#truthfully this took so long because i got too excited and ended up with a pen in my ear

[kkoct-ik]

super! overdue drawing request for LL!scar

[justmystyles]

The Morning After

read my other work here!

pairing: Harry Styles x plus size reader

*i say it's a plus size reader, but it is not something that i focus on explicitly in my fics, because your size should not define you. it will only come up if it comes into the story organically.*

word count: 2,583

trigger warning: vomiting

summary: the morning after Harry's 30th birthday, you're hungover and Harry reminds you of your drunken actions from the night before, leading to a conversation you never expected.

a/n: i missed Harry's birthday, but I got this idea for a morning after fic, so here we are. i've been writing a few things behind the scenes, and I know i've said a few times that I was going to try to come back, but this time i mean it. i'm working on a couple of one shots, and a new series that i'm very excited about, so hopefully you'll hear more from me soon!

tags: @abby8694 @allthelovehes @ameerakane20 @ash-craze @bethanysnow @blue-ballad @blueraspberryreader @brightlightsinlife @creativelyeva @cute-as-ducks420 @deannaard @fanficismydrug @gem1712 @golden-hoax @gothmingguk @groovychaosavenue @hillzrry @iceebabies @indierockgirrl @jerseygirlinca @jng4kook @jooniesbabie @kaverichauhan @laurxn-robinson @lexiecamposv @likeapplejuicenpeach @lilfreakjez @mrs-anna-styles211994 @n0vaj3an @potterheadandsherlocked @rach2699 @ravenclawdirectioner @stylesfeverr @superchrystaldrug @tenaciousperfectionunknown @tiaamberxx @thechaoticjoy @theekyliepage @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @youknowwhaaat

You open your eyes and immediately groan in pain as they meet the sunlight shining into your bedroom. You quickly shut them and pull your pillow over your face. You had promised yourself you wouldn’t go too hard last night, but Harry kept wanting to do shots, and who were you to deny the birthday boy? 

It was your best friend, Harry’s 30th birthday party, and he spared no expense. The room was packed with his closest family and friends, including a long list of famous faces. There was loud music, dancing, tons of food, and of course, alcohol. As with most parties, Harry barely let you out of his sight, and any time a tray of shots went past him he’d grab one for each of you. You lost count after a while, and truthfully, you aren’t really sure how you ended up at home and in your bed. You assumed Harry had something to do with it. You rarely got drunk, but when you did Harry was always very protective and caring, even if he was two sheets to the wind himself. 

The ringing of your doorbell, followed by the incessant knocking at your door feel like a thousand nails being hammered into your head. You groan, but know it isn’t going to stop until you answer the door. You throw your legs over the side of your bed and sit still for a moment, working up the energy to stand and walk to the front door. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice a full glass of water and a couple of aspirin, sitting on top of the note: 

For the lightweight in my life. 

xH

A small smile plays on your lips at the note, combined with the thoughtfulness of your best friend. You take the pills and drink the entire glass of water before standing and making your way to the front door. You are immediately met with Harry’s infuriatingly handsome face, a wide grin plastered across it as if last night never happened. 

“Took you long enough.” He says in a bright, teasing tone. You immediately bring your hand to your forehead, the voice that usually causes butterflies in your stomach piercing right through your brain. “Rough night?” He asks knowingly. 

You flip him off before stepping aside to let him in. “How can you possibly be this okay right now?” You ask in disbelief as you shuffle to the couch, collapsing onto your back and resting your arm across your eyes. “I’m not just okay, I’m great!” He lifts your feet up and sits on the couch, placing your legs down in his lap. “I’ve been up for hours, went on a nice run, got some shopping done. It’s been quite a productive day.” 

You pull the pillow out from under your head and throw it at him. He catches it with ease and chuckles at your meek sign of aggression. 

The two of you sit in comfortable silence for a few moments before you finally speak up. “I’m not going to be a fun hang today, just so you know.”

Harry chuckles and shakes his head. “You never are, why would today be any different?” He jokes. You move your arm away from your eyes and look up at him, narrowing your gaze. 

He lets out a loud laugh and holds his hands up defensively. “Just kidding! You know you’re my favorite.” He leans over and boops your nose. A sign of affection the two of you often share. 

You smirk and shake your head as it falls back on the couch. “Did you have fun last night?” 

“So much fun, the party was amazing!” Harry beams. “I got to see so many people that I hadn’t seen in a while. But you know what my favorite part was?” 

You groan in reply, signaling for him to continue, your eyes closed to block the sunlight. 

He turns to look at your face, his expression and tone softening. “At the end of the night, when we were saying goodbye to everyone and you kissed me…”

It feels as though time stands still. The nausea and pain from the hangover immediately replaced by panic and shock. You sit up straight and look at him with a furrowed brow. “Kissed… like kissed kissed?” 

He grins and nods. “A proper kiss, tongue and everything.” 

Your face immediately turns a bright shade of crimson and your eyes go wide. You’d had more than friendly feelings for Harry for a while, but you were certain those feelings would never be returned. He always introduced you to his superstar, super skinny girlfriends, so you always felt your thick thighs and big stomach were far from his type. You’d much rather spend your life hiding your feelings and having him in your life as a friend than to tell him how you feel and end up losing him because those feelings weren’t returned. 

“Harry, I am so sorry… I was drunk… I don’t even remember it happening… I…” You panic and begin to ramble out an apology. 

“Hey hey hey,” he interrupts you, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. “You have nothing to apologize for. I was glad that you kissed me. It was nice, I felt… wanted.”

You scoff slightly. “You’re one of the most wanted men in the world, you don’t need a sloppy drunk kiss for that.”

“But I liked feeling wanted by you. You didn’t want Harry Styles, famous pop star. You wanted me, just regular Harry.” 

“Just regular Harry is my favorite person.” You say in a soft, caring tone. 

“I know he is, that’s why I enjoyed that kiss so much. And it got me wondering…” He trails off, thinking of the best way to bring up what he wants to say. “They often say people are their most honest selves when they’re drunk, so I was wondering if that kiss meant anything to you? Like if maybe you were thinking of me as more than just a friend…” 

Your hangover mixed with the anxiety of being called out for your secret feelings causes your nausea to return. You immediately start stuttering. “What? I… you’re my best friend! We aren’t… I don’t…”

Harry reaches out, gently cupping your cheeks in his hands. “Shhh, it’s okay. We’re always going to be best friends, I promise.” He assures you, his eyes staring deep into yours. “Do you want to know what I wished for last night when I blew out my candles?” 

You shake your head slowly, your mind racing and your stomach churning too much to actually be able to form words. 

“The same thing I’ve wished for every birthday since you came into my life. For you to see me as more than your best friend, for you to want me even half as much as I want you.” 

Your breath hitches at his words, you study his expression and see love, adoration, vulnerability in his eyes. Before you can respond, you feel the nausea taking over. You push out of Harry’s arms and run to the bathroom, You drop to your knees just in time to empty the contents of your stomach into the toilet. 

Harry is right behind you, kneeling down next to you, pulling your hair back with one hand, and rubbing your back in soothing circles with the other. “Shh, you’re okay Y/N, just let it out. You’ll feel so much better when it’s over.” 

When you’re finally finished throwing up you shift so that you;re sitting on the floor, your back resting against the wall. Harry grabs a washcloth and runs it under the water before bringing it to you and dabbing it on your forehead. “You know, you could have just said no. It doesn’t do great things for one’s self esteem to have a girl vomit the moment you declare your love for her.” He says with a chuckle, trying to lighten the mood. 

You let out a small, weak chuckle. “Harry, I…” You whisper. 

“It’s just a joke, love. Let’s not talk about it right now, let me just take care of you, yeah?” He says kindly, brushing a lock of hair behind your ear as you nod in reply. “Good girl, now what do you need?” 

“Toothbrush…” 

He nods, and places a kiss on your forehead before standing up and getting your toothbrush, he puts a bead of toothpaste on it and kneels back down handing it to you. “Go easy, you don’t want to start anything back up.”

You look at him gratefully as you begin brushing your teeth. He watches on, as he strokes your hair to comfort you. 

“Is it weird that I think you look cute when you’re sick?” He asks, looking at you fondly. 

You let out a soft chuckle and shake your head as you continue to brush your teeth. 

His smile grows at the sound of your laugh. “I love that laugh, I’m glad I was able to get it out of you even when you’re feeling like this.” He’s silent for a moment before speaking up again. “I hate that you don’t feel good, but I love being able to take care of you. Especially when you’re so vulnerable like this, it shows how much you trust me, and that means everything to me.”

You look up at him as you brush your teeth, hoping your expression conveys all of the love and gratitude in your heart at that moment. You slowly stand up and make your way to the sink, where you spit and rinse. 

Harry is quick to get up and stand beside you, he takes in your blotchy complexion and messy hair, and it’s clear that you’ve still got a long way to go before you’re back to normal. “Still not feeling so great?”

You shake your head. “I told you I wasn’t going to be a good hang…”

Harry chuckles. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, I’m having a blast! C’mon, let’s get you back to bed.” He moves to put his arms around you as if he’s going to try to lift you.

“Harry, what are you doing?” You step back from his arms. 

“I’m carrying you to bed.” He says, confused. He thought it was pretty clear what he was doing. 

“I can walk, it’s fine. Nobody wins if you try to carry me.”

He furrows his brow and tilts his head. “What do you mean, nobody wins?”

You sigh, hating that you have to spell it out for him. “You’re not going to be able to lift me. You’re going to feel bad because you were wrong, and I won’t even be able to gloat about being right because I’ll feel bad about being fat.” 

“Hey,” Harry says sternly. “I told you never to say that about yourself.” You had always been self-deprecating, and Harry hated it. He wished you could see yourself the way he did, because he saw you as absolutely perfect and beautiful. 

You look down, embarrassed about the slip of the tongue. You had stopped saying it in front of Harry, but you hadn’t stopped believing it, so in your weakened state, you had let it slip my mistake. 

Harry slides a finger under your chin and lifts your gaze. “How about this? Let me try, if I can’t carry you to bed, I’ll clean up your whole apartment while you sleep. If I can, you have to cuddle in bed with me all day. Deal?” 

You roll your eyes and sigh, knowing he’s not going to let this go. “Fine.” 

Harry grins triumphantly and scoops you up with ease, carrying you bridal style down the hall and to your room, where he places you gently on the bed. He tucks you in before moving to the other side and slipping in next to you. “Told you so.” He says smugly. 

“Nobody’s ever been able to do that before.” You say in awe. 

He smiles and pulls you into him, laying your head on his chest. “I bet I can name three more things nobody else can do for you…” He kisses the top of your head. 

“Try me,” you mumble as you snuggle closer to him. 

“I can make you laugh when you’re at your worst, I can calm you down when you’re spiraling, and I can make you turn that adorable shade of red when I get flirty with you.” He chuckles. 

You sigh and nod your head against his chest, agreeing to all three statements. 

He squeezes you a little tighter, one hand coming up to stroke your hair. “And you do all those things for me. That’s why I think we’d be so amazing together. We bring out the best in each other, and provide comfort and support at our worst. I can’t think of anything more important in a relationship.” 

I hum thoughtfully, tears welling in my eyes at his words. He’s right, of course you’ve seen it all along, but the fact that he sees it too is overwhelming. I tilt my head and lock eyes with him. 

When he sees your watery eyes, his expression drops. “Oh, Y/N I’m sorry if I said too much. Nothing has to change if you don’t want it to, I promise. Just don’t cry, okay?” He reaches down to cup your cheek, wiping a stray tear away with his thumb. 

You shake your head rapidly. “No no no, I just… I never thought I’d hear you say this kind of stuff to me. I agree with you completely.”

Harry’s breath hitches at your words, a wide grin spreads across his face. “Yeah?” You grin back and nod your head. “So you’d be willing to give us a shot… as more than friends?” 

“Definitely.” You say without hesitation. 

He smiles softly and strokes your cheek with his thumb. “I really want to kiss you, but I’m afraid you’ll throw up again, and my ego can’t take it.” He says lightheartedly. 

You giggle softly. “I get it. It’s okay, I feel too gross to kiss anyone right now anyway.” 

“What can I do for you right now?” 

“Um… I actually think I want to take a shower, but I can do that on my own.” 

Harry arches a brow and smirks slyly at you. “You sure I can’t help you?” 

You chuckle and slap his chest playfully. “Positive, you perv.”

“Fine, fine… how about this? While you shower, I’ll make you some breakfast, to help your tummy.” He runs his fingers through your hair, wanting nothing more than to take care of you. 

You smile and blush. “You don’t have to do that…”

“You’re my girl,” he pauses, letting the gravity of his words sink in, you both smile dreamily at each other. “It’s my job to take care of you.” 

“Your girl…” You sigh. 

He smiles as he stares down at your dreamy expression. “You alright?” 

“Yeah… actually, I’m suddenly feeling much better.” 

Harry chuckles, kissing you on the forehead. “Good, well you go shower and I’ll make you a nice breakfast, we’ll get you back to normal in no time.

You roll out of bed and make your way to the door. You throw one more glance over your shoulder, smiling softly at Harry. When your eyes meet, he blows you a kiss. In that moment, he can’t help but think that thirty could be his best year yet. 

[mykoreanlove]

Fake date me please?

How Felix and you showed everyone you were dating

“We need pictures!”, he exclaimed cheerily.

“Pictures?”

“Yeah, of you and me. You know, doing boyfriend and girlfriend stuff.”

Your stomach turned again, your insecurity grew bigger and bigger. Felix grabbed you and hugged you tightly while shooting some selfies.

“Y/N, why do you look so uncomfortable? It looks like you want to break up with me”, he frowned disappointed.

“Sorry, I.. I have never been in a real relationship before, so I don’t know how to act”, you answered truthfully.

“Ah, I See.”

He fiddled with his phone and hugged you again but this time his camera had silly filters on, which turned you into cute little dogs.

“What is this”, you laughed happily.

“Just a silly way to get you smile, beautiful. Come on, let’s be silly and have fun.”

His phone battery was about to die because of the plethora of selfies you took.

“They look good”, he smiled proudly. “Let’s upload them later. What do you want to do next?”

This one got you thinking – what do couples normally do?

“Oh”, you jumped up and down happily, “let’s go for a walk while holding hands.”

His face fell instantly, and you feared you had said the wrong thing. Were you even too stupid for a fake relationship?

“I don’t like holding hands, actually. But you can grab my arm or something?”

Relief washed over you.

“Okay”.

You walked along the water and got to know each other. Even though you were total strangers, it didn’t feel that strange at all.

“Y/N”, Felix whispered. “Don’t freak out but people from campus are coming our way. I’m going to do something drastic, okay?”

By now you weren’t sure if you felt nauseous from fear or excited from the butterflies in your stomach.

“Hey, isn’t that Felix? And y/n?” you heard your peers call out.

Felix grabbed you by your arm and turned you to him as he placed his thumb on your lips and leaned in for a kiss.

Your heart was pounding heavily. He wasn’t kissing you; he was kissing his thumb, but no one saw the difference. No one but you.

You closed your eyes and surrendered – this moment, fake or not, was magical. You took in his musky cologne; you felt his long lashes against your cheeks and his strong arm on your back. You sighed internally – is this what love was like?

“Shit, I guess they are really dating.”

Felix took a step back, his cheeks slightly reddened.

“I guess it worked”, you cheered. “Yeah, I guess it worked”, he replied shily.

“Are you hungry?”

Felix insisted on paying but you beat him to the curb.

“Let me show you my thankfulness by buying these delicious treats and this bottle of soju. Felix, please?”

You sat down by the water and enjoyed the food, as well as your company.

“I hate drinking but with you it’s kind of fun”, he exclaimed.

“Really? I thought you were some kind of party animal on campus.”

He chuckled, shaking his head.

“Yeah, people love to make up a lot of stuff.”

“Speaking of people”, you turned to face him, “they have a hard time believing that you and I are dating.”

“And why is that?”

You swallowed another shot before answering.

“Well, it’s because you are you. You are popular and handsome, and you can date anyone but me? I’m a nobody. It makes sense that they are suspicious.”

Felix simply listened. He knew that you were right – in this current reality you were seen like that. Even worse, you saw yourself like that.

“Can I ask you a question?”

He nodded.

“Why are you not with anybody?”

A sad smile spread on his face.

“I have trouble opening up to people, I guess.” This caught you by surprise.

“You do?”

He nodded again.

“Yeah, it’s easy to be with someone for a short amount of time, like all the fun and physical stuff but then it’s too much for me. I don’t want to open up and let someone in, not for real anyway.”

Both of you downed another shot in silence. You would have never guessed that even if you were dating a lot, you would still feel out of love at the end of the day.

______________

part 1 part 3

[bucksangel]

The Blossom Tree Above

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 8.3k

Summary: Then, almost in slow motion, Bucky lifts his head, and he’s suddenly closer than he’s ever been. His face is mere inches from yours, he licks his lips and releases your hand from his face to place his on your thigh. Bucky’s face grows closer to yours, both of you breathing heavily as you prepare for what you’ve wanted ever since Bucky came to the tower. And just as you’re gaining the courage to kiss him first, a loud - Bang! Bang! Bang!

Warnings: sm-ut, 18+ only, tad bit of self-deprecation on Bucky's part, mild angst, mention of de-ath, or-al (f and m receiving), no actual penetration tho, so much fluff, sam and sarah are good bros, Bucky deserves happiness and he gets it finally, mild jealousy, pet names (plum, baby, sunshine (sam says this platonically))

a/n: this is a commission for the very lovely @splendidreads

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“I didn’t think you’d come.”

Truthfully, and as rude as it might sound, you weren’t planning on it originally. Ever since the Snap, and the subsequent reversal, you’d never really kept up with everyone, nor did you stay in one place for long. You were content with your traveling, in some ways excited over the new and cool places you’ve been to that have helped shape who you are today.

You’d changed your phone number about a year into the Snap, with only Tony and your Uncle Happy knowing it. So, when you got a call from an unknown number you were hesitant to answer it. No one should’ve had access to this number, so you let it go to voicemail. But then, mere minutes after the call ended, the same person called again. And again after they left a message when you’d once again sent it to voicemail.

That time, tired of the constant ringing, you’d picked it up with a cautious, “Hello?”

What a surprise it was to find out it was Sam. He wouldn’t tell you how he got ahold of your phone number, though you suspect your unofficial Uncle Tony may have given it to him. Tony’s never been one to not meddle. Even still, Sam had told you of a little get-together he was having and practically begged you to come.

“C’mon, I miss you. Don’t you want to see your favorite superhero?”

You’d laughed at that, claiming that you didn’t have a favorite - though anyone that knew you well enough would know that it was Bucky. You don’t tell him that, though you’re sure he’s rolling his eyes.

It took a good while of begging and bribing you with his homemade pies, but the final nail in the coffin was him telling you that a certain someone was going to be there. And though he didn’t say exactly who, you had a pretty good idea of who it was.

So, after trying - and failing - to accept his invitation and saying multiple times that you didn’t care if Bucky was there or not, you both said your goodbye and you made plans to take the next available flight to Louisiana.

“Of course, I’m here, I missed you guys,” is what you say instead, giving the man next to you a warm smile.

Bucky doesn’t say anything for a moment, seemingly thinking over something in his head before he nods and gives you his own warm smile.

“I missed you too,” He says softly, a twinkle in his eyes. Then almost immediately his eyes widen ever so slightly. “I mean - Sam misses you too, we all do.”

You chuckle, barely able to hold back rolling your eyes fondly. Instead, you push at his arm weakly, tossing him a drawn-out, “Suuuure.”

A comfortable silence envelops you, and you’re content to continue sitting on a patio chair next to Bucky’s as you eat. But then Bucky pipes up.

“Do you remember the day we met?”

Of course, I do, idiot. Is what you want to say, but you don’t. Instead, you nod with a grin.

“You mean when you almost fell on your face because I smiled at you?”

It was Bucky’s first day at the tower, his hair was long, pulled back by a rubber band with stray hairs hanging around his face that he had to constantly tuck behind his ears. Steve had taken it upon himself to give Bucky a tour, showing him the gym, the common area of the Avengers level in the tower, and where his room would be. Then they’d gone around and introduced Bucky to each of the Avengers and a few SHIELD agents that were seen mingling about.

Each introduction went as follows - Steve guided Bucky to each member individually and let Bucky tell them his name as he holds out a shaky hand, his flesh one, as he tries to maintain eye contact as much as he can stand. He also finds it fitting to thank each person he meets for letting him stay with them because, in his eyes, it should’ve been a risk for him to be there.

Everyone was welcoming, though clearly a little wary. Natasha had helped as well, having known what he’d been through and giving him comforting smiles once in a while and a small head nod to show him he was doing a good job. It should’ve been embarrassing, but the fact that he had at least two people in his corner - he was still determining if Sam could be included in that - was comforting.

Up until you voluntarily came up to him. You seemed innocent to who he was, reaching out your hand first and offering your name before he could to hopefully show him you didn’t judge him. Of course, you weren’t oblivious to who he used to be and what he did, but none of that changed the fact that you thought Bucky could and would do better, that he could trust you if he ever needed help.

He was frozen for a solid minute, having to have Steve nudge him with his elbow to snap him out of his trance. Could anyone blame him though? You were beautiful, with a positive and bright aura that would be almost overwhelming to someone who’s only ever known darkness. But it wasn’t, because the second he heard your voice he knew he was truly and rightfully fucked.

Bucky was quick to give you his name as well, shaking your hand a little softer than the others in fear of hurting and scaring you. He was stumbling through his way of thanking you for letting him live with everyone when he heard a small chuckle disguised as a cough. Bucky ignored it and continued.

But you stopped him soon into his rambling, insisting that he needed and deserved a safe place to stay and that you all would offer that to him. You’d said you would be there if he ever needed anything, and Bucky had no idea what to do with this information. Because how could he deserve help? Who could think he deserved any sort of redemption?

You did. And as you were backing away, you gave him such a warm and friendly smile that he had to hold onto the counter behind him in order to not fall. You’d giggled, light and happy, and Bucky swore he had never and would never hear anything more melodic than that.

“I didn’t almost fall,” Bucky huffs with a playful roll of his eyes. “I… just hadn’t been feeling good and happened to feel a little nauseous enough that I had to hold onto the counter when you smiled at me. There was absolutely no correlation.”

You laugh at this, loud enough that you earn the knowing glances of Sam and Sarah from your peripheral. “Sure, it was just a coincidence.”

Another small silence follows, and you take a few more bites of stew before Bucky speaks again, softer and more sincere.

“Thanks for the food.” He smiles at you, small but no less genuine. And you have to shake your head.

“It was no problem. I would have felt bad if I just showed up empty-handed.”

“Still,” He mumbles, glancing down at the food before looking at you again. “It’s nice. It reminds me of before all this shit happened, ‘simpler times’ if you will.”

You nod, knowing exactly what he means. You haven’t made this specific stew since you lived in the tower with everyone. Every evening people would take turns cooking, but yours was by far the favorite, your food, nearly all made from scratch, served as a comfort for a lot of the Avengers.

Bucky especially. He’d once told you that the flavors reminded him of spices his ma would use when they had a little extra money to splurge on the real stuff instead of plain boiled potatoes. That made you smile, and you’d made a mental note to make it more often if it helped him.

He reaches over the arm of the chair to place his hand - cold metal - gently on your shoulder. “I mean it, thank you.”

Nodding again, you place one of your own hands on top of his, squeezing softly even though you know he can’t feel it before encompassing it to cradle it.

“You’re welcome, Buck.”

____________

The water before you is nearly crystal clear, a light blue hue being drowned out by the golden rays of the setting sun. It shines on the water, the sky is an array of yellows and oranges and pinks, slowly getting darker and darker with each passing minute. The way the wind blows through the trees surrounding the lake makes a calming noise to accompany the serenity of finally being at ease, finally able to let your mind rest and go blank.

Then, suddenly, a hand covers yours from where they rest on either side of your body. The hand, hard metal, slowly turns your hand over before intertwining your fingers together and squeezing softly. Turning your head to your right you see him, Bucky, with his smile so loving and eyes so soft and enamoring. His long hair is pulled back into a bun, though there are a few stray strands that have fallen to frame his face.

Neither of you says anything, simply staring at each other as the tension slowly rises. Without thought, your free hand lifts to tuck the strands of hair back behind his ears. His other hand, the one not holding yours, shoots up to grasp your wrist. He nuzzles into the palm of your hand, almost like a cat, and places a few delicate kisses there.

Then, almost in slow motion, Bucky lifts his head, and he’s suddenly closer than he’s ever been. His face is mere inches from yours, he licks his lips and releases your hand from his face to place his on your thigh. Bucky’s face grows closer to yours, both of you breathing heavily as you prepare for what you’ve wanted ever since Bucky came to the tower.

And just as you’re gaining the courage to kiss him first, a loud - 

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Your eyes fly open, your heart racing as you sit up straight on your bed. For a moment your mind wants to play off the sound as a figment of your imagination, desperate to go back to sleep - specifically back to the dream you were having. But then another knock sounds through your room.

“Friday, who’s at the door?” Your voice is a little shaky, not used to anyone disturbing you at nearly one in the morning, so your mind is automatically jumping to the worst possible scenario.

“It is Sergeant Barnes, Ms. Hogan. I detect symptoms of a panic attack.”

Suddenly you shoot up off the bed, nearly tripping while you try to untangle the sheets from your legs. Once you make it to the door, you pull it wide open, eyes wide and heart heavy as you take in Bucky’s appearance.

As mean as it might seem, he looks awful. His eyes are red, the dark circles under them are prominent as though he hasn’t slept in days, and he’s hunched in on himself. He looks like a sad kitten, begging to be pet and loved.

“Bucky?” Your voice is low and smooth, not wanting to frighten him off by being too brutish.

“I-I’m sorry, I just… I shouldn’t be here, I know you were probably sleeping but… I just wanted to be around someone.” Bucky’s mumbling is almost incomprehensible, the way his head is tilted down makes it hard to read his lips, but you hear him just the same.

So, you reach your hand out slowly, asking softly, “Can I touch you, Bucky?”

It takes a moment, but Bucky nods ever so slightly, leaning into your hand when you hold his arm. As soon as you wrap your hand around his bicep as best you can and pull him into your room he nearly collapses into your chest. His arms go around your waist, pulling you to his body and crushing you in a desperate hug.

Your heart breaks, and you find it hard not to cry yourself. But you stay strong, determined to help Bucky. So you maneuver you both back to your bed, managing to disentangle from Bucky’s hold just enough so you can get under the covers before pulling him along with you. Once you’re comfortable laying on your sides facing each other, you scoot forward and wrap one of your arms around his shoulders, guiding him to lay his head on your chest. He goes easily, resting his head down with his ear directly over your heart, listening to the steady rhythm of the thump, thump, thumps.

It takes a long while of you holding Bucky before he speaks, so low you’d miss it if you weren’t hyper-aware of his anxiety and knowing you need to comfort him.

“Why do you like hanging out with me?”

This surprises you. You’d expected him to tell you about whatever it was that has caused his distress, not this. But, you decide not to question him, knowing you shouldn’t fight him on anything when he’s in this state.

“Because you’re fun to be around.” It’s said sincerely because you are. Being around him makes you happy, happier than you probably should be considering you’re just friends.

“No, I’m not,” he mumbles sadly. “I don’t even talk that much. I don’t go out because I hate crowds. I’m still not too caught up on all these new technologies and I know that’s frustrating when we’re trying to watch movies on the tv because I don’t know what I’m doing. I almost broke your nose once when you snuck up on me. I don’t see how that’s fun.”

You sigh, taking a moment to gather your thoughts. Immediately, you want to tell him that those are all the reasons you like him, that it’s endearing when he has to ask you how to use his phone, or that you don’t mind that he doesn’t talk too much because you do enough talking for the both of you.

You don’t, though. Instead, you tighten your hold on him and place a delicate kiss on the top of his hair.

“I get angry easily. And sometimes it’s hard to control. I can cook but I burn any dessert I try to make. I don’t like driving for long periods so whenever I go on a trip it takes longer than it should because I need breaks sometimes. I’m late for almost everything.”

You pause, taking another breath.

“And yet you still like to hang out with me right?” You wait for him to hum his agreement before continuing. “See? We all have our faults, things we don’t like about ourselves, or flaws we should probably work on, but that doesn’t mean that absolutely no one will like us. We can still be loved.”

Bucky doesn’t say anything, merely tightening his hold around your waist and nuzzling his face in your chest. It’s silent for a long while, your fingers running through his hair and your other hand rubbing up and down his back. But one question is burning in the back of your mind.

“Is this about those agents?”

‘Those agents’ are the group of newbies that have a habit of talking too loud and being a little too ignorant when it comes to people’s pasts. Yesterday you and Bucky were walking to the gym when you’d heard those same agents talking about how they didn’t know how you did it, how you were able to be friends with ‘a monster like him’. You’d hoped Bucky hadn’t heard it, which is why you did nothing at the time. You didn’t want to bring it to his attention if he was oblivious to it in the first place.

When Bucky sniffles but says nothing, you have your answer.

“You’re not him anymore, Bucky.”

“Then why do people still think I’m a monster?” His voice breaks on the last word, tears clouding his vision as he tries his best not to let them escape.

“Bucky,” You mumble, using one of your hands to cup his cheek and guide his head to look at you. And your heart breaks even further at the broken look on his face. He’s not sad, not even depressed, he’s tired. He’s tired of being accused of still being The Soldier, he’s tired of being seen as a monster, and he’s tired of people assuming he was in control when he was forced to do the things he did.

“Listen to me, okay? You know you’re not the soldier, I know you’re not the soldier. Everyone who thinks about it sensibly knows. I know it doesn’t help because some people might always see you that way, but you know you’re not him. You know how much progress you’ve made, how far you’ve come from when you first moved in two years ago. And that’s all that matters. The people who love you will always love you, they’ll always know the truth, and that’s what’s important. Just because ignorant assholes refuse to open their minds doesn’t mean that’s what you’ll always be.”

Bucky’s lower lip starts wobbling, and a heartbreaking sob escapes his lips as he shoves his face into your neck and starts crying. And you let him, just holding him tightly to you and murmuring loving words into his hair as you press kisses wherever you can.

Eventually, he stops, but only because he’s drifted off to sleep, having exhausted himself. But that’s okay, because tomorrow you can talk about it more, but tonight you’re going to hold him close.

____________

It’s a little after mid-day and you’re already a little tired. You’d been at Sam’s place for a few hours, and the Louisiana heat is something you were not used to. Couple that with the few beers you’ve been drinking have you feeling off-kilter.

Right at the moment you’re thinking of going inside, Sam appears next to you with a glass of ice-cold water.

“Hey Sammy,” You say with a smile, gratefully accepting the glass from him and downing a third of it almost immediately.

“Hey, sunshine,” He smiles back at you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. And it’s clear he’s also been drinking. “Y’know, I really am glad you came. I’ve missed you a lot.”

Sighing, you look down. You’re not regretful of your choice to travel, but you can’t help but admit that you missed him too. He’s always been fun to be around, witty and kind, and always ready to cause trouble.

“I’m sorry, Sam. I just…��

“Don’t apologize,” He says sternly, shaking his head. “I know why you did it, and I’m not judging you. I just... We missed you, you know? So, I’m really glad you came.”

It’s silent for a moment, and you lean into his embrace as you watch Bucky play around with AJ and Cass. It brings a smile to your face, seeing him so carefree and, dare you say, happy. You’ve never seen him so relaxed, and you’ve always wanted it for him, so you can’t stop the smile nor the fondness shining in your eyes.

“Bucky’s glad too.”

And, there it is. You should have known Sam wouldn’t leave your crush on Bucky alone. He’s always been teasing you about it, harmless teasing, but joking nonetheless. Shaking your head, you move so Sam’s arm falls from your shoulders.

“I know what you’re doing, Sam.” 

“What are you talking about? I’m just saying that he missed you,” He smiles knowingly, giving you a smirk that shows that he must be up to something. “And I know you missed him, judging by the way you were so quick to agree to the invite once I told you that he’d be here.”

“It’s just…” You sigh again, your head turning to look back at Bucky, and you’re forced back in time to right before the first war against Thanos.

Your hands are shaking, fingers never not fiddling with each other in anxiousness. You’re walking next to Bucky who, though he tries not to show it, is nervous as well. His shoulders are tense and his hands flex into fists every so often.

Then the quinjet comes into view, the other Avengers and various SHIELD members already boarding. Bucky stops abruptly next to you, causing you to stop too. Turning to look at him, you see his deeply furrowed brows, his mouth opening and closing like he’s trying to figure out what to say.

“Buck…” Whispering, your hand reaches for his, squeezing it tightly. You’re unsure as to what to say either, a tense silence building around you. You know the stakes, you know that many might not survive, but leading up to this day you’ve been praying to any God that exists to let them be okay, to let Bucky be okay.

It’s stressful for him, you know this. And you don’t know what you can do to help him if you can even do that. It brings tears to your eyes, and Bucky is quick to bring up his free hand to wipe it away.

“Listen, I-” Bucky gets cut off by Steve calling for him, letting him know that they need to leave soon. Bucky nods to him, then turns his attention back to you.

“I’ll come back soon, okay?” His voice wavers and you both know that he can’t promise that, but it does help a little knowing that he’ll try to keep it.

“You better,” You tell him with a watery laugh. “Our movie night is in two days, and there’s no one else that will watch those weird French films with me.”

Bucky chuckles and nods his head, staring into your eyes for a moment. And for a split second, you think he’s going to kiss you, you want him to kiss you. You’ve wanted it for years, praying that he returns your affections.

He doesn’t kiss you.

Instead, he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you flush to his chest in a bone-crushing hug. His head dips so it’s nuzzled into your neck. And you’re stunned for a second because Bucky has never been one for physical affection in public. But, you’ll take whatever you can get, so you hug him back, trying to squeeze him tight too.

The hug lasts longer than a hug between friends should probably last, but neither of you can seem to pull away. It takes around two minutes for Bucky to relax his hold on you enough so he can lean back and look into your eyes.

“I’ll come back to you, plum. I promise.” With that, he presses a lingering kiss to your forehead, then disentangles himself from your body so he can step back.

Watching him walk away is terrifying, heartbreaking. But you hope the small smile you give him as he steps inside and turns to face you will try to ease his own fears, and you try desperately to memorize his every feature. Now, all you can do is sit by and hope he comes back.

He doesn’t.

“Ever since… then, nothing’s been the same. I had to get away from everything, I couldn’t stay in one place for too long because I didn’t want to develop any more emotional attachments. I’ve lost so much, so many people, and I couldn’t deal with the possibility of losing anyone else.”

You pause, looking down at the ground to avoid any sympathetic look in Sam’s eyes. You’re tired of that.

“But then everyone came back, and I know I didn’t show it, but I was so happy. I was happy you guys got back, that even if things were different you were back to liven things up. I just…”

Again, you pause. Looking up towards Bucky, still playing with the boys, tears fill your eyes.

“I guess I wasn’t ready for all my emotions toward him to come back. And I knew they would as soon as I saw him.”

“And now?” Sam prods, finally managing to catch your gaze when you turn your head to face him.

“Now, I… I think I’m ready.”

____________

There’s soft jazz music playing throughout the kitchen, on a low volume because people are starting to head off to bed. You’re in the kitchen by yourself, your phone connected to the speaker, swaying your hips to the beat as you set about cleaning up the remnants of dinner and the subsequent dessert. There’s a small smile on your lips, thinking of how everyone praised your food - not the dessert, that was store-bought.

As you’re placing the rest of the dishes in the sink you hear soft footsteps rounding the corner into the kitchen. Turning around, you smile when you see him.

Bucky.

“Oh! Hey, Buck.”

His eyebrows furrow for a split second before he goes back to his ‘resting murder face’ - Sam’s words.

“Hi, Ms. Hogan.”

You let out a short chuckle, shaking your head.

“Please don’t call me that, you can call me by my real name, you know,” You give him a teasing look, then start filling the sink with water so you can rinse off the dishes. “Oh!” Pausing, you quickly go to the microwave and pull out a bowl of the stew you made.

“I saved some food for you.”

Bucky walks toward the kitchen island slowly, cautiously. As soon as he sits on the barstool you place the bowl and silverware in front of him. For a moment it looks like he doesn’t know what to do, he’s just staring at the food intensely. But then he looks up with a smile, a small one that, honestly, looks tense. Like Bucky isn’t quite sure how to do it.

“Thanks.” He looks up at you with a twinkle in his eyes, one you register as a small amount of tears. “I mean it.”

“It’s not a problem, Buck. I made too much anyway.”

With that, you go back to the sink and turn off the water, starting to rinse off the plates so you can put them in the dishwasher. It’s quiet for a long while, with you cleaning and Bucky eating. As you start wiping down the counters Bucky finally speaks up.

“It’s really good,” His voice is timid, a flush covering his cheeks.

“Thanks, it’s my mom’s recipe. She used to let me ‘help’ make dinner, so I picked up a lot of her homemade dishes.” And two seconds after you say this, Bucky speaks again.

“Where is your mom?”

And maybe you should’ve expected that question, but it still takes you off guard. It takes a moment to process it, and your head lowers.

“She’s… not alive.”

Bucky goes quiet once more, and when you turn to look at him, he looks almost guilty, like he feels he shouldn’t have asked. But you’re not mad, how could he know?

“Oh, I-I’m sorry. For asking.”

You start shaking your head immediately, “No, Buck, it’s okay. You didn’t know.” It’s silent again, except for the jazz music still playing in the background.

It takes only a few more minutes of wiping things down before you deem the kitchen clean enough. And when you look back at the man at the counter, he’s already staring at you, some unreadable expression in his eyes.

“I was twelve.”

Bucky’s eyebrows furrow and his head tilts in confusion. You go to sit next to him, facing him as he continues to slowly eat.

“I was twelve when she died. Well, my dad too. There was an… accident. A drunk driver slammed into their car on their way to pick me up from school. My father was pronounced dead on the scene, and my mom was taken to the hospital, but she died two days later.”

You can’t help but sniffle a little, catching Bucky’s attention. He looks a little worried, and you’re quick to rest one of your hands on his and squeeze it to let him know you’re okay.

“My Uncle Happy was the only relative I had left, so he took me in. He raised me pretty well, especially since I had just lost both of my parents and I didn’t exactly have the best attitude because of it. He brought me here shortly after I turned 18, and Tony let me know that I could stay here as long as I wanted.”

Bucky nods when you don’t continue, though he does look down at where your hand still rests on his. As if in slow motion, he turns his hand over so he can wrap his fingers around yours and squeeze.

“That must have been hard.”

And for once in your life, you don’t see sympathy in his eyes, you don’t hear pity in his words. Typically, people offer condolences and don’t bring up your parents again for fear of upsetting you. And while you appreciate that, you don’t want to never speak about them again, it feels like you’re forgetting them. But one thing about his statement does stand out.

He’s not being sympathetic, it’s empathy. Yeah, he’s sorry for you, but hearing him acknowledge how hard it was makes you feel better, makes you feel seen. Bucky knows better than anyone about loss, so it’s not a surprise that he knows just what to say.

“It was. It was really hard. And it still is sometimes. I’ll always love them, and I’ll always miss them. And I know it’s cliche to say, but time and work do heal wounds. Not all of them, not even most of them, but with enough effort and self-kindness, I was able to find a way to live without the constant pain that suffering can bring.”

With another squeeze of his hand, you stand up and grab his now-empty bowl. As you step around him, you place a hand on his bicep.

“You will too.”

____________

It’s nearing ten in the evening when everything finally winds down. Friends have left and Cass and AJ are forcing their eyes open to prevent themselves from falling asleep on their feet. Bucky and Sam are outside cleaning everything up while you and Sarah are inside doing the same.

“So,” Sarah starts, and you can already feel your eyes rolling. “You and Bucky, huh?”

You sigh, placing a few dishes in the sink as you shake your head.

“What about me and Bucky?”

“Oh don’t play dumb with me. I may not have known Bucky for long, and I just met you today, but I’d have to be blind to not see how you two are with each other.”

Your heart unintentionally skips a few beats, you know that Bucky may return your feelings, but accepting and confronting it without his actual input is what stalls you from doing anything.

But she does have a point, because you know that you don’t look at anyone the way you look at Bucky, you’re not as affectionate with anybody else, and you most certainly don’t tell other people what you tell him. But you don’t tell Sarah that.

“I… don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Sarah scoffs, then comes up to you so she can take hold of your arm.

“Listen,” she says, gently turning you to face her. “Like I said, I haven’t known Bucky for long. But what I do know is that I’ve never seen him smile so much, I’ve never seen the way he lights up when you look at him.”

She pauses, and for a moment you think it’s over. But, no. Of course, it’s not.

“I also know that I want him to be happy. And it just seems like you make him happy.”

Everything’s silent for a moment with you ruminating on her words. Because as much as you want to deny her claims, you can see how some of them can be true. Hell, he almost fell over when you first smiled at him.

But just as you’re about to speak, all of the boys come walking through the door.

Sam has Cass slung over his shoulder, the younger boy laughing and slapping Sam’s back as he demands to be put down.

“Sam!” Sarah scolds playfully, giving him a glare that makes him carefully place Cass down.

“What’s going on here?” Bucky asks as he follows behind AJ. And at Sarah’s knowing glance she throws your way, you quickly step in.

“Nothing, I was just telling Sarah that I can handle the rest of the cleanup while she puts the boys to bed.” You shoot her a mild glare, praying she goes along with the lie.

“Actually, I’m going to take the boy’s to their friends' house. Figured us adults could have a night without the kids.” And the knowing glance Sarah sends your way makes you want to roll your eyes. Then, as she’s ushering the boys out the door, she yells, “Goodnight everyone!”

All three of you echo her words, and when she’s finally out of earshot Sam comes up to stand between you and Bucky.

“Actually, I can handle dishes, why don’t you two head to bed? I’ll take the couch, you two take the guest room.”

Bucky’s eyes go wide, and he licks his lips nervously as he glances at you to see your reaction.

“Sam, it’s fine, I can take the couch.”

Sam shakes his head, putting a hand on each of your shoulders.

“I’m not letting a lady take the couch when there’s a perfectly good bed, and I’m definitely not sharing one with Robo here.”

All of you pause for a moment, before Sam smirks. “Unless you wanna share a bed with me?”

Bucky clears his throat, which gathers your and Sam’s attention. “N-no. No, it’s fine. I’ll share it with her.”

He says it kind of gruff, shooting a mean look at Sam. Sam, in turn, laughs, then pats both of your arms and pushes you both in the direction of the guest room.

“Well, since that’s settled, go get some beauty sleep.”

And as you’re about to walk down the hall, Sam pipes up once more. “Don’t have too much fun you two!”

And as you both enter the room, you’re suddenly nervous. Yeah, you’ve shared a bed with Bucky before, but that was Before everything. This is Now. And you’re not too sure you can get an actual good night's sleep with the man you’re in love with merely inches away.

As you’re standing in the middle of the room, Bucky appears at the door with a few clothes.

“I, um. I brought some extra clothes, you can have some if you want.” He sounds nervous, and when you turn to him you can see a blush start rising on his cheeks beneath his stubble. 

You reach out to grab the clothes he offers and his gaze falls to your hands so close to his.

Slowly, tension rises in the air, and it’s almost like everything is going in slow motion. You look up at him through your eyelashes, and he looks back at you with almost slight desperation. Both of you are quiet for a long moment before you can muster up a smile.

“Thanks, Buck.”

Then you retreat to the bathroom to change, as well as to get some much-needed space so you can calm your racing heart. 

“Jesus Christ,” You mutter to yourself as you strip your clothes. “Get it together. It’s going to be fine.” When you slip on Bucky’s maroon henley - the one you can’t help but drool over whenever Bucky wears it - you turn towards the mirror. The sleeves go past your hands so you have to roll up the sleeves just so you can use them, and it rests just above your mid-thigh. And you can’t deny the way your heart skips several beats at seeing yourself in Bucky’s clothes. It makes you feel safe, protected, and, dare you say it, loved.

After another minute of hyping yourself up, you finally exit the bathroom to see Bucky pulling out a blanket from the closet and holding an extra pillow.

“What are you doing?”

Your words make him pause, and he whips his head over to you with wide eyes. He clears his throat and licks his lips, eyes quickly dipping down to look at your bare legs before looking back up at your eyes.

“Um,” Bucky clears his throat, glancing down at the ground before turning back around. “Just getting another blanket. I’m going to sleep on the floor.”

“No, you’re not.” Walking up behind him, you place a hand on his shoulder and turn him to face you. And you’re suddenly extremely aware of the lack of space between you two. And the tension begins to rise again.

“We’ve shared a bed before, it’s fine.” Your voice is soft, and you can’t help but run your hand down his arm until you can grab his hand and pull him towards the bed. And Bucky, of course, is helpless but to follow your lead, he lets you guide him to lay on the bed while you situate yourself on the other side.

Eventually, you both are laying on your sides in the dark, facing each other. Everything is quiet, and even though the only light in the room comes from the moon shining through the window, you can still make out Bucky’s features, and his eyes that are trained intensely on yours.

“Buck-”

“Plum, I-”

Both of you laugh softly, and you reach your hand out to place it over his that’s resting between you two. “You go first.”

Bucky sighs, then nods, closing his eyes for a moment before opening them and turning his hand over so he can grasp yours.

“I was talking with Sam today,” He starts, smiling when you playfully roll your eyes. “Anyway, I was talking to Sam. And… and he was talking about how glad he was that you came today. That he missed you, and he just - just started talking about how great and wonderful you are. And you are. You really, really are. But I just couldn’t help but feel… jealous. I know he was probably just trying to rile me up, but hearing someone else talk about you like that just - it just made me realize that I don’t really have the right to be jealous. Because we’re not dating. But it also made me realize that I want to be. I mean, I’ve wanted to be with you for so long, even before the snap, and after going through so much throughout my literal hundred years of living, I don’t want to let go of anything that’s brought me happiness.”

He pauses, then releases your hand so he can bring his up to rest it on your cheek, rubbing it in slow circles with his thumb.

“You make me happy. Happier than anyone has ever made me. And I may be way off-base here, but I don’t think I am. I don’t want to waste this chance I’ve been given, so, this is how it is,” Again he pauses, scooting forward ever so slightly so he’s mere inches from your face.

“I love you, Plum.”

And you really can’t help yourself when you push forward to press your lips against his, you’ve waited too long to hear him say those words and you absolutely cannot bring yourself to care if you seem over-eager. Bucky doesn’t seem to mind, though, because he immediately starts kissing back, moving his hand from your face to run it over your arm, then moving it to lay on your waist above the blanket.

You bring one of your hands up to Bucky’s hair, threading your fingers through his strands and tugging at them, causing Bucky to moan softly. In one swift motion, Bucky flings the covers off of your bodies then turns you on your back so he can hover over you. He pulls back after a moment, simply staring down at you with such intensity that you can’t help but squirm impatiently beneath him.

“Bucky…” You whine, wrapping one arm around his neck and your other hand reaching down to sneak up his shirt to rub at his side. “I - Please, Buck.”

“Don’t worry, Plum. I’ve got you, I promise.” Bucky dives back down to capture your lips again, nipping at your bottom lip and then running his tongue through the seam of your lips to force it in your eager mouth.

Suddenly, one of his hands runs down your body, sneaking under the shirt that you’re wearing, and moaning when he finally touches your bare skin. Running that hand back up your body, he cups one of your breasts and kneads it softly, stopping every so often to pinch and rub at your nipple.

“Bucky!” You whine a little louder, though it’s still drowned out by his tongue roaming your mouth.

Bucky pulls back slightly, only to mumble “Can I take this off?” before placing another bruising kiss on your lips. And with your enthusiastic nod, he, regretfully, pulls back and rises to his knees so he can stare down at you.

After a long moment, you begin squirming again, reaching up to grasp at his shirt and tug at it impatiently.

“Buck, come on!” And maybe you should be embarrassed by how borderline pathetic you sound, but with the way his eyes darken, you can’t find it in yourself to care.

“Sorry, Plum, I just - you look so fucking good in my clothes.” He bites his bottom lip, resting his hands on your bare waist from where the shirt was pushed up.

“I bet I’ll look even better out of them.”

Bucky chuckles, then finally gets going as he helps you lift up slightly so he can take off the shirt. And then he pauses again, sighing and cursing softly under his breath.

“God, you’re so fucking beautiful. And all mine, right?”

“Yes! All yours!” You can’t help but nod wildly, wiggling underneath Bucky and gasping when you feel the very big and very hard bulge in his pants.

“Good,” He mutters, leaning down to kiss you once more. “You’re so fucking good for me, Plum.”

Your hips buck up involuntarily, your legs twitching as you let his words wash over you, sending shocks down your body. Dear God, you’ve been waiting for this forever, you’ve dreamt about what Bucky would be like in bed, what he would say to you, and it’s already surpassed anything you’ve ever fantasized about.

Bucky pulls away once again so he can quickly whip off his shirt, now allowing you free reign to look in awe at how utterly perfect he is. Except, suddenly Bucky’s gone shy. And for a moment you’re confused, why is he suddenly stopping?

Then you realize, he’s never been shirtless around you. As far as you know, he hasn’t been shirtless in front of anyone. And with the way his gaze tilts toward his shoulder, you know he’s become self-conscious.

“Buck…” You whisper, scooting back and sitting up so you’re at eye level with his chest. Carefully and slowly, you reach out to place one of your hands on his shoulder, running a finger over the worst of the scars.

“We can… um.” He stutters, face going red. “I know it doesn’t look good. I can put my shirt on if you want?”

Sighing, you keep eye contact as best you can as you lean forward to place several delicate kisses over the scars.

“I’m not bothered by them Bucky. You’ve been through so much, I know that. You know that I know that. I love you, every part of you. And whether you like it or not, these scars are a part of you. They don’t change any of my feelings towards you.” You pause, placing one more kiss before leaning back and bringing your hands up to cup his face.

“You can put it back on if you want, but I’d prefer to really see you. I’ve been waiting for this for too long, you have no idea how much I’ve wanted to see you like this. How much I’ve wanted to kiss you all over, to care for you just like you deserve.”

A sniffle sounds through the air, and the tears in Bucky’s eyes are prominent as one slides down his cheek.

“Can I?”

Immediately, Bucky nods, letting you push him onto his back so you can climb over him and straddle his waist, sitting directly over his clothed crotch. You gaze down at him with as much love in your eyes as you can muster, guiding his hands to settle on your hips so he can guide them to rub and roll over his hard-on.

“I love you, Buck.”

Another tear slides down his cheek, and he nods as he echoes your words. Placing your hands on his chest, you roll your hips a little harder, running your hands over his stomach up to his chest, then back down.

“Can I… I want-” He says, a frustrated look on his face as though he doesn’t know what he’s trying to say.

“What do you want, baby?” His hips buck up, a small groan leaving his lips.

“Want you to ride my face. Please, Plum, I need it.”

Now it’s your turn to moan, and you nod your head as you get off of his body, pulling down your underwear to throw them off to the side. Then you shuffle so you can swing your leg over his head, hovering over him ever so slightly as you wait for him to start. But he doesn’t. He simply huffs frustratedly before gripping your thighs and pulling you down so you’re sitting on his face properly.

And that’s when he gets going, placing kisses wherever he can before licking a long stripe from your hole up to your clit, then wrapping his lips around the bud and sucking it into his mouth.

“Ah! Oh, oh, Bucky! Baby!” You can’t help but whine, mindful of the fact that there are other people in the house.

Bucky groans, deep in his chest that travels up to your pussy, causing you to whine again. You can’t help but roll your hips over his face, eyes going wide and mouth dropping open when Bucky brings up two cold metal fingers to trace them around your hole. As he nips at your clit he pushes both fingers into your hole, and you have to bite down hard on your lip to prevent from screaming in pleasure.

Your hips roll faster, bouncing slightly with every harsh thrust of his fingers. And tears start forming in your eyes as your stomach starts tightening, forcing your legs to tighten around his head, which he doesn’t seem to mind at all.

In fact, you notice Bucky’s hips thrust up into the air once more, and you turn as much as you can to see a wet patch forming on the front of his sweatpants. Then, an idea pops into your head.

“Buck, stop.”

Quickly, Bucky releases his tight hold on your hips and lets you sit up. And he’s in the middle of asking what’s wrong when you turn over so you’re facing his crotch. With a smirk, you settle back down on his face while you pull down his sweatpants to let his cock spring out.

Bucky gasps into your pussy, then moans louder when you grasp his cock - the tip an angry red and pulsing in need. Lowering your body, you press yourself against his and take the tip of his cock in your mouth, suckling softly and swirling your tongue around the tip. You give Bucky a minute to get used to the pleasure before rolling your hips back down over his face which causes him to get with the program. Bucky starts to eat you out again, licking at your pussy, shoving his tongue as deep into your hole as it can get.

And it goes on for what feels like forever while also not long enough before you feel your core tighten again, and you roll your hips more frantically as you take Bucky’s cock down your throat so it hits the back of it. Bucky shouts, the sound gets drowned out by your pussy and the sounds of your slurping.

It’s not the best head you’ve ever given, but Bucky can’t seem to tell with the way one of his hands stays planted on your thigh while the other goes down to your head to guide you up and down his cock. And when Bucky sucks your clit back into his mouth, his teeth nipping at it, you explode, moaning as best you can as your orgasm washes through your body. The moans travel down Bucky’s cock, and without warning his cock pulses before coming.

Bucky forces your hips to continue rolling over his face to prolong his and your orgasms. And it takes a few moments for it to subside and you’re finally too sensitive to continue. But, eventually, you’re able to roll off of Bucky’s body and turn so you can flop down next to him, both of you breathing heavily.

It takes another minute to calm your racing heart, and when you turn to face him, you see him already looking at you.

“Hey,” You whisper, smiling widely.

“Hey,” He whispers back, smiling too. Then, he moves forward to place a kiss on your forehead before trailing more kisses down to your lips, where he places a chaste kiss against your lips before pulling back to stare into your eyes.

“I love you, Plum,” He says, sighing happily.

“I love you too, Buck.”

Then, Bucky shuffles down, covering your body with his and placing his head over your chest. You wrap your arms around him, holding him tightly and placing kisses on the top of his head.

“Goodnight, Buck.”

And you feel Bucky smile as he says, “Goodnight, Plum.”

[vex91]

Just Friends

Chapter 4: Sleepover

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

3rd's POV

"Hanni unnie come on, don't be like that" You whined as you hit the older girl repeatedly in the arm. Hanni was hiding her head under your pillows to show her protest in listening to you talking about Minji again. As much as she wanted you and Minji to be together she was tired of hearing the same things over and over again.

"I really miss her unnie"

"Our break up was so stupid, I can't believe we actually ended things just because of that"

"Do you think she still likes me?"

"Unnie this is serious" You laughed as she groaned under the pillow. She may look done with you but you know that deep down she could never, she cares about you too much after all. Laughing Hanni finally sat back down where she was before with a defeated sigh "Y/N I've heard this so much already, just talk with her and find out if she wants to get back together" She said taking another pack of chips from the bag.

You sighed deeply at her words "It's not that easy unnie, what if she doesn't like me anymore?" You leaned your head on her shoulder, Hanni looked at you sympathetically as she knew how worried you were. You really liked Minji after all.

"Well how about I'll help you find out? It's probably gonna be easier if the two of us work on it" She smiled at you while petting your head gently. She had the softest spot for you and she didn't hide it. Truthfully if you needed her help, even if she acts like she doesn't wanna help she still will. Your eyes got brighter as you looked at her with an excited smile "Really?" She laughed at your reaction.

"Yes really but we're done talking about it for now, I bought movies that we need to watch today" She said dramatically as she reached out for the stack of movies "It's a must huh?" You asked to which she responded immediately "Of course, we need to teach you the culture of these movies because how do you live not knowing any of them" Hanni shook her head in disbelief as she put on the first movie, you laughed at her exaggeration but complied.

"All right, what do you have there?"

~~~~~~

Danielle watched Haerin as she kept looking at Y/N's room. A frown etched on younger girl's face as all different thoughts ran through her mind, the biggest one being Hanni making moves on you. Sighing Danielle poked Haerin's cheek causing the girl to look at her "Hae don't you think it's enough of looking at the door, it's not like you're gonna see through them to see what they're doing" Haerin knew that Danielle was right but her eyes still couldn't help but look at the door.

"I mean you could try but I don't think it'll do anything. How about we go out and eat something? To take your mind off of it?" Danielle took Haerin's hand squeezing it a bit. Haerin hesitated still looking in the direction of your door but in the end she complied and let the older girl drag her out of the dorms. Despite her mind still thinking about you and Hanni, Haerin found herself smiling at the bright girl in front of her.

"Maybe eating out won't be too bad if I'm with you"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Summary: Y/N and Minji were a couple even before their debut but they broke up not long after it. Despite that Y/N still had some feelings left for the older girl. Haerin who was in love with Y/N couldn't stand the fact that for the girl she was just a friend. Will she be able to change Y/N's mind?

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[callsignthirsty]

Hi please would you write an iceman x reader and hes her first ❤ thank u

He ran away and never came back. You remained a virgin until your death. The end.

Nah. I’m just teasing.

Sorry this took so long for me to get around to. I hope that you like it.

Pairing: Tom “Iceman” Kazansky x F!Reader Word Count: 5000 Warnings: Smut, virgin!reader, maybe slight OOCness Minors DNI

Good Advice

It had been a typical Friday night, spent over drinks with his RIO and his girl. Or, he hoped you were still his girl after this. Actually — were you ever?

You'd grown up around each other, leapfrogging from base to base as military brats do. There'd always been something there, but neither of you had been in the same place long enough to partake in more than flirty words and stolen glances. Truthfully, Ice had been excited to see you again. When the stars and Navy aligned to bring the two of you back together — him a student at Top Gun and you a registered nurse.

Old routines are hard to break.

It felt natural to fall back into those glances, but there was nothing to stop either of you this time. Too-long brushes of fingers became an arm across your shoulders became his arm around your waist became his lips on yours on more than one occasion.

It was nice to be together like that after all the years spent wondering what if.

You were all over each other in the backseat of Ice's car when you hit him with a sighed confession: "I've never done this before." And honestly, the thought had never even crossed Ice's mind, so he chuckled. Genuinely thought that you were joking until he caught the look in your eyes that said you were as serious as the heart attack you nearly gave him. So Ice had done the only logical thing:

Got out of the car without saying a single goddamn thing and walked out of The O Club's parking lot into the setting sun.

* * *

Ice has walked all the way from the O Club to the line of houses that he and the other Top Gun students have been assigned, but it isn't his own door that he's standing in front of.

He knocks before he can chicken out, and he waits.

"Ice?"

"Goose."

"What the hell are you doing here?" Ice supposes the question is fair enough. Ice has only stepped foot in Slider's assignment despite multiple invitations to Wolf's, 'wood's, and Goose's. Not that he didn't like Goose — everyone liked Goose — he just preferred to steer clear of his pilot.

The thought of Maverick has Ice hesitating. The last thing he wants is for this to reach the wrong ears, and god knows that Maverick will never let him live this down if he catches wind of it. "Is Mitchell here?"

"No." Goose's brows furrow. "Why? Are you okay, man?"

Ice nods. "Can I come in?"

Goose gets out of the way so Ice can make himself comfortable on the standard issue couch with which all the housing assignments are decorated. Faced with the reality of his situation, Ice suddenly wishes he was anywhere else. But Ice likes you, and he cares about you enough to put himself through a bit of embarrassment to ensure he does right by you. And Bradshaw is married, so it stands that he'd be good at this emotional shit.

This knowledge, however, doesn't make his question any easier to spit out. In fact, every minute he sits on it, it gets exponentially more challenging to put into words. Because Ice is absolutely ashamed to admit that when you told him you were still a virgin and wanted him to be your first, he ran away.

That doesn't mean he likes the shit-eating grin on Goose's face when the words finally come tumbling out of him. God, he hopes he isn't as red as he feels.

"Aww," Goose teases. "The Iceman does have a heart. Just needed a little time to thaw out." And yeah. Maybe this was a bad idea. Ice fidgets in his seat, not entirely sure where to go from there. "Need advice on how to treat her right? That it?"

Ice is contemplating running from the house when a head of blonde hair pops out from around the wall that separates the living room from the kitchen. "Oh, Nick! Be nice. Can't you see the poor thing's terrified?"

"It's not every day we see Ice squirm," Goose says with a mischievous smile at his wife. "I was having fun."

"Well, I think it's sweet that he's askin'," she says, joining them in the living room. "Just be gentle, honey. Get her a pillow and go slow. As long as you're putting her first, everything'll be fine."

Ice breaks out of his shock with the realization that he and Goose aren't alone. Mrs. Bradshaw is there as well. "It's family weekend." And he's invited himself into Bradshaw's house. "I'll just go…." He's about to turn and leave as suddenly as he'd asked himself in, but his mother raised him better than that. He turns back to Goose's wife — Carole, if memory serves — and says: "I don't know how to thank you."

"Nonsense." Carole smiles, and dread settles in the pit of Ice's stomach when the same glint he's seen in Mav's and her husband's eyes lights her own. "Our babysitter fell through last minute." Not five minutes later, Bradley is on Ice's hip, and Carole's promising: "We'll be back in a couple hours."

So, Ice spends the night babysitting, which is so far from how he'd thought the night was going to go. It would've been funny if it had happened to anyone else, but it's him. It's nearly midnight when Goose and Carole return, the blonde woman picking Bradley up from where he's fallen asleep on the sofa and carrying him upstairs to bed. Ice shakes Goose's hand before he begins the long walk back to his car.

He drives by your house on the way back to his assignment. Your light is on, so he pulls up to the curb. Instinct tells him to go to you, smooth things over, and tell you that he's been an idiot, but instinct had also gotten him into this mess. No. Knocking on your door now would be adding insult to injury. So he goes home.

* * *

Ice has some nerve to show up at your door the following day, a bouquet of pink and white lilies clutched between his hands. Does he have any idea how embarrassed you were? Splayed shirtless across the backseat of his car as he'd run off like he was an Olympic sprinter and not a fighter pilot. You're about to give him a piece of your mind when—

"I'm sorry."

—he apologizes and shocks you into silence.

"Can I come in?"

The answer is on the tip of your tongue, but you don't think you've ever seen Ice apologize before. Instead of a bitter 'No, Tom. Now get out of my sight and take your stupidly gorgeous flowers with you,' you reach out to take the bouquet. "Let's put these in some water."

By the time you've found a vase and set the flowers on your coffee table, Ice has made himself exceedingly uncomfortable on the edge of your sofa.

"Last night," he starts once you sit opposite him on the other side of the coffee table, his hands clasped to keep from fidgeting, "you caught me by surprise." It's the truth. Ice hadn't imagined what you'd said could've been true. You're sweet and kind and beautiful. Anyone would be lucky to have you tucked beneath their arm. How you've reached your mid-twenties without sleeping with anyone is beyond him. "I shouldn't have walked away like that," he concedes. "But you- we-." He swallows, eyes locking with yours. "I was worried."

"Oh," you say. Of all the scenarios that ran through your head before and after your confession, a worried Iceman was not one of them.

"I care about you—" his words make your heart swell "—and I was worried that I wouldn't be good for you."

Getting up from your spot, you slide onto the cushion next to him until your knees knock, and you're cradling his face in your hands. "How could you be anything but good for me?" And Ice thinks there are so many reasons and ways, but none of that matters when you bring your lips to his in a gentle press.

"I'd still like to give this a go if you're not going to run away this time," you say, aiming for bold, but your cheeks dust pink.

"Are you sure?" You nod, and that's all the answer Ice needs. "Then I'm not going anywhere." You're smiling when you pull him into the next kiss, but Ice keeps it slow, almost chaste. "We should probably take this to the bedroom."

Ice wants to do this right, so he takes your hand in his and lets you lead him down the hall.

He stopped by the pharmacy on his way to your house and has everything the two of you could possibly need for this to go well. He sets it all on the bedside table before he steps in close, pressing your foreheads together as one of his hands finds the curve of your waist and rubs soothing circles there. He seems more nervous than you, standing with his lips so close to yours but not making a move to close the distance.

"It's just a kiss, Tom," you say with a smile. "We've done this part before."

"I know."

"We've done a lot of this part before." You press a peck to his lips. "Don't overthink it."

So Ice slots your lips together like you're at the O or in the backseat of his car. You both sigh into it, your eyes drifting shut as you let your hands wander and brush clothes aside to reveal soft skin.

Ice's shirt is on the floor when his fingers work on your blouse, his lips leaving tender kisses with each button undone until the fabric slips from your arms. Strong hands cup your breasts through the thin fabric of your bra, and you want to tear it off with each kiss Ice presses into your cleavage and back up your neck.

Ice's fingers take their time to return to your front when your bra hits the floor, goosebumps littered in their wake. You suck in a breath when he thumbs over a nipple.

"Is this okay?"

"Yes." Your answer is breathy, your lips seeking out his. Your skin sizzles everywhere it's pressed against Ice, but he's backing up. You're worried he's about to run for a split second, but the hot mouth on your nipple interrupts your whine for him to come back, a surprised moan tumbling out instead. "Oh god."

"You're so sensitive, aren't you?" he asks as a hand comes up to knead at your other breast, then he's ducking down to lick over your tit again. Wrapping his plush lips around the suddenly perky nipple. It's like he's lit a match, heat prickling along your chest, centering where his mouth applies slick, gentle pressure, unlike anything you've felt before. Barely-there teeth graze the sensitive bud, and your surprised jump earns you a chuckle. "Sorry, sweetheart." His tongue apologetic, whereas his tone is anything but. A whine spills from your kiss-stung lips as Ice's eyes meet yours. There's hardly any color left in them — pupils blown wide and eclipsing the blue with a rampant lust that makes your stomach turn in excitement.

"Honey," he purrs. His voice has a dry, raspy undercurrent that you're hopelessly enamored with. "You gonna make more of those sounds for me?" Ice asks as he stands upright, one hand massaging your chest as his other cups your cheek, bringing your lips close to his again. "I wanna know when I'm making you feel good."

You continue to undress each other in a similar fashion: one piece at a time as Ice leaves supple, slow kisses on every inch of your exposed skin, wordlessly conveying his adoration for every part of you until you're both down to your underwear. Then, he takes a step back, eyes a piercing blue as they rake over you.

You take the opportunity to climb onto the bed, eyes locked on his as his fingers dip below the waistline of his briefs and push them down his muscled thighs. You try to keep your eyes on his face, but they're drawn down, down, down past the defined 'V' of his hips to…

You flush red from the tips of your ears to your chest, but Ice isn't the least bit shy. Who would be with a body like that? And maybe you should've been more nervous, but when he joins you on the bed, you're itching to run your hands over him. Grab ahold of his broad shoulders. Drag your fingers over the hills and valleys of his front. You want to touch him, but you're not sure where to begin.

Ice rolls to the side as if he can sense your hesitance, leaning casually against your headboard. He opens his mouth — no doubt to offer you encouragement or ask if you're okay with this — but chokes on his words when you wrap a hand around him. Your eyes flicker to his dazed expression, a coquettish smile on your lips. "Is this right?" you ask as you give a light squeeze and feel him pulse in your hand.

You could get used to Ice's slack-jawed pleasure, the little groan he lets out as his head tips back and his eyes slip close. "Y-yeah," he manages to say after a moment. "You could do this, too." His hand rests over the top of yours, adjusting your grip on his cock and showing you how and where to apply pressure to make his toes curl.

But you don't spend much time with your hand wrapped around Ice. Sooner than you'd like, he shifts to bring your lips together, licking into your mouth while he takes your hand off of him. "As much as I like your hand on my cock, sweetheart," he husks, palms massaging at your hips before he thumbs at the thin band of your panties, "tonight's about you."

You lift your hips so that Ice can slide your panties down, and just like that, you're naked as the day you were born. A thrill makes its way up your spine that's equal parts nerves and excitement as Ice's fingers skate up your legs. He pauses when he reaches your upper thighs, fingers purposefully exploring everywhere but where you want him most.

“Has anyone touched you here?” Ice asks when his fingers finally slide against slick folds, gathering the wetness there and spreading it as you suck in a breath.

"Do I count?"

And Ice groans because no, you don't count. He presses a finger to your entrance. "This okay?"

You nod — "Please." — and he's pressing into you slowly. His finger is so much bigger than your own that you can't help but squeeze around him, unable to watch as the finger sinks into you and too flustered to look into his eyes.

"You're so wet," he coos, finger sliding from your walls as they try to hold him in place only to press back in. And you arch when his finger curls to catch your sweet spot. He takes advantage of your moan to slide his tongue against yours, two fingers massaging at your opening. "Think you can handle more?" You nod, and Ice squeezes both fingers into you, biting back a groan as you hiss and jerk your hips away from the sting of the larger intrusion.

Ice hates knowing he's the reason you're uncomfortable, but he isn't sure what he can do to help. He's almost as out of his element as you are. So, he kisses from the corner of your lips down the valley of your breasts. Distracts you with lips and teeth until your skin bears the red blossom of his affection and your hand is tangled in his hair. He licks over the mark with a satisfied hum and waits until you relax before beginning to pump his fingers slowly in and out of you. As you push back against his hand, his beautifully intense eyes are on yours again. "How're you feeling?"

"Full," you answer truthfully, not sure what to make of the feeling yet.

Ice lets out an amused exhale at your honesty. Two fingers are hardly comparable to what you've both got planned. "You're doing so good, baby," he whispers just loud enough for you to hear it. Purposefully crooks his fingers so a surprised moan tumbles from your lips. "Think you can handle one more? I'll make you feel good."

The promise in his eyes has you nodding. Ice removes his fingers from you before crawling down your body. Pressing a kiss to your ribs, above your belly button, against each of your hip bones. Your heart rate picks up as he lowers himself to the bed between your spread thighs. "You don't have to." Honestly, you're embarrassed at the idea of him putting his mouth on you down there.

But Ice rubs three fingers against your slit, and you tense up. "I want to." And as his fingers dip into your heat, he drags the flat of his tongue over your clit.

You aren't responsible for the way your hips buck into the wet pressure against your bundle of nerves or the wild noise that tears itself from you.

One of your arms comes up to cover your eyes when Ice sucks gently on your clit. He could do whatever he wanted to you so long as he kept doing that. Distantly, you're aware that he's got all three of his fingers knuckle-deep in you, and it burns, but that can be brushed aside. All that matters is how his tongue teases against you and how his other hand encourages you to chase your pleasure against his face.

You've gotten yourself off before, but that's nothing compared to what Ice has brewing in the pit of your stomach. It's toe-curling, tear-stirring, and you can't keep your mouth shut for the life of you. Not that Ice is complaining. When his mouth does leave you, it's to tell you how good you're doing, how pretty you are, how good you taste. How well you're taking his fingers.

Until the pressure is about to snap and your thighs begin to shake with the intensity of it.

And Ice pulls away.

"Feel good, sweetheart?"

"Well, I was." You fix him with a glare. "Why'd you stop?" It isn't a question so much as a demand for an answer. You'd been so close, then nothing.

"Didn't want you to finish before the main event," Ice says as he slips from the bed. "You still up for it?" He's fiddling with the foil packet in his fingers. "We don't have to."

But you're riding too high on the idea of it. Have wanted this for too long to let it slip through your fingers when you're so close. "Tom." You bite your lip in a way that you hope is alluring. "C'mere."

Ice rolls the condom on, slicks it up with a packet of lube — anything to make it easier for you — and climbs back onto your bed. He rolls you so you're resting on top of him. His cock pressed against your thigh as your legs fall on either side of his hips. "It'll be easier if you can control it," he assures you, thumbs back to tracing delicate patterns into your skin while he tries to keep from grinding his hips up into you.

"So I just–" you lift yourself off his lap and look down at his cock lying against his toned stomach "–sit back on it?"

"That's the gist of it. Nervous?"

"No." But your answer comes too fast to be sincere.

"Don't be," Ice says. A hand leaves your hip to cup your cheek, and you press into the caress. It isn't often that Ice completely drops the cool confidence he's so known for, and you revel in this warmer side of him. Soak it in like the sun. "We'll take it at your pace." You nod.

"How do I–?"

"Here, let me just–"

The two of you shift awkwardly until you feel the blunt head of his cock pressed against your slick folds. Before Ice can offer you another out, you push back, baring your teeth and hissing as the fat head slips inside you. Even after Ice's three fingers, the stretch is a lot.

Ice's jaw clenches, his hands grabbing big handfuls of your bedsheets. "You're doing great. Just go slow." His fingers flex and relax as he forces himself to take deep breaths in his nose and out his mouth. You're so tight and hot and his head is spinning. But he refuses to look away as you grow accustomed to his girth.

Slowly, you work your way down until — after what feels like and may well be an eternity later — you're fully seated in his lap.

"Is it okay if we stay here for a bit?" you ask.

His voice is strained when he tells you to take all the time you need. At a loss for what else to do, his hands massage your thighs where they're strained around his hips. Runs a hand up along the long line of your back until he's cupping your breasts again. He hopes that his gentle touch is helping to take your mind off the stretch. It helps, but what you really want is his lips on yours. To get lost in his mouth until the discomfort dissolves into the pleasure you've been promised. That he'd given you a taste of and then taken away. But with the way he's laid out on your pillows, you're not sure you can reach his lips, so you settle for pressing a kiss into his palm when his thumb brushes against your cheekbone.

You tentatively rock your hips against Ice's when the ache begins to dull. A simple back and forth that makes him grunt in surprise, but the feeling isn't uncomfortable anymore. It just feels new.

"You don't have to move if you aren't ready." His hand squeezes you reassuringly.

"I know," you say, moving on his lap again. The same forward and back motion. "I want to." You can feel his muscles tensing with the effort to lay still while you experimentally rock against him. Can see the strain in his neck and across his brow and in the sweat that gathers at his temples. And you like that you're able to reduce him to this.

You're so busy watching Ice's face that you don't notice when his thumb presses against your clit. You fall forward, bracing yourself on his chest, head falling forward as you keen, trying to roll on into his touch. "That's it," Ice encourages, his voice rough like he's been running. "Feeling good, baby?" Instead of answering, your hips pick up speed. Grinding into Ice's fingers and back onto his cock as you get used to the feel of him inside you, your earlier discomfort starts to give way to pleasure. Little sparks light up your nerves. "C'mon," he grunts. "Gotta tell me how it feels."

"It feels—" you try to concentrate on the feeling. It doesn't hurt anymore, but it's a far cry from what you felt earlier. "—different."

"Good different, bad different?"

You swivel your hips, and Ice's eyes are half-lidded.

"Good, I think?"

Ice nods, his adam's apple bobbing. "You can also try…" he trails off.

"Try what?"

His hands still your hips, then his arms flex as he helps you raise them an inch or two off his lap before slowly lowering you back down. You repeat the motion, lifting yourself off of Ice's lap and then sitting back, his cock rubbing against something that makes you groan. "Like this?"

"Yeah, baby. Just like that," Ice encourages, eyes torn between looking into your face and watching how you take him so well. A groan rumbles deep in his chest, and you decide that you like it, so you lift yourself up again. And again. Each rise and fall unhurried. Exploratory. "Doing so good."

It isn't long before your legs start to tire. The strain from straddling Ice and bouncing slowly in his lap is too much for you to keep up with. Sensing this, Ice sits up and gathers you in his arms. Your legs give out, gratefully coming to a stop as he holds you to his chest and captures your lips in a languid kiss.

"Hang on to me, sweetheart." That's all the warning Ice gives you before he's tipping you backward and stretching over you, his hips snug to yours as he lays you on your back and sucks your lower lip into his mouth. "You did so good," he praises, running his hands soothingly over your legs as they fall tired and boneless at his sides. "Let me take care of you."

You nod, your eyes half-lidded as Ice's breath puffs against your cheeks. This is what had been missing in your previous position. The closeness. Your hands snake up from Ice's shoulders to cup his strong jaw, your noses bumping as you pull his lips to brush over yours. Your sigh washes over him, nails catching in his hair as he pushes into you from this new angle, cock nudging against your sweet spot with delicious precision.

His body is screaming for him to pick up the pace, but Ice can't bring himself to do that without making sure you're okay. He's about to ask for what must be the umpteenth time when your head tilts back, your back arching with a wanton moan as you bring your breasts flush with his chest.

"Oh my god."

"That feel good, baby?" His eyes follow the flicker of your tongue as it peeks out to wet your lips. He pulls out a little further and sinks back into you at the same angle, hoping for a similar reaction and getting it — your mouth falling slack as you quiver beneath him. "I'm going to speed up." He waits for your nod, then sets a pace you'll be comfortable with, biting at the inside of his cheek to keep himself in check as you push into each roll of his hips, moans falling unchecked from your lips.

"Just like that. Oh, fuck."

"That's it," he encourages, littering your neck with increasingly sloppy kisses, nipping and sucking at your collarbone. "Tell me what you need."

Your hands have moved from his hair to clutch at his shoulder blades, nails digging in and leaving behind little half moons every time your hands scramble for a new purchase. Your face is flushed a delightfully amorous red, eyes glazed and swimming half-focused between Ice's lips, face, and the ceiling as you shout your pleasure for all to hear. For Ice to hear.

"Touch me," you finally gasp, eyes screwing shut before you blink up at him again. "Please, Tom. I'm so– fu– touch me, please, please, please."

As if he'd ever be able to deny you anything.

Fingers find your clit, cock nailing your sweet spot, and your reaction is instantaneous. Pleasure arcs white-hot across your nerves, sizzling and popping beneath your skin as you writhe.

"Holy shit," you finally sigh, content to melt into your comforter as the afterglow of your high continues to fizzle through your veins. You bring Ice into a lazy kiss, only to grunt when he pulls out of you.

He's still hard.

"You didn't…?" You reach for him as soon as it registers. Ice lets out a throaty groan when your fingers wrap around him like he'd shown you earlier.

"You don't have to," he says even as his hips fuck forward into your fist.

"But I want to." Ice looks like he's about to protest, but you stop him: "Let me take care of you. Please." 

"Yeah." His eyes close, and he swallows, sitting up, and you follow him. "Yeah, okay." He strips the condom off and takes his cock in hand, pumping it a couple of times before he lets you take over, kneeling at his side and nibbling along the sharp line of his jaw. Tasting the salt on his skin.

You watch as Ice is slowly undone by your hand. Head tilting back and Adam's apple bobbing as you thumb over the head. Brows furrowing. Mouth falling slack. Hips pressing into each stroke. More noises fall from his pretty lips as he watches the way you squeeze him, precum beading at his tip and cock twitching, and you savor it. Like that you're the one wringing each noise and twitch out of him.

Curiosity gets the better of you as the press of Ice's hips into your hand grows sloppy, and you lower yourself down to the bed. Your breath ghosts over your fist. Ice lets out a needy whine as your eyes lock with his from beneath your lashes, and you tentatively stick your tongue out for the tiniest taste of him. A kitten lick. That proves to be Ice's undoing. His cock twitches, hips pressing frantically into your hand as he moans. Thick ropes of cum coat your hand and land on his abs as he heaves for breath.

"Good?"

Ice chuckles. "I'm supposed to be asking you that."

"I asked first." You smile playfully and bite your lip when Ice looks down at the mess you've both made of him as if that should be answer enough.

"Where did you learn that?" he can't help by ask. He's unable to get the image of you on your knees with your pink tongue on his cock out of his mind's eye, and he's pretty sure it's seared into his brain.

You blush, looking away as you nervously bite at your lip. "I might've asked my friends for some advice."

Ice wants to laugh; instead, he presses a kiss to the crown of your head as he gets up to find some tissues. So he isn't the only one who'd asked for advice.

[dumbass-tumbler-cryptid]

Hi can you give some new snippet? Doesn't matter which scenario (btw, I hope these questions about the snippets don't annoy you, if that's the case please let me know!)

They don't annoy me at at all 😊It's lets me know that people are excited to read the story so I actually really appreciate them.💞

********************************************************************

“Psstt…M.J” Lyle loudly whispered. He was red faced and slightly unsteady on his feet. “You want to try one?” He held out a beer for him.

   Truthfully the answer was yes. He was curious to know how alcohol would affect him. But he didn’t take the offered drink. “I don’t know if Pa…”

   Lyle rolled his eyes. “Hey Colonel!” Pa looked up with a start, having been in a deep conversation with Uncle Ja.

   “What!” He hollard annoyed.

    “Can I give M.J his first beer?”

    Pa sighed, “does he want to try it?”

    Lyle looked at Miles prompting him to answer. “Sure, I guess.”

    Pa threw his arms up. “Fine then. If y’a end up likin’ it you can have two more then you’re done. Got it.”

    “Yes sir!” Lyle eagerly handed him his first beer. Miles tentatively took a sip. It tasted like carbonated bread. He didn’t love the drink but he didn’t hate it either. After a few swigs he got used to the taste, downing the thing like nothing. Mansk handed him another, along with a burger, telling him to, “always eat something when you drink.”

    The burger tasted so good too. The best he’d ever had, hands down. He was feeling so incredibly happy, not a thought in his head as he continued to eat and drink. His relatives suddenly seemed to find him much more entertaining, all of them crowding around him, making pleasant conversation, but with an underlying feeling that they were waiting for something. Too soon, his second beer was gone, Uncle Fike supplying him with another. His last one. Or at least the last one Pa said he could have.

     When no one was looking he snuck his fourth drink out of a cooler. Then later a fifth. And a sixth. “Miles….” Pa called, giving him a hard questioning look. 

    Miles was unfazed. Grinning from ear to ear he approached his father, wobbling slightly as he went. “Yeah.”

   “You’ve been nursing that beer for a mighty long time”

    Miles rocked back and forth on his heels, twisting a lock of hair around his finger. “Sure have.”

    Pa snatched up the hand that was playing with his hair, holding him securely by the wrist. “And how many drinks have you had?”

   He shrugged, “how ever many you said I could have.”

   His father grunted, “and how many was that son?”

   “Aaahhhh ….six.”

    Pa sighed, pinching the bridge of nose. He cupped his son’s face in both of his hands, studying him. “Eh, you're not that drunk. You're just acting a fool because it’s your first time. I’ll let it slide since this is your party. But you best believe we are going to have a talk about you disobeying me, got it?”

   Miles gave him a heavy, clumsy nod, then stumbled into a hug. “Thanks Pa.”

    His father chuckled, returning the hug. “Guess you’re a cuddly drunk.”

[greycappedjester]

hey! hope you’re doing well. I’m starting to reread the HQ at Hogwarts series because I needed a change of pace from my work at uni (and it’s a comfort read of mine). anywho, I was wondering if you had a favorite quote from any of your stories that you wrote and why (or just the quote if it is to avoid spoilers)? like were there any quotes that really made a scene worth writing to you?

Oooh I love this ask, thank you!

Let's see, I don't know if these are my favorite but they're lines that come to mind a lot that I'm specifically proud of (tbh I tend to forget lines until I'm re-reading one of my stories and see it and go "oh yeah, that one")

I'll try to do one per series. I can't really pick one from Past is a Mirror or Call Me Your Home At Night yet, I'll have to wait until they're more done:

ATFO:

Oof somehow this is the hardest series to choose just one line from. That said, it's a super dark line for a dark chapter but I really love the use of homophones in this one.

Dick tilts his head up to the sky and laughs.

Laughs until it hurts and it does, it hurts so much, and that just makes him laugh more--throwing his arms out like he can fly on the ground and turning in a circle in a dirt covered Gotham alley that even the morning can’t erase.

Because Robin always smiles when it’s dark. Until it’s morning again.

Or mourning again.

….Dick’s laugh fades out.

Cards:

And, eight years old and with a bone deep gravity too heavy for his small body, Kuroo Tetsuro quietly made a vow even if Kozume Kenma would never hear it.

I’m going to build a kingdom around you.

(Not a line but Tsuki and Hinata's final conversation in Shufling the Deck is what really sold me on writing that sequel)

Walking With My Eyes Open/ In Spite of Ourselves:

Honestly for short stories this series has some of my favorite conversations; but, a couple of favorite lines are these two.

But, human shoulders weren’t meant to bear the expectations of divinity.

and

A riddle, Schrodinger’s long lost love letter. Gen had proof he fell in love--was dying to try even--yet still couldn’t quite believe it. So, which was the lie?

Hq at Hogwarts:

I really love the prologue for Department of Mysteries; I wrote it waaaay before I posted it and was excited about posting it for awhile. I think the end just eally says everything about how long and how deeply Akaashi does love Bokuto.

He was bright and happy and so deeply good in a way that was everything Akaashi wanted that he fell in love by the time he took the hand.

“I’m Keiji.”

Investigators Inc.:

Truthfully, my favorite of my humorous stories; I like this exchange a lot from when their van breaks down. It just eels like it really fits all of them.

“I’m looking up directions,” Suga said, already pulling out his phone.

“But….but, map !” Oikawa held it up even as it drooped around him.

“Great,” Kuroo said, “we can use it for shelter when we’re stuck out here and have to take up foraging.”

Bokuto brightened. “Ooh, I’ve got a pocket knife!”

“Yay, we’ll need it to fight off the wolves,” Kuroo said.

“I don’t think it’s that dire,” Suga said, showing them the screen. “There’s a town pretty close by. Can’t find a taxi or a towing service, though. We may have to walk if Iwaizumi can’t fix it. It’s about an hour.”

Kuroo shrugged. “Honestly, Iwaizumi can probably fix it. He’s like the machine whisperer or something.”

“Iwaizumi cannot fix it,” Iwaizumi said from right beside the passenger window and Oikawa jumped. “The transmission’s out.”

“Then, put it back in,” Bokuto suggested.

Iwaizumi stared. “I’m seriously having all of you read a car manual one of these days."

Thanks again for the ask! Trutfully I always love hearing what people's favorite lines are; I just think it's really neat to see what sticks with people and I'm always touched that it could be something I wrote.

[placeinthemiddleofnowhere]

Hey! I love Bring Me A Dream! It's such a joy to read! I always look forward for the next chapter. I was wondering if our sweet dream and Corinthian would ever go to swimming? To the sea or a some pool? I feel like sweet dream would be really excited and would have lots of fun. And Corinthian would be sitting and watching her. Maybe he would be a little jealous of others' gaze.

Thank you so much for sending me this, I know its been a while, but I finally got round to writing something for it! I loved how cute it was, but also couldn't help but add in some antagonising, because I loooove writing scenes with him teasing reader 💕

Hope you enjoy ✨

(Let's say that this was set sometime after chapter 3)

A brief interlude: Sea Salt Caramel Shortcake

Series Masterlist

-🍰-

You couldn’t believe you let him talk you into it.

When you’d originally made your creation, you’d been ecstatic with them. Sea salt caramel shortcake. A new recipe that you took a gamble on. A treat that, once baked, had made you think of a hot coffee on a brisk day at the beach, or a day at the harbour, looking out over a saltwater-worn pier at a high tide. It was one of your more wholesome bakes you’d made since meeting your nightmare.

However, upon seeing you giving out your delicious treats to people that weren’t him, Corinthian couldn’t help but hatch a plan to re-center himself in your spotlight. He’d looked at you with a face full of mischief and nudged you with his arm, and whispered low in your ear. I have a plan.

And for some reason, beyond you, you gave into him. Though, you found yourself doing it more and more. Afterall, indulging him was working out for you, and it’d been a long time since you’d visited the dreaming.

And so you found yourself tailing one of the students you taught from the classes you volunteered at and waited patiently for him to fall asleep after his snack. Waited so that you could both follow him into the dreaming world. A place you’d never thought in your own wildest visions, that you’d be visiting with a nightmare in tow.

-🍰-

“Corinthian!”

“What?”

You looked over at him as he gave you one of his classically Corinthian smug grins, the ones where his lips would stretch wide with accomplishment. He was proud of himself.

“You can’t splash like that, we’re not meant to be noticed,” you hissed at him, looking pointedly over to the man who’s dream you were inhabiting.

“Well it hardly helps if you’re screamin’ at me, sugar,” he shrugged.

Ugh! Of course the nightmare was trying to disrupt the dream, as if his mere presence in a dream weren’t wreaking enough havoc. Typical nightmare, you thought, rolling your eyes. However, instead of engaging further with him, you decided to ignore his childishness and focus your eyes back to your feet as they swung through the warm water.

You were both sitting on the end of an old dock, trousers rolled up and enjoying the clear blue ocean as you looked out to your student on his white row boat. He was enjoying a date with a girl that you were sure you recognised from some TV show and was too busy enjoying her company to think about yours. Thankfully.

“You know this is really nice. Kinda reminds me of a little place in Greece that I visited once,” Corinthian sighed, leaning back and gazing up toward the sky. “Makes me want to travel again.”

“Oh yeah? I can imagine you fitting right in, in a place like this,” you mused.

And truthfully you could.

You could picture him walking barefoot in the blaring rays of the afternoon sun, a few buttons undone on his shirt as he carried his jacket and tousled his golden hair. He’d be like someone straight out of a film, the kind of man that you couldn’t help but stare at as he passed. More than likely he’d be wandering around with little care, on the hunt for some sea-faring fisherman to seduce or perhaps a pretty waitress from one of the many ocean front bars and restaurants.

“It helps being somewhere sunny you know,” he smirked, flicking his glasses nonchalantly. “Don’t get so many inane questions.”

Oh really?

“As if you don’t like the attention,” you snorted, giving him a sideways glance.

“Are you accusing me of attention seeking?” he said in faux shock.

“Mhmm,” you smiled, “hard to believe, I know.”

He shook his head and lay back on the dock, relaxing fully into the bumpy wood and exposing his full face to the glowing sun. He looked like his usual cover model self, ready to be swarmed by paparazzi at any moment. All sunkissed and relaxed.

“Gettin’ me worried that you might know me too well by now, sugar,” he murmured.

“Oh I wouldn’t worry about that, you keep me on my toes enough,” you remarked dryly, thinking about the times you wondered what he was doing when you weren’t there.

“Really?”

“Really,” you repeated, content enough to have him lying there and not terrorising your poor student on his dream date.

You could think of multiple ways he’d try and get himself into trouble while you were intruding. Had already considered the possibilities the moment you found yourselves on the peer, but you’d been pleasantly surprised that he was happy to sit with you and soak up your attention instead. Perhaps even a large part of you was preening over that, over the fact he cared for you enough to ignore his own nature. You mattered more to him than fulfilling his duties as a nightmare.

“You wanna take a dip?” Corinthian said suddenly, pulling you out of your reverie.

“What?”

“I said, do you wanna go swimming?” he asked again.

“Why would I want to-”

Before you could finish your sentence you found yourself being barrelled into the water below you, bowled over by the force of Corinthian as he pulled you into the sea. You shrieked as the water soaked through your clothes and caressed your skin. It bathed you in it’s rippling warmth.

“Why would you do that?” you huffed, glaring up at Corinthian.

Too busy being smitten with you to give into his nature, indeed. So much for that theory.

“I thought you said I kept you on your toes? You should've been prepared for that,” Corinthian laughed, tilting his head.

You fought every fibre of your being not to dunk his head under the water and dream up a weight to keep him held there. Not that that would do much. You can’t drown in a good dream, no, he’d probably be able to breathe under there. Nothing bad could happen to either of you while you were inhabiting that seaside paradise.

“Well maybe you should prepare to go without my baking for a while,” you shrugged, swimming away from him and out toward the horizon.

If you were already in the water, you might as well enjoy it, you thought.

“Now, why would you say something like that?” Corinthian asked, following along with you, paddling fast so that he could wade in front of you.

“Because you’re a meanie,” you said childishly. “Because you shouldn’t push people in the water when you don’t know if they can swim or not.”

“Aw, my poor little dream. Have you been in the waking world so long you forgot how dreaming works?” he teased, tilting his head at you.

You were about to respond snarkily until he disappeared under the water, leaving you staring out at an empty horizon. You sighed and looked down into the water, knowing that even with the lapping waves distorting his face, that Corinthian was smirking at you down there. He was waiting for you to follow.

You rolled your eyes again and crossed your legs, letting yourself sink down into the deep blue sea, letting yourself level off with your companion. Then, after a few seconds of doubt, you let yourself breathe in and knew your theory was correct. You were in no danger of drowning, not when you could breathe water just as easily as air.

“See? I’d never put you in any danger, sugar,” Corinthian chuckled, his voice just as clear as it had been when you were talking on the dock. “You’re always safe with me.”

You raised your brows, surprised that he wasn’t at all distorted by the sea. His voice came out just as smoothly as always did, pouring into your ears like honey. That essential part of the Corithian charm. It was a shame he was so endearing, you’d thought, it made him very difficult to stay mad at.

“Danger aside, I prefer not to be pushed into the sea fully dressed,” you snarked, gesturing slowly toward your soaked clothes.

“Well then why don’t you change into something more appropriate?” He grinned.

“Is this your way of catching me in a bikini?”

“Well you said bikini, not me,” he clarified.

“That’s true,” you agreed, rethinking his words, “I can think of way more appropriate things.”

You quickly thought up a far more suitable outfit and watched as Corinthian tilted his head, curious as to what you were doing as you flashed away for a second and reappeared. His face transformed as you came back and he tipped his head back, laughing like mad as he took in your old fashioned diving suit, complete with a coppery metal helmet and all.

“You’re such a nerd,” he snorted, looking you up and down in your new attire.

“What, you don’t like the new look?” you grinned, unsure as to whether he could see your face through the fogged glass.

“I don’t think it’s your best,” he hummed, lenses fixed on you as he peered through the metal mesh of your mask. “I prefer getting to see that pretty face.”

“You’re one to talk,” you replied, flashing back into your usual clothes.

“Oh?” He said, raising his brows.

“You’re the one that won’t show me your face,” you said, brushing your finger against his cheek.

You were surprised that even in the dreaming world, his glasses stayed fixed to his face even under the water. They sat as if they grew from him, as if he couldn’t possibly take them off. Though, you knew better. You’d heard the whisperings about the terrifying nightmare that Morpheus had dreamed up, the one with the teeth for eyes. He’d been the talk of the dreaming for quite a while.

“You really want me to take the glasses off?” Corinthian asked, voice as soft as ever.

“I would…but only when you’re comfortable doing it,” you clarified, not wanting to push him.

“Aw, my sweet dream,'' he grinned. “So considerate.”

You found your eyes rolling up to the watery ceiling, as you often did around him. However, when you looked back at him and saw him pulling his shades from his face, you jumped in shock and felt your mouth hang open.

Thank the gods that you could breathe underwater, you’d have drowned.

However, when Corinthian pulled the glasses away you didn’t meet his true face, and you knew it right away. You knew the minute you met two brilliantly shining blue eyes that regarded you warmly as he smiled one of his smug grins again.

As pretty as they were, they weren’t really him.

“Don’t you like my pretty face?” he asked, smile never leaving his lips.

“You’re such a nerd.”

-💕-

Tag List

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[aejiajia]

okay so here's my request babe : the prompt “when is the last time you ate?” with miss sujin and her dear friend kalaya, because i feel like inka is protective and attentive to sujin, and she knows that sometimes the girl tends not to pay attention to herself.. so yea! thank you in advance babe 💗

> Attentive

Warnings! : Self neglect, several mentions of medications for ADHD

Okay bbg i'm gonna be so fr with you seeing this request got me so excited i immediately started writing and hyperfocused on this until it was done.. congrats you broke through my procrastination issue. Fun fact, this post is glitched on my laptop.

Summary : Sujin forgets herself, but she has someone who reminds her.

Timeline : September 1st, 2023

Event!

Life is chaotic. Sujin’s life is chaotic. The born pink tour coming to an end, her career at an alltime high, the lingering effects of headlining so many stadiums, contract renewals happening while they’re still in America for performances, events she had to go to with her members, events she had to go to alone. All in all, she’d barely had a breather in the last months.

Truthfully, she couldn’t remember the last time she actually took her medications, wondering if she did when it was already too late and she was about to go on stage in 5 minutes. It had noticeable effect, less focus, easily distractible, what some might call too much energy, hyperfocusing on one single piece of make-up for hours which almost got her to be late on stage.

Now back in Korea, stepping into her apartment, it was the first moment of silence she’d had in months. It was kind of eerie- really. And she did not remember her medication tasting that shitty. 

The silence was too silent, which meant everything racing at her in her mind. She had things to do immediately tomorrow, last concert preparations, contract finalizing, solo preparations (why did she want to do that again already?)

There was a point at which the silence became loud, which was the final straw.

She picked her phone up from the table, scrolling through contacts. 

                                                                                                             [I’m back, missed u <3]

Thankfully- She’d gotten the hint.

The knock on her door didn’t take long and Sujin didn’t waste a second to open the door. 

“Hi there.” 

Sujin smiled, waving. “Hi Kal.” Sujin was one for nicknames, unoriginal ones maybe, but she always provided nicknames.

It took a moment for Sujin to correctly process, but she opened the door fully for Kalaya to step in. She hoped her medication would kick in soon or else this would be a long day.

Inka didn’t seem to mind, relieving Sujin as she closed the door behind the younger (okay, it was one year, but Sujin took as much advantage of being the unnie for once as she could). 

Inka sat down at the kitchen table wordlessy. She watched as Sujin processed before sitting across from her, barely containing a snicker.

“So.. Gocheok Sky Dome? That’s an achievement.”

Kalaya smiled, leaning back in her chair. 

Sujin huffed, giggling. “Full of those, apparently. Been a lot of those these past few months.” She hummed, taking a moment to recollect everywhere they’d been. Inka nodded. 

“So i heard.” 

Sujin bit her lip. “Did you watch any performances?”

“A few.” Kalaya responded, reaching across the table to hold Sujin’s hand. “You five did really well.”

Sujin smiled, genuine. Though still not being good at taking compliments very well, she changed the subject. “I’m happy you got your personal instagram. Now i can stop spamming the boys and spam only you instead.” 

Inka laughed, Sujin smiling at the sound. “Looking forward to it.”

A silence fell for a little while, comforting, not like the one when she’d stepped into her apartment.

Kalaya bit her lip, looking back up at Sujin. “So.. When’s the last time you ate?”

Sujin looked back, not having expecting the question.

She thought, she definitely ate day of their last concert, Rosé had dragged her out for a late night meal snack. She’d spent her last few days in L.A messing around with her members and trying out several diners and exploring. She landed back in Korea yesterday so that all amounts to..

“Yesterday morning?”

Just like Sujin hadn’t expected the question, Kalaya wasn’t expecting the answer. She took a second before answering.

“And you’re not hungry, at all?”

Sujin pat her stomach, pouting softly. “I at least haven’t noticed.” 

“Sujin..” 

“Say it.”

Inka sighed. “Sujin unnie.”

“Thank you.”

Kalaya rolled her eyes, but let Sujin bask in the honorific for a second. “You need to take care of yourself. Did you at least take your medications?” 

Sujin nodded, pointing back to the half full cup of water and the bottle of pills that she promised to herself she would clean up after texting Kalaya and then completely forgot about.

When Sujin whipped her head back around Inka already sat with her phone in hand, making Sujin tilt her head in confusion.

Inka looked up, raising a brow. “I’m ordering food, god knows you need it look at how pale you are. And i’m hungry too, it’s around dinner time anyway.” She hummed. “What would you like?” 

Sujin blinked, taking a second to let the information process before responding. “As long as it tastes good with kimchi.” 

Inka smiled. “Understood.” 

After ordering- and presumably texting if the furious typing and scoffs accompanied by a ‘oh my god Jisung.’- Kalaya put aside her phone, giving Sujin a soft smile. 

“So… did you have separate rooms, or..?” 

“We’re not having this conversation.” 

“Yes we are.”

“Okay, fine, who’s your mystery boyfriend?” 

“Okay, well you know what-”

“No no, this is an exchange now. Tell me and i’ll tell you.” 

“Fine fine, you first.” 

Sujin hummed. “No. No we did not.”

[defdaily]

The proud trinity of GOT7’s leader JAY B, composer Def., and human Lim Jaebeom.

(Interview translated by defdaily.)

We were actually just getting curious about you these days. How have you been?

I recently finished our group activities and have a solo fan concert coming up. I haven’t been able to pay much attention to my personal things from being busy with GOT7, so I’ve also been taking care of that.

Can I ask what personal projects you’ve been working on?

Releasing a single in July. The details are a secret. (Laughs)

I’m excited for it. How was it doing GOT7 activities after a while?

How should I explain… I said this on Instagram too, but it sort of felt like a dream. When I opened my eyes the day after the concert, it felt like a midsummer night’s dream? Made me think “Ah, I must have missed this stuff.”

You’ve fulfilled the long-cherished desire of making a full group comeback in 1 year and 3 months after leaving JYPE. It’s an ‘industry established theory’ that the leader JAY B played a huge role in gathering all the members from separate paths together. (Laughs)

Everyone is busy so I figured one person had to take the lead in arranging things. The members are very cooperative so I just got the ball rolling. I feel like we got to keep our promise with the fans so that’s what I’m most proud of. Truthfully, I felt worried inside too that it might just fizzle out.

Gathering again is amazing too but the results were great as well. The title track you made, ‘NANANA,’ received great results on iTunes charts globally too.

We were also very surprised about the results. I recently received the physical album and I thought, “I should treasure this forever". It might sound harsh but if the results weren’t good, it would’ve been a lot harder for us to plan for another one.

It was nice because the album contained GOT7’s unique bright and chill vibe. I felt a sense of relaxation too with no need for you guys to be spiffed up.

We’re already quite spiffed up in our individual activities. (Laughs) [We] just wanted to enjoy it this time. GOT7-like, chill, and fun. Like a short festival.

When you moved to H1GHR MUSIC, you talked about your aspirations to take on a variety of challenges without setting boundaries in genres from R&B, dance, pop, etc. Are things going as planned?

It’s ongoing. Though I’m keeping my roots mostly in hip-hop and R&B, I’m not the type to cling onto certain genres. Whether it’s a pop album or a blues album, I’m trying to make music I want to in the moment, and it might not always be in an album format.

You use the pen name Def. as a composer/producer. How did you come up with the name?

So I used to be a b-boy when I was young. My alias back then was ‘Defsoul’ and when I searched it up, I saw a lot of nicknames that had ‘soul’ in it. (Park) Jinyoung hyung is ‘Asiansoul,’ (Kim) Jihyeon hyung is also ‘GSoul.’ So I took out the ‘soul’ and added a period and I loved the meaning of it. The word def in English can mean ‘great,’ ‘fantastic.’ So, it could mean ‘ending while it’s good.’

You presented 5 mixtapes under the name, Def., and even released an EP earlier this year. You also spoke several times about not being able to make music as you used to in the past, maybe it being because you’ve been pouring out so much music.

I’ve been seriously contemplating that issue these days. I think it might be about time I step back from being a player. But more than that, I feel like it might be time to play the role as someone who supports others as a producer. My need for my own songs to absolutely be made by me is not as strong as it was in the past. I’m already doing enough of my personal projects as Def.

Ending things while it’s good.

Exactly. (Laughs)

Is writing lyrics harder than producing/writing music these days?

Yes. It would be easier if I wrote in a basic way but I think it’s because I think about using special expressions and words. But if I focus too much on that, it doesn’t go well with the song; it’s sort of a dilemma.

You often used words like ‘fiction,’ and ‘story’ in interviews. We also got a peek at your love for poetry, novels, and literature.

That’s right. I like to read. I find that reading often works together with working on music. These days, I often think about how making an album is like writing a poetry book.

What was the book you were reading while getting your makeup done earlier?

Oh, this? (Shows C’est Tout [“That is all” in English] by Marguerite Duras) It was a book gifted by a fan. I’m not sure whether it’s poetry or prose. It’s not easy to understand at once so I’m going to read it again next time.

You seem to be interested in a variety of things. You like writing, you learned art/drawing/painting for a while too. As for photography, you even opened an exhibition past the point of it being just a hobby.

No, photography is just a hobby too. (Laughs)

Will you be opening another exhibition?

I’ve actually been wanting to these days, so I’ve been thinking about what the theme should be.

I loved the lonely atmosphere of your first exhibition, .

I think I will be continuing with the gloomy feeling this time too. I gathered the pictures I took and I realized many of them have that mood. Things like discarded trash, or a person alone far away.

You’re on the action-oriented side, right?

I didn’t think so before but I think I sort of am. So it’s tiring for the people around me. (Laughs) I don’t make big plans but I think I’ve well accomplished the goals I make at each moment throughout my life.

You said you started dancing to forget about loneliness. What was Lim Jaebeom (real name) like as a kid?

A character that you can’t tell if he’s there or not? Not that I was a bad kid but I think I did have a rebellious side. I always had earphones on.

In terms of seating in the classroom, where would you be?

At the very back?

What? That’s totally a popular kids’ seat. (Laughs)

At the very back but in front of the cleaning supplies… (Laughs)

You’re 30 years old this year. How has your personality changed after all this time, and what is one inherent trait that won’t change?

I’ve become softer. I’m more prudent when it comes to work. Oh, and the part of my innate personality that I’m most satisfied with is that if I’m wrong, then I will admit I’m wrong. Even though I may not feel good about it in the moment, I would try to work hard to change it. 

Is it like that in regards to the feedback about your work as well?

Of course. When someone says, “This is kind of bad?” I’ll ask where specifically but it has to be reasonable. For example, this bar doesn’t match the song’s vibes, or the top notes should have more variety. If I’m given understandable feedback like this, then I 100% can accept them.

Wouldn’t it be because you are confident that you can accept that much criticism?

It’s not like that. I’m not very confident, and I have low self-esteem. But, I don’t pay any mind to others. I also don’t tend to be envious of others who do well, but of course, I am envious of people who work hard and become successful. I’m curious about how they got to where they are and their mindset, but I’m not jealous of success itself. 

What is JAY B’s biggest motivation to go on right now?

I think it’s willpower/volition. My own willpower. Like the way I make sure to do the dishes even though I want to sleep right after eating, I try not to put off tasks and take care of them immediately because I very well know that if I don’t, then I become endlessly lazy. So I think small senses of accomplishment pile up from things like that and act as the grease for my gears.

Once this interview ends, what does JAY B have to do with his own will? 

I have plans with a friend so I’ll meet up with them for a while, and then I’ll go home and organise my camping equipment.

You’re doing this photoshoot until late at night yet you still have so much you plan to do. (Laughs) Aren’t you too diligent?

I try because I’m lazy. I say this and then I always sleep in. (Laughs)

Translated by defdaily.

[casspurrjoybell-24]

My Mate - Chapter 2 - Part 2

*Warning Adult Content*

Mom walked past the kitchen with a basket of clothes but backtracked upon seeing me sitting at the island.

I looked away from her and took another bite of my apple pie.

It seems I'll be the only one enjoying it this year.

"What are you doing? Why are you home?"

Confused, I looked up at mom.

"Ugh... school doesn't start until next week," I reminded her.

Maybe she forgot?

"No, why are you in my house? Don't you have friends to go play with?"

I stared at her with a blank expression for awhile.

Did she want me to admit that I have no friends?

Like none.

Not even an acquaintance that I can say hi to in passing.

Not even a human friend.

It's embarrassing and sad really.

We heard Calvin coming long before he actually entered the kitchen.

He was dressed in his usual plaid shirt and worn jeans and mom looked at his outfit with distaste.

"You should shave, sweetie," Mom suggested as Calvin opened the fridge for a bottle of water.

His beard wasn't messy, at least not to me.

It looked like he kept it trimmed and there was never food in it.

Calvin just shrugged in response to mom and I ate the last piece of pie on my plate.

"Torin go get dressed, you're going with Calvin."

"What?" we said together, Calvin saying it a bit more angrily.

I hesitantly looked over at him.

We've never really intentionally hung out. In fact, I would go as far to say he avoids going out in public with me.

A fact that I use to cry about actually.

"He can't come with us," Calvin grumbled.

"And why ever not?" Mom snapped.

We all knew she was going to get her way.

Biting my lip nervously, I put my dirty dishes in the sink before going up to my room.

I was hopping into a pair of jeans when I heard the now familiar rumble.

Pulling back the curtains, I watched Robby pull in front of the house, ignoring the driveway.

He stepped out in all black today and leaned back against his car with his arms folded over his wide chest.

When he removed his glasses and looked up at me, I stuck up my middle finger and laughed when he clutched at his chest as if in pain.

Backing away, I pulled on my converse and ran back downstairs to where Calvin was still grumbling to mom.

"Bye, have fun," Mom said, waving for Calvin to bend down so she could kiss his cheek.

She didn't have to do that with me and instead had to bend down herself to kiss my cheek.

I smiled and waved bye as I followed a grumpy Calvin.

Robert pushed off his car when we made it to him and raised a thick brow in question, looking between the two of us.

"Mom made me bring him," Calvin said gruffly while walking around to get in the passenger seat.

"That's okay, little Torin can tag along," Robert teased.

"Thanks, Robert," I said with a cheerful smile that became genuine when his jaw ticked.

"Get in," he said, opening the door and pulling his seat up so I could climb in the back.

It was a good thing I'm small because there's barely any room back here.

After I was seated, Robert fixed his seat and got in.

"Buckle up," I told the both of them while buckling myself in.

They grumbled but listened anyways.

"So where are we going?"

Truthfully, I was always excited when mom made Calvin take me with him.

I finally got to hang around my big brother and I'd never say it aloud or tell him but Robert was pretty cool too.

More than a few times they'd end up ditching me somewhere but I take what I get.

"Town," Calvin said shortly.

Robert chuckled and opened the glove compartment, pulling out a cassette tape.

"We're going to the fair."

"Really?" I gasped, bouncing a little in excitement.

I liked going to the county fair, for the food of course.

Its not so fun when you're by yourself.

Maybe it'll be different with Calvin and Robert there with me.

Some slow rock song started playing and I sat back and looked out the window.

Robert and Calvin would talk between each other but the twenty minute ride to town was mostly quiet.

Robert parked in front of the small ice cream parlor and I handed him his leather jacket when I climbed out.

[winterymixer]

I fell hard for a closeted lesbian when I was in college. Looking back, I cringe at my naïveté, but I try to remember that she was actively (but, in hindsight, poorly) hiding her gayness from me and everyone else.

One drunken night, we made out after a party. Before too long, she stopped us and told me flat out that she’s gay. I was terribly confused. But I managed to not make it about me (somehow!) and let her talk. She told me she’d always known she was gay, confessed in her wry wit that she was feeling “straight curious.” It finally came out that really she wanted to see a cumming cock live and up close. I was more than happy to help with that! It was one of the most exciting mutual masturbation experiences I have ever had. We awkwardly stripped down, and sat facing each other on opposite ends of her couch. She watched me stroke, throb, swell, and eventually explode… and I watched her rub her clit until she came came right after me. Before then, I wasn’t sure this happened to women too, but she seemed to snap out of her mood as soon as she came; that post-orgasm flood of brain activity, and she was like fuck, this is disgusting and wrong, you have to leave. So I dressed quickly and I left.

Several weeks later, she apologized. I asked what she was apologizing for. It wasn’t clear whether she was somehow sorry for the sexual experience, or her reaction afterward. Turns out, it wasn’t clear because she didn’t really know. Conflicting emotions abounded! Truthfully, I was willing to take advantage of the conflict if it meant I got to masturbate for her again. It started much the same way. Some kissing, which I now recognize she really wasn’t into, awkward undressing, and then masturbating. Except this time, I watched her slip a finger inside herself, staring at my penis, as she said “I’ve been wondering what it would feel like inside of me…”

I paused, which sort of snapped her out of it, and she looked up at my face. I asked “Do you want to know?”

“No,” she said quickly. But kept fingering herself, and staring at me.

“Do you want to know?” I repeated.

And she repeated “No.”

But she sank down on the couch, spreading her legs a little farther apart. I inched forward.

“Are you sure I can’t help?” She nodded, staring at my erection. “Because I will…” No response this time.

I leaned in closer. “No….” she said. I pulled her hand away from her pussy.

“Let me help.”

“No….”

The tip of my penis brushed her pussy. “No,” she said, with her eyes closed, as she lifted her hips up to meet mine.

The tip slipped inside.

I should have stopped there. I was half expecting a wince of pain or something from her. But that didn’t happen. I could just feel this intense tension physically manifesting itself in every fiber of her body. I should have pulled back. Checked on her. Talked it through.

But I didn’t. I slowly but firmly pressed myself into her. “Stop” she said as she sharply inhaled. But then she dug her nails into my back and held me there as I settled allllll the way inside her.

“I don’t want this” she said, grinding her hips against mine. I shifted myself upwards so she could grind her clit on the base of my cock. “Shhhhh…” I said as I stroked her cheek… and slowly started slipping out of her… and alllllll the way back in. She was soaking. I could feel her wetness on me.

“You can’t cum inside me,” she said, with her face buried in my shoulder and her hands clamped on my ass. “You can’t… You can’t.”

I said nothing.

The first bona fide moan I got out of her was when my balls started slapping against her. At that point, I had to focus hard on not cumming. It took more concentration than I thought I had. My brain was not processing what was going on. I just knew I didn’t want to orgasm yet.

So I had us switch positions, into spooning. I saw how she made herself cum last time, and it was all clitoral stimulation. I wanted to make sure we had a chance to play with her clit if that’s what she needed.

It was what she needed. I could feel her thighs and abs tighten as she pressed my hand onto her clit. I realized then that no amount of concentration was going to keep me from cumming. So I told her so.

“Not inside me! Don’t stop! Not inside me! Don’t…” I could feel her clenching my dick…. And then I felt her release. She pressed hard back into me. And I lost it. I felt the first spurt, or more of a trickle like when I’m edging and push myself too close to the edge. And suddenly I wanted all of my cum inside her. She wants to know what fucking me is like? This is what it’s like. By the third spurt I could feel our combined wetness all over us.

I realized she was still saying “stop,” albeit breathlessly and still grinding against me, while I was still pulsing inside her.

Neither of us knew exactly what to do. We just laid there for a while, a tangle of limbs. Finally, she said, “I think you should leave.”

I broke into a cold sweat as I dressed. I knew what this would look like based on the facts. I was terrified, for myself, and that I’d done something awful to this person I truly cared for. I didn’t sleep at all that night.

I called her the next morning, but she didn’t answer. She wasn’t in her usual study spots. I was turning into a ball of stress. Finally I saw her at lunch. Turned out she’d gone to the campus nurse and then the pharmacy to get a Plan B prescription (this was before it was over the counter).

I started to apologize. She looked at me, truly bewildered. “For what?” And I was like, “You told me no, and to stop. And I didn’t.” She blushed.

“You’re an asshole for that. And I have some things I’m going to need to work through. But I came once using your cum on my clit, and again while I licked it off my fingers. We’re even.”

[haruhey]

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Word count: 13k (i am SO SORRY i got carried away and this fic turned out SO FILTHY but i hit 300 followers so consider this a gift??)

Established Relationship Fluff | Smut

There’s only one bed shower, and Daryl Dixon is an opportunist.

the request:

every single fic of yours is seriously amazing. ur a great writer!! can i request a daryl shower smut bc wooweeeee

There’s always a giddiness inside Daryl when he returns from runs. No more sleeping in the RV for nights on end, no more eating cold canned chicken soup and - as much as he liked Aaron - no more hearing him talk about how much he missed Eric and making him miss you, too. He’s exhausted, his muscles sore from overuse, but the fact that you’re probably curled up in bed makes him so damn excited that all the ailments of his aging body are swiftly forgotten with each step he takes.

Houses fly by in a blur as he ramps up into a jog, his feet taking him to the dim light of a moving lantern in your shared bedroom window. By Daryl’s estimate, it couldn’t have been more than 10 or 11pm, but time meant little in the apocalypse - it was either dark out, or light and with the days getting shorter, he noticed you using the lantern more and more frequently. Just a few days ago, you had fallen asleep curled up on his chest, the soft orange light filling the room before he strained his body trying to turn it off without waking you. The next morning he had a terrible cramp running from his rib up to his bicep, but he never complained. Not even a wince in your presence since he thought the soreness was worth it. He would rather die several times over than lose the image he saw - of your pillowy lips taking soft, steady breaths of air while you slept against his bare skin.

Smiling, he lets himself remember the way you looked when he first gifted it to you, a grin that spread to the apples of your cheeks and crinkled at your eyes plastered on your face. It wasn’t a perfect replica, but it looked close enough to the one you would both light on nightwatches in the prison - which he thinks was when he first realized he loved you. Daryl also remembers the first night he saw you use it, the memory so vivid in his mind that he felt like if he reached out, the soft fabric of your pajamas would welcome his touch.

He could picture it now, your back against the headboard, reading one of the books that littered the shelves he never touches. Your face bathed in the lantern’s hue while your eyes scanned the pages and drinking in every word of whatever you were holding. He plucked that book right out of your hands that night and pulled you onto his lap, kissing the pout off your face until you weren’t annoyed at him anymore, rendered down to just laughing against his lips.

Fuck, he couldn’t wait to get home and see you again.

Daryl curses under his breath as he fumbles a little with the doorknob, but the profanities are quickly replaced with a huff of accomplishment as he practically sprints to the bedroom, boots shucked off haphazardly at the front door. He skips every other stair with long strides, desperate to feel you in his arms. When he enters the bedroom, he places his crossbow on the dresser and is surprised to see the room as dark as it is, the only source of illumination being the moon as it streams through the windows. The bed is empty and the blankets are strewn to your side, but neither you nor your pajamas are anywhere in sight. Panic flies through him before he registers the unmistakable sounds of the shower running, and he scoffs at himself when he sees the dim orange light peeking from beneath the bathroom door.

Had you known how worried he was for a second, you would have laughed at him. He was already so protective of you before the two of you got together, but it was another level entirely when you both made it official. It wasn’t just losing you to the dead anymore - it was also losing you to other people. Daryl knew you could take care of yourself, he had seen you hold your own on runs in the prison and trips outside the Alexandrian gates, but, God, if anything happened to you he wouldn’t know what to do. Being apart from you once when the Governor attacked was already almost too much for him to handle, but the thought of losing you and having to be okay with the fact you were never going to love him again? That was something he never wanted to experience.

Leaning against the wall, he pulls off his belt and places it next to his crossbow, his vest following not long after. The mattress squeaks slightly when he makes his way over to it and lies down, his body feeling almost instant comfort at the feeling of something other than the hard leather of his bike’s seat. Days like this made him think that maybe you were right in jokingly telling him that his motorcycle was a dumb choice for long runs - his tailbone was probably shaped like a rectangle from how long he’d been sitting on his ass.

A few moments pass as he allows himself to indulge in some rest, eyes closing and already in the first stages of a slumber before he shoots up, pushing himself to the edge of the mattress and sitting straight. Fuck, he needed to shower. He had given you his word that he would. Each time before he fell asleep after a run, he’d said; and Daryl Dixon was not one to break promises. Especially not to you.

Getting off the bed, he sheds his shirt and throws the old fabric onto the dresser, grimacing at the knowledge he would have to scrub at the dried walker blood come morning. His socks are next, pulled off by impatient hands and left on the floor, not even given a second glance as he then pulls open a drawer and grabs a pair of boxers from his meager pile. The only thought in his mind being the feeling of smooth sheets and your body against his skin. He’d pick up his clothes after his shower - if he could even muster up enough energy to.

Step by step, he makes it a good few feet out of the bedroom before he realizes the other second floor bathroom doesn’t work. If his memory served him correct, there were some plumbing issues and, before anyone could buy replacements, the world became, well, what it is now. After all, it was the only reason you and Daryl even took this house - nobody else wanted to have only one shower and, after becoming a couple, sharing one between two people didn’t seem all that bad. At least, that’s what he thought until now. Groaning, he rubs his eyes in an attempt to rub out the fatigue in them before his whole body lights up with an idea. Maybe he could have some fun with this. And if you asked, he could always blame the missing pipe or whatever it was that the Alexandrians couldn’t fix.

Practically thrilled, he mentally pats himself on the back and rushes back to the bedroom. Tired? Not anymore. Daryl can’t be if he wants to fulfill what just popped into his mind. Years of hunting leave his footsteps nearly silent when he enters the bathroom, but he’s not exactly at a disadvantage in terms of noise. The rhythmic beating of water against the tiled floor drowns out the slight squeak of the door as well as the hitching of his breath when he notices the gap. With how the room was designed, just standing at the door led his gaze in a nearly direct line of sight to you, the shower curtain lying an inch or two from the wall and offering him a vision which he doesn’t hesitate to indulge in.

It’s not like he's never seen your body - far from it, actually - but there was something about you that made him hesitate when it came to stuff like this. You deserved sweet and soft, affectionate with declarations of love between his kisses, and while he enjoyed giving that to you, sometimes he wanted something different. Sometimes Daryl wanted to act on impulse - to feel a different type of desperation - and tonight, he wanted to act out one of his long-hidden fantasies. One that involved you on many, many occasions.

Truthfully, he couldn’t fucking stop thinking about it since Merle and his buddies showed him that damn VHS as a hormonal high schooler. He never really had a committed girlfriend or anything like that to ever even pluck up the courage to ask, but that fantasy remained like a phantom in the back of his mind, lying just outside his finger’s reach. One that haunts him late at night and renders him withering in his own palm. At least, that was the case. Because he has you now and how he managed that? He didn't know. But he felt confident enough around you and trusted you enough to pursue the desire in him.

A shiver courses through him, running along the tip of his spine when he considers the possibility you might like it as much as him - and if you did, maybe he would divulge to you more of these secrets he’s always kept hidden so well.

With silent movements, Daryl unbuttons and unzips his jeans as he leans against the door of the bathroom, just barely suppressing a groan when his fingers graze the zipper. He curses himself, chastising his sensitivity at the mere image of you doing something as mundane as taking a shower, but he knew it was an inevitable consequence. Ever since the prison, anything you did got him riled up - even just seeing you sitting on his motorcycle made his skin light up with goosebumps. Left in only his boxers, he steps out of the denim pooling at his feet and picks it up, throwing it haphazardly onto the cream coloured counter as he waits for you to take notice of his presence. The metal button clashes against the smooth marble of the vanity, and its noises sound across the room, your eyes opening and your fingers catching the edge of the plastic curtain as you dart your head out, searching for the source.

Your body tenses up, no doubt the experience of living out on the road for so long, but the fighting instinct drains from you the moment you see the affectionate boyish grin playing on Daryl’s lips. It’s barely visible as he stands so far from the meager light source, but it sends an eager smile onto your face. Like all those times he’s returned to you, you want to run to him, feel his arms wrap around you and inhale his scent as you plant those incessant kisses he ‘hated’ everywhere on his face, but that urge only serves to remind you that you’re standing naked in a shower and he’s just staring at you.

“Daryl! What the- I thought you weren’t coming back until tomorrow.”

Embarrassed, you speak, voice pitched higher than normal from the shock and excitement coursing through your body. However, he stays put, leaning against the door as he drags his eyes up the expanses of skin afforded to him; that is, until you pull the plastic curtain to cover yourself and run your free hand through your hair, tilting your head ever so slightly in order to urge his eyes to meet yours. You wait for his response as you brush the wet strands back from your face, but it never comes, him instead choosing to stride towards you and send you a pout before pulling petulantly at the shower curtain, trying to coax you to let go of it. Raising an inquisitive eyebrow, your grip loosens and he can barely hold back his excitement when you really do let go, tongue peeking out for just a second before he hooks his lip between his teeth.

Throughout your relationship with Daryl, you learned he loved looking at you, gawking at and admiring each angle, birthmark and curve until you felt heat flush through your body. Even before the two of you got together, his gaze stuck on you, longing and soft when you weren’t looking, only hardening if your eyes ever met his. Each time he saw you it was like he was still in disbelief that you were his, forever suspended in the wide look he had when you first confessed to him, hence why you didn’t pay much attention to his stare as you moved to pump out some shampoo. You didn’t really know why he was in the bathroom and he made no effort to tell you, but you were here to clean yourself. So that’s what you’ll do. He’ll probably leave sooner or later after making sure you weren’t hurt anywhere, anyways.

The way the light from the lantern bounced off your glistening skin made you look like some sort of goddess. Like an otherworldly being he shouldn’t be looking at. Or like a succubus, sinfully tantalizing, except you didn’t know what you were doing to him as you raked your hands through your hair again, bubbles forming already between your fingers as you scrubbed. Shit, this was way better than he expected, and he’s gladly taking in everything it was offering. Shifting his weight, he clenches and unclenches his fists - commanding himself to keep them at his sides - but then you turn around, allowing the water to rush down your back and his resolve withers away as he tries not to envy the path along which it’s falling.

Soon, the little space between the shower curtain and the ceramic tiling isn’t enough for him. He needs to feel you against him, his trembling hands and suffocating boxers egging him on like this was the first time he’s ever seen you naked. Clearing his throat, he urges himself to move, building his confidence which had seemed to dissipate nearly immediately as you locked eyes with him. What he wanted to do wasn’t sweet or affectionate, and even though he knew you would tell him if you didn’t like it, he just didn’t really want to risk even doing something you didn’t like in the first place.

“Sorry I, uh, I’ll go rinse out my hair somewhere else. Here, I’ll get out so you can-”

This was it. He had to act now or he’ll lose the opportunity. Running his thumb across his bottom lip, he watches as your hand reaches for the shower valve, but your movements and voice stop when Daryl shoots his dominant hand out, the calloused skin wrapping around your wrist in a warmth that makes you snap your gaze to his. While firm, he never applies enough force to hurt you - he knows what kind of men there were in this world, and he didn’t know what he would do if you ever thought of him like that. On the contrary, the feeling of his fingers around you is welcome, especially after what felt like years away from him. Giving him that same inquisitive look, except this time laced with a small smile, you can tell by the way he’s gnawing at his lip that he has something to say. Something that has him hesitating in a way you’ve never really seen him hesitate before, well, besides the first time you both kissed.

“Actually, mind if I join ya? ‘Cause ya see, the other shower don’t work and there’s this girl - my girl - she’s amazin’, but she doesn’t let me into our bed ‘til I shower and I’m damn tired.”

Oh.

Noticing the way you tense up slightly at his suggestion, he offers more, another reason to sway you into accepting as if the pursuit of his little fantasy would both begin and end with what drops from his lips. This definitely felt more daunting, like a much larger leap than him asking for permission to kiss you.

“I also heard showerin’ in pairs saves water.”

Oh.

Yeah, you get why he was hesitating now.

Honestly, Daryl really couldn’t give a fuck about the water he was talking about. What he had in his running mind had little to do with his environmental footprint and more to do with feeling your skin on his and the image of you coming undone for him. He hasn’t been home - been with you - in what felt like weeks, and he thought the generator could stand to work a little harder after running for one person for a few days. With a slight upwards twitch of his eyebrow, you can feel what little apprehension you had leave your body and his heart pounds in his ribcage with the anxiety of what’s to come. At least, he thinks that’s why its beating at 100 miles per hour.

It surely can’t be the residual hormonal anticipation or excitement from his youth.

“And who exactly did you hear that from?”

The slight joking edge to your voice causes him to smile, but it’s a mischievous one, one that holds promises and sends a shiver through your body. Daryl really had no clue what he did to you when he looked at you like that, his piercing blue gaze hitting you as his head tilts down almost sheepishly to the grip he has on you.

His eyes flick up to meet yours, a glint residing in them that draws you to look at nothing but him as he runs his thumb along the bone of your wrist. With a tilt of his head, he speaks, muttered as he gnaws once more at his lips and lets go of his hold.

“It matter?”

So nobody, probably.

The amusing thought sends you shaking your head ‘no’ as you smile, pulling open the plastic curtain in invitation while trying to suppress the idea that just popped into your head. Daryl just wants to shower and the only reason he wants to shower with you is to fulfill that promise he had made. Because he just wants to go to sleep. That’s all. Nothing more, nothing less. Hooking his fingers into the waistband of his boxers, he’s hopeful that you would be watching him - and he’s fully prepared to make a show of stripping his last piece of fabric - but he’s sorely disappointed when he sees your eyes closed in an attempt to keep the bubbling shampoo from burning at them.

Why weren’t you looking at him? Was he not overt enough?

Wow, he really wasn’t very good with… whatever it is he’s trying to do, huh?

You shuffle forward from the steady stream and he takes that as his cue to step in, gladly placing his body just a few inches from yours and sighing in relief when the water hits his sore muscles. The sounds don’t go unnoticed by you, and your heart sinks a little with each suppressed groan of pain Daryl lets out. He always worked so hard for Alexandria, and they still treated him like somewhat of an outsider, questioning his true intentions with harsh looks when he even so much as walked too close to them. But they didn’t seem to mind him much when they were eating the animals he hunted, though, and that sent your blood boiling.

Turning around, you try not to let your gaze drop too low as you place your hands on his shoulders, frowning when you feel the stiff knots that have burrowed their way underneath his skin. Almost immediately, Daryl submits to your touch, an all too familiar warmth bubbling in his heart as he, too, turns and exposes his scar ridden skin to you, allowing your thumbs to rub circles into his upper back. He always loved this - the domesticity of these moments, the wordless communications, your love and affection directed solely at him - and he’s starting to forget the real reason he crashed your shower in the first place, lulled into relaxation under your nimble fingers and the water beating down on his overworked muscles.

“Does that feel better?”

Your question warrants a response landing somewhere between a grunt and a groan, but then you laugh and he swears his heart swells tenfold. He missed hearing that. Even if you got embarrassed of it sometimes, or hid it muffled behind the palms of your hands, he loved hearing it. Because you glowed when you did, your eyes crinkling up at the corners with a smile that almost always brought him to his knees, and perhaps almost selfishly, the knowledge that he doesn’t want to be away from you any longer dawns on him - as well as the knowledge that it’s inevitable that he has to leave again soon. Whether it be with Aaron or Rick, or some of the poor bastards that piss their pants whenever they see him.

When you stop your ministrations, he feels himself frowning as you tap him once with your thumbs, but he elates almost immediately when you speak promise of a better massage come morning. He’s slightly ashamed of the way his whole body lights up in goosebumps in anticipation, but it’s not unwarranted. Spending late mornings with you was something Daryl never knew how the hell he had lived so long without, and they were his favourite types of mornings by a long shot. Especially when it ended up more often than not with you on him or him on you, the both of you thankful for the misfit house you had all to yourselves and away from prying eyes and eavesdropping ears.

“You’re too damn good to me.”

But he deserves it, you think to yourself, He deserved to be cared for like this.

His praise drips with a softness he didn’t even know he was capable of until you came along and Daryl turns back around to face you, smirking lopsided when he sees a shy smile worm its way onto your face. He had to have known what he was doing when he said stuff like that - especially when he used a voice like that. Seriously, how long had the two of you been together? It felt like an eternity already, but he could still make you flustered from a simple compliment. Shaking your head, you rest your wrists at the nape of his neck and use the leverage to pull his lips to yours, thumb swiping at the blood dried at his cheek and hoping the distraction of your tongue on his will keep him from teasing the warmth crawling up your neck.

A ‘hm?’ noise falls from him, small and surprised as his eyebrows raise for just a moment before his hands loop around your waist by instinct. When you pull away, another noise falls from Daryl, but this time it’s more disappointed than anything, and he chases your lips with his bottom one jutted out, taking full advantage of the strong arms he has wrapped around you. Holding you in place, his eyes plead with the now perfected ‘one more’ look you’re all too familiar with and you can’t bring yourself to deny him - he knows you can’t. Closing his eyes and puckering his lips as he waits patiently, he hums when you finally kiss him again, his satisfaction vibrating down to the hollow center of your collarbones before begrudgingly letting you go when you pull away again.

The water runs a brownish red from the dried walker blood being washed off his body and he scrubs furiously at his arms, trying to gauge the right move that will get your thighs shaking and your moans bouncing off the ceramic tiles he’s seen less than he’s willing to admit. Should he just… go for it? Just pull you against him and push you up against the walls he wants your noises to echo off of? No, he should come up with a better idea. You deserved a better idea.

Running his thumb along his jaw, Daryl sneaks furtive glances at your body - who the hell he was hiding them from, he didn’t know - and picks even more skin off his chapped lips as he watches you twist at your waist ever so slightly to comb through your hair. Swallowing down his spit like some teenager, he watches your shoulder blades protrude and disappear, intently following the droplets of water as they fall along your neck and down the muscles you’ve developed. He had to hand it to the sorry rich prick who had designed this house because, all things considered, they did a pretty good job; there was just enough spread of it between the two of you to pass as a decent shower. Even if you or him had to oddly angle yourselves to warm a cool patch of skin.

Reaching towards the shampoo bottle, his arm brushes against your waist almost feather-light, but it sends a shiver through you, rattling your ribs and making your cheeks flush all the same. Daryl lingers for a moment longer than you expect, his body leaning as he stretches over and you think he’s going to step forward - wrap you up in him - but dutifully, respectfully, anxiously he stays put. You want his touch, especially after nights alone with only the scent of him on his side of the bed to keep you company, and, having caught a quick glance at his straining boxers before he joined, there’s little room for doubt in your mind that he wants you. But still, it exists.

Your own arms begin to sore when he finally pulls away, his hands now raking through the hair he seemingly never wants to cut. Clearing your throat, you turn around, eyes screwed shut as you face Daryl, fearing for both the shampoo you’re washing out stinging at your eyes and the fact that if you looked at him, your gaze would probably drop. God, was all it took just a few days without him to have you craving him like this? The close proximity coupled with the knowledge he’s standing next to you naked makes you tense up before a shiver runs up your spine, your thoughts causing your breath to hitch for barely a second. Despite your efforts to suppress it, your subconscious prays that he picks up on the little noise. Please let him pick up on it.

And he does, ever observant as he connects the dots, the initially surprised look on his face melting into a small anticipatory smirk before he all but races to lather his hair in the coconut - or was it grapefruit? - scent. This was good. This was damn good.

He dares take a step forward, tentative, testing out the waters as if he was unsure of your desire, but he knows he can read you, and that he can do it well. This was when he should do something, right? The subtle confirmations - a tense, a shiver, a hitching breath - beg him to. Under the streaming shower, Daryl impatiently scrubs at his scalp, teeth hooked permanently atop his lip as he watches the rivulets of watered-down shampoo catch along your skin, his fingers and mouth itching to replicate its path down your neck to your chest. He knows that path well, and perhaps that’s what makes him even more envious.

Thank God for the fact you’ve closed your eyes because if anybody saw Daryl right now, they would take a step back, maybe even several thinking he was angry. How could they not when he was glaring at you as if you had done something horrible? It’s a surprise to him, the fact that it seemed like you really could not feel the burn of his stare, but then a thought pops into his lust-fogged brain. Maybe you did know. And maybe you were toying with him, playing coy and pushing him to a teetering edge, letting him taste the tension on his tongue until he could hold back no more.

To say he’s impatient is an understatement. He isn’t simply impatient, no, he’s impatient. He wants to do something. He wants you to do something, to initiate the flurry of hands and lips he’s craving so desperately and, seemingly blind to that triad of signals, he scrubs frantic at his hair in an attempt to control himself. As he rinses out the shampoo, he manages to cling onto what little restraint he had over his body until you turn back around. It was like the universe was egging him on, trying to break his resolve by showing him those dimples on your lower back, reminding him of the way he gripped them when he took you that night before he left - and it works. Jesus fucking Christ does it work.

Daryl’s body crowds you then, muscular arms wrapped around either side of your waist and rough hands palming at your chest before sliding down to your stomach, pulling you flush into him while he grinds his hips experimentally against your body. The feeling catches you off-guard, eyes widening in surprise as you let out a gasp into the steam of hot water and you grip harshly at his forearm, attempting to steady yourself from the sensations blossoming from your thighs. He can feel them tense and begin to snap closed against him, but you hear the corners of his mouth twitch upwards with satisfaction.

“What- what are you doing?”

Restless, his fingers travel downwards, hooking a strong thigh between your two legs as he ignores your question, them parting immediately to accommodate him. Daryl’s veins thrum with adrenaline, feeling the all too familiar effects of your warm skin when he realizes you’re letting him do this - enjoying him, even - your hands pawing at his to beg him to speed up, to bring you that nirvana he loves to be the reason for. Heat flushes your body, knowing full well what he’s capable of, but despite it, your skin erupts into goosebumps under his touch, desperate for more.

“What’s it look like ‘m doin’?”

Your neck comes under his affection next, his lips meeting it as he mumbles the words against your pulse point, tongue darting out when he feels it speed up. Almost methodically, Daryl finds the marks he’d left days prior, darkening them with unadulterated determination and rolling his hips against you once more. The heavy motion draws a whine from you, short and needy as your nails dig into his wrist and he all but basks in it. God, this felt good. How the hell had he spent so long without you? Without your skin under his? Everything about you feels like a fucking drug to him.

“D-Daryl- what would your girl say.”

He smiles against your neck, a warm pride bubbling in his chest when he hears the slight shake in your voice. It always got like this when he was touching you, and he liked to think it was the anticipation raking through your body. All the possibilities he could bring to you. He loved listening to your voice as it was, but hearing it quaver as it bounced off the ceramic walls, mingled perfectly with the rhythmic thrum of water crashing against the two of you? It was almost alarming how quickly it made his head spin.

Submitting to your urging, he lets you slide his hands down to the apex of your thighs, groaning guttural into your ear when he feels your hips lift and rut into his touch, unintentionally grinding your ass onto his cock when you push yourself back onto him. Hooking his chin over your shoulder, you hear his breaths as he digs his palm an inch below your pelvis, thick fingers gripping harsh at your inner thighs as he nudges his further between them. It feels like fucking magic, whatever he’s doing, and a plea tingles at your lips before you bite it down. Daryl’s never been this bold, and this is new territory for the two of you. Very new. So you were going to let him take his time - let him explore every inch of your skin as if he didn’t already have it memorized - despite the fact every cell in your body screams for you to sink down on him right here and now.

His grip disappears too quickly for your taste, but before you can even register the decadent sear that marks his blunt fingernails and calluses, his palm makes home just below your stomach and he swipes two fingers against you, spreading you for him but avoiding that bundle of nerves you want so desperately for him to touch. An expletive drops from Daryl’s lips as he gathers evidence of your arousal, and the sound of him makes you claw at his wrist, your hands still blanketing his as you try to angle him to do something other than coat his fingers and smear you across your inner thighs. Amused, his middle finger curls, breaching you just until his first joint before pulling away, relishing in the way you clench as if trying to keep him in you.

“Hm, I dunno. What do ya think she’d say? I think she likes it.”

You can hear the self-satisfied smirk on his face as he feels your body react and you can practically see it behind your closed eyelids. Daryl knows all your buttons, every single movement that renders you down to a puddle of mush, but he’s avoiding them. His jaw clenches and unclenches as you buck your hips up to try and meet the talented fingers only getting further and further and further from you. Skin warm from the streaming water and the sheer amount of lust coursing through him, his left arm snakes upward, resting just under your breasts before pulling your shoulders flush against him. His teeth sneak out from behind his lips, grazing against that spot that made your thighs shake the first time you slept with him, and you become putty in his hands.

A gasp of Daryl’s name falls before a staggered whimper erupts from your throat, his hands moving so fast and sure along your body as if he had molded you to his perfection. Everything hits you at the same time, his sharp canines right below your jaw bone before they melt into the caress of slightly chapped lips, the hand at your chest palming and tweaking and toying like there was no tomorrow, his fingers swirling, nudging at that tiny bundle of nerves you’ve been silently begging him to touch just once, and you can’t stop the noises falling from your lips. No matter how much you try, they escape.

“Or d’ya think she’s too busy moanin’ for me to tell me?”

Oh, that fucking prick.

To make it worse, you can’t even bring yourself to be angry for that long because his voice drops into that low, husky whisper that makes your knees go weak. Had Daryl not essentially smothered you against his body, you just know you would be a puddle, pliable and aching after just a few days away from him. A jolt of pleasure rockets through you the moment you realize what he wants - to make you as desperate as he is for this - and you know he knows exactly how to get it. Biting your lip, you trap your sounds in your throat just to spite him and you dig your fingers into his forearm, seeking in any way to find another outlet for all the compounding stimulation he just keeps giving you.

Your heartbeat drums through your ears and you can barely register the growl against your skin, but the vibration of it is inescapable. He feels the crescent shapes already forming from your nails on his tan skin and he pulls his face from you, breath fanning your ear in preparation to express how disappointed he is at you robbing him of your noises, but you beat him to it, freeing the words that burn at your tongue to knock him off his high-horse. Daryl was never a very confident man, but fuck if it does not make your skin tingle.

“I think she’d tell you to- to shut up.”

The rebuke is futile, a stutter brought on by the push and pull of his deft fingers and he laughs. Daryl chuckles into your skin before everything from him detaches, only for him to grab at your waist and spin you around to face him, adjusting his hold to crowd you once more. Your back hits the ceramic tiles, a sharp whine escaping you at the contrasting cold, and you can see that smirk you had envisioned on his face when you open your eyes, taking in every inch of the swept back hair now falling into his face as he tilts his forehead slowly to yours. Running your non-dominant hand up from his arm to his face, you push the strands back, smiling slightly at the way he melts as his eyelids flutter shut for just a second. As much as he said he hated how damn soft you made him, he sought after your touch, your hands much too intoxicating for him to deny them.

You glow a ring of delicate orange from the lantern shining behind him, the light bouncing off your glistening skin and those sparkling damn eyes that shine with unguarded affection despite your ‘annoyance’ from just moments ago. Creating shadows over your body with his broad figure as he blankets you, Daryl nearly groans with delight at the image - the realization that you look impossibly better with the warm hue making his head spin. And when he remembers that you’re his to love? He tries to hide just how much it makes his mind run, but his voice comes spilling out without much thought, everything about you shrinking the filter between his brain and mouth that he so tenaciously keeps on during the day.

“That so? ‘Cause if I do then I can’t tell ‘er how much I missed her. Or what I was thinkin’ when I thought about ‘er at night.”

Daryl was already so worked up at the thought of doing this to you, you didn’t even need to actually do anything to him to have him throbbing against your stomach, begging to be touched after days of only imagined scenarios to keep him company. So you indulge him, tracing your dominant hand down the V-line of his pelvis and biting your tongue when his hips snap into your grasp, his grip at your waist tightening as he tries to still himself. He wants you to touch him, to let you give him what you want to give him and he tries his damndest to control himself, instead using his words to try and rile you up.

“Nothin’ I do feels as good as her. Nothin’ I’ve tried’s ever been close.”

Your whole body shivers at the insinuation, the ceramic sandwiching you to Daryl ceasing to feel as cold as it did when he first pushed you against it. He feels like centuries have passed when your hand finally wraps around him, running your fingers in a stroke that has him groaning and nearly keeling over you with how much that simple damn action makes heat pool in the pit of his stomach. Everything about this feels heightened, the steam of the shower failing in comparison to the heat pinging between the two of you. His eyes seek yours, cock twitching and catapulting him much farther to his climax than he would like to admit when he sees you watching your grasp, lips parted ever so slightly, pleading with him to lay his on them.

Heart thrumming in his chest, another groan of an expletive followed by your name drops from Daryl before his hips jerk forward, stuttering into your grip with no real rhythm as he pushes a rough kiss onto your mouth. When you let out a little surprised squeal, he pulls himself back immediately, as if shocked by his own lack of self-control, but your hand never stops, and your face leans closer towards his, the feeling of his ruined sounds vibrating along your tongue making you chase him. This must have been how he felt when he had you whimpering for him on those late nights and early mornings. No wonder you both loved them so much.

Twisting your other hand from the side of his neck to his nape, you pull him to you with equal fervor, the stroking of his cock forgotten in favour of his chapped lips turning into something more sinful with each movement of his talented mouth. His fingers begin to wander now, eagerly grasping at the two dimples at your lower back before his palms find all too familiar territory kneading and massaging your ass. Knees nearly buckling, you remember the leaking heaviness twitching in your grip and you nudge him between your thighs, your legs spreading just a bit wider as you inch him closer and closer and closer to where you need it most.

“N-no, wait- I gotta-“

His hands shoot downwards to still yours and he pulls his hips from you, his statement stuttered through a sharp, shaky breath. Whining, you nearly beg for him before you realize he succeeded in what he set out to do - and he was only gone four days, your subconscious chastises. Your head is swimming in desperation for him as you shake it, hair whipping into your face and onto the wall while you vehemently disagree with both his words and your own internal mocking. All coherent thoughts leave your mind, washed away in the stream of water running down your body and you come to the conclusion that you don’t fucking care if he would poke fun at you come morning, you need to feel him.

“Daryl you don’t need to- you can just- I can-“

You don’t need to keep-

You can just-

I can-

God, you sounded pathetic, your voice barely breaking above breathy through the heavy beating of water, and he loves it, it’s enticing him; he could die right now and he would feel nothing but satisfaction. Daryl was never a very confident man - well, with people at least - but around you, he felt wanted. Not just in moments like this when you craved him so debaucherously, but in moments when you would pull close to him while you were sleeping or hug him from the back. Just giving him your affection so freely and not expecting any back. It made his heart damn near break everytime he had to leave. Adjusting his grip on you, he digs his knee into the wall, perching you on either side of him and leaning closer and closer to your burning skin.

“Gotta get ya ready. Jus’- jus’ be a good girl an’ be patient. Don’t want ya limpin’ tomorrow ”

Despite his words, Daryl can’t help but think that maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. It wouldn’t be so bad to linger beside you the whole day, a constant reminder of the real reason you needed him to get you things, or why you would grip his arm as a piss poor substitute for a crutch when the two of you walked along the street. Nobody else would know - at least, neither of you would ever tell - but the satisfied puff of his chest and the fact he stands just a little bit prouder might make them connect the dots. That, and the lovebites that creep out from underneath the neckline of your shirt which, coincidentally, only seemed to darken after he came back. Nah, he thinks to himself, it wouldn’t be so damn bad.

“I thought you were tired.”

There’s a hint of concern in your voice, peeking out from between the teasing and he grunts, acknowledging your words before his hands wrap around your wrists and urges them to loop around his neck. He knows he needs to do this, the action a silent beg for you to just relax and let him treat you right in the way you know he always will. With his neck flush in the crooks of your elbows, you tug him, pulling his face to yours and raking your fingers through his wet hair.

“Never too tired for you.”

His stubble scrapes against your nose as he mumbles his confession between kisses down from your forehead, a delicious burn leaving a trail that makes your heart beat impossibly faster between your ribs. Grip falling to your waist, Daryl’s rough fingers inch towards the apex of your thighs, but he moves them so fucking slow you're tempted to just reach down and push them into you like you intended to do with his cock. Before you can entertain the idea any longer, he catches your lips in a clash of tongue and teeth and knowingly smirks against your lips. He’s dedicated, attentive, and what kind of man would have the heart to deny you? He would do anything for you, all you had to do was ask.

Daryl eagerly swallows the moan you let out against his lips when his middle finger curls into you, the vibrations spreading along his tongue and consuming him from the inside out. Your thighs spread wider for him, welcoming him - no, begging him - for more and it riles him up almost comically well. Whether it was intentional or not, he would never know. He pulls his face away just inches, breath heavy against your parted lips before he sends you a small smile, an underlying mischief peeking out from the tiniest sliver of teeth he exposes. Leaning more of his weight onto his knee, his left hand travels around your waist to your ass, digging his dull fingernails into the flesh and pulling towards him, bringing your hips off the cold ceramic and snaking that arm into the curve he’s just created.

Before you can even brace yourself, he pushes a second finger in, curling languid with accelerating speed, revelling in the heat you bring him with an audible groan that reverberates off the shower walls. Already so desperate, the feeling nearly makes your legs shake under your own weight, but Daryl’s prepared - he could keep you up with the hand he has splayed across your upper back and he’s secretly proud of it. His mouth returns to you again, tongue surging to meet yours as if just the taste of your kiss would satisfy his desire to taste what’s beginning to coat down his palm.

It doesn’t, but it’s a damn good substitute.

Nails scratching pathetically at his scalp, your lungs beg for oxygen, but you ignore your body’s pleading for as long as you can. You need Daryl. Just him. Just him. His fingers are ardent, all of them pushing and pulling and toying and touching you in a way that skyrockets you into an overwhelming nirvana and it feels good. It feels so good to be with him again, surrounded by his scent and his heat, that you start to entertain the thought of begging for him. You try to do just that, but every sound coming from your lips is only absorbed greedily by his before you pull him away by his hair, taking large gulps of oxygen as he does the same.

Not even a second passes before you’re grinding down into his palm with pleas falling into the steam of the shower, all your words going straight down to his cock. Gritting his teeth, he growls at your desperation, lips shooting down along your collarbone before catching the skin between teeth. He has your whole body memorized, proof of that fact littered across your body in the form of lovebites, memories seared into your mind of his everything and it’s almost too much to handle. Almost. But you need more. And Daryl knows, much too perceptive in all senses of the word.

His left arm snakes up to your neck, the nape of it secured in a grip firm enough to pull your hips down onto his muscular thigh, spreading you and rubbing that sensitive bundle of nerves with his rough skin. Something between a swear and Daryl’s name chokes through your throat and he curls his two fingers just enough for you to repeat the sound, the movement perhaps pulling your hips forwards toward him. With the way you grind down so readily on him, it wasn’t easy to tell whether the roll of your lower body was from his fingers or the lust running through your veins. A satisfied smirk worms its way onto his face that you want to kiss off, but your head is stuck against the ceramic tiling by his hand tugging securely on your hair. Not enough to hurt you. Never enough to hurt you.

He can feel it now, the fact that you’re close, and it only makes him work harder. Maybe it was selfish of him, expediting your pleasure so he can finally seek out his, but he’s damn near shaking with the thought of finally being able to be with you in one of the ways he always wants to be. Sometimes Daryl felt like a teenager with all this certain enthusiasm he can’t seem to control with you around, but you had never complained - you made him feel alive in all the best ways - and he thanked whoever was pulling the strings in his favour for bringing him to you. Circling his thigh, he pushes everything he can up into you, the pressure making you feel like you’re floating. Fingers carding through his hair, your whole body tightens around him in a silent plea, and he's pretty sure he would have to be just about the biggest idiot in existence to ever deny you.

“Give it to me. C’mon, give it to me. Ya wanted my cock didn’t ya? Jus’ give it to me an’ I’ll make ya feel even better.”

Give it to me.

Give it to me.

Give it to me.

Daryl’s voice makes your mind swim, the growl rough and dangerous like everyone always tends to think he is, and incoherence drops from your lips, echoing against the confines of the walls as his breath fans your ear. Rutting your hips up to his hand, the knot in your abdomen snaps, the proclamation of it escaping you in a broken moan of his name. He can feel your body’s reactions before you start to get those familiar sparking waves of pleasure, the clench of you around him growing sporadic as he continues to unravel you with his teeth gritted, the unrelenting precision of his fingers sending you clawing and tugging at his scalp with no regard of your strength for just a moment.

His groan at the sensations edges out the haze of your climax and you immediately detach from him, pulling your body back from his so abruptly that he slips from you. Scrunching his nose in disappointment, his large hands cling at the back of your thighs, bringing your chest and forehead to his as if he couldn’t stand being apart from you for even just a few seconds.

“Sorry- sorry if that hurt I didn’t mean to-”

Face inches from yours, he shakes his head and cuts you off with a series of hungry pecks. One to your sinfully soft lips, then to the corner of your mouth, then one to your jawbone, devouring your apology right then and there as he overtakes your senses.

“‘S alright. It felt good.”

Then he kisses you again, urgent all the same, but he only pushes a firm brush of his mouth against yours. The movement is like a signature, as if it were his name scribbled easily along at the bottom of a letter - a soft possession that you wear along the tingles of your lips. It makes you claw at him again, tugging on the sides of his hips to pull him flush against you, fingernails digging crescent shapes he wants to see come morning, and your apprehension all but dissolves into the hot water of the shower. You were his, he was yours and in his mind, there was nothing he wanted more than for you to show him just what he does to you.

“Anythin’ ya do feels good.”

It’s stupid, how you could be in the middle of something so intimate and a simple compliment from him could leave you flushed from the neck upwards, but he loves it. He loves the little whimper you let out at his words and he smiles that lopsided boyish grin that makes your heart skip a beat. When he smiles at you like that, it makes you feel like the only person in the entire world. No walkers, no Alexandrians, no runs or patients at the infirmary to steal you or him away from the other. There was no one except you and Daryl - and it’s been too damn long since it was like this.

Body flush against yours, he snakes a hand down between his legs and the other grips at your thigh, hooking it around his torso and begging with a roll of his hips for you to rest your leg there. Each breath he takes sends a jolt of pleasure blossoming against your ribs, his skin rubbing against your chest so deliciously it makes your mouth fall open in silent pants of air. You don’t know when you closed your eyes, but they open when Daryl says your name, broken by a curse that falls somewhere after the first letter. He looks good like this - eyebrows furrowed and jaw clenched.

Gritting his teeth, his mouth can barely form a coherent sentence with how much excitement is coursing through him, and he’s trying his fucking best to hold back from slamming into you until you give him a nod or a pull or anything, but then something in him breaks. The feeling of just having you so damn close worms its way into his brain and he takes himself in his fist, dragging along to gather the remnants of your climax and notches himself, all the while groaning from the heat emanating off you.

“‘S this okay? Need t’know if this’s okay.”

Slurred speech. It was so uncharacteristic of the Daryl everyone else knew - the Daryl who was so sure of himself, the Daryl who wore a permanent scowl on his face, the Daryl who was so mysterious, never speaking anything above a growl - and you think you could have laughed had it not been for the fact the words themselves dig up memories of all the times he had said them to you before. Every cell in your body lights up, high alert now that he’s in you, but he’s not moving. He’s not inching into you or filling you in the only way he can and you push your hips towards him, greedy movements making you swallow more of him. Taking a sharp breath, he lets you rut against him, but still, he doesn’t fucking move.

“God, Daryl- yes. Yes, it’s okay. More- more than okay.”

Sometimes you hated him, and then hated how stupid you felt for hating him.

He waits for your words. He always does. Without fail he checks on you before he slides into you. He never wants to take because he always wants to be good for you, but sometimes you wish he would. Sometimes you wish he would just take from you - take everything you have. There is nothing in this world that is not shared between the two of you. Daryl’s wholly yours as you are wholly his.

Curses drop from his lips, your name thrown in once or twice as if he’s reminding himself you’re real as he feels you around him. They fly out of his mouth like the bolts from his crossbow and ricochet off every wall as he begins to move, slow at first, experimental maybe with his hand secure against your thigh, then he starts building and building into a heavy, sinful rhythm. Shakily, Daryl groans, the breath he lets out tendrilling at your chin before he sucks frantically at your bottom lip, your noises meeting his as they hit the ceramic wall.

He wants to live in this moment forever; immortalize the way you look and sound on one of those VHSes, write the damn date on it, and hide it away for his and your eyes only so it’s rewatchable and revisitable and reliveable. It's not enough to just sear you into his memory like he’s done so many times before because you’re damn near perfect. Like you were made for him - for him to give you everything he wants to give to you.

“Fuck- fuck- you feel better’n I remembered. How’s‘at possible?”

The words escape him, rushing out as if you’ve put a spell on him, and they almost escape you, too, your pulse beating in your ears. But he’s so close to you, growling out through gritted teeth into your ear and pushing his lips to the curve of your jawbone like they need to be on your skin. He pulls his body away, chest leaving yours, and you pull at his waist to bring him back, whining lewd for him and only him, shameless and betraying the blush you feel as you register his stutters, but he doesn’t. Instead, Daryl smiles, that same damn grin with his teeth hooked along his bottom lip and eyes hooded as he watches every change in expression. You groan, half in the way he rolls his pelvis just enough to rub against that small bundle of nerves that beg for him, and half in annoyance at the way that lascivious expression seems to make every electron in you buzz.

“Shut- shut up.”

He lets out a sharp breath, a singular amused ‘ha’ following it, cock hardening and twitching even more at the fact he’s making you blush like that first night he had lavished every inch of your body with his lips - like you didn’t deserve every single damn word escaping from him. Leaning his weight against his left forearm that lies on the side of your head, Daryl brings his face to yours, nipping at your lips and seeking your tongue before he starts speaking.

“You should see yourself like this, y’know. Fuckin’ perfect for me.”

For a man who only ever growls and mutters, he certainly liked to talk a lot when he was pounding into you the way only he knows how and you’re just so damn unbelievable for him. For him. You’re his to love and it sparks something within in him that makes his tongue fucking run and his hips speed up involuntarily. Hell, you probably heard more of his voice in this shower tryst than the whole first nightwatch you had with him. You’re not even sure the water is beating down onto you anymore because the heat of your body makes the shower pale in comparison.

The sweat accumulating on his back and chest and everywhere is washed away almost immediately as it forms and you’re grasping for something to hold onto. Clawing, you wrap both your arms under and around his shoulders and scratch desperately at his back, grinding up against him and making jumbled noises of moans and Daryl’s name when he drags against that spot he knows so well. It’s skin on skin, the ceramic wall ceasing to feel cold as you screw your eyes shut and let yourself mount and mount with each roll of his hips. You hear a nearly feral growl, feeling your leg being hiked up higher by the elbow hooked underneath your thigh, and a loud noise breaks from your throat when his thumb swipes where his cock meets you.

“C’mon, we ain’t got all night.”

You’re close and he knows it. It was like he was rubbing it in your face, the fact he could make you like this - how quickly he could reduce you into the incoherent, ruined state you always seemed to become for him. Attentive. He’s always attentive. You can tell by the way he’s memorized everything that makes you shake and capitalizes on them, thrusts coupled with the tight circles pulling you closer and closer to that precipice of pleasure, but he says those words anyways, hoping to get a reaction from you. Daryl’s not an impatient lover - he would spend hours buried in you if you let him - but he’s so damn close and perhaps almost selfishly, he wants to watch you succumb first. He wants to watch the water race down your body as you writhe for him against the wall, and he wants that to send him over the edge.

“Then- then do better, Daryl.”

You bite back, your breath grazing against his neck and a wet heat rushes through him, making him groan nearly wrecked as his hair tickles your cheek. Reaching behind his muscular body to his shoulder blades, one of his large hands is more than enough to wrap around both of your wrists and he takes them in his grasp, moving them until they’re secure against the ceramic wall behind you. You’re warm for him. Pliable for him despite the veil of distaste in your voice and he can’t get enough of it.

Daryl’s so fucking happy you bite back.

His hips stop and you let out an almost childish cry, but he stays buried deep, filling you up to the brim as the water beats down on the both of you and holding you against the tiles by the weight he’s pressing from where you meld to him. His face is so close to your ear now. So much so that you can feel the breath when he speaks, a dangerous growl resounding through your body before his teeth graze along your neck.

“Hm? I ain’t never heard a complaint from you be- before. That a- fuck- are ya challengin’ me?”

An expletive drops from Daryl’s lips when you clench around him, no doubt from the sudden crash of your mounting pleasure, and he pushes impossibly further into you, firmly pinning you down until he knows you won’t be able to move anymore. He wants to show you he can stop at any moment, that he can make you work for it, but you both know he’ll give in. Maybe you didn’t know the extent of which you have him wrapped around your finger, but if you even knew half of it, you would know he would never stop. Not when he was so desperate for you he can barely think of anything except the way you look and feel. At least, not unless you wanted him to.

“Are you g-gonna take it up?”

Although your mouth ceases there, your brain runs, pleas tickling at the tip of your tongue, but you can barely manage to form the meager few syllables that have already escaped you. Eyebrows knotted at your forehead, you try desperately to coax more movement from him - a whine, a whimper, a thrash of your pinned hands flattened by his strong grip - but Daryl’s so damn still and it’s driving you crazy. When your body settles for only ragged breathing and shaking thighs, he takes it as his cue to lean down, lips brushing yours in a kiss that’s so affectionate you forget that, just moments ago, he was relentlessly pounding into you.

“Don’t know. Seems like you might be wantin’ it more’n me.”

Smiling against your mouth, he pulls away just enough to speak. A challenge in his words so obvious to you that you try in vain to buck your hips to his. If he didn’t sound so good and look so good and feel so damn good, you would have denied it, but you’re strung so taut, so close to the peak, that you can barely form a retort. A stupid, handsome smirk rests on his lips as he waits. Patient. Like it wasn’t affecting him, being buried in you. He’s just waiting for your words - goading you as he watches from underneath his lashes.

“Daryl, I swear to God if you stop right-“

The insincere threat is enough to spur him into action. Partly due to the fact you sound so desperate and ruined for him, and partly because he just needs to feel you again - he would lay you down and take you the way you deserved on the bed come morning, but right now was a different matter entirely. Swearing, his smirk drops in favour of a scowl, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he snaps up into you in quick succession. The hand at your thigh is roaming now, massaging and palming wherever his nimble fingers can worm their way onto before it splays across your ass, using the grip to pull your body impossibly closer to his. Daryl would have made you beg for him - he wanted to - but he can’t stop himself. Not when you look so pretty up against the wall and you’re taking his cock so well.

“Been gone four days an’ you’re already so damn needy.”

Whether that statement was directed at you or himself, you would never know.

An abashed whimper escapes through you and you want to deny it, perhaps just to see what would happen, but you can’t. You can’t because Daryl’s right. He knows he is, and you know he is. You thrash your arms so you can touch him, feel his skin underneath your fingers, but his grip around your wrists keeps you firm against the ceramic tiling - just enough to keep you pinned so he can admire the way you squirm for him. Grunts and groans of your name escape from him with each thrust, the feeling of your body melded to his much too intoxicating for him to keep his mouth shut.

“What, you embarrassed now? Wanna cover your mouth? Keep them noises from me when you’re soundin’ so damn pretty? Ya better not be thinkin’ about it. ‘Cause ya damn well ain’t gotta.”

Daryl tilts his head, eyes squinting in faux-concern and mocking you as his hips relentlessly hit up into yours, pushing out the breath from your lungs which escape in tantalizing gasps with each roll. You’re so close, and the only thing you can do is moan at the sound of his rough voice, the coil tightening in your abdomen because of his determined thrusts. You just need a little more - just a little more - and he reads you like a book.

Without warning, the hand pinning your wrists frees itself, his finger pinpointing back between your thighs with an unadulterated eagerness to pull your climax from you and you damn near cry out Daryl’s name as you claw at his back. It’s like second nature to him, the way he can touch you and make you crumble for him. Practice does make perfect, and he’s always been a persistent man.

“Ya sure as hell weren’t when you were bein’ a brat.”

Everything he’s doing to you is almost effortless. It makes your legs shake and without warning, your thighs tense up, a white hot surge of pleasure erupting from the base of your stomach and you gasp a broken moan of Daryl’s name as you clutch at his neck in an effort to keep yourself from collapsing onto him. He holds you close, chest pushed up to yours and breathing ruined into your ear as he works you through your climax with dextrous fingers, chasing his own as his rhythm begins to falter. Sporadic thrusts meet each flutter of your clenching warmth. until he can’t hold out anymore.

Screwing his eyes shut, a stuttered chanting of profanities mixed in perfectly with pleads of your name fan out from his mouth and he pulls out, rubbing himself harsh against your thigh before your fingers wrap around his cock. Fuck, Daryl nearly crumbles right then and there, a ragged groan rushing from him before his hips jerk upwards to your touch - nothing could even compare to it and he thinks nothing could ever come close. Nothing except you. Pulsing in your grasp, both of his rough hands dig into either of your thighs and he stills, teeth gritted as the evidence of his pleasure hits your stomach before being washed away in the steady stream of water.

Satisfied, you smile and lean towards him, your head coming off the ceramic wall, and he parts his lips immediately for your tongue, but you pull away after giving him a quick peck. Scrunching his nose, Daryl pats lightly at your thigh for your attention and seeks your lips once more, moving his with the same amount of overwhelming love and affection he always does. It makes you feel warm inside, like you were the only one in the world for him. And you were. At least, in his mind you were.

He releases the grip he has on your thigh and slowly lowers it, his hand still ghosting close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off his body. Both legs still shaking slightly, your foot hits the floor of the shower and you lean your weight on it, tentative and experimentally at first before you overestimate its security and half-fall-half-stumble into him. Daryl notices, of course he does, and he swallows down the pride welling in his chest as his sure grasp steadies you against his body.  

“Hey, hey, I got ya. Jus’- jus’- I got ya.”

By instinct, he speaks, the rumble of his chest against yours making your heart well up with the familiar fondness you always experience when it comes to him. Daryl wasn’t a man of many words even though you had managed to break him out of his shell a little - at least with you - but there was no doubt in your mind that he genuinely and wholeheartedly cared about you. In his eyes, you had strung the stars into the sky and he always treated you with a softness he never thought himself capable of.

With one hand on his waist and one on his shoulder, you use Daryl as a crutch, continuing to lean your weight on your legs until they cease to shake. When you can stand on your own, albeit with wobbly legs, you link your fingers in both of his and meet his protective gaze - alert as if prepared to catch you again if your body gave any type of signal. He smiles when he sees the expression on your face and brings your knuckles to his lips, pressing a firm kiss onto the back of each of your hands before letting go and reaching for the bar of soap you two had ignored in exchange for something more riveting.

“Here, let me- I’ll help ya wash up.”

It meets your shoulder and it’s cold as he trails it down, lathering your right arm before moving across your chest and to your left. Smiling at his concern, you hum, nodding your head and content at the feeling of his tenderness as he continues to dutifully run the suds down along your body. Daryl unabashedly goes about copping a feel or two when his hand just so happens to fall onto your chest or your ass, a boyish grin meeting your quirked eyebrow when you question his intentions with a look. If you actually, truly cared to ask him, he would say he was helping you wash your body and making sure he was doing it to the best of his ability - quality assurance or some shit like that.

He helps you lather, too, calloused fingers rubbing off dead skin much better than yours could as he focuses the showerhead on him. You laugh when he pulls you into him, water streaming down your body along with his hands as the bubbles wash off your body and you run the bar of soap along the broad expanse of his shoulders, doing your fair share of subtle… touching too. Daryl all but melts into your caring hands, revelling in the way your attention is solely focused on him before he grunts, as if signalling you to look at him. When you do, his hands loop around your waist, head tilted to one side as he gingerly rubs those little shapes he always love to draw onto your skin.

“Y’alright? Was, uh, was that alright, I mean.”

Allowing you to maneuver him under the shower, he begrudgingly lets go of you to rinse off all the soap and feels genuinely clean for the first time in what felt like days. Smiling, you respond, saluting playfully and laying a small peck onto the corner of his lips before you spin around, pulling the curtain open just enough to reach for the towel lying just a few inches away on the towel rack but still keeping the warmth from the water in.  

“Yes, sir!”

His cock twitches at the name, betraying the slur of fatigue in his voice and he sighs at himself, turning the shower knob off and opening the curtain fully, reaching for his own towel that hangs next to yours. He always did feel like a teenager when it came to you, and usually he didn’t mind it, but he really was tired before this and his back is killing him, so maybe another time.

Drying your body, you turn your head towards him and smile before making quick work of your wet hair and stepping out, pulling your underwear on from where you left it on the bathroom counter. It’s a small smile, one fully innocent and only ever reserved for him, but that look makes your words replay in his mind. A shudder runs through him as he tries to ease a smile onto his face too, admiring the scene of you for a moment. It’s domesticity, showing him a homelife he could actually feel loved and safe in; reminding Daryl something like that actually existed for him.

He imagines meeting you in a different world, wooing you like you deserved through coffee dates and Radiohead concerts, not through killing reanimated corpses or guarding Alexandria’s walls together, and his whole body calms down.

But then you pull on a shirt that’s much too big for you - one of his shirts that you said you liked wearing because it smelled like him - and he swallows his spit as if he hadn’t seen you naked just moments ago, a familiar shudder running through him again. Definitely another time. Near future, preferably.

Hopefully.

“You coming?”

Your voice breaks Daryl out of his daydream and he grunts an answer, smirking at the joke that just popped into his head as he replies with a curt ‘I just did’ and catches the pair of boxers you throw at him in response. Rolling your eyes, you comb your fingers through your hair and try to dry it as much as you can with the towel before reaching for your toothbrush. He follows suit, dressed in only his boxers as he brushes his teeth and shakes his wet hair at you like a dog, causing you to whip water at him off your fingertips after you wash off the excess toothpaste dribbling at the corners of your mouth. Smiling internally, he spits, tasting mint on his tongue that he'd much rather replace with the taste of your lips, even though he knows full well you’re just as minty as he is.

“Thank you.”

Meeting his eye in the mirror, you give him a confused look, eyebrows raised in an expression he thought was much too cute on your face for your own good. Your hands don’t still as you continue to rub out the water in your hair, determined not to go to bed with it too wet and risking it to clump up and dry tangled.

“For lettin’ me, uh, do that.”

His naturally gravelly voice clears up, turning slightly more timid than you were used to and you notice the shift in his behaviour. He avoids your gaze, waiting for your response as he fiddles with the lantern he now has in his grasp, unsure of what you would say and you decide your hair is dry enough. Hanging your towel back onto the rack next to his, you grab his free hand and lead the two of you back towards the bed, smiling affectionately as you turn off the lightsource and place it onto the nightstand. Wide-eyed, Daryl stares at you, as if waiting for you to tell him to leave - that you hated what he had done - but you break him from that train of thought as you slip under the covers and welcome him to join you.

Relief washes over him and he happily climbs in, groaning at the feeling of your body next to his and he succumbs to the comfort of the mattress. Pushing yourself into his side, his arms automatically open for you and he swears he could cry when you brush your thumb against his cheekbone and lean up to him.

“Anything for you.”

He feels the words as you whisper them just inches away from his lips, and he relishes in them when you pull away from the quick peck and dig your face into your pillow, closing your eyes and just looking so at peace. You’re so close to him Daryl’s in awe and he can’t help but stare. Wanting to hold onto the feeling of his skin a little longer, your finger draws a little heart over where his beats in his chest and you speak again, voice so warm and sincere.

“I’m glad you’re home.”

Home. That’s what it is to him now, too.

“Glad ‘m home too.”

With a final kiss laid on your forehead, Daryl echoes your statement and pulls your body closer into his. A small smile tugs at his lips and his arm slings lazily at your waist before he, too, closes his eyes, allowing himself to fall into the lull of sleep.

It was good to be back.

Back to a home he had made with you.

──── ⋙ 

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