitching around nothing. then he angled his hips, and you felt it his thick, curved tip pressing right against your hole

he pushed in slowly, the burn was immediate your nails dug into his back, mouth open in a soundless moan as he pushed in, his girth spreading you wider than you’d felt in months, maybe ever. the sting was sharp, pulling tears to your eyes as you gasped

“Fuck” he groaned, eyes closed shut, breath ragged “you’re tight… fuck…”

he kept pushing in. his hands gripped your thighs tighter, trembling from holding back, of not slamming into you all at once. you whimpered, tears slipping from the corners of your eyes, and he kissed them away barely even aware of himself now, lost in the squeeze of your pussy around him, he was breathing so hard, and his voice came out a desperate whisper

“I could cum just like this… jesus Christ…”

he bottomed out with a slow shaking thrust, and the sob that came from your throat was half moan, half cry. he groaned loud, dropping his forehead to your shoulder

“Fuck… fuck, fuck” he gasped, hips twitching like he wanted to rut into you hard and deep, but he held himself back. you felt every vein, every twitch of his cock buried in your pussy. your hands slid up his back, fingertips dragging over sweat slick muscle as you held him close, needing him

he lifted his head slowly, his brows were scrunched together as he looked down at you, the tears still drying on your cheeks. his cock twitched deep inside you, and he sucked in a breath through his teeth voice shaking as he asked “You ok?”

you nodded, still breathless your mouth trembling as you whispered “Yeah.”

his hips pulled back, and then he pushed into you again slow, hard, deep. your mouth dropped open, a high moan catching in your throat as the head of his cock dragged back in, stretching you all over again

“been needing this” he groaned, head tipping back slightly as he fucked into you

your legs tightened around his waist, locking him in closer, your hands gripping his shoulders as he began moving harder

“Been wanting this since the first damn week… you in uniform, all tight and perfect, acting like you didn’t know I was looking… always wondered what you’d feel like.” his teeth grazed your jaw as he thrust in again deeper

“Ray” you moaned, hips lifting to meet his thrusts, your voice cracking as you praised him between every gasp “so good Ray… so fucking good don’t stop-”

you pussy took him in with every stroke, sweat dripping from his chest onto yours. his cock curved just right

he was panting into your ear now, “I know you’ve been wanting this” Ray said “don’t act like I don’t know you had a little crush on me”

“Yes Ray fuck” you gasped, head tipping back body arching into his with every thrust. your voice cracked louder, needier, too loud and his eyes moved to the door, his hand shot up, he clamped his palm over your mouth, muffling the next moan that came out of you

“Shhh…” he groaned hips never slowing “keep it down they’ll hear you” but the tone in his voice said he liked that idea too much

his cock fucked into you again, the wet slap of his hips against your thighs filling the air, your pussy sucking him in tight around him. his hand held your mouth in place, making your eyes water with the way it silenced you and excited you all at once. his mouth moved to your ear again

“you want them to hear huh?” he panted, lips brushing your earlobe “want Captain Erik to come check on us walk in and see me fucking you like this, see how loud you moan for me?”

you whimpered beneath his hand

“Shit I hope he does…” Ray hissed, cock twitching inside you, thrusting harder now, sweat dripping down his neck onto your chest as he fucked you “let him see what I do to you… how fucking good I make you feel…”

he was so fucking handsome always had been but now, red-cheeked and sweaty, mouth parted in loud groans, brows knit tight as his thrusts turned sloppy. you’d dreamed of this of him pushing you down, kissing, fucking you but never once had you let yourself believe it would happen. yet here he was

“going to cum already” he grunted, hips jerking forward with messy thrusts “shit so good… where do you want it?”

you could barely think, barely breathe. all you managed against his hand still covering your mouth was a muffled, whimpered “anywhere”

he let out a strangled groan and pulled his hand away, immediately leaning in to crash his lips to yours, you kissed him back with everything you had, your fingers rising to his face, cupping his cheeks

then his hand slid down, finding your clit with two fingers and pressing in gently, then rubbing slow tight circles. you gasped into the kiss, your hips bucking up

“Right there?” he asked, you nodded frantically, legs twitching around his waist

“going to make you finish too” he hummed, lips parting from yours just enough to watch your face

your arms wrapped tighter around his neck, pulling him closer, burying your face against his damp skin. the sound of your moans, now softer and breathier against his ear driving him closer to that edge he was desperately trying to hold off for you. his thumb stayed pressed to your clit, rubbing tight circles with his cock deep inside

you gasped, body tensing up around him, your orgasm coming over you, thighs wrapping tight around his waist, pussy squeezing around his cock. your moan came loud from your throat, he grinned the moment he heard it “there it is” he gasped

and with a strangled moan of your name, he thrusted in one last time, buried to the base he pulled out in a rush, cock twitching as thick sticky white cum spilled across your stomach while he stroked himself through it

“look at that” he groaned, milking every last drop, watching it drip down your stomach, trailing toward your bellybutton. he was still panting, he brought one hand down and casually dragged a finger through his cum, smearing it over your skin in a swirl

Ray finally let himself lay down beside you, he turned his head to look at you, eyes half lidded, dazed, and when your eyes met his something in both your faces cracked

you smiled first slow, stupid, in disbelief

he laughed under his breath, grin forming wide as he reached over and brushed his knuckles along your jaw

“shit” he breathed

you lay there beside him, his breath evening out, skin warm and sticky against yours, his fingers traced your arm nothing intimate or purposeful, just the feeling of someone who didn’t want to break the moment. you didn’t say anything neither did he there was only the soft sound of his breathing, and the beat of your heart slowing

les by childish gambino & wus good/curious by partynextdoor 😩

can yall tell i love Ray…..

@https-junebug @joelmeller @willowpains @violetcamryn @f4nfic-lover @k-ilisi @gallaghrh @legoflowrs @illyrianbrat @the-spicy-sugar @coconuttiez8d @irrelevantsnowy @alexislameee @heegasm @illyrianbrat

𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 - 𓊆ྀི 𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐛𝐢𝐞𓊇ྀི

[lazysoulwriter]

bellissima - pedro pascal── .✦

requested! thank you. ♡ content: Pedro x opera singer!reader (Polish), fluff, admiration, softness, gentle obsession, love through music, cultural touches, proud boyfriend energy.

---

Pedro never got used to your voice.

Not just the sound — the presence. It filled a room like sunlight through stained glass, velvet-warm and so impossibly alive. Even in rehearsal clothes, hair pinned up, throat warmed with honey and tea, you were the most ethereal thing he'd ever seen.

And then you sang.

In Italian. In French. In German.

But when you sang in Polish — his brain short-circuited.

It was like hearing you speak in the language of your soul. Soft consonants, powerful vowels, each word rolled off your tongue like a blessing. Pedro didn’t understand a damn thing… but he felt all of it.

He sat front row every time he could. Called you moja gwiazda when you came off stage, even though his accent was terrible and you always laughed at him for it.

You’d tug on his collar and kiss him sweet and say, “Your Polish is shit, baby, but it’s sexy.”

And he’d beam like you handed him a Grammy.

---

One night, after a gala performance that left the whole audience crying on their feet, you came back to the dressing room to find Pedro waiting with flowers and that look in his eyes — the one that made your knees a little weak.

“How did I do?” you teased, pretending to be casual as you peeled off your gloves.

He stared at you. “You made me cry in a tuxedo.”

“Again?”

“Again. I’m emotionally ruined. Thanks.”

You giggled, crossing the room to press your forehead to his. He pulled you close — careful of your hair, your makeup, your dress — and held you like he needed to.

“You know I don’t even need to understand the words, right?” he whispered. “You are the music.”

You flushed.

“Kocham cię,” he added, soft and shaky.

You pulled back, blinking. “You practiced?”

He nodded. “For a while.”

You kissed him hard enough to smudge your lipstick. “I love you too, Pedro Pascal.”

He smiled against your mouth. “Bellissima. Gwiazdeczka. My favorite opera.”

---

✦ please do not copy, repost, or translate this work. © lazysoulwriter // i write with a lot of love and care, so please respect that.

---

taglist: @sarahhxx03 @lloydmustache @lolareadsimagines @greenwitchfromthewoods @silksepia @pascalswiftie @itstokyo-cos @mani-pedro @llsister @authorbriannarae13 @introvrtedjellyfish @aj0elap0l0gist @spencercmlover @cixrosie @cherrqbaby @cup-half-full-of-anxiety @kellyxo1 @freakbobcult @sunlightpleasure @barnes70stark @mooniscrying @ohnaurshayla @croissantbakerylws @nellispunk @kasienka @taylorswiftsrep-blog @emerencedaily @byzyz @noovaarq @kristend512 @alltounwell @libbyaller @beaagiannelli @broad-shouldrs @oceanmcu @kysosa @melloispunk @jollycupcakeblizzard @angvlicsoulll @needz1nk @daddypascal17 @agustdpeach @mrsbilicablog @k4t13ispunk

[uhhhj13iguess]

can't keep my hands to myself

stiles stilinski x fem!reader smut rant

mdni! follow up to touch-starved boy, but solidly a stand-alone as well. stiles has just always been so touch-starved and when he gets to have you for the first time? fireworks.

stiles stilinski, who couldn't keep his hands to himself.

who loved to feel you squirm under his touch, feeling how your muscles twitched against his long fingers as he trailed them up and down your side, a sinister smirk forming on his lips.

who knew just the effect he had on you. who loved to tease you, rough hands roaming your delicate, bare flesh as you let out those pretty little noises he loved oh so much. who didn't know he could make someone else feel like this, flooding his heart with a warm sensation he'd never before associated with sex.

who loved when he felt your touch too, maybe even more. who shuddered against your palms as you lay your hands on his bare chest, lips bruising their way down his neck to meet their destination to suck on his hard nipples, a deep groan escaping his lungs. who genuinely didn't know men could even get pleasure like that prior to you, a touch he hadn't yet experienced and one that overwhelmed him to his core.

who loved to feel you spread open under him, the warmth from your core radiating against his aching cock and giving a sensation he hoped to never part from. who nearly passed out the first time his cock slid through your slick folds, pulsing desperately against your clit as you squirm below him, soft praises and cries for more ringing through his ears.

who swore like a sailor when bottoming out, having to use all of his strength to not come in you right then and there. who could feel every part of you clenching around him, a vice holding him closely as though he'd run away. yeah, like he'd rather be anywhere else. who didn't know sex could feel like this, a pleasure coursing through his entire body, overwhelming him to the point of tears.

who told you he loved you for the first time as he thrusted into you, feeling you so tight around him making him emotional, a closeness he didn't know he could experience. who praised you like he was begging for your forgiveness, his hands and lips roaming the entirety of your body, not wanting to miss a single inch of your skin. who wanted to know all of you, who wanted to be as close to you as humanly possible. or inhumanly possible, because what was happening to him was nothing short of supernatural.

who came inside of you with the stutter of his hips, the most intense orgasm he'd ever had washing over him as he felt how swollen and full you were with him. who immediately switched his focus to aftercare, cleaning you with delicate precision, hands that were once hungry now reverent on your skin as he stared in awe at your glowing body. who climbed next to you and held you tight in his arms, leaving sweet kisses all over your face until you laughed so hard your sides hurt, your bodies warm and melted together.

who took every chance he could to get his hands all over you after that first time, purely just wanting to touch you. who didn't care how or where, just wanting to feel your hot flesh against his calloused fingertips. who felt like his heart was bursting every time he was inside of you, a more profound version of love than he could ever dream of having for himself. who rasped "mine" in your ears as he rutted into you, not as a statement of possession, but rather a cry of relief.

who was in awe after each time, in awe of how he had someone like you in his life. in awe of how crazy his life had turned upside down in the best way possible, the once touch-starved boy now bursting at the seams with the love and reverence you give him. who's cried more than once during sex, so grateful for your love and patience with him, it took a physical hold.

who held you like you were his whole world, because you were. that's exactly what you were to him, and he made sure with each touch, sexual or not, you knew exactly what you meant to him. who couldn't stop touching you if he wanted to, eager to express just how loved you made him feel.

stiles stilinski, who couldn't keep his hands to himself.

masterlist!

[imaginestuffs]

Try Again- John Walker x FReader

Word count:7,995

Warnings: slight angst, fluff, possible OOC John.

(y/f/m)= your favorite movie

(y/f/d)= your favorite drink

Summary: Reader realizes she is in love with John after an almost kiss. But will John be able to accept the fact that he is in love with her too? Will she help him overcome his fear of starting over?

There was something strange going on between you and John. You couldn’t exactly pinpoint if it was good or bad, but it was something. 

When you first met him, he was the bane of your existence. Now, whenever you saw him, your heart seemed to stutter. Your face got warm, and your stomach filled with butterflies. 

It was 8:30 in the morning, and you had just shuffled into the kitchen to get yourself a much-needed cup of coffee. As soon as you rounded the corner, there he stood, ready for the day. His hair was still a bit damp and unruly, and you had the urge to reach up and run your hands through it. As you stared at him, you began to realize you wanted to do much more than run your hands through his hair. You wanted to wrap your arms around his waist and nuzzle your face against his chest. You wanted him to kiss your forehead and say good morning with that voice of his. That low voice that still held the thickness of sleep. 

A small smile quirked at your lips at the thought. Coming out of your thoughts, you noticed him staring right back at you in confusion. A warmth spread across your face, and you quickly looked away from him. 

“Are you ok (y/n)?” his voice held slight concern. He placed his coffee cup on the counter and fully turned towards you. 

“Yeah, uh, I’m f-fine. Just a bit spacey today. Sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable.” You got your words out as fast as possible.

The look on his face told you he didn’t believe you. You could tell he wanted to push, but decided against it. 

“Well, if you, uh, if you ever want to talk, I’m here.” It almost sounded like he was nervous about it. 

You gave him a soft grin and nodded. 

“Thanks, I’m here too. You always seem to know where to find me, so you know where I’ll be.” You teased him a bit, and he looked to the floor with a grin. 

“I just know you better than you think. It’s easy to figure you out.” He remarked, and you chuckled.

“Oh really? Then tell me what’s on my mind.” Your brow raised challengingly.

He shook his head and smiled before looking at you. His eyes seemed to search you, and you felt your heart speed up at the thought of him looking at you the way he did. You did your best to keep your guard up and make your expression as normal as possible. And by normal you mean neutral, not cold, but not too cocky. You kept your small smile and open demeanor. 

As John looked at you, his mind seemed to wander. Your sleepy eyes and wrinkled pajamas. The fuzzy socks on your feet are patterned with different dogs. The way your hands cradled the coffee cup in your hands. He couldn’t help but imagine your soft but greedy hands pulling him closer. Your cherry chapstick lingering on his lips for hours. Sweet sounds you'd make when he'd touch you.

John’s stomach flipped as he thought of all the things he unyieldingly longed to do. 

Realizing how long he had been ‘reading’ you, he snapped out of it. You smirked as he shook his head. 

“Figure me out yet?” Your voice carried a joking lilt. 

He stood in front of you now with a glimmer of something in his eyes, something you couldn’t quite understand. You could feel his warmth, he was that close to you. Your smirk faltered slightly at his proximity. The tension between you was nothing you had ever experienced before. It was unexpectedly charged. His hand gripped the counter behind you, and he seemed to lean in close. So close that your noses could brush. Your breath was stolen by the way he looked at you.

He looked at you like he wanted you, like you were the only thing in this world he wanted to call his. 

Your eyes softened as you looked into his. A few minutes ago, you never believed that you would be so close to him that you could see the color of his eyes change hues of blue in the light. 

John’s eyes flickered from yours to your lips. The lips he thought of kissing only moments ago.

His nose now softly nudged yours, your (e/c) eyes fluttered shut, and you could feel his breath fan across your lips. 

“John!” Ava called from around the corner. Your eyes flew open at her voice, he sighed as he stepped away from you.

“What?” he asked as the woman rounded the corner with an annoyed look on her face. 

Before she could speak, she noticed the tension in the room and glanced between the two of you. She saw the flustered look you tried to mask, and the way John seemed to breathe a bit harder. The look on Ava’s face was one of suspicion. You gave her a pleading look as if asking her not to mention it. She could see the look of anxiety in your eyes, and kept her mouth shut on the subject.

Ava turned to face John, “We’re assigned to a mission in Lima, we leave in 2 hours. Get ready and I’ll meet you by the landing pad,” she informed him. He nodded his head and strode out of the room as fast as he could. 

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Ava looked at you in concern. 

“Is everything ok?” she asked, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. You flashed her a small smile and nodded. She looked at you with uncertainty. “You would tell me if something happened?” she asked.

“Of course, Ava, thanks for checking in, but I’m fine,” you told her with as much of a steady voice as you could muster.

“Good. We’ll be back soon. I’ll bring him back in one piece, alright,” she reassured you.

Your eyes widened; you should’ve realized that she could see right through you, she always could. Closing your eyes, you let out a sigh. 

“Just be careful,” you said before pulling her into a hug. She hugged you back just as tightly.

As Ava left the kitchen, your head fell into your hands. You could barely comprehend what almost happened. Not letting yourself believe that what you felt from him could be true. Tricking yourself into thinking what you saw in his eyes wasn’t real.

Maybe half an hour had passed before you got ready for the day. Walking out of your room, you see John going down the hallway to meet Ava. 

You decide to take a chance to talk to him before he leaves, even if it’s only to say goodbye and be careful.

“John,” you tried to get his attention as he was walking away. His footsteps stopped, and he let you catch up with him. He kept his eyes on the ground as you walked beside him. 

“I um, I just wanted to say goodbye,” you said and glanced at him, seeing if he would spare a look. He didn’t look at you, so you tried one more time.

“John,” you said, trying to get his attention. But again, there was no answer.

You gently grabbed his arm, and he reluctantly looked at you. “What is it?” he sighed out.

“I just wanted to tell you to come back safe,” you said and smiled softly despite feeling a bit hurt. 

“We will,” he told you and walked away.

Standing there in the hall, you could feel your heart constrict; it was as if he didn’t care. It was like what had happened wasn’t real. Confusion clouded your mind, you didn’t understand what you had done. 

Bucky had found you sitting on the couch, doing your best to read the book you were trying to finish. Nothing was helping, and you were just rereading the same sentence over and over again.

The couch dipped as someone sat next to you. You didn’t have to see their face to know it was Bucky. Your shoulders slouched, and you let out a sigh, finally letting yourself relax. Feeling safe enough to show how tired you really were. 

“You ok, kid?” his voice was a low, comforting rumble. 

Chuckling, you looked over at him. 

“That’s the third time someone has asked me that today. And I guess my answer is no,” The look in your eyes was one he’d never seen before. Uncertainty. 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” he raised his hand to run through your hair. 

You could feel some stress leaving you. As you always did when he was around. 

You screwed your eyes shut and tried to hold everything back. You didn’t understand why you wanted to cry. Nothing had really happened between you and John, but it felt like something was there. Something that you couldn’t shake, something that made your heart too full.

You could feel the tears begin to drip down your cheeks. Opening your eyes, Bucky's gaze was soft and understanding. The book fell from your hand as you let yourself lean into your friend. 

He was more than a friend, he was family. Someone you trusted fully, and whom you could never seem to lie to. 

“I’m so confused.” Your voice strained as tears of frustration continued to fall. 

“What’s got you so confused, Sweetheart?” he let you curl into his side as he wrapped his arm around your shoulder. 

“Walker,” your voice was muffled by his shirt. You buried your head further against his chest as your cheeks heated up.

Bucky leaned down and placed his head on yours.

“What was that?” he asked.

You shifted so you could look up at him. “John,” you sighed.

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “Well, I don’t think you’re the first to be confused by him,” he told you jokingly. 

He got a small smile out of you, and you shook your head. 

“I’m- I’m just so frustrated. I can’t tell how he feels about me. I thought I knew for a moment, and then he wouldn’t give me anything. He barely even looked at me after I said goodbye today.” You confessed to Bucky. 

“You know I don’t like him, but I think it’s safe to say he’s not great at dealing with feelings like that.” He once again began to run his fingers through your hair. 

He saw the look on your face, a look of fear that you’d done something wrong. “Did something happen today (y/n)?” Bucky asked carefully, not wanting to hit a nerve or make you uncomfortable.

Taking a deep breath, you looked at him, desperation shone in your eyes. 

“He almost kissed me today. Only two hours before I told him goodbye, he leaned in to kiss me, and then he acted like he didn’t care. Like it never even happened. It was like I was a stranger.” Your voice was soft, unsure.

Bucky just listened as you spoke, doing his best to be a comfort. He looked at you with sympathy in his eyes. He hated seeing you like this; he hated knowing that you felt that way. That Walker made you feel that way. 

Tears began to gloss over your eyes once more as you sighed. You didn’t know you felt so deeply for him. Never realized that he meant so much to you, but he did, and now you can’t stop caring.

A cool hand touched your cheek, leaning into it, you sighed. 

“Sweetheart, I don’t think you’ve done anything wrong…” He paused, thinking of what to say next. “I think he’s scared after everything that happened with Olivia. I think he’s scared to start over.” He did his best to explain the possibility of why he suddenly acted so cold.

Your heart sank at the thought of him feeling that way. You never thought about it like that, you didn’t think of him. How scared he must be to open up again, to fully trust someone and have them trust him. How scared he must be to fall in love again. 

Your shoulders dropped, a

nd you once again let yourself rest against Bucky’s chest. Bucky could tell what was going on in your mind. He let his head rest on yours and rubbed your arm. 

“It’ll be ok. He’ll be ok,” Bucky kissed your head, and just let you hold him for as long as you needed to. 

It had been four days since John and Ava had gone on their mission. Everyone noticed that you had become quiet. The only one who truly knew why was Bucky, and he wasn’t willing to share your reasoning with anyone. 

In your mind, you had decided the best idea was to give him space, to let him come to you if and when he was ready. The only thing that hurt you was that you didn’t know if he wanted what you did. John may never be ready, and if that were the case, you’d just have to understand that.

Your heart didn’t want to let go, but if it came down to it, then you’d have to. It was a feeling you had never experienced. Something you didn’t know how to handle well. You weren’t good at letting go, it had always been an issue for you. When you were young, your family moved from Oregon to New York. Leaving the first home you’d ever known, leaving the very first friends you’d ever made, was like ripping a piece of your soul away. 

When your childhood dog passed away, you kept their favorite toy, and you still have it now. The day your grandma passed away, your heart shattered. Refusing to believe she was gone, you still spoke to her years later. Even now, when you’re lost or alone, you’ll close your eyes and talk to her as if she’s right next to you. 

After your worst heartbreak, you didn’t think you'd find love again. Until you met John. 

Now you may have to let go before you get to hold him. 

There you sat next to Bob by the window where he always sits while reading. He saw the look on your face and asked you to sit with him, and so you did. You let yourself settle next to your friend in a comfortable silence. The only thing that could be heard was the rain outside and him mumbling the words he was reading under his breath. It was comforting to just sit with someone, not having to speak to understand that each of you just wants company.

After a while, you felt someone shaking your shoulder. A sleepy groan escaped you as you rubbed your eyes. You hadn’t realized you had fallen asleep. 

“(y/n),” your name was spoken so softly you almost didn’t hear it. Slowly, you opened your eyes, you were met with the sight of Bob smiling at you softly. “I didn’t want you to be uncomfortable, so I took you to your room. I hope you don’t mind.” His voice was so sweet, and you smiled back sleepily. 

“Thanks, Bobby,” you mumbled and leaned up to kiss his cheek. His cheeks went pink as he nodded. 

“Of course. I, um, I’ll leave so you can rest,” he spoke softly before squeezing your shoulder and making his exit. 

What you didn’t realize was that Ava and John had returned as he was taking you to your room. 

Bob passed by John as he carried you fast asleep in his arms.

Bob gave John a smile and a soft welcome back as he walked by him. John nodded back, but felt his heart pang at the sight.

Why was Bob holding you as you slept? Why was he taking you back to your room?

John was so confused. He could see how content you were; he saw the way your face was pressed against his chest as you slept.  

It’s only been four days, and Bob has moved in on you. John thought Bob liked Yelena, not you. Did you like Bob?

John walked down the hall to his room. As he did, he passed by your room, and the door was open just enough to see you kiss Bob on the cheek. His heart seemed to stop for a second at the sight. He didn’t understand.

He swore that there was something he had with you. Something that he didn’t know how to describe. Maybe something he was too scared to accept.

He didn’t want to accept the fact that he may be in love with you. 

But unbeknownst to him, you had accepted that same thing. You accepted the fact that you were in love with John.

 Waking up the next morning, you made your way into the kitchen for a cup of coffee when you were greeted with the same sight as four days before. John stood with messy morning hair and a bruise on his cheek. Concern filled your eyes as you took a step closer to him. 

“John,” your voice was soft as you got his attention. 

He looked up from his coffee to glance at you. He hummed in acknowledgment and took another sip. Something in your heart tugged, and you swore you felt a twinge of pain in your chest. Again, he paid you no mind.

“Are you ok? I’m glad you’re home,” you said, and moved to the cupboard to grab a mug. 

“If you’re asking about the bruise, it doesn’t hurt, just looks bad,” he said. 

The way he spoke gave you the hint that he didn’t want to talk. So you left the conversation there. As you looked for your favorite mug, you noticed it was on the top shelf and sighed. 

Reaching for it, you huffed in frustration, but before you were able to climb on the counter, someone reached from behind you to grab it for you.

You hoped with everything in you that when you turned around, it would be John, but when you did, John was still leaning on the island. A warm hand was placed on the small of your back, and you knew from how gentle the touch was that it could only be Bob. 

Once again, your heart tugged, and your eyes flashed with disappointment. Bob placed the mug beside you, and you smiled at him as he reached for his own mug. 

“Thanks, Bob,” you grinned softly at him. 

“No problem. Just didn’t want you to get hurt.” his voice was sweet, genuine. 

You squeeze his hand before pouring yourself a coffee. 

“John! You’re finally back!” Alexei exclaimed as he made his usual boisterous entrance. 

Everyone in the room winced at his volume. 

“How was mission, huh?!” his voice somehow louder than before.

“Just like any other one,” John answered plainly, and rubbed a hand down his face. As you glanced at him again, your eyes still held concern. He was tired and closed off. 

Alexei then turned his attention to you and smiled before pulling you into a big hug. 

“Ah (Y/N), it is so good to see you!” he said and smacked a big kiss on your crown. He let you go, and you gave him an awkward smile.

John looked between you and Alexei with confusion. “What do you mean? You see her every day.” John questioned.

Immediately, your gaze dropped to your feet. “She has been hiding in her room for days. I rarely see her during the day, almost like a raccoon. She comes out at night to eat and then hides in the day, you know,” Alexei explained, and you shook your head. 

“What the hell are you even talking about?” John asked with furrowed brows. 

“She is not usual self. She’s depressed.” Alexei decides to announce to the whole room. 

You placed your head in your hands and did your best to take a deep breath. The feeling of John’s stare was burning. Opening your eyes, you took one glance at him, and could see the confusion. 

No one said a word; all you could feel was them staring at you, expecting you to say something or explain yourself. 

You could feel tears well up in your eyes and placed your cup down before walking away. 

Yelena passed you by, before she could ask anything, you were already halfway down the hallway.

Yelena sighed and rolled her eyes. “Alexei! What did you do?” She marched into the kitchen. 

He held up his hands in defense. “I did nothing. All I say was (Y/N) has been depressed and hiding like raccoon,” he explained himself. Yelena pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. 

“Did something happen while we were gone?” John asked. 

“I’m not sure, I did see her talking with Bucky after you left. She seemed really upset.” Bob informed them all. 

John’s shoulders sagged, and he let his head fall back. He groaned in frustration, at what, or who? He wasn’t sure.

Before anyone could say anything else, he walked out of the room. He had an idea in his head of what made you so upset. But he refused to believe it. 

It couldn’t be him, it just couldn’t be. 

He didn’t know where he was going until he reached the balcony of the penthouse. He wasn’t sure why he was there, but he was finally able to take a deep breath. 

“What is going on?” he mumbled to himself. 

Had he hurt you the day he left? What had he done? 

Was it the almost kiss? Had he been too cold? He didn’t mean to be that way. All he wanted was to protect himself and you. Did his fear hurt you? 

John stood there watching the chaos of the city moving beneath him, it almost felt like the city’s restlessness was in his head. 

He couldn’t figure you out. 

You knew exactly where you were going as your feet took you right where you needed to be. 

Standing outside his room, you raised your fist to knock. After the first rap, you heard the lock click open. You shuffled your feet as he opened the door. Immediately, he looked at you, and your arms wrapped around him. 

“Hey, hey, Sweetheart, what’s going on?” Bucky asked and placed his hand on the back of your head to keep you close. 

The door closed behind you as he held you. You didn’t even know what to tell him. You didn’t know if you were sad or mad, or just embarrassed. 

He felt tears soak through his shirt and pulled you closer. He scooped you up and sat on the bed with you. 

He just let you get your tears out before he spoke again. “Did John say something to you?” He asked and brushed a strand of hair out of your eyes. 

The shake of your head told him otherwise, so he waited for you to speak, not wanting to overwhelm you with questions. 

“I’m just embarrassed.” You admitted to him. 

His brows furrowed. “Why would you be embarrassed?” Bucky asked. 

“I was in the kitchen with John and Bob this morning when Alexei walked in,” you paused, and Bucky sighed. He knew this couldn’t be good. 

“He told John that I had been hiding in my room, being depressed,” you told him. 

The look on Bucky’s face was one of pure annoyance. 

“Of course, he’d do something like that. What else did the idiot say?” He asked. 

“He also compared me to a raccoon; it was embarrassing. God, you should’ve seen the look on John’s face.” You went on. “It was terrible, I just had to get out of there. I know it’s stupid to cry, but I don’t handle these feelings well,” you told him. 

“It’s ok Sweetheart, Alexei is an asshole and we all know it. He just can’t keep his mouth shut about anything. I think it’s kind of like a sickness.” Bucky joked. 

You let out a chuckle and rested your head on his shoulder. 

A comfortable silence lay over the room like a blanket. Almost scared you spoke up again, “I don’t want John to think it’s his fault,” you revealed. 

Bucky kissed your head. “Sometimes things happen for a reason. I know that everyone says it, but it’s the truth. So don’t give up on him yet. It’ll work out some way, and if it doesn’t, I’ll be right here.”  His words were comfort enough for you.

“I love you, Bucky,” you said and closed your eyes.

 “Love you, too, Sweetheart.” 

The morning steeped into the evening like an old cup of tea. You sat in your room by the window, as you looked out at the skyline, you wondered how it was that you got here.

That thought came up in your mind more than you’d like to admit. Everyone asks themselves that, but for you, it felt different. The question was more of a ‘why me? ’.

At points in your life, you'd done some extraordinary things, you’d saved people's lives. You’d stood against this country and your friends to come to the defense of someone you believed in. 

You mourned for people who should never have been lost. You mourned for who you used to be. 

You had gone through more than anyone your age should have to in a lifetime, and you believed that was one of the reasons you belonged with the team. 

Your past had brought you to this moment in your life, and for that, you were grateful. You were grateful for the family you’ve found along the way, and you were grateful for him. 

John Walker was a man whom you never would have thought you’d fall in love with. He was sarcastic, cocky, and rude. Yet somehow he made your heart pound, your cheeks burn, and your smile stick to your lips for hours. 

Now, sitting on the floor just thinking about him made your head spin. After your talk with Bucky today, you have been trying to figure out a way to fix everything.

All you wanted was for John to be happy, and if that took you out of the picture, then so be it. If John decided he didn’t want you, you would just have to find a way to cope. 

Movie night was tonight, and after avoiding everyone for days, you decided not to give up. Just like Bucky told you. You were not going to give up on John. 

The hallways were dark as you made your way to the main room. You could hear the popcorn being made, and everyone chatting. Before setting foot in the room, you took a deep breath and did your best to calm yourself. 

You moved to enter the room when someone scooped you up from behind. You let out a shriek and grabbed the person’s shoulder. Everyone’s attention turned to you. 

“Well, here she is!” you heard Bucky’s voice next to your ear. You looked at him with wide eyes, and he chuckled. 

“(Y/N), we were looking for you!” Yelena said excitedly. Bucky placed you on your feet once more, and you shook your head with a laugh. 

“You know I wouldn’t miss movie night!” you exclaimed. You did your best to look unfazed by John ignoring you. 

Alexei almost opened his mouth, but closed it due to the looks he was being given by almost everyone in the room.  

“It is nice night for movie!” he decided to say instead. 

Letting out a soft laugh, you nodded. “I’m glad we’re all back together again.”

You glanced at John and were surprised to see him looking right back at you. A genuine smile stretched across your lips as he gave a small smile back. 

John had been worrying all day about this moment. He didn’t know if you were gonna buddy up with someone else after everything that had happened. Because usually on Movie nights, you always chose the seat next to his. If he were on the floor, you were right there next to him, despite how uncomfortable it would be. If he was on the couch, then so were you with a blanket and two beers in your hand. He knew you didn’t like beer very much. The only reason you got the other one ‘for yourself’ was because he always wanted another one. 

You would have a few sips of it, but he knew the (y/f/d) next to the beer was yours. 

John was prepared for you to cuddle up with Bob or maybe even Bucky. So he tried not to care when Bucky carried you into the room. 

He could feel your words were slightly aimed at him as you said you were glad everyone was together again. You were more so saying that you were glad he was home. John couldn’t help but look at you, and couldn’t seem to look away when you held his gaze. 

The smile on your face was one he had missed so much, he had missed everything about you. The way your eyes brightened when you looked at him, or the way your nose slightly crinkled when you laughed. 

He could see in you the moment he looked at you that you weren’t giving up. On what? He wasn’t quite sure, but it made something stir inside him. Just the small interaction you had in 15 seconds was easing his seemingly ceaseless doubts. 

Something changed in John as you looked at him. He seemed at ease, it was almost as if from one glance he really saw you. You felt as if he saw the determination that had laced tightly around your heart. The determination to love him. It was almost as if you had come to an agreement. An understanding to put aside the past few days and try again. 

“Whose turn to choose the movie?” You question and look around. 

“I. I will choose perfect movie!” Alexei volunteers himself, and everyone lets out a collective groan of protest. 

“Absolutely not.” Yelena pointed harshly at him. 

“What? Why not? I choose a good movie each time,” he pouted. 

“I think it’s your turn (Y/N),” John said. The whole team looked at him. Ava nodded her head. 

“Yeah. It is your turn! Go ahead and choose a movie.” Ava pushed the remote into your hand, and your brows furrowed. 

“Are you sure? It doesn’t feel like it is?” Your voice was uncertain.  

Bucky placed a hand on your back and nudged you toward the couch. “Choose, Sweetheart. It’s your turn.” He assured you. 

You smiled, nodding your head, and you plopped down on the couch. It wasn’t even a choice in your mind, it would always be (y/f/m). 

A smile crept its way onto your lips as you pulled up the movie. John immediately knew your pick from the second he said it was your turn to choose the movie. 

“I forgot my blanket!” you exclaimed, and were about to get up until it landed in your lap. You looked up and saw Bucky standing behind the couch with a smile. 

“Did you want anything to drink?” John spoke up from beside you. 

“I can get drinks for us. Did you want a beer?” You asked and again went to stand up, but he stopped you. 

“I’ll get them,” he said and smiled. 

He could tell you were nervous about him getting the drinks because you always got another drink for yourself. It was cute that you thought he didn’t notice. 

“Oh, I um… ok, thanks.” Your voice was nervous, and you cursed yourself for it. 

John walked into the kitchen, and Bucky stood there as if waiting for him. 

“She’s a great girl, John,” Bucky spoke up just enough so John could hear him. 

He looked over at Bucky, trying to hide the s

urprise in his eyes. He knew he was talking about you, and didn’t know what to say. 

“She deserves to be happy. And as much as I hate to say it, so do you. So don’t mess this up.” Bucky’s voice was softer than he’d heard it. Yet John could still hear the edge of a threat in his tone.

Before John could say a word, the older man exited the kitchen and went back to sit by you. 

John’s heart pounded. He could barely comprehend what Bucky had said. 

“John! Come on, we want to start the movie!” he was pulled from his stupor as he grabbed two beers and (y/f/d). He strode back into the room and took his spot. 

He placed your drink on the table in front of you, right next to the beer. And placed his beer in front of him. 

You looked at your drink, and your heart stopped. Your eyes peered up at the man sitting next to you. You could feel heat rushing to your cheeks as he sent you a knowing grin.

The movie began to play, and as it kept rolling, you got closer to John. The space between you had become smaller and smaller. John looked over at you and couldn’t help but want to pull you closer. The way the screen light reflected in your eyes and the smile you had when watching your favorite scene. 

He felt you move closer to him as the movie played. Your hands fidgeting with the hem of your blanket, dying to reach out for him. To reach out and hold him closer than you ever have. 

You were practically right next to him now, and he decided to end both of your sufferings. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder and tugged you into his side. Your eyes widened as you looked up at him. He didn’t look at you as if it was something so casual to do. 

You could see the smile on his face, though. He could feel your stare, but didn’t chance a look. 

Seeing this as an opportunity to toss your blanket over him as well and tuck yourself against his chest, you did just that. That’s where you stayed for the rest of the movie. 

The credits rolled over the screen, but you didn’t want to move. You didn’t want to leave his side, you felt safe and warm. He could feel your reluctance and looked down at you. 

His eyes were warm, and his voice was thick from not using it for a while. 

“You ok?” he asked and ran a hand over your hair. 

You nodded. “Yeah, I’m just sleepy, that’s all.” It sounded like you were uncertain about what you were saying. 

“Let’s get you to bed,” John whispered as he looked at almost everyone around you who had fallen asleep. 

“Okay,” the disappointment in your voice hit him hard. 

He knew there was more that you wanted to say, and there was more that he wanted to say as well. 

He took your hand in his as he helped you up and off the couch. 

Quietly, you stepped around Alexei, who was somehow passed out on the floor by the TV. 

Before you exited the room, you placed your blanket across Bucky’s lap and placed a kiss on his head. 

The whole tower was dark, and the moonlight was sheathed by clouds as you walked through the halls. John’s hand was firm in yours as he guided you towards your room. Now that you were alone with him, the energy shifted again. 

It wasn’t anything bad or uncomfortable. It almost felt like the space between you was full. 

Full of so many words that were begging to be said and heard.

John came to a stop outside your door and sighed. 

He turned to look at you with an expression almost unreadable. 

“I guess this is goodnight then,” he spoke softly as if your team was in the same room as you still, all fast asleep. 

“I guess so,” your tone was disappointed, no matter how hard you tried to mask it. He could tell, and his heart ached. 

You stepped into your room and were about to shut the door when John placed a hand on it. 

“(Y/N), can we talk?” John’s words were shaky as he kept his gaze on his feet. 

Your heart skipped a beat as you looked at him. 

“Yeah, of course we can,” your voice was laced with nerves. 

Your hands began to shake as he stepped into your room and shut the door. What was going to happen? Was this it? Or was this the end before it even had the chance to begin? 

You both stood in silence for a few more seconds than was comfortable. Not knowing how to begin. 

“Did I do something wrong?” John’s voice was one of confusion.

You sighed. You knew this would be a question. 

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” you told him.

He shook his head and dragged a palm down his face. 

“Then tell me why you’ve been acting so strange for four days.” his tone was gruff as he looked at you with questioning eyes. 

“It’s not your fault if that’s what you’re thinking.” You did your best to remain calm. John noticed the way your hands wrung together as you answered him. 

Now, in his mind, that meant he was the exact reason you cut yourself off from everyone. 

“I know I was cold before I left, okay? I’m sorry.” You could see he was getting frustrated. But he didn’t seem angry, he didn’t sound like he was gonna yell. He just looked tired. 

“You don’t have to be sorry. We all have bad times, not everyone gets to be happy and teeming with life all of the time.” You tried to give some kind of reassurance. 

“I was an asshole for just leaving like that.” he admited. Your stomach dropped, and your eyes narrowed. 

You couldn’t stand the fact that he was so harsh on himself. Sure, it wasn’t the nicest way to leave things after what had happened that morning. But not everyone deals with fear the same way. He tends to turn his head away and pretend it doesn’t exist. To be honest, he doesn’t do a great job at pretending, but he tries. 

“I understand, John.” The softness of your voice made him wince. You reached forward and gently, almost hesitantly, took his hand in yours. 

The feeling of your palm against his and the cool silver of your rings between his fingers caused a shiver to run through him. He didn’t want to look at you in fear he’d break, and so he kept his gaze focused on the floor. All he could see were your socked feet right in front of his, a reminder of how soft you were compared to him. He could easily lift you into his arms and never put you down. 

“What do you understand?” John’s shoulders relaxed as your thumb gently pressed circles over his pulse point. 

“That you’re scared,” you dared say it as his eyes finally came up to meet yours. He could see the nerves on your face. You didn’t want to upset him or make him feel less than because you could tell he was afraid to try again. 

The look in his eyes was something you had never seen. It wasn’t hurt or anger. It wasn’t confusion or frustration. It was almost as if he were completely bare. His eyes held a vulnerability you had never seen. His hand tightened in yours. You encouraged him to sit with you on your bed. 

The bed sank beneath his weight, and it almost felt like that weight was more than just muscle and bone. It was his fear, his struggle, his doubt. It was as if everything that he kept locked away to haunt him on a sunny day came out to play. You could see the way he seemed to bend to its will and weight. 

It broke your heart. You slid from the bed and onto your knees in front of him. He looked up at the sensation of someone’s hand on his knee. John’s eyes were weary as he looked at you. 

“John, it’s ok to be afraid. I think we all are on some level, and no one deserves to carry that weight alone.” Upon hearing your words, his heart sighed. 

“I don’t know what I’m doing anymore,” his voice came out as a whisper. 

Your gaze softened, if possible, as you placed your palms on his face. 

“We can figure it out together if that’s what you want.” The suggestion caused his breath to hitch.

The man leaned into your touch, his stubble softly scratched at your palms, and you smiled. 

“Okay,” his confirmation was firm but quiet. It was as if he was saying, ‘I trust you’. 

He leaned forward and placed his forehead against yours. “Together,” you promised, nose nudging his softly. 

You weren’t sure how long you stayed there until his hand, calloused but gentle, gripped your chin. Your breath got caught in your throat as you felt him tip your head back. 

Looking up at him, your eyes sparkled. He looked at you again, as if you were the only thing in this world he wanted to call his. As if you were the only thing he has and ever will need. 

His thumb smoothed over your bottom lip, you could hear your heart beat against your ribs. You were so close to him, you were scared he might be able to hear it. The look in his eyes showed something so soft, his gaze wasn’t looking through you; he was looking at you.

Really looking, it was as though he wanted to memorize you. 

John’s hand was steady as he cradled your jaw. Instinctively, you leaned into his touch, and little did you know how that made him feel. 

There was a feeling he got in his chest, a warmth bloomed within him that felt just like you. 

He could finally breathe; there was no need to hide. Something in the way you so easily melted into his touch showed just how much you trusted him. 

With your eyes closed, you could feel the way he looked at you. You felt him shift, and soon enough, you were off the floor and in his arms. The shock was easily noticed in the small yelp you let out and how you instantly held onto him. The feeling of you clinging to him made his heart race, and his head swim.

With your legs on either side of him and that look in your eyes, he swore time stopped for a moment. It was easy to see what you wanted, and John still couldn’t believe that it was him. 

From his position, he gazed slightly upward at you. The smile on your face was all it took to confirm just how in love with you he was. And no matter how much that still scared him, it’s all he’s wanted since the day he met you. You couldn’t stand him then, and here you are looking at him like he was your world, like he was so much more than a broken man. 

The grip on your hips suddenly tightened as he tugged you closer. He felt your hand creep its way into his hair, gently tugging the strands. He saw the way your gaze flickered to his lips when his hand traced its way up your body to grip your neck, continuing to urge you closer.

The way you completely melted into him felt like the first ray of sun after the longest winter of his life. But what he didn’t expect was the way your lips would feel against his. 

The kiss wasn’t desperate or messy. It was everything that it needed to be, gentle, slow, a complete culmination of months and months of pining. 

You pulled away, both of you in awe of the moment you shared. 

John’s eyes searched your expression, to see nothing but wonderment. A certain charged anticipation rolling off of you in waves. He didn’t know what to say, so he let himself fall into everything that you were to him. 

Strength, peace, and absolute divinity. 

You sighed against his lips and ran your hands over his broad shoulders. The feeling of the man in front of you letting himself get lost in you was all that you had wanted. There in that moment, you got to experience what it felt like to be consumed by devotion, every sound, every sigh, every breath was captured by his lips. His large hand moved to cradle your jaw, tilting your head in a way that he could deepen the kiss. 

His teeth grazed your bottom lip, and you moaned softly into his mouth. A kiss was placed on your open mouth as his hand slid down to place a gentle grip on your throat. Not too harshly but with enough pressure to know you’ll feel his hold for days. Enough to make you greedy for his grip. Your head fell back as he left open-mouthed kisses across your warm skin. 

Your fingers tangled in his hair, doing your best to keep him close. The feeling of his stubble scratching along your sensitive skin made you shudder. 

He placed a hand on the back of your head so he could bring his lips to yours one more time. 

John opened his eyes just to see you with yours still closed, your lips were kiss swollen. You looked like the best thing that’s ever happened to him. 

“You look so pretty like this,” his voice was raspy, and you could feel the words vibrate in his chest. 

Opening your eyes, you found he was already looking at you. You felt heat rush to your face at his words, and you turned your head away to avoid his gaze. Your nose nuzzled against his wrist, and you placed a tender kiss on his skin.

You heard him hum lowly at the feeling, and felt as he turned you back to face him. 

“Please don’t hide from me, sweet girl, not now.” his words made your heart skip a beat. 

“I’m not going anywhere. I’m all yours if you want me,” you told him, and he grinned. 

“I’ve never wanted anyone more.” John pressed his forehead to yours.

----

The next day came, and as you were once again getting coffee. You were just hoping you might be able to finish and enjoy your coffee this time. 

Alexei and Bucky were the only ones in the kitchen when you entered, and you smiled sleepily at them both. They could tell that something had happened. You were different, they could see the love written all over your face. 

Bucky’s heart swelled as he took in how radiant you were, how happy you were. 

“Good night (y/n)?” Bucky asked with a small smirk. 

You looked at him and rolled your eyes playfully. You could tell he was teasing you. 

“Perfect, actually. Thanks for asking,” you retorted, and he chuckled. 

“Perfect. Wow, that’s big change. You look like you slept well for the first time in days!” Alexei cheered as boisterously as ever. 

“Well, thanks, I guess being a raccoon just wasn’t for me.” You said and shrugged.

Before anyone could say anything, John walked in, immediately kissing your head. 

“I like you exactly the way you are,” he whispered as his arms wrapped your waist. 

“What if I were actually a raccoon? Would you still love me?” you questioned him. 

“Yeah, of course,” he huffed out a laugh. 

“What about me?!” Alexei interjected. 

“Yes,”

“No”

You and John answered at the same time. He looked at you like you were crazy.

“Everyone deserves to be loved, even raccoons,” you shrugged.

[reveryfics]

Sweat

John Walker x Male Reader

Summary: What began as an innocent sparring match between you and John quickly escalated, with John finding himself pinned beneath you, pleading for any contact he could get

A/N: Motivation is lacking hard time right now, so while I attempt to gain motivation have this little pathetic John Walker. Over 3.7k words

TW: Teasing - Praise - Grinding - Clothed - Hand Job - Pathetic John - Minors DNI - Females DNI

The "friendly innocent" sparring match between you and John always seemed to take an unexpected turn. What began as a simple test of reflexes inevitably escalated, fueled by your playful taunts about his "weak punches" and how "slow" he'd become. Even as a non-super soldier, you consistently kept pace, a fact you loved to throw in his face. It always got under his skin, irritating him more than he'd ever admit. The last thing John wanted was his own boyfriend mocking him, even if, deep down, he knew it was just your way of pushing him to his absolute best.

This session was no different; your constant remarks were driving him to distraction. He'd barely landed a single hit in the entire hour you'd both been sparring, and he was on the verge of calling it quits. John lunged with a punch, thinking he'd caught you off guard, only for you to fluidly step out of the way and counter, just as you always did. "You're overthinking it, John," you hummed, your voice a low, teasing note.

John let out a ragged breath, raking a hand through his sweat-dampened hair. He shook his head, retreating to the bench and chugging his water. "Fuck you," he huffed, still catching his breath.

You smirked, arms crossed over your chest. "Pin me against the mat, and you can."

John nearly choked on his water. He looked up at you, and God, even with your hair plastered to your forehead and sweat glistening on your skin like a second skin, he'd screw you right there on the damn mat a million times over. "Is that a joke?" he questioned, one eyebrow raised in disbelief.

"It's a promise." That was all John needed to hear from your lips before he was back on the mat, squaring off against you.

A renewed fire sparked in John's eyes, an intensity you hadn't seen in him all hour. The promise of sex, a tangible reward for victory, galvanized him. He moved differently now, with a newfound focus and coordination. He threw another punch, a feint this time, his body already shifting to sweep your feet out from under you. You caught it immediately; he'd tried that exact move hundreds of times while sparring with others. You were quicker, though, reversing his maneuver with practiced ease, sweeping his own legs from beneath him. John hit the mat with a resounding thud, the breath momentarily knocked out of him.

You stood over him, a triumphant glint in your eyes, and slowly lowered yourself until you were straddling his waist, pinning his hands firmly above his head. "I win," you murmured, your voice a low, husky whisper. "Guess that means I get to fuck you."

John tried to push you off, but your hold was too tight, too secure. He let his head bounce back against the mat, his chest heaving as he fought to regain his breath. He was about to speak, but your lips, warm and wet, trailed down the side of his neck, eliciting a sharp gasp from him.

Gods, John was pure putty in your hands. He arched into every touch, every gentle press of your fingers against his skin, every breath that fanned across his face. He was pathetic, utterly undone, preferring you above him like this, a mere whimper escaping him from a simple touch. He squirmed as your lips brushed against his bare chest, licking and sucking the salty, sweat-streaked skin.

His eyes closed, his mouth hanging open in a breathless whine as your teeth gently grazed his Adam's apple. The hum that vibrated from his throat resonated against your lips, and a slow, wicked smirk spread across your face. This, having John completely and utterly beneath you, was another thing that got you off, an intoxicating sense of possession that left you craving more.

Your hips shifted slightly, grinding down against John’s pelvis, a silent promise of what was to come. A low groan rumbled in his chest, and his hips instinctively bucked upwards, pressing into you. You chuckled, a soft, throaty sound that vibrated through him, and leaned down, trailing a wet path from his neck to the sensitive curve of his ear. "Eager, are we, John?" you whispered, the warmth of your breath caressing his skin.

He managed a weak, almost desperate, "Always for you."

Your fingers, still pinning his wrists above his head, shifted, your thumbs brushing over the throbbing pulse points there. You felt the rapid beat of his heart, a testament to the raw arousal you were igniting in him. You savored the control, the absolute surrender in his body beneath yours. It was a potent drug, knowing you could bring John to this state of breathless longing with just a few touches.

You moved lower, your lips exploring the valley between his collarbones, tasting the lingering salt and sweat. Your tongue flicked out, tracing the outline of his pectoral muscle before dipping into his navel. John’s back arched further, a desperate, silent plea. His fingers, though still trapped, flexed against yours, a subtle tremor running through his frame.

"You said... if I pinned you," John managed to gasp out, his voice thick with desire, "then I could..."

You pulled back slightly, your eyes meeting his, a mischievous glint in their depths. "And you didn't, did you?" you countered, a playful challenge in your tone. "You lost. So now, you're mine to do with as I please." Your smirk widened, a predatory gleam entering your gaze. "And trust me, John, I have many plans."

His eyes widened, a mixture of apprehension and searing anticipation in their depths. He knew your 'plans' were never subtle, and always left him utterly wrecked. He tried to push against your hold once more, a last-ditch, half-hearted attempt at defiance, but it was futile. You were a strong man, and in this position, with him already weakened by exertion and arousal, he stood no chance.

You leaned down again, this time your lips finding his. It was a slow, deliberate kiss at first, tasting of salt and effort, but quickly deepened into a hungry, demanding exploration. John’s mouth opened beneath yours, his tongue tangling with yours in a desperate dance. His body trembled, his legs twitching on the mat, his entire being crying out for release.

You broke the kiss, just enough to gaze down at him, his face flushed, eyes heavy-lidded with passion. "Still think you're slow, John?" you murmured, your voice a husky growl that sent shivers down his spine. "Because right now, you're moving at exactly the pace I want you to." And with that, you began to move against him with more purpose, your hips grinding, building a slow, agonizing friction that promised to push John right over the edge.

You watched, captivated, as John's eyes fluttered shut, his head still pressed back against the mat. His body hummed with a desperate tension, every muscle taut, every breath ragged. You could feel the undeniable evidence of his arousal pressing against you, a hard ridge beneath his shorts. His hips continued to buck weakly against yours, a silent, pathetic plea.

"Please," he rasped, his voice barely a whisper, thick with need. "God, please...touch me. Below."

You felt a thrill course through you at his desperation. He was so utterly, gloriously transparent in his want. But satisfying him immediately wasn't nearly as fun as drawing it out, twisting him just a little bit more.

Without a word, you stopped all movement. Your hips stilled against his, the delicious friction abruptly ceasing. John's body went rigid beneath you, a soft, strangled groan escaping him. His eyes shot open, wide and glazed with confusion, then dawning understanding, and finally, pure agony.

You lowered your head, your gaze fixed on the prominent bulge in his shorts. Slowly, deliberately, you pressed your lips to the fabric, directly over the aching peak of his erection. John gasped, a raw, involuntary sound, his body arching up, trying to meet your touch.

You didn't use your hands, not yet. Instead, you began to tease him with your mouth alone. You ran your tongue over the thick material, tasting the faint salt of his sweat, feeling the hard shape beneath. You pressed your lips harder, suckling gently at the fabric, mimicking the action he craved. John whimpered, a broken, helpless sound that sent a jolt of power through you.

"Please," he begged again, his voice cracking, his body trembling beneath your minimal touches. His fingers, still trapped in your grip, clenched tighter, his knuckles white. "Don't stop... not like this. Just... please."

You pulled back, just enough to look at him, your eyes full of a playful cruelty. A smirk played on your lips as you saw the naked, pleading desperation in his gaze. He was utterly pathetic, completely at your mercy. And it was intoxicating.

You watched him, a slow, predatory smile spreading across your lips. "Such a good boy, begging for me." You leaned in, pressing your lips to the fabric again, this time with a little more pressure, a soft hum escaping your throat as you felt the rapid throb beneath. John's body spasmed, a choked sound caught in his throat as he arched into the contact.

You continued to tease, your mouth moving over the stretched denim, the scent of him, hot and aroused, filling your senses. You kissed, licked, and gently sucked at the fabric, outlining the head of his shaft, then drawing your tongue down the length, tasting the faint salt and dampness through the material. He was a mess beneath you, his breathing shallow, his chest heaving. His fingers, still trapped, curled into helpless fists against your palms.

"Please, please," he whimpered again, a raw, almost guttural sound of pure need. His hips strained upward, desperate for more substantial contact, his face contorted in a delicious agony. "I can't... I can't take this. Just touch me, please."

You revelled in his abject surrender, the sight of him so utterly consumed by desire, reduced to a whimpering, begging mess for your touch. It was intoxicating. You allowed yourself one more lingering kiss over the peak of his erection, drawing out his torment just a moment longer. Then, slowly, with exquisite cruelty, you began to lift your head, withdrawing your lips from his shorts.

John's eyes flew open, wide with panic, a desperate "No!" torn from his lips as he saw your mouth pull away. He bucked against you, a frantic, helpless movement, desperate to recapture the elusive sensation.

You paused, hovering above him, watching the raw anguish flood his face. His hips continued to twitch uselessly beneath you, a testament to his desperate need. The sight of him, so utterly exposed and vulnerable, sent a thrill through you.

"Whining like that isn't going to get you anywhere, John," you murmured, your voice low and even, a stark contrast to his ragged breathing. You slowly began to shift your weight, the barest promise of lifting yourself away. "You want me to touch you? You need to do better than that."

Panic flickered in his eyes. "No! Don't... don't go. Please. What do I have to do? Just tell me. Anything." His voice was hoarse, thick with unfulfilled desire. He thrashed slightly, a pathetic, helpless struggle against your hold. "I'll do anything. Please, just touch me. I'm begging you."

His eyes, still wide and glazed with lust, pleaded with yours. "I'll... I'll help you with yours. However you want. My mouth, my hands, anything. Just... please. Don't leave me like this." He was a broken record of pleas and promises, utterly consumed by the ache you'd so deliberately ignited.

You watched him, a slow, deliberate assessment. The shift in his tone, from desperate pleas to a desperate bargain, was exactly what you wanted. He was offering himself up, completely. You savored the power, the complete and utter surrender in his eyes.

You held his gaze, your own eyes reflecting the raw, animalistic need in his. He was offering up anything, everything, a testament to how completely you had broken him. It was a tempting offer, his trembling promises of reciprocal pleasure. But you weren't quite done with him yet.

"Your erection, you say?" you purred, a slow, deliberate smile playing on your lips. You leaned down again, not to his shorts, but to his ear, your voice dropping to a husky whisper that made him shiver. "I've got an even bigger one right now, John. And it's for you."

You didn't touch him below the belt, not with your hands, not with your mouth. Instead, you shifted your weight, just subtly enough that your inner thigh brushed against the throbbing outline of his cock through the fabric of his shorts. It was a fleeting, agonizing friction, barely there, but enough to make John groan, a choked, desperate sound.

"Whining like a little pup won't make me eager to help you, though," you continued, your voice a soft, teasing caress against his ear. "I need you to show me how much you want it. Not with words, John. I need you to earn it."

You leaned back, a sliver of space opening between your bodies, enough to make him feel the abrupt absence of contact. His eyes were wide, pleading, fixed on yours. His breath hitched in his chest, his mouth slightly open, a silent gasp. He was utterly bewildered, struggling to comprehend what you wanted, what impossible task you might set for him.

"What... what do you want?" he choked out, his voice raw with frustration and an aching desire. "Tell me. Anything. Just don't... don't pull away again." His hips twitched, a desperate, almost involuntary movement, as if trying to re-establish the tantalizing brush that had just been there.

You smirked, enjoying the delightful torment. "Think, John. You're a super soldier. You're supposed to be smart. What's the one thing you haven't given me yet?" You waited, watching the wheels turn in his mind, the flicker of desperation as he tried to decipher your riddle. The anticipation of his dawning realization, the desperate shame that would follow, was almost as delicious as the act itself.

John stared at you, his brow furrowed in a desperate effort to understand. His mind, usually so sharp and strategic, was clouded by the overwhelming surge of raw physical need. He was a man drowning, grasping for any lifeline. "What... what haven't I given you?" he repeated, his voice barely a whisper. He tried to think, his eyes darting around, as if the answer might be written on the gym ceiling. His body trembled beneath you, a testament to his escalating torment.

You watched his struggle, a slow, knowing smile playing on your lips. It was almost too easy, breaking him down like this. You leaned in again, your lips brushing the warm skin of his temple. "Your dignity, John," you whispered, the word a soft, cruel caress. "You haven't truly begged. Not in the way I want."

His eyes widened, and a flush, not of lust but of shame, crept up his neck. The truth of your words hit him, cutting through the fog of his arousal. He had pleaded, yes, and whined, but he hadn't completely abandoned every last shred of his pride. He, the formidable super soldier, reduced to this.

"I need you to beg like you've never begged before," you continued, your voice a low, insistent hum. "Like your very life depends on it. Like you can't breathe without my touch." You shifted your hips just slightly, the barest whisper of movement, but enough to remind him of the hard, aching presence beneath his shorts. "Show me, John. Show me how pathetic you can be for me."

John’s face contorted, a battle waging within him. The super soldier, the embodiment of strength and control, was confronted with the ultimate surrender. His jaw clenched, a faint tremor running through his body. For a split second, you thought you saw a flicker of defiance, a desperate attempt to cling to the last vestiges of his pride.

But the aching throbbing in his shorts, the unrelenting pressure of your body, the unbearable tease of your earlier kisses on the fabric – it was too much. The need overshadowed everything else. He was a man consumed by fire, and you held the only water.

A shudder ran through him, and his head dropped back against the mat with a soft thud. His chest heaved, a raw, strangled gasp escaping him. His eyes, when they finally opened, were swimming, glazed over with a pathetic desperation that made your own blood hum.

"Please," he choked out, the word barely audible, ripped from the depths of his being. It was a guttural sound, devoid of his usual command or composure. His voice was raw, cracking, as if his throat were closing around the shameful plea. "Please... I'm begging you. God, I'm begging you. Don't stop. Don't leave me like this."

Tears, hot and silent, welled in the corners of his eyes, tracing paths through the sweat on his temples. It wasn't sadness, but sheer, agonizing need. His hips began to buck again, no longer with any pretense of control, but with a desperate, animalistic rhythm, pushing blindly into your crotch.

"I can't... I can't take it," he whimpered, a broken sound of pure helplessness. "Just... touch me. Please. I'll do anything. Anything you want. I'm yours. Just... please. I need you. I need you, please."

He was utterly, completely undone. His carefully constructed composure shattered, his pride offered up as a sacrifice on the mat. He was a whimpering, begging mess, every ounce of his powerful body trembling, laid bare and utterly at your mercy. The sight, the sound, was intoxicating.

You watched him, truly watched him, as his desperate pleas filled the air. The raw vulnerability in his eyes, the pathetic tremor in his body, the full, unbridled surrender of his dignity – it was everything you had wanted. A slow, satisfied sigh escaped your lips, a sound of absolute triumph. He was utterly broken, completely yours.

"Good boy," you murmured, the words a soft, almost tender caress. The playful cruelty in your eyes softened, replaced by a deep, possessive warmth. You finally released his wrists, letting his hands fall uselessly to the mat beside his head. His arms remained splayed, testament to his exhaustion and utter lack of resistance.

Slowly, deliberately, you trailed your right hand down his sweat-slicked chest. Your fingers brushed over his racing heart, feeling its frantic drumbeat against your palm. You continued down his taut abdomen, each inch of progress an exquisite agony of anticipation for John. He whimpered, his hips twitching involuntarily as your hand approached the waistband of his shorts.

You hooked your fingers under the elastic, peeling the fabric away from his skin. With agonizing slowness, you slid your hand inside, inch by tantalizing inch. John gasped, his breath catching in his throat, his body arching up into your touch before you'd even fully reached him.

Finally, your fingers brushed against the hot, slick head of his penis. It was already engorged and leaking, throbbing painfully from prolonged denial. You wrapped your hand around him, your palm cupping the heavy sack, your fingers closing firmly around his aching cock. A long, shuddering groan ripped from John's chest, a sound of pure, unadulterated relief and explosive pleasure.

"God," he choked out, his eyes squeezed shut, head lolling back against the mat. His entire body went rigid, then sagged, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He pressed himself into your hand, desperate for the friction you were finally providing. "Oh, God. Yes. Don't stop. Please, don't stop."

You felt the immediate surge, the overwhelming heat and hardness beneath your touch. You began to stroke him, slowly at first, then with increasing speed and pressure, matching the frantic rhythm of his whimpers and gasps. He was yours, completely, utterly at your mercy, and the sensation was pure, intoxicating bliss.

You tightened your grip, matching the frantic pace of his hips as John bucked into your hand, his body a trembling testament to his unraveling. His breath hitched in his throat, a low, guttural string of moans bubbling up from his chest, each sound a testament to his complete surrender. You felt the rhythmic pulses against your palm, the escalating tension in his muscles. His hips piston-pumped against your hand, his head thrashing against the mat, lost in the throes of his impending release.

"God... God..." he gasped, his voice raw, bordering on a sob.

With a final, powerful thrust, John cried out, a muffled shout of pure, unadulterated pleasure. He came, a warm gush against your hand and soaking into the fabric of his shorts. His body seized, then shuddered violently beneath you, muscles spasming as he rode the wave of his climax. You watched him, a slow, satisfied smirk playing on your lips, your thumb gently rubbing over the sensitive tip of his now pulsing cock, helping him through the last, exquisite tremors of his high.

Once his tremors began to subside, you slowly withdrew your hand from his shorts, the wetness clinging to your fingers. John, still breathless and twitching from the aftershocks of his orgasm, watched with glazed eyes as you slowly brought your hand to your lips. Your gaze held his as you methodically licked the salty come from your fingers, savoring the taste, making sure he saw every sensual, possessive lick.

A low, satisfied hum vibrated in your chest. You leaned down, your face close to his, and whispered, "Good boy, John."

Then, you captured his mouth in a rough, heated kiss. It was a kiss of triumph, of ownership, of the raw, primal connection that had just unfolded between you. His lips parted under yours, tasting of sweat and his own spent desire, and he instinctively kissed you back with what little energy he had left.

You pulled away, breaking the kiss with a final, lingering brush of your lips against his. Without another word, you rose fluidly from the mat, your own erection still prominent beneath your sweatpants, a testament to the success of your playful torment. You walked over to the bench, grabbed your shirt and towel, and with a casual, almost indifferent air, you headed for the gym doors.

John lay there, sprawled on the mat, his chest still heaving, his eyes wide and unfocused. He was utterly wrecked, breathless and thoroughly spent, watching as you walked out of the Tower's gym doors as if nothing out of the ordinary had just occurred.

[miidnighters]

"Of course, baby." Flynn murmurs, hands gentle as she moves and he helps her kneel back over him where he wants her. The elbows in his stomach aren't the most comfortable thing in the world, but she's right - she is light, so it's not really anything to complain about.

Flynn gives her a few minutes to get his pants open, only pressing soft kisses to her - letting out a laugh at that oh wow. "Like what you see, baby?" Flynn teases, muffling his moan at finally being touched against the soft skin of her thigh that he'd just kissed. He lets out another when she takes the tip into her mouth - one of his own arms curling around her lower back to hold her against him now.

This new position allows him to direct his attention almost entirely to her clit, but he doesn't want to distract her too thoroughly just yet - so he keeps his movements lighter and more teasing.

she shivers as he kisses her thigh and smiles as he tries to come across as non-demanding as possible, a warm feeling filling her chest as she lifts off of him to reposition and sees his wet mouth.

"you have to help me get the position right again," she tells him as she settles on top of him again, facing down his body this time and resting on her elbows on his stomach, figuring he'll tell her if this hurts, but she's pretty light. she struggles just a bit with his belt for a moment because it's backwards to what she's used to, but then she's quick to get his pants open and his underwear down, very interested in finally getting to touch him in return.

"oh, wow," she murmurs without realizing it, curling a hand around his cock and stroking him a few times before she leans in to shyly take his tip into her mouth, trying to think back on the only other blowjob she's ever given. it wasn't very good, so she's really hoping to be better this time.

[mirouie]

distractions.

leehan x gen reader. | wc: 951

warnings: making out, slightly suggestive?

tags: fluff, romance, kissing, one pet name (doll) but nth else gender-specific is mentioned, leehan is lowkey a cocky bastard

a/n: i can't believe my writing comeback is spurred by half-asleep delirium at 2 am because i couldn't stop thinking about leehan in his stupid white tee and blonde hair and the fact that i think he'd love making out all the time... anyway, this is my debut on bndblr! hope you enjoy xx

leehan looks unfairly good for a perfectly normal, mundane saturday morning. it's your designated chores day, and after a week of ignoring housework that needed to be done, you two should be spending the majority of the day cleaning, reorganizing, and decluttering.

you and leehan had initially agreed on a fifty-fifty split over responsibilities, but your boyfriend doesn't seem too eager to be doing his portion of work right now.

instead, while you're elbow-deep in soap-water by the sink while simultaneously keeping an eye out on the laundry running in the bathroom, leehan is sat comfortably on the couch in the living room—eyes closed, arms behind his head, and legs spread as if he has all the time in world.

he's manspreading while you're going at it with greasy tupperwares.

"you look like you're having a great time, lounging on the couch you're supposed to vacuum. have any plans to do it anytime soon?" you ask him when you pass by, drying your wet hands on a dishcloth.

he only hums in response, almost contently, even. he cracks open an eye and grins up at you lazily with that stupidly attractive half-crooked smile of his. how unfair. "hey there, doll."

he whistles, looking you up and down. "you're looking mighty fine."

you snort, very much unattractively, and roll your eyes. "i look yards away from 'mighty fine', han. i'm drenched in dish water. i smell like takeout." you flourish the wet spot from washing the dishes on your shirt at him. he only smiles wider.

"the prettiest i've ever seen," he coos, soft, fond. he's looking at you in that overly affectionate way of his, likes he's got hearts for eyes. your heart stutters a little despite yourself.

leehan holds out his hand, beckoning for you to come over. you hold out yours too, walking towards him, and in one fell swoop, he laces your fingers together and pulls you closer. you stumble a little and land right on his lap, eyes wide and cheeks flushed. what a flirt.

he looks downright smug—you're right where he wants you to be.

"hi," he mumbles, voice suddenly low and quiet. you could feel his breath, warm and loving against your cheeks.

"hi," you whisper back, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. you've almost completely forgotten that you were reprimanding him just minutes ago. "what are you doing?"

his hands move slow, but steady and sure as they travel from your hips to the small of your back, fingers teasing at the hem of your shirt. you shiver lightly as he slips them under, caressing at your warm skin. you sigh. you always love it when he does that.

leehan smiles at the sight—you melting in his arms, all soft and pliant at his touch. it's his favorite thing in the world.

"wanna make out?"

your brows shoot up as you feel yourself growing hot. you look at him, bewildered, asking silently, 'now?'

he stares back, tilts his head innocently but you know he's egging you on.

you scoff softly. it's hardly the appropriate time for such a thing.

however, you don't need to be told twice.

you lean in almost immediately. leehan's smirk grows obnoxiously wide as he meets you halfway, just as eager. your hands find their way into his hair when your lips touch, tugging gently. he groans into your mouth. butterflies explode in your stomach.

leehan has his way when it comes to kissing you. he's strategic with it, almost, as if he's deliberately planning on how to make you undone with each press of his lips against yours. safe to say, it works every time.

he kisses you fervently—not rushed, but a little messy, hot and raw and tinged with desperation as if he's trying to mold himself into you. his lips are everywhere he can reach; your lips, your cheeks, your jaw, your neck. it's like he can't get enough of you.

he nips at your bottom lip then sucks at it gently, just enough to draw out a sweet noise from the back of your throat, one with which he drowns out happily with his mouth. he loves hearing you whenever you make out. it drives him crazy.

you only pull away when it feels like your lungs are on fire, and even then you don't go far. you can't, anyway, not with how he's holding onto you. you can barely feel your legs, but it doesn't matter because he's got you pressed up right against him, all wrapped up in his arms.

he chases after your lips, nose nudging against yours. there's a look in his eyes that makes you positively dizzy—half-lidded and a little out of focus, but so intense with the way he's staring at your face and your lips.

your chests rise and fall in tandem, frantic as you gasp for as much air as you can before diving back into each other. he kisses you harder this time, hungry and persistent. you're hyper-aware of the feel of him everywhere—his hands gripping your waist, his body pulled flush against yours, his lips searing against your skin. it's almost overwhelming, in a good way.

"leehan..." you murmur against his lips, muffled as he kisses you once, twice, thrice. you say his name again, but your voice falters as he starts to trail down to your neck. he swipes his tongue against your jaw, pressing sloppy kisses as you sigh. you can feel him smirk against your skin. how evil of him.

"want a hickey?" he mouths, and you nod so quickly he laughs at how desperate you are. adorable, he thinks. he'll definitely give you more than one.

a/n pt 2: this is sooo rushed and idk if i like the ending but RAAAAGHHHH leehan is driving me up the wall and i feel like i'd die if i didn't writing something for him 😵‍💫 also i realized that i've actually never written kissing scenes before so forgive me if this is terrible TT

© mirouie ; do not copy, edit, or repost my works. plagiarism is strictly prohibited.

[eva-terra-marie]

Satoru Gojo as your BF headcanons

{Geto's version if you're interested}

-Consider yourself lucky. You are dating Satoru Gojo himself.

-Gojo is a clingy little shit but you still love him. He's extremely attached to you and constantly wanting your attention. I feel like he'd poke your cheek or boop your nose to get your attention whenever you're focused on something.

-Though, he is prideful and arrogant, but with you, he's soft and caring towards you. Gojo is a sucker for physical touch. Its's his love language for you. He's like a cat that follows his owner around whenever you go.

-Of course, he teases you. A lot. When you get flustered, he's bound to tease you about it poking fun at the color on your cheeks. Gojo will tease you by calling you all kinds of nickname like, baby girl/boy, honeybun, hon, sweetcheeks, gorgeous, baby, babe. Do I need to say more?

-Gojo spoils you a lot. When he comes back from a mission, he brings you so many souvenirs for you. Like snacks, plushies, flowers, even jewelry. He also bought you a sliver ring with an infinity symbol carved on it.

-He's also a lil horny.

"Babe, can we do it?"

"Satoru!!!"

-During intimate moments, he likes being the dominate one (or submissive if you want😏) in the bedroom. He's very touchy and will not keep his hands off you. He likes running his hands down your thighs gently (or rough if you like it rough) and sometimes smacks your ass to be a little shit. Gojo loves hearing your noises, music to his ears. He loves to hold you close to him making sure that you're real and not a dream. He runs his hand through your hair staring at you with those bright blue orbs. He would probably be very vocal about how much he loves you and how pretty you are.

"You're so beautiful, more beautiful than anything else."

"You're so damn perfect, I'm a lucky man, aren't I?"

"Mmm... I can't stop touching you, you're making me go insane."

"God, I love you so much, baby."

-He ADORES cuddling. You already know he's the big spoon than you. He's addicted to having you in his arms. Going to sleep? He's already behind you having his arms around your waist. And there are times where Gojo lays on top of you resting his head on your chest (or boobs) using them as pillows. (He likes to squeeze them)

-Gojo can read you like a book. He's very observant. I'm guessing with his Six Eyes he can read your body language and recognizing different expressions on your face.

-He is very protective over you. Your safety is his number one priority. He will not hesitate to defend you against anything or anyone. He's a jealous type too. He will have his arm wrapped around you at all times in public or holding your hand to show that you are his and his only. If he catches anyone who stares at you, he'd give them a death glare scaring the person away. Which you scold him. He knows you're loyal to him and he trusts you but he can't help it. He has to show the world that you're his.

-If you're feeling sad, he will give you a big warm hug. He will let you lean on him as he speaks comforting words to calm you down. He will hold your face with both his hands giving kisses all over your face to make you giggle. Sometimes he'll joke around to make you laugh. He will wipe away those tears from your eyes as you give him a small but soft smile making his heart melt.

"There's that smile I love."

-When you're away on a solo mission, he will get whiny and start texting you making sure you're alive and safe. But he will start complaining to Geto telling him how much he misses you and craves for your touch and kisses which annoys the hell out of Geto. When you come back, he'll pull you into his arms and will shower you with kisses.

-Gojo is extremely devoted to you and treats you like a queen/king. He will do anything to make you happy and have that beautiful smile on your face. His goal is to always make you feel loved and safe.

[ghoulspaw]

Haku the type of guy that if his hands aren't in close proximity to your his crush's body, he'd detonate like a bomb and DIE (it's THAT serious for him).

Pre-relationship?? If you're sitting next to him, he makes the fake yawning move and has his arm resting behind your back/on the chair. If you're walking side by side, he "accidentally" bumps into you cause he's a little "tired" and "sleepy" (probably throwing a "would love to take a nap on someone's lap haha" comment in there). You're having lunch together? "Oh, wait, dont move, you have something on your face..let me clean that up for u 😉" (you did, in fact, have nothing on your face). Feeling upset? How about a hug. Stressed? A massage would definitely work!! He does not go by a day without giving you a headpat...

Now...post-relationship?...... 🙏. Him sitting next to you?? HAND ON YOUR THIGH ‼️🗣 Walking next to you?? HAND HOLDING‼️ 🗣 (dare i say... hand on WAIST too..). Nap time?? CUDDLING ‼️🗣 Feeling upset? Stressed??? All of the aforementioned, but now ☝��� he adds KISSES......... now it's not only his hands, but also his lips........ (and tong-*GUNSHOT*)

This man needs his fingertips touching your skin at some point during the day or he'll have 911 on speed dial its true

[quimichi]

˚✦ ˑ 𝐄𝐱𝐜𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐒𝐢𝐫, 𝐝𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐯𝐢𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭? ִֶ 𓂃⊹ - MDNI

WARNINGS: NSFW - MDNI, Pet names, sexual behavior, name calling, some a bit rough and mean

SUMMARY: They took your virginity. Case solved.

CHARACTERS: HSR Men X F!Reader (no aged up Charas)

WORD COUNT: 13.150

Argenti

All you can do is whine as his fingers scissor and stretch you, juices dripping down. His tongue softly rubs circles around your clit like he’s painting you, a masterpiece. And you can’t help but moan out at the new pleasure. His fingers hit that spot that sends an electric jolt to your toes and back, you desperately arch with another whine. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes from the pleasure. It's overwhelming you, he promised to be gentle, and he is. But never once did he tell you how good this will all feel.

“S-Shit Argenti-, I can’t—I’m gonna—” You can’t even finish your sentence, your voice begins to crack, your hips bucking widly as he speeds up. And then you’re coming, babbling nonsense and his name like a prayer as wave after wave of pleasure washes over you. You don’t even comprehend that you squirt all over his hand and mouth, or that he’s rutting his hips against the bed and moaning into your cunt as he tastes you. Not only is it a pleasure to please you, beautiful you. It's a pleasure to be your first. It sends a wave of possessiveness through his body.

Slowly, he withdraws his fingers, his glistening fingers running up to your waist.  “Such a dirty little rose,” he murmurs as he leans down, teeth grazing across your neck, hair tickling your skin. “Youre a sight to behold, breathless, dazed...divine.”

Aventurine

“You like that, don’t you?” He asks, grip on your throat. Its not enough to hurt you, but enough for you to know his hand is there. “You like my cock stretchin’ you out, huh?” You're unable answer him, the only thing you manage are whines and moans slipping through his fingers through your throat. He'd be mean to not let you moan out like a bitch in heat after all. Aventurine smirks knowingly, continuing his assault on your insides.

“Can't believe no one ever went inside you, youre far too good. Shit-you love it too, don't you?” You whine out, hiccuping out a moan as his other hand travels down your tummy, the soft touch sending waves to your core. His fingers eventually find your clit, rubbinh the swollen skin over and over again. Your eyes glaze over and roll back, it's too much, too much!

Your vision goes white as your orgasm hits you unexpectedly, stealing the breath from your lungs as your legs shake and back arches. “Mine, ok? Youre mine, my girl. You don't mind do you? Surely you don't...look at you, sweet girl.”

Blade

“feels s’fucking good—“ you mindlessly babbles out. His large palms are stretched out on both sides of you hips, nails digging into your skin. “Such a greedy little pussy,” he groans out with another roll of his hips. “keeps suckin’ me back in…you're a little greedy slut, hm?" he teases.

You can feel his hot breath fanning your ear while his dark hair tickles your neck. The sloppy sounds that fill the room seem to only grow louder with each thrust, as your arousal practically drips down his balls. Headboard constantly hitting the wall. You wouldn't be surprised if something would break this night, and it doesn't need to be the bed.

“if you keep moaning like a bitch in heat, i won't fucking stop,” he hissed out, as he presses down on your stomach which makes you whimper in response. "Naw, look at that," he points at the bulge in your stomach, "that's me all the way inside your greedy cunt."

Boothill

"you still good, darlin?" he asked, amused, his hands moving up to grab one of your tits, giving it a squeeze with his cold hands. He hummed at your subtle nod, his fingers pinching your nipple from below with just the right amount of pressure to bring you to the edge but not send you over. He knows he could do this for hours, his stamina is much longer than yours after all, but he doesn't want to push you just yet.

"shit.." he cursed, though not out of frustration, “your pussy is driving me crazy." he whispered against your folds, the vibrations of his voice sending shivers through your entire body, it almost felt as if you were being electrocuted or something. “its so fucking pretty for no fucking reason...”

Caelus

“shiiit-just like that...” he mumbles out as he lazily guides your movements, helping you bounce yourself up and down on his cock. Hands softly gripping your hips as he guides you. He smirks when he heard your whine as a reaction to his groans, golden halflidded eyes stare up at you. He thinks you’re adorable when you’re like this, so desperate for him yet so adamant on not asking for his help. You had no idea what you were doing, well, neither does he. But you insisted on riding him.

“doing so well,” he says with a slight whine as he thrusts his hips up in time with your movements. It doesn’t take much effort for him to flip you over and have you at his mercy. Your legs are now lifted over his shoulders while his dick is fucking you even deeper, "sorry,-shit-sorry I couldn't-hold myself back much longer-!"

Dan Heng

“just as i expected, it slipped right in...” your arm immediately slung over your face to hide your embarrassment. Something about the way he talks to you has you throbbing.

“fuck, so deep inside you already.” he breathes, as he eases his way into you. He's so painfully splitting you open. You whine and whimper, it feels too good to be true. “that’s it, there’s my girl.” his raspy laugh fills the silence. “youre doing so good for me, just a bit longer, ok?”

He speeds up his thrusts, "eyes on me," he says, "you can do it, eyes on me." And when he hits just the right spot, your eyes roll back and flutter closed.

"Good girl."

Dr. Ratio

“it hurts, doesn't it?” he whispers, no mock, no tease, unusual for him. He knows it hurts, he's just deep enough inside you, balls deep.

“yes, it hurts…” you whine, eyes watering as you adjust. He’s letting you distract yourself a bit, letting you soak up the pain with pleasure. “… so bad.” you keep whining.

"I know, it will get better." he presses his hips flat against you, just to slowly drag his cock out of you again, leaving just his tip inside. “Doing good for a first timer. Don't worry, I'll teach you everything you need to know.”

You nod desperately, biting your lip between your teeth.

“I'll be slow, we got time.” he mumbles, a sick grin painting across his face. He'd be lying if he would say he doesn't enjoy the power play that's going on at the moment. "I'M gonna teach you everything you need to know."

Gallagher

Your mouth falls open when he grinds his hard cock against your ass. Youre breathing hard, chest heaving. But you can't help but lean back against his chest. He slips a hand back into your underwear, rubbing slow circles against your clit. His breath is hot against your ear as he chuckles at your reaction. His middle finger slips between your folds and gathers some of your arousal to use it at your clit again. Once he had your hips jerking and whines leaving your lips, he slips two of his thick fingers inside. He moves slowly, fingers working inside of you like a caress.

“I- ‘m gonna-” you muster, weakly clawing at his arms.

He slips his hand out of your pussy again, letting his tongue run over his fingers, lapping at your juices. He hums, as the taste hits his tounge, “Shit, girl. Got me addicted already.”

Gepard

“That’s it.. Just like that..” He takes hold of the hand, kissing your knuckles, whispering soft praises into your skin to help you work up courage to keep riding him. He knows it's embarrassing for you, he knows you doubt yourself. But he also knows that you can do it.

“Doing so good for me, ok? So good, keep going..”

It takes his everything to hold back his hips and not fuck up into you, it's all too inviting.  He holds you, wrapping both arms around your torso and pull you close to his chest. One hand slips down to your hips, guiding you on his cock. "Like that, yeah."

Hot breaths reach your ear as he hums in approvment. "Good...shit--good."

Jing Yuan

“ass up. There you go, atta girl.” and you almost shiver from his touch on you'd hips as he turns you over. Jing Yuan stares at your ass, bringing a rough palm towards your left cheek. “Mm, nice. You're doing good. Don't worry, I'll go easy on you...for now.”

As he speaks, your cheek presses further against the pillow, hiding in embarrassment. Jing Yuan watches as your ass writhes and he hums, springing out his thick cock. “I'm going in, ok? No need to be scared”

“ok...” you breathe, big talk for someone who probably has way to much experience for his own good.

"I'll go easy on you, I promised you that birdie." He whispers in your ear as he leans over, slowly pushing in.

Jiaoqiu

He dives in, his tongue delving deep into your soaked folds. He laps at you hungrily, savoring your taste as he eats you out with wild abandon. His tongue swirls around your clit before sucking it between his lips, flicking the sensitive bud rapidly. “you're so hot...,” he hums against your core, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. “thank you for the meal...”

Your finger desperately looking for support and found his hair, scratching his scalp with your long nails in the process. You can't help but let one hand wander to one of his ears, tugging on it. Immediately a whine leaves his lips as he laps on you more desperately than before.

He doubles his efforts, lapping at your clit with broad strokes of his tongue before sealing his lips around the sensitive bundle of nerves and suckling greedily.

"Do that again and watch me eat you up."

Luka

Luka leans down to capture your lips in a kiss, swallowing your cries of pleasure as he pounds into you relentlessly. His hands grip your hips hard you feel like you might see some bruises tomorrow as a souvenir.

"Damn, you take my cock better than expected, baby," he rasps against your mouth, his breath coming in ragged gasps. “Way to fucking well, you sure you're a virgin?" he breaks the kiss to gaze down at you. “look at me,” he commands, "that pussy is mine now. Mine."

As you meet his eyes, he reaches between your bodies to rub your clit in time with his thrusts, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

"Fuck-didnt know you could get any tighter."

Luocha

The next thing you felt was his cock entering you all at once, barely giving you time to get used to his huge size and thickness. Hes not a mean man by any means, but he figured that maybe him going in faster with the ammount of slick you already got, might be less painful. Wronh judgment in a hazy moment. And fuck if he didn't love feeling the way your cunt stretched to accommodate him, how your walls are so tight around his length.

When he did it, it was over for you, and you thanked him with the most beautiful sounds he ever heard. You squeezed him and croed out, making a mess of yourself as you grab onto his shoulders for support. It all was too much for you, too much happening all at once. But you'd be a lair to say you didn't enjoy it.

He would slowly start to run against you, holding your hips in place as he drags his cock in and out of your hole. His slow speed was annoying, painful, but so good.

But the best feeling was yet to come.

“Just you wait once I'm done with you. We'll have plenty of time left to get to know each other much better."

Sampo

Without warning, he pulled out – only halfway – and plunged back inside you with an almighty push. It .ade your eyes roll back into your skull, your mind went blank for a second. His teasing laugh pulling you back into reality, "Oops-went to hard there~" As a apology he went softer on you, slowly dragging his cock in and out of your hole.

“Doing so well for me,” he groaned, as he lightly speed up again, holding your hips in a tight grip.

"Damn-" he groans as you grap onto his shoulders and dig your nails in. "Careful there baby, you don't wanna hurt poor Sampo, hm?" He laughs again as he kisses down your neck and leaves yet another bite behind.

"We could do this more often, I know I wouldn't mind."

Sunday

The all so collected man practically loses it when you wrap your legs around his back. You unknowingly push him against you, silently asking for more. "Needy, needy." he teases as breaths in your ear, giving it a soft kiss afterwards.

“Dont you worry, I'm not done with you yet.”

Although his words came out more scary than they should, his action of hiding into your shoulder makes it all seem more pathetic than dominant. His wings flutter as your parted lips let a whine escape.

He groans, burying his cock deep just as it starts to gush, painting your walls white. Your nails dig hard into his scalp.

“That came...rather unexpected.”

Welt

“it won’t fit!” you sob out loud. No way this all will fit inside you, you never took anything, or anything that size. He's bigger than you, this wont fit without tears. But you're determined today, telling him you wanted to fit everything in you.

He trails his fingers up and down your side before one hand snakes down to thumb at your clit while the other large hand clasps your hip. "i'll make it fit, and I'll be careful." he promises, soft as he pleasures you. You expected nothing less of him, he always treated you with more care than any others. He softly rubs your clit as he enters, a way of distracting you from the pain that you will encounter.

"there you go, told you I'd make it fit."

[narxcisse]

★ — Leaving them hickeys

With: Viktor, Jayce, Mel, Vi, Caitlyn, Ambessa, Silco, Vander and Sevika

CW: suggestive, hickeys, s1

English isn't my native language / Reverse Ver.!

— VIKTOR

He is a mix of bashful and pleased. When you kiss and nip at his neck, he goes still, cheeks flushed as a soft, breathy chuckle escapes.

"You...really like marking me, don't you?" He tries to act unfazed, but when he looks in a mirror later and spots the darkening bruise, his fingers ghost over it.

He'd cover it with a scarf or high collar in public but secretly loves that you left your mark. It's a rare indulgence that makes him feel wanted.

— JAYCE

He leans into it and lets you do whatever you want, practically purring under your touch.

"You just can't keep your hands off me, huh?" He smirks, wrapping an arm around your waist as you kiss him.

He flaunts the marks with pride. If someone notices, he grins wider. "Oh, that? Yeah, my partner's got good aim."

— MEL

She doesn't stop you; she tilts her head to give you better access, enjoying the sensation as your lips press against her golden skin.

"Careful, darling," she murmurs, her voice smooth as silk. "You'll leave evidence of your affection."

She wears her hickeys like jewelry, unbothered by anyone's reactions, because who would dare question her?

— VI

She pretends to complain. She'll huff as your teeth scrape her skin, but she's grinning the whole time.

"Really? You're leaving me looking like I lost a fight?" She teases but tilts her head anyway.

She wears the marks like trophies. "Yeah, my partner did that. What about it?" If someone stares too long, they might catch her smirking.

— CAITLYN

She gets flustered. She tries to keep her composure as you kiss along her neck, but her blush gives her away.

"Are you... trying to make this harder to hide?" She scolds, though her voice is shaky.

Later, she's wearing a high collar. When Vi notices and teases her, Caitlyn glares but secretly feels proud.

— AMBESSA

She chuckles lowly, utterly amused by your boldness. She lets you have your way, resting a heavy hand on your back.

"Is this your way of staking a claim?" she asks with a smirk, tilting her neck for better access.

She wears the marks unapologetically, daring anyone to comment. She admires your daring streak and rewards you for it later.

— SILCO

His sharp intake of breath is the only indication you've caught him off guard. He doesn't stop you, but his hand tightens on your hip.

"Bold," he mutters, his gravelly voice filled with amusement. "Do you think this will deter anyone?"

He hides the marks beneath his collar but touches them absently, conflicted between annoyance and smug satisfaction.

— VANDER

He laughs softly, a warm rumble from deep in his chest as you leave your mark on him.

"You're enjoying this a little too much," he teases, cupping your face to kiss you.

He's not embarrassed about the marks and won't bother covering them. If someone comments, he just grins. "What can I say? My partner's passionate."

— SEVIKA

She smirks, tugging you closer as your lips graze her neck.

"Careful, sweetheart," she growls softly. "I might start thinking you're obsessed with me."

She doesn't cover the marks, wearing them like a badge of honor. If anyone so much as raises an eyebrow, she gives them a warning glare.