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bratreligion · 7 days ago

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yall back ever arch so hard u think u turning into a werewolf?

ANGELEYES ꨄ ft. connie springer

a/n: she’s finally hereeee omg i haven’t had this much fun writing something in a minute so i hope yall enjoy it <333 also there is quite a bit of spanish dialogue and it is unfortunately from google translate so just bare w me lmao

synopsis: a tale about two childhood best friends who *gasps* turn into lovers hehe

wc: 16k//// cw include: super fluffy in the beginning they’re so cute, pretty angsty in the teenage part bc well . . . they’re teenagers, mentions of connie being a dealer as an adult, a lot of flirting and banter— now for the nsfw part: kissing, connie being a tease, oral f & m!receiving, fingering, connie humps the bed while he eats it, dirty talk in english and spanish, choking, protected sex turned to unprotected sex, finger sucking, slow sex n’ rough sex, connie cums in and on her pussy, cum eating, aftercare!!!

‘sometimes when i’m lonely, i sit and think about him. and it hurts to remember all the good times.’

february 14th, 2007 . . .

“c’mon y/n! i don’t wanna be late for the valentines party!”

“slow down con, you’re walkin’ too fast!” you cried out, little feet trying their absolute best to keep up with connie’s fast strides. the chilly wind whipped around you both, nearly knocking you over. “make sure you hold on tight to your valentines, i’ll be so sad if i don’t get one from you,” connie giggled, referring to the paper bag full of bratz themed valentines for your entire first grade class.

you responded with a nod, and an obnoxious sniffle, the icy breeze making your nose stuffier by the second. connie looked over at you and giggled once more, “you look like a giant pink marshmallow.” you joined him in laughter, mitten covered hand reaching up to adjust the pink wool scarf your mother had recently just bought you around your neck.

you were wearing a pink coat that was a size too big, along with a big fluffy hat and mittens to match. “momma said i had to wear all this if i wanted to walk to school with you.”

speaking of school, it was just right up ahead! just as you were about to cross the street, connie slammed his arm against your chest nearly knocking you over. “we gotta wait for the crossing guard, remember?!” you looked at him in pure confusion before a woman wearing a neon yellow vest approached you both.

“you two ready?” she asked with a sweet smile. immediately you froze up, the stranger danger sirens in your head blaring. “yes, we’re ready! c’mon, y/n, don’t be scared,” connie took your hand in his, his free hand grabbing onto the crossing guards. as you walked across the street you couldn’t help but be jealous at how connie was never shy around strangers, adults especially.

in his eight years of being on this earth, connie has always been a social butterfly. whether it’d be saying hi to strangers at the grocery store or playing freeze tag with a random group of kids at the park, connie was always a friendly soul to be around.

“thank you ma’am, have a happy valentine’s day!” connie beamed at the crossing guard before dragging you up the stairs to the school.

you immediately relaxed at the warmth that greeted you when you stepped inside. “c’mon, i’ll walk ya to class,” connie gave you a small smile, enveloping your hand in his once more. as connie walked you to class, various students from different grades said hello to him, some of the older kids even fist bumped him! it was amazing in your eyes

“lemme help you with your stuff,” he mumbled, setting his own valentines on the ground beside him. as you took off your mittens, connie unzipped your coat and snatched off your hat, grinning when you whined about him messing up your hair. “momma spent a lot of time making sure my hair doesn’t stick up,” you huffed, running your hand over the slicked part of your bun.

after hanging up your backpack and coat on the hooks outside your classroom, you turned around to see connie giving you a toothy smile, spider-man valentine in hand. you gasped, eagerly snatching the small card with a lollipop taped to it out of his hand. “thank you, connie! i can’t wait to eat the sucker!”

“i have something else for you too, but it’s a surprise! i’ll give it to you at the end of the day, i gotta go!” and with that connie gave you a bone crushing hug before literally sprinting to his classroom, which was just a few doors down.

while you were in the first grade, connie was in second. this however didn’t stop him from trying to see you as much as he could! sometimes when his class was in the hall you’d see that bald little head peek from the door, smiling at you while waving. during passing times for lunch or recess, he’d always look for the girl with the greased up face, and multiple bows in her hair—it was usually pretty easy to find you because you were always the line leader.

“come on, y/n! let’s get this valentines party started!” you heard your teacher call out. with one last glance at connie, your grabbed the bag containing your valentines before headlining into your classroom.

being the enthusiastic seven year old you were, you expected to get quite a few valentines from your fellow classmates, but unfortunately that wasn’t the case. you got a total of eight valentines out of the seventeen children in your class—apparently they thought it would be funny to skip over your basket.

this just broke your little heart.

by the time the day ended you were a puffy faced, crying mess. getting only a handful of valentines had put you in a sour mood, a frown etched on your lips for the entirety of the day. connie had noticed this, and for some reason it made his chest feel funny seeing his best friend in such sad spirits.

as you zipped up your coat you were startled by a familiar voice behind you. “hey! how was your valentines party?! ours was awesomeeee, i got so many valentines and candy—o-oh . . . why’re you crying y/n?”

midway through connie’s sentence you had burst into tears once more, fat, hot tears running down your cheeks and onto your coat. “i-i *hiccup* barely got any valentines *sniffle* f-from anyone,” you covered your face with your hands, tears seeping into the fabric of your mittens.

connie’s mind was racing. what would an adult do in this situation, better yet how would his mom handle it?

without thinking he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you impossibly close. his mommas hugs always made him feel better. he just held you for a minute and let you cry, glaring and sticking his tongue out at anyone who stared at you both for too long. “c’mon, let’s go before a teacher comes,” connie mumbled into your hair.

before you could even process what was happening, connie was dragging you away, holding your hand tightly in his. the second you walked outside and saw your mother along with connie’s waiting for you, a fresh batch of tears brimmed your lash line.

“what’s wrong with my baby?” your mother asked, her lips turning into a frown. you didn’t really pay much attention to the conversation, and you didn’t really care now that your momma was there to make things all better. you just jumped into her arms, buried your face in her neck, and cried your heart out.

“she didn’t get a lot of valentines,” connie muttered, grasping onto his mothers hand.

the walk back was pretty silent on your end aside from tiny sniffles and hiccups. connie held your hand the entire way to your apartment, he tried to make conversation but you just weren’t having it. before you knew it you were finally back home.

“this is for you,” connie mumbled, unzipping his backpack to reveal a pink teddy bear, along with a valentine’s day card.

suddenly the world stopped.

you were still as a statue, your lips turning into a pout as connie placed the items in your hands. “f-for me?” you sniffled, hugging the bear to your chest. connie grinned at you, nodding his head bashfully.

“how sweet! say thank you, y/n!”

you were still for a few moments before throwing your arms around connie’s neck, bringing him in for a bone crushing hug. “those other valentines were probably lame, you can have some of mine from the second graders.” that had you squealing so loud bystanders had to cover their ears.

“thank you con, you’re the bestest best friend ever!” you hugged the teddy bear to your chest again, snuggling it extra hard.

watching your mood do a complete three sixty made connie’s heart swell. which was weird. it wasn’t until lately that every time connie saw you his tummy erupted with butterflies, but . . . he actually liked it?

he liked being around you. he liked the way you always smelt like shea butter and fresh laundry, he liked whenever you would share your snack with him on the way home from school, but what he really liked was that you never tried to dim his shine. connie was a hyper kid, very talkative too, and kids were mean to him for no reason sometimes about it, but you . . . you were never mean to him. you always welcome him with open arms and a smile.

that night, connie talked to his momma about that strange feeling he gets in his tummy whenever he sees you—come to find out it’s called a crush.

“¿explica lo que significa de nuevo, mami?” connie asked, taking a sip of his apple juice. connie’s mom laughed, she folded her hands and rested her chin on them.

“it means you like her, and you care about her, and that’s good! y/n is probably still a little young to understand this, and honestly you are too, but i feel like you’re mature enough to know about this kinda thing. maybe one day when you’re older you can tell her, yeah?”

“yeah, maybe. that stuff is gross though.”

february 14, 2014 . . .

“c’monnnn, y/n. ¡date prisa, chica, date prisa! we’re gonna be late!”

“i know, i know i’m sorry! i totally overslept,” you called out to connie, securing your scarf around you neck. your nose scrunched at the wind that whipped at your face, your lips already beginning to feel dry.

on the decent down the stairs to the sidewalk you nearly slipped, almost busting your butt. “dios mío,” he chuckled, extending his hand to help you down the rest of the way. you quietly thanked him, ignoring the warmth flaring in your cheeks. connie hooked his arm around yours, “hold on to me, i don’t want you to slip again.”

you didn’t protest, you just nodded and quietly thanked him once again. the walk to your school was silent until connie spoke up, “happy valentine’s day.” you looked up at him, giving him a small smile and little nudge to the side. “happy valentine’s day, connie.”

trying to sound as nonchalant as possible connie said, “did you buy any roses to give to anyone? i heard today at nine is the last time to do it.” you quickly responded with a no, your eyes trailing down to the gravel below you.

“do you think you’ll get any?”

you thought to yourself for a moment before shaking your head, “nah i don’t expect it, but that’s okay.” you weren’t bothered by it completely, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t jealous of the girls who talked about getting roses from their crushes. but all was well, your plan for the day was to bury your nose in the latest romantic novel you purchased. the book was probably a little mature for you, but hey, a little make out scene between two star crossed lovers here and there never hurt nobody.

“what about you? did you buy any? plan to receive any?”

you rolled your eyes when connie burst out laughing, nearly stopping your walk entirely to catch his breath. “you’re so dam—d-dang annoying . . . you’re so annoying,” you huffed, unlinking your arm from his. connie wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close to his side once again. “nah, nah, don’t be like that. it’s not my thing though. i didn’t buy any, and i don’t plan to receive any.”

you hummed, kicking a nearby rock with your foot. as you were walking you couldn’t help but smell a faint musky scent. you sniffed, and then sniffed again, this time you got a stronger whiff when you smelt connie. was he wearing . . . cologne?

“is that you smellin’ like that?” you giggled, stuffing your nose in his neck, and sure enough you smelt cologne. for the first time since you were kids you saw connie blush, it was kinda cute, but in a friend way kinda cute. at least that’s what you told yourself.

connie rubbed his glove covered hand over his freshly buzzed hair. “aish! yeah, i put on some cologne, but only because my mom sprayed on a little before i left the house,” he muttered, clearly lying through his teeth.

the truth was, he had asked his mom to buy him some for today, and after all her teasing and pesky questions she caved and got him some. he told her it was for another girl in his class, but really, it was for you to notice and you only.

as the years went by connie’s innocent crush turned into a full blown one. by the time he was thirteen, he kinda had a holy shit moment as he finally admitted to himself that he indeed did have a crush on his best friend. how cliche.

“well it’s nice . . . makes you smell, uhm, grown? i don’t know, but i like it,” your cheeks felt hot as you spoke, and you hoped connie didn’t notice the slight shakiness in your voice as you finished talking. newflash, he noticed, and it filled his chest with so much pride he felt as if his heart was gonna explode.

you noticed the grin on connie’s face and kissed your teeth, “don’t be weird about it, weirdo.” connie smirked, he pulled you in real close for a side hug, then released you. “you’re the weirdo. talkin’ about how i smell ‘grown’, whatever that means,” he cackled, running a few steps ahead of you to avoid getting a smack on the back of the head.

the two of you continued small talk until you, unfortunately, made it to school. “take my hand again, don’t want you to fall in front of everybody right?” seriously, you were this close to punching him. but nonetheless you took his hand, graciously thanking him inside your head for looking out for you.

“i’m gonna go, but i’ll see you at lunch yeah?” connie spoke softly, nudging your side with his elbow. you wanted to be selfish and tell him that he should spend the morning with you, but you bid him farewell nonetheless with a smile on your face. the second he was out of sight a frown took over your lips. you couldn’t help but wonder if he noticed you were wearing a new gloss today, or you changed your perfume scent from lavender to coconut. boys were so hard to read.

the day went by slow, as usual, but when the last period of the day came around things got a little interesting.

“valentine roses! we have valentine roses!” you heard someone shout from the door of your classroom. you took your eyes away from your book to see three students wearing various pink and red articles of clothing. “mm, whatever,” you hummed, looking back down at your book.

a few minutes passed, and just when you thought the commotion was over, one of the students approached you. looking up over your lashes, you raised a brow. “these are for you, all from the same person,” they said, giving you a small smile before handing you three red roses.

your mouth dropped, unable to find the correct words. there was no way this was real right? there was no way someone bought three roses for you. “w-who are these from?” you questioned, running your thumb along the soft petals of the roses. the girl tapped on a heart shaped card that was tied to the stems with a ribbon, “they had the choice to write a message in here. they either signed it or left it anonymoussss.” the girl gave you a tiny smile before walking away, leaving you completely dumbfounded.

with shaky hands, you opened the card.

‘U R 2 CUTE’ the card had said in bold, pink letters, and at the bottom in parentheses it said ‘for real :)’.

you recognized this handwriting all too well.

you nibbled on your bottom lip, a giddy smile making its way onto your lips. you couldn’t believe connie had done this for you. after all the smack talk and fake gag noises about anything romantic, connie was the last person you expected to receive a rose from. and what did he mean by ‘for real’ ? did he think you were cute, did he think you were . . . pretty?

for the rest of the period you sat there, admiring your roses. you had to ask connie about it, you had to! so when the bell rang you made a beeline for connie’s locker. thankfully he was there, unfortunately his friends were too.

when he saw you, he couldn’t help but smile, but then he saw the flowers you were clutching in your hand. there was nooo way he could let his friends find out he actually participated in the rose giveaway.

“um, i’ll see you guys around,” he muttered, slamming his locker shut before making his way over to you. once you were in reach he gently grabbed your wrist, “vamos a casa, m’starving and need a snack.” without any protests you let him lead the way with tiny, minuscule, little hearts in your eyes.

“you really got these for me?” your voice was tiny, barely audible, and if connie wasn’t so close to you he probably wouldn’t have even known you were speaking. he looked at you and then the ground, his cheeks turning bright red. “well, yeah. i thought flowers would be better than another teddy bear.” he smiled at the last part, remembering his last visit to your bedroom.

you were already into plushies and beanie babies big time, and he did no favors adding onto your collection. each of six teddy bears he got you were lined up neatly on your bed, not a head or paw out of place. connie, being the fourteen boy he was of course, wreaked havoc on the poor teddys, tossing them around and making them do obscene positions much to your horror. they all had names as well, but you have yet to reveal them to save yourself from anymore embarrassment.

“this was really nice of you con, i really wasn’t expecting you to do this,” you couldn’t hide the giddiness in your voice as you spoke, your lips breaking into a shy smile. “ay dios mío, please don’t make it a big thing. let’s talk about something else pleaseeeee!” connie dramatically threw his head back, his cheeks so hot if felt as if someone had placed hot coals on them.

“whatever, weirdo.” you giggled, gently backhanding his chest.

after a few minutes, connie pulled out his phone and headphones. “wanna listen to music with me?” you grinned at him, nodding eagerly before taking an earbud. connie only really listened to songs in spanish, and maybe some rnb on side, but he only listened to songs in spanish with you to help you learn the language better. you caught on pretty fast to the basics when you were younger from hearing him and his mom interact with each other, but as you got older connie wanted you to know more. sometimes he’d quiz you and sometimes he’d just say a whole sentence you didn’t understand over and over until you got it right—he was actually a pretty good teacher for a fourteen year old.

as you were walking you kept feeling connie’s fingers brush against your own. your heartbeat quickened, teeth clamping onto your bottom lip as you decided if you should engage or not. i mean, what if it was accident and he got creeped out? but then again, it wasn’t an odd thing for you and connie to hold hands outside of school.

your thoughts were interrupted when connie hooked his pinky around yours, securing them together. you didn’t say anything, too stunned and shy to mutter even a word, but you did give his pinky a squeeze to let him know the action was welcomed.

“did your mom tell you we’re coming over tonight?” connie asked, referring to him and his mother. you smiled at him, and nodded. “of course she did! it’s like—”

“trying saying it in spanish, chica!”

you hummed, racking your brain for the right words and pronunciation. “uhm . . . okay, uh, es como nuestra tradición?” connie tapped on his chin and hummed, he had the most unserious serious look on his face it almost made you laugh.

“¡correcto! i’ve taught my student well,” he smirked, giving your pinky a rough squeeze.

before you knew it you were outside your apartment building. “here’s your card, i’m happy you like the flowers.” there was a slight shake in connie’s hands as he held the card out, thankfully you didn’t seem to notice.

you took the card, an eruption of butterflies swarming in your stomach. without saying anything you wrapped your arms around him, and as you pulled away you left a tiny peck on his cheek. connie’s eyes widened, his body tensing. “t-thanks for the roses n’ the card. i’ll be sure to take care of them and, uh, i guess i’ll see you later!”

“b-bye y/n! prepare to have your butt kicked at mortal combat when i see you!” you laughed on the your way up the stairs, you turned around to give connie one last wave and smile before heading inside.

the second the door to the building shut connie exhaled a deep breath he didn’t even know he was holding. “was that my first kiss? nah, nah, can’t be . . . well, it counts a little bit,” he giggled to himself, turning on his heels to make his way home. the whole walk home all he could think about was the peck on the cheek you gave him.

he took off his glove and pressed his fingers against the spot on his cheek you kissed, he was intrigued to find out the area was a little sticky. he brought his fingers to his nose, senses immediately overwhelmed by the scent of strawberries. ‘strawberry lipgloss . . . nice,’ he thought to himself, a blush creeping up on his cheeks.

the second connie walked in the door of his apartment, he made a beeline for the only person worthy of knowing this information: his mom.

he found her in the kitchen, the smell of her famous pollo guisao wafting into his nose. “estoy casa, mami,” he mumbled, giving her a quick hug from behind. “one sec, hijo, i’m almost done with this. feel free to grab a snack, i bet you’re starving.” connie didn’t need to be told twice, his stomach growling at the thought of some kind of greasy snack.

“alright, that should be good,” she hummed, dusting her hands off on his apron before making her way over to connie, who was munching on a bag of chips. “¿cómo estuvo la escuela?” she asked, taking a seat on the couch next to him. connie hummed, popping another chip into his mouth.

it was silent for a few beats until she smacked him on the back of the head. “w-wha? ow! what was that for, ma?” he whined, rubbing the back of his head. “boy, you know what i wanna know. did you buy the flowers for that girl today?” connie nodded, not being able to fight the grin creeping up on his lips.

“it was y/n, wasn’t it? she’s also the one you wanted to wear cologne for, right?” connie’s jaw dropped, his fist unintentionally crushing the bag of chips he was holding. she smirked at him, reaching a hand over to gently run over his hair. “una madre siempre sabe cuando su hijo está mintiendo, mi amor.”

connie sank further into the couch, his brows furrowing in annoyance. how was she able to read him so easily? “whatever, mami, but yes, it was for her. the b-best part though was when he got to her house she kissed me!—well, on the cheek, but still.”

all connie’s mom could do was smile at her son—ah, young love. “you two are so freakin’ cuteeee!”

“mami pleaseeee stop!” he groaned, covering his face with his hands. her pesky teasing went on for a few more moments before she gave him a serious look. “i have something for you, wait here,” she spoke softly, getting up from the couch and going into her room. when she came back out she was holding a rectangular shaped box.

she sat next to connie and slowly opened the box, revealing a gold cuban link chain. “it was yours dads. i scrounged up every penny i had, and bought it for him on our two year anniversary. él llevó esto a todas partes.” she laughed at the last part, her lips turning into a sad smile.

connie took a closer look at the chain, his lips turning into a frown. “you sure, mama? i know his stuff is important to you,” he whispered, but his mom shook her head, letting out a little sniffle. “i want you to have it, mi cariño . . . he would’ve wanted you to have it. just promise me one thing.” she took the chain out the case, and gently placed it over connie’s head.

“excuse my language when i say this, amor—wear this shit with pride, just like your dad did. he was a good man, with a great life, n’ a good family and i want all the same for you, okay?” she chuckled when she saw a stray tear roll down connie’s cheek. “no tears, amor, no tears. just promise me that one thing.” connie sniffled and nodded his head—

“i promise, mami.”

february 14th, 2018 . . .

“this fuckin’ girl,” connie groaned, his head tilting back to look at the cloudy, grey sky. he had a card in one hand, and a bouquet of flowers in the other for none other than you, his lovely best friend. he settled on a bouquet of pink tulips this year, deciding to switch it up from the usual roses he gave you.

his ears perked up when he heard the sound of someone coming out of your apartment building. there you were, looking cute as cute as ever in your oversized baby pink coat, along with a hat and mittens to match. “i know, i know, i’m sorryyy,” you giggled, taking careful steps down the slippery stairs.

“yeah, yeah whatever,” he smirked, looking you up and down before holding up the card and roses. you gave him a toothy grin, happily accepting the gifts from him. “thank you con, eres tan dulce.”

connie tongued the inside of his cheek, “ah, it’s nothin’. c’mere.” connie reached an arm out, tatted hand gently grabbing your coat to pull you in for a hug. the smell of his cologne had you relaxing into the hug, your arms tightening around him.

if any stranger were to see you two right now, it would obviously look like you two were together, but unfortunately for connie, that was not the case. it gets worse, you actually have a boyfriend. some motherfucker got to you before him, and he gets mad about it everyday because he had so. much. time. to make you his. you’ve been with the guy for nearly seven months and connie’s jealousy never dimmed.

“alright, alright, let’s get going before we miss the bus,” you mumbled into his jacket, ever so slowly detaching yourself from his embrace. connie huffed, but nonetheless followed after you.

you didn’t link arms anymore, and he didn’t wrap his arm around you—apparently that was a big no no for your boyfriend. connie kinda understood him in a way, if you were his and anyone laid a finger on you he’d go ballistic. at least you were able to listen to music together on your walk to the bus stop, and on the ride to school.

you whipped out your phone and headphones, passing one to connie. “man, no you’re always listening to those korean guys. i can’t understand shit they say,” his chest puffed up if faux annoyance because he knew he’d listen to whatever you played anyway. “well, i don’t care about none of that so here.”

“mmcht, fine. una niña tan mimada . . .” he grumbled, playfully side eyeing you. he loved getting on your nerves.

“i’m not spoiled.”

“yes you are.”

“okay and what about it, constance.”

“woah, my government name? my bad buddy, didn’t mean to strike a nerve there!” he chortled, raising his hands in surrender. if you weren’t connected by a pair of headphones you would’ve pushed him. “anyways . . . how did it go with your mom last night? i’m sure she was so pleased to see the new ink on your hand.”

connie’s shoulders slumped, “bro, you would’ve thought i killed someone the way she reacted. she was saying shit in spanish that i didn’t even know existed, shit was terrifying.” you doubled over in laughter at this, your hand slapping against his arm for stability.

“tch, it’s not funny, y/n. my head still hurts from how hard she threw her sandal at me,” he whined, tenderly rubbing the back of his head. he was expecting his mom to get a little upset about the tattoo, but figured maybe she’d show a little mercy because it was a tribute to his father—that was not the case. my mans got a very stern talking to, and a sandal to the back of the head.

“tuh, well that’s what you get! you know how she feels about tattoos.”

with a huff, connie waved you off, choosing to tune into the music blaring in his right ear instead. you didn’t have to wait long for the bus to come, though you didn’t mind the comfortable silence. when connie found two seats, he allowed you to go first. he always sat on the outside of seats, or walked on the side where the street was—he was a gentleman through and through.

“are you and your mom comin’ over tonight? i convinced my mom to take your favoriteeee.” you snorted, and looked over at him, “but, connie . . . you hate salmon.” connie shrugged, nudging your elbow with his own.

“i don’t mind it too bad when i know you like it so much.” his heart clenched at your smile, but the feeling soon faltered when you frowned, your teeth pulling your lip back to pick at the skin. he made a noise of disapproval, “hey, don’t do that. ¿por qué te ves así? ¿qué pasa?”

your lip popped back into place, and connie’s frowned deepened seeing a small speckle of blood. “well, like, my mom will be going over there, just . . . not me. i’m gonna be out with—”

oh.

connie’s lip twitched, and then slowly turned into the fakest smile you’ve ever seen. “that’s . . . fine. it’s fine. i probably won’t stick around for too long anyway.” your eyebrow perked up, “oh?”

he adjusted in his seat, his knee no longer touching yours. you didn’t understand why it bothered you so much, but it did. it bothered you a lot, actually.

you poked his shoulder, “did you have other plans tonight?” connie shrugged, his focus now on plastic wrapped about his healing tattoo. “jean and ony were talking about this party goin’ on tonight, and you know, since you ain’t coming tonight i might as well join em’.”

“yeah, i guess.” you mumbled, shrinking into your seat. connie noticed the change in your body notice immediately. you thought he was mad at you, it was written all over your face. it couldn’t have been further from the truth, his anger lied with your boyfriend, the dickhead breaking your tradition for the first time since you were kids and stealing you away from him for the night.

connie grinned at your pouting lips. he tapped your chin, taking it between his fingers. this was probably crossing a boundary, but you surely weren’t in a rush to pull away from him, at least that’s what it looked like to him.

“no te veas tan triste. nestoy enojado contigo, así que deja de hacer ese puchero, ¿sí?” you hated when he did this, his eye contact was always so intimidating. your nod was slow, like you were still unsure if he was telling the truth or not. he hummed, releasing your chin. “i promise,” he spoke softly, grabbing the gold, cuban link chain around his neck, “that i’m not mad.” thankfully you seemed to relax after that.

connie was a lot of things, but a liar was not one of them. he took pride in being an honest, good man, much like his father was. but sometimes people, and by people he means you, are stubborn and not so easy to convince, so he started this little thing that whenever he grabs his his dads chain it means he is telling the honest truth, and nothing else.

your eyes lit up the tiniest bit, your frown replaced with a small smile. “te creo, connie. te lo prometo.”

“ooo, look at you using your spanish. una chica tan inteligente,” connie smirked, patting your head three times. oh, how connie loved the the language sounded rolling off your tongue. he noticed you sounded more confident nowadays, and it made his heart swell with pride. “heh . . . thank you. now move your behind, this is our stop,” you grumbled, nudging his knee with yours.

when you got off the bus you were elated to see your boyfriend, eren yeager, waiting at the steps for you. you turned to connie, “i’ll see ya later, thanks again for the flowers! i’ll leave them with ms. jones for the day, she’ll watch them for me.”

“i’ll see you at lunch, okay? we’ll get sum to eat, unless your boy toy already has plans with you.” connie’s eyes zeroed in on the brunette behind you, his lips curling up in distaste. he didn’t care for eren if wasn’t obvious. he had a reputation, and not a good one, and you were too sweet to deal with anything of that nature, but somehow the boy swept you off your feet and you were smitten.

when the most popular boy at school asks you to be his girlfriend, you don’t say no, it’s a clear no brainer—connie thought that logic was bullshit, but he kept that comment to himself.

“well lucky for you he didn’t mention any plans about a lunch date, although he didn’t mention dinner plans either . . . but i’m sure it’s just a surprise.” bells went off in connie’s head when you mentioned that, but he stayed silent. you always found the bright side in things, he admired that about you.

“mm, well, i’ll see you later then. have a good rest of your day, princesa.” he squeezed your shoulder tenderly before walking off. he side eyed eren as he walked away, and ugh, the boy just pissed him off so bad. his face looked entirely too nonchalant for having the most beautiful girl in the city all for himself.

the day went by painfully slow, and then it was lunch. connie waited for you in the foyer, already having a place in mind lunch, but you were nowhere to be found. when he checked in with your favorite teacher, ms. jones, he was shocked to find out you had went home early. apparently you weren’t feeling well.

he decided to text you and check up on you, only to find out your phone was on do not disturb. now this was odd. you were never the type to keep your phone on silent, unless absolutely necessary, afraid that you might miss an important call or message.

leaving school early? phone on do not disturb? connie did not like where this was leading.

he opened instagram to look at your profile, and sure enough, his suspicious were confirmed when he saw the highlight you had dedicated to eren was no longer there. connie’s grip on his phone tightened, he was pissed. this man had the audacity to break up with you on valentine’s day? absolutely not.

i’ll spare the details, but just know it was a very eventful lunch period for paradis high.

forty five minutes later . . .

“use this to ice that,” the nurse treating connie muttered, her tone filled with annoyance. connie huffed, slouching back. this folding chair was really starting to hurt his ass.

the door opened and there revealed connie’s very angry mother, her lips balled up so tight it had connie shivering in fear. “Levántate ahora,” she hissed, clenching her fist at her side. connie let out a long sigh, the knot on his head throbbing harder by the minute.

the walk out of the office was very humbling to say the least, his mother wasting no time cursing him out in spanish, and it continued like that until they got home.

“i mean . . . what were you thinking getting into a fight at school?! you know that stays on your record, tu idiota!” connie’s head fell in his hands, an exasperated sigh slipping past his lips. he really didn’t feel like talking about this. he just wanted to see you.

“imagine how y/n will feel knowing you started a fight with her boyfriend, she already must know you don’t like—”

“¡ya ni siquiera están juntos, mami! . . . he broke up up with her.” it was silent for a few beats. “¿lo sabes con seguridad?” connie shrugged, doing his absolute best to explain the situation with you leaving school early, your phone being on do not disturb, and his missing highlight from your instagram. all his poor momma could do was sigh. “this is absolutely no reason to get into a fight, and get suspended over, constance. i’m very disappointed.”

before connie could respond, there was a knock at the door. his mom looked at him and then the door, “yo lo conseguiré, tú quédate aquí. this conversation is not over.” connie slumped back into the couch, his heart stinging at that word ‘disappointed.’

he didn’t pay too much attention to the visitor at the door, until he saw who it was. there you were in your pink and red, heart patterned sweater, the jeans you were once wearing now replaced with hello kitty pajama pants. “i have to run to the store, so i’ll give you two a minute, but make it quick please, y/n. he’s in big trouble.” and with that you two were left alone.

you slowly walked over to his spot on the couch, taking a seat next to him. you sniffled, “ . . . why’d you do that?” he was silent, that only frustrated you more. “do you realize he’ll probably never talk to me again? he already thought i was cheating on him with you, this only made things worse! i know you don’t like the guy, but connie, i like him a lot, i-i think i might even love him.”

this had connie gritting his teeth, and balling up his hands.

“dios mio, y/n, give me a fucking break. you don’t love eren, you don’t even know what love is, you’re seventeen.” this had you scoffing, how dare he try to turn this on you? “and what the hell do you know about love? you’ve never even been in a relationship for goodness sake!”

“i may not have been in a relationship, but i can tell you whatever you and eren had goin’ on was not love. he never took you out, bought you gifts, i mean shit, the only reason the guy posted you online was because you begged him to, and it was only twenty four hour stories. don’t even get me started when he forgot your birthday—”

“that’s enough!” you cried, jumping up in front of him. connie followed suit, his chest nearly touching yours. you two have had your fair share of fights, but this is by far is becoming the most serious one.

“what? can’t handle hearing that your boy toy was a shitty boyfriend?” he hissed, narrowing his eyes at you. your hands balled into fist, your french tips pinching the skin of your palm. “w . . . w-why do you even care so much huh?! why does him breaking up with me effect you so much, con, it’s getting exhausting!”

“¡porq ue estoy enamorado de ti, chica estúpida!”

your body tensed when connie pressed his lips against yours. it was fast, and awkward. it was his first kiss.

when he pulled away, you couldn’t help but feel small under his intense gaze. his cheeks were as red as tomatoes, and his nostrils were flaring—he was breathless. your lips started to wobble, a fresh batch of hot tears brimming your eyes. “connie, i—”

suddenly the door opened, and in walked his mother. he looked at her and then to you. “deberías ir,” he muttered, taking a step back from you. each movement he made was like a hammer to your heart, shattering it slowly with each step.

“m’kay *sniffle* i-i’ll see ya,” your voice cracked at the last part, and it had connie’s heart clenching. this wasn’t supposed to happen, none of this was. when he pictured himself confessing his crush to you, him sending you out of his house a minute later was not apart of the vision.

that night you and connie both cried in your mothers’ laps, hearts aching and yearning to text the other, but too scared to at the same time, afraid it would make things worse.

“lo arruiné todo, mami. probablemente esté muy enojada conmigo,” he muttered, his eyes fluttering shut when he felt her nails scratch at his scalp. she tsked, and shook her head. “you didn’t ruin anything, amor. y/n cares about you so much, you two will work it out. te lo prometo, mi amor.” he muttered out something that she couldn’t quite hear, but she just let him be, allowing him to peacefully fall asleep on her lap.

while connie was asleep he received two messages.

new message from day one : i’m not mad at u, but i think we need to have a talk tmmr about what happened today

new message from day one : i hope you’re okay, ily

you and connie did talk about it, and after a conversation that lasted four hours, you both came to an agreement to not date. connie mentally beat himself up the entire way home afterwards, because that was in fact not how he felt, but just from your tone he figured you weren’t interested. little did he know you were.

after he graduated you two still talked, but not as often, until you just didn’t talk at all. by that time you were freshly graduated, and preparing for a summer full of fun before starting college. you decided to choose one in your city, too scared to leave your momma alone, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

connie took an interest in selling weed, and has since moved out of his moms apartment, where to? you had no clue.

february 14th, 2024 . . .

“girlllll, let’s go! you got thirty seconds to get down those stairs before i leave you!”

“you better not! it’s hard to get down these stairs with heels on!” you cried out, clutching onto the stair railing as you carefully went down. a sight of relief blew past your lips when you made it down safely. before getting in your friends car you tugged your skirt down, not that there was much to grab onto anyway.

“this skirt is entirely too tiny,” you grumbled, hopping in the passenger seat. anytime you made any sudden movement it was riding up your thick thighs, and you almost took it off, but you knew you’d be crucified by your best friend if you didn’t go through with wearing it.

you were heading out for a night at the club, and since it was valentine’s day, this certain club was allowing ladies to get fifty percent off all drinks.

the entire way there you were fiddling with your skirt, afraid that you were showing too much skin. “don’t worry about your outfit, ‘kay? you look good as fuck, y/n,” you friend grinned at you from the side, giving your arm a tender squeeze. “yeah, you’re right . . . i do look good. really good.”

before you knew it, you had arrived, your stomach doing somersaults when your friend turned the car off. she undid her seatbelt, and turned to you, she set her hands on your shoulders, and looked dead in your eye. “we’re gonna go in there and come out with some cuties, got it?” you let out a shaky breath, nodding your head.

the club was loud, and packed, but nonetheless there were some cute faces in the crowd. luckily your friend found two open seats at the bar, she was quick to secure them and immediately ordered a lemon drop for you. “i feel bad you won’t be able to drink since you drove,” you pouted, resting your arms on the bar.

your friend waved you off, insisting that she wouldn’t need the liquid courage like you would. it was shady, yes, but she wasn’t lying. you weren’t the slickest when it came to men, so it was a good thing you were a pretty girl.

“how’s your mom?” she asked, swiftly thanking the bartender when they set your drink in front of you. you hummed, tapping your fingernails against the glass. “she’s okay, we’re not out of the woods yet, but hopefully she’ll be in remission soon.”

a couple days after your twentieth birthday you had found out your mother was ill, and although you were willing to take a break from college and take care of her full time, she insisted otherwise. ‘this is your time to find yourself, and maybe someone special,’ she had said with tears in her eyes.

your friend gave you a warm smile, “that’s amazing, y/n. i’m really happy for you guys. now where are all the cute . . . guys, ” your brows pulled together as her sentence trailed off, her focus on something, or someone, behind you. “you see somebody?” you asked, taking a sip of your drink.

she nodded with a smirk, “there’s one right behind you. the one in the gallery dept. hoodie. he’s gonna be mine tonight.” you giggled, pushing your hand against the bar to get a look at the mystery man. your eyes widened when you realized it was onyankopon.

“oh . . . i—i know him. i went to school with him,” you muttered, turning your seat back. “were you two high school sweethearts, or something?” she teased, pinching your side. this had you scoffing.

“please. we were never together, but he was friends with my bes—um, ex best friend, connie.” her eyebrows shot up in surprise. “right, right. i remember you mentioning him. do you know if they’re still cool? *gasp* maybe they’re here together! i’ll call him over.”

“n-no, no no no. there’s no need to do that forreal,” it was hard to hide the nervousness in your voice. your friend hummed, tapping on her chin in faux thought. “you’re right, let’s go over there instead,” and with that she was hopping off her seat, her hand wrapping around your forearm.

you were stunned to say the least, your body stiffening as she tried to pull you from the bar stool. “but wait, wait, what if they actually are here together? y’know i haven’t seen connie in years and i just—”

you were silenced by a hand being placed in your face. “my dear y/n, no one on this earth go ahead in life by sitting in their behind, not come onnn.” you whined and protested when pulled again, spluttering out something about how you haven’t finished your drink. it took some serious convincing, and tugging, but your friend eventually got you up, wasting no time making a beeline for ony.

his back was facing you, but that didn’t stop your friend from tapping him on the back. “what’s good—oh, y/n! what’s up, girl?” ony grinned, pulling you in for a hug. you awkwardly hugged him back, giving his back a few gentle pats. “o-oh nothin’ much,” you were very grateful the music was so loud that he couldn’t hear the shakiness in your voice.

“what are you ladies up to tonight?” he asked, beckoning you more into his section. there were a couple other guys, and some girls taking up seats on the lounge couches, all immersed in their own conversations, besides one man. he sat on the farthest end by himself, a blunt perched between two tatted fingers. he was scrolling on his phone, his foot tapping along to the music every now and again.

“oh, you know, just a girls night out. i was actually hoping we could hangout with you? you seem nice . . . really cute too.” you couldn’t help but snort as your friend turned on her charm, ony immediately turning to putty in her hands. “why don’t you go mingle, y/n? i’ll have ony order you another drink, and don’t panic if you see you know who,” she gave you a sly wink before waving you off much to your dismay.

you decided to take a seat next to the loner with the blunt, wondering to yourself if he was even allowed to smoke that inside. your eyes drifted to the rings on his fingers, all coated with tiny diamonds. you leant to the side, close enough to where he could hear you, “i-i like your rings!”

and suddenly you were met with a pair of very familiar brown eyes staring back into yours. “connie . . ? !” you said his name as it were forbidden, your chest tightening. he looked at you for a moment, his brows pulling together as he examined your face, you figured it all clicked for him when he started grinning at you like the cheshire cat.

before you could say another word, he stood up, his reaching down for yours. “uh i—” you looked over at your friend who was already looking right at you. she had a giddy smile on her face, her hand waving in a not so subtle way to tell you to go with him. with no excuse left, you took his hand, the warmth from it sending shivers up your back.

as he lead you out of the section he passed the blunt he was smoking to ony, yelling something about how he’d back right back. while he lead the way, your eyes were focused on the way his hand grasped yours. it felt comforting, familiar.

when you got outside the cool, city air felt like heaven, but it didn’t stop goosebumps from forming on your skin when connie leant against a blacked out vehicle, his eyes zeroing in on yours.

“wow, s’really you.” his head tilted back in a laugh, giving you a small peek at the grills on his teeth. “¿cómo has estado, princesa?” his head tilted, awaiting your answer.

you wanted to speak, you really did, but the words would not leave your mouth. you were stunned to say the least, not only from seeing connie after years, but also how different he looked. he was way buffer, and now had a bit of facial hair, his signature buzzcut stayed the same. what caught your attention the most was the tattoos that covered his arms and neck. his few pictures on social media didn’t do him much justice.

“hello? anybody home?” he chuckled, waving his hand in front of your face. you blinked three times, your mouth opening, then closing.

“hi.”

you sounded strained, almost like you were in pain, it made connie laugh. “hi, y/n.” the way he smiled at you made you feel . . . weird. he was looking at like you like he wanted to devour you whole.

“sorry, it’s uh, it’s been a minute since we’ve seen each other in person. you look . . . different, i-i mean you look the same, but, not? i’m sorry—”

“hey, hey, relax. it’s just me remember? no need to be nervous, even if some time has passed.” he leant forward, grabbing your hand in his, he pulled you closer then let go, your hand twitched at the loss of contact.

he had a point. it was just connie, your childhood best friend, someone you’ve known longer than you haven’t.

you cleared your throat, clasping your hands behind your back. “well, i’ve been good. i’m sure you’ve seen that college is going well. met some new people, had a few failed relationships, you know, typical stuff.”

“thas’ wassup. i heard about your mom, i’m real happy for you y/n. ustedes dos no merecen nada más que bendiciones en esta vida.” warmth spread through your cheeks at his words.

“did that translate, or have you been lacking on your spanish, hm?” he teased, secretly hoping you have in fact been continuing to speak spanish. you giggled, waving him off. “i understand, and i really appreciate it. deberías visitarla algún día, le encantaría verte.”

his grin widened, “yeah? i figured she’d hate me after what happened with you and my mom. i’m sure you’ve heard some awful things from her about me.”

he was correct. whenever his mother did visit his name would somehow come up, and then it would lead to the same speech about how she felt like she failed him and how she hated his life choices. you agreed about the drug selling part, you weren’t very fond he chose that as a source of income, but when it came to the other awful things she spewed about him, you found it rather hard to believe. there was no way she was talking about your connie.

he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, his eyes drifting to the gravel. “i don’t blame her though, like at all. i gave her hell for months about . . certain things. i thought it was just best to keep my distance after i moved out. she hasn’t reached out to me, and vice versa.” this made you frown, and without thinking you wrapped your arms around him.

“oh, uh, thanks,” he stiff at first, but eventually relaxed into the hug, “feels good to hug you again.” you slowly nodded, sighing with content. it really was nice to be in his embrace again. his smelt different though, more mature, more expensive.

“you know, even though she says all that, she still misses you like crazy. momma told me so herself.” connie squeezed you a bit tighter, his chin finding place at the crown of your hair. “your momma has never been one to lie, so i’ll take your word for it,” he chuckled, leaning back against the car, taking you back with him.

your nose bumped into his sturdy chest, you looked up at him, giving him an apologetic look. he gently squeezed your side, “don’t worry about it.”

it was silent for a few beats. he cocked his head to the side, giving you his signature smirk, “why’re you lookin’ at me like that hm?”

“it’s just really good to see your face . . . i missed you connie. in case you don’t remember, you kinda stopped talking to me the summer i graduated.” connie licked his lips, the feeling of guilt slowly trickling over him. you looked like you had more to say, but as always you cut yourself off, your teeth picking on your bottom lip to stop yourself.

you nearly whimpered when his hand cupped your face, his thumb slowly pulling your bottom lip out. “veo que todavía tienes ese hábito. termina lo que ibas a decir, usa tus palabras.” you melted in his arms. his touch was so gentle, as if he was petting a week old kitten.

you took a deep breath, “well, it hurt connie. it hurt a lot, and like, i felt guilty, but i shouldn’t have felt guilty because . . . well, because i didn’t do anything! you kissed me, and then you ask me to leave like i did something wrong, a-and then when you agree to talk to me you acted like a fucking zombie, just nodding along to everything i said, not explaining literally anything at all. you completely ghosted me after you graduated, and then i have to hear from my mom that you’re fucking dealing?! i mean, what were you even thinking? and i don’t believe the bullshit about it ‘just being weed’, l-like y-you were an actual *sniffle* —

you hadn’t even noticed you were crying, you also hadn’t noticed you stepped three paces away from connie, too wrapped up in your anger. connie let out a shaky sigh, “sigue adelante.” connie was stunned. you were never one to raise your voice at someone, let alone yell at them. in a world full of people who ran over you your whole life, him included, he was more than happy to receive all the pent up anger you had built up.

you sniffled, lips wobbling as you choked down a sob. you probably looked crazy right now, but then again this probably looked like a normal situation seeing as you were outside a nightclub.

“you just left me hanging . . . friends don’t do that connie, n-not best friends that you’ve known longer than you haven’t. there was so much stuff i wanted to talk to you about, but i didn’t even know if you would give me the time of day.” by now you were close to hyperventilating, all the emotions you had been setting aside for years hitting you at once.

connie pushed off the car, outstretching his arms towards you, he pulled you in for a tight embrace, whispering little things in your ear to calm you down. “it’s okay, it’s okay, i’m here. i’m so sorry, you have no idea, cariño.”

“then explain yourself,” your muttered, words muffled by his shirt.

well, here we go.

“i wasn’t . . . i wasn’t being completely honest when we had that conversation. i didn’t want to be just friends, i wanted to be more, but then i thought ‘well, what if things don’t work out?’ so, i pushed you away. you have to believe me when i say dealing was the last thing i wanted to do, but if you want to live a good life as quickly as possible you have to do things you’re not proud of. you gotta understand, i was around some bad people for a while, the kind of bad people that would hurt someone i care about. i didn’t want that to happen, and my mom was already giving me enough shit so i left. i’m so sorry y/n, i wanted to explain but it was just too much, pero estoy aquí ahora.”

you didn’t say anything, so he continued. “el universo nos volvió a reunir por alguna razón, verdad?”

“yeah . . . i guess.”

“so stop those tears. y’know i hate seeing you cry, ‘breaks my heart,” he muttered, wiping a stray tear off your cheek. “do you hate me?” he whispered, and his chest filled with relief when you shook you head.

“nunca podría odiarte, connie”

connie inhaled deeply through his nose, his face moving another inch close to yours. your lips parted, but nothing came out except a weak ‘please’. he hummed, brushing his nose against yours, before softly pressing his lips to yours. it was slow, but desperate, which was expected since he’d been waiting years to do this.

what connie didn’t expect was for you to deepen the kiss. your lips parted, tongue swiping against his bottom lip in urgency. a chuckle rumbled in his chest, how cute.

he grabbed the fat of your hips and switched your positions, your back now pressed against the car. he cupped your jaw, his thumb pressing down on your chin. connie’s tongue traced over your lips before pushing into your mouth, earning a squeak from you.

“heh, te gusta eso?” with a gulp, you nodded. since when did he learn how to do that? it kinda irked you knowing some girl, that wasn’t you experienced these kinds of kisses from connie.

“get outta your head, we’re supposed to be kissing, not thinking,” he muttered against your lips, pushing his front against yours. the cogs in your head started turning when you felt something hard. was he worked up just as much as you?

connie cradled your jaw in both his hands, desperately kissing you with every fiber of his being. “c-con—”

“lo sé, cariño, lo sé. y’have no idea how much i’ve waited for this. from the moment you kissed me on the cheek ten sum years ago, i knew i didn’t wanna feel anyones lips on me, but yours.”

you whimpered. “and as much as i wanna bend you over my car, n’ take you right here, i have a friend who needs to get home safe, and so do you.” he pulled his lips away from yours, a thin line of spit connecting you. he was right, unfortunately.

“i wanna see you again . . . tomorrow, i wanna see you tomorrow. can you make that happen?” you were clutching onto him so tight, afraid he’d slip right through your fingers. connie smirked, his fingers dancing down your hips, and to the tops of your tights. he pulled the material forward before letting it snap back into place, earning a squeak from you.

“i can make that happen. should i roll us a little sum?” you shook your head, “eh, i don’t really like smoking, it makes me paranoid.” you laughed at the last part, and god, it was so nice to hear your laugh. your eyes trailed down to his lower half, then back to his eyes. with a slow bat of your eyes you said, “i like wine though . . . cuanto más dulce, mejor. do what you will with the information.”

connie’s dick twitched. “noted. very much noted, princesa.”

as happy as you were to know you’d be seeing connie again real soon, something kept crossing your mind. “um, connie?” you whispered, playing with the hem of his shirt. he noticed your eyes were avoiding his, you were nervous.

“those people, the bad ones, do you still deal with them?” it was a valid question, connie had a feeling you’d bring it up sooner or later.

“no, i don’t, i got outta that months ago. i found me a new supplier through a friend and now i sell a lil weed on side, nothing big. n’ then once i finish this apprenticeship at this tattoo shop i’m at, i’m done for good. no estaría haciendo todo esto si supiera que tu vida estaría en peligro.”

your eyes fluttered shut when he lips pressed against your forehead. he wrapped his fingers around the gold, cuban link chain around his neck, “you can still be skeptical, i don’t blame you, but just know i treasure your existence too much to play with it like that.”

“i believe you, con,” your voice was small, but connie was still able to hear. he kissed your forehead a final time, “c’mon let’s go inside, it’s cold.” your fingers laced with his, and a warmth that you’ve never felt before coursed throughout your body.

when you got back to his section of the club, you sat in the nearest open spot, your heart beating a mile a minute. after all these years wondering where you two had went wrong, you finally got a little clarity. you still had questions, but decided not to pry. as connie talked about his experience with those certain individuals, you could tell by the strain in his voice that it was a hard topic.

“by the smile on your face, i’m assuming it went well?!” your head whipped to the side to see your friend, a proud smirk on her lips. you nibbled on your lip, your eyes flicking to connie who was sitting by himself once again, blunt in hand. you would definitely call the conversation a success.

february 15th, 2024 . . .

new message from bffie ౨ৎ : i hope you like stella rose black bc that’s what i got

new message from bffie ౨ৎ : send me your addy, ima leave in 20

your stomach twisted in knots as you texted connie your address. you didn’t know what to expect from your hangout, all you knew was that there was going to be sexual tension and wine, a very dangerous combination.

with a shallow exhale, you stood up, quickly making your way over your full body mirror. you examined your outfit carefully in the mirror, it was cute, but something was missing. “ . . . i need a headband,” you muttered, scrambling to find the perfect, pink headband to complete the outfit.

before you knew it, connie was texting you that he was outside your apartment.

“momma! i’m gonna go out with connie for a while, i’ll be back soon.” you pressed a quick kiss to her forehead, and she mumbled something about how you looked like a doll.

when walked outside connie was waiting at the bottom of the stairs for you, flowers and card in hand. “lemme help you down, lord knows what’ll happen since you’re in heels,” he snickered, extending his hand out towards you.

“yeah, yeah, whatever,” you grumbled, taking his hand. you let out a tiny gasp when he pulled you close, his body pressing against yours. “mm, you look cute. i like . . . whatever this is,” he chuckled, pulling at the soft material of your jacket.” you mumbled out a thank you, your eyes drifting to the pink roses he was holding.

he held them out to you, his lips lifting into a sly smile. “i know i’m a day late, but these are for you.” the roses were the prettiest shade of pink, and the card had some cheesy pun about sushi on it. “gracias, connie. they’re beautiful.”

“you’re very welcome, amor. now c’mon, i got your seat all warmed up for ya.” he literally had the seat warmer up full blast, already knowing you were probably freezing your ass off in your skirt.

his car smelt like weed and pine scented air freshener, it was oddly comforting. “feel free to adjust the heat to your liking, it won’t take long to get there though, only like fifteen minutes.” you hummed, placing your hands neatly in your lap.

the ride was pretty silent, but you didn’t mind it because his hand was glued to your thigh the entire time. “m’not making you uncomfortable being too touchy am i?” he spoke softly, giving your thigh a gentle squeeze. you answered with a quick ‘mm mm!’ and eagerly placed both of your hands on top of his.

you were so cute, and you didn’t even know it, you were practically killing the poor guy.

“good . . . good. y’know i’ve come to realize i’m really hands-on when i want something, ‘specially if it’s a pretty girl.” your lips parted, then shut, unable to think of anything to say that wouldn’t make you sound dumb. when did he become such a flirt?

“eh, i guess it just came naturally as i got older.” connie chuckled, and you just about fell out when you realized you had in fact said that out loud. “sorry i didn’t meant to say that out loud, b-but it’s true! you keep leavin’ me flustered it’s annoying!” this had connie laughing so hard the corners of his eyes crinkled shut. “you want me to stop?”

“ . . . no.”

twenty minutes later . . .

“make yourself comfortable and—ah, don’t mind her. she loves meeting new people,” connie chuckled, patting the grey pitbull, that had started sniffing you the second you walked inside, gently on the head. you become quickly enamored with the dog, bending down and cooing at it excitedly. “what’s her name?”

“her name is kali, i got her a few months after i moved in here. she makes good company, very sweet, and very snuggly as you can see.” snuggly was indeed the correct word to use, and you were loving it. “she’s too precious, con, i’m sooo jealous,” you giggled, scratching underneath kali’s chin.

connie’s apartment was very . . . him. dark brown, leather furniture covered the living room, along with a sixty five inch tv mounted on the wall. his windows were huge, giving you a pretty view of the entire city, and along with them was a big glass door that lead to the balcony.

“this is . . wow.” your hands were clasped behind your back as you looked around, what caught your attention next the various pieces of art along the walls. “you’re into buying art?” you giggled, turning around to look back at connie, who was still by the front door. he pursed his lips, a hand coming back to scratch at the back of his neck.

“i dabble in it every now and again. shits way too expensive to have a whole collection,” he chuckled, finally making his way over to you. “which one do you like the most?”

you nibbled on your lip, taking your time to examine and admire each framed piece.

“i think i like . . . this one. the eyes look so real, it almost looks like a picture, and it looks like there’s some emotion in them, but i can’t quite pinpoint it,” you muttered, and connie hummed in agreement. he went on to explain that it was his favorite painting as well, and that it was the cheapest one of the bunch.

“this older guy was having a viewing, and barely anyone was there so he walked me through the whole exhibit. these eyes? they’re his wives, shit, everything he painted in there was of his wife. the day the viewing was held was the anniversary of her death, i thought it was kinda . . beautiful, so i bought it. only cost me fifty bucks, can you believe that?”

your jaw dropped the tiniest bit, you stepped closer the painting, taking in every little detail once again. “so i’m assuming the look in her eyes—it’s love?”

connie nodded, taking a step forward as well, he was behind you now, you could practically feel the warmth radiating off of him. “he said when he was painting this he was picturing the look she gave him on their wedding day, said he saw a spark in her eyes that day that he’d never seen before, and never saw it again. cool as hell right?” he whispered, leaning over to rest his chin on your shoulder.

“y-yeah, s’really cool,” you turned your head, your nose bumping into his, “it makes sense you’d have something like this it, uh, suits you?” connie grinned at your words, now standing up straight.

“thank you, y/n . . . you want some wine?”

you were quick to nod, your feet swiftly turning to follow him to the kitchen. he rummaged through he cabinets and pulled out two glass cups, “now i don’t have wine glasses, so these’ll have to do.”

as he poured the wine, you went ahead and made yourself comfortable on one of the bar stools at the kitchen island. your feet slowly swung back forth, and when connie slid the glass over to you, you wasted no time taking a long sip. “s’good? es lo suficientemente dulce para ti, linda niña?” he asked, leaning on the island.

you felt your cheeks get hot, recalling your comment from last night. “yes, it’s sweet enough, thank you.” you made brief eye contact with connie before looking back down at your glass, twirling it carefully in your hands.

suddenly you blurted out, “you have a lot of tattoos now.”

connie smirked, taking a sip of his own wine. “yes, yes i do. you wanna see them?” you nearly choked on your spit, breaking into a fit of coughs. see connie’s tattoos? you didn’t know if your heart, or your pussy, could handle that, especially at the rate you were drinking this wine.

connie took your silence as a yes, and before you knew it he was shedding his hoodie, leaving him in thin tank top. he was completely jacked now, the swirls of ink around his arms and chest only adding on to his attractiveness. he looked like a completely different person.

“wow, you really wasted no time taking your clothes off huh?” you giggled, raising two fingers to beckon him closer. connie kissed his teeth, he tried his absolute best to look annoyed, but he couldn’t! not when your laugh sounded like the prettiest of symphonies.

“man, whatever. now you wanna see just my arms, or do you want so see everything?” his eyebrows raised up mischievously, and you knew right then and there you were absolutely done for . . . and you were gonna need more wine. “um, i guess everything since you’re already stripping, but gimme some more wine first!”

after a topping off your wine, connie removed his tank top, revealing more inked skin. you eyes were as wide as saucers, your jaw nearly dropped to the floor. “oh my goodness, connie! didn’t this shit hurt?!” without thinking you extended your hand, you ran the tips of your fingers over his chest, shuddering at the thought of a needle piercing his tan skin all over.

connie’s breath hitched. “y-yeah, it hurt like bitch. took two sessions to finish too, but it’s hard right?” your head bobbed up and down in a mindless nod, your hand still glued to to his chest. “this one didn’t hurt too bad,” he grumbled, pulling the waistband of his sweats down slightly to reveal a tattoo that said ‘muérdeme’ right on his v-line.

“bite me . . ?” you mumbled, fingers trailing down to trace over the letters. connie let out a low hum, goosebumps rising all over his skin. “you like it?”

you blindly reached for your glass and took a small sip of the wine, you looked into his eyes while you swallowed before nodding. “i like it a lot, i love all your tattoos, s’making me a little hot actually,” you giggled, leaving connie stunned, and a little turned on. the wine was definitely giving you a little extra confidence.

he took a step towards you, and then another until your knees were touching the tops of his thighs. he didn’t lean down, no, he waited for you to tilt that pretty head up and look him right in his eyes. when you did you wanted to look right back down at the floor. he was staring at you like he wanted to eat you whole.

“should i put my shirt back on, or do you want me to keep it off?” he didn’t laugh, he give you that signature smirk, he looked more serious than you’ve ever seen him. his thumb tapped against your bottom lip, “¿me oyes, linda chica? ¿on o off?”

you let out a shaky breath, “o-off. off please.”

connie was quick to grasp underneath your thighs, and pick you up, his hands moved downwards to cup your ass for a better grip. “if you want me to stop you better tell me now,” he spoke lowly, setting you on the island. before even kissing you the first thing he did was nuzzle his face into your neck, inhaling your familiar, but now slightly different scent.

your hand gently cupped the back of his neck, “you still like me?” yes, you completely ignored what he said, but that question had been burning in your brain since the second you locked eyes with him the previous night.

he lifted his face out of your neck, now standing at his full height. “um . . . did you not see how quick i was to kiss you last night? or how quick i was to start taking off my clothes just now? c’mon, y/n, usa esa linda cabecita.”

your lips pushed into a pout, “don’t be a dick, just confirm it for me so i can have peace of mind.”

“yes, y/n, i do still like you, love in fact. i’ve only ever loved two women in my life, you and my momma, and that’s how it’ll be until i’m in my grave.”

“b-but connie, you’re only twenty four . . . don’t you think you might love another before your time comes?” he quickly shook his head, not even bothering to give your question any thought. “you and my momma. that’s it, that’s all—well, kali too, but you know what i mean,” you both laughed at the last part, but you were soon interrupted by connie smushing his lips into yours.

“mmph! w-well i have no other questions so please continue,” you panted against his lips, you shakily reached your hand down to tug him closer by the waistband of his sweats. your panties were starting to feel uncomfortably sticky, the soft cotton sticky lewdly to your folds.

connie wasted absolutely no time lifting you up once more, he mumbled something about taking you to his bedroom before making the slow, but successful journey there. his lips never once left yours, happily swallowing up every whine and moan you let slip out.

you eventually had to pull away for air, though he did not make it easy, his lips chasing yours each time you pulled away.

“i—i like your room!” your lips parted in a squeal when he dropped you on the bed, your headband flying off somewhere behind you. “not cool, eres tan molesto,” you huffed, sitting up on your elbows.

connie’s chest rumbled with a laugh, you were really too cute.

“what, you think just because i’m in love with you i won’t give you shit? estas muy equivocada, mami.” connie softly grabbed your ankles, pressing a kiss to each one before pulling you forward. “you mind if i peek up under there?” he chuckled, slowly getting on his knees.

“n-no go ahead, just . . . be nice. it’s been a minute since i’ve gotten a wax, m’goin’ for a more natural thing you know?” no, no he didn’t, but he truly didn’t care if you were bald down there or not, he was gonna eat it regardless.

his hand reached up to the button of your skirt, “i don’t care if you got a little hair down there, y/n. we’re both grown, yeah?” as he was speaking he undid the button, then the zipper. you didn’t say anything, instead you just nodded and lifted your hips up, allowing him to slip your skirt off.

connie slowly ran his hands along the insides of your thighs, his mouth watering at the sticky silhouette of your pussy. you gasped when he pulled your panties to the side, your dripping pussy on fully display for him. “dios mio . . . she’s prettier than i thought,” he mumbled, his fingers brushing over the small tufts of hair on your mound.

“constance. don’t p-pet it . . . that’s . . . w-weird . . .” your sentence trailed off into nothingness the second you felt his tongue circle around your clit. he was going soft, so soft you barely felt anything, and then he licked a fat stripe up your folds before sucking your clit into his mouth.

your elbows eventually gave up, and you flopped back on the bed with a soft thud. connie hummed against your pussy, his fingers tugging your panties to the side more to get his proper fill. when he felt your hand nearly smack on top of his head it gave him the biggest fucking ego boost.

“f-faster please,” he heard you sigh out, and he was more than happy to give you what you wanted, except your panties were starting to become a bother. “no problem, gorgeous, i just gotta—”

RIPPPPPPP

you picked your head up to see if your ears were deceiving you, and unfortunately they were not. connie had completely torn your panties in half, he tossed the garment aside like it was nothing and looked back up at you, a dopey smile on his lips. “you have absolutely no manners,” you panted out, too embarrassed to even glance at your torn, discarded panties.

he kissed the inside of your thigh, mumbling something you couldn’t decipher into the skin, probably something snarky knowing him.

“spread your legs mama, i’m gonna take my time with you—unless you have somewhere to be after this?”

you shook your head, grabbing the back of your knees to open them as wide as you could. “i texted my mom not to wait up on the way here, she’ll call if she needs me. now no more talking,” the last part came out rushed, barely audible to connie as you pushed his head between your thighs.

despite the well rounded man he had become, connie was still a little shit at heart, always teasing you even during moments like these. every time you’d moan, he’d moan just as loud, every time your hips raised the slightest he’d push them right back down, rewarding you with a nice pinch on the thigh.

he was a messy eater, not ashamed in the slightest at how sloppy he sounded, but at the same time it didn’t help that you were practically leaking like a faucet either. each time his tongue swiped over your clit another gush of wetness dribbled out of you, waiting to be lapped up by connie.

his cock throbbed in his sweats, tip drooling at the thought of you wrapped around him.

“o-oh connieee,” you gasped out, your head tilting back into the mattress. you were so wrapped up in your pleasure that you hadn’t even realized he pushed you further up the bed, making just enough room to lay between your thighs. the pressure felt sooo nice on his dick—now he could really enjoy this.

“te sientes bien, baby?” he asked, spitting on your clit, earning a shy whine from you. his hips started to rock into the bed, and with each movement it had him moaning into your pussy, the vibrations bringing you closer and closer to your peak.

you moaned out a weak yes, your hips circling around his tongue. he gave you full control now, allowing you to move your hips, and fuck his mouth as you pleased.

you nearly fell out when you suddenly felt him push a finger in, curling it almost instantly. he let you adjust at first, making sure you weren’t hurting at all before adding another finger.

shlick! shlick! shlick!

you were so close, he could feel it. you were dripping all onto the sheets, creating a creamy puddle beneath your ass, and if connie weren’t as pussydrunk as he was, he would’ve definitely teased you for it.

“i-i’m—!”

suddenly a hand wrapped around your throat and connie was towering over you, his chain dangling right over your nose. “do it, i wanna see your face when i make you cum for the first time. ven en mis dedos, princesa, déjame ver esa cara.” your eyes rolled back, hands grasping at connie’s wrist as you came a cry.

“there it is—mierda, such a pretty girl,” he groaned, slowly sliding his fingers out of your pussy. he rubbed three fingers between your folds, simply feeling you up now. “mm, i like your pussy. she’s cute n’ soft, just like you, i can’t get enough of either of ya.” your back arched into his chest when he pinched your clit, “you’re so responsive too.”

“t-thank you, can we—can we do some more?” you could spot the huge print in his sweats from a mile away, and you were just about done waiting to see what was underneath. you cupped his bulge gently, giving it a soft squeeze. “lemme see, con.”

“m’kay, baby,” he muttered, giving your lips three kisses before getting off the bed. with shaky arms you sat up, giving his lower half your full attention.

wow.

“what?”

“what?” you asked, blinking multiple times. he was looking at you like you had sprouted a second head. “you said ‘wow’ and i couldn’t decide if it was a good wow or a bad one, so i’m asking . . . duh.”

you kissed your teeth and scooted closer to the edge of bed, you couldn’t help but internally cringe at the wet sounds your pussy made as you moved. “come closer,” you whispered, moving to sit on your knees. he took two steps forward, his palms feeling clammy when you leant forward, nose nearly touching his cock.

he was hung, thick too, almost intimidatingly thick—but you were no bitch, and you liked a challenge. he let out a small breath through his nose, it sounded like a laugh. “¿crees que puedes manejar eso?” he mused, raising a thick brow. you looked at him through your lashes, “yes.”

your tongue poked out, giving his drooling tip an experimental lick. oh, you liked that.

connie’s head tilted back, his adams apple bopping with you wrapped your lips around him, your tongue caressing the underside of his cock. “d-don’t do too much, i don’t w-want to—fuck, bust in your mouth so . . . soon.” all thoughts, or any concept of one were wiped from connie’s brain when you started to suck, little droplets of drool spilling from your mouth and down his shaft. he was too far gone.

you made a noise around his cock when his hand cupped underneath your jaw, the other finding purchase on top of your head. he found a grip on your hair and slowly started to move his hips. you moaned around his dick, and relaxed your jaw, allowing him to sheath more of his cock down your throat.

“good fuckin’ throat,” he grunted, pushing your head down as low as he could get you. your hands smacked against the bed, hot tears brimming your lash line. you choked around him, and that earned you a very deep groan from connie, his head tilting forward to get a good look at you. you looked stunning with a mouthful of dick, his dick specifically.

he yanked you back by your hair, allowing you to gasp for some very much needed air. “you’re— you’re good at that *pant* so fuckin’ good at it.” he slapped his cock against your lips and cheeks, smearing any excess pre and spit on your lips and chin.

“how do you want it?”

you already had a position in mind. “f-from the side, please.”

that’s how you ended up on your side, stark naked, with connie behind you, his chest feeling scorching hot against your back. “im’a go slow at first, but after that i can’t tell you what’ll happen,” he chuckled, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. he took your hand in his, mumbling lowly for you to hold your leg up for him.

despite being on birth control, you both decided it was best for him to still use a condom, but that logic slowly faded away when you felt his dick slip between your dewy folds, fat tip nudging against your swollen clit. “goddamn, y/n,” he groaned into your shoulder, shallowly his hips back before pushing them forward.

“t-that feels nice,” you hummed, nuzzling your face into his pillow. connie tapped his tip against your sticky clit three times before aligning himself with your entrance, “you ready, mama?” you nodded, moaning out a pathetic plea for him to hurry up.

when he finally pushed inside you both gasped. you could already feel your arm getting weak from holding your leg up, and he wasn’t even fully inside you yet. “i got you,” you grunted, putting his hand over your own.

he started slow at first, real slow, making sure that you felt every vein and ridge that he had to offer you. it didn’t take long for your pussy to adjust, and before you knew it he was giving you slow, but swift thrusts. “joder, eso está apretado,” he all but growled, his fingernails digging into the fat of your thighs.

“y—you don’t know how long i’ve waited for this, to be close like this. eres un sueño, amor.” all you could do was moan, and nod along to his praises. you wished it was possible to be even more physically closer to him than you were, but this would just have to do to.

your hips suddenly had a mind of their own, moving back to meet connie’s swift thrusts. “yeah . . fuck me back, c’mon mami.” his eyes flicked between your bodies, your hips moved back against his with so much desperation it was almost too precious.

“c’mere.” his arm slipped underneath your head, his hand snaking around your throat. he hiked your leg higher, and pulled you closer, fully sheathing his dick inside you. “o-oh!” you squeaked out, hand coming behind you to cup the back of connie’s head. he let out a pretty moan right into your ear, his tongue lolling out to lick over the shell of it.

his pace had changed drastically, he was now fucking you like he hated your guts. his strokes were quick and shallow, his pudgy tip slamming against your g-spot each time he pushed in. you couldn’t help but think how nice this would be raw . . . fuck it.

“c-connie,” you whined, patting the back of his head softly. connie’s thrusts halted, he still deep inside you, cock throbbing almost painfully at how tight you were gripping him. “what’s the matter, mi cariño?”

“off . . . i wan’ you to take the condom off, if that’s okay.” it was silent for few beats, the only thing being heard were your labored breaths. “look at me,” connie whispered, not moving an inch until your eyes were on his. he slowly pulled out, gauging your every reaction as he did so. he quick to rip and condom off, blindly tossing it in the nearby trash can by his bed, and he was even quicker to thrust inside you once more, your mouths dropping in synch. you finally got feel him, all of him.

connie resumed his brutal pace, his grip on your throat tightening the tiniest bit. “h-harder,” you choked out, resting your hand on his. he snickered, squeezing your neck roughly before releasing it, “you like that? you like getting choked by me?” you head shook furiously, a raspy ‘uh huh!’ slipping past your kiss bitten lips.

the squelching of your pussy got louder and louder, alerting connie of your oncoming orgasm. “shit, you’re about to cum—aren’t you?” his question ended with a squeeze to your neck, and that’s what triggered your second orgasm of the night. your eyes crossed and your body spasmed, your pussy was clenching around connie so tightly it almost had him cumming.

“f-fuck yeah, get that nut out, baby. feel good f’me.” connie milked your orgasm as long as he could, even going as far as pushing down on your lower tummy to make sure you got it all out.

your body trembled in his arms, and to soothe your whines he whispered praises left and right into your ear, some in english, some in spanish.

it wasn’t long before that fluttery feeling in your tummy came around again, and just like that you were all over connie, your lips smushing against his sloppily in a clash of tongue and teeth. “l-lets go again, i wan’ you on top,” you words were muffled by lips, but he understood loud and clear.

he wanted you to feel him as deep as possible, so that’s why he had you hanging halfway off the bed, your knees pushed to your ears while he beat your guts in. each clap his thighs against yours had your skin tingling, your nerves feeling as though they were on overdrive.

“ohhh f-fuck,” you sobbed out, tears free falling from your eyes. connie’s thighs were practically shaking. he’d been holding back his load for so long there was no telling when he’d lose it. “tu coño es tan bueno mami, tan tan bueno, me encanta.” his eyes zeroed in on the way your pussy struggled take his cock, your folds were all soaked n’ puffy, you looked divine.

“m-me estás follando tan bien, connie, vas a hacer que me corra otra vez!” your hand smacked against his chest, fingers nails digging harshly into the tatted skin. that had connie pulling out with a hiss, a stray spurt of cum shooting from his tip and onto your tummy.

his head dropped pathetically, chest having as if he just got done running marathon. “can’t say stuff like that, baby, y-you don’t know what you’re doin’ to me,” he grunted, pushing his hips back so his cock was laying directly between your chubby folds. he slowly pushed inside, his eyes fluttering shut at the warmth that enveloped him.

his head drooped down, his lips capturing yours in a searing kiss. “we got all night, con, jus’ do it. i won’t be going anywhere, don’t worry.” you words brought him bliss, a feeling of relief washing over him when he realized you weren’t going to allow him to slip from your fingers ever again.

he rolled his hips forward, teeth clamping onto his bottom lip so hard he was sure to draw blood. his hand found its rightful place around your neck, squeezing it roughly every now and again. “that’s that fuckin’ shit, so damn wet for me, mama,” he cursed, pressing his body into yours. he was so deep now, you could practically feel him in your tummy.

the air was suddenly pushed from your windpipe when connie squeezed your neck, his hips stilling as his orgasm washed over him. he wasn’t quick enough to stop himself from finishing inside, but still he pulled out nonetheless, jerking himself off until the rest of his cum covered your pussy.

connie wiped his forehead slowly with the back of his hand, his body feeling almost completely numb. he smirked at the white substance dripping from your hole, and without even thinking he scooped some up and brought to his lips.

“ugh, connie, don’t be nasty,” you whined and shut your thighs, only for them to be forced open by connie. he swiped his fingers over pussy again, this time he was offering you some. “c’mon just a little taste, you almost begging for some before, so here,” he pushed his fingers closer to your lips. with a huff you wrapped your lips around the digit, your eyes not once leaving his.

he smiled down at you, giving your head a soft pat, “buena chica.”

sometime later . . .

after a much needed shower, and some hot tea to help your sore throat, connie had you bundled up in his bed, wearing nothing but one of his t-shirts. an episode of friends was playing quietly in the back on his tv, but you were more interested in watching the man laying next to you.

“con?” you whispered, poking his naked chest gently. his eyes slowly drifted to you, his lips lifting into a small smile. he had smoked before joining you in bed, the smell of weed still slightly attached to him. he raised a brow at you, “yes?”

“what are we?”

“y/n.”

“yes?”

“you wanna be my girlfriend?”

your lips parted then shut again, too stunned to speak. you couldn’t wrap your head around the situation at all, you went from speaking everyday, to not speaking for years, and now after just reconnecting he was asking you to his girlfriend—literally what the hell.

“yes . . . y-yes i’ll be your girlfriend connie. just stay out of that shit, i want us to be happy, lavish lifestyle or not,” you mumbled, brushing your nose again his. connie gentle stroked your jaw with his thumb, “you don’t gotta worry about me getting back into that, i got too much to lose now.” with a dreamy sigh you nuzzled into his touch, lashes fluttering shut.

that night for the first time in six-something years, connie got a full good nights rest, with you tucked by his side.

#˗ˏˋ✩´ˎ nana’s library!#my pocketbook..

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bucksangel · 8 months ago

Text

i’m. going. to. scream. this is the perfect mix of angst and smut and fluff and i love the build up!! this is so skdbsk good!!!!

all the apple cider and no more haunted houses

pairing: bucky barnes x female reader

summary: you and bucky barnes have a love-hate relationship—you love him and you believe he hates you—but when your friends insist on going to the scariest haunted house attraction in the area, the experience ends up forcing your real feelings for each other out into light

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), smut, piv sex, unprotected sex, semi-public sex (in a truck), dry humping, dirty talk, daddy kink, praise kink, light degradation, biting/marking, pet names, lot of emotions, enemies to loves, reader has an anxiety attack

word count: 11.1k

a/n: this is one of my halloween stories that i published last year on my ao3, but since i didn't have tumblr at the time, i'm posting them here now that it's spooky season. i think this was one of my first times writing enemies to lovers and i really loved how it turned out. even almost a year later it's still one of my favorite fics i've written, so i hope y'all enjoy!

halloween fics masterlist

“Are you sure I can’t just wait for you guys outside?” you asked, a whine working its way into your voice despite your best effort to hide your simmering anxiety. You looked at your best friend Yelena and her older sister Natasha with wide, pleading eyes as you stood in line for one of the scariest haunted houses in the state. When they both ignored your puppy dog eyes, you wrapped your arms around yourself, the chunky sweater you wore doing little to protect you from the crisp autumn wind blowing through the fields. Kicking the ground with your boot, you tried not to shiver in your short skirt—you’d stupidly forgone tights—but it was a near thing.

“C’mon, it’ll be fun,” Yelena promised, knocking her shoulder with yours. Your best friend and her sister had been smarter. Yelena wore black jeans, a cropped t-shirt and a thick yellow flannel jacket to combat the autumn chill, while Nat had on dark blue jeans, a black t-shirt and a green army-style jacket. “I’m sure if you’re really scared, Bucky will hold your hand.” The blonde waggled her eyebrows at you while Nat snickered.

Something fluttered in your stomach at the thought of holding hands with Bucky Barnes—it was ridiculous how the idea still got a reaction out of you, even after all the years you’d known him—but you kept your face blank as Yelena and Nat both watched you closely. You’d never admitted your crush on Bucky to anyone, let alone your best friend. Annoyingly, Yelena could read you too well and she loved to tease you about your infatuation with Nat’s friend. But you still stubbornly refused to admit it.

So although you hoped with all your heart that her suggestion would become a reality, you forced yourself to make a disgusted face, ignoring the flash of triumph in Yelena’s green eyes. “Bucky would rather chop off his arm than hold my hand—he hates me,” you pointed out, reminding your best friend of the biggest reason you knew hoping for anything more with Nat’s friend would be in vain. Unable to talk about Bucky without the sting of disappointment and rejection piercing your heart, and not wanting it to show on your face, you looked around at the crowded area where you waited in line for the haunted house.

You squinted against the afternoon sun, which was high in the sky, washing the fields and orchards and various red wooden buildings in bright light. Thanks to the chilly breeze, it was the perfect autumn day, which meant everyone had had the same thought as you and your friends and decided to spend the day at the fall attraction.

All around you, groups of people milled about, some joining the long line for the haunted house while others walked past the gigantic barn that housed the spooky attraction and continued on to the rest of the farm and its attractions. The haunted house was just one of many at the Barton Family Farm. There was also a corn maze, a pumpkin patch, an apple orchard, a hay ride through the fields, and a petting zoo for the kids. But although Barton’s boasted plenty to do, the haunted house was the farm’s biggest draw—people came from all over the state to go through it. Barton’s haunted house had a reputation for scaring people so badly they needed to be escorted out by staff, there were multiple exits throughout in case people wanted to bail.

Barton’s haunted house was, of course, what attracted your friends, but you were more excited for pumpkin picking and apple cider donuts. Through a lot of pleading and begging, Yelena had managed to talk you into going through the haunted house with her, Nat and Nat’s friends who were set to meet up with you at any moment. Still, you were reluctant.

Another shiver racked your body and you tightened your arms around yourself as you turned back to your friends. “You know I hate haunted houses, why can’t I just meet you guys at the pumpkin patch or something?” you asked again, the whine in your voice more obvious as your anxiety and fear spiked the closer you got to the front of the line.

“Oh no,” a mocking voice said from behind you. “Is the little baby scared of a haunted house?”

You whirled around and came face to face with Bucky Barnes, his ice blue eyes practically sparking with glee at your discomfort. His full lips were curled up into a cruel smirk set into his scruffy, stubbled jaw. Despite yourself, you sucked in a sharp breath at the sight of him. He was just so damn hot, it wasn’t fair that he hated you so much.

Bucky and his best friend Steve Rogers pulled up next to your group and before you could stop yourself, your eyes darted down Bucky’s body. Despite how stubbornly you avoided talking or thinking about your crush on him, you were helpless when he was right in front of you. You didn’t want to, but you couldn’t stop yourself from noticing the way his chest filled out the gray and blue layered shirts he wore, and how his shoulders looked particularly broad in his black leather jacket. Your eyes trailed over his dark wash jeans and dark boots before you remembered yourself, forcing your eyes away from Bucky entirely.

Perhaps it was a little childish, but your way of dealing with Bucky—since Nat was always inviting him, Steve and their other friend Sam Wilson to hang out with her, Yelena, and you—was to ignore him. It had the double benefit of keeping up the appearance that you didn’t have a crush on Bucky, and it seemed to frustrate Bucky to no end. You never understood it. He didn’t like you, but he didn’t want you to ignore him either. You hated that his contradictory behavior only made you curious to understand him, instead of turning you off.

“Be nice, Buck,” Steve warned his best friend as he greeted Nat and Yelena with hugs. He wrapped you up in his arms last, your face squished into the cream cable knit sweater he wore over his own broad chest. Steve squeezed you tight, making you wish—not for the first time—that you had a crush on him instead of his grumpy best friend.

“Barnes wouldn’t know how to be nice if it bit him in the ass,” you sneered as you stepped back from Steve, wrapping your arms around yourself again to fend off the autumn chill. It felt colder without Steve’s warmth and you tamped down on the sudden wish to have Bucky’s arms wrapped around you to keep you warm.

“You think about my ass a lot, doll?” Bucky snarked, the pet name rolling of his tongue like an insult. His smirk grew into a full-blown grin and his blue eyes heated.

If you didn’t know better, you’d think Bucky was flirting with you, but you shoved that idea aside. Bucky didn’t flirt with you. He mocked you and teased you and did seemingly everything he possibly could to make it clear he didn’t like you. So why did you still like him—it was a question your foolish heart didn’t have an answer for. Instead of giving him the satisfaction of reacting, you looked away from Bucky, ignoring him.

“Knock it off,” Steve scolded, smacking Bucky upside the head. Yelena and Natasha laughed as Bucky’s expression collapsed into a frown while you pressed your lips together to hide your smile.

Bucky shoved his hands into the pockets of his dark jeans and Nat asked Steve where Sam was as you all shuffled forward with the line. Distractedly, you listened as Steve explained Sam had had to help his sister with something. There were only a handful of groups left between your friends and the door; panic crawled up your throat, making it hard to breathe. All of a sudden you realized that not only were you about to subject yourself to being terrified by strangers, but Bucky would be there to witness just how easily scared you were. Dread churned with the anxiety in your stomach, creating a nauseating mix.

Turning to your best friend, you tried to keep your voice low as you spoke so no one overheard. “Lena, please,” you begged, using the nickname you’d given her when you were kids so she’d know how serious you were. “Can’t I skip the haunted house?”

Yelena’s face fell. “You promised we’d do this together,” she said, shooting a furtive look over her shoulder at Nat, Steve and Bucky, who were laughing about something. “You know I hate being alone with my sister and her friends—it makes me feel left out.”

“So come with me to get some apple cider instead,” you urged in a vehement whisper, linking your arm with hers so it might look less suspicious that you and Yelena had your heads bent so close together. Not that Nat wasn’t used to you and Yelena whispering together, you were best friends after all.

Shaking her head, Yelena glanced over her shoulder again. “You know Bucky won’t let either of us hear the end of it if we chicken out now,” she argued.

You pressed your lips into a thin line as you looked at your best friend. You knew Yelena didn’t care about Bucky’s teasing as much as you did, but you weren’t sure why she was so adamant about you going through the haunted house.

Natasha’s laugh rang loudly behind you, making Yelena look back at her sister with love clear in her green eyes and you suddenly realized what was going on. Yelena’s hero worship for her older sister was nothing new to you, and you guessed she was more worried about Nat’s teasing than Bucky’s. You’d long dedicated yourself to helping Yelena live up to the pressure she put on herself to be cool enough for Nat. So if that meant putting up with a little haunted house anxiety and being scared, then it was the price you’d pay for your best friend.

With a dramatic sigh, you squeezed Yelena’s arm tighter in yours so you were inseparable. “Fine,” you relented, giving your best friend a weak smile. “But you’re buying me hot apple cider after this.” Yelena shot you a wide grin before she was distracted by Nat linking arms on her other side.

“You ladies ready to get scared?” Natasha asked in a raucous voice, like she was trying to drum up excitement. Yelena whooped loudly while all you could muster was a half-hearted cheer as fear roiled in your stomach. Steve threw a casual arm around Natasha’s shoulders, ruffling Yelena’s blonde hair a little. She ducked away as much as she could without breaking away from her sister, shooting Steve an annoyed look. He didn’t see it though, too busy reading the rules and warnings for the haunted house that were posted next to the door.

“Don’t forget,” Steve said as your group stepped up, ready to be the next ones let into the barn. “If you get too scared, there are emergency exits along the way.” He shot you a look over your friends’ heads and your face heated, shame climbing up your throat. Your shoulders tensed as you looked away from his kind blue eyes, feeling humiliated that everyone knew how scared you were of a haunted house.

“Yeah, doll,” Bucky started, the mocking way he said the pet name making it clear he was talking to you.

Before you could stop yourself and ignore whatever he was going to say, you looked back over your shoulder. His eyes were bright and intent on you—probably excited to see what reaction he’d get out of you, you figured. You were determined to give him nothing.

“Just look for the bright red exit signs,” he said in a fake nice voice. “If you need help, let me know and I’ll point you in the right direction—that is, of course, if you even make it to the first emergency exit.”

Fighting the instinct to show how much his words hurt you, you turned back forward. You bit the inside of your cheeks to stop yourself from showing any kind of reaction, even with Bucky unable to see your face. Still, Yelena saw something in your expression.

“Shut up, Bucky,” your best friend snapped, glaring at the man over her shoulder.

Your best friend’s anger lit a fire in your heart and you raised your chin in defiance. You would make it all the way through the haunted house, if only to spite Bucky Barnes and prove to both him and yourself that you could do it. With your newfound courage, you threw a glare at Bucky over your shoulder, but the way he was looking at you took you by surprise.

Bucky’s blue eyes were dark with interest as he took in the determined expression on your face. As you watched, the corner of his mouth curled up into a smirk. The look on his face had something hot and needy sinking deep into your core, but before you could analyze what it was—and rationalize away the way Bucky looked at you in that moment—the worker at the door ushered your group forward.

The man, dressed like a farm worker covered in blood, pulled the door open and Steve stepped in first. Squaring your shoulders, you put on your best brave face as you followed your friends—but you held onto Yelena’s arm so tight you wondered if she’d lose circulation in her hand. Fear clawed in your stomach, making your heart beat wildly in your chest, as you stepped over the threshold.

Once Bucky followed you through the door, the worker shut it and you were plunged into darkness. Even with the sun shining brightly just outside the door, the dark antechamber was completely pitch black. You bit your lip against a startled scream, surprised at the loss of light. You felt a hand at your lower back and stiffened before realizing it was Bucky. Based on the warmth radiating just behind your shoulder, you could tell he stood close and, despite how much of an asshole he could be, having him close helped to ease some of the fear and anxiety making your heart batter against your ribcage.

Ahead of you, Steve must’ve found the door to proceed through the haunted house because it cracked open, letting weak yellow light spill into the antechamber. A moment later, you were tugged along by Yelena and Bucky’s hand fell from your back. Immediately, you missed his solidness and warmth.

The Barton Family Farm’s haunted house had a themed story, something about serial killer farm workers who murder people for trespassing in their fields by luring them into the barn. The story seemed to be an excuse to decorate various areas of the barn as torture chambers, with severed limbs and fake blood decorating every surface. You kept your face mostly buried in Yelena’s shoulder, with only one eye peaking out as people dressed like deranged farm hands jumped out at you and your friends.

When you passed by the first emergency exit sign, the red neon making a blood-drenched scene of a man hacking up a body to feed to his pigs all the eerier, pride eclipsed the anxiety for a moment. But then you moved into the next portion of the haunted house and the fear returned in full force.

You and your friends were forced through a narrow corridor, the wooden walls pushing in on either side and making you feel claustrophobic. To make matters worse, hands reached through holes in the wall, grabbing at you and your friends’ clothes. Your heart pounded in your throat, as you felt cornered, like a mouse caught in a trap just waiting to die. Anxiously, you pushed against Yelena, trying to force your friends to go faster, but in your moment of distraction, a hand grabbed at your skirt, making you scream and push harder. In the back of your head, you knew you were being a little silly. It was a haunted house, but the danger and the fear felt real.

At the end of the tight corridor, you and your friends stumbled into a large room made to look like a normal barn, with stalls along the side. Nothing appeared immediately wrong with it, which made your anxiety spike harder. You backed up, bumping into Bucky. His chest felt solid behind you and for just a moment you reveled in it. Then Steve began leading you and your friends through the room and Yelena tugged you away from Bucky. Fear was making your heart beat wildly, your breath coming in short, desperate pulls as you prepared for another jump scare.

When your group reached the center of the room, five deranged farm hands appeared out of the woodwork, all carrying threatening looking farm instruments as they rushed you and your friends with loud battle cries. You, Yelena and Nat all screamed, and even Steve let out a startled shout, jumping apart when the men ran toward you, breaking up your linked arms like an awful game of red rover.

Your panic took over and you ran to the side, realizing too late you’d maneuvered yourself into one of the fake stalls. Actually cornered, your heart beat against your ribs like it was trying to escape. You turned to run, and were met by three of the men blocking the entrance of the stall. A panicked shriek fell from your mouth when they stepped toward you in unison, backing you up against the wall. Tears sprang to your eyes and started leaking down your cheeks as panic clawed at your throat, making you feel like you couldn’t breathe. Your breaths were short, sharp gasps for air, but you felt like you couldn’t get any into your lungs. Your gaze went fuzzy through your tears.

“Hey assholes!” a voice shouted over the taunting and the jeering of the men. Blinking away your tears, you saw Bucky barreling through the line of farm hands, shoving one into another to make room for him to get to you. “Can’t you see she’s had enough?” Bucky wrapped a protective arm around your shoulders and your arms immediately went around his waist, clinging to him as you wobbled on unsteady legs. Bucky started to lead you out of the stall, but the men tried to block your path. “Get out of my fucking way,” Bucky spat, shooting them a glare so scary they shrank back.

Bucky pulled you tighter against his body as he led you through the room. Your heart was still beating wildly in your chest, your breathing still short and panicked. You buried your face in Bucky’s chest, sobbing against his shirt as your whole body shook. You weren’t sure how you even stayed on your feet, but you couldn’t think past the fear and panic and certainty you were going to die.

After a few minutes, Bucky tugged you through a door and you felt cool, fresh air swirl around your shaky legs. The autumn breeze blew through your sweater and made you shiver harder. Your feet stumbled over grass as Bucky pulled you along, but you couldn’t think about where he was leading you. The only thing that registered was your fingers ached and only then did you realize you’d been gripping the lapels of Bucky’s jacket so hard the zipper dug into your palms, leaving marks.

Slowly, you became aware of chatter around you, the sounds of car doors opening and shutting, people talking and laughing. Still, your shoulders shook uncontrollably as anxiety pulsed through your veins and you clung harder to Bucky. He smelled safe, like woodsmoke and something earthy like vetiver. The sounds of the farm and haunted house grew more distant as Bucky kept walking.

Finally, you came to a stop and the sound of a truck door opening next to you pulled your attention away from the way your heart raced in your chest. Opening your eyes for the first time since the haunted house, you glanced around and found Bucky had brought you to his old red pickup truck. He’d parked in a corner of the lot that bordered a couple cornfields. There weren’t any people around, the other cars’ owners back at the farm having fun.

“Up you go, doll,” Bucky murmured, boosting you up onto the driver’s seat, facing him as he stood next to the truck cab. His brow was creased with concern as he frowned at you. It wasn’t until Bucky shrugged out of his leather jacket and settled it around your shoulders that you realized you were still trembling. You weren’t sure if it was the cold or your anxiety, but you pulled it tighter, relishing the warmth and his smell.

It wasn’t enough, though. Before you could think better of it, you fisted Bucky’s shirt in your hands and pulled him closer, shifting to the edge of the seat and spreading your legs so you could wrap yourself around him. You clung to him tightly as you cried quietly into his shirt.

Bucky tucked your head under his chin and looped his arms around you under his jacket, one hand running up and down your back soothingly. “You’re OK,” he murmured in a low voice that sent warmth curling through your limbs, chasing away the anxiety and adrenaline. “You’re safe, I’ve got you.”

After what seemed like a long time, but was probably only a few minutes, the panic and fear started to drain out of you. Unfortunately, it was replaced by embarrassment as the full extent of the situation hit you like a brick. You hated that Bucky had seen you at your worst—scared to the point of having a panic attack. All over a stupid haunted house.

You squeezed your eyes shut against the wave of humiliation as it washed over you. There was no way Bucky was ever going to let you live this down. And to make it worse, you were still clinging to him like a scared little baby, just like he accused you of being. That reminder was enough to make you desperate to rebuild the walls you’d erected to keep Bucky from seeing you as weak—or worse, as someone who wanted him and his comfort.

As covertly as you could, you wiped at your eyes with your fingers, trying to clear away the mess of makeup your tears had created. Once you’d fixed your face as much as you thought possible, you pulled back from Bucky, a mask of indifference on your face, though it was wobbly at best. Pulling his jacket from your shoulders, you shoved it against his chest, pushing him away so you could put some distance between your bodies.

“Well you must be thrilled,” you said in a prim, sarcastic tone. You kept your gaze fixed on his chin, unable to meet his eyes. He took the jacket from you and tossed it over the back of the truck’s bench seat.

“What?” he asked, sounding genuinely confused, though you couldn’t be sure without looking at him fully, which you refused to do. So you just jutted your chin out defensively, staring at the scruff on his jaw.

“I proved you right, Barnes,” you explained meanly. “I’m a little baby who got so scared in the haunted house I had to be escorted out through an emergency exit.” You crossed your arms over your chest and looked away through the windshield of the truck, blinking rapidly to keep your tears at bay. The sun had dropped lower in the sky, painting the cornfield in a golden hue.

“You think that’s what I really think about you?” Bucky demanded in an angry tone, but there was something else in your voice, something you couldn’t name. “Seriously?”

Your frustration grew to a boiling point, enough to give you the courage to finally look at him. His blue eyes were blazing with irritation and, if you weren’t mistaken, hurt. But you pushed that aside because there was no way Bucky could be hurt by your words, you were simply telling the truth. “You literally called me a baby!” you pointed out. “It was the first thing you said to me when you got here!”

Bucky rolled his eyes so hard his head tipped back in annoyance. “You really are going to be the death of me, I swear to fucking god,” he bit out around clenched teeth, his voice harsh.

You let out an indignant screech. “What did I do?” you shot back, meeting his ice blue eyes with your best glare. “Literally what did I ever do to you to make you treat me the way you do?”

Letting out a frustrated growl, Bucky shoved his hands into his short brown hair, tugging on the strands as he stepped back from the truck and turned away from you like he could barely stand to look at you. He only gave you a momentary reprieve, though, before he whirled back and jabbed an accusing finger in your direction. “You ignore me!” he accused in a restrained shout, clearly trying to keep his voice down despite his annoyance. “You won’t even look at me unless I’m being mean to you.”

“Are you kidding me!?” you shrieked indignantly, not even bothering to have the same restraint as Bucky. You didn’t care if you drew a crowd, not that it was likely with how far away his truck was parked from the main farm grounds. “You ignored me the first night I met you,” you seethed. “I asked you how you met Nat and you literally grunted and walked away from me!”

As soon as the words left your mouth, you pressed your lips closed to stop yourself from saying more. It already felt like you’d said too much, which was confirmed by the slack look on Bucky’s face. Horror washed over you as you realized you’d probably just basically told Bucky about your crush. You remembered the night you met, you remembered the exact conversation you’d tried to have with him. He’d have to know how you felt about him after giving away that detail.

In an effort to save face, you let yourself blurt out the first thing you could think to say. “So maybe I ignored you after that, but you deserved it!”

Bucky’s eyes blazed to life as he stepped up to the truck, crowding into your space, his hands resting on the top of the cab as he leaned into you. You wanted to shy away, afraid of your body’s reaction to him being so close—already, you felt a warm thrum in your core and your legs twitched like they wanted to spread for him—but you refused and instead held your ground.

“Fucking hell, that’s what this is about? I wasn’t ignoring you, doll,” Bucky said in a low, harsh voice. His blue eyes sparkled in the afternoon light, his stare so captivating you couldn’t look away. “I was fucking tongue-tied because I thought you were the prettiest girl I’d ever met.”

The admission hung heavy in the air between you and Bucky, the tension between you two crackling with energy. Your heart squeezed excitedly in your chest, happy to accept him at his word, but your brain was slower to trust. “What?” you asked in a tight voice as you tried to breathe through your shock and stop yourself from getting too excited.

“You are so fucking pretty you make my head spin,” Bucky said, his hand sliding against your jaw and cupping your chin delicately in his palm. “And if I have to be an asshole to get you to look at me, then I’ll be a fucking asshole,” he explained. His thumb grazed softly over your cheek, his blue eyes reading your expression like you were a language he wished to learn.

It was too much. You and Bucky had known each other for years, you’d been ignoring him at group outings and parties for years, he’d been sniping at you and provoking a reaction out of your for years. You simply couldn’t wrap your mind around the possibility he had feelings for you.

So you settled on a different explanation, one that seemed much more plausible. Righteous anger burned through the delicate hope in your heart, but it felt safer, more comfortable than the scary prospect of having to admit you liked Bucky.

Placing both hands on his chest, you shoved Bucky back and away from you. “Are you seriously messing with me right now?” you demanded accusatorially, already having decided he was. “You’re really such a fucking asshole, Barnes, to stoop this low.”

For a moment, Bucky looked too stunned to speak. He stared at you with a blank look for so long, doubt started to creep in, souring your stomach. But then a fire lit in Bucky’s blue eyes, burning through his icy gaze and threatening to take you down with him in the blaze. Before you could realize what he was doing, he closed the distance you’d created, his hands wrapping around the sides of your face, holding you still as his lips descended on yours.

Bucky brushed a soft kiss against your lips, just ghosting against your mouth before nipping your lower lip in a teasing bite. The sting made you gasp and he took advantage of your parted lips to seal his mouth over yours, swallowing down your moan at the feel of his rough stubble and gentle lips. He pressed closer, deepening the kiss until it felt like he was determined to devour you and was simply starting with your mouth.

Bucky’s kiss was heady and all-consuming, your brain blissfully free of doubt and questions and confusion. All you could feel were Bucky’s soft lips and expert tongue. Everything else fell away as you sank deeper into the kiss, letting yourself melt in his hands. Bucky kissed you like he was tempting you to surrender your soul to him and with the press of his lips, and the slide of his tongue, you were more than willing to risk it all.

When Bucky pulled away, it took you a moment to recover, your eyes blinking open dazedly, eyelashes fluttering. You found Bucky hovering close like he couldn’t bear to be too far away from you. His own blue gaze was hooded and a soft happy smile was on his full lips. Slowly, Bucky started to straighten as if wanting to give you space, but you fisted your hands in his shirt collar and tugged him back down, kissing him with the same fervor he’d shown you.

Bucky made a surprised sound that was muffled against your lips, but then he was sinking back into your kiss, his mouth letting you take control. You slid your hands up and into his soft brown hair, arms wrapping around his neck as you held him close, unable to stop yourself from trying to devour him as much as he had you.

As distracted as you were by the kiss, you felt Bucky’s hands smooth over your back through your sweater until he reached your ass. His big hands dug into the leather truck seat to grab you firmly and drag you to the edge. Your legs spread for him, wrapping around his waist as you pressed yourself flush against his broad body. Your core met a hard bulge in Bucky’s jeans, drawing a hiccuping gasp from you that made him grin against your lips.

“Believe me now, baby?” Bucky rasped and you didn’t have to see his face to know he was smirking, the mocking lilt of his voice gave away. But though you’d heard Bucky use a mocking tone plenty of times before, there was a warmth in it now, almost a purr. “D’you believe that I’ve wanted you for years?” He rolled his hips against you, pulling a moan from deep inside you at the feel of his jeans-covered length rubbing against your slit through your panties. “D’you feel how fucking hard you make me?” he asked, his voice taking on a sharp growl that shot straight to your clit, making heat surge through your body and flood your core.

“I believe you, Bucky,” you said, but deep in your mind you knew it wasn’t the truth—or, at least, the full truth. It’d take longer to really, fully believe him, but you wanted to and that was the first step. So you pushed your doubts and insecurities aside for the moment as he rocked his hips again, making you squirm on the edge of the truck seat, trying to rub against him like a cat in heat. Even through your clothes, he was so hot and hard against your damp, swollen center. It made you dizzy, how much you needed him.

“Good girl,” Bucky praised in a gruff voice, kissing your temple. His hands clutched your ass tighter, his fingertips digging into your soft flesh as he positioned you just right so he could dig his bulge deeper into your panty-covered slit, pushing between your folds to grind against your clit.

The praise from Bucky’s lips felt so good it made tears prick in your eyes. You never thought you’d hear him say anything so sweet to you, and you loved it so much you had to bite your lip to stop yourself from begging him to say it again. But that was too pathetic, even for you, so instead you wrapped your arms around Bucky’s neck and tipped your head back, moaning into the truck cab, the sound reverberating through the metal and leather. You humped against Bucky, matching his rhythm, the stimulation making you soak through your panties.

Bucky dug his hands out from under your ass, skating them up your sides and under your sweater, pushing it up until your tits were bared to the chilly autumn air. Your nipples instantly pebbled and Bucky groaned at the sight of them poking through your bra. He bent down, sucking one of your nipples into his mouth through the thin lace. When he bit down gently on the sensitive nub, you cried out and rocked harder against his cock. “That’s it, baby,” he mumbled against your chest, his lips grazing along your skin as he moved to the other nipple. “Grind your sweet little pussy on daddy’s bulge,” Bucky encouraged you in a voice as rough as the gravel under his boots.

Your inner walls clenched at what Bucky called himself and you rolled your head up to look at him through slitted eyes. He caught your gaze as he sucked your tit, letting it pop from his lips so he could grin shamelessly up at you. His blue eyes raked over your face, taking in your reaction to what he’d called himself.

You’d never called anyone you’d hooked up with daddy, but for some reason it felt right with Bucky. You wanted to test it out, see how it’d feel on your lips. Something told you it’d feel dirty in a delicious way. But you bit your lip, still shy around Bucky, still uncertain.

He seemed to read your thoughts on your face, biting your nipple gently and laving it one last time before he dragged his head up to press his forehead against yours, letting your sweater drop back down. He kissed you, slow and sweet, his tongue sliding against yours in a rhythm that matched his hips thrusting against your center. When he pulled back, he was breathing just as heavily as you. “Gotta get you nice and wet so you can take daddy’s cock, right baby?” he asked, his heated blue eyes meeting yours and holding you captive.

More wetness flooded your pussy at his dirty words, and at the way he made you feel safe in his arms. He’d saved you from the haunted house, he’d pined for you just as long as you had. He was proving you could count on him, making up for all those years of being an asshole, you just had to decide to trust him. It didn’t seem like it should be so easy, but you wanted to trust him. So you did.

“Yes, daddy,” you answered in a sweet, breathy voice. You’d been right, it did feel deliciously dirty to call Bucky daddy. The way your tongue and lips formed the word alone felt naughty, sending more heat curling through your already swollen and tingling pussy.

“Oh fuck,” Bucky groaned when you called him daddy, scrunching his eyes shut as his hips stilled. His bulge was pressed so tightly against your core, you swore you could feel him throb in his jeans. “You’re so fucking hot, you’re gonna make me come in my pants,” he accused, opening his eyes only wide enough to furrow his brow in a half-hearted glare.

You couldn’t help yourself, Bucky just looked so silly, trying and failing to glare at you while he tried not to come—you giggled. The sound was pure and sweet as it tumbled from your lips. A wide, happy grin spread across your face to match the delighted sound.

Bucky’s jaw went slack and his blue eyes rounded as he witnessed you at the happiest he’d ever seen you and, for the first time, it was because of him, not in spite of him. Before your giggle had died completely, Bucky was smothering you with kisses. He peppered them across your lips and your cheek and your nose and your eyelids—any bit of your face he could reach while you tried to bat him away. His treatment only made you giggle more and try to squirm away, but he banded his arms and held you to him.

“Bucky, stop!” you squealed, leaning back to try to escape. He pulled back, breathless as his eyes raked over your face, relaxing when he saw you were just out of breath from giggling. When you opened your eyes, you caught Bucky staring down at you, affection written plainly across his face, etched into the lines of his eyes and the curves of his mouth.

As you both simply sat there, staring at each other, you watched as doubt creeped into Bucky’s expression. “You want this, right?” he asked in a tender, rumbly voice, staring you directly in the eye as he watched for any sign of hesitation.

A soft smile curled the corners of your mouth. “Bucky,” you started, pausing to gather your courage. With tentative fingers, you brushed his brown hair back from his forehead, eyes focusing on your hand so you wouldn’t have to look at him while you confessed. “I’ve had a crush on you since that first night, I was just too scared to tell anyone—especially you.”

Bucky winced a little when he heard the truth. He knew he’d been an asshole to you for too long to deserve anything less, but he recovered quickly. He ducked down, kissing your sweetly, an apology on his lips. When he pulled away, he voiced the words he should’ve said a long time ago. “I’m sorry for being an idiot and ignoring you that first night,” he said, dropping a quick kiss on your lips when you tried to interrupt him. “And I’m so fucking sorry for being an asshole every day since then.” He sighed against your lips, like he couldn’t believe how lucky he was to get the chance to kiss you, which is why he did it again. “I swear on my fucking life, baby, I’ll never make you feel like anything less than the prettiest girl in the world ever again,” he promised against your lips, sealing it with another kiss.

You kissed him back, matching the vehemence in his words and his lips. When you finally pulled apart, you giggled softly. “Just please, no more haunted houses,” you begged jokingly. You smiled into his skin, dragging your mouth along the scruff of his jaw, feeling it rasp against your swollen lips. You felt the side of Bucky’s mouth curl into a smile, enticing you back to his lips.

“No more haunted houses,” he promised, pressing a kiss to your lips. Bucky’s hands digging under your thighs was your only warning before he used his grip to haul you further into the truck cab, your ass sliding across the bench seat. “But I am going to fuck you in the parking lot of this haunted house,” he said, a mischievous grin on his face as he climbed up into the truck after you. He pulled the door shut behind him to keep out the autumn chill and the distant sounds of the crowded farm.

“Bucky!” you shrieked as he covered your body with his, pressing you into the worn leather seat of his truck. His smell surrounded you, not just because he pressed close to you but because it was embedded in ever fiber of the truck. It felt like you were being cocooned in Bucky and you didn’t want to leave, but you still felt obligated to protest. “Our friends will be looking for us,” you pointed out, but you sounded half-hearted even to your own ears, especially as you parted your thighs for Bucky to slip between.

He ducked his head, kissing up your neck as his hips settled into the cradle of your thighs. Of their own volition, your knees climbed his sides, shifting until the hard bulge in his jeans pressed directly to your aching core. He chuckled when you let out a breathy moan despite your protest.

“Baby, I’ve wanted you for years,” he murmured in between kisses, tilting your head to the side so he could suck on the skin beneath your ear, drawing another moan from your lips. “Fuck our friends, I can’t wait—I need to be inside you, baby, please,” he mumbled, dragging his lips across your throat so you could feel his need spoken into your skin. It sunk down deep inside you, to your bones, your marrow, convincing you of his desire with every breath.

In response, you rocked your hips up, grinding your heat against his bulge. A broken groan stuttered from Bucky’s lips, making you smile. Your need for him was equally insatiable and you gave up any pretense of protesting when he begged you. “I’m all yours, Bucky, take me,” you whispered, dragging his face to yours and slanting your lips against his in a heated kiss. “Fuck me, daddy, please, I need you,” you begged in a desperate voice.

Bucky groaned low in his throat at the sound of you begging. “Such a desperate little slut for daddy, huh baby?” he asked in a sweetly patronizing tone, so much like the way he used to speak to you but so, so different. And when you looked up at him, his face was filled with affection.

Skimming his hand up your thigh, Bucky reached under your skirt, pushing it up so it bunched around your waist. His fingers hooked in your panties, and he pulled them down as you lifted up. He sat up enough to maneuver you in the small space to free one ankle, letting your panties dangle from the other as he undid his jeans and pulled his dick out.

Your eyes were glued to the thick cock Bucky pumped in his hand. He was girthy, with veins decorating the side and leading up to his broad mushroom tip. Drool pooled in your mouth at the sight of him, straining for you, precum dripping from the head. Your pussy clenched hard, greedy for Bucky’s cock as you reached for him.

Bucky grinned at the hungry look on your face, pushing you gently back down on the bench seat and pushing your sweater up so he could see your tits. He groped at your soft flesh, tugging on your nipples until your eyes were fluttering closed and moans were falling out of your mouth. Bucky bent over your body, planting a hand on the door above your head so he could hover over you. “Condom?” he asked.

You caught his blue gaze and held it as you shook your head. “No,” you answered firmly. “Want you bare.”

Squeezing his eyes shut, Bucky froze for a moment, going so still you could’ve sworn he stopped breathing. “You’re on birth control? You’ve been tested?” he asked in a tight voice like he was forcing the questions out.

You giggled softly, the sound more seductive than cute and you wondered for a brief second where it came from. But then you took stock of Bucky poised above you, his cock so hard in his hand it had turned an angry red color as it leaked from the tip while his eyes and lips were pinched tightly closed. You gave it a long moment before you put him out of his misery—call it a little bit of payback. “I have an IUD, I’ve been tested since my last partner, I’m all good.”

Bucky’s eyes were still pressed shut, but he let out a long breath. “I’ve been tested too—I’m good,” he forced out. When his eyes finally opened, his blue eyes blazed, the intensity of his gaze burning into you, threatening to consume you alive—and you’d happily let it. “Gonna take my cock raw, baby?” His voice was a rasp like the metal grate containing a fire. With his grip on his cock, he slapped the thick head on your clit before rubbing his length between your folds, coating himself with your desire.

You let out a gasp at the feeling of him torturing your pussy. “Yes, daddy,” you answered breathlessly.

“Good thing you’re on birth control, because I’m not fucking pulling out,” he bit out in a harsh tone that sent shivers skating down to your core. His gaze flicked to yours, checking in, and you nodded to let him know you were good with what he was saying and doing. A grin spread across his face as he returned his attention to his cock teasing your pussy. “I’m gonna fill up your tight little cunt with my come,” he promised, nudging your hole with the wide tip of his dick.

“Please, daddy,” you begged, reaching your limit with his teasing. Your hips raised in the air to try to take him into your pussy, but Bucky backed off, sitting back on his haunches. When you reached for him, he moved his hand from the door and threaded his fingers through yours. Placing a kiss to each of your fingers, he stared down at you like he couldn’t get enough of the sight of you spread out beneath him.

“I love it when you beg, baby,” he said finally. “Makes me wanna give you the world.” An impish grin pulled up the corners of Bucky’s mouth. “But you’ll have to settle for my cock—for now,” he teased, leaning down over you again, pressing your clasped hands against the seat next to your head. With his other hand, he lined his cock up at your entrance and he breathed hard as he teased you just a little bit more. “So wet for me, baby, such a good girl for daddy,” he murmured praises just before he pushed inside.

Bucky let out a long, deep groan as his cock sunk deep into your pussy, feeling your wet heat clutch at his hardness. The stretch of his thick girth stole the breath from your lungs as he slid in to the hilt in one steady thrust. He paused there, giving you both time to adjust. “Fuck,” he choked out the whispered curse, pressing his forehead to yours. “Fuck, baby, your pussy feels so fucking good gripping my cock.”

You tilted your head up for a kiss, pressing your lips to his as you pulled him closer with your legs, rocking up against him. “More, daddy, please—need you, need more,” you begged against his mouth, your breaths mingling until you didn’t know where you ended and he began. You didn’t know how you could ever get enough of this man. In such a short time, he’d made you feel safe and loved and you felt like you were cracking apart, opening yourself up to him. His sweet words and gentle touches had awoken a ravenous hunger in your heart and you wanted him closer, you wanted to consume him and be consumed in return.

Giving you what you asked for, Bucky pulled his hips back, dragging his cock along every sensitive inch of your cunt, before slamming back inside. His breathing was harsh in your ear as he let out stuttering moans, almost drowning out the sounds of his hips smacking against yours, his balls hitting your ass. “So good, so good, baby, so fucking good for daddy,” he chanted against your check, his breath hot on your face.

And yet, it still wasn’t enough for you. Your face pressed into Bucky’s neck, lips sucking on his skin until you knew you were going to leave marks, too far gone to care as your tongue darted out to taste him and soothe him. “Daddy—daddy, need you, more, please,” you begged, knowing you weren’t making any sense. Your legs locked around his waist, booted feet hooking behind his thighs so you could draw him deeper until he was fully seated in your cunt and he couldn’t pull out more than an inch.

“Fuck, baby, fuck,” Bucky groaned, his sweaty forehead dropping to your shoulder. “Is this what you needed, sweet girl?” he asked, his free hand wrapping around the back of your neck and wrenching you away from where you were sucking hickies into his throat so he could look in your eyes. “Need to be pinned down with daddy’s cock buried balls-deep in your cunt?” He settled his weight almost entirely on top of you, watching as your eyes went hooded with delight, a dazed smile curling your lips. “D’you need daddy to mark you up, baby?” he asked, ducking down and nudging the collar of your sweater to the side so he could suck your skin between his teeth until you were both sure he’d leave a mark. “D’you need daddy to take you, hard and rough and filthy?” he demanded a moment before he sank his teeth into a spot toward the back of your neck right on the edge of your hairline.

A sharp cry fell from your lips as Bucky bit you, but it dissolved into a moan when he pulled back and licked the spot. Words escaped you, your lips forgetting how to do anything but kiss and moan and whimper and whine for Bucky. Your head felt hazy, like you were buzzed, but all you were drunk on was Bucky’s cock and the dirty words pouring from his mouth.

“Fuck, jesus fuck, that’s it, take it baby, take it,” he groaned into your ear, rolling his hips against yours in tight movements, grinding into your cunt and clit until you were a panting, needy mess beneath him. “Love seeing you fucked out and cock drunk for me, baby,” he huffed as his chest heaved with his heavy breaths. “Such a perfect little slut for daddy, aren’t you baby?”

All you could do was whimper and nod, trying to keep your eyes open so you could look into Bucky’s blue gaze as he leaned up and looked down at you. He watched as pleasure contorted your face, delighting in the way your jaw dropped open when he hit a particular spot deep inside you.

“Good girl, good girl,” he mumbled, brushing his fingers over your sweaty forehead and dropping down to kiss your lips. He nuzzled his scruff against your cheek like he couldn’t get close enough to you.

You understood the feeling. Your fingers gripped Bucky’s hand still laced in yours, the other threading into his soft brown hair while your heels dug into his strong thighs, keeping him locked against your body. If you thought you could endure letting him go, even only for a moment, you would’ve begged him to rip your clothes off so you could feel his skin against yours. But you couldn’t even fathom untangling your bodies in that moment.

“My perfect girl, you feel so good,” Bucky murmured, trailing his lips to yours and kissing you deeply, thoroughly, possessively. “Need you to come for me, baby, need you to come on my cock,” he muttered, picking up the pace of his slow grinding until he was rutting into you as much as your legs would let him. “Fuck, I can’t stop, baby, ‘m gonna come.” He grunted and groaned, the sounds of his pleasure and his words filling the truck cab. “Come on daddy’s cock, baby, come for daddy,” Bucky rasped as he pounded his cock deep in your hole, grinding his pubic bone against your clit with every thrust, sending you careening toward the edge. “That’s it, that’s it, be my good girl, baby, please,” he begged.

The desperation in Bucky’s voice and the way his cock pummeled a spot deep in your pussy that had your back arching into him, grinding your clit on him, pushed you over the edge. You clutched his fingers in yours, nails digging into the back of his hand, desperate to be anchored to him as it felt like you were free-falling through pleasure. Pressing your face into the soft cotton covering Bucky’s shoulder, you muffled a scream into his shirt, sobbing your release as your cunt rhythmically clamped down hard on his cock.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, that’s it baby, that’s a good girl,” Bucky praised, rutting into you harder, fucking you through your orgasm as he chased his own. “You’re squeezing me so tight, baby, gonna make daddy come,” he mumbled, his free hand digging between your body and the leather seat to grip your ass.

His fingers dug into your soft flesh so hard you were sure he’d leave bruises and that thought only sent more warmth curling through you, joining the aftershocks of your orgasm. “Please, daddy,” you begged, your mouth finally remembering how to form words. “Fill me up with your come—need it, need you,” you whined, squirming beneath him.

“Fuck—fuck,” he grunted, thrusting hard and pinning you down to the seat with his hips. “Take it, baby, take my come,” he bit out through gritted teeth as you felt him start to come deep in your pussy. You moaned when you felt his cock twitch inside you, his come filling your warm hole. “Good girl,” he panted, as he thrust a few more times, shallowly, until he was spent. Bucky collapsed on top of you while you reveled in the feel of his come coating inside you. “So good for daddy, baby,” he praised, turning his head enough to kiss your cheek.

Your arms and legs felt heavy and loose as your full body relaxed, drifting in the aftermath of a mind-blowing orgasm, feeling sated and happy. Running your fingers through Bucky’s hair, the short strands soft against your skin, you hummed in happiness. Unable to stop yourself, you planted little kisses on his neck. He made a contented sound in his chest in response, his thumb sweeping over the back of your hand.

After a few minutes of recovering, Bucky sat up and brought your hand to his mouth, kissing it while he stared down at you, love and affection burning bright in his blue eyes. “What’re the chances I can convince you to let me take you home now so we can do that again?” he asked, a playful smile curling his lips.

You bit your lip to stop yourself from immediately agreeing. You wanted to spend time with Bucky and get to know him in ways you’d only previously dreamed—not just with more sex, but being able to talk to him without the weight of both your anger and hurt hanging around your necks. But the last you saw your friends, you and Bucky were bailing on the haunted house, and you knew you should check in with them. Plus, you’d been looking forward to all the other autumnal fun Barton’s Family Farm offered and you’d be damned if you left after just the haunted house.

“But I want apple cider and donuts,” you said, pouting up at Bucky, widening your eyes to exaggerate your puppy dog look.

Bucky immediately caved, unable to resist giving you whatever you wanted, especially since it was easily within his power. “I’ll buy you all the apple cider and donuts you want, baby” he promised, ducking down to give you a sweet kiss. When he pulled back, though, he had a greedy look in his eye. “But then you’re coming home with me, yeah?”

A grin bloomed across your face. “Yeah,” you agreed easily and Bucky gave you an answering smile, like it was a natural reaction to seeing you happy.

As Bucky righted himself, stuffing his cock back into his jeans and zipping them back up, it occurred to you that you’d never seen him so relaxed, and you didn’t think it had to do with the sex you’d just had. When he looked up, he caught you staring at him.

“What?” he asked, a little uncertainly. His fingers reached up to smooth over the burgeoning marks on his neck. “Are the hickies too noticeable.”

Shaking your head, you sat up and looped your arms around his neck. “No—well, yes, but that’s not what I was looking at,” you said. At his raised eyebrow, you went on. “You’re so handsome,” you said in a fake dreamy voice, a little bit of teasing in your words. Bucky rolled his eyes but didn’t try to pull away, just smiled down at you fondly, brushing the backs of his fingers over your cheek. He waited you out long enough that what you really wanted to say finally rolled off your tongue. “You’re happy, right?” Bucky’s brow furrowed in confusion but before he could answer, you continued. “Because I’m happy—this might be the happiest I’ve been in a long time and if you’re going to take me back to our friends and pretend like nothing happened, I need to know now.

A troubled expression was on Bucky’s face by the time you stopped talking. “Hey, no,” he said, when you finished. “I’m happy—I told you I’ve wanted this for years,” he reminded you, ducking his head down so he could look at you face to face. “I’m not gonna be that asshole again to you, ever,” he promised, his eyes searching yours like he could root out all the insecurity and squash it. “If I need to spend the next couple months or years proving that to you, I will, OK?”

Stupid tears welled up in your eyes but you blinked them back and gave Bucky a watery smile, your heart feeling like it could burst you were so happy. Bucky leaned in and kissed the apples of your cheeks, first one then the other, before dipping down to kiss your lips. By the time he was done, your eyes were dry. “Ready to get back out there?” he asked and you nodded.

With gentle hands, Bucky used some napkins from the glovebox to clean you up as well as he could, then helped you fix your clothes. He took you by the hand and led you out of the truck. When you hopped out, you shivered in the autumnal chill, immediately wrapping your arms around yourself to ward off the cold. Bucky noticed and reached back into his truck to grab his leather jacket, helping you into it before kissing you once more. You smiled against his lips, grabbed his hand and tugged him back toward the farm.

It didn’t take long to find your friends—they were standing near the hot apple cider stand, holding paper cups of the steaming beverage and sharing from a cardboard dish of cider donuts. Yelena was the first to notice you and Bucky walking toward the group, your hands linked and you wearing his jacket. She turned to her older sister, pointing a finger in Natasha’s face as she screeched, “I told you! I told you it would work!” Cinnamon sugar spewed from the blonde’s mouth as she yelled and she didn’t even bother to wipe it off her chin before turning to Steve, who had his hand up for a high five, slapping her palm against his.

The corners of your mouth pulled down into a confused frown. “What’re you talking about Lena?”

But Yelena was too busy executing an elaborate victory dance to respond, so Steve chimed in with an explanation. “Yelena has been determined to make you guys admit you have feelings for each other—”

“That you love each other,” Yelena butted in, finally done with her dance. She passed one of the paper cups she’d been holding over to you and you wrapped both your hands around it, basking in the warmth while Bucky slid behind you, looping his arms loosely around your waist. Yelena’s sharp green eyes watched it all.

“Yeah,” Steve muttered shaking his head at his friend’s little sister. “Anyway, she had a plan that we go through the haunted house and you’d get scared and Bucky would swoop in and protect you,” Steve finished. “Nat didn’t think it would work,” he added almost as an afterthought.

“You’re both too fucking stubborn,” the redhead said, shrugging unapologetically, but her eyes and smile were warm as she too didn’t miss the way Bucky touched you so easily. Your face heated, realizing both your friends had probably already surmised you’d slept with Bucky.

“So let me get this straight,” Bucky started slowly, his eyes fixed on his best friend, completely unaware of the knowing looks Yelena and Natasha were giving the two of you. “You deliberately tortured my girl just to prove a point?”

Yelena squealed and looked at you with wide, excited eyes when Bucky called you his girl, almost drowning out the rest of his sentence. You couldn’t help the goofy grin plastered to your face in response, nor did you want to. Yelena raised her eyebrows in silent demand for more information, and you even caught Nat giving you the same look. You shot them both a look that said you’d tell them later.

The boys were completely oblivious of your exchange with your friends. “Well she wasn’t technically your girl yet—even if you’ve had a thing for her for a couple years,” Steve pointed out, his face twisting up like he was fighting to keep the guilt out of his expression.

You felt Bucky tense behind you and craned your neck to look up at him, taking a sip of your drink. He’d tilted his head to the side and narrowed his gaze at Steve, anger simmering in his blue eyes. Even though he was facing off with his own friend, his gaze held more ire than you’d ever seen directed at you. If you thought about it, Bucky had usually had a kind of pained look on his face when he’d said those mean things to you. Sadness swept over you at the thought of all the time you’d wasted being jerks to each other. Unable to hold yourself back, you snuggled into him.

Your movement caught Bucky’s attention and he finally looked away from Steve, his face shifting before your eyes from a glare to an expression filled with affection. He pressed a kiss to your forehead and turned back to your friends with a much more relaxed look. Reaching out, he plucked a cider donut from the cardboard dish, holding it in front of you until you took it.

You took a big bite of the sweet pastry and groaned in happiness. Against your ass, you felt Bucky’s cock twitch in his pants and you had to hide your smile behind another bite of donut.

“Semantics,” Bucky said in response to Steve’s comment, a smile on his lips as he watched you eat your donut happily. “Anyway, thanks to you all, I made a promise to my girl and I plan to keep it.”

“What promise?” Yelena asked, curiosity lighting her green eyes as her gaze bounced back and forth between you and Bucky. Your best friend was practically gleeful, but you knew it wasn’t just because she had been right and her plan had worked, you could see in her face that she was happy for you. As you sipped the hot apple cider she’d bought you, you realized you’d already forgiven her for the deception.

“Well actually it was two promises,” Bucky amended. You looked up at him in confusion. “I promised her all the apple cider and no more haunted houses.” Bucky leaned down, your lips bumping clumsily against each other as you both struggled to stop smiling long enough to kiss. But then Bucky’s tongue licked some of the cinnamon sugar from your lips and you had to choke back a moan as he kissed you possessively right there in front of your friends.

“Get a room,” Natasha jeered at the same time Yelena whooped and Steve clapped obnoxiously. You laughed against Bucky’s lips, pulling apart, warmth burning in your cheeks.

That wasn’t the last time your friends teased you and Bucky that night, but you were both too happy to care too much. Bucky couldn’t keep his hands off you. Whether he was wrapping an arm around your shoulders, linking his fingers with yours, or squeezing your butt as discretely as possible, he was always touching you. He kept it up through all the fall activities—the corn maze, the pumpkin patch, and another round of apple cider and donuts.

And then at the end of the night, Bucky took you home and showed you again and again how happy you made him. Over the following days and months and years, he proved to that you could trust him to never be mean to get your attention again—and you showed him you’d never ignore him or your feelings for him. Bucky showered you with love and affection until the memories of you ignoring him and him being an asshole to get your attention were replaced entirely with happy ones.

He also kept his promises, taking you back to Barton’s Family Farm every year for all the apple cider and donuts you could eat—but always skipping the haunted house—kissing the sugar and cinnamon from your lips until you let him take you home.

#bucky fic rec #˗ˏˋ ꒰ angel’s library ꒱ ˎˊ˗#⋆⭒˚｡⋆ b&n friends ⋆⭒˚｡⋆

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orimuraa · 1 month ago

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• Baby, you’re so precious - 심재윤 ↳ ┊: royalty - enhypen

꒰ 𝔖𝘺𝘯𝘰𝘱𝘴𝘪𝘴 ꒱┆a nerd x cheerleader love story where your boyfriend is your tutor, but for a price ⨾

۶ৎ lover boy nerd!jake x fem cheerleader!reader┆fluffff, slight suggestiveness┆petnames, kissing┆wc 330

⤷ 𝐲𝐞𝐣𝐢’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: thank you to the amazing anon who requested this! this idea was so cute and i had so much fun writing it! part 2 is also in the makings >.<

part 2 part 3

꒰ঌ ℬℴℴ𝓀𝓈𝒽ℯ𝓁𝒻 ໒꒱

"jakey pleaseee!! i'm failing english and i need a passing grade to be able to continue cheer!" you beg, jutting your lip out to make jake cave in.

"fine..but under one condition! you pay me in kisses," jake smirks, his glasses framing his sparkling eyes perfectly.

"yay!!!! thank you jakey! i promise i can do that payment! now let's go pleaseee. i need to start asap~" you sing out, grabbing his hand and rushing him to the library.

as the most popular cheerleader, people always thought you would date a jock or something like that, but they always get shocked when you tell them you're dating sim jaeyun.

jaeyun was the top student and he barely had time to make new friends because he was always studying. however, his schedule only changed for you and you only.

he was perfect. jake would drop anything and everything just to spend time with you as your practices always ran late. he showed up to all of your games and practices, always admiring with the goofiest smile on his face. anyone could tell from miles away that jake was so in love.

"angel are you listening?" jake's thick accent snaps you out of your thoughts and back to the english paper on the table. you shake your head sheepishly, mumbling out a small apology.

"you're impossible," jake sighs before a smile tugs at his lips.

"yet you love me~" you tease, poking his cheek.

"that i do, doll face," he chuckles, cupping your face and kissing your puckered lips.

he kisses you twice before pecking you one last time and releasing your cheeks: "sorry angel, i just wanted my payment early."

"okay okay, now, what part were we on again?" you blush, flustered by how down bad you were for your adorable, nerdy, boyfriend.

"what's the rush angel? we have all the time in the world," he winks, leaning in and kissing your jaw. oh boy, not much studying was gonna get done.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ✉︎ ꒱ ˎˊ˗ 𝐉𝐢𝐣𝐢’𝐬 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @vmpivory, @yuvany, @seozii, @pinknjm, @greentulip, @jomisu, @nxzz-skz, @ancnymcnzjy, @hyukabean, @annybah, @ijustwannareadstuff20, @chaeneu, @17ericas, @firstclassjaylee, @riribelle, @right-person-wrong-time, @cheruphic, @woniefication, @melodiessvy, @soona-huh, @kiwicup, @yuuuraaa

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jungkoode · 2 months ago

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𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐌𝐄 𝐔𝐏 | 21

˗ˏˋ birthday shots ˎˊ˗

"Jungkook’s friends, Jungkook’s birthday party… It’s all honestly not what you expected. But then again, Jungkook keeps twisting your expectations of him, once and once again."

next | index

⋆｡°✩ chapter details ✩°｡⋆

word count: 8,4k

content: jungkook having friends, feeling out of place, pretty girls, judgemental people, tae/hobi/jk protecting the peace, shared secrets, nicknames gaining an intimate layer, stubbornness with spicy food, drinking, doing shots and jungkook being both attentive and protective.

✧ author's note ✧

Aaaand we’re finally here. The party. The build-up. The chaos potential. The birthday. After 20 chapters of yearning, character dissection, awkward eye contact, and conversations that say everything and nothing at the same time… we are officially entering the next arc: actual real-world social interaction. Which, if you’ve been paying attention, is every character’s personal hell. Including mine.

First of all—yes, this is Jungkook’s party chapter. Yes, it’s a pivotal one. Yes, I was pacing around my flat in a hoodie muttering “okay but what would he wear” like a deranged method actor trying to get into character. And yes, there are about 15 new people here. But please don’t panic. You don’t need to memorize them all. This isn’t a fantasy war council. You’re not about to be quizzed on the name of Jungkook’s friend’s cousin’s dog. They’re not here to steal the plot—they’re here to color it.

Jungkook’s different social groups, clashing and blending like some unhinged Venn diagram of his life. They each say something about him and the many versions of himself he keeps—because, as always, this isn’t about the party. It’s about him and her, and us, and the very inconvenient reality of human attachment.

Now. Tessa (and yes, Toasty, when you read this… the name comes 100% from you hahaha).

Yup. That girl from the library. She’s here. She’s breathing. She’s talking. And she’s not a villain.

I know, I know, fanfiction is riddled with the evil-rival-love-interest trope. The girl who eyes you up and down with thinly veiled contempt. The passive aggressive bitch who “just happens” to sit on his lap or call him baby in front of you. The girl whose entire personality is “threat to the main couple.” And listen—I could never.

Tessa isn’t like that. Because most people aren’t like that. Attraction doesn’t automatically equal competition, and not every woman who talks to a man you like is an enemy. That’s such a tired, flat, boring cliche. I’m not writing this story to project misogynistic tropes onto women so we can feel smug about someone else being “the wrong one.” I don’t want you to root against her. I don’t want you to root against anyone, really. Maybe Mia, but that’s what she’s for. She’s your pressure valve. You need someone to hate. That’s what makes the rest bearable.

Tessa’s presence is not a betrayal. It’s just reality. Jungkook is allowed to be liked. He’s allowed to explore. And so is Nix. She’s not some pushover sainted martyr of “true love.” She’s a girl. She’s confused. She’s a little guarded. She’s still trying to understand herself.

There’s no jealousy because there is no claim. There’s no relationship, no commitment, no confessions, no secret “we’re basically already in love” subtext. There’s just this slow, painful, glacial slide into a kind of closeness that might one day become something else—but hasn’t. Not even close. This chapter is about a possible beginning of something resembling tentative friendship. We are barely out of enemies-to-mildly-tolerating-each-other zone. We are in the “do I text you or is that weird” era.

Don’t rush it. Don’t expect it. That’s not the story I’m telling.

Nix being unbothered isn’t character growth. It’s just honesty. It’s consistency. I’ve spent 20 chapters building a girl who’s emotionally guarded, private, and painfully aware of the dynamics she allows herself to engage in. She’s not “cool with it” to be cool—she’s just not invested like that yet. And that matters. We’re not jumping stages for drama. We’re walking, slowly, through the psychology of two people who don’t even know what they want. Let them be confused. Let them be messy. Let them take their time.

I’m writing slow burn with psychological realism at its core, and that means actions have context. If you came here expecting love confessions and possessive meltdowns and “he’s mine stay away” drama… wrong story, babes. I want you uncomfortable. I want you squinting at every interaction wondering if it means something. I want you to question how affection develops, really. Slowly. Subtly. Almost invisibly, until it’s all you can think about.

The story isn’t about dramatic betrayals or Big Plot Twists. It’s about tension. About two people orbiting each other in their own broken, stumbling ways. It’s about glances that last too long and words that don’t come out right and the way your heart knows something long before your brain does. It’s about patterns, and Jungkook’s are catching up to him.

You don’t need to like everyone. But you should understand them. And that’s what I’m asking of you here. Because these characters aren’t plot devices—they’re real to me. They’re studies. They’re messy. And god, I love them for it.

So yeah. Welcome to the party. The masks are on, the music’s loud, and no one knows how to behave when they’re being watched. Especially him.

Enjoy. Suffer. Stare at the page like you’re decoding a sacred text. That’s the vibe.

And as always…

You’re here to suffer. I’m here to deliver.

You’re welcome.

⋆｡°✩ read on✩°｡⋆

ao3

wattpad

You never realized a person could contain so many versions of themselves until you saw Jungkook surrounded by his friends.

"SURPRISE!"

The word explodes through the small ramen shop, followed by cheers and laughter as Jungkook freezes beside you.

His fingers quickly pocket his phone, eyes widening with a genuine shock that transforms his entire face.

Gone is the perpetually amused, slightly condescending roommate you've come to know. In his place stands someone younger, almost innocent—lips parting in stunned delight, eyes crinkling at the corners.

It's fucking weird is what it is.

"Holy shit," he breathes, a laugh bursting from him as Taehyung launches himself across the restaurant, wrapping Jungkook in a hug that nearly knocks him over. "What the fuck?"

Hobi follows immediately, bouncing on his feet like an overgrown puppy before throwing his arms around both of them, turning the duo into a chaotic tangle of limbs and laughter.

Even Yoongi gets up, offering a slow clap before joining with a more restrained but no less genuine embrace—the kind with back pats that guys do when they want to prove they have exactly two emotions: hungry and sports.

You hang back, suddenly aware of how many strangers are packed into this place.

The restaurant is full of people—at least a dozen beyond the ones you recognize—all focused on Jungkook with varying degrees of excitement. Some are already raising drinks in toast, others taking photos, a couple shouting things you can't quite make out over the general chaos.

"P-Kill! Happy birthday, man!"

"Proofs! You made it!"

"Proofy, get over here!"

What the actual fuck are these names?

You frown, trying to connect these bizarre nicknames to the Jungkook you know—the one who leaves his dirty dishes in the sink and plays his music too loud and once tried to convince you that Kraft mac and cheese was "technically gourmet."

None of this computes.

Jungkook catches your confusion as he disentangles himself from his friends, eyes flicking toward you with that familiar half-smile that somehow feels like a private joke.

"Hey," he says, suddenly at your side again. His hand brushes your elbow briefly—not grabbing, just a light touch that seems oddly grounding in this chaos. "These are my friends. Guys, this is my roommate."

He says your name easily, no ‘Phoenix’ or ‘Nix’ in sight, and it's weirdly jarring—like hearing a song you know played in the wrong key.

Not technically wrong, just... off.

The next few minutes are a blur of names and faces, most immediately forgotten as you try to keep track of who's who in this bizarre alternative universe where Jungkook is apparently the center of a large social circle. There's a group of guys—gamers, apparently—who keep calling him those weird nicknames.

"These three idiots," Jungkook explains, gesturing toward a trio of guys who look like they haven't seen sunlight in months, "are my Steam friends. My username is ProofedToKill, so that's where all the dumb nicknames come from."

Of course, that tracks. He's always yelling at the TV when he plays Call of Duty in the living room. You've had multiple arguments about it, usually ending with him putting on headphones and you turning up your music out of spite.

"Don't start," he warns, but there's no real edge to it. "I've already heard all your anti-shooters propaganda."

"It's not propaganda if it's true."

He rolls his eyes but doesn't take the bait, already being pulled toward another group by Taehyung.

"Come on, there are more people you should meet."

You follow, because what else are you going to do? Stand alone by the door like some kind of abandoned pet?

Besides, you're curious now. Curious about these other fragments of Jungkook's life that you've never been privy to before.

The space is packed, noisy in that way that forces everyone to talk slightly too loud. Sensory overload city. People keep touching Jungkook—hugs, shoulder claps, high fives—and he's letting them, which might be the weirdest part of all this.

Since when does he like being touched by people who aren't naked?

"Jungkook!" a female voice exclaims, cutting through the noise. A tall girl with auburn hair moves toward him with the confident grace of someone who's never tripped over her own feet in public. "Happy birthday!"

She wraps him in a hug that makes you realize just how tall she is—like, almost his height tall—and beside her, another girl—smaller, with short black hair and glasses—offers a more reserved greeting.

"Hey Tessa, hey Diana," Jungkook says, looking genuinely pleased to see them. "Didn't think you'd be here!"

Tessa.

The library girl. The one he was doing that group project thing with. The one who kept laughing too loud whenever Jungkook said something that probably wasn't even that funny.

"Taehyung invited us," she explains, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Hope that's okay."

"Of course it's okay," Jungkook says, and you hate how sincere he sounds.

Where's the sarcastic asshole you live with? Who is this pod person?

"We brought you something," Diana says, holding out a small bag. "Just a little thing."

Jungkook accepts it with a thanks that sounds almost shy, and what the fuck? Since when is he shy about anything?

"Oh, this is my roommate," he adds, suddenly remembering your existence.

He says your name again, and you force a smile because what else can you do in this bizarre social ritual?

"Nice to meet you," Tessa says with a warmth that feels genuine, which is almost worse than if she'd been fake. At least fake would make sense. "Jungkook's mentioned you before. You're in English Lit, right?"

He's talked about you? To her?

What the fuck has he said?

"Yeah," you manage, because apparently your vocabulary has been reduced to monosyllables in the face of all this unexpected social interaction. "English major."

"That's amazing," she says, and she actually seems to mean it. "I'm in Film too, but I've always loved literature. What's your focus?"

Before you can answer—thank god, because you haven't prepared a thesis statement on your academic interests for a birthday party—Hobi appears with a tray of shots, announcing that it's time for the birthday boy to start celebrating properly.

So, of course, the whole crowd moves towards him, shots being thrown back easily. You find yourself suddenly on the outside of it, still standing with Tessa and Diana but no longer the focus of their attention.

It's a relief, honestly.

You've never been good at this kind of thing—large groups, small talk, unfamiliar social dynamics.

It's like being dropped into a play where everyone else knows the script and you're just… improvising. Kinda hoping you don't accidentally say the wrong line and reveal yourself as the impostor.

Your eyes wander around the restaurant, taking in the details you missed—it’s actually a cozy place, warm wood and soft lighting, with private booths along one wall and a long table down the center where most of Jungkook's friends have gathered.

You can smell the sizzling of pans working through different ingredients—garlic, onion, ginger… But your eyes end up on Jungkook anyway.

He swallows down a shot, grimacing at the burn.

Someone passes him another.

Someone else claps him on the back.

He's at the center of all this attention and he's... thriving in it. Laughing, talking.

It’s strange, seeing him like this. So carefree, so loud (although he’s always loud but this is a different kind of loud?)—so in his… element.

You can’t help but feel out of place.

Because, truly. Do you even fit in here? Are you an element? Part of his element? Or whatever this is?

This morning you were agonizing over whether you could be friends with the guy you've been fucking.

Now you're standing in a room full of people who already are his friends, who've known him much longer than you have, who see a completely different side of him than the one you get.

It's... a lot.

You pull out your phone, needing something to do with your hands, but the screen stays dark. Okay. Dead. Fantastic.

"You okay?"

The voice at your elbow makes you jump.

It's Jungkook, somehow back at your side despite the crowd still demanding his attention.

"Fine," you say automatically. "Just... observing."

His eyes scan your face, more perceptive than you'd like. "You look like you'd rather be literally anywhere else."

"Not true. I can think of at least three places that would be worse." You tick them off on your fingers. "The DMV. An insurance seminar. Dinner with my parents."

That gets a laugh out of him—a real one, one you seem to be getting out of him more and more often.

“Fair enough. Come on, let me get you a drink. It'll help with..."

He pauses, purses his lips as he tilts his head at you.

"With what, exactly?"

"The whole 'I'd rather eat glass than make small talk with strangers' vibe you're giving off."

"I'm not—" you start to protest, but he's already pulling you toward the bar, his hand warm against your lower back.

"It's fine, Phee," he says, the familiar nickname slipping out naturally now that you're momentarily separated from the crowd. "Not everyone's into the whole big social scene. You don't have to pretend."

You want to argue on principle—deny that he knows you that well, that he can read your discomfort so easily—but it would be pointless.

He's right.

You do hate this.

And the fact that he noticed, that he came back to check on you instead of just leaving you to flounder on your own...

It's annoying. Or it should be.

Instead, it feels weirdly considerate.

"I don't need a babysitter," you mutter as he flags down the bartender. "Go enjoy your party. I'm perfectly capable of standing in a corner judging people on my own."

"Maybe I'm enjoying my party more over here."

He orders something you don't catch, then turns back to you with that half-smile that's somehow more familiar than the broad grin he's been flashing at everyone else.

“Besides, if I leave you alone too long, you might decide to ditch, and then who would I blame when I need an excuse to escape Hobi's karaoke demands?"

"Yoongi seems like a good scapegoat."

"Nah, Yoongi secretly loves karaoke. Just pretends to hate it so people will beg him. It's weird."

The bartender slides two glasses toward Jungkook—whiskey is one, by the look of it.

The other one is…

Vodka cranberry.

He remembers?

You lick your lips. Nervous suddenly. Maybe. Or not really. Just uncomfortable, because here it is again. Jungkook being attentive, doing these stupid kind things that completely shatter the reputation you have built for him in your head.

"You really don't have to babysit me," you say again, but you take the drink anyway. "I'm fine."

His eyes search yours, more serious than usual. "I know you're fine. Maybe I just want to hang out with you."

Something shifts in your chest—a small, uncomfortable flutter.

“Why? You have a dozen other people here who actually like you."

"Ouch." He presses a hand to his heart, mock wounded. "And here I thought we were making progress on the whole friendship thing."

"The jury's still out on that one."

"Uh-huh." He takes a sip of his whiskey, eyes never leaving yours. "Well, consider this evidence for the 'pro' column: I noticed you were uncomfortable and came to rescue you instead of letting you suffer in silence."

"Maybe I prefer suffering in silence."

"No one prefers suffering in silence, Nix. Some people just don't think they deserve better."

The way he says it makes something twirl uncomfortable inside your chest.

You take a large drink instead of responding, welcoming the burn as it slides down your throat.

“Make sure to finish that quickly. Get ready for the party games.”

"There are going to be party games?"

"That’s only the beginning."

"So," you say, swaying your glass slightly, watching the burgundy liquid catch the light, "ProofedToKill, huh? Didn't know I was living with such a badass."

"No? I thought you knew how badass I am.”

“You’re bad, and an ass. That doesn’t make you a badass. Different word.”

He laughs, low and warm, and you can’t help the smile that forms on your lips without conscious input.

"You know what it actually means?" he asks, leaning back against the wall.

You raise an eyebrow. "That you're secretly a hitman with terrible grammar?"

"Hilarious." He rolls his eyes, but there's no real irritation behind it. "It's a baking term, actually."

"A what now?"

"Baking. You know, that thing people do with flour and heat instead of burning the place down.”

“If you bring up the candle incident one more time—”

He makes a zipping motion over his mouth, and your lips twitch with the effort of chuckling.

“Wait, are you seriously telling me your super tough gamer name is about... baking?"

He sighs, looking down at his glass. "When you're making bread—sourdough specifically—there's this stage called 'proofing.’ It's when the dough rises, develops flavor. If you overproof it, it collapses. If you underproof, it's dense. But if you get it just right..."

"You've... proofed to kill?" you finish, unable to keep the disbelief from your voice.

"Exactly." He grins, clearly pleased that you've made the connection. "Perfect proofing. Killer bread. It's a whole thing."

You stare at him, genuinely speechless for perhaps the first time since you've known him.

This man—this infuriating, cocky roommate who struts around like he owns every room he enters—has a gamer tag based on fucking bread-making.

And he's admitting it.

Voluntarily.

"So let me get this straight," you say slowly. "Your badass online persona, the one all your friends call you by, is actually a baking pun?"

"In my defense, it's a really good pun. And most people assume it's about, you know, being good at shooting things. Which I also am." He shrugs, cockiness slipping back into place.

“You’re so weird,” you mutter, but you know he doesn’t take it seriously.

"Been doing it since college. The whole sourdough thing at midnight." He confesses, glancing around briefly, like he's checking to make sure no one else is listening, then lowers his voice. "My mom taught me. She had this whole recipe she'd developed over years, this perfect sourdough method. Made the best bread you've ever tasted."

Again that softness, almost reverence when he speaks about his mom.

It always catches you off guard. You've never heard him talk like this before. Never heard him talk about his family at all, really.

"After she..." he continues, then stops himself, shaking his head slightly. "Anyway. I keep trying to recreate it. Haven't quite nailed it yet."

Neither of you speak for a couple of beats. His gaze is still fixed on his drink, and then he takes a sip, like his mind is somewhere else completely.

“Is that why you stress-bake at 3 AM? Trying to get the proof right?"

His eyes meet yours, surprised.

Maybe a little grateful for the redirect.

“You’ve noticed?”

“I mean, I just went to the bathroom one night and saw you fighting the dough, so…”

He chuckles, gaze back on his glass. “Yeah. It's... meditative, I guess. Helps me think."

"Weird way to think, but okay."

"Says the person who reads the same depressing Kafka story fourteen times and calls it 'processing.'"

"It's a good story."

"It's about a guy turning into a giant bug."

"And it speaks to the alienation inherent in modern existence. Your point?"

He laughs again, shaking his head. "God, you're such a fucking English major."

"And you're a secret bread nerd. We all have our crosses to bear."

His smile shifts into something different—softer around the edges, almost vulnerable. "Don't tell anyone, okay? About the username thing. I have a reputation to maintain."

"What, you mean your friends don't know your tough gamer handle is actually about your sourdough obsession?"

"Only Yoongi knows. And now you." He drums his fingers on the glass once, twice. "That's enough oversharing on my part for the day, I think. Sooner or later it's going to have to be your turn, you know, Pyx?"

Great. A new variation of your nickname. Does he ever stop coming up with them?

"My turn for what?"

"Sharing something real." His eyes hold yours, steady. "Friendship goes both ways, Nix."

You scoff, ignoring the way your heart rate picks up slightly. "I share things."

"Like what? Your coffee order doesn't count."

"I told you about the IUD."

"That's medical, not personal."

"It's literally inside my body. How much more personal can it get?"

He sighs, but he makes it dramatic this time. "You know what I mean. Something that matters to you. Something real."

You do know. That's the problem. He's asking for exactly the kind of vulnerability you've spent years carefully avoiding. The kind that gives people ammunition, that creates expectations, that leads to disappointment when you inevitably fail to meet them.

But he just told you about his mom. About bread and baking and usernames that mean more than they appear to. He offered something real—small, maybe, but genuine.

And isn't that what this whole friendship experiment is supposed to be about?

You open your mouth, not entirely sure what's going to come out, when a crash from across the restaurant saves you. Hobi has somehow managed to knock over an entire tray of drinks, and the resulting chaos immediately draws everyone's attention, including Jungkook's.

"Shit," he mutters, already half-moving. "I should go help before he makes it worse."

"Go," you nod, equal parts relieved and strangely disappointed. "Your public needs you."

He hesitates, eyes still on yours. "We're not done with this conversation."

"Pretty sure we are."

"Pretty sure we're just getting started." He stands fully, but doesn't leave immediately. "Come join, okay? Whenever you’re ready.”

You watch him weave through the crowd toward the spill, already calling out something to Hobi that makes the other man laugh despite the mess. It's strange, seeing him like this—in his element, surrounded by people who know him in ways you don't.

ProofedToKill. A baking pun turned gamer tag. A piece of his mother he carries with him, encrypted in plain sight.

You take another sip of your vodka cranberry, wondering what else about Jungkook you've been missing all this time.

Eleven people crammed around a table is basically psychological warfare in restaurant form.

You're somehow stuck directly across from Jungkook, because apparently the universe has a shitty sense of humor.

Next to him, Tessa has claimed her territory, her long legs perfectly positioned under the table while yours are already cramping from the weird angle. Of course.

At least you've got Yoongi on your left—a silent, grounding presence in the chaos. When you'd awkwardly hovered near his chair, he'd just grunted and shifted slightly to make room.

In Yoongi-speak, that's practically a formal invitation with calligraphy and shit.

Diana sits on your other side, petite and prim, her small hands already arranging her napkin with quick movements. She keeps glancing at Tessa across the table with an expression you can't quite decipher—somewhere between admiration and mild disapproval.

The menu in Yoongi's hands looks worn and slightly sticky, but your stomach is basically staging a revolt after hours of nothing but ibuprofen and vodka. You lean over, scanning the options without asking permission because fuck it, you're hungry.

The spicy ramen section catches your eye immediately.

Your stomach gives another impatient growl.

"I want those," you announce, pointing at the spiciest option on the menu.

Yoongi barely blinks. "Cool. I didn't ask."

You roll your eyes and lean back in your chair because, okay, whatever. Rude ass. Though honestly, there's something almost refreshing about his complete lack of social polish.

At least you always know where you stand with him, which is approximately nowhere.

A movement across the table draws your attention.

Jungkook's eyes have lifted from his own menu, catching yours with an intensity that feels weirdly intimate in the crowded space. His gaze flickers down again almost immediately, but not before you notice the corner of his mouth tilting upward.

What's he laughing about? Stupid. He's stupid.

"I kinda wanted the spicy ones too," he says, looking up again. "Maybe we can share?"

You squint at him suspiciously. "Huh? No. I want the bowl entirely for me."

Diana makes a soft sound beside you—half laugh, half disbelief.

“I can't believe you can eat all that."

The words hang there for a moment while your brain processes the judgment packaged in her innocent-sounding comment.

Did she just really—

"C'mon Diana," Tessa cuts in swiftly, laugh warm and genuine, "not everyone has a small stomach like you."

Diana scowls, her delicate features pinching together. "I just think that's a lot to eat."

"Bro, I could eat two bowls in one sitting," Jungkook says.

"Make that three," Taehyung adds from Jungkook's other side. "You're a fucking goblin, Kooks."

"Three? Amateur," one of the gamer guys—Steve? Sean?—chimes in from the end of the table. "Remember that time after the tournament when you ate four bowls of ramen and then threw up in my car?"

"That was food poisoning," Jungkook protests. "Totally different situation."

"Your face was poisoned."

"What does that even mean?"

"Your face... poisoned... my eyes," the guy finishes lamely, clearly losing his train of thought.

"Ten points from Slytherin for that weak-ass comeback," Hobi declares, raising his beer like a wizard's wand. "Jungkook requires better trash talk in his honor."

"Oh shit, we're using Hogwarts points now?" another one asks. "When did we switch systems?"

"Since I just decided, and I'm the dungeon master."

"That's D&D, you uncultured swine," Taehyung sighs, long-suffering. "Completely different franchise."

"Whatever, they're all just wizard nerds," Hobi says with a dismissive wave.

"That's wizard king to you, peasant," Jungkook corrects, puffing out his chest.

“Do you all... actually play these games?" Diana asks, voice faintly disdainful.

"Only when we're not busy with our super cool and important adult lives," Taehyung says, deadpan.

"I just don't get the appeal," she sniffs. "Sitting inside all day, staring at screens—"

"Yo," Hobi cuts in smoothly, somehow managing to sound both friendly and firm at the same time, "different strokes for different folks. Some people climb mountains, some people slay digital dragons. Both valid."

Diana shifts uncomfortably under his gaze. "I guess."

"Besides," you find yourself saying, "it's literally his birthday. Maybe, I don't know, let him enjoy things without the judgment?"

The words come out sharper than intended, surprising even you.

Since when do you jump to Jungkook's defense? Since when do you care if someone judges his nerdy gaming habits?

Jungkook looks equally surprised, eyebrows raised slightly as he studies your face. Then his expression shifts into something softer, almost appreciative.

"Exactly. Today's about celebrating you," Tessa adds, turning to Jungkook with a warm smile. "And apparently your inhuman ability to consume ramen."

"It's my superpower," he says solemnly. "With great appetite comes great indigestion."

A ripple of laughter moves around the table, breaking the awkward moment. Diana still looks sulky, but at least she's dropped the subject.

The waiter appears then, ready to take orders, and the conversation splinters as everyone tries to decide what they want.

"You really getting the level five spicy?" Yoongi asks quietly while the others debate.

"Yeah. Why, think I can't handle it?"

He snorts. "Just checking if I need to order extra water for when you inevitably start crying."

"I do not cry from spicy food."

"Everyone cries from spicy food if it's actually spicy."

"Well, we'll see, won't we?"

He shrugs, a barely perceptible movement of one shoulder. "Your funeral."

"Comforting as always, Yoon."

The ghost of a smile flits across his face before he returns to his default expression of mild disinterest.

Across the table, Jungkook is in the middle of a heated debate with Taehyung about... something involving a game you've never heard of. His hands move animatedly as he talks, face lit with genuine enthusiasm. One of his friends keeps trying to interject, but Jungkook and Taehyung are in their own world, talking over each other and somehow still understanding perfectly.

He looks so unguarded.

So... normal. Like any other twenty-something guy arguing about video games with his friends.

Not that you care. It's just an observation.

"So you're Jungkook's roommate," Diana says, drawing your attention back to her. Her tone suggests this is somehow both surprising and slightly concerning.

"Yep." You keep it brief, hoping she'll take the hint and drop whatever line of questioning is forming behind those judgmental eyes.

No such luck.

"And how did that happen exactly? Through the university housing board?"

"Craigslist, actually."

Her eyebrows shoot up like you've just admitted to finding the apartment through a demonic summoning ritual.

“Oh! Isn't that... dangerous?"

"Not really. The apartment was already Yoongi and Jungkook's. I just answered the ad for the third room."

"Still," she persists, "moving in with two guys you don't know. That's brave."

The way she says ‘brave’ makes it clear she means ‘stupid,’ but you're not in the mood to defend your housing choices to someone who probably thinks spicy ramen is too adventurous.

"Not really. Yoongi's background check was pretty thorough," you deadpan. "Only had to provide three references, a blood sample, and my complete genetic history."

Diana blinks, clearly unsure if you're joking.

"It's true," Yoongi confirms without looking up from his phone. "Her midichlorian count was acceptable."

"What’s… midichlorian?" Diana asks uncertainly.

"It’s a real scientific test," you say, keeping your expression perfectly serious. "Very exclusive."

She frowns, increasingly confused, and you feel a small, petty satisfaction at her discomfort.

"They're fucking with you," Taehyung calls from across the table, apparently tuned into your conversation despite seemingly being absorbed in his argument with Jungkook. "It's a Star Wars reference."

"Oh." Diana forces a laugh that doesn't reach her eyes. "Right."

"Ignore them," Tessa says kindly. "They operate on their own wavelength sometimes."

"Especially these two," Hobi adds, gesturing between Taehyung and Jungkook. "Like an old married couple, but with more shouting and fewer financial benefits."

"What do you mean fewer financial benefits?" Jungkook protests. "I've been carrying his broke ass in-game economy for years."

"That gold farm was my idea!"

"Your idea crashed the server and got us banned for a week!"

"Details," Taehyung waves dismissively. "The point is, I'm the brains of this operation."

"And I'm the beauty," Jungkook fires back, striking a pose that makes Hobi snort water through his nose.

It's all so... easy. The banter, the inside jokes, the casual way they navigate each other's personalities. They've clearly had years to develop this rhythm, to learn each other's edges and how to fit together despite them—or maybe because of them.

Something twists in your chest, sharp and unexpected. You busy yourself with your water glass, suddenly very interested in the condensation gathering along its sides.

The waiter returns with drinks, setting them around the table. You're grateful for the distraction, for something to do with your hands besides fidget awkwardly.

"Alright," Hobi declares once everyone has a drink, lifting his glass. "To the birthday boy! May your K/D ratio remain impressive and your hairline unreceded."

"Here's to another year of Jungkook being Jungkook," Taehyung adds, raising his own glass. "God help us all."

"To Kooks," Tessa says, her voice softer but no less sincere. "Happy birthday."

Glasses clink around the table, a chorus of echoed sentiments following. You lift your glass automatically, catching Jungkook's eye as you do. He's watching you, before he smiles—small and surprisingly genuine.

"Thanks for getting me here," he says quietly, just for you.

"Don't mention it," you reply, equally quiet. "Seriously. Don't. I'll deny everything."

His smile widens, and for a moment, it feels like you're back in that booth from earlier—just the two of you, everyone else fading to background noise.

Then Taehyung jostles his arm, demanding his opinion on something, and the moment breaks.

You take a sip of your drink, trying to ignore the strange feeling that's settled in your chest.

It's probably just hunger. Or the vodka from earlier.

Or the fact that you've been in this loud, crowded restaurant for what feels like hours now, surrounded by people you barely know, playing a role you're not quite sure how to perform.

Yeah. That's definitely it.

The server arrives with a ridiculous number of bowls balanced along his arms like some kind of food-based Cirque du Soleil performer. Steam rises from each one, carrying scents that make your stomach growl with embarrassing volume.

A massive, angry-looking bowl lands in front of you, the broth practically glowing red. It looks like someone liquefied the sun and threw in some noodles as an afterthought.

Perfect.

Two bowls slide in front of Jungkook—your spicy demon soup's twin and something much more reasonable looking, probably miso based on the color.

"Hungry much?" you ask, eyeing his double order.

"Growing boy," he shrugs, already reaching for chopsticks.

Taehyung, meanwhile, receives... a plate of curry rice?

"Seriously?" You can't help the judgment that leaks into your voice. "We're at a ramen place and you ordered curry?"

He shoots you a look that could curdle milk. "Some of us have taste beyond 'hot noodle soup.'"

"Some of us aren't afraid of flavor, dickasso."

"Bold words from someone currently holding weapons-grade capsaicin," he fires back, gesturing at your bowl. "Does your taste even function, or did you burn it all away with your sad little Hot Pockets diet?"

"At least I'm not too precious to eat what the restaurant specializes in."

“This is objectively superior."

"Only if your objective is being a pretentious dick."

"I prefer 'discerning connoisseur.'"

"You would."

You hate that banter with Taehyung is starting to become more and more comfortable. Like verbal sparring with someone who actually knows how to return a serve, instead of just standing there getting hit in the face with the ball.

Not that you like him or anything. His whole vibe—artsy, too cool for school, judgmental as fuck—is objectively annoying.

But maybe also a little entertaining.

In small doses.

Very small.

Across the table, Hobi watches this exchange with undisguised amusement, head swiveling between you.

"I feel like I'm witnessing the beginning of a beautiful friendship," he says, grinning widely. "Or a homicide. Hard to tell."

"Definitely homicide," Taehyung and you say in unison, then glare at each other for the coordination.

You turn your attention back to your ramen, inhaling the spicy steam before digging in. The first bite hits like a kick to the teeth—pain followed immediately by pleasure.

It's fucking delicious despite feeling like you just licked the surface of the sun.

"Good?" Yoongi asks, watching your face with what might be the ghost of amusement.

"Incredible," you manage, already reaching for more.

Across the table, Jungkook dives into his own spicy bowl with enthusiasm, slurping noodles with zero concern for how it looks. A drop of broth escapes, clinging to his lower lip.

You're about to say something—point it out, make fun of his complete lack of eating etiquette, something—when Tessa reaches out, casual as anything, and swipes her thumb across his lip.

"Messy," she says, the word warm with affection.

He tilts his head toward her, smiling in a way that can only be described as flirtatious.

“That's my brand."

You purse your lips, returning your attention to your own food.

Whatever. Let him preen over a pretty girl paying attention to him. His loser ass probably never gets that chance.

Although... that's a lie and you know it.

The guy is annoyingly good-looking and he knows it. He's probably used to girls fawning over him, cleaning his face like he's a toddler who can't be trusted with utensils.

"Whatcha looking at, Phee—" He cuts himself off abruptly, eyes widening slightly. "—asantly surprised by how spicy that ramen is? Your face is getting red."

Smooth recovery. Not.

"Just thinking about how long it's been since I've had decent ramen."

You grab your water glass, suddenly very aware of the burning sensation spreading across your tongue.

It's fine. Totally manageable. Nothing to worry about.

"Knew it," Yoongi mutters beside you.

You set the glass down with more force than necessary. "It's not spicy."

"Uh-huh." He doesn't even bother looking up from his own bowl. "That's why your face is the same color as the broth."

"It's warm in here."

"Sure it is."

"I can handle spice."

"Never said you couldn't."

"You implied it."

He finally glances at you, expression as bored as ever. "I implied you're a liar, not a spice lightweight."

"I'm not—" Another wave of heat crashes through your mouth, cutting off your protest. "Fine. It's a little spicy."

The corner of his mouth twitches in what might be a smile on anyone else. "A little."

"Shut up and eat your boring miso."

Amazingly, he actually laughs—a short, quiet sound that's there and gone so quickly you almost think you imagined it.

But no, that was definitely a laugh. From Yoongi. Directed at something you said.

Huh.

You return to your ramen, determined to finish it despite the way your sinuses are starting to protest.

It's a matter of pride now. You said you could handle it, so you'll handle it, even if it kills you.

Which it might. But what a way to go.

You glance up, seeing how Jungkook and Tessa have their heads tilted toward each other, engaged in what looks like a very amusing conversation based on her laugh. She keeps touching his arm, casual little points of contact that seem to arrive at perfectly timed intervals.

She's good at this, you'll give her that. The whole flirting thing. Not too obvious, not too reserved. Just the right amount of interest without seeming desperate.

Huh. He might get laid tonight then. Not by you.

Good for him.

"You're staring again," Taehyung says, his voice pitched low enough that only you can hear. "Plotting his murder or just generally disapproving of his existence?"

"Just wondering how someone with the personality of a half-deflated balloon animal manages to function in society," you reply smoothly.

"Years of practice and an excellent support system." He gestures between himself and Hobi, who's busy trying to convince one of the gamer guys that yes, there is in fact sake in the sake bomb he just drank. "We've been managing his personality disorder since freshman year."

"Sounds exhausting."

"It is." His eyes drift to where Jungkook is now showing Tessa something on his phone, both of them laughing. "But he has his moments."

You turn your attention back to your food. Halfway through, you make the tactical error of taking a large bite just as Hobi says something particularly funny, causing you to inhale sharply—and sending a piece of chili directly into your windpipe.

Coughing. So much coughing.

Your eyes water immediately, turning the table into a blurry mess of colors and shapes as you desperately reach for your water again.

"Easy there," Yoongi says, actually sounding a little concerned as he pushes your glass closer. "Small sips."

You manage to get the water down between coughs, the cool liquid offering minimal relief to your burning throat.

"You okay?" Jungkook asks, leaning across the table with a frown.

Great. Now everyone's looking at you. Perfect. Just what you wanted. All the attention.

"Fine," you rasp, waving a hand dismissively. "Went down the wrong pipe."

"Maybe you should try something less lethal," Diana suggests, eyeing your bowl with thinly veiled judgment. "Like the mild shoyu."

"I'm good with my life choices, thanks."

"Not all of them, I hope," Taehyung mutters, just loud enough for you to hear.

You kick him under the table, aiming for his shin but probably hitting the table leg instead based on his lack of reaction.

"If you die from ramen, I'm not cleaning out your room," Yoongi says matter-of-factly.

"Noted. I'll make sure to haunt you specifically."

"Bold of you to assume I'd notice the difference."

"What, between me alive and me as a ghost?"

"You already have a resting bitch face and make weird noises at night. How would I tell?"

You choke again, this time on your own surprise.

"I do not make weird noises at night!"

"The walls are thin."

Heat creeps up your neck, and it has nothing to do with the spice level of your food.

“I don't—that's not—"

"Relax. I meant the way you talk in your sleep."

Oh. That's... marginally less mortifying.

"I talk in my sleep?"

"Constantly."

"About what?"

He shrugs. "Mostly nonsense. Something about pencils last night. Very intense opinions on pencils."

"I don't have opinions about pencils," you protest. "Intense or otherwise."

"Tell that to your subconscious."

The conversation shifts as one of the gamers—Ryan? you think?—slams his empty sake cup on the table with more force than necessary.

"Yo!" he announces, loud enough to get everyone's attention. "We should do shots. Birthday shots for the birthday boy!"

A chorus of approval goes up around the table. Even Diana looks on board with this plan, probably because alcohol is the one thing that might loosen up whatever's holding her personality together.

"The birthday boy needs birthday shots," Hobi agrees, already signaling the waiter.

Taehyung groans. "Please tell me we're not doing that ridiculous 'one shot for each year' tradition. I'm not carrying his drunk ass home again."

"That was one time," Jungkook protests.

"One time too many. You kept trying to pet dogs that weren't there."

"I was seeing through the space-time continuum to where dogs would eventually be."

"You threw up in my shower."

"I cleaned it!"

"With my loofah!"

"I replaced it!"

"After I used it!"

You watch this exchange with growing amusement, the rapid-fire back-and-forth almost dizzying in its intensity. It's clear this is a well-worn argument, trotted out for entertainment value rather than actual grievance.

"Fine," Taehyung concedes dramatically. "Birthday shots. But I'm not responsible for any hallucinated canines or bathroom incidents."

"Deal," Jungkook grins, then turns to Tessa. "You in?"

She laughs, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I should probably pace myself. Early class tomorrow."

"Responsible," he nods, mock serious. "I respect that."

"Unlike some people," Taehyung mutters, glancing pointedly at Jungkook.

"It's my birthday. I'm legally exempt from responsibility for twenty-four hours."

"That's not a law."

"It's the law of birthdays, Tae. Everyone knows this."

Ryan—definitely Ryan—flags down the server successfully this time, ordering a round of shots for the table.

“Even for the responsible ones," he insists when Tessa tries to decline. "Just one. For Proofs."

She relents with a smile, rolling her stupid pretty eyes.

"You too, Miss Spicy Ramen," Ryan says, nodding toward you. "Unless you can't handle your liquor either."

Is that a challenge? It sounds like a challenge.

"I can handle my liquor just fine," you say.

“Debatable,” Jungkook mutters, the menace.

"Oh, fighting words," Hobi laughs, clapping his hands together. "I sense a story here."

"There's no story," Jungkook says quickly.

"I think we've found the first drinking game of the night," Hobi declares. "Most embarrassing Jungkook stories. Winner gets... I don't know, bragging rights and my eternal respect."

"That's not fair," Jungkook protests. "I'm the birthday boy. I should be exempt from humiliation."

"Birthday boy gets birthday roast," Taehyung counters.

Even Yoongi cracks a smile at that, which might be the most shocking development of the evening so far.

Five shots in and the room has developed that particular tilt that makes everything both sharper and blurrier at the same time.

"Next round!" Seth announces, grinning as he surveys the damage he's caused.

Seth, as you've learned through increasingly slurred introductions, is one of Jungkook's film school friends—tall, blonde, and way too enthusiastic about drinking games for someone his size.

"Embarrassing stories! Laugh and you drink!"

Groans mixed with cheers ripple around the table, which has somehow gotten messier and louder with each passing shot. Empty glasses create a small army between plates. Someone knocked over the soy sauce earlier, and no one's bothered to clean it up.

"Oh, oh, OH!" Taehyung practically bounces in his seat, raising his hand like an overeager student. "I have one."

"This'll be good," Yoongi mutters beside you, the most he's spoken in twenty minutes.

Taehyung clears his throat dramatically. "Picture this: Eighth grade. School talent show."

"No," Jungkook groans, head dropping into his hands. "Not that one."

"Yes, that one." Taehyung's grin is borderline evil. "Our boy Kooks here decides he's going to impress Minah Park with a dance routine."

"I'm begging you," Jungkook says, voice muffled through his fingers.

"To what song, you ask?" Taehyung continues, undeterred. "None other than 'Milkshake' by Kelis."

Ryan lets out a bark of laughter, immediately reaching for his shot.

"Oh my god," Diana whispers, eyes wide.

"Did he know what the song was about?" Tessa asks, already giggling.

"That's the best part," Taehyung says, pausing for dramatic effect. "He thought it was literally about making good milkshakes. His mom helped him with the routine."

The table erupts. Even Yoongi snorts, reaching for his shot glass with resigned dignity. You're trying—genuinely trying—to hold it in, pressing your lips together, but then you make the mistake of looking at Jungkook's mortified expression and it's over. Laughter spills out, and you grab your shot, tossing it back with a wince.

"His mom found out what it meant halfway through the performance," Taehyung continues, wiping tears from his eyes. "Her face—I wish smartphones existed back then."

"I hate you," Jungkook mutters, but there's no heat behind it. "So much."

"Did Minah like it at least?" Hobi asks, still chuckling.

"She transferred schools the next week," Taehyung says solemnly. "Unrelated reasons, allegedly."

Another round of laughter, another round of shots.

"My turn," Hobi declares once the chaos subsides. "Let me tell you about the first time I met this guy."

"Which version are you telling?" Jungkook asks warily.

"The true one," Hobi says with a wink. "Picture it: 2021. Dance studio on 8th. This scrawny kid walks in, says he needs to film a project for his class."

"I wasn't scrawny," Jungkook protests.

"You were a twig with hair," Hobi dismisses. "Anyway, he sets up his equipment, very professional, very serious. Then my advanced hip-hop class starts, and halfway through, he abandons his camera to try and join in."

"Oh no," Tessa whispers, delighted.

"Oh yes," Hobi confirms. "He jumps in, full confidence, absolutely sure he can keep up. Two eight-counts later, he slips, takes out my star student, and they both crash into the mirror."

"It didn't break!" Jungkook interjects.

"It cracked," Hobi corrects. "Still there. I call it the Jungkook Memorial Spiderweb."

You laugh despite yourself, drinking quickly to hide your smile when Jungkook shoots you a betrayed look.

"What about you, Yoongi?" Seth asks, refilling glasses with alarming efficiency. "How'd you meet the birthday boy?"

Yoongi regards the question like it's asked him to explain quantum physics.

“Music production seminar. He needed help with a film score." He shrugs. "He wasn't completely terrible."

"From Yoongi, that's basically a marriage proposal," Hobi stage-whispers.

"Wow, such a beautiful story," you deadpan. "So moving. So detailed."

Yoongi raises an eyebrow. “Not all of us need a thousand words to make a point."

"Clearly." You snort, then immediately regret it when the room spins slightly.

"What about you, new girl?" Seth asks, suddenly focused on you with an intensity that feels both flattering and vaguely predatory. "Got any good Jungkook stories from the roommate archives?"

All eyes turn to you, expectant.

You scramble for something suitably embarrassing but not too revealing.

“Oh, I’ve got plenty,” you say, the alcohol making you bolder than usual. “But I have to live with him, so I’m weighing the entertainment value against the revenge factor.”

“Coward,” Taehyung coughs into his hand.

"Yeah, tell us the real dirt," Seth presses, leaning forward with a grin that suggests he's hoping for something scandalous.

You narrow your eyes, suddenly protective of the weird dynamic you share with Jungkook. These people don't get to know about the late-night arguments over the TV volume, or the silent coffee maker standoffs, or the way he sometimes hums in the shower when he thinks no one can hear.

"Sorry to disappoint," you say with exaggerated sweetness, "but I value my security deposit too much to reveal his darkest secrets."

"Cop-out," Seth accuses, but he's smiling.

"Another round!" Ryan announces, refilling shot glasses with something that smells vaguely like cinnamon and regret. "Tessa, you laughed at the dance story, you owe one."

“I didn’t!” she protests, but she’s fighting a smile now. “I was just… appreciating the story.”

“Liar! Your lips twitched. That’s a drink.”

She shakes her head, still smiling. “No way. I have that early class, remember?”

Before Ryan can argue further, Jungkook smoothly grabs her shot and downs it in one fluid motion.

“Problem solved,” he says, setting the empty glass back on the table with a decisive clink.

Something about the gesture—casual, protective, maybe a little possessive—makes your stomach twist in a way that has nothing to do with the alcohol or spicy ramen.

Seth slides another shot toward you. “Here, you need a refill.”

You stare at it, trying to do math through the fuzzy haze of alcohol.

How many shots have you had? Four? Five? You've lost count, which is probably not a great sign.

But everyone’s looking at you, waiting, and you’ve never been good at backing down from a challenge—especially when you’re already tipsy and your judgment is shot to hell.

You reach for the shot, hesitating only slightly. It burns going down, making you cough and sputter in a way that is definitely not attractive, but whatever. You can handle it.

Probably.

“Another round!” Seth calls. “Funniest pet stories. Go.”

And so the new game continues, stories flying around the table with increasing volume and decreasing coherence.

You lose track of who’s talking, everything blurring into laughter and voices and the clinking of glasses.

“Oh, and remember when Jungkook tried to sneak into that bar with his cousin’s ID?” someone is saying—maybe Ryan? The faces at the end of the table are swimming a bit. “The bouncer took one look at the picture and said, ‘This says you’re 5’4” and Filipino.’”

More laughter, more shots. The room spins again when you tilt your head back to drink.

“Another one for you,” Seth says, sliding a fresh shot in front of you after you laugh at something Hobi said. His hand lingers near yours on the table, fingers almost but not quite touching. “Don’t tell me you’re backing down so soon?"

The challenge in his tone hits some stupid part of your brain—the part that's been responsible for most of your worst decisions.

So of course you grab the shot.

"Just getting started," you declare, tossing it back with more confidence than coordination.

Seth grins, clearly pleased by your response. "I like you. You're fun."

"I'm a goddamn delight," you agree solemnly, which makes Taehyung snort into his drink.

The next round comes with someone telling a tale about Jungkook getting locked out of his dorm freshman year wearing only a towel. Hobi recounts the time Jungkook tried to learn breakdancing and sprained both wrists. Jungkook retaliates with something about Taehyung and body paint that has everyone howling and reaching for their drinks.

You keep pace, determined not to be the one who can't hang, even as the room develops an interesting spin and your tongue feels increasingly disconnected from your brain.

"Another one!" Seth declares, sliding a fresh shot in front of you.

You stare at it, hiccupping slightly. The thought of one more makes your stomach perform an acrobatic maneuver.

"I don't know..."

"Come on," he urges, eyes bright with that specific drunk intensity people get when they're determined to make everyone else as wasted as they are. "Don't quit now."

You hiccup slightly, staring at the shot with growing uncertainty.

Your stomach churns in warning.

But your pride is a stubborn, stupid stupid thing.

Before you can decide, Jungkook’s arm shoots across the table, grabbing the shot and downing it in one quick movement. His eyes find Seth’s, narrowed and unmistakably warning.

“I think she’s good,” he says, voice deceptively casual.

Seth raises his hands in mock surrender. “Just keeping the game going, man.”

You stare at Jungkook, confused by the intervention. He catches your look and shrugs, a simple ‘what?’ in his expression that somehow makes you frown harder.

The game shifts again, someone suggesting “Never Have I Ever” as a change of pace. Your brain struggles to keep up with the new rules, everything moving a little too fast, a little too loud.

“Never have I ever…” Seth taps his chin thoughtfully, eyes finding yours again. “Been skinny dipping.”

You groan internally. Of course he’d pick something designed to make people admit to being naked. Typical.

Those who have done it drink, including Jungkook, which makes Tessa raise her eyebrows in a way that seems both surprised and intrigued.

You remain still, glass untouched, which somehow feels like a victory.

The questions continue around the table, growing progressively more suggestive as everyone’s inhibitions lower.

A fresh shot appears in front of you, courtesy of Ryan, who’s moved on from the game and is now just passing out alcohol indiscriminately.

“Drink up!” he declares. “We’re celebrating!”

You stare at the shot, swaying slightly in your seat. The room feels too hot, too crowded, too everything. Your brain is sending out warning signals, but they’re muffled under layers of alcohol and stubbornness.

Jungkook is watching you, expression unreadable but lips pressed together in what might be concern.

He knows you shouldn’t drink that.

You know you shouldn’t drink that.

But admitting it feels like losing somehow.

So you reach for the glass. Fingers clumsy.

Suddenly it’s gone—snatched away by a hand behind you.

“She doesn’t want any more, broski.”

You whip around so fast the room spins alarmingly, but there’s no mistaking that voice, that attitude, that general aura of ‘fuck around and find out.’

Yeji throws back the shot with 0 problem, slamming the empty glass on the table with a decisive clink.

Behind her, Irya and Jimin hover like backup, taking in the scene with varying levels of amusement.

“Surprise.” Yeji grins, sharp and protective. “Happy birthday, dickhead,” she adds, nodding at Jungkook. “Mind if we crash the party?”

goal: 600 notes

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eliasmelody · 2 months ago

Text

Tired babe? Take a seat!

Tag: Sol x reader, fluff Warning: grammar & spelling

✦.───────── ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ ───────── .✦ You yawn again. Dragging your feet into the library like you’re floating more than walking. Your body’s heavy. Eyes sting from lack of sleep. Your brain's practically mush. It's been a long day. Honestly? You need somewhere quiet to crash. Just for a second.

Of course, he’s there.

Same spot, like always. Slouched over the desk, head dipped, dark clothes blending into the dim light of the corner. Pencil dancing lazily in his fingers. He doesn’t even blink when the door creaks open. Doesn’t move when your bag thumps softly against the floor.

Just a glance. Quick. Dismissive. Until he really sees you.

His eyes flick up again. Sharper this time. He clocks your posture. Your sluggish steps. Your barely-open eyes. His gaze lingers like it’s magnetized to the curve of your face. The slump in your shoulders. The way your hoodie’s collar slides off one side. And when you drag your tired body toward him, he straightens up.

You stand beside the table for a moment. Rubbing your eye with the back of your hand. You know there’s a seat beside him. But right now you want comfort. Not a cold wooden chair.

So you act on instinct.

Without saying a word, you swing one leg over and settle yourself right on his lap.

His breath stops. Like someone hit mute on his entire system. Arms frozen mid-motion. Eyes blown wide for half a second before he forces them away. Like he’s afraid looking too long might give something away. You shift to get comfortable. You feel it. His legs twitching beneath you. Fingers gripping the edge of the table so tight his knuckles go pale.

"Hope you don’t mind." You mumble sleepily. Leaning your chest against his chest. Head tucking under his chin like it’s your usual spot. Hands drapes over his shoulder.

He doesn’t answer. Can’t.

Because right now, Sol’s fighting for his damn life.

Your scent fills his lungs with every breath. Warm. Soft. Intoxicating. Your weight against him is driving him insane. Every movement. Every sigh you make. Vibrates through his body like static electricity.

He tilts his head down slightly. His nose brushes against your hair. A low sound escapes him. Barely a whisper of a groan. He doesn’t know whether to hold you or dig his nails into the table to ground himself.

You shift again. Just slightly.

And he’s losing it.

His head tips back, eyes briefly closing as he tries to collect himself.

"Fuck..." He mutters under his breath. The sound of the air shifting in his lungs feels like a weight, and the ceiling above him seems to mock him as his mind races. His hands are shaking slightly, but he refuses to let you see it.

You hum sleepily. "What was that?"

He clears his throat. “Nothing. Just… stay still.”

His words are strained, like he’s trying to convince both of you, but more so himself. He doesn’t trust himself to say more. The feeling of your body against his, your weight pressing down in the most deliciously torturous way, is sending heat spiraling through him.

You hum, a lazy, contented sound, and you nuzzle further into him. Your head buries into his chest, and your breath, soft and warm, flows over his neck. He swallows hard. His throat feels tight. Every shift you make is a reminder of how close you are, how dangerously close.

"Mm. Okay." You mumble, your voice dripping with exhaustion, unaware of how it rips through him.

Sol knows it’s wrong. You probably don’t even realize what you’re doing to him. But he can't stop it.

His hands, the ones that had been trembling at the edges of the table, now drift. Slowly. Hesitantly. Until it finds its place on your hip. His fingers curl there like he's testing if this is real. If you're really letting him hold you like this.

He refuses to move anymore than that, unwilling to risk even a slight twitch, because he’s not sure he’ll be able to stop himself.

Taking in a slow breath, trying to steady himself, his mind is all about the way you feel against him, how soft and warm and perfect you are there. Chest tightens, and heart races in a way that doesn’t make sense. Right now, all that control feels like it’s slipping.

"So cute... and all mine"

If you don’t move for the next ten minutes?

Well… don’t blame him.

✦.───────── ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ ───────── .✦ Art & characters from The Kid at the Back, created by Fantasia Kitt. ✦.───────── ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ ───────── .✦

#the kid at the back sol #the kid at the back #solivan brugmansia #sol x reader #sol x you #tkatb sol #tkatb #tkatb vn #the kid at the back vn

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bratreligion · 2 months ago

Text

IVE BEEN LOOKING FOR THISSSS 😩😩😩

crush. eren yeager.

warnings; facetime sex, sex toy(s), vulgar language, explicit sexual content, dom eren, mild daddy kink, black coded.

one late night call changed your entire life. you were already laying in bed, notebooks scattered around you as you rest your chin in your palm with your macbook in your face, taking pictures out of boredom. if wondering, you were trying to write smut for your new book, but couldn’t for the life of you since your writers blocked fucked you over. oldies music soothingly played lowly in the background, specifically 90s r&b, entire room lit to pink from your led lights. humming to yourself, you click your favorite heart filter, puckering your lips and snapping photos.

Keep reading

#˗ˏˋ✩´ˎ nana’s library!#NEED THAT JAEGER SPRITE

3K notes · View notes

chxrrywines · 11 months ago

Text

₊˚⊹♡ letting you | sam winchester x reader

a/n - this might be the fastest i’ve ever written a fic??? it’s pure filth so that might be why but LMAO, i love love love the idea of soft dom sam sm he melts my brain, hopefully this is good!! getting back into writing after taking a break from being sick bc my brain wouldn’t work. special thanks to my friend who helped me brainstorm the delicious idea ilysm !! <3

cws - fem!reader, 1.6k, nsfw 18+, softdom!sam, sub!reader, cockwarming, masturbation, praise, kinda unedited

other fics can be found on my masterlist

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

The only thing she could hear was Sam’s soft breathing, and the soft tap tap tap of his laptop keys behind her.

If she paid close enough attention, she could hear the way his shirt rustled when he moved his arms, the soft fluttering of book pages being turned, but her focus wasn’t really attainable, it was slipping through her fingers with each excruciating moment that she was sat there.

Sam shifted in his seat out of a pure intention to get comfortable, and his cock nudged deeper inside of her wet heat, dragged a soft gasp from her lips, which just earned her a soft “shh, honey” against the shell of her ear.

It had been her fault that she was in that position in the first place. She’d been a little too needy with Sam when he was trying to research, and on her third attempt at trying to initiate a — much needed, mind you — make out, he’d grabbed her hips and tugged her into his lap facing him. His voice had been a little stern as he told her to pull his cock out, and the tone of his voice alone had her cunt clenching around nothing as she quickly did as she’d been asked. She knew that voice, she’d had it in her ear most nights, whispered against her throat, against the plush of her thighs. It meant he was in control.

Sam had sat back from the library's table for enough time for her to pull his cock out and pull aside her panties, sank down onto him with a soft moan, but before she could move he grabbed her hips tightly, kept her still.

“Don’t move,” he’d dipped his head down and kissed her throat, pulse fluttering beneath his lips. “Stay there while I finish up and I’ll take care of you after, hm?”

If she was feeling a bit more bratty she would’ve whined or complained or just moved anyways, but his voice in her ear and his hands on her hips had her head spinning, so she just nodded and tucked her head against his throat as he leaned over her to continue what he was doing, completely focused, as if he wasn’t buried deep inside her pussy at that moment.

That had been twenty minutes ago.

It was becoming torturous.

Sam was unfairly skilled at keeping composed. He was also unfairly skilled at winding her up. Those two went hand in hand, it seemed, because each second that passed just worked her up more and more. All she could focus on was the warmth of his body pressed to hers, his cock nestled deep inside of her, the lack of stimulation. When she’d came out to the library with her attempt at bothering him, she’d craved a genuine release, not this.

Her hips shifted slightly and she squeezed her eyes shut, huffed out a soft “Sammy” against his throat when that slight movement was enough for her pussy to throb around him.

“Stay still.” He murmured without as much of a look in her direction. She glanced up at him and his eyes were locked forwards, pupils shifting left to right as he read whatever was displayed on his laptop screen. Tap tap tap, more pages turned, more reading, rinse, repeat. He was killing her.

Barely a minute had passed before she made another soft sound against the warm skin of his throat, lips brushing his neck, “Baby please-”

“My hands are busy, sweetheart,” his voice was so nonchalant it drove her up the wall. “I don’t know what you want me to do.”

Her eyes squeezed shut as she huffed against his throat again. “Can you just take a break?”

“No,” he shook his head. “No, I’m almost done, you’ll just have to wait,” he tsked, a hand briefly pet her hair, the touch so light it was like he was purposely depriving her of any stimulation. “If you’re that needy, you have two hands of your own, baby. Sort yourself out until I’m finished with this.”

She released a shuddered breath against his throat, squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. It wasn’t the answer she’d wanted.

“Hey,” one of his hands came up to the side of her neck and he pressed his thumb against her jaw, tilted her head back until he could meet her eyes. “I told you I’d sort you out once I finished, didn’t I?”

She nodded, bit the inside of her cheek.

“So isn’t it nice of me that I’m letting you get yourself off in the meantime?”

Letting you. Her cunt throbbed again.

“Yeah.” She whispered.

Sam leaned down and kissed her, just a soft little peck, and somehow it just riled her up more. “I’ll be done soon. Go ahead and sort yourself out for me, sweetheart.”

He let go of her jaw and moved his arms to the table again, continued tapping at his laptop, and her eyes scrunched closed again as she tipped forward and rested her forehead against his throat. But she was so needy that she didn’t think twice about following his instructions. One hand stayed tucked at his waist, fingers curled into the soft material of his flannel, and her other reached between them and tucked under the material of her shirt, fingering at the waistband of her panties until she slipped beneath those too, and she was so fucking wet that she was undoubtedly making a mess of his jeans from just sitting there.

Her fingers dipped down, pressed against her clit, and she shuddered as the stimulation made her clench around his cock deliciously. She pressed her fingers forwards again, started to shamelessly rub herself, exhaled soft little moans and sighs against his throat.

Before she could do anything else Sam’s voice was in her ear again, “Quiet, sweetheart. You’re meant to be letting me work, don’t make me tell you to stop.”

Her jaw clenched as she exhaled shakily, eyes squeezed shut, and she huffed a breath against his throat as she took a moment to compose herself. Now that she’d started touching herself, it’d just be a torture to stop, so she just nodded against his throat with the intent to keep herself quiet.

It took a moment for her to settle on a pace. She was a bit too needy with it, her hand squished between their bodies, knuckles pressed to his hard muscles each time she shifted her hand, but eventually she settled into a pace that had her eyes rolled back and squeezed shut, the fingers of her other hand curled tightly into the material of his flannel.

She circled her clit with the pads of her fingers again and again, but it was the feeling inside of her every time her cunt clenched around his cock that made it hard for her to keep quiet. She was half tempted to bite down on his collar to shut herself up, but Sam seemed to be letting her get away with the slight gasps and whimpers that she couldn’t stop herself letting up.

It took an embarrassingly short time for her to get close — her forehead was pressed to his throat, hot breaths puffed out against his skin, trying not to shift her hips as she rubbed at her clit with a need that thrummed within her veins. Her jaw clenched and she held her breath, eyes squeezed shut tighter as she worked herself closer.

“Breathe,” Sam’s breath tickled her ear as he spoke softly. She had a tendency to hold her breath when she came sometimes if she was especially worked up — she didn’t even know Sam was paying attention. She took a shuddery breath, and he murmured a soft, “that’s it.”

It only took a few more circles on her clit before she came and she grit her teeth, huffed out a sharp breath through her nose as the feeling washed over her. Her cunt pulsed in pleasure, waves that kept her rubbing at her clit until it felt too much, and when she finally stopped she was breathing sharply against his neck. Her hand was a bit cramped, fingers wet, heartbeat drumming, but the release felt so nice after she’d been so worked up.

“Good girl,” Sam crooned, and she could’ve cum again at the tone of his voice. “Good girl. Did that help?”

She nodded against his throat, relaxed into his front.

“Yeah?” He asked. “Are you gonna keep still until I’m finished now?”

She nodded again.

“Baby,” she felt his hand smooth up her back until his fingers delicately tangled in her hair, only enough to pull her head back to look at him. “I wanna hear you say it.”

She blinked a few times up at him. He was so devastatingly handsome, it wasn’t fair. “I’ll keep still,” she mumbled, face feeling far too hot. “Promise.”

“Oh, you promise?” She didn’t miss the teasing edge to his words, the smirk that tugged at the corners of his mouth.

She nodded again. “Yeah, Sammy.”

“Good girl,” he praised once more, and was nice enough to give her a proper kiss that time. It still wasn’t what she craved — she didn’t feel his tongue in her mouth, he didn’t kiss her until she went dizzy — but it was nicer and kinder than a little peck. “Ten minutes and I’m all yours.”

She settled back into his chest as he went back to work, comfy to just rest against him in her post-orgasm euphoria, happy to wait the ten minutes until he was finished. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d fucked her on the library table that week.

#sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x y/n #sam winchester x you #sam winchester fluff #sam winchester smut #sam winchester imagine #sam winchester drabble #sam winchester oneshot #sam winchester fic #sam winchester fanfiction #spn #spn one shot #spn x reader #supernatural #supernatural smut #supernatural one shot #supernatural x reader

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junezsq · 4 months ago

Note

Hii could you do Harry bf headcanons?

(⁠^⁠^⁠)

harry james potter as your bf … ! 🤍💫

˗ˏˋ★‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹ a/n! these were so fun to write, i hope this meets your expectations,, enjoy<3

۶ৎ . was pretty awkward when you first started dating but after a while the flirting just came naturally. from calling you affectionate nicknames to random compliments; half of the time he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. however, the second you flirt back he becomes all flustered with rosy cheeks and stutters

۶ৎ . loves it when you show up at quidditch games to support him and calls you his lucky charm. most of the time he’s not even paying attention to the game; the moment he sees you in the stands—with his initials painted on your cheeks and dressed in his spare gryffindor jersey—he cannot take his eyes off you

۶ৎ . you’re one of the few people who’s allowed to touch and play with his hair. it actually comforts him when you do so and he loves it when you run your hands through his messy curls

۶ৎ . likes to just watch you and will listen to you very intently. it doesn’t matter if it’s as simple as telling him about a mistake you made during one of your classes, he will pay attention to every detail; a small smile growing on his lips and twinkles in his eyes as he watches you speak

۶ৎ . really attentive and an excellent gift giver. he remembers details about things you’ve told him you might not even remember yourself. so, don’t be surprised when you receive a bouquet of white roses on a random wednesday just because you told him you thought they were pretty a few days earlier

۶ৎ . can be really sassy and enjoys teasing you. probably about either your height or your grades. you pretend it annoys you but the fact it makes him laugh makes you happy too

۶ৎ . gets jealous pretty easily but can control it well and doesn’t really show it. you know when he’s jealous though, and you will tease him about it

۶ৎ . will go on study dates with you in the library, but not much studying gets done. he can’t stop staring at you and when he gets the chance he will swoop in for a kiss

۶ৎ . slightly insecure. he’ll go quiet after you fight or when you’ve had a discussion, thinking it was his fault. he knows communication is key, though, so you’ll give him the time he needs and he will come to you when he’s ready to talk things through

۶ৎ . slipping each other love notes in classes. he’ll also hide them in your books for you to randomly find

۶ৎ . really supportive; he’ll side with you and protect you no matter what

۶ৎ . when you start dating you make a routine of falling asleep together wherever you can; the common room being your favorite spot. it started as a way of being able to comfort him if he’d have a nightmare but it slowly turned into a routine

۶ৎ . swings your hands whenever you walk hand in hand

۶ৎ . loves it when you wear his hoodies. he will leave them laying around for you to find because he knows you’ll steal them

۶ৎ . so funny. the two of you are almost always laughing when you are together and it’s mostly about something dumb too

۶ৎ . not that big on physical touch considering his past trauma’s, but he adores holding your hand. it doesn’t matter if you’re walking the hogwarts corridors to your next class, or if you’re just sat down next to each other. whenever he’s anxious or deep in thought he’ll automatically reach for your hand; holding it brings him a great sense of comfort

۶ৎ . is not the most careful person so often breaks his glasses. he’s perfectly capable of fixing them himself but loves seeing you do it for him. neither does he care for cleaning his glasses, but when you do it for him he’ll be immensely grateful and will thank you with kisses

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

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bratreligion · 2 months ago

Text

fuckin two bad bitches at the same damn time!

let the light in

xx: cowboys! eren & onyankopon x reader . .

9.9k words — life on a ranch, porn with plot, tension, feelings, eventual sex, fucking in.. mud & rain, reader is referred to as 'she', 'girlie' etc, use of 'daddy', lots of spit & being dirty, reader is a country bumpkin, light arguing, thumb in ass, pussy spanking, spitroasting, cunnilingus, crying, some squirting & creaming, lots of shortened words & punctuation (country dialect duhh), not proof read sorry, awkward moments.

notes: been writin dis since december 2023... enjoy u guys :] rbgs appreciated

“hiya mrs. brown!”

worn out boots of marble cake pink and brown swirls, graze the dirtied gravel near the elderly woman's cottage as you slip from the horse. mary-lou, you affectionately call her, dusting her pinked moist nose with a pat before hobbling onto the stone path. over the horizon, the pastel orange and yellows of the sun threaten to melt into your skin, kissing it golden as the morning begins and so do your deliveries.

golden-blonde, french curl braids woven into your roots fall past your lower back ending in thick, loose curls, some held together by bows and others hair clips. they bounced with every step. mrs. brown was the first on your list of deliveries today. on cool mornings like this when spring teases its approach, you often bake little treats for the other villagers. apple tarts, blueberry jellies, cherry pies with freshly picked fruits, warm buttery honey-milk breads and healthy breakfast muffins: all made with ingredients grown at home! but, we'll explore the garden later.

calling this a village was a bit of a stretch, realistically, a happy delusion at most. acres of farm property was shared by each of the residents whose homes were nearby, despite the farm areas creating distances of land behind them. tok, tok, tok! the haste below mary-lou's hooves pulled you back to your task as you rearranged the goodies and stepped onto the wooden plank. mrs. brown sat atop her rocking chair, crocheting a blanket you'd commissioned. a chuckle, “ [ ] , dearest, always in y’head, aren't yuh?” mrs. brown softly muttered, deep brown skin crumpled besides her lips, short pastel curls tickling her ears. hands busied with the neapolitan coloured yarn. her countryside twang was a pleasant aerated tone, reminding you of your own parents.

you huff and offer a smile. “mrs. brown I've—”, “must I remind you, dearest, eleonora,” the playfulness in her voice offers it a quiver. “and let me guess . . . cherry pie?” thin, quivering lips stretch to a smile, your plump ones mimic hers as you nod with a sweetened expression. “yes, eleonora, I know how much y’love cherry pies n’–”, “and my grandson does too, y'know!” you stop to stare at her as she wears nothing but a smug look on her face, her head bobbing side to side with a ‘you know damn well’ manner.

eleonora lived mostly alone. when her daughter married, giving her a sole grandson they'd moved to the city. luckily for her, and you, her grandson moved back on his own to the country. he fixed cars, motorcycles, tractors– you name it, he's got it covered. she said his name was onyankopon or, ony’. to be honest, you spied around one time to catch a glimpse of him. back when you first moved in and eleonora became immediately smitten with the idea of you and her grandson as potential lovers, you snuck around where ony's ranch was, peaking at who the man could be. you barely saw him really, the small flash of him you saw all greasy with engine oil was so far away! but infatuation always grew in you from a small bud, slowly growing before flower petals started spilling out your throat.

“are ya’ stoppin by him too, darlin’?” she pries further, “I ‘dunno els’ . . . y'know I haven't actually met ‘em right?”, “oh I know dear,'' she breathes, “ he's strong, he's tall, he surely is handy ‘round the house and- and he's not ‘onna dem toxic masculine things i hear ‘bout on the Internet! I think he's had a boyfrien’ b'fore, that must count!” she relieves your hands of the heavy treats while speaking, “eleonora . . .”, “c'mon darlin’, you've got t'get married someday, n’ imma’ be the flower gal!”

all you can do is shake your head and accept the sweet kiss to the cheek she offers you before trotting back to your horse. mary-lou grew rather impatient! settling her brown and white spotted body to the ground awaiting your return. to be completely honest, you craved love. the partying, sex and relationships of college got old and moving here right after left you high and dry with the weight of ‘unlovable’ bearing down on your shoulders. the lack of men your age was . . . a troublesome dilemma but who were you to complain? you hiked yourself back onto mary-lou and continued your journey to the next cottage home.

looking over the blueberry skies and whipped cream clouds kept you in grandiose delusions of a love so pure and sweet, like powdered sugar that you could indulge in, maybe one day.

♡

“down girl, down!”

The rough, deep voice shakes the silence near the upcoming ranch. after your deliveries, you'd end up with a few apple-cherry tarts remaining, sometimes the neighbours are vacationing in the city, or insist you keep some! by this time, the sun shone fully now, its warmth tingling your skin. “awe, shucks, man!” another voice caused your brows to furrow, peering up ahead at the ranch . . . the one in which eleonora's grandson resided. from what you could see without the sun in your eyes, two men of tall statures– roughhousing with gorgeous horses. the one in the cowboy's hat was doing a terrible job of trying to calm one of them. their manes were a beautiful silky white, shining healthily under the sun as they lifted their front legs to the air before trotting around the . . . shirtless men again. mother would scold you now if she could see you openly ogling at the two, you push that thought to the back of your mind.

mary-lou slows on your command beside their ranch gate, huffing and happily shaking out her mane as she watches the other horses play. something possesses you to hop off with the remaining tarts, awkwardly shuffling to the fence– your pink-brown boots were worn mismatched to your strapless white lace top and similar mini-skirt. “uh . . . howdy there fellas!” both men turned to your direction, blocking their eyes from the sun and beginning to stroll over.

the closer view made your breath catch in your throat. the one on the left, you assume is el's grandson, his skin was a dark mahogany brown, he glistened slightly with sweat in the sun, deeply defined muscles prelude veins below his belly button then covered by bright blue jeans and black cowboy boots to match his hat.

he had a handsome face.

thick two-toned lips spread to reveal a bright smile, a few teeth plated with gold caps as he teased the man to his right. this man had dark, black, shining curls that rested atop his shoulders, two eyebrow slits decorated with piercings, matching ones on his . . . pretty lips. his skin was a dusted tan, sunkissed tone and he wore black jeans atop his brown boots. You couldn't miss the tattoos that crept up the side of his abdominals, you were curious.

“how c'n we help ya’, miss?” the left spoke up and your cheeks felt hot, it's been a while since you heard that pet name, you chalked it up to the blazing sun. “well, uh, you're eleonora's grandson, right?” you nibble on your nails nervously, he nods, “I just . . . thought it’d be nice to give y'all these extra treats i baked.” pushing the basket in their direction and allowing the dark haired one to peep under the cloth, he had a mischievous look to him and he elbowed the other in the ribs with a slick smile, “wass ya’ name, pretty? ‘m eren, dis is ony’,” he pointed between them, “ n’ y’made these y’self, ma’?” eren pulls out a tart, staring down at you through long eyelashes, “oh! uh I‘m [ ], n’ yes! I did n' I grew all'em fruits m'self too!” you bounce on the heels of your boots, nervously.

ony’ stays mostly quiet you've noticed, taking in your outfit as well, his eyes raking over you. eren warmly feeds him a bite of the tart as their horses trot over to mingle with mary-lou. “how long ya’ been livin’ ‘round here, sugar?” ony’ speaks up soft and mellow, grabbing himself his own tart to taste. eren reaches out to pet mary-lou. “i guess it’s been a about a year now! y’see i moved out ‘round here after college.” you nibbled your shiney bottom lip, “what ‘bout y’all? your grandma talks ‘bout you all the time, but, i ain’t really seen you round here?” you turn to eren who makes a kissy face at mary-lou before turning to you. “i mostly tend to the farm ma’, as y’can tell, ‘m better with the animals than ony’ here.” he flashes you a smile and props his arms against the fence biting his lip and lowering closer to your eye level. ony’ playfully smacks his arm, flashing a gorgeous smile with his gold teeth sparkling in the sun, “shut up, man.”

you look away quickly, catching yourself staring at his lips, he certainly doesn't miss it. you totally push the basket towards eren’s arms, “y’c’n have the basket y’know i always weave more, i’ve gotta get goin, now,” you rush, “wait– take m’ number, pretty,” eren offers before reciting it a couple times so you’ve got it down. “n’ which onna’ these ranches ‘s yours, mama?”, you're mounting mary-lou once more, “it's not too far! it's the ranch with the blue fence n’ the pond out front!”

♡

the days after that remained uneventful, with no deliveries of any kind, you preferred to remain on the ranch tending to the animals and house work. you'd never texted eren, only saved his number and stalked his contact profile . . . and opened his chat section many-a-times without saying anything. taking a liking to someone new is hard. you don't forget the many times a partner toyed with you, assuming innocence and naivity of you based soley off your appearance, then doing whatever they'd wanted behind your back. you were past that now, hopefully at least; the concrete walls you used to block others out wasn't something you'd liked to be reminded of.

padding out the back door, the coldness of the stone path chills beneath your bare feet. your toes painted with the cutest design within your artistic range, accompanied by the musical arrangement of your anklet. you pick up a dirtied bucket with the many things you'd needed to complete your chores for the morning, taking a long look at the expanse of the ranch.

a deep breath of clean air, healthy green fields relieve your eyes of their stress; partly cloudy skies was the forecast! weather for hanging outside, the cumulus clouds indicated it to be the perfect day for fishing too! the pond was still, the little lambs were just waking up in their pen, the gardenias were blooming; the white dexter cattle mulled around, seemingly bored behind the fence. just as you begin to walk by with the bucket of feed, the cows behind let out soft, deep ‘mooooo’s’: a ‘good morning!’ greeting in their own way. each receiving gentle pets to their fur.

your mental list of duties was shorter today: pet the cattle, inspect the lambs & brush their fur, throw feed for the chickens & clean their coupes, feed the dogs, feed the fish.

you couldn't help but wear your best little dress to do the tasks today, a simple white thing that cupped your breasts just right. “oh, how are ya’ buttercup!” you squealed in delight as the silky white wolf dog rushed up to lick your feet, his opposite onyx counterpart, bentley offered a short bark to show her delight, sitting peacefully and obediently. she'd recently fallen pregnant with pups, confusing as you'd given both animals the proper precautionary procedures! while filling their food bowls, you couldn't help but be reminded of eren and ony’. your toes dug into the grass a bit, excited at the idea of . . . sharing your home with someone else again. both men seemed pleasant, highly attractive, but feelings always confused you. perhaps they were only being decent human beings to you, nothing more.

to be honest, you hadn't had the best history with relationships. it's part of– it's one of the main reasons you'd decided to move out to the countryside. casual sex was fine, yeah, whatever, you enjoyed it. however, when it comes to your relationships, you refuse to believe you attract shitty people. from making fun of how excited your are by things, to the way you dressed, wore your makeup, your hair, how you cry— the whole works had been used against you. there was only so much of it you could handle. moving away meant . . . fresh start, new people, new experiences. and most importantly, a place where everyone did as they pleased. as much as people think gossip goes around in small villages, the country area was mostly pleasant. neighbours traded crops for items, enjoyed each other's company and minded their own business.

sitting beside the pond, bentley and buttercup eagerly cuddled up at your side; the joy this life brought you was comparable to hot chocolate at the end of a winter day. now you think about how long its been since you could cuddle someone on a cold day. it probably hasn't been since your mother was alive. now was a good time to visit eleonora.

♡

a raspberry lemon loaf warmed your hands as the weather began to cool. the trudge to eleonora's ranch was tranquil, pleasant animals, butterflies and chirping birds kept you occupied for most of it. that is, until your boots dragged to a stop in the dirt, noticing a familiar face in el's front yard.

onyankopon's hair was short, brushed into smooth waves atop his head and faded on the sides, revealed by the lack of cowboy hat. he was shirtless, once again, knee deep in the dirt of his grandmother's yard where he dug the soil for new plants. you swallow, nibbling a plump lip that made your mouth spring from the strawberry flavoured gloss. a colder breeze blew up under your thighs, blowing your simple little dress slightly; furrowing your brows with concern as you peered at the beautiful bright sky, you force yourself to walk up to the gate and begin to unlatch it.

eren's grassy green eyes meet you first, his hands busily feeding a plump cherry into his mouth. pretty pink lips sucked them in, unwelcoming to the juicy red droplets that escaped the cherry. he licks his lips to pull them in. you take a deep breath and focus on not dropping the raspberry lemon loaf. “h-hiya everybody!” you greet, noticing eleonora seated in her usual spot on the rocking chair of her porch while observing the two men.

you hold the loaf somewhat close to you and swallow hard, walking along the stone path of which both men were at either side of. ony’ in the dirt and eren manspreading on the front steps. you held eyes with the ground. “howdy ony’, eren, nice to see you two ‘gain,” you say in a pleasant mumble as you make way up the stairs to eleonora. “brought you this raspberry lemon loaf els’!” you look at her smiling slightly, caught off guard by that signature smug look she held. what insane thoughts about your love life could she be brewing now? the silence from the two men was noticeable too, you were sure they'd turn to look at you as you presented the treat for el’, “my, my! well doesn't this just look lovely!” she claps clammy hands clad in flower themed rings and laughs jolly. “ony’, son, could you get us some tissues n’ forks? oh- n’ eren darlin’ why don't you bring out the pitcher ‘f lemonade with s'm glasses.” the two men stand as she calls upon them, uttering out their deep ‘yes ma'am's’ as they towered above you in walking by. your eyes trailed them slightly before turning back to eleonora who never (not once) misses your silent pining.

ony’ wore his jeans low on his waist, the band of his boxers showed off its maker's name. eren, on the other hand, wore a white wife-beater below unbuckled blue overalls, leaving them hanging over at his waist. “so, have ya’ found y'self a boyfren’, honey?” eleanora asks somewhat loudly as the two men shuffle around the kitchen bearby and your eye widen. “now what kinda’ question is that els’?” you sputtered, “you know I haven't got one.” eleonora giggles like a school girl. you take a cool seat onto the steps. eren and ony’ share small smiles as they return with lemonade and dishes. ony’ takes a seat in a chair opposite eleonora, elevated above you whilst eren makes himself comfortable back in his spot across from you on the steps. raspberry lemon loaf is shared around with the cool glasses of not-too-sweet lemonade to wash it down, eating brought silence besides low groans from the two men who seemed to enjoy your baking. their groans were not sensual, but pressing your thighs together was still a must as a reaction to the unexpected sounds of pleasure. fuck, you felt like a creep. eleonora complimented your skills, asking, “[ ] , did ya’ grow these in the box gardens y'made?” you nod and swallow quickly, all attention to you as eren mumbles ‘box garden?'. ``yea els’, the box gardens ar’ doin’ great, but I've got some extra wood around I think I'mma try to make a few more like the boxes I bought from the market!” eleonora smiles as if she were expecting to hear you randomly bring up your recycling duties.

“ony’, can't you n’ eren build those boxes f’[ ]? I strongly believe lil’ ol’ her shouldn't handle all dat’ wood . . .” you internally blush deeply at the innuendo and take the final bite of your slice of the loaf. eren speaks up, “y'sure right on we can, els’ . . . y'okay wit’ us helpin’ y'out ma?” he takes a quick glance up at ony, locking eyes with him who also lets his stare above you burn into your scalp. “s– sure, I don't mind!” you mutter out lightly and eleonora gives a jolly clap, “well ain't that just darlin’! the day's young, y'all can get started right now!” you have to hold your breath to avoid your last sip of lemonade going down your larynx. the two men mentioned how they're not busy the rest of the day and wouldn't mind before you can even collect yourself. somehow, coming over to eleonora always results in you being roped into another scheme of hers.

and just like that, you found yourself on a quiet . . . and awkward walk back to your ranch with the two young men following closely behind you. anxiety bubbled in your stomach, clamping your lips shut to avoid letting the insecure feeling from escaping your lips. the nerves were getting to you with every second that passed by. “s-so, uh– wassup wit y'all ‘round here?” they both walk up to match your pace. “oh, well, ony here prefers to do all the technical shit like– fixin’ cars n’ all'at.” eren shoves his palms into the pockets of his overalls, walking up ahead where he could look back at the two of you while talking, he maintains glances with onyankopon that you just don't seem to understand. “I prefer to stay on the ranch n’ watch the animals– y'got any besides that horsie?”

“oh– yea i've got m’ horse, mary-lou, two wolfies: bentley n’ buttercup.” a sweet smile stretches on your face, tummy warming a bit. “oh! and I've got names f'all my fish in the pond, my little lambs– oh they're just the cutest! a–and my fluffy cows! they're lovely,” you clasp your hands in excitement, eyes following your footsteps, sputtering happily over the animals. “gosh, n’ I'm tryin’ out a little butterfly area in my front garden, but m’ not the best at it, can’t tame butterflies y’know— they pee on ya’ too! that's fuckin’ crazy,” you reveal with a giggle. as you look up to ask the two a question, you can't help but blush, embarrassingly at that. eren and ony stared at you with pleasant smiles, deeply dimpled too. “oh my, m’ sorry for my ramblin’ how rude of me–”,”no. no, keep talkin’ pretty.” ony's deep voice encourages you and you peer curiously at him: trying to figure him out. he turns away from you licking his lips and spares eren a look before he starts walking again. it urges you both to continue onto the ranch as well, eren shakes his head with a chuckle; he thinks he’s got a handful on his hands.

“y’got a boyfren’ ‘round here, [ ] ?” eren brushes hair over his shoulders, asking the question calmly whilst maintaining a look up the path, ony’s arm brushed yours as he walked close by. “well– no, what about you?” you melt your lips together before stuttering out,”wait, not– i mean, girlfriend . . . well– i don’t care–!” ony barks out a laugh while eren turns around to give you a bright smile, all three of you burst into giggles. “nah, no girlfren’ or boyfren’, ma’.” ony speaks up gently, “but, uh– me n’ E’ might be lookin’ for a third to make us official, i dunno.” your eyes widen but ony gives a nonchalant shrug, handsome face glowing with a smug smile like he didn't just drop #thebomb on you. it reminded you of his grandmother, you look to eren who’s looking back at you and onyankopon with just a slight grin and your breath catches in your throat. “oh! there’s the ranch just up ahead,” you blurt out and skip past eren, scurrying over to unlatch the gate to your front garden as the two followed you in.

now your heart felt like it could melt. like– like a huge strawberry ready to burst! what did ony’ mean by that? oh, how you felt like a dizzy little dove. luckily the dogs rushed up to you, excitable and ready to meet the new visitors who they eagerly sniffed. ony’ and eren were happy to roughhouse on sight laughing with the dogs and complimenting the patch of primula's you were trying to grow, the pretty pinki-ish flowers were just beautiful. you lead them through your home, overly conscious about each step you took while they surely eyed every nook and cranny of your decor. “um- y'guys need anything? I've got some snacks . . .”, “nah, we're good,” eren mumbled, sounding obviously distracted by their nosey observations of your living space. you hear the tone of your dryer going off just as you unlatch the netted back door that served as another layer next to the already opened wooden one.

“holy shit,” ony’ whispered, your organization of the backyard was impeccable. clean and solid fencing around the cows, plants on the left with storage on the other. you left the two to walk out into the cold breeze that passed by as they observe the surroundings and the pile of wood waiting for them; all while you quickly rushed to the laundry room nearby to dislodge your clothing and stuff them into a basket. you hurry back out to join them.

“so, here's one of the other boxes i made,” you gesture to the dirty box filled with planted Spanish thyme, “i know it looks kinda wonky but, hopefully you guys can do better,” you offer an awkward laugh and sit on the back steps, legs crossed.

eren and onyankopon share a look, then grab some planks bringing them more into your line of view with some of the tools nearby and sitting in the grass. even in your own home, you felt a little out of place. in silence, eren and ony’ shared alot of chemistry you didn't understand. despite this, what ony’ said on the way here never left your mind. “y'guys got alot ‘f experience . . . relationship-wise?” you scratch behind your ear. they worked separately lining up wood and nailing them into place, muscles working diligently. “mm, yea. ‘guess y'can say that ma',” eren glances at ony who hums low and offers you a small smile.

“it's jus’ that– ‘m thinkin’ ‘bout watchu said earlier . . .” you blink, fumbling, “unless that was like a joke ‘r somethin’—”

“i wasn't joking.” onyankopon confirms calmly, his jaw tight. you allow the silence to continue for a few beats, eyes flickering back and forth between the two and your hands petting the dogs that came to lay beside you. “we don't expect ya’ to jus’ trust us like that, missy,” eren offers gently, shoving his curls into a small bun and you nibble your bottom lip.

ony's brows furrow and he's hammering the last few nails into his box before he speaks up. “how c'n we get to know you ma’? me n’ E’ been . . . chillin’ for over a year. since college, actually, n’ we been watchin’ y'too. w’dont expect you to feel the way we do in 10 minutes or even in a day. let us get t'know you.” you squint a little.

“y'serious?” your chest feels a little hot and you're praying to the gods you don't fuck this up. “c's i don't intend on gettin played wit’ ‘specially not out here, y’hear me?” and you don't mean to raise your voice a little, the sounds just flow out. “hey, hey now,” eren pushes his finished work aside and stands, tugging his overalls up, hands resting on his hips. “we don't got no bad intentions, sugar, chill wit’ us,” and you blink up at him, unmoved.

“m'kay, let's just say i decided to ‘chill’ wit’ y'guys,” you stand up, fold your arms and start, “what exactly are we g'nna do, hm?” you look back and forth between them, not missing the way your buttercup whines on the steps where she lay, evidently fed up with all the chatter. “y'got 3 seconds n’ don't say sex. one,”

“who said anythin’ ‘bout sex?” ony’ joins you two as he puts the tools down, “two,” “yea, y'better shut that shit up. let's bake sumn together, show us around y'day, hang wit’ us at our ranch, talk about shit. fuck y’mean sex?” you stubbornly stay silent and stare. eren’s jaw bone pokes out with the way he clenches it. “we're not lookin’ for sex. if we wanted sex from you we coulda seduced you a long time ago, sugar,” he shrugs with a smile and you lick your lips, sighing. “okay, ‘m sorry. I’–I'm such a bad host,” you mutter out, “y'all want anything to eat? or some water.” you hear a low ‘okay’ from ony’ so you shuffle away to the kitchen to grab some bottles for them.

you tried to focus on the coldness of the bottles on the way back as a way to cool your temperament. “i moved out here wit’ intention ‘f startin’ fresh n’ shit.” you start, tossing them bottles before plopping yourself beside buttercup who nuzzled her cold nose into your thigh. the two men were sitting once again, evidently having spoken to each other in your absence.

your voice was shaky as you took a deep breath, garnering the courage to speak up for how you felt, “i'm tired of gettin’ dogged out, n’ played wit’ n’ allat bullshit.” you pout.

“‘m not exactly sure how gettin’ involved wit’ two handsom’ fellas is gonna help me figure out to– to i dunno, regulate m’ emotions.” you frown and shove some braids back behind your ear, “s’ like i damn near avoided it– i moved back t’the country damnit.” a sigh, “i cant just figure out how to adore n’ love– people again or if i'mma be able t'dish it out as much as before.”

“you get what i mean?” your ramble ceased as you finally look up from your focus on your knees and look back and forth between ony and eren. ony chuckles softly while eren offers you a smile and speaks up.

“we'll take it slow, you'n gotta ‘love’ anybody yet, mama,” ony nods at his words, “gotta build a friendship wit'chu first, we not playin’ ‘round.”

♡

a week or so passes in which life goes by as normal. you spend your days busying yourself with gardening and grooming your animals, baking treats and new concoctions. the only exception is eren and onyankopon have somehow easily squeezed themselves into your life.

on your deliveries you hear, “howdy, ma',” they chase across their lawn and hop across the fence to drag you inside and sit you down in the warm house where the two eagerly pester you to try the . . . ‘shrimp alfredo’ they whipped up.

thus, the two would end up in your kitchen, breathing over your hair whilst you instructed them on the proper technique. “naw, i don’ told E to do all'at,” onyankopon protests. so too do they pester mary-lou and your dogs, roughhousing and giving them baths much to their dismay.

through many experiences you learn, onyankopon isn't particularly fond of being tickled, or of wearing shirts. he stays shirtless almost all twenty-four hours of the day and you can only avert your eyes. eren is obsessed with overalls and has an array of them: gray ones, distressed ones, short ones, and he never buckles them properly.. on the ranch, the two gorgeous white haired horses were named armin and reiner, two friends they shared from college. sparkling like diamonds as you're given the opportunity to ride them each around the boys’ ranch in the golden sun. you'd also learned that the two were sexually . . . fluid, they'd called it. vaguely, they'd mentioned their sex lives and based on what they said you couldn't help but assume they were talking about each other. who else was there out here except you?

“yeeehaw! can't catch up, can'ya’?” eren howls and shouts as he trots across the ranch on his horse, ony lagging behind in the chase. here you sat on a wooden little bench near the steps of ony' and eren's ranch; clad in a simple white cropped tank and blue jeans with a chunky belt, your cream coloured cowboy hat sit pretty atop your head. a pretty calico cat licked at your bare feet and nudged you for pets.

at this point, you felt yourself slipping. it was obvious by now you'd grown to enjoy each other's company and serious conversations were imminent.

what were we, how will the dynamics work, what would they expect from you? just then you felt a tap to your forehead.

“heya, girlie,” eren squats down before you to grab your attention, “watchu, thinkin’ ‘bout,” ony’ mumbled, toying with a toothpick between his teeth.

you smack glossy lips together, “jus’. . . ‘bout us three y'know? how- like, where do we go fr'm here huh?” your eyes flutter, cheeks warming. you feel the silence actually, eren and ony’ are doing that stupid thing where they talk to each other with their eyes.

butterflies flap their wings about, joyous as ever. it makes you smile a little, as you're beginning to grow nervous. “let's talk inside ma’,” onyankopon suggests, stepping past you into the house where eren follows.

“me n’ ‘ren c'n take care ‘f each other n’ you, know that?”

you all shuffle onto the dark gray couch in the living space. ony’ and eren's ranch had a deep modern aesthetic. dark oak accents adorned both the outside and inside, complimented by gray and brown shades of furniture.

“i know that . . . ,” you pout,

“so wassup,” eren stares you down, the emerald swirl of his eyes warmed your belly yet you couldn't maintain eye contact with him for long, eren just had that kind of stare without realizing it himself.

“‘m g'nna be frank, ion wanna impose on nothin’ y'folks got . . . n’ my past relationships ain't been the best.” you huff and continue, “‘m jus’ puttin’ that out there. i feel like we've been talkin’ for a while n' I'm fond of y'all.”

“i jus’ don't wanna be the one to mess things up,” you finish in a whisper.

onyankopon hums low and eren plays with his lip ring, “n’ das’ all, girlie?” he asks and pursed his lips, dimple deepening at that. you give a nod and a small ‘yup’ while intertwining your hands onto your knees that were pressed together. “y’ talk to us, we talk to you, got that? if it's an issue y'got: don't hesitate to let us know,” ony’ iterates.

eren makes a noise of agreement, “y’communicate everythin’ wit us, sugar, we're serious,” and you nod slowly. “‘kay . . . i get that,” your eyes feel a little wet with emotion, ones you're not too sure of yourself.

you were happy to hear them affirming their commitment yet still anxious for the future. regardless, you couldn't help but lurch forward, you grab the back of eren's neck to press a sweet strawberry jelly flavoured kiss to his cheek, leaving a baby pink glossy print on his cheek along with a loud ‘mwah’ as you smiled. similarly, you crawl over his lap to do the same to ony’ who only bit back a grin, gold capped teeth glistening in the light much like the glossed smudge on his face.

♡

inevitably came the days you'd call the ‘honeymoon’ phase in a relationship, except it lasted what felt like forever.

these days you preferred to be cuddled up in your bedroom, legs being warmed by a black, gray and white blanket you were committed to crocheting. with a couple dark, gloomy days where the usual creamy clouds frowned down on you, the animals often retreated to their pens and little beds of hay to seek warmed from stormy weather. buttercup and bently invaded each others personal space in their dog beds down at the living room, you smile a little at the thought.

“yeen gotta be like that, ony’,” you hear eren groan in a mischievous pout as the two men exit your bathroom smelling of your bath soap. onyankopon mumbles something of ‘’s a stupid idea’. you giggle under your breath, hands hard at work weaving and looping the thick yarn for the blanket.

“ [ ] , watchu’ think, sugar?” eren plops himself onto the bed, “hm?” still fixated on your progress, ony’ huffs from his seat on the ottoman, lotioning his chest and arms then turning back to rub some excess onto eren's foot. “i told ony’, let's take the horses f’ a ride, ma’, he talkin’ bout ‘oh it's rainy’, i think it'll be chill,” he smiles big and winks expecting something of an applause for his great idea of fun.

“ion mind whateva’ y'guys wanna do, jus’ once we shower ‘gain after, ‘fore we get sick,” you shake your head at the thought. ony’ smacks his teeth, “c'mon, don't support him.”

“what, playin’ in the rain is fun, baby!” you chuckle, eren simply props his head on his palm, enthralled by your meticulous work. regardless, he nods mindlessly in agreement at the discussion.

just like that, cowboy hats and boots were thrown on and you head down to the stables to round up the horses. ony’ and eren raced each other down to them before you could even get a word in. the thought reminded you of buttercup and bently who currently settled and slept with one's head atop the other.

the fresh rain smell hits your nostrils quickly, smelling of the humidity off the grass and pitch of the street. you could audibly hear the wind bristling about the bushes as it cooled your skin. all you wore was a thin white tank top, jeans along with your classic pink-brown boots to match your hat. eren and ony’ warmed up the horses, encouraging mary-lou to shake out her mane and trot a little. onyankopon was seated by reiner, rubbing at his legs to warm him a bit and doing the same to armin. of course, you stare unabashedly, his muscles (unclothed) bulged with each motion, waistline visible amid his jeans.

you stare so much so, that you don't even notice eren come up to your side to press a wet kiss to your neck, he wraps an arm around your shoulders and gives your ear a kiss too, “starin’ at my man, girlie?” he laughs boyishly and you swat him, “dat’s m’ man too, freak,” he gasps falsely at the insult and you speed off to grab the harness for mary-lou; ony’ pretends he didn't hear the bickering and mounts his horse.

“s’ not rainin’ all too much now, see?” eren comments, scooping his hair back into a low bun under his hat. the three of you clicked and clocked through the damp grass and onto the street, letting the drizzle of rain moisten your skin with each speckle. you gnaw at your bottom lip, lost in thought as you trail behind the two men. at the same time, another cold gust would brush past you three, drying your skin again. yet, as you flinch when a particularly large droplet mands on your cheek, the rain picks up again and you smile.

sometimes moments like these felt so good, connecting with nature and taking in the beauty of the weather. it didn't stop you from being distracted, eren's white wife-beater was getting soaked. the tattoos creeping up his side peaked through the material and stared right back at you. you bitr back a groan and cover your warming face with your palms, wiping it clean of rain, while eren and onyankopon fall back on their horses. the peaceful silence with nothing but the ‘tock’ of the horses’ hooves kept your mind wandering.

now drenched, you could only imagine peeling off these clothes, a strap of your flimsy little tank top blew off your shoulder, and you felt the material sticking to the bulge of your breasts nestled in your black bra that now stood out ten times as much. god, you felt like a fuckin’ pervert. you couldn't even bring yourself to look down at your own chest, feeling scandalized enough. something about thinking of yourself in . . . near erotic situations such as this made your clit thump like a sweet little rabbit's nose.

nonetheless, you ignore it and allow the rocking atop mary-lou as she walks to distract you. onyankopon rides his horse nearer to yours and eren does the same, you gasp under your breath when ony’ nudges you. “wassup,” he murmured, “nothin’ ‘m jus’ distracted.” you comment plainly and eren huffs out a laugh beside you.

all you do is stare down at mary-lou and pet her mane, the pulse between your legs pushed to the back of your mind. “y'so bad at lyin’, know that?” eren laughs, you blush and groan, “no ‘m not, shut up,”

“chill, chill,” ony’ whispers, in his stupid, sexy, amazing, deep voice and you let out a big shuddering breath. as you're riding you feel ony's wet bicep brushing against yours. this had to be the end of you.

ony’ reaches an arm behind you, stretching to meanly pinch eren's shoulder. you're not sure what that meant but you didn't care to know. “where we ridin’ to?” you ask, rubbing glossy lips together. “mm, let's jus’ head to me n’ ony's ranch,”

“kay,” you settle with that, sweet n’ soft.

“wanna race, jaeger?” ony’ slips in lowly, pulling ahead and looking back at you two with his. . . stupid handsome smile, “h- hey now, let's not–” and you're interrupted by shouts, “let's go!” eren pulls off.

you groan softly, hiking up mary-lou’s harness a bit as you begin to gallop behind the two men. the raindrops stung against your skin and you whined trying to catch up to the two and your breaths harsh. with each hard breath you let out you couldn't help but let it bubble up into laughter, you just felt so good.

you felt giddy, blinking away raindrops that attacked at your eyes and racing past the two men, who yelled and called out to you, “yo, ma’ we gon' catch up,” ony's cowboy hat flies back behind his head, held up by the string beneath his string as he pulls the white horse forward chasing after you.

the three of you speed past grunge fencings and rosey bushes all bowing their heads now from the deluge. your tank top was completely soaked, and you imagine so was eren's when you pulled in the gates of their ranch and headed around back where you could free mary-lou to run around in the fenced horse enclosure.

you sit on the ground and linger near the side of the house by some plants, boots kicking about scattered hay and picking up sticky mud. eren and ony’ pull in the same time, wet chests heaving and eyeing you as they quickly hop off and lead their horses to the enclosure. “you win, watchu want?” eren huffs out, swinging his hat off and tossing it to the side, letting the rain seep into his curls. “hm?” you moan while rain kisses you, “i get a prize?”

he nods and slumping down against the wall next to you and propping his arm on a plant. you take the time to stare at his pecs . . . light brown nipples peaking through at you. eren catches you staring, it forces you to look away quick and brush a wet braid out of your face just as ony’ arrives.

“yall chillin’?”

“yea . . . mama's chillin’ alright,” eren smiles up at ony who lays in the grass beside you. “she baskin’ in her– win,” eren laments, reaching forward to tickle you and you bark out laughter lurching at him. his fingers pet your ribcage and you grab eren's shoulders, “what the– fuck! eren!” you squeal and wrangle with him. ony’ sits in the wet dirt beside you guys with his hands resting behind his head, basking in the rain and ignoring the shoves and pushes nudging him.

“i swear t’ god ‘ren, you– ack!” eren flips you on your back and you land hard with your head on ony's thigh while he wrangles your hands above your head. digging your feet in the ground for leverage couldn't help with the mud slipping beneath you. onyankopon only hums in amusement, watching you stop struggling beneath eren, your chests bouncing with gasps of air.

“you . . . y'know that's not fair, eren,” “i know what's not fair, sugar?” he stares you down, grip on your wrists tight with his chest pressing against yours. the swell of your breasts popped out of your tank top, glistening and sticky when it touched his skin. “mmm, you want somethin’?” he sucks his lip rings into his mouth teasing you, eyes wide and glossed over, throat drying. you lick your lips and slip from his grasp, sitting up and leaning your back onto ony's chest. just as you make that decision you swallow hard feeling his wet chest through your thin top. you wipe some wetness off your forehead evidently applying some mud that was on your arm to the spot.

you catch your breath, rubbing dirtied arms onto your shirt to clean them as best you could. you felt filthy but god, your fat little cunt ached laying in the dirt.

“onyan'” you call out to the man behind you with your eyes trained on eren who simply sits back smiling impishly at you, “yea, sugar?”

“wan’ m’ prize,” it comes out in a whine.

“yeah? ‘n what's that gon’ be,” he murmurs low in your ear, eren still hears him. you let out a ‘hmph!’ deep in your throat. then, you drag dirty hands against your tank top before peeling it off you and above your head, tossing it into some grass elsewhere.

crawling on your knees, ass arching in ony's direction, you gesture to eren with a finger, “come here, c'mon,” and you grab the back of his neck, kissing up his sweaty wet throat licking and sucking up anything your mouth touched. you press your lips to eren's, cold wet metal between you two when you let his tongue into your mouth, sucking it up when your lips lock hot.

eren groans into your mouth, hand gripping at your ass concealed by your jeans and he falls back into the mud. you reveled in the slick sound of your lips separating from each other, tuning out how soaked your jeans were getting in the rain. the ambient pelting sound on the rooftops only edged you on further, sitting in eren's lap.

“fuck, you're nasty,” eren mumbles against your lips when you pull away for a second, fingers toggling with the buttons on his jeans. he resists a big smile, elbows resting in the muddied dirt to hold himself up while you roughly tug his jeans down a bit. just enough room for you to reach his dick.

“see how she treatin’ me, ony'?” eren wipes rain off his nose, locking heavy-lidded eyes with onyankopon then down at you, “she roughin’ me up ‘cause she won,” he grumbles and you pull his cock out.

eren flinches when his dick is exposed to the rain, tan-brown tip oozing pre mixed with droplets. your knees dug into the mud beneath you, ass arching up. you stare shamelessly at eren's dick, letting the saliva build up about your tongue while you press a few kisses to the tip. his breath shudders above you, leaning his head back for the rain to fall on his face. “c'mon, pretty, do watchu want,” you grip him tight, feeling like your palm could memorize the girth and veins that popped out. then, tugging him up slightly, you slot your mouth in the gap between the bottom of his dick to his balls. sucking on the skin, you let you built up salivation drip down his balls, slurping the heavy sack onto your tongue.

you suck eren's balls into your mouth, swirling your tongue around mounds and his mouth drops open revealing his tongue ring. he grins, giving you a loud shameless groan, he was certainly showing off for ony’ who sit behind you watching. “suck it like dat, yea,” eren mumbles to you, licking the rainwater off his lips. he lets you have your way a bit more, focused on your features: the way the rain made your eyelashes clump together, the droplets sliding down your nose, to the spitty goop around your mouth all over his balls.

“c'mon, c'mon,” he pulls your mouth off him with a hand gripping the base of your hair, licking the splittle off your chin then kissing it into your mouth and swallowing your whines. “y' fuckin’ nasty, jaeger,” onyankopon mutters lowly behind you and eren bites back a smile. “filthy ass, take that shit off,” you up off your knees, flopping back on your ass where you fiddle with the buttons on your jeans.

your cheeks burned, both eren and ony's eyes grilled into you and everywhere you touched got streaks of mud in it after having your hands dig into the sopping ground. on your arms, your boobs, eren's shirt. slowly, you shucked your jeans down, slipping them past your ankles along with your boots. your panties were stuck up your ass when you sit in some wet patches of dirty hay, tossing the jeans aside realizing you wore significantly less than the other two men with rain beating all over you.

eren and ony’ share a look then eren's the first to lurch forward gripping your legs with his muddied hands, pushing you back to lay in the dirt and kissing about the clear parts of your belly. he nips at the swell of your breasts in your bra, sucking and kissing wherever he saw fit. “er– eren,” he's prying your legs apart, pushing them ‘till your knees were besides your ears. “eren, stop–,” then he's plucking your panties out your ass and sliding them up your thighs, he stretches the thin little things beyond repair to sling them off your ankles. “what the fuck,” you whisper, eren's fucking unreachable n’ you're both staring at your fat puffy cunt. he takes a second to look to the side at ony’ before returning his attention to your pussy, sprinkles of water sliding down, yet the blubber of slick collected between your lips was noticeable.

the pretty thing was so fat your hardened clit could barely peak through. eren dips his tongue deep, digging at your hole then dragging his tongue through your folds illiciting a low gasp. the cold metal bar in his tongue nudged at your clit. he curled his tongue around the bundle of nerves, giving it a few flicks before spitting and licking another strop up your cunt. “feels– fuckin’ good, eren, oh,” you whimper, his gentle motions paired with the ambient beating of rain against your skin had you on a high. he shakes his head side in your cunt, arousal making sticky strings beside his cheeks as his nose nudges the fat of your pussy. “holy shit,” you press your head into the soft ground beneath you, eyelids fluttering shut when eren suckles softly on your clit. you hum and moan, licking your lips and feeling your head spin, “‘ren . . . oh my god,” he slurps noisily suctioning his mouth over your pussy, sucking hard over and over and over again relishing in the throb of your clit against his tongue.

“he knows, baby,” ony’ murmurs and your mouth drops open with a loud moan, his voice just did something for you. you felt the muscles in your legs twitch, itching to close them with each swipe of eren's tongue and swirling pleasure in your tummy. your hands dig into the dirt behind you, legs quivering.

“tastes fuckin’ good don't it?” he's mumbling and eren's groans into your pussy sends shockwaves against your clit, he nods vigorously. “ohh– shit,” you sit up on your elbows digging in the mud, hair soaked and heavy and your legs only spread wider; your eyes trained on eren's tongue making sloppy circles around the fat mound in your pussy.

eager, you slip your hands into eren's wet curls, stuffing his face into your cunt, “eren, eren– yea-ah!” his groans rumble in his throat and here came the fucking waterworks. your climax comes hard along with several slick kisses to your clit, beads of sweat and rain slipping down between a furrowed brow and a guttural moan ripping from your throat.

eren's mouth releases its latch onto you, your legs flopping into puddles of dirt beneath you. “prepped her f'you,” eren licks his lips and looks to onyankopon who sits there with a fat bulge beneath his jeans although unbuttoned.

“mm yeah?,” you both shuffle over to the wet patch of hay ony’ sat in, slightly less soaked albeit equally as muddy.

onyankopon gestures to eren with two fingers as he lifts himself up, brushing water from his face and allowing eren to take a seat against the wall. your eyes flicker between them, sitting with your butt resting on the heels of your feet feeling exposed. it doesn't help that eren reaches behind you to unhook your bra, your cheeks feel hot. nevertheless, you slip them off your arms.

onyankopon shucks down his jeans just below his ass, “ [ ], come right here,” walking on your knees you shuffle forward to ony’ who puts a hand above the swell of your ass, pressing his bare chest to yours. ony's gaze is something serious, he bends his neck and clasps his lips to yours. it's slow, methodical and hot. onyankopon breathes deep and groans into your mouth. your body goes limp a little: drooping in his grasp and relaxing against his body as his tongue gently guided yours against his own. “mhm, okay . . . okay,” he presses a few kisses to your lips with a squeeze around your throat as he weans you off his mouth.

“turn ‘round,”

you whine, “w'nna look at'chu,”

ony's unmoved, he swallows, “look at ‘ren, baby,” and he guides you as you turn in the slippery mud to arch your ass up to him, his palm glides down the small of your back deepening that arch while your head rests on your folded arms before you. the position makes it hard for you to focus properly on eren, you peep at him through your eyelashes.

your cunt is sticky, swollen lips bound together by the white film of your arousal after the orgasm eren gave you, and you feel ony's hands kneading your ass. he spreads them, watching your pussy lightly spread open with it. you hear his belt buckle jingle slightly as his hands continue to massage your back right along with the downpour. ony’ grips his cock in his hands, tugging the thick thing lightly a couple times. he catches eren staring as he pumps it harshly before pressing the fat tip against you.

“fuuuck,” ony’ slaps his cockhead at your entrance letting it get coated by your arousal before slipping the first inch in slowly and already you're speechless. “holy– shit,” your cunt stretched to accommodate the girth and ony’ grips the curve of your back for leverage, letting out a guttural groan while slowly inching into you.

he sits in it for a moment, allowing you just a moment to familiarize yourself with the fat pipe he just lay in you; then, he's pulling out slowly and pushing in again and you whine. “what the fuck,” you feel ony’ lean his weight over you, and you gasp as he starts smacking his hips to your ass.

paired with the wetness of the rain, his hips leave a stinging slap against you and you're faltering with your tits mushed against the mud. eren left your pussy sloppy, your cunt whipping up loads of cream slick around ony's cock and your mouth is just ajar. jaw tightening with shallow, whiny moans cascading past your lips, ‘ah's and ‘oh's are all the men hear. “mm, ony’,” you try to murmur, body giving way fully to the mud beneath and ony's grip on your tightens,”watchu’ want, hm',” he grumbles.

oh how he knows nothing of the way your clit throbs everytime his heavy balls slap against your cunt.

“wan'— wan’ it deeper, please,” and you gasp hard when ony’s hand comes up to your ass, digging his thumb into the curled rim of your butt before bringing a foot to the ground for leverage; his ankle beside your ear, you eagerly grab onto it. “got fuckin’ good manners, don't she?” he grunts out, and the other man nods.

onyankopon gives you two warning strokes, pressing his cock to the hilt and curling his thumb inside your ass and you feel overwhelmed. then, you gasp in a loud sob as ony’ starts drilling his cock deeper into you, his hips smack you hard and his weight presses you everytime he drives his cock in. “fuck, fuck–,” you're squealing, hands draw digs into the mud as you can't help but writhe against the mud. “feel good?” you all but whine in response, “feel fuckin' good?” “ye- yes!” you mewl out. ony’s muscles contract and you can see it in his leg, intent on keeping you from sliding away from him under the soaked muddy slop.

the noises are . . . obscene. pornographic bursts of air shooting out amidst the stirring up of your melting cunt and your cheeks burn with embarrassment along with fresh tears streaming but you're breathless. “so fuckin’ loud,” ony’ mumurs, his lips curling into a smile when he hears the noises you make.

“m’– fuck, m’ sorry,” you weep and your walls squeeze ony’ tight. you feel a glob of slick collect at the tippy top of your cunt, the fat bulge of your clit and stickily drip down onto the ground with each rock of your bodies. “takin’ m'shit fuckin’ good, sugar,” onyankopon drawls low and you sob.

you hear him whistle above you and with a quickness eren's pants come into view. he sits, legs spread with his groin in line with your face against the ground. he scoots forward enough so he can lift your head and replace the mud beneath your nose with the musk of his balls. “‘ren, ‘ren, ren,” you're chanting, itching for your orgasm approaching with each quick and sloppy drag of cock in you. “m” right here, girlie,” ony's pummeling you from behind and your drooly mouth now has eren's pretty tanned cock slapping against it. “holy– fuck, hng- shit,” you mutter out before you're latching your lips onto eren's tip, inviting him into your mouth. he controls it, gripping your braids and rocking your head onto his dick.

“c'mon, c'mon, takin’ that shit s'fuckin’ good,” eren praises when he starts to snap his hips into your mouth, matching ony's strokes. he strokes your soaked hair gently, juxtaposing the nasty aggression each rock of his hips brought. you gagged, muffled, globs of spit streaking down your chin as you relaxed your throat for eren's dick. in the same way, you're making a mess on ony's cock, coating his length in hot creamy release that trickled down your own cunt. “she's fuckin’ creamin' on it, E',” and you moan when eren laughs cruelly above you, “cream on y’fuckin’ cock, ma’,” he grunts.

each drag of cock against the ridges of your cunt, the slosh of your mouth had you moaning in a frenzy. “was’ ya’ problem, huh?” eren groans out, and onyankopon knows exactly what your problem is.

“mama's bout to fuckin’ nut, huh?” he can feel the extra squeeze around his cock and rolls his neck to let some rain coat his face and distract him from his own ache. they listen to how you squeal around eren's cock, hands grabbing at his jeans and ony’ pumps his thumb into your ass consistency.

“mmm, fuck,” onyankopon hums, angling himself so the curve of his cock digs at you just right, and he smiles: satisfied when you start to squirm and fuss beneath him. eren pulls you off and you sob, coughing a little to clear your larynx. you whimper as eren all but ruts against your face. “keep her right fuckin’ there,” ony’ groans and you grasp onto eren's jeans, cunt twitching with each movement yet eren forces your shoulders back to keep your body where ony’ wants you: daggering his cock into you with a forcefull quickness that eren's rutting mimics.

“ohmygod, oh!” you blubber out, chanting ‘shit, shit, shit's

“gon’ leave you fuckin’ gapin’, quit playin’,” and you weep.

your hips twitch and you feel the knot in your stomach stiffening, “wan’ you're cum, want y'all's c–cum, fuckkk,” wail into eren's skin and take his cock back into your mouth just as your cunt spurts and your ears feel clogged from the rush of blood to your abdomen. “take it, take it, take that cum, baby,” eren groans. you felt light-headed, stars twinkling at you around the edges of your vision as your eyes rolled and soon you were forced to blink away the brain fog to swallow the thick loads eren gushes into your mouth.

he whines, unabashedly and onyankopon gives you a couple more strokes before his cock is digging into you to bury his surge of cum into you with a hiss.

eren falls back, letting you catch your breath and stroking rain away from your face. ony’ pulls out quick before you start to get sore, giving your cunt a few wet slaps before eren's pulling your limp aching body onto him to give you some relief. “gotchu’, gotchu’.” he consoles.

“c'mon, E,” ony’ rushes, “huh?”

“gotta’ get out the fuckin’ rain,” he puffs out a laugh before he's lifting you off eren. they both try not to slip in the mud, hurrying off into the ranch for long hot showers.

#˗ˏˋ✩´ˎ nana’s library!#need them in ways that i cannot speak on here..#i have smth to tell them in a room in which there are no others.#ate the fuck outta this. i love that country ass shit FUCK!

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