#Character x female reader

[lovevxle]

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆

"I hope it's okay if I love you forever"

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆

Adam x f!reader

cw: cursing, Adam being Adam, kissing, smut.

Summary: Adam asking reader out and getting a bit freaky afterrr

This is the smut version! Fluff version linked here (smut starts after paragraph 7)

a/n: sorry if this version took a bit long to be released! I've been busy with other projects and some requests. Hope you guys enjoy!

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆

"Aw Lute, I'm gonna fuck this up so bad!" Adam said as he paced back and fourth in his office. "Sir, it's really not that big of a deal. You're only asking her out-" Lute replied before being cut off "Not that big of a deal?! What if the bitch rejects me!? What if..." Adam panicked. He'd been planning on asking you out for months, he just didn't know how..

At first, he was his usual confident, cocky self but as soon as he looked at you, his mind blanked. Since then, he'd been trying to find the perfect moment just to ask you. "God, Lute...whenever I look at her..." Adam smiles as he speaks about you, "Her pretty face...her smile...even her voice is just..fuck, her hot ass voice is-" Lute cuts him off "I get it sir, you love her." "Y-yeah...I love her...a lot..but how the hell do I show it without saying stupid shit and being a fuckin' dick?"

Lute sighs and rolls her eyes "Just...be yourself but completely different, y'know? Girls like that type of thing." Adam inhales and exhales "Promise? What if I fuck the whole thing up?" He says, only slightly panicked now. "You wont. Well, you most likely will, but she wont reject you." Lute chuckles as she smiles for the first time in a while. She quickly goes back to her serious self and shoos Adam away to talk to you. "Now get outta here already!"

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ time skip ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

Adam composed himself in the mirror, practicing what he was gonna say to you. "sooo...Y/n heh...you're pretty hot so- AW FUCK HOW IN HELL DO I DO THIS?!" he says to the mirror. He soon after walks out of his appartment and spots you walking through heaven. He rushes down to you.

When you see him, you immediately fix your clothes and hair, making sure to look extra cute for him. He appears behind you a few seconds later, acting 'cool' "Sup, buttercup~" he says, smirking seductively (or atleast what he thinks will be seductive to you), when in reality he's panicking. He makes a 'cool' pose, leaning against the wall.

"So~...you know how much i love that peice of ass and i also love railing that peice of ass...but...that's not why I'm here," Adam explains "look, you're cute and funny and..fuck..it's the first way I've felt like this since..Lilith.." He begins to blush and breath faster. "god...just-" he's cut off my your lips pressing against his. It was a light peck, but of course it still made his face heat up. He cups your cheeks (FACE 💀) and pulls away, smiling.

"So you were gonna ask me out?" you ask while you chuckle. "Y-yeah...I was..I'm taking that kiss as a yes?" he replies as he rubs the back of his neck, anxiously. "Yeah, I'll go out with you, dummy." Adam turns around and fist pumps the air "FUCK YEAH!" he yells, causing a few people to turn around and stare. "So I'll pick you up at 8?" He says as he goes back to his 'cool' pose against the wall. "Eh, right now works too."

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ time skip ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

You guys had just come home from the date (drunk of course) and stumbled into his appartment. You feel Adam's arms wrap around your waist and rub circles on your hips with his thumbs. "You know how crazy you make me, sugartits~" he whispers in your ear, flicking your earlobe with his tongue.

"A-Adam-" you get cut off by his hands slipping into your pants, playing with the waistband of your underwear. "You fucking tease..." you reply to his dirty moves. "C'mon..want me to make those pretty insides of yours feel real fuckin' good?" he whispers into your ear as he picks you up and plops you down on the bed, crawling over you.

You nod. I mean, with those soothing whispers and playful hands, who could say no? He begins to strip off both his and your clothes, making it agonizingly slow. He kisses and licks up your inner thighs, teasing you until you can't take it. "Are you wet for me yet, babe?" All you could do was nod because of the lack of words that would leave your mouth.

He slowly slips down your soaked underwear to reveal your aching pussy. He slides down his own pants and cups the bulge forming through his boxers. "Look at how hard you make me, baby~" He spreads your legs and sticks his pointer and middle finger inside you. The thumb on his free hand circles your clit as he pumps his fingers in and out of you.

Your moans get louder as his hands pick up the pace inside you. He then slowly slides his hands out, fingers dripping and oozing with your juices. He uses his hands to hold your folds open as he sucks your insides.

After a few minutes of Adam eating you out, he finally lets you feel his hard, raw cock inside of you. "All for you, sugartits~" he says as he thrusts in and out. He holds your hips in place and a knot in your stomach begins to build. "A-Adam I-...I-I'm close- Fuck!" you moan out. "That's it baby~ Just let it out, cum all over me~" he says as he thrusts one more time and-

The knot snaps.

You reach your limit and cum all over Adam's cock. "A-Aghh~!!" You moan out uncontrollably. "Just like that baby, fuck, you're so beautifly perfect.." After your climax, you plop down next to Adam and breath heavily. "God, you're so hot." he says as he wraps his arms around you. "I love you..." you reply.

"Same." he chuckles as he kisses the top of your head.

『~☆Masterlist☆~』

[thatlotuscookie]

ok ok, hear me out, hear me out I swear-

a Haikyuu character who's a teacher(you pick which one bc I am indecisive lol) who students don't like because they assign too much HW, x Art-Teacher y/n who's super eccentric and all the students have started calling "Auntie" bc they like her so much... and somehow the students realize they're dating

✧･ﾟ: a/n: hiii thank you for the req anon! i choseTsukishima Kei x art teacher!fem reader cause why not :) sorry for the wait, it got a little busy. please enjoy and thank you for requestinng <3

✧ Title: ✧ Paintbrushes and Equations ✧ ✧ Characters: Math!TeacherTsukishima Kei x Art Teacher!Reader, Fem!Reader ✧ Genre: Fluff, Romance, Slice of Life ✧ Rating: G ✧ Summary: Mr. Tsukishima Kei, the strict math teacher known for his tough assignments, and Ms. Y/N, the quirky art teacher adored by students, try to keep their budding relationship under wraps. But between secret coffee runs and after-school visits, it doesn’t take long for their students to catch on. ✧ Content/Tags: Secret Relationship, Soft Tsukishima, Teacher AU, Slow-burn Romance, Fluff and Humor ✧ WC: 1126 words // 6.8k chars

Mr. Tsukishima Kei was known as the strict, no-nonsense math teacher, infamous for assigning challenging homework and expecting punctuality from his students. Across the hall, however, was Ms. Y/N, the quirky art teacher who taught in a classroom full of painted murals, plants, and knick-knacks. Her students affectionately called her “Auntie,” loving her warm personality and encouraging nature.

Despite their differences, the two had quietly been dating for some time now, keeping things subtle so as not to spark gossip in the school hallways. But as careful as they tried to be, some moments were just too sweet to hide from their observant students.

Every morning, Tsukishima would stop by Y/N’s room before classes started. Though their relationship was mostly kept under wraps, there was one routine they couldn’t help but share—he’d bring her coffee, just the way she liked it, and stay for a few moments before his first class.

One particular morning, a student passing by happened to catch sight of them. Y/N was sitting at her desk, fiddling with paintbrushes while Tsukishima leaned against the edge of her desk, coffee cup in hand. She looked up at him with a bright smile as he handed her the coffee.

“Thank you, Kei! You know, I think your coffee runs are the best part of my day.”

“Maybe if you went to bed at a reasonable hour, you wouldn’t need this much caffeine,” he replied, rolling his eyes, though there was a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Bedtime? Reasonable? You’re talking to an artist, Kei!” She chuckled, raising her coffee cup in mock cheers.

The student who’d witnessed it ran back to their friends, spilling the details in hushed, excited whispers. “Guys, Auntie totally has Mr. Tsukishima wrapped around her finger. He’s bringing her coffee like it’s a daily thing!”

During lunch breaks, Tsukishima would sometimes slip away from the teachers’ lounge and make his way to Y/N’s art room, which was usually open to students who wanted to work on projects or just hang out with their favorite teacher. Though he’d never admit it out loud, Tsukishima was growing fond of this habit too.

One afternoon, Y/N was holding a brush in each hand, struggling to finish a mural one of her classes had started. Tsukishima approached, watching her for a moment as she fumbled with paint colors.

“Need a hand?” he asked, taking one of the brushes out of her grasp without waiting for an answer. He began painting in neat, deliberate strokes, adding to the vibrant, playful mural.

“Mr. Tsukishima,” Y/N grinned, “are you sure you can handle all this color?”

He just shrugged, pretending to be annoyed, but there was a glint in his eye. “It’s not my fault you’re terrible at ladders.”

The students present watched with wide eyes as their usually stern math teacher helped their beloved art teacher, even taking her playful teasing without so much as a sigh. “Is he… actually smiling?” one student whispered, amazed. “And helping her paint? They’re definitely dating.”

On Fridays, Y/N would stay late to finish up art projects, often leaving well after most of the other teachers had already gone home. But one evening, as she was cleaning up her brushes, she was startled by a familiar voice at the door.

“Didn’t I tell you not to stay this late alone?” Tsukishima’s tone was gentle, though there was a hint of concern.

“Oh, but I had just one more layer of glaze to apply! I didn’t want to leave it unfinished,” she replied, smiling sheepishly.

Tsukishima sighed and moved to take some of the supplies from her hands, setting them aside. “That can wait. You shouldn’t be here by yourself. Come on, I’ll walk you out.”

They left together, but not before another student, leaving basketball practice, caught sight of them walking side by side down the hallway, Tsukishima’s hand brushing hers in a quiet, comforting gesture.

“Did you see that?” the student whispered to a friend the next day. “Mr. Tsukishima totally waited for Auntie after school. He’s such a softie for her.”

When Field Day rolled around, Y/N was the designated supervisor for the art activities station. Her students flocked to her booth, excited to paint, tie-dye, and get a break from competitive games. Tsukishima, though not usually one for field activities, had somehow found himself “volunteered” to help out at her station by none other than Y/N herself.

At first, he’d tried to stay in the background, sorting supplies and ensuring everything was organized. But as more students lined up, Y/N pulled him over to assist with face painting. “Come on, Kei, it’s fun! Don’t be so serious,” she teased, handing him a paintbrush.

He gave her a long-suffering look but, after a few convincing nudges, gave in. Soon, students were giggling at the sight of Mr. Tsukishima painting bright flowers and animals on their cheeks.

“Mr. Tsukishima, can you paint a dragon?” one student asked, grinning. And to everyone’s surprise, Tsukishima nodded, actually putting in the effort to paint a rather impressive dragon.

Meanwhile, Y/N leaned in close, watching him with a proud smile. “See? I knew you had a colorful side.”

The students at the booth exchanged knowing looks, watching the way Tsukishima’s gaze softened every time he looked at Y/N. One bold student whispered, “They’re definitely together. I think Auntie’s the only person who could get him to paint a dragon.”

The biggest reveal came on Y/N’s birthday. Her classroom was decorated with student-made banners, handmade cards, and small, thoughtful gifts from her students. But the real surprise came when Tsukishima walked in with a bouquet of wildflowers, which he set on her desk, much to the shock of her students.

“Kei…” Y/N murmured, her eyes shining with surprise. “You didn’t have to—”

“Happy Birthday, Auntie,” he said simply, giving her a small, genuine smile before glancing pointedly at the students, who were watching, open-mouthed. He gave them his usual glare but, seeing the excitement in their eyes, eventually gave up on hiding it.

And with that, the students finally had their confirmation. They all whispered to each other excitedly, some even daring to give Tsukishima approving thumbs-up. From that day on, Tsukishima’s “monster math teacher” title softened in their eyes. He was still strict and demanding, but he was also the teacher who went out of his way to make their “Auntie” happy.

As the weeks went by, more little moments started to unfold between them—moments the students watched eagerly, as if they were witnessing a real-life romance. And while Tsukishima might not have been the most affectionate in public, he showed his care in small, steady ways, making sure Y/N was looked after and supported in the little things.

[cold-red-venom]

Why's every x reader fic gotta be fem!readerrrrrrr and Why's so much of it gotta be hyper fem!reader like enoughhhh I'm dying out here

[str4wkinzi]

NO LONGER YOUR OWN.

Sukuna x Reader. >:3 (Also i was giggling so hard at the bubbles summoning circle so i had to add it bite me) also this is suppperrrr long so teehee :3

Part 2 <3 Part 3

NSFW CONTENT! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!

You were obsessed with the thought of summoning something. Spell book upon spell book that line your bookshelf, all were lousy flukes. None of them worked but you still had hope that you’d summon something one day.

You’d recently found out the dark web. They had all sorts of freaky shit on there like “eye of the blahblah” or “brain of the blahblahblah.” Whatever the fuck was on there it didn’t attract you. You were looking for one thing and one thing only.

After searching for a hour or two you come across an ad on the top of the screen. “RYOMEN.” You decide to click on it, its either another scarring video or a….

When you click the ad it takes you to a page that displays a thick book with the words on the ad imprinted on the cover. A book. Maybe not a spell book but its a book on the dark web so it probably is one. After.. hours of searching you found one.

I mean, at this point, fluke or not, you shouldn’t have hours of search to fail and you come back empty handed.

You don’t even read the description before ordering it. Even if it is a fluke its still worth a buy considering its only 5$.

You order it and close the page. Five dollars for the book and three days for it to come. Was hours of search, 70 viruses hacking your computer, and 200 trackers tracking your exact address worth it? Probably not. Do you care? Not really.

Three days after you ordered that book it arrived at your doorstep.

You pick the book up and take it inside, unwrapping it and taking it out of the box. You try ignore the red marks on the book which look and smell like blood..

The book looks exactly how it did in the ad.. except its burnt in some places and scraped on others. This actually looks.. somewhat real. Though, no matter how it looks theres only one thing that can prove this is real.

Candles and salt surrounding you, you know you’re ready. Though, you aren’t very excited. You can’t get your hopes up just incase it is fake.

You light your candles and open the book. You turn to a page, flip the book upside down and start reading. Half way through the page the words start… moving?

With the letters twisting on the page, it ends up spelling one thing..

‘SHUT UP.’

The words doubled, then tripled. The words start climbing out of the page as if they were alive, bouncing around you in a circle. You don’t even have time to see all the candles going out one by one before the book slams itself shut.

You try to open it again, it’s as if its been nailed shut. You try with all your might but it barely budges.

You go grab a knife from your kitchen and pry the book open. You open the book and flip through the pages but… nothings there. No words, no anything. Every single page has absolutely nothing.

A outline of a finger appears on the page you’re on. You put your finger perfectly in the outline. Nothing seems to happen. You try to take your finger off but you cant… You try and try but your finger wont move.

The whole page turns black. You then see a red hand. Not around you, no. Its coming from the page.. The red hand points at you.

It stays in a pointing position before grabbing your face and pulling you into the book. You’re trying to scream but you cant.

You soon fall into a pile of.. you open your eyes and you see a skull looking back at you. You crawl out of the pile screaming. Though it was a long fall, it actually didn’t hurt..?

You get up and start wondering around. You hear laughing from somewhere. You follow the sound and you see a figure on a chair. Thats of course, atop a pile of bones. A really huge pile of bones.

You go closer and you see…. Nothing. Its dark as fuck. But whatever it is.. its still laughing.

“I told you to shut up didn’t I?” the figure scolded.

“I’m giving you a chance. Don’t fuck it up.” He snaps his fingers and you’re out cold before you could utter a word in reply.

You wake up in your bed. You jump up and look around. Everything’s cleaned up, no candles, no salt, no words hopping around everywhere. Its as if last night.. never happened.

The book is still in its same place. Its almost menacing. What was that last night? Who was that last night? So many questions running through your mind make you dizzy. You fall back on your bed.

‘Did that thing have four arms?’ It was dark but you swear you saw two sets of arms, you just didn’t remember it until now.

You try to go on with your day but you just feel someone watching you. When theres no one around you feel theres something.

After you get home you contemplate trying the book again. Who was that? And what did he mean by ‘giving you a chance’?

Later that night you decide you’re trying the book again. You need answers. You set everything up again. The candles that look brand new, the salt that looks like it was never used. Did last night really happen?

With no time to dwell, you start reading again. The words start shifting, this time it spells something different.

‘I WARNED YOU.’

Bloodcurdling screams start echoing around you, making the room spin. You feel a drop of liquid hit your head. You look up and see.. blood. Blood dripping from the ceiling.

Youre too busy looking at the blood dropping to see the eight foot tall man standing in front of you. He starts chuckling and you almost break your neck to look where it came from.

“I gave you a chance to keep your life, mortal.” He says while grabbing your chin.

You’re unable to talk. What would you say to a four armed thing who just appeared in your room? Is this the guy from last night, it has to be.

He pulls your face closer to his, squishing your cheeks with his strong fingers.

“I should rip your face off right now.”

Upon hearing that you squirm away from his grasp and crawl back away from him.

“I could kill you right now.” He says, almost questioningly.

“But.. you are a cute little human. I’ll give you that much.” He adds.

He bends down, noses almost touching.

“I’ll make you a deal. If you give me your body, i’ll let you live.”

With so many things running through your mind you don’t even hear what the man said. Let alone come up with an answer.

“Hurry up, brat. Make me wait too long and ill kill you right here.” The scowls.

You snap out of your trance upon hearing those words.

Wait, what.

“Wait! Okayokayokayokay, whatever you want just don’t kill me!” You plead, you barely even hear what he wanted.

He picks you up with all four of his arms.

You look at all of his arms, tightly securing you feet in the air. He looks you in the eyes for a second before plopping you on the ground, on your knees.

He pulls his pants down just enough to expose his cock.

He sits down on your bed, manspreading.

All you can do is stare. He notices this and grabs the back of your head, forcing you down just enough to have your cheek against it.

Understanding what he wants, you try to put your mouth over the tip but its too big. You keep trying but it just wont fit. He notices your efforts and laughs.

He grabs the back of your head again, taking in a fist full of your hair. He positions your mouth over his cock and he forces you down. The noises and the tears in your eyes while you take his cock almost make it bigger.

He’s chuckling at your almost sorry display. You choking on a cock thats way to big for you is really a sight to see. Though, he can’t help the groans falling from his lips.

He lifts your head up as soon as he was about to cum. You’re trying to catch your breath but he interrupts you.

“Come.” He demands. You scramble to his side as he lays on your bed. He makes you sit right beside his head.

“Sit.” You know what he means. You take your pants off and hover over this face. He notices your hesitance and uses his second pair of arms to grab ahold of yours and hold you down.

You’re a moaning, whining mess. Made putty by the hands of.. whatever he is. You’d be embarrassed but his tongue. You can barely even think straight. The way his tongue squirms into your hole, coming back out only to lick at your clit.

You’re trying to squirm away, he doesn’t let you. With his arms holding you down you really can’t do anything but moan and grind on his face.

Though, you’re almost surprised when you feel two hands start playing with your chest. Forgetting the man has a whole other set of arms. You suddenly feel tongues swirling around your nipples.

The extra stimulation doesn’t help your case, you’re cumming in seconds.

Coming down from your high, he tells you to get on top of him. He knows you can barely stand you don’t have to tell him :3

You hover over him, all of him.

‘Will that thing fit?’

‘Its too big!’

Suddenly you feel his arms on your hips, pushing you down on his cock. You don’t even try to fight back, you can’t fight back.

The stretch is almost unbearable, tears prickling down your face. He notices this and grabs he back of your head, pulling you in just enough to lick away your tears.

After you’ve accommodated him he demands you to…

“Move.”

You put your hands on his torso and start grinding on his cock.

“You’re too slow.”

You’re flipped on your back, legs up. He’s pounding into your cunt like a wild animal.

He takes one of his hands and puts it over your clit, using his mouth-hand thing to suck on it.

With him pounding into your cunt, speed only ever getting faster, and his hand licking your clit, you cum fast.

One after another neither of you stop. He never stops fucking you and you never stop cumming. You would be screaming his name but you don’t even know it.

Wait.

You remember the books title through blurred images in your mind.

RYOMEN.

You remember the page you read.

RYOMEN… SUKUNA.

“Sukuna!” You moan, finally having something new to moan instead of sounding like a broken record.

He stops.

He looks down at you.

He uses his other hand to grab your lower face and lift it towards his as he cranes his face down.

He grins and retreats his face, letting go of yours as well.

“Say my name, pet.”

He starts slamming into you again with more vigor. You’re screaming by this time, you’ve cum so many times and you’re sensitive. He doesn’t care. Actually, that makes it better.

Ryomen Sukuna.

Ryomen Sukuna.

RYOMEN SUKUNA.

RYOMEN SUKUNA!

Really, its music to his ears. He knows he has you now.

After the umpteenth time of mutual cumming he pulls out. His cum flowing out of you looks so adorable.

He puts his hand on the top of your lower stomach. Suddenly, you feel a tingling sensation at that spot. You’re so fucked out you really don’t notice, or care.

Be leans down and whispers in your ear.

“You’re mine now, pet.”

You wake up on your bed, exactly how you were last night except cleaned up. No cum dripping out of your hole or anything. You even have clothes on.

You go to the bathroom and look at yourself. You would doubt last nights happenings but you can barely walk.

You feel something on your lower stomach.

You look down and you see.. a marking..?

You try to wipe it away but it stays.

You try to use water but it wont go away.

Him.

You remember the markings on his face. It reminds you of all of those markings into one. You don’t really have time to question anymore because you hear the bathroom door open.

Sukuna grabs your head and turns it to the mirror, him looking into your eyes through it.

“You’re no longer your own. You belong to me, pet.”

STR4WZ STICKY NOTE < YIPPPEEE this is finally done omg it took so long for NO reason (too busy adding to my 80 drafts) but ill definitely be posting more small stuff cuz its been a couple days ALSO!!! Thanks to my bbg @comicsann for giving me the idea of the uterus claim mark thing or whatever so wahoo anyways love you guys buebue 3

[cutielando]

hold me | j.f.

synopsis: in which you're the only one he trusts

my masterlist

The ringing of your phone made you look up from the notes you were reviewing for your big biology test that was coming up.

You took your phone and saw that it was Justin calling, making a smile appear on your face.

"Hey babe, what's up?" you said once you answered, your voice cheerful.

"Um, hi. Can I, um, uh, can I crash at your place tonight?" his voice was shaky, which immediately made you panic.

"Justin, what's going on? What happened?" you asked, the notes on your bed long forgotten.

"Can we talk at your place?" he asked, sniffling through the phone.

"Of course, of course. I'll be waiting for you"

"Thanks. I love you"

"I love you too, baby"

You hung up and immediately started gathering your study material and putting it on your desk, knowing you weren't going to get any more studying done that evening.

After you were finished, you made your way to your parents' room to let them know Justin was coming over and was going to spend some time at your house.

Your parents had loved Justin ever since the two of you started dating 2 years ago, so they were delighted Justin was coming over.

"Did he eat? Do you guys want dinner?" your mom asked, knowing that Justin's home situation was not the most ideal.

"I don't know, I didn't get to ask. I'll heat up some leftover pizza if he's hungry, we'll be fine" you said and just as you finished talking, the doorbell was heard.

You closed the door to your parents' room and bolted down the stairs, flinging open your front door.

Justin was standing there, his Jersey jacket on his hand and his bag flung over his shoulder. He had tried tears coating his cheeks, making your heart shatter more.

"Oh, baby" you muttered and pulled him into your house, locking the door behind you and enveloping him in your arms.

He let his bag fall to the floor as he wrapped his arms tightly around your waist, burying his head into your shoulder.

"Sh, it's okay, I'm here. Let it all out, you're safe with me" you kept whispering into his hear, rubbing soothing circles on his back and the back of his head.

His cries were muffled by your shirt, his whole body shaking in your hold.

Your heart was breaking for the poor boy currently breaking down in your arms. Nobody deserved to be going through what he was, such a sweet and gentle soul yet so damaged and broken at the same time.

After a while of just holding him, he finally managed to calm down, his cried turning into silent sobs and finally dying down completely.

"Did you eat?" you asked him softly, not wanting your voice to disturb the silence and peaceful atmosphere that enveloped the two of you.

"No, I didn't get around to it" he croaked out, his voice hoarse because of the crying.

"Come on, I heated up some leftover pizza for you. Let's get something in your stomach and then we'll go up to my room and talk, alright?" you were caressing his cheeks while you talked, his arms still wrapped tightly around your waist.

He nodded, not trusting his voice to speak up.

You unwrapped his arms from around your waist but took his hand in yours, pulling him to the kitchen. You knew he needed to feel your touch more than anything right now.

"This is good" he commented once he started eating the pizza, his voice still small but steady now.

"I know, I convinced my parents to get it from that new place that just opened up. The food is absolutely delicious there" you said while you ran your hands through his hair comfortingly.

He nodded but didn't say anything else, making silence envelop the spacious kitchen.

You kept your eyes on him, observing how he was avoiding making eye contact with you. You didn't know why, but figured it was because he would break down again if he looked at you. He tended to do that a lot.

"Come on, let's get you in bed" you said once he finished eating, putting his plate in the dishwasher and taking his hand.

He silently walked behind you, his steps light and silent as to not disturb your parents.

Once you were both in the privacy of your room, Justin took a seat on your bed and kept his gaze on the floor, not saying anything.

"Do you want to talk about it?" you asked him, taking a seat next to him on your bed and taking one of his hands in yours, intertwining your fingers with his.

He was quiet for a second before he raised his head to look at you.

"Meth Seth is back. He lost a grand of cash last week and he thinks I stole it from him. We got into an argument tonight and, well, I gathered all my shit and left" he said, his hurt now replaced with anger and defeat.

"Look at me, baby" you said as you raised your free hand to his face and cupped his cheek, making him look at you. "You're going to move here, permanently. I don't care what anyone says, your mom or Seth or anyone. I'm not letting you go back there ever again, do you hear me?"

He pursed his lips and nodded, his eyes filling with tears.

"I don't want to intrude. I don't want to be a bother to you or your parents" he started shaking his head, looking away from you.

"You, Justin Foley, are not a bother to us. My parents adore you, they are going to be thrilled to have you around constantly. Baby, you are so loved by them, they see you as their own son. Don't ever doubt how loved you are by this family, how much we want to keep you safe and sound, baby"

By now, tears were running down your cheeks as you looked at the broken boy before you. Justin was also crying, staring back at you, not believing what he was hearing.

He grew up without a father and with a junkie mother, a mother who never cared about his well-being as much as she cared for her boyfriends. A mother who never made him feel loved, cared for and happy, what any child should feel from their parents.

"I love you so fucking much, and I am so fucking grateful to have you in my life. You don't even realize how much you mean to me and how much I appreciate everything you and your parents have done for me. You've saved me, Y/N"

You pulled him into your arms and rested your head in the crook of his neck, both of you sobbing into each other.

"I love you so much, Justin Foley" you whispered in his ear, planting a kiss at the base of his neck.

"I love you, too. So much. Please, just hold me and don't let me go" he whimpered, wrapping his arms even tighter around your body, if that was even possible.

"I'm never going to let you go, baby. Never" you whispered back, reassuring both of you that you are never going to leave each other.

Your thoughts started to wonder on what your life was going to look from now on, but you shook them away.

For now, you were just going to hold your boy.

comments and re-blogs help us grow!

much appreciated!!

REQUEST HERE

[ambrosiagoldfish]

Innocent and Touch-Starved 18+

Hunter x GN! Reader

All Characters are written to be 18+

Warnings: Handjob, Incredibly inexperienced Hunter, First orgasm, First time Masturbating, Reader acts as a 'Teacher' to Hunter, Hunter may be slightly OOC but shouldn’t be too bad (he’s just a bit more submissive than normal)

THIS IS SET POST TIME SKIP WHEN HUNTER IS 18

If you don’t like, don’t read! It’s better for both you and me!!

Request Box: OPEN

As fluffy as smut could get

Word count: 1713

A/N: This was originally going to be NSFW HC's for Hunter but as you can see it turned into a small fic! If the writing style shifts part way through that's the reason why!

Not Beta read, We die like flapjack; could have missed some mistakes.

As we all know by now, Hunter really isn't familiar with the common concepts of affection or love. So something mildly sexual, let alone sex, is a completely foreign concept to him.

So foreign that if you started dating when he was still the Golden Guard, chances are you wouldn't have had any kind of sexual encounter with him due to him being overworked and generally touch-starved. 

It honestly wouldn't surprise me if he didn't even know what sex was as most of the information he learns comes from Belos, who,  being from the 1600’s, definitely has a warped view of sex. So him not wanting his “nephew” to be tempted by the desires of lust isn't all that surprising.  

But when he's free from Belos and living in the Human Realm is when he starts getting more open with you. 

It starts slow, he gives more kisses than usual, then he starts letting you hold him longer, closer.

He basically starts getting all clingy, and he's not really sure why. 

He thinks it's because he just really loves you (which is true) but in reality,  he’s just starting to get really horny after being touch starved for so long. 

Then eventually, you two are cuddling on the couch in the living room watching some movies. You both have been left to keep watch of the house while Camila, Vee, and the Hexside Quartet went out to buy groceries. 

Them being out of the house meant free hugs without any teasing from them, which was perfect for Hunter. So now here you two were, cuddling up in a blanket, watching a, honestly pretty boring movie marathon on TV.

Feeling a tad bit sleepy you lean further into Hunter’s chest, snuggling into the soft form beneath you. 

“I love you…” You Yawn out. 

His Ears darken with blush before he nodded.. 

He hasn't said I love you back yet, but it's fine for you, you know the kind of upbringing he's had, I love you's definitely weren't common place. 

Hunter’s face falls deeper and deeper into a crimson blush, the weight of your body, the warmth of your body is so close.

It's already way past the point of when His body gets a “tingling” feeling with you. He still has no idea what causes it or what it means.

Suddenly he feels you shift and let out a noise of discomfort.

“Are you ok, Y/n?” He asks, his voice low

“Yeah! Don’t worry Hunter, i uh, just felt something firm poke me and I was surprised hehe…” You chuckle awkwardly raising up to face him. 

Hunter’s confused “Something Firm?”

“Yeah, uh… there.” you point

Slowly, his magenta eyes follow the invisible line connecting your pointing finger and this “firm” thing, until eventually they land right on the bulging tent in his sweatpants.

He quickly covers his bulge with a pillow. 

“S-Sorry I didn't mean- This doesn't normally happen when we-” He stampers over his words

“Hey hey, don't worry Hunter, it's no big deal” He feels you lightly caress his cheek. 

Despite his face feeling hotter than the boiling sea, he calms down a little.

“Here, I can step out for a few so you can take care of it”  He sees you begin to leave

“Take care of it? What… Do you mean?” He asks sheepishly. 

He watches as you look at him in surprise. 

“You know.. Relieve it? By..  masturbating… “ You say awkardly.

“Mastur…bate?” Hunter says confused

He watches you walk back over and sit beside him

“Have you really never done that?”

He nods his head, more than a little embarrassed

“Well what do you normally do when it happens?”

“I just… Wait till it stops, it usually happens when I'm asleep and when i wake up it's already like this..”

He thinks back to all the times he would be late to training, meetings, and other Golden Guard business thanks to his ‘problem’ most mornings.

You both sit in silence before he hears 3 words leave your mouth

“I can help..”

He jumps back slightly 

“But only if you want me too… I would never touch you without your permission, you know that…”

 you pause 

“I can show you how to masturbate so that you will know how in the future…”

He thinks for a moment before nodding his head at you, “Ok Y/n, I trust you, please show me..” 

He slowly moves the pillow from his crotch revealing the tent in his gray sweatpants. He sees you smile warmly before you get to work.

Your light fingertips move to gently hold his face as you kiss him, freckling them all over. 

He watches you beneath him, slowly lowering yourself from the couch to the floor of the living room, your hands slowly making their way down his body as you plant your kisses, before they stop at the waist line of his pants.

He watches you pull back and look him in the eyes before asking

“Are you sure?” He nods sheepishly again. Slowly your fingertips creep under the elastic of his sweats before pulling them down in one toff motion.

From his sweats, Hunter’s Hard-on springs up, standing at full mass. Hunter looks away as deep crimson shades his face.  Having his ‘privates’ out in full view was the last thing he thought would ever happen, but here he was.

Hunter is afraid to see your reaction, but what makes him even more afraid is that he hasn't even heard you react yet. Slowly, he looks down to see your almost surprised reaction.

“Is… is it ok?” Hunter Asks, “N-normal i mean..” If he knew nothing about sex and masturbation, He certainly didn't know if his ‘privates’ were the same as other people his age or if he somehow differed. On top of that, being a Grimwalker came with many health related questions, this being one of them.

Hunter quickly calms down when you give him that soft smile and say, “Completely normal, and completely perfect.”

Your hand leisurely makes its way to his hard-on before your fingers wrap around it,

Hunter shutters at the touch and his back straightens “F-Feels good…”

“Good Hunter, just relax..” he feels your other hand knead his thigh soothing him to lay back.

Your hand begins moving up and down his shaft, your grip tightening and loosening every so often. Hunter’s voice began to come out, what were soft moans began to develop into loud groans that filled the room. 

“Y/n so g-good…” 

You sped up your hand at his words, “Try to pay attention to how I'm doing it ok? So You'll know later for later.“

Hunter nods his head, half lidded eyes watch down at you fisting his hard-on. The way your soft hand feels on his shaft, the wet slapping sound with each pump, it was all so much for him

“You’re leaking so much pre Hunter, you must really be backed up, huh?”

“P-Pre?” he moans out 

“Precum. It's what’s making your cock so slippery as I stroke it.”

“C-Cock?” All of this, all of this pleasure, this… experience, was really too much for him. 

You laugh “You really have a lot to learn Hunter,” You slowly lean up to his pointed ears,

 “Good thing I'm a good teacher.” you whisper seducticly.

With that, a knot in his stomach was tightening up rapidly, a feeling he has never felt before, to him it felt similar to anxiety, the anticipation of something you know will happen, but you're unsure what it is.

“Y/n! Something’s happening- it feels weird- I think we should stop-” 

He warns and tries to stop your hand pumping his cock but is stopped by your other hand holding his firmly. 

You quickly lean into him and begin kissing him. You start stroking faster, the slapping of wet skin echoed throughout the room as well as Hunter’s muffled moans.

Finally… the knot snaps, his body begins shaking, sending waves of pleasure through Hunter’s body. Hunter’s cock shoots load after load out, squirting on his stomach and your hand, as well as on the couch. The whole time you don't let up stroking his dick, making sure to pump as much of his cum out. 

After what feels like an eternity for Hunter, but couldn't have been a few seconds, his droopy eyes look down at you, exhausted.

“What… Was… that?” He huffs deep breaths inbetween words

“That was an orgasm or “cumming” and this is sperm or cum” you hold up your hand covered in the warm whitish clear liquid.

Hunter tiredly looks around noticing the mess on the couch and him

‘I… did all this?”

“Mhm, you must have been so bottled up” you give him a kiss on the cheek

“I need to clean it up before… Luz and the others… get back-'' Hunter says, huffing through his words as he tries to pull himself up but his body doesn't let him.

“Hey hey Buddy, shhh” You grab his head an softly lay him back

 “After such a big load, not to mention your first, you’re clearly spent out of energy. Let me do it, ok?”

“But-”

“Nope. No buts” You kiss him. “Wait here”

You leave before returning with some towels and some of Hunter’s spare clothes, you began cleaning the cum off the couch and your cum covered hand, then slowly, you undress Hunter out of his dirty clothes and help him into some new ones, before throwing them into the washing machine and turning it on.

You return to Hunter, who at this point is nearly fully asleep. You slowly ease onto the couch with him, he feels the soft weight of your body rest on his, he tiredly moves his arms to embrace you, as you pull a blanket over the two of you.  

“Thank you Y/n… for making me feel… so good.” He says, clearly in between a state of consciousness and asleep.

“Of course, anytime Hunter.” You kiss his chest

“I..” He starts, you look up at him

“I love you Y/n…” He says before fully drifting off into sleep

You snuggle further into his chest, closing your drowsy and love-stuck eyes.

“I love you too Hunter”

[emojellyace08]

Lookism Men x Female Reader "Their types on a woman" PART 2

A/N: Thanks for the request @misasdeathwish! Here's an another part of it and I'll probably make a part 3 for this since I really enjoy this (series?) so much. And also thanks for 55 followers!!! I really appreciate you guys for following my blog it means so much to me, so here's another post hope you like it! Genre: Fluff☁️and slight angst? (for everyone) WARNINGS: family issues, slight mentions of assault, and a bit sad

Hudson Ahn (Ahn Hyun-Seong)

Considering how much passion in fighting this guy have I bet that that's how his type on a woman is.

A girl doesn't have to be super physically strong completely just for Hudson to get to like them. I headcannon that just like Jay, Hudson can't handle whiny girls and causes lots of high school dramas. But girlish or not, if a woman has good morals, a good perspective in life and hardworking enough to reach her goals and dreams in life I think Hudson's attention will turn his focus on you.

It makes it even better to get a bit closer to him if you know martial arts and you still you use it in a responsible way. Business is just business. If your job is to take down anybody who gets in your way, you got to prepare your knuckles for some fight just to finish it.

So imagine saving Hudson and his gang when they get into a fight with some other mfs, he and his crewmates will be definitely surprised on a girl having the balls (well actually having no balls) to confront his enemies. It's not that he's thinking that girls can't fight and stand up for themselves. He's thinking on why you're helping him when he can fight for himself and getting into someone else's business. "Who is this hot chick over here?" a tall and skinny man cooed as his eyes trailed down your figure while rubbing his chin. "Sorry, I was on my way home just saw you beating up these poor dudes". "HEY! WE AIN'T POOR KIDS WE CAN FIGHT FOR OURSELVES!" a man with a baby face and curly black hair with yellow stripes/strands of hair shouted back at you while his nose is bleeding. "I'm the Sun of Ansan. I can't just lose like this or else I'm putting Taesoo Ma, my master's name out of shame" a blonde haired man replied while standing up. Feeling a dark aura surrounding the male, you smirked as you feel his fighting spirit getting back to beat the hell out of these creeps. "Since it's been a while since I kicked someone's ass, I think this should be a good exercise". you stated as you smiled widely and cracking your knuckles getting hyped up for the fight "You should go home and don't get involved in somebody else's business. It's my fight." "Sorry boo I just got here so I can't go home just yet". He was about to refuse when one of the opponents chose to attack him. With you being aware of your surroundings, you immediately kicked the high dude on his face making him fall on the ground. And the rest is history.

Well after all the fighting, his crewmates managed to convince Hudson to join you on their team. "C'mon Hudson! She's a good fighter she can be a good human weapon!" Jacky begged with those puppy ass eyes while it sparkled like stars. "He's right. She can be a great side member when we're off for other businesses." the tattooed male replied back as Hudson sighed finally giving in for their requests. Despite not wanting to add more members in his crew (since most of them are a headaches), he admits that your fighting skills is above average. Though what he worries about is about your attitude. Since the others are all childish and too prideful, he worries is that if you're like that too he would be bothered to join you in their team.

So he tries to approach you before you leave, him awkwardly talking about how his crew gain lots of money and if you're interested in it. "SORRY! I'm not making money out of illegal stuff!" you denied his offer with a smile but the curly black-haired dude keep pushing you so you got no choice I guess. So if you're part of his crew up until the end that it got destroyed because of Daniel Park, I think Hudson will start to realize on how you managed to stay loyal on him even when he knows that he's probably going to lose on this match. And that's how he started liking you. It's because of your loyalty and you believing on himself that he can be much more stronger. And that what makes him strive for more success. It's for you and Taesoo, the most important people in his life to be proud of him.

If you're not the type to know about fighting, I think that him saving you from a man trying to assault you in a different bar will make you interested in him after his crew got disbanded. He'll convince you that you should never come back in places like this since he knew from himself how these things happen all the time in the illegal side of his business before. So it makes him a bit guilty about all the horrible things he have done before. And if you coincidentally saw him again beaten up and you took him to the hospital or cure his wounds, he might show an interest in you (I swear this men likes babying them so much they just won't admit). His ideal date would just be probably cuddling and staying at home ;)

Overall hype him up, be passionate about your goals and dreams in life, and being loyal and honest can bring out the best of him.

Eli Jang (Jang Hyun)

Is it weird that I put Eli next to Hudson? lol. But seriously blonde Eli? I simp

Considering how this male went through so much things in his life, expect him to like someone who will be always there for him no matter how things turn upside down. His life is full of trauma and since his parents (his father passed) and how his step-mother don't really care about him forcing him to turn back and run away hoping that things will get better. But things turned worse when he's exposed to all the gangs and doing bad things like stealing and fighting at a very young age. When he met Warren, Sally and the rest of the gang he thought everything will be great but it all went wrong when Heather passed away everything fell apart. He felt that his whole life everything is just a tragedy to him and Eli felt that everything won't find true happiness until Yenna is born and when he met you.

It was in J-High when he moved schools to start a new life for himself and his daughter. Most girls were interested in him since he's good looking and as much as he appreciates their compliments, he mostly wants to focus on himself before getting to date someone. It's not even his priority since the last time he truly thought that he finally met his perfect soulmate, the worst things have gotten. But he changed his mind when you caught his attention. Your attentiveness in class and your will to help others will always make him turn his head around just to look at you. And the fact that you befriended out of pure kindness him makes his stomach grumble and feel butterflies. Sure, you wouldn't deny that he looks majestic. But the thing is you got more interested in him since despite the smile that he's trying to show to everybody, he always looks tired and sad (you can see it in his eyes). So you thought befriending him might not be a bad idea.

Like some Lookism guys, he will be a bit hesitant at first at making friends with anyone because of his trauma is consuming him for not being strong enough to take care of the people who he cherishes the most and he's thinking that you just probably wanted a date. But you proved him wrong. Your calm spirit and voice helps him ease his mind a lot. Your happy and go lucky personality makes him remind of Heather the most. So slowly but surely, he'll get used to your presence even craving and looking for you sometimes when your not present. I also headcannon that he's definitely the type to like mature and understanding women. Since he needs (or tries) to be independent throughout his childhood and not experience freedom, a whiny and immature someone can turn him off the most. After getting to know you more and able to build a special connection with you he'll definitely open about his issues/struggles in life and about his daughter (please don't discriminate him for it).

Eli would be probably into more of the soft and quiet women too. Bonus points if you know how to do household chores like cooking, cleaning the house etc. since being a single dad can be hard. Eli have to balance his school life and focus all his homework on time while taking care of Yenna and making sure she's safe is a stressful challenge. So having someone who can help him babysit the little girl is something that he'll appreciate so much. Though it's okay that if his someone doesn't know how to cook since he knows the struggles of it and it can be a great quality time for the both of you learning different recipes! (but it can be a bit disastrous at times lmao). What matters is that you don't stress yourself of taking care of the child. He doesn't like seeing you tired and it's definitely not a requirement for you to take care of Yenna since you have to study too. Though his trust for you will gain more if you insist to take care of the little girl (and you tried your best to be a mother figure).

Though at times, his past issues about Heather can get into his relationship. If you noticed that he often talks about the girl all the time, please be patient and understanding about it. You can talk about it with him without letting your negative emotions getting in the way. If you let your jealousy get into you first, this can form a BIG MISUNDERSTANDING between the two and I mean it. He'll probably think that you don't understand him enough and it can tore your relationship apart.

And after the 4 major crews got active to rip families and friendships apart, Eli is afraid to hurt everybody especially you, Yenna, and his family. So when joining the Workers is the only "solution" for Yoojin to not destroy Hostel, you immediately try to stop him but he knows he can't turn back now. Your caring personality is also one of the reasons he loves you, though he felt like he doesn't deserve it. You gotta thank Vasco for bringing Eli back home again.

Be understanding, helpful, and patient with Eli hon. Form an amazing relationship with him and his family that he never got to experience. And Yenna might even call you Mama!

Warren Chae (Chae Won Seok)

A devoted simp lmao.

Headcannon: Warren likes shorter and cute girls (And having the same age as him don't think that way>:(. Though after some time, realizing that a sweet, positive and a helpful girl actually catches his attention more (plus being short and cute is a win for him). Warren would also be into mature yet a bit playful women. He really likes it when he gets a cute reaction out of someone he like when he's easing them and he gets really flustered when his someone flirts back.

So imagine just meeting him at school and him saving you from the other thugs AHHHHHHH. The moment he saw you getting harassed by those fuckers, he can't help but to feel the urge to protect you. Who the hell treats a girl like that?

He was on the way home with Eli, Sally and Heather when he notices you getting blocked in the way by other teenagers from the other university. As much as you want to get away from this mess, the old-looking students won't let you go. "Aww c'mon let's go to my house and grab some beer". An wrinkly-faced guy embraced your shoulder just to pull you closer to him which makes you uncomfortable. "So-sorry I-I'm good" you gulped harshly as the three men keeps whistling and making pouty faces insulting you. "Sorry miss if you don't complied we will have to keep bother-" "Oi, what the fuck (are you doing?)" a familiar male voice shouted as you turned around to see if it's really him. "The All Mighty Warren Chae". You heard about him and in fact, he's your classmate and he's one of the most known trouble maker in your school. Not only he can't finish his sentences full, he doesn't also finish doing his homework (You weren't close anyways). He's also with three unfamiliar people who are probably in another campus. "Hey is he your boyfriend? I'll go talk to him". "Hey wai-" you tried to stop the skinny dude and now he's face to face with Warren. "Are you her boyfriend? Sorry if I was hitting on your girl but she's mine now". he smirked clearly insulting and challenging the other male. "Nah, (if you try to harass a girl) you gotta fight me". Warren replied while unconsciously not finishing his sentence. As the skinny dude tries to land a punch on him Warren easily blocked his move and punched him to the ground beating the guy down (getting what he deserves).

And that's how you met and became friends with the Hostel. You got close to everybody especially with the guy who saved you, heck you even talk to Olly Wang. You'll also teach him about grammar when you have extra time so he can construct his sentences well not only on the assignments but also when he's talking. Your helpful and generous personality is enough to make Warren burst. He really appreciates it when you help him through his complications and you being patient and understanding about it makes him less insecure about his disability. And that what makes him love himself more and try to get stronger to protect you and his family. You will always visit your friends and sometimes sleep on their place (even if it's a bit messy). You'll also help them clean up and you'll always bring their favorite food especially Warren's. I also headcannon that he likes clingy and cuddly women. Though he will always ask for consent if you're willing to hug or kiss him back.

But not everything and everyday is all about rainbow and unicorns. Everything went wrong when the adults find about Hostel and with Heather getting pregnant and passing away from labor. It even got worst when Eli ran away again. You have to move out from another city to start a "fresh life" because your parent/s got so worried for being involve into "low-standard" run-away teenagers which is far from truth. And no matter how much you want to protest to them, you can't do anything and you have to get through the burden of it.

But when you find out that you study with Eli at the same school, you get to make contact with him but it was a really hard task. First he tries to avoid you at all cost thinking that Sally or Warren contacted you to follow him and convince him to get back to Hostel. But with great communication and understanding with one another, you and Eli started being friends again and you managed to have contact with Hostel again after a few months (years rather). You're really excited to meet Warren again and that you hugged him a bit too tight making him and Sally chuckle. "Warren! I missed you so much!" you cried as your arms wrapped around his waist which he doesn't mind (he even loves it). "I-I missed you too." he replied while blushing back loving your warmth that brings him comfort. "YOU COMPLETED YOUR SENTENCE!" "(I've) Been studying (reading)." "At least you're getting better now, little boo!" you gleefully smiled as he kissed your forehead. He knows that it's dangerous for you to be involve with him especially when all the drama about the 4 major crews are getting a bit spicier and heated. But can he just enjoy this moment for a while? To hug and cuddle with you and forget the world in just a moment?

If you really like Warren, be understanding about his condition. Also having a warm and positive vibe around him can make his heart melt.

Johan Seong (Seong Yohan)

Not really clingy but he still cares about you if you're not too much of a bothersome.

If you know Johan before the cult incident or if you're childhood friends with him along with Zack and Mira, he'll be more open and awkward around you. Since he's really shy around this time he's still developing himself as a whole. He wants to get strong like Zack as he always watches him do boxing. Yet when he tries to stand up for himself from the bullies he still get defeated which makes him feel unworthy. Though if you saw him getting bullied as you tried to stand against the other kids, he'll start to see you as an inspiration. An emotionally strong women can really catch his attention.

The thing that he calls admiration soon becomes deeper as he explores your personality even more. If you're accepting and understanding even on the smallest things he'll literally develop a crush on you. You may be still be developing as a child (same age as him), but your good set of morals makes him inspired to do better in life not only for you and himself but most especially his mom.

But things took a bad turn when the cult incident happened. And the addition of his mom loosing her eyesight and getting involved/addicted to drugs stresses him out the most. He just wants the best for her and his friends too. And he hates it when you and Mira get hurt by other people. That's why his fueling rage and anger makes his way to encourage himself to be strong. Stronger than Zack, stronger than anybody. That's why no matter how he thought that it'll be toxic for him to just leave you and his family without any words or context, he felt like he has to. To protect you and find a cure for his mom.

Of course his sudden leave will make you devastated. And after some years, as hurtful as it sounds he'll probably start forgetting abut you since he's focused on the major crew business. But after his crew disbandment and lost, he's probably going to meet you without plans on a food stand (considering how much this guy loves food). He would panic and pretend that he's just a random stranger but your gut feeling got the best of you and you'll ask him if he's the boy you're looking for. Of course he'll deny it at first but seeing his sweet someone will make him iresistent. He misses you no matter how hard he tries to deny it. And when he goes to visit his mom (without her knowing it's her son since she's getting blind), she'll always tell him about you on how you always take care of her especially if you have free times. Johan likes helpful women especially in household chores just like Eli and if his someone/crush also takes care of his mom she's definitely his type on women too just like Daniel.

He has to explain to you that once this is all over and his mom's eyes got better he'll come back to your hometown and back to you. But it still hurts you Johan suffering from all of this when all you want is for him to be happy.

If you haven't met him in his childhood, he'll definitely be more cold and reserved. He won't give a damn about everybody (except his mom and his friends ofc) but women? He doesn't have time for them especially the loud ones. But if you're the emotionally matured and understanding type he'll definitely have an interest for you (despite him denying it).

Even if he's not a clingy person, your caring, gleeful and emotionally strong personality can make him relax a bit from all this chaos. Just ask him for a good and warm hug and he'll sigh and open his arms for you (he secretly likes it trust me).

A/N: WHEWW! Johan, Hudson and Warren are so hard to write for! (It's my first time writing about them so please don't judge it too much lol) Eli is much easier since I can express my way of writing more to emotionally unwell characters. But feel free to give some criticisms if you're not satisfied!

Looking for Jake, Gun, Goo, and Sinu one? Part 3 will be coming up ;)

[kykyonthemoon]

Limerence (noun) — a mental state of profound romantic infatuation, deep obsession, and fantastical longing.

⋆˚✿˖° This chapter is a part of a mini-series of dark fairy tales and romance sets in another universe. It consists of three chapters, each with a Male Lead and is separated from one another.

⋆˚✿˖° Character x Reader/MC, from another (OC's) point of view. Reader/MC's pronounce is "she/her/hers".

⋆˚✿˖° Warnings & tags: 16+, MDNI, angst, hurt, thriller, emotional and mind control, manipulation, love spell, obsession, unrequited love, major character death, dark fantasy, dark fairy tale, m.urder, s.uicide attempt.

⋆˚✿˖° Leonard is my OC.

⋆˚✿˖° Read more chapters:

✦ Xavier's ✦ Zayne's

⋆˚✿˖° Masterlist

⋆˚✿˖° My friend Cery made an art for this fic here: x

Chapter: The Muse — in which he brings the world his most significant work of art.

⋆˚✿˖° Word count: 3k1

These days, the artist community was vibrant, with some even competing for acceptance to the exhibition at Mo Art Studio.

So did Leonard. He had to rush around and ask for help everywhere in order to be given a chance. Money was not an issue, but the host of this exhibition was certainly not an ordinary person. He wasn't offering tickets to the highest bidder, but rather to those who possessed an artistic vision and passed his evaluation.

“The ticket will be sent to you within the next three days. Please keep in touch.” The other end of the line cut the discussion off, but Leonard's mind remained lightheaded, unable to believe the gift he had just received.

“Wait…” He spoke before the other person hung up. “Excuse me… May I do an interview with that artist in the exhibition?”

There was no response. Leonard believed they were reviewing his proposal. He held his breath and wait for a while, then the manager named Thomas spoke:

“We do not accept interviews. But a few individual queries could suffice. Of course, if you are able to leave a good impression.”

"I got it. Thank you."

Putting the phone aside, Leonard leaned back in his office chair. How to impress Linkon's most talented painter, or should he say - the world's best artist? Despite his young age, there was no one in this city who had never heard of his work.

The artist's name was Rafayel. He became well-known for his landscape paintings, which brought admirers to a dreamlike state when they stood in front of them. He seldom appeared in public, despite having organized hundreds of major and minor exhibitions. Who he truly was remained a question, and the most mysterious part was probably his disappearance a year ago.

For a whole year there were no new paintings or art activities. No one saw him in Linkon during that time. His manager and studio kept it silent, as if everything had evaporated overnight. Then, last weekend, he unexpectedly reappeared and made an important announcement, which was an exhibition called The Muse.

In contrast to his previous events, guests had no idea what they were about to witness. According to the majority of internet comments, Rafayel returned with a work of a lifetime, a painting that exceeded anything he had ever created. That was the final result of a year-long hunt for inspiration. Of course, there were those who believed he was steadily degrading since he hadn't been able to draw anything decent in a long time and had simply planned this event to earn some money.

For Leonard, either truth was fair. He must uncover all of the details and secrets surrounding Rafayel's reappearance. Since that was what he did for a living.

Leonard was a journalist who specialized in arts. Despite his greatest efforts over several years, he still had little hope of succeeding. He had been without a single decent piece for a long time. Then the opportunity to visit the Mo Art studio presented itself before his eyes. He was not going to miss the chance to see a place that had never been accessible to the public before.

The day of the exhibition approached. Leonard had purposefully showed up early, but as he reached the gate, he noticed that about fifty formally dressed guests were already present. They were enjoying wine and food as they walked in groups into the main hall, where the primary event was held. Leonard also entered with nervousness. All of the windows and doors were wide open, allowing the sea air to convey a salty fragrance into the hallway. Rafayel's famous works are framed, and hung or placed in the center of a floral garden that the host tenderly arranged himself, giving guests the impression that they had just lost themselves in the Garden of Eden.

However, that was not the primary attention of the event. Something massive and cylindrical appeared in the center of the hall. It spanned from the ground to an exceedingly high glass ceiling. It had a diameter of up to ten meters, and was covered in a crimson velvet fabric, protecting it from inquisitive eyes of guests. Even the personnel had not an idea of what was inside.

"Rafayel did all of this himself." Thomas, the manager, spoke up. "I can't answer your questions because I'm not sure what's there. But whatever it is, it will undoubtedly live up to the name of his Muse."

The flock of intrigued guests around Thomas nodded, then split out to stroll around and admire the pillar, as if its very presence was already an art. To them, the less they comprehended something, the more valuable it became.

Leonard found a seat close to the window but not too far from the center of the hall. He was afraid of missing the opportunity to witness Rafayel's Muse. Late in the afternoon, the sun glided across the horizon, casting golden rays into the place. The guests began to get tipsy, wondering if Rafayel would show up or if this was all a hoax, when, down the stairs, the host of the party appeared.

He donned a lavish dark blue suit with sculpted sleeves and shoulders that looked to be encrusted with spectrum fish scales. His presence was as magnificent as his name, causing the entire hall to fall silent. Guests held their breath as they watched the young artist stroll down the steps, the heels of his shoes reverberating on the marble floor as if a piece of music had just been executed.

“Welcome to the exhibition.” Rafayel spoke in a solemn voice. "It appears that all of the guests here are wondering; what exactly has he been doing during the past year? Why didn't he present any of his new work? What's the point of this exhibition?"

Rafayel halted for a moment, his dark eyes behind a few purple curls scrutinizing each guest individually, as if reading them all. The corner of his mouth twisted up in delight as he effectively piqued everyone's interest. He resumed his speech:

“It all began with a muse. My muse. That's a story perhaps a lucky visitor would unveil in this exhibition. But for now…” Rafayel lifted a hand. “Let me introduce you to my one and only, Muse.”

The scorched cloth transformed into crimson tiny particles that flew all about, blending into the fiery sunset outside. The crimson sun halted in the center of the room's largest window, and emerged as an illusion was Rafayel's Muse.

Leonard blinked. In front of him stood a tank of water with a thick glass cylinder. The inside was ornamented with flowers, coral, and white pillars of broken plaster encircling an oval of the glass tank, offering him the sense that he was staring at a lost city under the depths of the ocean. There were schools of brilliant small fish swimming around, weaving between the crevices of the broken world. In the midst of the tableau, there was a woman floating in the water in an upright stance, a few meters above the tank's bottom, conveying an illusion that she was flying. Her head was adorned with pearl jewelry, eyes were closed, as if she was in deep slumber. Her hands opened, allowing the orange-red fish to whirl around her wrists. Then they invited each other to swim along her tiny unclothed arms, to her exquisite neck covered in shimmering pearls, and down to the thin white garment that was floating in the water like her own body. Her bare feet lingered above the seaweed, as if to tease them with the fact that they were unable to grasp her no matter how hard they tried.

A beauty out of this world. That was what Leonard's mind could think of. When he came here, he was full of determination to discover Rafayel's secret, but now, when he witnessed its beauty with his own eyes, he was speechless. His brain felt empty, as if that beauty had filled it and he no longer needed anything else. A melodic rhythm could be heard somewhere, distant seemingly from another universe, but apparently emanating from the tank itself.

All guests were drawn to the center. Rafayel vanished among the crowd that was cheering him. Nobody suspected that Rafayel's Muse was not a painting but an entirely distinct thing. Whatever it was, she was the size of an adult in her mid-twenties. A statue or a doll that resembled a real person?

Leonard brushed past a few astonished others to get closer to the tank. Rafayel's exhibit could easily shock the entire art field. Leonard had already begun pondering concepts for his next piece. Unlike the other guests, who were merely engaged in the beauty in front of them, he was more enthralled by the narrative behind The Muse.

Who was she? Where did her story begin? Leonard sought around for Rafayel's silhouette but could not find him. However, near the stairs, he encountered Thomas with a look of panic and utter shock on his face.

“It can't be… No… It can't be her…” Those were the words Leonard could hear before Thomas bolted out of the hall.

There were just a few people invited to the show, and after approximately an hour, they had presumably spent all of their admiration and hypothesis on the tank. They met again in groups to tour Rafayel's studio. Who knows when they would be able to return here again, in ten, twenty, or even fifty years?

Leonard took advantage of the reality that people had left the area to approach closer and examine more, now that he was the only one standing nearby. The Muse was still inside, a smile on her lips, but why did Leonard feel a suffering coming from her? He strolled around the tank to better view her. It was hard to discern whether this was in fact a sculpture by Rafayel or a real person. That was also what the guests spoke about all day.

The Muse was so genuine. To the point that Leonard expected her to open her eyes and climb out of the tank. But she remained still, absorbed in her own undersea world. He stayed frozen, unable to move his gaze away from the tank, for Rafayel had previously stated that within this, his secrets hidden.

Yet Leonard, with his mundane eyes, might never discover it. The only thing he found was possibly a tiny coating of pinkish red water coming from The Muse's breast. That ruby hue seeped through the attire that enveloped her, and it looked nothing like the color that Rafayel often used in his paintings. There was something rather odd about it. It resembled blood, from The Muse herself.

The exhibition came to an end.  Guests departed on their own after being notified. Rafayel returned to the lobby. Leonard took the opportunity to ask in an instance:

“Mr. Rafayel. May I ask you a few questions regarding the exhibition?

Rafayel gazed at him. To increase his reputation, he identified himself as a journalist who specialized in writing about art.

"Ah. "I remember you." Rafayel responded. "Among the guests, you were the only one who gave an impressive answer to my question."

Leonard tried to recall the survey he was required to complete before Thomas reached him to inform he had an invitation. These questions were all about Rafayel's career, and the answers were readily accessible online. There was just one question, the last one, that sparked a lot of consideration in Leonard, while having nothing to do with Rafayel's works at all.

"If you were given a magical spell that made the person you love love you forever, would you use it?" Rafayel reiterated his query. "You're the only one who chose not to."

Leonard nodded. It was truly what he had said.

"May I know, why?" Rafayel glanced at him with curiosity. Leonard was taken aback, as he had come here expecting to be an interviewer. Who would have guessed it was the other way around?

"A spell is just an illusion." Leonard responded honestly. "That is not love." "Love must come from a true heart."

"A true heart…" Rafayel repeated each word. His eyes were as sorrowful and deep as the tranquil water, yet it was terrifying since he had no idea when the storm would arrive. "Perhaps, she would choose the same answer as you."

"Pardon?…" Leonard interrupted Rafayel's thoughts. "Who are you talking about?"

Rafayel smiled but remained silent. Fearing that the young artist might leave without answering, Leonard impatiently said:

“Aren't you talking about your Muse? Can you tell me who she is?”

Rafayel gazed at the girl in the aquarium. He smiled. Just a small movement of the lips conveyed devotion, anguish, and regret.

"She is my true heart." Rafayel's voice resembled a song. But he said nothing more, and Leonard was asked to leave right away.

The Muse's story was forever a mystery. The mystery that Leonard had yet to come very close.

That story began a year ago. Or perhaps, it had originated a long, long time ago.

When a Lemurian gives their heart to someone, it will die if not reciprocated.

Rafayel had given his to a human girl.

He met her when she was a child. She was his savior when he was expecting such a painful death on land, and she helped him return to the sea.

She could not remember who he was, nor did she know that all those years, he had been watching her from afar. Amid the waves, behind the rocks, he watched her grow up.

He met her again as a painter many years later. She happily accepted his company. But it was not all he wanted. He longed for her. He craved her touch to make her become his, in the way he had determined his heart belonged to her.

But, her heart belonged to someone else.

A year ago, she told him that she was getting married.

Rafayel could not recall how frightening his emotions were. No matter how powerful the storms were at sea, they could never match his rage at the time. And, with a dreadful calamity brewing in his head, he did what he did to her.

He bound her with an ancient Lemurian enchantment. He made her fall desperately in love with him. She did everything for him, even abandoning her engagement and following him to a far away place. A secluded island only for them. Glorious summer nights lingered forever on the beach, when she and he were entangled, merging in the waves of never-ending love. He had her how he wished.

However, like an illusion, that spell did not persist forever. It drove her to insanity. She wandered alone on the shore, tears streaming and her mouth constantly crying out the name of the person she truthfully loved with each sob. She begged of him.

“Rafayel… Please… Let me go… Please… set me free… Set me free!”

Her screams were drowned in the ocean waves. Little did she realize that seeing her in this way made his heart bleed as well.

"Please…" She sobbed. Rafayel's dagger was in her grasp, and she pressed it to her throat. "If you won't let me leave... I must free myself..."

"Hush now, my dearest…" Rafayel quietly stretched out to her. This was not her first time in this state. He approached her, placed a hand on her forehead, and brushed away her wind-blown hair. Her fingers on the dagger tightened, urging him to back away. However, Rafayel seized the blade that was cutting into her neck, forcing his hand to bleed.

"You don't want to cut yourself, dear."

She trembled and stared at Rafayel. He hummed a very familiar melody, which made her thoughts muddled once more. The dagger slipped from her hand as she collapsed to her knees on the damp beach. Screaming.

“Be still, dearest love.” Rafayel gently lowered down. His knees were next to hers, as if he, too, was begging her to stay. “I can ease all our suffering… If you listen to me now…”

She covered her ears and shook her head with ferocity as if she never wanted to hear another word from him. Rafayel smiled in bitter. She had been like this lately, forgetting who she was and how profoundly she was in love with him. But that was alright. He would help her rekindle her love. She would obey at once as soon as he began singing.

He sang their song. He sang it the first time they met, and he still sang it day by day with her by his side.

She wept tremendously. She clutched her head and pleaded with him to stop. But Rafayel could never. Just like he could not stop the waves from crashing against the shore, who could ever stop his love for her?

After a while, she became quiet. No more yelling and pleading. She gave him an empty stare and a smile.

"Rafayel." She called his name. Her hand found his body, as though she had desired to be close to him since forever. Rafayel embraced her. He stroked and kissed the top of her head. His tears sank, condensing into pearls and nestling on her hair.

“I'm sorry… I'm sorry for turning you into someone like this…” Rafayel whispered in her ear. “But I've found a way to fix everything. You shall not suffer any longer... And neither shall I..."

Rafayel held her with one hand as the other sought the dagger's hilt in the moist sand.

“Will you do this for me?”

He gazed into the eyes of hers which were dreamy under the spell of love. She nodded.

"I vow to do everything for my dearest beloved."

"Very good." Rafayel smiled as he kissed her lips. "You will always be my Muse… Mine, forever..."

The dagger swung across the fiery sunset. The water chanted its melody in an ancient ritual. Then everything fell silent.

Rafayel watched her passionately as she slept within the water tank he had specifically built for her. That was her home, now and forever.

His hand stroked across the beautiful design. Her body was adorned with jewelry crafted from his teardrops. She was a masterpiece of his lifetime, which extended to no end. His Muse. His lips found hers on the other side of the glass, and he pressed a kiss.

From now on, she would weep no more. She would feel no pain.

A crimson light emanated from inside the pocket near Rafayel's chest. He pulled out a blazing red protocore.

This entire world will soon know that, her true heart shall forever belong to him and him alone.

[englass]

Concept/Title: Touch

Pairing(s): John Seed x Fem!Reader (because I was thinking of him when I started this, but—), Male!Character x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 402

Warning(s): NSFW/Explicit, Filth and Fluff, Implied Yandere? (was aiming for that originally but don’t think it completely carried through— oops)

A/N(s): I once famously said that Plains and Valleys would (very likely) be my only smut piece… As you can see, that’s now not quite true 🙈😅

-/-/-

You gasp, twitching in your prone position against the sheets. Held down gently by your lover as you keen high and reedy, his arm pinned across your abdomen as the fingers of his free hand curl inside you. Drawing out your orgasm and threatening to push you into another as he mouths at your cunt, tongue flat and firm against your clit as a satisfied growl rumbles in his chest.

The deep sound makes you clench tighter around his fingers, has you whining prettily for him as he rewards you with a teasing brush of his lips, a brief and gentle scrap of teeth against your sensitive skin.

God, you’re so gorgeous, he utters, voice wrecked between your thighs, so pretty for me like this; could watch you cum on my fingers all day. Fuck, I love you, —

Teeth sink into the meat of your thigh, a passionate bite that has you yelping as he suddenly thrust his fingers as deep as they can go with a growling snarl. Tears beading in the corners of your eyes at the sweet sting of overstimulation. Hand blindly grabbing at his wrist as you bite into the back of your other hand, barely stifling the almost tortured whine of his name.

I need you to cum for me again, he pants, sucking and worrying his tongue in a purposeful drag over the impromptu bite mark, Can you do that for me, sweetheart? You gonna be a good girl and cum for me, hm?

The tears run down the side of your face, writhing amongst the twisted sheets with a shake of your head. Wanting a reprieve from the onslaught of sensation against your sensitive skin.

No? Leaning close, bracketing you in under his sturdy form, his breath a hot caress against your ear and his thumb a soothing sweep across your tacky cheeks, brushing your tears away, Not even on my cock?

The offer makes you tighten around his fingers, whimper as that sting eases into something more, interest piqued as a new hunger curls low within your stomach.

You’ve been such a good girl for me. Doing so well taking my fingers, looking so pretty cumming on my tongue. Don’t you want more?

He moves down then back up. Lips kissing and brushing in a leisurely descent and climb over your stomach, chest, neck, jaw and cheek. Stopping once again to teasingly breath into your sensitive ear, Don’t you want me?

[thiagowrites]

warnings: angst with no comfort, people (2) die in here lol, 1363 words, description of death, brief mention of killing(?), no use of y/n, They/Them pronounce used

Also posted to my wattpad, part 1

I′m going under and this time I fear there's no one to save me

This all or nothing really got a way of driving me crazy

he had you back, yet he didnt. you were there but so far away. he had you physically but mentally you remained gone. the Simon he once was was still buried away, his guard high up again. you were lying there, still motionless, he was sitting there, still numb. he would always be without you, at least to the outside. in reality, he was drowning in pain but he didnt let anyone see. never again.

I need somebody to heal, somebody to know

Somebody to have, somebody to hold

It′s easy to say, but it's never the same

I guess I kinda liked the way you numbed all the pain

you helped numb his pain, helped him heal and now you were the cause of his pain. you were his rock, his shoulder to cry on but now you were gone. not physically, no, you were there, in the hospital bed across from him. They had found you but you were long gone. 638 days. that is how long he didnt see you, didnt smell you, didnt feel you, hold you. the you that he knew was gone, mere pieces remaining somewhere under all the bruises, under the blood, under the trauma. god, he hated himself for leaving you for almost 2 years. somewhere deep inside he also hated you, for making it so easy to love you.

Now the day bleeds into nightfall

And you're not here to get me through it all

I let my guard down, and then you pulled the rug

I was getting kinda used to being someone you loved

it had been 2 days since you got into the Hospital, and still no sign that you were gonna wake up. Simon was losing hope all over again, losing himself to alcohol and self-pity. drowning like he did when you were gone. he didnt know when night began and day ended, didnt leave your side for one minute scared that if he did, you were simply going to disappear out of the dark hospital room. It was only now when you were back that Simon realized just how much he was getting used to your love, he never knew what people meant when they told him: You only begin to cherish love when it leaves. until now. now he understood because you were his only love, and you were leaving him.

I′m going under and this time I fear there′s no one to turn to

This all or nothing way of loving got me sleeping without you

Simon never cared for others much, only your feelings mattered to him. he always told himself he was either going to love you with everything he had or he wasnt going to love you at all. so he did, he loved you to the best of his abilities. and now he was seeing where that got him.

Now, I need somebody to know, somebody to heal

Somebody to have, just to know how it feels

It's easy to say, but it′s never the same

I guess I kinda liked the way you helped me escape

Now the day bleeds into nightfall

And you're not here to get me through it all

I let my guard down, and then you pulled the rug

I was getting kinda used to being someone you loved

it has now been 2 weeks and you were still not awake. Simon got back into old habits, drowning himself in cigarettes and alcohol, trying to forget what the doctors told him. he was imagining you to get better, but that was all it was: his imagination. In reality, you were kept alive by machines for the past week. he told himself you were going to get better, that your body just needed more time, but with every passing day he lost hope, he came to the realisation that maybe your time had come, but did he want to believe it? no. No, he couldnt believe that so instead he kept lying to himself. Theyre getting better, theyll wake up, they wont leave me, they cant leave me I wont let them. These were his daily thoughts.

And I tend to close my eyes when it hurts sometimes

I fall into your arms

I′ll be safe in your sound 'til I come back around

it had been 4 months now. not since they found you, no, since the doctors told him there was no more life left in you, it had been 3 months and 16 days since he buried you 6 feet under the ground. since Ghost buried Simon with you. there was no light in Ghost's life anymore because you were his only light, he would have buried himself with you, and the only thing keeping him from doing that was John Price. so instead he closes his eyes and pretends, he pretends you never went missing. that the last 2 years of his life never happened. that he was here, in your arms.

For now the day bleeds into nightfall

And you′re not here to get me through it all

I let my guard down, and then you pulled the rug

I was getting kinda used to being someone you loved

The day of your funeral was the day he swore to himself he was never going to love anybody else, his heart only ever belonged to you. he wore you close to his heart, put your wedding band on a necklace and your dog tags always in his breast pocket. he spent his days working as much as he could to distract himself from the pain. this often got him cused out by Price but he couldnt take a break, he knew he would lose himself at the thought of you again.

But now the day bleeds into nightfall

And you're not here to get me through it all

I let my guard down, and then you pulled the rug

I was getting kinda used to being someone you loved

it has been a year since you passed, a year full of pain, darkness, and recovery for Ghost. he still hasnt moved on, and he never will be able to. the last year was spent finding information about the bastards who took you from him and today was the day, he had finally gotten revenge for your death. it didnt end ideal for him though, turns out that taking on an enemy all by yourself wasnt that easy. but he didnt care how much it hurt, he didnt care he disobeyed orders and he didnt care that he was bleeding out right now. because it was for you. anything he ever did was for you and only you. it all didnt matter to him because even though he always thought dying would be painful he found comfort in it, he didnt know if it was his mind playing tricks on him but the blood he lost warmed him, it reminded him of the warmth you once gave him. his mind got cloudy, vision being overtaken by black spots and it felt like he was falling into an ocean, the deep and dark water taking him in and not letting him go. he saw his life, all the pain and the lovely moments you created, flow before him. he saw you, looking amazing on your wedding day. he felt you, hugging him after he proposed to you in the middle of the field just when he thought he was never going to see you again. and he smelt you, oh that beautiful smell of you. and with all these senses of you and only you surrounding him, he took a deep breath, a breath that was going to be his last. he took it and with a smile on his face, he began his journey back to you. wherever that may be.

I let my guard down, and then you pulled the rug

I was getting kinda used to being someone you loved

[oh-great-authoress]

Personally, I write my character x female reader fic as inclusively as possible, with no descriptions, but I genuinely applaud those who do this, as everyone deserves to see themselves in all their beautiful glory with the men of their dreams.

@valmare

please write your reader insert however you want to. unabashedly!! write fat reader. black reader. asexual. masculine. tall. trans. disabled. you’re allowed to see yourself reflected in these spaces!!! sometimes your fic won’t be for everyone—it will be for all the people who look, think, love and experience life the way you do and that’s ok! it’s wonderful, actually.

it is not your job to make sure the shoe comfortably fits every single person out there. your only job is to tag it, and if anyone tells you otherwise I’ll personally come out swinging lol

[thatlotuscookie]

Mikey from Tokyo Revengers please. Maybe where the reader is the only one who can calm him down when he's having a bad day or feeling overwhelmed, but she doesn’t realize how much it means to him?

✧･ﾟ: a/n : to the lovely anon who requested this—thank you! Mikey’s the type of character who hides his emotions well, but I can totally see him seeking comfort in someone who brings normalcy into his chaotic life. I hope this hits all the right feels for you! I listened to Understand by Keshi the whole time and AGHH brought me into the feels.

✧ Title: ✧ The Weight Of Everything ✧ ✧ Characters: Mikey (Manjiro Sano) x Reader (Fem!Reader) ✧ Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Romance ✧ Rating: T ✧ Summary: Mikey carries burdens that no one else can truly understand. On days when everything feels like it’s falling apart, your presence becomes his only source of calm. But when Mikey realizes just how much you mean to him, he's left wondering if there's a chance for something more. ✧ Content/Tags: Emotional vulnerability, Mentions of stress/burnout, Angst, Slow Burn, Vulnerability, Pining, Emotional Support, Confession ✧ WC: 1323 words // 7470 chars

Mikey was used to handling things alone.

Being the leader of Toman came with burdens that no one else could truly understand. The pressure of making decisions, keeping his friends safe, staying strong for everyone—it was a constant weight on his shoulders. Most days, he carried it without complaint, hiding his exhaustion behind that calm, almost childlike demeanor he was known for.

But there were days when it all became too much. Days like today, when even the smallest frustrations piled up until they became overwhelming, leaving him on the verge of snapping.

Mikey sat at the edge of the rundown rooftop, his legs dangling over the side as he stared blankly at the horizon. The sun was setting, casting long shadows across the city, but he couldn’t bring himself to appreciate the beauty of it. His mind was racing, his heart heavy with unspoken thoughts.

It was one of those days.

He’d been distant with the gang, unusually quiet, and though his friends had noticed, none of them dared to ask what was wrong. They knew better than to pry when Mikey was in one of his moods. Only Draken had given him a look, that knowing expression that said he understood—but even he hadn’t tried to approach.

Mikey preferred it that way. He didn’t want to be asked how he was feeling. He didn’t want to explain. He just wanted… to escape.

And that’s where you came in.

You weren’t a member of Toman, not in the traditional sense, but you’d been around long enough to be considered part of the family. You were close to the core group, though you never really saw yourself as anyone particularly important. You were just… there. Someone who offered a kind smile, someone who listened, someone who brought a sense of normalcy to their otherwise chaotic lives.

Unbeknownst to you, that normalcy had become something Mikey craved more than he would ever admit.

You spotted him sitting alone on the rooftop when you went looking for him. The others had mentioned his unusual behavior today, and while they didn’t seem too worried, you couldn’t help but feel concerned. Something about his silence had struck you as different, more unsettling than usual.

“Mikey?”

Your voice was soft as you approached, not wanting to startle him. He didn’t turn to look at you, but his shoulders relaxed ever so slightly at the sound of your voice.

Without waiting for an invitation, you sat down beside him, careful to leave a little space between you. The cool breeze tugged at your hair, and for a moment, neither of you spoke.

You glanced at him, noting the way his eyes were fixated on the horizon, distant and unfocused. “You okay?”

Mikey didn’t respond right away. He wasn’t sure how to explain what he was feeling—not even to himself. Instead, he shrugged, a small, almost imperceptible movement.

You weren’t surprised by his silence. He had always been a man of few words when it came to his emotions, and you’d long since learned that pushing him for answers wasn’t the way to go. So, you sat quietly beside him, your presence calm and steady.

After a few minutes, you sighed softly and leaned back, resting your hands behind you. “You know,” you began casually, your tone light, “sometimes I just come up here to watch the sunset when I’ve had a bad day. It’s kinda nice, isn’t it?”

Mikey’s gaze flickered to you for the first time since you’d arrived, his expression unreadable. He didn’t respond, but the tension in his posture eased just a little more.

You smiled, more to yourself than to him. “Yeah. It’s peaceful up here. Like nothing else matters.”

He remained quiet, but you didn’t mind. There was something about just sitting with him, even in silence, that felt… right. You didn’t need to fill the space with meaningless words. Sometimes, just being there was enough.

Minutes ticked by, and the sky shifted from orange to pink, then deep purple. The world around you seemed to grow quieter, and you found yourself relaxing more, the weight of the day lifting from your own shoulders.

Mikey, on the other hand, was watching you now. He didn’t know when it had happened, but at some point, your mere presence had become something he relied on. Something that grounded him when everything else felt like it was slipping through his fingers. You never asked for anything, never expected him to explain himself or act a certain way around you. You just… were. And that simple fact had become his lifeline.

He shifted slightly, moving closer to you, though he made sure not to draw attention to it. He didn’t want you to think too much of it—not yet, at least.

You turned your head, catching his movement, and smiled at him, though you didn’t comment on the fact that he was now sitting a little closer than before.

“Thanks,” he muttered suddenly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You blinked, surprised by the suddenness of his words. “For what?”

“For… this.” His eyes were still on the horizon, but his voice was softer than you’d ever heard it. “For just… being here.”

Your heart warmed at his words, but you shrugged it off, trying to keep things light. “Hey, that’s what friends are for, right?”

Friends. That word stung more than Mikey had expected it to. Was that all you thought you were? Just friends?

He didn’t respond, but the silence that followed was different this time—more charged, more significant. You felt it too, though you weren’t sure why. There was something in the way he was looking at you now, something in the air between you that made your pulse quicken.

Before you could say anything else, Mikey spoke again, his voice low and almost hesitant. “You don’t… even realize, do you?”

You frowned slightly, confused. “Realize what?”

“How much this means to me.” His gaze finally met yours, and the vulnerability in his eyes took your breath away. “How much you mean to me.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, you were at a loss for words. You had never seen Mikey like this—so open, so raw. It was like the walls he had spent so long building around himself were starting to crack, just enough for you to see what lay beneath.

“I…” You struggled to find the right words, unsure of how to respond.

Mikey sighed, his usual confident demeanor faltering as he ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know how to say this without sounding like an idiot, but… you’re the only one who can calm me down. When everything feels like it’s falling apart, you’re the only thing that keeps me from losing it.”

His confession hit you like a wave, and suddenly, everything made sense. The way he always seemed to seek you out, the way he relaxed whenever you were around. It wasn’t just coincidence. It was because you had become something more to him—something that went beyond friendship.

“I didn’t know…” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I didn’t know I meant that much to you.”

Mikey smiled, though it was small and a little sad. “Yeah, well… I didn’t realize it either, until now.”

The silence that followed was thick with unspoken feelings, and you weren’t sure what to say. Your heart was racing, your mind spinning, but one thing was clear: Mikey needed you, in a way that no one else did. And maybe, just maybe, you needed him too.

Slowly, you reached out, your hand brushing against his. “I’m here,” you said softly. “Whenever you need me.”

Mikey’s fingers curled around yours, his grip firm yet gentle. For the first time in what felt like forever, the weight on his shoulders lifted, just a little.

And for the first time, he allowed himself to hope—for something more, for something real.

[cold-red-venom]

Disrespectfully,

YOU NEED TO SPECIFY WHAT KIND OF READER IS IN YOUR FIC AT THE TOP OF THE FIC OR IN THE TAGS

I REPEAT, YOU NEED TO SPECIFY WHAT KIND OF FUCKING READER IS IN YOUR GODDAMN FIC

Thank you.

[brunchable]

𝙄 𝘿𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙇𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙖 𝘽𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙁𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙙

Part Two Pairings: Bucky Barnes x f!Reader Themes: Heavy Mutual Pinining, Heavy Sexual Tension, Longing, Yearning, Right Person-Wrong Time. Friends to Lovers, a bit Angsty but Happy Ending. SMUT: Touch Hungry Bucky, Kiss Hungry Bucky, Bucky being obsessed with tiddies, unprotected piv, creampie. Summary: Bucky can't decide if the universe loves him or hates him. Maybe it loves to hate him. Maybe it's mischievous. Because he’s in love. He’s madly, deeply, painfully in love with a girl that he knows he’ll never have. Because the heavens created arguably the most perfect creature in their repertoire, dangled you in front of him for his entire life, and chose to rip you away before he had the chance to tell you how he felt. A/N: This is a Two Shot, so another one will be coming soon.

tags: @hzdhrtss @winterslove1917 @classicrebound

The first time it really hits is when you see him with her.

It’s a crowded room, warm bodies pressed close together, the low hum of music barely louder than the thudding in your chest as you watch Bucky Barnes wrap his arm around the waist of a woman you don’t know. 

She’s beautiful, of course—someone you'd expect to be by his side. Her laugh is soft, melting into his as he leans in close, whispering something that lights her face up, his lips brushing her ear like he can’t help himself.

You glance down at your drink, the sudden bitterness pooling in your throat harder to swallow than the wine. You tell yourself to look away, that it’s none of your business who he holds, but you can’t. Every time you look up, he’s there, still wrapped around her, laughing at something she’s said, his hand resting on her back in a way that feels too familiar, too tender. You know that look—the way his fingers splay protectively, pulling her close like she belongs to him. Like he’s finally let someone in.

It’s torture, standing there with a smile plastered on your face, pretending not to notice. Pretending that it doesn’t crush you.

Because when you’re alone—when you’re single—he’s taken. And when he’s got nobody, you do. Every single time. You’ve gotten used to seeing him across rooms, with someone else in his arms, with that look in his eyes that you wish, desperately, could be meant for you.

And he’s always looking at you that same way, that glance just a second too long, that warmth held back by a fragile thread of restraint. Just enough to keep the lines from blurring.

Tonight, he finally looks away.

When he glances up, catches sight of you, his smile falters. For a moment, it’s just the two of you, and something soft flickers in his eyes—something like regret, the same regret you carry. But her hand tightens on his arm, and he turns back to her, his smile returning, wider than before. You hate how easily he can pull away from you, how quickly he can make you feel invisible.

“Hey, Bucky,” you manage, your voice steady though it feels like your chest is caving in.

He looks at you, an unreadable expression on his face. 

“Hey.” His gaze drops, and for a second, you think he might actually say something, that he might admit that this hurts him too. But then she shifts closer, and he wraps his arm around her more firmly, giving you a look that’s both a dare and a dismissal.

“This is Emily,” he says, and she gives you a polite, too-sweet smile.

“Oh.” You swallow, forcing yourself to meet her gaze. “I didn’t know… I hadn’t realized you were…” You can’t finish, the words catching in your throat.

“Yeah.” Bucky’s tone is almost too casual, too final. “We’re together.”

The finality of it slices through you, sharp and clean. You nod, trying to hold onto whatever scraps of dignity you have left, but all you can manage is, “Well… congratulations. I’m… I’m glad you’re happy.”

There’s a flicker of something behind his eyes—anger? Hurt? But his jaw tightens, and he nods, looking away as if to spare you. 

“Thanks. I appreciate it,” he says, his voice steady, controlled.

Emily pulls him closer, a satisfied smile curving her lips as she glances at you. 

“He’s incredible, isn’t he?” she says, and there’s a challenge in her tone, a silent declaration that she’s won, that whatever you think you had with him is nothing compared to this. She presses a kiss to his cheek, her fingers curling possessively around his shoulder as she tilts her head, catching his gaze.

“Yeah,” you murmur, your voice hollow. “Yeah, he is.”

And for a brief, desperate second, you think he might look at you—really look at you, see how much this is tearing you apart. But he doesn’t. His gaze is on her, soft and full of warmth, a look he’s given you a thousand times. And it feels like he’s choosing her, like he’s making the decision to let go of whatever fragile orbit kept you two circling each other all this time.

You turn away, trying to hold yourself together, but the ache in your chest is all-consuming, a raw, relentless reminder that he’s moved on. That he’s chosen her.

And as you walk away, you can still hear their laughter, the sound twisting like a knife in your chest, leaving you wondering if he was ever yours to lose.

And then one night, fate flips, and you’re the one with someone new by your side.

It’s been months since you last saw Bucky. You assumed he was out of your life for good, until tonight, when you walk into the cozy warmth of a private dining room in a restaurant, your hand firmly held by your boyfriend Andrew. It’s Steve’s dinner party, a small gathering of friends, and the lighthearted chatter fills the air, mixing with the warm glow from the dimmed overhead lights.

You’re laughing at something your boyfriend said as you step into the room, but your laughter dies in your throat when you see him.

Bucky is seated across the table, leaning back casually in his chair, but the moment his eyes meet yours, a spark flickers there—surprise, mingled with something darker, something that quickens your pulse. You hadn’t expected him to be here tonight, and judging by the way his gaze lingers, he hadn’t expected you either.

Steve stands, grinning as he greets you and Andrew, and you introduce him to everyone. You smile, trying to seem natural as you move around the table, your hand still resting in your boyfriend’s. But it feels wrong, the warmth of your boyfriend’s fingers against yours suddenly strange, like it doesn’t quite belong.

When you reach Bucky, he stands, his jaw tense, his eyes unwavering as he offers a hand to shake. You almost expect him to make some dry remark, to cover up whatever unspoken tension lies between you. But he’s silent as he grips Andrew’s hand firmly, while looking at you. His fingers are steady, a touch too tight, like he’s barely holding something back.

“So, you’re the boyfriend,” Bucky says, his voice calm but laced with something you can’t quite place.

Your boyfriend laughs, unaware of the tension. “Yeah, I am. And you’re the famous Bucky I keep hearing about.”

Bucky’s lips twitch into a half-smile, but his eyes remain cold. 

“I’m sure you have.” He releases your boyfriend’s hand, his gaze shifting back to you, lingering a second too long before he forces himself to look away.

It should feel like a victory—that, for once, you’re the one who’s found happiness while he’s left to watch. But the second you meet his eyes, the air shifts. You feel the weight of everything unspoken, of the years that have passed with both of you just out of reach, orbiting each other but never colliding.

You take your seat next to your boyfriend, aware of every brush of his arm against yours, every gentle squeeze of his hand on your knee under the table. He leans close, murmuring something soft and sweet, and you offer a small smile, but your focus is entirely on Bucky, sitting across the table, his gaze flickering between you and Andrew, his jaw set with that same restrained tension.

As the night wears on, Bucky remains quiet, only contributing here and there to the conversation, but each time he speaks, his words feel weighted, almost directed at you.

“So,” he says, finally breaking the silence, his voice cutting through the chatter, “I’m guessing you’re happy?”

The question is simple enough, but there’s a challenge hidden beneath it, a question he doesn’t ask outright.

“Yes, I am,” you say, your voice firmer than you feel, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “Happier than I’ve been in a long time.”

Your boyfriend glances over, squeezing your hand, unaware of the undercurrents in the room. 

“She’s stuck with me now,” he jokes, nudging you. “No escape.”

You laugh softly, but the sound feels hollow, especially when you catch Bucky’s expression—something dark and raw flashing in his eyes before he schools his features again.

“Good for you both,” Bucky replies, the smile on his face not quite reaching his eyes. “It’s about time.”

There’s a pause, the kind that seems to echo louder than any conversation, and you can feel Bucky’s gaze burning into you, filled with a thousand things he can’t say. Your chest tightens as the weight of everything unsaid settles heavily between you, filling the air with a tension you’re certain everyone can feel.

As people start to leave, you find yourself alone with Bucky by the door. Your boyfriend is across the room, saying goodbyes, and it’s just you and Bucky in the dimly lit entryway, a fragile bubble of space and time.

“So…” His voice is low, almost too soft, his eyes searching yours. “This is it, then?”

There’s a vulnerability in his words that pierces through you, a rawness you’ve never heard before. It’s as if he’s waiting for you to deny it.

You glance away, your voice barely a whisper. “Yep. This is it.”

A shadow crosses his face, and he just stands there, watching you, his gaze heavy. He doesn’t say anything for awhile, his hand lingering just inches from yours, as though he’s contemplating reaching out, breaking whatever boundary lies between you. The air feels thick, and you wonder if he can hear the frantic beat of your heart.

But he lets his hand fall back to his side. 

“Guess there’s nothing left to say,” he murmurs, a bitter edge coloring his voice. His eyes linger on you, as if he’s memorizing every detail, every second of this final, silent goodbye.

You open your mouth, but the words die on your lips, caught between everything you want to say and everything you can’t. You reach out, almost instinctively, but Andrew calls your name from across the room, his voice shattering the fragile stillness.

Bucky’s gaze flickers, and he takes a step back, his expression falling into something guarded. 

“Take care, doll,” he says softly, the words laced with both a goodbye and a promise. His eyes linger on you one last time, and then he’s gone, slipping out into the night.

He’d spent years replacing your lips with so many others, all in an attempt to forget the mark you left on him.

Bucky can't decide if the universe loves him or hates him. Maybe it loves to hate him. Maybe it's mischievous. Because he’s in love. He’s madly, deeply, painfully in love with a girl that he knows he’ll never have. Because the heavens created arguably the most perfect creature in their repertoire, dangled her in front of him for his entire life, and chose to rip you away before he had the chance to tell you how he felt.

× × × × 

Present

It’s one of those nights, another dinner gathering among friends, the kind that’s almost become routine. You’re already seated in the cozy living room, surrounded by the familiar warmth of Steve’s place. The soft glow of lamps and low bable of conversation wrap around you like a comfortable blanket, and for the first time in a long time, you’re truly at ease.

Beside you, Sam nudges your shoulder. 

“Hey Boo,” he says, a teasing smirk tugging at his lips, “remember when you and Bucky were practically attached at the hip? What happened there?”

The question catches you off guard, and you feel warmth creeping up your neck as a few heads turn, curious eyes glancing your way. You roll your eyes, nudging him back. 

“Leave it to you to bring that up, Sam.”

He chuckles, unrelenting. “C’mon, just saying. You two were tight. I mean, tight.”

You let out a small, nervous laugh, feeling the weight of a few more gazes on you, even if they aren’t pushing the question. 

“It’s… complicated,” you finally say, giving him a look that tells him to drop it. But Sam just chuckles, clearly amused, like he knows something no one else does.

“Complicated.” He echoes with a slow nod, a knowing grin spreading. “Right. Complicated.”

“You’re so annoying,” you mutter, barely suppressing a smile, but you can’t deny the fondness in your tone. Sam just winks, nudging you again, and the others quickly move on, the brief moment of attention fading as conversation flows around you.

And that’s when the front door opens, and you hear his voice.

“Sorry I’m late,” Bucky calls out, his deep voice filling the space effortlessly as he steps in, slightly flushed from the cold outside. His eyes scan the room, and the moment they land on you, you swear the air shifts, that it crackles with something electric, something only the two of you seem to feel.

Your heart stumbles over itself as he walks further into the room, tugging off his jacket and offering smiles and nods to everyone. But it’s like a magnetic pull—his eyes keep flickering back to you, and each time it does, your stomach does a nervous, excited flip.

He looks good. Better than good, really. There’s a slight scruff along his jaw, and his hair falls just so, framing his face in a way that makes you want to reach out and touch it. When he finally reaches the empty chair directly across from you, he stops, fingers lingering on the back of it.

“Mind if I sit here?” he asks, his voice low, and there’s something almost hesitant in his eyes, like he’s waiting for permission to be close to you.

You shake your head, trying to keep your cool, even though every part of you is screaming, yes, sit, sit right here and don’t you dare move.

“No, go ahead,” you reply, hoping your voice sounds steady.

He sits, close enough that you could reach out and touch him if you wanted, and the faint scent of his cologne drifts over, warm and familiar, making your head spin.

As he settles in, he leans slightly closer, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Long time no see.”

“Feels that way, doesn’t it?” you murmur, feeling your cheeks warm under his gaze. Every subtle movement, every small smile he throws your way feels like it’s weaving a thread around you both, pulling you in.

The conversation around you resumes, but it’s like you’re in a bubble, the two of you orbiting each other again. Every so often, his knee brushes yours under the table, just enough to send a shiver up your spine, to make you bite back a smile. His hand rests on the table between you, his fingers drumming absently, and you find yourself staring at them, remembering every time those hands had nearly, almost touched yours.

After a lull in conversation, he clears his throat, glancing at you sideways. 

“So… where’s the boyfriend?” he asks, almost casually, but you catch the underlying question. His tone is light, but his eyes are cautious, searching yours, looking for an answer he can’t ask outright.

You raise a brow, unable to hide the grin pulling at your lips. 

“Well,” you say, tilting your head slightly as you meet his gaze, “the lack of presence should answer your question.”

For a second, Bucky just stares, and then a slow, dawning smile spreads across his face, his whole expression softening, the guardedness falling away. He looks like he’s holding back from saying something, his fingers tapping out a rhythm on the table, his knee pressing just a little more against yours as he leans in.

And before you can think twice, you match his question with your own, barely above a whisper. “And where’s your girlfriend, Bucky?”

“Nonexistent.” he said almost instantly.

His eyes hold yours, and something subtle shifts in them—a hint of a smile playing at his lips, but he doesn’t look away though he plays it off with a small, casual shrug. “Guess I’ve been waiting for the right person.”

You nod, feeling the smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. 

“Nice,” you say, trying to keep it casual, though your heart’s picking up a pace of its own.

“Yeah… nice.” He lets out a quiet chuckle, raising an eyebrow as if he’s catching onto your attempt at nonchalance. 

Deafening silence settles between you, but it’s charged, a silent exchange that makes you feel more breathless than words ever could. Neither of you seems to move, his knee still brushing yours under the table, and it feels like he’s lingering in your space, right on that line between friend and something more. 

You glance around, feeling the tension rise, and blow your bangs out of your eyes, hoping it might ease the knot in your stomach. But when you sneak a look at him, he’s still staring, his gaze solid, unblinking, and suddenly you’re hyper aware of every tiny shift in the air between you. Your cheeks warm, and you look away quickly, pressing your lips together, but it only makes your heart pound harder.

Your cheeks warm instantly, and you quickly look away, focusing hard on the table.

A small smile tugs at his lips, his voice soft. “Do I make you uncomfortable?”

Your pulse quickens, and you swallow, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. 

“Maybe a little,” you admit, voice barely above a whisper.

A spark lights in his eyes, and his smile widens, soft but undeniably mischievous. 

“Good,” he murmurs, his knee pressing just a fraction closer to yours, enough to send a thrill up your spine. “Because, for the record… you make me a little nervous too.”

Your heart does a flip, and you feel a grin tug at your lips despite yourself. 

“I make you nervous?” You try to keep the surprise out of your voice, but he just nods, his gaze intense, that teasing warmth settling over his expression.

“Yeah, you do,” he says, his tone light but honest, like he’s been waiting to say it. “Especially when you look at me like that.”

“Like what?” you ask, barely breathing.

“Like you’re about to bolt… but part of you doesn’t want to.” His voice is low, and his eyes search yours, as if he’s daring you to deny it.

You feel the smile you’ve been holding back break through, your heart racing as the last of the distance between you seems to dissolve. Just as you’re about to respond, a voice calls from the dining room, breaking the tension as everyone calls you both to join.

“Guess we should go, huh?” Bucky lets out a soft chuckle, pulling back just slightly, though his gaze lingers on yours for a heartbeat longer. 

“Yeah,” you manage, feeling a little breathless.

But as you both stand and head to the dining room, his hand brushes yours, just enough for his pinky to link with yours for a brief, secret moment. The warmth of that tiny touch lingers, and you can’t help but feel like something just shifted between you, something new and thrilling, waiting just under the surface.

× × × ×

As you both step into the dining room, Sam raises an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. “There they are,” he teases, his voice just loud enough to draw everyone’s attention. “We were wondering what’s taking so long.”

Heat creeps up your cheeks, and you catch Bucky’s gaze, a subtle, knowing smile tugging at the corners of his lips. You feel your pulse quicken, but you don’t say anything, slipping into the room to find only two empty seats—right beside each other.

Bucky gestures to the chair beside him, waiting until you sit before settling in next to you. He settles in beside you, his broad shoulders and steady presence enveloping the space, making you feel smaller.

Conversations swirl around the table, but you’re painfully aware of every tiny shift Bucky makes. The subtle brush of his arm against yours, the steady warmth radiating from his shoulder—it all has your heart racing. His hand rests on the table beside yours, fingers drumming lightly, and your pulse hammers as his knee presses just slightly against yours under the table, a connection so subtle yet electric that it makes your skin tingle.

Then he adjusts his position, angling himself more toward the group—and you. The small movement brings him even closer, and you’re immediately enveloped in his scent, something warm and cedar-like, filling the air around you until it feels almost overwhelming, in the best possible way. You take a slow breath, fighting the urge to close the distance even more, feeling trapped between wanting to be near him and feeling breathless because of it.

As Bucky joins the conversation, you find yourself watching him, captivated by the way he leans in, his voice low and steady, his easy confidence only pulling you in deeper. His lips curve as he speaks, and you can’t help but linger on every detail, the way his eyes light up, the rough timbre of his laugh, every tiny thing about him that’s impossibly distracting.

And then, in the middle of a sentence, his eyes flick back to you, catching you looking. You quickly look away, feeling your cheeks burn as you fixate on your plate, hoping he didn’t notice the way you’d been studying him.

But out of the corner of your eye, you catch the faintest smirk tugging at his lips, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you. His pinky grazes yours again, a gentle, teasing touch, sending a thrill up your spine as he continues his conversation, his presence unmistakable and impossible to ignore.

You try to focus on anything else, but his gaze keeps finding you, even when you’re not looking. And with every shared glance, every quiet brush of his fingers, the air grows thicker, charged with something unspoken, as if each tiny touch is daring you to lean in, to close that final distance.

You’re doing everything you can to keep your composure, to focus on the laughter and stories being shared. But Bucky’s presence beside you is inescapable, it’s a thrill that’s leaving you silent, lost in your own thoughts as the night goes on.

Sam’s voice suddenly cuts through, pulling you back to reality. 

“Hey,” he says, smirking as he leans back in his chair, his gaze playful but sharp. “You’re unusually quiet tonight. What’s going on with you?”

Feeling everyone’s eyes on you, you force a small laugh, trying to brush off the tension simmering under your skin. 

“Just… food coma, I guess,” you say, waving a hand and attempting a casual smile. 

Sam raises an eyebrow, clearly amused.

“Food coma? Really?” He drags out the words, as if he’s not buying it for a second, and you can see the teasing glint in his eyes. “Pasta’s got you this speechless?”

Beside you, Bucky’s lips twitch, and you can feel his gaze, that familiar, subtle amusement making it impossible not to blush. You risk a quick glance at him, only to find him looking back with that same knowing smirk, like he can see right through every excuse.

“Maybe she’s just tired of all your talking, Sam,” Bucky says smoothly, draping his arm over the back of your chair as he speaks. The movement is so casual, so effortless, that it almost seems like an afterthought. But the warmth of his arm behind you, his fingers just brushing the curve of your shoulder, makes your heart race in ways you can’t ignore. His tone stays casual, but there’s a hint of laughter in his eyes as he looks at Sam, his thumb grazing your shoulder in a subtle, grounding touch.

Sam raises his hands in mock surrender, grinning. “Alright, alright. Just thought I’d check,” he says, throwing a playful wink in your direction.

You feel yourself sink back just slightly, leaning into the warmth of his arm, and it’s impossible to ignore the way his fingers stay near your shoulder, steady and unassuming but unmistakably there. The conversations resume around you, but the space between you and Bucky feels even smaller, the quiet thrill of his touch pulling you in.

He leans in slightly, his voice dropping so only you can hear. 

“That food coma excuse was almost convincing,” he murmurs, his eyes glinting with playful challenge as he watches your reaction.

× × × ×

As the night winds down, people start to gather their things, saying their goodbyes. You slip on your coat, waiting for Sam to finish up his goodbyes, but he suddenly turns to Steve with a grin.

“Hey, Rogers,” Sam says, clapping Steve on the shoulder. “How about we hit that bar down the street? Just a quick nightcap.”

You raise an eyebrow, deadpanning as you fold your arms. “Seriously, Sam?”

He flashes you an unapologetic grin, shrugging. “What? You’re always saying you’re an independent woman. I figured a little alone time wouldn’t hurt.”

“Unbelievable.” You shake your head, muttering, “You’re an asshole.”

Sam just laughs, looking over his shoulder. 

“Hey, maybe Bucky can give you a lift. It’ll be like old times.” He gives you a wink, completely ignoring the way your cheeks warm.

You glance at Bucky, trying to keep your expression neutral. “It’s fine, really,” you say quickly. “I’ll just grab an Uber.”

“Suit yourself,” Sam says, grabbing his jacket and heading out with Steve. “But you know Bucky’s free.” He gives you one last smirk before slipping out the door, leaving you standing there with Bucky, who’s leaning casually against the wall, one eyebrow raised in amusement.

“Need a ride?” he asks, his voice warm, that familiar glint in his eyes that makes your stomach flutter.

You open your mouth to decline, still feeling a bit of resistance. “It’s fine. Really. I’ll just grab an Uber.”

Bucky chuckles softly, tilting his head toward the door. “I’ll drop you off. It’s fine.”

You hold his gaze for a few seconds, trying to gauge his sincerity, but there’s that familiar steadiness in his eyes, a quiet patience that leaves you with no real reason to argue. Finally, you sigh, giving in with a reluctant nod.

The car ride starts in silence, the engine’s low hum filling the tense quiet between you, only occasionally interrupted by the soft rattle of snowflakes pelting against the windows as the blizzard starts to gather strength. 

You shift in your seat, fidgeting, your hands smoothing over your coat, your fingers picking at invisible lint. Nothing feels comfortable. Every second, your eyes flick to the window, tracing the passing streetlights, trying to focus on anything but him.

But you can feel him there. The warmth of him beside you, the steady, calm presence that somehow has you on edge, unable to breathe fully. His familiar scent fills the car—a mix of cedar and something undeniably him—sharp and soothing all at once, making the small space feel even smaller.

You cross your arms, uncross them, uncross your legs, then cross them again, pressing your back firmly into the seat as if that might stop the quick, relentless beat of your heart. But each turn he makes, each slight shift of his shoulders, sends a fresh rush of awareness through you, and your mind is racing, trying to keep pace with the pulsing tension that seems to settle between you like a third presence.

Finally, desperate for a distraction, you reach over and flip on the radio, hoping for anything to ease the silence. But the first song is almost too on the nose, the lyrics hitting like they were made for this moment:

"All of this silence and patience, pining and anticipation, my hands are shaking from holding back from you…”

A breath catches in your throat, and before the verse can continue, you reach over and quickly press the button again, changing the station, feeling heat rise to your cheeks.

The next station crackles to life, and it’s somehow worse.

“Cause when I got somebody, you don’t and when you got somebody, I don’t. I wish that the time would line up so we could just give in…”

Your pulse races, and you switch stations again, more urgently this time, and the next song fills the car with a familiar pop beat.

“You ain’t my boyfriend and I ain’t your girlfriend. But you don’t want me to see nobody else and I don’t want you to see nobody…”

You press the power button, cutting off the music entirely, and the silence that follows feels heavier than before. Your fingers tighten around the edge of your coat, and out of the corner of your eye, you see him glancing your way, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips.

Bucky clears his throat, his voice a low murmur. “Trouble finding a station?”

You manage a quick, nervous laugh, eyes fixed on the road ahead. 

“Yeah… something like that.”

He just nods, his gaze returning to the road, but you catch the lingering smile in his expression, like he’s perfectly aware of the tension simmering between you, the unspoken things filling the silence.

And as the quiet stretches, you can hear his breathing, steady and unhurried, and it only makes you more aware of your own. You try to breathe normally, in and out, but each breath feels too loud, too obvious, like you’re trying and failing to hide something you both already know.

× × × × 

Bucky pulls up in your driveway, and for a moment, the relief you thought you’d feel at reaching home is overshadowed by something else—something closer to disappointment. The quiet tension that’s been hanging between you feels almost unfinished, and you find yourself wishing the ride could somehow stretch on just a little longer.

He leaves the engine idling, the faint rumble filling the silence as you both sit there, neither moving to get out. After a few seconds, you clear your throat, glancing over at him with a small, reluctant smile.

“Thanks for the ride,” you say, voice softer than you intended.

Bucky nods, returning your smile, but you can see a similar reluctance flicker across his face as he glances toward the house. 

“Anytime,” he murmurs.

Your eyes drift to the porch, and you remember the old habit the two of you shared, back when he’d drop by after a night out with everyone—those late nights with coffee and the dessert your mom always made, the one he loved and never turned down.

The memory brings a small smile to your lips, and before you can second-guess yourself, you look back at him. 

“Actually… my mom made her chocolate tart. The one you like. If you’re up for coffee and dessert, that is,” you say, feeling a twinge of nerves despite the casual invitation.

He raises an eyebrow, clearly caught off guard, but you catch the hint of warmth in his eyes. 

“Chocolate tart, huh?” he echoes, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You know I can’t say no to that.”

You shrug, playing it off, but your heart races as you nod toward the door. 

“Figured it’d be a shame to let it go to waste. Besides,” you add, trying to keep your tone light, “it’s been a while since we did coffee and dessert.”

Bucky’s smile widens, and he cuts the engine, pocketing his keys before glancing at you with that familiar spark in his eyes. 

“Guess it’s tradition,” he says, opening his door. “Wouldn’t want to break it.”

You step out, leading him up the walkway, and as you unlock the door, the feeling of anticipation settles back over you, even stronger now. It’s like the tension from the car ride has followed you inside. 

As you head into the kitchen, Bucky follows, his gaze drifting over the familiar space. He takes in the room, noticing what’s changed and what’s stayed the same. The same cozy lamp in the corner, casting a warm glow over the soft cushions on the couch, the same framed photos on the wall—but a few new things catch his attention.

A navy-blue jacket, draped over the armchair, too large to be yours. A set of keys on the counter with a small metal keychain that he doesn’t recognize. And a book on the coffee table, a spy thriller with a bookmark halfway through. He frowns slightly, his mind racing as he takes in these small, unfamiliar details, each one lighting a spark of jealousy that flares bright, unbidden.

He hadn’t asked about Andrew—hadn’t wanted to. But now, surrounded by small traces of him, the thought of someone else being part of this space, of sharing moments with you that once might have been his, digs into him with an unexpected force. The sight of it sparks something sharp and unbidden within him, jealousy flaring up like a match struck in the dark. He swallows, trying to ignore it, trying to remind himself that he has no right to feel this way, but the thought of Andrew’s things still lingering here sends his mind racing.

In the kitchen, you’re busy slicing the chocolate tart, setting two plates with practiced ease as you fill the silence with the familiar rhythm of preparing coffee. But every now and then, you feel his gaze on you, heavy and searching, like he’s taking in every detail of the room and of you.

Bucky clears his throat softly, his voice low as he leans against the doorway, watching you pour the coffee. “Things… feel different here,” he says, trying to keep his tone casual, but there’s a roughness in his voice that betrays him.

Your eyes follow his gaze to the jacket, and a flicker of understanding crosses your face. You give a small, almost sheepish laugh. 

“Oh, that. He left it here ages ago. I keep meaning to get rid of it, but it’s… just kind of stayed.” You shrug, looking away as if embarrassed by the attachment. “Guess I’m just lazy.”

He nods, the answer somehow not as satisfying as he’d hoped. His gaze shifts back to the room, trying to reconcile this familiar space with the small hints of someone else. 

“Ah,” he says, his tone lighter. “I get it. Hard to let go of things sometimes.”

You nod, a knowing look in your eyes, as if you both understand the layers beneath his words. You hand him his plate, the rich scent of chocolate and coffee filling the room as he takes it, his fingers brushing yours for a brief, lingering moment.

Settling down at the table, he watches you from across the coffee cup, the quiet tension between you only growing thicker. And as he takes a bite of the chocolate tart, the flavors familiar and nostalgic, he can’t help but feel like he’s grasping at something he’s been missing for too long.

You try to focus on your coffee, but Bucky’s gaze is unwavering, fixed solely on you. He takes another slow bite of the chocolate tart, and the way his eyes soften, paired with the slight curve of his lips. It’s like he’s seeing something he missed, something he can’t look away from.

After a beat, you feel the heat rising in your cheeks, unable to take it anymore. 

“What?” you murmur, trying to keep your voice steady, but your heart’s racing too fast.

For a moment, he doesn’t answer. He just holds your gaze, eyes dark, thoughtful, and a little teasing, as if he’s enjoying watching you squirm. 

“Just… wondering why it took so long to get back here— it feels good to be here. With you.” His voice is low, quiet, but there’s a warmth behind it that makes your stomach flip.

You glance down, biting back a smile, but you can feel his gaze still on you, unrelenting, like he’s waiting for you to look back. 

“It’s just dessert, Bucky,” you murmur, trying to keep the moment light, but your cheeks betray you, a blush blooming under his attention.

“Maybe,” he replies, his tone teasing, eyes glinting. “But it’s the best damn dessert I’ve had in a long time.” He takes a slow bite of the tart, watching you with that infuriatingly soft gaze that makes it impossible to breathe.

"Christ..." you mutter under your breath, barely aware you’ve said it aloud. His gaze is so intense, it feels like he’s peeling away every defense you’ve carefully built.

“Didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he murmurs, but there’s a teasing lilt in his voice, like he’s testing just how far he can push.

You let out a shaky laugh, glancing down at your coffee to avoid those piercing eyes. 

“You’re not… it’s just—” You don’t know how to finish the thought, every word slipping away under his unwavering stare.

He lets the silence hang for a beat, the corner of his mouth lifting into a smirk that’s equal parts infuriating and heart-stopping. Then he leans forward, just a bit closer, his eyes still locked on you, the teasing glint in them intensifying.

“You sure about that?” he murmurs, voice low and velvet-smooth. His fingers toy with the edge of his coffee cup, but his attention never wavers, every inch of him focused on you. “Because if I’m honest… I think I like watching you get flustered. Kind of makes me wonder what else I could do to make you look at me like that.”

Your breath catches, and you feel your pulse race, cheeks burning as his words sink in, every nerve suddenly buzzing. You’re caught, and he knows it, the challenge in his gaze daring you to look away—but you don’t, rooted to the spot, every nerve in your body humming.

But in that moment of stunned silence, something in your expression shifts, your eyes widening ever so slightly. It’s not discomfort, but a soft vulnerability—an openness he wasn’t expecting.

He misreads it entirely.

Bucky straightens abruptly, his face softening as he lets out a quick, self-conscious laugh, breaking eye contact. “I—sorry,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck, his smirk fading. “I’m just messing with you. Didn’t mean to… you know, make things weird.”

Your heart clenches at the quickness with which he pulls back, his retreat sudden, like he’s trying to undo the last few moments. You open your mouth, words rushing to the tip of your tongue to stop him, to explain, to tell him he hadn’t made you uncomfortable at all.

“Bucky…” you say softly, reaching out before you can think twice. The moment your fingers brush his hand, he glances up, eyes wide, almost searching yours for permission.

And before you can lose your nerve, you let the words slip, your voice barely a whisper. “You didn’t make me uncomfortable… I just… wasn’t expecting that.”

The tension between you flares back to life, sharper, deeper, as he studies you, realization dawning in his gaze, as if he’s daring himself to believe what you’re saying.

× × × × 

The blizzard outside has intensified, blanketing everything in a thick layer of snow that doesn’t look like it’ll be easing up anytime soon. By the time you both finish your coffee and dessert, the wind is howling against the windows, and the soft glow from the streetlights barely penetrates the wall of snow outside.

You walk to the window, peering out into the swirling white, and let out a small sigh. 

“Looks like it’s getting worse,” you murmur, more to yourself than to Bucky, the words carrying a quiet invitation you don’t fully realize.

Behind you, he steps closer, joining you by the window, his hand resting on the edge of the sill as he gazes out into the storm. 

“Guess I might have to wait it out,” he says, a hint of reluctance in his voice, though his eyes flicker with something warmer as they meet yours. His tone is casual, almost nonchalant, but the unspoken question lingers between you.

You turn to face him, folding your arms, trying to play it off casually. 

“Yeah, probably not the best idea to be out there in this.” You pause, giving him a small smile. “I mean, I have a couch. Wouldn’t be the first time you crashed here.”

He chuckles softly, nodding. 

“Right. Wouldn’t want to risk life and limb just to get home.” There’s a glimmer of amusement in his gaze, like he’s just as reluctant as you are to let the night end.

You manage a laugh, a quiet, slightly nervous sound as you gesture towards the living room. 

“The couch is all yours if you want it. I can grab a spare blanket.” The offer feels both genuine and like an excuse, a small plea for him to stay, if only a bit longer.

“Thanks,” he says, his voice soft, a warmth in his tone that makes your heart skip. “Appreciate it.”

As you disappear down the hall to fetch a blanket and pillow, he lingers in the living room, glancing around the familiar space. He’s barely acknowledged how much he’s missed this—missed you—and now, surrounded by small remnants of your life, it all feels heavier than he expected, like he’s on the brink of something he’s not ready to let go of.

You return with a thick blanket and a pillow, handing them to him as he sets them down on the couch. 

“Here you go. It’s not much, but… I think you’ll survive,” you say, though there’s something tentative in your voice, almost as if you’re testing the waters, hoping he’ll stay a little closer.

Bucky chuckles, sitting on the edge of the couch, his hands settling over his knees as he looks up at you. 

“Yeah, I’ve handled worse, I think,” he replies, his gaze lingering just a bit too long.

A quiet pause stretches between you, neither of you moving. Outside, the snow falls in thick, relentless waves, cocooning you both in this shared moment, and you feel the weight of what’s left unsaid, lingering like an invitation neither of you dares to speak aloud.

Finally, you clear your throat, offering a small smile. 

“Well… goodnight, Bucky,” you say, your voice softer than you intended, and you find yourself hesitating, like you’re reluctant to leave.

He nods, his gaze holding yours for a moment longer than necessary. “Goodnight, doll.”

× × × ×

Bucky was asleep on the couch. Your couch. Crashing at your place, as he had so many nights before.

The man you wanted more than you’d ever wanted anyone in your life.

You couldn't sleep, tossing and turning and thinking of him lying not thirty feet away from you on the other side of your bedroom wall. He had stayed over countless times, what was it about tonight that had you squirming beneath the sheets? 

God, the subtle, masculine scent of him, the warmth of his body so close to yours—maybe he'd actually seen the little shiver of sexual awareness that had rippled through you during dinner.

Whatever it was, you were suffering now. His smile, his voice, his deep, infectious laugh...so what if he had been your friend since, so what if he could be a bit of a doofus at times—okay, a lot of the time—so what if you were both single now and feeling that familiar itch, that longing, that uncomfortable awareness of being without someone just a bit too long.

Fuck.

You both had talked about this. Once—a long time ago. You had agreed; getting involved wasn't the right thing to do—look how many friendships were ruined by relationships.

You threw back the duvet and swung your legs over the side of the bed, wiggling your toes nervously as you bit your lip. 

You needed a drink, that's what you needed. Not that kind of drink—although God knew you weren't far from it. You needed a cool glass of water from the pitcher in the fridge and maybe some splashed on your face for good measure. 

Then you could come back to bed and read. Or listen to some music. Or... something. You had an early start in the morning, you had to find some way to get some sleep. If you were really quiet, you could slip right past him and he'd never even know you'd been out of your room.

You creaked open your bedroom door and listened for the sound of his quiet snoring. Sure enough, the soft sounds of sleep drifted towards you and you straightened, relaxing a little. 

He was sleeping just fine. He wasn't tossing and turning thinking about you.

You slipped out into the chilly living room, and shivered involuntarily. You'd set the thermostat low in the living room to save energy, completely forgetting to turn it up for his sake, so while your bedroom was toasty warm, the living room was cold and still. 

Guiltily you cast your eyes over his sleeping form, sprawled inelegantly over the couch with one hand thrown over his eyes and one leg up over the back of the sofa. He wore only a t-shirt and boxers, and lying with the blanket kicked to the floor instead to cover himself with, he looked vulnerable somehow, and uncomfortable.

And incredibly, almost achingly sexy.

Your eyes roamed over him in blatant appreciation. He was a powerhouse of strength, with thick, chiseled muscles that seemed almost carved from stone. Broad shoulders tapered down to a torso built from years of dedication, and his arms were thick with veins and ridges that caught the light. 

Your gaze slid down his powerful legs, the defined muscle of his thighs flexing beneath the hem of his shorts. He was the embodiment of rugged masculinity, intense and undeniably commanding. His stubbled jaw caught your eye, and you let your gaze linger on his lips—the lips you’d dreamed of tasting so many times...too many times, in fact. So often that sometimes you imagined the fantasy as if it were a memory. So delicious, so sensual and hot.

Only he wasn't hot—you try to tell yourself. You dragged yourself back to reality, frowning as you looked down at him. He was cold.

You went back to the bedroom and pulled an extra blanket off the closet shelf, and carried it back to lay across his sleeping form. He stirred slightly as you draped it over him, and his eyelids fluttered open.             

“Hmmm…” Bucky mumbled thickly, his voice hoarse and low. “Good morning.”

“It's not morning, it's two a.m,” you whispered. “I was just getting you another blanket. Go back to sleep.”

“Mmmmm…” he said, cuddling it around him.

He pulled his leg down off the couch and straightened himself out, stretching languidly, shuddering, like a cat. You loved watching the way his muscles tensed and relaxed. You loved watching him do anything, in fact.

“It's so cold,” You said by way of an unasked-for explanation, and looked away from his body. His eyes were still closed so you could have looked a little longer, but didn't want to risk it.

“Cold?” he murmured. “Just a second.” He pushed aside the blanket and reached for you, tugging you down towards him.

You gasped and lost your footing, sitting down hard on the couch beside him. He pulled you down and enveloped you in his arms, pulling you tight against his chest.

He flipped the blanket over top of both of you. “There. I'll keep you warm.”

A sleepy duskiness coloured his voice, and something in the intimacy of it, the familiarity of it, made your heart flutter rebelliously in your chest. He smelled so damn good, like a mixture of soap and the sweet warm and musky scent of cedar wood. He drew you in closer, molding his body against yours, and God help you, you allowed him. You settled in more comfortably beside him, your leg thrown over his, your arm stretched across his chest.

“I was saying you must be cold,” you whispered. “Not telling you I was.”

“I know.” Bucky said without missing a beat.

You lay there, entwined, quiet, saying nothing more. You rested your head against his chest and could feel more than hear the lazy beat of his heart, and the quiet, smooth passage of his breath. His hand languidly caressed your arm, the rhythm growing slower as he drifted back to sleep. 

Sleep threatened to claim you, too, so you stirred, trying to disentangle from him. You'd have to be near your alarm clock or you'd never get up in time.

“No, don't go,” Bucky murmured as you tried to move. He held you tighter.

“I have to,” you whispered. “I have to get some sleep, I have to get up in a few hours.”

“Stay.”

“I can't.”

He was gradually coming awake, slowly becoming more oriented. He shifted position slightly so that he was more on his side, looking down at you as he rested his head on his bent elbow. He stretched his other arm across you and pulled you closer, gently caressing you back.

“Stay,” he said again. His voice was clearer now. He was fully awake. Still slightly dazed from sleep, but awake.

You hesitated, letting your gaze roam over his face. Finally you whispered, “We talked about this a long time ago, remember?”

“I know. I'm sorry. I just...I want you to stay.”

In the dim moonlight spilling in through the French doors his features were muted, but his eyes—his eyes were large and dark, taking you in with a mixture of hope and trepidation. Bucky moistened his lips, his pupils growing even larger as they roamed over your face and you could feel the pace of his heart pick up and his breathing increase. 

His gaze moved down to your lips and his brow creased in an expression that could have been longing, or frustration, or both. He raised his eyes slowly to meet yours, the haze of desire stealing slowly into his gaze.

“You're not nothing to me,” he said, almost to himself. “That's precisely the problem.”

How on earth were you supposed to resist such a sensual, beautiful, soulful man? Stay? How could you not?

“Please,” he whispered. “Stay. . . I have something I need to get off my chest.”

Your resolve was crumbling as you felt your chest tighten. You looked into his eyes and barely managed to whisper the words. 

“What’s that?”

“This.” 

He lowered his head slowly and kissed you, brushing your lips softly, sensuously, as if in no particular hurry. As if he had all the time in the world to savor you, to taste you, to send pleasure rippling through you with every touch of his lips. He murmured softly as he gently nipped at your bottom lip, teasing your, biting and then kissing-better the lips he was bruising.

You could feel the pleasure he was taking in kissing you, the slow—tortuously slow—pleasure he was enjoying for himself and teasing out of you as he lingered in your mouth. Bucky’s hand slid along your jaw, tilting your face up to him, his thumb caressing your cheek as he kissed you. He broke the kiss and looked down at you in wonder, his eyes glittering in the dim light, then brought your face up to his and kissed you again.

You opened your mouth to him and his tongue slipped in to tangle sensuously with yours. He angled his head from one side to the other, exploring your mouth and pressing kisses along the edges of your lips. You kissed his cheeks, his chin, his light stubble gently razing your lips and making them all the more sensitive. When you found his lips again, their soft warmth was intoxicating and you deepened the kiss, teasing his tongue with your own.

You kissed him back sensually, with equal possessiveness and enjoyment, and knew that your response was emboldening him.

Bucky tensed and pressed against you, his kiss growing firmer and more insistent. His mouth moved over yours expertly, wringing pleasure from you in breaths that came faster and little cries that escaped into the quiet of the room. Your soft moans made him tense even more, and you could feel his arousal along the length of your leg, hard and urgent like the rest of his body. 

You were both warm now, and he threw back the blanket before settling back down on top of you, returning to the slow, rhythmic dance of kissing, teasing, and tasting that was just about driving you mad.

You slipped your hands up over your head, thinking to wrap them around him, but he found them and clasped your wrists together with his left hand and kept them there, holding you down with gentle pressure as he bent to kiss you more deeply. 

The sensation of being held by him, of being pinned down, gently, but with no doubt as to his strength, rushed through you in unfamiliar torrents of excitement. He entwined his fingers in yours, easing up the pressure, dipping his head between your upraised arms to kiss you deeply, slowly, torturously.

As his tongue tangled with yours the fingers of his right hand trailed up the side of your body, stopping at the swell of your breast. He ran his hand over you gently, tentatively, feeling the weight of it beneath him and groaning softly. He slipped his hand inside your robe and cupped you bare flesh, his warm hand gently squeezing, caressing, as he groaned again and grew even harder. His thumb circled over your nipple and you gasped, arching against him at the sudden sting of pleasure. He pushed aside the robe further, revealing your breast with its tight nipple, unbearably aroused by his touch.

"You are so beautiful," he whispered, gazing at you breast. He lowered his lips to your nipple and gently kissed it, his tongue tasting and savoring it the way he had just been savoring your mouth.

The wet warmth of his mouth on your sensitive flesh made you ache with a tension and desire you had never felt before. When his tongue swirled around you nipple languidly, when he took the sensitive bud into his mouth and suckled softly, you felt the exquisite torture of it flow down through you body to you very core. How could this feel so damn good? Just the lightest brush of his lips, his tongue, his teeth on your nipple and you felt almost ready to climax.

His free hand slid around to the small of your back and he lifted you gently, sliding you further down the couch and farther under him. You were completely beneath him now, and completely held by him, one strong hand gently pressing your wrists into the sofa cushions and the other splayed across you back while he bent his head and kissed and sucked and teased you breast. You almost couldn't bear the sensation as your nipple grew harder, more tender, and the pleasure started liquifying between your legs.

"Yes..." you breathed. You arched again, wanting him to release you from his mouth and yet hoping that he never would. "Oh my God, Bucky, that feels so good..."

Bucky lets go of your wrists and brings his hand down to your other breast, pushing aside your robe to free you completely. He caressed you, sensuously feeling the roundness of you, and trailed his lips across the rising swell, kissing and tasting and smiling at the way your soft flesh moved under his tongue. He gently grasped your breast and brought your nipple up to his mouth, which grew hard and exquisitely tender under his tongue. His fingers continued to tease your other nipple, the one still stinging from the feel of his mouth on it, still aching to feel it again.

You arched into him, sinking your hand into his hair and pressing him to your breast. The pleasure of his mouth and hands on you was making you weak, making you shiver with pleasure and need, all down the length of you and in between your legs. You could feel  yourself growing wet and ready for him, the pleasure so intense, so unlike anything you'd ever felt before.

You heard yourself moaning softly, whimpering, making sounds you had never made before, all but dizzy with desire and sensation. With every little sound you made he groaned, or his erection surged against you, or he fell onto your breasts again with increased hunger. Your response to him was as intoxicating to him as his mouth was to you—you could feel it in his every movement, his every ragged breath.

“I need you, Bucky.” You pleaded softly. “Please.”

He rose over you, bracing his arms on either side of you. His eyes blazed with heat as he looked down at you, at you eyes, your mouth, your breasts. He took your mouth expertly, hungrily, kissing you fiercely with a dominance that thrilled you. He moved to trail hot kisses down your neck, licking the sensitive skin near your collarbone, barely skimming you with his tongue as if wanting the merest taste. You gripped his shoulders, and turned your head to the side, aching at the sensation of his mouth on you, kissing, licking, tasting. 

You moaned at the feel of his tongue on your neck and the gentle pressure of his lips pressing kisses against your skin. You needed to feel him, to taste his salty sweet skin, his maleness, him.

As if he could read your thoughts he lifted up from you to pull his shirt over his head and let it fall to the floor. You reached up and ran your hands over his chest, and as he fell on you again his mouth found yours hungrily and his hand slid into your hair, gripping the top of your head possessively as you kissed.

You had never felt so possessed, so taken, so overwhelmed by a man. You broke the kiss and sought his neck, his shoulder, his tense muscles straining as he held himself above you. You branded your own hot trail of kisses into his skin, felt him strain against you at the sensation. You loved the taste of him, so male and wonderful beneath your lips.

"Baby. . ." His voice was hoarse, breathless. 

For one brief moment uncertainty flashed in his eyes and he looked as though he wanted to say something. But when your lips found his again he lost the thought and succumbed to the kiss, slanting over your mouth, teasing your tongue with his.

You ran your hands down his back to the waistband of his boxers, and dipped your hands beneath the elastic to roam over his flesh. He tensed at your touch and you felt him suck in a breath as you moved your hands around to the front. 

He was very hard, and you curled your fingers—which couldn’t wrap around him fully—as you gripped his ass with your other hand. He groaned softly and kissed you even more deeply, surging against you with an almost desperate urgency. You began to stroke him, your fingers gently gliding up and down his smooth shaft until he suddenly let out a groan and broke away, stopping your hand with his own.

“Fuck,” he said breathlessly, heat blazing in his eyes. “I can't. . .”

Alarm flared in you. “What's wrong?”

“I won't last long. . .”

“Oh, is that all?” You gently pushed his hand away and began to tentatively stroke him again.

He moaned, closing his eyes briefly, enjoying the pleasure. “If you keep doing that. . .”

“What?” You prompted, nibbling on his lower lips as you stroked.

“I'll have to fuck you.”

“Good.” You took his lips again and you fell into a rhythmic kiss, as if you had been kissing each other forever. He moaned softly into your mouth as you stroked him, making soft noises of your own into his mouth.

Bucky broke the kiss, his breathing sharp and shallow, and gazed down at you, pressing his forehead to yours.

“Are you sure about this?” His voice was quiet, urgent, almost desperate.

“Yes,” you breathed, pushing his boxers down with your free hand. He lifted up his hips to help you and shrugged out of them, kicking them to the floor.

“I didn't mean for this to happen, at least not tonight,” he said, his breath jagged and quiet as you continued to stroke him. “I've wanted you for so long, but—”

“I know,” You murmured, kissing his neck as your hand slid over his thick length again and again. His body was rigid with tension and you tried to relax him with your mouth, your whispers, the feel of your body. But you knew he wouldn't relax as long as you were stroking him. You paused and he relaxed slightly, but his eyes still burning and his breath still came unevenly.

“Are you sure?” He asked again, his eyes showing fear through the haze of desire. Heat blazed between them, and you felt such a desperate need in him that you wanted to soothe him, comfort him. But doing so with words seemed the wrong thing to do.

"Mhmmm," You murmured instead, kissing his jaw, his neck, the sensitive skin beneath his ear. He groaned softly as you ran your fingers over his shaft, teasing, tempting, letting you fingernails trail along the sensitive skin below. You cupped him and squeezed gently as he groaned louder, pleasure that sounded almost painful. you laughed softly, kissing along his collarbone, his shoulder, his neck.

“You know how I feel about you. . . ” he managed, his voice little more than a breath. “Don't you? That I—”

"Shhhh," You said, coming back to meet his eyes. He looked so afraid, so vulnerable, and yet so filled with desire. You knew, then, everything you needed to know. And every word he needed to hear. "Please. . . Baby. . .it's okay. We can talk later. Right now. . .please. . . just shut up and fuck me."

His fear melted into a smile so warm, so open, so full of relief that he almost looked ready to cry. He took your mouth again, arching over you as he claimed you. Before his kisses had been searching and sensuous, now they seemed driven by pure desire. He ground his lips on yours  masterfully, taking what he wanted, what he needed.

You could feel the raw need in him, the need for acceptance, the need to let pure passion overcome his fear. Every meeting of your lips sent another jolt through you, every taste of his tongue made you desperate for more, and you knew he was reeling from the same powerful sensations that you were. You could feel him starting to let go, to abandon himself to you, to enjoy making you abandon  yourself to him. 

Here was the lust you had always hoped was there, the powerful sexuality always just below the surface, the desire you had hoped and prayed he felt for you. It was here, pressed against you, an urgent cock and a hard, warm body, roaming lips and soft, male moans of pleasure and need. A careful heart revealing itself to yours.

You moved beneath him, pressing your hips against him to ease the heat that radiated from between your legs. The ache was exquisite, your need growing more urgent as you felt his erection surge and strengthen.

You felt his hand on your knee and then slowly, so damn slowly, he began to trail his fingers up along the inside of your thighs, which parted so easily at his gentle persuasion. His touch was electric, yet soft and sensual, and wherever his fingers played you felt a fiery tingle that made you shiver. Finally his fingers trailed delicately over your sensitive cunt, teasing you, tantalizing you, until you cried softly, silently begging him to touch you most sensitive place.

With a smile that you could feel more than see, his fingers slipped into your slick warmth and you cried out, a spasm of pleasure overwhelming you. He silenced your cry with his mouth, his tongue tangling with yours  while his fingers slipped deeply inside you and stroked, as languidly and rhythmically as you were stroking him.

“Oh my g—” You cried, writhing at the pleasure of his fingers sliding slowly in and out of you, then pulling out to trail up higher and caress your folds. When his fingers danced over your clit you arched you back, your breath leaving you in a gasp. The electricity of his touch, so gentle and sensuous, sent spasms of pleasure rippling through you. 

He didn't hurry the pace, just stroked you with an even, sensual rhythm as he kissed  you. He was holding you, his arm surrounding you, pressing his body to yours, his mouth never far from your lips, your neck, your ear, his eyes never far from yours. You had never felt so close to someone, so protected in his arms, so cherished and adored.

His fingers dipped down to enter you again and his thumb continued the slow, exquisite torture above. Just when you thought you'd go over the edge he'd pull away, pause, caress a different part of you and send you on the upward spiral again and again, or slide his fingers into you over and over while his thumb swirled and caressed and rubbed, driving you mad with an aching desire. 

He smiled down at you, nipped at your lips, pressed his forehead to yours and trailed kisses down your eyelids, your cheeks, until claiming your mouth again, his tongue mimicking the sweet, sensuous motion of his fingers and thumb.

He grew rock hard in your hand as you moaned with each breath, as you came closer and closer to the edge. You could feel him restraining himself, wanting only to pleasure you, anticipating your climax. But it wasn't what you wanted. On a ragged breath you stopped his hand.

"I want you," you said urgently. "Please, Bucky. . .fuck me."

He gazed at you, teetering on a moment of indecision. His chest rose and fell sharply with his labored breath, and he brought a trembling hand up to your hip and gripped you, holding you, moving to settle between your legs and pausing at your entrance.

"Please, I want you inside me." your voice dropped to a whisper so urgent you hardly recognized it yourself. "Please don't make me beg."

And whatever strength he had left vanished.

"Oh baby. . ." He moved forward and slid into you, a breathless throaty sound of pure male pleasure escaping his lips. "Oh my God. . ."

He paused for a moment, looking down at you with heavy-lidded desire, visibly enjoying the new sensation of being so deep inside  you. You were slick and hot, more than ready for him, and as you body adjusted to him, to the exquisite, aching stretch he was causing, you squirmed beneath him on a moan of primal pleasure. He pulled out slowly, torturously, and slid himself in again, filling you completely.

You closed your eyes and moaned, gripping his ass as he lifted your hips up to him, angling you so he could fill you more deeply. He began to thrust, slowly, rhythmically, his hips moving sensuously, making you muscles tighten around him as he plunged into you again and again, your movements coming so easily, so naturally, so deliciously slowly.

You lifted your legs to wrap them around him, loving the way it tilted you back so that his every thrust felt deeper, felt like it was reaching new depths of pleasure in you.

“Yes, yes, yes. . .like that. . .oh my god, Bucky. . .you fill me up so good.” 

He ran his hand possessively along your leg, pausing to look down at your joined bodies as he thrust into you. He raised himself up, his arms braced on the other side of you to keep his weight off you, and moved so he could thrust more freely, more quickly, building the tempo. He pressed his lips to your forehead gently as he drove into you, his breath ragged, panting, yours matching his intensity and need.

“Ugh—you drive me insane, I love hearing you moan my name—don’t stop.”

You could feel him getting close, nearing the edge of his own release, and he slowed, lowering his head to nuzzle your neck as the rhythm of his hips paused, and then resumed again, more slowly this time, building again, savoring you body the way his lips had savored you mouth, the way his tongue had devoured you breasts. His arm slid around you back again, holding you, lifting you up to him as he took your breast in his mouth and teased it with his tongue. His mouth was hungrier this time, sucking your nipple, flicking his tongue over it with such abandon that you felt it in your core. His passion was growing, and you could sense that his desire to be slow and tender with you was losing the battle against his raw primitive need.

You gripped him, lost in the dizzying sensations he was causing in you. His mouth on you, his hand roaming over you, gripping your ass as he thrust into you in a relentless rhythm. You were limp in his embrace, held in place for him to possess, to plunder, to pleasure. You had never been held like that before, and the primal intensity of it, the feeling of being so completely owned by his desire, overwhelmed  you. You were his, completely, your body as loose as a rag doll in his arms. You gripped his straining arms as he sent pleasure coursing through you, gripping you as he thrust and withdrew, plunged and pulled out, drove into you over and over again in breathless ecstasy.

“Keep fucking me like that—Yes! Oh my God, harder, please. . . B-Bucky!”

Waves of pleasure grew stronger and stronger in you, pushing you towards the ultimate pleasure, building with increasing urgency as his rhythm grew faster and harder. 

“Oh—like that? You like that?”

He groaned as he kissed your neck, your collarbone, your breast, and drove himself into you with such exquisite need. You gripped his buttocks, feeling the powerful muscles contracting with each thrust, drawing him deeper into you. When he tore away from your lips and looked down into your eyes you felt the waves rise, growing stronger and higher and faster until with a shattered cry you came, trembling as the pleasure spasmed through you.

His eyes never left yours as he thrust into you, groaning from the exquisite pleasure of your spasming pussy. 

“Shit—fuck, you’re gonna make me come. Ohhhh—” Bucky moaned.

You were so incredibly tight, gripping his cock as you came, milking him as he struggled to last just a moment longer, lost in the heaven of you hot, wet heat. Your cries of pleasure echoed throughout the darkened room and when you whispered his name on a soft, sweet whimper he found his own release, jetting into you over and over again as he cried out in an agony of pleasure and a torrent, a chorus, of your name.

Finally, finally, his hips slowed and he lowered his head and kissed you gently, sensuously, as softly as he had when he had first pulled you down to him. Then he lowered his head to your neck and let himself rest there, lying against you, his heart thundering, his breath ragged and heavy. You lowered your legs from around his waist and wrapped your arms around him instead, cradling him to  you. you rested your head against the top of his and felt your own breath slowing, your own heartbeat returning to normal. His cock was still hard inside you and he shuddered as you clenched around him.

"God, you're incredible." He exhaled a long, deep breath.

He rose up and kissed you, shuddering with each aftershock as his cock surged inside  you. You could feel your inner muscles clenching around him, not releasing him yet, teasing the last drops of pleasure from him. 

He lay his head down against you again, breathing out a sigh that was both release and contentment as the last tremors rippled through him. You loved this feeling, this sensation of his body trembling with the afterglow of pleasure, pleasure you had given him, just as your body was tingling from the intense pleasure he had given you.

He held you to him, sliding out of you slowly, and shifted slightly so that you fit against him perfectly, settling into the warmth and comfort of his arms encircling you.

“Holy shit,” he whispered again, pressing his lips to your temple and leaving them there for a long minute before letting go.

“I'm so glad you stayed over,” you said quietly, kissing the soft skin of his neck.

He stilled for a moment, and you looked up at him, trying to read whatever might be revealed in his eyes. In the darkness both of you were inscrutable, until he leaned closer and bumped your cheek with his nose before lightly pressing his lips to yours for a sweet, soulful kiss.

“So does this mean we're not friends anymore?” He asked, in between luscious nips at your lips.

“You tell me,” you said sleepily, unable to resist his slow, savoring kisses.

You felt his smile as he kissed you languidly, with deliberate slowness, each kiss deepening into something more intimate than the last. Finally his lips stilled and you felt him fall asleep beside you, his breathing soft and slow.

You wanted to stay awake, to freeze this moment in time, to make it last. you wished you could lay there forever, tucked in beside him, your bodies curled to get you. But even as you tried to stay awake, gently caressing the arm that draped over you protectively. you gradually succumbed to a peaceful, contented sleep.

[cowboybeepboop]

Late Night

Pairing: Clark Kent x fem! Reader 

Genre: Smut, gentle and romantic

Word count: 3.7k

Summary: Your friendly neighbor Clark Kent comes to your door one evening, allowing for the two of you to finally grow your relationship.

Warnings: This is not proofread what so ever, gentle/sort of shy Clark, unprotected sex, oral fem receiving, p in v sex. 

a/n: Idk rn but I genuinely can't wait for David Corenswet to be Superman (Henry Cavill is so hot tho...). I’m already imagining how perfect he's gonna be as Clark Kent. As always, send me any requests you have and I hope you enjoy!

For months now, you had been quietly pining for the man who lived across the hall from me in our unassuming apartment building. His name was Clark Kent, and there was something about him that was utterly endearing. It wasn't just his chiseled jawline or the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled, but the kindness he exuded, the way he always had a helping hand ready for anyone in need. 

You had become something like friends, sharing the occasional awkward small talk as we passed by with our shopping bags or recyclables. You had seen him in various stages of undress, coming back from his midnight runs, his superhero-like physique hidden under loose-fitting t-shirts and sweatpants. 

Something that had fueled your evening pleasure sessions, everytime your eyes fell closed you could remember the image of his hardened abs, his huge and muscular arms. 

On a warm summer evening, there was a knock at your door. It was Clark, the guy from across the hall. He stood there sheepishly, his hand running through his black hair. 

He wore a white shirt that was unbuttoned and messy. He held a bottle of wine in one hand. "Hey", he said. "I hope I'm not disturbing you. I was wondering if I could get a favor?"

“Sure what’s up?” you give him a small smile, your eyes fall on his exposed chest before quickly flicking back to his face. His heart rate increased as he realized that you could see through the thin fabric of his shirt the toned muscles of his chest covered in a light layer of hair.

He cleared his throat, composing himself, holding up the bottle of wine. "I, umm, I was wondering if I could borrow your corkscrew. I lost mine."

“Yeah, of course. Come on in.” you move to the side, allowing him to come in. Your mind clouding with desire as he towers over you, his cologne filling your senses. 

He steps into your apartment, the tight space meaning his body brushes against yours slightly as he passes. The contact between you both is brief, but it's enough to send a shiver down his spine as he enters.

Your cheeks flush slightly as you realize your own appearance, wearing just a button down top that is unbuttoned enough for him to see your cleavage and your underwear. You awkwardly lead him to the kitchen, arm subconsciously moving to cover your breasts as you turn around, handing him the corkscrew. 

"Uh, thanks." He says as he takes the corkscrew from you. Even with your arm draped over yourself, he can't help but notice the glimpse of exposed skin, his eyes lingering before he catches himself and averts his gaze, forcing himself to stay focused on the task at hand.

He starts to open up the bottle, the action allowing him to look away from your figure for a moment and compose himself, his hands shaking slightly as he tries to concentrate. 

Your hand reaches out, fingers brushing over his. “Oh yeah this thing is weird, you kinda have to do it a particular way.” you murmur, taking the bottle from him as you fumble with the screw. 

He bites his lip as your fingers brush over his, his stomach swirling at the touch of your hand. He watches as you take the bottle from him, his eyes fixated on your every movement as you try to open the bottle.

"Thanks," he mutters, his voice low and a bit shaky. His eyes wander down, his gaze drawn to the way your top fits, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of your cleavage. 

“Mhm,” you reply as you pull the cork out, a small splash of wine staining your collar. You bite down on your lip while setting the bottle down, fingers rubbing the fabric. His eyes widen slightly as he watches the droplet of wine slide down your collar, the stains on the fabric making it even more translucent. 

Clark swallows hard, his mind wandering to inappropriate and ungentlemanly thoughts. He clears his throat, trying to look away, but he can't help but notice the way your fingers are now rubbing at the fabric, the motion only drawing his attention further to your chest.

You glance over him, hand falling from your shirt as you give him a soft grin, noticing the way his gaze lingers. 

His gaze flicks up to meet yours, his cheeks flushed. He realizes he's been caught staring, his eyes having been fixated on the way your hand moves over the fabric of your shirt, the motion stirring something deep within him.

"I, umm..." he stutters, his words failing him as he feels his throat dry up. He swallows slowly, forcing himself to focus on something else. "Thanks, for helping me open the bottle," he manages to say.  He shifts on his feet, trying to discreetly adjust himself as he feels his jeans becoming a bit tighter.

“Of course, do you want to share the bottle? Or do you have someone waiting for you?” you move slightly closer to him. 

His heart quickens as you come closer, his mouth going dry as your proximity makes it all that much more difficult to concentrate. He glances down at the bottle sitting on the counter, his mind racing with desire and indecision.

"No," he says, his voice low and a bit huskier than usual. "There's no one waiting for me." He looks back up at you, his eyes locking with yours, his gaze intense and filled with a mixture of nervousness and something more forbidden. "I'd like to share the bottle with you."

“Perfect.” You smile, stepping closer as you reach for the cabinet behind him, your chest pressing into his ever so slightly. You open the door, reaching for two glasses ​​his breath hitches as he feels your body press against him, the sensation sending a jolt of heat through him. 

Your chest rubs against his, and he can feel the weight and softness of you against his body. The proximity is driving him mad, his mind clouded by primal desires he's trying to keep in check.

He bites his lip, his knuckles turning white as he grips the edge of the counter, trying to maintain his composure. His eyes flutter shut for a moment before he opens them again, his gaze fixed on your every move.

You step back, with the glasses in hand. “We could watch a movie?” you prompt as you pour some wine into the cups, silently enjoying the way he reacted to your touch. 

He nods, his mind still racing as he tries to calm his racing thoughts and the growing hardness in his pants. "Yeah, a movie sounds good," he mutters, his voice coming out a bit more hoarse than he'd liked.

As you pour the wine, his eyes follow your every move, the way your fingers grip the bottle, the way the liquid flows into the glasses. It's all too tantalizing for him. "What do you feel like watching?" He asks, trying to keep his voice level and casual.

“How about you choose?” you hand him a glass, taking yours in hand along with the bottle as you walk into the living room. Taking a seat down on the couch you sip on the wine, your eyes follow his every move, drinking in his muscular form. 

He tries to stay composed, forcing himself to look away and focus on the task at hand. Clark walks over to the DVD collection and scans the titles, his mind unfocused and his thoughts still lingering on you. After a moment of browsing, he picks a movie at random, inserting it into the player.

"All set." He says, returning to the couch and taking a seat beside you. You pull at the hem of your shirt, trying to prevent it from riding up too much while taking another sip of your drink. 

“Great.” you smile, sucking your lip between your teeth as you admire his side profile. He can't help but notice the way you fidget with your shirt, the action drawing his mind to places he shouldn't be going at the moment. 

He struggles to keep his eyes focused on the screen, his gaze keeping wandering over to you, admiring your features and the way the fabric clings to your body. Clark takes a long sip from his glass, the alcohol doing little to calm his racing thoughts and desires. He shifts in his seat, trying to discreetly adjust himself as his jeans grow even tighter.

“Is everything alright?” you notice his movements and set your cup on the coffee table, scooting slightly closer to him. His eyes widen slightly as you move closer, the proximity sending a fresh wave of desire through him. He swallows hard, his throat suddenly dry.

"Yeah," he responds, his voice a little hoarse. "Everything's fine, just...adjusting." He glances over at you, his gaze lingering on your figure, his eyes tracing over the curves where your shirt clings to you, the way your position inadvertently exposes more skin.

“Clark?” your knee brushes against his thigh as you scoot closer. He stiffens as your knee brushes against him, the casual touch sending a jolt through him. He can feel his heart pounding in his chest, his hands gripping the edge of the couch as he tries to maintain his composure.

When he hears his name, the way you say it, so soft and gentle, almost a whisper, it sends a shiver down his spine. He looks over at you, his eyes locking with yours, his gaze intense and filled with desire. "Yeah?" He manages to respond, his voice a bit shaky.

“Are you.. seeing anyone?” you chew on your cheek as you search his eyes. At your question, a mixture of surprise and uncertainty crosses his face. He holds your gaze, his eyes searching yours for any hint of insincerity.

"No," he says finally, his voice steady and sincere. "I'm not seeing anyone." He swallows, his nerves getting the better of him as he wonders where this conversation is going. He can't help but feel a flicker of hope and anxiety at the same time.

Your eyes light up as you press a hand to his thigh, “Then… well I hope i’m not misreading the situation,” you murmur, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips. It's unexpected, but oh so welcome. 

His eyes widen for a brief moment, before closing as he melts into the kiss. Every cell in his body seems to come alive, the taste of your lips on his sending him into a dizzying spiral of emotions.

His hand comes up to cup your jaw, his touch gentle as he leans into the kiss, deepening it as he loses himself in the moment. His tongue brushes over your bottom lip as he presses his chest against yours, pushing your back into the plush fabric of your couch. 

Your bodies meld together, your back sinking into the cushion as he bears down on you. His tongue teases your lip, requesting entry which you give him without hesitation.

His heart races as he feels the soft give of your body against his chest, the heat and pressure of your bodies mingling together.

His hand runs over your side, his touch gentle but firm as it moves over the curves of your body, his hand sneaking under the fabric of your shirt, needing to feel your skin against his. You lean back, gasping for air as his fingers explore your body. 

He takes your gasp as an opportunity to trail his lips along your jaw, his breath hot against your skin as he nips and kisses his way down your neck.

His hand moves under your shirt, slowly, his fingertips dancing across your bare skin, mapping out each contour and dip of your body. He groans softly against your throat as he feels your warm, supple flesh under his fingers. You feel so good against him, it's almost overwhelming.

“Clark..” you gasp his name as he unbuttons your shirt swiftly. He loves the way you say his name, the sound of it coming from your lips making his own name sound like a prayer.

He unfastens the buttons of your shirt, revealing more and more of your body to his hungry eyes. He peels back the fabric, his hands roaming over your now-exposed skin, his fingers tracing over your stomach and up to your chest.

He presses his mouth to your collarbone, his teeth grazing over the sensitive skin, tasting your scent, committing it to memory. “Clark..” you moan his name again, your fingers digging into his shoulders as he kisses down your chest, hands landing on your breasts. 

His name slips from your lips again, the sound like a sweet melody in his ears. He can feel the pressure of your fingers on his shoulders, the touch driving his desire even higher.

His mouth travels down your chest, his kisses feather light and seductive as he moves over your breasts. His hands follow his mouth, palms cupping your breasts as he starts to massage the soft flesh.

He moans against your skin, his touch almost reverent. His body thrums with an aching need, the desire to be closer to you nearly overwhelming as he captures your lips in another hungry kiss. He cups your breasts in his hands, his fingers kneading the supple flesh as they press into your skin. His touch is soft but firm, his hands large enough to cover them completely

Clark pulls back slightly, breaking the kiss but keeping his eyes locked with yours. His breath is ragged, his chest heaving with anticipation. He can feel your heart racing beneath his palms as he gently caresses your breasts. "Are you sure about this?" He whispers, his voice thick with desire. "I don't want to rush you." His eyes search yours for any sign of hesitation or doubt.

You smile up at him, placing a soft hand on his cheek. "I've never been more sure about anything in my life," you reply, your voice barely above a murmur. The sincerity in your tone sends a thrill through him, confirming that this is what you both want.

He nods, his expression serious as he leans back down to kiss you again. This time, the kiss is slower, more deliberate. He savors the taste of you, the feel of your body pressed against his. His hand slides up to the back of your neck, cradling it as he deepens the kiss, exploring every inch of your mouth with his tongue.

As the kiss lingers, he slowly starts to unbutton the rest of your shirt, taking his time to reveal each new inch of your skin. His eyes never leave yours, watching for any signs of discomfort or hesitation. You melt into him, your own hands sliding up to tangle in his hair as the fabric of your shirt falls away.

The moment your skin is fully exposed, the air in the room seems to crackle with tension. He leans down to press a line of soft, wet kisses along your collarbone, feeling your body shiver beneath his touch. He takes a moment to just look at you, his eyes filled with a mix of awe and desire. "You're so beautiful," he murmurs, his voice low and rough.

Your cheeks flush with pleasure as he says the words, his eyes devouring your exposed flesh. He takes his time, kissing and caressing every inch of your body, his hands moving in a slow, tantalizing dance that leaves you trembling with need. Each touch is a promise of what's to come, each kiss a declaration of his desire for you.

The room is filled with the sound of your mingled breaths and the soft whispers of your names on each other's lips. The anticipation is almost unbearable, but you both know that the slow burn of this moment is only making the fire between you grow hotter.

Clark finally takes one of your nipples into his mouth, suckling gently as he rolls the other between his thumb and forefinger. You arch your back, gasping at the sensation, your hands tightening in his hair. He teases and worships each peak, his tongue swirling and flicking, drawing out your moans of pleasure.

As you lay there, the warmth of his mouth on your skin, the softness of the couch beneath you, and the gentle pressure of his body above, you can't help but feel that this is exactly where you're meant to be. With each tender kiss and caress, he's claiming you, and you're willingly giving yourself to him.

The movie on the TV becomes background noise as the only thing that matters is the connection growing stronger between you both. His kisses trail down your stomach, his hands skimming over your hips to the waistband of your underwear.

He kisses the skin just above the waistband, the heat of his breath making you squirm. "I want to make this perfect for you," he murmurs, his eyes looking up at you for approval. You nod, unable to form words as your breath catches in your throat.

He takes his time, pulling down your underwear in one smooth motion, exposing your most intimate parts to his gaze. His eyes darken with desire as he looks at you, but he keeps his touches feather-light, his mouth hovering just above your skin without making contact.

Clark takes a deep breath, savoring the moment as he gazes down at your exposed body. He gently kisses the soft skin of your inner thighs, moving closer to the apex of your legs. His eyes are filled with a fiery hunger that makes your heart race even faster. He presses a soft kiss to your mound, feeling you tense up at the contact. 

Then, with a gentle caress, he parts your legs wider, his gaze never leaving yours. You can see the desire in his eyes, and it only fuels the fire burning within you. With a soft sigh, he lowers his mouth to you, his tongue tracing the seam of your folds with the lightest touch. You moan, your body trembling as he starts to explore you, taking his time to learn every curve and sensitive spot. 

Each touch is a declaration of his intention to worship you, to take things slow and savor every second of this shared intimacy. His fingers join his mouth, gently teasing and exploring, bringing you closer to the edge with every stroke. The room is filled with the sounds of your mingled breaths and soft whimpers, the only soundtrack to this passionate symphony of desire.

Clark continues his gentle exploration, his tongue circling your clit with a patience that borders on agonizing. He's not in a hurry; he wants to savor every moment of this, to make sure you feel loved and desired. His fingers slide into your wetness, curling gently as he begins to stroke you internally, matching the rhythm of his tongue. 

You can't help but whimper, your eyes squeezed shut as the sensations build within you. He's so attentive, so in tune with your body's responses that you feel like you're floating on a cloud of pure pleasure. Each kiss, each caress is a testament to the connection growing between you, and you know that this is just the beginning of a night that will change everything.

Clark's eyes never leave yours as he shifts his position, aligning his body with yours. His hand moves to guide himself, and with a gentle nod from you, he begins to press into you. His movements are slow and deliberate, his expression one of intense concentration as he tries to read your every reaction. You can feel the tip of him pushing against your entrance, the anticipation of what's to come making you squirm.

As he enters you, he whispers sweet nothings into your ear, his voice a soothing balm to the building passion. He's so big, so thick, but he's so gentle that it's almost a surprise when he's fully sheathed inside you. You gasp, your eyes flying open, and he stills, giving you a moment to adjust to the sensation of being filled by him.

He waits, his eyes searching yours for any sign of pain or discomfort. When he sees none, he starts to move, his hips rocking in a slow, steady rhythm that makes your toes curl. Each thrust is met with a soft moan from your lips, his name slipping from your mouth like a prayer as he fills you completely.

The feeling of him inside you is unlike anything you've ever experienced. It's as if your bodies are made for this, as if every inch of him is meant to be connected to every inch of you. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, your hands sliding down to grip his firm ass as he moves within you.

The room seems to spin around you, the only constant is the feeling of him, the sound of your hearts beating in sync. He kisses you again, his movements becoming more urgent as the passion takes over. You can feel him thickening, growing even more inside you, and you know that he's getting closer to the edge.

You whisper for him to go faster, to give you more, and he responds eagerly, his strokes deepening and quickening. Your body responds in kind, your hips rising to meet his, the friction between you building until it's almost unbearable. You're both so close, the tension coiled tight in your stomachs, ready to snap.

And then, with one final, deep thrust, it does. You cry out, your body arching off the couch as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you. He follows shortly after, his own release shaking his body as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, his breath hot and ragged against your skin.

For a moment, you just lay there, your bodies entwined, your hearts racing. Then, with a soft sigh, he pulls back, his eyes searching yours for any signs of regret. But all he sees is pure satisfaction, a mirror to what's reflected in his own gaze. He leans down to kiss you gently, a soft promise of more to come.

[emojellyace08]

Your presence alone radiates comfort. You're like the sun that he has been reaching for warmth even when times you're like the winter who's giving him shivers because of how closeted and blunt you are at times.

But your voice makes him calm and in peace. Your soft hands that ruffles his hair and pats his head makes him a bit sleepy. It shows that even you are somehow distant, you're like a burning fire who's willing to make in ease even in the most stressful times.

DANIEL PARK, JAY HONG, ZACK LEE, VASCO/LEE EUN TAE, JOHAN SEONG, KWAK JIHAN, VIN JIN, HUDSON AHN, KWAK JIBEOM, JAKE KIM, SAMUEL SEO, SINU HAN, JERRY KWON, LINEMAN, YUSEONG