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yellowharrington · 2 months

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wildflower and barley -- joel miller x reader

pairing + fandom: joel miller x reader, the last of us (hbo)

word count: 5k+ oops

warnings/notes: smut smut smut!!! minors DNI, 18+!!! no outbreak!au. age gap (it's implied reader is in her 20s while joel is 45) and mentions of joel being kinda perverted and liking it lol. drinking (both reader and joel, not excessive), use of a dating app like tinder but not specified, unprotected PIV w creampie and oral (m+f receiving), do not fuck your tinder hookups without protection i'm just horny and gross. excessive use of darlin' as a nickname. implied that reader likes men. she/her pronouns used, afab!reader (with mentions of body parts), no use of y/n. if i missed anything lmk!

a/n: heavily inspired by this post by @yesttoheaven about joel's tinder profile!! it has been rotting my brain since i saw it which literally inspired me to write my first fic in the tlou fandom ever so please be gentle with me. i imagined show!joel because i've never played the game so do with that what you will. please reblog and leave comments if u enjoy it <3333

divider by @cafekitsune

summary: after deciding to change your age range on a dating app in hope of a change of scenery, you stumble across joel miller.

No one likes using dating apps.

Swiping left, left, left mindlessly at troves of men holding fish, showing off their trucks, or with deer heads mounted to the walls behind their selfies holding guns.

This was Texas, after all.

Having just moved here, it was a little shocking, to say the least. But you were getting used to the “eligible” bachelors that were your age generally looking and acting the same. When you did end up finding someone of interest, you were usually turned off pretty quickly by whatever shitty pick-up line they had chosen. Or, your personal favourite, “wanna fuck?”

No thanks.

It was an idyllic summer evening, the hot stuffy air of Austin flowing in through your windows. You laid in bed, propped up on the pillows against your headboard and sorting through the faces that adorned your screen. No one particularly interesting, as usual, and every profile was starting to melt together to look the same.

You sighed, looking into your settings, adjusting and increasing different metrics to hopefully change the pool just enough for there to be someone new or interesting.

Age range: 25-30

Your eyebrow cocked as you looked onto the screen, pulling the slider more to the right experimentally. No one was here to see you, and even though it was slightly embarassing to be interested in older men, you’d be lying if you said it didn’t pique your interest to imagine it. Even just to try, and see, if they ever really did grow up. You imagined it was wishful thinking, but increased the range anyways.

Age range: 35-45

Feeling the need to throw your phone across the room after doing that, you placed it face down under your pillow and slid out of bed. No use in swiping through them now, and you were getting tired of looking. A pint of Ben and Jerry’s and a new episode of your favourite show was waiting for you downstairs.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾

Joel Miller does not use dating apps.

He barely knows how to send a text on his phone, let alone navigate the world of online women. Not to say he didn’t explore the options, so to speak, but they usually were not ones that were single, his age, and in his area. Unless the ads on those sites were real, that is.

“It’s starting to get sad,” Sarah had remarked at breakfast, when they got on the topic, and Joel feigned hurt. Hand over his heart, he dropped his fork onto the plate. “It’s not sad, Jesus. I’m just busy, is all.”

“Busy not gettin’ busy,” Sarah remarked, and Joel’s eyes widened. “Hey now! None of that.”

A blush spread up his cheeks and ears as they continued to eat breakfast in slightly awkward silence, before Joel took his plate to the sink. “Okay, off to school, you. And no more conversations about my dating life. Ever.”

Sarah laughed as she finished off the last of the juice in her glass. “I’m just saying, dad. You can if you want to. Might be nice for you.”

Joel planted a soft kiss to her head before she bounded out the door, rolling his eyes and calling out a ‘love you’ before she closed the door swiftly behind her. Joel stared at his cell phone on the table. Maybe it would be nice.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾

The following evening, you were a little too excited to see the dating app specimens you had acquired. Not sure what to expect, really, and you went in with no expectations. It’s not like they’d magically all be tall, dark, and handsome, but some variety never killed anybody.

Paul, 41

Daddy, but not yours. No libs allowed. 6’ because that matters.

You sighed deeply. Some things never change.

After swiping through much of what you were used to, a profile managed to catch your eye among the sea of disappointment.

Joel, 45

Just a Southern gentleman trying this out for the first time. Contractor of over 10 years. I love my daughter, BBQ, strong coffee, and sleeping in.

Now that was the most interesting thing you’d seen in a while.

He didn’t look a day over 40. His eyes creased at the corners when he smiled wide in his photos. He looked tan, a product of the Texas heat and his job, you thought. His features were accompanied by salt-and-pepper facial hair and messy curls that looked soft and pliable. His photos showed off his physique incredibly, tight wash-worn t-shirts pulling over his arms and shoulders, looking big, broad. He was no doubt the most handsome man you’d seen on an app, maybe ever.

When you swiped right before you could think too hard, you were surprised to see the green “Match!” Flash across your screen.

Your fingers ghosted over the keyboard on your phone, thinking of a witty thing to say, probably for too long.

Your phone buzzed as you saw a notification pop up.

Joel has sent you a message.

Hey, darlin’. How are ya?

You felt your face warm at the sweet message, when was the last time someone had called you darlin’? Ever?

Hey cowboy. I’m great, how are you?

He was certainly an eager responder, taking only a few seconds to reply. You found yourself smiling down at your phone screen.

Cowboy… I like that. I’m better now that I’m talking to you.

Oh, Joel, who told you to say that? 😂

No good?

Not bad. 6/10.

Only 6/10? I’ll work on it. I like to think I’m better in person.

I would love to find out.

You found yourself emboldened by how easy the conversation was flowing. Joel was certainly easy to talk to, easier than the other matches you had going for you, and infinitely more handsome.

Oh, would you? Alright. I’d love to take you to dinner sometime. If you don’t mind being seen with an old man such as myself in public. Or meeting a stranger from the internet.

He’s a very handsome stranger. I would love to go to dinner with you. Know any good spots? I’m new around here.

There’s a great barbecue spot in downtown Austin. If you’d prefer something fancier, let me know.

I love bbq. Just tell me where and when, cowboy.

Tomorrow, 7pm ok?

You sent him your phone number in the message. Fuck it.

Sounds great. Text me the address, I’ll be there. :)

Joel’s reply didn’t come. Instead, a text appeared at the top of your screen with an unknown number.

It’s Joel. This the right number?

Yup. You found me.

Great. Talk tomorrow sweetheart. Looking forward to it. :)

He texted you the address of the restaurant, right before you opened the contact card, saving his name as “cowboy ♡”.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾

Cowboy. Cowboy. Cowboy. It was playing over in his head like a broken fuckin’ record.

Joel was positively freaking out about this date.

Sarah had managed to secure a sleepover at her friend’s place, so the house would be empty for the night. He had been busying himself with cleaning the entirety of the house, even taking the time to mow the grass before work and vacuum the family room. He can’t remember the last time he vacuumed anywhere.

Would she even make it back here? How does this work? Will she want to sleep over or hang out on the couch or should he be making a dessert for after?

His mind was brought out of it’s craze by Sarah jumping down the stairs. She plopped her bag down on the freshly wiped countertop.

“Careful,” he warned, putting a hand up. “I just cleaned that off.”

“I can tell. It smells like the cleaning aisle threw up in here.”

He smirked before patting her head with his hand, as she aggressively smoothed out her hair. “Dad! Don’t!”

“When do you wanna go to Ellie’s?” He asked, more gaging how long he has left to get ready than actually asking.

“Probably soon. Why? Tryna get rid of me?” she poked her dad in the side, but when she flinched away instead, a large smile spread across her face. He was tense.

“What’s your deal?” Joel hated the way she knew him so well sometimes.

“Nothing.“

“Are you going on a date?”

Silence fell over the kitchen between the two of them, as Joel’s shoulders slumped in defeat. “How did you know?”

“Oh my god, you actually took my advice,” Sarah laughed, watching her dad’s face burn red with embarrassment. “Just don’t do anything weird on communal surfaces, please.”

Joel shook his head at her suggestion, already becoming annoyed with the whole prospect. He was so nervous, about what to wear, how to act, what the expectation was… let alone, what would happen if they made it back to his place at all.

Although, when he was able to shake his nerves for a second, he was just really fucking excited.

“Wear those dark jeans, and that green shirt you wore to Tommy’s last week. Looks good on you.” Sarah smiled as she put her arms around Joel’s middle, while his worries melted away with her touch. “She’ll love you, I promise.”

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾

It had been such a long time since you’d been on a proper date, you were starting to lose your mind at the simple process of deciding what to wear.

Clothes were strewn across every surface of your apartment, shoes matching with jeans that matched with cardigans, tops that matched with belts and jackets.

It’s 87 degrees at 5 o’clock, idiot. You’re not wearing a jacket. Relax.

Exhausted of picking out outfits and making decisions, you collapsed on your couch and took a look at your options. You landed on an easy sundress, putting the rest of your clothes back in their respective drawers, and pulling out all of the products you were expecting to use to get ready.

You scrolled through your phone aimlessly as a notification bubble popped up on the screen.

We still on for tonight darlin’? Or did you change your mind?

No worries if you did. I respect that.

You let out a cackle at the message, thinking about how he must look right now. Was he nervous? Scared? Was he just looking for a controversially young fuck?

You weren’t… completely against that.

Didn’t change my mind, wouldn’t in a million years :)

Meet you there. Can’t wait to see you.

His eagerness to meet up would’ve been a red flag if it were any other run of the mill guy, but something about Joel felt special. There didn’t seem to be any funny business with him; too sincere to try anything other than just a good old fashioned date.

You too, cowboy.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾

When Joel showed up at the restaurant, he clenched a small bouquet of pink peonies in his right hand and checked his watch obsessively. The minutes ticked away, as he kept a high alert for anyone who could be his potential date. He knew what you looked like, of course, but this being his first time doing anything of this sort is making him hyperaware of anything going awry.

When he does lay eyes on you, his whole gaze softens. A pink sundress, hair pristinely styled and a bounce in your step that reminded him of summer. You looked like an angel, the sunset behind you painting the sky tangerine, which reflected off of the shine against your supple skin. So young, beautiful, it was taking his breath away.

“Joel?”

Your voice matched your sweet demeanour, and he was taken out of his waking daydream.

“Hi,” is all he can say, letting his breath out as he relaxed. “Yes, hi, sorry. I’m Joel.”

“Hi,” you laugh back, eyes darting to the flowers in his hand. They matched your dress.

“These are for you,” he gets the hint, extending his arm out, and you can see the veins bulging in his forearm. He looked so much stronger in person, it was making your knees go weak.

“Thank you, wow,” you held them up to your nose to smell the sweet aroma. “I love peonies.”

“Me too,” he smiled, showing off a string of pearly white teeth, that contrasted with the pink of his lips and the even tan of his skin.

“Shall we?” He extended his arm to you for you to grab onto, and you got to feel the warmth of his skin for yourself. Your hand wrapped around his forearm as he opened the door of the restaurant for you, leading you inside and catching a glimpse of the backs of your thighs as you walked in front of him.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾

When you were finally sitting, the conversation flowed easily. He was truly a Southern gentleman, like he had said. It wasn’t normal for you to open up so quickly, but Joel was so easy going and smart, he asked the right questions and knew when to listen. He knew how to listen, a warm gaze and a nod along, asking follow up questions to your answers and easily getting to know you.

You asked about his daughter, his family, his work. He was happy to tell you.

“So, what’s a man like you doing being single in this city?” You take a sip of the wine in the glass in front of you, burgundy staining your bottom lip.

He takes a bite of the food in front of him, a napkin pressing to his lips quickly after. “Been busy,” he started to say, honey brown eyes meeting yours for a second. His gaze sent an electrifying pulse down your spine.

“And, well, when Sarah’s mom left there was a ton to do,” he says it nonchalantly, as if that should be something normal to happen. “House, work, school, she keeps my hands full. Hasn’t been a lot of time.” His syrupy drawl is pulling you in, you’re enticed by the way he speaks to you. So easy, warm, soft. You wonder what his hands feel like on your body, lips pressed to your neck, torso pressed against yours.

“Sorry, that’s a lot of information for a first date,” he laughs to cover the awkwardness, and quietly curses himself for going into so much detail about his precarious family situation and basically admitting to you that he hasn’t fucked anything other than his hand in the last 5 or so years.

“No, it’s okay,” you slide your hand across the table, palm up, urging him to slot his hand into it. He takes it, easily, enveloping yours. His fingers find the pulse point on your wrist. You let your eyes drift up to his, drinking in the way his chest fills out the shirt he chose.

“What’s your story?” He asks earnestly, giving your hand a squeeze. “Can’t imagine there isn’t a long line of people outside waiting to take my place, darlin’.”

You blush furiously at the nickname, and let your eyes meet his once again. “You have no idea the… mess that is out there,” the wine is calling your name to take another sip at the mere thought, but you refrain. “Certainly not too many I am interested in.”

“So, is that why you’re on a date with an old man on a beautiful summer night in Austin?”

You could tell Joel, in a twisted way, liked that you were younger than him. It made him feel younger by admission, that you’d want to spend time with him.

“You’re not that much older,” you laugh, not even believing it yourself as the words left your lips. “And I like to try new things. Don’t you like trying new things, sometimes?”

It was his turn to let his face go red at your insinuation. If only you knew how ‘new’ this really was for him, how much he was pushed out of his comfort zone right now.

You didn’t notice.

A little more polite small talk and exchanging of stories was all you could take before the tension was becoming too much. After another glass of wine and a shared plate of sky-high chocolate cake for dessert, you were enjoying his company and could tell he was enjoying yours all the same. When you met his gaze again, hands still intertwined, you could tell there was a question on the tip of his tongue.

“Would you want to…“ - a nervous pause, with a halo of lust - “come back to mine for a nightcap? I’ve got an empty house this evening.”

You couldn’t help but smirk, knowing in your heart that Joel must’ve made arrangements for his family not to be home in anticipation. He had to have planned for you, known in his heart you’d say yes.

“I’d love that.”

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾

Joel’s home is unmistakably him. It smells like a pine candle that sits near the front door and a faint aroma of laundry detergent. There’s photos everywhere, him and his daughter, his brother’s family. Big windows were letting in the twinkling lights of the city outside, the inky sky making them look brighter against its canvas.

“You have a beautiful home,” you say, although it seems a little formal for the situation. What else do you say to a grown-up in their house?

“Thank you,” he takes a bottle of whiskey from the bar cart and pours two rock glasses, handing you one. He flicks on a lamp, ambient light filling the room and painting his skin amber orange, as he joins your side by his kitchen table.

“I did a lot of the construction myself, the decorations are my daughter.” He points lazily to the trinkets on the shelves and photos on the wall. “I don’t really have a good eye for that type of stuff.”

You take a sip from the drink and it coats your throat, burning down as you suppress a cough at the taste. You nod along as he explains the design choices he made in the home, and you play along, knowing it’s likely out of anxiety.

“What about upstairs?”

Your eyes are innocent as they meet his, although you understand the implication you’re making whole-heartedly. He puts his glass down on the kitchen table and you follow his lead, his strong hand around your wrist as he leads you up the stairs wordlessly.

“It’s not anything,” - he clears his throat - “special,” he shows you around the second floor, finishing at the door of his bedroom that has been left slightly ajar.

You step in quietly, leading him inside as you take in the bedroom. Neatly folded clothes, a made bed that looks well loved. Blue sheets and fluffy pillows, big bay windows that let the moonlight in.

“I think it’s nice,” you say simply, letting yourself turn around to meet his broad frame. He looks down at you slightly, eyes meeting yours as your hand drops from his grasp and snakes around his neck. His hands come up the sides of your dress, pulling it up slightly, but landing on your waist.

“Is this okay?” He asks tentatively in the dark of the room, his lips so close to yours already you can practically taste the whiskey on his lips for yourself. You answer him by pressing your tentative lips to his, slotting them together easily.

Joel’s grip on your waist tightens momentarily as he takes you in, pulling you as close as he possibly can. He can smell the perfume on your neck and the wine on your lips from earlier, and it’s making his need for you increase tenfold.

You pull him into you as you stumble back to let your knees hit his mattress, sitting down and letting your hands come to his belt buckle. Your hands came to undo it as he pulled his t-shirt off to throw onto the floor beside him, bending down to help you pull the dress over your shoulders to meet his t-shirt.

You made quick work of his jeans, pushing them to the ground and looking up at him with a keen glance. You could see the breath making his belly rise and fall, anticipating your touch on him any second.

When your hand wrapped around the base of his cock, his breath hitched and his head rolled back. He was already half-hard only from kissing you, so a few pumps made him easily ready for your mouth.

“You’re so big,” is all you can think to say, head spinning from the sheer size of him right in front of your face. Your mouth watered at the way his hand palmed through your hair, pulling you in closer to him for some relief.

It was intoxicating to him, the way your mouth fit around his cock. Such a beautiful sight to see, your head licking and sucking at his tip, gathering spit there to lubricate him. His knees were going weak as he watched intently, no thought able to cross his mind, other than maybe how long it had been since he’d had anyone to do this with. He was going to have to pace himself if it was all like this.

Your mouth constrained around the length of him, taking him deeper and deeper with every bob of your head. Filthy sounds were filling the room now, of your eager mouth pulling him in as best you could. His hand stayed steady at the back of your head, not pushing, just softly pressed there for support. His other hand found your shoulder, pushing down your bra strap.

“God, darlin’,” was all he could choke out, using his hand to pull you off of him. Your hand lazily stroked him as you looked up at him, spit collecting at the corners of your mouth. “I’m not gonna last long if you keep doin’ that,” his laugh eased some of the tension in the room, as you took your other hand and wiped the spit away.

He leaned down, pressing a fervent kiss to your lips before using his own hands to unclasp your bra and let your breasts free. His lips traveled to the side of your neck, before he was kneeled down between your legs, sucking your nipple into his mouth. He lapped at you, all consuming, as his hand came up to grasp the other breast that wasn’t being serviced. He moaned at the noises you were making, lewd whines into the night air that only encouraged him.

His lips made their way down your body to your clothed centre, your back against his soft sheets. You looked down at him intently, watching as he pulled your panties down your legs and immediately delved into your pussy with broad strokes of his tongue.

Your body jerked upwards at the contact, hand fisting the sheet beside you as he lapped at you, like a man starved. His expert tongue found your clit easily, sucking and licking at you for what felt like hours. You thought about his heavy cock between his legs, begging to be touched, hard as ever as he licked at you desperately.

“Joel,” you whined out, feeling your hand reach down to grab at his curls and push him deeper into you. That only made him moan, one hand lazily fisting his cock as the other came up to dip a finger into you, allowing you to see stars when you screwed your eyes shut.

His fingers were so large, pressed into your core as you fucked yourself on them and his tongue in tandem. He was groaning and grunting, and you hoped his neighbours couldn’t see into the window at the desperate filth that was going on in his bedroom.

“Fuck, Joel, please,” you begged, but he had no mercy, and your orgasm was creeping up on you. He was ready to watch you come undone, pushing a second finger into you and furiously sucking on your clit. His other hand left his own pleasure and wrapped around your breast, pressing and playing with the hard nub there, pinching to provide a little bit of sting to it. It was sending you into another dimension.

“Come for me, sweetheart,” and his voice is gravely and debauched, enough to send you into your first orgasm, chanting his name and pulling on his hair. He was happily licking at you, fingers still pressing in and out as to not mess up the rhythm, as you rode out your orgasm against his face.

When you started to come down, he finally detached himself from you before standing up between your legs and pressing his broad palms to your thighs. He stayed there for a moment, cock still hard and heavy between his legs as you gazed up at him, out of breath from his work.

“You’re really good at that,” was all you could think to say, head clouded with arousal. You moved up on the bed a little, opening your legs and pressing your knees apart to show your pussy to him again.

“Please fuck me, Joel,” you breathe out, letting your hand find your own clit to rub it teasingly for him. It was still so sensitive, but the way he was looking down at you, eyes dark and stormy with need, you could almost come again just from that.

He put a knee down on the bed and crawled on top of you, his lips finding yours once again as your hands found his face. You held him there, savouring the kiss as his tongue crashed against yours, all warmth and spit and the taste of you. His hand found your breast and continued to play with your nipples, softly, coaxing more moans into his mouth from yours.

He leaned back and slipped his cock inside of you, filling you up immediately and making you gasp. He groaned into the side of your neck, tonguing the side of your ear and kissing you feverishly as he pumped in and out of you.

Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him impossibly close, your moans filling the room as he rocked in and out of you. He kissed your jaw and chest, before reaching down between your bodies and pressing his thick finger to your clit again, using the wetness there to draw circles around your sensitive nub.

“So pretty,” he smiles into your neck, your hand on the back of his, playing with the now-sweaty strands of hair on the nape. “So pretty for me, taking my cock,” the dirty talking is welcome as he continues to bring you closer to a second orgasm, your breath hitching once again.

“Come inside of me,” you say it like a whisper, a secret in the stillness of the room, and Joel is unsure he even heard you correctly.

“Are you sure?” He says it not accusingly, but in a way that conveys he feels like he just won the lottery.

“Yes, please, fill me up.”

You can see the way his eyes darken more, shifting so he’s on his knees and using your body to fuck himself on his thick cock. His hand continued to play with your clit, bringing you so close to your orgasm that tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. His cheeks were getting hot as he thrusted in and out furiously, and you could almost see the stress melt off of his face as he came close to his own undoing.

The white-hot feeling washes over you once again, eyes shutting before you’re back on your elbows and watching intently. Your whole body feels like it’s on fire as his thrusts become sloppy, your name pouring out of his lips like a prayer. You’re clenching around him and letting him ride out his high alongside you, slowing after his hot cum coats your walls and leaves you full of him.

He collapses on top of you, cock softening inside as you both catch your breath together. Your chests are sticky with sweat as you breathe, taking in the smell of him, and the feel of his warmth on your body.

He pulls himself from you and flops beside you, still taking a moment to admire you. You look over at him, a lazy smile on your face as your hand reaches out to caress the skin of his chest. He takes the time to run his fingertips up your arms and back as you lay there in silence together, just soaking in the moment in a post-sex glow.

“I guess I should get going,” you say after a few beats, sitting up to grab your dress off the floor. You cringe at the thought of throwing your underwear on and leaving, this being just another random hookup for you that never lead to anything. Joel was sweet.

A confused look spreads across his features and his brows knit together, before sitting up next to you at the edge of the bed.

“I mean, I don’t know how these things usually go,” he laughs, as his hand finds your lower back. “But you don’t gotta run outta here like a scared animal or somethin’.”

You look up at him again, unsure of what to do next. In your, albeit limited, experience with dating app hookups, you were expected to leave pretty much right after.

“Oh, um,” you look around the room at the soft worn-in sheets and the TV across from Joel’s bed. You take a look at him again, your eyes meeting his to match his gaze, where you can tell he’s mentally begging that you’ll stay the night.

“I mean, if you don’t mind, I’d be happy to stay.” Joel smiled lopsidedly and let his hand rub soothing circles at your lower back.

“I’ll make it worth your while,” he laughs, stepping over to go into the bathroom and warm up a cloth for the mess spilling out from between your legs. “I wouldn’t mind wakin’ up and doing all that again tomorrow.”

You laugh and lay back onto his bed as he presses the warm cloth to your pussy, his lips once again finding yours to pull you in for a sweet kiss.

You nod, sliding between the comfortable sheets as Joel runs downstairs to grab your abandoned drinks as well as a couple of bottles of ice cold water. He slips into the sheets next to you, not bothering to throw on any pajamas (not that you were complaining), and settling in beside you. After a few gulps of water, you nestled into his chest and let your hand find his tummy, resting on it as you listened to the even pattern of his breath.

“We should do this again. Like, after tomorrow morning.” you say quietly as you’re drifting in and out of sleep. His fingertips continues to slide across your arm and give you goosebumps as you snuggled closer into him, hearing a laugh exhale out of his nose and feeling a kiss press to the top of your head.

In his sleepy, deep southern drawl, he replies. “Don’t have to ask me twice, darlin’.”

#joel miller fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #tlou fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x female reader #joel miller one shot #joel miller fic #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fanfic

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wandasfifthwife · 19 days

Text

finding you ₊✩°｡⋆˚ ⁺

— wandanat x fem/afab!reader

༺ tw || discussions of sexual acts/kinks but nothing (yet), reader deals with stress/anxiety, dom/sub dynamic/relationship, dom natasha/wanda w/ sub reader, reader’s personality is described to be shy/anxious/introverted, not proofread

༺ a/n || I’ve never personally been in a dom/sub relationship, so if I get things wrong that’s why! If you’re getting into one— don’t use this as a guide/reference 😭

— masterlist ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊ 3.2k words₊✩°｡⋆˚ ⁺ next part —

The city was truly a different world at night just with the way everything seems to take a breath of life. It was cooler, a breeze making its way through the buildings to cause goosebumps on any person walking by. It was cold enough that your friend had thought to try and hurdle you under their jacket, something you forgot to bring.

They didn’t seem to mind, pulling you under the warm blanket of a coat and rushing the two of you towards your apartment. You had just finished dinner—using it as a way to bond and meet up since work has separated you both for too long—and now we’re heading back to your apartment.

“You’re back,” one of your roommates speaks up from their location on the couch, “how was dinner?”

“Great, but I was freezing. You were right about bringing a jacket tonight, I really should’ve.”

“The winds tunnel through these buildings, it’s always good to pack a jacket.”

“Yes well thank you. Is it alright if my friend stays over?”

Your roommates waves a hand, dismissing her claim and focusing back on the tv show. The sounds of whatever bachelor show was playing quiets once you’ve shut your door behind you.

Your friend pins you with a look as she lays down flat into your bed, “what’s the deal with that person from work?”

“It’s really nothing, I think some people are just going through a rough time.”

“Okay well whatever—babe, it’s still not okay.”

There’s a creak in your bed once you’ve decided to join her, the old thing hanging on since you’ve not been able to afford a new one.

“Yeah sure they’ve made some rude comments, but they weren’t that bad.”

“Not to mention they also stole your idea and they’ve been aggressive towards you for no reason—tell them that they’re being a bitch.”

The emotions liked to confrontation are like sinking to the bottom of a body of water, suffocating. Your friend lies beside you, waiting, but her raised eyebrows give away her impatience, waiting to argue with you over your hesitation. A sigh makes it way out, a vocalization of how you’re feeling on the inside, “I really don’t know if I need to.”

“It’s less of a have to and more of a should do. Just be a bitch back,” she makes a poor attempt at reeling in her aggression after your expression of disgust, “or at least talk to someone higher up.”

“I’ll maybe talk to someone later—“ you put a hand up to silence her oncoming attack “—and that’s it. I appreciate you caring.”

“I just want you to be able to stand up for yourself.”

“I know, and I love you for that, but I’m done with stressful topics. I’d like to just talk about exciting things.”

She deadpans, “but this fun.”

A laugh filled amusement fills the room, your foot coming to shove her. There’s a pause after, ears turning into the smaller and more minute sounds. Dramatic stage music, though silenced by your door, it’s loud enough to still make an entrance in your room along with the sirens outside. The sheets rustle as your friend moves onto her side, body facing towards you. It was a gentle breeze until she began to fight off a grin, the thoughts in her mind almost driving a crazed expression in her face.

“Have you thought anymore about what I said?”

“You talk a lot, which of those many conversations are you mentioning?”

“The stress-relieving one.”

The words are quick to bring a similar crazed expression on your own face, one similar to your friend’s but more terrified.

“No.”

“Aw come on. I do it and it’s worked wonders, I still know—“

“I’ve heard enough for one night, you’re too public with it—how’re you not embarrassed?”

She rolls, resting her head on you, “you’re shy, I’m not. I don’t care what others say.”

“You’re weird.”

Her shoulders upturned in a shrugging motion, the vibration from her low hum ticking your stomach. The floor creeks again when she slings her feet off the mattress to find something to eat, leaving you alone for a minute. It seemed to stretch forever due to waiting every second to ask her a burning question. It was nearly on fire when she finally came back, the words tumbling from you.

“Who’re the people?”

It was, technically, four words that set off an hour and a half conversation.

Your friend’s persistently paid off after about two months of bringing it up. It started out as a question to check up, formed into a joke/tease, and ended up as a proposal. You’ve eventually thawed, only tonight feeling comfortable enough to ask, allowing yourself to be curious. It was curiosity, but you strayed far away from any sexual conversations, feeling that topic would actually throw you over the edge.

You pick at your nails, a nervous habit to ease the discomfort of the vulnerable conversation, “what do you do?”

“You mean my role? It’s what I said before, I’m a dominant in our relationship.”

“How often do you do it?”

“Sex?”

Her hand swats at your shoulder, enabling your fidgeting to become actions of aggression. You shove back, “fuck off.”

“Anyways, it depends on each relationship, but for us we fall into it most nights. Usually they come home and I can pick up the signs. I came to understand their body language about a month after us dating that they’re feeling a specific way.”

“Too intimate.”

“Oh yeah, it’s intimate and entirely built on trust. It’s why I love it so much,” your friend reached a hand over, stretching to reach until her fingers wrap around her phone, “I’ll send you their number. It’s entirely up to you from this point on. But genuinely though, if anything I say is making you uncomfortable let me know. I truly have just wanted to help.”

It wasn’t brought up again. An episode of some old show capturing the both of your attention the rest of the night, her scratchy laugh engraved in your mind from how often she found the dialogue hilarious. A small red mark forming from when she got too excited, jumping on the bed and bouncing your body to move and hit a dull item nearby. Thankfully you don’t have neighbors that occupy the room below you.

It was a sad goodbye when you both had the knowledge of how busy your schedules were. You had a form of contact, your phone, but you didn’t always have access to her in person. The lights in the apartment were shut off, the dark almost navy hue covers the room. You clicked your phone on, squinting from the onset of light before checking your recent text from her, “their” contact information sitting open on your phone for the night.

It turned out to be a weak battle, with the conflict being between man vs man. You had daily arguments with yourself, both sides—heart and mind—fighting with valid reasons. You don’t know if they’d be a weirdo overtime. They could not win your trust, or understand you, step over you like your coworker at work has been.

It could be a waste of time to be so intimate with someone and have the time come to a close, so you make a new space in your contacts for their number. You had a simple message typed out, introducing yourself and how you got their number, and then prompt turned your phone off.

The waiting period consumed you.

Brushing your teeth, you’d flip your phone to find that the notification was another spam email from a store you visited two years ago, reminding you to unsubscribe yet again. At work, you’d even pulled your phone from where it rested under your thigh to check whenever it buzzed. It was impossible to deny when the evidence was written all over your face, but you liked to believe you didn’t care.

The earth spun a whole two times and you’d still gotten no response. You checked your phone less, initial nerves transforming right into worry. Were you bothering them?

“Stop fretting,” your friend told you over the phone and then proceeding to let out a laugh at your embarrassed rant, all about how you regret reaching out.

“Hey, I wouldn’t have hooked you up if I thought they weren’t interested. It’s barely been two days.”

“You’re right,” your phone sat across from you, giving you the perfect view to stare at her personalized contact photo,

“Give it time.”

You had another speech about to spill about how you’re not going to obsessively check anymore, but that buzzed sound you’ve grown to respond to rapped against your wooden table.

Your lungs contract, closing when a contact with no profile photo and definitely no name appears. Your friend’s voice becoming background noise as your focus snaps to the unopened message, watching it as it slides away.

“Okay well I have to sleep. Love you, stop freaking out.”

The call ends abruptly, a habit of hers you’re usually frustrated with but now you’re grateful. Nerves at a new high for the day when a second message comes in. Feet patter on the hound, carrying you to climb into your room.

Realizing they’ve messaged you back is both an energy drainer and giver. Lights bright on your face while you’re unlocking your phone, clicking on the chat button. Your mind makes up the worst scenarios in hopes to keep your expectations low, but as your eyes sweep across the text a smile appeared on your face.

Long text summarized, they’d love to meet you in person and brief information was shared. They’d agreed to meet halfway at a coffee shop in Manhattan named, “coffee project nyc.”

The closest subway station was swarmed with a dozen people, the time on your phone being the explanation behind why others were brushing against you on the train. They contained to when after the train had arrived, pulling you along with them like a terrible tide.

Your phone map is a virtue, showing you the route until the cafe is in sight just across the street. It was across the street but your feet were stuck to the side you were on. Seconds passed like milliseconds, speeding up like your breathing.

The door had a little bell, one that rang when you walk through and sit down at the closest open seat to you. Eyes set on your phone screen like you were doing something meaningful by scrolling through already opened texts.

A new text appeared, a statement, telling you that they’d arrive. It wasn’t the intention, but you realized you hadn’t told them you had also arrived. The bell rung as it did for you, signaling to you and the others in the building that another had entered.

Her tone was clear when she spoke to you, leaning so she can look at your eyes. An air of calm around her when she introduced herself, saying how nice it was to meet in person.

“Is there anything you’d like from here? Natasha’s in line to get herself something.”

“Oh no,” you internally wince at how high your tone is pitched, “I’ll just pay for my own later!”

“It’s on us if you’d like any,” she repeats the offer with a smile. The scent from all the coffee beans and tea leaves is too addicting, filling your senses and pulling at the right heart strings to make you weak.

“If it’s okay could I maybe get a tea?”

“That’s perfectly fine. Natasha hasn’t ordered you yet, you can go tell her your order,” she says, words emphasized by her finger directing you to find the women fifth in line. An apology comes out as a whisper, feeling bad when you have to cut between two people holding a conversation.

“Hi,” you breathe, feeling nervous about being pushed to her warm body by those in line and others trying to move about.

“Breathe,” she says, pausing your sentence until she’s seen you visibly take a breath.

“Sorry,” you say, the unwarranted apology causing her eyebrows to furrow.

“Why sorry? You don’t have any reason to be.”

You say it again but she makes no pays if no mind, a gentle hand coming to rest under your forearm.

“Would you like something?“

The words you had spoken to wanda are repeated, asking about ordering a tea with another apology following right after. You fear she’s upset, but every movement she makes is kind, soft.

“You don’t have to apologize. Go wait with Wanda, I’ll bring it over once it’s made, okay?”

You thank her what feels like ten times, hoping each one is more sincere than the other before stepping away, mindful of the kicked up carpet. Wanda’s smiling at you, reaching over to push your chair out.

“Did you get a tea?”

“I did, thank you two—seriously—I appreciate this.”

Her response comes out as a hum, the words, ‘of course,’ mended together through the one sound, “how was your ride over? You mentioned the trip only being a few minutes, correct?”

“Usually yes.”

“Have you been here before then?”

“Not really, I don’t go out often. If I did I’d ruin my budget plan.”

The smell of the store is amplified once the cup is placed in front of you, the gentle steam floating off the top smelling exactly like the aroma in the small room. The seat to the right of you is pulled out, taken by Natasha a second later. Hers smells of coffee, a darker roast you’re familiar with from one of your roommates making it in the morning.

She picks through the sugars on the table, ignoring Wanda’s advice to leave the sweetness alone; Wanda mentions again how it impairs her dreams, giving her terrible nightmares instead. Natasha acknowledges what she says and still pours two in, her defense being the brand labeling itself as a ‘natural sugar’ as opposed to some other popular companies.

You turn to Wanda, “do you like to drink coffee or tea?”

“I do,” she says, fingers brushing under yours to stabilize the tilting hold you had on the cup, “every now and then I’ll get a tea.”

She quirks a quick smile, the mood fading fast once she’s turned her attention to Natasha and how bright the coffee has become. Natasha pulls the cup away from her extending grasp, bringing the cup to her lips with a grin.

“Do you work?”

“I do! I work in marketing at a real estate company, basically meaning I create pamphlets and design their websites. Do either of you have a job?”

Natasha keeps the mug in her hands, not letting go despite the heat, “we do. I work as a mechanical engineering, Wanda’s does corporate finances.”

You later worry about how your emotions are written on your sleeve seeing how they noticed the slightest change in your body language. Wanda lets her hand drift off of yours seeing as you’re now paying attention to how you’re holding it, “what do you do?”

“Nothing crazy like that. I sell art pieces, occasionally teach somewhere like an art class or work as a substitute for a school if needed.”

“Did you go to school for art?”

“I did, somehow passed to with how strict a few teachers were.”

They then ask to see a piece you’ve done, listening to every word you’re saying on every detail of each individual piece. You show ones you’ve sold, ones you’ve given as gifts to friends/family members, and some you’ve painted for yourself. You ease into the moment with every passing minute, tense muscles and fidgeting movements calming.

The room is small, but busy. A multitude of conversations being held in one place, all forming and coming together like the infamous background ambiance.

A watch on Wanda’s wrist catches light when she flicks her sleeve down to check the time, a deep sigh coming from her when she realizes it’s past 9:30PM, “it’s getting late.”

Natasha hums, grabbing your cups and stacking them to take to the dish bins nearby. You stand when she does, grabbing your coat to toss over your shoulders.

“We can walk you home if you’d like, it is quite dark out.”

You take a glance as well, the scarcity of light on the street enough for you to accept her help. The sidewalks are small, pushing you to walk so close to them you’ve stepped on Natasha’s shoes two times already. They keep close to you, sitting beside you in the subway ride. You’ve told them that you’re grateful they’ve offered to walk you back, but that you also feel bad for taking up their time. They keep reassuring you, every time gentle, if not gentler than the last.

The street becomes familiar again, the lights from your balcony coming into view. The little store building with the apartment complex above it, your little home. It’s never fully quiet, but at this minute in the hour it almost feels like it’s just the three of you. An occasional car, bike, and stranger may walk by, but you barely notice.

“Would you like to see my apartment?”

“I wouldn’t mind a tour,” wanda says, her words making you smile and excitedly being to unlock the door. It’s late enough that either your roommates are out or asleep, leaving you and them to walk into a silent space. It’s entirely too quick tour; only showing them your balcony, bedroom, living room, and kitchen while trying to be quiet for the one roommate trying to sleep.

Wanda calls your name, finding you in your bedroom after hearing where your voice came from and following it. Your room is reflectively dark, only light source coming from the dim lamp by your bed. The one you’ve been meaning to repair.

“How’re you feeling?”

“I’m good, a bit tired.”

“I mean about this.”

Your lips fall slightly ajar, taken a bit off guard. She’s not rushing you at all, leaning against your vanity. She’s even gone far enough to not make you even more nervous by moving her gaze anywhere but you.

“I—“ you freeze momentarily when you realize Natasha’s come to stand in your doorway, “I’d like to if that’s okay with you.”

“We’d love to. Later tonight I can send you some papers for you to look over whenever you feel ready.”

You nod, thanking them with a smile. They bid you goodnight, both mumbling sweet words about the night. They both pull you into them, wrapping their arms around you in a gentle embrace before pulling back. You’re inside with heating AC and yet when they pulled back you felt colder.

Once the doors shut, the rooms entirely too quiet, the silence emphasizing the emptiness of their disappearance. They already made an impression, their good nights making you feel twice elated. It shows in your night routine, a smile etched on your face from the night. How beautiful they are, how someone they wished to also see you again, how they were mindful and intentional.

You had gotten dressed, wrapped up in your sheets with your phone settled between you, scrolling through the sweet text they sent after and the documents. The first were fine, but the last few brought nerves to the surface. Explicit acts and suggestive themes filled the page, maybe half you’ve never heard of. They were reassuring though, stating that you’d all run through them together once finished. During the whole process they were helping to answer any questions or concerns you had until you were ready to print and fill it out. After a week and a half you make your relationship official.

— masterlist ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊ taglist below₊✩°｡⋆˚ ⁺ next part —

@simpforlizzie @maggieromanov @angelbeingatitspurest @cerberus-spectre @olicity-boo @huggingkoalas @wandasbunnyy @babykingslayer @marigoldenblooms @godhatesgoodgirls @evmaximoff @tobiaslut @lzzysfreak @caporaI-nino @mommysfavouritegirl

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jobean12-blog · 10 months

Text

Perfect Kind of Trouble

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 4,566

Summary: You’re new to the neighborhood and you’ve landed a great job bartending at one of the local spots. So far it’s been a good change and things are going smoothly, that is, until Bucky Barnes, the neighborhood’s most eligible bachelor, walks into your bar and sets his sights on you.

Author’s Note: I love the idea of Bucky chasing after a girl who gives him a run for his money! Hope you enjoy! Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Dividers by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy!🥰

Warnings: Lots of fluff, flirting, tension, Bucky might be a bit possessive but in a good way and he definitely goes for what he wants and that’s you, some sass in there, Bucky is protective too :) and Nat is the best wingman ever!

“Oh my god, he’s here.”

You stop drying the glass in your hand and go stiff, side eyeing your friend Nat.

“Who Nat?”

She doesn’t answer and instead slides closer to you, leaning her head toward your ear.

“Bucky Barnes.”

“Who?” you ask again, starting to crane your neck to look.

“Don’t!” she snaps then instantly softens her tone. “Just meet me in the back in two minutes and don’t make it look suspicious.”

You give her a tiny nod and go back to your work on the glasses but you can feel the hairs at the back of your neck stand on end. You can feel his stare.

“Ok. What the hell is up with you?” you ask when you shut the door to the back room.

She’s pacing back and forth and it’s making you nervous but when she meets your eyes you relax slightly at the smile on her face.

“Bucky Barnes,” she repeats.

“Yeah? And? I have no idea who that is!”

“Of course you don’t!” she muses. “You wouldn’t know because you only moved here a few weeks ago.”

“Righttt…so, who is he?”

“Just the perfect man.”

“How do you know?”

“Everyone knows.”

You quirk your brow and cross your arms over your chest.

“Well, everyone who lives in the neighborhood,” she laughs.

“If he’s so perfect I’m sure he’s married with two point five kids, a dog and a house with a white picket fence.”

“There are no white picket fences in Brooklyn babe,” she says. “And you’d think that but he’s been a bachelor for as long as we know him.”

“Then he’s probably a player and an asshole!” you state.

“I mean sure, all the women, and men, talk about how hot he is and how much they want a shot and boy do they try but as far as I know he doesn’t date.”

“I don’t get it,” you say.

“Me neither!” she agrees. “But he hasn’t been at this bar in forever…”

“Maybe he wanted a change of scenery?” you say with a shrug.

“OR MAYBEEEEEEEE,” she starts, her grin growing. “He heard there’s a new girl in town and he’s here to see you!”

“You’re insane! And he sounds like a player to me.” you huff. “I’m going back to work. Come on, you have to point him out to me. I at least want a look.”

“I won’t need to. You’ll know who he is…”

At her wistful tone you roll your eyes, pushing open the door and walking out with determined steps.

When you hit the bar you discreetly scan the seats. You don’t see anyone that stands out, mostly just the usual crew that shows up on a Saturday night for four-dollar drafts.

A customer calls you over and you head in his direction with a smile. You’re just greeting him and taking his order when you feel that familiar heat at your back, your skin tingling.

Once you’ve got the drink order you turn toward the bar only to lock eyes with the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. It momentarily stops you in your tracks and if it weren’t for Nat lightly bumping your shoulder and whispering, “told ya so,” you would stay rooted to the spot to stare.

Instead you blink several times and look away, trying to remember what drink you’re supposed to make.

When you’ve finished making it you deliver it to the customer and try to take another peek down the bar.

“I’m not taking his drink order,” Nat singsongs when she comes to stand beside you. “That’s all you.”

Your mouth falls open and you give her a glare with narrowed eyes. She just smiles brightly and sashays to the other end of the bar to take another order.

With a huff of annoyance you square your shoulders and turn toward Bucky. As you approach him his eyes light up with his smile.

“Hi, what can I get you?”

He returns your greeting and sticks his hand out.

“I’m James Barnes but you can call me Bucky.”

You wipe your hand on the towel at your side and shake his. The shock of electricity at his touch doesn’t seem to be one sided when you feel the slight squeeze from his hand. You introduce yourself, hoping you don’t come off as confused at his direct attention.

“Apparently you’re rather popular around here?”

It comes out as a question and he chuckles.

“Don’t believe anything you’ve heard,” he says with a wink.

“So what about a drink?” you ask, focusing on doing your job.

He orders and before he can say more you rush off to fix his drink. You drop it off with nothing more than a smile and move toward the next person who calls for your help.

As you’re making your next few drinks you notice Nat chatting with Bucky and you can’t help but wonder what they’re saying.

You move back and forth behind the bar, trying to ignore the feel of Bucky’s eyes, but he finally catches your attention and waves you down.

“Another?” you ask.

“Sure doll, thanks.”

While you’re pouring his drink he tries to keep you engaged.

“So Nat told me you’re new to town?”

“Yeah, moved here at the end of last month.”

“Do you like bartending better here in the city?” he asks.

You look down at the bar and scold with a single name.

“Nat.”

Bucky leans in. “Don’t be mad. She’s just trying to help me out.”

You lean in too, elbows on the bar and your head tilted his way.

“You usually need help? From what I’ve heard you can have your pick of anyone.”

At the slight scrunch of your nose he can tell you’re not saying it with a positive tone.

“Not my style. I’m pickier and right now, I need all the help I can get because I think I’m in real danger of striking out.”

His eyes drop to your lips and when they turn up every so slightly he relaxes.

“What is your type?” you ask. “Maybe I can help you out too.”

He scans you slowly and the proceeds to describe you perfectly, the tension building in the inches between you with his every word.

You steel yourself and lift your chin. “Does that usually work?”

“It’s not a line. Meant every word doll face.”

“Do you use these endearments on all the girls? I bet they love it.”

“Nuh uh,” he answers adamantly.

You nod, looking completely unconvinced.

Nat reappears at your side. “You have no idea how much I hate to interrupt this, but I need three long island iced teas at table four or they’re gonna have a hissy fit.”

You straighten yourself. “Oh sorry! Of course. I’m on it.”

You’re busy for the next forty-five minutes but Bucky never leaves his spot and every time you meet his eyes they are heavy with intention as they follow your every move. You can feel them, the heat singing every inch of your skin.

At least two women have approached him at the bar but they both walked away after a few minutes of mundane conversation and lack of interest on his part.

As much as you hate to admit it you can’t help but steal glances at him too, though you try to keep them quick and subtle.

He’s broad shouldered in the tight tee shirt he’s wearing, his biceps on full display under the stretch of the fabric and his dark hair is loose at his shoulders. His full lips are framed by a dark scruff that also covers his cheeks and is peppered with patches of gray.

Your fingers mindlessly caress the glass you’re holding before you catch yourself and look away.

You drop off another glass of whiskey with a smile and he nurses it, shooting you a cocky half smirk when he catches you staring at him. It’s like the intense silence is some sort of foreplay.

Feeling his gaze along your skin, drinking you in and driving you wild, you do your best to keep up with orders.

When things start to slow down and customers go home, you finally make your way back toward Bucky, drawn to him, despite your best efforts.

“Couldn’t avoid me anymore?”

“I wasn’t really…”

The words taper off at the sharp lift of his eyebrow.

“Sorry,” you mutter.

“Apology accepted,” he smirks. “So, do you have plans when you get off?”

You don’t answer, instead fiddling with his now empty glass. He lays his hand on the bar, his fingers just an inch form yours.

“Are you really gonna ignore my question doll?” he chuckles.

His fingers slide closer and he brushes his thumb over your knuckles, gauging your reaction. You giggle at his second question and his eyes drop to your mouth as he licks his own lips.

You’re almost lost in the bubble but then the world outside comes roaring back into focus when you hear Nat yell “last call.”

“Work…I still have to work.”

His lips part on an exhale but he let’s you go.

You rush around the bar first, clearing glasses and debris before heading over to one of the tables where three guys sit in conversation.

Distracted, you lean over the table, trying not to interrupt them. But the blonde closest to you runs the back of his hand up your arm.

It makes you cringe.

“Hi there,” he says.

“Hey,” you answer coolly, shifting away from him.

One of the blonde’s friend gives you an apologetic look, scolding Rob before he hands you one of the empty glasses that’s far out of reach. You reach for it and as soon as your fingers wrap around it, Rob grabs your hips and yanks you into his lap.

You drop the glass to the floor and it shatters before you push against his chest, loudly yelling, “what the hell?”

Rob starts to speak but you’re suddenly lifted in the air and whirled around then planted gently on your feet behind Bucky’s broad back.

Bucky now has Rob’s tee shirt fisted in one hand as he gets in his face.

The bar goes silent and the next thing you hear is the low growl of Bucky’s order. “Don’t touch.”

Bucky slowly lowers Rob’s feet to the floor, keeping a careful eye on him. His eyes narrow a split second before Rob bellows, “motherfucker!”

The asshole rears back and punches Bucky clean in the jaw.

You gaps in horrified shock, but Bucky grins, his tongue peeking out to test his lip and you can’t help how your eyes linger there.

“You threw the first punch shithead,” Bucky says before winding back and punching Rob in the gut.

All the guys now rush toward their friend, muttering curses at him as they drag him to his feet and eye Bucky warily.

The owner of the bar, and your boss, Barry, comes over and gets in their faces. “Get out and don’t come back!”

They drag their belligerent friend out as quickly as they can, apologizing to you, or maybe Bucky, the whole way.

“What just happened?” you ask, your voice quiet.

Bucky steps close to you, his knuckles brushing over your cheek, light as a feather.

“Are you okay?”

His eyes are filled with emotions. Worry, fury, fear, and tenderness.

“I think so. That was just…crazy.”

Nat wraps her arm around your shoulders comfortingly. “Let’s go get Bucky some ice, ok?”

You glance down at Bucky’s hand, puffy and red.

“Oh no,” you say, gently taking his hand in yours.

He smiles. “It’s fine. Been there, done that.”

You watch him go back and sit at the bar, most of the other customers now cleared out. When you come back out with the ice and ointment your gentle, “you okay?” pulls him from his musings.

“Yeah, no big deal. As long as you’re okay?”

You sit next to him, resting his hand on your thigh and carefully pressing the ice to his knuckles. He stares at his hand on your skin.

“I don’t know if okay is how I would describe how I’m feeling right now…that was…”

Your words trail off when you can’t find a suitable label for the last ten minutes.

“Sexy?” he suggests, deadpan.

Your jaw drops open in offense.

“What? NO!”

He breaks and his lips spread wide in a grin.

You deflate and bump his shoulder, not trying to hide your own smile.

“Seriously though,” you say, shaking your head. “You didn’t have to…why did you do that?”

He looks at you evenly, his voice soft. “Look I’m not some crazy guy who goes around lookin’ to beat people up doll face. But you shouldn’t have to put up with shit like that. I’m sure that wasn’t the first time that piece of shit has pulled a stunt like that, but hopefully next time, he’ll have some decency and sense before laying hands on a woman without an explicit invitation.”

“Well in that case…that’s pretty nice.”

He scoffs with a lopsided smile and his eyes drop to your lips; his hand still pressed to your thigh. His head tilts and he leans in slightly, watching your lips part. He curls his fingers around your thigh but winces at the pull on his knuckles.

You see it and pull back, looking down at his hand.

“Let me get you fixed up.”

Once you have him bandaged up he whispers, “thanks,” still staring at his hand held in yours.

“You ready to go, or do you need to close up first?”

His question is light.

“Go where?”

“Out with me. Ice cream? A walk? Anything you want.”

“It’s the middle of the night. I’m not going anywhere but home.”

“Or we could go to the twenty-four-hour deli on the corner and get ice cream sandwiches then I’ll take you to the roof of my building and we can watch the sunrise.”

Your light touch traces along the calluses on his fingertips.

“Are you usually this friendly to everyone who is new to the neighborhood?” you ask behind a sly smile.

“Not at all doll. Only for you. You’re special.”

Your jaw goes rigid and your eyes narrow. “You can stop whatever game you’re playing.”

You pull back, releasing his hand and starting to put the first aid kit back together.

“What just happened? I’m not playing games,” he says, keeping his voice steady. “But I’m sorry if I said something wrong.”

“It’s fine. I need to go help Nat close up.”

You stand and walk to the door, your head held high. He’s not going to fool you with his sweet words.

The next evening is slow so you spend most of it helping Nat stock the bar and clean. The hours pass by and nothing exciting happens letting your thoughts wander to Bucky. Then, as if on cue, the door opens, and you automatically look over to see who the latest customer is.

Bucky fills the doorway.

Your breath hitches and you can’t look away. He’s more dressed up tonight. A dark button down opened at the collar and dark jeans that are tight across his thick thighs.

You can’t help but think he’s here to meet someone for a date. The jealousy that surges through you is surprising and infuriating. That is, until he walks up to the bar and sits down. Right in front of you.

“Hey, doll.”

“Hey, Bucky.”

“What can I get you?” you start. “Or are you waiting for someone?”

“Yep,” he says, popping the p. “What time’s your break?”

“Oh,” you breath out. “Um…I don’t really get a long one…”

You start to wipe down the bar aimlessly, remaining quiet while you wait. You can feel him watching you, his eyes tracking your every movement.

He calls over Nat and asks, “can I get two of the special for tonight, please?”

He’s speaking to Nat but looking at you, daring you to disagree.

When you stay quiet, the corners of his mouth lift ever so slightly, victory lighting up his eyes.

“If you want to take it to-go for later, that’s fine. But I thought it’d be nice to have dinner together and figured ya wouldn’t want to go out with me after I fucked up last night.”

“So dinner while I’m supposed to be working is a better option?” you shoot back.

He cringes, despite the lack of heat in your accusation then sighs defeatedly.

“I’m trying here. I want to get to know you better. I promise my intentions are good.”

You stare, getting lost in his beautiful eyes before you scan the rest of his face. He seems more vulnerable now and you want to believe him.

Nat comes back with two plates of steaming food and sets them down.

You give in and unwrap the silverware, digging into a bite of baked potato.

“Mmm,” you moan around the taste.

He freezes with his own bite halfway to his mouth, and mutters under his breath. “Are you trying to kill me?”

You fall into easy conversation about what he does for work, how you like living in the city and everything in between.

After you explain why you moved, spilling the truth between bites, he replies with, “I’m glad you picked Brooklyn.”

His fingers slide over yours and the touch is full of heat. His eyes follow the movement and his jaw tightens. He threads his fingers through yours, holding your hand across the bar.

When he meets your eyes, his are hooded and dark. “How about that ice cream tonight with a roof top view doll?”

The ‘yes’ is on the tip of your tongue as your body leans over the bar, but then you remember that you want more than just a fling and even though he said his intentions are good you can’t help but wonder why a guy like him is still single. You’re not looking for a fling.

You untangle your fingers from his, pulling back.

“Thank you, Bucky. Really. But…”

He nods, not letting you finish before he reaches into his back pocket and sets down some cash to cover the dinners.

“See ya soon doll.”

The bar is closed on Mondays but Tuesday has you running beers up and down the bar for game night. Bucky’s back. Same time, same seat.

“You need a break doll? Something to eat?” Bucky asks before he takes a sip of beer.

He sets it down as he waits for your answer, studying you intently.

You grab a French fry from his plate and wave it around before bringing it to your lips. He grins wolfishly, catching your wrist in his hand and before you know what’s happening, he’s snagged the fry from between your fingers with his teeth. His tongue snakes out to the lick the salt from your fingertips, then he chews with a self-satisfied smile.

“I’ll let you have the rest,” he says, holding one up to your lips.

You tentatively lean forward, watching him warily in case he tries to pull it away, then chomp down.

“Just let me know when you want more,” he croons.

You continue to work, constantly aware of Bucky and the way he never takes his eyes off you. You check on him regularly, engaging in some deep conversation even with the little time you have.

As your shift nears its end he calls you over.

“Ice cream and rooftop tonight?” he asks, setting money down on the bar to pay for his food and drinks.

“I can’t tonight.”

He smiles. “No worries doll face. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The next night comes quickly, your tired feet aching from marching back and forth between the bar and the pool tables since it’s half price games tonight.

It’s getting late, and despite your best efforts, you can’t help but wonder where Bucky is. Maybe the last time you turned him down was the final straw. You feel a deep twinge of disappointment at the idea.

The door opens, and you look over, your eyes filled with hope, but it’s just some random couple.

You’re stomach grumbles and you realize you’ve had dinner with Bucky the last few nights and now that it’s late and he hasn’t shown you haven’t eaten.

Checking that everyone has full glasses you wipe your hands and head for the kitchen, hoping to snag something to eat.

The chef, Suzanne, greets you warmly. You ask her for a bowl of the soup and she hums in agreement, yelling out for Charlie.

A guy you’ve never seen before pops around the corner.

“Hey, I’m Charlie, the sometimes kitchen help,” he explains holding out his hand.

“Nice to meet you Charlie.”

You give him your name and tell him you’re the new bartender.

His face changes instantly, eyes going wide and his brows shooting up to his hairline. He pulls his hand back quickly.

He’s still smiling but he seems guarded all of a sudden.

“You forgot to mention the most important part…Bucky’s girl.”

“What?” you say incredulously. “I’m not Bucky’s girl! We’re just friends. He just stops by for dinner and a drink!”

You know it’s more than that. Charlie nods like he knows it’s more than that.

“Sure, whatever you say. But no offense, I’m gonna take his word for it. I’ve never seen him do anything like this before. It has the whole neighborhood talkin’.”

With that he disappears, only reappearing a few moments later with your soup, then he runs off again.

You inhale the soup, not wanting to leave Nat alone and rush back to the bar to check the drink orders.

Nat slides up next to you. “Those drinks for table six?”

You don’t answer her, instead filling her in on what happened in the kitchen.

“Charlie said I’m ‘Bucky’s girl.’ I’m not his girl. What does that even mean?”

“Aw that’s sweet! He’s never said anything like that before and I would know. Been living here my whole life.”

“No it’s not!”

“I think it’s sorta romantic,” she says wistfully. “He’s all in, claiming you far and wide when you haven’t even realized what’s right in front of your face!”

She punctuates the last words of her sentence as she stares you down.

“What’s right in front of my face?” you ask, unwilling to concede that it might be the tiniest bit sweet…in a cave man sort of way.

“He’s here,” Nat whispers, but it’s more of squeal.

You turn toward the door, your whole face lighting up even though you’re still mad at the claim he made. The door is closed, Bucky no where in sight.

Nat’s finger is suddenly in your face. “That! You want to see him. You like him coming here to see you too. Shit, when was the last time someone made this much of an effort for a date!”

She throws her hands up! “Just go out with the man!”

“You mean have sex with him?” you bite out, not forgetting about her earlier warnings.

“Either or, maybe both! What could it hurt?”

“Me!” you say defensively.

Nat’s expression softens. “I think maybe I gave you the wrong idea about him…” she fumbles. “What I really mean is I think maybe we all had the wrong idea about him.”

“What do you mean?”

She shrugs with a heavy sigh. “Bucky is man. A hot as fuck man,” she teases. “And he does have a reputation…but only because everyone wishes they could get a piece of him. I really don’t remember the last girl he went out with. So either he’s really quiet about it, but if you haven’t noticed in this neighborhood everyone is up everyone else’s ass, or he hasn’t really dated.”

Nat eyes you carefully, curiously.

“Oh shit,” you mumble, laying your face in your hands. “I do want to go out with him, but I’m scared…have you seen him?”

Nat grins. “Oh yes. I have and…”

“He’s gorgeous. Like drop dead gorgeous,” you finish for her.

“Exactly,” she agrees happily, a dreamy look on her face.

You swat at her shoulder, getting her attention and gesturing to yourself.

“What? You look amazing!” she says. “It’s not like he hasn’t seen you at work before.”

“You don’t think is just a thing because I’m the new girl in the neighborhood?”

“Do people do things like that where you’re from?” she asks. “And no!” she finishes, shaking her head.

Just as her words sink in your heart sinks with them.

“Doesn’t matter anyway. I blew it, he’s not here tonight.”

“Yes he is.”

The door opens and when you look over, it’s him.

Finally!

The air charges across the space between you and you know something has changed and when his eyes meet yours it’s almost as if he knows it too. He nods toward the door, silently asking if you’re ready for that date.

“Hey Nat, you think if I ask Barry to let me off early…”

“I swear if he says no I’ll kick him in the balls myself,” Nat screeches.

You rush back to the office and find Barry sitting behind his desk. Your question rushes out and he holds up a hand to stop you before you even finish.

“Go,” is all he says, but the smile he gives you reaches his eyes.

You cross the room to Bucky, his eyes wandering over you with possessive heat and unguarded want.

When you’re standing right in front of him, your toes touching, he asks, “you ready?”

Your lips lift ever so slightly and when his large hand cups your cheek your eyelashes flutter closed. His motions are slow, teasingly so, but he’s giving you time to stop him. He bends down, letting his intentions be quite clear.

He kisses the corner of your mouth then brushes his lips over yours, so lightly, you can feel his breath. You sigh into him and his hands slide over your curves and down to your waist, his grip tightening.

Nat let’s out a cheer, effectively interrupting the moment but you can’t help but smile at her excitement.

Bucky doesn’t let go of you, his hand sliding into yours as he pulls you out the door and onto the street.

“Hey,” he says soothingly.

“Hi,” you say, tucking your chin.

His fingers press under and he lifts your eyes. “You good?”

He waits patiently for you to formulate a reply.

“I just…I’m not sure…what you expect.”

“Anything, doll. I want to know you, spend time with you.”

Dropping his voice lower and bringing his lips to the shell of your ear, he whispers, “kiss you again…for real this time.”

“Oh, okay.”

“Okay,” he agrees, his voice heavy with intention as he takes you in his arms again and drags you into his chest.

Your lips meet, tender and soft at first but as your fingers dance up his arms and grip his biceps, he growls and takes it deeper.

You moan into his mouth, working your hands higher into the hair that brushes his shoulders.

“Fuck,” he groans when he feels you give his hair a little tug.

He pulls back and you chase him for one last kiss which he happily obliges in.

“I promised you ice cream and a roof top sunrise,” he murmurs. “And I keep my promises doll.”

@book-dragon-13 @sebstanwhore @late-to-the-party-81 @goldylions @laineyreads @randomfandompenguin @lookiamtrying @beccablogsthings @justkinsey @hallecarey1 @blackwidownat2814 @flordeamatista @buckysdollforlife

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #beefy!bucky x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #beefy!bucky #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader

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pinkrelish · 1 year

Text

𝐭𝐡𝐞 "𝐲𝐞𝐬" 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐲.

singledad!mechanic!eddie x fem!reader

✶Surely, when two friends set up their two friends on a blind date in the very small town of Hawkins, they make sure those two people don't know each other beforehand, right? And, more importantly, aren't coworkers, right?✶

NSFW — slow burn, fluff, flirting, mutual pining, angst towards the end, drug/alcohol mention/use, 18+ overall for eventual smut

chapter: 3/20 [wc: 6.1k]

↳ part 01 / 02 / 03 / 04 / 05 / 06 / 07 / 08 / 09 / 10 / 11 / 12

AO3

Chapter 3: The Accidental First Date

“Is this too much?” you asked, yanking down the visor and checking yourself in the small mirror.

Sitting in the back parking lot of the movie theater, you went through your purse for the finishing touches on your look. Doing your last paranoia check for anything in your teeth, turning your head this way and that to zhuzh your hair, and most importantly, preening your oxymoron of a sweater to show a decent amount of cleavage without flashing the cups of your push-up bra.

Truly a walking contradiction of a top. Cable knit and warm, but with a plunging neckline, to where the top button started at your sternum.

“No, you look hot,” Robin assured with her goofy smile. “New York modest is Hawkins slutty. He’s gonna love you.”

You shrank into your girlish giggle. “Good, I want my dating debut in this little town to be a statement. Set the stage for future escapades.. Until I run out of men, I guess. Seriously, how many bachelors live here and aren’t total hicks? Four?” Robin laughed.

“Could be worse. You could be a lesbian.”

“True,” you concurred. “Good thing you have Vickie. Sucks she couldn’t come tonight.” Robin made a sad huff of agreement, working a mascara wand through her lashes. “Hey, I know I said ‘yes’ without asking, but is this guy you set me up with even my type? Not that I care, obviously; a good story is a good story, but I’m just trying to set my expectations here.”

She furrowed her eyebrows dramatically, and paused unscrewing her lip gloss to rock her entire body into a positive affirmation–almost bumping her forehead on the steering wheel from the force of her nodding. “Oh, absolutely,” she said emphatically. “Looks scary on the outside, but is a total sweetheart on the inside. Overconfident, and obnoxious, but in that charming, swoony way.”

“Perfect!” You clasped your hands together.

Stepping out of the car, she waited for you so you could walk with your arms linked together, and she continued, “I haven’t seen him in years, but Steve was telling me over the phone that he’s been going through a tough time, and hasn’t been on a date in a while.”

“Aw, poor guy.”

There was a beat of silence where both of your faces twisted into knowing smiles.

“I know what that look means..” Robin led, canting her head to you.

Innocent, you lifted your shoulder in a coy shrug, bringing a collection of her soft hair up to your chin. “No idea what you’re talking about. I was just thinking, if he hasn’t been on a date in a while.. Why not make it memorable for him?”

You laughed together, rounding the sidewalk to the front entrance of the theater where the glamorous marquee shined gentle daylight upon the darkened street. Romantic and intimate, with a crowd of people standing in vague suggestions of lines; some broken off, gossiping, smoking.

“There they are,” Robin whispered, letting go of your upper arm to wave at Nancy–who you had met at the grocery store last week. She saw you approaching, and tapped her hand on the chest of the man beside her.

Still a considerable distance away, you peered at him, and placed his luscious hair in your memory. “Oh, that’s the guy who came to the shop today.”

“Steve?”

“Yeah, he was talking to the annoying mechanic I’m always telling you about.”

“The one you have a crush on?”

“Shush,” you bristled at the mention of your not-so-secret. “I do not have a crush on Eddie. Anyway! Did I tell you what he did this morning? He fuckin’ stood outside the window next to my desk, just out of my view for like, full on minutes, waiting for me to look at him. Like Michael Myers or some shit. Scared me half to death.”

Robin, still caught on one detail you had somehow failed to mention in the month you worked at the auto body shop, quietly asked, “..Eddie?”

“Yeah, my coworker,” you answered, not looking at her when she fell a step behind, since you were too focused on greeting Nancy, and introducing yourself to Steve to notice her sudden jog up behind you. Too fixated on complimenting Nancy’s skirt to witness the way Steve aimed his confused frown just past your shoulder. Missed his dismissive hand gestures, and Robin’s panic as she tried to wordlessly communicate something dire to him.

You were too busy listening to the cars cruise by on the street, and chatting casually, and savoring the warmth of a new friendship to scrutinize the sound of quick footsteps from the other direction, or the jangle of metal chains attached to their presence, or Robin’s damning groan.

“Sorry, I’m–” a familiar voice said. A bit nasally and on the higher side. Mirthful, awake with youth, and excited to make a good first impression.

You turned to them. Your date.

“..Late,” they trailed off.

Deer in headlights. Big, brown doe-eyes wide with surprise, framed by beautiful black lashes.

He stared at you.

His stomach sank.

You stared at him.

Your heart raced.

Eddie had stopped mid-step with his hand raised in greeting. The chains on his leather jacket tinkered until they stilled. Kind smile frozen from a better time. Chest filled with a held breath. Presenting himself with his best foot forward, and now his ears were tinted with the embarrassment of trying too hard to impress.

Oh, God.

You blinked away, and were intentional to accept the situation for what it was without showing your surprise, opting for a simple, timid, awkward, shaky, exhaled, “Hey, Eddie.”

He wasn’t so poised.

Shutting his eyes, he allowed the realization to wash over him, scrunching his face in a pained expression as the puzzle pieces slotted into place. He hung his head, and released his breath through his nose. “Your roommate is Robin,” he stated, pointing at her to punctuate his sentence. “And you call her Bobbie.”

“Yeah..” It was an apology as much as it was a confirmation.

“You still call me Bobbie?” Robin asked, tugging on your sleeve, forgetting the tense air surrounding the group for the moment. “I haven’t used that stage name in years.”

“Guess it stuck with me..”

Thankfully, someone else added to the conversation. Unfortunately, that person was Steve addressing the elephant outside the ticket booth.

“So, I take it you two know each other,” he deduced, looking from Eddie’s dejected gaze at the ground, to you wringing your purse strap over your chest.

Eddie enlightened him in a solemn tone, sparing a single glance at his friend, “She’s the receptionist at work.”

“Ah.” He turned his attention to Robin. “You set up two people who work together.”

She threw her hands up and blamed him, “Uh! No way, dunce, don’t put this on me. This whole thing was your idea, and at no point in the conversation did you tell me Eddie was a mechanic! If you had told me he was a mechanic I probably could’ve put two-and-two together myself, and avoided setting up people who see each other every day.”

Increasingly red-faced, Steve very pointedly avoided Eddie’s suspicious squint after being outed as the one who set up the date, not Nancy. “You’re the one who lives with her, how could you not–?”

“Okay!” You clapped once to end their bickering. “Then it’s not a date.”

Nancy, bless her, picked up her improv skills fast. “Yeah! Not a date. Just a casual outing between friends. Steve, get the tickets ready so we can get popcorn before the line gets too long.” There was a ripple of unanimous murmurs, followed by shuffling to the entrance.

“Silver lining,” Nancy muttered out the side of her mouth to Steve, “It’s a movie date, so it’s not like they have to talk to, or look at each other.”

Steve tempered his laugh to a hiss and held the door for Robin, who in turn kept the it ajar behind her for you, but as you went to catch it, it was opened for you.

Clack- clack- clack. You’d heard the sound every morning; his distinct rings on the metal frame of the glass door beside your desk, followed by his soft grunt when pulling it open. But whereas his whispered ‘morning’ normally echoed in the tiled lobby, it was now on the back of your neck, fanning your skin, and it wasn’t a sweet greeting, but a reserved, solemn, regretful, sad, “Sorry for.. yeah.” That’s how he started your date that wasn’t a date. With an apology. And still, as the crisp autumn air was replaced by the humid waft of buttery popcorn, your brain was stuck at the garage, filling in the drag of his heavy work boots on the way to the breakroom for coffee, and the lingering scent of cigarette smoke trailing his stride.

Except, as you were jolted back to reality, you came to know he didn’t present himself so generically outside the context of motor oil. Due to the traffic clogging around the ticket ripper, Eddie ran into you and you discovered the nuances of what he smelled like when not at work, with the added intimacy of his chest pressed to your back.

Worn leather enveloped by notes of vanilla musk cologne. Spicy deodorant carried by the sweet earthy tang of tobacco. Dove White on his heated skin, and Dawn on his hands.

A symphony you could immerse yourself in learning for hours if it wasn’t for the crime of your group moving forward.

“Did you want anything?” Eddie asked you, pointing at the concessions.

“Oh, no, I’m good.” You made a clawing gesture at your mouth. “Eating popcorn before the movie even starts because I have no self control and then being forced to sit there with kernels in my teeth drives me nuts.”

Not finding you as endearing as you intended, he slipped his hands into his pockets, and motioned for both of you to stand off to the side, out of the way while you waited for the others to get their snacks. And he just stood there. Not saying anything. You were turned to him as if to carry a conversation, but his gaze was set ahead; not on anything in particular, just away from you.

Rarely had his face been this slack, this devoid of emotion. Even when doing menial work like filling out invoices for parts you would need to order, there was activity. Liveliness in the tic of his eyes reading lines on the paper. Movement of his tongue sliding across his top lip. A subtle crease between his brows. Something. Anything.

You spoke above the giggly teenagers sneaking into the film next door, “For a stick in the mud, you look nice.” He really did, in his well-loved jacket draping his frame after years of being broken in to perfection. Tight black jeans. Sensible boots. More accessories than just his rings.

Try as he might to cut you an unamused look, his freshly washed hair bounced in immaculate waves around his face, catching the low mood lighting like a messy halo.

“Thanks,” he said, not meaning it.

“I can see why you don’t get many dates if you always look this miserable.”

“I’m not miserable.”

“Glum, then? Woebegone? Hapless? Crestfallen?” When he seemed hellbent on wishing he were anywhere else, you eased up on your act. Harboring the pit of rejection eating away at your stomach, you pried, “Disappointed?”

The glimpse of vulnerability in your words was not lost on him.

He snapped to, shaking himself out of his funk to reassure you in his gentle timbre amongst the chaos of someone beating the top score on the pinball machine, “I’m not disappointed to be here with you.”

“Then what are you?”

“Sorry,” he guessed, shrugging. He was the type to speak with his hands, moving them despite being confined to his pockets. “I’m sorry our friends suck at communicating and this is how your night turned out; you being here with me when you were clearly expecting someone else.” His gaze didn’t dare dip lower than your nose, but the effort you put into your appearance did not go unnoticed. It wasn't the first time he stared a little too directly into your eyes after you decided to stop covering yourself up.

“I don’t go on dates intending to find my one true love or anything lame like that,” you said, honestly. “I go on them to have fun, and I think we can still have fun, even if we have to share the same tiny lunch table come Monday, and we side-eye Carl for bringing tuna again.” He almost smiled at that.

Sensing he needed another boost of confidence, you kept going, “Before I knew it was you, Robin was talking you up in the car. Going on about how my date was some sweet guy, super handsome, and with a heart of gold. You know, the Prince Charming type. Oh, and totally obnoxious too. Real loudmouth who never shuts up.”

Okay, maybe some of that was ad libbed, but you wanted to know how much of it was true.

Eddie shifted from foot to foot, subduing his grin by biting his tongue, literally. “That’s a pretty apt way to describe me back in high school, yeah, especially with how I’m dressed.”

“What changed?”

“Uh, I had a kid,” he laughed. “She stole all my charm. I swear Adrie can talk me into anything.”

“I think you’re just a pushover.”

“Probably,” he surrendered. Raising his brows, he mused aloud one of the many things on his mind, “Do you not agree that she described me accurately? Sweet Prince Charming guy, all that?”

There was no way in hell you were going to speak your truth. Instead, you smirked. “I don’t think you want to know what adjectives I’d use to describe you.” They were far too vulgar to utter in a crowded room. Hot in the most annoying way. Absolute pain in my ass. Just the worst, especially when I don’t hear you sneak up behind me in the kitchen, and you think it’s funny to scare me right as I open my drink from the Coke machine, and you laugh your stupid laugh when I drop it. An absolute eye-sore when you look up at me while you're on your hands and knees cleaning up the mess you created. Irritatingly handsome when you grin and buy me another one.

Ignorant to your private thoughts, he swung his elbow out to push you, and smiled.

Relaxing into the natural lull in conversation, you both watched your friends make it to the front of the line and order their food. They waited at the counter, starting the clock on when they would inevitably make it back to the two of you, and cease your alone time with Eddie. (Although, first, they’d have to traverse an entire bucket of dropped popcorn, and navigate around more than one group of children reenacting a fight scene they just watched on the big screen.)

“Were you disappointed I was your date?” you asked.

Robin was right. Eddie was a sweetheart. As soon as he detected an inkling of insecurity–whether it be in your strained voice, or etched into your face, or imbued in the question itself–he was quick to absolve your worry.

“No, no,” he said. “Relieved, if I’m being honest.”

“Relieved?” You weren’t expecting that.

“There’s a reason I haven’t dated since having Adrie. It didn’t sound like Steve made it clear to.. you, well, my anonymous date which happened to be you. Jesus, this is confusing. Whatever, you know what I mean, he didn’t say if he told my would-be date that I’m a dad, and I was afraid of coming here and having to tell them myself. Even if we hit it off, it’s a deal breaker for some people, y’know? Not that I blame them. I would’ve said the same thing five years ago.”

You nodded as you listened to him. “Never thought about it from that perspective. All my dates have been one-and-dones. Super casual. Kids were never really brought up.”

“Yeah, the dating world isn’t always so gracious. I’m kinda glad I’m here with you–someone who knows me, at least.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you spied Steve raising his sodas above his head as two boys ran past him, pretending they were in a shootout.

Knowing he wouldn’t have time to respond, you informed Eddie, “You’re worrying about the wrong thing. Adrie’s an angel. You should be more concerned about your curmudgeonly attitude being a deal breaker.” His narrowed-eye glare had never felt so sweet.

Robin’s giddy presence became known. She dropped her chin to your shoulder with a satisfied hum, and wrapped her arm around your waist to hug you snug to her body. You laid your head on top of hers, swaying with her.

She must’ve made a face at Eddie, because a different emotion flinched across his features, and he was back to avoiding making eye contact.

You, however, were more enticed by the drink in her hand than analyzing his change in demeanor. “Shit, now I want an Icee.”

“Yeah, I got cherry,” she said, angling the straw towards you. “They have Coke too–Okay, bye, dork,” she giggled after you.

“Go ahead and sit without me! I want an Icee.” Nancy clutched the largest size of popcorn to her chest to avoid spilling it as you stumbled out of Robin’s hold and darted for the concession stand.

Eddie raised his voice, “You couldn’t have decided that five minutes ago when I asked?”

“Nope!”

————

The theater for the low budget horror flick reflected the town’s perception of it. As soon as the heavy door closed behind you, your footsteps on the dense carpet echoed around the empty room. Your group was sitting in the back row, and their murmurs could be heard from the bottom.

You climbed up to them and flumped into the seat next to Eddie. “We can share,” you said excitedly, shaking the drink at him before placing it in the cupholder at the end of the single armrest.

When the subtle pinch of concern around his eyes remained, you promised him you didn’t have cooties.

He played with his rings, pulling them down the length of his fingers and spinning them while he worked through his confusion. “You don’t have to sit next to me.. You can sit next to Robin.” He motioned beside him, to Steve munching on his popcorn while Nancy held it, and Robin whispering on the end, rolling her eyes at something Nancy said.

“Why wouldn’t I sit next to you?”

Eddie’s mouth opened and closed, struggling to settle on what he wanted to say, and finishing with a submissive shrug, leather jacket groaning at the act. He bounced his foot quicker, shaking the aglets on his laces against his boot in a chaotic rhythm. “Dunno..”

“You’re silly. I’d pinch your cheek if I didn’t think you’d bite me.” He reeled at that, and you giggled. You didn’t mind making him balk at your weird quirks; whatever put him at ease. Rather, whatever made him stop rubbing his knee against yours, because you were certain the friction was about to cause a fire.

Digging through your purse, you took out a rectangular box and slid your finger under the flap, popping it open and dumping a handful of candy into your palm. You threw it back into your mouth. “Want sh-ome?” you chewed, offering the box to him.

“Who the hell eats Mike and Ikes?”

“Uh, me, jerk.” Right as the lights dimmed to pitch black, and the curtains drew back from the screen, you hit him with the most exaggerated pout. “I only eat them at the movies. They’re a ritual, and you’re rude.” The shadows lining his face twisted into a deeper grin. “Are you more of a chocolate guy?”

“Maybe,” he answered like he was suspicious of your motives.

And maybe he should be. Afterall, you committed the number one sin when it came to cinemas.

“Looks like I chose right,” you said, reaching into your purse and pulling out a Kit Kat. “I was hoping my date would be a chocolate sorta guy–” You went quiet seeing his eyes widen a touch. “I mean, not date. Begrudging coworker? Tentative acquaintance?”

“Reluctant friend,” he answered smoothly, taking the package from you and ripping it open with his teeth.

~~~

Trailers for other films played, bathing the room in flickers of light interrupting the darkness. The opening credits began. Your candy was half-eaten. His was devoured. You took a sip of your Icee, and from the vantage point of pressing your back into the cheap theater seat, you observed him in your periphery.

His gaze hardly left the drink. Your offer to share it gnawed at him in a visible way. Scoping out the straw, the possible trace of spit you left behind, the possible trace of spit he’d leave behind. He peered at the screen to acknowledge the intro, and then back down it was, boring holes into the Icee.

You were no better, nibbling at your lips when he finally caved and took a sip–all too quick, and clumsy, almost missing the cup holder when he put it back down with lightning speed.

The edge of your thighs touched under the arm rest; worse so, when you folded one leg under you, and leaned into him. “Do you hate it when people talk during movies?”

“Not these kind.” He meant the genre in general, which made for great fodder for ripping apart in friend groups, but another popular trope among this realm of fiction became apparent. The first set of tits flashed on screen, and you both found yourselves lacking in the commentary department.

After a moment, you tilted your head. “That actress looks familiar..”

“She’s been in other cult classics. Always acts with her eyebrows.” He turned to you and nudged your shoulder, vying for your full attention. He emphasized the end of each word with an inflection as if it were a question, and raised his eyebrows in every way possible, mocking her slowly, “She’s the one who always talks like this–!” He looked crazy contorting his face to make his point.

“That’s it!” You snapped. “Her wearing glasses really threw me off.”

“Mhm.” His hum vibrated along your upper arm pressed to his, and he asked quietly under the screams of the first gorey death, “Do you like B movies?”

“Hell yeah. Back home they would play them at this rooftop drive in place. I rarely paid to watch them, though. The next building over had a good view of the projector screen.”

His banter dropped in favor of chewing on the corner of his thumb. If it wasn’t for the wild change in scenery cast across his face, you could’ve sworn his faint smile faltered into inscrutability.

Did you say something wrong?

————

“Damn, that was a cool practical effect,” Eddie complimented the purplish fizzing ooze that once was a person.

“I know, right? That’s why I love these bad movies. There’s no budget for good CGI, so they have to do creative stuff like that.”

It was inevitable. Bound to happen. A mere act of fate. Stars aligning in the close knit group leaning forward to exchange witty quips about the hare-brained plot holes in the movie, and not minding their surroundings except to receive everyone’s laughter, making jokes at the expense of the bad acting.

Steve was asking a question that was technically answered by the movie’s lore if he’d paid attention to the dialogue during the second gratuitous stripping scene. You or Eddie could have answered, but Robin took it upon herself to explain, and you two nodded along.

Absentminded, you reached for the Icee.

Distracted, Eddie reached for the Icee.

The waxed paper cup was cold under your fingers, but your hand was blanketed by warmth.

Slow to process, you both glanced down at the reason why neither of you were achieving your goal, and the overload of sensory inputs faded away to one: touch.

Your thumb was trapped under his palm, and his fingers stretched around the cup, meeting yours on the other side and housing them beneath his in a steady amount of pressure. They were almost interlocking. Holding. Wrist on top of wrist–his with the extra harshness of his leather and chain bracelet on your skin. The heaviness of his forearm resting on yours.

Truly, the accident lasted all of two pumps of your heart, but it felt like more when he stroked his calloused fingertips over your knuckles as he let go.

“Sorry!” he blurted.

“S-Sorry,” you laughed, jittery from the encounter.

Your cheeks were hot. His were flushed red. The lewd moaning of a woman feigning to orgasm just from the male lead removing her bra alone played in the background. Neither of you could decide which plan of escape was less embarrassing: continuing to stare like idiots at each other, or watch the actress’ ginormous boobs bounce as she faked riding a guy.

You blinked. His eyebrows ticced up.

Boobs it was.

He adjusted how he sat, tugging his jeans down his legs a little, and crossing his arms. Eyes laser focused on the woman’s face. The why was obvious, and you couldn’t help but tease him for pretending to be a gentleman in your company when you held no such modesty when it came to ogling her tits.

“Thinking about how much Aquanet she uses?”

“Shut up.”

————

Later into the film, after the plot circled back to the juicy gore, you leaned into Eddie to ask him a question.

What that question was, you couldn’t remember.

As soon as you placed your elbow on the armrest and used the back of your hand to tap his shoulder, he dipped his head to hear you. It was an automatic thing starting from the moment you slouched in your seat. That’s all. A shift in your sitting position and intake of breath, and he knew you were going to speak, and he wanted to listen. He cared about what you had to say. He leaned into you as well, because listening to you took priority over the movie.

“Eddie?” You sought any words. Any words at all. Any would do. Any question, even if you knew the answer. “Uhm. The music sounds really familiar. Do you recognize it?”

“It’s the same composer as Chopping Mall and Deathstalker II.”

“Ah.”

Ah. All you could muster when you were charmed by the silhouette of his lips moving. Watching them form letters, pout on the plosives, press into a line on his thick swallow.

Ah. All you could say when his hair brushed over your fingers. Dry, in need of a deep conditioning. Curling around your forefinger. Tickling your palm.

Ah. All you could respond with when you lifted your gaze, and caught him staring at you like you stared at him.

————

As predicted, the filmmakers padded the runtime with another topless scene, and the movie ended on a witty one liner that included not one, but two puns, and no resolution to the numerous plot threads left hanging.

“That was.. certainly something!” Robin summed up, holding the doors open to the subdued hours of the night.

Once outside in the fresh air, the dynamic reverted back to its original status.

Your friends made themselves scarce in the worst way; whistling, shuffling to the side as they found asinine things to comment on, leaving you and Eddie alone. Their intentions were pure, but reality was not so kind.

Eddie cemented his gaze on the sidewalk as he picked at his callouses, and apologized for the mistake of going out with you. Again. “Sorry about all this.”

Itchy sweat broke out across your back. It sucked he was so brazen about rejecting you. You had hoped some of the tender crush you had on him extended past the armrest you shared, the looks you shared, the touches you shared; but maybe you were just tricking yourself into finding things that weren’t there.

Wanting to end on a better note, you appealed to him in a last ditch effort to smooth over the situation, “I meant it when I said you looked good tonight. It’s nice to see you outside of your work clothes.”

“Thanks.”

That’s all. Thanks. A shy glance from beneath his curtain of messy hair, and a somber tone to maximize the awkwardness of the not-date with your coworker.

You needed to get the hell out of there. “See you Monday?”

“Yeah, see you Monday.”

The group winced in unison when they saw the way you two departed.

Robin was quick to link her arm with yours and gather you closer, bringing your heads together to gossip as you walked back to her car. “That bad, huh?”

Around the corner and out of sight, you gave her half a smile, trying to appear in better spirits. “Well, I don’t think he likes me. He didn’t return any of my compliments, and he apologized for being on a date with me no less than four times over the course of the evening.”

She cringed for you. “That’s worse than Balloon Guy, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” you said, remembering what would go down in history as the shittiest date you’d been on. “Yeah, that’s more times than Balloon Guy.” Robin hugged you tighter, making your steps go clumsy. She apologized for Eddie’s weirdness, but you shrugged. Maybe you were supposed to find it weird, too. Maybe you were supposed to disapprove of the idea of romantic feelings for your coworker, too. Maybe you were supposed to have no expectations for it to lead anywhere, too.

Maybe you were supposed to reject him, too.

————

Still loitering outside the theater, Steve exchanged a look with Nancy, and jogged to catch up with Eddie before he made it too far in the opposite direction.

“Uh, hey buddy!” Steve clapped him on the shoulder to stop him. “It sounded like you two were hitting it off during the movie, what happened?”

Eddie sulked under the question. His chest fell with a surrendering sigh, and his boots scraped the concrete as he turned to him, not bothering to mask the dullness in his slack expression. Everything about him was tired, including his voice when he slipped into a lower, raspy octave. “She’s nice, but..”

“But what?” Nancy asked, searching his face.

Bottling his burdens, he clenched his teeth, and worked his jaw as he contemplated evading their insistent prying; but after ruminating on it, he explained the source of his problems, “She lives a very.. whimsy life.” He fluttered his hand like a bird flapping its wings, or a butterfly. “She does this thing where she says ‘yes’ to anything anyone asks her; it’s why she moved to Hawkins, and why she ended up on this date to begin with. Y’know, just doing whatever seems like fun. It’s cute, in a way, and obviously I.. feel a way towards her, but this place isn’t where she’s looking to lay down roots. New York is her home.”

Steve squeezed his shoulder, knowing what was about to come.

“I’ve already been left for someone better.. I can’t go through that again.” Eddie’s eyes begged them to understand. “I don’t want Adrie to get attached to someone who’s just gonna leave.”

Nancy started, “Eddie–You don’t know if she’d leave.”

He shook his head, and pulled away from Steve’s lingering grasp. Shushed his friend’s well-meaning words about him being valued, and to forget his insecurities about not being good enough.

“A girl like that doesn’t need me weighing her down,” Eddie said, imparting the wisdom he’d come to accept since you made a mark on his life weeks ago, when it became your mission to befriend him. “I’ll pick up Adrie in the morning. Thanks for watching her.”

The night got darker as he left.

Darker still, when Steve waved at his back, and Nancy played with the locket around her neck, and her goodbye went disregarded.

————

Silence.

It surrounded him. Blood pulsing in his ears, his heart beat, the refrigerator hum, the tink of glass bottles as he grabbed the full six pack and brought it to the couch, springs squeaking under his weight.

Utter emptiness welcomed him.

Not a sound in his home. Not a giggle from his daughter, or scrape of a skillet from Wayne’s makeshift breakfast-dinner before he went to work. Even the dogs around the trailer park were quiet.

Just.. nothing.

It was what he wanted, right? A night to himself; a break from the chores, the questions, the food making, the taking care of a tiny human being who made everything tougher than it needed to be.

He got his wish.

Two beers down in peace, he got his wish.

Eddie looked around his trailer lit by the single lamp beside him.

Quiet, empty, nothing.

Dark silence.

The jolt of his sob startled him. It erupted from his chest so suddenly. Ripped from the tightness of repressed emotions; the things he tried to deny, to feel and then lock away. To keep safe, buried down deep where he could manage them from progressing past the boundaries he created for his own good, and Adrie’s. He felt the agony of them all at once. The morning smiles, the afternoon laughs, the evenings of pretending you didn’t plan to bump into each other in the doorway to the lobby. The game of seeing how long he could watch you twirl the phone cord around your finger before you looked up from your desk. Your sweet way of comforting him after the hard nights of Adrie’s sleep regression by taking his tan work jacket and draping it over his shoulders while he slept at the lunch table in the break room. Your gentle method of fixing his collar when it was tucked on the inside of his coveralls.

The date was too good to be true.

In fact, the truth itself was far more painful.

The date was amazing. He couldn’t remember a time in his life when he had more fun. More thrills, sure. But not more fun. There wasn’t a day in his youth where he experienced more of the flirty thrum in his veins than when he committed himself to learning the way your lips moved when saying his name in the darkened theater.

The date was perfect. He was happy. And he couldn’t have it again. Shouldn’t have it again. Wouldn’t have these feelings again.

Eddie doubled over and put his third beer on the floor before he spilled it. Nothing was discernible beyond the water invading his ability to see, to fathom his reflection in the old TV. Sad, miserable, and lonely. An idiot for finally getting attached to someone, and it was someone he wasn’t supposed to.

Tears slipped from between his lashes. He smeared them on his cheeks, covering his sweaty face from his possessions bearing witness to his stupidity.

It was in his best interest to reject you–reject your casual stance on dating, and relationships, and people with kids–but the face you made when your advances went underappreciated churned his stomach.

He needed to be stronger. But he was weak.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he sighed into the stale air. Opening another beer, he nursed it as he huddled into the corner of the couch, and searched for Adrie’s quilt to soothe him. But of course, he sent it with her when he dropped her off at Steve’s.

No baby blanket to hold onto. No Adrienne to sleep on his chest to ease the pain of loneliness. No reason to look forward to Monday after he royally screwed everything up.

“Goddamnit,” he groaned.

Maybe, if he apologized enough, there was a chance you wouldn’t hate him.

Maybe, if you forgave him, you’d go back to the morning smiles, and the afternoon laughs.

And maybe, if he was enough of a masochist, he’d let you gently ease past those boundaries meant to keep you, and your kindness out. If you wanted to trespass, that is. He didn’t know. He was an idiot.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie munson smut #mechanic!eddie #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #the yes policy

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snailmail444 · 4 months

Note

ohhh, can you do hcs for what the sdv bachelors say during sex?

Bachelor Volume Headcannons

18+ 🌱 NSFW 🌱 MDNI

PART II of the double feature!!! Happy New Year lmao I hope you enjoy this filth 😈 shoutout to @hopefuloverfury who did a HOT bachelor volume headcannon list very recently that I ate UP. Check that out Here

Poll said post as you finish and I had this finished so here you are everyone. As always, MDNI, NSFW content under the cut.

Harvey-

💚 Kinda loud, tbh.

💚 I envision him as captain dad noise already, so I think during sex it carries over and he’s groaning and grunting these hot gravelly moans.

💚 Genuinely. I could go on about the sounds this man is sure to make. Because DAMN. Somebody get him into ASMR sex audios he’d make a fortune.

💚 Now that said I don’t see him as much of a dirty talker.

💚 It doesn’t come naturally to him. He’ll do a bit and try his best to appease you if you’re into it, and he’s definitely a person who could learn, but it’s never been easy for him and won’t be.

💚 Gets too in his head about if what he said was hot or if it was weird. Takes him out of it worrying that he’s taken you out of it. Which, relatable.

💚 But he does know through empirical evidence that his sex noises are hot, so he doesn’t hold back. Especially if you two are going at it rough, or you’re sucking him off, it’s obscene.

💚 Will praise you with that same sultry rasp, because that’s another thing he thinks is safely in the always-hot category.

💚 Such a good job baby, feels so good, etc. Can never go wrong.

💚 Loud to the point his voice cracks when he cums 😇

Elliott-

❤️ My hot take is that I think Elliott would say the filthiest things you’ve ever heard during sex.

❤️ HEAR ME OUT!!!

❤️ I just think that as a man who is incredibly well read he knows what’s hot. And he’s not afraid to say it, either.

❤️ Especially with some of those dime novels that are his guilty pleasure, he’s picked up a thing or two.

❤️ Of course it’s still in a very Elliott way, but he’s a dirty talk king.

❤️ He’ll be worshiping your body while he details everything he wants to do to you. How he’s going to mark you with hickies where everybody can see that you’re his, how hard he’s going to ravage you with his cock, how many times he’s going to make you cum, etc.

❤️ Matches it with equal praise and romantic lines, too. It’s all about balance, and he wants to fuck you like a beast while still reminding you that you’re precious to him.

❤️ Grunts and huffs and moans, but not a lot unless he’s right about to cum. Man’s got more important uses for his mouth!!

❤️ Kind of irrelevant, but I see him as the type to passionately fuck you against the door to his cabin or overtop his writing desk or deep into the mattress. It’s not often that the furniture isn’t creaking and knocking in time to his thrusts.

Alex-

🤎 Okay so another hot take. But I think Alex is secretly incredibly shy and romantic.

🤎 Empirical evidence includes: his heart events imply that he puts on the machismo front as a defense mechanism, and he was raised by the most lovey-dovey old people you’ve ever seen.

🤎 SO. I think he would be very sweet in the way he talks in bed.

🤎 Lots of softness and nerves, but he’s still kinda noisy.

🤎 Tries to muffle himself because he’s embarrassed about making too much noise, but he can’t help it.

🤎 He’ll be about to tell you how good you’re doing, how much he loves it, and his words will warp off into a whimper because it’s too much.

🤎 I feel very strongly that he is a whimperer. I’m sorry. It makes sense.

🤎 Especially with his insane physical endurance he ends up overstimulating himself because he can’t get enough.

🤎 Like he can go a third round, sure, but he’s overstimulated and his voice is cracking and his cheeks are bright pink with exertion.

🤎 Lowkey he’d love it though I mean let’s be real. Let’s be so real. He wants to come until he’s crying. And he will.

🤎 Please don’t come for me abt this it’s just my take.

Shane-

💙 The curse words. The curse words.

💙 Listen. This man is already somebody who swears a lot so in bed? He’s letting FLY.

💙 Fuck that’s so good, you’re so goddamn tight, holy shit that’s hot, et cetera.

💙 Not much for moans but he does grunt so like. Same difference?

💙 Like it’s not that he’s stifling himself he just grunts and groans and swears instead of moans

💙 No whimpering I’m afraid 😔

💙 But he makes UP in dirty talk good lord.

💙Since he’s not a mean person just prickly from his defenses he’s well practiced in being mean even when he’s not.

💙 So ladies gentlemen and those of us that know better, we’ve got the makings of the PERFECT mean dom

💙 Dirty little slut, you’re so fuckin’ pathetic for it, beg on your knees just for the privilege, I could Go On.

💙 Only like that if you want it of course, but like with his gravelly sex voice asking if you think you’ve earned the right to cum yet? Somebody take me AWAY.

💙 Cums with a bit of a yell.

Sam-

🩷 It’s been said before I know.

🩷 But I must also agree. Sam is the loudest in bed. Far and away.

🩷 Good LUCK getting him to shut up honestly, between his whines and whimpers and moans he’s either apologizing for his lack of control or thanking you profusely for letting him hit.

🩷 Because Sam genuinely can’t control himself when he’s fucking half his vocabulary consists of sorry. He wanted to do it slow and sweet, but fuck, you’re so hot and tight around his cock he’s pounding you instead and he’s really sorry but he just can’t help himself.

🩷 I don’t see him swearing much tbh, not unless he’s completely fuck drunk. If he’s not babbling some pseudo-polite good boy nonsense, he’s whining. Maybe the stray shit or fuck, but not to excess.

🩷 Also throws in a ton of compliments. You’re so hot, you feel so good, you sound so beautiful, and so on. I just see him as an open complimenter, and when his mental circuit board is on overload he’s unable to stop himself.

🩷 Gag this man. Do it. I dare you.

🩷 He’ll be moaning and whimpering and drooling all around the gag, his eyebrows drawn up and in, eyes pleading for you to let him moan properly.

🩷 The most pathetic man you’ve ever seen and all because he can’t whine for you. God somebody just take me away, lock me up.

Sebastian-

🖤 King of being amused by how turned on you are.

🖤 He’s chuckling, huffing, asking incredulous rhetorical questions like “yeah? Already?”

🖤 I could see him falling hard and fast, so he’s probably using his dry sense of humor to hide how fucking gone he already is.

🖤 Because emotional vulnerability isn’t his thing so it gives him some distance while still allowing him to enjoy how fucking hot and adorable everything you do is.

🖤 As far as his own sounds, though, he’s not moaning or whining a whole lot.

🖤 He does whisper a lot of swear words, and he’s HEAVY on the panting, as a consolation prize.

🖤 Dirty talk gets a little spicy with him just because he lives to tease. He’s not the heaviest dirty talker even on this list, but he can definitely turn up the heat.

🖤 Lowkey I can see him being a hand holder because he can’t help himself. He can only keep his affections at bay so much.

🖤 And I bring that up only because he’d lose his breath the moment your fingers twined with his and reward you with a soft, stuttering moan.

🖤 Definitely bites you to keep from making noise when he comes. He’d probably end up whining if he didn’t.

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sweatervest-obsessed · 5 months

Text

Spencer Blurb!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

WC: 500

A/N: I am in the trenches with finals rn so I needed something positive to think about as well as a distraction from what I should be doing.

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

“I’m starting to realize why people commit murder.” You grumbled to yourself.

Honestly, you were a sight to see. You had claimed the living room of your apartment with Spencer and books were everywhere. Your laptop was front and center and papers were scattered about as if a storm had come through.

Spencer peeked his head out of your bedroom, eyebrows furrowed. “I’m sorry, what.”

The frustrated sigh that left your lips almost knocked the curiosity right out of him.

“It’s just…”

Spencer had met you in the Boston Public Library, where you had been writing a paper for one of your classes, and you couldn’t find the statistics you needed. Enter Lover Boy with all your answers. He was only nineteen, completing his third Bachelors over at MIT and you were a sophomore over at Harvard, studying psychology. You were slated to graduate a whole year early, but it wasn’t your intellect that drew Spencer to you, it was your charm, the way you spoke your mind.

You said anything and everything to him, and he wanted to listen to every single thing you said. You started dating six months later. You ended up following him down to DC a little while after that, and supported him while he completed his first Doctorate. You loved living with him, even when his life got hectic, even when he decided he wanted to go fight crime for a living.

So when six years later, you’re working on your Ph.D at Georgetown, and you said you understood why people murdered others, Spencer wasn’t sure he wanted to keep listening.

“Just what.” He walked over and sat down next to you, taking into account the four cups of coffee, three mugs of tea, a banana, two empty Panera bags, and a myriad of gum wrappers. “When’s the last time you left the apartment?”

“Like a week ago, when I wasn’t trying to finish my fucking draft of my dissertation. I don’t know how the fuck you did this Spence.”

Spencer kissed your head and took your hand. “Why don’t you go to the library or something. Get out of here for a bit. Go on a walk.”

“I’d go to the library if you came with me.” You smirked a little bit as you fixed his tie, causing his cheeks to blush at the memories you were reminding him off.

“Thats–that’s not what I meant.”

“That’s why I suggested it.” You kissed his cheek, and looked back at your laptop, the moment of joy on your face disappearing. “Can’t you take the day off Spence?”

He started to shake his head, but then saw just how exhausted and overworked you were. “I—give me a minute.”

Spencer kissed your head and went into the bedroom, where you heard him make a call to Hotch, claiming he needed the sick day.

You smiled and started to clean up your space, excited to spend the day away from your work, and with your favorite person.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x you #spencer reid angst #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader fluff #spencer reid fluff #dr spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x self insert #Spencer reid x y/n angst #Dr Spencer reid x dr!reader #spencer reid x gn!reader #Spencer reid x fem!reader

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thepixelelf · 4 months

Text

Oh Baby, You Part 42 - Recovery Mission?

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Wonwoo turns the small bundle of forget-me-nots in his hands. He knows flowers alone aren’t enough, but he grazes his fingers over the bit of white ribbon holding the posy together. You’d always loved the little bits and bobs you could collect over time. There was once a red ribbon wrapped around a gift he bought you back before he left for Mongolia — courtesy of the store’s gift wrapping station — which you saved and tied in a cute little bow on one of the drawer handles in your old apartment. While he was gone, he would look forward to seeing it in the background of video calls. Like it was a part of him that he left behind to stay with you.

Shit. He feels like an idiot.

In the elevator mirror, he meets Chan’s eyes. “Are you sure about this?”

He shrugs. “Are you?”

Looking back down at the flowers, Wonwoo lets out a long breath. “What if they don’t want to hear it?”

“Well…” Chan gives his head a pensive tilt. “Don’t you think you owe it to them to try? Even if they turn you away?”

“You’re…” Wonwoo doesn’t get to finish. The elevator door opens, and even though his apartment — and yours, by association — is around a corner and hidden from sight, he hears your voice. And someone else’s.

Stepping out of the elevator, Wonwoo stops just before rounding the corner and peeks for a half second around it. A vaguely familiar man is standing right in front of you, holding a bouquet of white flowers, while you linger in your doorway. Though Wonwoo quickly ducks back behind the corner, he knows you well enough to tell that you’re tired, and you don’t really want to be talking to that person.

Chan follows a little too quickly. “What’s—”

Arm shooting out, Wonwoo stops Chan from revealing himself in the hallway. “Who is that guy?” he whispers.

Chan peeks around the corner. “Oh, that’s Choi Seungcheol.”

“Mingyu’s rival?” The corners of Wonwoo’s lips quirk downward. “Why would he be…?”

“Remember when I made you take me to the hospital? They went on a date that day.”

“A date?” Something bitter settles at the bottom of Wonwoo’s stomach. He risks another look around the wall. Damn. The guy does look good in a suit.

Chan shrugs. “MT didn’t really seem into it. My money is on him trying to dig into the whole baby scandal. He’s totally got that ambitious business villain from the dramas vibe.”

“You’ve lost me.”

“I think he’s trying to get information on them so he can dethrone Kim Mingyu.”

Wonwoo frowns. “By dating them?”

Shrugging again, Chan leans against the wall with his arms crossed. “It’s just a guess. I’m trying to not snoop anymore.”

Wonwoo gestures a finger between them. “What do you call this, then?”

“Recovery mission?”

“You—”

“Look,” your voice comes from down the hall, slightly louder. “Seungcheol. I already told you. I know what you’re after.”

“I won’t try anything from now on.”

“Sure, sure. And I’m just supposed to think you want me because— what? My dashing just-made-a-microwave-meal-for-dinner-after-not-sleeping-for-twenty-two-hours looks? My abandoned bachelor’s degree? My complete disinterest in diffidence?”

“Dividends.”

“Exactly, Seungcheol. You’d never convince anyone you could want anything from me except for information on my child. Which will get you nowhere, by the way.”

“I’d like a chance to try again. To show my better side.”

“And I should give you that chance because…?”

Wonwoo peeks just in time to see Choi Seungcheol throw you a disarming smile and hold his bouquet out.

“Tulips?”

His feet start moving before he realizes it, and Wonwoo steps between you and Choi without a second thought. “They were saying no,” he asserts.

“What the...” you whisper your surprise.

Choi just furrows his brow. “Who are you?”

“No one,” you answer for him, slightly brushing him aside even as he glares down Choi. “Listen, I think you should—”

“The name’s Wonwoo.” And because he’s stupid, he goes on to say, “I’m Orion’s father.”

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#seventeen smau #seventeen social media au #svt smau #svt social media au #wonwoo smau #wonwoo social media au #jeon wonwoo smau #jeon wonwoo social media au #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #seventeen x reader #svt scenarios #svt imagines #svt x reader #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios

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junicult · 1 year

Note

First of all, love you work!!! Secondly, for the bachelors asking farmer if they can try something new in the bedroom and what do you think the new kink they want to try would be?

!! the bachelors & their kinks

contains ; smut! nsfw. fem!farmer. much suggestive content. kinkplay (obvi). light bondage. fem!masturbation. fingering. slight edging. orgasm control / denial. overstim. squirting. mirror sex. oral (f!receiving). very brief mention of an insecure!reader (elliot’s.)

note ; i got another ask like this about just their fav kinks, so i’m combining them both here.

harvey.

- now, to some of you, this man may scream vanilla.

- which, okay, isn’t untrue.

- he loves those nights when you’re just needy and desperate, you just need him to be with you, no extra stuff.

- missionary, holding hands, moaning into your mouth while whispering abt how much you love each other—yeah, that’s his favorite.

- but, are we just gonna sit here and pretend like he’s not literally an overthinker?????

- OFC THIS MAN IS KINKY!!!!!

- but he’d much rather live in ignorant bliss then know you’d be turned off by his kinks.

- so yes. he’s got some pretty closeted fantasies, things he’s always wanted to try but has been wayy too scared to even mention.

- even if you’re like, “oh c’mon, you’re telling me there’s nothing you want to try?” practically BEGGING for him to confess,

- he’s just gonna swallow and shake his head.

- the thing about harvey, tho, is that during sex (even though he enjoys it very much), his main goal is to make sure you’re feeling good.

- it’s all about you, and whatever you want to try.

- you’ve definitely told him your biggest kinks, and can i just say you’ve definitely tried them all.

- that’s just bc he wants to do that for you.

- he was excited to help you fulfill those fantasies, especially since it made you feel so good.

- and depending on what a few of them were, he definitely tries to incorporate them into every night sex.

- anyways—

- it (annoyingly) takes a while to finally get him to open up.

- but once he finally tells you, ohhh boyyy.

- firstly, he’s into bondage. i said it.

- light, but still enough that you’re restrained at least somehow.

- whether it’s using his tie to pull your hands back, or a full on rope tying your limbs to the bedposts—i swear.

- he’s super gentle, tho. tying each knot and asking a quiet, “is it too tight?” every time.

- but fucckkkkk

- he’s gonna be so criminally slow.

- i wanna say he’s a switch. a big fan of letting you take the lead somedays, and him some others.

- so being able to tie you up is like his own leverage this time.

- he gets to see you squirming underneath him, body scorching and you’re just so desperate for him to fuck you,

- but he won’t. not yet, cus you just look so so pretty and, well, if this is his biggest fantasy, then he’s gonna take his time.

- secondly…roleplay.

- 🫡

- now, this may not be an everyday fantasy, but it’s definitely something he’d want to try at least once.

- and if we’re being literal, the only roleplay i can see him really wanting to try is some sort of doctor play.

- this man would NEVER (ignoring the fact that ur technically one of his patients so really not never) visualize his patients in such a way. he takes serious pride in being a doctor, and his professionalism.

- but hear me out—he’d die to have you on his table, you’re just so fucking horny and he’s kinda stressed, so he just fucks u right there in his office.

- lab coat still on, stethoscope hanging around his neck still. he’s literally in his entire work uniform.

- that’s just his biggest fantasy, tho.

- realistically, he’d never do that.

- it’d be a serious violation of anyone found out, and he’d lose his job (and likely much worse.)

- not to mention, extremely unsanitary. as much as he’d love to, he’d literally never.

- so, approaching this kink wouldn’t be easy.

- you’d probably get him to tell you, and he’d finish it with, “i’d much rather keep my job then throw it away by doing something reckless,” and you understand that, but it’s super exciting to see his face get all red and his eyes avoid contact.

- that doesn’t stop the thought from invading your mind every time you pop into the clinic to say hi to him.

- dropping him off a warm cup of coffee, and if he isn’t busy, you may even lean across the counter to give him a chaste kiss.

- except you’re sliding your hand around the back of his neck, feathering your fingers through his short brown hair and pulling him in, sorta taking him by surprise cus that’s hardly a kiss for a greeting.

- and you’re smiling when you pull away, a little devilish twinkle in your eye when you say, “i’ll see you at home, doctor,” just before waltzing out the door.

- hah. yeah.

- it’s gonna be a looonngg shift.

sam.

- he’s an open book.

- it didn’t take any prying at all, but the topic probably didn’t come up for a while.

- not until you guys were just sitting together one day, just talking like you usually do.

- and out of curiosity he asks, “is there anything you’d ever wanna try in bed? sexually?”

- so you tell him, and then proceed to ask the same question.

- he pretends to think for a moment.

- but really, he already knows what he wants to say.

- and he probably has a whole story to follow it up LMFAO

- “like, a long time ago i was, y’know…watching porn or whatever, like you do,” he’s looking down at his hands, twiddling his thumbs, “and i saw this one thing once. thought it was pretty cool.”

- “…which was?”

- he clears his throat. “just like…a dominatrix…”

- yeah.

- this man wants to be dominated 🤷‍♀️

- he probably went as far as to make a vow to himself that he’d try it once.

- don’t get me wrong, he’s definitely a switch as well. he likes being in control, and even a healthy dose of letting you be in control,

- but i’m talking DOMINATED.

- like, talk down on him, be a little rough, use him like he’s a toy.

- he’ll go fucking crazy.

- he genuinely doesn’t care what you do, just as long as you’re getting so much out of this, just using him however you please.

- i think i’ve said this a million times,

- but once he gets going, this man won’t shut the fuck up. he’s just talking and talking, spewing nothing but porn from his lips,

- and the moment you stuff ur panties in his mouth to shush him…

- yeah, that’s it. he’s done. he’s fulfilled his biggest dream.

- and he’s so glad you did it for him.

- another kink i feel like he’d have is you using him somehow to get yourself off, without touching his dick or something.

- and he definitely didn’t know he had this kink until once when you were just making out, you were so desperate that you subconsciously started rubbing against his thigh,

- and he didn’t realize what you were doing until you just cut yourself off moaning, head hanging and eyes lidded.

- he just placed his hands on your hips, watching you, how your hips moved against his clothed thigh and how your eyebrows pinched,

- you weren’t actively touching him or anything. but he got so hard that he started to feel like you literally were.

- he lets you use him to ride out your high, hardly paying attention to the way you’re panting, “‘m sorry, jus’ couldn’t—i’m sorry—“

- he’s already cutting you off,

- “do that again, fuck, do that again please.”

shane.

- he’s so kinky lol.

- the real question is what isn’t one of his kinks?

- no cus honestly, i feel like he’d be down to try anything at least once. just to see if he liked it, and to see what he didn’t.

- for the most part, he kinda likes everything.

- within reason, of course.

- so i feel like getting him to open up about it wasn’t hard at all. especially if you’re already really close and connected with one another.

- as for his kinks, like the ones he prefers over everything else, well…i feel like they’re surprisingly underwhelming.

- his absolute favorite will forever be handcuffs.

- cuffing you to the bedpost, arms up high and out of reach so he can tease you all he wants.

- and he loves when you just get so flushed and embarrassed, but you can’t use your hands to cover your face.

- it’s so rare he’d ever be the one cuffed. he likes it much more when you are.

- plus, i feel like you tried once, and you got way too cocky that he just ripped through them and fucked you stupid.

- so yeah. cuffs are appreciated.

- another one of his kinks would be watching you masturbate.

- or even guiding you through masturbation.

- it’s just so hot when he has you laying in front of him, legs propped and spread apart, with your hand teasing your cunt however you like.

- kinda, sorta degrades u while praising you at the same time.

- “you’re not gonna cum yet, are you? i thought you were better then that.” “it’s up to you, baby. you wanna cum now, or let me give it to you later?”

- he’s gonna make you edge yourself.

- but really, it’s your call if you wanna cum without his permission or not.

- if u do, that’s fine. he’ll bask in the sight of you trembling and whining from your own doing.

- however, just so you know, he’s not gonna fuck you for the next few days.

- so why’re you all clingy now, desperate and whiny?

- after all, it seems like you don’t even need him.

sebastian.

- hmmm.

- he’s absolutely not an open book.

- it took him a while to even have sex with you first, anyways. obviously he’s not gonna bust out every position or activity he’s ever wanted to try right away.

- he’s probably not going to be able to talk about it unless he’s already horny, and his pride is out the window.

- now, this man has long, thin fingers.

- yeah, he’s always liked the idea of fingering u.

- that’s not necessarily a kink, so let me take it one step further.

- his fingers can reach really deep inside of you, and in some ways, his fingers feel a little better then his actual cock.

- after years of practice with you, he’s gotten very good at learning what you like, and what you don’t like. he’s super vigilant.

- he knows just where to curve his fingers inside of you, just how quickly to pump them in and out of you to the point where you’re nothing but stuttered gasps and choked out moans.

- and because he has such long fingers, he knows exactly where that small, rough spot is inside of you.

- and he knows what can happen if he focuses specifically on just that one spot.

- see where i’m going w this?

- every single time he fingers you, he always has one end goal.

- to make you squirt.

- whether you realize that’s what he’s trying to do or not, he’s obsessed with the possibility of feeling your arousal all over his hand, making a mess out of your sheets and even his clothes if he can try hard enough (gn.)

- it wasn’t until one day when he was finally able to do it—i swear he thought he was a dead man.

- he literally came in his pants just from the sight alone 😇

- your body shaking, mind so foggy you don’t even realize what you’ve done until your breaths finally even out minutes later.

- it’s even cuter when you finally do, and you grow all embarrassed.

- “holy shit, did i just…?”

- but when you look at his flushed face, and down at the growing stain in his pants,

- let’s just say ur no longer the one who’s embarrassed.

alex.

- when it comes to sex, he’s pretty vanilla.

- he likes fucking you until you both cum, he’s not really one to edge or overstimulate you.

- but as it turns out, his kinks are pretty specific.

- i feel the need to mention that immediately, as soon as i got this ask, i just knew i had to talk about this.

- don’t get me wrong, i love alex so much. he’s so adorable.

- and this probably doesn’t count as a kink, but please hear me out when i say,

- he’ll definitely give u his jersey to wear when he fucks u stupid one day.

- i’m sorry.

- some may say narcissistic, he says confident!

- just the way his jersey engulfs your frame, his last name written in large letters above his number makes him…nghh.

- like, he was unpacking to move into the farm, found his old jersey in one of his boxes and he excitedly showed it to you.

- he was so cute about it, reminiscing on that time in his life before you offhandedly asked him to try it on.

- and he was all, “oh, no way. it wouldn’t fit me anymore.” so instead, you tried it on.

- and it just clicked on his mind.

- like a literal switch that just immediately gave him a hard on.

- he couldn’t help but kiss all down your neck, and eventually have you bent over one of the cabinets, your hair wrapped in his loose fist so he could see the jersey properly while fucking you from behind.

- ur moaning so loud, panting and whining, and he can’t help but love the fact that you’re all his.

- he’s just obsessed. ur definitely doing that again.

- this next one kinda ties into his slight narcissism, too.

- and this one also isn’t really a kink, but with how badly he wants to try it, it may as well be.

- alex likes anything that proves how strong he is.

- fucking you against the wall, holding you up entirely, literally anything that shows off his strength.

- so it shouldn’t have been a surprise when he turned to you one evening, and was just like, “you should sit on my face.”

- when you agree to it, he knows you well enough to know you’re just gonna hover.

- and he’s not having that.

- “don’t be shy, actually sit on it. c’mon, you think you could hurt me?”

- “what if you stop breathing?”

- he almost wants to roll his eyes. “then it’d be a rightful way to die.”

- “alex!”

- “baby, just sit! i’m gonna be fine, i promise. please. for me.” he’ll use puppy dog eyes, even stick out his bottom lip of he has to.

- finally, when you do, he feels like he’s ascending to heaven.

- wraps his arms around your thighs to tug you down further, and he’s looking up at you moaning like crazy while he eats you out like he’s starving.

- there was no easing into it, he’s immediately diving in.

- cus once again, if there’s one honorable way to die, then it’s buried between your thighs.

elliot.

- it’s a given he’s extremely romantic.

- he’s the type to surprise you with candlelight dinners at home, or a fancy, all expenses paid (by him) evening in zuzu city.

- all of his romance, deep love and affection for you of course translates to sex.

- he’s written a lot of novels, he’s read a lot of romances.

- but, i feel like he likes to keep it simple in bed.

- much like harvey, he prefers when you’re just in the moment together, holding each other, finishing together.

- he probably wouldn’t be against trying many things just to try them out, or if you really enjoyed them,

- but when it comes to his own kinks? they’re super tame.

- for one, he absolutely loves when he gets to put you in front of a mirror, completely naked slotted between his thighs, with either your or his fingers rubbing against your cunt.

- you just roll your head back into his shoulder, panting while he whispers words of praise into your ear.

- it’s like, he’s showering you with endless levels of pleasure, all of which you’re too short-circuited to focus on any.

- he mostly loves this position after you offhandedly, or subtly mention something poor about how you look.

- so he uses that opportunity to let you see yourself the way he sees you.

- “my pretty baby, i don’t believe you could even think so poorly of yourself.” kissing your cheek in whispering in your ear.

- he won’t edge you. he couldn’t deprive himself of waiting to see you finish.

- so another one of his kinks that he’ll never fail to forget is overstimulation.

- he’s not done until you’re practically stupid, nearly drooling.

- when all you can speak are incoherent babbles, breath staggering in your chest.

- that’s when he knows he can finally finish, bc that’s another thing,

- he’s not cumming until you’re entirely fucked out.

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luciathcv · 2 months

Text

princess, is your hand okay?

summary: your boyfriend doesn't like you doing school work so late at night || warnings: none || genre: fluff, established relationship || word count: approximately 880

I sat at my desk, typing and writing away. I was currently working on a long project that I had due the next evening. I knew I could just do it tomorrow in the morning when I actually had some rest but I didn’t want to have to worry about it tomorrow so I opted for staying up late to work on it today. I mean, I technically had a lot of time to work on this but, what can I say, procrastination gets the best of me.

It was already nearly two in the morning and my lack of sleep was starting to get to me. My eyes were starting to hurt but not only my eyes, but my hand as well from how much writing I was doing.

I hissed as I dropped the pen onto the desk, grabbing my wrist with my other hand before I let go and started waving my hand around, trying to move my wrist and warm up the muscle.

Sunghoon had been laying on the bed the whole time but honestly I thought he had fallen asleep a while ago since I was so focused on my schoolwork. Little did I know, he had been awake this whole time, honestly fighting sleep as well.

When he saw me shake my wrist in pain for the nth time, he came over. He stood behind me as he gently grabbed my wrist, startling me. He smiled down at me as I looked up at him, who still held my wrist in his hand.

“Princess, is your hand okay?” He asked in a soft but definitely sleepy tone.

“It hurts.” I admit.

“That’s your sign that it’s time for bed. Come on, baby.” Sunghoon tells me, going to help me up but I stop him.

“No, I can’t. I need to get this done.” I told him.

He sighs, “Princess, how many times have I told you that you don’t have to do this. I’ll work for us. I’ll do it with no problem whatsoever. Seriously.”

I look down for a moment, “Hoon, I know… and I appreciate it but, I just want to have my degree just in case I change my mind and I want to work in the future.”

He gives me a small nod of acknowledgment, “I know, I know.” Sunghoon says as he stands beside me now. “How much more do you have?” He asks.

“One more section, then I’m done.” I told him.

“Fine. Finish it up, baby.” He says as he steps away from me and sits at the end of the bed.

Fifteen-ish minutes later and I’m finally finished. I click the “submit” button and close my laptop once I see that it went through. I get up and walk over to Sunghoon and he stands up.

He walks to my side of the bed with me, his hand on the small of my back as I get under the covers. He then gets on top of me and goes over me to get to his side of the bed. I giggle at his actions which makes him smile as he gets under the covers as well.

Once he’s comfortable under the covers, I get closer and rest my head against his shoulder. I feel his arm make it's way under and around me, pulling me closer as it rests on my hip.

“You didn’t have to wait for me, you know. You could’ve slept.” I softly tell him.

“I know.” He responds. “But I couldn’t have my princess staying up all by herself.” He then tells me as he gives me a cocky smile. “I’m just the best boyfriend ever, what can I say.”

“Oh my god, shut up.” I say with a smile as I nuzzle against him. “But that’s true.” I then shyly add.

Sunghoon doesn’t respond, he just smiles at my words. He knew that if he were to say anything in response to your words, you’d get all flustered and he couldn’t have that when you needed to sleep.

“You know that I was serious when I told you that you don’t have to do any of this, the college stuff, I mean. I’ll work for both of us. I have no problem with that. I know that college is hard.” Sunghoon tells me.

He had talked to me about this a few times before. I liked the idea of it but at the same time, although I wasn’t planning on working, I felt that I should get my bachelors just so that I always had it if I wanted to work in the future.

“I know. I want that. But I also feel like I should do this, at least.” I tell him and he understood where I was coming from as well.

“I’m proud of you, you know?” He tells me.

“Thank you.” I say, blushing a little. He was one of the only people in my life who told me that and I appreciated it. I really did.

“Now go to sleep, I’m tired, I know you’re tired, and it’s late.” Sunghoon says. I giggle as I nod, agreeing as I close my eyes. I feel him kiss my forehead before he shut his eyes as well, the both of us drifting to sleep almost instantly.

-- link to my masterlist

#enhypen #enhypen x reader #sim jaeyun #lee heeseung #nishimura riki #park jongseong #yang jungwon #kim sunoo #park sunghoon #park sunghoon x reader #sunghoon x reader #park sunghoon imagine #sunghoon imagine #fluff #romance #kpop #established relationship #overworked #luciathcv

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 months

Text

Life in the City 1

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bad friends, creep behaviour, abuse of power dynamics, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You move to the big city and find yourself swallowed up by its chaos.

Characters: Clark Kent, Thor Odinson, short!reader

Note: Probably calling in today. Also will hopefully be working on more Dirty Work for tomorrow.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You’ve been waiting for Friday all week. You need this. A girl’s night, just you and Melanie, a bottle of wine, a bowl of popcorn, and your favourite nostalgic blockbuster. You even got a brand new pair of cozy jammies for the occasion.

And it’s your first official get together at your new apartment. Your very own. No more roommates, no more arguments over dishes and dust and a shared bathroom. It’s all yours! It’s almost like a housewarming, even if it is just a bachelor suite.

A new home, a new city, and an old friend. You haven't seen Melanie in years. You keep in touch here and there but she always seems to have so much going on. Now you're in the same place, it won't be so hard.

You bounce in the door, excited to get started on your prep. You leave your work bag in the entryway beside your shoes as your mind runs a mile ahead of you. You’ll fold out the futon couch and throw all your pillows on it. And the extra comforter can go on top. And you’ll put a scarf over the lamp, oh, and you got some candy for the spread.

It’s a bit childish but it’s been so long since you could just throw away your daily toil and forget. No overtime, no grind, just a night to reconnect and refresh. You grab your bag from the short hallway and take out the clay masks you bought at the drugstore on your way home, you thought that would be so cute!

You pull out your phone and search for the digital rental on your account, wanting it ready to cast as soon as Melanie’s there. Your screen suddenly lights up with an incoming call, interrupting your browsing. You answer, excitedly greeting your best friend.

“Melly Bean,” you chime, “I was just getting everything ready–”

“Oh, really?” Her voice is willowy, “that’s… I’m sorry.”

“What?” You clutch your hand in front of your stomach, your chest filling with dread. You know that tone.

“I totally forgot and I made other plans–”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I know, it’s shitty but I really can’t cancel and we can do it next week, right? I’ll host. I have a bottle of rose here, or I could make some sangria–”

“Uh, yeah,” you feel like you’ve been punched, “yeah, sure, that’s… that’s fine. Things happen.” You shake your head at yourself as you try to stem your disappointment, “good thing I didn’t even get started…” You look at the futon, covered in pillows and the fluffy pink duvet, “I actually just got in the door, long day at work–”

“You ready?” A distant, deep voice creeps under your rambling from the speaker.

“Sorry, I gotta go,” she interrupts, “I’ll call you tomorrow, okay? Again, I’m sorry. I’m so stupid. I should’ve put it in my calendar.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” you assure her softly, “call me. Talk later, Mel–”

The line dies before you can finish your sentence. You pull the phone away and frown at the timed out call. You sniff and toss it onto the futon. Well, you can still have a good night. Alone. Catch up on a show and pamper yourself. Your skin is getting a bit patchy.

Or just lay here and watch the same thing you watch every night. Suddenly, you have no energy. You flop onto the mattress, the metal frame creaking loudly, and sigh. Another lazy night, all by yourself.

🏙️

Melanie doesn't answer your call on Saturday. You try not to dwell on it but you know she's not working. Her nine-to-five keeps her planted at her desk Monday to Friday, just like you. Well, you can't be mad at her for having a life.

She texts on Sunday. Just a short but sweet confirmation for next Friday. A heart emoji along with a promise that you'll see each other then. You can bring all your snacks and the face masks, and even your cute new pajamas. Her place must be a lot nicer than yours on her executive assistant salary.

A new week begins but Monday isn't as difficult as usual. You have something to look forward to. Again. This time, it will actually happen.

You spend your days with the spreadsheets and menial reports. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday all blend together into an endless slog but Friday comes around with a special shine. It's the day.

You breeze through the day, lighter than usual. You even packed everything up so you could commute straight to Melanie's place. She's been texting, saying she's excited. Well, she sent a message at 10:38am.

It'll be just like in high school, when you sat up all night and giggled. Except this time, you're not too young for the movie you're watching. No, you'll be just like the metropolitan women you watched on the screen, gal pals!

You take the twelve out towards the east side of the city and get off a few blocks from her building, at least according to your GPS. You walk in a full circle before you get your bearings and end up just outside the grated door. You tap the small button to buzz her number and wait. It's a lot fancier than your apartments.

You ring several times without answer, your stomach swimming with nerves. What if she got caught up in something? Could she forget in the eight hours since her last message? Are you in the wrong place? You check the address again.

You hear someone come up the walkway and sidle aside to let them in. You consider sneaking in after them but you don't know if you should. They might not like that or you might get in trouble. You stand back as the man glances at you and gives a nod. He keys in a code and buzzes himself in. You scrunch your lips, helplessly floundering on the edge of the steps.

"Coming in?" He holds the door.

"Oh, uh," you catch the handle, "sure, I just... my friend wasn't answering."

"No worries, don't look like much of a criminal to me," he kids.

You chuckle quietly, forcing it out nervously as you follow him inside. The entryway is white with silver trimmings and the lobby opens up to a set of two elevators. You look at your phone again, confirming Melanie's apartment number. The man strides on confidently and hits the button, the doors dinging and sliding apart.

"Going up?" He prompts as he puts his hand in front of the censor.

"Uh, sure," you scurry forward. You suppose taking the stairs might be a lot with all the weight in your knapsack.

"Floor?" He trails you into the elevator.

"Um, seventh."

"Ah, what a coincidence," he taps seven and the doors close.

You bring up your chat with Melanie and text her. Hopefully, you're not too early. You don't want to surprise her. You key in that you're there and on your way up.

The door open again and the stranger once more lets you through first. You check the numbers on the plates on the wall; 700 - 710 to the right. You turn and the man heads in the same direction. How awkward. You hold the door to the hallway for him and he catches it, not far behind you. You count the doors until you find 704.

You stop and knock, stepping closer to let the stranger pass. He doesn't. He stops and laughs as he rubs his palms together. You peek over at him. Oh shoot, you have to be in the wrong place. It explains the no answer and you're standing at his door knocking. You must seem like a crazy person--

The door opens before you can figure out what's going on and Melanie's 'hello' goes from a high squeal to dull disappointment. You look at her as her eyes flit between you and the stranger at your shoulder. She laughs and tosses her hair back.

"Oh, uh, come in," she waves you inside, "movie night, right?"

She rubs her neck as she steps aside, your stomach flipping entirely. Did she forget? Really?

"Um, I forgot to mention..." she says slowly, "Clark's joining us. He's never seen the movie before so I thought..."

"That's fine, but er, I can... just go. I thought..."

"I didn't forget," she insists as the man enters with hesitation, "promise, I just... invited my boyfriend."

"Right, boyfriend," you turn to the stranger, Clark, she said his name is, "hi."

You introduce yourself and he repeats his name. He's handsome and tall. As far as you can tell, he's nice too. The cleft in his chin gives him a rugged handsome news and his eyes a bright and blue. He fits Melanie perfectly. She's changed a lot more than you knew.

You give a strained smile and look around. Her apartment is so nice. You're happy she hadn't seen yours after all. As you try to figure out what to do, she approaches Clark and stands on her toes to kiss him. You keep your eyes on the floor and turn, distracting yourself with your shoes as you peel them off.

"I brought snacks," you say as you unhook your bag from one shoulder, "for the movie--"

"Oh, I'm on a diet. No carbs, no sugar... mostly water and lettuce," she trills, "sorry."

"I...It's okay," you try not to wince as you struggle to free yourself of the heavy bag.

"Here," Clark startles you as he grabs your bag by the handle on top and helps lift it off your left shoulder. You pull your arms free and he carries it to the table, planting it on top beside the tall vase of white orchids.

"Thanks," you say as you inch forward, anxious about messing up the unlivable pristine apartment, "you can share the snacks... if you're not on a diet."

"I'd love to," he accepts, "should I make up the couch?"

"Uh, sure," Melanie flutters her fingers at him, "I guess that makes sense."

You notice how she bites into her glossy lower lip and looks around desperately. She's wearing a pretty black dress and there's a sparkly clutch on the half-circle table by the wall. You thought Melanie would be your one piece of home in the city but now you feel even more out of place. Uninvited.

"If it's a bad time," you begin.

"I told you," she snips, "I didn't forget. Duh, you think I'm an airhead or something?"

"N-no--"

"I know you went and got your fancy degrees," she sniffs, "but I don't need paper to tell me I have a brain."

"I didn't mean--"

"Mel, cool it," Clark chuckles lightly, "no biggie. I like a night in," he shrugs, "I'll grab some blankets and pillows. We can have a sleepover."

"Sleepover?" She nearly hisses at him, "well, tomorrow--"

"We'll all sleep in and I'll take you ladies to breakfast. Or brunch," he unzips your knapsack and takes out the tall bottle of wine, "depending on how much you indulge."

"Oh, I can take care of all that," you offer as you near the table.

"You're our guest," he insists as he holds onto the bottle, "hon, you wanna get some glasses?"

You hear the gentle sigh escape Melanie before she replies, "fine."

You wring your hands in front of your chest and hover by the table. You hate this. You feel like you've intruded on their night but you thought...

Your heart sinks as you think of the message; 'looking forward to tonight'. She sent it to the wrong person. She must realise that too.

"Mel will pour us some wine," Clark says loudly, "did you wanna help my grab some blankets and stuff?"

You just nod, thankful for his diversion. Anything to keep you from wallowing in your embarrassment. Everyone there knows you're not supposed to be there. You must seem pathetic.

You follow him down the hall and wait on the other side of the closet door as he opens it. He hands you a folded down duvet. He sends you back to the living room as he goes to grab pillows from the bedroom. You get a glance of the sleek white vanity just as he opens the door.

You turn and traipse back to the front room. You go to the couch and shake out the blanket. You glance over as Melanie slurps loudly from a stemmed glass, the other two are unpoured.

"Really, Mel, I can just go--"

"No, it's fine," she huffs, "I don't want him to think I'm some sort of bitch."

"Oh, I wasn't--"

"You don't call to confirm?" She accuses.

"I texted and I buzzed--"

She shushes you as she hears Clark coming back down the hall. You leave the blanket across the sofa and go to the table. You pour the other two glasses and step back, too uneasy to claim one of your own. Instead, you busy yourself unpacking the snacks but you don't even know if you'll have any yourself.

"You girls sit," Clark insists as he drops the pillows on the sofa, "I'll get everything ready. Oh, hon, you should go put some pajamas on, get in the spirit. You could lend some to your friend too."

"Erm, I brought my own," you offer, "just... thought they were cute."

"Amazing, you two get changed, get cozy, and get the movie going," he grabs the bag of chips from your hands, "oh, and I'll get those kernels popping."

You nod and swallow as Melanie struts out without looking back. You retrieve your pajamas from your bag, brushing close to Clark by accident, and apologise. You quickly flit away to follow her, chasing after her right before she can close you out. You need to find an excuse to get out. Then you can think of how to say sorry for spoiling her date,

#clark kent #thor #dark clark kent #dark thor #dark!clark kent #dark!thor #clark kent x reader #clark kent x oc #clark kent x thor #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #au #marvel #mcu #avengers #superman #dcu #dc

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jjungkookislife · 1 year

Text

Bad Decisions

ღ pairing: tech support!Yoongi x f. reader

ღ genre: friends to lovers, fluff, smut [18+]

ღ summary: Jimin is desperate to get his apartment back to himself. He’ll move hell and earth, and even drop to his knees to beg you to take his brother, Yoongi, out of his hands. Who are you to say no to that pretty face and sinister grin?

ღ part of the room for rent collab

ღ wc: 14.3k

ღ warnings: jokes about a foot fetish, reader helped jimin wax, alcohol use/mention, mention of matching tattoos, matching swimsuits, jealousy, mention of medication that causes sun sensitivity (?), marking (hickeys, biting), hair pulling, mention of choking/breath play, fingering (f. receiving), oral sex (f. giving and receiving), spanking, mention of masturbation, unprotected sex, creampie

ღ date: January 27, 2023

“Please take him,” Jimin pleads as he gets down on his knees, hands clasped together. “He’s my brother.”

“Stepbrother,” Yoongi chimes in with a roll of his eyes.

Jimin scoffs, looking at Yoongi over his shoulder. “Just say you hate me and go.”

Yoongi clicks his tongue. “I don’t hate you. I just don’t want to live with you.”

“You see what I have to put up with? Please, take him! I’m begging you as your best friend and soulmate. Take him!”

Yoongi crosses his arms over his chest.

“You’re not making this very appealing, Chim.”

“I told him you wouldn’t go for it,” Yoongi sneers as he pushes off the wall he was leaning against.

“You know, when you invited me over for dinner, I didn’t think it would include you kissing my feet and begging me to take your brother,” you say as you walk to the couch, and Jimin shuffles forward on his knees.

“You want me to kiss your feet?” Jimin looks at your bare feet and grimaces. “That’s not my thing, but if it’ll take him off my hands.”

Jimin shrugs, and you gape at him, putting your feet on the couch and out of his reach. “Don’t you dare!”

“I’m trying to bargain!” Jimin exclaims while Yoongi rolls his eyes and sits on the black leather recliner.

“You’re shit at it.”

“Do you want a place to live or not?” Jimin asks with a glare that could send anyone to an early grave. Anyone except Min Yoongi.

“I’m comfortable here. I’ve got my own room,” Yoongi grins mischievously as he places his arms behind his head and leans back.

“It’s my room and my apartment,” Jimin growls at his brother before turning to you with a soft gaze and a pout.

“Take him, please. I’m literally on my knees for you. He’s ruining my Fuckdome,” Jimin sighs as he plops down beside you.

“Fuckdome?” You raise a brow in question.

“Apparently, Bachelor Pad is too lame,” Yoongi answers with a scoff. “As if he ever got laid in the first place.”

“Hey! I get laid!”

“When was the last time?” Yoongi chuckles.

“Before you moved in!” Jimin shouts, tugging at his hair. “Please, I’ll do anything. Just get him out of here.”

“Wow! I’m definitely not feeling unwanted by my little brother,” Yoongi frowns.

“So now I’m your brother?” Jimin raises a brow at Yoongi.

“All right! All right! Fuck, I’ll take him,” you declare, tired of the two squabbling. You’re sure they could go for hours on end.

“You will?” Yoongi’s brows rise in surprise, disappearing into his blonde hair.

“Shut up before she takes it back,” Jimin hisses at Yoongi, then dons an angelic smile when he turns to you. “No take-backs! He’s yours!”

“Okay, but there’s gonna be rules!” You inform them.

“He’ll comply!”

“I don’t even know what they are yet,” Yoongi tried to protest, but Jimin glared at him.

“I want my room back. I love you, but I love my space, too.”

Yoongi sighs.

“It’s nothing bad,” you assure Yoongi. “Typical stuff. Replace food if you finish it. Let me know before you bring people over, no loud music after 10 pm. Stuff like that,” you shrug.

“Are you gonna make a list?” Yoongi teases, but you nod, and he huffs.

“Fine, but only until I find a place of my own. I don’t want to burden you like I have Jimin,” Yoongi says.

“You’re not a burden. I just wanna get laid,” Jimin laughs as he lays his head on your lap.

“Yeah,” you agree quickly. “You’re not a burden. Jimin just doesn’t think with the head on his shoulders. A recent development. I’m afraid.”

“I’m not that bad.” Jimin rolls onto his back so he can look up at you while your fingers run through his hair.

“You had me wax your junk just last week?” Your brows furrowed, and Yoongi cackled at the revelation. Jimin turns red and hides his face in your stomach, muffling the scream he lets out.

“That was a secret!” You manage to make out.

“Geez, just how close are you?” Yoongi grips his stomach, it aches from laughing too much, and tears roll down his cheeks.

“Too close,” you frown, shuddering at the memory.

“That’s the last time I ask you to do anything for me!” Jimin huffs with a pout on his pretty lips.

“Thank you!” You sing, ruffling his hair before he sits up and crosses his arms as he sits as far away from you on the couch. He gives you a look, and you can’t help but think he looks like a petulant child.

“Sooooo,” Yoongi grins. “When can I move in?”

Months have passed since that night, and Yoongi’s grown on you. At first, it was awkward having him around. You could no longer walk around naked or half-dressed, and your drunken nights out led to Yoongi half-carrying you to bed while you mumbled about his resemblance to cats. Which then led to sober you adopting a cat, a cute little black cat named Spider.

Sure, Yoongi was hesitant at first. After all, what did he know about being a pet parent? But soon, Spider grew on him, and much to your dismay, he was your cat’s favorite human.

Wherever Yoongi went, Spider was attached to him. The moment he’d get home from work and plop down on the couch, Spider was climbing on his lap and rubbing her cute, little face on his chest.

“She’s my cat,” you’d murmur with a frown.

“She loves me more,” Yoongi would say with a grin as he cuddled the little fur ball. Her loud purrs are just a soundtrack to your sadness.

At one point, Yoongi got matching shirts for the three of you. Something Jimin cackled at when you’d shown him the day after. Yoongi was adamant about you three wearing them out on your walks. Sometimes, he’d have Spider on a leash or put her in a stroller. You know, just Pet Parent things.

Overall, the three of you were happy living together. At least once, the initial awkwardness had passed, and you suppose you have Spider to thank for that. You realize you quite like having Yoongi around, not realizing how lonely it actually was to live alone. After all, you’d grown up with three siblings and lived with them until you had to move away for college, but even then, you had a roommate, so you weren’t genuinely alone until after graduation just a few years ago. Sure, you had friends over here and there and a few sleepovers with Jimin, but having someone around all the time was different and not as bad as you assumed it would be.

You loved coming home from a long day at work to see Yoongi’s shoes sitting by the door. His body lay on the couch with your fur baby on his chest as he slept soundly. You loved the little notes he’d leave for you on the fridge, reminding you that dinner was saved for you in your favorite Tupperware container, and sometimes Spider would surprise you wearing a new outfit, sometimes a dress, sometimes a shirt, or sometimes a new collar and bow.

Today, your roommate and cat are nowhere to be found when you walk through the door. You pause by the entrance as you take your coat off, hanging it on one of the hooks beside it. Yoongi’s shoes sit in their usual spot, and you kick yours off to join his, leaving a space in between.

“Yoongi? Spider?” You sing as you try to find either of them. Spider will suffice. The last thing you want is for your cat to be caught up in something they’re not supposed to be in.

“In the bathroom!” Yoongi calls, albeit muffled.

You say nothing else as you go to the bathroom, brows furrowed in confusion, but the door swings open, and Yoongi grins at you. Beside him, a safe distance away, is Spider licking her paw. She stops when the door creaks open further, her intense gaze locked on yours almost as if to say, “I tried to stop him.”

“Yoongi!” you gasp. “What are you doing?”

“Dyeing my hair,” he says in a tone that ruffles your feathers. He grins when he turns back to his reflection, his fingers massaging the dye into his hair.

“It's orange!”

“It is,” Yoongi grins his signature smile, and you can't help but melt. “I thought it was time for a change.”

“Do you need help?” You offer, but Yoongi shrugs, and he steps back. You turn to face the mirror, passing in front of him to scoop Spider into your arms. Yoongi holds his breath as you pass by him again, feeling your ass lightly brush his crotch. He tries not to think anything of it, but fuck. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about having you on his lap, feeling your body, the warmth of your skin against his.

“I'm almost done. Thanks, princess,” he clears his throat as he finishes up, and you take Spider out of the bathroom.

“You better not stain the tub!” You shout as you take Spider to the kitchen. You set her on the floor, grabbing her container of treats. She immediately begins meowing until you’re popping two on the floor for her.

Spider practically inhaled them as you put the container away, offering a few head pats before opening the fridge.

You smile, grateful when you spot your Tupperware in the fridge with your dinner. Work had been long and exhausting. You were eager to have dinner, shower, and lay on the couch with Spider and Yoongi.

By the time Yoongi is out of the shower and has gotten it cleaned up, he spots you asleep on the couch. He warms at the sight, going to grab the small throw blanket to place over you. You snore softly and he giggles, silently taking your picture to send to you later.

Spider hops on his lap when he sits on the opposite side of the couch and he pets her. “Shh, don’t wake her up.”

Spider doesn’t listen. Instead, she hops off Yoongi and starts walking on you until you’re groaning and sitting up after feeling her paws digging into your thigh. Your eyes are still closed, but you’re scooping up Spider gently.

“Naughty girl,” you sigh as you kiss her little head and set her on the couch. Spider circles a few times and finally gets comfortable enough to fall asleep.

“She’s a brat,” Yoongi cackles once you’re fully awake.

“She gets it from you,” you tease.

Yoongi scoffs. “She gets it from her mother.”

“She gets it from her father.” You roll your eyes at him before raising your phone to check the time. Yoongi sends you the picture he took of you sleeping, edited to show a huge mustache on your face.

“Yoongi!!”

“What?” He asks, his cat eyes twinkling mischievously.

“You can’t take pictures of me sleeping!”

“Says who?”

“Me?!”

“You look cute!” Yoongi shrugs. You flounder, feeling heat rise to your face.

“That’s not the point! And you gave me a mustache!” You lunge at him, earning a cry from Spider as she jumps out of the way. You throw an apology at her before landing on Yoongi. He grunts, not expecting your attack, and he holds his phone over his head.

“Gimme!”

“Nope!” He grins, looking down at you as you try (and fail) to take the phone from him. You glare, freezing when you realize his hair is orange. Sure, it was one thing to see it while it was still a wet mess on his head, but now that it was dry and styled, it left you breathless.

“Earth to Rageful?” Yoongi waves his hand in front of your face. You blink and shake your head.

“Delete it!”

“I can’t. It’s already my Lock Screen,” Yoongi smirks as you try again to take his phone before climbing onto his lap and straddling him. He’s shocked to the core but is a master at schooling his features. You don’t notice the blankness on his face as he tries to focus on anything but your wiggling hips on his lap. He curses himself, praying he doesn’t get riled up from this. It had been a while for him and something as simple as them could have him popping a boner. Damn.

“Got it!” You cheer as you snatch the phone from his hand. Yoongi laughs, his hand on your back to hold you as you go through his phone and delete the picture. “Here, I’ll make Spider your Lock Screen. It’ll be cuter that way.”

“Oh? You don’t think you’re cuter than Spider?” Yoongi raises a brow.

“Are you kidding? She’s a precious angel. Look at her!” You both turn to see your cat, who’s on the floor rolling on her back, playing with a toy. You both melt at the sight, cooing at her before you turn back to Yoongi. “Precious.”

“Hmm, true, but you’re cute too,” he says honestly and you laugh, smacking his chest.

“Sure, Min. I’ll believe it,” you shake your head before climbing off his lap, tossing his phone at him.

“I mean it,” he says seriously and you swallow thickly.

“I guess you’re kinda cute, too.”

Yoongi smiles cockily. “Only kinda?”

You feel like your face is on fire. Your eyes widen and you bite your lip. Your tongue feels like lead and you hope you can control yourself and not call him the Adonis you think he is.

“Yeah, only kinda. Don’t need you getting a big head. Although…” you giggle.

Yoongi rolls his eyes. “You’re so annoying! Come here!”

You yelp and laugh as he gets off the couch, chasing you around the apartment as your laughter fills your home.

Spider keeps out of the way but joins in a moment later until you’re all running around, laughing, and having a good time.

“You have to come to Jungkook’s pool party with me! I can’t go alone! I’ll look like a loser!” Jimin pouts.

“Jimin, nobody will think you’re a loser for going alone. Besides, aren’t you friends with his friends?” You say as you sit on the couch with your feet in Yoongi’s lap. He’s got one hand caressing your ankle, fingertips brushing your tiny tattoo of an S for Spider that you had urged him to get with you shortly after adopting her.

Yoongi scoffs. “Since when has anyone called you a loser, little bro? If I remember correctly, everyone loved you in school.”

“That’s different! Of course, everyone loved me back then. I was phenomenal!” Jimin spits back and you sigh.

“Boys! Please, not again!” You groan as your head falls back onto the couch. Yoongi murmurs an apology as he continues to scroll on his phone but doesn’t cease caressing your ankle.

“So, will the both of you come?”

“Uh, will it be okay with Jungkook if you invite us?” You ask.

“Of course! I already asked. He said yes!” Jimin says and you sigh in defeat.

“Fine, we’ll be there.”

“You didn’t even ask me?” Yoongi looks at you and you pout. He sighs.

“Yeah,” he mutters. “We’ll be there.”

“Thanks! You’ll have a great time! I have to go!” Jimin hangs up and Yoongi groans.

“Between you and him, I can never get a word in.” Yoongi clicks his tongue.

“It’s the same when you fight. Now, do you wanna wear matching swimsuits or what?”

“Or what,” he snarks.

“I can’t believe you made us wear matching swimsuits,” Yoongi mutters under his breath as you walk into Jungkook’s backyard. You ignore him, knowing he’d adored the matching black-and-white checkered board shorts you both wore. You even had the matching top that was more like a sports bra than a bikini top, while Yoongi had decided to wear a long-sleeved black shirt.

Decidedly you step forward as you search the gathering of friends. Immediately, you spot Jimin at the same time he sees you. He waves with a huge grin on his face.

It’s nearing 3 pm, and the sun is still sweltering. Yoongi groans, his pretty eyes hidden behind a pair of huge black sunglasses as he scopes out an empty sun lounger under the canopy. That’s where he’ll remain until it’s time to go.

“You made it!” Jimin hugs you, mindful of his drink as he wraps an arm around you.

“You act like you haven’t seen each other in months,” Yoongi grumbles and you elbow him.

“It feels like it! We haven’t had a sleepover in a while.”

“Hmm, since about the time Yoongi moved in,” Jimin recalls.

“Don’t let me keep you from your activities,” Yoongi snarls, feeling a tidbit unwanted but making his expression neutral.

“Oh, we don’t!” Jimin wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. “But you won’t join us in our makeovers or skincare, and that’s no fun.”

“I have sensitive skin,” Yoongi protests.

“Then I’ll plan something soon,” Jimin brightens as he hugs Yoongi tightly. Huffing, Yoongi reluctantly agrees, hugging Jimin back.

“Now, let’s get you acquainted with some of Jungkook’s friends. The rest are friends of friends or whatever. But the important ones are over here. Yoongi, I got you a sun lounger and an umbrella. I also got Kook to get you one of those little fans that spray water.” Jimin informs his brother as he leads the two of you past a few guests.

“See, this won’t be so bad,” you say as you tuck your arm into Yoongi’s.

“Yeah, yeah,” he clicks his tongue, but doesn’t make a move to pull away.

For the most part, Yoongi is having a good time just watching the guests. He has a few conversations here and there, but eventually; they fizzle out. He doesn’t care, though. He has you for most of the afternoon, and that’s all that really matters.

There’s plenty of food and drinks to go around. Conversations and laughter fill the air and Jimin’s laughter rings above all. He’s been attached to Jungkook all afternoon, blushing and giggling at his every word.

You’ve gone to the pool and mingled with Namjoon and Hoseok, two of Jimin’s friends that you’ve known for years. They’re pretty cool and they keep you busy while Yoongi hangs back in his chair. He’s not made a move to step out of the shade, completely content with his little spraying fan.

“How’s living with Yoongi?” Namjoon’s the first to ask, but you know Hoseok is dying to know. Hell, even Taehyung, a friend of Yoongi’s you’ve recently gotten to hang out with, comes up to your group at the mention of his friend’s name.

“It’s chill,” you try to remain coy, but Hoseok scoffs.

“That’s it?”

“What else is there to know? He pays rent and half the bills. We share custody of Spider,” you shrug.

Namjoon and Hoseok share a look before Taehyung nods. He looks over at Yoongi and chuckles.

“Looks like you’re needed elsewhere,” he says as he splashes you in the face and swims away. Namjoon and Hoseok cackle as they swim after him and you’re left alone.

You turn to look at Yoongi but he’s engrossed in a conversation, his phone in a woman’s lap. You frown, ignoring the jealousy that bubbles up in your belly. He’s just your roommate. Just your friend. No need to get jealous, you remind yourself.

It doesn’t make the sickly feeling in your stomach go away. Try as you might, you knew your little crush on your roommate ran deeper than that, but you refused to acknowledge your feelings in public. Instead, you sigh as you dunk underwater; the coolness shocking you out of your bad mood.

Later, you get out of the pool, tired of the splashing and the slight burn in your eyes. Your fingers and toes are wrinkled and you are in need of a break.

You head straight for Yoongi as you towel off, exchanging pleasantries as you go. Yoongi looks up at you when you arrive, and you grin, glad he’s alone again.

“Sup?” He asks casually.

You smile as you bend down to grab your sunblock from your bag. You pat Yoongi’s thigh and he moves his leg as he looks at you, puzzled.

You sit between his legs, your ass nearly pressed to his crotch as you bend forward and move your hair to the side. You drop your sunblock on his lap and he grabs it.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” He asks with a raised brow but your back is to him, so you don’t see him frown.

“Sunblock needs to be reapplied. It’s not one and done, Yoong,” you state as you fan yourself with your hand. Despite the sun setting, it was still quite hot and humid out.

“I don’t see why you couldn’t ask Jimin to do this?” Yoongi groans as he opens the bottle, squeezing it to get a quarter-sized dollop on his palm. He didn’t care for the oily feeling of it.

You roll your eyes.

“I did.” You huff. “He almost pushed me into the pool because Jungkook was flirting with him.”

Yoongi remains silent as he looks across the backyard at his brother flirting with Jungkook. His hands wrapped around Jungkook’s tattooed arm. The smile on Jimin’s lips rivals the sun. Yoongi clicks his tongue.

“You see, if you had stayed out of the sun as I did, you wouldn’t need it.”

“But that’s no fun!” you exclaim as Yoongi rubs the lotion onto your back. “Besides, you need to be wearing sunblock regardless if you’re under the umbrella or not.”

“Trust me, I know. Remember, I’m on medication and it makes me extra sensitive to the sun. So, unfortunately, I’m stuck here until it sets.”

“Like a vampire,” you giggle.

“Exactly,” he grins as his hands move down your body to your hips. He hums to himself as he finishes rubbing the sunblock on your skin. You nearly fall asleep with the gentleness of his touch.

Hours later, as the party wraps up, Jimin finally makes his way over to his brother, sitting on the chair beside him.

“Hey,” he smiles brightly.

Yoongi grunts in acknowledgment.

“Meet anyone new?” Jimin asks as he lies back, his arms crossed behind his head. He already knows the answer. Despite being insanely occupied with Jungkook, he had kept an eye on Yoongi to make sure the elder was enjoying the party. However, he had seen a few guests make their way to Yoongi, though he has no idea what any of those conversations entailed. He never spotted the same person twice.

“Not really? Was I supposed to?” Yoongi is genuinely confused, raising a brow at his brother. Did he miss something? Someone? Did Jimin send over the few people that had chatted him up for a bit?

“Nobody hit on you?” Jimin asks, sitting up in disbelief. It was rare that an outing left Yoongi without any numbers or compliments, at the very least.

“Were they supposed to?” Yoongi is growing annoyed at his brother and the circling of this discussion. It’s not like Yoongi was looking for a partner, not when he had Spider and you already.

“I don’t know why none of the people here hit on you,” Jimin says with furrowed brows.

Yoongi shrugs. “I don’t know either.”

“Well, what do you talk about when they come up to you?”

“I don’t know.” Yoongi licks his lips, clicking his tongue after. “I just showed them pictures of Spider.”

“Lemme see,” Jimin urges, scooting closer to Yoongi.

Yoongi hands his phone over and Jimin rolls his eyes when he sees the lock screen. It’s a picture Jimin took of you and Yoongi with your arms wrapped around him while Spider sits in his lap. The both of you are looking at each other with hearts in your eyes. Nothing screamed “They’re IN LOVE!” like this photo.

Jimin shakes his head, handing the phone back to his brother. “Yeah, I have no clue what it is‌.”

Yoongi decides to ignore the sarcasm in his brother’s voice. “What? Am I missing something?”

“You’re clueless and so is she!” Jimin huffs. “You’re obviously into her!”

“Shhh!” Yoongi hisses, covering Jimin’s mouth and regretting it the moment his younger brother licks his palm.

“EW! Jimin, what the fuck?!” Yoongi screeches as he wipes his palm on his board shorts. “You’re disgusting!”

Jimin shrugs. “Sorry, didn’t mean to ruin your matching board shorts! Oh, because you’re matching with my best friend, who you are in love with!!”

“Jimin!” Yoongi growls, his eyes hard and Jimin gulps.

Fuck.

“Am I wrong tho?” Jimin whispers as he looks around the immediate area, but most of the guests have gone home and you left a while ago to shower and change inside Kook’s house. There was no way anyone could hear this conversation.

“Jimin,” Yoongi cards his hand through his hair. Jimin waits patiently for his brother to continue, though he hopes he hurries, aching to find Kook and spend the rest of the night with him.

“Fine, okay! Fuck,” Yoongi sighs. “I like her, okay? I’ve liked her since I moved in and she put on a playlist while cooking and had a bunch of my favorite artists on there. Or maybe since before I moved in and she’d come over to your place and squish me until I handed over the remote. I honestly don’t know, man. But now I live with her and I can’t lose her or Spider if shit hits the rocks.”

“Damn, bro. I thought you’d say she was hot or something. I didn’t know this was something sweet,” Jimin pouts. “My best friend and my brother!”

“Shut up! Nothing’s coming out of this because I’m not saying anything to her.” Yoongi states firmly. “And neither are you—for that matter.”

“But-”

“No, Jimin. You take this to the grave. Don’t be sticking your spoon where it doesn’t belong,” Yoongi is adamant about this, and Jimin nods.

Jimin opens his mouth to speak but is interrupted by you shouting Yoongi’s name.

“Yoon! Let’s go home! I miss Spider!”

“Coming!” Yoongi calls back, waving at you as you shut the sliding glass door and join Jungkook in the kitchen once again.

Yoongi looks at his brother. “Not a word. Let me figure this out on my own.”

“She’s my best friend,” Jimin protests.

“And I live with her. Jimin, I’m not gonna fuck this up. Just let me get over her, okay?”

“And if she likes you back?” Jimin asks.

“Be realistic,” Yoongi scoffs as he gathers his belongings and heads into the house. Jimin watches his brother go, sighing as he goes over their conversation. He didn’t mean to cause such turmoil for Yoongi. He was just trying to help.

A few weeks later, Jimin shows up at your door with an overnight bag and a cooler filled with all his skin care products.

“I thought the point of me moving out of your place was to avoid sleeping under the same roof,” Yoongi groans when he steps aside to let his brother into his apartment.

“Rude!” Jimin huffs as he kicks his shoes off and slips on his light blue slippers. “Besides, I was invited.”

“Yoongi! Be nice to Jimin!” You call from the kitchen, opening the oven door to pull out the two trays of brownies you had prepared.

“I’m always nice!” Yoongi shouts in response as Jimin ignores him and sets his stuff down.

“It’s time for our sleepover, so either get with the program or go to your room,” Jimin shrugs as he makes himself at home, cooing at Spider when she jumps on his lap.

“Traitor!” Yoongi huffs as he stomps off to his bedroom but reappears minutes later in his pajamas.

“That’s what I thought,” Jimin smirks.

“It was time for bed,” Yoongi lies, and Jimin nods.

“Uh-huh, sure. Anyway, I brought snacks.” Jimin digs in his bag and takes out a pile of chips, candy, drinks, and menus from his favorite spots in town.

“Is this what you do at all your sleepovers?” Yoongi asks as he sits on the couch with a bag of chips. You’re nearly on Jimin’s lap, gently rubbing a hydrating cream onto his cheekbones.

“Yes? We also talk about boys,” Jimin giggles.

“Oh? How are things with Jungkook?” you ask as you gently pat another cream between his brows. Jimin perks up immediately, sitting up. “Amazing! Oh, so amazing!”

You listen intently to your best friend as he informs you about his budding relationship with his crush. It makes it hard to continue your beauty treatment on him, so you move on to your reluctant roommate.

“Don’t get any in my hair, princess,” he huffs as you move over to him. He’s sitting on the floor with his legs out in front of him as Jimin connects his phone to the TV and presents a slideshow of his photos of Jungkook and him out on dates.

You nod along as you gently pat your fingers on Yoongi’s skin. He’s got glorious, flawless skin already. You don’t want to do too much to it. The closer you move to him, the more rigid he grows. His palms grow sweaty and the loud thumping of his heart drowns out the rapid thumping of yours.

Being so close to Yoongi makes you realize how pretty he really is. His orange hair has faded immensely, and he’s made comments about dyeing it black once again. He’s also let it grow out more and now it reaches the collar of his shirt. It’s so fluffy and soft that you can’t help but want to run your fingers through it.

“And here we are at an 80s night at the club,” Jimin prattles on as he stares at the TV, oblivious to you and Yoongi being in your own world.

Yoongi swallows thickly as he looks you in the eye, holding your gaze as you move even closer, nearly on his lap. “Pretty.”

You’re left speechless, wondering if you’d heard him correctly. You’re about to ask when Spider jumps in between you.

You scream, startled, and jump back. Yoongi curses as he moves Spider to the side and asks if you’re okay. Jimin looks over his shoulder, asking if you’re paying attention before he continues on to the next photo.

“Sorry,” you say as you get on your feet. “Just let that sit for a few minutes and rinse it off,” You mutter as you take a seat on the couch on the opposite end of him. Yoongi nods, petting Spider as his thoughts swirl around his head.

Jimin was the first to fall asleep that night. In your bed. Splayed out. Leaving no room for you.

You’d tried your best to morph around him, but he slept like a starfish. You sigh, grabbing your blanket and pillow before getting out of bed.

You quietly tiptoe to Yoongi’s room, knocking.

“Yeah?” comes his reply.

“Can I come in?” you ask. You know better than to step into his room without knocking. The first time had been by accident, chasing Spider through the apartment to get your sock back, and Yoongi stood there wrapped in nothing but a towel around his waist and a glower that made your panties stick to you. Fuck.

“Why?”

“Yoongi!” you whine, huffing when you hear his laugh through the door. Moments later, the door opens and your sleepy roommate stands at the door, his hand on the doorknob. You look past him and see Spider curled up on his bed, one eye open to check who is disturbing her beauty sleep.

“Can I sleep here?” you pout.

“Don’t you have a bed?” Yoongi raises a brow at your odd request.

“Your brother’s on it.”

“It’s a sleepover. Remember, princess? You invited him over and now he’s asleep. That's usually how this goes,” Yoongi smirks. You poke his side, not caring for his condescending tone, but you know it’s how he gets when he’s tired; always teasing and never malicious.

“Yoongi,” you huff, yawning right after.

Yoongi chuckles. “Come in. You better go right to sleep.”

“I will. I will,” you promised as you push past your roommate and get on his bed. It’s firm but comfortable and Spider doesn’t move an inch from her spot as you get comfortable beside her. Yoongi shuts the door almost all the way, leaving just enough room for Spider to open it if she needs to leave later on.

“And you better not keep me up with your snoring,” Yoongi smiles when you scoff, offended.

“I don’t snore!”

“Sure, sure.” Yoongi grins as he gets into his side of the bed, pulling his blanket over his frame as Spider stands and circles around for a moment before dropping exactly where she had been previously. Cats.

“Goodnight, Yoongi.”

“Goodnight, princess.”

Hot. So hot.

Groaning, you stir in your sleep. You don’t want to fully wake, but you’re too hot to think of anything else. There’s weight over your waist and you move your hand to move it, grumbling when it doesn’t budge.

“Mm, quit,” comes a response, and your eyes widen.

That was not Jimin!

Slowly, you wiggle your way out of the hold. You nearly scream when you see Yoongi sleeping beside you, a frown on his lips now that you’ve moved away.

“What the fuck?” you mutter to yourself. You soon remember coming to his room last night when Jimin had taken over your bed.

“I need to go,” you whisper as you wiggle your way out of Yoongi’s bed. You force yourself not to think about how perfect he felt pressed against you, his chest on your back and his arm draped protectively over your waist. Nope. Not gonna think about it!

“Good morning!” Jimin calls when he sees you in the hall. His smile is suggestive and you’re quick to drag him to the kitchen, out of earshot from Yoongi’s bedroom if he were to wake up.

“You look like you slept well,” Jimin wiggles his brows and you scowl.

“You took up my bed,” you hissed.

“And this is news to you? I always take up the bed. You should be thanking me! How else would you have ended up in bed with Yoongi? You’re welcome!” Jimin exclaims giddily and you shush him.

“You need to come with a sound warning. How are you so chipper so early in the morning?” you ask as you go get your favorite mug so you can start making coffee for everyone.

“Scheming gives me a pep in my step,” Jimin shrugs. “Anyway, tell me what happened! Did you make a move? Did he make a move? Are you dating? Did you fuck?”

“Jimin!”

“What? I give you details all the time!”

“Yeah, unprompted,” you stick your tongue out, but you do love living vicariously through Jimin and he knows that. He’d never cross any boundary you set.

“Spill!” Jimin pouts, but thanks you when you hand him his coffee with his favorite creamer. He takes a sip, moaning and thanking you again for getting it just right.

“Nothing happened, Chim. I asked if I could sleep in his bed and he said yes. Spider slept between us most of the night. I kept rolling over and getting fur in my face.”

“Damn, what a cockblock,” Jimin looks at Spider, who stretches and yawns from her perch in the cat tree by the front door.

“I wasn’t gonna fuck him!” you screech before covering your mouth and hoping Yoongi wasn’t awake just yet.

“But you want to?” Jimin prods.

“I do, Jimin. He’s hot, sure. But he’s also so sweet and funny. He leaves little notes when he packs my lunch and I always look forward to coming home because I know he’s here with our baby,” you gush.

“And you don’t like him?” Jimin covers his mouth as he laughs.

“I do like him. I’m fucked, aren’t I?” you grumble as you sip your coffee.

“Not as fucked as you think,” Jimin mutters.

Work was a nightmare, and you were thankful to be home.

“I’m home!” you call out as you shut the door and kick your shoes off.

“In the bathroom!” Yoongi calls out.

You furrow your brows before walking to the bathroom. The door is wide open and Yoongi’s standing in front of the mirror with his hands in his hair covered in black hair dye.

“Again?” you ask as you lean against the doorway.

“I wanted to match Spider,” he shrugs and you note how long and shaggy his hair has gotten. You wonder if he’d let you run your fingers through it once he’s done.

“Well, aren’t you cute?” you hum before leaving him on his own. Yoongi blushes when you walk away, his heart skipping a beat.

“Spider!” you grin when you spot your cat napping on the couch. You scoop her up and she mewls, blinking her sleepy eyes at you as you smooch her. “Your daddy’s making a mess in the bathroom again.”

“I am not!” Yoongi calls out.

You cackled, carrying your precious kitty to the kitchen for a treat.

“He’s only dyeing his hair so you’ll like him better,” you tease and hear Yoongi huff a laugh.

“You’ve distracted me, princess!”

“Good!” you shout in response as you open the fridge to grab the leftovers. You open the lid and place the Tupperware into the microwave.

While you wait for your food to heat, Yoongi joins you in the kitchen, hair dye sitting in his hair as he waits for it to process.

“How was work?” Yoongi asks as the microwave beeps and you hit the button to open the door. Carefully, you grab the container and set it on the counter before shutting the door.

“It was long. You know I hate making small talk with people, especially after the weekend,” you grumble.

Yoongi smirks. “But it’s Friday, princess.”

You roll your eyes playfully. “But that means I’ll have to hear all about Jessica’s perfect weekend on Monday morning. I don’t think she even notices that I tune her out. It’s usually the same thing with her every week.”

“Well,” Yoongi shrugs. “We can do something this weekend, and you’ll have something to share on Monday.”

“Like what?” you question as you grab a fork from the cutlery drawer and stab your food with it. You moan lewdly as you chew it.

“That good, huh?” Yoongi chuckles.

You flip him off. “What did you have in mind? Should I get a sitter?”

“I don’t think we’ll need a sitter, princess. I was thinking we could get dinner at that one place you love and then hit up the bar near it. Tomorrow there’s a festival we can go to as well,” Yoongi suggests, biting his lip nervously. He was asking you out, and he didn’t know if he was being direct enough or if you thought he just wanted to hang out.

“Twice in one week?” you raise a brow.

Yoongi shrugs, trying to seem nonchalant, but you can see the tips of his ears turning pink. You decide to further his bashfulness a bit more by asking, “like a date?”

“I-uh,” Yoongi gulps, caught red-handed.

“Ooh, Yoongi wants to date me!” You sing as you pop another bite of food into your mouth and wiggle in your happy dance.

Spider hops on the counter and you sigh, forgetting all about Yoongi to get your little kitty back on the floor.

“So dinner?” Yoongi asks.

“Dinner sounds good!” You agree.

Dinner had been fantastic!

You had left the apartment together with Yoongi and when he stepped out of his bedroom; he was breathtaking! His long hair was fluffy and so soft-looking, you almost begged him to let you run your fingers through it. He smiled brightly, your heart flipping in your chest as you tried to calm your pulsating pussy. He was donned in his leather jacket and some of the tightest slacks you had ever seen him wear. Instead of his usual Vans shoes, he had donned his Chelsea boots, and you wanted him to step on you. The mere sight of him was orgasm-worthy, and he knew it too.

All throughout dinner, you had been complimented by him. He held the door for you when you arrived at the restaurant and he pulled the chair for you to sit. You had been half-joking about this evening being a date, but everything about your roommate’s demeanor screamed “THIS IS A DATE!” and now you were too afraid to ask for confirmation.

Can you imagine the awkwardness you’d feel in the car if he said no? You’d have nowhere to run and have to stew in it all the way home. Nope, you were just gonna write this off as a bonding experience between you two since Jimin is out with Jungkook once again. But you really hope this is a date!

By candlelight, Yoongi notes the delicate details of your makeup. He can’t help but admire the shine of your lips as you speak, smiling softly when you catch him staring. He smiles back, biting his lip.

“You look beautiful,” he states honestly, sure you’ve grown tired of hearing it tonight, but it’s genuine every time he says so.

Like the past few times, you thank him. A giggle escapes you as you raise your wine glass, bringing it to your lips as you take a sip, ignoring the heat that spreads over your chest.

When the check came, Yoongi immediately swiped the little black book off the table.

“Yoongi,” you whine, a pout on your pretty lips.

“Not a chance, princess. I invited you out, so I’m paying,” Yoongi stuck his card into it, signed the receipt, and handed it back to the waiter. You thank him, finishing your glass of wine before the waiter brings his card back.

Yoongi rises from his seat, going to yours to pull the chair out and help you rise. You grab your purse, stepping in front of Yoongi with your heeled shoes.

Quickly, you press a featherlight kiss to his cheek as thanks, stunning him in place. A smug smile is on your lips when he finally rejoins your side, stunning you when his hand takes yours, fingers laced.

“Come on, princess. We’ve got a bar to get to,” he says simply as he leads you to the car.

After a short drive later, Yoongi opens your door for you once you arrive. He takes your hand easily, leading you inside the bar once your IDs are checked at the door.

What Yoongi didn’t know was that after a certain hour, the bar turned into a club. He keeps you close as he leads you to the bartender, scoring a seat for you.

Almost immediately, a bartender takes your order, all flirty smiles and giggles aimed at your date for the night. You can’t blame them. Yoongi looks good enough to eat. In fact, you had spent most of the night checking him out, well aware of what lies beneath his button-up shirt. The thought warms your skin as you bite your lip and look away.

“Thank you,” Yoongi’s voice is low when you snap out of your thoughts, a cold drink set in front of you.

Slightly surprised, you see it’s your go-to drink, one of your favorites when you’re unsure of what to order. Smiling into the glass, you have a sip as Yoongi does the same to his glass of whiskey. He hadn’t had more than two sips of wine at dinner, and since he’d be driving, he would only have a few sips here as well.

On the other hand, you would finish this drink and one more before switching to water. You were already feeling more relaxed and less nervous as the hours passed. You still weren’t sure if this was a date, but you really hoped so, as Yoongi spilled stories of Jimin you had never heard before.

Your laugh is contagious as you lean into him, your hand on his shoulder as you catch yourself to keep from falling. Yoongi smiles at you, butterflies fluttering in his tummy as he feels warmth spread across his cheeks. He wonders why you haven’t done this before, and sure, he should have just asked you out, but he was still apprehensive but seeing the way you’re looking him in the eye, bashful smile on your lips, and literally hanging off him, he notes he probably had no reason to worry.

With your drink in your hand, you scope out the dance floor; you note more than a handful of men and women looking over in your direction, particularly at Yoongi, who seems oblivious as he bops his head to the beat. You hide your smile behind your glass, ignoring the flutter of your heart as you take in his side profile, mesmerized by his eyes and the perfect curve of his lips. How lucky you were to be at his side; though if you ask Yoongi, he’d say the same about you.

After a moment, you look back at the dance floor, gently rocking side to side with the beat. Yoongi smiles to himself, nerves eating him up inside, but you just look so darn cute!

“Dance with me,” Yoongi states when you finish your second drink. You hesitate for a split second before throwing caution to the wind and taking his ringed hand. Giggling, you follow him to the crowded dance floor, your arms on his shoulders when you stop in front of him.

You allow Yoongi to lead, his large hands on your waist as you sway your hips to the beat. When he leans in closer, his hair falls over his eyes and you can’t resist the urge to push the strands, running your hands through it and bringing him closer.

“Thank you for tonight,” you say as you lean in closer.

Yoongi nods, “no problem.”

Yoongi’s eyes lock on yours, lips a mere centimeter from yours as the people around you fade along with the background. Nerves be damned, you think as you dance against him, earning a groan from him when you give him your back.

Wetting his lips, Yoongi watches your body as you move effortlessly against him. His hands remain at your hips, maybe even higher to be respectful, but when you guide them to your thighs, he knows you want him to be anything but.

Heated, Yoongi follows your lead instead. His hands map out your body over the thin material of your dress. He knows he could easily tear it off your body with his teeth if you’d let him. Fuck, this isn’t what he wanted tonight to be about, but with another roll of your hips, his body takes over instead of his mind.

Lost in you, Yoongi enjoys the softness of your body in his hands. So much so that he spins you around to face him. Nothing exists but the two of you, everything turning into background noise as you look into his eyes and lean into him, silently begging him to kiss you. Yoongi doesn’t hesitate, his gaze shifting to your lips for a second before his lips are perfectly molded to yours.

Sparks. Immediate sparks appear behind your eyelids as your lips move in sync with his, your heart hammering against your ribs.

Kissing Yoongi is soft and slow, like a setting sunset, magical. Time seems to stop as the kiss grows deeper, his hands cupping your face as yours goes around his neck, your body pressed to his. Yoongi is the first to break the kiss, worried eyes reading yours in case he’s overstepped, but all he finds is your coquette smile as you pull him in for another kiss that he easily melts into.

From slow and sweet to deep and sensual, the kiss curls your toes as his hands grip your hips while your hands grip his shirt, not ready or willing to let him go.

Smiling into the kiss, you take a second to look him in the eye. Your heart is pounding in your chest, wondering what all this means, but the club is too loud for a proper conversation.

“Should we go?” Yoongi asks, as if reading your mind. You nod, immediately lacing your hand with his as he leads you toward the front door, checking to make sure you’re still behind him before pushing through a crowd to get you in front where he can keep his eyes on you.

His eyesight may stray a little below your waist, but he can’t help it when you sway your hips as you head for the front door.

The cool night air hits you like a welcome home hug, fresh and much-needed on your heated skin as you inhale deeply.

The moonlight shines brightly, not a cloud in the sky to dim its glow as Yoongi takes your hand to lead you to the car.

When you arrive, you stop in front of the passenger side door, wondering what it all means and what’s about to happen once you get home.

Yoongi cups your cheek, his thumb gentle on your skin as he strokes it. “This doesn’t have to go any further.” He swallows thickly, gathering up the courage as your eyes shine brightly with hope. It gives him the courage to continue. “I like you. A lot.”

“Yoongi,” you whisper.

Yoongi remains silent as he waits for you to continue. The quick beating of his heart rivals the wings of a hummingbird, but he won’t interrupt when you’re smiling and giggling softly.

“I like you too,” you admit with a coy smile. Heat flushes your cheeks and Yoongi feels it beneath his palm, a grin appearing on his lips as he sighs in relief.

“I won’t lie,” he chuckles. “I was a little worried.”

You take a step back, smiling as your hand cups his cheek, drawing him to your lips. Butterflies swirl around as they flutter their wings in your belly, adrenaline coursing through you. Never did you imagine tonight would turn out this way. Sure, you hoped and daydreamed and even wore your lucky panties but standing here with Yoongi’s lips on yours, sparks going off behind your eyelids-it was better than anything you could have imagined.

“Let’s go home,” Yoongi whispers, finding it hard to pull away from you as you exchange tiny kisses until an icy gust of wind sends shivers down your spine and carries Yoongi’s laugh with it.

The drive home seems to go on for eons.

Yoongi’s hand rests on your thigh, fingertips tracing patterns on your skin. Your thighs press together as you study his side profile mercilessly, desperate to lean over the console, grip him by the collar of his shirt, and lay one on him.

“Soon, princess,” Yoongi smirks when he stops at a red light. He turns to you for the first time since you got in the car and his beautiful smile disarms you as you wriggle in your seat. Embarrassingly, you’re already wet, and just from a few kisses and bashful smiles from the man beside you. His hand on your thigh didn’t help.

“I know,” you utter, biting your lip as he cards his hand through his fluffy black hair, ruffled by the wind just moments before. Fuck, you want to run your fingers through it. Want to tug on it until he’s groaning against your neck, begging you to pull harder.

Swallowing thickly, you finally look away. The press of your thighs doesn’t go unnoticed, but a honk from the car behind you draws Yoongi’s attention back to the road.

“Soon,” he repeats as he taps his fingers on the steering wheel, dark eyes focused on the road, and his soft voice singing along to the song on the radio.

His hand never leaves your thigh.

Stumbling into your apartment with hushed laughter, Yoongi shuts the door after him, dropping his keys on the floor as you fight your heels off your feet, not wanting to go even a second without Yoongi on your lips.

“Princes,” he says through laughter, his incredulous smile on his lips. “This isn’t working. You’re gonna fall.”

“You’ll catch me, won’t you?” you tease but place your hand on the wall to support yourself while you undo the clasp of one heel and then the other.

“Always,” Yoongi answers seriously. He kicks his shoes off along with his socks, and once you’re steady on your bare feet, he’s got you back in his arms.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” you admit coyly. Heat blooms in your cheeks and spreads throughout your body in embarrassment. In your mind, you curse yourself out for saying too much too soon, but all Yoongi does is kiss you in response.

“You’re not the only one, baby.”

Screeching internally, you nod. Your arms wrap around his neck to draw him closer and his pretty black hair falls over his eyes as he leans in to kiss you.

Before his lips can capture yours again, in the same toe-curling way as before, a loud meow interrupts and has you two springing apart.

“Spider!” you gasp, a hand clutched to your chest. “You scared me.”

“Meow!” Spider cries again, wrapping around your leg.

“Her bowl’s empty,” Yoongi shakes his head with a laugh. He takes a moment to fill her bowl in the kitchen, and Spider loses all interest in the both of you as she goes to have her dinner.

“That’ll keep her busy for a bit,” Yoongi says as he approaches you, kissing you hungrily with his hand tangled in your hair and your teeth knocking into each other. He steals your breath away, a gasp escaping you when you’re pressed to an icy wall on your way to his bedroom.

Your hands are tugging and pulling at his clothing, his belt undone and his shirt untucked.

Panting, you break away for air. Cheesy smiles on both your faces.

Thinking clearly, you wonder if you're doing the right thing.

As always, Yoongi seems to be on the same page as you. You aren’t surprised in the slightest when he asks, “Are we making a bad decision?”

“I think we’re making the best decision,” you answer honestly once you’ve taken a moment to think it through. Sure, things could go wrong, but how can it when it feels so right?

“Say no more,” Yoongi murmurs against your lips, guiding you to his bedroom, and shutting the door after you. Not even five minutes later, you’ll hear a scratch and an annoyed meow at the door that you’ll both be too preoccupied to acknowledge properly.

“Fuck,” Yoongi groans when you turn around for him to unzip your dress with the fingers you’ve imagined on your skin time and time again. You swear his fingers alone are enough to get you off, but that’s a secret you’ll keep to yourself until next time.

With each inch of skin exposed, his lips press a kiss to your spine until your red dress is pooled at your feet in a puddle of fabric.

Carefully, Yoongi spins you around for you to face him. Your breath gets caught in your throat as you meet his sparkling gaze. Gentle hands grip your hips, leading you backward until your body meets a wall.

An intense desire to kiss Yoongi blooms deep inside you as you keep your eyes locked on him, waiting for his next move. By all means, you’d let him take the lead; down for whatever came of this night.

Impatiently, your hands grip Yoongi’s shirt, a chuckle escaping his lips as your fingers stumble over a button, unable to get it undone in your hurry to undress him.

“Come on, princess. How bad do you want it?” he asks with a raised brow, his pink tongue making an appearance as he places his hands over yours, guiding them in the removal of his shirt.

Easily, your hands push the useless fabric down his shoulders until it bunches at his elbows and he’s tugging it off the rest of the way to pool on the floor. Yoongi turns his head to the side, loving the way you’re eyeing him hungrily, freely. You’ve never been able to get an eyeful, always quick to avert your eyes if he ever appeared without a shirt. But this… This was paradise.

Perfect honeyed skin and broad muscular shoulders with a soft torso that has a light trail of hair that disappears under the waistband of his pants.

Yoongi is nothing but a patient man. However, you’re really testing him as you stand topless in nothing but your panties, admiring him like he’s your next meal. Quickly, he’s kissing you, his hips pressed to yours to keep you against the wall as your hands pull the belt out of the pant loops to toss it on the floor.

Soon, his tongue is slipping past the seam of your lips when a moan escapes you.

Long nights filled with the image of you just like this fill Yoongi’s mind. He drinks you in slowly, savoring the taste of your lips, your tongue. He loves how well you fit in his hands, made perfect for him.

“I need you,” you whisper against his lips, moaning when they trail down to your neck where his teeth scrape along the column of your throat. Your eyes flutter shut, nails scratching his scalp when he bites down and his hand moves to cup a breast.

“You have me,” he smirks in between kisses before he’s making his way down, taking one pert nipple into his mouth. A curse escapes you, nails uselessly scratching against the wall behind you as his teeth tug gently and you swear you get a glimpse of heaven when you look up.

Yoongi needs your heated gaze on him. After all, he’s the one that’s got you losing your mind. His hand parts your thighs, pushing your panties to the side. A sinful smile is on his lips when his fingertips feel how wet and ready you are for him. For him, all for him. His cock throbs at the thought. This was finally happening. Fuck, is he sure he’s not dreaming?

“Please, don’t tease,” you’re breathless already. A sheen of sweat coating your body and trembling thighs parted for your roommate. Licking his lips, Yoongi takes one last taste of your breast before he’s making his way down your body, licking, sucking, and groping every delicious bit of it until he’s kneeling in front of you. The last thing you expect from Min Yoongi is what he does next! With bright, sharp teeth, he tugs your panties down your thighs easily to toss over his shoulder, no longer needed.

Mind spinning, and breath caught in your throat, you meet his gaze as he looks up at you with a sinister grin that sends a tingle down your spine. Fuck, Min Yoongi was the hottest man you’d ever laid eyes on, and here he was on his knees, just waiting to please you, to make you fall apart until you’re nothing but a sopping, crying mess. Lucky you.

“Where’s the fun in just giving it to you all, princess?” Yoongi asks with mirth. He takes one of your legs in his hands, stroking it gently until he’s got just your foot in his hold.

“Baby,” you gasp, eyes focused on him as he plants a kiss on your ankle.

“Lemme take care of you. Fuck knows, I’ve been wanting to.” he licks his lips as he lifts your leg higher, placing it over his right shoulder.

Silently, you watch him with wide eyes and heavy breaths.

Yoongi’s lips are hellfire as he plants smoldering kisses up your leg ever so slowly.

The beat of your heart is nearly deafening as his lips get closer and closer to the apex of your thighs. You’re too turned on and too lost in Yoongi to even feel embarrassed about being so fucking wet, but fuck, Yoongi’s cheeky grin is enough to have you cumming at the first touch.

“Don’t be shy, baby. Let me hear you,” he says when he’s sucking on the skin until his mark is left behind and his fingers are pressed to your folds. He locks eyes with you, one brow raised as he slides them into you seconds before his tongue is licking a stripe over your wet cunt.

You bite your lip, trying not to be too eager but when he repeats his actions and his fingers pump into you, your legs tremble and all your pride flies out the window as his name rolls off your tongue in a heady cry that rattles your bones and makes Yoongi smile with satisfaction.

“That’s it, baby,” he praises as his thumb finds your clit. His hooded gaze is almost enough for you to collapse, slide down the wall, and join the puddle of discarded clothes on the bedroom floor. Who knew Yoongi could look this feral?

A rough tug of his hair wipes the sinister smirk off his face and he’s quick to retaliate with a hard suck to your clit that leaves you arching, crying out in surprise, and releasing his hair. Yoongi grunts, tongue circling your clit while he pumps his fingers into you, seeing how much you can take before he’s splitting you open on his cock.

“Yoongi,” your moan draws his attention and he’s slow to pull his lips away from you, licking them as he sets your foot on the floor before he’s rising. Your desire to kiss him wins over your desire to cum on his tongue. His fingers continue to fuck you open as he presses his forehead to yours, smirking.

“Want a taste?” he asks, lips pressed to yours, but it’s not enough. Easily, his tongue twines with yours, allowing you to get a taste of yourself, wet and sticky as he swallows your moans. “Can you come on my fingers, babe?”

You nod, breathless.

Yoongi chuckles at your eagerness, speeding up and feeling your arousal dripping down to his wrist as you make the sweetest sounds he’s ever heard.

Cursing, you cling to him, nails digging into his bare shoulder as you try to remain upright, sharing sloppy kisses with remnants of you still on his lips and tongue.

“Fuck, right there! Yoongi!” you gasp as you bury your face in his chest as he presses his lower body to your hip. You feel the hardness of his cock, aching to be inside you. Eager hands greet him, pawing at his pants.

“Focus, baby,” Yoongi laughs, his thumb adding pressure to your clit. He bites back a laugh when your eyes roll back, gripping the wall instead as your thighs shake, his name heavy on your tongue as you beg him to let you come.

Yoongi is mesmerized by the look on your face. Blissful pleasure surges through you as you fall apart for him, soaking his hand and making him groan when you’re pulling him into a rough kiss that leaves him wanting more when you’re pulling away, panting and pleading for no more.

“Next time I’m eating you out on the bed,” Yoongi clicks his tongue as his fingers leave your body, only to be taken into his mouth, his fiery tongue licking each one clean. “And I’m making you cum on my tongue.”

You’re speechless, which just makes him snicker.

“I didn’t get my fill.”

Body burning, you watch as he sucks on his fingers, lewdly moaning as he sucks them dry.

Swallowing thickly, you await his next move as he pops his fingers out of his mouth. “Try it?”

Your mouth opens automatically, welcoming his soaked appendages. Your mouth closes around his fingers, softly mewling as he lets them sit heavy on your tongue. A mix of his saliva and your arousal coats your taste buds for a moment before he tells you to open up for him.

“You look so good sucking on my fingers, baby,” he praises with a smug look on his face. You know his following words will disarm you, and they do! “Makes me wonder what you’d look like sucking on my dick instead.”

“Who says you have to wonder?” you smile teasingly, licking your lips as you palm him over his pants and squeeze.

Nothing could have prepared you for the guttural groan he releases or the thickness of his cock just yearning to be released.

“Fuck,” he huffs a laugh as he pushes you carefully to the wall behind you. His hand cups your face, kissing you hurriedly, as if you were going to disappear if he ever stopped.

You smile into the kiss, greedy hands running over his beautiful body until you link your fingers with his. Exchanging a few more sweet kisses and a few that surely raise your blood pressure, you separate long enough to loop a finger through the loop in his pants to lead him to his bed.

Hungrily, you kiss him, ignoring the rampant thumping of your heart as you unbutton his pants and tug the zipper down. You take a step back to get an eyeful of him in his boxers as you’re pulling his pants lower until he can kick them off.

You lick your lips as you take him in. Yoongi notes the way you’re biting your lip now, your heated gaze on the happy trail that disappears into his black boxers.

Yoongi’s hair falls over his eyes, a large veiny hand pushes it back and you’re once again enamored by his hands and the veins that seem so prominent tonight. For a moment you wonder what it would be like to have one wrapped around your throat while you lock eyes with him, breathless and whimpering as your eyes roll back and his cock splits you in two.

Fuck, you don’t think you would survive.

“Lost in thought, princess?” Yoongi checks in with a half smile that is very much cocky. You clench around nothing, realizing how empty your cunt feels and how desperately you want him in any of your holes. Hell, you’d let him fuck any of them at this point with the look he’s giving you. You nearly bend over and tell him to have his pick, but you regain your thoughts instead.

“Your hands,” you mutter weakly.

“What about them, baby?” he asks cockily, as if he doesn’t already know. But no, Min Yoongi wants you to work for it, to earn it.

“Want them wrapped around my throat.” you answer with a sigh.

“Is that so?” he queries with a raised brow.

You nod, licking your lips.

“I’ll see what I can do,” he smirks.

Not wanting to waste any more time, you push Yoongi onto his bed. He falls easily, his legs hanging over the edge from the knee below as he puts his arms under his head, awaiting your next move.

You gather every bit of courage within. One leg goes over his hips, straddling him. You seat your ass on his crotch, loving the way he’s looking at you, black hair splayed on his gray comforter in a mess of black loose curls.

Your hand rests beside his head, your hair falling in between you like a curtain as you lean in for a kiss. Yoongi is eager to kiss, to feel your body on his. He’s not sure what to expect, but he wants you to feel good. That alone is his primary concern.

However, the warmth of your body is enough to make his cock throb, more so when you’re kissing a trail from his lips, jaw, down to his neck. A messy splatter of kisses on his sensitive skin. His head turned to expose more of his honeyed skin, the beautiful slope of his neck soon covered with your kisses and love marks.

Yoongi is in paradise as each pass of your tongue is followed by a deep suck of your lips. Your teeth scrape his skin, deep moans escaping him as you suck a mark near his collarbone before you’re kissing down his chest, leaving little red marks in your wake.

Yoongi’s nearly panting by the time you reach his happy trail. He sits up on his elbows, hooded eyes following your every move as you palm him over the cotton material of his boxers. A shuddered breath escapes him followed by a soft groan that rattles you to the core.

“Don’t tease,” he breathes, head lolled back as your tongue runs over the bulge in his boxers. You giggle at his response, curses thrown into the ceiling as you pull his boxers down just a little.

A feather-light kiss is pressed just below his navel. A lick here, a suck there, and soon you’re tugging his boxers off all the way until he’s kicking them off to the side.

You’re both naked, and you take a moment to appreciate the beauty of his body. Every inch of him is perfect.

Cursing and biting your bottom lip, you take in his hard cock, thick and throbbing, as you wrap your hand around him. Slowly, you wrap your lips around the head, welcoming him into your warm mouth while he watches intently.

“Shit,” Yoongi curses, body thrumming with desire as he feels your tongue swirl around the head once, teasing the slit before taking more of him in your mouth. All he can do is watch with hooded eyes as you run your tongue over his length, a hand rolling his balls in your palm.

A heavenly sigh leaves Yoongi as he falls back onto his bed. You smile as you pull off him, your hand wrapped around his cock, using it to smear your saliva around him.

“Good?” you ask with a lilt in your voice that has Yoongi sitting up.

“Yes,” he admits, cheeks flushed pink.

Not wanting to disappoint, you take him back in your mouth, sucking and slurping messily as salvia pools at his pelvis with each bob of your head. His cock feels heavy on your tongue, pre-cum coating your taste buds and the head hitting the back of your throat, making you gag just a bit.

You do your best to maintain eye contact, but sucking him off makes your thighs quiver and your pussy wetter. Fuck, you need some sort of stimulation or perhaps maybe you can cum like this?

Yoongi runs his hand over your thigh, pulling you closer to him so you’re at his side instead of between his thighs. His large hand runs over your ass, groping it before his fingers are running between your wet folds.

“Fuck, you’re soaking wet, princess. Sucking my cock gets you this soaked?” he licks his lips, slowly rubbing your clit with his fingers.

You do your best to nod, gagging on his cock before releasing it with a gasping breath. Yoongi nearly loses it when he sees a bridge of saliva connecting your lips to his cock.

“Yes,” you’re too cock-hungry to lie to him, besides he can feel just how aroused you are from sucking him off. Your hand still strokes him, eyes focused on his dick as you take him back in your mouth working harder to suck him off.

Up and down you go, slurping obscenely and spitting on the head before sucking it back in your mouth. Yoongi grabs your hair, guiding you as you try to suck the soul out of him. Every dulcet sound that escapes him, fuels your desire to please him. You breathe through your nose, not wanting to part with him even for a second to catch your breath.

His hand stays laced in your hair, the other feeling the curve of your ass, smacking it to make you gasp and open your mouth wider. Yoongi growls, cursing before he’s pulling you off him.

“I wasn’t done,” you pout when you’re sitting up.

Yoongi chuckles, smiling in disbelief. “But I almost was.”

Your pout remains on your lips until he kisses it away.

“You can suck it until I cum down your throat next time, okay?” he asks, awaiting your response.

You nod. “Next time.”

Yoongi grins, kissing you once again and you easily straddle him, hand wrapped around his cock as you roll your hips.

“I want to be inside you so bad,” Yoongi admits in a low tone that makes you clench around nothing in anticipation.

“Say no more,” you press a kiss on his pretty lips as you raise your hips and line his cock up at your entrance. Slowly you sink on him, biting your bottom lip as you welcome the stretch of his thick cock.

“Fuck,” you exhale, feeling haggard as your ass finally hits his thighs and he bottoms out. Yoongi isn’t faring much better, a lustful groan escaping him as his eyes flutter shut and his cock throbs.

“Yeah,” he sighs, smiling as he takes you in. You smile bashfully, enjoying the feeling of being utterly full, thighs already trembling at his sides as his hands grip your hips, thumbs rubbing circles into your skin.

Slowly, you raise your hips, your hands planted firmly on his chest as you ride him. Yoongi’s hands move from your hips to your ass, grabbing and kneading as he enjoys the view of your tits bouncing as you ride his cock.

“Just like that, princess,” Yoongi’s tongue peeks out from the corner of his lips and it sends you into a frenzy, fucking him harder and faster. The loud slapping of skin fills your ears and if you weren’t so focused on your pleasure and his, you’d be utterly embarrassed.

“I can’t believe I’ve been missing out on this,” you groan, riding him harder. You love being so fucking full. You swear you can feel him in your belly, rearranging your insides and you nearly cream yourself thinking about it.

Yoongi chuckles. “All you had to do was ask, baby girl.”

You look at him, biting back a moan when he smacks your ass and soothes it with his palm after.

“If I had known, we would have been doing this from the get-go,” you feel your thighs giving out, panting as you slow and whimper when your muscles feel like they’re cramping.

Yoongi smirks. His eyes fixate on where your bodies are joined, watching his cock disappear inside you. Fuck, you two should have been doing this from the get-go. How many nights did he spend feeling guilty thinking of you with his hand wrapped around his cock and your name on his lips? And unbeknownst to him, you were getting off in your bedroom, mouthing his name with your head thrown back on the pillow, legs shaking and bed sheets soaked with your orgasm.

When Yoongi notices you’re slowing down, he rubs your leg before taking your hands in his and squeezing them. The sweet gesture has you stopping to roll your hips instead, curiously watching as he brings your joined hands to his lips, pressing kisses on all your fingers before he licks the tip of one.

This man is nothing but sinful.

“Come here,” he says, as his hand cups your face and he sits up to press his lips on yours, kissing you slowly. You moan into the kiss, melting at his touch, and before you know it, you’re on your hands and knees.

You giggle, looking at him over your shoulder as he strokes his cock, soaked with your arousal and his pre-cum.

“Fuck, baby. You look so good like this. Wanna cum all over your ass,” Yoongi curses again, his hand grabbing your ass and squeezing it. He spanks you gently, but you beg him to do it harder and he complies.

You moan into the pillow below you, only to be pulled up by your hair.

“Those moans are mine, princess. Let me hear them,” he smirks when he sees you clench, pussy glistening with your essence as he slides home.

“Yoongi!” you gasp, hands gripping the sheets beneath you. Yoongi chuckles, setting a pace that leaves you breathless as his hand smacks your ass again and again, the sting of his hand matching the one on your ass.

Yoongi curses, licking his lips as he fucks you. Your sweet moans go straight to his dick, mind reeling with lust as he fucks your harder, deeper, just to draw out those dulcet moans that make him want to stuff you full of his cum.

“Yoongi!” you breathe, clinging to his hand and begging for more as your hips meet each of his thrusts. Yoongi grunts, watching the jiggle of your ass with each of his thrusts. You’re soaking wet, so warm and delicious wrapped around him. His head falls back, shaking his hair out of his eyes as a sheen of sweat coats your body and his. Fuck, if he knew you felt this amazing he would have confessed sooner just to feel you wrapped around his cock.

Yoongi is losing his mind, filth spilling from his lips as his eyes fixate on the way you take his cock, creaming around him as he goes. You’re so needy, so impatient, you fuck yourself on his dick. He chuckles, smacking your ass when it meets his pelvis as your thighs tremble and your hands shake until you fall face first into the pillows, inhaling his scent.

Yoongi chuckles, clicking his tongue as he takes mercy on you. He pulls out, laughing when you whine at the loss of his fat cock. He helps you onto your back, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips before he’s sinking into you, your legs wrapped around his hips to draw him close. Fuck, you’d never unravel yourself from his hips if you could help it. With Yoongi above you, black hair mussed, lips pink from kissing, and beautiful buff chest, you’d say you were in heaven.

Yoongi smirks, almost as if he could hear your thoughts, and it causes you to clench around him. A guttural groan escapes him, hips stuttering as he grabs your breast, fingers teasing your nipple.

“Behave,” he grunts as you tighten around him again. His name rolls off your tongue, your hands running over his body before settling on his shoulders, nails digging into his skin, pulling him close as your lips connect.

Yoongi doesn’t stop fucking you, he slows his pace, rolling his hips instead and hitting all those spots that make you see stars when your eyes flutter shut. You moan, melting beneath him as you kiss him deeply, all teeth and tongues as your moans are muffled in between.

You’re so close. You can feel it deep in your abdomen and in the quivering of your legs, in the tingles that run down your spine and the pulsating of your cunt. Yoongi groans, face buried in your neck, teeth scraping along your sensitive skin, marking you as his.

“Fuck, baby. I’m close,” he admits in a deep, grave tone that sends your stomach flipping.

“Come inside,” you plead, tightening around him.

Yoongi hisses, dark eyes locked on yours. He kisses you one more time, your name on his lips as his hips slam into you, his fingers rubbing your clit as he listens for the rise in octaves until you’re coming undone and taking him with you.

With one last grunt of your name, he spills inside you, coating you generously as he rocks his hips until he’s spent and pulling out.

Yoongi lies beside you, smiling brightly when you look at him. You grin, curling into his side and he welcomes you eagerly.

“Fuck, princess,” he breathes with his arm draped over his chest as he tries to regulate his breathing. “You nearly killed me.”

You giggle, rolling your eyes. “Shut up! I won’t be able to walk tomorrow.”

Yoongi smirks, pleased with himself. “Good.”

You grin, too spent to tease him further. Yoongi is content lying with you at his side, tiny kisses exchanged between you until you’re falling asleep in his arms.

Heat surrounds your body as you sleepily blink your eyes open. A yawn threatens to slip past your lips as you try to stretch in your spot but realize you can’t. A warm weight sits on your waist, a dark mop of hair rests on your chest and flashes of last night hit you head on.

You smile shyly at the memories, flushing with heat as you try to wiggle out of Yoongi’s hold and you remember the night you’d spent with him just like this.

“Stop moving,” comes his sleep-addled voice, a groan leaving him as he tightens his arm around you, snuggling further into your chest. You giggle softly, fingers scratching at his scalp until he’s unwinding himself from you and hastily kisses your lips.

“Morning,” he says, throwing his arms in the air to stretch and then running a hand through his hair. He sits silent for a few moments, and fear spikes up inside you. Did he regret it?

“It’s too early to be up, baby. Can we go back to sleep?” he asks with a sleepy grin. You sigh in relief.

“Sure,” you say. “We can sleep some more. In fact, we don’t have to get out of bed at all.”

“Don’t tempt me,” he nearly growls as he captures your lips with his, kissing you deeply. You moan, eyes fluttering shut as your hand grabs his hair at the nape of his neck. Yoongi curses, tongue twining with yours and soon you’re spreading your legs for him, welcoming him in.

Yoongi settles between your thighs. A soft exchange of kisses keeps him at your lips. Groans and soft moans of your name fill his bedroom as your hand wraps around his length, already hard and dribbling pre-cum. You press your thumb to the slit, coating the head with it before you’re popping it into your mouth.

“Fuck, princess. Keep doing stuff like that and I won’t last long,” Yoongi admits, pressing his lips to yours as you stroke his cock slowly, teasing him by rubbing the head on your clit until you’re lining him up at your entrance.

Yoongi locks eyes with you, one hand gripping yours, fingers laced as he sinks into you all at once.

You groan, arching slightly and biting back a moan at the slight pain of the stretch. It’s a delicious ache that makes your body tingle as his name rolls off your tongue and your nails dig into his back, dragging down his skin to leave pink welts in their wake.

“You’re determined to make me come already, aren’t you?” he asks with a half-smile. You nod, pressing your lips to him and pulling him closer as he pulls out, leaving the tip inside before he’s sliding home again. Yoongi’s hair clouds his vision and you push it out of the way, wanting to see his pretty eyes, cute nose, and perfect lips. He’s truly a vision to behold and now he’s yours. All yours.

Without warning, Yoongi sets a mouth-watering pace that leaves you breathless with each thrust. The headboard slams against the wall, your legs tremble as they try to cling to his waist and your hand is digging at the sheets beneath you in search of anything to hold on to.

Each roll of his hips, and each guttural groan and moan of your name has you spiraling head first into your first orgasm of the day, because if you think this is it, you’re gladly mistaken. Yoongi won’t be able to keep his hands to himself now that he’s yours. Now that you’re his. He’s tasted every bit of you and he’d be damned if he could ever give you up now.

“Cum with me, princess. Want to feel you cum all over my cock. Fucking cream it if you want,” Yoongi breathes, sweat beaded on his forehead between his brows.

“Yes! Fuck, please,” you plead as his thumb rubs your clit and his lips pepper kisses across your collarbones before he’s nuzzled into your neck, his dulcet moans melting into your skin as you hug him close, begging him to make you cum.

“Oh, fuck! Yoongi!” you cry out as your body quakes from the force of your orgasm. Yoongi right behind as he groans heavenly into your neck, cursing as he rolls his hips until he’s utterly spent.

“Oh, fuck! Yoongi!” Jimin’s eyes widened as he stepped into your apartment unannounced with his own key.

Surely he couldn’t have heard correctly?

Spider meows in greeting at seeing a Jimin, immediately wrapping around his leg as the door falls shut behind him.

“Yoongi!” This time there’s no mistaking it! Jimin burns scarlet as he scoops up Spider. He hastily opens the door of the hall closet, singing “la la la” at the top of his lungs, though you rival him when another moan fills the apartment. Man, do you have a set of lungs or what?

“Don’t you worry, baby girl. I’m getting you out of here!” Jimin opens the stroller, attaching the leash to Spider’s collar and zipping the stroller shut as he opens the front door. Spider meows, startling Jimin as another pleasurable moan filters through the home.

“Bye! Taking my cat niece to my place! Ya nasties! Text me later!” Of course, Jimin gets no response as he shuts the front door so hard it rattles. He shakes his head as he heads down the hall, looking at Spider through the netting of the stroller.

“You know, this isn’t what I meant when I said she should take Yoongi.”

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thank you for reading! ♡ if you liked it, please let me know! 💌

#bangtanarmynet #btshoneyhive #btsgoldnet #yoongi fanfic #yoongi smut #yoongi x reader insert #yoongi x you #yoongi x y/n #yoongi fluff and smut #bts yoongi fanfiction #roommate!yoongi

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c4ttheart · 4 months

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taylor swift and travis kelce who ?

it’s been about two days since the party, and god, sae wishes he never went. because now, the internet is blowing up about how he would apparently be dating you, and he is sitting in front of his exasperated manager and publicist who are desperately trying to make him understand the situation.

"why the hell would i date her ?" he spits out, venom laced in his tone. wasn’t he supposed to be a bachelor or something ?

"again, sae, it wouldn’t be real. just for a few months or so, you know ?" his manager pleads, like he has done so many times before (in vain.) the auburn haired male is about to retort a negation again, but is rudely interrupted when his publicist speaks up.

"do you not understand ? your following count has gone up by like, three million ? do you even know how many people came to your game last night just in hopes to see a glimpse of (name) in the bleachers ? do you realise how much good this would do to your reputation ? she is three times more famous than you, for god’s sake ! people are actually getting involved into soccer !" he screams out, tussling his hair beneath his hands, almost ripping his roots out.

"they call me (name)’s boyfriend." he says, voice laced with such disdain it almost gives his manager a heart attack.

"okay, maybe they do, but does that really matter when your salary has doubled ?"

and that, is how he finds himself in front of you, eating lunch, situated on a table a little too close to the window for his liking. he isn’t new to paparazzi, no, but he definitely doesn’t want to expose himself to the world like he is doing right now.

the restaurant is nothing fancy. it’s four stars, but the food is mediocre. the ceiling is white and high, littered with golden edges and big artificial chandeliers. the walls are white as well, and the structure makes him think of the fancy paris appartements, old, but beautiful. you’re sitting in front of him, another dress similar to the one from the party, albeit a bit more casual placed atop your body. outside, the sky is a vibrant blue, showcasing the contrasting yellow of the bright sun. everything screams fake and dishonest. the weather is too nice to be true for the end of november, and your uneasy expression gives away both your discomfort.

"um, so, tell me about yourself." you squeak out, fork playing with the rest of your food on your plate, avoiding his glare like you’re a little kid who just did something they weren’t supposed to.

"dunno. i play soccer. i’m twenty one, and-"

"no, not that. the real you."

he stays silent, and watches as your eyes bore into his. his brows furrow, what do you mean ? did he learn his whole practice speech by heart just for you to be uninterested in it ?

you sigh, and speak up again, "for example, i find comfort in consistent sounds. like the tapping of my heel against the floor that i know has been bothering ever since we sat down."

yes, he definitely noticed, and he cared, but he wasn’t about to make some rude remark about it, not when so many people were watching him. his brows furrow again. "i like green."

you hum, and the ghost of a smile is present on your lips. that’s good, right ?

"your eyes are green." you say, matter of factly, and he deadpans because yes, he knows that too so why are you pointing it out ?

"i know." he replies with a small gruff, as he stares at you again. you laugh, hand covering your mouth like he remembers you doing two nights ago. he doesn’t really know what’s funny, but he lets you finish, because even if you’re making fun of him, he thinks you’re pretty when he can spot your big toothy smile and puffed out cheeks. he looks away, pretending to stare at the glittering buildings in the distance.

"i originally didn’t want to be a middle fielder." he adds, and you smile again. he’s opening up.

"i originally never even thought of being a singer." you somewhat reply to him, the smile never leaving your lips even though he can tell this one is more forced than the previous one he witnessed.

but he doesn’t comment on it, he just hums. he never really was much of a talker anyways.

"who’s amaya ?" he finds himself asking instead, and his fiddles with his fingers when he hears a camera shutter nearby. you notice this, and place a hand atop of his in a way of unspoken comfort. the act causes more clicks to be heard, but you both pretend you are blind to it.

then you answer, your voice low, barely above a whisper like you are about to divulge to him some incredible secret. "my manager. she’s more of a best friend though, she takes care of me when life doesn’t."

his eyes slightly widen at your response, confused and intrigued at the same time. you aren’t blind, you see it, the lost look he gives you but you just flash your teeth at him and straighten your posture. "i’m just saying, you need a pretty good lawyer if you ever want to work in the music industry. shall we get out of here ?"

he nods, and lets you guide him to the backdoor like you have leaded the conversation. fifty hours ago, your name was one sae had briefly heard on the radio, but now, you were supposedly his and a lot more to handle than he imagined.

taglist (open)

@rroxii @hellothere9597 @melon-garden @kurowvie

#blue lock x you #bllk x reader #bllk #bllk x you #blue lock #blue lock x reader #fake dating #blue lock sae itoshi #blue lock sae #sae itoshi #bllk itoshi sae #sae itoshi x reader #itoshi sae x reader #itoshi sae #sae x reader

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eddiemunsons80sbaby · 5 months

Text

Never Say Never

Chapter 2

Pairing: SingleDad!StevexReader

Summary: You are a 32 year old single mother, raising your seven year old son on your own. After being widowed at 30 and going out on awful dates with disgusting men for the past month, you have decided that you're giving up. You already had your great love. One person can't possibly get lucky enough to have two in their lifetime. But then your son starts playing baseball and the coach might just change your mind about that.

No posting schedule.

18+ only for eventual smut

Word Count: 7.3K

“It seems to be just a case of the common cold,” you told the worried mother. “Dr. Wilson said she just needs rest and to make sure she drinks lots of fluids. She should be back to herself within a few days.”

“Thanks. I know I’m probably being silly rushing her in here but she kept waking up last night, crying, and I’m all alone. I’ve just been exhausted having to do everything on my own. It’s been so hard. And with her not feeling well, neither of us have gotten much sleep the last few days. My husband’s in the Air Force and he’s currently deployed and we don’t know when he’s going to get to come back home and my parents live three hundred miles away.”

Deep breath in, deep breath out. Let the feeling come. Acknowledge the feeling and then move forward. You closed your eyes for a moment, centering yourself, not letting this one burrow too far in before you forced it back. Maybe you weren't supposed to push them away but sometimes it was necessary. Like now. You couldn’t be the nurse who assured the nervous mother if you were busy trying to find three things to look at, smell, and move. It wasn’t reassuring to have your medical professional falling apart in front of you.

Pressing your index finger to your thumb, you allowed yourself to feel the sensation, to know you were here. You weren't back there. No one was waiting on the other side of the door to give you the news that would send a wrecking ball through the middle of your life, destroying and altering it forever. You were strong. You were handling it. You were moving forward. Opening your eyes, you put on your best smile.

“Of course. I can’t imagine how challenging that must be for you.” Actually, you could, but this was not the time or place to share your own story. This was the time to be an empathetic ear, to listen to your patient. It was not the time to unpack your own trauma or make this about yourself. “Please, no need to apologize. You call us whenever you need to. It’s always better to be safe than sorry.”

The mother thanked you, lifting her three year old into her arms. You directed her which way to go. Parents often got a bit turned around in this place, the hallways like a maze to the various exam rooms, like a figure eight. This practice was a thriving one, one that kept you very busy, your days packed with back-to-back appointments. But you preferred it that way. It made your days go faster.

After you finished college with your Bachelor’s of Science in nursing, you had immediately gotten a job at the local hospital. You'd loved it. The hours were long and you were exhausted all the time but it had been fast-paced and so rewarding. However, it had also been heartbreaking as some children who came into the hospital were there to stay and would never again leave. They would never get tucked into their own bed again, never run through their own backyard again, never sit on the floor of their living room on a Saturday morning eating cereal while watching cartoons again. The job had not just been physically exhausting but mentally and emotionally exhausting as well.

After you'd found out you were expecting Eli, Justin had suggested that maybe you needed something a bit more predictable. It would be hard for you to work twelve hour shifts with a baby at home. It would be even harder to watch children suffer, watch parents in the darkest moments of their lives, when you had a little one at home. You weren't sure how you could face that kind of heartbreak and then go home to your own child, hoping it never happened to you.

Still, you wouldn’t have given it up if it weren’t for Justin being in the military. With his job, he would often be gone for months at a time, leaving you alone. It hadn’t been a problem before but with your parents living across the country and his parents more than three hours away, you were limited when it came to help. So, you'd applied to the new local pediatrician's office, delighted when you got a call that same week, inviting you in for an interview.

You'd been there ever since, watching as Dr. Wilson’s practice grew. He was young, just a bit older than you, and new to the job but his warm demeanor and empathetic ear quickly had every mom in town bringing their child to him. It probably didn’t hurt that he was pretty damn good looking too.

“Hey Rita, I’m going to take my lunch if I don’t have any more patients for a bit,” you told your receptionist as you placed the child’s file into the cabinet.

“That’s fine. Your next appointment isn’t for an hour so you’re good. I’ll have Sarah handle anything that pops up while you’re out.”

“Thanks.”

You grabbed your lunch bag from the fridge and made your way out of the office, heading for the pond. When it was nice out, you always chose to eat your lunch out here, a little escape from the fluorescent lights and germs of the office. Finding a bench, you sat down, pulling out your bologna sandwich. It wasn’t your usual choice but it had simply felt easier to make two this morning instead of trying to come up with something else for yourself.

You pulled out your phone, dialing the number of the one person you'd been desperate to talk to after the events of yesterday. Janice was a photographer. She did great business and had multiple clients who came back to her again and again for family portraits, baby pictures, and senior photos. She worked from home, which also meant her hours were flexible and she was almost always available to take your calls. Sure enough, your best friend picked up after two rings.

“Are you sitting under your tree?”

You laughed, “How did you know?”

“Because it’s your lunchtime and that’s what you always do when the sun is shining. Are the geese around?”

“Yep. The five little babies are swimming with mom and dad. They’re so cute. Little brown fluffballs that look so soft and sweet. I just want to cuddle them.”

“I wouldn’t try it. Geese can be nasty.”

“You don’t have to tell me. Remember when Eli was two and he wanted to feed them and those two geese hissed and opened their wings wide when he got too close. We didn’t know they had a nest right there. I know they were just protecting their babies but that scared the shit out of me.”

“Well, Eli’s your baby. Of course you were scared,” Janice laughed. “Oh my god. That poor kid. He won’t go anywhere near them now. It cemented itself into his brain and gave him a complex. He’ll probably hate those feathered fiends for the rest of his life. So, how was his first baseball practice? Did he love it? Matt can’t wait to talk to him about it.”

“He did. He talked my ear off the whole way home. His best friend is on his team and his coach is the kid’s dad. He loves him and said he was so nice and fun. He’s really patient with the kids. When Eli missed the ball for the third time, he was so upset with himself. The coach was so sweet, giving him some pointers, and assuring him he could do it.”

“Oh…okay, hold on. Wait a minute. Why do you sound like that when you’re talking about his coach?”

“Like what?” you demanded.

“Like you did in high school when you used to talk about Josh.”

“What? No I don’t.”

“Yeah you do! You’re all gushy. You sound like a Disney princess about to break into song among the forest animals who are going to help you clean your home about the guy you just met in the woods.”

You snorted, “Oh please. No I don’t. I’m just glad that his coach is so kind since Eli is new at this.”

“Uh-huh…so, this coach isn’t cute?”

“I mean, yeah, he is…objectively speaking, most women would say he was very attractive.”

“Most women, huh? And what about you?”

“Yes, okay? Yes, I think he’s very attractive. Anyone with eyes would see that he is good-looking. You should have heard the moms at practice going on about his ass. Married moms basically saying they would cheat on their husbands for this guy. I swear, the housewives club is scary. But it’s just…he’s just Eli’s coach. His son is coming over to our house later today to play with Eli.”

Steve was attractive. Hell, he was possibly the most attractive man you'd ever laid eyes on and that made the guilt just twist in your stomach even harder. Justin had been the love of your life. How could you be so turned around by some guy you barely even knew? You'd spoken for all of three minutes. You didn’t know anything about him besides the fact that he coached kids baseball.

“Oh, is he now?”

“Janice, stop. Eli and Jeremiah have become best friends this year and Eli asked forever ago if he could come over and I completely forgot about it and it never happened. He asked again yesterday so I promised him I would set it up. That’s all it is.”

“And is his dad coming over to play too?”

You groaned, your hand coming to y our forehead, “Do you have to say it like that? And no he’s not. He has a work meeting. So, I’m kind of helping him out, I guess, but not really because I was going to invite the kid over anyway.”

“So, he’s just dropping him off and picking him up?”

“Well, he may have offered to grab a pizza on his way back to thank me for watching his kid. Which is completely unnecessary because I asked for him to come over before he ever told me about his meeting. I wouldn’t even have known I was babysitting for him if he wouldn’t have told me about it. I never would have expected him to hang around while our kids hung out.”

“Hmm, so you’re going to be having dinner with him, then?”

“And our kids,” you reminded her.

Janice had this all wrong. Of course she did. He was just being friendly. Your kids were friends and they wanted to spend time together. He’d said it himself, you were helping him out of a bind with childcare issues. That was all. He was just being nice and buying everybody dinner. Your sons were going to be there. It wasn’t like it was a date.

“Still. You know, I said maybe you could find a hot, single dad at practice and look at you, finding one on the first go! He is single, right?”

“I think so. He said his best friend was busy and he had no one else to watch Jeremiah. That would make me think the mom isn’t in the picture but I honestly have no idea. We barely talked because he had to start the practice.”

“Well, you should have plenty of time to talk tonight and get clarification on his status.”

“I don’t need clarification on his status. I told you, I’m done with all of that. I had Justin. There is no way I will ever find anything that can begin to compare with what we had.”

“You definitely won’t if you just throw in the towel. Come on, Aly. Would it really be so bad to just talk to him a bit? I’m not saying you have to jump his bones tonight. I mean, probably wouldn’t hurt. You haven’t been laid in two years, my friend. Your vagina could use some airing out. Clear all the cobwebs that have settled, you know?”

“Jesus, you are so foul,” you sighed, catching sight of a young family heading into the office. The dad had a little boy on his shoulders. He said something to the mom and she grinned, leaning up onto her toes to kiss him. The sight sent familiar pangs of the loss of what could have been, what should have been, through you.

“Maybe but you know I’m right. Anyway, if you’re going to be such a prude, then just talk to him. Be his friend. If your kids like each other that much, chances are this won’t be the only time you’re around each other. And then who knows?”

“Yeah…who knows…” you sighed, thinking you did know. The universe was never going to let you get that lucky twice. Something had to be wrong with this guy.

___________________________________________________________

You folded the towel from the dryer as you watched Jeremiah and Eli race around the backyard, dressed up in Eli’s superhero costumes. Your son had an entire bin of them. He was obsessed. Comic books and action figures covered the shelves in his bedroom. Eli had always loved superheroes but Matt, who was a self-proclaimed, very proud nerd, had gotten him into comics. Most of the items Eli now had came from Matt himself, stuff he’d kept since he was a kid.

You'd survived the drop-off, being cordial and friendly without giving off any signals that you were interested in anything more. At least, you thought you were. It was hard to concentrate when that man looked so damn good, standing there in gray slacks and a yellow sweater. When his cologne hit your olfactory nerves, a woodsy scent of sandalwood and pine, you had gripped the door frame, fighting back the swoon that was quickly coming on. But no, you were sure you kept things professional, just two parents in the midst of an exchange for a playdate.

Besides, you weren't even sure you were interested in anything more. You didn’t even know how to do more at this point. It had been so long since you'd spent real time with any man that wasn’t Justin or Matt. And even if Janice kept pushing you to move on, even if it had been two years, you weren't sure you were ready.

And you weren't sure if Eli would be ready. His therapist said he was doing well. He had adjusted as best as you could expect a child who’d lost his father to adjust. But did that mean he was ready to see his mom with a new guy? Was it fair to bring someone new into his life that could just disappear? What if you started something with someone and it ended badly and he lost another male figure and his best friend at the same time? Would he be so well adjusted then? He had settled into their routine, him and you against the world. You weren't sure you could change that on him.

He’d only been five when it happened but you had made sure that he’d never forgotten his daddy. A picture of him and Justin sat on his nightstand by his bed. It was one of your favorites, taken at the pumpkin farm when Eli was four. He held a giant pumpkin, looking so proud, when really Justin was holding the bottom of it for him, both of them beaming their matching smiles.

The two of you talked about him often, you sharing stories with him of you and Justin and him and Justin. Reminded him how much his daddy had loved him. You couldn’t allow him to forget. You couldn’t do that to Justin whose smile could have lit up the entire planet the first time he laid eyes on his son.

“Mommy! We’re hungry!” Eli yelled as he and Jeremiah came racing in the back door.

You glanced over at the clock, “Well, Jeremiah’s dad is bringing pizza and he should be here any minute. Do you think Superman and Batman can wait just a few minutes to eat?”

Eli groaned, dramatically tumbling down to the floor, “But fighting crime and saving the world is hard work. It makes us so hungry, mommy.”

“Okay…how about you two have some strawberries?” you offered, thinking it wouldn’t be too filling and it would get something good in their system before they loaded up on carbs and cheese.

“Strawberries!” Jeremiah’s eyes lit up. “They’re my favorite fruit. Daddy takes me strawberry picking every single year and we get a ton. My daddy makes strawberry jam and it’s so good on my toast.” His eyes went wide, shooting over to Eli. “Hey! I’ll ask my dad if you guys can come this year! It’s super fun. They have goats, cows, chickens, and ponies that you can ride!”

“Can we mommy?” Eli asked, turning those sweet blue eyes up at you.

“I…uh…I mean, strawberry picking around here isn’t for another month or so. But, maybe, I guess? I mean, if Eli’s daddy wants to take you too, that would be fine.”

“You can come too!” Jeremiah told you. “They have other stuff there like fancy soaps and stuff that they make. My mommy used to like those.”

“Oh, well, maybe…” you muttered as you busied yourself with getting out the strawberries. You ran them under water before working at slicing them onto a plate for the boys to share.

His mommy used to like those? So, she’d been around during his life, obviously. Enough for him to remember going strawberry picking with them. Unless, like Eli, he was repeating stories his dad had shared with him. Where was she now? Had she left? Had she died? You couldn’t very well ask a little boy. What if she had passed? You couldn’t bring up that pain for him.

“Did we ever go strawberry picking with daddy?” asked Eli as the boys sat down at the table, the plate of strawberries between them.

You swallowed, “No. We didn’t go strawberry picking but we used to go to the apple orchard every fall and daddy would put you up on his shoulders so you could get the apples. And we always went to the pumpkin farm too.”

“We still do that!”

“Yes we do,” you smiled as you washed your hands. You worked so hard to keep the traditions that you and Justin started alive. It was another way for you to remind your son how incredible the five short years he had with his dad was. You looked up when there was a knock at the door, drying your hands on a kitchen towel. “I bet that’s Jeremiah’s daddy with the pizza.”

Smoothing your hands over your hair, you inhaled deeply, reminding yourself that this was just two parents whose kids had become best friends getting to know each other. No pressure. No reason to be nervous. You were simply trying to be good parents.

Grabbing onto the door, you swung it open, only to feel like the entire world had turned upside down at the sight of Steve. There he stood in those slacks and that yellow sweater that looked so damn good on him. Not many people could pull off yellow but boy, he could. His right arm was raised, two pizza boxes balancing on his hand and a smile that could have outshone the sun on his face.

“Pizza, as promised,” he announced.

Gathering yourself, you returned his smile, “The boys will be very relieved. Superman and Batman have been battling the forces of evil all afternoon and they are wasting away to nothing.”

Steve’s cheeks hollowed out as he released a long, audible breath, “Can’t have that. How will they ever keep the city safe if we don’t recharge them with greasy pizza? But seriously, I hope he was good for you.”

“He was great,” you assured him. “Seriously.”

“Good. Thanks again. You were a real lifesaver.”

“No problem. I…”

“Daddy! Where’s the pizza!?” came Jeremiah’s whine from the kitchen, loud and impatient.

“Sorry. It’s right here.” Steve grinned, tossing you a wink that had you dazed, before making his way into the kitchen, plopping the boxes down in the middle of the table. “We can’t have Superman and Batman losing their strength. Have to keep them fed so they can keep the city safe. Are we currently in Gotham or Metropolis?”

“Daddy,” Jeremiah sighed, looking exasperated with his father. ��Everyone knows both of those places are based on New York City. Then we can be there together.”

“Oh, sorry,” snorted Steve, sharing an amused look with you. “I am not as well versed in superhero lore as you.”

“I know. Uncle Dusty knows way more than you.”

“Of course he does because Uncle Dusty is so much cooler than your boring, old dad.” Steve rolled his eyes, pulling out the chair next to Jeremiah and having a seat.

“You have a brother?” you asked as you stretched your arm up to retrieve the plastic paper plate holders from the top shelf. Turning, your breath caught in your throat. Steve’s eyes were watching you, focused on your midsection, right where your sweater had ridden up when you'd reached for the plates. He quickly looked down at his son as you cleared your throat and set the holders and plates on the table.

“Uhh…no. I mean, not really,” he laughed. “Dustin isn’t actually my brother. I used to babysit him actually. I helped him out one day. There were some older kids picking on him and his friends at the park and I stepped in. Anyway, he went home and told his mom about this cool teenager and she tracked me down and asked if I’d be interested in babysitting. I think she really just wanted him to have a guy in his life. His dad died when he was young and he was an only child. Anyway, he was ten and I was sixteen and he just latched on like a leech and stuck. So…” He balanced his elbows on the table, hands facing up. “I guess he’s mine now. Him and Jere, here, are really close. Jere is into all the nerdy stuff that Dustin likes so Dustin is like his hero.”

“Uncle Dusty is amazing! He taught me how to make a homemade rocket,” Jeremiah told you, his smile so like his dad’s.

But his eyes were different, a beautiful blue like the color of the ocean on a sunny day. And his nose was rounded, a cute little button, the complete opposite of Steve’s which was longer and pointed, almost Romanesque. He must have gotten those features from his mom, which left you wondering where she was again.

“Yeah, and you almost burned the garage down. That thing singed the walls. I had to pull out the fire extinguisher,” Steve reminded his son, grabbing plates and placing them into the holders.

Eli’s eyes went wide, “You almost started a fire?”

“Only a little one but you should have seen the rocket. It zoomed around the garage and then flew out and went bang! It was so cool.”

“Yeah, real cool,” Steve rolled his eyes.

“Daddy, did you get just cheese?” asked Jeremiah as Steve moved to open one of the boxes.

“Of course, kid. Do you think I’m new here?” He reached over, ruffling his son’s hair, causing Jeremiah to giggle and that familiar pain, the pain that reminded you of everything your son was missing out on, tightened around you once again. Steve looked up at you. “I got one cheese and one pepperoni. I figured those were safe bets since I don’t know what either of you like. Hope that’s okay?”

“I love cheese too!” Eli told him eagerly, grinning over at Steve. “And mommy usually gets bacon and pineapple for herself but she likes all pizza. Pizza is our favorite food. We have it every Friday and watch a movie.”

“Pineapple on pizza?” Steve questioned skeptically, that beautiful nose crinkling.

“Hey, don’t knock it until you try it,” you teased with a laugh, pouring milk for the kids. “My husb…” You paused, swallowing hard before taking the seat between Steve and Eli. But why shouldn’t you talk about Justin? Steve had to know Eli didn’t arrive by immaculate conception. “My husband thought I was crazy too. He was more of a pepperoni and green onions kind of guy. But my roommate in college is the one who got me into it. She ordered it one night and I was skeptical too but the combination of sweet and savory is delicious.”

“I think I’ll just have to take your word on that one,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “Fruit on pizza.” He looked over at the boys, one of those long, thick fingers swirling around by his ear. “Can you believe that? She’s nuts.”

Eli giggled as Steve plopped a piece of cheese on his plate, “My mommy can be crazy. Sometimes we do backward dinner.”

Steve’s lips pursed, head tilted, “Backward dinner? What’s that?”

“It’s where we have dessert first. So, we’ll have hot fudge sundaes and then we’ll have chicken nuggets and vegetables. It’s my favorite kind of dinner because I don’t have to eat all my vegetables before I get my dessert.”

“Oh, that does sound like a good deal because dessert is the best part of the meal,” Steve agreed with a nod.

“I mean, it’s only done sometimes as a special treat.” You didn’t know why you felt the need to justify yourself but you did. “I do make sure he eats healthy.”

Steve laughed, “I’m sure you do. Sometimes Jere Bear and I like to have ice cream for dinner, don’t we?”

“Yeah! My daddy used to work at Scoops Ahoy and they have the best ice cream! I always get a banana split and daddy gets the U.S.S. Butterscotch.”

“Mmm, the U.S.S. Butterscotch is my favorite,” you grinned. “Eli always gets the hot fudge sundae.”

“With extra fudge!” he added.

“Obviously,” Steve scoffed. “You can never have too much fudge.”

“So, how long ago was this when you worked at Scoops Ahoy?” you asked, picturing him in their little sailor outfit. You couldn’t deny that it gave you a little thrill of pleasure.

“Oh god, it’s been years now. I worked there right out of high school. I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life and when I couldn’t even get into community college, my father forced me to get a job. Said I needed to know what it was like to earn a working man’s wage.” He snorted harshly, leaving you with the impression that his relationship with his father wasn’t a particularly good one. “Anyway, I worked there for a couple years. That’s actually how I met my best friend, Robin.”

“And I assume you did figure out what you wanted to do with your life since you had a work meeting tonight?”

Steve took a large bite of his pizza, the slice folded up in his hand, “I’m a project manager for a construction company.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard of that job. What exactly do you do?”

“I oversee the building process, make sure everything is completed on time and within budget. I work with the architects and the engineers to develop plans, establish timelines for different phases to be complete, and calculate what labor and materials are going to cost. That’s what my meeting was about tonight actually. We just got a contract for a new subdivision they’re putting in off of Cherry. It’s a big job. We’re thinking it’s going to take about two years.”

“Wow, that’s a long time.”

“Not really when you consider we’re building around sixty new houses. It’s a good thing really, means my team will have plenty of work to do for a while. Steady income, you know? Nothing’s worse than having to lay someone off, knowing you’re possibly making their life impossible.”

“What’s laying off?” asked Eli.

“Well, when we don’t have enough work to do, then we don’t have the money to pay people. So, I have to tell them that we’re letting them go for a while. It’s not really getting fired because you hope you can call them back when there’s more work. They can apply to get money from the government but it’s not nearly as much as they make when they’re working. That can make it hard for them to feed their families and pay their bills.”

“That seems mean,” Eli commented. “Why do you do it?”

“I don’t want to do it. But when the money’s not there, we have no way to pay them. It happens a lot in the wintertime because there’s not as much building when the weather’s bad. That’s why this job is such a good thing because it will be steady work for the next two winters. I won’t have to worry and neither will my guys.”

“Well, that’s good. Did you have to go to school for that or like a trade school?” you inquired.

“No college. I don’t think I was ever made for college. I struggled through high school. Of course, that could have been because I was interested in everything else but high school. That’s why I’m so glad my kiddo here got his mom’s brains. She was an overachiever, still is. I actually started just like my guys, doing the construction part. I got interested in how the job runs and wound up getting my certification. And about four years ago, they promoted me to project manager.”

So Mom definitely wasn’t gone but then why did he need a babysitter? Maybe she was busy too? Or maybe she lived out of town and they shared custody? And this was none of your business. Why were you so interested in what the situation was with mom?

“Wow, that’s amazing. You must have really impressed them then. Going to college isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, anyway. I’ve told Eli, it all depends on what you want to do with your life. Some jobs don’t require college and they’re just as important. I mean, you build homes. You provide a space for families to start their lives and make memories. I think that’s pretty important work.”

A flush rose up along his neck, bright red against the yellow of his sweater. A small smile curved his lips as he tapped the table before looking up at you. The boys had long given up on your conversation, deeply entrenched in one of their own about the latest episode of X-men: Evolution.

“I mean, you work in a pediatrician’s office, right? You help sick kids. I think that might be just a bit more important than what I do. But thanks. What do you do in the office, anyway? Are you the doctor?”

You laughed, “No. That was far more schooling than I was interested in doing. I’m a nurse but honestly, we know just as much as they do. Experience is way more educational than sitting in some class, listening to someone talk about stuff. Sometimes, I think we might know more than the doctors do. But Dr. Wilson is great to work with. He’s not one of those guys that talks down to his nurses or acts like he’s superior because he’s got that M.D. after his name. I worked with plenty of misogynist ego-driven jerks when I worked at the hospital. They act like they’re royalty or something. Dr. Wilson actually trusts us and values our input. He makes us feel like a part of a team instead of a dictatorship.”

The conversation flowed easily, the boys jumping in here and there, all four of you laughing and smiling as you enjoyed your pizza. You could not deny the feeling of rightness in this moment, this moment that was everything you had ever wanted for your son. It was a picture perfect moment in time, this little dinner at your kitchen table full of warmth and laughter.

And no, you weren't insane. It wasn’t that you were looking at this as a family or that you were jumping ten steps ahead of just this pleasant evening. It was just nice to have a full table, to have it not be just you and Eli, to watch your son enjoying himself. He loved when Matt and Janice came for dinner but this was different. He had his best friend with him, the two boys sending each other into hysterics every thirty seconds.

For just this moment, this little slice of time, the weight had been lifted from your shoulders. The constant guilt that you weren't enough, that you could never be enough for your son. You could never be all of the things that he needed you to be. For just this moment, you thought maybe you didn’t have to be if you could surround him with people who provided everything he needed.

“Alright, kiddo, we should probably get heading home so you can take a shower before bed,” Steve announced around seven thirty, pushing back from the table and standing up. He gathered the paper plates, tossing them in the trash. “Did you want help cleaning up before we head out?”

You waved your hand dismissively, “Oh no. That’s not necessary. Just a quick wipe down of the holders and popping the cups in the dishwasher. It will only take a couple minutes.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, seriously. No big deal. Besides, you bought the dinner so the least I can do is the clean up.”

“Yes, but I brought the dinner to thank you for watching my kid.”

“Please. I offered to take him and having Jeremiah here saved me from having to wear the Superman cape and run around with Eli all evening. It was nice to just be an average human instead of a superhero tonight.”

“You’re a nurse,” Steve said with a soft smile, leaning into you, causing your heart to skip a beat. “Pretty sure you’re a superhero all the time.”

“Daddy, can Eli come to our house this weekend? Please? He really wants to meet Miles.”

“Miles?” you asked.

“It’s his dog!” Eli told you excitedly. “He wears capes too! Jeremiah said he can be my sidekick, Robin.”

"Which is silly because that's my Aunt Robin's name," Jeremiah added, "but the cape doesn't fit her so good so she's usually Catwoman because it's a mask and a tail."

Steve laughed, “Sure kid. He can come over. If it’s okay with his mom.”

“Fine with me,” you shrugged. Seeing the joy on your son’s face to get to spend time with his friend was all the reason you needed to readily agree. It definitely did not have to do with having the chance to see his dad again. No. That didn’t factor in at all.

“Okay, well, how about this?” Steve knelt down to his son’s level. “We’ve got baseball practice on Saturday until two. Why don’t we all go get ice cream afterward and then Jeremiah and his mom can come meet Miles afterward?”

“All of us?” you questioned, wondering if you'd heard him correctly.

He rose, head tilting forward, those eyes as warm as a chocolate chip cookie coming right out of the oven, and just as delicious. “Why not? I mean, if you have something else to do…”

“No. No, I don’t. I mean, that would be nice. We haven’t gotten ice cream yet since they opened. And I love dogs. Who doesn’t love dogs? Crazy people, right? So obviously meeting your dog would be fun. I just…I mean…yeah, okay.”

He appeared amused with you once again and you wished you could just pull the foot out of your mouth. It appeared to be permanently wedged there whenever he was around.

“Good. Maybe we can even have a sleepover.” Your breath caught as his mouth dropped open, eyes going wide, one of those hands running nervously through his hair, sweeping it to the side. “I mean the boys. The boys could have a sleepover. At my house. If you’re okay with that?”

Had he meant what you thought he meant? Had that just been an innocent mistake or was he as attracted to you as you were to him? Trying to let your son hang out with his friend was proving to be far more complicated than you thought it would be when you'd approached him on the baseball field.

“Yeah.” You weren't sure why. You hadn’t even let Eli stay the night anywhere before but there was just something about Steve that you trusted. “Eli would love that, honestly.”

“You’re gonna sleep at my house!” Jeremiah yelled, grabbing Eli’s hands, the two boys jumping around the kitchen.

“Obviously, they’re both okay with it,” Steve chuckled, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his trousers. “So, we’ll see you Saturday at practice?”

“Yeah. Saturday.”

You said your goodbyes, the boys both still screeching, talking about how it was only two more sleeps until their sleepover. Steve gave you one last smile and a little finger wave before turning and taking his son’s hand, leading him to his Ford Explorer that was parked just behind your Prius.

“Mommy, are you and Jeremiah’s dad friends now too?”

“Kind of, I guess,” you shrugged.

“Cool because if you’re friends and want to play with each other all the time then me and Eli can play with each other all the time too!”

You gripped the door, closing it slowly behind you. Your son had no idea the implications of what he’d just said but you definitely did. Your entire body was vibrating with the implications of what he’d just said.

___________________________________________________________

“Daddy, when Eli spends the night can we make a fort like the one we made that one time where it was the whole living room? Remember? And we put up the Christmas lights inside and we put in our sleeping bags and pillows.”

Steve blinked, glancing up at his son in the rearview mirror. He’d completely missed everything that his kid had just said. The boy had been rambling from the moment they’d gotten in the car and he was having trouble focusing, his thoughts completely focused on the last hour of his day.

You had been consuming all of his brain space since you'd approached him yesterday on the baseball field. Yeah, you were gorgeous. He’d noticed that instantly. Who wouldn’t? But there was something else about you, something that wouldn’t let his brain rest, something that kept poking at him, telling him to do something about these feelings you were stirring up inside him.

And it had been so long since he’d had anything stirring inside of him. After him and Nancy had split four years ago, Steve had jumped right into another relationship. He struggled with being alone. According to Robin, it was his dysfunctional childhood. The little boy inside of him who never got the love he needed from his parents, constantly seeking it out in someone else.

According to Robin, that was why he’d married Nancy even though the two of them had been all wrong for each other. He clung to the first solid thing that had come along and refused to see any of the millions of little signs that it wasn’t working. Of course, that was according to Robin, his best friend who thought she knew more about the internal workings of his mind than he did.

He’d dated Stacy for a year, convinced himself that she was the one, told Robin he was thinking of proposing and his obnoxious friend had slapped him upside the head. To be fair, he probably needed a good jarring, something to knock some sense into him. Marrying Stacy would have led to him being twice divorced. She had been even worse for him than Nancy.

Not that there was anything wrong with Nance. No, she was amazing. She was smart, beautiful, kind, and an absolutely wonderful mother. Neither of them had ever cheated or hurt the other. They simply just weren’t a good fit. It seemed so obvious now when he could see how well her and Jonathan slid together, like two puzzle pieces locking into place perfectly.

He’d dated a few other women after Stacy, most recently Janet, a single mother that he met at the park last summer. They’d made it about four months before he saw it was going nowhere. She was clingy, pushing for them to move in together, and it was in that moment that he realized he could not see a future with her. The idea of waking up next to her every day was exhausting. He’d ended it and she had not taken it well, calling him every name in the book, very loudly, in the middle of the restaurant he’d taken her to to try to soften the blow.

Steve didn’t lack for options. It felt like the moms of this town were throwing themselves at him constantly, some of them not even single. But none of them fit. None of them made him feel that thing, that thing that Robin said was like the Big Bang, everything exploding and then rearranging into this perfect arrangement. She kept telling him it was called falling in love, not forcing in love. He needed to stop trying to make it happen and just let it come to him. Yeah, well, that was easy for her to see, the girl who’d found the right person in high school.

Was that what he was doing right now? Was he just trying to force something to be what he wanted? Your kids were friends. You'd approached him because you wanted to set up a time for your sons to be able to play. It could be that simple. You might not even be interested in him or in anything.

He knew your husband had died. Jere had told him that Eli’s dad was in heaven. But he didn’t know how and he didn’t know how long ago. Maybe you were still freshly grieving. You'd definitely struggled when you were talking about him tonight. If you were still in the midst of your grief, the last thing you needed was some guy trying to push you to go out with him sometime.

No, he probably needed to just take a step back. Cool it off. Yeah, you were beautiful and you seemed far more real than most of the women in this town who were interested in him. But if he tried to force something that wasn’t there, he wouldn’t be the only one to suffer. Jere would too because he would inevitably lose his best friend when things went south. He couldn’t do that to him.

“Daddy, are you even listening to me?” Jeremiah huffed from the backseat, breaking through Steve’s thoughts.

“I’m sorry buddy. What did you say?”

“I said can we make a big fort when Eli comes with the lights and our sleeping bags and stuff?”

“Oh yeah. Of course, bud. We can definitely do that. You want to make some s’mores too?”

“Yeah! And can we have popcorn and watch the new Scooby Doo movie too?”

“Absolutely!” Steve replied, grinning in the mirror. “And I can grill some hamburgers and hot dogs. We’ll make it the best sleepover ever, kid.”

His son’s smile stretched from ear to ear, reminding Steve why he very much needed to focus on his son’s happiness instead of his loneliness. No, he didn’t need to jump into another relationship with some woman he’d just met. He was just seeing things he wanted to see, trying to rearrange the pieces into the image he was so desperate for.

“Is Eli's mommy gonna sleepover too? Our fort will be big enough.”

“Uh, no buddy,” Steve answered. “She’s gonna come over and see Miles but she’s not staying.”

“Why not? Don’t you want a friend, daddy?”

Yeah, he did. More than his son could possibly know.

Chapter 3

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