#Comfort Concentrated Fabric Softener

[hygieneforall22]

basic things to Consider While Washing Baby Clothes

A newborn’s skin is highly sensitive and prone to irritants and chemical exposure after nine months of being shielded in the womb. The best way to safeguard your newborn and avoid these skin problems is to:

Strictly adhere to the fabrics you buy for your child.

Clothing, blankets, bedding, and toys that will come into contact with the baby’s skin should all be washed. Just make sure you pick a natural detergent that is non-toxic.

All fabrics contain different quantities of chemicals, while the quantity of chemicals emitted from most fabrics is small and could not represent a substantial risk to the health of the adult average. However, because of their sensitive skin, babies are smaller, more susceptible to chemicals, and significantly more susceptible to skin irritation, rashes, and other harmful consequences than adults.

FABRICS TO USE AND AVOID FOR YOUR INFANTS

Avoid synthetic fabrics such as polyester, rayon, acrylic, nylon, and other things that claim to be non-polluting, free of flammable, free of wrinkles or static. The greatest amounts of hazardous substances have been treated for these items. These compounds are frequently found in the fabric fibers and cannot be washed out and cannot be washed away, thus they should be avoided, in particular for children.

Cotton, wool, silk, hemp, alpaca, angora, mohair, and flax are all-natural fibers that are far purer than man-made textiles. Unfortunately, chemicals are still included in these. It is critical to prewash these fabrics with crown liquid laundry blue if they will be used around newborns and small children. Although pre-washing can remove some superficial treatments, it does not necessarily detoxify the textile from the chemicals used during production.

Items such as crown liquid laundry blue, manufactured with certified organic cotton, wool, cashmere, hemp, and linen are the safest alternatives for infants. Ideally, no colors are used, or only natural dyes are used as a second choice. These materials will ensure that your child is exposed to as few chemicals as possible. Pre-washing the baby’s clothes with Comfort Concentrated Fabric Softener is still necessary because the products may have come into contact with everything from bacteria to pesticides throughout their journey, especially if they were manufactured overseas.

read more: https://hygieneforall.com/things-to-consider-while-washing-baby-clothes/

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

Hello!

If possible could you write a fic with reader and matt in an established relationship and he hears something when he's around them and it starts driving him nuts and then he finally realizes is a tiny heartbeat bc reader is pregnant but doesn't realize it, and he's like overjoyed?

sorry this is my first time requesting lmao

hii!! this is very cute :( very happy to be first to write one of your requests☺️ thanks for requesting, hope you like it💌

HEARTBEATS.

matt murdock x fem!reader

word count. 481

Recently, whenever Matt was near, he wore an expression you couldn't quite place, looking as though he was concentrating - like his brain was preoccupied. You knew he often had a lot on his mind, so you waited the questioning - wanting him to come to you when he was ready, though he never did. 

Another week had passed, and he continued to model that same sceptical face around you, still no closer to the route of his confusion.

-

You're lying on the sofa, basking in the early evening sunset, nursing your nausea and awaiting Matt to return home from the store. He told you he'd briefly pop out to pick up some things for dinner - that he'd get something to help with your sickness bug, something to ease the upset in your aching body.

You hear the keys jingle in the door, indicating Matt's return home.

"Hey, sweetheart," he calls out, closing the door behind himself. "Sorry about the wait. Was so busy out there," he continues, placing the bags on the counter. He makes his way to you on the couch and takes a seat on his knees in front of you. "How you feeling?" he asks, slipping his hand into yours.

"Gross," you simply reply between a soft breath, closing your eyes. You were starting to feel it again - like the room was spinning. 

His thumb circles over your skin, attempting to ease you. "I'm sorry, angel," he coos, speaking gently. 

Matt props himself higher on his knees, extending to reach himself over your middle. He places a light kiss to your stomach over the fabric of your top and then carefully rests the side of his head in that spot - trying to comfort you. He keeps hold of your hand and laces his fingers between yours, playing with your hand as if to distract you. 

You peek down at Matt on your stomach, watching his brows furrow, seeming like he was focusing - that same darned face again. You extend your spare hand towards his head and nestle your fingers in his hair, soothingly stroking over his scalp. "What is it?" you ask, your confusion mirroring his.

He faintly shakes his head and shushes you softly, a smile growing. 

"Matt?" 

"It's not the flu, honey," he beams at you, lifting his head from your stomach abruptly. "It's not the flu," he repeats, the words almost catching in his throat.

"What do you mean?" you question, following his movements.

"Sweetheart," he coos, drawing out the petname with a gentle nod - like he was trying to prompt you.

"No?" you whisper, speaking in disbelief.

He nods once more, his features softening and melting upon hearing the news. His grip tightens in your hand, and he brings it to his lips, placing another kiss where the last one dried. 

"We're going to have a baby?"

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

some reason when I was writing this it reminded me of when vision said “yes, my love,” to wanda when she got her baby bump🥲 now im sad

[ahqkas]

Theodore with a partner that’s has sensitive skin. Like if a strong perfume had hit their skin immediately they need to wash whatever essence it is or else they break out and start to itch. Maybe Theodore always has a handkerchief in case something like this happens.

HARRY POTTER MASTERLIST!

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

THEODORE NOTT HAD ALWAYS BEEN ATTENTIVE, ESPECIALLY WHEN IT CAME TO YOU. from the moment he learned about your sensitive skin, he made it a priority to ensure your comfort and well-being. he carried a handkerchief with him at all times, a simple white square of cloth, always neatly folded in his pocket and ready for use.

one breezy afternoon, you and theodore strolled through the bustling corridors of hogwarts. the faint scent of blooming plants from the greenhouse wafted through the air, mingling with the various perfumes and colognes worn by students. you had grown accustomed to avoiding certain areas, knowing that a stray whiff of the wrong scent could send your skin into a fit of irritation. but despite your precautions, the unpredictable nature of shared spaces meant that accidents could still happen.

as you passed a group of giggling girls from ravenclaw, their strongly smelling perfume hit you like a wall of bricks. you felt it immediately — the prickling sensation spreading across your skin, the creeping itch that threatened to turn into a full-blown rash. your hand instinctively went to your neck, rubbing at the spot where the scent seemed to cling.

theo, the perfect boyfriend he was, noticed your discomfort right away. he had a keen eye for your subtle reactions, having memorized every inch of your body and its language. without a word, he gently took your hand and led you to a quieter corner of the hallway, away from the thick of the crowd.

"hang on," his eyes said, though he spoke no words aloud. he reached into the pocket of his robes and pulled out the handkerchief, its fabric soft and familiar. theo always made sure to wash it with unscented soap, knowing how even the mildest fragrance could trigger a reaction.

you watched as he moistened the cloth with a quick, precise spell that conjured a small stream of water. he dabbed it carefully against your neck, the coolness of the water providing instant relief. his touch was gentle, his movements deliberate and soothing. you closed your eyes, taking a deep breath as the irritation began to fade.

theodore's expression was one of concentration, his brows furrowed slightly, creating those pretty lines between them as he tended to you. he took great care in making sure that every trace of the irritating perfume was wiped away, his concern for you evident in every gesture he made. the usual confidence he carried softened into a tender protectiveness, one that made your heart swell with affection towards the slytherin boy.

"there, that should help," even his touch seemed to soften as he finished, tucking the damp handkerchief back into his pocket.

you opened your eyes, meeting his gaze. "thank you, theo," you said softly, your voice filled with gratitude. his small acts of kindness always left you feeling cherished and understood.

"always," he responded, a small with reassuring smile dancing on his face as he pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead, his hand tangling into your hair on the back of your head to keep you as close to him as possible.

[pupuyvs]

47

Chaewon quickly checks her appearance once more in the mirror.

She wanted to look absolutely perfect for Jihye.

“You look dumb,” Eunchae says, breaking Chaewon’s concentration.

Chaewon rolls her eyes, “What do you want, Jihye is waiting outside.”

“Nothing, just wanted to say you look dumb.”

“Thanks Eunchae,” Chaewon says as she grabs her overnight bag.

“It’s a good thing.”

Chaewon raises an eyebrow, “How is looking “dumb” a good thing?”

Eunchae shrugs looking down at her shoes, “Never seen you dress like this for Yeonjun, you’re always looking uncomfortable and “not dumb,” and I don’t know it’s nice to see you differently.”

Chaewon smiles at the younger girl, “Softening up on me?”

Eunchae scoffs, “No, never.”

“Good, after all it’s just a first date,” Chaewon feels her phone buzz in her hand, another text from Jihye, “A first date I’m currently making wait.”

Eunchae moves away from the door as Chaewon walks towards it.

“Be safe, if Jihye tries anything I’ll fight her.”

Chaewon nods as she chuckles, “I’ll make sure to bring something back from wherever we go for you.”

Eunchae smiles in response, which causes Chaewon to smile back at her. She hugs the taller girl before finally walking down the stairs and leaving the house.

When she walks out she sees Jihye leaning against her car, looking down to fidget with her hands. Once she hears the front door close she looks up and smiles causing Chaewon to blush lightly.

“Here, let me take that,” Jihye says once Chaewon reaches her, grabbing her overnight bag.

With the bag in one hand, she opens the passenger door with the other.

“Thank you,” Chaewon says as she gets in the car.

Once the door closes she takes it as an opportunity to take a look around the interior of the car.

The car was an older Honda, with fabric seats that held tiny wear and tear from over the years. Fingerprints were visible on any place they could stick. There were small cartoon stickers on the dashboard; beads and a car freshener that smelt of cinnamon, hanging from the rearview mirror. As she went to take a look at the back seat the driver door opened, Jihye got in with a small smile.

“Ready to go?”

Chaewon nods, which causes Jihye to put her seatbelt on and start up the car.

As they leave through the roundabout in front of Chaewon’s house, Chaewon takes it as another opportunity to look around the car some more.

The back of the car was big enough to fit three people, with small stains from what was clearly past food spills. On the floor was Jihye’s soccer bag, her cleats, jersey and shin guards spilling out of it. The floor clearly had just been vacuumed recently, the material having the clear telltale signs.

It was different from what she was used to, her family and friends' cars were luxurious, leather seats with beautiful trim littering the dashboard and doors. The car windows would be crystal clean, everyone who would enter the car knowing to not touch anything their hands wouldn’t touch regularly. However, Chaewon finds she didn’t mind Jihye’s car, in fact she might’ve preferred it like this, it felt more comfortable.

When she looks forward she sees a hand holding a wire in front of her.

“So you can play music,” Jihye says while still looking at the road.

Chaewon nods before taking the wire and plugging it into her phone, she plays the first playlist she sees and puts her phone on her lap.

“This song sounds good.”

“It’s one of my favorites,” Chaewon responds.

“Really? What is it?”

“In love by ADOY.”

Jihye hums, “I have to add it to my playlist.”

Chaewon doesn’t respond, leading them to fall into a small comfortable silence.

“How long do we have till we get there again,” Chaewon asks after a few songs play.

“Almost three hours, you can take a small nap if you want to, we’ll be out for a bit tonight.”

Chaewon nods, but before she could respond she gets distracted.

See Chaewon was a simple girl, she never claimed to be any different, so she couldn’t be blamed for being distracted when she sees Jihye’s right hand now resting on the center console. She knew she could just hold Jihye’s hands, but she felt nervous for the first time in a while, see she never held hands with Yeonjun, why would she, she didn’t actually like him, and Yena didn’t like to hold hands. So now here she was stuck, struggling to hold someone’s hand.

She sighed out as she flexed her left hand, “Just grab her hand,” Chaewon thinks to herself.

Too distracted, she doesn’t see Jihye glancing at her, concerned with each sigh Chaewon lets out.

“You okay Chaewon?”

Chaewon looks at her before spitting out the question, “Can I hold your hand?”

Jihye quickly gives Chaewon a shocked look before nodding and holding her hand up.

Jihye’s hand was soft, with old small calluses littering it, which Chaewon assumed came from childhood adventures. It was slightly bigger than hers and was more so on the slimmer side, to put it simply, it was perfect for Chaewon.

“Feeling better?”

“Sorry?”

“You were sighing a lot so I just thought you weren’t feeling okay,” Jihye tells her.

“I am, thank you.”

Jihye doesn’t respond which leaves Chaewon to turn her attention back to their intertwined hands, which she pulls onto her lap. She quickly takes a picture of it with her other hand, the music pauses causing Jihye to look at her before smiling and staying silent.

Once the music resumed Chaewon is slowly lulled to sleep by the atmosphere and warmth Jihye’s hand brings, after just a few minutes of trying to fight it Chaewon ends up falling into a deep sleep.

Chaewon is pulled from her slumber by Jihye trying to pull her hand from hers. Not wanting to separate, Chaewon holds on tighter causing the other to let out a sound of exasperation.

“Chae, I need you to let go.”

Chae? I like the sound of that.

“Chae, please let go, we’re here.”

Chaewon finally lets Jihye’s hand slip from hers as she opens her eyes to look around.

They were parked on a very typical countryside street, dogs outside, clothing lines decorating the front of every house while bikes are parked against them.

The slam of the trunk pulls her out of her observations, she watches as Jihye walks up a couple of stairs before sliding open a door and disappearing.

Chaewon takes this as the chance to check her phone only to see multiple messages from Yizhuo and Eunchae, both wondering if she was alive.

She rolls her eyes at their dramatics before responding to them both saying she was more than okay.

She jumps lightly when there is a knock on the window, relaxing when she sees it is Jihye.

Jihye opens her door slightly before standing in the opening, essentially caging her in.

She begins talking but Chaewon is way too distracted by the lipstick print on her cheek.

Chaewon is a very possessive person, always has been, and since discovering Jihye her possessive nature has only grown. So seeing another persons kiss mark on someone she considered hers was not something she was happy about.

“So what do you think?”

Chaewon simply gestures for Jihye to lean down, which she does, albeit confused.

Once she was close enough Chaewon licks the tip of her thumb and immediately starts wiping the mark off Jihye’s face. When it was gone enough to satisfy Chaewon she smiles, “Repeat what you were saying.”

Now blushing Jihye repeats herself, “I was saying that we should walk, the place is only 10 minutes away, and there probably won’t be any parking so you know…”

Chaewon simply nods before unbuckling her seatbelt and getting out of the car.

Once out Jihye closes the door for her and locks it, looking at Chaewon she smiles and holds her hand out, “Shall we?”

The walk had been peaceful so far, it taking a bit longer than 10 minutes due to Jihye having to stop to say hi to a person she seemed to have known along the way. As they get closer the smell of food gets stronger along with the loudness of people. It wasn’t until Chaewon spotted a ferris wheel in the distance did she know where they were going.

“You brought me to a carnival?”

Jihye shrugs slightly, “More so a festival, I hope that’s okay.”

Chaewon quickly nods, “More than okay I’ve always wanted to go to one as a kid. It also helps no one will notice us here.”

The smile on Jihye’s face drops, “Right.”

Before Chaewon could see the change in Jihye’s attitude she immediately puts a smile back on and pulls her to where the entrance is.

Once inside Chaewon drops Jihye’s hand so she can take everything in. It was exactly as she expected it to be; rows and rows of food, games, and vendors selling things, the lights coming from them slightly dull due to the sun still being up. Live music, being played from somewhere, filling the gaps in the hundreds of conversations around them.

Jihye smiles as she takes a couple of steps back to take a picture of the girl, she had purposely cleaned out her camera roll since she knew she would want to take hundreds of her tonight.

Once satisfied with the picture she goes back to the girl’s side, “I was thinking since the sun doesn’t set for about another hour, we could look at some of the vendors here, do a couple of rides, play some games, then when it gets dark eat, and do it all again. We can save the ferris wheel for last.”

Chaewon nods excitedly before hugging the girl's arm, “Let's do exactly that.”

Jihye chuckles softly at the girl before nodding and starting to walk, Chaewon still clinging onto her arm.

The first thing they did was shop for Chaewon’s friends and Eunchae. Finding cute trinkets she thought each girl might like.

Chaewon was in the middle of looking at a necklace when Jihye tears away from her, causing her to immediately look up.

“I’ll be right back.”

With that Jihye walks away, Chaewon looks back at the necklace but feels herself growing uninterested due to Jihye no longer being next to her.

“Can I please get it?”

Chaewon turns to the noise, it was a little girl asking her mom for a bracelet. The mother gave the girl a look Chaewon has never seen before and watches as she shakes her head softly, “It’s too much sweetie.”

The little girl nods sadly and Chaewon feels her heart clench slightly, she quickly calls over the vendor, “How much is that bracelet?”

“75,000 won.”

Chaewon nods before handing over her card. The vendor quickly swipes her card and bags up the bracelet, but is confused when she shakes her head. “Give it to that little girl, tell them you decided to give it to them.”

The vendor nods and quickly does it, Chaewon smiles when she sees the shock on both the mom and daughter’s face. She was watching the mom put the bracelet on her daughter when she is pulled from the sight by a familiar voice nearly whispering in her ear, “That was a nice thing to do.”

Chaewon shrugs before turning to Jihye, “Why’d you leave me?”

Jihye looks at Chaewon with a look in her eyes, another one she isn’t familiar with, but as quickly as it is there it is gone. She watches as Jihye lifts something up in front of her, and looks at it confused, “A necklace? I don’t really need one.”

“Just take it.”

As she grabs it she spots something new on Jihye’s thumb, which causes her to look back at the necklace, before gasping and hitting her arm.

“You got us matching jewelry?”

Jihye, still rubbing the area Chaewon hit, sheepishly nods, “I hope that’s okay, I thought it’d be cool if we had something matching to remember this day by. It’s also lowkey so no one will notice.”

Chaewon quickly put the necklace back in Jihye’s hand before turning around, “Put it on me.”

The necklace was a skinny chain that had a ring with a small sun engraved into it, it matching perfectly with the thumb ring Jihye now had on that had a small moon engraving.

When Jihye finishes closing the clasp Chaewon immediately turns around and hugs her.

Jihye hugs her back, “I take it you like it?”

Chaewon quickly nods as she pulls back, “I love it.”

Jihye smiles before biting her bottom lip nervously, “I know it's nothing compared to what Yeonjun could probably get you, I just thought it’d be nice. Actually, give it back it’s stupid.”

Chaewon immediately steps back from Jihye’s hand, “If you touch it I’ll kill you.”

Jihye freezes, “Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

Not giving Jihye a chance to respond she immediately grabs her arm and starts pulling her through the crowd, “The sun is setting, let's eat and then I want you to win me one of those big bears.”

After looking at different food options Jihye ended up choosing an American style stall that she had said sounded familiar. Once they finally reach the ordering window, a young man around their age starts taking their order. “Welcome to Joey’s what would you- Jihye?!”

Previously looking for her phone, she immediately looks up and her eyes widened, “Hanbin?!?”

The teen, who Chaewon now knows is Hanbin, smiles widely, “Long time no see!”

He was now leaning fully out the stall so the girl could hear him better, “How’ve you been,” he asked.

“Good.”

“Yeah? How’s Seoul been treating you?”

“Pretty well, I’m part of the soccer team now.”

Hanbin laughs before realizing she was being serious, “Really? Clumsy Jihye playing soccer…who would’ve thought?”

Jihye chuckles at the old nickname, “I know, how’ve you been?”

“Well enough, working the stall with my dad nowadays.”

“Is Mr. Sung here?”

Hanbin nods before pulling back to call for his dad, after a few seconds an older version of Hanbin pops out from behind the stall. As he stands in front of Jihye he stares for a few before taking her into a tight hug, “Little Hye, it’s been too long.”

Chaewon laughs at the look on Jihye's face. Once she is put down Jihye immediately slouches over, “I see you’re still a big hugger Mr. Sung.”

The older man stares at the girl once more, “You go to Seoul and suddenly it’s Mr. Sung, you know it’s Uncle Jihoon.”

Jihye nodded, “Right, Uncle Jihoon.”

The older Sung smiles as he pats Jihye back when he finally notices Chaewon, “Hey who is this? Your girlfriend?”

Chaewon smiles and just as she’s about to accept the title Jihye answers, “No, this is my friend from Seoul, Chaewon.”

Chaewon immediately glares at the girl as she greets the two Sungs. As she continues glaring another boy comes over and taps the older man, “Sorry to interrupt this, but the lines getting kinda crazy and I need help.”

Mr. Sung nods, “I got it Hao, Hanbin get these ladies whatever they want, on the house.”

“Are you sure Uncle Jihoon?”

The man nods again, “Absolutely, we’re family, I could never charge family. Just make sure next time you visit you bring some of your mom’s jjimdak.”

Jihye nods as the man went back into the stall to help, Hanbin immediately looks back at the two, “So what do you guys want?”

Jihye looks at Chaewon and is shocked when she sees the girl looking at her angrily. She clears her throat, “What do you want?”

“Fries,” Chaewon said curtly.

Jihye looks at Hanbin who is trying not to laugh, “Got it, Hye I’ll just get you what you like and some waters. You can go sit at the tables, I'll bring it to you.”

Jihye nods as she heads to the table with Chaewon. Once they sit down Jihye looks at her expectantly, when she doesn’t say anything she winces, “Did I do something?”

“Why’d you just call me a friend?”

“What?”

“In front of Mr. Sung, you called me a friend. Are we not on a date right now?”

Jihye furrows her eyebrows, “Didn’t you say you didn’t want anyone to know about us? Isn’t that why we’re three hours away from Seoul, so no one could recognize us.”

Chaewon’s jaw clenches, Jihye was right. “I meant that for when there’s people from school.”

“Oh, but you’re also not my girlfriend…”

“But I’m not your friend.”

“So…what should I say?”

“Just say yes.”

“Okay.”

Chaewon smiles as Hanbin comes with their food. As Jihye begins to eat she looks at Chaewon who just stares at her. “Are you seriously not going to eat,” Jihye asks.

“I’m still upset, meaning you have to feed me.”

Jihye scoffs before holding up a fry to Chaewon’s mouth, which she happily eats.

“So, how do you know them?”

Jihye swallows what she has as she raises another fry for Chaewon, “There was a group of us, we all lived on the same street. Only one of us had a TV at the time, however she only came here during the summer so a lot of our time was spent outside playing stupid games. The group was called the ‘Andong-gang’ or ‘Angang’ for short. Due to us being so close our families naturally became close.”

Chaewon nods as she brings Jihye’s hand closer to her to take a bite of her food. Ignoring her stare of disbelief she speaks, “That’s kinda cute, I never had that type of experience. Yizhuo, Minjeong, and Aeri came when my parents made business deals.”

“And that doesn’t bother you?”

Chaewon takes a second to think, did it bother her? She thinks for another moment before speaking, “Not really, we’re pretty close despite everything and we’ll always be because of our parents.”

Jihye nods as she holds up her food for Chaewon to take another bite from.

Once they finish and throw out their stuff Jihye looks at Chaewon, “Where to now, Princess Chaewon?”

“Princess? I like that.”

“Of course you do.”

“I want you to win me a bear.”

Jihye stares down at her, “You know those games are rigged right?”

Chaewon shrugs, “And?”

The taller girl laughs as she holds her hand out for the other, “Let’s go get you your rigged bear.”

Taking her hand the two girls head towards the game section of the festival.

A chill overtakes the town as the sun finally sets, leaving Chaewon shivering slightly. Due to her “bad bitches don’t get cold” motto she had refused to bring a jacket. She tries hiding each shiver as they look for a game to play, but it didn’t really matter, Jihye was always too observant. She stops in the middle of the crowded walkway and sighs, “I told you to bring a jacket.”

She has heard this a million times, Yena would say this before throwing her a jacket and walking away leaving Chaewon to try and catch up, while Yeonjun would simply shake his head and ignore her teeth chattering. Chaewon wonders which one Jihye will be like, but much to her surprise Jihye simply clicks her teeth before gently placing her letterman over her shoulders. “Should I always keep a jacket with me or do you only not bring jackets when you’re told you should?”

Chaewon can only stare at the girl as people walk around them, a new emotion rising in her chest, one that made her want to hold onto the girl and never let go. This new emotion was dangerous as Chaewon never expected to feel this way, especially this fast.

Jihye tilts her head to the side, “You okay?”

Chaewon simply nods as she slips both her arms in the jacket's sleeve, warmth immediately encompassing her. The smell of Jihye, almond and cashmere, immediately overtake her senses, making her desire to latch onto the girl grow. She had no doubt in her mind that this would now be her new favorite jacket.

Deciding not to confuse the girl anymore she grips onto the girl's arm, and rests her head on her bicep. “Let’s play this game and go.”

“No ferris wheel?”

Chaewon just shakes her head against her arm, causing Jihye to smile in response.

After walking around for a bit more they finally find a game Jihye thinks she can win, one that luckily no one else seems to notice.

The game worker gasps loudly when the girls arrived, “Jihye?”

“Haewon?”

“Oh my god, it’s so good to see you.”

Separating from Chaewon, Jihye leans over to hug the girl, which earns them both a harsh glare.

“What brings you back here?”

“The festival.”

Chaewon wants to add the fact that she was more specifically here on a date with her, but decides to wait to see how this Haewon girl interacts with Jihye.

“That’s cool, we’ve missed you around here, it's not the same without you and Yujin.”

Jihye pouts slightly, “I miss you guys too, I definitely plan to come see you guys again soon though.”

Chaewon feels her eye twitch when Haewon smiles widely at that.

“Good, when are you leaving? We should hang before you go.”

“Tomorrow, sadly.”

Haewon frowns at that, “Let’s exchange numbers then.”

Jihye nods excitedly, “Absolutely, wait until I tell Yujin about seeing you.”

After exchanging numbers, much to Chaewon’s annoyance, Haewon finally asks Jihye if she wants to play. Not allowing the girl to pay because “Angang for life” or whatever, Jihye tries. She of course fails each try, after all the games are rigged. After failing a number of times Jihye looks defeated. Chaewon of course finds it cute, but before she can comfort her a huge stuffed bear comes between them.

“You didn’t think I was going to let you walk away without it did you?”

Fucking Haewon.

Jihye knows she must be an interesting sight as she walks towards her old house. Due to Chaewon being upset again she demanded she give her a piggyback ride back, so here she was walking the streets of her old hometown with a huge stuffed animal in her arms and Chaewon on her back.

“Chae, you really don’t want to walk?”

“That’s not my name.”

Jihye furrows her eyebrows, “Chaewon?”

“No.”

Jihye sighs, “Then what is your name?”

“Princess.”

Jihye stops in her tracks and scoffs, “Seriously?”

She feels the girl nod against her back, “Yes, now ask me again with my name.”

Jihye sighs, “Princess, do you really not want to walk?”

“No.”

Jihye groans as she starts to walk again.

“What are you groaning for, I’m not even heavy.”

Jihye immediately agrees, “You’re not, but I’m also holding your massive fur child and we are about 5 minutes away from the house still.”

Chaewon smacks her teeth, “I bet if it was Haewon you wouldn’t have complained.”

“Haewon?”

Jihye stays silent as she thinks back to her interaction with the girl mentioned, she stops when it hits her. She crouches down slightly so Chaewon’s feet will touch the ground before turning to her. Before Chaewon can complain Jihye speaks, “You’re easy to get jealous.”

Chaewon rolls her eyes, “And?”

“It’s cute.”

Chaewon glares at her before pushing her, mostly the bear, and walking away.

Giving her a few seconds to mope she then jogs to her side, moving the bear to one side of her body she grabs Chaewon’s hand with her free one. “Did you have a good time tonight?”

Chaewon doesn’t bother with a response, which Jihye takes as a sign to continue, “I did, I got to go out with the girl I’ve liked since freshman year.”

This causes Chaewon to pause to look at her, “You’ve liked me since freshman year?”

Jihye nods, which causes the shorter girl to lightly push her, “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Maybe because you didn’t know I existed until this year.”

“You still could’ve confessed to me, people do it all the time.”

“Yeah, but those people aren't what your friends dubbed as the ‘biggest loser in school.’”

Chaewon frowns at that, “I don’t think you’re a loser.”

Jihye looks at her with doubt, “Yes you do, that’s why we’re currently three hours from Seoul. Not that I mind.”

The statement causes Chaewon to look down, which then causes Jihye to sigh, “What I was trying to say is, I don’t like Haewon and she definitely doesn’t like me. Even if she did, I’ve been waiting since ninth grade for you to even look at me, and now that I’m here with you no girl is going to change that.”

Chaewon looks up with a wide smile, “You’re such a smooth talker, you better not be talking to any other girls like this.”

Jihye laughs, “Of course not, now can we finally get to the house?”

The shorter girl nods and starts to walk, swinging her and Jihye’s interlocked hands.

When they finally get into the house, the girls take off their shoes and replace them with slippers.

Jihye starts to lead them through the house, while they are walking Chaewon looks at the pictures decorating the wall, when she sees one she immediately stops causing Jihye, who is still holding her hand, to be yanked back.

“Jihye, whose house is this?”

Moving to be next to her, “My grandma’s, or well my old house, why?”

Chaewon immediately starts to hit the girl's shoulder, “You brought me to your childhood home, where your grandma lives without telling me?”

The taller girl, currently wincing, nods.

“Are you insane,” Chaewon exclaims in a low tone.

“What’s wrong?”

“If I knew I was going to meet one of your family members I would’ve brought something way nicer to wear tomorrow like my Chanel two piece.”

Jihye looks at her amused, “Chaewon, my grandma is a seventy year old woman from the countryside, she would not care if you showed up in Chanel. I didn’t realize it could make you feel uncomfortable, which I apologize for, so if it makes you feel better I’ll tell my grandma to be out when you wake up.”

This earns her another slap to her shoulder, “Are you crazy? What would I look like asking your grandmother to leave her house? It’s fine, I’ll meet your grandmother tomorrow.”

Shaking her head Jihye simply leads them to a couple doors, she points to the one of the right, “This is my old room,” she then points to the one on the left, “That’s the guest room, it was originally my parents room but my grandma converted it to a guest for when we visit. That’s where you’ll be sleeping.”

Chaewon looks at her confused, “I’m not staying in the same room with you?”

Jihye looks at her in shock, “I never slept with a girl on a first date.”

“You went on dates with other girls?”

“I know you meant that possessively,” Jihye says with a pout, “But that sounded like you were insulting me.”

Chaewon rolls her eyes, “Where's the bathroom so I can get ready for bed?”

Jihye leads her to the bathroom, “You’re lucky my grandma just got a new water boiler, you ever have to wait for water to boil on a stove?”

Not giving her a chance to respond, Jihye closes the door and lets the girl get ready.

Once she finishes Jihye quickly replaces her to get ready for bed, when she finishes Chaewon is already in the guest room laying down, Jihye peeks her head in, “Just wanted to say goodnight.”

Looking up from her phone, which had died earlier in the day, Chaewon tells her goodnight back.

When Jihye slides into her own bed, she immediately feels herself drifting to sleep, trying to fight it, she quickly texts her friends and family a small update and that she’ll see them tomorrow. Starting to drift off, she jolts awake when she hears her door open.

“Chaewon?”

She doesn’t get a response instead the shorter girl slides in next to her, wraps an arm around her waist and lays her head on her chest.

Jihye simply wraps her own arm around the girl and finally lets sleep overtake her.

When Chaewon wakes up, she’s a bit confused as she takes in the unfamiliar setting. It takes a few moments for her brain to remember where exactly she is, once she remembers she immediately notices that Jihye is no longer next to her. As she sits up to stretch she decides to take in the room, the first thing she notices are the two different themes. While one was more plain, the other, the side she was currently on, held posters to various cartoons, a desk with a notebook that was open, which Chaewon would later discovered had a robot sketch on it, and bright red bed sheets.

Deciding shes done enough snooping she gets up, as she opens the door she hears talking from the front of the house. She quietly heads back into the guest room to grab her bag and now fully charged phone. Quickly getting ready Chaewon drops her bag off in the guest room and heads to the front of the house where she sees Jihye sitting at a table, talking to an older woman who was cooking in a kitchen, their conversation slightly hard for her to follow due to their shared dialect.

When Jihye spots her she immediately lights up, standing she walks towards her, “Good morning.”

Chaewon quickly leans on the girl and mumbles a small good morning back.

They are interrupted by someone clearing their throat, which causes Chaewon to immediately separate them as she remembers who Jihye was just previously talking to.

Not giving Chaewon a chance to put too much distance between them Jihye grabs her hand and smiles at her grandma.

“And who is this pretty girl in my house?”

“This is Chaewon.”

The cheerleader feels nervous as Jihye’s grandmother studies her. Once she’s finished she smiles, Chaewon immediately seeing the charming Yoo family smile, “You have good taste hyehye, shes pretty.”

Jihye’s smile gets impossibly wider as she nods her head agreeing. The older lady points to the table, “Sit, I’m sure you’re hungry.”

Jihye pulls the girl to her side of the table, and immediately pulls out the seat for Chaewon. Once Chaewon sits she pushes it in for her, and then goes to help her grandma bring over any remaining dishes.

When every dish is brought over she pulls out a chair for her grandmother and then goes to sit next to Chaewon.

They both start to eat once the older lady had grabbed the first piece.

Chaewon eyes immediately open wide when the food hits her tongue, this was by far the best food she had ever tried. Sure she had eaten at five star restaurants and had food prepared by world famous chefs, but nothing had come close to this. Nothing had this much obvious care in it.

“So, Chaewon, did you like the festival,” Jihye’s grandmother asked.

Chaewon nods, “Yes, it was absolutely beautiful Ms. Yoo.”

Jihye’s grandmother immediately waves her off, “Please, call me Grandma Yoo, Ms just makes me sound old.”

“You are old, grandma.”

The older woman simply ignores her, “I remember when that festival was smaller Hye and I would make necklaces and sell them there.”

Chaewon turns to the girl in shock, “You used to work there?”

Jihye nods as she swallows her food, “When I was way younger, but we had to stop when grandma's joints got bad.”

“And then she started to make robots, which I’m still waiting for my gardener robot.”

Jihye just shakes her head as she places some more food on Chaewon’s plate.

Before Chaewon can stop her, not wanting the girl's grandmother to think she was incapable of doing simple tasks, her grandmother speaks again, “Have you taken her to see the bridge?”

“No, I was planning to take her before we leave.”

“You should’ve taken her last night, it’s pretty at night.”

Jihye nods, “I will next time.”

Chaewon feels her heart flutter at the thought of there being a next time.

“Good, now eat up so you guys can be on the road early.”

The rest of breakfast, more so lunch, went on with Jihye’s grandmother telling her stories of Jihye’s childhood. Once they finish, Jihye helps her grandmother clean up as Chaewon collects all her things. When she finishes she heads back to the front of the house where she sees Jihye and her grandmother splashing water on each other. When they finish playing Jihye mops it up, even though she had made the least of the mess between the two, while her grandmother heads off somewhere else in the house.

When she sees Chaewon she walks over to her, “You got everything?”

Chaewon nods, which causes Jihye to grab her bag for her. Her grandmother then comes back with a few bags clearly full, “Some mandarins and oranges from my garden. Also, some food for the road.”

She hands a couple of bags to Jihye and couple to Chaewon, immediately receiving a thanks from both.

Both girls say their goodbyes, her grandmother hugging the both of them, much to Chaewon’s surprise. As Jihye went to put the bag in her trunk, Jihye’s grandmother calls for Chaewon, “Don’t be a stranger, you’re welcome any time.” That simple phrase makes Chaewon tear up as she nods before heading to the car.

When Jihye notices the girl is teary eyed the smile drops from her face, “What’s wrong?”

Chaewon simply shakes her head as she hugs the girl, how could she possibly explain she has never felt more cared for her entire life, and this was just a first date.

After spending a few minutes recomposing herself she steps back to look at Jihye, who is visibly concerned, “I’m fine, let's go see that bridge.”

Jihye isn’t fully convinced though, “Are you sure? I can just bring you back home now.”

“I’m sure.”

That is all Jihye needs as she nods and pulls away from the girl to open the door for her.

As Chaewon buckles in, Jihye gets in and does the same. After getting them en route to the bridge the girl grabs Chaewon’s hand, this time, without her needing to ask.

Jihye quietly groans as Chaewon moves into another pose.

Once they had arrived at the bridge Chaewon had gasped at how beautiful everything was. They had walked a bit of it before Chaewon started to ask for Jihye to take pictures of her, which Jihye had of course said yes to. However, a few pictures had turned into stopping every two seconds to take more.

“Chae, do you really need these many?”

“Not my name and yes, I do.”

Jihye shakes her head and continues taking pictures for her, until a text comes in. The taller girl had prided herself in not being someone who gets jealous easily, however she couldn’t stop her jaw from clenching as she stands up.

“What are you doing? I’m not done.”

Jihye just hands the girl’s phone back to her, “Yeonjun texted you,” and begins to walk the rest of the bridge, Chaewon following closely behind her.

She hears Chaewon groan loudly behind her, “We have to go, Yeonjun just got posted on that Kwangya page again.”

“Of course he did,” Jihye mutters to herself.

Too busy texting people to try and fix the issue, she doesn’t notice Jihye’s change in mood.

When they reach the car Jihye opens the door for Chaewon as she usually does, once the cheerleader gets in she immediately starts texting with one hand as she moves her left hand to the center with her palm up.

After a few moments of Jihye driving, Chaewon notices her hand is still empty. Tearing her eyes from the phone, she looks at Jihye with a confused look, “What are you doing?”

“Driving.”

“No duh smartass, I meant,” she shakes her left hand.

Jihye doesn’t respond, instead pulls into a gas station, “I have to get gas, then we’ll go.” She doesn’t wait for Chaewon to say anything as she turns the car off and gets out.

When she comes back Chaewon’s window had been rolled down and she was now resting her head on the door. Once Jihye pulls the latch so the gas can pump itself Chaewon waves her over. When she stands in front of the door Chaewon loosely grabs her hand and begins tracing over the ring softly, her letterman, or Chaewon’s now, covering the tips of her fingers where Chaewon holds.

“What’s wrong with you,” Chaewon asks softly.

Jihye bites her bottom lip, “Do you have to fake date him?”

It finally hits Chaewon, Jihye is jealous, “Yeonjun will inherit his father’s business in the future,” Chaewon starts, “Due to this, his father believes he should be doing things such as writing, reading, math, and other stuff like that, not soccer. So, as long as he’s “dating” me, the soccer team gets funding.”

“But what do you gain from it,” Jihye questions.

“A prom queen title.”

Jihye nods, before separating them to finish pumping gas, when she gets in the car Chaewon looks at her, “You feeling better?”

Jihye nods, “Sorry.”

Chaewon smiles, “It’s okay, I like that you get jealous over me already. Now let's go.”

As Jihye starts up the car Chaewon catches a glimpse of something in the rearview mirror making her look back immediately, “Did you buckle in the teddy bear?”

Jihye just laughs as she pulls out the lot.

The rest of the drive goes off without a hitch, the two girls sing loudly to songs that play, and Chaewon feeds Jihye some mandarins.

When they get close to Seoul, Chaewon feels a wave of disappointment wash over her. She didn’t want this to end, she had never felt happier in her life. As they get closer to her house she grips tighter on to Jihye’s hand, once they reach her house Jihye has lost complete feeling in it.

They sit in silence once Jihye turns the car off. When Chaewon finally nods her head, Jihye gets out and grabs her bag from the trunk and the bear from the backseat.

By the time she makes it back to Chaewon’s door, Chaewon is standing in front of it, the bags of food given to her by the other’s grandma in her hand.

“Come on, I’ll carry this stuff to the door.”

When they get closer to the door, it opens revealing Eunchae.

“Ooo, is this bear for me?”

“As if, you touch it, you die.”

Eunchae scoffs, “Hi Jihye, let me help you with that stuff.”

Jihye nods, and the youngest purposely grabs the bear first, sticking her tongue out at her older sister. She then grabs the overnight bag from her hand, “Did you get me anything?”

Chaewon nods which causes the girl to exclaim and leave the two girls by the front door.

Jihye then turns to her and smiles softly, “I hope you had a good time.”

“I did, that was the best date I ever had,” Chaewon confirms.

“Good.”

The two stand there, both clearly not wanting to leave.

“Chae-”

“Ji-”

“Sorry, you go first,” the cheerleader says.

Jihye just shakes her head lightly, “I should go, my family might worry soon.”

Chaewon pouts before pulling the girl into a tight hug, she then gets on her tiptoes to kiss the girl on her cheek. “Text me when you get home.”

Jihye nods, a blush now painting her face. She turns around and heads to her car, once in she gestures for Chaewon to go inside. Listening, Chaewon waves one last time, and closes the door once inside. When she hears the car drive away she can’t help but smile widely.

“You look dumb.”

“Shut up Eunchae.”

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[inkbybambi]

simon "ghost" riley/john "soap" mactavish/f!reader words: 4.2k warnings: mmf, threesome, fingering, anal fingering, finger sucking, riding, creampie, doggy style, pet names (kitten, bonnie, angel, etc), dirty talk, breeding kink notes: this was written as part of the valentine's exchange from @bunnyreaper ♡ this is a gift for @auspicioustidings ♡ this is my first time writing a threesome, but i loved every moment of it ♡ header image is coral charm peony ii by mia tarney

The light of the dying sun slowly drains from the horizon, hues of blues, pinks, and purples following in its wake. There’s a gentle breeze coming through the open windows of the cottage; a little haven tucked away for you and yours. A smile plays at your lips as a small cow-shaped timer trills from its perch on the kitchen counter. You slip on a pair of oven mitts decorated with highland cattle, taking out your shortbread from the oven lest it bake for even a moment too long. 

Your boys were due to be home soon and this sweet treat was the last on your to-do list. 

They had left you earlier that week with a messy amount of kisses pressed to your cheeks and forehead and lips and anywhere they could reach, really. You had similarly returned the favor, finding your favorite lipstick to press marks onto Simon’s mask and Johnny’s glove before pressing other faded marks elsewhere. 

Before letting them cross the threshold back into the world — one that had tried to take them from you more times than you could count — you spritzed your favorite perfume on their wrists, sealing it with a kiss. The scent may fade with the mark, but they’ll know. 

Your heart ached the moment they left and its felt more numb in the days since, waiting dormant for them to return, to let you breathe fully knowing they’re there, that they hadn’t been taken from you. 

You inhale sharply to disperse your lingering worries. They’ve always, always come home to you. Today will be no different.

You leave the shortbread to cool on a rack as you gather your sugar and butter for the caramel next. 

The one perk of solitude means the abundance of time you had to practice. Johnny isn’t necessarily known for his patience — not when it comes to you or Simon — and he would’ve been quite the distraction. You burnt enough caramel without him, thank you very much. 

The soft, warm lights of the kitchen accompany you humming Simon’s favorite song, staring patiently at your pan as your sugar melts slowly, pulling you into a sugary-sweet trance. 

You lose yourself to your very serious task of making sure your caramel doesn’t burn, the melody of the song lost in your throat as your humming softens, concentration on anything outside your little kitchen waning. 

The click of the front door doesn’t phase you, and neither does the muffled thump of boots and bags. The sugar has started to dissolve and you can’t bear to lose your concentration now. 

“Bonnie!” 

You barely have time to register Johnny’s excited shout, head snapping up only moments before strong arms wrap around your waist, hauling you up to spin you in a hug. 

“Johnny!” you laugh through your startled yelp, squirming in equal parts because you want to hug him properly and to get back to your caramel. 

“Johnny, the caramel!” you exclaim when his grip on you only tightens, his face pressed between your shoulder blades. 

“Ach, we dinnae caramel,” he says almost petulantly, voice lost against the fabric of your shirt. He does put you down — albeit reluctantly — but all you do is turn in his hold to lace your arms around his neck, pulling him even closer than before. 

“Missed ye,” he says as a soft kiss is pressed to your temple and you bury further into the crook of his neck. You’ve missed his warmth, and his scent, and the comfort of him and being his. 

You feel like you miss him all the time, but it’s the moments when they’re first back when you realize just how much, and the knot of worry slowly unfurls the longer you spend in his arms. 

He cradles the nape of your neck gently and you can hear the angry bubbling of your sugar — too far gone now to save — but you wouldn’t be able to pull yourself away from him for even a moment. 

“Where’s Si?” you ask against his skin when there’s a very distinct lack of your other half from the kitchen, craving his touch just as badly. 

It’s not real until you’ve seen them both, until you’ve touched them both, to know that they aren’t the phantoms that will sometimes accompany your dreams, your memories. 

“Think he went to the shower, hen,” comes Johnny’s soothing reply, pulling you back from your hiding spot to cradle your face in his hands. 

You used to hate how small you felt with them; how it felt like you were an accessory to them rather than part of them. 

Now you feel nothing but protected, cradled carefully in their hold, their own way of keeping you safe. 

You pout, glancing over his shoulder, down the hall to where the bedroom lay, seeing the faint hint of light from the bathroom spilling out. Johnny’s calloused thumb rubs over your bottom lip, before he crowds in close enough to give you  a soft kiss. 

“Without us?” you ask, and he snorts in reply. 

“Go on, then,” he says as he herds you towards the bedroom, a gentle pat to your ass to urge you along. “Go join ‘im.” 

Your pout deepens, holding out your hand for him. 

“Come with me,” you don’t whine, but you wiggle your fingers enticingly. You’ve been without them for so long, you don’t want to go another second without either of them. 

You’re selfish in very few ways, but are unapologetically so when it comes to your boys. 

Johnny steps into your space, a soft kiss pressed to the corner of your mouth, before nudging your cheek with his nose. 

“I’ll be right behind you,” he promises with another lingering kiss, and you nuzzle into him momentarily before nodding and releasing his hold. Like a moth to a flame, you follow the path to the bedroom, seeing Simon’s clothes already tucked into the basket that’s specifically meant for their work clothes. Anything to separate who they are out there to who they are with you. 

You shed your own clothes, placing them in the empty hamper before stepping into the bathroom, the tile cold on your feet. 

He stands just beyond the glass, new scratches and bruises littering his skin. You’re going to kiss each and every one before you fall asleep tonight. You take a few moments to appreciate him; the broad expanse of his back, the slight layer of fat that surrounds his tummy, thick thighs that you love to bury yourself between, muscles moving like water. 

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” comes his teasing lilt as he turns to face you, a smirk plastered on his lips as he tilts his head in invitation. You bite your lip to hide your excitement, hurrying over to join him in the shower, taking his hand as he reaches for you, drawing you under the spray of the water.

“I have plenty of photos, actually,” you tease back. He tilts your chin up with a tattooed finger, leaning down to kiss you, before he moves to hold your throat delicately, keeping you in place. You inch up on your toes to press even closer, nipples pressed against his broad chest. 

“Not nearly enough, love,” he replies, not giving you a moment to answer before he draws you back into his mouth, licking into you and swallowing your gasps. You hum and lean into him, lacing your arms around his shoulders. One of his large hands splays against the middle of your back, the other trailing down your spine to the curve of your ass, pulling you in close. 

“Missed you,” you breathe out between kisses, as you cup his face to kiss him deeper, desperation thickening in your veins the longer you’re in his hold. “Missed you so much,” and your nails dig into his skin, adding a collection of your own marks to the others on his body. 

A warm body at your back makes you shiver, pulling away from your kiss to lean your head back on his shoulder. Simon cradles the back of Johnny’s head, kissing him softly. 

“You two need to clean up,” you murmur into Johnny’s jaw, lips grazing the stubble that’s been growing for a few days. It burns your lips, but you’re thankful for any reminder of them. 

“But you’re so comfortable,” Johnny practically whines as he leans further into you, arms tight around your waist, thankful Simon was there to provide stability or else you absolutely would’ve lost balance. 

“Johnny,” Simon admonishes gently, a bite to his ear in reprimand. Johnny squeezes your tummy tighter in reply, but turns to brush his nose gently over Simon’s. 

You wriggle from his grip, a hand on each of their forearms for balance, pressing a kiss to the corner of Johnny’s mouth before pressing one to Simon’s. 

“The quicker you get clean, the quicker you can join me on the bed,” is your parting words as you grab a fluffy towel from the rack, drying yourself before sauntering to the bedroom, diving into fresh sheets. 

You hear the soft murmurs of their conversation curtained by the fall of the water, rolling onto your back and arching up as you stretch, feeling as the tension seeps from your body, relaxing further into the mattress. 

“MacTavish!” comes Simon’s warning bark before a very excited, very wet Johnny launches himself into the bed at you, burrowing his face into your neck as you giggle, feeling the bubbles of body wash that he hadn’t bothered to rinse all the way off. 

He peppers your throat and jaw with kisses, teeth scraping every now and then before he reaches your mouth for a breathless kiss, and you cradle his head gently, nails grazing along the nape of his neck, feeling how his shaved sides have grown just a little since they went away. You’re sure he’ll let you clean him up proper tomorrow, but you don’t want you or either of your boys to leave the bed for the foreseeable future. 

“Simon’s grumpy,” he says against your cheek, and you can’t help but snort. 

“Can’t possibly imagine why,” you tease in return, gripping a longer part of his mohawk and giving a harsh tug, hoping Simon brings an extra towel or two with him because the bed is damn near drenched — and not in the fun way. 

“Absolute menace, that one,” Simon says as he comes from the bathroom, towel slung low on his hips showing the tantalizing line of his tummy that you love so much. 

“Aye,” Johnny agrees with a cheeky smile, removing himself from you and sitting on his heels, settling himself over you to turn back and look at Simon. “But ye love me.” 

Simon comes forward with a fresh towel in hand, motioning for Johnny so he can dry him off. 

Simon doesn’t say anything in reply — he doesn’t have to, and both you and Johnny know that your declarations of love will never go unrequited — instead stopping at the edge of the bed and reaching for him. 

“Be a good pup,” you say as  you push him back with your foot, pressing him back into Simon’s hold so he can dry him off, ruffling his mohawk and wiping away the lingering drops that cling to his tanned skin, Johnny’s own marks and scars adorning his body. The intensity of the blue of his eyes feels like a shock of electricity, his gaze unwavering from yours as Simon tilts his head to the side to press a gentle kiss to his jaw, a soft I love you pressed to his skin. Simon’s lips graze over to his ear, murmuring something too low for you to hear. 

Johnny turns enough to catch Simon’s mouth in a rough, dirty kiss, teeth nipping his bottom lip before a tap to his ass pushes him into motion, crawling his way over the bed back to you. 

You arch up into his body as he slinks closer, a hand on your jaw pulling you into for a filthy kiss of your own. You whine against his mouth as Johnny pulls you up from where you lay on the bed, moving to take your place. 

Johnny settles you over his hips, blue eyes sparkling in the lingering light of the bathroom, a fond smile painting his lips. As cute as he looks — and he looks adorable — the thick heat of his cock resting between your legs makes you ache, makes you want him to take what he wants. His nails dig into your calves as he anchors you against him, rocking his hips against yours, cock moving through your slick and catching on your clit. 

“God, we missed ye,” Johnny sighs out as he digs his nails into your skin, and you bite your lip against the sting of his possession. 

“Never heard the end of it,” Simon says as he comes around the side of the bed, one leg braced on the mattress, the towel parting enough to show his aching cock. 

“Did you take good care of our pup?” you ask through a gasp as you turn to the blonde, eyes fluttering as Johnny’s cock catches at your entrance. 

“Always, love,” he promises, Simon crowding in close as you pull his towel loose, blindly tossing it from the bed as he kneels on the bed at your side, swallowing your next gasp as he presses his lips to yours. 

“Don’t like it when you leave,” you pout against his lips as he moves to kiss down your jaw and throat, trailing his lips over your shoulder. Your head tilts to the side, wanting his teeth in your skin. 

“We’re here, darlin’,” Johnny soothes as a hand grazes up your side to grip your breast, thumb flicking over your nipple until it hardens under his touch. You lay above him, arms braced by his head as you catch him in a kiss, happily letting him take control as his tongue licks deep into your mouth. “We’re not going anywhere,” is his whispered promise and you just nod in agreement as you press your mouth back against his, unable to get enough of his touch, of his taste. 

“Missed your cock,” you whimper with a sharp roll of your hips, Simon settling behind you, hands on your waist as his chin tucks over your shoulder, watching your slick soak Johnny’s cock. 

“Gorgeous thing,” is Simon’s soft purr of praise, one of his hands slipping down the line of your tummy until he can press two fingers against your clit, his other hand grazing up to hold your throat, tilting your head back against his shoulder. 

“Dreamed of your cunt, bonnie,” Johnny pants from beneath you, feeling his cock pulse with each of your thrusts. His fingers grip your hips tight, and Simon tuts at him from his perch over your shoulder. 

“Don’t cum, pup,” and Johnny only whines in reply, nails biting into your skin. “Wanna see your cum spill from her pretty pussy.” 

You’re breathless, need and want coursing through your blood, desperate for something more. 

“Please,” you mewl as you try to paw for Johnny’s chest, but Simon’s hold on your throat keeps you in place. 

One of Johnny’s hands grip you hard enough to lift you from his lap, his other fisting the root of his cock so he can guide you down onto him slowly, your pussy fluttering as you sink deeper in his lap until he’s completely sheathed. 

“Fuck,” he bites out, and you feel the way his legs shake as he holds off his release. He looks gorgeous beneath you, head thrown back against the pillows, the line of his throat exposed and mournfully free of marks from either you or Simon. 

“How’s she feel?” Simon asks, dipping his fingers lower to feel for himself  where you and Johnny are connected. 

“L-like a fuckin’ dream,” comes his panted reply. 

“You wanna fuck ‘er?” he asks, like you aren’t even here. 

You feel like you aren’t, lost in the pleasure of Johnny’s cock nestled deep inside you, stuffing you full. You don’t think Johnny is capable of words after a week without you and your touch, but soon he starts a slow grind of his hips up into you, the crown of his cock pressing against your cervix. 

You cry out in pleasure as he continues the slow roll of his hips, fighting the urge to beg him to fuck you rough. This is for him just as much as it is for you. 

Simon’s grip on your throat remains, thick fingers collaring you, keeping you safe. The two fingers he used to rub your clit, to feel where Johnny was plugged into you, grazes your lips. You willingly open your mouth, swallowing down his fingers as best you can with him behind you. 

“Did you miss me too, darling?” he asks, though you can feel his smirk pressed against your skin, knowing you can only gurgle your answer around his fingers, spit spilling out from the corner of your mouth. 

“I know, kitten,” he says with a kiss to your shoulder, pressing his fingers even deeper, causing you to choke, your throat working around his digits. “I missed you too.” 

He withdraws his fingers as you gasp for breath, losing it the next second when Johnny snaps his hips up hard against you. His soaked fingers trail down your spine to your other hole, the tight ring of muscle fluttering as he circles it, just pressing the tips of his fingers against it. 

“Johnny couldn’t stop talking about your ass,” Simon says against your skin. Your eyes flash to Johnny’s, glazed and dark, but his eyes are locked to Simon’s. “Told me how warm it is,” he continues, very carefully pressing one of his thick fingers against your rim as you beg yourself to relax. “How every single inch of you,” he says as he slowly begins to pump his finger deeper and deeper with each word, “is meant for us.” 

“Steamin’ bloody Jesus, Simon,” comes Johnny’s choked moan, “she’s squeezin’ me so tight.” 

Simon hums in reply as he continues his leisurely pace of fucking his finger into you. “Wonder what my cock would feel like in here,” he muses, continuing a line of kisses across your shoulders. He digs his teeth in deep into your shoulder, a shaky moan rising in your throat as he wiggles a second finger into the tight ring of muscle. 

“T-too much,” you whine out, asshole fluttering desperately around his fingers. Johnny’s cock was bigger than Simon’s two fingers — but it had been well over a week since either of them had touched you there. 

He stills as Johnny leans up to kiss along your collar and chest, tongue licking across your nipples. 

“Give me a color, love,” he asks gently, the fingers around your throat loosening so it’s easier for you to breathe. Johnny’s soft pants ghost against your skin as he holds your waist gently, ever so patient with you. 

“Bonnie?” comes Johnny’s soft prompting, laced with concern when you didn’t answer. 

“Green,” you whisper out after another moment of pause, and Simon’s answering good girl makes you melt further into their touch. 

Sweet, precious girl Johnny whispers against your collar, one arm laced around your waist as his other hand reaches for Simon’s hip. 

You bite your lip as tears thicken your throat. Your head is muddy with pleasure and love for your two boys, not realizing how much you’ve missed them until now, their soft praise spoken against your skin, kisses and devotion pressed to each exposed inch that they can reach. 

Simon carefully begins to thrust his fingers into you, sinking deeper each time until he’s able to curl and thrust without any resistance. Heat licks deep in your belly, broken moans catching in your throat with each expert thrust of his fingers. 

You vaguely hear him ask Johnny for the lube, hearing the pop of the cap as he squirts a generous amount into his hand, coating his length before smearing whatever is left over your hole, empty now without his fingers. 

He drags the tip of his cock over your hole, teasing the relaxed ring of muscle, watching as it looks like your hole is trying to draw him in, desperate. 

“Think you can take me, love?” comes his question pressed against your cheek, and you lace one arm back around to hold the nape of his neck, a soft yes falling from your lips. 

One thing you’ve learned from your boys is they always want to hear you. They love how vocal you are — Johnny especially — but hearing how badly you crave them, need them makes something primal in them snap, wanting to give you everything you beg for and more. 

“Slowly now,” he says as he pushes the crown past your ring of muscle, and you swallow thickly, nails digging into any part of Johnny you can reach. Johnny does his best to distract you with soft praises as Simon slowly sinks into you, pausing halfway when he feels you trembling under his touch. 

“Fuckin’ hell, darlin’,” he groans out, forehead resting on your shoulder. 

“Feels good, don’t she, Si?” 

Simon inhales sharply, raising his head enough to pull Johnny in for a kiss as your nails scratch at the base of Simon’s neck, leaning back against him as you watch your boys indulge in each other. 

“Incredible, just like you said,” he agrees with one more kiss, teeth nipping sharply at Johnny’s bottom lip. 

Johnny leans back down against the sheets, pulling you forward. Simon follows carefully, allowing Johnny to adjust your hips so it’s easier for him to sink the rest of the way into your hole. 

“Angel of our lives, ah swear,” Johnny says as he begins to carefully thrust up into you, knocking the wind from your lungs when his sharp thrust catches that squishy spot deep inside you that makes you keen and clench around them, Simon’s moan reverberating against your back. 

Simon carefully ruts into you, timing himself with Johnny’s thrusts, until you can’t think of anything more than the heat coursing through you, sparking and igniting like a wildfire. 

You can’t think of anything other than their names, but after a few minutes, Simon braces one of his feet on the bed so he can thrust in harder, rougher, and your voice cracks with how hard you cry out, lost to the pleasure. 

“Wanna stuff you full,” Johnny babbles beneath you, his thick thumb moving down to rub your clit, touch electric and causing you to moan and shudder in his hold. “Watch our cum drip from you until you’re full of our babe.” 

Simon’s free hand settles over your tummy, thumb stroking in surprising gentleness compared to the absolute filthy mess they’re making of you. 

“You want that, lovie?” Simon asks from behind you, his question punctuated with a sharp thrust, the obscene sound of his balls slapping against your ass accompanying the sounds of Johnny’s cock drenched in your slick. 

You’re helpless and reduced to nodding and whimpering, clenching hard around them as you whine out about giving them a baby. 

“Christ, love,” Johnny grits out before he’s spilling deep inside you, thick ropes of cum painting your insides. He grips the nape of your neck to bring you in for a kiss, a mixture of panting his moans against your mouth and swallowing your own. 

Simon’s fingers are back on your clit, your nub hard and sensitive, sensitive to his touch. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you pant out as you reach your peak, Simon buried deep inside you as his grinds, cock pressed deep inside you. 

Johnny’s cock pulses with your orgasm, walls fluttering and spilling your release over him, the force of it causing his cum to spill out from where Johnny’s still plugged deep. 

“Atta girl,” Simon snarls as he buries his teeth in your shoulder with his own release, your eyes rolling back as you feel each thick pulse of his cum. He growls as he minutely thrusts into you, his own cum spilling from where his cock is nestled in your ass, making a mess of Johnny beneath you two. 

Simon draws his teeth from your shoulder, soothing  over the wound with his tongue as it pulses with your heartbeat. Soft kisses are placed along the line of your shoulders and close to your throat as you settle into their touch. 

He gently draws you to him, pressing a significantly softer kiss to your lips as your breathing evens out. You press your forehead to his to bask in his warmth, his nose pressed to your cheek as his nuzzles into your skin before carefully pulling out, his cum slipping from your hole. He helps keep you in place for Johnny to pull out as well, before Johnny is gathering you into his arms, cradling you against his chest and running his fingers delicately along the line of your back. 

You hate how empty you feel without them, but they’re right there, close enough for you to touch, for you to know they’re here with you, home, finally. 

You nuzzle into Johnny’s hold, already the edges of sleep drawing you deep. Simon settles behind you, a thick arm around your waist, anchoring you to him, to them. You murmur something about ruined caramel, but the press of their lips across your cheeks and forehead are all you need, finally allowing you to rest in the comfort of their arms. 

[samodivaa]

┊Impure Thoughts┊2

《Part 1┊Reader x Bucky Barnes

Bucky is getting more comfortable with going out without the prosthetic. You are getting a little too comfortable with the idea of using it...as a pleasure tool.

Warnings - smut, fingering, fisting, oral (f receiving)

Words - 2250

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Every secret of your mind is rendered up—from this new and intimate perspective, you have no choice, but to speak

“Lust,” you keep your voice pitched low “Lust is a deadly sin” 

“And fucking yourself with my arm” His lips twitch, almost imperceptibly.

“I think that falls under lust” you whisper, sultry.

You catch yourself staring at the sensual curve of his lips, the impressive cut of his jaw, devouring every part of him with eyes.

“I think it should have its own category” he responds sweetly, allowing a shade of mockery to infect his tone.

He is looking at you with amused suspicion—you have to acknowledge this tame remark about the whole situation sounds way too perverse. You try to remain cordial and calm. You don’t want to give him the impression you are overbearing in fear he would judge you.

“Bucky-”

His jacket then goes to the floor, followed by his trousers, shirt until he is only in his boxers. His eyes dart over the surface of your face, exploring you from a distance with his unspoken desire and an innocent and mesmerizing smile.

“Jesus, snezinka…you are so filthy”(snowflake)

you hear a mute moan of human tenderness— his soul actually hanging around your naked body and is ready to repent. There is a pleasant sinking sensation in Bucky’s stomach as he contemplates how deliciously it would be to do it himself.

Your eyes widen at his choice of words and, much to your shock, you find that you love his dirty talk.

You are on your back—legs spread—the metal fingers still in you.

A little bit of kink is one of the most delicious of erotic pleasures

He stumbles forward to the bed and your body suddenly surges with the heat of concentrated humiliation—you feel disgusted—tired of the lust, but it's so hard to refuse it now.

He doesn’t speak, his expression doesn’t soften. But he is hard.

“The scent of your arousal is so-so sweet”

He speaks and you have a difficult time tearing your gaze away from his pelvis to meet his eyes.

His blue eyes almost glow, his voice lowered, husky. The scent of you, the scent of—pure filth.

Those scents lay around Bucky now, tempting him, drawing him.

Your thighs tighten, legs tremble at the sight of him coming closer to the bed. You hear him swear under his breath and reach down to squeeze tightly the imprint of his cock through the boxers—he senses your gaze now as he grips his cock over the fabric, the friction is absolutely delicious.

“Keep them open, it is too late for shame, baby”

He has never before felt so overwhelmed—nor experienced such appetite—such impatience for the night to begin.

He licks his lips, panting hard as you spread your legs further, his eyes barely glancing over the moisture glazed flesh.

He groans, the thought of his head between those silky thighs, his tongue lapping the sweet moisture that produced that intriguing scent is nearly more than he could bear.

Bucky licks his lips and bits back an oath.

When he climbs onto the bed, the bed cracking under his weight—as he crawls towards you—you close your eyes, take a deliberate deep inhale through your nose, hold it for a few seconds before forcing the trapped air out through pursed lips, attempting to calm down your accelerating heart rate.

And an affliction more than describes it.

Your feet fevered, skin sensitive, ready for his touch. It is unlike anything you have ever experienced. It is unlike anything you ever wanted to know, feel.

Bucky touches the back of your thigh, fingers grazing lightly down to the back of your knee, grasping it and lifting your leg carefully over his shoulder.

Through the fog of dizzying pleasure you open your eyes—a hitch of breath when his fingers slip in and out of you really quickly

—this bastard has reattached his arm.

He observes your face; your eyelids have dropped low over your eyes, bottom lip caught between your teeth. He squeezes your thigh, keeping your leg over his shoulder, his thumb gently tracing your skin and another low sigh leaves you.

You feel him withdrawing his fingers from your dripping centre. Then, one finger traces down your slit and starts to play with your tight rosebud.

You shudder from the pleasure that he is giving you. Feeling the pressure building up—your breathing becomes more labored. He keeps circling his finger in just the way that you love it and you can feel the beginning of the orgasm, when he pulls away.

Your gazes meet, he can see your eyes beseeching him to give you the release that you urgently needed.

“No, this is not what you have planned”

There is no fulfillment that is not made sweeter for the prolonging of desire

Two fingers glisten with the frothy cream of your body. After swishing his saliva around, he manages to clear his palate enough before bringing the fingers to his lips and sucking them slowly, his mouth watering from the irresistible tangy, almost metallic taste

—he has never tasted vibranium before.

You whimper as he takes them into his mouth, his eyes darkening on a sigh of both ecstasy and sin as he tastes you on his own fingers. His lashes lowered, becoming heavy with sexuality, his face is tense, tight with the needs that surges through his body as well.

“You always taste good—even better like that”

Bucky smiles, the curve of his lips tight.

He says as he runs the metal index finger along your slit, gathering some of the arousal, then circling it around your clit before dipping the digit insidе. Slowly he pumps, sending your hips bucking under his hand.

He adds another finger into her tightness and you mewls.

“Oh yes” The shocking words erupting from your mouth do little to dim the haze of need for more “Please. Oh please—” you are making little gasping sounds, Bucky looks down to watch his whole fist sinking in slowly, but surely.

“What the…how…” he murmurs.

The anticipation and confusion he feels at seeing his hand disappearing into you, also a kind of sensual pleasure, and surrounding it, like an embrace, a general elation—it is terribly inconvenient, no good might come of it, but he finds out for himself that he enjoys it, and it thrills him.

Your eyes lit up in glee, seeing his grimace of pleasure, the raw lust that transforms his face—as you finally get what you wanted.

Since he has done that for you, you suppose it was only fair that he wants it too.

“Fuck...please” you struggle to get out, overcome by what he has just done.

“Need to suck your tits”

He says, removing your leg from his shoulder, he leans downward to press a small kiss to the side of your neck and you gasp, head arching back as that rough, rasping tongue strokes over your neck. Slowly, he places open mouthed kisses up the of your neck, letting his tongue slip out occasionally to taste your skin.

His breathing increases in pace, coming out in a deep and fast rhythm, as he kisses his way across your throat to give the other side of the neck the same treatment and he registers that you have upped the volume as well, with quiet moans accompanying your sighs.

Oh, this will be so good.

Real good.

Hot, with a gentle abrasion that has you panting as he moves slowly to your breasts. He lavishes your tits with attention, his lips nibbling sporadically, which only adds to the arousal coursing through your veins.

The satisfaction of hearing your ardor-filled voice uttering his name with such need is indescribable. It fills him with such yearning that he could barely contain himself.

His cock aches to escape and fuck you—but is all about you tonight.

Bucky can only sigh, grinding a bit into the air, he makes himself elicit a growl against your skin in response, scraping his teeth lightly over the nipple. He groans, fisting into you harder now, hitting your cervix as your eyes, water up at the sensation of being so stuffed as he gives you more and more—him hand fucking you like that flips your brain inside out and turns your cunt to pudding.

You are mindless now. You can feel the sensations building—everywhere.

The wet squelches of your pussy make it clear that you are incredibly turned on. Bucky plays with your body expertly and if he keeps going you are going to come apart all over his hand. Your breathing speeds up and becomes ragged, broken moans interspersed between the gasps for air.

He meets your eyes as he pulls back and thrust his hand into you again. You are just blinking up at him, eyes wide as he bites his lip, trying to maintain a steady pace instead of pounding into you the way he wants.

Of course, you notice his reluctance—you shamelessly whisper—

“Faster”

“Tell me if it hunts, baby” he slurs the words as if inebriated.

He speeds up his pace, he’s panting, because he wants to fuck you so much—he feels the build of pleasure low in his abdomen as he slams his hand into you, the cool heat of your orgasm builds with each thrust—you clenching around him—shuddering against him.

It is not the easiest for the pace but the feeling of both your cunt getting filled by his metal hand and his mouth on your nipple have you coming, screaming out—his hand having slowed down to extend your pleasure—he feels you clench your inner muscles hard and your whole body starts to seize up, as the orgasm washes over. Lost to your pleasure, you ramble nonsensically; a combination of his name, pleas for more and thanking him for doing this.

He slowly removes his fingers from your cunt, giving the clit a small caress before raising his hand to lick off your slick.

“Different—” you try to catch your breath.

Shame is a soul eating emotion

“—different position”

Why drown in shame when you can have so much fun swimming in lust?

Oh, sweet fucking Jesus—Bucky wants to say, but stays wordless.

You are not ashamed of your needs—it overlays his heart with lust, too.

He immediately understands you and moves you like a rag doll—he maneuvers your legs so that you end up straddling him, your cunt is right over his head.

Bucky’s tongue rasps through the slit of your lips from bottom to top. You buck against him, greedily using his mouth and nose for your pleasure, compressing his face underneath your weight.

Slow, erotically rough and so hot you feel your flesh melting. His human hand grips your thigh, holding you down to his mouth—he slips his metal fingers inside of you, twisting and curling as he tirelessly works. 

“Mmmm” his low moans of pleasure vibrates against your clit. You gasp for breath as he licks you, his tongue swirling around, gathering more and more of the taste as he groans in satisfaction merely from being suffocated, used—your enthusiasm, hoping the vibrations would likewise be your undoing.

Those sweet lips. Oh my, he could kiss those lips all night long.

He smiles mentally and continues the pleasurable torture, not playing on stopping until you finish. Bucky has to consciously remind both his hand and mouth to keep moving, concentrating the movements—your melodic sounds are way so distracting to his mind.

He raises his head for the last time and licks up the delicious slit, savoring the flavor, before focusing on your pleasure bud once again, his whole fuckin hand in your depths, fisting you, making you clench around the metal, your orgasm building.

Arousal is more potent than any drug on the planet as Bucky drowns, drinks you in as you start to tremble—endearing that you want to finish so badly, breasts sway as you choke, rapidly approaching your orgasm.

You cry out as tremors take hold of you, her body jerking and nearly slithering away—but the flesh fingers have you locked, his arm around your thigh, holding you in place. He keeps going until he can’t breathe anymore—you’ve managed to nudge him into the mattress, but he doesn't mind—he doesn’t mind at all.

He lets go of you and you tumble to his side. Bucky can’t help but grin as he turns his head to face you—his sultry lips and seductive—covered in your wetness.

Love is that condition in which the happiness of another person is essential to your own. All Bucky wants is for you to feel good—you are, and always have been, his dream.

“Bucky?” you ask against your better judgment. “How do you—do you want me—“ you clear your throat. “Do you want to fuck me or—something else?”

You are confused and you are trying to catch your breath when you hear a dark chuckle—you meet his eyes then, all wide pupils and rich blue irises.

Darker than you’ve seen before

“Do you think that my dick will be enough after all that?” he asks, quietly.

“What about your dick and your hand in my—” you manage to whimper.

Bucky is amused. Or speechless. Maybe something in between there.

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Fics like that arrive all the same. And now it's here. Or should I say, I AM >:)

Tag list :

@wilsons-striped-ties @12345sebby @rabbitrabbit12321 @buggy14 @femefetalelevelingup @8crazy-freak8 @emily-roberts @francesca-the-1st @somewereinthegalaxi @princezzjasmine @erica2024 @vicmc624

[sebstanaddict]

Dressing Up

Bucky Barnes x Avenger Reader Story

A/N : Seb's look in that Thom Browne suit earlier this week made me want to write something with that look in mind. So, based on one of your requests, here it is. Hope you guys enjoy it :)

Summary: Bucky and Y/n are both Avengers on an undercover mission to infiltrate a gala hosted by Countess Valentina Allegra de Fontaine. Bucky was not used to wearing a formal suit and so Y/n helps him get ready. But their closeness during the preparation lead to something more.

Pairings : Bucky Barnes x Avenger Reader

Warning : none I think, let me know if you find any

Word count : 1.3k words

Read more Bucky one shots here

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Dressing Up

Bucky stood in the suite of the five star hotel, adjusting the position of the waistband of his black trousers as he glanced nervously at the formal three-piece suit hanging nearby. He wasn’t used to this kind of thing—suits, ties, dressing up for high-society events. He was much more comfortable in tactical gear or his leather jackets, ready for action. But tonight, appearances mattered. They had a mission to infiltrate a gala hosted by Countess Valentina Allegra de Fontaine, and the evening called for sophistication, not combat gear.

Just then, Y/n stepped into the room, and his breath caught. She wore a sleek black dress that hugged her in all the right places, accentuating her curves and radiating an elegance that left him speechless. He’d always admired her confidence on the field, but seeing her like this—composed, graceful, and utterly captivating—did something to him he hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Oh… wow,” he managed to say, his voice nearly a whisper. She smiled, clearly catching his reaction, a blush tinting her cheeks. 

"Thanks. You’re looking a bit unprepared, though," she teased, glancing at his half-dressed state, he was only wearing the black trousers and white undershirt. 

“Come on, let’s get you into this suit,” she added with a playful smirk, holding up the white dress shirt she’d picked out for him. “Arms up.”

Bucky chuckled, holding up his vibranium arm slightly. “Just might need a little extra help getting this in."

She nodded, feeling a flicker of nervousness as she stepped close to him. Sliding his flesh hand through the sleeve was effortless, but guiding the vibranium arm was another story. The shirt clung stubbornly to the plates and ridges of the arm, and it took a couple of tries for her to adjust the fabric and ease the sleeve up over the hard, cool vibranium.

“Almost got it…” she murmured, concentrating as she gave the sleeve one last gentle tug, and finally, it slipped into place.

Bucky let out a relieved sigh. “You’ve got the touch,” he said with a soft grin, glancing down at her. She caught his eyes for a second longer than she meant to, suddenly hyper-aware of the space—or lack thereof—between them.

Trying to steady herself, she focused on buttoning his shirt, her fingers brushing his chest as she moved down, fastening each button slowly. The warmth of his skin contrasted with the coolness of the vibranium, and she found herself acutely aware of the solid muscle beneath her hands.

She bit her lip, willing herself to focus, but each button she fastened only brought her closer to him, her fingers brushing against his collarbone, his chest. Her cheeks flushed, and she tried not to think about the warmth radiating from him or the way he looked at her with those intense blue eyes.

“You know,” she said, trying to maintain her composure, “this shirt is almost too good for you.”

He raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Almost?”

Her heart skipped at his playful tone, and she shot him a coy smile. “Alright, more than good,” she admitted, her voice softening. “Perfect, actually.”

He smiled as he heard her. “Glad to know that.” 

After fastening the last button, she helped him tuck the shirt into the waistband of his trousers, their hands brushed as she worked and she felt a tingling sensation as they touched. She paused for a moment, looking up at him and noticed his cheeks were pink and she stepped back.

“Umm.. I think you can handle it yourself.” She murmured, feeling her cheeks warm.

He cleared his throat and started adjusting the shirt himself. “Yeah..”

Once he was done she turned and reached for the black cashmere vest sliding it over his shoulders and smoothing the fabric across his chest. Her fingers moved down his torso as she fastened each button, her pulse racing as she took in how effortlessly the suit framed his figure. The warmth of his body seeped through the fabric, making her hands tremble slightly. She swallowed, glancing up to find his gaze on her, his eyes darker than usual, and the intensity made her breath catch.

“Now for the tie,” she murmured, picking up the silk tie she’d chosen, a black one. She looped it around his neck, and as she leaned closer, their faces were just inches apart. She could feel his breath warm against her skin, the faint scent of mint teasing her senses. Her hands shook as she tightened the knot, and she forced herself to focus on the silk in her hands instead of the temptation to simply close the distance between them.

She managed to steady her breathing, but the moment her hands brushed his neck as she tightened the tie, he leaned in a fraction closer, a smirk pulling at his lips. “You’re pretty good at this,” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly.

She caught herself staring at his mouth for a moment, her cheeks burning. “Guess I’m just a fan of a man in a suit,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. Her gaze drifted over his face, down the sharp line of his jaw, and she could feel her resolve weakening with every second.

After a heartbeat, she stepped back slightly, needing the distance to regain some composure, but her eyes lingered on the dresser where a bottle of cologne sat. She picked it up without thinking, holding it out to him. “One last touch. Just… a little cologne,” she murmured, almost nervous.

Bucky smiled, taking the bottle, his eyes never leaving hers as he sprayed a bit onto his wrists and neck. The smoky cedarwood scent filled the air, mixing with the warmth of his skin, and it was almost intoxicating. She felt herself getting lost in it, the scent wrapping around her and drawing her closer to him. Her heart raced, her mind spinning with thoughts she usually kept buried.

“You, uh… smell good,” she managed, feeling her cheeks grow hotter. He smiled softly, his expression turning serious as he took a step closer, his gaze trailing over her from head to toe.

“So do you,” he murmured, his voice filled with something deep and unguarded. His gaze traveled over the curve of her waist, the way her dress hugged her body, and he swallowed. “You look… stunning, Y/n.”

Her heart skipped, and she felt a warmth flood through her at the way he said her name. She was used to his protectiveness, his strength, but this side of him—the vulnerable softness in his voice, the admiration in his eyes—felt different. It stirred something inside her, something she hadn’t allowed herself to feel before. And suddenly, the mission was the last thing on her mind.

He stepped closer, just a whisper between them now, his eyes searching hers. “You know,” he began, his voice soft, “I don’t think I’ve ever told you how much I admire you.”

Her breath caught as his hand brushed against hers, and she felt a thrill she couldn’t ignore. His gaze dropped to her lips, and for a moment, she thought he might close the distance.

Instead, he pulled back slightly, his voice lower, almost hesitant. “Maybe after this… we could go out sometime?” He looked at her with a cautious, hopeful expression, and she felt a rush of warmth at his vulnerability, at the fact that he was letting her in.

A smile broke across her face, and she nodded, her voice soft but sure. “I’d like that.”

The electricity in the air felt almost tangible as they lingered, each savoring the moment, until finally, she tore her gaze away with a gentle laugh. “Come on, Soldier. We’ve got a mission to get to.”

He chuckled, looking a little more confident as he slipped into his jacket. “Right. But just know,” he added with a wink, “I’m already looking forward to our date.”

She laughed, the sound carrying a lightness that hadn’t been there before, and as they headed out the door, they both knew something had changed. Beyond the mission, beyond the gala—they had something to look forward to.

[puppym3]

Hello! I believe suggestions are open right now so I was hoping you could perhaps write something about Hyunjin as your bf/husband and him preparing for a fashion week trip maybe fluff but smut is great too! Thank you~

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

༉‧₊˚. hyunjin x reader

wc: 1k

warnings: none rly, just really just fluffy cuteness, fluff, fluff, kissing, fluff

a/n: thank you anon i love writing for hyunjin, idk what it is ab it that i just want to write the fluffiest things possible for him. I HOPE YOU LIKED IT!! <3 ilysm sm sm

let me know if u want to be added to the taglist!

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

The soft hum of the air conditioner fills the room as you lie on the bed, watching Hyunjin pack his suitcase for fashion week. His brow furrows in concentration, a sight you find both endearing and amusing. Clothes are strewn across the room, evidence of his meticulous yet chaotic packing style.

“Are you sure you need all of this?” you tease, propping yourself up on your elbows.

He looks over at you, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "I'm only going to be gone for a few days, but there are so many events. I have to make sure I have everything I need, especially since you're not going with me."

His words sting. Of course, you wish you could be there with him, but your schedules just didn’t line up. You sigh, knowing he doesn’t mean to hurt you. He’s simply focused on his schedule, and he’s right. He can’t take you with him, no matter how much he might want to.

You’re both quiet as he continues to fold clothes, carefully placing them in his suitcase. You watch as his hands delicately place each piece of clothing, his fingers brushing against the fabrics. He’s so focused, his brow furrowed and his lips slightly parted.

“You’re so handsome,” you murmur. “I’m going to miss you.”

He glances up at you, his eyes softening. He crosses the room, sitting down next to you on the bed. His hand reaches out, gently caressing your cheek. "I'm going to miss you, too." He smiles, his eyes full of adoration. "But I'll be back before you know it, and then we can spend some quality time together."

You lean into his touch, your heart fluttering at his words. He presses a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering for a moment. "I love you," he whispers.

"I love you, too."

He pulls you closer, his arms wrapping around you tightly. His kisses become more insistent, moving from your forehead to your cheeks, and then to your lips. Each kiss feels like a promise, a reassurance that his feelings for you are unwavering.

“I’m going to miss your smile,” he murmurs between kisses. “And your laugh.”

You giggle softly, feeling the warmth of his breath against your skin. “I’ll miss how you always make me feel better.”

Hyunjin’s eyes sparkle with affection as he nuzzles his nose against yours. “I’ll miss waking up next to you,” he says softly. “And the way you make my coffee just the way I like it.”

You smile, your heart swelling with love. “I’ll miss how you sing in the shower and your random dance moves.”

He chuckles, his fingers gently tracing your jawline. “I’ll miss holding you like this,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “But I promise I’ll think of you every moment we’re apart.”

You close your eyes, savoring the feeling of being so close to him. “I’ll be counting down the days until you’re back,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

Hyunjin kisses you again, his lips soft and tender against yours. “You’re my everything,” he murmurs. “And I’ll come back to you as soon as I can.”

You tighten your arms around him, holding him close as if you never want to let go. “I’ll be waiting,” you promise.

For a while, you just hold each other, savoring the warmth and comfort of being together. Hyunjin’s fingers stroke your hair, his touch gentle and soothing. You can feel the love and tenderness in every movement, every kiss.

Eventually, he pulls back slightly, his eyes meeting yours.

The warmth of his hand is replaced by a cool breeze as he pulls away, returning to his packing. You watch him for a moment longer before laying back down, letting the sound of his movements lull you to sleep.

When you wake, the room is dark, and Hyunjin is gone. His suitcase is zipped and sitting next to the door. You get out of bed, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. "Hyunjin?" you call out, your voice echoing in the empty apartment.

There’s no response.

You wander into the kitchen, hoping to find a note, but there’s nothing. You’re about to call him when you notice a light in the living room. You let out a sigh of relief, happy that he isn’t gone yet. "Hyunjin?"

He’s standing by the window, looking out at the city below. The glow of the lights reflects off his face, illuminating his features. He turns to you, his expression unreadable.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, moving closer to him.

“Nothing,” he replies, his voice low. “I’m just going to miss you.”

You wrap your arms around him, resting your head on his chest. His arms envelop you, his warmth seeping into your body. "It’s only for a few days," you murmur.

He rests his chin on the top of your head, letting out a soft sigh. "A few days too long," he pouts.

You chuckle, pulling back slightly to look up at him. "Don’t worry, I’ll be waiting for you."

"Promise you’ll be right at the door when I’m back?" he asks, a more serious look on his face.

"Like a puppy," you respond with a small laugh.

Hyunjin smiles, the tension leaving his body. "Alright," he sighs. "I guess I better get going then. My manager is blowing my phone up."

You nod, your heart aching at the thought of him leaving. "I’ll text you when I land," he promises, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

"Be safe," you murmur.

He holds you close one last time, his breath warm against your skin. "I’ll be back soon," he says, his voice filled with emotion. He pulls away, giving you one last lingering look before grabbing his suitcase and heading towards the door.

As he leaves, you can’t help but feel a pang of loneliness. The apartment feels emptier without him, but you know it’s only temporary. You walk over to the window, watching as he gets into the car waiting outside. He waves at you, and you wave back, blowing him a kiss.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

taglist for my beauties : @loverbangchan, @reignessance, @imperfectlyperfectprincess1, @armystay89, @ihrtlix, @jiyeonslays, @lovestaysblogs, @jeyelleohe, @celebration88

[mjwhisperer]

𝙱𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝙼𝚎 𝙹𝚘𝚢

1991

Neverland Ranch

Word Count: 10.6k

The air was thick with a comforting silence, the kind that wraps around you like a warm embrace, coaxing you into a sense of peace. The faint scent of baby powder lingered in the room, mingling with the sweet, delicate fragrance of your two-month-old baby nestled against your chest. You cradled her gently as she nursed, her tiny fingers occasionally brushing your skin, her soft breaths steady and rhythmic. Her deep brown eyes, the same shade as her father's, fought to stay open, curious and eager to explore more of the world, though the late hour weighed heavy on her eyelids. The red glow of the alarm clock blinked quietly from the dresser beside you, marking the time—midnight.

It had been a long, solitary day. The spacious house felt even larger when it was just you and your baby girl, the quiet occasionally broken by her soft coos and tiny cries. Michael had been away in the studio again, working late into the night, though he always made time for you and your daughter, even if it was in the small hours. His love was never in question, his presence felt even in his absence.

You sat in the old rocking chair, the gentle creak as you swayed back and forth blending with the stillness of the room. The window framed the night sky, where a crescent moon hung low, casting a silvery glow across your face and your daughter's. Her dark lashes fluttered, catching the moonlight as she slowly succumbed to sleep. You exhaled softly, letting yourself relax fully, the weariness of the day fading. The remnants of your earlier bath clung to your skin—the rich scent of cocoa butter soothing you, a small indulgence you rarely afforded yourself these days. The black satin of your nightgown felt luxurious, smooth against your skin, the fabric cool yet comforting. Your hair was still damp, but the slight chill didn't bother you.

Motherhood had changed you—deepened you, softened you in ways you hadn't expected. It had changed Michael, too. You saw it in the way he looked at your daughter, a new tenderness that you recognized from the way he had always doted on his nieces and nephews. But this was different. This was his own flesh and blood, and the love he had for her was palpable, even when he was away.

Your daughter stirred slightly, her lips unlatching from you, and you glanced down to see her eyes closed now, her breathing steady. Her skin, smooth as velvet, was as precious to you as any treasure. Carefully, you rose from the rocking chair, each step deliberate and quiet as you moved across the nursery. The crib stood waiting, the soft bedding already warm from the night's embrace. You leaned down gently, placing her into it with the utmost care. Her mouth made the little clicking sound you had come to adore from day one, her tiny lips forming a faint smile as sleep carried her off.

"Goodnight, princess," you whispered, pressing a kiss to your fingers and then to her cheek, the gesture as much a promise as a farewell for the night.

As you stood in the doorway, you cast one more glance at her peaceful form, illuminated by the soft nightlight in the corner. The door closed with a faint click, left ajar just enough to hear her if she stirred, though the baby monitor gave you peace of mind.

Descending the stairs, you heard it—the soft, familiar notes of a piano drifting through the house. Michael. Your heart swelled. His music always had a way of filling the empty spaces, his melodies woven from instinct and emotion. He played not from sheet music, but from the heart, each chord a reflection of his feelings.

When you reached the bottom step, the wooden floorboards creaked slightly underfoot, the sound almost a companion to the music. The soft glow of candlelight flickered in the living room, two small flames casting shadows at the end of the piano where he sat. His fingers moved effortlessly across the keys, his brow slightly furrowed in concentration but relaxed, the music soothing the quiet of the night.

You stood in the doorway for a moment longer, watching him as the soft glow of candlelight flickered against the walls, casting gentle shadows across the room. The warmth from the fireplace seeped into the air, mingling with the tender chords of the piano and the love that flowed effortlessly between you both. In that moment, the house no longer felt cavernous or empty—it felt alive, like the very walls breathed with the memories you had begun building here. This was home, a sanctuary you had both created together, and even in the quietest moments, its warmth enveloped you.

Slowly, you approached him, your bare feet barely making a sound on the hardwood floor. Standing behind him, you gently ran your hands over his broad shoulders, feeling the tightness in his muscles. He had been working for hours, and the strain was clear in the way he sat hunched over the keys. But as soon as your fingers touched him, he relaxed. The tension melted away, replaced by the familiar comfort of your touch. His scent, fresh from his shower, lingered—a mix of soap and something distinctly him, an intoxicating blend that always made your heart flutter.

You squeezed his shoulders softly before moving to the side of the piano, meeting his gaze. His deep brown eyes, so full of warmth and love, met yours. His damp curls framed his face, falling in just the right way to make him look effortlessly handsome. You couldn't help but smile. "Coming to bed?" you asked, your voice soft, inviting.

Michael nodded, though his fingers still hovered over the keys, not quite pressing them. "Soon," he replied. "I've got this melody stuck in my head. I told Teddy about it at the studio earlier, but for some reason, I just couldn't get it out." His fingers moved lightly over the piano, as though coaxing the music from it without sound, like he was trying to feel the notes before they emerged.

You smiled, running your fingers along the polished surface of the grand piano, the cool wood smooth beneath your fingertips. "Need me to stay up with you?" you asked, knowing how much these moments mattered to him, how the music was often his way of unwinding, of finding peace after a long day.

He shrugged lightly but with a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "I could use some company," he admitted. "Plus, I missed my wife. It was hard enough being away from you and our baby girl all day."

He scooted over on the piano bench, patting the space beside him. You walked over and settled next to him, the warmth of his body immediately comforting as you rested your head on his shoulder. His arm wrapped around you instinctively, pulling you closer as you both sat in the quiet. The flicker of the candles, the soft hum of the night, and the gentle weight of his presence made everything feel right.

"I missed you too," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. "I was so happy to see you when you came home." Your fingers found his hand, still resting lightly on the keys, and you traced the back of it, feeling the familiar texture of his skin.

He took your hand in his, his thumb brushing softly over your knuckles in that tender way he always did, a silent expression of affection. "The way your eyes lit up when I walked in," he said, turning his head slightly to meet your gaze. "You looked so happy."

You tilted your head up to look at him, a playful smile dancing on your lips. "Of course I was happy. I missed you, silly. What else?"

He chuckled softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "I know, baby," he said, his voice warm and teasing. "I'm just messing with you."

Before you could respond, he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, lingering as if savoring the moment, the closeness, the feeling of you against him. You closed your eyes, breathing him in—his familiar scent, fresh yet comforting, and the warmth of his body radiating through you. It was like time stopped for a brief moment, and all that existed was the shared silence between you, the stillness filled with love and understanding. You felt exactly where you were meant to be, safe in his presence, surrounded by his quiet strength and tenderness.

With a gentle exhale, he placed his hand back on the piano keys, his fingers poised delicately over them as he took a deep breath. Then, without hesitation, he began to play again, letting the same chords flow out as naturally as a heartbeat. Though Michael wasn't classically trained, there was something about the way his fingers danced across the keys that made it seem effortless. He played from somewhere deep within, letting the music find its way through him, a reflection of his emotions.

You leaned into his shoulder, the warmth of him grounding you as you listened. The chords filled the room, soft yet rich, each note a thread that wove through your heart, warming you from the inside out. It was as if every sound he produced carried with it a piece of his love, the music wrapping around you both in an invisible embrace. The joy, the happiness, the simple peace of being together in this moment—it was all there in the way he played.

Quietly, he began to hum to himself, the low sound barely audible but enough to send a shiver through you. His voice, unfiltered and raw, was one of your favorite things. You loved the way he sounded when it was just the two of you, no pressure, no performance—just him, vulnerable and real. It was moments like these that made you fall even deeper in love with him, the intimacy of hearing him like this, unguarded.

But suddenly, he stopped playing. The music cut off, leaving a stillness that felt jarring in contrast to the warmth it had brought. You opened your eyes, lifting your head from his shoulder to look up at him, concern flickering across your face. His expression had changed—his eyes were distant, as if lost in thought, his brow furrowed slightly.

"What's wrong?" you asked, your voice soft but laced with worry.

Michael shook his head gently, as if pulling himself out of whatever thought had distracted him. "Nothing," he murmured, but there was a weight to his voice that said otherwise. He turned his head to look at you, his deep brown eyes searching yours. "What did you feel when I played that?" he asked, his voice low, almost as if he wasn't sure if he wanted to know the answer.

You thought for a moment, letting the warmth of the music replay in your mind. "I felt... warm. Happy. Joy," you said softly, the words slipping out naturally. It was the truth, after all. His music had always had that effect on you, making you feel enveloped in a love so deep it was almost tangible.

Michael stared at you, his gaze lingering before he looked away again, his fingers brushing over the keys absentmindedly. "Joy," he repeated quietly, as if tasting the word on his tongue, rolling it around in his mind. Then he looked back down at you, a slow smile spreading across his face, lighting up his features. "I love you," he said, his voice filled with a sincerity that made your heart skip a beat.

"I love you too," you replied softly, your voice just as full of meaning.

He shook his head slightly, the smile still lingering. "No, seriously," he said, his tone deepening. "I know I say it all the time, but I really mean it. And when you said that—'joy'—it just... clicked. I think I'll call it Joy," he said, his smile widening. "You're really helpful at times, you know?" he teased, his eyes sparkling with playful affection.

You couldn't help but nudge him in the arm, a grin pulling at your lips. "Shut up," you muttered, pretending to be annoyed, though you knew he could see right through you.

"What?" he laughed softly, his voice smooth and warm. "I'm telling the truth, baby. When you're around me, you inspire me. You... you bring me joy. When I thought of this melody, I thought of you." His voice softened at the end, his words laced with affection so deep it made your chest ache in the best way.

You sat up slowly, turning to meet his eyes fully. "I love when I inspire you," you said, your voice barely a whisper, but the weight of your words hung in the air between you.

Michael's eyes darkened with emotion as he leaned in closer, his lips barely brushing against yours, his breath warm on your skin. "You always inspire me," he whispered, his voice deep, full of love. "Everything I do, everything that comes to mind, is because of you—because of how much I love you."

The quiet stretched out between you, the only sound the faint crackling of the fireplace and the soft flicker of the candles burning low. The room felt alive with the energy of your love, a warmth that wasn't just physical but emotional, deep, and ever-present.

You leaned in, closing the small distance between you, pressing your lips to his in a soft, lingering kiss. The outside world blurred into nothing, leaving only the warmth of his body, the scent of him, the way his lips moved against yours with a tenderness that made your heart flutter. It felt like the universe had shrunk down to this one perfect moment—the soft glow of the candles, the faint crackling of the fireplace, and the palpable love that filled the space between you. When you finally pulled away, your foreheads pressed gently together, the closeness still electric. Your eyes locked, and it was as though you could see every unspoken word, every emotion flickering through his gaze like the warm candlelight around you.

"Ready for bed?" you asked, your voice soft, almost as if you didn't want to break the moment.

Michael shook his head slowly, a slight smile playing on his lips as his fingers brushed against the piano keys again, coaxing out a soft, dreamy melody. "No," he murmured, his voice low and relaxed. "I'm still wide awake."

You stood up from the seat beside him, your black satin nightgown falling effortlessly over your body as you adjusted it. The smooth fabric skimmed your skin, a gentle reminder of how comfortable and at ease you felt here with him. You were about to walk away, your bare feet making the faintest sound against the floor, when you felt his hand reach out, fingers curling gently around yours, stopping you in your tracks.

"Where are you going?" he asked, his voice tender, yet with a hint of playful curiosity, his grip on your hand firm but warm.

"I'm just getting a drink," you replied, your lips curling into a soft smile. "You want one?"

Michael shook his head, but instead of letting go, he pulled you back toward him with a gentle yet insistent tug, guiding you back to the piano. His eyes met yours, and there was something different there now, something deeper, more intense. "I just want you right here," he said, his voice husky, filled with desire as his hands found your hips.

He reached behind you, his fingers moving deftly to close the top of the piano, silencing the keys with a soft thud. His grip on your waist tightened, and in one smooth motion, he lifted you onto the glossy surface of the piano. The cool wood met the bare skin of your legs, sending a shiver through you, but it was quickly replaced by the heat of his body as he stepped between your legs, his presence overpowering in the best possible way.

You looked up at him, your breath catching in your throat as his eyes locked onto yours, dark with longing. "What?" you whispered, your voice barely audible, your fingers already finding their way into his damp curls. You combed through them gently, feeling the softness of his hair between your fingers, the wet strands clinging slightly to your skin. He didn't answer right away, but the look in his eyes said everything. He wanted you, here and now, with an intensity that made your pulse quicken.

Without a word, Michael leaned in, his hand slipping beneath your chin, tilting your face up toward his. His lips found yours again, but this time the kiss was different—deeper, more urgent. His lips moved against yours with a hunger that sent a wave of heat rushing through you, his breath warm against your skin. You kissed him back, first with light, teasing pecks that quickly turned into something more, something deeper. The kiss became slow, sensual, each movement deliberate, as if you had all the time in the world.

His hand remained under your chin, his thumb brushing softly along the edge of your jawline, the simple touch enough to make your skin tingle. His other hand moved to your waist, the heat of his palm seeping through the fabric of your nightgown as his fingers gripped you gently but firmly, pulling you closer, leaving no space between you. You could feel the rhythm of his heartbeat through his chest, matching the rapid fluttering of your own.

The kiss deepened, his lips pressing harder against yours, and you let out a soft sigh as you melted into him, the sensation of his hands, his mouth, his body so close to yours overwhelming in the most beautiful way. His thumb continued to caress your skin as he tilted his head slightly, deepening the kiss even more, his mouth moving over yours with a slow, deliberate sensuality that left you breathless. It was as though nothing else mattered in the world but this moment, the connection between you, the desire that simmered just beneath the surface, ready to ignite.

You could feel the tension in his body as his hand slid from your waist, moving slowly up your back, his fingers tracing the length of your spine through the satin fabric. Each touch sent a spark through you, your body responding instinctively, leaning into him, wanting more. You broke the kiss for a brief moment, just long enough to catch your breath, your forehead resting against his as you both lingered in the silence, the air around you thick with unspoken words and shared desire.

His eyes never left yours, their deep brown depths filled with love, desire, and an unmistakable need. His lips, still slightly parted, seemed to hover just above your skin, as though he were breathing in every inch of you, committing this moment to memory. When he kissed you again, it was different. His mouth was soft, yes, but insistent, each kiss filled with a silent plea, each touch telling you more than words ever could.

His hands slid down your sides, fingers tracing the smooth silk of your satin nightgown before dipping underneath it. He gripped your thighs, the fabric bunching in his hands as he pushed it upward, the cool air meeting your skin where his warm palms had been. His lips broke away from yours, trailing down your jawline, leaving a line of gentle kisses in their wake. You could feel his breath on your neck as his lips pressed against the delicate skin, sucking lightly, leaving a warmth that seemed to bloom beneath his touch.

"Michael..." you whispered, your voice barely audible, more breath than sound. You tilted your head, offering him more access, feeling the heat of his mouth as it worked its way down the curve of your neck. His hands continued their journey, rubbing slow circles into your thighs, squeezing firmly, grounding you in this moment.

As his lips moved further, down the center of your throat and towards your chest, you felt the way his body leaned into yours, each kiss deeper, hungrier. His lips brushed over the pendant that rested just above your heart, a soft, reverent kiss that made your breath catch in your throat. You opened your eyes briefly, meeting his gaze, and the intensity in his eyes made your heart pound. He was watching you, his every movement deliberate, as if memorizing your reactions.

Your eyelids fluttered closed again as you gave yourself over to the sensations—the feel of his lips pressing gently, but with a purpose, against your chest, his hands sliding higher up your thighs until they rested at the soft curve where they met your hips. His kisses were tender, yet filled with a passion that made your skin tingle, your body yearning for more. Every touch felt like it was designed to remind you of how deeply he loved you, how much he cherished these quiet, intimate moments.

"I love you," he whispered, his breath warm against your skin, the words sending a shiver through you. His hands slid up your arms now, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake as they reached the straps of your nightgown. Slowly, almost agonizingly, he pulled them down, the delicate fabric sliding off your shoulders and pooling at your waist. You were bare before him, exposed to his gaze, and yet, in his eyes, all you could see was love.

His lips found your breast, brushing softly across the skin before he kissed it, gentle at first, then with more intent. His large hand cupped your left breast, his thumb grazing your nipple as his mouth left a trail of kisses. His lips hovered there for a moment, his eyes lifting to meet yours. He waited, as though asking for permission, and you gave it to him with the softest of nods.

When his lips brushed over your nipple, the sensation sent a shockwave through your body. You gasped at the sudden warmth, the way his tongue flicked out, teasing you with soft, deliberate strokes. He flicked it again, slower this time, drawing out the moment, savoring your reactions. Your fingers threaded through his hair, tugging gently, urging him on as the warmth of his mouth enveloped you.

A low hum of satisfaction vibrated through him as he closed his lips around your nipple, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud as he began to suck gently. The sensation was overwhelming, the warmth of his mouth, the gentle suction, and the way his tongue moved with such precision. He tasted your milk, and a soft sound of appreciation escaped his lips as he continued, his eyes closing in contentment.

You watched him, your breath coming in soft, shallow waves, your body responding to his touch with a kind of need you hadn't realized was so intense. The nightgown had slipped further, the fabric now pooled completely around your waist, leaving your bare skin exposed to the cool night air. But you hardly noticed, too focused on the feeling of his mouth on you, the way his hands gripped your hips, keeping you close as he leaned you back slightly against the cool, polished wood of the piano.

The only sounds in the room were the soft crackling of the fire and the quiet hums of pleasure that escaped his lips as he continued to suck gently at your breast. His movements were slow, deliberate, as though he wanted to savor every moment, every taste. The candles flickered around you, casting soft shadows across the room, the golden light reflecting off the surface of the piano, creating an intimate glow that seemed to wrap around you both.

You arched your back slightly, pushing yourself closer to him, lost in the warmth of his touch, the feel of his mouth on your skin. Every stroke of his tongue, every soft pull of his lips sent waves of pleasure through you, your body responding to him with a quiet urgency. Your fingers curled in his hair, holding him there as he continued, his breath hot against your skin, his hands still firmly gripping your hips.

"Michael," you breathed again, your voice trembling with the depth of your longing and love. His name barely passed your lips before he captured you once more in that gaze, his eyes a perfect storm of desire and tenderness. You could see it all — how much he adored you, the reverence in his touch, the devotion he showed with every movement. He didn't need to speak; his actions said everything.

His mouth stayed latched onto your breast, drawing softly from you, the warmth of your milk dripping slowly down his chin. His eyes were heavy-lidded with desire, his gaze never leaving yours. He looked at you with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat, as if drinking in more than just your milk — as if he were taking in every piece of you, body and soul. You whimpered softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "Michael... please," you begged, not even sure what you were pleading for, but knowing that you needed him, all of him.

You caressed his face, your fingers running along his jaw, feeling the wetness there as he continued to suck gently, savoring every drop of your milk like it was the most precious thing in the world. His tongue flicked out one last time, teasing your sensitive nipple before he finally pulled away, the remnants of your milk glistening on his lips, trailing down his chin and collecting in the cleft.

He stood before you, his breathing ragged, eyes half-lidded, staring at you as if you were the only thing in the world that mattered. You slowly slid off the piano, your nightgown slipping off your body and pooling silently at your feet, leaving you standing bare before him. His eyes drank you in, moving over every inch of your exposed skin with an intensity that made your body flush under his gaze.

"You taste good," he murmured, his voice low and rough, thick with desire.

You smirked slightly, reaching up to wipe the milk from his chin with your thumb. "And you made a mess," you teased softly, your voice laced with affection.

Michael chuckled, the sound deep and rich as it reverberated in his chest. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you flush against him, his hands exploring your body, roaming over the softness of your skin. His fingers found your breasts again, squeezing gently. A soft squirt of milk escaped from your left breast, making him laugh lightly, the sound vibrating between your bodies.

"That's hot," he murmured, his eyes gleaming as he looked at you.

You blushed, feeling the heat between you intensify, but you wanted more — needed more. You reached up, taking his hands from your breasts and placing them back around your waist, grounding yourself in the warmth of his embrace. "I want you," you whispered, your voice carrying all the weight of your desire.

His breath caught at your words, and he leaned in, his voice a mere whisper against your lips. "I want you too," he echoed, his words thick with meaning.

Your hands moved slowly down his chest, feeling the smooth fabric of his shirt beneath your fingertips. You tugged at the hem, pulling it upward, and Michael raised his arms, helping you remove it. His gold chain slid down his chest as he stood before you, his body now as bare as your own. His skin glowed in the soft candlelight, the muscles of his chest and abdomen taut and defined, his beauty leaving you breathless for a moment.

You ran your hands up his torso, feeling the heat of his skin, the strength of his body beneath your fingers. His chest rose and fell with each ragged breath as you touched him, savoring the connection between you. "Take me," you whispered, your voice filled with both need and adoration.

Michael paused for a moment, staring at you with a gaze so intense that it sent a shiver down your spine. Slowly, he pulled back, guiding you gently down onto the piano bench. His hands were steady but soft, as though he were handling something fragile and precious. He kneeled before you, his large hands moving up your legs, spreading them open with a tenderness that made your breath hitch.

"Lay back, baby," he whispered, his voice low and soothing as he positioned you. You laid back against the cool wood of the piano, the sensation of the polished surface a stark contrast to the warmth of his touch.

His hands explored your legs, his thumbs grazing your inner thighs, leaving trails of warmth in their wake. You gasped softly, the anticipation building as his hands worked their way up, brushing over your folds with a featherlight touch that sent a jolt of pleasure through you.

He didn't rush. His lips pressed to the inside of your thighs, kissing his way slowly upward, cherishing every inch of you. Each kiss lingered, as if he were savoring every moment, every taste of your skin. His breath was hot against you, making your body quiver in anticipation.

His lips traveled up your torso, over the soft curve of your belly and the swell of your breasts, kissing each spot with a reverence that made your heart swell with love. He kissed up your neck, finally meeting your lips in a slow, deep kiss. His mouth was wet, his kisses tender but passionate, his tongue flicking out to tease yours, pulling soft moans from your lips.

But just as you were getting lost in the heat of his kiss, he pulled away, his lips leaving a trail of warmth down your body. You gasped softly as his mouth moved lower, trailing kisses down your belly, and finally, his tongue flicked out to tease you, barely brushing over your folds. The sensation was electric, making you arch against the piano, your body trembling under his touch.

His hands gripped your hips firmly, holding you in place as his mouth worked its magic, his tongue moving with slow, deliberate strokes. Every flick of his tongue, every kiss against your most sensitive spot sent waves of pleasure crashing over you, building into something almost unbearable.

"Michael..." you moaned, your voice breathy and soft as your fingers tangled deeper into his curls. Your body surrendered completely to him, every nerve attuned to the sensations he was creating, the warmth of his tongue sending electric pulses through you. The intensity of it made your breath hitch, your hips arching instinctively toward him, aching for more of his touch.

His tongue moved expertly, flicking over your sensitive nub with precision, tasting your sweet arousal as it coated his lips and tongue. The heat between your bodies intensified as he adjusted his position, lifting your left leg to spread you wider, opening you up completely to him. Every flick of his tongue, every stroke, was deliberate, designed to drive you wild. He didn't take his eyes off you, watching the way your body moved, the way your chest rose and fell with uneven breaths, how your hands gripped the polished wood of the piano, your knuckles white with tension.

He teased you, his tongue dipping down to your entrance, flicking in and out, tasting you deeply before moving back up to your clit, licking with agonizing slowness. The intensity built higher, each touch more torturous than the last, your body trembling beneath him.

With a slow, deliberate movement, he replaced his tongue with his fingers, easing his middle and ring finger inside you. The intrusion was perfect, filling you completely as his fingers curled inside, pressing against that sweet, tender spot deep within you. His lips found your clit again, wrapping around it, sucking with gentle precision, drawing more moans from you that you could no longer contain.

"Baby... please," you whimpered, your voice trembling with need as your free hand gripped your breast, squeezing as the pleasure rolled through your body. Your eyes closed tightly, teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you tried, unsuccessfully, to hold back the sounds of your pleasure.

But Michael wouldn't have it. He paused, just for a moment, murmuring against your folds, his voice deep and commanding. "Let me hear you."

The low growl of his voice was enough to unravel you. Your moans spilled freely from your lips, his name escaping in breathless, staccato gasps. The way he moved, the way his fingers worked inside you, was enough to make your vision blur with pleasure.

Your arousal slicked his lips and chin, dripping down onto his neck and soaking into the fabric of the piano bench beneath you. It didn't matter. The world outside was forgotten, lost in the haze of heat and need that enveloped you both. All you could feel was him — his mouth, his hands, the way he made love to you with every kiss, every touch.

His fingers curled inside you, finding that spot again, pressing against it with just the right amount of pressure. A sharp whimper escaped your throat, your body reacting immediately, your hips lifting off the bench as the pleasure tore through you. Michael's eyes gleamed as he noticed your reaction, a knowing smile tugging at his lips before he pressed his fingers harder, repeating the motion that had your body shaking.

This time, the moan that escaped your lips was louder, uncontrollable. Your hand flew to the closed top of the piano, gripping it for dear life as your nails dug into the wood, the cool surface grounding you as Michael continued his assault on your senses. The wet, obscene sounds of your arousal filled the room, mixing with the soft crackle of the fire and the flickering candlelight, heightening the intensity of the moment.

Michael groaned softly against you, clearly aroused by the sight of you coming undone under his touch, the way you responded to him. He took pleasure in your pleasure, knowing how well he pleased you, how perfectly he knew your body. He could feel your muscles tightening, your core clenching around his fingers as you edged closer to the precipice of release.

Your body burned with the intensity of it, the heat pooling low in your belly, building to a crescendo that had you trembling beneath him. Your breathing grew ragged, each gasp sharper than the last as your core ached for release, the tight coil inside you ready to snap.

"Michael..." you gasped, your voice shaking as the pleasure became too much to bear, your body quivering with anticipation. You were so close, the pressure building, every nerve on fire. Your back arched off the bench, the tension ready to break, your release teetering on the edge, desperate to come undone.

And with one final flick of his tongue, one more expert curl of his fingers inside you, the tension in your body snapped. Your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, violent and all-consuming, pulling you under its powerful currents. The moan that ripped from your throat was involuntary, primal, your body convulsing with pleasure as he held you in place, not letting you escape the intensity of the moment.

Michael didn't stop. He knew you loved that extra push, the way he prolonged your release, letting it wash over you again and again. His lips glistened with your arousal, dripping down his face, but his fingers kept their steady rhythm inside you. They pumped in and out, curling deeper, pressing hard against that sweet spot, sending shockwaves through your body as another wave built up faster than you could anticipate.

"Michael... please," you whimpered, your voice breaking. Your hand came off the piano, desperate for an anchor, and he reached for you without hesitation, holding your hand tightly in his. His thumb brushed soothing circles over your knuckles, a tender contrast to the intensity of what his other hand was doing.

"You want to cum again, baby?" His voice was low, laced with need, yet soft enough to ground you in this whirlwind of sensation.

"Yes..." you breathed, the word barely leaving your lips as your body trembled in his grasp. Your core tightened again, burning with the need for another release, your muscles clenching around his fingers as your body prepared to unravel once more.

"Look at me, beautiful," Michael said, his voice coaxing, guiding.

You forced your eyes open, your gaze meeting his, your brows furrowing as you fought the overwhelming pleasure. He let go of your hand for just a moment, gently cradling the back of your head, holding you steady, forcing you to maintain eye contact. The intensity in his eyes was palpable, dark and burning with desire, but there was something else — love, devotion, the way he looked at you as if you were the only thing that existed in his world.

"I'm close," you moaned, your voice a broken whisper, your body trembling uncontrollably.

His eyes never left yours, his gaze locked onto you, watching every tremble, every moan, every twitch of your body. His fingers moved faster, harder, relentless in their pursuit of your pleasure. "Let go," he murmured, his voice commanding yet full of affection.

You bit down on your bottom lip, trying to stifle the moans threatening to escape, but the look he gave you, that smoldering, possessive look, made you stop. You let go of your lip, and with one last thrust of his fingers, your body exploded. Your release hit harder than before, your muscles tightening, your back arching as a loud moan spilled from your lips. The force of your orgasm rocked through you, leaving you breathless, your legs trembling violently, toes curling as the pleasure took over every inch of your being.

"Michael... I can't—" you gasped, your legs shaking uncontrollably, your body exhausted from the intensity.

Slowly, he eased the pace of his fingers, gently sliding them out of you. They were soaked, his fingertips wrinkled from your wetness. Without breaking eye contact, he brought them to his lips, sucking off the evidence of your pleasure, savoring it as if it were the sweetest nectar.

Your breathing was heavy, ragged, as you watched him, that simple act sending another ripple of arousal through you. The way his tongue ran over his fingers, the way his eyes remained locked on yours, made you want him all over again.

"What?" Michael asked softly, pulling his fingers from his mouth with a soft pop, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

You shook your head, still struggling to catch your breath. "Nothing, baby... it's nothing."

He chuckled, the deep sound vibrating through his chest, sending a fresh wave of heat through you. "I love you, beautiful."

You let out a deep breath, your heart still racing. "I love you too... but can we take this to the room?" you asked, your voice soft, a smile playing on your lips.

Michael chuckled again, shaking his head with amusement. "No, I'm finishing what I started right here." He extended his hand to you, that familiar mischievous glint in his eyes.

You took his hand, and he gently helped you sit up, your legs weak and unsteady beneath you. Carefully, he pulled you to your feet, his arms wrapping around you protectively, holding you close as he sensed how fragile you felt in the moment.

Michael's eyes flicked over to the piano, that mischievous smirk returning to his face. "I have an idea," he murmured, his voice playful. Without waiting for a response, he placed his hands on your waist and lifted you effortlessly, walking you to the edge of the piano, seating you on top of it with ease.

"Michael..." you said softly, raising a brow as you watched him with curiosity.

He glanced up at you, his hands already moving to pull down his pajama pants. "Yes?" he asked, a teasing lilt in his voice.

"What if we break it?" you asked, half-serious but unable to hide the amusement in your voice.

He chuckled softly, shaking his head as he leaned in closer, his warm hand cupping your cheek. The way his thumb tenderly stroked your skin sent shivers down your spine, but his voice was soothing, steadying you in the moment. "We won't, and even if we did, I'd never let you get hurt," he murmured, his tone a promise, filled with such warmth and care that it was impossible not to melt into him. His eyes, dark and full of love, gazed down at you with that familiar tenderness that had always made you feel safe.

"I promise," he added softly, brushing his lips against your forehead.

You gave him a small, trusting nod, your heart swelling with both love and desire. His words, that gentle assurance, was all you needed. "I trust you," you whispered, and it wasn't just the words. It was the truth. You trusted him with everything—your heart, your body, your soul.

His lips curled into a soft, knowing smile as he leaned in to kiss you, sealing the promise between the two of you. The kiss was slow, deliberate, his lips warm and soft as they molded against yours. Each press of his mouth conveyed what words couldn't—the depth of his love, the passion that simmered just beneath the surface, and the way you were his, completely, just as he was yours.

When you pulled back from the kiss, your eyes wandered down his body. The firelight cast shadows across his skin, highlighting the fine sheen of sweat that glistened across his bare chest. And there, through the loose fabric of his pajama pants, his arousal was unmistakable. Your breath hitched slightly at the sight, the way it tented the soft cotton, leaving no room for imagination.

You watched, your gaze hungry, as his hands moved with a deliberate slowness to tug down the waistband of his pajama pants. The fabric slipped over his hips, and with a soft movement, his hardened length was freed. It stood proud, thick, heavy, pulsing with every beat of his heart. Your eyes widened slightly at the sight of him—he was big, the thick skin covering his tip, his veins prominent and pulsing beneath the smooth surface.

Michael stroked himself slowly, his large hand wrapping around his girthy shaft. The sight was mesmerizing, your eyes locked on the way his fingers moved, peeling back the skin with each slow, deliberate stroke, revealing the blushing tip that matched the color of his lips. Your gaze lingered on the soft patches of his vitiligo, adorning his shaft like a masterpiece etched onto his skin. It was beautiful, every inch of him.

Without breaking his gaze from you, he leaned in slightly, his free hand reaching out to tilt your chin up, forcing your eyes back to his. His thumb gently pulled down your bottom lip, brushing over it in a way that made your breath catch. "My beautiful girl," he whispered, his voice thick with affection and desire.

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks, a blush spreading across your face at his words. Your heart fluttered in your chest, skipping a beat as you gazed into his eyes. He had this effect on you—making you feel cherished, loved, desired, all at once.

He moved even closer, his body slotting perfectly between your legs. You let out a soft breath as he grabbed your thighs, lifting them gently to rest over his broad shoulders. His thick length brushed teasingly against your inner thighs, the heat of him palpable, sending waves of anticipation rippling through your body.

"Comfortable?" he asked, his voice soft yet filled with that teasing edge.

You nodded, your heart racing in your chest as you felt the heat of him so close, the tension between you building, crackling like the fire that flickered behind you.

Michael leaned in even further, his lips brushing feather-light kisses across your mouth. His teasing kisses made you ache for more, the way he hovered just out of reach each time you tried to kiss him, pulling away with that infuriatingly playful smile.

"Michael, please," you whimpered, your voice needy, desperate for the connection only he could give.

A deep chuckle rumbled from his chest as he finally gave in, his lips crashing into yours, kissing you slowly, deeply, with all the intensity you craved. His tongue slipped into your mouth, exploring, claiming you in a way that made your toes curl. His kiss was demanding yet tender, pushing you further into the haze of desire that clouded your mind.

As he kissed you, his other hand held his length, guiding it toward your slick folds. The tip brushed teasingly over your entrance, sending jolts of pleasure through your body as he dragged it back and forth, coating himself with your arousal. Your whimpers were muffled against his lips, your body trembling with anticipation.

Slowly, he pressed the tip against your entrance, slipping inside with deliberate slowness. Your breath hitched at the feeling, a moan slipping from your lips as he eased in, inch by inch, filling you completely. The stretch of him was overwhelming, the way his thick length stretched you out making you gasp for breath.

Your hands gripped the edge of the piano, fingers digging into the polished wood as you held on, your body trembling with the fullness of him. Inch by inch, he slid deeper, his shaft disappearing inside of you until he was buried to the hilt, his body pressed firmly against yours.

He stilled for a moment, his forehead gently resting against yours as both of you panted in unison, your breaths mingling in the charged air between you. His breath was hot against your lips, and the rhythm of his chest matched the frantic beat of your own heart, as if your bodies had found a single rhythm, a single pulse. You could feel the heavy thud of his heart as it echoed against your skin, the weight of him pressing down, grounding you in the intensity of the moment.

For a heartbeat, everything stilled—the world beyond the two of you faded, leaving only this connection, this intimate joining. The warmth of the fire crackled softly in the background, its orange glow casting long shadows across your bodies, but it was his warmth that you clung to, his presence that filled the space around you.

His hands gripped your waist with gentle but firm possession, his fingers digging slightly into your flesh as he began to move. Slowly, torturously, he pulled out just enough, the drag of his length leaving you gasping, only to thrust back into you with a slow, deliberate stroke. His eyes, dark and intense, never left yours, even as he rested his forehead against yours. The weight of his gaze was too much and yet not enough—those eyes held you, pinned you in place, as his body moved, as you moved with him.

Your gazes dipped down at the same time, watching the way his length slid in and out of you, glistening with a slick sheen of your arousal. Each movement was deliberate, precise, every inch of him claiming you, marking this moment with the slow, sensual rhythm of his thrusts. His thickness stretched you, filled you completely, and the sight of your bodies connected only made you feel more intoxicated, more lost in him.

Michael's eyes traveled back up, locking onto your face, taking in the way your mouth hung open in a silent gasp, your eyes still drawn to the connection between you. His gaze softened with something deeper than lust, something that felt like a promise—a devotion that made your chest swell. With a slow, deliberate motion, he wrapped one large hand gently around your neck, his thumb brushing over your pulse, feeling the rapid beat beneath his fingers. He tilted his head, leaning down to press his lips to the sensitive spot just behind your ear, his hot breath fanning across your skin. His lips were soft but insistent, kissing, licking at that spot that made you tremble every time.

"Michael..." you moaned softly, your voice barely more than a whisper, a plea tangled in the need that pulsed through you.

His breath hitched against your ear, ragged and uneven as he whispered back, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. "I love you," he breathed, the words a gentle exhale of air but filled with so much emotion that they settled into your bones. His hips thrust deeper with the words, his length burying itself fully inside of you, a whimper slipping from your lips at the overwhelming fullness, the way he reached depths that made your entire body shudder.

Your hands flew to the edge of the piano, gripping it tightly as if you could hold onto something tangible amidst the flood of sensations. Your knuckles turned white from the force of your grip, the polished wood cool beneath your fingers as you clung to it. His thrusts were slow, achingly slow, but so deep, you could feel every inch of him, every deliberate movement as he pressed deeper and deeper inside of you. God, it felt like he was in your stomach, his thickness stretching you almost too much, yet it wasn't enough. The way he rolled his hips, grinding into you with each thrust, his body pressing against yours, was driving you wild, and yet you loved every second of it.

His tongue flicked out, tracing the curve of your earlobe, sucking it lightly, sending a shiver of pleasure straight through your core. Every touch from him made you tremble, your body responding instinctively to his every movement. He had you unraveling in his hands, his touch both tender and possessive, a contradiction that made you weak.

You closed your eyes, letting the sensations wash over you—the slow drag of his length as he moved in and out of you, the wet sounds of your bodies meeting filling the room, the warmth of his breath in your ear, and the way his lips whispered love against your skin. Every movement, every kiss, every whisper made you feel cherished, made you feel desired in a way only Michael could make you feel.

As the tension built, he sped up, his thrusts becoming slightly faster, more insistent, and the wet sounds of your arousal mixed with the crackling of the fire, creating a symphony of pleasure. His breathing grew heavier, more ragged, and you could feel the way his body trembled slightly as he fought to hold back. Inside of you, he pulsed, twitched, his length jumping with each clench of your walls around him.

Neither of you wanted to stop. The moment felt too perfect, too intimate to break, a memory etched in both your hearts forever.

"Oh god..." you moaned, the words torn from your throat as he hit that sweet spot deep inside of you. The angle of his hips was perfect, the way he thrust into you with precision making your vision blur with pleasure. He took his hand off your neck, replacing it with his lips, kissing a trail down your throat, marking you with love. His tongue flicked out to taste your skin, as if you were something sweet, something he had craved for too long.

His lips moved lower, sucking at the tender flesh of your neck, leaving small marks in his wake as he claimed you. The fire beside you crackled softly, but the real heat was between you, the way he moved, the way his body fit so perfectly against yours. It was almost too much, the pleasure building inside of you like a wave ready to crash, but you wanted more, needed more.

"Michael... I..." Your words dissolved into breathless gasps, unable to complete the thought as his thrusts intensified, each one a jolt of pleasure that sent your body spiraling. Every movement was deliberate, every inch of him filling you completely, stretching you in a way that left you trembling and helpless beneath him. Your senses were overwhelmed, consumed by the heat of his body, the steady rhythm of his hips, and the possessive way he claimed every part of you.

He didn't stop, didn't relent. His body pressed firmly against yours, grounding you with the weight of him, the heat of him, and the relentless drive of his movements. Each thrust was deep, purposeful, designed to take you apart piece by piece. His lips, never straying far from your skin, trailed back up to your ear, his breath warm and ragged as it fanned across your flushed face.

"You feel so good, baby, so damn good," he whispered, his voice low and strained, thick with need. The praise hit you hard, sending a shiver down your spine as his words wrapped around you like a velvet caress.

A desperate whimper escaped your lips, your body acting on instinct as your hand shot out from its grip on the piano, clutching at his waist. Your fingers slid down, gripping onto the firm curve of his behind, feeling the way his muscles tensed and flexed with every powerful thrust. You held onto him like he was the only thing keeping you tethered to the earth. "Don't stop, Michael, please," you begged, your voice trembling with desperation.

"I won't stop," he promised, his voice rough and breathless in your ear, every word laced with raw desire. "Not until you cum for me." His voice was dark, commanding, yet filled with a tenderness that made your heart swell even as your body burned with need. He was close too, you could feel it in the way his thrusts became more erratic, more urgent, but he wasn't ready to give in yet. He wanted to savor every second, to draw it out as long as he could.

Your entire body trembled beneath him, your mind lost in the sensation of being utterly consumed by him. Every nerve in your body felt like it was on fire, your core tightening with every deep stroke, with every breathy grunt that escaped him as he moved within you.

Your grip on his behind tightened, fingers digging into the taut muscles as you pulled him closer, deeper, needing him more than you could put into words. "You like the way I make you feel, baby?" he murmured against your neck, his voice soft but laced with a primal edge, the vibrations of his words sending shudders through your entire body.

"Yes, Michael," you cried out, your voice breaking as his thrusts became harder, deeper. Each one hit you like a wave, crashing over you, pulling you under, leaving you gasping for air. You could feel him everywhere—inside you, around you—his presence overwhelming, intoxicating. He was in control, and you loved it.

He shifted, his hands sliding beneath you to grip your behind in both hands, his fingers digging into your flesh as he pulled you even closer to the edge of the piano, positioning you just right. His thrusts grew even heavier, each one slamming into you with a force that left you breathless, your body arching into him, desperate for more. The sensation was almost too much, the stretch of him, the heat, the pressure—it was everything.

Then, with a devilish smirk, he changed his pace, slowing down, teasing you with deep, languid strokes that left you gasping. He was edging you, holding you right on the precipice of pleasure, bringing you to the brink but not letting you fall. His eyes locked onto yours, dark and intense, filled with a hunger that matched your own.

"Michael..." you whimpered, your voice broken and desperate, your body trembling with need as he continued his slow, torturous pace. The pleasure built higher and higher, the pressure inside you coiling tighter with every teasing stroke. You were right there, on the edge, ready to shatter, but he held you back, drawing it out, making you beg for it.

He leaned in close, his lips brushing against the pulse point in your neck, sucking lightly on the tender skin, his breath hot and ragged against your ear. "I love watching you fall apart for me," he whispered, his voice low and gravelly, each word sending a fresh wave of heat straight to your core. He thrust deep, hitting that sweet spot inside you that made your vision blur and your body jerk beneath him.

Your nails dug into his skin, your head falling back as a cry of pure pleasure tore from your throat. You were so close, so painfully close, your entire body burning with the need to let go, to fall over that edge into bliss.

Michael could sense it, a shift in the way your body clung to him, your muscles tightening with an urgency that matched his own rising need. He grunted softly, his fingers digging into your hips as he held you closer, pressing his lips to the tender skin of your neck. His breath was hot against your ear as his thrusts deepened, each one harder, more deliberate. The slick sounds of your bodies meeting filled the air, mixing with the soft crackle of the fire, though that was nothing compared to the symphony of your combined moans, gasps, and whispered names.

Your breath hitched, fingers clutching at his back as you arched into him, the intensity of his movements nearly overwhelming. "Oh, yes," you cried out, your voice breathless, needy. Your nails bit into his skin as you clung to him, each thrust bringing you closer to the edge. "Just like that, Michael, please," you begged, your voice rising with every word, every sensation.

He growled low in his throat, the sound vibrating through his chest and into you, his rhythm relentless now. His breath came in short, heated bursts against your neck, his lips brushing your skin. "Let go, baby," he whispered in your ear, his voice rough with need. "I can feel how close you are."

Your whole body trembled, the fire within you burning hotter and brighter, tightening in your core. You wanted to hold back, to savor the moment, but the way he filled you, the way he moved—it was too much. Your toes curled over his shoulders, your heels pressing into his back, and your nails dug into his skin as your climax built like a wave, unstoppable.

With one final, deep thrust, you shattered. Your body convulsed around him, your release crashing over you with an intensity that left you breathless. "Michael!" you cried out, but his hand swiftly covered your mouth, muffling your cries as your body spasmed against his.

He groaned as he felt you come undone around him, his eyes dropping to where your bodies met, watching as you coated him in a slick, milky sheen. His movements became jerky, less controlled, as he drove into you one last time, his body stiffening as he buried himself deep inside. With a guttural moan, he released, filling you with thick, hot spurts that poured out of you, dripping onto the polished piano beneath you.

The sensation of his warmth inside you, filling you completely, sent aftershocks rippling through your body. You moaned into his hand, your body twitching as you felt the remnants of his release spilling out, mingling with yours. His head dropped into the crook of your neck, his breathing ragged, his body spent but still trembling with the aftermath of your shared pleasure.

Slowly, he eased you down, laying your body flat against the cool surface of the piano. He removed his hand from your mouth, replacing it with his lips in a soft, lingering kiss, his thumb brushing tenderly over your cheek.

Your heart pounded against his chest as he rested his head on your breasts, both of you breathing heavily, your bodies still humming with the remnants of ecstasy. You stared at the ceiling, your vision hazy, as your fingers lazily trailed through his hair, your body trying to calm down from the intensity of it all.

Michael lifted his head, his dark eyes locking onto yours, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He brushed a stray strand of hair from your face and placed a kiss on your cheek, his lips warm and gentle. "There's my pretty girl," he whispered, his voice thick with adoration. "How do you feel?"

You let out a long, shaky breath, a small smile spreading across your lips. "So good," you whispered, still catching your breath.

He chuckled, the sound low and intimate. "I bet you do," he murmured as he slowly pulled away, his hands gripping your waist gently. As he slipped out of you, a soft whimper escaped your lips, the sudden emptiness making you shudder.

The mixture of your releases spilled out from you, a thick, creamy mess pooling on the piano. Michael watched with darkened eyes, muttering a low, "Damn..." under his breath as he shook his head, knowing the mess was something they'd have to deal with—again.

"Stay here," he said softly, disappearing briefly before returning with his discarded shirt. He carefully wiped the sweat from your brow, then spread your legs further, cleaning the sticky mess between your thighs and wiping down the piano with tender care.

After helping you sit up, your body still heavy with exhaustion, he smiled at the dazed look on your face. "Think you can stand?" he asked, his tone light, though there was a knowing glint in his eyes.

You nodded, but as soon as your feet hit the floor, your legs buckled. Michael was there instantly, catching you in his arms, his laughter a warm rumble in your chest. "I knew you couldn't," he teased, earning a light slap to his bare chest as you giggled.

"Shut up," you mumbled playfully, leaning your head against his shoulder.

He kissed your forehead gently, then scooped you up into his arms, cradling you close to his chest. You wrapped your arms around his neck as he carried you through the dimly lit house, past the flickering fire, down the quiet hallway toward your shared bedroom.

Sleep began to pull at you, the warmth of his embrace and the steady beat of his heart lulling you into a peaceful haze. Michael glanced down at you, his expression soft, filled with love and devotion. He laid you gently on the bed, pulling the covers over you before pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead.

"I'll be back," he whispered, knowing you always had trouble falling asleep without him.

As he returned to the living room to tidy up, putting out the fire and blowing out the candles, the room fell into darkness, the soft glow of the moon casting silver light across the room. When he returned to your side, slipping beneath the covers, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you against him. The warmth of his skin against yours was a comfort like no other, and as he nuzzled into your neck, he whispered, "Thank you... for being my joy."

Though you were half asleep, you smiled softly, feeling his love in every word, every touch. And with that, you both drifted off, wrapped in each other's warmth, the moment forever etched in your memories.

[linosspam]

- guilt

- minho x fem reader

- angst | happy ending | sfw

—————

“I’m tired of this, yn.” you heard him mutter under his breath, giving you one last cold glare before grabbing his belongings and heading out the door.

Your heart hurt. It really did. One moment you and Minho were joking around, teasing each other. Like always. And the next, a heated argument broke out after you had mentioned his schedule. Specifically his lack of time for you.

“I told you yn, I’m an idol. I can’t be with you all the time,” he groaned, the ambience quickly growing uneasy.

You hung your head, eyes fixated on his socked feet, trying to distract yourself from the tears threatening to spill. “Then, why are we together if you don’t have time for me?” The words left your mouth before you could control them and a sense of guilt ran over you. But it was too late. He had already left the dorm. The dorm in which he had convinced you to stay the night.

And all you could think of was how stupid you were. What if he never comes back? Awful thoughts filled your head. What if my Minho is gone forever?

And you found yourself scrambling into his empty room, grabbing one of the multiple hoodies sprawled out on his bed. He was never the tidiest person, but that’s what made him so lovable. Slipping it over your head, you pressed it to your nose, basking in the leftover cologne. It was the closest thing you had to him right now.

You nestled into such a simple piece of fabric which meant so much to you. But who was there to comfort you now? A knot formed in your throat and you blinked rapidly, trying to prevent the inevitable.

“Min,” you finally choked out to yourself, no longer able to hold your tears in. You held his hoodie to your face, letting it catch the little droplets of water that endlessly streamed down your cheeks. Your heart ached and throbbed with a feeling of loneliness. Like a part of you was gone now that Minho was.

You found yourself to be in some state of distress, rubbing your chest with a hand to help ease some of the pain you felt. To help ease the loss of your favorite person.

You lost track of time and soon felt the corner of the bed slightly dip in. Quickly, uncovering your face, you blinked, adjusting to what was in front of your very own eyes. Your features softened. It was your boyfriend, Lee Minho.

He had gone for a walk to clear his mind. And he couldn’t help but think of you on his way there and back.

“Baby,” you sobbed, throwing yourself into his arms. He engulfed you in a tight hug, slightly bewildered at your heavy reaction.

He rubbed your back soothingly. “Shh, honey. What’s wrong?”

You buried your face into his shoulder, gripping him tightly, like the world was going to end. “I thought you left.” You managed to choke out through your shuddering breath and painful tightness in your chest.

Minho felt his stomach drop.

“Baby, I just went out for some fresh air, to clear the tension. I’m still here yn,” he whispered, resting his chin on your shoulder.

He broke away to place a kiss to your cheek, bringing his hand up to caress your jawline with the tip of his thumb, wiping the leftover tears away.

You could feel yourself melt into the touch which you had missed so badly, and the minute he pulled away, you were already longing for those pink, plump lips again.

“You still love me?”

He felt a pang of guilt as you looked up at him, bringing your hands up to comb his hair out with the tips of your fingers, adjusting it with a pout of concentration glued to your face. Minho knew you. He knew this was your way of apologizing, even if you never voiced the words aloud.

“Always, sweetie,” he smiled. “You still love me?” He mimicked your question, playfully poking your shoulder.

You returned the smile, parroting his actions. “Of course, kitten.”

He blushed at the cute nickname his girlfriend had given him.

—————

a/n - i was feeling some minho angst, im sorryy! i gave y’all a happy ending because im not that mean…

- linosspam

[rosepinksky]

Pay For My Time (pt. 7)

Simon "Ghost" Riley x OFC

In which Ghost's neighbour drags him in for dinner, and then ruins his life.

Warnings: cunnilingus, PIV sex (all consensual!)

word count: 2.5k

ao3 link

part 1 (smutty!)

masterlist

Despite my penchant for drunken late nights, I had always been one to wake with the sun. It had been my undoing in university; never able to sleep past 6am in the summer despite all the money I’d poured into heavy-duty blackout curtains. Countless days spent nursing coffee after coffee just to clear the thick fog of exhaustion in my brain, but sleep still never coming despite hours spent curled up trying to nap in the afternoon.

So it was foreign, the sensation of utter comfort this morning, my muscles so relaxed as I curled up under the duvet and into the chest of this man. He was just barely stirring too, gaze softened without the burden of cognisance hitting him yet.

I offered him a small smile, nudging my cheek against his shoulder. It was returned, and a slow, lingering kiss pressed to my forehead through the fabric of his mask. It wasn’t until Simon pulled back that he let out a soft chuckle, my smile falling as a frown pulled at my brows.

“What?”

He dragged the pad of his thumb over the corner of my lips, and I could see the skin stained with a faded red.

“Your makeup, sweet thing. Didn’t take it off last night.”

I groaned, rolling onto my back to grab blindly at the pack of cheap makeup wipes on the bedside table. I dragged one across my cheek, stubborn particles of glitter scraping at my skin.

“Here, let me.” He murmured, taking the wipe and swiping at across my lips far more gently than I had. His expression turned serious with concentration, and I really couldn’t help but smile at his dedication to the mundane task. There was something domestic about it, something so bizarrely intimate yet it didn’t make me want to bolt out of the room away from it quite yet.

Seemingly satisfied, he let the wipe drop onto the sheets, but kept his hand brushing against my skin. His hand drifted lower, thumb dipping beneath the neckline of the soft cotton tee. His other arm shifted from underneath the pillow, squeezing lightly at my waist.

I inhaled, gaze dropping to his lips, the mask still tucked up over the bridge of his nose. He smirked, almost imperceptibly, as his hands curled tighter around my middle, pulling me in against his body.

“Now, pet…I do remember you being fucking difficult last night.” His voice was gentle, almost eerily so. “I’m almost in two minds about making you feel good right now.”

I bit the inside of my lip, my willingness to sass back at him almost zero right now.

“I was…drunk. And pissed off about being left high and dry. I’m sorry.”

That seemed to do the trick, because almost immediately he was tugging me into the centre of the mattress underneath him, knocking my legs apart with his knees.

“At least you’ve some humility.” He chuckled, leaning down to nip at the exposed skin of my stomach where the shirt had ridden up. “…God, ‘s not like I could turn you down right now anyway. Look too fucking tempting.”

I gasped, back arching up off of the mattress as his teeth grazed against the sensitive skin once more.

“Mmph, don’t tease, I- I can’t-“

My weak attempt at pleading was swiftly cut off by another low chuckle.

“It’s okay, princess. Not gonna make you wait, not this time.” He murmured as his lips dipped lower, fingers abandoning my waist in favour of crushing the flesh of my thighs in his grip. He took in a long, greedy exhale of my bare core, lips slick with saliva as he pressed them against the tender skin.

“God, can’t wait to taste you again…you smell fucking divine.”

He wasted no time in diving in, lapping at the slick of my pussy like he’d gone without water for days. A strangled moan was torn from my throat, my fingers clutching tightly at the short curls on his scalp. I felt him twitch a little as my nails bit into his skin, but it seemed to only spur him on further as he pushed his tongue inside of me.

“Fuck, Simon, don’t stop, that feels good-“ I gasped, my breath starting to visibly pick up. I pressed my hips further down towards him, legs twitching and begging to clamp down over his ears. He kept me still, though, those strong hands rubbing small circles into the space behind my knees as he pushed them down into the mattress.

The vibration of his moan against my clit had me almost folding over in half, a sharp breath filling my lungs with ice as my eyes flew open. I met his gaze- his dark, starving gaze- and wanted to cum on the spot. He never let up on his ministrations as he held eye contact with me, just slipping a hand under my ass to grope at it as his tongue worked me closer and closer to oblivion.

I tried to speak, but all that escaped my lips was a pitiful whine, the shocks from my pussy down my legs forcing me to curl up my toes and scrunch my eyes shut. I tried to beg him to keep going, to not break his rhythm, but I found myself utterly unable to speak. It didn’t seem to matter, though, because he didn’t falter, just licking and sucking and drooling over my pussy like he needed it to survive.

I felt my arms moving up of their own accord, tweaking and tugging at my nipples, and I could just barely feel his lips quirk up in an approving smile as the added stimulation drove me closer to the edge.

When I came, it wasn’t with a dignified muffled moan as it often was when I worked myself alone. It was with a breathless, almost pained cry, the sharp end of my nails pressing so hard into my tits I swore the skin almost broke. Simon didn’t pull away immediately; in fact, it felt like he pushed himself closer, lapping up the wetness from between my thighs like a sinner kneeling before the communion cup.

I collapsed back down against the mattress. I couldn’t do anything except stare at the ceiling, vision hazy as I listened to both of our laboured breaths in the quiet room.

It took a few moments for him to drag himself back up over me, into my field of view. His lips held a lazy smirk as he tucked a wayward strand of hair behind my ear, the flush just faintly visible over his jaw making my own cheeks warm even further.

“…Please fuck me.” I whispered.

Silence hung between us for a second, and I wondered what was going through his mind.

Hesitance? Guilt? Reluctance?

I got my answer when his smirk widened into a grin, and he crashed his lips against mine.

Ghost and I had kissed before. I’d tasted the faint residue of tobacco on his lips, the spearmint toothpaste he used, as his tongue pressed into mine with an urgency akin to an addict pushing down the first hit of their drug.

But not Simon. No, in this moment, I realised I’d never kissed Simon. His lips felt different, the way he cupped my jaw and pressed his weight into me. It felt new, and genuine, and vulnerable.

I realised at the same moment, that this was his first time kissing Lucy, too.

No more Violet. No more calculated persona, no rehearsed responses to his touch. Just a man and a woman indulging sinfully and religiously in each other.

I didn’t notice that he’d pulled his boxers off. I felt him press his cock against me, and moaned against his lips, brows creasing together in desperate anticipation.

He kissed me harder as he pushed himself into me, the sharp sting of the stretch mollified by his sweet tongue. He paused, drawing back to gaze down at me, eyes asking the silent question.

I nodded without a second of hesitation.

He groaned at his first rock into me, fisting the bedsheets beside my head.

“Shit, Luce, you feel better than fucking heroin.”

If I’d been anywhere other than my current state of bliss, I would’ve made a snarky remark about neither of us knowing what the hell heroin felt like. Hopefully.

“More.” I rasped, pulling him closer to me by the nape of his neck. “Please, Si, give me more.”

He growled in response, bullying his cock into me faster and harder. I cried out, nipples pressed into his chest and sending delicious little flutters through my core at the sensation. I pushed my hips up, trying to meet his thrusts, and his breath stuttered at the action.

“Fuck, god, need to have you on top of me. Need to see your face.”

I nodded, even though I was mostly incoherent. Not entirely aware of what I’d agreed to, I let him flip us over so that I was settled above him as he lay with his head sinking into the pillow. I steadied myself with a hand splayed on his chest, panting as I stared down at him.

I began to move with a tentative rock of my hips. The response was immediate, Simon biting his lip as his head pressed further back into the soft material behind him. I grew in confidence as I found my angle, bouncing up and down on him and letting my head loll back as the mind-numbing pleasure took over my senses once again.

He groaned, the sound deep and rough and intoxicating, his hands flying up to my hips to help support my weight as I rode him within an inch of my life.

“Yes, yes, that’s it, sweet girl. Make yourself cum. Make me cum. Ride that fucking dick.” He panted, his grip tightening as he started to manoeuvre me up and down himself, setting a pace I couldn’t quite keep up with.

I let my head fall forward, meeting his eyes with a wordless plea on my lips. He let out a moan at my expression, hips snapping upwards into mine at such a rate I could feel my diaphragm catching.

“Gonna fucking cum. Gonna fucking cum inside you, come on girl, cum around me. Need to see that face.”

I had no defences left. I broke like a dam around him, every muscle in my body contracting as I let myself climax around his cock. He groaned, the sound strained and utterly animal, and I swore my orgasm doubled the second I felt his cum spurt in fucking ropes against my insides.

Neither of us moved for a long moment, aside from his hand sliding up along my back to support me. I drew in deep, rapid breaths, just staring down at him as he lay underneath me.

He seemed to do the same. Neither of us spoke, just a silent understanding that that was different.

Not fucking. Not hooking up. Making love.

I jumped to my feet, knees buckling the second I put weight on them. His arms immediately shot out to steady me, but I brushed him away as I found balance with my hand against the wall.

“You, uh…you want some coffee?” I asked, cringing internally at how stupid it sounded.

He stared at me for a long moment.

“…You should probably shower. I can handle breakfast.”

Too cock-dumb to argue and too sleep-deprived to know better, I nodded, the thought of warm water over my already pliant muscles a prospect too tempting to resist.

I grabbed a towel and a fresh pair of pyjamas without another word, waiting until I heard the click of the bathroom door to let out a breath.

I stared at one crack in the porcelain tiles as I showered.

Don’t do this, Lucy. You’ve been here before.

…But Simon wasn’t him. Simon wasn’t basking me in adoration and gifts and dates. He was accepting of the fuck-buddy relationship, maybe pushing the boundary a smidge with the morning-after sex, but this wasn’t commitment. This was pure, primal sexual attraction, and it’s not as if he would even want a relationship given the nature of his job.

Oh, dear god, his job.

There was no way he didn’t see my reaction to the reveal last night. The thought, the thought of him absolutely decimating some band of criminals without so much as a crack in his demeanour had set every nerve inside of me ablaze.

Would he be soaked in blood? I thought. Would he come home to me, still in his dirty uniform, and take out all of that pent-up aggression on my pussy?

…Jesus, I needed to go back to therapy.

I shut off the water, towel drying my hair and tugging on a random top and pair of joggers. I padded through towards the kitchen, pausing only when I heard that familiar baritone echo through the hallway.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m aware, MacTavish. No, she’s not interfering. She’s a fucking stripper, it’s not as if I’m ring shopping.”

I would’ve been lying if I’d said I hated to eavesdrop.

“…Yeah, she’s hot. She’s also not a serious thing, so back off.”

I chose that moment to step into the kitchen, tugging at the knots in my wet hair as he stood in the corner on his phone. I smirked.

“You gonna let me say hi to your friend?”

Simon’s expression dropped. I could vaguely hear a voice shouting down the other end of the phone, but he hung up the call almost immediately after seeing me appear.

“…Stupid friend. Ignore him.”

I chuckled, brushing past him to pop a pod into the coffee maker.

“Seems like he was pretty clued in about me. Feels a little unfair that I don’t get to know about him.”

Simon bristled.

“Don’t wanna share you.”

Ah. Now that piqued my interest.

“Jealous boy, hmm? Don’t want MacTavish touching what’s yours?”

In an instant, his hands were on me, caging me against the countertop.

He breathed, his tone dangerous. “I can’t stop you from sleeping with every sleaze that ticks your boxes at the club. But you will not sleep with my teammates.”

I tipped my chin up, meeting his gaze defiantly. “You are so rude to me.”

He smirked, fingers trailing along my jaw. “Didn’t seem to mind it when I was making you cum.”

I held eye contact for a long moment, a mixture of amusement and annoyance swimming in my expression. “I like your cheek a whole lot less when I’m level-headed.”

He chuckles, dipping down to press a kiss to my lips. “And I like you a lot more when you’re sober.”

tag list! <3 @simpxinnie

[everythingiaskfor]

his scent

kuroo tetsuro x reader warnings: mentions of alcohol

kuroo as your coworker who always smells like freshly ironed clothes. it doesn’t matter if it’s early in the morning and he just came into the building greeting everyone with an enthusiastic smile even though it’s monday or if it’s almost 6pm and you’re leaving the office. the smell of freshly ironed clothes invades the elevator and you can almost feel the heat (maybe it’s because of how close you are to him so everyone could fit in the box, who could tell?). all you know it’s that whenever your nose picks up that scent, his scent, your stomach gets fuzzy and your cheeks get red, expecting to see him and his breathtaking smile, and hoping he will stop by your desk to talk to you for a bit for no reason and about nothing specific.

kuroo as that friend who faintly smells like a mix of cologne and alcohol, usually caused by the weekends you go out to bars together, as a friend group, and you spend so much time sitting at the table talking about everything and laughing. it’s in one of these nights that almost turn into day that you meet his old friends from school and his volleyball days, and you see him talk to someone in a flirtatious way and don’t really talk anymore for the night, and the smell of the expensive musk mixed with the strong smell of the shots is always present. an aroma that slowly becomes his. an aroma that is there when he had a bit too much to drink and lays on your lap when everyone’s watching, but he doesn’t care. the aroma that will be forever connected to the sight of his sharp eyes staring at your soul, while you try to pretend you’re not noticing (for sure he can’t tell how you can’t concentrate on the conversation and how the heat of your body is increasing every second, right?), and you finally look back at him, ask him what’s up and he just shrugs, not even blinking, and you can feel your heart fall down, but not falling apart.

tetsuro as your boyfriend who smells like a floral fabric softener. the fragrance that invades your senses as you wake up beside him, and the sheets and the shirt of his that you stole for the night all smell the same. the fragrance you relate to lazy weekends you spend on your couch watching some tv show. the same fragrance you bury your face into while hugging him from behind when he tried to cook you something and almost burnt the house down. the fragrance that comforts you, that makes you feel safe and loved (because that’s the reality, and he makes sure you know it). the fragrance you make sure to keep around even when he’s away for work, through some sort of clothing article that he’ll take a couple weeks to miss, perfectly timed so you can’t take something else. a perfectly familiar fragrance, that is his, and even if you use the same brand of product, it’s not the same, because his touch is what makes it special. 

[coqvttes]

Hey I love your blog so much and your writing is amazing and the picnic idea is so cute! Could I do Fairy Cakes with Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley with a female!reader and the activity be maybe just the two of them reading or painting together in a meadow or something. I love sappy things like that 🥺❤️👉👈

𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓 hey, my love! thank you i’m so glad you like the picnic idea and i appreciate it! i love fluff and this is such a sweet idea! ❤︎︎

sfw : gn!reader, fluff.

“stay still," he orders, you pout at him as you stop fixing your hair.

“ughh c’mon you must be finished by now!” he smiles at your complaint and shakes his head. you huff and cross your arms, your eyes trained on the way his eyebrows are pinched in concentration as he focuses on the strokes of the paintbrush. 

occasionally he lifts his gaze from the pad of paper to look up at you, taking in every single detail. he swears you’ve never been prettier with the way the sunlight falls perfectly on you, illuminating you like an angel, his angel. he smiles at how you play with the flowers by your legs as you lay on the blanket comfortably.

the sweet sounds of birds singing and the wind blowing the through the leaves of the trees, it's perfect, it's calming. you smile at how the wind blows his hair, messing it up a little.

he finally stops painting and just stares at the paper, holding it at just the right angle so you can’t catch a glimpse of it. he’s studying it, but it seems that he doesn’t like it much. 

“come on i know you’re finished. let me seeeee!”

“no! i'm not good at this, trust me, you don’t want to see it.” 

you protest and hastily try to snatch the pad of paper from his hands, but his grip is strong, and he pulls it away from you just in time. 

“please, simon, pleaaase.” you pout, and he raises his brows at you but softens at the sound of your whining and the look on your face. he gives in, just like he always does, finally turning the paper around to show you. he looks away in embarrassment, and you can see the flush that spreads across his cheeks. 

you take it from his hands, and there are practically hearts in your eyes as you look at it with adoration. you smile at the adorable portrait he's painted just for you. it looks like the handwork of a child's, but you love it so so much because it’s simon’s. 

he’s put so much thought into it, making note of all the details that he just loves about you, and it makes your heart melt. he notices how you stare for a while and tries to pry it from your hands, but you pull it flush against your chest and smile at him. 

“i love it, simon. thank you!” you practically throw yourself against him, and he wraps his arms around you in an embrace, smiling into your hair as he inhales your sweet scent. 

“thought you might not like it,” he mumbles as you pull away, pecking his lips. you giggle at his words and look at the drawing pad in your hands.

“of course i do, silly!” 

“who are you calling silly?” with that, he lunges at you, your back hitting the soft blanket, the grass prickling you slightly through the thin fabric. he pins you down to the ground with one palm before tickling your side with the other. you squeal uncontrollably when he buries his head in your neck, blowing raspberries into your skin, causing you to giggle and squirm beneath him. 

he chuckles down at you, and in that moment, he’s never felt more in love with you. only you can make him feel vulnerable like this, only you can bring out the playful side of this beast of a man, and only you, could he love so much.

[brisquad-unit-4402]

being gorgeous

HAHA SORRY I'M A LITTLE LATE TO THE 2.0 REVEAL THIRST PARTY i passed out while writing this yesterday and it shows. and then i've done nothing else today except for write, eat a donut, write, reheat some pork chops, write, join an online meeting, and write. it's 8:23 am. bonus points if you can pinpoint the exact moment i dropped my phone and fell asleep last night. and also the point where it turned morning here and i started getting goofy. literally no matter what happens all roads lead to Oh My God Why Is Shu So Beautiful

funny story while i was writing this: i wrote p much all of this on my pc and i have all of the noctyx puppets around my desk area but taichou is the only one that's actually on the desk and when i was starting out for the day i couldn't concentrate because he was just staring at me like ._. so i turned him around to face the wall and somehow that was what kicked off 3631 words???

shoutout to 🍰 anon for making soooo many of my neurons activate. we have a mutualistic symbiotic relationship and i think i'm going to go insane. i've spent the better part of the last 24 hours just writing this and nothing else i think i've actually lost it.

tags: established relationship, suggestive content, making out, 2.0 outfit, praise kink, humiliation kink, hurt/comfort, self-image positivity ig?, soft dom reader, gender neutral reader, sex references under the read more but there's no actual sex lol

⚠ suggestive/sexual content, praise kink, and humiliation kink under read more. content under read more is not intended for minors

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

All that muscle, and still Shu finds himself between a wall and a hard place. He wanted to try on something new, and naturally you were the first to check him out.

And, God, you checked him out. He wore a loose black robe covered in the skeletons and bones you were so used to seeing on a daily basis. The robe nearly grazed the floor of the changing room, and as he shuffled his feet, the fabric wrapped around the outline of Shu’s strong calves before returning to rest. A plume of fur adorned one shoulder while the other bore a moon pauldron that only drew your eye to the broad shoulders underneath. He tied his long hair up into a ponytail, the dark interrupted by streaks of pink and blond by his bangs, and purple hair fell down his back and caught the gleam of his bright eyes.

Though those bright eyes were cloudier with the shyness of being the center of your attention. He resolved himself to confront it. He cleared his throat and met your gaze, and asked, “Do you like it?”

“Shu, look at yourself.” You grasped him by the shoulders and turned him around to face the mirror. “Of course I do. You’re beautiful.”

He tried to keep a straight face, but there was no way he’d be able to hide his red ears with his hair tied up. “How do you just say things like that so easily?”

“Because it’s true,” you said. You rested your chin on his shoulder, right next to the armor, and watched the mirror as his face turned to roses the same shade as the marking on his forehead.

You get comfortable. “You’ve always been so handsome no matter what you do.” Your hands hold him by his waist, but it doesn’t take you long before one roams upwards. His waistline slopes out to his chest, and you feel Shu’s body shift as your hand slides under the fabric and cups one side of his chest. The mirror serves as a reminder that you were practically on top of him. “But honestly, Shu, you look so hot I can’t believe it.”

“I- I do?”

You mutter in agreement before you kiss his neck, languid and low where it meets his collarbone.

Shu gasps in surprise as it turns passionate, traces of your teeth along skin usually hidden by his hair. He softens into you as you fondle him, and when you circle his nipple he knows he’s doomed.

Teeth sink into his skin, and his breath hitches at the sudden pain. It quiets as your tongue soothes the mark, and goes blinding as you flick his nipple in time with a long lick. Shu can’t help but moan at that. His shoulder rises as nervous energy drips down his body from where your lips cling to his neck, and he knows you can feel him tremble as you toy with his nipple.

The kisses rise higher on his neck, a line of desperation even though you know you have all the time in the world. It’s more like you need to make him know he’s cherished. You weren’t kidding when you complimented him earlier; he’s always been good-looking, and you’ve never been shy about that. But trying a different look made him just as tense as he was excited, so you’re here to shoo all those insecurities away. After all, you’d be lying if you said his new look didn’t turn you on.

You take a glance at the mirror's reflection. Shu's eyes are shut. His long lashes flutter between his makeup, and his lips are parted as he takes all the sensations in. Meanwhile, you look sly and calculated as you cast a sideways glance to your reflection. A bit of your tongue pokes out of your mouth and along your latest attack.

Using the mirror, you take Shu's head in your hands as your lips run over his ear. His eyes snap open into lovely crystal, stunned and sparkling.

“I don’t think I can resist you,” you whisper. "Look at yourself."

He averts his eyes. "I mean, I'm not all that."

"Oh, you are." You turn him to the mirror as your fingers glaze along his chin. Your nails lightly scratch at his jawline, and he can't help but stare at the movement in the mirror.

Out of the corner of his vision, he catches his expression and nearly kicks himself. Was he really that out of control? His horrors are realized when he notices the bead of saliva at the corner of his mouth. He swats the back of his gloved hand over it.

But you catch Shu's hand before he can even wipe it away. "Don't."

"But..."

"Stay still."

Following your command wasn't so hard. He was frozen in place anyways.

It takes everything he has to not react as you drag your tongue up his jawline between the fingernail scrapes. His heart hammers as your lick curls perfectly around his lip to catch the saliva before sliding it back into place inside his mouth.

He follows what feels natural, and when his tongue meets yours, fire runs in your blood. Outside it, too. Sorcerous flames kick alive around his head, then fade just as quickly as they appeared. He's a light show even in his invisible unconscious, and sparks course in your open-mouthed kiss in jolts of hot heaviness.

The hand that caught his earlier leads him as he takes a step back, then another, and his third ends flush against the wall. Shu's ponytail swirls around from the movement, and brushes along your body as you pin him to the wall of the changing room.

There's a loud smack as you end the kiss, breathless and heated. Shu's lashes blur over his enchanted purple eyes, and a few strands of black and gold-blond hair get in the way of his face.

"So handsome," you say, and move his head back to the mirror. "You can still see yourself?"

He barely rustles out a yes, but you feel his head nod slowly between the nails on his jaw and tangled in his hair.

"Good. I'm glad you get to see how handsome you really are." Your grasp crawls up to his cheek. "Watch yourself, and don't dare to look away. I want you to see yourself become a beautiful mess. Can you do that for me?"

Another nod, slower this time.

"Say it."

Shu swallows, and struggles to put the words together. He didn't think he was ugly per se, but he always thought of himself as just plain average. One of the many so-so faces out there in the world. All your praise breaks through those thoughts like an arrow smack-dab in the center of a target, however, and he's abashed at how easily you can say something he's never considered himself as.

It's unfamiliar. A new feeling, really, and likely the one he was dreading when he decided to wear something new for a change. Shu doesn't consider himself a head-turner—that's usually reserved for one of his friends, and he's used to watching them in the limelight from his own comfortable corner of darkness—so now that he's the one against the wall with eyes on him and nowhere to run, hot shame tempers his blush. The mirror only intensifies the feeling.

He looks back at himself. His hair's already messed up from the hand against his scalp, and one side of his neck peppered with the indentation of fangs along the soft skin. Not to mention his decidedly uncute face, with hands far prettier than his own around his jawline, murky eyes crinkled from his perverted pleasure, and yet another string of saliva down from his swollen-red lips. It was probably left over from the kiss. He thinks he should call it disgusting.

Your face rests along his in the mirror, and he can feel your breath on his cheek as you massage his flustered face. You're way more attractive than he is, and he has to wonder: does such an average-looking guy like him really deserve to have such a beautiful person dote over him like this?

"It's okay to indulge yourself, you know," you suggest. Your voice is golden caramel and rich chocolate. "You really are gorgeous. Even if you don't believe it."

Gorgeous. The word bounces around his head. He's never been called gorgeous before, and he nearly turns away on instinct.

The new feeling, he decides, is being gorgeous.

You smooth over one of the long locks of hair along his chest, where you teased him earlier. It feels like silk through your fingers, and as you reach higher Shu's eyes widen just a little more. Then you see the glassiness between the color, and you realize there's more going on in his head than you thought.

"I'll take care of you, if you want me to." You put your agenda on hold just to make sure you aren't about to overwhelm Shu. "Do you want me to?"

"Reader, do you really think..." Shu lowers his head as he fights to form the sentence. "You really think I'm... that?"

"I do."

"And you're not just saying that?"

"You are, I swear. Here, let's take a break real fast." You step away and give Shu some space, but he keeps his back against the wall. He exhales, and the color drains from his face. “Stop me if you need me to. But when we met, I thought you were really pretty. I really liked your sense of style, and the colors in your hair, and I liked to sneak looks at your biceps." You laugh a little at that. "I love your eyes a lot. They're really bright, and whenever you smile, they always squint a little.

"That's one of the other things I really love about you, whenever you smile. You like to laugh. So you smile often, and it's always because they're something to be happy about, and that makes me happy too. Sometimes because it affects me too, and sometimes, just because I love whenever my partner gets to enjoy himself."

You scratch the back of your head. "And, um, I came off a little strong when I saw you, so I'm sorry if I scared you. I didn't mean to do that at all. It's just that I got used to seeing your usual outfit, so now that you're trying something new..." You laugh again, but this time it's a gentle giggle, and without lust fueling you, you feel a bit embarrassed. "I mean, I really did think you were beautiful before, especially once we got closer, and I got to explore you more. But this is a whole other level. You've really outdone yourself. Like, I couldn't even hold back when I saw you, I was just so attracted to you that I didn’t even think. I really should have, though. I didn’t mean to cross a boundary.”

Shu’s eyebrows raise. “What? You didn’t do anything wrong, it’s just that…”

He trails off. He slumps over and slides down the wall with a sigh as he sits. His ponytail rests along the floor and along one of his sleeves. "I know you compliment me often, but I never thought you seriously meant it. No one's ever said things like that to me before."

"Really?" You sit next to him. "Should I stop?"

"No! No, you're fine. I mean. I think... It's not like I didn't like it." Shu buries his face into his hands and groans. "I really liked it, actually. I think it was just too new, and it's second nature for me to deny how good it feels, and—" He cuts himself off to muster up his courage. He lowers his hands just enough to peek out, but his fingers thread through each other and hide his face. "I've never been called gorgeous before."

"Was that okay?"

"It was perfect," he admits. His eyebrows relax, and his eyes squint. You don't need to see the rest of his face to know his lips curved up. But he dilutes his swoon with another sigh, and you can tell he's disappointed in himself as he drops his hands to his side. "I wish I wasn't in my head when you said it. Sorry for ruining a good moment."

"You didn't ruin anything, Shu, what are you talking about?" You reach to hold his hand, but hesitate, unsure if he wants to be touched. But he turns his palm over to met yours, and you connect. "I'm glad we're talking about it, and I'm hoping that it's helping you work through it, too. I'd hate to do or say anything to you that you couldn't handle."

"Thank you. That's really sweet of you." You take in how he wraps his fingers around yours and squeezes. "I'm going to calm down for a moment."

You sit together for a moment. His face is a slideshow between thoughts, and you rub circles along his hand with your thumb as he recomposes himself. You trust him.

You send comfort through your fingertips on the changing room floor, and his deep breathing turns to silence as a minute passes by. Then Shu turns to you, and lifts your hand in his. "Do you want to try again?"

"You're up for it?"

He nods, and this time it's with all his energy. "I was really looking forward to it. Can we?"

"Of course, Shu, anything for you." Already you're starting to feel warm. You get up to your feet, and bring Shu with you.

You're not so sure if Shu is aware of this, but even in his weakest moments, he moves elegantly. Not so much that it looks practiced, but he rises nimble like the shadows he channels his sorcery through. His long hair rests on his sleeves, then slips behind his back airily as the leathery wing along his torso flares with the motion.

He doesn't let go of your hand, even as he steps back and rests against the wall.

"You're okay with this?" You ask.

"It felt nice."

Your hand lets go of his, but it doesn't break away from his glassy-clear skin, and instead takes in the shape of his arm. His inner wrist is so soft, but the skin gets pleasantly rougher as you continue upwards into the plush of his forearm, and by the time you reach the peak of his biggest muscles, the plush turns firm.

The other holds him by his hips right under the sash of his robes. You can wrap yourself so easily around his waistline, and the urge to snatch him up is stifling.

But you're on a mission, and Shu's straight nose is dusted with pink, and when your hands both squeeze his body, a short gleam of fire spirals out behind him, and yet, his vivid, royal eyes are what captivate you the most.

You're so lost in his long lashes and the flecks of galaxy that you feel helpless, even with him pinned underneath you. "Shu, can I kiss—"

You get your answer before you even finish the question.

It's like you never paused in the first place. He enters your mouth first, and you match his movements, crossing along his tongue as if it was your lifeblood. It probably is. Shu has a tendency to unlock hunger like you've never known it before.

His arms unconsciously flex at the contact. Aroused, you drive forward and force him further against the wall, and when you hear the rumble of a moan between your connected lips, your fingers clutch harder at his waist.

Your bodies are flush against one another, and as you lean forward, you feel the telltale silkiness of his hair. You don't dare to open your eyes as you fumble around for a tuft to tangle your hands in. Shu pulses in your mouth as you take hold, and parts just enough to aim for your bottom lip as he returns the favor and bites. You hear a lewd, liquidy smack as he hurriedly glosses over the nip, then back to your parted lips. Every time there's even the slightest tension between his hair and your fingers, you notice, he rushes to kiss you harder.

So when he goes in for another round, you move your mouth away. His eyes flutter open in confusion, then shocks into surprise as you drag him in front of you. The mirror reflects his surprise right back at him.

Your head perches on Shu's shoulder. "You up for this, baby? You want to see?"

The heat returns. His reflection is another reminder of how he's totally at your mercy, and all the shame that comes with being so whipped that he already looks this ruined.

But you called him beautiful earlier. Gorgeous.

He kind of likes the shame.

"Yeah," Shu says, breathless. "Y-yeah, I do."

"Good boy," you coo, and that washes a whole new set of feelings over him that he files away for later. He tucks his chin away, embarrassed at the name, but he's still focused on the reflection as your reach to the top of his head and the beginnings of his ponytail.

Shu grew his hair out long, and you comb through the ponytail as it loosens down his back. "Pretty boy," you say. Your voice is tempting so close to his ear, especially as you gather his hair together. "Pretty boy with pretty hair. You take good care of it."

He lets out a hum deep in his throat as you smooth through it, only for it to turn into a startled choke as you grab at the base of his head. He chides himself for not seeing through your plan, but not enough to stifle how the choke turns into a moan as you pull. His neck jerks back. Then your lips make contact with his nape like a vampire to prey, and the moan turns into an even more humiliating yelp. The mirror proudly displays his neediness, but the high pitch is yours alone to keep.

"Didn't mark this side earlier." You mutter as you blow cool air over your latest kiss, and bask in how he shivers storms. "You like that?"

"Mmm, feels good," he says, voice wavering.

"Sounded like it, too. I liked hearing it. Gives me a chance to keep playing around with you."

His common sense tells him to protest, but he's too enthralled by the rough kisses and pulls. You tug on his hair to move him instead of asking him, and the way that you can command him without even using words both impresses and mortifies him.

It's the bites that send him over the edge, though. His nape is your territory. The first hickeys have already darkened on the other side, and when he sees you ravenous over his elongated neck, it's dirty and starved and lovely.

You press a kiss under Shu's ear and he jolts at the pleasure. When you suck, he inhales shakily, and lolls his head to the side. He had no idea that he just put himself in the perfect position. "Just like that, stay still. That's perfect." You weave your fingers through an open seam in his outfit, and when you leave your next mark, it's with your hands over his chest underneath the fabric. You grope his cleavage. "Perfect, perfect, perfect."

"H-how did you even— nngh, ah!"

His nipples were already hard enough, but then you just had to go and twist the damn thing like it wouldn't send him so far down to hell that he'd come back up in heaven.

"Just like that, Shu, baby, you're doing so well!" A flick on the bud here, a pull on his ponytail there, your words barely able to ring out as you frenzy between the kisses and the licks.

Whatever noise hangs in the air, it's downright pornographic, and it's only when Shu sees his open mouth in the mirror that he realizes that's his voice. It wobbles between a cry and a huff. Pink and purple dances around his hazy reflection, but as aroused as he is, he recognizes them as his harmless fire. He didn't even know he did that.

The fire trails behind his head as everything goes hot. He can barely think straight, but the only thing coursing through his mind is that he's never been able to feel delight like this before.

Where you stand behind him, Shu rolls his hips, his neck still held back against your body. You've been doing such a good job of keeping yourself together, but the slow coursing is a death sentence. You welcome it wholeheartedly.

"Mm, Shu...!" That elegance is seriously biting you in the ass right now. Even when he's horny, he's graceful, but you ache for more.

And even when he's submissive, he's strong. You tend to forget that those biceps aren't just for show.

Shu practically plucks you out of the embrace and to his side. His voice is husky but whiny. "Mirror or not, I'm not about to go down on you standing up."

"Let's get you a bed," you negotiate. The sooner you can get all you love out of your system, the better. "Lead the way, gorgeous."

He doesn't waste any time at all. He holds his arm out along the small of your back and rests his hand against where your hips connect with your thighs, and as you shuffle out of the changing room he keeps you close to his, brushing up against you all the while. You'd almost think he was preening.

"Gorgeous," you utter. Hopefully he learns how one day.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

[falafelluva]

Hiii, idk if you feel comfortable writing about Islam but I hope you would be because your bio😅

Can you write something with Kenan x Muslim reader

; 𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐌𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐏 - 𝘬.𝘺𝘪𝘭𝘥𝘪𝘻 ✮

summary: a helpful husband, idk what to summarise this as😔

warnings: x

author’s note: I am in fact Muslim so dw sister

It was a lazy Sunday afternoon, the kind where sunlight streamed through the windows, casting warm, golden rays across the living room. You sat on the couch, surrounded by toys and a few scattered books.

Your toddler son, Miray, was busy with his blocks, his little hands working diligently to stack them up as high as he could. The peacefulness of the moment felt like a soft blanket wrapping around you, but your thoughts were elsewhere.

Lately, you had been contemplating wearing hijab more seriously. It was something you had thought about for a while but hadn’t fully committed to yet.

You had a few beautiful scarves hanging in your closet, but they often remained untouched, waiting for the right moment or the right push. You wanted to embrace this part of your identity more fully, but uncertainty lingered in the back of your mind.

Kenan walked into the room, a playful grin on his face as he bent down to Miray’s level. “What are you building, champ?” he asked, ruffling Miray’s hair, which was an adorable mess.

“Tower!” Miray exclaimed proudly, holding up his latest block like it was a trophy. You couldn’t help but smile at their interaction; Kenan was such a natural with him.

As you watched them, a sudden rush of motivation surged through you. Maybe today was the day you’d finally put on your hijab and wear it confidently. Taking a deep breath, you decided to go for it.

“Kenan,” you called softly, standing up and heading towards the bedroom. “Can you help me with something?”

He turned, a curious look on his face. “Of course baby, what do you need?”

You hesitated for a moment, glancing down at the hijab you had laid out on the bed, its soft fabric shimmering in the light. “I’m going to try wearing my hijab today. Can you… help me put it on?”

His expression softened, and a smile spread across his face. “Of course! I’d love to.”

You made your way back to the bedroom, feeling a flutter of excitement mixed with nervousness. Kenan joined you, his presence calming as he stood beside you.

“Do you want just want it simple or something more uhhh fancy?” he asked, holding the scarf in his hands like it was something precious.

“Simple, I think,” you replied, touching the fabric lightly. “Just something that feels comfortable.”

With careful hands, Kenan began to wrap the scarf around your head, his fingers gentle yet sure. “You know, I think you’re going to look pretty,” he said, his voice softening. “You always do.”

His confidence made you smile, and as he worked, you felt the flutter of doubt start to ease away. But just as he was finishing, Miray came running into the room, a burst of energy that could only come from a toddler.

“Baba! Look!” he exclaimed, holding up a toy truck, and in his excitement, he accidentally bumped into you. The sudden movement caused the scarf to slip, and in a flash, it was a tangled mess.

“Oh no!” you laughed, a bit flustered as you tried to fix it. “Miray, be careful!”

Kenan chuckled at the chaos. “Well, that didn’t go as planned,” he said with a grin, shaking his head. “Let me help.”

He took your scarf back in his hands, his demeanor shifting to that of concentration. “You know, I’ve watched a few tutorials,” he teased lightly, the hint of mischief in his voice. “I think I’ve got this.”

You couldn’t help but laugh as he carefully adjusted the hijab, his brows furrowed in concentration.

“Okay, stay still. This is important work,” he said dramatically, pretending to be a professional stylist.

You loved seeing this playful side of him, the way he could turn even a simple moment into something special. “Are you sure you’re ready for this kind of commitment?” you joked.

“Absolutely,” he replied, his tone serious but his eyes sparkling with laughter. “Just trust me. I know what I’m doing.”

With a few deft movements, he secured the scarf around your head, tucking it in neatly. Finally, he stepped back to admire his work. “Ta-da! Perfect,” he declared, crossing his arms and nodding as if he’d just completed a masterpiece.

You looked in the mirror, the hijab framing your face beautifully. It felt right, and you couldn’t help but smile. “Wow, you really did a great job!”

“See? I told you I could do it,” he said, his pride evident as he glanced at Miray. “What do you think, buddy? Does Mama look good?”

Miray clapped his hands, giggling. “Pretty!” he shouted, and your heart swelled with joy at his innocent enthusiasm.

“Thank you, my baby,” you replied, leaning down to kiss Miray on the forehead.

Kenan stepped closer, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you in for a quick hug. “You look beautiful, Allahumma Barik,” he murmured, his voice low and sincere. “I love seeing you like this.”

His words warmed you from the inside out, and you felt a sense of empowerment wash over you. “Thank you for helping me take this step.”

“Anytime,” he replied, his tone genuine. “We’re in this together, remember? I’ll always support you.”

[allmyocsarebritish]

His blue hoodie

Pairing: Xavier x reader

What to expect: entirely self indulgent fluff :')

I have a hoodie exactly like his and this has been on my mind for over a year now haha

Nevermore was a school that heavily enforced its rules. This was entirely reasonable; seeing as the school housed students easily capable of mass destruction. Some of these requirements existed to prioritise safety, such as designated areas for werewolves on a full moon, but the majority remained in place to enhance the reputation of the academy. An instance of the latter was the uniform.

Of course, the dress code of Nevermore was not as strict as most uniform schools - for example jewellery had to be permitted, mainly down to the use of amulets to halt siren song. Beyond this, the individuality of students was the basis at which Nevermore was founded, rendering a lack of self expression entirely hypocritical. Thus, the rules were slackened. And, no-one seemed to complain when one of the boys' hoodies made its way beneath your striped blazer. Surely it was no more than a coincidence that the day it appeared was the last day Xavier was seen wearing one.

The rain hammered against the glass of your window on the second Tuesday in November. Condensation began to form on the inside, forming an entirely dismal scene, only enhanced by the miserable grey sky. The gloomy weather dampened your mood, and the temptation to hide away in your room, ignoring all of the day's classes, was steadily beginning to grow. Groaning dramatically, you heaved yourself from the excruciatingly soft, pillowy mattress.

Promptly after dressing in your own uniform, you reached once again into the wardrobe, pulling out a familiar navy fabric. The fabric was endlessly comforting, enveloping you in a warm, safe embrace as you were almost swallowed completely. The scent of oil paint and turpentine mixed with pine needles overwhelmed you, immediately distinguishable as entirely Xavier. It transported you immediately to long evenings in the art shed, soft breezes whilst practicing archery and loving nights spent cuddled together in eachother's dorms.

A smile immediately fixed onto your face; suddenly the day no longer felt quite so unbearable. You quickly pulled on your striped blazer and raven combat boots, leaving your room with a newfound sense of urgency. After all, who were you to keep him waiting?

Practically bounding out onto the quad, your eyes cast the area, scanning the surroundings. With the morning still being early- and therefore having few students around- It didn't take you long to make out a ridiculously tall figure. Paintbrush predictably in hand, he was continuing work on a particular mural, depicting a swooping raven amongst a background of featherlight clouds. It was nothing short of perfection, enhanced by the passion behind the artwork.

You knew how much this specific piece meant to him, especially after the destruction of his painstaking attention to detail by the normies last outreach day. This was the first mural he had painted since, after being borderline forced by Weems. Nevertheless, he seemed to enjoy it, and the labour was paying off.

"It's beautiful, Xav." He spun swiftly around at the sound of your voice, gaze immediately softening and a loving smile replacing the frown of concentration.

"You're wearing my hoodie." You couldn't hold back a small giggle at the expression he wore, a mix of pride and bashfulness.

"I love it," you leaned in to give him a quick kiss. "But I love you more."

Xavier's arms wrapped tightly around your waist, pulling you in. His chin rested on the top of your head, as you each sighed out a tiny huff of contentment.

"I love you too."