#when i used to write for asks it felt more like a job so.. this is a nice refresher why i started this whole writing thing...

[fairytaleendingss]

Obvious

Summary: Bucky doesn't know how to ask you out and receives some (unsolicited) help from the rest of the team.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

CW: Awkward Bucky (inspired by that horrendous date in FATWS), also grumpy Bucky. A lot of sighing and eyerolling at his new friends but it's cute in the end.

This is very unserious but I had to write something for him because I am violently obsessed with this man. Please send Bucky requests!!

--

Bucky was pretty sure that his days of wooing women were long behind him, buried deep in the snow along with the part of himself that he lost when he fell from that train back in 1945.

He didn't have time for trivial things of that nature anymore. He was a man lost in time, with enough blood on his hands to fill a swimming pool. He was a tired, broken person, struggling to find a balance between who he used to be and who hydra had turned him into. The idea of love, a concept that once weighed so heavy on his mind all those years ago, seemed insignificant now.

That was, until he met you.

You were hired to be an assistant of sorts to the New Avengers and you were damn good at your job. You managed their calendars, booked their appointments, made sure they were prepped and ready for every mission, interview and press-release. You slotted into the team like the the final piece of their mismatched puzzle and before long, they began to wonder how they ever did their jobs without you.

Not only were you a valuable asset to the team, they also viewed you as a dear friend. However, as time past, Bucky began to see you as so much more.

The first time he realised he had feelings for you was when you were sat across from him at dinner.. It had been a long day of doing press for the New Avengers, which was very notably Bucky's least favourite part of the job. He hated the spotlight. The photos, the media training, the questions about his past. It took everything in him not to storm out of the room and never look back.

He'd started to get overwhelmed that day. He'd gone outside for a breather in between interviews. You found him sitting on the front steps of the building, his previously styled hair tousled from running his hand through it so many times. You could see the fingers of his vibranium arm twitching the way they always did when he was feeling anxious.

"Are you alright?" you'd asked gently, taking a seat beside him.

He released a heavy sigh.

"I'm just- I'm not cut out for all this Avengers stuff." He turned to look at you, crystal blue eyes ablaze with unshed emotion. "I'm not some superhero. I'm not Steve."

"Bucky," you'd reached out softly, setting a comforting hand on his knee. "No one is asking you to be Steve and no one is asking you to be perfect. We all have a past and have done things we regret. All that matters now is that you're a good man, who's trying to do the right thing. In my opinion that makes you more than hero enough."

He gave you a soft smile. "Thanks. It just all gets overwhelming sometimes."

"I know," you responded gently. "But I also know that you're one of the strongest people I've ever met. If anyone's cut out to be an Avenger, it's you."

Those words had stuck with him throughout the rest of the day. It felt nice to know there was someone who believed in him, to show him that he was more than just some reformed hydra puppet. No one else besides Steve had been able to make him fell that way.

That night, you'd organised a celebratory dinner back at the tower. A reward, for all of their hard work. And as Bucky sat across from you at the table, watching as you laughed loudly at some story Alexi was telling, he began to feel something flutter inside his stomach. Something small, like a distant memory, a feeling he'd long forgotten.

It was later on, as he tried to fall asleep, that he realised how much trouble he was in.

--

Ever since that night, he'd found himself behaving differently around you. He was awkward and uncertain. It was frankly, quite embarrassing.

He knew that one upon a time, he would've had no trouble grabbing your attention. He probably would've said something flirty, thrown you a compliment, flashed you a charming smile, and next thing he knew he'd be taking you out dancing at some supper club in Downtown Brooklyn.

However, it wasn't the 1940s anymore and he definitely wasn't that guy. Now he just felt clumsy and out of place in his own skin. And the worst part was, people were starting to notice.

Ava shot him a look that clearly read "what the fuck?" after she observed the most painfully awkward attempt at a conversation that she'd ever witnessed.

Walker had burst out laughing when he'd spilt coffee all over himself after you walked in wearing a gorgeous red dress to work.

And he was more that sure that everyone noticed him accidentally crush a glass of whisky in his metal hand when you told the group you had a date on your way out of the tower one evening.

The team had begun noticing the signs of Bucky's affliction maybe even before he had, and after the glass incident, they decided enough was enough.

--

"Okay, what the hell is going on?" Yelena asked him one day after watching another of his pathetic attempts to make conversation with you.

"What?" he blinked at her, seemingly snapped out of some sort of daze.

"This weird thing that's happening whenever Y/n is in the room!"

"Nothing weird is happening," Bucky defended.

Bob just shrugged at him bashfully. "Come on, man. You don't have to pretend."

"Pretend what?"

"That you're not madly in love with her," Yelena responded as if it was obvious thing in the world.

"I'm not in love with her!" Bucky argued, embarrassment crawling up his throat.

"Who is Bucky in love with?" Alexi's voice boomed through the doorway as he and Ava entered, having just finished a training session together.

"Y/n," Bob supplied before Bucky had the chance to intervene.

Bucky ran a tired hand over his face. "Okay, come on guys."

"Ah yes. Brave Winter Soldier turns into bumbling little man whenever Y/n is in room. It is quite funny." Alexi observed.

Bucky's eyes widened as he turned back to face Bob and Yelena. "Okay so what? This is just common knowledge then?"

The two of them nodded at him.

"Sorry but it's kind of obvious," Ava supplied, walking over to take her favourite chair in the corner of the room.

"Oh god," the man sighed, planting himself on the couch and placing his head in his hands pitifully.

Yelena moved to sit beside him, resting a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey, don't worry. Maybe this is a good thing," She said. "You're so grumpy all the time. It's nice to see you lighten up once in a while."

Bucky lifted his head to send her a deadpan look.

"What?" she shrugged "It's true."

"How about this?" Alexi offered. "We help you to ask Y/n on date, huh?"

"No! No way. Absolutely not."

"Oh come on, Bucky. Why not?" Yelena pushed.

"Dear god, please just say yes and put us all out of our misery," Ava called across the room.

Bob nodded hopefully. "It'd be nice to see you guys happy together."

Bucky looked around the room, narrowed eyes scanning over friends who all seemed on the edge of their seats waiting for his answer. Then he let out a heavy breath, rolling his eyes. He couldn't believe what he was about to say.

"Fine, I'll do it. As long as you promise to stop talking about it."

Alexi cheered loudly as Bob and Yelena shared a smile.

"This will be amazing, my friend. You will see," Alexi exclaimed, giving him a pat on the back so heavy that it jolted him. Bucky was already beginning to regret letting them help.

At that moment, Walker stepped into the room. "What's amazing?"

"Bucky is going to ask Y/n on a date," Bob remarked.

"Oh great. Took you long enough, dude," he muttered nonchalantly as he made his way towards the kitchen.

Bucky just sighed.

--

"Come on guys, this is ridiculous."

Bucky was sitting on a stool in the bathroom, Yelena waving a blow-dryer over his hair while Ava and Walker rifled through his dresser draw, bickering over what shirt he should wear for the big occasion.

"We're making you handsome," Yelena declared. "You have to look like you made an effort for her if you want her to say yes to the date."

"She sees me every day. She already knows what I look like."

Yelena paused her movements, to look him in the eye. "That is exactly my point."

"Hey Buck? do you have anything that doesn't scream 'I'm trying to intimidate you into giving up important information'?" John called from the bedroom, through the open bathroom door.

"Or at least something that isn't black?" Ava added.

Bucky rolled his eyes.

It was at that moment that the bedroom door opened and Alexi barreled into the room. "How is he coming along?"

"Just finishing up," Yelena told him, stepping away to reveal the results of her hard work.

Bucky looked in the mirror, assessing the damage.

"Looks good, huh?" she posed, standing back on her heels, looking proud of her handywork.

"I look like Prince Charming."

"See, you're charming! She is going to love you," Alexi reassured him, which somehow seemed to have the opposite affect on the man.

Bucky stepped out of the bathroom, into the main area of his bedroom where John and Ava still hadn't seemed to come to a decision.

"So do you have a shirt for me or should I do this without one?" Bucky remarked sarcastically, which was followed by an overly enthusiastic retort from Alexi.

"Good idea, Bucky. Bare chest shows dominance."

Bucky sent him a look of disbelief. "What? No! That was a joke. I'm wearing a shirt Alexi."

He turned back to where John and Ava were gathered. "Look, if you two can't make up your minds, I'll decide on my own."

He pushed past them, reaching for his favourite blue Henley and throwing it on over his undershirt. He did his best to make the choice seem random and casual, but really he picked it on purpose. Last time he wore it, you'd made a comment on how it brought out his eyes.

"That's not actually a bad choice," Ava murmured, giving him a once over.

"Very suave for Mr Winter Soldier. Y/n is going to make the love heart eyes when she sees you," Alexi encouraged.

Bucky's jaw clenched. "Okay whatever. Lets just get this over with."

Then he moved across the room to his nightstand where the rest of the group only just noticed a bouquet of roses.

"Aww, that's so sweet," Yelena exclaimed affectionately.

John nodded in his direction. "Yeah, nice touch Barnes. Maybe there's some hope for you after all."

"Shut up Walker," Bucky said but there was a lack of bite to his words. "You guys do realise I've dated before right?"

Ava smirked. "Oh yeah, sure."

"I used to take girls out all the time back in the 40s."

"Okay, sure buddy. Whatever you say," John chimed sarcastically.

Bucky rolled his eyes once more as he made his way out of the room.

He found you in the main living area, deep in conversation with Bob. However, he stopped mid sentence when he noticed Bucky approaching.

"Oh- is it time for the- ah, thing? Okay." Bob rambled, causing you to look suspiciously between the two men.

"Good luck," Bob called as he made a hurried exit.

You raised a brow at Bucky. "Hey Buck. What's going on?"

He sighed thickly, feeling idiotic and cursing himself internally for letting the team rope him in to this whole ridiculous ordeal. However, as he looked at you, staring up at him with wide expecting eyes, he realised it was too late to back out now.

"Uh- these are for you," Bucky muttered awkwardly, holding out the bouquet gently, sort of like a peace offering.

"Oh wow. They're beautiful!" You exclaimed, taking the roses from him, a smile pulling loosely at your lips. "Thank you so much. What's the occasion?"

He took a deep breath through his nose, suddenly feeling very exposed before you.

"Look, I was... um, wondering if you'd like to get a drink some time..."

He trailed off, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly as he awaited the response.

You paused for a moment, seemingly in shock as you processed the question. Then, your lips turned upwards.

"Bucky Barnes, are you asking me on a date?"

"Uh, yeah I am, if you're interested," He muttered in reply.

You leaned, moving to your toes to place a gentle kiss on the stubble of his cheek. When you pulled away, you were smiling.

"I thought you'd never ask."

He smiled back, a newfound confidence beginning to brew inside of him. Or maybe it was a familiar confidence. He couldn't be sure.

"Alright then. I'll pick you up saturday, at seven?"

You nodded. "I'm looking forward to it."

Suddenly there was a loud bustle of cheers and whooping that echoed from the next room, and one loud "finally!" that could only have come from Ava.

Bob peaked his head around the door that they clearly had all been listening in from behind, sending Bucky a smile and an enthusiastic thumbs up.

You chuckled. "I'm going to assume they had something to do with this."

Bucky ran a hand over his face. "Unfortunately."

You shrugged. "I think it's sweet they wanted to help you as me out. I mean, after the last few weeks, I was worried you weren't ever going to work up the courage."

Bucky's eyes widened. "Wait, you knew about this as well?"

You sent the man a playful smile. "It was kind of obvious."

[hollowed-theory-hall]

I talked about this with @a-capricious-creative and I kinda wanted to make a proper post about this:

Hermione doesn't write Harry and Ron's homework for them

I just see this point brought up sometimes (and I made the mistake of looking at Reddit), so I want to set the record straight regarding Hermione's help with Harry and Ron's schoolwork. In the books, she isn't writing their essays for them, nor does she let them copy the entire thing. Ron and Harry do their own work, and sometimes (not always) Hermione goes over it, corrects mistakes, spelling, and sometimes adds a different conclusion or, in general, refines the work; she doesn't write their work from scratch.

But, I wouldn't be me if I just said that without bringing up evidence, so, here is the evidence (You will see in the quotes that the book Hermione writes the most in Harry and Ron's homework is HBP, and before that she practiclly never helps with their homework to the degree shown there, if you needed any more reasons to criticize HBP):

More often than not, Harry and Ron do their essays on their own. They are described as studying last-minute and staying up late to finish essays after they procrastinated. They complete said last-minute essays with no help from Hermione:

Harry found Ron at the back of the library, measuring his History of Magic homework. Professor Binns had asked for a three-foot-long composition on “The Medieval Assembly of European Wizards.” “I don’t believe it, I’m still eight inches short. . . .” said Ron furiously, letting go of his parchment, which sprang back into a roll.

(CoS, Ch9)

He [Harry] replaced the top of the ink bottle; pulled an old pillowcase from under his bed; put the flashlight, A History of Magic, his essay, quill, and ink inside it; got out of bed; and hid the lot under a loose floorboard under his bed.

(PoA, Ch1)

When at the Dursleys, Harry does his summer homework of his own accord, no nagging needed. Harry actually worries and thinks about when he's going to do his homework quite a bit throughout the books.

They continued to make up predictions (which grew steadily more tragic) for another hour, while the common room around them slowly emptied as people went up to bed. Crookshanks wandered over to them, leapt lightly into an empty chair, and stared inscrutably at Harry, rather as Hermione might look if she knew they weren’t doing their homework properly.

(GoF, Ch14)

He was working flat-out just to get through all their homework, though he made a point of sending regular food packages up to the cave in the mountain for Sirius; after last summer, Harry had not forgotten what it felt like to be continually hungry.

(GoF, Ch28)

Again, Harry is working on his homework on his own while worrying about Sirius.

Now panicking slightly about the amount of homework they had to do, Harry and Ron spent their lunch hour in the library looking up the uses of moonstones in potion-making. Still angry about Ron’s slur on her woolly hats, Hermione did not join them.

(OotP, Ch13)

He had not had time to practice Vanishing Spells, had not written a single dream in his dream diary, and had not finished the drawing of the bowtruckle, nor had he written his essays. He skipped breakfast next morning to scribble down a couple of made-up dreams for Divination, their first lesson, and was surprised to find a disheveled Ron keeping him company.

(OotP, Ch13)

His homework situation, however, was now desperate, and when he returned to the Gryffindor common room he did not, though exhausted, go to bed, but opened his books and began Snape’s moonstone essay. It was half-past two by the time he had finished it. He knew he had done a poor job, but there was no help for it; unless he had something to give in he would be in detention with Snape next. He then dashed off answers to the questions Professor McGonagall had set them, cobbled together something on the proper handling of bowtruckles for Professor Grubbly-Plank, and staggered up to bed, where he fell fully clothed on top of the bed covers and fell asleep immediately.

(OotP, Ch13)

Due to Umbeidge's detentions, he had no time for homework and stayed up late to pull something together on his own. Both Harry and Ron are more likely to cobble up a subpar essay last minute than not submit anything or copy from Hermione (not that she lets them, more on that later). Also, Harry got an 'Acceptable' for McGonagall's homework described here, which I think is commendable considering the very little effort he put in.

but Harry pulled out his Potions book and set to work to finish his essay, though he was only pretending to concentrate and, by the time that Ron said he was going to bed too, had written hardly anything. Midnight came and went while Harry was reading and rereading a passage about the uses of scurvy-grass, lovage, and sneezewort and not taking in a word of it. . . .

(OotP, Ch18)

Again, Harry is working on his homework on his own.

Having wasted a lot of time worrying aloud about Apparition, Ron was now struggling to finish a viciously difficult essay for Snape that Harry and Hermione had already completed. Harry fully expected to receive low marks on his, because he had disagreed with Snape on the best way to tackle dementors, but he did not care

(HBP, Ch21) - Harry and Hermione clearly didn't write the same essay, and Ron is writing another essay on his own.

Harry refers to his own homework workload a lot, and complains about having to do all of it and having no time for it. If he was copying everything off Hermione, that would not be the case:

Perhaps it was because he was now so busy, what with Quidditch practice three evenings a week on top of all his homework, but Harry could hardly believe it when he realized that he’d already been at Hogwarts two months.

(PS, Ch10)

Meanwhile Professor Binns, the ghost who taught History of Magic, had them writing weekly essays on the goblin rebellions of the eighteenth century. Professor Snape was forcing them to research antidotes. They took this one seriously, as he had hinted that he might be poisoning one of them before Christmas to see if their antidote worked. Professor Flitwick had asked them to read three extra books in preparation for their lesson on Summoning Charms.

(GoF, Ch15)

“I hope she [Umbridge] doesn’t keep me too long this evening. You realize we’ve got to write three essays, practice Vanishing Spells for McGonagall, work out a countercharm for Flitwick, finish the bowtruckle drawing, and start that stupid dream diary for Trelawney?”

(OotP, Ch13) - about his detention with Umbridge.

And sometimes, all three do homework together. Hermione is not the only one sitting long hours in the library over homework; they all do, and they all write their own essays with different conclusions and different grades:

They piled so much homework on them that the Easter holidays weren’t nearly as much fun as the Christmas ones. It was hard to relax with Hermione next to you reciting the twelve uses of dragon’s blood or practicing wand movements. Moaning and yawning, Harry and Ron spent most of their free time in the library with her, trying to get through all their extra work.

(PS, Ch14)

“Wonder what it’s like to have a peaceful life,” Ron sighed, as evening after evening they struggled through all the extra homework they were getting. Hermione had now started making study schedules for Harry and Ron, too. It was driving them nuts.

(PS, Ch14)

“Why would anyone want to celebrate the day they died?” said Ron, who was halfway through his Potions homework and grumpy. “Sounds dead depressing to me. . . .”

(CoS, Ch8)

Harry, Ron, and Hermione chose seats as far as possible from Percy in the common room that night. Ron was still in a very bad temper and kept blotting his Charms homework.

(CoS, Ch9)

“How’s she doing it?” Ron muttered to Harry one evening as Harry sat finishing a nasty essay on Undetectable Poisons for Snape. Harry looked up. Hermione was barely visible behind a tottering pile of books.

(PoA, Ch12)

Neville actually asks Harry for help with his own homework (Harry isn't seen as a bad student by others; that being said, it is DADA which is his best subject):

“Er — not now — I was going to go to the library and do that vampire essay for Lupin —” “I’ll come with you!” said Neville brightly. “I haven’t done it either!” “Er — hang on — yeah, I forgot, I finished it last night!” “Great, you can help me!” said Neville, his round face anxious.

(PoA, Ch14)

Hermione herself is against just letting Harry and Ron copy her homework, and repeatedly doesn't let Harry and Ron do so:

Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat together next to a window. Hermione was checking Harry and Ron’s Charms homework for them. She would never let them copy (“How will you learn?”), but by asking her to read it through, they got the right answers anyway.

(PS, Ch11)

“You know, we probably should try and get more homework done during the week,” Harry muttered to Ron, as they finally laid aside Professor McGonagall’s long essay on the Inanimatus Conjurus spell and turned miserably to Professor Sinistra’s equally long and difficult essay about Jupiter’s moons. “Yeah,” said Ron, rubbing slightly bloodshot eyes and throwing his fifth spoiled bit of parchment into the fire beside them. “Listen . . . shall we just ask Hermione if we can have a look at what she’s done?” Harry glanced over at her; she was sitting with Crookshanks on her lap and chatting merrily to Ginny as a pair of knitting needles flashed in midair in front of her, now knitting a pair of shapeless elf socks. “No,” he said heavily, “you know she won’t let us.”

(OotP, Ch14)

When we do see her help them, she never writes the whole essay for them; she usually corrects the essays they wrote and occasionally adds to them:

It was really lucky that Harry now had Hermione as a friend. He didn’t know how he’d have gotten through all his homework without her, what with all the last-minute Quidditch practice Wood was making them do. She had also lent him Quidditch Through the Ages, which turned out to be a very interesting read.

(PS, Ch11)

She helps Harry go through his homework when he doesn't have time for it; he goes through it himself, too. She is helping by summarizing information (as we see later), not doing it for him. (I also want to note Hermione read Quidditch Through the Ages, she knows Quidditch, she just isn't passionate about it).

“Don’t start arguing again,” said Harry wearily, as Ron opened his mouth to retaliate. “Can’t we just . . . Let’s just do that homework, get it out of the way. . . .” They collected their schoolbags from a corner and returned to the chairs by the fire. People were coming back from dinner now. Harry kept his face averted from the portrait hole, but could still sense the stares he was attracting. “Shall we do Snape’s stuff first?” said Ron, dipping his quill into his ink. “ ‘The properties . . . of moonstone . . . and its uses . . . in potion-making . . .’ ” he muttered, writing the words across the top of his parchment as he spoke them. “There.” He underlined the title, then looked up expectantly at Hermione. “So what are the properties of moonstone and its uses in potion- making?” [...] “Anyway . . .” He [Ron] rolled up the parchment on which he had written the title of Snape’s essay. “There’s no point trying to finish this now, I can’t do it without Hermione, I haven’t got a clue what you’re supposed to do with moonstones, have you?” Harry shook his head, noticing as he did so that the ache in his right temple was getting worse. He thought of the long essay on giant wars and the pain stabbed at him sharply. Knowing perfectly well that he would regret not finishing his homework tonight when the morning came, he piled his books back into his bag.

(OotP, Ch13)

Again, Harry does his own homework and schedules when he does which assignment for himself. And sometimes, they work together; there is nothing wrong with studying together or writing essays together. This isn't cheating.

Ron is attempting to get Hermione to explain what he needs to write so he won't have to track a book to read it in, but she doesn't help him in this situation, and later Harry and Ron go to the library to research for this essay on their own:

Now panicking slightly about the amount of homework they had to do, Harry and Ron spent their lunch hour in the library looking up the uses of moonstones in potion-making.

(OotP, Ch13) - I brought this quote up earlier, but this is the context. Harry and Ron sometimes have Hermione summarize research for them instead of going to the library. This is often what her help looks like.

When she does help, it usually looks like this:

“Jupiter’s biggest moon is Ganymede, not Callisto,” she said, pointing over Ron’s shoulder at a line in his Astronomy essay, “and it’s Io that’s got the volcanos.” [...] “Give them to me, I’ll look through them and correct them,” she said. “Are you serious? Ah, Hermione, you’re a lifesaver,” said Ron, “what can I — ?” “What you can say is, ‘We promise we’ll never leave our homework this late again,’ ” she said, holding out both hands for their essays, but she looked slightly amused all the same. “Thanks a million, Hermione,” said Harry weakly, passing over his essay and sinking back into his armchair, rubbing his eyes. It was now past midnight and the common room was deserted but for the three of them and Crookshanks. [...] “Okay, write that down,” Hermione said to Ron, pushing his essay and a sheet covered in her own writing back to Ron, “and then copy out this conclusion that I’ve written for you.” [...] said Hermione. “Harry, yours is okay except for this bit at the end, I think you must have misheard Professor Sinistra, Europa’s covered in ice, not mice — Harry?”

(OotP, Ch14)

Again, context, it's past midnight, and Harry is having a Voldemort-induced migraine. They've procrastinated the essays until the last moment, but they wrote them. Hermione checks them over and corrects them, but she isn't writing them for them.

All that day she [Hermione] seemed to be in a particularly good mood, and that evening in the common room she even consented to look over (in other words, finish writing) Harry’s Herbology essay, something she had been resolutely refusing to do up to this point, because she had known that Harry would then let Ron copy his work.

(HBP, Ch20)

Again, Hermione doesn't help them as often as some fans say, because she wants them to learn. And again, she corrects and helps finish an already written essay, and Ron, apparently, copies Harry's essays sometimes (at least per HBP that started dumbing both boys, but especially Ron, down...).

“Ah no!” said Ron, staring horror-struck at the parchment. “Don’t say I’ll have to write the whole thing out again!” “It’s okay, we can fix it,” said Hermione, pulling the essay toward her and taking out her wand. “I love you, Hermione,” said Ron, sinking back in his chair, rubbing his eyes wearily.

(HBP, Ch21)

Hermione again checks over already written essays and corrects Ron's spelling errors caused by Fred & George's jinxed quill; she isn't writing the whole thing.

Hence why Harry, Ron, and Hermione get different grades often enough because they aren't submitting the same essays, nor are they always working on them together (even Harry and Ron don't always do their homework together, though they help each other more often than Hermione helps either of them). Hermione never wrote their whole essays for them; she corrected and reviewed them, and there is a huge difference. She actually compliments Harry's essays sometimes as being good. Regardless, Ron and Harry still sat in the library/common room and stayed up late to write their essays on their own more often than not. Ron and Neville see Harry as a good enough student to copy his essays from him in certain subjects (and sometimes, Ron's essays are better than Harry's. Though I'd say Harry is more inclined to put slightly more effort into his essays than Ron usually is, if he has time. Harry also doesn't like setting homework off for the last minute, and it's Ron who repeatedly convinces him to do so:

Harry felt a small twinge of guilt at the thought of the pile of homework awaiting him upstairs, but the sky was a clear, exhilarating blue, and he had not been on his Firebolt for a week. . . . “I mean, we can do it tonight,” said Ron, as he and Harry walked down the sloping lawns toward the Quidditch pitch, their broomsticks over their shoulders

(OotP, Ch14)

I love Ron, but he is a bad influence on Harry when it comes to his schoolwork. Harry actually read through his school books before first year:

He had decided to call her Hedwig, a name he had found in A History of Magic. His school books were very interesting. He lay on his bed reading late into the night

(PS, Ch6)

Harry just: a. stops caring when he sees no one else really cares b. he gets good enough grades without caring c. has so much other shit on his mind, give him a break).

So can this fanon that Hermione does all their essays be put to rest, please? Harry and Ron's 'A's, 'E's, and occasional 'O's are their own, not Hermione's.

(Also, considering how last-minute Harry and Ron tend to do their homework, the fact that they average on 'A's and 'E's for most subjects is absolutely a testament to them being intelligent and decent bullshiters)

[sadmusicprincess]

don't you know ? ill drive you crazy. - obsessed ex! ni-ki ────୨ৎ────

│you and ni-ki's relationship wasn't really working out, so when you two broke up, you cut off all contact but he didn't like it when you kept ignoring him..

(just saw the most scrumptious edit of ni-ki and ran to tumblr)

tw : breaking in, p in v (unprotected), ni-ki is a soft dom in this

wc : 2,846

after you and ni-ki broke up, neither of you really took it well. you felt empty, beside all the toxicity in your relationship. ni-ki was a good boyfriend.

but ni-ki REALLY didn't want to break up, so he has been stalking you, sending you "apology gifts", screenshotting all your posts, writing letters, harassing you, and sometimes even threatening you.

at one point, he showed up at your job with roses, asking you to just talk to him. fortunately, your boss escorted him out, ni-ki didn't say anything but just gave you a cold stare as he turned to leave.

well now, you decided to simmer down and watch a movie, you had a tough day and just wanted nothing more than to relax in the tub. just as you get comfortable, you hear a loud crashing sound, at first you thought it was your dog, until you heard him panting at your door. you slowly got up and reached for a towel to cover yourself. you grabbed your phone incase you needed to call the police or anything.

suddenly when you reach the living room, you felt arms around your waist and you got spun around, "ni-ki? what are you doing" you say with wide eyes. "I missed hearing your voice baby" he says holding you in a hug. he grabs ur arm and guides you to the couch and sits you down next to him, "ni-ki you're scaring me" you say with your chest rising up and down fast. "what're u scared for baby? you know I'd never hurt you" he says smiling. he reaches for the remote and turns on a movie you and him used to love watching together. he holds you tightly next to him with his hand resting on the towel.

ni-ki looks over and moves his hand up more to your inner thigh. you look at him alarmingly and he says in a serious tone "do you want me to stop? say the word and ill leave right now y/n". you look at him and shake your head no quickly. "I knew you still wanted me" he says getting up and walking to the bedroom. "you coming ?" he says before swinging around the corner. you get up and walk to your bedroom, still clutching your towel that was hanging onto your now dry body ( not completely dry ). ni-ki asked you to straddle him. once you were on top of him with the towel still on, he made eye contact with you and said "can I take it off ?". "please" you replied with batting your lashes. he slowly peeled off the towel and wrapped his arms around your waist. "ride me honey" he said pressing small kisses on your collarbones. you started at slow pace until ni-ki grabbed your hips and started doing the work for you. you have your arms wrapped around his neck, moaning into his ear. "promise you'll never leave me again ?" ni-ki says panting. "promise" you say moaning his name.

once you both finish, ni-ki gets you some clothes from your closet and helps you get dressed. he then lays down next to you and kissing your forehead. "I promise i'll do better" he says cuddling you. you give him a soft smile and rest your head closer to his heart.

I actually can't stop looking at pictures of him, he's so yum😛

[nubiawrites]

chapter fourteen

Pairing: Aaron Pierre x Black Original Character

Warnings: Slow burn. 18+. Alcohol. Smut. Squirting.

Summary: One night can change things, for better or for worse, Aaron and Iriye learn as they attend a charity event.

Notes: I lied... I'm probably ending this in the next chapter but never fear, part two of this series is expected to be juicy. The inspo has been pouring in and I'm excited to see it translate to page. Plus, the one shot I have coming up for them... it's gonna wreck ya heart.

MASTERLIST

“What do you think of this?” Iriye said, showing the dress to Nelly and Tamara as they perused their own racks in the upscale store. She had only a few hours to get herself together.

“Nah, too frilly,”  Nelly stated. 

“What about this?” Tamara showed the metallic cocktail dress.

“It's cute, but I feel like some weirdo is going to comment how I look like a cute piece of chocolate wrapped up, and I don’t want to sit through that tonight,” Iriye stated. 

“She’s trying to get unwrapped by her boyfriend,” Nelly teased, and Iriye rolled her eyes.

“Haha. No,” Iriye said. She looked through another rack, trying to find something. Tamara came up beside her. 

“You seem nervous,” Tamara stated.

“Well, when I’m being forced to go to a charity gala to turn down my dream job, you would be annoyed,” Iriye stated.

“You’re turning down working with Samuel Arenas?” Tamara asked. Nelly walked closer with another dress, and Iriye gave it a look with a tilt of her head.

“I am,” Iriye stated. “We’re going to be busy in England with Paradise Lost,” 

“So?” Tamara questioned. “TV writing has been your dream.”

“I know it has, but… things can change,” Iriye said, taking the dress from Nelly.

“And you’re throwing it away… for Aaron,” Tamara whispered. 

“I’m not throwing it away for him. I’m just… taking measured steps in our relationship,” Iriye put the dress up to her own body, and Tamara shook her head. She huffed. “It’s not like that,” Iriye said to Tamara. “With Aaron, I have never felt like this with anyone. We’ve had tough times and stuff but I just really want to be with him. See life from his world,” She explained. 

“And turning down a TV writing job with a legend you admire is what you’re willing to give up?” Tamara questioned. 

“For Aaron… yes,” Iriye stated with a shrug. Tamara was about to open her mouth when Nelly bumped her elbow into her.

“Tamara,” Nelly said with a shake of her head.

“I’m gonna see what the shoes section looks like,” Tamara walked off, and Iriye gave Nelly a small smile. 

“Thank you,” Iriye said, looking at another dress and taking it in.

“You know you could have both. Your career and your love life,” Nelly stated. “I don’t get why it’s even a question for us. A debate for Black women. We can have it all and balance it all,”

“Nelly, I get it, but this is different. I want to be with him because I want to. I have put my career first for the past nine years and want to take some time off. Watch my best friend shepherd the fruits of all our labor come to life. Watch a man I care about bring my work to life. Grow more with him. I want this little slice of happiness for however long I can get it,” Iriye explained.

“Okay,” Nelly stated. “I get it,” Iriye gave her a small mile. Iriye and her shopped through the racks for a little longer when Iriye found a little black dress with some jeweled embellishments.

“What do you think?” Iriye asked. Nelly turned to face Iriye before a small smile came upon her face.

“I think you’re going to be dressed to kill, not only Samuel but Aaron,” Iriye rolled her eyes at Nelly’s words before heading to the dressing room.

Iriye was happy she was on good terms with Tasha, her hairstylist, as she made a quick house call. Tasha helped her install a wig she had yet to take out for a spin. She also cut the hair to ensure it looked good, giving her more layers.

Once the final touches were made to her outfit and she had taken a sufficient number of acceptable pictures, she got into the complimentary luxury Uber that the charity event was providing for everyone.

Iriye tried to relax as she felt the nerves coming upon her, checking the last message she sent Aaron that day. She had been balancing her nerves about shutting down her dream job and possibly attending her first event with Aaron. And it seemed like her nerves were beating her ass. 

Possibly was a strong word for her, as she was sure she and Aaron weren’t sitting together. He had been invited courtesy of Lanterns, and she was one of Samuel Arenas’ guests.

She couldn’t bug Aaron as it seemed he was there for business and she was there for her displeasure.

Her Uber soon pulled into the Warner Brothers gates and dropped her off at the area where the charity event was being held. Her jacket was still around her, and her heels hit the pavement as her driver helped her out, and she thanked him. 

Iriye saw the red carpet and smiled as she realized whose name they were calling. 

“Aaron, one picture over here,”

“Aaron, look here.”

“Pose a little for us,” 

Iriye hadn’t seen Aaron like this often: the performer. She had seen the lover, devoted friend, brother, actor, and everything else. But this was new. He seemed stiff, trying to relax as the lights were blindingly in his face and photographers yelled for his attention.

Iriye began walking closer to the entrance, but she stopped when she saw Samuel Arenas approaching her.

“You were gonna try and skip the red carpet?” Samuel asked.

“Well, I wasn’t planning on getting dressed up tonight, but here I am,” Iriye said.

“You look amazing, if that helps,” Samuel stated.

“You haven’t even seen my whole outfit,” Iriye chuckled.

“Don’t need to. You’re a stylish young woman,” Samuel shot back.

“Samuel, if you’re trying to butter me up to take the contract, I've already made my mind up,”

“Iriye, I don’t need to butter you up. You’re going to make the choice you want. I respect that. But that doesn’t mean I like it, especially knowing how talented you are. The potential you have that is untapped,” Samuel explained. “You’re a good writer, but you can be a great writer.”

“You don’t think I’m a great writer?”

“No. But you can be. I invest in the writers I bring into my room. I want this crazy industry to continue to have new blood, and I believe you can be that,” Samuel stated, his assistant coming up to tell him it was time for him to walk the carpet. “You going to go inside or step out into the spotlight?”

Iriye raised an eyebrow at Samuel, thinking about his words. Then she took her jacket off, revealing her dress. She handed her coat and clutch to his assistant. Samuel held his hand out to help Iriye walk up, and she brushed past him, making it to the start of the red carpet. Aaron was in the middle, and she stepped forward to one of the marked spots. Samuel must have told one of the photographers her name because she heard them yelling for Iriye to look their way, wanting to get her shot. 

Iriye posed slightly, aware it was only for charity. She caught Aaron staring at her momentarily, his gaze fixed on her stocking-clad legs, which her short dress accentuated. She gave him a brief smirk, prompting a grin from him. As she noticed Samuel stepping onto the red carpet and the cameras shifting toward him, she moved a bit closer on the carpet toward where Aaron was.

Aaron had finally made it to the end, and Iriye was going to walk further down when Samuell came closer, following her down till they were away from the prying eyes of event photographers.

Iriye smiled brighter when she realized Aaron was waiting for her at the end. 

“Iriye, you look-“ Aaron paused as Samuel approached her.

“Are you ready to find our table, Iriye? I think the others are waiting,” Samuel stated before realizing Aaron was there. “Samuel Arenas,” He held his hand out to Aaron for him to shake.

“Aaron. Aaron Pierre,” Aaron and Samuel shook hands, Iriye hearing the smack from their hands colliding for a shake.

“Aaron is starring in Paradise Lost for the studio,” Iriye said, seeing them pull away from the shake.

“I’ve heard. Congratulations to you both,” Samuel stated.

“More so, her. I’m just along for the ride,” Aaron said. Iriye smiled at his words, trying her best not to be flustered.

“Well, hold on to her coat tails. She’s gonna have a very long and successful career,” Samuel complimented her.

“Samuel, is it okay if you go ahead inside without me? I need to talk to Aaron for a minute,” Iriye mentioned. Samuel nodded before walking inside.

“Can I say you look ravishing?” Aaron asked, a smile on his face as his eyes darted to the top of her cleavage.

“Yes, you can. I might even let you take it off me later tonight,” Iriye said, playfully batting her eyelashes at Aaron. “You look handsome as well.” She moved to pick a piece of lint off his jacket, letting her hand slide down his chest over his suit jacket.

“We don’t have to wait. We’re not far off from my trailer,” He teased, stepping towards her but keeping a respectable distance.

“Down boy,” Iriye joked. “Patience is a virtue, and we still have an event we must be at against our will. And besides, I spent way too much time and money to get all dolled up like this. I gotta get the most out of it,”

“Well, I will make sure whatever you spent on all this will be refunded with interest,” Aaron bit his lip.

“You’re a trip,” Iriye playfully rolled her eyes before looking into the doors to the charity event. “I guess this is where we go our separate ways. I will see you tonight afterwards.”

“Let me at least walk you to your seat,” He said, noticing that many cameras were only outside. 

“Yes, you can,” Iriye said, letting him lead the way inside. Aaron kept things polite, his hand on her back to help guide her to the table she was supposed to be seated at. 

Iriye could see the eyes of other industry folks on them, but more importantly, on Aaron. He was magnetic, and she could understand why. His smile could range from calm to joyful. His tall stature was significant in the room, but not overpowering, and his joy radiated. She is happy to be basking in his light. 

“Iriye, I’m glad you didn’t get lost,” Samuel said as Iriye and Aaron made it over to the table. Of course, the other writers at the table gave their smiles and polite looks as they saw Aaron. One jumped up to introduce themselves quickly to Aaron, and she stepped out of the way. Samuel moved to pull her seat out, allowing her to sit down.

Iriye caught Aaron's small smile on his face from the gesture, but quickly fixed it with a smile towards her.

“Thank you, Aaron, for walking me over,” Iriye said, giving him an appreciative smile.

“Who are you sitting with?” Samuel asked Aaron, and he gave a slight shrug. 

“Honestly, I’m not sure. I think a few other actors and actresses, though I’m sure it won’t be as fun as you all will probably have,” Aaron stated politely. A few chuckled, Iriye smiling at Aaron.

“Let us know and we’ll pull up a chair for you,” Samuel said. “We gotta get a chance to meet. Discuss some TV opportunities in your future.”

“Will do. Have a great night, everyone,” Aaron said before giving one last look at Iriye. She tried her best not to get bashful, sipping her water.

As the night went on, dinner was served and champagne poured as Iriye talked to some of the other writers at the table: some industry veterans, others new, and everything in between. Different people came together to share their experiences and excitement for the TV show and the writer’s room to start. 

Iriye was trying to stay locked in, but she kept glancing over at Aaron’s table. She saw him smiling and laughing occasionally with the other actors and actresses, who were flocking over to him.

“Enjoying yourself?” Samuel asked Iriye.

“I am. You assembled a great group of writers,” Iriye admitted. “I’m kind of mad I won’t be a part of it,”

Samuel raised an eyebrow at her before taking a sip of his drink.

“You’re not going to take the job?” Samuel asked.

“Sadly, no,” Iriye stated.

Samuel remained silent until a few people got up from the table.

“So, who is stopping you from taking the job?” Samuel asked.

“Excuse me,” Iriye stated with a raised eyebrow.

“Boyfriend? Girlfriend? I know how this generation is,” Samuel raised his shoulders. 

“Men. I’m into men,” Iriye said. 

“What man are you sticking beside?”

“You need to get off of TikTok,” Iriye rolled her eyes. 

“My teen daughter says I need to stay in the know,” Samuel chuckled. “But seriously, you’re going to produce Paradise Lost in London, right?”

“I am,” Iriye said.

“I’m guessing your boyfriend will be there too?” Samuel asked.

“I’m not saying no to your offer because of my partner. And a woman doesn’t have to shape her life around love,” Iriye pointed out.

“But you shouldn’t give up your career for it either,” Samuel stated. “Take it from someone who has firsthand experience with that. I wasn’t always the breadwinner that I am now.”

Iriye took a sip of her champagne glass, listening intently.

“My first ex-wife is a cinematographer, and when we first got together, she supported us as much as possible. I was grateful and supportive of her as best as I could be. We had our daughter, and I stayed home. But when things started to pop off for my writing career, we had to choose whose work was the priority. And the arguments began. Resentment grew at times for both of us. By seven years old, my daughter was being handed off between households, and divorce papers were being drawn up,”

“I’m sorry that happened to you,” Iriye reached out her hand to touch his to offer sympathy.

“Sometimes, you have to learn lessons the hard way. You can’t make the same mistake twice.” Samuel offered. “I’m not trying to convince you. I don’t want to see your talent wasted. It's not that you would be wasting it, but you should stand firm in your beliefs. And make sure you’re making the best decision for yourself,”

Iriye thought about his words, nodding to herself.

“I appreciate the advice,” Iriye said, finishing her glass of champagne. “I’ll be back,” 

Iriye headed outside, needing to ground herself with some fresh air. She walked further into the light, the moonlight bouncing off the soundstages serving as the light for the area.

Her mind was racing about which was best for her: her career or Aaron. She wanted a moment of peace and needed to think.

“Iriye,” She heard Aaron’s voice, opening her eyes to look at him. “Everything okay?”

“Everything is better now,” Iriye said, walking closer to him. He pulled her closer to him, and she held onto him.

“You know where we are at, right?” Aaron asked her. Iriye looked up at him, seeing the soft smile on his features. “The soundstage where we met,”

Iriye looked towards where the number was for the studio and recognized it easily.

“It is,” Iriye stated. “First time I ever gave you grief,”

“It was good grief to me,” Aaron began moving them in a circle, Iriye following his lead. “Made me want to know more about this little lady who was quick to boss me around,”

“You know there is nothing little about me,” Iriye stated. Aaron chuckled, feeling his hands move to her backside.

“Good thing I can handle all of it,” Aaron stated. “Not just the beautiful body but the heart, the mind, and the creativity. You’re everything, Iriye,”

Iriye felt tears come to her eyes, and she leaned up, kissing him softly.  Aaron’s hand came up to her cheek and stroked it.

“I love you…” Iriye said softly, looking up into his eyes as she pulled away.

“I love you, too,” Aaron said, his eyes darting between hers. 

Iriye kissed Aaron before taking his hand and leading him back to where she knew his trailer was. They walked hand in hand, not fearing if someone saw them.

Aaron unlocked the trailer door and helped her up the steps before following after her. Iriye set the lights low, Aaron watching her as she turned her back to him. 

“You mind helping me get out of this?” Iriye asked. Aaron pushed himself off the counter and went behind her. He pulled her back into him, and she whimpered as she felt how hard Aaron was behind her. He moved her hair to kiss her neck, Iriye moaning softly.

“You smell so good. Bet you even taste good too,” He whispered roughly against her skin. His hand trailed to the zipper of her dress and he pulled it down.

Iriye helped him slip the dress down, the corset bra she wore underneath coming into view, the matching panties, and her garter belt keeping her thigh-high stockings up. She kicked it away, turning so Aaron could see her.

“You like what you see?” Iriye said, a newfound emotion catching in her throat. For once, she felt vulnerable in a different way.

“I love what I see,” Aaron moved closer to Iriye, pulling her in for a deep kiss. His hands slide to her ass and squeezed, Iriye’s hands moving to the front of his pants and grasping at his length through his slacks. “Shit,” he muttered against her lips. 

Iriye pulled back from the kiss, her hands moving to push his jacket off.

“How badly do you want me?” Iriye asked. 

“So fucking bad,” Aaron groaned as she brushed against him. She pulled back before he could get his hands on her.

“Then strip and show me,” Iriye demanded. Aaron looked at her with a curious smirk. Iriye moved to sit on the couch built into his trailer, leaning back and licking her lips.

Aaron kicked his shoes off, moving to pick up her dress and suit jacket. His hands moved to take his turtleneck and chain around his neck. She bit her lip, took in his arm tattoo and chest, and saw the sparse hair.

“You’re gorgeous,” Iriye said aloud. A shy smile took over Aaron’s face. “I mean that. You have to be the most handsome man I have ever seen, and because you want me, I’m so lucky.”

Aaron felt a sense of safety with Iriye. He felt bold enough to be in the moment with her and take her compliments. His eyes devoured her breast as some spilled from the top of her bra. He moved to pull his belt out and dropped it to the counter before unzipping his pants, all while watching Iriye’s hand trail over her breast.

“Who said you could touch?” Aaron asked her, shimmying his pants off

“I’m in charge tonight,” Iriye said. Aaron moved to her, and she looked up at him, perching until she was kneeling. “Keep your eyes on me,” She kissed his abs and treasure trail, her nails dragging lightly against his thighs.

“Iriye, someone is going to notice we’re missing,” Aaron said, moaning as he felt her nails move to the waistband of his boxer briefs. 

“Let them notice. All I want is you right now,” Iriye said, pulling down his briefs. She was met with his hardening length, and she licked the tip playfully. She teased the head slowly before sucking it into her mouth, her eyes connecting with his.

Aaron’s hand came to her cheek, grasping it but letting Iriye remain in control. It was what she wanted. 

“Oh my god,” Aaron groaned, and she smiled around it before holding it at the base and letting him go deeper in her mouth. She could hear him trying to catch his breath, every groan and moan along with curse words intermingling as she bobbed her mouth on his length.

Iriye’s hand joined the mix as she went to his balls, rolling them softly in her hand, tasting his precum on her tongue.

“Iriye, baby,” His hand was trying to pull her off of him, but she worked her mouth to keep up. 

Iriye looked up to see his brows knitted together, the vein in his neck straining, and his hand holding her cheek, trying to control himself.

“I’m c-close,” He groaned. With that, Iriye pulled away. 

“We don’t have much time, remember,” Iriye teased. She licked her lips, and Aaron looked down at her. He lifted her face to his lips and kissed her deeply. 

“I need you out of these, now,” He said, his hand moving to the back of her bra, trying to unclip it. Iriye swatted his hands away and unclipped the front of the corset, letting her breast spill out. He helped her get it off before kissing her deeply again. He crawled over her, his hands moving to unclip the garters on her thigh highs. She was just about to kick her heels off when he stopped her. “Nah, leave them on.”

“Yes, sir,” Iriye teased, helping him pull her panties down. He kissed each of her ankles after he pulled them off, throwing them to the side. Aaron got up to shuffle his briefs off before grabbing a condom from his wallet.

Once Aaron had the condom on, he moved back between her legs, looking down at Iriye.

“You’re so beautiful,” He said, and Iriye felt her cheeks warming. He leaned down to kiss her again, their tongues tangling as Iriye wrapped her arms around her neck. “I love you,”

“I love you too,” She said, rolling her hips towards him. “I need you,”

Aaron pulled back, placing her legs over his shoulders as he leaned on his knees. Iriye took a deep breath as he pushed his length into her, still feeling him stretching her out.

“Iriye,” Aaron breathed as he allowed himself to get settled over her. Even when he was above her and inside of her, she needed him closer. She moved to pull his shoulder down, and he folded her until her knees were on his shoulders, and he was going deeper.

“Oh god,” She cried as he was so deep inside of her. Aaron pulled his hips back and slid inside of her again, Iriye’s hands moving to find purchase on his shoulders.

“Tell me if you need me to stop,” Aaron groaned, trying to remain in control, but the way she felt warm through the condom was messing his head up.

“No, you’re so good. So deep,” Iriye whined, her walls fluttering around as she relaxed into him being deep inside of her. He began a pace that had Iriye moaning out with every thrust inside of her.

“Shit Iriye,” Aaron rolled into her, his hips coldding with her backside as he had her folded up. His body was over hers, and Iriye was in heaven as Aaron wrecked her.

Wet slaps of skin colliding echoed through the trailer as Iriye lets out pathetic little moans. It was different. She was in love with Aaron, imagining the rest of their days together. They were making love, and she was excited that they would be together in London.

“You feel so good baby,” Iriye cried out, her nails dragging against Aaron’s skin as he would thrust forward and catch her clit against his pelvis.

“You too. So fucking warm and wet,” Aaron thrust harder for good measure, the sound of his condom covered cock sliding deeper in her. “You get this wet for me?”

“Oh fuck I do,” Iriye moaned. He began thrusting harder into her, having no where to go as he held her by the back of her knees and plowed her pussy.

“Good. Fucking love you for that,” He groaned. Aaron leaned down to kiss her, Iriye whimpering against his lips. He lost his rhythm for a second as their tongues collided, Iriye’s pussy clenching around him. “Shit Iriye,”

Iriye giggled as she clenched her walls around Aaron again.

“You’re gonna pay for that,” He said, pulling her roughly by her ass into him.  She was allgiggles until she felt him lean down with her ankles on her shoulders and Aaron began fucking her for dear life.

“Oh fuck! Oh fuck!” Iriye gasped, her hands trying to find purchase against the couch. She felt the stretch of being folded over, having to take every thrust from Aaron and his cock. “A-Aaron! Fuck,” Her hands went to grasp his biceps, every last brain cell leaving her head.

“Nah, take it. I know you can,” Aaron demanded. And he was right, she could. But it was so intense, and she could see his eyes so bright with lust.

“You’re fucking m-me too good,” Iriye cried, her hands moving down his back, nails digging and grasping where they could. “W-Why you fucking me like this?”

Iriye was desperate, tears coming to the corner of her eyes as she looked at Aaron, seeing a little bit of wickedness in them. It was the same look he had given her when he told her she needed him.

“Because you let me. Because you want me to,” Aaron said, his hips speeding up and finding her g-spot. He focused on hitting that fleshy spot inside of her, and Iriye’s moans turned to sobs as he didn’t let up. “You want me to. Right, Iriye?”

“Y-Yes,” Iriye whimpered, her hand trying to slip between them to slow him down.

“Fucking move that hand away,” Aaron groaned. Iriye tried catching her breath and pulled the hand away, hearing the slaps of this cock inside of her growing wetter, the pressure building more.

“A-Aaron,” The feeling of being fucked this way was beginning to be too Intense for Iriye and she was losing her mind.

“Just breathe. I go you,” Aaron reminded her, kissing her again before biting her lip. “Give in to it. Don’t hold back. Okay?”

“O-Okay,” Iriye nodded before Aaron began moving his hips faster, his cock hitting her g spot and the pressure intensifying. Words became a struggle, and Iriye could only moan and whimper out.

Iriye was going to cum and shatter hard, not even caring if she was getting louder. She was focused on the feeling of Aaron fucking her, her cries and the length inside of her. Her eyes shut tightly as she felt it; her orgasm shattered over her to a point that she squirted. Her vision spotted as she was still folded up and Aaron was still fucking her. It was intense, each stream of wet cum gushing out to the point Aaron’s length couldn’t stay in fully. Iriye felt like she couldn’t even say anything, just grasping onto him.

Aaron pulled back to let her legs go beside him, brushing his length against her clit.

“Don’t stop,” Iriye breathed out, and she cried out as Aaron slipped his length back inside of her, rolling his hips. Iriye kissed him deeply, rocking her hips against him. 

“God, Iriye,” Aaron could feel how needy she was for him. And he wasn’t afraid to show that to her as well. His hands trailed to hers and intertwined with them as he rolled his hips harder into her. 

“You feel so good. I wanna make you feel good,” Iriye whined, rolling her hips against him. “I love you,”

Aaron moved to kiss her deeply, his hips thrusting into her with a quickness as he chased his high. He groaned into her mouth, having to pull away and bury his face into her neck as he cried out, his orgasm shooting into the condom.

Iriye stroked his back, the sweat pooling on their bodies as they came down. Her lips found his neck and shoulders, leaving sweet kisses on them. Aaron turned to kiss her, and she hummed softly against his lips.

“I love you,” He whispered to her.

“I know,” Iriye chuckled. “I love you, too.” 

After a while, Aaron and Iriye fixed themselves up, hating that they had to return to the event. 

“We could just hide in here,” Iriye reasoned as Aaron helped her zip her dress.

“We could. But I’m sure my manager would be mad if I didn’t at least try to ham it up with a few more people,” Aaron rolled his eyes.

“That’s my bit,” Iriye said as she looked at him through the mirror they stood in front of.

“You’re rubbing off on me in more ways than one,” He reasoned.

“I know I am,” She chuckled before gasoing as she felt a sharp slap to her ass. Iriye moved to turn his head so they could share a kiss over her shoulder.

“You’re going to get me in trouble,” Aaron joked, even if he pecked her lips again.

“I’ll write you a get-out-of-jail email. Say we needed to discuss the script,” Iriye turned in his arms and kissed him properly. “You’ll stay over tonight?”

“Of course I will,” Aaron said. He leaned in for another kiss when he felt his phone buzz. “Cue the mood killer,”

Iriye captured his lips again before he pulled away. He handed her the key to the trailer. 

“Lock up when you’re done,” He said. He kissed her hand after she took the key. “I love you,”

“I love you, too,” Iriye watched as he pulled away, leaving the trailer. She saw how much of a mess she looked, trying to fix her makeup as best as possible.

Aaron had returned to the charity event, trying to text his manager that he was on his way inside. Just as he was about to enter the party, he saw Samuel Arenas step outside, jacket on and phone in his hand. He nearly ran into Aaron before he caught himself.

“My bad,” Samuel stated to Aaron.

“No problem at all,” Aaron stated, sending off one final text.

“I am a fan of your work. I wish I had gotten you on this TV show before you got Paradise Lost. I’m losing out big time this year—a great actor. A great writer,” Samuel shrugged.

“A great writer?” Aaron asked.

“Paradise Lost. Iriye turned us down for the film. The studio was willing to let her work on both, with the film getting priority. I even heard they were considering offering her a first look deal, depending on the work she did for the show,” Samuel mentioned. “I probably said too much.”

“No, I’m glad to hear how much others value her work,” Aaron said, feeling like water had been dumped on his head. I’m lucky, I suppose,” Aaron said as he caught Iriye walking up towards the event.

“That you are,” Samuel said, seeing Iriye as well. “It was nice meeting you. If you ever want to talk, here’s my number,” Samuel handed Aaron a business card. “There’s good money in TV,”

Aaron took the card and shook Samuel’s hand before he left. Iriye had stopped to mingle with a producer who had caught her, and Aaron watched on. She looked perfect and right where she belonged, mingling with the powers that be. And somehow, Aaron felt like he was still in the way, even from afar.

@wildwomanalereyia @teenage-aria @skvrpion @absentmindeddreamer @blackpinup22 @liv10002 @styleismyaddiction @jungwonsgfs @hooliemooliedonutshawp @hippiesandpeacesigns @blowmymbackout @justagirlwho-believes13 @caribbeangyalsworld @melovedorks @moihasarrived @ashanti-notthesinger @xx-mintyxx @iluvchrisbrown @ash-ketchumzzz @deijalee @pyramidlight @xosharieee @kaylaahisthebestest- @chaniceandrea @kimmivlixx @saveadanc @kaylalb @queenbritbrat @kceeee @naughtynolly-blog @myawesome56 @chainingxday @nononoks-blog @kinginwithbreezy-blog @apple123cg @jazziejax @lauren1000000 @withoutmusiclifewouldbflat @venusincleo @loveschrisbrown20 @brwnskingirlll @iamfredtina @cozyashhh @modelmemoirs @kimiasinterlude @rpayn22 @mscarter123 @lolola22267 @thesweetestdrug @valarghoulis @nyifly22 @zimsilandela @teheeboo @blveeeeeee @5starsirl @yassbishimvintage @23jammy @prettiegal @vadeadiugularis @gabbywontlose @pinkkycherrish @slashervalley @aqueenwasmadehere @lee-jennie @wuzzzgoood

[tintitw]

Cornstar 141 ( i think any one of them would be interested in this scenario) x manager or camera person! Reader.

They noticed reader on the set due to an issue with one of the other stars or like an angry ex or something. Reader stands up for them and they suddenly find themselves trying to stand out to reader. Reader has tunnel vision on doing their job so they don’t even notice at first. I love pining 😣

Hi, dear Anon!! It's so nice to see my first request ahhh😭 Thank you for sharing your thoughts, I hope you will like my story!! For now, I will do only one of them, we'll see if you guys like it🩷 Feel free to ask for more!!

Cornstar!Johnny got used to working in a complete silence, not only because he needs to concentrate and he also enjoyed embarrassing all of the employees and cameramen, making them listen to his moans and whimpers in. Absolute. Silence. But this day was different in multiple ways.

Except you.

You have been his manager throughout the years, working shoulder to shoulder with him, supporting his decisions. But he felt red on his cheeks not his ass cheeks when you raised your eyebrow at him when he does something distracting or stupid. What did he feel?

You, his fellow manager, was sitting near the cameras, clicking your pen and inspecting today's plan for Johnny.

"Fuck..." you whispered, crossing out another annoying meeting with his "fans".

"He has a job to do, this company of adult movies will pay him good..." you thought to yourself, when you heard some noise from the next room.

Everyone turned around, trying to find the source of the sound. Suddenly, the door cracked open, and all you can see is a mess of a fighting, crumbling bodies, where you only could recognise security and some yelling and screaming psycho, that tried to get into the frame.

"The hell.." Johnny grunted, not even covering himself and looks at the unknown person in disbelief.

"Do you know them?" you asked, rushing to Johhny in order to protect him.

"Aye.. that's my ex. Still can't get over it, stalking my vids and profiles." Johnny mumbled in embarrassment, looking away.

It was too intimate. Even more than adult content he's been making. You nodded, completely fucking frustrated that some little shit dares to do such shit with your client.

"Hey! Johnny, I can explain everything... Just listen..!" they screamed, getting away from the security.

They accidentally stopped, seemingly frustrated, looking at you.

"And who are you? Johnny, is that your new partner?! How could you..!" they screamed, pointing at you.

"It's none of yer business you.." Soap sneered.

"Yes, exactly." you said calmly, but still tensed up. "We two are filming together, is there a problem?" you murmured, leaving Johnny completely stunned by your acting skills.

As they were standing in front of you, confused, security made their way to them. Finally, the problem was resolved.

"Wait, why did you..." John stuttered.

"Did what?" you replied, completely unaware.

"You called me your...boyfriend?" he mumbled, completely flushed.

"Oh, never mind, I just had to handle the situation!" you smiled, leaving him with his in infatuation and embarrassment.

<Wait, what are we!?> He wanted to yell.

Its so ass😭😭 I tried to write what you asked, but it's not rlly there... help

[lonewolflupe]

Hey! I know your main focus has been art lately but I have a writing prompt idea for Sev and I thought of you when it struck me! And it really could go for art or writing, but I wanted to shoot it your way regardless.

"I would kill for you. Please ask me to kill for you."

"No."

Roots of Warmth (One-Shot)

First of all, thank you so much for thinking about me when coming across this prompt. Sev is perfect for it, and I felt inspired immediately. I have so many writing WIPs (some Delta Squad ones included) laying around, but somehow can’t find the energy/inspiration to continue them (I will one day, I promise). But I managed to get this done in about a day. @writersnook11 thank you so much for inspiring me with your ask <3

This got a bit dark, but it’s mostly a reminder that all lives, everyone matters. And also that the toughest and most fiercest of us all need hugs too. Take care, everyone ❤️

Summary: You're there to help Sev through some bad memories Rating: Teen and up (SFW but check tags) Tags: angst, emotional hurt/comfort, trauma, PTSD, nightmares, post-Kashyyyk Words: 1.657 Pairing: Sev x gen!reader Read this over on AO3

Vhwoom. Vhwoom. Vhwoom.

The rhythmically high-pitched thumping of the dual missile turret’s turbolaser echoes through his bucket as he’s aiming at the Separatist Cruiser hovering over Kachirho. It resonates through his armour, through his body, making his bones vibrate; he loves the sensational feeling of it.

Vhwoom. (Vhwoom.) Vhwoom. (Vhwoom.) Vhwoom. (Vhwoom.)

Slowly, one by one, his squad joins in, and a thrilling feeling swells in his chest as they near their mission's objective. It's getting hot inside his helmet, but his suit is doing its job; he knows it's from excitement. Adrenaline's pumping through his system.

Soon after the cruiser’s shields give in, Advisor’s voice is heard over his helmet’s comlink, informing the squad the hull’s weakening and they need to keep firing. Tsk, as if he was going to stop firing before seeing it go up in flames. Scorch isn’t going to shut up if they don’t end a mission with a big explosion. Well, he’s probably not going to shut up about that either.

And there it is: his HUD shifts into a darker mode to protect his vision from the blinding light that fills the sky when the cruiser blows apart. The platform below his turret trembles, and he catches himself panting from exhilaration. He composes himself before addressing his squad. “Nothing like a little precision teamwork, Deltas,” he says calmly, the smirk on his face lost to his brothers. Scorch’s voice tunes in: “And that was nothing like a little precision teamwork.” He subdues an amused chuckle in response just when Fixer tells them to lose the chatter.

Suddenly, his excitement makes place for focus when a shiver runs down his spine. When he turns around, he notices how the blast door to the platform opens. But it cannot be his squad; they’re too far away, still positioned at their own turrets. Without taking a moment to consider his options, he grabs his DC17m with blaster attachment and starts emptying it on the uninvited guests. Battle droids fall to the platform’s surface, but they keep coming. He realises he’s being overrun, and with an annoyed grunt, turns towards the shared communication channel.

“Boss, I’ve got a problem here!” It sounds more dire than he would like to admit, but he’s finding himself in a tight spot. Instantly, the squad leader’s voice chimes in: “Sev, where are you?” He’s having trouble keeping clear, and although his Katarn-class armour is making it a challenge for the enemy, he’s starting to feel the impact. His HUD shows glitches, as if affected by a jammer or electromagnetic pulses. He doesn’t have time to find the source of the disturbance.

“Sector 5.6, encountering multiple hostiles! Need support ASAP, sir!” His HUD falters and goes black. “Boss?!” he shouts, but there is no response. He doesn’t even know if the squad got his location. In frustration by the lack of visibility and being surprised by the enemy, he yanks off his helmet, only to find said enemy flooding the platform. He tosses his bucket at a SBD, making it blast some clankers as it staggers on its feet, but they’re too many. He cannot hold position. They’re too many..

He doesn’t even remember how he got off the platform. Clankers, Geonosians, Trandoshans; they all blend together in his mind. All he knows is they’re the enemy. He remembers being chained up in a damp prison cell, his wrists aching and his muscles sore. He still feels every bruise, every cut, every burn mark. The lack of hydration and nutritions, the loss of blood, the absence of his squad. An emptiness gnawing at him.

He remembers his echoing shouts, in hopes it will lead his squad to him. He doesn’t give up, because he knows they’ll be there. They’re his pod brothers. They won’t leave him behind.

…

A bone chilling scream woke you from your sleep, and a shiver ran down your spine - was it from the heart wrenching sound, still ringing through your ears, or because the blanket was suddenly jerked from your shoulders, and you got wrapped in a cold feeling? Being fully awake in an instant, you turned over at trained speed to check on him, only to find your growing fears had indeed become reality.

He was sitting upright, his broad chest heaving as sweat gutted from his throbbing temples. His hands were grasping around him, reaching for nothing that was present, searching for something to defend himself. But most heartbreaking was the look in his eyes; a feral dread had washed over them.

“Sev!” You shot upright yourself, struggling to get a hold of his wrists as he kept tossing his hands about, grunting as if in hand-to-hand combat with a Trandoshan slaver. It always took some effort to make him snap back into reality, to make him realise it had been another nightmare. A few bruises on your own body reminded you of the increasing frequency of his recurring bad memories.

“It's okay, you're safe,” you continued, tightening your grasp once you had a good grip around his wrists. You were partly positioned on top of him by now, having to throw your body into the struggle to stand a chance in overpowering him. His head turned your way, and a snap of his teeth brought his face dangerously close to yours.

“You're with me,” you panted, and at last, being so close to his face, you watched as the feralness in his eyes slowly faded, making place for recognition, followed by shame and hurt. As soon as you loosened your hold on his wrists, he freed his hands from your grasp and gently slid them behind your back, pulling you into a tight embrace.

“I would kill for you,” he whispered under his breath, and by now, you knew it was his way to tell you how much he cared about you, how sorry he was about worrying you again. You flung your arms around his neck and placed a soft kiss on his rugged cheek; your answer of telling him everything was alright, and he had nothing to worry about. “I know,” you whispered, as you brushed your cheek against his and held him dearly.

Normally, this was the moment where you'd lay back into bed like this, continuing your embrace until he fell into a less bothersome sleep again. But this time, he briefly tightened his clasp around you instead, burying his face between your neck and shoulder. “Please,” he whispered softly in a low, almost trembling voice, before pulling away to look you in the eye with a fragileness that made you shudder. “Ask me to kill for you.”

It startled you; you had never heard him say it like this. It almost sounded like he was begging you to; like it was the only thing that made his existence valid. Although you knew what this commando was capable of, he suddenly appeared extremely vulnerable to you. As if he would shatter in a thousand pieces if you let go of him. As if he would cease to exist if he was left behind again. He couldn't go through it again.

Carefully, because you knew how intense his nightmares could get, you reached for his face, cupping his stubbled chin in the palm of your hand. You beheld his features for a moment, noticing how he hadn't shaved in a while, how the bags under his eyes suddenly made him look older, how his eyes were filled with anxiety, with fear.

He would never admit he was afraid, but you knew he had changed since Kashyyyk. You knew how the war had left its scars on him, and not just physically.

“No.”

Your voice had never sounded stronger, never sounded more determined when you spoke that single word. But somehow, the fear in his eyes grew stronger. Killing was everything he knew; he was trained to kill, born to kill, created to kill. His whole existence was about killing. If you didn't want him to kill for you, what use was he to you?

“Sev, ner verd..”

He turned his face away from you, his gaze averting you at the word, because he felt far from being a warrior. He wasn't worthy of the title anymore, and it hurt; it was the only thing he was supposed to be.

“Ner cyare..”

He didn't turn around to face you, but his eyes darted back into your direction. He didn't know how to react to your show of affection, since he still wasn't used to it; but you had his attention. You noticed the slightest wrinkling of his brows as he tried keeping his composure, as he tried upholding his mask of the untouchable soldier he was trained to be.

You wet your lips before continuing, your eyes darting between the both of him as you tried catching his gaze again, whilst sharing your next words with him. “You are so much more than this. You don't have to kill to have my approval. To have my affection. You matter, Sev. You matter to me.”

With a gentle movement of your hand, you encouraged him to face you again. Softly, your thumb caressed his cheek, your index finger sliding over the scar on his brow. Slowly, as if he didn't want to admit he longed for it, he leaned into your touch. A low, gruff yet affectionate hum escaped his throat as he felt your fingers on his skin, and he slowly closed his eyes to focus on you and you alone.

And with closed eyes, all he could see was a light. A vivid light surrounding you in the darkness around him. Your touch felt like a seed being planted, and he could feel how it slowly grew roots of warmth inside him. Right now, he might not be the warrior he was trained to be, but he mattered anyway. And you were here to remind him of it.

Something something about cradling him back to sleep whilst humming a Mandalorian lullaby

Taglist (read to join): @aknightreaderr @returnofthepineapple @sunshinesdaydream @kotemf @thecoffeelorian @star-wars-lycanwing-bat @bixlasagna @dreamie411 @heidnspeak @earlgreyci @cyaretra @bulletproofskoll @alor-ika @feralferrule @maybe-some-words @imperialsprig NPT @ghostymarni for Sev and @deltasquadweek for Delta Squad content

Alright I'm off to lurk from the shadows again for a little while, take care you lovely folks <3

[maximwtf]

“Inadequate.”

Dr. Veritas Ratio x Reader

Words: 2440

Google Docs Pages: 4

Warnings: G/N reader, miscommunication, emotional hurt/ comfort, misunderstanding, domestic, established relationship.

Summary: An argument in the morning rubs you the wrong way. But had it all been a misunderstanding or did he mean what he said…

AN// Guys gays sorry for my absence I’m slowly trying to come back. I graduated so I’ll have some time to write a few works for yall. So while I try to get back, have this short domestic Ratio fic c: I’ve never written for him and prob won’t again, I just felt like rambling this out while building him xd

“Inadequate.”

An argument here and there wasn’t unusual to you while living with Veritas. He seemed to use them as a way to tease you, even when he didn’t strive to prove a point or attempt to win the argument. You’d started to suspect that he might have even somewhat enjoyed it when you could prove yourself to be correct. Which either way, was fine with you. He had his own ways of showing adoration towards you, even if a little odd. 

But this morning felt different. The argument had been a lot more meaningless than usual. Not that any of the bickering in your usual mornings was somehow meaningful, but this one had left a bad taste in your mouth. In the end, you weren’t even quite sure if he’d been serious or not with the things he’d said. You had almost put it off for being some kind of morning crankiness, but then again he’d never been that way before. It must have been something else. 

There wasn’t much time in the morning to ponder over thoughts like these, and that was probably the worst part of it all. You along with him had a job to do and maybe that would get your mind off of this. You could have just overthought the whole thing and it was just better to forget about it. Hopeful thinking. 

“I’ll be hedging out. I’ll see you late for supper,” you’d called out while collecting anything necessary for the day. A rather mindless and automatic comment, to which you never really expected a reply to. You’d get a text from him by the time he’d left your shared space anyway, usually a request for said supper plans. 

But this time he answered, “try to be on time” came from around the corner. You couldn’t see the man himself but the answer didn’t sit right with you. It was enough to make you muster up a “what?” as your expression contorted into a mixture of confusion and slight hurt. “When have I ever been late?” You asked almost straight after, speaking a little louder this time. You didn't have the habit of coming in late if you’d planned something with him. Not only because you knew he’d enjoy the scolding he’d get out of it, but also because you respected him and wanted to honor plans made with him. This also didn’t help your confusion of whether or not he was being serious. Was he actually irritated with you?

“You’re usually rather punctual, yes. Even if you may lack in other areas.” His voice replied, while what sounded like him collecting whatever he needed for the day. You weren’t sure if his words were meant to be chewed quite as much as you did. Perhaps it truly was your mind running on some kind of overdrive, and he truthfully wasn’t irritated. In that case, getting offended by whatever he said would likely upset him as well. But even if you said nothing in response to him, that didn’t stop you from wondering if you’d actually done something wrong. Maybe you’d performed a task differently recently and somehow lacked in the process, that’d be on you. It could even be that this whole thing had started because of that, which was upsetting to think about. Not to mention the time, which was already running out. 

You grimaced at the thought of having to leave the conversation there. The want to get to the bottom of this was clawing at you, but so was the need to start moving. So your mind filled in the gaps for you, deciding on the possible reasoning. You’d somehow irritated him the day before and missed the chance to talk it out. 

Taking a hold of the door handle, you paused for a moment. It was better to play it safe and at least apologise if this had been on you, that’d make you feel better. “I apologise if I was inadequate. I’ll see you later.” You called out before leaving, closing the door a little more hesitantly than intended. Wondering if you should have stayed to talk for longer but ultimately choosing to be on time instead.

As much as you’d hoped that would have solved the issues, something didn’t sit quite right. As the day passed the same thought kept spiraling at the back of your mind. Had you actually messed something up? It didn’t make sense for him to not just correct you on the spot, but what else could he have meant?

There had been nothing you could have done from work. Shooting out a text felt wrong in a way. That wasn’t how you wanted to settle this. After all, this had become an issue you felt like needed to be fixed properly. Yet as you stood by a familiar door there was hesitancy holding your hand back from opening the door and going to share supper with him. As usual of an activity as that had become for the both of you.

You weren’t quite sure if it’d been you who’d brought in the tense and oddly uncomfortable atmosphere or if it’d been there the whole time. But it lingered in the air while hanging your clothing, putting your things away and unloading the supper from the bags. 

 As much as a part of you had hoped that whatever had transpired earlier had blown over by then, that just wasn’t true. Not when you heard a subtle, “you’re late” from the living room. Freezing up for a moment before looking up from the food your eyes recognized Ratio as he came by the table. His eyes avoiding yours, inspecting the food you’d brought with you. Your brows furrowed before checking the time, there was no way you’d actually been horribly late. Sure, there’d been some extra work to get done but you had never stood him up. “No I’m not.” A simple reply after noticing that you’d been correct. Unless a minute or two over meant you’d been catastrophically late in his eyes. Which you would have teased him about if it hadn’t been for the tense atmosphere. But either way, there was no comment to your response, nor any smart comeback. Seemingly his interest in the topic had disintegrated, merely watching as you unloaded the supper onto the kitchen table. A somewhat calmer silence filling the air once more. 

“Don’t act like everything is alright.” The oddly irritated, on edge voice of Ratio caused your eyes to move back over to him. Seeing the crease between his brows, frustration clear in the way he presented himself. Yet, as much as you wanted to lay down how you were feeling, the need to further that rare sight of pure frustration won over. “Elaborate?” You asked, voice held at a surprisingly calm tone. It took more than trained self control not to smirk at the scowl that’d formed onto his face. “Oh don’t play coy, the apology. Are you trying to taunt me instead of admitting you were out of arguments?” He replied, hands leaned firmly against the table. Clear that this had bothered him for a while now. This. 

You paused, brows furrowing as your thoughts became jumbled. This had been the reason? The whole time you’d worried about him being upset with you, this had been it? “What?” The words left your lips with a faint tone, almost a whisper. You turned back to him, head lowered in confusion. A hint of annoyance for your own earlier assumptions seeping in. “I didn’t apologise because of that. I assumed I must have lacked in something I’d done and apologised in case you were serious.” And with that the tense atmosphere changed rapidly, a silence filling the air. 

Ratio stared at you. Whatever words he may have held back for you, were now held back for good. The earlier irritation slowly melted away as the silence grew heavier, his posture easing out along with it. “You fool.” He leaned back, rubbing the bridge of his nose. A sharp sigh escaped him before he was able to formulate any other words. “You think I’d ever find you inadequate?” Ratio spoke from behind his hand, keeping his eyes closed as his mind processed the situation. 

You blanked out for a moment after, a subtle frown making a home of your face as you realised the misunderstanding. Feeling worse about the fact that it’d seemingly bothered him too. Head lowered, you fidgeted with your hands to ease the upset. “I didn’t think you would until you mentioned it…” Which now that you were looking at it from a different angle made a whole lot more sense. Why would he ever say that to you…

By the time you looked back at Ratio, there was a hint of guilt on his face as well. Which in turn did not show in the way he replied. “I didn’t…I wasn’t referring to anything specific. Obviously I didn’t mean to offend you.” He huffed, as if having to force the last bits out of his mouth. “Right…I should have realised.” You replied. Not even aware how sorry you looked from his perspective. A major reason for why it was hard for him to even pretend he was still irritated for the waste of time this misunderstanding had been. 

The now awkward silence was eating away at the both of you and it was apparent. You didn’t know how else to fix this and the food was getting cold. “Do you..still want to have supper?” You then asked, just to break the barrier that’d appeared between the two of you. A deep breath left him. He shook his head before sitting down, accepting the offer. You flashed him a subtle smile before plating the food, hoping this was a way to fix how the both of you were feeling.

The subtle sound of eating and cutlery hitting the plates filled the air. It felt a little more familiar than whatever had transpired earlier. But that peace didn’t last long. “Have you eaten today?” Came from Ratio. His voice didn’t hold the earlier irritation within it, but his tone sounded more forced than anything. “A little, it was a busy day.” You replied, not paying enough mind to his question to even look up at him, continuing to eat. Though that was just the reason you told yourself. To Ratio, the fatigue in your movements was clear, there was no doubt about it. Which in turn made him feel a little more guilty for the misunderstanding. Knowing it likely had strained you even more than him, even when working. And this concern did not go unnoticed by you. Only the lack of response was enough of a warning sign for an incoming order for rest. “But I’m fine, let’s just eat. Your food will get cold.” You chimed in before he could. It was clear to you he felt bad but typically for him, he was holding back after coming to the conclusion that it’d just been a mishap.

You stood up after eating, moving over to the sink to wash up the plates in silence. But to your surprise before you were even able to begin, Ratio stuck himself between you and the sink, effectively taking up the task. “Let me, you've done enough for today.” He said, back facing you as a blank wall. No arguments would move him from the task, already running the tap and washing the plates. 

You were left with the words stolen from the tip of your tongue, nothing to be said anymore. You wanted to protest about this as some form of revenge, but the sight of him clearly trying to make up for what’d happened by helping you was sweet enough to make you give in. 

There was slight hesitation in your movements before Ratio was able to feel your forehead pressing against his back, arms loosely draped around his waist. His movements froze for a fraction of time before he was able to resume washing the dishes.

There were no words, none were needed. Just the sound of the tap running into the sink, a somewhat rare domestic moment shared as he worked on the plates. In that moment it was almost funny to think of the whole misunderstanding, how troublesome something so small could truly get. And it was almost as if he’d read your thoughts when a calm comment came from him, feeling the rumble of the words against his back. “Feeling foolish yet, then?” He asked. You could almost hear the smirk forming on his face, even if it wasn’t visible to you. A soft huff escaped you, deciding to lean slightly away from him to try and argue back. “This was entirely your fault.” Ratio placed the last plate away at that, turning to face you at last. 

He took a moment to assess your features before deciding on what to say. “I think you’re ridiculous for even assuming I’d think of you that way.” His tone was firm, almost scolding. And you were almost buying it, if it hadn’t been for his body which betrayed the poor man. His hands making their way to your lower back. “Do you know how long I had to think to find something I could have messed up?” You asked with furrowed brows, feigned irritation mixed somewhere in there. An attempt to hold your post. His brows rose as if the answer was too obvious for him to even voice. “You should have considered the obvious answer first.” He said, clearly having the upper hand in this argument. Though, it didn’t take him long to realise this was not the time to scold you for your way of thinking. After a moment of silence he spoke up again. “And..maybe I could have worded myself better.” He said, looking aside while giving you a slight head tilt, admitting defeat in that regard. And that might as well have been the best apology you were going to receive, which you accepted accompanied by a somewhat mocking chuckle. 

Straightening your back, you reached to fix the pin in his hair. Noticing how it’d slipped down, looking a little out of place for his usually sharp exterior. Poor mad had been bothered by this just as much as you. “Yeah, maybe you should’ve.” You hummed, brushing his hair back in place. He didn’t react, but it was clear there was no more irritation left in his body. He appeared almost vulnerable as he leaned his head in slightly to help you. He’d never think that way of you, obviously.

[fuwaprince]

When somebody only uses my chosen name while putting me down, it kind of makes me wish I didn't have a name at all.

And when somebody only uses my pronouns when they try to coerce me into something, then switch back to they/them when talking about me to anybody else, it kind of makes me uncomfortable af.

I sincerely do not enjoy being labeled or referred to. Being referred to is such a negative experience for me irl.

Yet not giving people a set of name/pronouns when they ask automatically seems to make them think you're secretly a serial killer trying to cover up something?????? Or like you're untrustworthy and must be hiding because you're a Bad Person instead of just not wanting to label yourself.

Can I just please not be forced to label myself for everybody else's comfort?

I feel like that information is so personally intimate anyways like unless you know me and we're close, why do you even care? I don't think it's necessary for the first stages of getting to know somebody even though in this culture we've normalized it to be that way.

Plus if I don't give you a name then I have the opportunity to earn one. Give me a name that you think I deserve and let it be what you honor me by instead! How about that? It's probably the only way I'll be comfortably perceived since some people will change my labels as they see fit regardless. Just call me what you like, I feel like my name/pronouns have been corrupted as is

[complainblogforthevoid]

I've finally figured out an argument that convinces coding tech-bros that AI art is bad.

Got into a discussion today (actually a discussion, we were both very reasonable and calm even through I felt like committing violence) with a tech-bro-coded lady who claimed that people use AI in coding all the time so she didn't see why it mattered if people used AI in art.

Obviously I repressed the surge of violence because that would accomplish nothing. Plus, this lady is very articulate, the type who makes claims and you sit there thinking no that's wrong it must be but she said it so well you're kind of just waffling going but, no, wait-- so I knew I had to get this right if I was gonna come out of this unscathed.

The usual arguments about it being about the soul of it and creation fell flat, in fact she was adamant that anyone who believed that was in fact looking down at coding as an art form as she insisted it is. Which, sure, you can totally express yourself through coding. There's a lot more nuance as to the differences but clearly I was not going to win this one.

The other people I was with (literally 8 people anti-ai against her, but you can't change the mind of someone who doesn't want to listen and she just kept accusing us of devaluing coding as an art) took over for I kid you not 15 minutes while I tried desperately to come up with a clear and articulate way to explain the difference to her. They tried so many reasonable arguments, coding being for a function ("what, art doesn't serve a function?") coding being many discrete building blocks that you put together differently, and the AI simply provides the blocks and you put it together yourself ("isn't that what prompt building is") that it's bad for the environment ("but not if it's used for capitalism, hm?" "Yeah literally that's how capitalism works it doesn't care about the environment" she didn't like that response)

But I finally got it.

And the answer is: It's not about what you do, it's about what you claim to be.

Imagine that someone asks an AI to write a code and, by some miracle, it works perfectly without them having to tweak it---which is great because they couldn't tell you what a single solitary thing in that code means.

Now imagine this person, with their code that they don't know how it works, goes and applies to be a coder somewhere, presenting this AI code as proof that they're qualified.

Should they be hired?

She was horrified, of course. Of course they shouldn't be. They're not qualified. They can't actually code, and even if by some miracle they did have an AI successfully write a flawless code for every issue they came across that wouldn't be their code, you could hire any shmuck on the street to do that, no reason to pay someone like they're creating something.

When actual engineers use AI what they do is get some kind of base, which they then go though and check for problems and then if they find any they fix them, and add on to the base code with their own knowledge instead of just trying different prompt after prompt until they randomly come across one that works.

People who generate code like this don't usually call themselves engineers. They're people who needed a bit of code and didn't have the knowledge to generate it, and so used a resource.

And there you go. There are people who have none of the skills of artists, they don't practice, they don't create for themselves. When they feed the prompt to the AI they then don't just use the resulting image as a reference point for their own personal masterpiece, and if they don't like it they don't have the skills to change it---they simply try another prompt, and do that until they get something they like.

These people are calling themselves artists.

Not only that, these people are bringing the AI generated thing to interviews, and they are getting hired, leaving people who slave over their craft out of the job.

And that is the difference, for the tech bros who think AI art isn't a big deal.

[tallaennatargaryen]

Wife Speak

Bucky Barnes x Wife!Reader

Synopsis: You asked Bucky to install the security camera a month ago, and he still hasn’t done it. You take matters into your own hands, to his vexation.

Warnings: Bucky's been too busy to do what you asked, you put yourself in slight peril, worried!Bucky, gentle manhandling, protective!Bucky, mention of previous injury, my own lack of construction know-how so I apologize for any inaccuracies, no use of Y/N

This is my first time writing in second person so hopefully I did okay! This was inspired by this short I saw on YouTube.

You were good at a lot of things. The team’s go-to “girl in the chair,” there was no one better at intel, strategy, quick escape plans, and getting into just about any system you were presented with. You’d had the Avengers’ lives in your hands countless times, and never led them to put a foot wrong. Somehow, you, a girl with just a bachelor’s degree, a–perhaps excessive–perfectionist streak, and a mini fridge full of energy drinks to help you stay sharp on overnight missions, had become indispensable to the Earth’s mightiest heroes.

But you couldn’t install a security camera above your front door.

As smart as you were, you were probably equally as uncoordinated. All the bruises in odd places told the tale of your frequent misfortune. Walking by itself often presented a perilous challenge, so standing on a ladder, balancing precariously with expensive equipment and sharp objects in your hands seemed like a perfect recipe for a trip to the ER and a costly bill for tech replacements.

Which was why you’d asked your husband, a super soldier with a metal arm and a keen eye for home repairs, to do it.

A month ago.

And three weeks ago.

And two weeks ago.

And last week.

You were tired of waiting. Bucky, of course, was busy, and often away on missions, but you only ever asked him to do it when he had a moment to spare. He’d said he would, every time you’d asked, but there was still no camera above your front door. On top of it all, the camera had been Bucky’s idea, a little extra security for when he was away on missions; it was one of Stark’s smart cameras, which could differentiate between a mailman dropping off a package and a criminal about to break into the house. Bucky didn’t exactly know how all of that worked, but he was good with the installation, and you both knew better than to assign the job to you. But the camera had sat there for a month, collecting dust on the dining room table, and despite all his promises, you knew it was time to take matters into your own hands.

And maybe get a little payback while you were at it.

It was a warm spring day, and the front door was open to let the breeze in but the screen door was in place to keep the bugs out. Bucky was in the kitchen, making lunch, so he’d be able to hear everything easily, between his proximity, the open door, and his enhanced hearing. Smirking to yourself, you set up the ladder as quietly as possible, knowing that that alone would tip Bucky off and make him come rushing out before you were ready. If this was going to get done today, you needed to execute the full plan.

Picking up the electric drill and the mount for the camera, you put one foot up on the ladder, and held down the trigger of the drill for a few seconds, causing a loud whirring sound to tear through the quiet midday air. Just as you took another step up and held down the trigger again, Bucky’s voice carried out from the kitchen.

“Doll?” he questioned, and it took everything in you not to laugh. You gave no answer, instead only whirring the drill once more as you climbed to the top of the ladder. “What are you doing?”

You might have felt bad about the panic and concern in his voice, but if he’d done this a month ago when you’d asked, you wouldn’t have to go to such lengths to have it be done. Natasha had called it wife speak, when women use their sly little tricks to get their husbands to do what they need to. She used it with Banner, Pepper used it with Tony, Wanda used it with Vision; it was a universal language amongst women when requests and orders just weren’t cutting it.

Holding the mount up against the wall, you furrowed your brow in concentration as you tried to figure out how to hold the mount, place the screw, and drill it in all at the same time with only two hands. Judging by the purposeful footsteps pounding towards the front door, you knew you wouldn’t have to keep trying to figure it out for long. Still, you kept up the ruse, because he needed to think you were serious about doing it yourself if he was going to get it done right this minute.

“Baby, what are you doing?” Bucky asked, voice raising with alarm as he found you balancing precariously on top of the small ladder. Paying him no mind, you decided to just wing it and put the drill into the head of the screw, pulling the trigger to send the screw spinning into the wall. For extra effect, you added a little wobble, just enough to make Bucky worry more but not so much that your uncoordinated self would actually fall. “Honey! Stop! What are you doing?”

“What?” you responded innocently, still not turning around. “I’m putting up the camera.”

“Why?” His hands grasped at your waist, but you pushed him away as you continued your ruse and placed the next screw.

“Because it needs to go up?” you said it as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, because it was, hello, and you’d asked him to do it so many times. Once more, you placed the drill into the screw head and let it rip, watching it spin into place. Maybe you could do it yourself. Maybe impatience was all it took to overcome your incoordination. 

“Baby. Baby, baby, baby.” Bucky’s hands were on your waist again, this time with a firmer grip so you couldn’t brush him off so easily. “Come off the ladder.”

“It needs to go up, Bucky,” you insisted, milking your moment of acting for all it was worth.

“I know, so I’ll do it, okay? Just please, come off the ladder.”

“I’ve asked you a million times over the last month to do it and you still haven’t, so I’m gonna do it and then I’ll know it's done.”

The drill was slightly stuck in the screw head once it was screwed all the way in. You gave it a tug, and the force of it combined with the resistance of the drill to come loose caused you to tip backwards slightly; for a moment, you thought you might fall, but you regained your balance after a second or two. Still, it was a second or two too long for Bucky, who’d had enough of asking nicely and being patient. 

“Alright, that’s it,” he declared, using his strength and his grip on your waist to lift you off the ladder and set you on the wooden boards of the porch like you were little more than a doll. You almost grinned at the move, as being on the receiving end of his enhanced strength and fierce protectiveness always made your stomach do somersaults. By the time he spun you around to face him though, you had regained your self-control and regarded him with a displeased scowl. “What are you doing, huh, doll? You know I don’t like you up on that thing.”

Crossing your arms over your chest, you huffed, “Well, someone has to put the camera up, since you’ve proven yourself incapable.” You turned to step back onto the ladder, but Bucky grasped your arm gently and pulled you to him, maneuvering at the same time to take the drill and the remaining screws from you. You resisted, but even when he was diluting his strength, you couldn’t hope to best him, so instead you started to complain, “Bucky-”

“I know, doll, I know,” he said, voice soft as he pried the drill and screws out of your hands. He pressed a kiss to your forehead and then your nose for extra contrition. “I’m sorry. I should’ve done it when you asked me to, but I’ll do it right now, okay? Just…please stay off the ladder?”

“Why? ‘Cause I’m a girl?”

Bucky chuckled in amusement, his free hand rising to cup your cheek and pull you closer so he could press a sweet kiss to your lips. You melted against him instantly, as you always did, because Bucky always kissed you like he was trying to transfer his heart from his body to yours, deeply and wholly and with every ounce of love that he had. After a moment, he pulled away, though he kept his nose touching yours as his twinkling eyes gazed at you adoringly. “It’s not because you’re a girl, it’s because it’s you, doll. The last time I trusted you with a drill and screws, you drilled your sleeve into the wall and broke your finger trying to pull it free.”

Nose scrunching and lips pouting, you did your best to fight off a smile, trying to lay it on just a little thicker to make sure you would get what you wanted. “Promise you’ll do it right now?”

“Pinky promise.” Bucky held up his pinky finger between you, and you locked yours around it. “You can stay and watch if you want, just to be sure. I think you’ll like the view.”

Rolling your eyes, you gave him another quick peck before stepping back and nodding for him to climb up the ladder. Once his back was turned and he was on the top step, your mischievous smirk returned in full force, not only because of your triumph, but because you really did like the view.

[inkedbybarnes]

none of it was fake

bucky barnes x avenger!fem!reader

summary: you've been undercover with bucky as husband and wife. upon returning, he seems to have forgotten that it was all pretend.

word count: 1.6k+

warnings: two idiots cluelessly pining for each other. fluff. usage of petnames such as sweetheart, doll, and baby. lowercase writing.

note: hi, babies. how's everyone? this is my first fic in ages, so sorry if it's not my best one. i just wanted something cute ++ this is unedited & not proofread, might fix it laterrr. still hope you'll enjoy this one! xo

dividers made by @firefly-graphics!

comments, reblogs, and likes are highly appreciated. thank you! ♡

“i can't believe your first kiss happened during a mission. an undercover mission!”

wanda huffed, still hung up on the mission you had with bucky weeks ago wherein you had to play pretend as a married couple. there had been a kiss or two during that time, and it felt impossible not to tell your best friend about it when you had been crushing over the soldier for ages.

wanda knew what you felt towards bucky. in fact, she was the only one who knew, or at least the one you shared th information with, and she made sure to ask everything about the mission, even if it took days for her to interrogate you.

“excuse me? that was not my first kiss,” you said defensively, reaching for a cup from the cupboard that you had just opened. “and why are we still talking about this? you and nat already squeezed out every information from me for an entire week.”

“i didn't mean your first first kiss!” she exclaimed, following you around the kitchen as you made yourself a cup of coffee. “you've had a crush on the guy for so long, and the first time you two kiss each other is when you're pretending. that's not how i pictured it at all!”

you had to admit, the mission was sort of a blessing in disguise and a curse at the same time. you were glad to be able to spend time with bucky in ways you've dreamt of, but there was also the horrible reminder that none of it was real. with how avoidant bucky was with you, it was impossible for any of it to happen outside of the mission.

“well, maybe you should stop picturing us doing that sort of stuff. you're way more invested in this than i am, wanda. don't you have your own relationship to think about?” you asked. although you knew she was in a happy relationship with vision, you just wanted her to take a break from all the bucky talk. “when is your man home anyway?”

“my relationship is doing great, so i'm good. i don't need to think of it as much since he gives me everything that i need, and i think of yours because you deserve happiness as well.” she smiled fondly, her eyes sparkling with happiness. “and i'm glad that you asked because this reminded me that vision's arriving with bucky soon.”

“already?” your eyes widened at her statement, completely forgetting that bucky, along with steve, clint, and vision, were coming home today from their mission. “why didn't you tell me sooner!?”

after finishing your mission with bucky two weeks ago, he was immediately sent into another mission which specifically needed him. so, today would technically be the first time you're seeing him again since you last called him your “husband,” which was more nerve-wracking than you expected.

“hey, i'm your best friend, not your alarm.” wanda raised her hands up, defending herself. “and why are you so worried? i can feel your anxiety without needing to be in your head.”

“well, we never talked after.. you know,” you replied, taking a big sip out of your cup. “i know none of it meant anything and that we were just doing our job, but it's the first time i'll be with him normally and not as a pretend married couple. it's kinda awkward, wands.”

“you were able to pretend you didn't like the guy for months, you can do it again for another day.” she answered. “unless you finally tell him what you feel?”

“oh, that? yeah, never happening. i'm not going to risk—”

“there you are, sweetheart.”

there was a collective shocked gasp from both you and wanda, recognizing that voice from behind. except the gasps had different reasons.

you were surprised with his arrival.

wanda was surprised that he casually called you sweetheart.

you turn to find bucky already walking towards you with a smile on his face.

this man never smiles unless he was tasked to do so!

“bucky! you're back!” you awkwardly greeted him.

“yeah, didn't they tell you? i was looking for you when we landed.” he said, pulling you close to him before bending to place a soft kiss on your lips like it was something he'd always done. “you okay, baby? you look pale. did you eat?”

i look pale because wanda is right here with us and you just kissed me while acting like we're dating!

“um, yeah, i'm fine. i'm fine,” you answered, gently pulling yourself away from his arms before he could wrap them around you completely. “can we talk? privately?”

he frowned, worry etched on his face, but he nodded and squeezed your arm softly. “of course. where do you wanna talk, doll?”

“anywhere where wanda isn't there.” you said lightheartedly, throwing a sharp glance at wanda who finally understood what you wanted her to do.

“oh! right, right. i'm sorry, you guys can stay here. i have um..” she paused, thinking of a reason to say. “i have to look for vision anyway. we're supposed to watch a movie together. bye!”

and just like that, wanda was gone and you were left alone with bucky in the kitchen.

before you could speak, bucky asked you first. “what's the matter, doll?”

“what's the matter?” you echoed in a higher tone. “what was that all about?”

“what are you talking about?” he asked, seemingly confused.

“you kissed me, bucky, like it was nothing. then you keep calling me these nicknames.” you reminded him. “we're back home, not in los angeles in our fake house that we used as a fake couple.”

bucky took a step back when he realised his actions, now finding it hard to look at you. “i.. i'm sorry. i completely forgot. i just.. i wasn't thinking. i got used to how we were before,” he mumbled, still finding the right words to say. “did i make you uncomfortable?”

“no, but you made me confused,” you replied. “i'm guessing you got used to how we acted as a fake married couple, but you were gone for another mission. how are you still stuck with the old routine we had?”

“because that's all i could think about,” he answered, now staring at you. “while you're back here in the tower, completely done with our mission, i was thrown back into another one, having only you in my head to pull me back up from the fatigue.”

“you're telling me that you kept thinking about us even when you were gone? why?”

“haven't you?”

“is this a trick question?”

“it's a question to find out whether you like me too or not.”

“you.. you like me?” you blinked. “that's impossible.”

“how on earth is that impossible?”

“because you're always so cold and grumpy around me,” you answered. “i think you're just confused with all the acting we've done, bucky. you don't like me.”

“i was supposed to go on that mission with sharon, not you.” he exhaled. “she volunteered to do it, so she was initially picked. i tried getting out of it, but i had advantages that they needed for the mission to go smoothly. so, i agreed, but in one condition.”

“what was it?” you whispered.

“that you should be my partner,” he answered quickly. “ask me why.”

your heart pounded. “why?”

“because i wanted an excuse to act the way i've always wanted to. i wasn't cold or grumpy because i didn't like you, i just didn't want to scare you.” bucky explained, his hand reaching out for yours. “god, doll. figuring out whether you like me or not has got to be the hardest mission i had to deal with. so do me a favour and get me out of this misery.”

once your lungs found a bit of oxygen again, you finally spoke. “what you said.. you mean it?”

bucky nodded. “every word.”

“well, i like you too.” you tried to bite back a huge smile. “for some time now, actually. wanda will eventually tell you all about my obsession with you. i can't believe we were both worrying for the wrong things.”

“your obsession with me, huh?” he asked cockily, a teasing grin plastered on his face.

“really? i said all that and that's what caught your attention?”

“can't help it. i've been obsessed with you for a long time now as well.” his eyes crinkled at the corners, a little smile gracing his lips while his arm slipped around your waist.

your eyes peeked up at him through your lashes. “does this make it real now?”

“do you want it to be?”

“you're really asking me that?” your chest rumbled. “of course i do.”

“then let's make it real.”

bucky watched you intensely for a few seconds as if he wanted to frame this exact moment before licking his lips and leaning down. you suck a breath, eyes closing as you felt his soft lips meet yours.

you never realised how much you've grown familiar with his touch and affection since your time together as a fake couple.

except this time, none of it was fake.

should we see their time in los angeles as an undercover married couple? 👀

if you have any requests for bucky, send them my way! 💌

[mercvry-glow]

all that gleams (18+)

parings. jack abbot x nurse!reader

summary. everyone seems to be hitting on you tonight, and your husband doesn't seem to appreciate all of the attention you're getting.

warnings. this is 18+ so mdni, unprotected sex, p in v sex, rough/jealousy sex, half plot/half porn, sex in the work place, hospital setting, age gap (jack late 40s, reader late 20s to early 30s), reader gets hit on by men who are not jack, non-consensual touching (patient grabs reader), reader has hair, let me know if there's anything else!

notes. where the fuck do I even begin? uhhhh- so many people asked for a sequel to all that glitters and I never thought I'd actually do it but here we are! I absolutely live for their dynamic, and they're softcore rich which is truly the dream. I'm actually really proud of this, especially bc this is my second time writing any form of smut! as always any and all feedback is appreciated and please enjoy!

wc. 4700+

all that glitters

There wasn’t a person in your life who hadn’t told you getting married so young was a mistake. A newly minted nurse with a shiny new degree, a big diamond ring, and a big house in the nicest part of town—people loved to talk. And they did, especially behind your back.

“Too fast,” they said

“Too young.”

 “She doesn’t know what she’s getting into.”

But they didn’t know Jack.

He’d been your constant through it all. Through the twelve-hour shifts, the night terrors you both had but didn’t always talk about, the tangled mess of silky bed sheets and plain coffee mornings. He never missed a beat, not with you. He always made sure the front door was locked, that you didn’t forget to eat, that you never had to face a bad day completely alone.

Jack Abbot was your storm and shelter all at once.

Still, some days it felt like you were speaking two different languages. You’d grown up with champagne brunches, sorority sisters, and an Ivy League education on Daddy’s dime. Jack grew up fast though—boots on the ground, blood on his hands, and scars no one could see unless he let them. 

His world had edges, and darkness only he could understand. 

Yours had comfy throw pillows and a walk-in closet.

Falling for each other had been a whirlwind, but staying in love… that took work. 

Especially now.

Lately, every conversation felt like walking on eggshells. He was short with you. Distant. And maybe you were a little more sensitive than usual—he always said you felt deeply, cared too much. Maybe you did miss the way he used to look at you, touch you, talk to you like you were the only person in the room.

Now? Now he was somewhere else—lost in his head, behind some wall you couldn’t climb no matter how hard you tried.

And you still tried.

 You showed up to work, same time as him, hair curled, and lip gloss on as usual. Your scrubs were still fitted just right, your badge reel sparkled, and your sneakers matched your pastel compression socks of the day. You were tired, overworked, and emotionally frayed—but damn it, you still tried, for yourself, for him, and most certainly for your patients .

He didn’t even say “Hi,” when you checked in.

Just a curt nod, eyes already scanning a trauma sheet.

Fine. You had a job to do anyway.

The ER was chaotic, as usual. You floated between rooms, upbeat as always, soft-voiced with your patients, making the new interns laugh with your sparkly pens and habit of humming softly under your breath.

That’s when he showed up.

Leo, tall, handsome in a sun-kissed, ex-lifeguard in the Baywatch kind of way, and new. The latest temp nurse from another hospital, and definitely not shy.

“You always this put-together at 7 p.m.?” he said, grinning as he helped you restock the IV cart.

You glanced up from your clipboard, smiling just enough. “Only when there’s new employees to impress.”

He laughed, nudging your elbow. “Well, consider me thoroughly impressed.”

Across the hall, you didn’t see Jack. But he was seeing everything.

You caught a flash of movement in your peripheral vision—him, leaning against the med station, pretending to read a chart. The way his jaw clenched was less than subtle. So was the way he suddenly had something urgent to discuss with Dr. Reese, right behind where you were standing.

You didn’t react. Just went back to scanning meds, asking Leo if he needed help finding anything on his first night. You were being polite. Friendly. Maybe a little intentionally oblivious—but only because it felt good to be noticed by anyone today.

Jack didn’t say a word.

But every time you turned around, he was there. Close. Watching.

He didn’t like it. You could feel it.

And for the first time in weeks, you felt something that wasn’t just disappointment.

You felt giddy.

You weren’t trying to make him jealous.

But if he was suddenly remembering the woman he married? The one who lit up a room? The one who still wore t-shirts to bed and nothing else, even when he acted like he didn’t care?

Good.

Let him remember.

The next few hours passed in a blur of motion and monitors—IVs, trauma alerts, vitals to chart and families to console. You stayed busy, focused, but not so focused you didn’t notice the way Jack kept drifting into your orbit.

Not close enough to talk.

Just… there.

Lingering near the nurse’s station when you laughed at something Leo said. Answering the trauma bay calls himself when you usually did first. A silent presence, watching without watching, always just a little too close not to be intentional.

There had been so much to do between learning about coworkers drama, taking care of patients, and dealing with incoming traumas that you’d been on your feet for almost seven hours straight before getting any sort of break.

Still not having found the right time to touch the overnight oats in your lunchbox.

Typical.

You finally ducked into the break room around 2:30 a.m., practically vibrating from a bit too much caffeine and sheer stubbornness. Your sneakers squeaked on the tile as you opened your lunch tote, pulling out your jar with a satisfied “Aha”. You gave it a little shake and popped the lid, the faint scent of almond butter and cinnamon curling into the air.

Leo was already in there, lounging in the corner with a Coke Zero and half a sandwich he didn’t seem particularly interested in eating.

“That looks suspiciously healthy,” he said, eyeing your jar like it confused him.

You grinned. “It’s delicious. Cinnamon, chia seeds, oat milk, with a little bit of honey and almond butter. You should try it sometime—maybe it will lower your blood pressure.”

Leo let out a low whistle. “Oof. She’s cute and judgmental.”

You wiggled your spoon at him. “I’m not judgmental. I’m just stating a fact,”

“Same difference,”

You laughed, shaking your head as you settled on the couch. Your big water tumbler clinked softly on the table as you set it down. Leo glanced at it.

“Okay, real talk. How many cups do you own?”

“Oh at least ten,” you said proudly. “And yes, they all match my scrubs and socks.”

He chuckled. “Of course they do.”

You were in the middle of telling him about your latest homemade electrolyte concoction—something with sea salt, lemon, and maple syrup—when the door creaked open.

Jack stepped inside, silent as ever. No one noticed at first, but you felt him before you saw him. That familiar pull.

You looked up and smiled, just a little.

He didn’t smile back.

He walked to the cabinet, pulled out a pod of instant coffee, and started making the world’s saddest cup of caffeine.

“You good?” you asked, casually, spoon still dangling from your mouth.

Jack shrugged. “Fine.”

Leo gave him a nod. “Rough night, man?”

“Same as every night,” Jack said coolly.

There was a pause.

You went back to your oats.

Leo leaned over slightly, stage-whispering, “Is it true you color-code your vitamins?”

You lit up. “Oh my god, yes! You have to! It’s so satisfying.”

Jack let out a breath—not quite a sigh. Not quite anything.

Just something.

Leo turned to him. “She’s kind of a fairy, huh? Healthy, pretty, and scary organized.”

Jack didn’t answer. Just stirred his coffee with the kind of force that made the spoon clink too loudly against the mug.

“I mean, who even makes time for meal prep on night shift?” Leo kept going, still playful, still oblivious. “She comes in glowing while I’m running on vending machine Pop-Tarts and anxiety.”

You grinned again. “You say that like Pop-Tarts are bad.”

Jack finally looked up. Right at you.

“I liked you better when you were sneaking granola bars from my locker.”

Your breath caught a little—not because it was mean. But because it sounded like a memory.

You raised a brow. “You never let me finish the boxes.”

Jack’s gaze didn’t move.

“Maybe I liked the distraction.”

The room went quiet again.

Leo cleared his throat and stood. “Okay, I’m gonna grab another Coke. You two want anything?”

“No,” Jack said, a little too quickly.

You shook your head. “I’m good, thanks.”

When Leo left, the silence stretched.

You scooped another spoonful of oats, pretending not to feel the weight of Jack’s stare.

“You didn’t answer my text,” he said finally.

You blinked. “Which one?”

“The one about locking the side door this morning.”

“Oh.” You smiled faintly. “Sorry, I was halfway through meal prepping for us and my mom called... You know how she gets.”

Jack nodded, jaw tight. “You’re supposed to text me back.”

You raised a brow again, but this time softer. “Jack. It was about a door.”

“It was about you being safe.”

That landed somewhere in your chest.

You didn’t say anything for a second. Just set your spoon down and leaned back into the couch.

“I was fine,” you said gently. “I promise.”

Jack didn’t reply. But he reached for your cup, unscrewed the lid, and took a sip (not using the straw) like it was the most normal thing in the world.

You stared. “That has lemon in it.”

He grimaced. “Tastes like a scented candle.”

You laughed.

He didn’t.

But the corners of his mouth twitched—just a little.

He set your water with a quiet thud, the lid clicking into place like it was holding something back for him, too.

You tilted your head, watching him in that way you always did when you were trying to read what was going on behind those stormy, hazel eyes. “You're drinking lemon water,” you said, voice lilting. “Should I be worried?”

Jack didn’t look at you. “I was thirsty.”

You smiled. “And yet the entire fridge full of bottled water didn’t do it for you?”

He shrugged.

“Grumpy,” you said under your breath, just loud enough.

His eyes finally flicked to yours. “I’m not grumpy.”

“You kind of are.”

“I’m tired.”

“You always say that when you’re being grumpy.”

Jack gave you a slow look—flat, dry, and just a little amused. “You finished?”

“Not even close,” you said sweetly, your elbow propped on the arm of the couch. “You’re cranky, you’re overcaffeinated, and you get weirdly possessive whenever someone’s nice to me.”

That got his attention.

“I’m not possessive,” he said.

You smirked. “Jack, you nearly snapped Leo’s neck when he said I had good handwriting.”

“That’s not what he said, and you know that.”

You blinked, then laughed. “Okay, fine. ‘Prettiest charting I’ve ever seen,’ and he winked. So what?”

Jack’s jaw tightened—just slightly.

You stood, stretching your arms overhead in a way that made your scrub top ride up just a little. His eyes tracked the motion like muscle memory.

You stepped closer, toes nearly brushing his boots. “I like that you care about this,” you said, softer now. “It’s kind of hot, actually.”

He looked at you—really looked at you—for the first time all night.

“You drive me crazy, kid.” he muttered.

You beamed. “So you are jealous.”

Jack sighed through his nose, the tension melting from his shoulders like an exhale he’d been holding in too long. His hand came up, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, fingers lingering a second too long.

“I know you’re mine,” he said quietly. “I just… sometimes I forget the rest of the world doesn’t always know it.”

Your chest tightened. Not in a painful way. In a finally, you’re here with me again kind of way.

You reached for his hand and squeezed. “Well, they do. But if you ever forget again, I’ll tattoo your name on my ass”

That earned you a snort—low and surprised.

“I’m serious,” you teased, squeezing his fingers. “Right across my cheeks. Property of Jack Abbot. Think it’d go with my Bikinis when I start tanning again?”

His lips twitched. “You’re insane.”

“Mm. And you’re stuck with me.”

“I know,” he murmured, voice quieter now, as he dipped down for a soft kiss,  “Wouldn’t change it.”

And there it was.

The part of him no one else got to see—the softness under all that armor he put up. The way he looked at you like you were the only thing in this chaotic, blood-slicked hospital worth holding onto.

Before you could say anything else, the overhead crackled to life:

“Trauma en route. ETA four minutes. MVA, two patients. GSW secondary.”

Jack’s head lifted, all instinct now. You were already moving toward the door when his hand caught yours.

He didn’t pull, didn’t squeeze—just held.

“Be careful,” he said.

You leaned in again, kissing his cheek, quick and certain. “Always.”

Then the moment passed, and the hallway swallowed you both—he leading, you following, hearts synced in the rhythm of the ER. But his hand brushed yours again as you walked.

The trauma had come in hard and fast—twisted metal, broken glass, and enough blood to soak through your shoes. Jack had been in the thick of it, barking orders, steady hands moving like muscle memory while you worked across from him, suctioning, suturing, stabilizing. For a while, there was no room for anything else. No talking. No teasing. Just the two of you, back in sync, locked in the rhythm you knew so well. It was easy to forget the cracks when the adrenaline kicked in.

But by 4:15 a.m., the ER had slowed to a lull.

The kind that was never quiet, but at least breathable.

You’d just finished helping a resident clean up trauma one when they wheeled in another patient—mid-40s, minor head lac, walking wounded and very, very drunk.

You smiled politely, grabbing a suture kit.

“Alright, sir. Let’s get you cleaned up, okay? Can you sit still for me?”

He gave you a once-over that made your skin crawl. “Sure thing, sweetheart. For you, I’ll be real good.”

You kept it professional. “Thank you.”

But the longer you worked, the bolder he got.

“You married?” he slurred.

You didn’t answer.

“Bet your husband’s not half as pretty as you.”

You offered a tight smile. “Try to stay still. This part stings a little.”

He didn’t even flinch. “You ever date older guys? I got a boat, you know.”

You glanced around the bay, but the resident was long gone, charting somewhere out of earshot.

“I’m flattered, really, but I already have a boat,” you said lightly, finishing the last stitch. “And you’re gonna feel real silly about this in the morning.”

He grinned, crooked and gross. “Not if you give me your number.”

And then he reached out—his hands brushing your hips in a way that was not accidental.

You stepped back instantly, heart thudding.

“That’s enough sir,” you said sharply, your voice still steady, still calm—but colder now. “I’m going to step out for a minute, since I’ve finished. Someone else will check on you soon.”

You didn’t wait for a reply.

You slipped into the furthest supply closet you could easily find and leaned against the shelves, chest rising and falling like you’d just run a sprint. Your hands were shaking—more with anger than fear—but still. It clung to your skin.

The door creaked open a minute later.

“Hey.”

Jack.

He stepped inside and shut the door behind him, gaze scanning your face. “One of the other nurses said he got grabby.”

You looked up at him, throat tight. “I’m fine.”

He didn’t answer that right away. Just moved closer and touched your cheek, thumb brushing the corner of your mouth like he needed to ground himself.

“You sure?” he asked, quieter now.

You nodded. “Just… gross. Not the first, won’t be the last.”

His jaw flexed. “It shouldn’t be happening at all.”

You leaned into his hand. “It’s okay. I handled it.”

“You shouldn’t have to handle it.”

You looked up at him. “Jack—”

He stepped closer, and suddenly his body was pressed against yours, warm and solid and steady. His hands found your waist, rough fingers curling around your hips.

“I should be the only one touching you,” he said, voice low.

“We’ll get written up…”

“I don’t care.”

But Jack wasn’t hearing logic right now. He was standing there like he could still smell every guy you had met tonight on you, like the air hadn’t cleared yet.

“Hey.” You placed your hands on his chest, grounding him. “We don’t have to do this here…”

His hands squeezed your waist. “You’re mine.”

“I know.”

“You don’t flirt like that with anyone else, right?”

You blinked, caught off-guard. “Flirt like what?”

“Like you did with that prick.”

You frowned a abit. “I was being nice. He asked if I wanted  something from the vending machine- he asked you too and you looked at him like he offered me lingerie.”

Jack didn’t budge. His grip didn’t loosen.

You tried again. Softer this time.

“I steal your clothes. I come home to you. I wear the ring you bought me, and I’m your wife. I chose you.”

His eyes searched yours—tired, and heavy, with a mix of something else.

You rose on your toes, placing your lips to the corner of his mouth. “I’m yours, Jack.”

And then his arms were around you fully, pulling you in like he needed to feel your heartbeat to believe it. Your heart thudded in your chest, a beat behind your breath. You looked at him, eyes narrowed, lips parted.

You didn’t hear him lock the door.

You felt it.

That soft, decisive click behind you—like a promise.

“Did you just lock the door?”

Jack’s answer was a look—slow, hot, and so heavy it pinned you in place. He stepped with the kind of precision that said this wasn’t spontaneous. No, he’d decided the second he saw you walk into the closet room, cheeks flushed, lip gloss smudged, tensions high. 

The second all these guys started paying attention to you tonight. 

Jack hadn’t liked that.

He tried to be quiet about it, like always. Quiet the way a storm is—only right before it breaks.

He stopped just barely inches from you, hand coming up to trace a line along your jaw. His fingers were thick, rough, warm, familiar. His touch didn’t ask permission. It remembered.

“You keep smiling like that,” he said low, his voice a gravel-coated whisper, “and I’ll have to fuck the memory of it out of you.”

Your breath caught—somewhere between outrage and arousal. “Jack—”

But you didn’t get the rest out.

He kissed you.

Not sweet. Not careful.

Claiming.

His hands tangled in your hair, dragging you into him like it was instinct, like your mouth had always belonged to his. You melted into him, your body curving against his like you were built for this—built for him. His hips pressed forward, pinning you to the wall of the storage closet, and your head thudded back softly against the cool plaster as his lips slid down to your throat, sucking, biting just enough to make you gasp.

“Locked the door for a reason,” he murmured, tongue flicking against the skin where your pulse fluttered. “Tired of pretending I didn’t want you every second we’re here.”

You let out a shaky breath, your fingers gripping his shirt like lifelines. “You’re sooo jealous.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, dark eyes devouring. “Damn right I’m jealous.”

His hand slid under your scrub top, skimming up your ribs, palm flat, hot and possessive. “You’re mine—I can’t fucking stand it when they look at you like you’re not.”

“And what are you going to do about it?” you whispered, breathless, lips grazing his.

His answer was a growl.

Jack spun you, quick and controlled, pressing you front-first against the shelves. Supplies rattled, somewhere above you—gloves, gauze, sterile wraps—but it was the sound of his breath at your neck that made your knees threaten to buckle.

His hands roamed—under your shirt to your tits, over the waistband of your scrub pants, every inch of bare skin he found earning a new kind of heat.

“You wanna be flirted with?” he whispered, voice dragging down your spine. “Fine. But I get to remind you who makes you cum”

You gasped as his mouth met the base of your neck, teeth grazing, tongue following. “Jack…”

“You knew,” he said again, almost reverent now. 

And god help you, you did.

Because you’d walked in here to take a second, needing this—needing him. Not just his hands or his mouth or the way he made you come apart so effortlessly, but this claiming. This reminder. That under all the stress, the silence, the long nights and missed moments—the fire still burned. Hot. Unrelenting.

His fingers slipped lower, teasing the waist of your scrub pants, and you pressed back against him without thinking, needing more, needing everything.

“You’re mine,” he murmured again, lips brushing your shoulder, low and slow. “Say it.”

You turned your head just enough to whisper, “I’m yours, Jack. Always.”

And that was all it took.

He kept you facing the shelves, a hand coming down to your hips to steady you as he continued to feel you up with the other. “Yeah? You gonna be my good girl, sweetheart?” 

The whimper you let out was pathetic. A low pitched sound that came from the back of your throat, as Jack started to flood your senses. He gave your ass a quick, hard, smack. Hand going back to rub over the spot, as it snapped you out of your daze. “I asked you a question, baby.” 

You nodded, desperately. Already whoozy from the assault on your sense that your husband brought on. “Mhm! Jack-”

He shushed you, gently pushing down your scrub pants, “Gotta make this quick and quiet, or they’ll all know what a bad girl you’ve been.” 

Reaching back, you straightend up leaning into his burning touch, wanting him closer than he already was. You could feel how hard he was beneath his cargos, half chubbed as he ground his hips into your panty-clad ass. 

You would’ve felt embarressed if this hadn’t felt so right. 

Clothes barely off, lazily grinding against your husband in a closet like you’re back in some college frat house at UPenn. 

Jack doesn’t waste anymore time though, hastily shoving your panties down, rough fingers making quick work of finding your swollen clit. The tight circles he does against you, make you feel dizzy—legs already beginning to shake, as if you haven’t been working for ten hours already. 

Your moans are muffled by your arm as you lean further into the shelves, but press your hips back toward Jack. Your resolve slowly slipping, as he dips a finger in your wet heat. 

“Fuck, you’re soaked.” he groans out softly, continuing as he brings you closer and closer to the edge. 

Then he just pulls away.

Not entirely, still so close that you’ve basically become one. It’s enough for you to whine at the loss of contact, pushing back into him hoping he’ll start again. 

“Why’d you stop?” Jack can practically hear the pout in your voice. The breathy little lilt of displeasure showing in your tone. 

“Sorry, baby. We only have time for one thing, and I’d much rather make you cum on my cock.” He kisses the back of your neck, gentle and loving as ever as he reaches down to free himself from his scrub pants. 

He’s aching, he’s so hard. 

He takes a few deep breaths before haphazrdly stroking himself. Fisting his cock in his meaty hand, already slick after playing with your wet little cunt. 

Jack wasn’t going to make love to you. 

He was going to fuck you like you needed it. 

Lining himself up, Jack pushed in with a solid thrust of his sturdy hips. You just about collapsed into the shelves, already feeling so full of Jack as he started a steady rhythm. It was overwhelming, one of his hands tight against your hips as he used it to guide you into his thrusts, the other snaked over your mouth to muffle your breathy moans because the hallway was just beyond the locked closet door.

“Shit- you’re so fucking tight, baby.” you cleched against him as he drove himself further into you, trying to angle himself to hit the spot that would have you seeing stars in no time. 

Your walls hugged him tight, leaving him a mess as he watched himself slip in and out of you in a trance like state. 

“Fuck Jack-” you start mewling, hips pushing and grinding to meet his thrusts. “Ah- ah, you’re so deep.” 

He mumbles something incoherent against your shoulder, both of his hands moving to your hips and ass to get more leverage to fuck you nice and hard. 

You can tell you’re making a mess of yourself, panties clearly ruined with how you’re leaking down your thighs and his cock. Each thrust is a new shockwave of pleasure you don’t expect, but Jack doesn’t let up and you don’t want him to. 

“Too m-much,” his cock throbs, hard and heavy inside you as he stills for just a second. 

“Yeah? It’s too much for you, Sweetheart?” It’s almost mocking as he draws it out into longer deeper strokes—the ones that make it hard to breathe, the air escaping your lungs faster than you can take the chance to gasp for air. 

“You’re just so big,” you whimper out, trying to keep yourself from collapsing back against him as your legs start to feel like jello. 

Jack gives you a light scoff, “Good thing you’re being a good girl, and takin’ me so well, huh?” He keeps the pace steady, if not a bit quicker. Switching up the tempo to keep you on your toes and eager for him. 

“Mhm!” You can feel your orgasm building, that all too familiar pressure in your lower tummy bubbling over. “Fuck- fuck I’m gonna cum-”

It’s like a switch flips in his brain, kicking him into high gear as he spins you around to face him. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him close as he lifts one of your legs around his waist. 

“Yeah, pretty girl? You gonna cum for me?” He asks you through a sloppy kiss, one that smears what’s left of your lip gloss. 

You feel like you’re about to implode, too tense and too loose all at once. Your hands find purchase on his clothed chest and the curls at the base of his neck, as he continues his loving assault on your body and senses. Jack is everywhere, and you’d never want it to be different. 

He watches as you finally let go, shivering your way through your orgasm as you cum on his thick cock. Your breath catches as he kisses you slowly, working his cock in and out of your gushing pussy still chasing his own release. 

“Fuck- you ruin me baby,” He groans into your kiss swollen lips, giving you a few more sloppy thrusts before burying himself as deep as possible. His own breathing shallow as he spills his load deep into your cunt, right where it belongs. 

Blinking slowly, you return to your body. Jack looks down at you, capturing your lips in one last sweet kiss as he gently pulls out of you. Your body shudders at the now empty feeling, “You with me, Baby?”

His thumbs stroke your cheeks, gentle and loving as you just stare at him a little dazed. You manage a soft hum, and he begins the process of putting you back together for the public. 

You cringed a bit as he helped you pull the pants of your scrubs back up, at least they were dark… right? You’d change into your backups as soon as you found the courge to leave the storage room. Then there was your hair which Jack lovingly braided as quickly as he could, before fixing himself the best he could

“Everyone’s totally gonna know… Ugh…”  you leaned your head against his chest, sighing at the thought of John or Ellis questioning where you two were for the past 15 minutes. 

“You look fine, besides who cares?” He questioned, “Do you know how many times I’ve heard the same story from other departments,” 

“Yeah but this is us,” you gave him a deadpan expression, as he reached behind you so that he could grab your stethoscope and badge reel from one of the many shelves behind you. 

He gave you a nonchalant shrug, and one last kiss on the forehead. “You ready to go get ‘em tiger?”

“You’re so dead whe we get home, it’s not even funny Jack Abbot!” 

“We still have about two more hours, so I think I’m safe, Princess.” 

mercvry-glow 2025

[euphoricbi]

RANDOM BUT, writing for myself like this.. makes me really happy..

[anxiouscherubs]

find you in my heart

✦ summary: the one where you get dumped and your best friend is there to help you realize what you truly deserve… what’s been in front of you all along.

✦ warnings/tags: MDNI! 18+, explicit, smut, slight angst, some fluff, oral sex (f receiving), oral sex (m receiving), fingering, throat fucking, big dick yh, unprotected sex (be safe!), yh is desperately in love, best friends to lovers, mutual pining, mentions of cheating (past relationships), yh and reader met as baristas, pet names, au where jeong yunho can actually cook, yunho is a lil possessive

✦ pairing: nonidol!yunho x reader

✦ author’s note: as a yunho ult, a yh best friends to lovers has been at the top of my list of things to write. i started this fic after yun posted these photos because i just could not get the vision of late night walks with him out of my head! i am new to writing so any feedback is appreciated. i hope you enjoy ♡ as always, thank you to my lovely best friends for enabling me and proofreading my depravity. love you guys forever. ♡

✦ word count: 12.9k

✦ read it on ao3: here

Two years. Two years down the drain because your ex decided he “wasn’t feeling it anymore.” You had a sneaking suspicion his change of heart had to do with his hot new coworker, but you couldn’t think too far into it or it would rip you apart more than he already had. 

He had grown distant, and you chalked it up to the stress of his new job. But when he started staying late every other day and missing your sacred Thursday date nights, you knew it was the beginning of the end. You were happy together (most of the time), but you were never certain you could see yourself spending the rest of your life with him. There were certain things about him that you tolerated, but you wanted your forever to be spent with someone who felt perfect for you. And he… didn’t.

Even though you knew he wasn’t who you’d spend your life with, it stung just the same to receive his messages. 

loser: hey y/n… i’ve been thinking about this for a while now but i think it’s time for us to part ways. 

loser: we’ve had a good run, but i’m just not really feeling it anymore. i hope you understand. 

loser: wish you the best. xx 

You’d changed his contact and blocked his number immediately, saving yourself from the hurtful words he’d throw your way if you tried to ask for any reasoning or clarification. He always turned into a different person the moment you tried to express your emotions. 

“She’s just a coworker, y/n, stop being crazy. You don’t have to worry about her.” 

You push his words out of your brain again before they take over. So what if he left you for her? They probably deserve each other. You knew you were better off, that wasn’t the issue. It was that you settled for two years, letting this man who clearly didn’t respect you treat you like an afterthought the entire time. The more you think about it, the more you blame yourself for placing such little value on your own time and energy. 

You sit on your couch, your coffee table littered with tear-soaked tissues and instant ramen cups. You haven’t  left the house since you got The Texts last night, and you've watched a season of your favorite crime show and eaten your body weight in Buldak since then. You know you can’t sit here and wallow anymore or you’ll start to lose your mind, so you drag yourself to the bathroom to assess the damage. Eyes red and puffy from crying, hair tangled and tied loosely in a scrunchie, tear drops lingering on the same sweatshirt you’d been wearing for the last 24 hours. You look like hell. 

“I need to get out of this apartment,” you say to yourself. You pull out your phone and send a quick text to your best friend before hopping in the shower. After washing your hair 3 times, shaving your legs, and exfoliating the sadness away, you’re finally starting to feel human again. You wrap yourself in your favorite towel before checking your phone again. 

y/n: yunnie… are you free tonight? 

yunho: for you? absolutely. you ok? haven’t heard from you all day.

Of course he’d notice you going MIA for a day. You and your best friend texted every single day, sending quick little updates or funny videos. He’d probably been worried sick, but he never wants to pry. He’s always respected your space like that. 

y/n: long story. i’ll explain later. 

y/n: meet me in front of blossom in 30? 

Blossom was the cafe you and Yunho met working at. You were both burning the candle at both ends working nearly full time as baristas during your senior year of college. Your closing shifts together kept you sane during finals, blasting music and sharing your life stories while you cleaned up the shop. He’d even walk you home, after every closing shift, never wanting to let you walk alone so late. You both gave your two weeks notice right after graduation, but promised each other you’d make up for all the time you wouldn’t spend working together anymore. 

That was four years ago, and he’d been such a stable presence in your life since then. You’d grown closer over the years, spending countless movie nights and BBQ dates together. He knew everything about you (after a movie night with too much wine and lots of oversharing) and hadn’t gone running for the hills, so you knew he really cared. You didn’t really have time to make friends in college because you were either working, in class, or studying, so he was really all you had. He was your safe space. You both stayed close by after graduation, staying in your apartments in the city 2 blocks from the cafe on either side. It was nice having your best friend so close by, and the cafe remained a staple in your friendship as a middle point between your two homes. In your reminiscing, you realize you missed your Saturday morning coffee date with him. 

yunho: of course, bean. i missed you this morning. 

Your heart fluttered in your chest at the nickname. It always does. That, and when he calls you sweetheart. Your heart almost came up your throat the first time he pulled that one. Yunho started calling you bean after you spilled an entire bag of light roast on the cafe floor trying to refill the hopper for the openers. He’ll never let you live that one down. You remembered giggling and scooping coffee beans off the floor on your hands and knees together, his hand brushing over yours when you both reached for the dustpan, your eyes meeting, breath quickening… 

You shake the memory from your brain, coming back to reality just as you both had snapped out of it in the moment four years ago, scattering to finish cleaning up and avoiding eye contact the rest of the night. You always dismissed the electricity you felt when his skin touched yours, blaming the exhaustion from working a closing shift after being up all night studying. He had a girlfriend at the time, he wouldn’t have been interested in you that way anyway. He’s your friend, y/n, be realistic. You’re reaching. You send another quick text before getting dressed, and he of course responds right away. 

y/n: i missed you too, i’m sorry i should’ve texted. it’s been a shitty 24 hours. i’ll see you soon 

yunho: no need to apologize. i’ll be there, see you in a bit. 

25 minutes pass and you somehow manage to make yourself look somewhat presentable. You dried your hair and pulled half of it up in a claw clip, leaving some pieces out to frame your face. You threw on some concealer and a bit of blush, trying to hide how puffy your eyes still were. It was a chilly fall night, so you opted for your favorite pair of light wash jeans and an oversized black sweater, accompanied by your beat up black chelsea boots and your gray wool coat. 

After a quick 5 minute walk you round the corner to see Yunho standing in front of the cafe, his back facing you. Of course he’s right on time. His broad shoulders fill out the black jacket he’s wearing, his crossbody bag tucked under his arm. The neon sign in the cafe window leaves a purple hue reflecting off his freshly dyed dark gray hair. He turns his head at a car passing by, and you catch yourself smiling at the lost puppy look in his eyes. He must’ve seen you approaching in his peripheral, his head snapping in your direction. A subtle smile plays on his lips as he locks eyes with you. His warm brown eyes are full of an emotion you can’t quite name. 

Your chest aches at the realization that your ex, in the two years you were together, never looked at you like that. Why did you ever think you were important to him? Your throat suddenly tightens and your vision starts to blur, tears welling in your eyes for the millionth time today. Yunho’s smile drops, his brow furrowing as he takes two long strides to meet you. 

“Y/n, what is it, what happened?” He reaches for your shoulders to hold you steady, but you push forward to bury your face in his chest. He wraps his arms around you without hesitation, one hand cradling the back of your head while the other snakes around your shoulders. Your hands find his waist, gripping his shirt underneath his jacket. His familiar scent of jasmine envelops you, and you realize how badly you needed your best friend to help you through this.

”H-He dumped me,” you sniffle, letting out a shaky breath into Yunho’s chest, “he d-dumped me yesterday, through a fucking t-text message,”  another unsteady exhale as you try to level your breathing. 

“He did what?!” He pulls you in closer to him, the disbelief lacing his tone reassuring how rational your feelings are.

“It’s over,” you blink away your tears, tilting your head back to look up at your best friend. You’ve never seen the expression on his face before, like anger and worry are battling it out in his brain, and he can’t decide which one should take center stage first. “He texted me last night, saying he ‘wasn’t feeling it anymore’ and he ‘wished me the best,’” your mocking tone repeating his words reignited the angry flame in your chest. 

“Wished you the best,” he scoffs, “is he kidding?” He rolls his eyes.  “That’s how you end a two-year-long relationship?” He tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear, taking a half step back to give you some more space to catch your breath.  

“I can’t believe I wasted two years of my life with someone who just kicked me to the curb without a second thought,” you pinch the fabric of his shirt between your fingers, your eyes lingering on his collarbone peeking out from his slightly unbuttoned shirt. “I’m convinced he left me for a coworker, the one he told me not to worry about.” A humorless laugh leaves your lips, the burning feeling behind your eyes returning as more tears come. “I’m more upset with myself for letting him treat me like this for so long,”

“Hey, look at me,” Yunho cautiously brings his hands to your face, cradling your head gently. You lean into his touch, dragging your gaze up to meet his.

“He doesn’t know what he just threw away, sweetheart,” Yunho holds your teary cheeks in his hands. “You are the most beautiful creature this world has ever seen, and if he doesn’t see that, he doesn’t deserve you.”

“You think I’m beautiful?” You choke out between sniffles. 

“Oh y/n… of course I do. I always have,” he wipes a tear from your cheek before it reaches your lips, “since the day I met you.” 

Your breath catches in your throat at his admission, your chin wobbling as you try to hold it together. 

His eyes search yours, that unspoken emotion taking over his features again. You almost catch the moment he shakes it away, reminding himself that he’s here to support you. His hands fall from your cheeks to grab your hands instead, that familiar electricity prickling your skin as he rubs his thumbs over your knuckles. 

“Do you wanna go inside? I called ahead and ordered you a maple latte and a raspberry scone as soon as I got your text.” He tilts his head in the direction of the cafe next to you. 

You look inside to see two to-go cups and a brown paper bag sitting on the counter. “And an iced caramel latte for you, I’m assuming,” you poke his stomach teasingly, “thank you, Yun, you didn’t have to do that.” 

“Of course I did,” he gently squeezes your hands, a warm smile taking over his features. “Come on, it seems like we have a lot to catch up on. I have a feeling you have a lot to get off your chest.” He lets go of one hand, keeping hold of the other to walk you to the door. You lace your fingers through his, and it feels like the most natural thing in the world. 

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

You’d spent the last hour sitting in your favorite booth with Yunho, hashing through every single thing you hated about your ex. He was appalled by the things you’d told him, wishing he knew sooner so he could’ve tried to help you see you deserve someone better. Someone who valued your emotions, understood your needs, respected your boundaries… Someone like — 

“Yunho, are you with me?” Your voice shakes him out of his daze, bringing him back to the conversation.

“Sorry bean, I just can’t believe he was such an asshole behind closed doors,” he recovers, “I wish you told me sooner. I feel like I wasn’t there for you when I should’ve been.”

”It’s not your fault, I could’ve told you and I didn’t. I think I was in denial,” you scoff. ”I was settling and I knew it, I was just trying to pretend things were better, but I think I’d been checked out for a while.” You swirl your coffee around in your cup, avoiding the concerned look in his eye. If you looked at him too long, you’d risk reading something deeper in the way he cares about you, something that made your heart flutter and ache all at once.

”Y/n, do you remember the girl I was dating when we met?” His tone shifts, a slight vulnerability creeping in. You stop moving your cup, watching the drink settle. You nod hesitantly, still avoiding his eyes. 

Of course you remember her. You had developed a crush on Yunho in your first week working together, but you had to smother it at the first mention of her. Any hope you had left for a chance with him disintegrated the first time you saw her — she was the kind of beautiful you only saw on TV. Flawless skin, no split ends, a perfectly sculpted body. Even her voice was smooth. She seemed perfect for him. 

“She cheated on me.” 

Your head snaps up to him in disbelief. “Excuse me?” 

You remember him telling you they broke up in passing — it had been a month after you started a relationship of your own. Part of you always wondered if you had just missed your window to pursue something with Yunho, but you pushed that thought out of your head so you could be present for your best friend. He didn’t want to go into detail about the breakup at the time, and he never did in the two years that followed. 

“For the last six months of our relationship, she’d been sleeping with someone she reconnected with from high school. They realized they loved each other, and she ended things.” He offers a sad smile, but the bitterness lingers beneath the surface. You feel a tightness in your chest wondering why he didn’t want to share his pain with you while all of this was going on.  

”Oh, Yunnie,” you reach for his hand across the table, holding his large palm in yours. “I’m so sorry. I don’t understand how anyone could ever do that to you. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Maybe we can call it even?” He lets out a breathy laugh, ignoring your question. “You didn’t tell me your relationship troubles, I didn’t tell you mine. Now it’s all on the table and we can leave it in the past.” He squeezes your hand, waiting for your response. 

“Fine.” You flash a tight lipped smile, wanting to hash this open again with him at a later time. You didn’t keep secrets from each other, so why was he avoiding getting into this with you? 

“Well, it’s almost closing time.” Of course he’s gonna change the subject. “Do you need a night alone or are you coming home with me tonight?” He forces a smile from across the table, and you could’ve sworn his ears turned the slightest bit red asking you to spend the night. Sleepovers weren’t out of the norm for the two of you, but this proposal felt different for some reason. 

“I think if I’m alone at my place tonight I’ll revert to the sad couch potato I was before I texted you earlier.” You don’t really believe that, feeling like you’ve moved past the depression stage of grief and slowly inching toward acceptance. But you still wanted the company. 

“I’d love to come home with you, Yunnie.”

“Then let’s go, sweetheart.” 

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

Your neighborhood was so beautiful at night. The soft streetlights cast a gentle glow on the sidewalk, illuminating little puddles of water from last night’s rain. The fall air feels cool and crisp, carrying the faint smell of the changing leaves. This late at night, the stillness is calming… usually. 

You two had found this to be the perfect environment to have your deepest talks. Taking regular nighttime walks with Yunho had become one of your cherished rituals, especially when one of you needed to get something off your chest. You’d shared fragments of your lives, from your family drama to his frequent arguments with a stubborn coworker at his new job. But tonight, a suffocating silence swirls around you. 

You’d taken a full lap around the neighborhood in silence since leaving Blossom, the familiar path devoid of your usual chatter. As you approach Yunho’s place, his brisk pace and hands shoved deep in his pockets told you he wasn’t going to be the one to acknowledge it. He was never one for confrontation. If he wouldn’t tell you what’s going on voluntarily, you’d have to coax it out of him.   

You stop walking, the cool air feeling sharper on your skin. He takes three more strides before he stops too, spinning back around to face you, confusion etched on his devastatingly handsome features.

“You okay, bean?” he asks, tilting his head at you, genuine concern flickering in his eyes. 

“I feel like I should be asking you the same thing,” you reply, barely above a whisper. Maybe you weren’t one for confrontation either. 

He takes a step closer to you, “I’m fine,” he says with a quick shrug and a slight shake of his head. 

“Then why haven’t you spoken to me since we left Blossom? Did I say something to upset you?” You try your hardest to grab your frustration before it bubbles up, but you can already tell it’s too late. His dismissive tone, both here and at the cafe, gnaws at you. It triggers something inside of you from your recently ended relationship, and you feel on the verge of either shutting down or letting your emotions spiral.  

“I just thought you might want a quiet walk is all.” He can barely look you in the eye, and that’s when you know something is very wrong. 

“Come on Yun, you know that’s not what’s going on. Something is bothering you.” The frustration claws higher and higher, an unwelcome tightness gripping at your chest. Don’t cry, y/n.

He opens his mouth, the words hanging on the tip of his tongue, but stops himself, his hands finally pulling from his pockets to rest on his hips. He stares at a fallen leaf swirling in a puddle between you. 

“Is it because we talked about your ex?” He winces just a little at your words. “I didn’t mean to open old wounds, I just thought after everything we’ve shared with each other that you’d want to talk to me about it.” You don’t mean for your words to sound accusatory, but based on the way his body tenses, you realize they must have. 

“It’s not that, y/n, it’s not about…” his voice trails off into a sigh. His eyes search yours, his mind racing trying to decide if he wants to get into what’s really going on, what he’s been keeping inside for so long. 

“Then what is it?” You’re grasping at straws, desperately trying to get him to give you anything to go off of. When you’re met with more silence and an indiscernible look in his eyes, you push forward.

“I just don’t get why you wouldn’t tell me she cheated on you Yun, we help each other through everything.” Anger wells up in you, more at yourself for not asking him to open up to you about it at the time. 

“Y/n, please, it’s more complicated than just her cheating, and I just don’t know if now is the best time to get into it, you’re still—”

“Still what, Yunho? Grieving my own relationship? Just because I just got dumped doesn’t mean I can’t be here for you!” Your voice rises, each word sharp, the tension in your throat threatening to break. “You don’t get to decide what I can and can’t handle, that’s not up to you—”

“Fine,” he interrupts, “do you wanna know the real reason I didn’t tell you, y/n? Is that what you want?” His ears redden, and you can’t tell if he’s angry, embarrassed, or a combination of the two. You nod hesitantly. “I didn’t tell you she cheated because I didn’t care, okay? I didn’t care. Her heart wasn’t in it anymore, but neither was mine.” His chest heaves, squeezing his eyes shut tight for a brief moment to brace himself. 

“I didn’t care that she cheated, because I didn’t want her anyway.” He lets out a shaky breath. “I wanted you.” 

Oh. 

Oh. 

His eyes burn into yours as his words hang in the air between the two of you. 

“Yunho…” You take a step toward him only for him to take a step back. Your heart is pounding so hard in your chest, you wonder if he can hear it. What is happening right now?

“I’m sorry y/n, I can’t keep it to myself anymore. I’ve held it in for so long, and I just can’t do it anymore, I—” He stutters over his words, “I wasn’t grieving my relationship, I was grieving yours. You found someone just before she ended things with me, and I realized maybe you and I weren’t meant to be. That we’d never have the chance to try.” His eyes gloss over with pent up emotion, thinking about all the time he spent wondering what could’ve been. “I wanted you, but I had to act like I didn’t, and we were becoming such good friends, I didn’t want to ruin it, I just—” 

”Did you think I didn’t feel the same?” You interrupt him. “That I don’t feel the same now?” 

He tilts his head at you, the tension in his body visibly disintegrating. “What are you saying?” Brows furrowing, cheeks blushing, so many emotions flying through his features at a speed neither of you can process. He runs his hands down his face before resting them on his hips. “Sweetheart, what are you saying?” 

“I wanted you, too, Yun…” The words tumble out of you, a rush of honesty that feels both exhilarating and terrifying. “I want you too.”

He takes another step toward you, his mind racing as he searches for answers to never ending questions. “You did?” Another step. “You do?” 

“Yes, and yes,” you nod, feeling warmth flood your cheeks at your admission—both to Yunho and to you. You realize you’d never said it out loud before, not even to yourself. 

“Say it again,” he urges, closing the gap between the two of you. One hand finds your waist while the other gently cradles the back of your neck. His touch lights a fire on your skin, his hands feeling heavier on your body than they ever have before. Your hands find their way to his waist, tugging him closer to you. Chests heaving, hearts racing.

“I want you, Yunho.”  

The tension between you peaks, your grip tightening on one another, like if either one of you lets go, the moment will slip away. Yunho’s eyes search yours, looking for confirmation. 

He gently cups your face, his thumb brushing your cheek, wiping away the remnants of your tears. His touch sends a shiver down your spine, igniting the familiar spark that had always lingered between the two of you. Your breath hitches in your throat, caught between the fear of moving too fast and the undeniable pull you have always felt towards him. 

You bring a hand up to his cheek, your fingers gliding over his skin, feeling the warmth radiating from him. You linger for a moment before wrapping your fingers around the back of his neck, pulling him closer to you. 

“Y/n,” he whispers, “sweetheart,”  his gaze drops to your lips, and you swear you can hear your hearts beating in time with one another in the quiet. 

You take a deep breath, searching his gaze for the same spark of desire you feel coursing through your body. He inches closer, breath mingling with yours, heating the space between you.

“Is this okay?” he asks softly, his voice trembling slightly. 

You nod, breathless, as you lean in just enough to finally close the distance between the two of you. 

The tip of his nose brushes against yours, the contact making your head spin. You’ve thought about this moment countless times, and being here feels so right.

“Yunho,” you breathe, “please kiss me alr—“

His mouth molds to yours before you can finish your sentence, pulling all the remaining air from your lungs. The world around you explodes in a flash of warmth and tenderness, all the hurt you had been feeling melting away into a puddle at your feet.

You feel a rush of emotions— relief, joy, and a deep, intoxicating desire— as he deepens the kiss. Your hands tighten around the back of his neck, pulling him closer as he sweeps his tongue across your bottom lip. You lose yourself in the sensation, the taste of him and the feeling of his lips on yours erasing everything else you’ve ever felt. 

His fingers tangle in your hair, holding you as if you might disappear. This moment, this kiss, feels like a declaration— a culmination of all the unspoken words, the hidden glances, the years of longing between the two of you. It’s exhilarating.

He finally pulls away, resting his forehead against yours, your heavy breaths the only sounds on the quiet street. Your hands slide from his neck, traveling down his chest before settling on his waist. 

“Sorry sweetheart, I didn’t mean to cut you off,” he chuckles, brushing a strand of hair from your face, “I’ve just been waiting a really long time to do that.” He drops a gentle kiss to your forehead before wrapping his arms around you to pull you close. 

“You can cut me off anytime if it means I get to kiss you,” you nuzzle into his chest. The steady thud of his heartbeat slows yours to match. 

“Oh yeah?” He looks down at you, a teasing glint in his eyes. 

“Yes, abso—“

His lips connect to yours again, a fire igniting in your belly when his tongue tangles with yours. He tastes like caramel, the sweetness of his latte lingering on his tongue. Wide hands wrap around your hips, dragging you closer, rolling your body into him. 

You snake your hands up his lower back, digging your nails into his skin through his shirt. A low groan rumbles deep in Yunho’s throat at the sensation, sending a bolt of heat straight to your core. A whimper crawls up your throat before you can stop it, and Yunho smiles against your mouth. He draws your bottom lip between his teeth, biting down gently. 

“Your lips are even softer than I imagined they’d be,” he gives you one more lingering kiss before pulling back. His deep eyes find yours, his blushed cheeks glowing under the streetlights. 

“You’ve imagined kissing me?” Shyness creeps in at the realization that Yunho thought about you in the same way you thought about him. 

“Among other things, yes,” he brushes your hair out of your face, his palm settling to cup your cheek. “You’re cute when you blush.” 

“I am not blushing!” You hide your face in your hands. “Maybe I am, but how can I not when you talk to me like that,” you muffle into your palms. 

“I’ll talk to you any way you want if it means you’ll react like this,” he teases, gently pulling your hands from your face to hold them in his. “Your hands are freezing, sweetheart,” he brings your hands to his mouth, holding them between his and blowing his hot breath onto them to warm them up.

”Well we have been out here a while,” you shiver at the feeling of his breath on your skin. 

“Am I still allowed to take you home tonight, or would that complicate things?” He’s either nervous, or hesitant. Either would make sense, you just got dumped and 24 hours later you’re confessing your feelings for your best friend (and kissing him). Anyone with a brain might wonder if you’re rushing, or worse, rebounding. Once you get out of this cold, you can talk things through. 

“Yes, please, let’s go.” You take his hand in yours, kissing his knuckles before pulling him in the direction of his place.

“You got it, baby.” He slings an arm over your shoulder, planting a kiss to the top of your head. Your heart flutters as you walk toward his apartment. 

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

As soon as you walk through Yunho’s front door, he breezes past you to grab two wine glasses and a bottle of your favorite rosé while you kick off your boots. As you shed your jacket, he sets two full glasses on his simple wooden coffee table, heading back to his kitchen to grab a bag of chips and some chocolates. He returns with his hands full, confusion lacing his features when he finds you standing in the middle of his living room stifling a laugh. 

“Is something funny?” He chuckles at your reddening cheeks as you let out a giggle. 

“When did you get so nervous to have me in your apartment?” Part of you feels bad for teasing, but he looks so cute when he’s flustered, you can’t help it. “I’ve never seen you move so fast to get me a glass of wine.” 

“Well, when you decide to tell me you want me in the middle of the street, that tends to change things, baby,” he grins at you, clocking you for the second time now having a physical reaction to his newest pet name for you. You thought sweetheart sounded beautiful coming out of his mouth, but baby is a whole new level of intoxicating.

”You said it first, but I guess that does change things, huh, baby?” You cross your arms, challenging him. “Do I make you nervous, Jeong Yunho?” 

“You make me a lot of things, sweetheart, but nervous isn’t one of them.” He pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue, the gesture making your head spin. After setting your snacks down on the coffee table, he finally takes off his jacket and kicks off his shoes. He plops down on his couch, patting the empty cushion next to him. “Come sit with me,” the deep, inviting tone of his voice has you moving to him immediately. Grabbing your wine, you sit next to him, folding one leg up onto the couch to turn to face him. He copies your position, his knee resting just an inch from yours. 

“What do I make you feel, then?” You swirl your wine in your glass as your gaze flicks over his handsome features. Landing on his eyes, your heart jumps at the way they shine for you. 

“Fulfilled,” he starts, scooting closer to you so your knees are just barely touching. “Cared for, understood,” the corner of his mouth quirks up slightly, “and loved.” 

A bloom of warmth floods your chest at the word. This is what you’ve been missing the last few years. You thought your ex would give you this sense of gratification if you gave him more time, but what you were searching for was in your best friend. You always knew in the back of your mind that it was him. The one who held you when you cried, who made you laugh until your stomach hurt, who would drop everything to be there when you needed him. You take a big sip of your wine. 

“I was settling,” the words fall off your lips before you can stop them, the alcohol warming your cheeks right away. “I thought that if I kept giving him everything he would eventually give me half of what I was craving, but in the back of my mind I think I knew he’d never be what I really needed… I settled for him.” 

Yunho offers a soft nod, zero judgment, only understanding. “And what is it you were craving?” He moves even closer to you, your shins now pressed together. 

“You,” you sigh, his deep eyes boring into yours, waiting for more. You tap your fingers on your wine glass, contemplating your next words. “The connection, the comfort, the joy, the love that you gave me,” your throat tightens thinking about the nights you spent longing for your best friend. “I wanted you, how you made me feel…but I settled for him.” 

“Right person, wrong time,” Yunho scoffs, a gentle shake of his head, “kind of applies to us, right? We’ve wanted each other for years now, but we just never had the chance.”

“I should’ve told you sooner, Yun,” your hand rests on his, his fingers immediately lacing between yours. “We’ve wasted so much time,” hot tears blur your vision, but you blink them away before they fall.

“Hey, we have all the time in the world, baby,” he brings your hand to his mouth, planting a gentle kiss on your knuckles. “All the time in the world,” he muffles against your skin. You turn your palm to hold his cheek, and you notice his eyes roll back before they flutter closed.

“All the time in the world,” you repeat, threading your fingers into his hair. A future with Yunho flashes through your mind. Lazy Sunday mornings, celebrating milestones and holidays together, late nights tangled in the sheets, his body taking over yours — 

“Y/n…” His deep, smooth voice brings you back to the moment, the sound of your name on his lips heating your cheeks. 

“Hm?” 

He gently takes your wine glass from your hand, setting it on the coffee table next to his untouched one. When his eyes find yours again, warmth pools in your belly at the darkness that’s taken over his features. “I really want to kiss you again, but I feel like we should talk first,” he takes both your hands in his, and your heart pounds a beat faster in your chest. “If you spend the night tonight, there’s no going back. Once I have you, I don’t think I can let you go.” 

“I don’t want you to let me go, Yun,” you squeeze his hands in yours. “I’ve waited too long to get here, I don’t wanna go back… You already have me, don’t let me go.” The thudding in your rib cage intensifies with every second of heated silence.

“I couldn’t if I tried,” he finally says, pulling you in, crashing his lips into yours. His hands find your waist, his tongue exploring your mouth, and you wrap your arms around his neck as he pulls you into his lap. You straddle him, resting your knees on either side of his hips, deepening the kiss as his hands wander to cup your ass, pulling you closer to him. You roll your hips against him, his grip tightening on you as he drags your body over him. A groan rumbles in his chest and you feel his cock stiffening beneath you, grinding on him slower and harder. 

“I can’t believe you’re finally mine,” Yuhho’s hand snakes up your back and into your hair, gently removing your clip and tossing it to the floor before gripping your locks and tilting your head to the side, exposing the sensitive column of your neck to his mouth. He nips at your skin, licking the spot with his tongue, moving up to the tender spot under your ear. “My beautiful girl,” his hot breath in your ear has your entire body blooming with goosebumps.

”Yunho,” you roll your hips over him again as his lips travel down your neck to your collarbone, a whimper crawling up your throat at your rough jeans catching on your swelling clit. He feels harder and harder underneath you with each rock against him, and you’re cursing yourself for wearing such thick pants. You just want to feel him. 

“Yes, sweetheart?” He tightens his grip on your hair, kissing back up your neck until his lips connect with yours again. You moan into his mouth as his other hand guides your hips back and forth, shamelessly grinding your bodies against each other like horny teenagers. 

“Touch me please,” you beg, catching his bottom lip between your teeth, sucking on it gently. 

“Only because you asked so nicely,” he teases. He snakes an arm around your waist and smoothly rolls you onto your back, laying you down in the soft cushions. He kneels, settling between your legs, spreading them wide to roll his hips into your needy clothed core. His mouth finds yours again, tangling his tongue with yours.

The hand in your hair loosens, trailing down your body, ghosting over your breasts, down your belly, and lifting your sweater slightly to get to your jeans. He makes light work of the button and zipper, his nimble fingers undoing the fastenings with ease, all while keeping his mouth on yours. You feel him tapping on your ass, signaling you to lift your hips. When you do, he shimmies your jeans down your legs agonizingly slowly, breaking the kiss to admire the bits of your skin he’s dreamt about for years. 

He tosses your jeans on his living room floor, and a timidity slithers up at the realization that you’re in your underwear on your best friend’s couch.  His broad hands rest on your thighs, letting you close them slightly, your shared shuddering breaths the only sound in his quiet apartment. 

“Getting shy on me, sweetheart?” He teases you, reading your mind. He knows you so well. You giggle as he slides his hands to your sweater, dragging it up your body, exposing your panties, shifting it higher and higher until the bottom hem of your bra is barely showing. He slides his hands under your top, expertly cradling your bra-clad breasts in his hands, letting out a restrained groan. The energy shifts and you whimper, watching his eyes locked on the way his fingers swim beneath the fabric of your sweater. You let your legs fall open slightly as Yunho slots himself between them, peppering your belly with gentle kisses and thumbing one of your pebbling nipples through the thin material of your bra. 

“Yun…” you sigh, running your fingers through his hair as he kisses you lower and lower, “please,” 

“Mhm,” he nods against your soft skin, shifting down to lay on his belly between your legs, hooking your knees over his shoulders. You feel his searing breath over your pussy, cooling the growing wet patch in your panties, making you clench around nothing. He picks up on your reaction, gripping your hips before blowing a steady stream of air over your sensitive heat. 

“Oh,” you breathe, wriggling under his strong grasp, spreading your legs wider for him. 

“You’re so reactive,” he murmurs, biting down on your inner thigh, soothing the spot with his tongue. You yelp at the sensation, covering your mouth in shock of the sound that just came out of you. Yunho chuckles darkly, “don’t hold back, baby, I wanna hear all the noises you make.” 

He hooks an arm over your hip so his hand rests on your mound. He grips your panties in his fist, pulling them up until the fabric slips between your wet folds, gliding firmly over your clit. You stifle a sob as he tugs them harder, biting you once more. 

“I thought I told you not to hold back, sweetheart,” he licks your skin again, soothing the angry bite mark that will surely be bruised by morning. Another tug of your panties has you mewling, one hand gripping his hair for dear life, the other blindly searching for anything to ground you. 

“Yunnie, please, stop teasing me,” you never thought your sweet and wholesome best friend could have you whimpering and begging beneath him, hardly having touched you. He has such a dark, dominating presence about him in this moment, and it’s making your head fuzzy. 

He lets go of your panties, swiftly pulling them to the side, exposing your wet heat to the cool air. You suck in a sharp inhale, finally bare to him.

“Fuck,” he moans, “look at you, baby,” he runs two fingers through your heat, the sudden contact making you cry out. He spreads you wide to see every inch of you, taking his time. “So pretty,” he breathes. 

“I need you, please,” you whine, “are you gonna make me keep begging?” 

“Baby, I’ve wanted to touch you like this for years,” he drawls, “let me savor it a little.” Before you can protest, he teases your entrance with two fingers, slowly thrusting them deeper and deeper inside you, little by little, until his palm is flush with your cunt. Your head falls back into the cushions, your chest heaving. You had daydreamed about how his fingers would feel inside of you, but nothing compares to the real thing. He pumps in and out a few more times before he curls his fingers, hitting the spot that makes your back arch. You grip his hair, tugging on it harder than you mean to, but you can’t help it. You miss the way his eyes roll back, his mouth hanging open at the pain. 

Yunho lets you guide his mouth to your core, his fingers keeping a steady pace as he uses his free hand to spread you open, swirling his tongue around your clit. 

“Yunnie…” you whimper, grinding your hips on his mouth. He nods against you, sucking your clit into his mouth, rolling his tongue over the swollen bud over and over in time with his fingers moving in and out of you. Pleasure blooms in your belly as he works you, each flick of his tongue bringing you closer to the edge. 

“Feeling good, sweetheart?” He replaces his tongue with his thumb, circling your clit softly to ease you into the sensation. You push yourself down into his hand, needing more. He chuckles, applying more pressure until he feels you melting under him.

“Yes, so good Yun, fuck,” the pressure low in your belly builds rapidly, and you know if he keeps going at this pace, you’ll fall apart in no time. You prop yourself up on your elbows to look at him, and once your eyes lock with his you know you’re a goner. 

His hair is mussed from your tugging on it, his cheeks flushed, his mouth glistening, a bead of sweat dripping down his temple as he picks up the pace ever so slightly. He smirks at you, letting your legs fall from his shoulders so he can kneel between them again, sitting back to get a good look at you, never slowing his ministrations. You make the mistake of glancing down, your mouth drying at the sight of his cock pressing against the confines of his jeans. He hits that spot deep inside you again, and you fall back into the cushions, breathy curses falling from your mouth over and over. 

“You look so beautiful like this, fucking hell,” he drops his free hand next to your head, caging you in beneath him, watching his fingers pistoning in and out of you faster and faster, circling your clit in a matching pace. “Mine, mine, mine,” he repeats over and over, like he can’t believe this is finally happening. He brings his lips to yours, mumbling the words against your mouth as you nod wordlessly in agreement, the taste of yourself on his tongue making you dizzy. He kisses you down to your neck, nipping at your sensitive skin, praise after praise whispered into your ear. 

“Tell me you’re mine,” he emphasizes his words with a sharp thrust of his fingers, and you cry out at the sensation. 

“I’m yours, I’m yours— fuck!” You feel the cord in your belly tightening and tightening. 

“Good fucking girl,” he whispers in your ear, nipping at your earlobe, “come around my fingers, baby,” 

“Oh, oh,” you shudder underneath him, his words pushing you over the edge as your orgasm rips through your body, pleasure burning from the inside out. He kisses you hard, slowing his pace bit by bit to ease you through your climax, your body trembling in his hold. “Yunho,” you mumble into his mouth, “I’m yours,” you whisper.

“You sure are,” he peppers your cheeks with soft, tender kisses, your brain slowly coming back online as he slows his fingers, coming to a stop. “And I’m yours,” he kisses you gently, easing his fingers out of you, slipping your panties back into place. He lays down on the couch next to you, pulling your favorite throw blanket over your exposed bottom half, tracing hearts and stars on your skin while your breathing steadies, running his fingers through your hair as you let your eyes flutter closed. You snuggle into him, the warmth of his body keeping the flame in your core burning. 

“You are incredible, Jeong Yunho,” you giggle as he kisses every inch of your face, his soft lips mapping the details of your skin. He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you flush against him. 

“Why, because I made you come in 5 minutes flat?” His low drawl has desire coursing through your veins, part of you feeling embarrassed he can turn you on so easily with just his words. 

Your breath hitches as you nod, trying to keep your cool, but he knows you better than that by now. “You really like when I talk to you like this, don’t you, baby?” 

“Apparently I do,” you turn to look at him, a teasing glint in his eyes, his fingers dancing across the bare skin of your belly. “I’d love to hear what else you have to say,” you tease. 

“Well for starters, I want to take you to bed” His mouth hovers over the shell of your ear, the combination of his hot breath fanning over your skin and the vibrations of his deep voice have lust taking over your thoughts once again. “I want to fuck you properly, and we just don’t exactly have the space for that here,” you can hear the smile in his voice.

“Oh,” you giggle, his straightforwardness taking you by surprise. Just like that you’re throbbing for him again, your mind racing thinking about where your night with him is going to go. “I’d like that.”

Before he can catch you, you jump up from the couch, leaving your throw blanket behind, beelining for the hallway toward Yunho’s bedroom, giggling the whole way.

“Hey!” He laughs, clamoring up to chase after you. A few long strides and he’s caught up to you, right in the doorway of his bedroom. He hooks an arm around your waist and you yelp as he spins you around to face him, the momentum of both your running carrying you to the foot of his bed. The backs of your knees hit the mattress, but he holds you upright, pressing your body against his. Your eyes lock, both of you breathing heavily.

“Someone’s excited,” Yunho chuckles, giving you a firm kiss before pushing you back onto his bed. You let out a breathless laugh as you plop down on the mattress, pushing yourself to sit upright.  

“A little,” your hands find his torso, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. He smirks down at you as you run your hands under his shirt and up his stomach to chest. He lets out a shaky breath at the feeling of your hands on him, and pulls his shirt off over his head, discarding it on the floor. You’d seen him without a shirt a handful of times, but this close he looks ethereal. Your fingers dance across his bare skin, reveling in the feeling of being able to touch him like this. You want to see more of him, touch more of him, taste more of him. 

“Yun,” you start, hesitant to take the lead. You slide your hands down his body until your fingers feel the smooth leather of his belt. Your eyes meet his, not breaking contact while you smoothly undo his belt buckle. “Can I?” You whisper. 

“You can do whatever you want to me, y/n,” he breathes, looking down to where your fingers are undoing the button of his jeans, sliding the zipper down slowly. You pull his jeans down, and he kicks them to the side, standing before you in only his boxers, his hard length pressing against the confines of the fabric.

His fingers lace through your hair, gripping it gently to tip your head back. Keeping your eyes on him, you slowly pull your sweater over your head, letting him let go of your hair to take it from your hands and toss it to the floor. You reach behind you, undoing the clasp of your bra, slowly sliding it from your body and dropping it next to your discarded sweater. Yunho’s chest heaves as he pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue, drinking this image of you in, dragging his gaze across your exposed chest.

“So beautiful,” his voice has dropped even lower, a tone you’ve never heard from him, the deep timbre stoking the fire deep inside you. “You are so beautiful,” he cups your face in his hands, bending over to kiss you softly. He parts your lips with his tongue as you rest your hands on his abdomen, sliding one down to palm his cock over his boxers. 

“Fuck,” he groans into your mouth, your fingers wrapping around him as much as you can through the fabric, stroking his impressive length as he licks deeper into your mouth. You pump him from base to tip, running your thumb over the wet patch at the head of his cock, drawing another guttural moan from his lips. Your mouth is watering at the feeling of him, but it’s not enough. 

You dip your fingers under the waistband of his boxers, and Yunho breaks the kiss to watch you pull them slowly down, down, down, until his cock springs free, hanging heavy in front of you. You absentmindedly lick your lips at the sight of him, feeling the wetness in your panties growing. Lust prickles across your skin thinking about feeling him inside of you. 

“Yunho,” you sigh, wrapping your fingers around him, pumping him slowly as he stands up straight, tugging your hair in his fist to tip your head back again. “I want you to fuck my throat,” you whine, “please,” 

“Oh, baby,” he grips your hair tighter at your words while you stroke him, the sting making your cheeks warm, “you want me to stuff your pretty little mouth? Wanna wrap those beautiful lips around me?” Towering over you like this, you start to realize just how much he could overpower you, and the thought spreads heat through your abdomen. 

“Please,” you nod, “I wanna taste you,” you open your mouth, sticking your tongue out for him, keeping your eyes on his. You pump his length twice more as you guide his hips toward your mouth, dropping your hands into your lap as his tip rests on your tongue. 

“Mmh, so pretty,” he whispers, wrapping his fist around his cock, tapping his tip on your tongue before sliding past your lips. “If it gets to be too much, just tap my thigh, okay sweetheart?” 

You nod, wrapping your lips around him, sliding your tongue over the sensitive underside of his tip. His head falls back, a beautiful moan falling from his lips as you slowly start to bob your head. You take more of him, inch by inch until his cock taps the back of your throat. You swallow around him, and he absentmindedly thrusts deeper, chasing the sensation. 

“Fuck,” he groans, his grip on your hair tightening again as he holds you there. “I’m gonna move now, is that okay?” He brings his free hand to your cheek, caressing it gently as you nod in confirmation. As soon as you give him the signal, he pulls back slightly, rocking his hips slowly, savoring the feeling of your lips wrapped around him and your tongue gliding over him. “So beautiful with your mouth stuffed so  full,” he praises you, thrusting deeper into your mouth, down your throat, testing the limits of what you can take. He finds a steady rhythm, and you match his pace, bobbing your head and licking over every inch of him as he pumps in and out of your mouth, the stretch burning your throat deliciously.

You can’t take your eyes off of him, tears blurring your vision as you admire his lustful features. His furrowed brow, his blown pupils, his flushed cheeks. The bead of sweat dripping down the tip of his nose, the tensing muscles in his stomach as he pumps into your mouth… he looks so beautiful. You find yourself rocking your hips, grinding into the mattress, looking for any friction you can get.

He thrusts deep into your mouth, his cock hitting the back of your throat again, and he holds you down on him, your nose brushing over his abdomen. The lack of air makes your head spin, and you want him even deeper. You reach up to grab his hips, but your hand bumps his thigh on the way up, which he takes as your signal that it’s too much. 

“Shit,” he pulls out of your mouth, and you gasp for air as he drops to his knees in front of you. “Are you okay, baby? I’m so sorry, was that too rough?” His eyes are full of panic and he brushes your hair out of your face, wiping the saliva that had bubbled up at the corners of your mouth. It all happens so fast, it takes you a moment to process the man waiting in front of you, waiting for a response. Before you can stop yourself, a smile breaks across your face and a giggle rises up your throat. 

“Yunnie,” you laugh, cradling his concerned face in your hands, “I’m fine, more than fine,” you try to catch your breath. “I was trying to…grab your hips to pull you closer, but I … bumped your leg by mistake,” his panicked face relaxes, a beautiful smile taking its place, and he lets out a deep sigh of relief. “I do appreciate how quickly you stopped though,” you tease him, your breathing finally steady, “it’s nice to know my boundaries will be taken very seriously.” 

“You scared me!” He laughs, dropping his head in your lap. 

“It was an accident!” You laugh with him, brushing through his hair with your fingers. “I actually wanted you to be more rough with me,” 

He straightens up. “Is that so?” He plants his hands on the mattress on either side of your hips, the darkness returning to his gaze as he stands again, leaning over you. You lean back onto your elbows as he towers over you, his eyes raking over every inch of your body. 

“It is,” you whisper, suddenly feeling so small beneath him, all lightheartedness suddenly sucked out of the room. “I would enjoy that very much,” 

“Mmh,” he hooks an arm under your waist, lifting you easily and moving your body further up the mattress. You let out a small yelp as he drops you, heart warming as he reaches above you to grab a pillow to prop under your head. Once he’s sure you’re comfortable, he hooks his fingers on your panties, and you lift your hips for him to peel them off of you. He tosses them to the floor, turning his attention back to you, spreading your legs wide open, kneeling between them.

“I would enjoy that too, however,” he runs his hands up your calves, your thighs, until he reaches your center, using both hands to spread you wide open. You watch in awe as he runs two fingers through your arousal, teasingly dipping them inside of you. “I want to savor every moment of this,” he dips down to kiss you softly as he drives his fingers even deeper, prodding that tender spot inside of you, drawing a whine from your lips. “Let me be gentle this time, let me show you how much I–” he pauses, something indiscernible flashing through his eyes. “Let me show you how much I’ve been wanting you,” he recovers. “Then next time,” his thumb flicks over your clit, “I will do whatever you want me to do to you,” he circles the sensitive bud, your mind reeling. “Does that sound good, baby?” 

“Mhm,” you nod, “so good,” you whimper as he scissors his fingers inside of you, surely trying to stretch you open for what’s to come. 

He reaches for the drawer in his nightstand with his free hand, but you stop him. “You don’t have to wear one,” you interrupt.

“Are you sure?” His fingers keep moving inside of you, stretching you wider with each thrust, but still giving your conversation his attention.

“I’m on the pill and was tested recently, so yes, please Yunnie, I want to feel you,” you mewl, “please let me feel you,”  

“So good for me,” he praises you over and over, “are you ready?” 

“Yes, please,” you whine when he pulls his fingers from your cunt, desperate for him. He lifts your hips, pulling you closer to him, nestling himself between your legs, being sure to adjust your pillow once more. He spreads you open with one hand, tapping the tip of his solid cock on your swollen clit before rubbing it up and down your slit, lining up with your entrance. You both freeze at the same time as the reality of what’s about to happen finally hits you.

The feeling of this moment is nothing you’ve experienced before. For years, you’ve longed for Yunho, wanting the intimacy of your friendship to go beyond just emotional intimacy. You’ve yearned for him as long as you’ve known him. You wanted him– all of him. Finally, the universe decided it’s time for you two to experience that. 

You realize he’s feeling it too, his hand finding your cheek in the silence, brushing away a tear that you didn’t realize had fallen down your cheek. “I know, baby,” he whispers, and that’s all you need to hear. 

He presses his lips to your forehead as he slowly pushes inside, easing you into the sensation, gently stretching you out on his cock. You feel grateful that he prepped you with his fingers, the sting you feel only lasting a few brief moments before he’s smoothly gliding into you. He pushes in deeper and deeper, until you’re filled to the brim. He drops his hands to the mattress on either side of your head as he bottoms out. Almost in unison, you both let out a shuddering exhale. 

“You feel incredible, fuck” he breathes against your forehead, finally pulling back to look into your eyes, your bodies finally connected physically in the way they’ve felt connected spiritually all these years. “And you look so pretty, my angel,” he whispers, his eyes shining. 

“I don’t know how you can still manage to make me blush when you’re literally inside of me,” you pant, shyly giggling as your cheeks warm under his loving gaze. He hisses at the way you squeeze around him when you laugh. “Sorry,” you cover your mouth with your hand to stifle your giggles. 

“I’m learning so much about you today,” he pulls hips back slightly before burying himself inside you again, all teasing coming to an instant halt as the tip of his cock presses against your g-spot. 

“Oh my–” your back arches at the feeling, “God Yunnie, I feel so f-full.” 

“You’re doing so well baby,” he praises you again, giving you a moment to adjust to his size. “Look at you, so beautiful taking my cock.” 

“I need you to fuck me,” you scramble to grip his forearms, feeling the taut muscles under his skin. “Please,” you wriggle your hips beneath him, “move,” 

“Mm,” he pulls out almost completely, just the tip of his cock resting inside of you, “say it again, sweetheart,” 

“Fuck me Yunnie, please,” you beg, trying to push your hips down on his cock. 

“God, I’ve waited so long to hear you say that, I’ll never get tired of it” he slams into you, and you cry out as he bottoms out inside of you again. He sets a steady pace, rolling his hips into you over and over, the feeling of him pumping in and out of you more delicious than you could’ve ever imagined. He kisses you hard, licking into your mouth, swallowing all of your pretty little moans. 

He cups one of your breasts in his wide palm, running his thumb over your nipple, stoking the fire in the pit of your belly. He straightens, admiring how beautiful you look while you take him. Your lips red and puffy, your eyes half lidded, your breasts bouncing with each thrust. 

“So pretty, taking me so well,” he praises you as his hand coasts up your chest, fingers gently wrapping around your neck. He holds his hand there for a moment, making a mental note of the way your eyes light up when he briefly squeezes the column of your throat. 

“F-feels so g-good,” you choke out between thrusts. His thumb slides along your jaw toward your chin, prodding at your bottom lip, coaxing your mouth open. You wrap your lips around his thumb, sucking on it briefly before he pops it out of your mouth, trailing it down your body until he reaches your clit. The contact has your head spinning, the cord in your center tightening and tightening as he flicks your sensitive bud. 

“Baby, look,” his voice cuts through the foggy lust in your head, grabbing your attention. He nods down to where your bodies are connected, gesturing for you to take a glance. 

One look at him splitting you open has your climax threatening to wash over you, warmth running up and down your spine at the sight of your arousal shining on his cock as he pistons in and out of your heat relentlessly. He swirls his thumb around your clit faster at the feeling of you squeezing around him.

“You close, sweetheart?” He’s breathless as he fucks you, hitting so deep inside you that you can feel it in your stomach. 

“Mhm, fuck, yes,” you cry out, scrambling for his free hand, lacing your fingers between his. 

“Come on, I want to watch you fall apart around my cock.” He’s fucking you impossibly hard, each thrust hitting just right, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. “Let me feel you, love,” 

“Oh my god,” you stammer out a string of curses as your second orgasm washes over you, your heart thudding in your ears as your body tenses underneath him. He barely slows his pace, keeping his thumb resting on your clit, fucking you through your high. 

“There she is,” he coos, slowing little by little until your body starts to relax. He thrusts all the way inside, bottoming out, collapsing over you. 

“Wow,” you laugh, bringing your hands up to cradle his flushed face. “That was,” 

“Incredible?” He finishes your sentence, kissing your sweaty forehead over and over. You let out a soft moan in agreement, and his cock jumps inside of you at the sound. 

“Mmh,” you whimper, the warmth creeping back into your belly, and you squeeze around Yunho’s cock. 

“Wanting more already?” He teases, pushing his hips against you, thrusting himself in even deeper. 

“Absolutely,” you squeeze around him again, craning your neck up to capture his lips with yours. “Fuck me however you want, baby,” you whisper against his mouth. His cock twitches inside you again and you giggle, waiting for his next move. 

“Flip over,” he pants, “I wanna fuck you like this,” he slips out of you and you whine, feeling empty. He helps you roll onto your belly, kneeling behind you as he pulls your ass in the air and plants a hand in the middle of your back, guiding you to arch for him. You squish your cheek into the mattress, trying to look back at him. “Fucking hell,” he palms your ass with both hands, admiring your delectable form, “you are unreal.” 

“Yun, please, I need you,” you whine as he bends over your body, planting hot, wet kisses up your spine until he reaches the nape of your neck, bringing his lips to your ear. You feel his cock bump against your backside, his body flush against yours.

“You are insatiable, my love,” your heart flutters at the word, but your lust pushes any overanalyzing to the back of your mind in favor of how desperate you are for him. 

You push back into him, feeling the tip of his cock bump against your heat. He straightens at the feeling, rubbing circles into your hips with his thumbs as he watches you move. You roll your hips, catching the tip of his cock between your folds, wiggling and rocking to find the right angle before it finally slips inside. 

“Oh, fuck,” he whimpers as you push back, taking him deeper and deeper until your ass is flush against him. You start bouncing your hips, taking him in and out, slowly at first, the sounds of his moans filling your ears and soaking your center. 

“Feel good, baby?” You muffle from beneath him, moving your hips quicker with each bounce on his cock. You open your legs a little wider, the new angle rocking his cock against your g-spot. 

“The best thing I’ve ever felt,” he rolls his hips to meet yours, the sound of skin slapping filling the air of his bedroom. “I can’t believe how long we’ve waited for this,” he grips your hips, meeting your thrusts in earnest, fucking into you impossibly deep. You match each other’s pace immediately, moans and whines filling the air. 

He threads his fingers through your hair, tugging you upwards until your body is flush against his, your sweat-slicked bodies rocking together. His hand drops from your hair to wrap around your neck, holding you firmly in place as he threads his other hand between your legs, his middle and ring finger easily finding your swollen clit. 

“I want you like this forever,” he whispers in your ear as he drives into you, your motivation to bounce on him melting into the mattress beneath you. You want him to take you however he wants you, your body molding into his grip. 

“Forever,” you nod as he kisses your neck, “you have me forever Yunnie,” 

“Again,” he groans as you tighten around him, his fingers swirling around your clit, your third orgasm of the night building rapidly low in your belly. “Say it again,” 

“Forever,” you repeat, “I’m yours forever,” 

“Fuck, sweetheart, I’m so close,” he growls into your ear, “you take me so well, like you were made for me,” 

“I was, Yun,” you assure him, “I was made for you,” he rubs your clit faster, “and you were made for me,” 

“God, yes,” he kisses your shoulder, his pace faltering as he gets closer to the edge, “I love you, y/n, fuck.” His fingers swirl around your clit as his hips stutter, spilling hot and fast inside of you. “I love you, I love you, I love you,” he repeats over and over as he ruts into you. 

“I love you, Yunho,” you cry out, your heart exploding as your orgasm follows, your body shuddering against him as you come together, your words and his swirling around you in the afterglow. 

He holds you tight against him, guiding your spent form back down to the mattress, kissing every inch of your skin as you both come down from your highs. He slips out of you, lowering your hips, massaging your sore muscles before rolling onto his back next to you. You mimic his position, flipping over so you’re both staring at the ceiling, processing the words you both just confessed. You lay together in silence, the sounds of both of you trying to catch your breath filling the room. You let your eyes close, processing the moment.

“Jeong Yunho,” your voice is hoarse once you speak. “Tell me you love me.” Your eyes flutter open, turning your head to see him already beaming at you. He rolls onto his side, bringing himself nose to nose with you. 

“I love you.” He declares, clear and confident, your heart swelling in your chest. His lips brush over yours, both of you smiling as he kisses you softly. “Your turn,” he whispers. You copy him, rolling onto your side, brushing his sweat slicked hair from his forehead as he throws an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

“I love you,” you giggle, kissing him again. 

“One more time?” 

“I, love, you,” you emphasize each word with a gentle kiss on his lips, 

“I will never get tired of hearing that,” he whispers. “Let’s go get cleaned up.” 

You whine in protest, but Yunho eventually gets you into the bathroom, running a hot shower for the both of you. You wash up together, hardly able to keep your hands off of each other. Once you’ve fallen apart in his hands twice more and the water’s run cold, he helps you into a pair of his boxers and his biggest, softest sweatshirt. 

“This feels like a dream,” you think out loud once you’re snuggled up in Yunho’s bed together. “Is this a dream?” 

“If it is, I never want to wake up,” he smiles at you under the dim street lights flooding through his windows. “This is all I need, forever.” 

You kiss him at that, soft and tender, his arms wrapping tighter around you, holding you close. You fall asleep shortly after, nose to nose, hearts full. 

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

You wake to the morning sun shining through Yunho’s bedroom windows, the sweet smell of vanilla flooding your nose. Stretching your tired limbs, you roll over to find the other side of the bed empty. Panic floods your mind at the sight, your past making you assume the worst. Is he sleeping on the couch? You wonder. Does he regret what he said and now he’s avoiding me? Before you can reason with yourself, you jump out of bed and speed walk down the hallway, stopping dead in your tracks when you reach the kitchen. 

“You’re not freaking out, are you y/n?” Yunho drawls, his voice still laced with sleep, low and raspy. He hasn’t even looked at you yet, his focus being on the plate on the counter in front of him, but he already knows where your mind is at just by the sound of your footsteps coming down the hallway. Of course he does. His bare, wide shoulders shake as he laughs to himself. His pajama pants hang low on his hips, the muscles in his back moving beneath his skin as he throws the final touches on what’s in front of him. He spins around to face you holding a plate of pancakes, littered with strawberries cut into hearts. Your heart flutters at the scene in front of you. “You think I’m gonna make love to you, tell you that I love you, and not make you breakfast in the morning?” 

Suddenly feeling self conscious over your immediate assumption that he regretted your night together, you cross your arms, avoiding his gaze. “I got scared,” you whisper. 

“That I left you in my apartment all alone? Baby,” he puts the plate down, “I would never, especially after last night,” he crosses the kitchen to reach you, pulling you into his warm embrace, his hot skin beneath you melting away the coldness you felt from waking up alone. “I’m not like…him,” he reminds you, brushing his fingers through your hair. “You are safe with me. Safe, loved, protected, respected, I could go on and on. Do you understand me?” He presses a gentle kiss to the top of your head. 

You nod against his chest. “I do,” you feel a tear slide down your cheek, spreading from your skin, onto his. He squeezes you in a tight hug. 

“Come on, let’s get some food in your system. You haven’t eaten since our pastries at Blossom last night,” he releases you to grab your plate, as well as a second he made for himself, and drops another quick kiss to your forehead before carrying them to the coffee table in his living room. 

“Come sit,” he beckons you, and you follow automatically, plopping on the couch. He grabs your favorite throw blanket before sitting down next to you, draping it over both of your laps. No matter how hard you try to ignore them, negative thoughts are still plaguing your mind. You both pick up your plates, eating in silence for a few moments before Yunho speaks up again. 

“Y/n, what’s on your mind?” His tone is so sincere, you immediately feel guilty for making him worry. 

“I’m just–” you hesitate for a moment. “I’m scared it’s too good to be true.” 

“What is? Us?” Worry flickers across his features, his heart aching seeing you so distraught. 

“Yeah,” you sigh, poking at one of your pancakes with your fork. You know you’re being unreasonable, and that Yunho has shown you nothing but love and commitment as long as you’ve known him. But your self doubt and your history of awful relationships is screaming at you that you don’t deserve him. You’re so lost in your thoughts that you don’t even realize that you’re crying. 

Yunho gently takes your plate from your hands, putting both his and yours back on the coffee table. He shifts his body slowly until he’s kneeling on the floor in front of you, resting his hands on your blanket-covered thighs.

“Y/n, look at me,” he pleads. You wipe the tears from your cheeks, patting the dampness into the blanket in your lap. You rest your hands on top of his, tracing the lines of his veins for a moment before dragging your gaze upwards to meet his. His eyes are glazed over with tears of his own. 

“Yunnie, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you, I–”

“Listen to me,” he interrupts. “You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. The most precious thing in this world to me. Each moment that I spend with you fills me with a joy that I never experienced until I met you.” He turns his hands over to cradle yours as his tears finally fall down his cheeks. “I love you. And I will spend every day of the rest of my life proving that to you. And proving to you that you deserve the love that I give you.” 

You stifle a sob at his words, trying to take all of it in as the beautiful truth. You know he means it, he’s always meant every word he’s ever said to you, and you know you need to silence your anxieties in favor of what you know to be true. 

“It’s gonna take time,” you whisper. “It’ll take time for me to believe that I deserve what you give me,” you wipe your own tears, then his, both of you laughing breathlessly at your own emotions. “But I will get there,” you continue, “I just need you to be patient with me.” 

“Of course. I will spend the rest of my life reminding you what you deserve, sweetheart. That’s a promise.” 

“I love you.” You cradle his head in your hands, memorizing every inch of his face, savoring the first day of the rest of your lives.

“I love you,” he kisses the tip of your nose. “Let’s go finish our breakfast in bed.” 

“Okay,” you giggle watching Yunho jump up to grab both your plates, giddily walking toward his bedroom with a wide smile on his face. 

“You coming?” He glances over his shoulder at you, his ears blushing bright red as he waits for you. 

You nod, hopping up to follow after him, to your new forever.

[corameiwrites]

𖦹 i want somebody to want 𖦹

pair: jason todd x gn!reader

plot: When you turn 21, the name of your soulmate appears on your forearm. Not everyone is born with a soulmate, and Jason Todd never thought he would have one. 

wc: 2k

authors note: I remember reading in a fic somewhere about the Wayne Scholarship, and I forgot who/where I read it exactly, so credit to them whoever they are. Also, some characters may seem a little ooc and tbh I don't really care. I had fun writing this which is all that matters, and I hope you have fun reading it!

pt. 2

The place Dick had dragged Jason to wasn’t all that bad, considering it was located in Blüdhaven. Unless it was near the University area, there was always something sinister and more corrupt happening under the alcohol, vomit, and blood-stained floors of Gotham bars. Normally no amount of bribery or guilting could make him voluntarily dress up and go out drinking with his older brother, but today was not normal. 

It was his twenty-first birthday. 

Meaning that by 11:59 tonight, if a name didn’t appear somewhere on one of his arms, he was destined to be alone. Not everyone is born with a soulmate, and realistically, after all the shit he’s been through, Jason Todd never thought he would have one. Despite that, there was some sort of dread slowly filling his body the more he thought about it. Maybe it was that small flame of the little boy he used to be—before Robin and the Bat and the Joker—igniting at the chance of finally having one. It was the same boy who would trace his parents’ names on their wrist, asking them to tell him once more how they met, what they felt seeing the names appear on their skin. Unfortunately, that little boy would be let down yet again by the end of the night. 

His plans had originally been to stay in his main apartment (the one where he stored all his books and indulged in a comfy couch), buy a 6-pack of the cheapest beer and get drunk alone. That was ruined, however, when he received multiple annoying texts from Dick, begging to go out for drinks tonight, specifying multiple times that it would be on him. Jason told himself the only reason he agreed was for the free drinks and to keep himself from checking his forearm every five goddamn seconds (a night out with Richard Grayson was known to be entertaining and unpredictable).

If it was Dicks plan to get Jason blackout drunk, he was doing a pretty good job of it. After agreeing he would be the designated driver, Dick had laid back on the drinks and only taken 3 of the five rounds of shots they had already ordered. Jason was opening up bit by bit, reminiscing on their childhood together. By his fifth shot, smiling seemed to come easier to Jason. 

Currently, they were both watching the flatscreen hung behind the bar showing a news channel covering Batman and Robin putting an end to another bank robbery. 

Dick pointed at the screen. “Damian learned that move from me.” 

“No, I taught him that.” 

“I’m the one who taught you that move when you were younger, big dummy,” Dick teased. 

“Oh, I forgot.” Jason's tone lost its joking edge, and Dick looked over at him. “You know,” he continued almost somberly. “Ever since coming back, I seem to forget a lot of things.” 

His eyes were glued to the screen, watching as Batman jumped out a window in pursuit of the bad guy. Robin shouted after him.

“You’ve been through hell and back, Todd. Normal people wouldn’t have been able to handle it the way you did.” 

“No, you see, that's the thing.” Jason's voice was frustrated, his previous smiles gone. His brows furrowed the longer he ranted. “I’m not normal. I cycle through apartments and bunkers like crazy to help me lay low. I sleep in until 3 pm and I put a helmet on to chase down crazy guys with guns for hours at night. The public knows me as some traumatized kid who somehow survived a terrorist attack.” He pauses to take a gulp of beer, slamming the glass onto the bar, lifting his arm to wipe his mouth. Dick watched his jacket slip down his arm.

“Jason–”

“I don’t have a home, I don’t have a stable routine, I don’t even have life insurance!” Dick had somehow managed to get the former deceased and outlaw brother of his drunk and ranting about life. And the worst part? Nobody was ever going to believe him.

“Jason,” Dick puts a hand on his younger brother's shoulder, gripping him like a vice. His eyes never left his arm. “Your soulmate.”

Both of them are silent for a moment. Jason sighs, shaking his head. 

“Damn, you're good at this.Yeah, it's about the soulmate thing.”

“You fucking idiot,” Dick slaps him on the back of his head. “Look at your arm!” 

Dick watched as Jason stared him in the eyes, his brain clearly trying to catch up with what his brother was insinuating. When he finally looked down, it was comedic the way his eyes bulged at the fresh ink on his left arm. Dick tried his best to keep his excitement at bay, biting back his proud smile. His grumpy, tough, and borderline psychotic little brother had a soulmate. After a couple more seconds of silence, Jason cursed under his breath.

“I’m too sober for this,” Jason mumbled, chugging down the rest of his beer.  

Dick laughs, waving the bartender over and handing him a card to close their tab. Jason slams the empty cup down, staring straight ahead at nothing in particular. “I have a soulmate.”

“Yeah man, congratulations!” Dick pats his brother on the back, but recoils at Jason turning abruptly and staring him dead in the eye. 

“I have a soulmate.”

“I…yeah, you do bud.”

“...I have a soulmate.” He repeats, annunciating each word, as if he can’t believe it. “I need to find them,” Jason says, standing and walking towards the exit of the bar. 

“Woah, Jason–” Dick hurriedly stands, apologetically yelling for the bartender and grabbing his card. Rushing outside, he sees Jason recklessly crossing the street to the parking lot. “Slow down!” 

Jason stands awkwardly next to Richard Grayson's blue convertible, clambering over the door and into the passenger seat. Dick watches from across the street, shaking his head with a smile, making his way to the car. He couldn’t find it in himself to be annoyed with Jasons drunken behavior. 

Hopping in the driver's seat, Dick puts the keys into the ignition. “Alright loverboy, where are we going?”

“The mansion,” Jason struggles to get his seatbelt on (Dick intervenes). “The Batcave’s computer can find anyone.”

“Huh. That’s actually really smart considering you're drunk.” 

“I’m not. Just shut up and drive.”

Dick laughs, hitting the gas pedal and doing as he was told.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩  ♡  ✩˚｡⋆𖦹｡°⋆✮ 

Bruce was home early, having quickly left the bank robbers tied up as Gordons responsibility. Currently, he was sitting in the library going over a case file. Damian had already gone to bed when he had gotten an alert of a vehicle coming up the manor's driveway. He checked the security cameras in the garage and was shocked to see his eldest rushing to the passenger side of the car to stop his sluggish brother from falling out. At first, Bruce had thought that he was poisoned or impaired in some way. He called for Alfred, asking him to prepare the medical rooms to tend to Jason. A few short minutes later, he heard faint voices approaching. 

“I used to live here before I died, I know where I’m going.”

“Clearly not, we passed the entrance already.”

“The old man has a sensor on that door. We need to take the entrance in one of the bookshelves, they don’t notify him when someone enters.”  No one but Alfred was supposed to know that. 

“I doubt it’ll matter, he’s out fighting crime with—oh shit!” Bruce watched through his freakish peripheral vision as two figures hurriedly backed away from the doorway of the library. “Code Bat! Code Bat!” Dicks voice had dropped to a whisper, though not so quiet that Bruce couldn’t hear. 

“B’s here?” A head with a white streak of hair popped through the doorway before quickly vanishing. “Oh no.” 

“It’s only 11:45, what is he doing lounging around?”

Bruce chuckled quietly, now coming to the realization that they weren’t drugged or in danger; they were just drunk. Jason especially, which made sense. Quietly, he sent Alfred a message telling him to disregard the request. He feigned ignorance to their presence, going as far as flipping pages of the case file in his lap while they bickered, attempting to formulate a plan. Listening in to their not very secretive conversation, Bruce deduced that they had come to find Jason's soulmate on the Bat computer. It was his 21st afterall, and why else would he come drunkenly to the home he tried so hard to stay away from? Bruce found himself smiling for the boy. He had been through so much, and he deserved to have some good in his life. He only hoped that whoever they were, they took care of him in places where Bruce failed. 

Sighing exaggeratedly, he stood, stretched and slowly made his way to the doorway, listening as the two brothers hushed. He allowed himself one last second of respite before wiping the smile off his face and walking out into the dark hallway. Dick stood alone, leaning against the wall and whistling. He turned his head, seeing Bruce standing, observing him. 

“Oh, hey Bruce! I’ve been looking for you.” Dick pushed off the wall, going to stand next to his Father. “I thought I’d visit, wait for you to get home, but you’re here!”

“What do you need?” 

“Oh nothing much,” taking Bruce's arm, he began to drag him in the opposite direction, past the library. “I just got nostalgic, and wanted to take a trip down memory lane with my Pops.” 

“You smell like alcohol.”

“Like I said, I was feeling nostalgic!”

Dick rattled on, leading him down the dark halls, and Bruce noticed Jason slipping into the library. He smiled, turning his attention back to his eldest. He couldn’t find himself to be angry about his sons keeping secrets from him. If he felt anything about tonight's endeavor, it was disappointment. Bruce Wayne had taught his sons to be sneakier than they had been tonight. 

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩  ♡  ✩˚｡⋆𖦹｡°⋆✮

Jason, in his drunken haste, had almost tripped down the short flight of steps leading to the massive computer. He couldn't really blame the alcohol though—it was his fault for looking down at his arm every couple seconds, as though the black ink would fade away before he ever found out who you were. Even if it did, he had already committed the name to memory.

He knew how many letters were in your name, the number of syllables in the different parts of it. Despite this, he hadn’t yet spoken it out loud. For the last 30 minutes of his life, every breath he took held a certain weight to it, and the beating of his heart had persisted to be about 120 beats per minute.

He blamed it on the alcohol, but logically he knew the reason.

 That little boy—the one he thought was dead and buried—was coming back to life, crawling his way out of the depths of Jason and settling into his gut. 

His hand shook as he typed the name, every click of the keyboard ringing dully in his skull. Inhaling deeply, Jason hesitated for only a moment before clicking enter. Your name popped up surprisingly quickly, specifically registered under the “Wayne Scholarship” file.

His hand moved by its own volition and the link was clicked, a government ID popping up on the display. 

Staring up at the photo of you in awe, his eyes flickered to the name and back to the photo, unbelieving that this was you. Your simple beauty was evident even through the low quality government ID.

He stared for a while, just taking in you. It was a little odd looking at the huge screen, knowing that you two were made for each other. The thought only made his heart speed up even more. 

Digging into your file, he finds that you’re 20 and won’t be turning 21 for another seven months. The knowledge that he knows and you don’t makes him nauseous.

Clenching the edge of the table, he remembers that the reason he found you so quick was due to the Wayne Scholarship. You moved to Gotham for your third year of college to attend Gotham University, with most of the tuition paid for as long as you agree to stay away from any and all crime. Suddenly, he had found another reason to be thankful that Bruce was filthy rich. Your current residence was an old apartment complex in the University area, which was for the most part, free of crime. The more information he got from Bruce Wayne's files, the more his stomach fluttered. 

That little boy was practically jumping up and down inside of him, chanting over and over again, “I knew it! I knew we would have a soulmate!”. As the information sunk in, he began to shake more violently, and he felt like his legs were barely holding his weight. In fear of throwing up or collapsing on the floor (or both), he fell backwards into Bruce's chair. A tear slid down Jason’s cheek, and then another, and another. 

For the first time in a long time, Jason Todd sobbed.

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Me, You, and Baby, Too

Summary: You and Joel have always wanted kids, but didn't want to rush into having them until you both were ready. After a surprise at his job, Joel realizes there's nothing more he wants to do than put a baby in you as soon as he gets home.

Pairing: Husband!Joel Miller x Wife!Reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 4.1K

Warnings: SMUT (18+), unprotected p in v sex (it's baby making time, so hush), oral (f receiving), vaginal fingering, big ole fat and nasty breeding kink (.... don't look at me it's bad), creampie, cum play, talks of starting a family, calling Joel "Daddy" (in the sense you want to have his babies, but also 🤷🏼‍♀️), Sweet soft Joel who loves his wife and would give her the universe if he could, honestly with just the way Joel is talking about makin' babies, I think I'm pregnant

A/N: It's that time of the month where Madeline ovulates and writes feral breeding kink smut!!! 🤪 Okay I am so nervous to post this because I have never written for Joel before and I'm worried it's trash with a capital T, but after re-watching TLOU, I need 2003 Joel Miller carnally, so here we are. This is also inspired by @mrsmando post about 2003 Joel Miller constantly keeping you barefoot and pregnant because it made me unwell, and no lies were told. (thanks for ruining my life mimi) 🤠 ANYWHO I hope you guys like it, and if not, I'll shut up and go back to writing Javi and Frankie and pretend like this didn't happen

There were a lot of stereotypical answers that you expected from your husband when you asked him how his day at work had been:  

“Good.” 

“Fine.” 

“Long.” 

“My knees are killin’ me.” 

“Tommy did somethin’ fuckin’ stupid again.” 

“Better now that I’m home with you.” 

So when Joel arrived home today after a new job he had started with Tommy on a bathroom renovation, there were few things that could have prepared you for the response your husband had when you asked him how his day had gone. 

“Hey, honey. How was your day today?” You smiled, watching Joel stroll in through your front door, kicking off his work boots at the entryway, beginning to put away his things before strolling into the kitchen to greet you. 

“Pretty good." He paused, leaning in for a quick kiss before making his way over to the closet before speaking again. "Saw a real cute baby today.” 

You could practically feel your heart skip a beat as you looked up from the vegetables you had been cutting up for dinner, tightening the grip you had around your knife to make sure you didn’t drop it in shock. 

Out of all the things for Joel to bring up on the first day at a new job, a cute baby had been at the top of the list.

Not floor plans. 

Not timelines for the project.

Not something stupid that Tommy did. 

Not even what he had done today on the job. 

The top news that Joel Miller had to report back to you about his day was the sighting of a cute baby. 

You and Joel had always agreed that you’d wanted kids, and your husband had been not only adamant, but genuinely excited at the prospect of becoming a dad. But only being a little less than a year into your marriage, the two of you had decided you didn’t want to rush into anything, and when the time felt right, you’d both know it. 

But one by one, as your friends began to announce their pregnancies, baby showers, and pictures of their adorable newborns, you couldn’t help but deny the baby fever starting to burn hotter and hotter inside you with every passing day. 

You’d brought it up in passing a few times with Joel, talking about your friends who had kids, or a cute mom and her children you saw walking around in your neighborhood, and while he had always had a positive response to what you had to say, you just had a feeling that now just wasn’t the time for the two of you yet, and that was okay.  

But here you were, standing in your kitchen, jaw practically scraping the ground at the notion that your husband had dropped just about the least subtle hint ever that babies weren’t just at the forefront of your mind- they were on his, too. 

“Awh, really?” You asked, shaking your head to snap out of your shocked state, returning back to dice the onion you had been working on before Joel could turn around to see you after finishing hanging up his things in the closet, trying to subtly coax more information out of him. 

“Yeah.” He smiled, joining you in the kitchen, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you closer to his chest for a soft kiss to greet you, “The family we’re startin’ the bathroom reno for just moved in. Had their first baby a few months ago and just hadn’t had time to work on fixin’ things.” 

“So they’re already putting the baby to work with you and Tommy?” You teased, raising an eyebrow at Joel playfully, giving him a quick peck back on the lips as he laughed at your sass. 

“Cheap labor.” Joel shrugged back, playing into the joke, “Nah, she woke up from her nap while Tommy and I were runnin’ through some measurements so her mom brought her out for the last lil bit we were there. She was damn cute, too. Just smilin’ and laughin’ at everything.” 

You were glad Joel’s arm was still wrapped around your hip, because you were convinced if it wasn’t, you were about to melt to the floor into a puddle, watching how soft and sweet Joel was talking about a cute, smiling baby. 

“Well a cute baby definitely sounds like a very nice perk of being on the job.” You smirked, trying to play it cool enough to keep your heart from bursting out of your chest. 

“Yeah.” Joel replied softly, quietly pausing for a moment, watching the gears turning in his brain, carefully calculating his words before he spoke. 

“You okay?” You asked, looking up at Joel, knowing your husband well enough that he had something on his mind he was trying to work up the confidence to spit out. 

Joel looked back down at you, big brown eyes locking with yours as his grip around your waist tightened ever so slightly, tongue swiping against his plush bottom lip as he took a long, deep breath in and slow exhale out.  

“Honey, what is it?” You asked again, now slightly concerned with how nervous your husband looked in his stoic silence, reaching up to gently wrap your fingers around his arm, thumb stroking his skin. 

“I want one.” 

You froze, worried that your heart may have actually stopped as you looked at Joel, making sure that you had really just heard what he had said. 

“W-what?” 

“I want one. A baby. I- I know it’s been a while since we’ve talked about it, but I’ve been thinkin’ about it a lot, and seein’ that baby today, it just- shit, I just couldn’t stop picturin’ what it would be like to have one of our own I guess.” 

If you weren’t a puddle before, you sure as fuck were now.  

An overwhelming sensation of nerves and excitement began thrumming through your veins, your heart beat pounding in your ears as your face grew warm and a smile started to spread between your cheeks. You were almost certain you had to be dreaming, asking again to make sure that someone needed to come and wake you up and send you back to reality. 

“Joel… Really?” 

“Yeah, really. Nothin’ I want more. I know I ain’t gonna even be close to the perfect dad, but I know you’ll be sucha good mom, and I’ll be damned if I don’t want some tiny lil versions of us runnin’ around. Couldn’t think of anything that would make me happier than that. Like I said, I know that we ain’t talked about in a while, and if ya aren’t ready yet that’s okay but I-” 

Before Joel could even finish the rest of his thought, you were pressing up to plant your lips to his with passionate intensity, hands roaming up his chest before cupping his jaw and the scratchy stubble of his cheeks while your stomach flipped with arousal and want, already feeling a damp patch beginning to pool in the cotton of your underwear. 

You pulled away, kisses traveling along his jawline and up his neck until you were nipping at his ear, the hot breath of your words whispering against his skin. 

“You wanna make a baby, Joel Miller?” 

“Fuck-” Joel groaned, reaching his other arm around you grab at your ass, pulling you in tight enough to feel the bulge beginning to grow under the denim of his worn jeans, pressing against your thigh.

“‘Cause there’s nothing that I want more than to make you a daddy.” You smirked, looking up to watch Joel’s eyes darken with lust, jaw going slack as a low groan rumbled in his chest, his once half hard cock now fully erect and straining against his zipper, trying to keep from giggling watching your husband try to string together any sort of thoughts to speak. 

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ-” He moaned, running his hand over his face to try and regain his composure to keep from busting right then and there. “You- fuck, you sure, baby?” 

“Mhmmmm. Don’t think I’ve ever been so sure of anything in my whole life. So sure,” you paused, softly pressing your lips to his between words, “that I think we should go make one right now.” 

Your adamant confirmation was all it took to set off something almost animalistic in Joel, crashing his lips back into yours in a messy clash of tongues and teeth, gripping his hands under your thighs to hoist you up around his hips and lock your legs behind the small of his back. Without ever letting your mouths part, Joel was already halfway to the bedroom before you had even realized it, playfully giggling at how frantically he was carrying you down the hallway, your bodies bumping against the walls and door frames, too focused on desperate and needy kisses for any sort of spatial awareness. 

Finally reaching your bed, Joel carefully laid you down, letting your back fall into the mattress, leaving your lower half to hang off the edge before your husband was on his knees, settling himself between your parted thighs. 

You sat up on your elbows, watching as Joel tightened his grip around the meat of your legs, peppering kisses up the inside of each across your soft skin before coming face to face with your core, planting another soft kiss there before letting his fingers ghost over your heat, still covered by your jeans. 

He rapidly worked at the button of your pants, shuffling them down off your hips to reveal your underwear, now absolutely soaked with arousal from the prospect alone of Joel knocking you up and carrying his baby. 

“Jesus Christ, baby girl, look at ‘cha.” Joel tutted, admiring how the cotton of your underwear clung to the outline of your cunt, sticking to the puffy and swollen lips of your pussy from how wet you were. “Haven’t even touched ya yet. This all for me, darlin’?” 

Just as you began to try and answer, Joel took one of his fingers, barely dragging it over the damp fabric before beginning to rub soft circles over your covered clit, eliciting a pathetic whimper from you at the electric sensation.  

“F-fuck- It’s all for you, b-baby.” You stammered, moaning even louder as a second finger joined the first, pressing more pressure into you sensitive nub as he nudged each of your legs to drape over his shoulders, his free hand tugging at the waistband of your underwear, making you instinctually lift your hips as he yanked them off your legs to crumple in a messy pile with your pants. 

“Prettiest fuckin’ pussy I’ve ever seen.” Joel mewled, running his fingers up and down through the weeping seams of your folds, toying with your entrance while draping his arm across your hips to hold your squirming lower half in place. “Wants me to fuck her full of me and fill her up so bad, huh?” 

“P-please, Joel. Want you to fill me up so badly.” You whimpered, staring down at your husband, a devilish grin spread across his face, licking his lips as his eyes darted back and forth between your blissed out face and the glistening mess between your thighs. 

“I will sweetheart, promise. Gotta taste you first though, baby. Gotta make sure you’re nice n’ready for me. ‘Cause once we start, I ain’t lettin’ you outta this bed ‘till I knock you up.” 

With that, Joel was diving between your legs, lapping you up in long and firm strokes, pressing against your clit in the way he knew would make you fall apart under his tongue. While he would have loved to have spend hours just like this, making you writhe under his touch, drinking up your arousal like a wandering man parched in the heat of the desert, Joel had one thing on his mind, and one thing only- 

To get you pregnant.   

Joel began to intensify the pace of his tongue, swirling and sucking around your clit as two of his thick fingers pushed into your heat, sliding in and out of your entrance with ease from how wet and worked up you were. Curling his fingers ever so slightly, you cried out as Joel bumped against your g-spot, pushing against the soft, spongy spot as his tongue worked its magic. 

You could feel the arousal shooting through your veins, heat beginning to bloom in your stomach as Joel fucked you with his fingers and mouth, shooting your hand down to grab fistfulls of his thick, brown hair to brace yourself for your impending orgasm. 

“J-Joel, oh fuck- Fuck, baby, I’m c-close. Don’t stop, please, don’t stop.” You whined, pussy beginning to flutter around Joel’s fingers, the tightening only egging him on further to get you to cross the finish line. 

With just a little more pressure of his tongue, Joel could feel your cunt clamping down around his digits, watching the pleasure shoot through your body as you came, your orgasm crashing through you like a tsunami. 

As you reached your high, Joel drank up your arousal, not faltering in his pace, too focused on your pretty cries of his name being chanted like a prayer to do anything but keep going and making you feel good. 

Truth be told, Joel had gotten so lost between your thighs, the only thing stopping him was the tensing feeling between his, so pussy drunk and determined to fuck you full of him that he was worried he was about to cum too if he didn’t stop. 

Pulling off you, Joel frantically stood up, racing to undo his belt and jeans, yanking them down his legs in tandem with his boxers as his cock slapped against his stomach, precum already pearling from his tip, desperate to be inside of you. His shirt quickly followed his pants, ripping it over his head as his broad body caged yours under him, helping you to scoot back on the bed until your head hit the pillows, trailing kisses up and down your body the whole way. 

As Joel kissed and nipped at your skin, you quickly shuffled off your top and bra, leaving you bare beneath him, moaning as his tongue flicked against each of your newly exposed pebbled nipples, grouping your breast and kneading the soft flesh in his palms. 

Even though you had just came, you could already feel your cunt starting to clench around nothing, desperate to feel Joel inside of you, to stretch you out with his thick cock and fuck you until you couldn’t think straight. But with the way your chest was heaving and breath shaking from your orgasm, you could barely muster out the words you wanted. 

“J-Joel, p-please, baby. P-please.” 

You snaked your hand between your bodies to reach for Joel’s cock, wrapping your fingers around his length and swiping your thumb over his leaking tip, a low groan rumbling in his chest as you stroked him, trying to guide him to slide between your legs and ease your ache. 

Lowering his hips, you moved your hand and let his replace it, Joel pumping himself a few times before guiding his tip between your folds, collecting your slick to coat his cock, using every last ounce of self-control he had as his eyes locked with yours, wanting to see your face as he pushed inside you. 

“Please, what, darlin’?” Joel teased, knowing damn well what you were begging for. 

“Need to feel you, Joel. Need you to put a baby in me.” You moaned, reaching up to grab his face, your palm rubbing against his stubble as your fingers tugged on the curls at the nape of his neck. 

With one more pump, Joel lined himself up with your entrance, sliding into your heat, the sweet stretch and sting of his length making the breath hitch in the back of your throat, filling you up inch by inch until he bottomed out inside you with his tip just kissing your cervix. 

Joel couldn’t help but smirk as he watched your mouth fall open, parted lips letting a soft moan escape while your eyes nearly rolled to the back of your head at the newfound sensation, giving you another moment to adjust before he began to slowly roll his hips, dragging his cock in and out of your core. 

“Christ, baby girl, so wet and tight. Like this pussy was made just for me. Made for me to fuck ya full of me until it’s got no choice but to fuckin’ take.” Joel groaned, reaching down to grab your thighs, pinning your knees to your chest, stretching you open to take Joel even deeper, practically feeling him in your stomach with the position he had you in. 

“Joel, oh my god- fuck, you feel so good. Fuck, baby. Want you to fill me up so bad.” You whimpered, Joel now beginning to pick up his pace as he thrust in and out of you, continually punching in that perfect spot over and over again, leaving your brain bordering on short circuiting. 

Joel’s fingertips dug deeper into the flesh of your thighs, pushing your legs down just far enough to be chest to chest with you, the sweat dampened curls of his forehead brushing against yours as your mouths met in an electric kiss, catching each other’s muffled moans with each snap of Joel’s hips. 

“Yeah, sweetheart? Want me to fill you up? Fuck a baby into you? Let everyone see what a pretty momma you are, carryin’ our kid?” Joel grunted, picturing you, months from now, belly round and tits swollen, pregnant with your baby, wondering how many you’d let him give you, because fuck, he’d keep knocking you up until he had nothing left to give. 

Each push and pull of your bodies against each other felt more and more electric, an undeniable coil tightening in your stomach with the way Joel was pounding into you and the hairs at the base of his cock were brushing against your clit, already feeling yourself beginning to teeter on the brink of pleasure once again. 

“Yes, fuck, fuck- yes, Joel. I wanna have your baby. Want you to knock me up so I can make you a daddy. Please, baby, please.” You were all but sobbing at this point, your fingers digging into the tan and sweat sheened skin of Joel’s broad shoulders, overwhelmed by the lewd combinations of Joel’s heavy pants in your ear and wet squelching of your pussy as his pelvis flushed against yours repeatedly. 

Joel could feel you beginning to tighten around him, pussy sucking him in with its warmth and wetness, ready to clamp around his cock and milk him for all he was worth. 

“That’s it, darlin’, I know you’re close. Gotta cum for me first though, baby girl. Gotta feel ya soak me before I stuff ya so full of me, I swear t’god, you’ll be drippin’ outta me for days. So fuckin’ full that I’ll get you pregnant right now.” Joel groaned through gritted teeth, leaning back to reach and grab your leg, wrapping it around the small of his back before you lifted your other to join it, locking your ankles to keep him as close to you as possible. 

“Joel, oh my god, fuck baby, fuck, I’m gonna- fuckfuckfuck-” 

Suddenly, your orgasm was rushing through every inch of you, crying out as the pleasure hit you like a freight train, choking Joel’s cock with your pussy, unable to do anything but relish in the white hot bliss that had you nearly floating out of your own body. 

While Joel would have kept fucking you until the sun went down, the truth was he was relieved to feel you cum, spending every second since your agreement in the kitchen trying to keep from finishing until he was balls deep inside you and you were soaking his cock as you reached your high. The realization that now was his chance to make good on his promise, to fill you up and fuck a baby into you, ignited something primal, feral, in him, pounding into you at a punishing pace as he could feel himself teetering on the brink of collapse right with you. 

“That’s my girl. That’s it, cum all over my cock, baby. Shit, I’m gonna cum too, fuck- gonna fill this tight lil pussy up so goddamn much, give you a baby, make you a momma, oh fuck!” 

With one final stutter of his hips, Joel let out a strangled moan, flushing his hips against yours as he milked himself of every last drop, painting your warm, wet walls with hot ropes of his spend, making sure nothing went to waste. 

He couldn’t help but but press even further into you, plugging you with his length and fucking his cum as deep as he could into your cunt to make sure it took, collapsing on top of you with his cock still buried in your heat, letting your chests heave together in sync as you both caught your breath. 

Joel was convinced he had never cum so much in his entire life, afraid that if he pulled out, that somehow he’d have more left to give, and sure as fuck wasn’t going to risk letting anything coming out of him end up not inside of you. 

Well, not until your muffled grunt rumbled beneath him. 

 “Joel, baby, I love you but you’re kinda squishing me.” You huffed, giggling to yourself as you watched your husband come-to in real time out of his post-orgasmic state, immediately offering a half muttered apology as he rolled off you, sitting back on his knees to admire the shiny and slick mess between your legs. 

“Fuck me…” Joel murmured to himself, eyes wide as he stared at your pussy- wet, puffy and soaking with your arousal, bringing his fingers to your spent hole as he watched a dribble of his cum begin to leak out. Gently scooping it up, he collected everything he could, pressing it back into your cunt before pulling his hand out. Crawling up the bed to lay next to you, Joel wrapped you up in his arms as the little spoon, peppering ticklish kisses over your back and shoulders, making you burst into laughter. 

“Joel, stop! That tickles!” You squealed, squirming in his grasp, trying to defend yourself from his unrelenting attack of soft, plush lips and scratchy beard dancing across your skin. 

“Don’t laugh so damn hard, or all my hard work’s ‘bout to come out!” Joel teased, giving you a playful nudge, pulling you in even closer. 

“Stop making me laugh, then! Plus, I think you came enough to put quadruplets inside of me, so I think we’ll be okay.” You snorted, Joel joining in on the laughter. 

“Baby, I don’t think I’ve ever came that hard in my whole goddamn life.” Joel sighed, shrugging as you rolled your head up to look at him and that stupid goofy grin he got whenever he couldn’t contain his excitement about something. “God, I love you.” 

“I love you too, Joel.” 

The two of you sat in a comfortable silence for a moment, Joel slowly bringing his arm to rest across your stomach, thumb slowly tracing careful circles on your skin. 

“You’re gonna make such a good mom. I’m the luckiest man alive that you wanna have a family with me. Still not really sure what I ever did to deserve it.” 

“Joel! You’re gonna make me cry! And this is before pregnancy hormones, ya jerk.” You tried to laugh, choking back the tears welling in your eyes. 

“Yeah, what a jerk, your husband tellin’ you how much he loves you.” He teased back, planting a long kiss on your temple, before pressing another one to your lips. Another wave of soft silence followed, watching Joel’s face scrunch in a calculated concentration. “How big of a crib you think I gotta make? I don’t know ‘bout a rockin’ chair, but a crib can’t be that hard. I gotta measure the guest room tomorrow.” 

“Honey, I don’t even know if I’m pregnant yet, you don’t need to have a crib built tomorrow.” You teased, laughing at Joel, despite the fact his mind was already thinking about a baby room and accessories had you melting. 

“Sweetheart, what did I say earlier? I ain’t lettin’ you outta this bed ‘till we know there’s a baby in there.” He smirked, nodding at his hand still splayed across your stomach, “So you better get comfortable, ‘cause if it’s up to me, there ain’t a chance in hell we’re gettin’ anything but a positive pregnancy test at the end of this month, and we'll sure need that crib nine months from now. Never hurts to get a head start."

Tag List: (Sorry if I tagged you and you don't wanna be tagged, just let me know!!)

@chaotic-iguana @rhoorl @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

@pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24

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@partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo

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