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whorefordean · 12 days

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wear the hat || d.w

i read exactly one cowboy romance so enjoy (fake)cowboy!dean and the cowboy hat rule

wc: 1.9k

cw: raw dogging, semi public sex, use of petname (sugar), the cowboy hat rule

taglist: @the-last-ry

mdni 18+

you can’t help yourself. dean looks so goofy in the outfit, and you can’t refrain from teasing him about it. on this hunt, for whatever reason, dean thought it’d be best if he poses as a cowboy.

“to get more information from the locals. they’ll never talk if i look like a city boy, sweetheart,” dean says with a simple shrug. there’s a smile playing on his face, and you cann’t help but to roll your eyes.

“dean, you’re from kansas and you wear flannels every day. nobody thinks you’re a city boy. the hat is most definitely overkill,” you tell him as you cross your arms over your chest.

“i’m not taking it off,” dean huffs, matching your pose. you glare at him momentarily. he doesn’t look bad. in fact, he looks hot as fuck, and maybe, that’s why you need him to chill out on the disguise.

you toss your hands up in defeat and follow him into the bar. the two of you split up rather quickly. you’re working your charm on the drunken men for any information you could pry out of them about the missing people while dean made his way to a group of women to do the same.

almost an hour later, you finally manage to get the information you need, and you’re off to find dean. it’s nearing eleven pm at this point and you are ready to go. that is, until you see dean sitting at the bar with a girl who is entirely too close for your comfort.

you and dean aren’t an item, per se, but the two of you have been a little more than friendly on more than one drunken occasion.

you tap on dean’s shoulder lightly in an effort to get his attention. nothing. the girl he’s talking to is shooting you glares every chance she gets. you roll your eyes and decide that there was only one way to get his attention.

so you snatch the cowboy hat off his head and slip it onto yours. dean whips around to face you. you’re expecting him to snatch it right back, but instead, dean just smirks, seemingly forgetting all about the blonde he was talking to a minute beforehand.

“i’m ready to go,” you huff, adjusting the hat on your head. your hands finally rest on your waist, hip popping out. dean doesn’t say anything. just kept staring and grinning.

“dean, seriously? what?” you puff, annoyed at his behavior.

“you know the cowboy hat rule?” dean muses, leaning back to get a good look at you. his gaze rakes over you, sending a shiver down your spine.

“the what?” you ask evenly. dean’s grin grows wider, and you are half tempted to slap it off of him.

“the cowboy hat rule, sugar. wear the hat—” dean trails off. he leans forward until his hand rests against your waist, and his mouth is brushing your ear.

“—ride the cowboy.” your eyes widen as he finishes the phrase. he pulls away just enough to watch your expression change from shock to compliance. he smiles proudly, knowing that you're more than willing to obey the rules.

no words leave your mouth as you nod, allowing dean to drag you through the mess of people in the crowded bar. the cool summer air bathes both of you as dean pulls you through the exit door and ushers you to the impala.

his rough hands in yours had your mind racing with thoughts of what they'd feel like skimming your body. in the three times that you and dean have slept together, both of you were too wasted to remember much about it the next morning. you'd wake up with those delicious bruises on your thighs or hips and hate yourself for not being able to remember what the hell went down the night before. however, you aren't ballsy enough to ask him to fuck you when you’re sober, so you settle for forgotten nights.

your senses snap back to reality when you hear dean clear this throat. that shit eating grin is back on his face when he realizes that you'd been staring at his hand.

"what is it, sugar? got a thing for hands or just mine?" dean teases relentlessly. you roll your eyes at him, shoving his shoulder lightly. he catches your wrist before spinning you around until you're bent over the hood of the impala.

"dean," you gasp, bracing yourself against the black metal. dean laughs behind you and leans down until his chest is flush against your back. his lips brush against your shoulder, and you breathe out a sigh, dropping your head against the cool metal when dean starts to lift the hem of your dress up.

"tell me what you want," dean says softly in your ear, pressing a kiss against your jaw. you have never been more grateful to be parked at the back of the lot.

"you. need you," you whimper, reaching behind you to grasp at any inch of dean you could reach.

"mm, 'm right here, sugar," dean says playfully as he hums against your skin. you groan, shaking your head and letting your hand slip down to dean's wrist. you grab his hand and lower it to your aching core.

"need you here, dean," you say breathily when dean starts toying with your panties. you can hear him inhale sharply behind you, and you arch your back slightly.

"fuck, sugar," dean groans. without warning, dean rips your underwear down your legs, helping you lift one leg at a time until the fabric is completely off your body. the cool air makes contact with your exposed cunt, causing you to hiss in pleasure. the cold doesn't last long because dean is shifting onto the ground behind you. his hands grip at your thighs, nudging them further open before he dips his tongue into your waiting pussy.

you mewl as dean laps at you like a man starved. he hums something against your cunt, but you're too lost in the pleasure to listen. that is, until he slaps your ass. hard. you wince, lifting your head to look back at him.

"answer me when i'm talking to you. being nice enough to eat this pretty little pussy," dean growls, but he doesn't mean it. he'd gladly get on his knees for you, and he'd stay there forever if you'd allow it.

"what?" you whine, eyes rolling as dean sucks your clit into his mouth.

"thought you were supposed to be ridin' me?" dean hums again, clearer this time. he doesn't give you time to answer before slipping a finger into you. you cry out when he adds another almost immediately after.

"yes! yes, i will," you ramble, dropping your head to rest against the car again. your release is so close, and you clench around dean's fingers, his tongue still lapping away.

before you can cum, dean withdraws his fingers and pulls away completely. you jerk your head around to meet his gaze, eyes wide with need.

"no! please!" you beg pathetically, desperate for release. dean grips your chin lightly and pulls you back until he can kiss you, allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue. you moan into his mouth before he finally pulls away.

"come on," dean orders, and you nod compliantly as he pulls you up from the hood of the impala. dean slips into the back seat first, pulling you in behind him. you barely touch the leather seats before dean is tugging you into his lap.

his hardened cock strains against his jeans, and you can’t stop from rolling your hips over his clothed bulge. you tug at his shirt impatiently. dean doesn’t object, tossing the fabric off his body and into the front seat.

his hands grip your hips as he leans in to kiss you again. he guides your hips, the two of you groaning at the friction. your arms are wrapped tightly around his shoulders.

“fuck,” dean grunts again. he taps your ass lightly, so you pull away with a huff. your pout quickly dissolves when dean lifts you up just enough to undo the button of his jeans, allowing his cock to spring free.

“oh my god,” you mumble as you stare at his dick. dean smirks before pulling back onto his lap. dean settles your cunt over his cock, but he doesn’t push himself inside of you. not yet. instead, he opts for getting his cock wet with your slick first.

your eyes roll as you slide your pussy against his hardened dick. you grind your teeth when the head of dean’s cock slips against your clit repeatedly.

“please,” you pant. dean hums, watching as your movements get more erratic.

“dean, please. let me ride your cock,” you beg again. your eyebrows are knitted together with your eyes clenched shut.

“go ahead, sugar. take it,” dean grunts before settling into you completely. you inhale sharply when he grips your ass, pushing you even further onto himself.

you brace your hands against his shoulder, dropping your head to rest against one of them. dean gives you a second to adjust before he grabs your hips, urging you to move.

so you do.

you bite your lip, trying to keep your moans and mewls in as you ride dean. you couldn’t remember a time you felt so fucking full. dean’s dick was fucking perfect, hitting every spot that made your vision blur with ecstasy.

you lift your hips repeatedly before settling on grinding against him. you writhe in delight as dean drops his head back against the seat, hands gripping at the sides of your thighs as you continue to bounce and grind against him. you lower yourself to kiss against his neck before burying your face in his shoulder.

“right there,” you whisper repeatedly, nipping at dean’s neck as your hips start to stutter. dean grips your hair in one hand, tugging your head back until your neck is on full display for him. his arm wraps around your waist, holding you flush against his chest. dean groans as he adjusts the two of you until he has the mobility to drill his hips into yours, cousin you to cry out in pleasure. he doesn’t relent as you finally come around his cock.

deans sucks a deep bruise into your neck when he finally comes, muttering curses under his breath when his hips finally settle. the only sound in the car now is the two of you panting against each other. you lift your hips, whining as dean’s cum drips down your thighs.

you look up at dean, but he’s distracted by the sight. his cheeks are reddened, and his eyes are hazy as he watches his cum drip out of your cunt.

“dean–”

“fuck, sugar. gonna have to let you steal that fucking hat more often if it means i get to watch you take my cock like that. you look so fucking pretty like this, sugar,” dean grunts, swiping his thumb through the mess on your thighs. he swipes his thumb up further, pressing against your clit before finally bringing his thumb up to your mouth. without speaking, dean nudges your lips open, making you taste the two of you.

“goddamn it, sugar. can’t wait to use that pretty mouth next time.”

#dean winchester #supernatural #dean winchester x reader #spn #dean winchester x reader smut #dean winchester smut #dean winchester x fem!reader #supernatural smut #cowboy!dean winchester smut #cowboy!dean winchester #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fic

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transmascsteveharrington · 4 months

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It’s the summer of ’85. The summer of chlorine-bleached hair and navy blue shorts. Of red felt tip against white board and molten ice cream on sticky hands. Of unexpected friendships and teenage sorrows, snug-in screenings and bumpy car rides. It’s a cruel summer. It’s the summer Eddie Munson climbs through Steve’s bedroom window. Repeatedly.

It all starts the day of graduation at someone's house. Everyone around Eddie is having the time of their life, getting wasted and high while Eddie throws himself a pity party. And judging by the figure hidden in the corner, arms crossed in front of his chest, pout on his lips Eddie isn't the only one. It's weird seeing King Steve, ruler of parties and champion of kegs stands, awkwardly stand on the sidelines of a party. But then again Steve Harrington hasn't been King Steve for a while. He may have won prom king (at least that's what Eddie has heard, he wouldn't be caught dead at prom) but it's been a hot minute since Steve held his head high, acting like his hair was a crown, his varsity jacket a fur coat and sports trophy his scepter. Not that Eddie has paid much attention to Steve Harrington over the years or anything. Eddie knows that curiosity killed the cat, but cats have nine lives and Eddie can definitely spare one, he thinks as he slowly crosses the room and approaches Steve.

"Penny for your thoughts, joint for your sorrows," Eddie asks and holds out a joint for Steve. Steve's eyes widen in confusion for a second, before the frown on his face turns into a soft smile that's going to haunt Eddie's dreams.

"This a pity smoke, Munson?" he says, nodding towards the joint in Eddie's palm.

"Charity actually," Eddie says, "Looks good on my tax return and all. You know the drill."

The soft smile turns into soft laughter and fuck abort mission, abort mission, Eddie thinks. Pretty boys shouldn't be allowed to laugh like that. But Steve does and it leads to smoking the joint in the back of Eddie's van which somehow leads to a far too vulnerable conversation about expectations and failure, about pressure and loneliness and about how Eddie is the prettiest thing Steve has ever seen. It leads to an unexpected kiss and another and another and another that leads to an unexpected hook-up.

Eddie thinks Steve is gonna run the next day, act like it never happened, stay away from Eddie. He might not go to college after summer, but Steve is probably going to leave Hawkins sooner or later, so best for him to just forget everything about last night. Only that Steve apparently doesn't want to forget or to run. Instead, he shows up at Eddie's trailer the next day. For a second Eddie is afraid Steve is going to punch him, he doesn't expect to get pulled into another kiss.

It kinda becomes a regular thing during the first few weeks of summer after that. Steve drives to the trailer when Wayne is out and Eddie climbs through Steve's bedroom window regardless of whether Steve's parents are home or not. Just for the fun of it, the summer romance feeling of it, the drama of it all.

It also makes Steve roll his eyes with a fond smile when Eddie stumbles through his window. It's all fun and games until it starts to become a problem. Because Eddie already had harbored a small but not insignificant crush on Steve while they were still in school and Steve was just the popular jock at the other end of the hallway. But having Steve like this, naked, stripped bare of his clothes and all the pretense he always wore at school like armor? It's life-ruining. Eddie already knows he is not going to start his third try at senior year with his heart intact.

They are a couple of weeks into whatever this is, when Steve mentions his parents forcing him to get a job at the mall, says they'll have to meet up less, talks about the stupid costume with a dorky hat he has to wear, but says Eddie should come say hi, if he wants to. Steve can get him a free scoop or something.

"Ah yes the real benefit in friends with benefits," Eddie laughs, "free ice cream."

Only that friends with benefits isn't quite accurate. They aren't friends, they aren't dating, they are just repeat hook ups. Eddie tries not to be bitter about this, knows this is already more than he ever thought he could get. Despite his instincts telling him not to go see Steve at Scoops because obviously it was just a stupid joke, Eddie goes. He is glad he does because maybe god is real and the indecently short and tight sailor uniform shorts are his way of trying to make up for all the hardship he has made Eddie suffer through.

Steve is a vision in the uniform especially with the dorky hat he claims to hate so much. Steve beams at Eddie when he sees him.

“You came!”

“And will several more times today now that I have seen you in those shorts,” Eddie whispers and leans on the counter. Steve rolls his eyes but blushes slightly. The same shade of red as the scribbles on the white board behind Steve. “What does the you rule you suck mean?”

“That’s Harrington’s score board with our customers,” Steve’s coworker chimes in. Eddie hadn’t paid much attention to her until now. “As you can see he sucks quite a lot at scoring any phone numbers or dates.”

“Oh,” is all Eddie can say. He is glad he hasn’t tried the ice cream yet because he is sure he is about to throw up. Of course Steve is trying to score. They never said they were exclusive and why would they. Why would Steve want to be with some trailer trash boy for anything more than a little fun. Eddie doesn’t know what’s going to happen first: crying or throwing up. All he knows is that he has to get out of here. But before Eddie can run and berate himself for being so fucking stupid, Steve’s hand closes around his wrist.

“I’m taking my break,” Steve announces loudly and pulls Eddie into the back room.

“It’s not what you think,” Steve hurries to explain as soon as the door falls shut behind them. “It was Robin’s stupid idea. She thought my customer service voice was me trying to strike out. I just wanted to get a tip.”

“So you’re not flirting with your customers?”

“Only metalheads with curly hair and a beat up van,” Steve teases. “Robin just assumed because I got the reputation that I was striking out. And I didn’t bother to correct because it doesn’t really matter and it’s not like I can go around announcing that I have a boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend?” Eddie raises his eyebrows, heart beating in his chest, the word echoing in his mind.

“Well I’d have to ask him first if he wants to be,” Steve grins and puts his hands on Eddie’s hips, pulling him closer. “I had it all planned out. Romantic dinner, candlelight, Judas Priest playing. Might have to up that though since he apparently had no idea how serious I am about him.”

“You know you could make him a pb&j and he would be wooed. He’d be stupid not to say yes to being your boyfriend,” Eddie says and leans in, lips only inches away from Steve. Even without touching he can feel Steve’s lips twist into a smile.

“Yeah?” Steve asks.

“Yeah,” Eddie says before sealing his promise with a kiss.

Maybe it’s not going to be a cruel summer after all.

#steddie #stranger things #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve harrington fic #eddie munson fic #steddie fanfiction #steddie fanfic

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spicyspiders · 1 month

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old man logan part 2

3.1k words

logan isn't as mean in this, but there are still moments when he is, like when he forces the reader to drink a glass of whisky he poured for him because he doesn't want him to waste it.

part 1

You wanted to give the guy a chance, but fuck, you just weren’t interested. You thought it’d be a good idea, after all, your mother told you she didn’t want you spending your whole summer at home. You assumed what she meant was a summer job, but you thought going on a date would be more entertaining.

It wasn’t really the guy’s fault though, your mind was much too occupied by the thought of Logan. It has been two weeks since then and your mind hasn’t stopped thinking about it since that day. The only interaction you’ve had with him since then was nods and glances when you saw him outside.

A week after that day, you learned of his change of heart. It became much louder outside after Logan returned all of the lost toys in his backyard, much happier. You even made a comment about it to your date.

“That was sweet of him,” the man said from across the table at the bar.

“Yeah. It sure was,” you responded, trying not to smile too hard.

“Why do you think he had a change of heart?” Your date asked.

You quickly changed the subject after he asked, not wanting to give anymore details away. “Sorry,” you pointed to one of your ears, “it’s pretty loud in here.”

”Do you wanna,” he pointed at the door, his eyes bright under the light of the bar.

You nodded and gathered your things to pay your tab, the sweet taste of the drink you had earlier was still at the back of your throat. Only having one drink at the bar meant it was easy to come up with another excuse to get in your car and drive home.

The man looked disappointed, but he quickly perked up after you pressed a kiss to his cheek with the promise of next time whispered into his ear.

“How was your date?” Logan asked when you got out of your car, “not so good I guess since you’re home before sundown,” he let out a cruel laugh.

“It was just one drink,” you responded as you shut your car door.

“What,” he tossed the rag he had just cleaned his motorcycle with over his shoulder, “he not want to invite you inside for a nightcap?”

”A nightcap?” You grimaced, “how old are you?”

Logan chuckled, “don’t get mad at me,” he said, stepping closer and into your driveway, “I’m sure he would’ve invited you in if he knew how easy you were,” he said quietly, not close enough for you to smell the cleaner on the rag.

“Next time he’ll know,” you said, crossing your arms.

The laugh Logan lets out is loud and booming, much too loud for the time of evening it was, “you’re telling me,” Logan says once he’s gotten his laughing under control, “you don’t put out on the first day?”

“I do when I want to. My mind’s been just a little,” you pause, looking away from Logan’s eyes and definitely not down to his lips, “occupied.”

“Why don’t we go inside and talk about it,” Logan whispers.

Logan wastes no time getting his hands on you once you’re behind his door. His hands are warm on your hips as he presses you into the door. The kiss is not at all like the one you pressed to your date’s cheek earlier, it’s rough and messy and just what you expected.

“What’d you drink earlier?” Logan panted after pullings away from the kiss, “it tastes like you swallowed a pound of candy,” he says, looking disgusted.

“That’s how I like my drinks. Besides, I only had one,” you watched as Logan stepped back and walked to his kitchen, “it shouldn’t be that bad!” You yelled at his back.

You could hear the sound of cabinets slamming and glass hitting the counter before Logan’s voice followed he sound, “get in here.” He spoke again after you were beside him leaning against the countertop, “I’m putting you on the good stuff. None of that sugary bullshit,” he said as he poured a glass of whisky.

“I think you just wanted an excuse to drink,” you said as he moved to the second glass.

“I don’t need an excuse to drink. I’m a grown man, and so are you. You’re too old for that-”

”Sugary bullshit,” you say, cutting him off, rolling your eyes, “I know.”

“A toast,” Logan says after picking up his glass, “to trying new things.”

You weren’t going to tell Logan you’ve had whisky before, but you play up your reaction just to save his ego. You cough even though you’re used to the burn and make a face of disgust even though you’re used to the taste.

With a laugh, Logan claps a hand on your back, “it’s not a shot, you’re supposed to savor it,” which was ironic for him to say given how quickly he drank his. With his hand wrapped around the neck of the bottle, he looked at you expectantly.

”What,” you snapped.

“Drink it,” Logan commanded, “you don’t waste my whiskey.”

“You drink it,” you said back.

Slowly, Logan takes the glass as he steps in front of you and crowds you up against the counter. His eyes stay locked to yours as he takes the rest of what was in your glass into his mouth. You wait for him to swallow, but instead he wraps his other hand around the back of your neck and gets in real close.

“Open,” he says around the liquid in his mouth.

You have no choice but to comply, especially when his hand tightens on the back of his neck. The whisky trickles into your mouth, along your tongue, and then down your throat in a warm path. You lick your lips, the tip touching Logan’s as you try to gather the bit that fell from the side of your mouth.

Logan’s thumb gathers it before he pushes it into your mouth, “good boy,” he murmurs when you suck the taste from his skin.

He pulls his thumb from your mouth and then back down your chin where the liquid had dripped, leaving another wet trail. He kisses you again, this time much slower. His tongue runs along yours and all you can taste is a mix of whisky and something that is all Logan.

“You really are easy,” Logan says when he pulls away from the kiss, one of his hands moving to your hard cock tenting your pants, “look at how hard you are,” he says like he’s in awe of a brilliant discovery. “Bedroom?” He asks with a smirk.

“Wouldn’t standing for too long hurt your back?” You respond, biting back your smile as you watch his smirk fall.

“Little fuckin’ smartass,” Logan grumbles as he hoists you over his shoulder, “I gotcha,” he says at your noise of surprise, making sure to pat your ass for good measure.

“I can walk,” you say to him after you’re thrown onto his bed.

”Not after this,” Logan responds, swooping down to mash your lips together. With his knee, he made space between your legs for his body and used his hands to lift your legs and get them around his waist.

You moaned into the next kiss Logan initiated as he rolled his hips to grind your cocks together. For what felt like hours, Logan thrust your cocks together through your clothes. It made you feel like a teenager again, especially with how close you felt when Logan finally pulled away to pull his shirt off.

You wanted to look over to see if you could see into Logan’s closet to see if tank tops were all he wore. You’d give him props though if they were at least different colors. It’s too bad Logan’s chest was too distracting.

You ran your fingers up Logan’s chest, gliding through his dark chest hair until you reached his broad shoulders. You used them as a sturdy purchase to pull yourself up to get your mouth against his again. You ran your nails down Logan’s back and he pulled back and let out a noise of pain which had your cock throbbing.

Free from the kiss, you leaned down to the expanse of Logan's neck to bite at the skin. Above you, Logan moaned when you ran your tongue along the mark you just bit into his skin, the flesh tasting like sweat.

Logan pulled you back face to face with a hand on the back of your neck. His breaths hit your face as he panted from the pleasure, his eyes dark and full of lust. He pressed a chaste kiss to your kiss before pulling away again to get your clothes off.

“No underwear?” He asked, a smile stretching out across his face.

“You didn’t have any on either,” you responded. Logan’s hard cock bobbed in the air between your bodies, but he didn’t let you touch it as he pushed you back down onto the bed once your shirt was off.

“I’m in my own home,” Logan said as he wrestled your pants off and threw them into the pile of your clothes.

“You were outside when I got home,” you said, wrapping your hand around the back of his neck to pull him into another kiss.

“I was waiting for you,” Logan said against your mouth after he pulled away, “you’ve been ignoring me,” he said, nipping at your bottom lip.

”I’ve been busy,” you said before grabbing two handfuls of Logan’s ass to get your cock against his. Your head fell back into one of the pillows on Logan’s bed as your cocks rubbed together, making a mess of precum.

”Whoring yourself out,” Logan said into the column of your neck before he bit harshly into the skin. He held himself up on his forearm, his other being used to go between your legs, past your cock and to your hole.

He groaned around the skin between his teeth as he circled the pad of his finger around the tight furl of your hole, “you’re fuckin’ killing me,” Logan said, his forehead falling to your neck. “This all for me?” He asked, almost mockingly.

“Sometimes I like doing the shower if I’m home alone,” you say with a groan when Logan rubs your cocks together again.

“Yeah? You gotta go fast before mommy and daddy get home?” Logan asks as he presses the edge of his finger to the opening. “Who were you thinkin’ about hmm?” He asks, looking at you with his dark eyes.

“You thinkin’ about that guy you were gonna go on a date with as you took your shower this morning?” Logan asked, his finger touching your hole, but not yet pressing inside. “Or me? Cause you already knew he wasn’t going to satisfy you,” Logan says, finally pressing his finger inside.

Logan’s finger met the remnants of the lube you weren’t able to wash from your hole, slicking the way so that his finger could go all the way to the hilt. He moved his finger slowly, not pulling it out, but instead moving it around enough for you to become accustomed to it.

He leaned down to kiss you just as slowly as he worked his finger, his tongue moving to the rhythm of his finger as he mapped out your mouth. He pulled his tongue from your mouth as his finger left and swallowed the soft noise you let out.

Quickly Logan left and came back with a bottle of lube after rifling through his nightstand. Back on the bed, he got behind you and got you onto your side and lifted one of your legs up and rested it against his muscular bicep.

His finger, now wet with lube, touched the edge of your hole, spreading lube along the skin. It glided inside as Logan pressed his lips to yours. He kissed and kissed and kissed you as he got you ready for his cock that laid on his thigh.

The only interruption to your lips was when Logan found your prostate with his two fingers. “There we are,” Logan whispered after he pulled away. For a moment, he fucked his two fingers into your prostate, milking the bundle of nerves until your cock gushed precum.

You felt full by the third finger, not thinking you could take more, but when you looked down at Logan’s cock, everything in you wanted to try. Logan’s fingers went to your chin to turn your face away and back to kiss him, and all you could focus on was pleasure as his fingers on your prostate turned your brain to mush.

After Logan pulled his fingers free from your hole, he rolled you onto your stomach. He pressed kisses to the side of your neck, right on your hammering pulse as he slicked up his cock. Logan pressed his sweaty forehead to the back of your head as he lined his cock up to your hole.

You bit into the pillow as the head of Logan’s cock entered your hole. If it felt intense, the rest of the length of cock was damn near overwhelming. You sobbed into the pillow when Logan bottomed out, clenching on his cock as you tried to adjust.

“Fuckin’ hell, bub,” Logan groaned as he let his weight fall on top of you.

“Don’t,” you started, but your words fell into a moan when Logan circled his hips, “call me bub while your dick is inside me.”

“What should I call you then? Boy?” He asked, his breaths hitting your ear, “you gonna be a good boy and take my cock?” He questioned, pulling his cock from your hole. “Or should I call you my bitch,” he said as he bottomed out again, “you already take me so well and we’ve just gotten started.”

Every time Logan pulled out and thrust back in, you could swear you could feel his cock in your stomach, like he was carving out a spot inside you just for him. His hips slapped against your ass as he held you down with his hands on your hips, selfishly taking his pleasure through the use of your body.

“Fuckin, wanted you since I first saw you,” Logan said after he thrust all the way inside and ground his hips on your ass, getting his cock as deep as it could go, “knew you would take my cock so well,” he said, biting into your shoulder.

He roughly flipped you over and placed one of your legs on his shoulder. His cock was back inside with a swift thrust, Logan’s hand on the ankle on his shoulder. Once all the way in, he pressed his lips to your ankle and then nearly bent you in half to get his lips on yours again.

Again and again Logan pulled his cock from your body to thrust it back inside, and again and again Logan’s cock would nail your prostate. Since the brush of his fingers, there was a burn in your stomach, one that Logan made grow brighter and hotter.

“This everything you wanted?” Logan asked, not even giving you the chance to answer before he had his lips on yours. You moaned into each other’s mouths when Logan’s hand wrapped around your hard cock and stroked to the thrusts of his hips.

Your orgasm hit you like a wave of the coldest water, washing over the burn Logan started. The force of it had your back arching off the bed into Logan’s body as stripes of white spurted messily over his fist and between your bodies.

Logan answered the moans you let out with ones of his own as you clenched down on his cock over and over again, and it wasn’t long until his thrusts came to a halt. Logan came with a shout, his arms wrapping around your body as he let his weight fall on top of you once more. His body gave involuntary twitches as the aftershocks hit and whimpers of pleasure fell from his mouth and into the crook of your neck where his head was buried.

You raised a hand and ran your fingers through Logan’s sweaty hair, the man raising his head at the contact. He kissed you softly, taking in the soft noise you let out as he shifted and his cock slipped free. After one last kiss, he lifted himself up and walked from the room.

You stretched out like a cat on Logan’s bed, your cock twitching when you felt Logan’s cum leak from your hole.

“Comfortable?” Logan asked after he returned, your face smushed into a pillow.

Like earlier, you could hear the clink of glasses being set down, but new was the sensation of a warm cloth on your skin. You just hoped it wasn’t the one he used to clean his motorcycle earlier.

“Should I clean you with this?” Logan asked, his lips dragging along your neck. Warm drops hit your back, making you gasp, “or my mouth?”

”What type of lube did you use? Strawberry lube doesn’t taste too bad,” you said tiredly into the pillow.

“Slut,” Logan responded, sounding almost fond as he wiped you down. “I should take a picture before I clean you up,” he said to himself but loud enough for you to hear after spreading your asscheeks to look at your fucked out hole.

You rolled over when Logan turned you over with a hand on your hip to get your front. You hissed as the wet warmth came into contact with your soft cock. “Ah,” you moaned at the overstimulation.

“Hush,” Logan commanded, “you can take it,” he whispered, his body inching closer when your hips came off the bed. “That’s my boy,” Logan praised once you relaxed back onto the bed.

He left once more to toss the rag away before he joined you back on the bed. He reached onto the bedside table for the bottle of whisky and glasses he brought up. It was quiet for a few moments as he poured you each a glass, save for the hum of the air conditioner.

“You gonna see him again?” Logan asked after he took a sip.

You glanced over at Logan, watching how his eyes were trained on the sloshing liquid in the glass, “something came up,” you responded, smiling down into your glass before you raised it and took a sip.

Logan shifted closer and wrapped an arm around your shoulder. He raised his glass and you clinked yours with his before you both took another sip.

#x male reader #x male reader smut #logan howlett x male reader #logan howlett x male reader smut #logan howlett x reader #wolverine x male reader smut #wolverine x male reader #wolverine x reader

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buckets-and-trees · 1 month

Text

Pull the String

Characters/Pairings: soft!dark and rough Nomad!Steve Rogers x Female!Reader Word Count: 3.7k Summary: Friday, September 28, 2017. You have to live a normal life after meeting a larger than life figure. It's doable, and you're not stuck in summer dreams, but you do think of him from time to time. Another encounter in the Exiled Nomad Series.

Content/Warnings: explicit smut, oral (female receiving), vaginal fingering, kissing, vaginal intercourse, unprotected sex, overstimulation, hint of praise kink, internal ejaculation, overstimulation, emotional unavailability, a broken Nomad who thinks he's fine but definitely is not

Author Notes: I wanted to finish this for your birthday proper, @stargazingfangirl18, but alas, only managed for birthday week. It's not a standalone, so it technically won't fit into your Birthday Bonenanza, but I did use a prompt from your list (bolded dialogue). Credit to @biteofcherry for helping me flesh out Mark from accounting a little bit.

You blinked and then read the text message again.

Something’s come up, sorry, have to cancel tonight.

It was only twenty minutes before Mark was supposed to pick you up for dinner.

A third date dinner.

YOU: Are you okay?

You typed and sent the quick text back.

You saw the three dots that indicated his typing, then they disappeared. You frowned. This was really unlike him. Mark had been nothing but reliable and a gentleman since you’d met him. He worked in the accounting firm on one of the other floors of your office building, and you had seen each other a few times at the coffee shop on the main floor in the morning. He was smart, funny without being a goof. You felt wholly normal around him.

And after having your world rocked on earthquake levels by Captain America over the 4th of July holiday, normal was what you wanted.

MARK: Everything’s fine, but we should probably call this off.

“What?” you couldn’t help actually exclaiming out loud.

You scanned up and down over your texts.

YOU: Did I do something wrong or misread the situation?

You really didn’t think that you had. In fact, you were sure of it, but you’d let him explain just in case.

It had been a few weeks, and the texts had ebbed and flowed naturally. After your second date last Sunday, you’d exchanged a kiss that had been modest but had enough heat to it that it left you starting to think about more. And last night the texts between the two of you had gotten a little spicier than any previous exchanges. Nothing vulgar, but flirty enough that you had shaved your legs and had been debating all day over what to wear.

In your silk robe, makeup finished, and hair nearly done, apparently you didn’t need to make any wardrobe decisions other than slipping into a comfy t-shirt and leggings now.

MARK: No, it’s nothing you did, and I hope we can just be friends.

Your jaw dropped and you threw your phone across the room.

Friends?

You abandoned your mirror, no need to finish getting ready at this point, and went to pick up your phone.

Fuck Mark.

But you opened your text thread with him one final time.

YOU: No hard feelings, if it’s over it’s over, and we can be cordial if we run into each other, but honestly I’m not looking for more platonic friends.

Run-on sentence aside, you felt good about the text after you hit send, and you promptly blocked Mark’s number and deleted all the texts.

And what you said was mostly true.

You actually could use some more platonic friends in this town you’d lived in for less than a year, but you weren’t looking to be friends with guys who did but then didn’t want to date you.

But well into your thirties, you were so used to and exhausted by the runaround of talking, of the dating apps, of the first dates that fizzled into nothings – first dates that you rarely even agreed to go on anymore because it usually turned out to be a waste of time with men who were too boring or too horny. For a moment Mark had been a breath of fresh air, normal and nice and endearing.

And apparently not worth the time and effort you had sunk into the beginning of the blossoming relationship either.

Even at that thought, you were glad you had already followed your self-imposed rule of deleting messages, because you already had the itch to go back and re-read, and so it was good you had removed that temptation. No need to torture yourself.

You turned on your favorite album, cranked up the music, and ordered delivery from your favorite Italian restaurant with tiramisu and extra garlic bread.

You would watch your favorite movie, indulge in your favorite food, and later put yourself to bed with another chapter of the spicy romance novel you were reading and a nice session with your favorite vibrator.

Fuck Mark.

The app said your dinner would arrive in thirty-five minutes, so you slipped into leggings and one of your old comfy t-shirts, and flopped onto the couch to wait, the song from the opening credits of the movie making you feel just a little bit better.

At this stage of life, it was just annoying that Mark had called it off. Make it through dates three and four and people your age were reasonably sure they were headed down the relationship road together. At least that’s how you operated. You knew yourself enough that you weren’t dating someone to try and figure out who you were like you maybe had at times when you were younger, trying to live up to some expectation of society. You were busy enough that your free time was precious, and so you didn’t go on frivolous dates. Most important, as seemingly everyone around you had peeled off and gotten married while you remained perpetually single, you had to figure out if you could be happy alone, and you’d spent time to figure that out and truly find happiness. It was lonely sometimes, but overall you had built a good life, put your time into things that really satisfied you.

When you realized you were more annoyed at having to start over again than over losing Mark, you sighed and realized that was both a good and a bad sign. Good because you clearly weren’t going to be hung up on Mark, but bad because he really hadn’t meant much – you’d just wanted him to.

A small ache in your chest resurfaced.

The person you did miss was Steve Rogers.

And you held no bitterness there – it had been so clear for both of you that it was a summer holiday fling – but you did have some leftover longing.

Who could blame you?

When The Avengers had come together in New York in 2012, you had swooned over Thor, but there was something so steady, charming, and trustworthy about Captain America down to the bone that your admiration had developed into quite the crush. You knew the parasocial relationship that you and the rest of the world developed with him over the years was synthetic. It was fun and harmless.

But then you had met the real Steve Rogers in the flesh – and spent time flesh to flesh with him over the Fourth of July weekend.

The days you spent with him had been both intense and surreal. You had context to who he was from history books and the public persona, but the man behind the shield was naturally and infinitely more than what screens, books, and social media could ever portray. It was clear that being in exile from his country and on the run from most of the world due to their signing of the Sokovia Accords had changed him. But as you talked and spent time together, you suspected that losing his freedom had also freed him in some ways from the burdens of expectation and the colossal mantle and responsibilities of being Captain America.

He hadn’t given up his sense of duty to still help when and where he could, but he could simply be Steve.

In the nearly two days and two nights you’d spent together almost constantly in each other’s company, you’d shared so much, talking over things that were both trivial and meaningful as the conversations evolved. You’d spent time in serene silence together as well.

All of that felt stolen out of the pages of a book on its own.

But then there had also been the sex.

So much super soldier sex.

Rough, intense, sensual, exquisite, and all-consuming.

All of it – the physical and emotional – had been more intimate than anything else you had ever experienced.

Logically you had also come to realize that the pure fact that you both knew the time was so limited and fleeting undoubtedly allowed both of you to suspend boundaries and open up in ways you wouldn’t have if it had been a more conventional coupling up situation.

Yet it didn’t take anything away from the memory of those days together.

Logically you also knew no one would ever compare to him, and you had been realistic about that.

But tonight you wouldn’t worry about letting your thoughts drift to Steve.

It was more difficult to think of the emotional, and so your mind diverted quickly to the physical.

The way he had looked at you, touched you, kissed you, pleasured you. The feel of his cock inside of you. His fingers and his mouth ripping more orgasms from you than…

“No,” you scolded yourself out loud and groaned. “It’s too early on a Friday night to be thinking about sex with Steve.”

Not that it did any good to say so.

You pressed your thighs together, feeling the ache the worst at your core.

No longer paying any attention whatsoever to the movie you had going on the tv, it was the doorbell ringing with your food delivery that saved you from the spiral of desperately horny thoughts you were caught in.

There were two bags deposited on your doorstep, and you snatched them both up eagerly. The larger brown paper bag was emanating some heat, so you opened the smaller one first, assuming correctly that it held your tiramisu. You snatched a spoon from your silverware drawer and went for a sweet, indulgent bite. A little spoiling before you turned to the savory feast.

That bite made you moan in satisfaction. You savored the way the cream was perfectly smooth and balanced with the coffee and liqueur-soaked ladyfingers.

Your doorbell rang again, and you rushed over to open the door, assuming the delivery person probably realized they had forgotten a precious part of your meal – likely the garlic bread, and that would have been a sin!

Spoon still in your mouth, you opened the door and then froze.

Wearing the same aviators and non-descript baseball cap, Steve Rogers stood before you, as if it hadn’t been nearly three months since your once-in-a-lifetime encounter.

This couldn’t be real.

And yet his aggressive grip on your hip as he backed you into your place and kicked the door closed behind him was irrefutable.

Your heart raced as Steve pressed you against the wall, his body flush against yours. Your spoon clattered to the floor. He discarded his sunglasses on the table by the door and then captured your lips in a searing kiss. His beard scratched your skin, a delicious friction that sent shivers down your spine. Your lips parted for the demands of his hungry kiss, and when he licked into your mouth, his tongue slid against yours slowly for a moment, and you knew he was tasting the sugary sweetness of the bite you’d just savored, savoring it himself.

When he finally broke away, you gasped for air. "Steve? What are you doing here?"

"I shouldn't be here," he murmured against your neck, his breath hot on your skin. "But I couldn't stay away."

Your mind reeled. This couldn't be happening. "Isn’t it risky for you to come back?"

Steve's thumb traced your lower lip. "Some risks are worth taking."

You melted into his touch, your body quickly abandoning reason. You yanked him closer by his shirt collar, kissing him fiercely. You removed the hat that was already askew on his head and tangled your fingers in his hair. It was longer now than when you'd last seen him. He groaned, lifting you effortlessly and carrying you to the couch.

Steve laid you down on the cushions, his body covering yours as he kissed a trail down your neck. His beard scratched deliciously against your sensitive skin, making you shiver. Your hands roamed over his broad shoulders, feeling the tight muscles beneath his shirt.

"I've thought about this so much since I left," Steve murmured against your collarbone. His fingers slipped under the hem of your shirt, caressing the soft skin of your stomach.

You arched into his touch, desperate for more. "Me too," you breathed, that confession opening a dangerous door you had tried to keep closed inside of you.

Steve's hands pushed your shirt up, exposing your breasts. His eyes darkened with desire as he took in the sight of you. Slowly, reverently, he lowered his head to take a nipple into his mouth. The wet heat of his tongue made you gasp and clutch at his neck. He gave it a hard, long suck before letting his tongue swirl around your nipple again, laving at it as his hand kneaded the other. It was all you could do to moan, arch into him more, and hold onto him like a lifeline.

Steve kissed his way down your body, leaving a trail of heat in his wake. He hooked his fingers in the waistband of your leggings, looking up at you with a nearly feral hunger in his eye, something dark that sent a thrill of both adrenaline and desire through you, and you lifted your hips because no one had ever looked at you with so much need.

Steve slowly peeled your leggings down, his eyes never leaving yours as he revealed more of your bare skin. You shivered as the cool air hit your exposed flesh, goosebumps rising on your thighs. Steve's large hands caressed up your legs, leaving trails of heat in their wake. He settled his broad shoulders between your legs, spreading you wide beneath him. He kissed the inside of your thigh, then nipped at your tender flesh, making you yelp, before he soothed it with his tongue and then another kiss, even softer than the first. Then he shifted, and you could feel his hot breath against your most intimate parts, already slick for him. You didn’t realize you were holding your breath until he placed an open-mouthed kiss to you there, and you sucked in a breath.

"God, I've missed your taste," he growled.

Without warning, he licked a long, slow stripe up your slit, making you gasp and arch off the couch. His strong hands gripped your thighs, holding you open for him as he explored you with his tongue. He circled your clit teasingly before sucking it into his mouth, the pressure making you cry out in pleasure.

Steve's tongue was relentless, alternating between broad, flat strokes and precise flicks that had you writhing beneath him. He slipped two fingers inside you, curling them to stroke your inner walls as he continued his assault on your clit. The dual sensations quickly had you climbing towards your peak.

"Steve," you gasped, your fingers tangling in his hair.

He hummed against you, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. Your thighs began to tremble as you teetered on the edge of orgasm. Steve redoubled his efforts, his fingers pumping faster as his tongue flicked rapidly over your sensitive bud.

With a cry, you came undone, your body shuddering as waves of ecstasy crashed over you. Steve worked you through your climax, lapping up your release until you gently pushed his head away, oversensitive.

But he growled and bit at the inside of your other thigh. “I’m not done eating my fill of this pretty cunt yet.”

You gasped at Steve's words, a fresh wave of arousal pulsing through you despite your recent orgasm. His blue eyes were dark with desire as he looked up at you from between your thighs.

"Steve," you breathed, torn between wanting more and feeling overwhelmed by the intensity of sensation.

He seemed to sense your hesitation. "Color?" he asked, his voice husky but almost gentle.

"Green," you replied. How could you deny him? This? When you assumed you would never see him again.

Steve's lips curled into a wicked smile. "Good girl," he purred, before diving back in.

This time, his tongue explored you even more thoroughly, dipping inside you to taste your essence before returning to your clit. He alternated between broad strokes and precise flicks, keeping you on edge. When he slipped two fingers back inside you, curling them to hit that perfect spot, tears were creeping up on you for the mingled overstimulation and ecstasy.

Your hips began to move of their own accord, grinding against Steve's face as he worked you towards another climax. The coarse hair of his beard rubbed deliciously against your inner thighs, adding to the overwhelming sensations.

"That's it," Steve murmured against your flesh. "Let go for me, sweet girl."

His words, combined with a particularly well-timed curl of his fingers and another hard suck on your clit, sent you careening over the edge once more. You cried out, your back arching off the couch as your second orgasm ripped through you, even more intense than the first.

Steve didn't let up, his tongue and fingers working you through the aftershocks until you were a trembling, oversensitive mess. Only then did he pull away, pressing a soft kiss to your inner thigh before sitting back on his heels.

You lay helpless, trying to catch your breath. He leaned forward and caught the tears on your cheeks with strong swipes of his thumbs. “By the time I’m done with you, you’ll be ruined for anyone else.”

Your breath caught in your throat at Steve's bold declaration. The intensity in his eyes made you shiver with anticipation.

"I already am," you confessed softly.

Something flashed in Steve's eyes - possessiveness, pride, and a hint of vulnerability. He surged forward to capture your lips in a searing kiss. You could taste yourself on his tongue as he devoured your mouth.

Steve's hands roamed your body, relearning every curve and plane. When he cupped your breasts, thumbs brushing over sensitive nipples, you arched into his touch with a gasp.

"Please" you mumbled against his lips.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours.

You surged forward for another kiss, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him closer. "I need you inside me."

Steve groaned, his hips grinding against yours. You could feel the hard length of him through his jeans, and you ached to have him fill you completely. He sat back, quickly stripping off his shirt to reveal his chiseled torso. Your hands roamed over his muscled chest and abs, marveling at the perfection of his body.

As Steve unbuckled his belt and shoved his jeans down, you took the opportunity to remove your shirt fully, leaving you both gloriously naked. He paused for a moment, drinking in the sight of you laid out before him, flushed and wanting. His eyes raked over your body with such intensity that you felt more exposed than you ever had before, curves and scars and imperfections on full display. You felt yourself flush under his gaze.

You reached for him, pulling him down on top of you. The feeling of his bare skin against yours was electrifying. Steve captured your lips in another passionate kiss as he settled between your thighs. You could feel the hard length of him pressing against your entrance, and you rolled your hips, silently begging him to take you.

Steve broke the kiss, resting his forehead against yours as he slowly pushed inside. You both groaned at the exquisite feeling of him stretching and filling you. When he was fully seated, he paused, but not long enough for you to adjust to his size. But the painful pleasure of it only fueled your hunger for more of him.

"You feel so good," he breathed, his voice strained, words hot against the crook of your neck. "So tight and perfect for me."

You whimpered in response, overwhelmed by the fullness and the intensity of having Steve inside you again after so long. Your fingers dug into his broad shoulders as he began to move, starting with slow, deep thrusts that had you gasping with each roll of his hips.

"Steve," you moaned, arching into him. "More, faster."

He growled low in his throat, picking up the pace. The couch creaked beneath you as Steve's powerful thrusts drove you into the cushions. You wrapped your legs tighter around his waist, changing the angle so he hit that perfect spot inside you with each stroke.

"That's it," Steve panted, his voice rough with desire. "Take all of me."

Your world narrowed to the feeling of Steve moving inside you, the sound of skin on skin, and the increasingly desperate noises falling from both your lips.

Steve's rhythm became more frantic, his hips snapping against yours with increasing force. The intensity of his thrusts had you clinging to him, nails digging into his back as pleasure built within you. Each powerful stroke sent shockwaves through your body, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

"Look at me," Steve commanded, his voice husky and strained.

You forced your eyes open, meeting his intense gaze. The raw emotion you saw there – desire, possessiveness, and something deeper you couldn't quite name – took your breath away.

"I want to see you fall apart," he growled, never breaking eye contact as he continued to drive into you relentlessly. “I want to watch what only I can do to you.”

One of his hands snaked between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit and circling it with the precision he perfected in the heat of July.

"Come for me," Steve commanded, his voice strained. "I want to feel you come around my cock."

His words and the relentless pressure on your clit sent you spiraling into ecstasy. You cried out Steve's name as your orgasm crashed over you, your inner walls clenching tightly around him. The intensity of your climax triggered Steve's own release. He groaned, burying himself deep inside you as he came.

For a moment, you both lay there, panting and trembling in the aftermath. Steve's weight pressed you into the couch, but you relished the feeling of being surrounded by him.

When both of you settled back into even breathing, he planted slow kisses along your jaw and blazed a trail back to your mouth. Cock still inside you, he kissed you slowly. Slow and unrepentant, in no hurry now, only drinking you in, and you let your hands stroke up and down his back, relishing in the impossible and stolen closeness.

You could survive a second encounter with this super soldier.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

read more of the: Exiled Nomad Series

#steve rogers #steve rogers smut #nomad steve rogers #nomad steve #steve rogers x reader #female reader #aspen wrote something #exiled nomad series

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drabblesandsnippets · 3 months

Text

Sunshine - Part 1

Hot Bucky Summer 2024 - Week 5

Pairing: Roommate!Bucky x Plus-size female character (unnamed)

Prompt: “We’re…” | [Friends with Benefits | Exes | Enemies to Lovers] @buckybarnesevents

Summary: (2k) Series Masterlist Ramblings of the first few months of having Bucky as a roommate. In this AU, Bucky owns a photography business.

Warnings: 18+ Only. Slow burn. Grumpy/Sunshine Trope. Happy Bucky (is that a warning?) - he's a photographer in this AU. Female character’s nickname is Sunshine. Mention of anxiety and insecurities - she’s also no-contact with her family (there’s trauma that will be mentioned later in the series). Very brief mention of porn. Brief mention of masturbation.

---------------------------

The first time she met Bucky, she wasn’t sure what to expect. She was already desperate to find someone after her last roommate had left her in a lurch, suddenly moving out of state. After several weeks of searching, her list of requirements had been narrowed down to two things - pay rent on time, and don’t try to kill her in her sleep.

Through a network of friends and acquaintances, Bucky’s name came up - a previous coworker’s best friend who had been looking for a place and seemed to meet her criteria. She wasn’t exactly excited about living with a man, but Bucky came with great references and bringing his sister to their first meeting definitely earned him points.

Not that she had much of a choice, given her limited options, but she felt fairly confident about Bucky. Even with his overly-positive demeanor and extroverted nature - a glaring contrast to her shy, anxious, introverted personality - they got along almost instantly.

While usually uncomfortable with strangers, Bucky managed to put her at ease, more than happy to keep the conversation going without ever making her feel like she was being put on the spot. Their differences seemed to compliment each other - she’s a homebody and he enjoys going out. They’d rarely cross paths.

It was perfect.

-------------------

Two days after Bucky moved in, she woke up to him singing.

To his credit, he didn’t actually wake her up with the singing - it was just a lot to take in at 7 o’clock on a Monday morning. A 30-something year-old-man singing and dancing in her - their - kitchen while he made coffee.

Bucky had every right to be there, but it didn’t stop her from getting secretly irritated. How could he have that much energy so early in the morning? She could barely open her eyes and wanted nothing more than to crawl back into bed. He looked like he was ready to tackle whatever the day brought.

He didn’t even take offense when she couldn’t muster more than a couple words and grunts for responses. He just continued on with his singing, and when she returned from her shower, there was a thermos of coffee waiting for her.

It was unexpected.

-------------------

It quickly became a routine for him. Whether he had a late night out, or an early morning himself, Bucky would leave her coffee. And, after the first couple of weeks, it became lunch too.

She wasn’t used to people doing things for her - even her friends knew not to offer because it made her uncomfortable - but no matter how much she tried to resist, Bucky always had an answer.

“I was already fixing some for myself,” he had told her with an easy-going smile. He enjoyed cooking, and this way none of it would go to waste.

Bucky even bought her an insulated bag for the days she had to go into the office, with the explanation, “It was a buy-one-get-one thing.”

If it were any other man, she might think there was some sort of ulterior motive. But, it quickly became clear that this was just who Bucky was. A kind, considerate person who enjoyed life to the fullest and made it his mission to bring as much happiness as possible to the people around him.

It was exhausting.

-------------------

It’s not that she wasn’t a happy person. She just enjoyed her quiet solitude after a life of hardship and strife, and sometimes it was hard to watch Bucky be so carefree.

He was close with his family, whereas she had no relationship whatsoever with hers. He spent most nights out with his friends, and even though she had a couple of good friends, it mostly consisted of texts and sporadic get-togethers.

She wasn’t jealous, or complaining about her own life, it was just a lot to take sometimes. Not only Bucky’s constant positivity, but that nothing ever seemed to bother him. When things would go wrong, he refused to let it get to him, instead deciding to see the silver lining in everything.

If he came home drenched because it started raining during his walk, he’d still have a smile on his face. He’d talk about how he loved the smell of the rain, and how much the plants needed it.

A friend canceling at the last minute was just a sign that he was supposed to be doing something else. Like, cook her dinner, or work on his business.

If a client flaked or asked to reschedule a photo shoot, he’d take the opportunity to send them a card or edible arrangement, as if the scheduling conflict was his fault.

When she accidentally spilled a drink on the new rug he bought, he made a joke about finally getting to try out the stain remover tool he bought on a whim.

Nothing seemed to faze him.

It was irritating.

-------------------

Bucky’s nickname for her started about a month after he moved in. After an unplanned late night of binge watching a new show together, they both had an early morning. She, of course, woke to him doing his normal song and dance in the kitchen.

Due to no fault of his own, she found it extra frustrating that morning - probably because her period was about to start - and she was unable to hide her mood. When he was nice enough to ask if he could fix her breakfast, all he got in response was a slow blink and a slight shake of her head before she left to take a shower.

Bucky, of course, took it all in stride, finding her hatred of mornings amusing. It made him try even harder to get her to see the beauty in watching the world wake up, much to her chagrin.

And the next morning, she found a new travel mug waiting for her on the counter, the words “Good Morning Sunshine” etched across the front.

Ever since, it’s been nothing but that.

“Good morning, Sunshine,” he’d call out as he passed by her closed bedroom door while her alarm blared in her ear. She’d groan and ignore the smile that threatened to grow on her face.

On the mornings he’d be gone before she was awake, he’d come home later with a, “Heya Sunshine, you give anyone hell today?” They both knew that no matter how much people annoyed her, she was too shy and self-conscious to ever tell anyone off, but it still made her laugh and roll her eyes.

Every night would end the same way. Bucky telling her, “Goodnight Sunshine, try not to stay up too late.” She was a night owl and Bucky was a - well, essentially, an every-hour-of-the-day kind of person. No matter what time of day it was, he’d always have the energy to have a good attitude.

It was unnerving.

-------------------

After several months of living with Bucky, she still wasn’t used to it, but at least there was no longer any part of her that thought it was an act.

Bucky was genuine, and he was nothing but consistent - not just with how laidback and happy he always was, but as a roommate too. Paying his rent on time. Offering to buy groceries for both of them. Cleaning up after himself (even her, sometimes). Pitching in with the chores. Giving her space.

While she still found herself occasionally irritated by his positive demeanor, she couldn’t deny that it had started to slowly rub off on her.

One morning she found herself humming a song while she was drinking her first cup of coffee, even before her morning shower. She hadn’t even noticed she was doing it until Bucky started humming along with her, and it immediately made her groan, accompanied by an exaggerated eye roll.

“What are you doing to me?”

With a soft laugh and a shake of his head, Bucky told her, “I’m just along for the ride, Sunshine.” As if he wasn’t responsible for making her subconsciously try to see the good in things after a lifetime of waiting for the next shoe to drop.

It was confusing.

-------------------

She didn’t really have anything to complain about. She’d spent most of her life with roommates, sharing her space with others - even people she didn’t really get along with - so if her only issue with Bucky was his boundless energy and enthusiasm, she was doing pretty well.

He rarely even had people over, telling her more than once he preferred to go out. It wasn’t immediately clear if he was just telling her that to assuage any guilt she might feel about being uncomfortable with having other people in her home, but it was easy to accept his explanation.

Despite his exuberant personality, it never felt like he was blowing smoke up anyone’s ass. If he didn’t like something, he never seemed to lie about it. He just managed to spin it into a positive, making the other person still feel comfortable with their opinion. He was unlike anyone she’d ever met.

It still took her some time to feel comfortable letting her guard down around him, to really let him see the person she was underneath all the masks she felt like she had to wear with others. There were parts of herself that she still hadn’t been ready to share with him, but she didn’t really mind when he’d stay in to spend the evening with her.

They were friends, and soon the invitations started.

“A few of us are hanging out at Steve’s, wanna come?”

“Heya Sunshine, you feel up to a movie night at Sam’s?”

“We’re doing a casual dinner thing at Nat’s, everyone’s been asking about you.”

She had yet to accept any of the offers, but as the weeks went by, it was hard to pretend she wasn’t at least a little curious. Bucky spent so much time with his friends and she couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to spend time with him outside of their apartment.

Especially after the things she gleaned about him from his friends, during the brief encounters she’d had when they stopped by. Like when Steve laughed after she made an offhand comment about Bucky never getting mad. “That’s because you’ve never given him a reason to be mad.” She had been hoping for an example, but the conversation got cut short.

There was also that time when Sam made a joke about Bucky’s dating habits. “You go any longer and you’re going to forget how it all works.” From what Bucky had already shared with her, he got out of a relationship last year and now he was more interested in focusing on his friends, his family, and his career.

It wasn’t lost on her how attractive Bucky was, but it also wasn’t something she gave much thought to. They were roommates, and friends, and it would be absurd to think about him in any other way.

Even if she did accidentally overhear him in the shower the other day. She had come home early and just as she walked by the bathroom door, she very clearly heard him moaning. For the briefest of seconds, she had felt frozen in place, but after hearing him again, she quickly went to her room, ignoring her racing heart and flushed skin.

It turned into days of pretending she never heard anything, days of pretending that it didn’t make her think about other things. Like what he had been imagining. Or, what kind of porn he might watch. Or, what kind of lover he’d be.

It was ridiculous.

-------------------

Since the moment Bucky met her, he’d felt an undeniable pull. There had been something about her that called out to him. That made him want to get to know her, to help her, to do whatever he could to bring happiness to her life.

Unbeknownst to her, at the time he learned she needed a roommate, he had been crashing in a friend’s spare bedroom for free. There had been no intention to move, but he couldn’t stand the idea of her being stuck with someone that might take advantage of her situation.

Besides, his business had been going well and he could more than afford the rent. It just made sense for him to move in with her.

Bucky knew he wasn’t the perfect roommate by any means, but he did everything he could to make her feel like it was still her home too. There wasn’t anything about her that he wanted to change, he just wanted to bring some positivity to her life.

The coffees, and the lunches, and the dinners were all a part of that. As were the Netflix marathons and late night conversations they started to share. Becoming friends with her had always been a goal of his, and it had never been about more than that.

It never even mattered that he thought she was attractive because he’d never let his eyes linger or his thoughts wander. They were friends, and all he wanted was for her to be a part of his life, including becoming friends with his friends.

Somewhere along the way though, something changed. The attraction he had for her started to grow and he found himself having to resist the urge to smell her hair when they’d sit on the couch to watch TV.

He started having to force himself not to look her way when she forgot her robe and had to rush from the bathroom to her bedroom wrapped in just a towel that barely covered her luscious curves.

The times at night when she’d be alone in her room with music playing, he’d lock himself in his own room and workout, trying not to imagine her touching herself and the sounds she might make.

As hard as Bucky fought it, not wanting to ever do anything to make her feel uncomfortable in her own home, he eventually convinced himself that it would be better to lean into it. To allow himself to think about her, to fantasize about her, as long as he kept his eyes and his hands to himself, he’d eventually get over it and she’d never have to know.

She’d never have to know that he’d spend his walks thinking about what turned her on.

She’d never have to know that he started taking longer showers so he could fantasize about what she might taste like.

She’d never have to know that he ended every night the same way, fucking his hand while he imagined it was her.

It was wishful thinking.

---------------------------

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Hot Bucky Summer Masterlist

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bvidzsoo · 10 months

Text

Grease and Oil

⨳Mechanic!Mingi⨳

TW: cursing, smut wrap it before you tap it

Word count: 5,6k

A/N: I don't think I'll ever let go of bleached spikey haired Mingi. It changed something in me, I'll never be the same. I have nothing to say except...why did I even write this? Song Mingi stop haunting me, thank you. It's not the best, but the best I can write lol. Feedback is very much appreciated!

The smell of grease, oil, and gasoline weren’t something unfamiliar to me, nor were they nauseating. It was something I was used to. These were familiar scents; scents which I have started associating with home. Cars, too, were something I associated with a feeling of familiarity, of something dear to me. Walking inside my father’s car service was like a second home, a place I knew like the back of my hand. I wasn’t huge on fixing cars, but I knew a few things here and there. Despite my father’s attempts at making me a great mechanic one day, I struggled to understand the in-depth parts and mechanism of a car, therefore I settled on appreciating their beauty. Can’t say my father was too happy about it, but his concerns faded away when I found a path for myself. I applied to a college, choosing to study literature as I struggled finding anything else I liked. Perhaps creative writing was a subjected I happened to enjoy too, but I had no idea where my degree would take me one day. I had no intentions of teaching English literature, the children these days were awful and very disrespectful. My short temper would’ve surely gotten the worst of me if placed in a situation where I had to deal with rude kids. And so, I settled on reading my books and pouring my feelings out into short poems when I wasn’t at college. Or by wasting my time away at my father’s car service. It’s not like I had anything better to do—I actually did, but procrastination is my best friend. Besides, most of his employees are above the age of thirty-five, and two of them I have known since I was a little girl, they could be really fun to hang around…and it’s not like I would often stop by because my father has an employee who is barely a few years older than myself. And it’s definitely not because he is the hottest man alive I have ever seen. He’s a tall and lean guy, his posture immaculate with his shoulders always pulled back, his long legs worth envying and shoulders so broad you could hide behind them and nobody would see you. In the summer, he usually wears tight tank tops, showing off his humble muscles, biceps finer than most guy’s of his age. And his pants, which are fireproof, cling onto his body, showing off his narrow waist. This guy was a sight for sore eyes and I couldn’t blame the few ladies who would occasionally stop by, completely taken aback by this guy’s visuals. It wasn’t fair that he had a perfect body, especially when his face was good-looking too. God sometimes had favorites and Song Mingi definitely was one of them with his long nose, sharp eyes and cherry red lips, a singular mole underneath his left eye decorating his flawless skin. His personality also made him desirable and that just made him a dangerously charming and handsome human being. Perhaps my frequent visits to the service during the summer were sort of his merit too, not just the want to spend some quality time with my father as he spent little time at home. I knew he was busy; I couldn’t blame him. His service was one of the best in our little town and money didn’t just magically appear, you had to work hard for it and that’s what he did, he worked his ass off all the time. The fact that he has employed Song Mingi was just the cherry on top, the little motivation I needed to perhaps learn more about cars.

I was settled on top of my father’s working desk, tools pushed to the side, feet dangling as I watched him work on a car’s engine, getting more and more furious by the second as he couldn’t find one missing screw. I watched quietly as his phone rang again, making him sigh loudly before he straightened himself up and took the call, eyebrows furrowed. It was a hot summer day, the AC did little to nothing inside the hot service, and the use of different electrical tools only created more heat inside the spacious room. I had started fanning myself, overhearing my father make an appointment as an obnoxiously loud engine whirled past the entrance to the service, making my heart skip an excited beat. It was lunch break, and Mingi had just returned from eating his meal. He was gone by the time I had arrived; I was rather lazy this morning and thus didn’t bother getting out of bed before 12 pm. My father turned towards me as he finished his call, looking rather irritated. It wasn’t directed at me; however, I still knew a lecturing would follow because I sat on his tool desk…again.

“Get off, Y/N, I asked you so many times not to sit there,” He sighed tiredly as he headed for the exit, “I have to examine a car, are you coming to the front?”

Certainly not before I have seen Mingi, “I’ll wash my hands first, they feel slimy, meet you at the reception, dad.”

He nodded once and hurried outside, phone already ringing once again. Summer seasons were always busy, work pilling up quickly. I started fanning myself with my hands as another heatwave hit me, making me sigh. Not even a tank top and shorts were enough to stop me from sweating buckets. I pushed my hair behind my shoulders and gripped the table, about to jump off it, when the man I stayed behind for finally showed up. He walked through the open garage door, having to duck as it wasn’t raised enough for his towering height. He had his back to me as he walked inside, carrying two boxes, muscles of his arms bulging as a few guys greeted him, instructing him where to place the boxes. However, nothing could’ve prepared me for the wave of shook which rooted me to my spot. My mouth hung open as my eyes remained trained on Mingi, and I could only hope nobody noticed my shameless gaping. Three days ago, when I have stopped by last, the man’s hair reached his shoulders almost and was a faded light brown. Now, his hair was completely bleached blonde and stood up in all places, spikey. A hairstyle definitely shouldn’t have made my tummy do flips, yet I had nothing to swallow as I watched Mingi laugh with a fellow mechanic, explaining something to him animatedly. His black tank top was tucked inside his beige pants, a black belt holding it against his hips securely. A black bandana was tied to his left bicep and I licked my lips as my eyes ran over his frame, stopping for a second too long on his ass. Perhaps crawling onto the wall sounded like the most normal thing to do right now. Just as I was about to look away, the man he was talking to briefly glanced at me and Mingi suddenly turned his head, eyes falling on me. Looking away right now would mean admitting that I had been staring at him, so I forced myself to smile nonchalantly at him and blame the flush on my cheeks on the extremely hot weather—which combined with Mingi’s presence only made my body heat up even more. I didn’t want to admit it to myself, but I’d do anything to get railed by Mingi while he wore his working clothes with grease smeared on his cheek. My heart skipped a beat as a lazy smirk appeared on his lips as he took off towards me, making me gulp in panic as I straightened my posture.

“Hello, princess.” He called once he was close enough and I rolled my eyes at the nickname, acting as if I totally hated it. It did bother me at the beginning when he started calling me that, but I didn’t mind anymore. And it certainly shouldn’t have made me blush.

“Hi, Mingi.” I greeted him back, smiling as I crossed my legs and leaned forward, holding myself up by my hands. My knuckles hurt from the grip I had on the table, but I ignored that.

“What brings you here today?” He asked nonchalantly, crossing his arms in front of his chest. I didn’t want to look, but his biceps were bulging and I’m just a simple woman, “Thought you washed your car when you stopped by last time.”

Ah, yes, the good old excuse of washing my car when it didn’t need washing yet. To be fair, I had a cleaning problem so that was the main reason why I washed my car so often, Mingi being here was just another thing to motivate me to stop by more frequently.

“I did, I’m not here for that.” I admitted, clearing my throat as Mingi’s sharp eyes narrowed slightly, mischievous glint appearing in his eyes. He hummed shortly, the sound deep in his throat, reminding me how hot I found his raspy and deep voice. He had once whispered in my ear as he snuck up on me, wanting to scare me, and I swear to God, I almost reached Heaven that day.

“Are you here for me then?” The cute pout of his lips and the finger he pushed against his cheek definitely didn’t match the sultriness of his words and the look in his eyes. It made me take a deep breath as I forced myself to roll my eyes, embarrassed that he had a feeling I was only here to see him. I mean…I did wear my favorite off-shoulder top just because I knew we would see each other.

“Why the sudden change of hairstyle?” I decided to change the subject, but it only made Mingi smirk as he looked at me almost victorious, almost as if he knew I didn’t answer him because he was right. Mingi ruffled his already spikey hair with a shrug of his shoulders.

“Just wanted something new,” He answered, “besides, it’s so hot these days, my long locks only made me sweat more. I feel like a new man right now. What do you think, do I look nice?”

Nice was little said, I would’ve described him more like: hot, sexy, attractive, gorgeous, mouth-watering, “Yeah, you look nice. It suits you.”

Mingi smiled happily and bowed lightly before his phone beeped. I didn’t understand how a man like him could be so cute while looking like a Greek God. My eyebrows slightly furrowed as I watched Mingi chuckle and smile down at his phone, quickly typing something on it. Perhaps he was seeing someone? Of course, why would a man like him be single? It shouldn’t come as a surprise; I should have thought about that sooner. But then again, he never mentioned a significant other. With a sigh, I jumped off the table and dusted off my shorts, running my hands through my hair. Mingi paused, looking up at me through his long lashes. I forced a smile on my face, suddenly discouraged by my own thoughts, as I grabbed my phone off the table.

“Got to go, dad’s waiting for me.” I mumbled as Mingi’s eyes slightly narrowed, eyes swiftly running over my body. He nodded wordlessly and I turned around, taking off towards the exit.

“That top looks really nice on you.” My steps halted for a second as I looked back at him and chuckled before exiting the garage, walking towards the reception, ignoring the butterflies in my stomach at the simple compliment. I should probably download a dating app and find someone available to obsess over.

The blaring music and blinding disco lights in the living room were becoming too much as my tipsy head swirled around like a disco ball, throat parched up and dry from the lack of water. Certainly the amount of alcohol I have had was enough for the night as I pushed people out of my way, slightly wobbling as I headed for the kitchen, desperately needing water. A super rich guy from college threw a huge ass party and invited some guys over from our college, one of them being one of my close friends. I wasn’t one to turn down a good party, and when the alcohol was free, I would certainly attend it. Seonghwa and I had teamed up and played beer-pong together, kicking Wooyoung and San’s asses, but losing to Hongjoong and Yunho. We should have known better not to challenge those two competitive monsters. All in all, the night was fun and after having lost Sooyoung to some hot guy, I hit the dancefloor with Wooyoung and San, the three of us dancing our hearts out to every song. After a while, I grew concerned and started calling Sooyoung, making my two dancing companions almost take my phone away after six missed calls. But it didn’t take long for Sooyoung to finally text me, telling me she was upstairs with a Yeosang named guy smoking some weed, and that she’d be down in no time. I rolled my eyes at the text, huffing as I handed Wooyoung my phone to take care of. My skirt had no pockets and I forgot to bring a fanny-pack, I have grown tired of holding my phone, Wooyoung’s back pocket would do the trick until Sooyoung returned and I could give my phone for her to put in her little purse. The music wasn’t as loud in the kitchen as it was in the living room and it was also less packed, which made me grateful as I walked over to the window and pushed it open, smiling contently at the cool air which hit my face. I certainly needed to cool down. I grabbed a red cup which looked relatively unused and filled it with tap water, downing it in mere seconds only to fill it up again and again until I felt satiated. I threw the cup away and leaned against the counter, holding my thumping head in my hands as I closed my eyes for a second, thinking it would help. But it only made me more nauseous and I quickly opened my eyes as I massaged my forehead, still leaning slightly over. Somebody next to me asked if I was okay and I quickly nodded, telling them that I just needed a moment to regain composure again, and I’ll be off dancing once again. However, a weirdly familiar deep voice suddenly filled the kitchen, some high-pitched giggle following straight after the ridiculous joke the guy told. My nose scrunched up at the very cheesy pickup line which followed and I snorted, unintentionally catching their attention as they didn’t stand too far away.

“Y/N?” The deep voice asked surprised and my eyebrows furrowed as I finally raised my head, smoothing down my hair as it fell in my face.

“Oh, Mingi.” I muttered just a little surprised by his presence here. I wondered how he knew about the party, however, the black-haired girl by his side was a tell-tale. She was a student at my college and she was pretty as fuck. I sighed, and unintentionally glared at her, unimpressed by her presence next to Mingi. It’s not like I knew her well to form an opinion about her, but personally, I didn’t like her that much. Especially since Mingi seemed to be here with her. My eyes fall back onto him and my brain blanched for a second, never having seen him outside of the car service up until now. Him not wearing his tight-fitting clothes was something new and I couldn’t help but let my eyes run all over his body, taking in the sight in front of me. He wore a loose-fitting white t-shirt, the front slightly tucked inside his grey ripped jeans which were baggy. He wore a black pair of convers, and a black fanny-pack was pushed around to his backside to not bother him. However, what made me take a second to process what I was seeing were his accessories. His necklaces were layered as he wore a red braided like material which sat snugly against the base of his neck, then a silver chain followed, and a silver cross which reached just bellow his collarbones. His wrists were decorated with silver chain bracelets, matching the chain around his neck and he wore various rings, some bigger than the other, his right-hand sporting four meanwhile his left three. If all of that combined with his hair wasn’t enough, his fingernails were also painted black, albeit already coming off in some spots, but still painted black. He was a sight for sore eyes and it took everything in me to not grip his arm and walk us upstairs, completely disregarding the girl he was here with.

And she just had to speak up, “Oh, you two know each other?”

“Yeah, her dad’s my boss.” Mingi answered before I could and I raised an eyebrow as the girl took me in, unexpectedly smiling at me as she placed an arm around Mingi’s shoulders. My jaw tensed subconsciously and I licked my lips as I leaned back against the counter, crossing my arms in front of my chest.

“We go to the same college,” She told Mingi, offering her hand to me, “I don’t think we’ve ever really introduced each other, though. My name is Jennie, I’m Mingi’s cousin.”

“Cousin?” My eyebrows raised as I shook Jennie’s hand, “I’m Y/N, by the way.”

“Unfortunately, yes.” Mingi playfully pushed Jennie off himself as he answered my question and Jennie just rolled her eyes.

“Whatever, giant, if I leave you alone with Y/N, will you behave?” She raised her eyebrows threateningly at Mingi and he just chuckled, raising his hands in surrender.

“I always behave.” He defended himself quickly, but sounded like he didn’t mean it at all.

“No, you don’t.” Jennie rolled her eyes then looked back at me, “I have to find my boyfriend, he’s somewhere here around, probably drunk off his ass. If Mingi bothers you, just knee him in the stomach really hard and come and find me, I’ll kick his ass for you—”

“I’m right here, you know.” Mingi rolled his eyes and ruffled Jennie’s hair, “Get lost before I chase you away.”

Jennie scoffed but walked away after she waved at me, leaving me alone with Mingi. My hostile behavior slightly dropped, but I couldn’t help look at Mingi with narrowed eyes. I knew what I heard while I was fighting the urge of throwing up. Why would anyone flirt with their cousin? That was disgusting.

“If Jennie is your cousin…why would you say a pickup line to her?” I couldn’t help but ask him accusingly. It made Mingi laugh as he stepped closer, smiling cheekily.

“Eavesdropping, weren’t you?” I opened my mouth to deny his claim, but Mingi didn’t let me, “First of, ew, that’s literally my cousin do I look like I fuck with family? And second, that pickup line was actually sent by someone whom I have been talking to, and I was just reading it to Jennie.”

“How many girls are you talking to currently?” The question tumbled past my lips before I could even think about it. I only could blame the alcohol for making me so straightforward and embarrassing.

“Wouldn’t you like to know…” Mingi chuckled and stepped closer, invading my personal space. I gulped and pressed myself harder into the counter, hands coming to grip the edge of it. A smirk appeared on Mingi’s lips as he leaned down to be eye level with me, eyes searching my face before they settled on my lips briefly. My head was spinning and perhaps I was seeing things, but his tongue poked out for a second, “You look really hot.”

I gulped and let out a quiet breath, looking down at myself. The leather skirt clung onto me like a second skin and the flower decorated corset did little to nothing to cover what I would usually hide. It was Sooyoung’s idea to dress up like this, she wore a matching set except her corset was green meanwhile mine pink.

“Uh, thanks.” I whispered and didn’t dare move as Mingi lowered his head even more, looking through his lashes as he looked me in the eyes. He’s never stood this close to me before; it only now made me realize the height difference between us. And I couldn’t help but faintly smell gasoline despite his strong cologne.

“Dressed up for someone?” He muttered and I felt a warm finger lightly trace the skin of my right arm. I gulped nervously and ignored the goosebumps on my skin.

“I didn’t know you’d be here—” I tried changing the subject, it seemed to be a habit of mine lately.

“But if you did know, would you have dressed up for me?” Mingi’s raspy voice whispered in my ear as he leaned closer, my mouth opening without a sound coming out. My tipsy brain didn’t exactly know how to function in that moment and that meant I had nothing to say. But as he pulled back, we made eye contact, and his intimidating gaze pulled an answer out of me instantly.

“Yes.” I would totally hate myself in the morning for admitting that, but I couldn’t help myself. Not when he was standing so close and saying things like that. A smirk pulled onto Mingi’s lips and suddenly his hand raised as he gripped a strand of my hair lightly and twirled it around, brushing it behind my ear. I watched him mesmerized, body slightly trembling because of different things. The opened window brought in the chill breeze and we stood close to the it; Mingi’s closeness and touch made me want to crash my lips against his, and I was fighting every fiber in my body to stop myself from doing that, thankfully not tipsy enough to lose all rationality.

“I think I know about your little secret, princess.” Mingi’s tone was playful as he suddenly cupped my cheek and tilted my head back, hovering his face over mine, eyes tracing my features slowly. I hoped my red lipstick wasn’t smudged and that it would be smudged in no time.

“What secret?” I asked confused, biting my lower lip as Mingi’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed, his fingers slipping towards my nape as his thumb pushed against my cheek.

“About your little crush—” He barely whispered, eyes on my lips as my mouth parted, heart beating like crazy, “on me.”

Before I could answer him, his teeth caught my lower lip between his and he sucked on the flesh, making my face flush as I mewled, hand holding onto his waist for more stability as the counter wasn’t enough anymore. He held eye contact as he released my lip and I felt like crumbling onto my knees and giving him anything he wanted as my grip tightened on him, head pulled closer to his by the grip he had on my nape. Mingi’s lips barely brushed against mine and I tried to close the impossibly little distance between us, but he just tsked and smirked.

“Good girls eventually get what they want, princess, be a bit more patient.” I couldn’t help but groan in frustration as Mingi released me and took a step back, smirking as he swiped his thumb over my lower lip, smudging my lipstick. I threw him a glare, but he just laughed and then turned around and walked off with a cup he grabbed off from the counter. I couldn’t help but lick my lower lip, pressing a palm against my racing heart as I tapped the sweat off my forehead, needing another cup of water to cool off.

And I didn’t even have to wait for too long. Four days after the party, my father asked me to stop by the car service because he couldn’t decide what color to choose for the tuning he was doing for one of his friend’s car. I couldn’t have been happier to stop by as I made it my personal mission to stay away from that place for as long as possible, embarrassed by what happened between Mingi and I at the party, but also because I wanted to torture him a bit too. I could only hope he yearned to see me as much as I yearned for him. My father was out, having to pick up some pieces in the nearest city, which was half an hour away, so that meant he’d be gone for approximately an hour and a half. Everyone was gone by now from the car service as working hours were over, everyone except Mingi, of course. He had to catch up on his work as he had to skip a day for some undisclosed business. And yes, Mingi should’ve been working right now on that old car nobody actually wanted to fix, but here he was, balls deep in my pussy, thrusting into me like his life depended on it. I guess he was just a simple man too, and he fell exactly into my trap as I walked through the garage door wearing my little sundress, high heels elongating my legs. It didn’t take long for Mingi to stop whatever he was doing as he dragged me to the backroom, where there were no cameras, and pushed up on the table, wasting no time in undressing himself and working up the both of us. My head was thrown back from the constant pleasure his movements brought, his length reaching places no one else has before, my right hand gripping his bare waist as I rolled my hips to meet his thrusts. Mingi was biting his lips hard, holding onto my hips as I had to hold myself up with one arm, muscle straining with each strong thrust. Perhaps I should have expected him to be vocal, but the whines he would let out every now and then only turned me on even more, dragging my own moans out of me. Grease stuck to his left cheek, just underneath his mole and his already sweaty body from working was glistening once again, smelling strongly of the substance he has been working with to clean rims of the old car.

“I bet you’ve been fantasizing about me fucking you covered in grease and all sweaty from the long day I’ve had.” My only answer was a loud moan as he hit the sweet spot which made me see stars, and for a second, all I could hear were his own pants and the table squeaking louder and louder with each thrust.

“You have no idea—” I moaned as I clenched around Mingi, mind blanching for a second as he hit that spot again, “How fucking hot you look—like this.”

My fingertips dug into his hips and Mingi suddenly leaned down, pressing my back flat against the wooden table, rotating his hips as he suddenly slowed down. My mouth opened in a gasp and my legs went around his hips, one hand tangling in his blonde spikey hair as the other went around his shoulders to anchor myself. Mingi groaned in my ear as I clenched around his length again, his thrusts painfully slow on purpose, making me try to move my hips, but he had me pinned down by his heavier body.

“Fuck, please—” My whine was muffled by his lips as he pressed them against mine, pushing his tongue past my lips as I kissed him hungrily, wanting to feel more and more of him. Our lips moved messily against each other as Mingi slightly quickened his pace, but it still wasn’t enough. My eyebrows were furrowed as it started becoming unbearable and I whined, pulling my head away and choking on my words for a second, “I’m going to fucking die if you don’t go faster.”

I couldn’t believe Mingi had the audacity to smirk as he bit my lower lip harshly, making me push his head away as he chuckled amused, fake pouting at me.

“Thought I said good girls get what they want—” He completely stilled, bringing tears into my eyes out of frustration as I gripped his nape, trying to move against him to no avail, “And you’re being rather impatient right now.”

But before I could say anything, the slightly stood up and pulled almost fully out before slamming in again, his pace relentless and thrusts sharp as he threw his head back, moaning, making me grip onto his lower arm as he hit my g-spot over and over again, making my back arch as broken moans left my lips, nails digging into his skin. I was going fucking insane as his thumb found my clit and he started rubbing circles on it, making me cry out as I felt my orgasm building up, ready to snap any second as Mingi’s moans got higher and higher, my walls clenching tightly around him, bringing him closer to the edge as well.

“Fuck.” He hissed at a particular sharp thrust, his hips almost stuttering but I managed to meet his movements, desperate for my own release as I clawed at the wooden table, back arching as the pleasure became unbearable and the knot in my stomach snapped, making me let out a high-pitched moan, only for Mingi’s lips to muffle it as his hips stuttered, his own release following mine, filling me up. My body trembled and my lungs heaved for air as I came down from the high, our lips touching with Mingi as we both panted into each other’s mouths. His scent was intoxicating and I couldn’t help but burry my head into his neck and lightly bite down on his perfect skin, making him shudder. He didn’t pull out yet and I felt him twitch slightly, making me chuckle.

“So, I’m hot when I’m all sweaty and covered in grease?” He spoke up, voice raspy, and his words made me laugh as I allowed my head to rest against the wooden table, throwing an arm over my eyes. I could feel Mingi’s smile as he pressed a kiss against the corner of my mouth, swiftly pulling out.

“I said it once, I won’t say it again.” I peeked at him as he quickly pulled up his boxers and tight pants, adjusting his tank top.

“If I knew all I had to do was change my hairstyle for you to finally let me fuck you—” Mingi shook his head as he helped me off the table, smirking when I had to lean against it for support, my legs having gone numb, “I would’ve done it a lot earlier.”

“Perhaps if you weren’t so oblivious,” I threw him a glare and pulled up my panties, adjusting my dress, “You would’ve noticed how badly I wanted you since the first time I laid eyes on you, idiot.”

Mingi laughed and threw an arm around my shoulders as he pulled me into himself, “Now that that’s out of the way…do you want to date or do you want us to just fuck?”

His question made me pause as I looked up in his eyes, biting my lower lip in thought, “You want to go out with me?”

“I sure do.” Mingi said it like it was the most obvious thing, then he jutted his chin towards mine, “What about you?”

“What do you think?” I asked with a chuckle.

“That we should go for a second round—”

“Mingi!” I pressed my palm over his mouth and threw him a little glare, “My father could be back anytime, you know. And yes, I do want to date you. Unless you’re always this annoying.”

Mingi fake laughed as he pushed my hand off his mouth, “Aren’t you just so funny?”

I stuck my tongue out at him and he tried kissing it, making me yelp and push him away, which made Mingi giggle as he placed his hands in his pockets, “So, tomorrow at six?”

“But you better shower before you come pick me up.” I pointed a finger at him as we went to leave the room.

“I thought I smelled hot—”

“You can’t smell hot, so just—” I sighed and looked at him, “Just—dress up. You—I mean, you know, you looked really good at the party. I haven’t seen you out of your work clothes before.”

“Aw, aren’t you so shy right now and stuttering all of a sudden?” He cooed and poked my cheek, “As if I wasn’t inside you—”

“Y/N, you still here?!” I heard my father’s voice shout from afar and I threw Mingi a warning look as I pushed him away. He walked towards the car he had to fix defeated, throwing me those sad puppy eyes and a pout as my father walked inside the garage.

“Hi.” I waved at him and he smiled, glancing at Mingi.

“You can fix it tomorrow too, you know?” My father said as he went to put his own utensils away. Mingi hummed but said he didn’t have much until he was done, liar. My father glanced at me and I looked away from Mingi, smiling at my father innocently. He just shook his head and threw his keys at me, making me clumsily catch them.

“Go pick up your mother, I’ll stay behind and help Mingi fix the car.” He muttered tiredly as he walked up to my soon-to-be-boyfriend, oblivious to what Mingi would soon become to him as well. Not just an employee, but perhaps a part of our family too. I jokingly saluted my father as I stopped in the doorway, turning to look at Mingi, who was already watching me.

“Goodbye, Mingi.”

“Bye, Y/N.” Mingi tried to fight the smile off his lips as I turned around and ran off with a giggle, cheeks burning suddenly with embarrassment.

Good girls eventually get what they want, don’t they?

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yoon-kooks · 1 year

Text

seven tattoos later | jjk

🐰pairing: fuckboy!jungkook x tattooartist!reader

🐰genre: fluff, smut

🐰summary: if the hottest fuck boy in town made it a point to visit your little tattoo studio every week, how many tattoos would it take to make you fall in love with him?

🐰word count: 3.3k

🐰warnings: unprotected sex, slight exhibitionism, sex on the couch, doggy, hes big and rough, lip tattoos, hickeys, lil bit of drinking, hes so annoying in this im so sorry

As you close up for the night, you look out the window and count at least four couples out for a dog walk. It’s past eight, but still warm and bright out. It’s like the sun never stops shining. Summer sucks like that.

Maybe you’d appreciate the sun a little more if you had a puppy to walk or at least a handsome guy friend to drag you outside so you aren’t just rotting away in your empty tattoo studio on a Friday night. Everyone’s apparently on vacation or getting married in Hawaii or something, so work’s been exceptionally slow this week. Fuck summer.

It’s lonely.

You might even miss Jeon Jungkook, the last person you ever expected to get along with. The first time he walked into your studio, he didn’t waste any time in hitting on you and making it painfully obvious. You were convinced he only walked in and got a tattoo that day because he thought you’d be an easy lay.

That was around two months ago.

“What do you think would look good on me?” he’d asked while scrolling through your portfolio. You knew exactly what he was doing. He wanted you to take in his good looks, imagine the carved out physique beneath that leather jacket. That’s what guys like him do. And he was far from the first male client to ask you that. He wasn't special.

“I don’t know, maybe like a bunny or a duckling?” You just said the first things that came to mind—your two favorite animals. You didn’t give a flying fuck about what design would actually look good on someone you’d just met. Your icy heart definitely doesn’t warm up to people that quickly no matter how hot they are.

“Bunnies are cute,” he said without hesitation. You swear he was staring right at the dainty bunny tattoo on your collarbone. Then he tapped the top of his left hand, the one without all the other tattoos. “I’ll take one right here.”

At the time, you didn’t think he was serious. (He was serious.)

“So, for touch-ups and stuff, it’d probably be good if I had your number, yeah?” he asked, leaning against the counter and admiring the final product on his hand. Him and his cocky ass smile. It’s annoying how hot he is. Unfair, too.

After inputting your number into his phone, you needed to make one thing very clear: “Send me a dick pic and I’ll tattoo all of your exes’ names on your forehead.”

“I promise no dick pics,” he chuckled. He must’ve taken your threat as a cute little joke. “But I would like to take you out sometime.”

For a moment, you just stared at his handsome face. Everything about him was bright and shiny. His pretty eyes, the art wrapped around his arm, that confident smile. The sun had nothing on him.

But the thing is, you knew better than to trust guys like him. They’re always saying shit they don’t mean. And you were tired of being let down by those empty words.

What would make Jeon Jungkook any different from the fuck boys who’ve burned you in the past?

You didn’t know enough about him to answer that question, but you also weren’t willing to get to know him.

It was for the best.

So after you politely declined the invitation, the boy nodded, waved farewell, and jogged out the door. At least he was decent enough to accept his fate and move right along. (He wasn’t.)

Just when you thought you’d gotten rid of him, he spun around. “See you next week for the touch-up, Y/N.”

He was still smiling like an idiot. You didn’t understand why.

“You’re not gonna need a touch-up in a week,” you shouted back as he dashed off. Fast little fucker. You doubt he heard you, but it didn’t really matter. With all those other tattoos, he already knew how touch-ups worked.

Besides, what were the odds of him showing his pretty face again after rejection? Every other client you turned down never came back. Not even for a touch-up.

You didn’t believe for a second Jeon Jungkook would be back.

A week later, he proved you wrong and waltzed right back in like you never rejected his ass. Of course he did. The week after that, he had three of your designs etched into his hand. And he just kept coming back for more, week after week.

Somewhere along the way, you learned he’s a wedding photographer, an artist like you. He’s shown you his photos a few times even after you specifically said you hate weddings. The photos were gorgeous, though. As much as weddings make you want to gag, the sweet moments he captured had the reverse effect. Somehow, you were envious of what those couples had.

You’ve also overcome the impossible task of learning to tolerate his dumb humor. It’s probably because his laugh and smile are so contagious. He won’t stop running his mouth until he sees you smile either, especially when you’re having a bad day. Your cheeks hurt whenever he’s with you.

Fast forward two months and he now has a total of seven of your tattoos. It feels weird not seeing him this week, not breathing in his woodsy cologne, not leaving your mark on his perfect skin. But you suppose that’s just what happens when the guy who’s been annoying the shit out of you suddenly goes to Hawaii. The withdrawal symptoms are kicking in.

Your world is a whole lot quieter. It’s peaceful for once. And yet, you miss that chaotic idiot.

Fuck summer. Fuck people who get married in Hawaii.

Your phone buzzes just as you finish cleaning up. Hopefully it’s someone who wants to book an appointment. (It’s not.)

When you read “jungcock,” you roll your eyes with the faintest smile—the perfect example of your clashing feelings for the boy.

jungcock🥴 [8:24PM] “Got time for me tonight?🫦”

Y/N🐰 [8:24PM] “arent you supposed to be in hawaii rn?”

Y/N🐰 [8:24PM] “and dont use that emoji ever again”

jungcock🥴 [8:25PM] “I’d never choose Hawaii over you😌”

jungcock🥴 [8:25PM] “(They called off the wedding)”

jungcock🥴 [8:25PM] “🫦”

[8:25PM] [jungcock🥴 is now blocked]

[8:31PM] [You’ve unblocked jungcock🥴]

jungcock🥴 [8:31PM] “Is that a yes?”

Y/N🐰 [8:31PM] “i hate you a lot”

jungcock🥴 [8:32PM] “Hear me out”

jungcock🥴 [8:32PM] “What if😳👉👈 I brought snacks?”

Y/N🐰 [8:34PM] “fine”

You groan and shove your phone back into your pocket. Sometimes you wonder how you let this dork finesse his way into your life. Where did you go wrong?

Jungkook arrives at your studio ten minutes later with your favorite peace offerings—soju and pancakes. Ah yes, this is how he finessed his way to the top.

“Ooh snacks,” you hum as if you didn’t believe in his ability to pick something up on the way over. “What kind of pancakes did you get?”

“Your favorite, obviously,” he nods, handing you the warm box and a fork. There’s something about the way he crosses his arms, as though he’s just waiting to catch your reaction when you open it. Why does he look so fucking proud of himself?

“I never told you my favorite pancakes.” You raise a brow. The only thing you told him was your favorite pancake place. But they have like a million different options, ranging from classic (blueberry and chocolate chip) to fancy (tiramisu and that edible gold stuff). There’s no way he can magically guess your favorite pancake.

“Just open it.” He gives you his idea of a “playful shove” on the shoulders, which would’ve knocked you over with the pancakes if he hadn’t grabbed a hold of your wrist. He was definitely that annoying kid on the playground who chased around all the girls he had a crush on.

You mumble on about him being too rough as you open the box. To your surprise, it’s strawberries and whipped cream drenched in red syrup on top of a fat stack of pancakes—aka your favorite pancakes.

You look up from the mountain of strawberries and tilt your head at the boy like a confused puppy.

“I asked the waitress with the purple hair what you normally order,” he explains.

“Okay, but she doesn’t know me by name. How’d you describe me to her?”

He takes a few steps closer until you get a whiff of that woodsy cologne you missed so much. You feel the tips of his fingers trace along your collarbone. He’s not so rough anymore. In fact, the warm caress just barely grazes your skin, as if to tease your body. You’ve always lowkey looked forward to that tiny bit of warmth while working on his tattoos. Maybe he’s always been aware.

“I called you a cutie with a bunny tattoo.” His nose scrunches when he smiles this time, giving your skin one last poke. “She knew it was you when I showed her the one on my hand.”

Of course Jeon Jungkook walked into your favorite pancake place pretending to be your boyfriend. Of course he did something as embarrassing as showing off what appears to be matching tattoos. All for the sake of bringing you your favorite pancakes on an otherwise shitty summer night.

“Now she’ll think we have matching tattoos,” you say softly, shoving his chest. “How am I supposed to show my face in there ever again?”

“Hey, I don’t have a problem with the whole matching tattoos thing.” He puts his hands up to protect his chest from your wrath in case you’re feeling feisty. “I’ll just pick it up for you again.”

You’re not feeling feisty, so you give the boy a thumbs-up and bring him over to the couch in the back corner of the studio where you usually eat or take naps.

At long last, you stab a piece of pancake and strawberry and coat it in whipped cream before shoving it into your mouth. It’s delicious. “Is it mean if I say I’m glad the Hawaii wedding was canceled?”

“Because you’d be lonely without me here?” he teases.

“No, it’s because you bought me free pancakes, you simp,” you grin, handing off the fork to the simp so he too can get a taste of heaven. He passes you the soju in return even though you’re already feeling a little giggly.

“It’s not free,” he denies. “I’m supposed to be here for another tattoo, remember?”

After a tiny sip, you set the green bottle aside and grab Jungkook’s hand with both of yours. It looks so silly with all your tattoos surrounding the cute little bunny in the middle. He’s silly for letting you do that to him.

“I don’t think there’s any more room on your hand for another one,” you giggle. “Where am I gonna tattoo you next?”

You wonder how many tattoos he has under his clothes. Maybe he’s already got them all over the place. Then, eventually, his body will run out of space and you won’t be able to tattoo him anymore. That would suck. You kinda like his company.

“What about a lip tattoo?” you chirp, tapping on his lower lip with your index finger. When he doesn’t swat you away, you tug down on his lip ring to check for a hidden tattoo there. Nothing. “I have one.”

“You do?” His eyes immediately fall on your red strawberry lips. You pull down your lower one for him to see tiny black letters that read “bad girl.”

“My ex did it. I was supposed to tattoo ‘bad boy’ on his lip, but he chickened out,” you shrug. “Isn’t that crazy?”

“Wait, I thought you can’t stand matching tattoos?” He’s such a good listener. Boyfriend material.

“I didn’t have anything against them up until that point,” you hum as you play with his wavy hair. The perm is cute on him. “But that’s basically when my perspective changed.”

That’s when you lost faith in men. When you grew to hate the idea of marriage. When you started rejecting every guy who approached you, even if he was half as hot as Jeon Jungkook.

“Well fuck your ex,” he frowns. Yeah, fuck him. No, wait. Your ex isn’t the one you want to fuck right now. “You’ve convinced me. The next tattoo I’m getting is a lip tattoo.”

“Got any design ideas for what you want there?” You climb into his lap, cup his chin with one hand, and play with his lip piercings some more. You’ve never been this up close and personal with Jungkook, but you like it. You can already feel his cock hardening beneath you through your leggings.

“Your lips,” he says without hesitation. Cheesy, but you’ll take any excuse right now to close the gap between you and him.

Just like that, something clicks in your body, and your lips just find their way to his. You’re not sure how much of it is alcohol and how much is your actual feelings for the boy, but it doesn’t really matter. Not when the kiss tastes like strawberry pancakes. It’s perfect.

You throw your arms over his shoulders as he kisses back. He’s already got his hands slipped up the back of your little tank top.

Your hips start to roll against him.

“Should we close the blinds?” he asks against your lips. “Unless you like an audience.”

You glance at the window. The sun is finally going down, but of course people are still walking their dogs. Maybe they didn’t get the memo that it’s officially fucking hours, not dog walking hours.

Normally, you’d be all for closing the blinds and turning out the lights, but your ass is nice and comfy in his lap and you’d rather not change that. Plus the back of the couch should hide 90% of what’s going on.

You shed your tank top off and toss it onto the coffee table next to the unfinished pancakes. His big eyes flick to your lacy black bralette.

“Let them watch.” You press your lips into his neck and suck away like a vampire. The hickeys you’re about to leave him with will have to make do as temporary tattoos for now. You’re not gonna have time to tattoo him tonight.

“You sure you want people to see you so desperate and needy like this?” he asks as you wiggle out of your leggings. His hands immediately find your ass and give it a good squeeze.

“I’m not needy,” you whine, your naughty hand feeling how large his cock is through his joggers.

“I think you’re pretty needy, Y/N.” Two fingers slip past your thong and spread the wet lust between your legs. He has the biggest smirk on his face as your body squirms to his touch. You do everything in your power to hold back a gasp. “Do you want me to fuck you that badly?”

Yes, but you’re not going to admit it. Ever.

“No way,” you answer with confidence. He helps you out of his lap and you let him prop you up on your hands and knees so he can get a good look at your ass. “This is just my way of thanking you for the pancakes since we both know you aren’t getting that lip tattoo tonight.”

“The lip tattoo can wait.” You feel your thong drop to the couch where it belongs. Two very strong hands hold you at the waist. “You’re my number one priority tonight.”

As he fills you with his cock, you’re already melting to the heat between your legs. Your weak little arms lose all their strength. You reach for your fluffy white cloud pillow to muffle your moans and let him do all the work from behind.

The tight hold he has on you is a mix of possessiveness and all the sexual tension built up over the past two months. You wonder how many times he thought about bending you over and fucking you silly in the midst of getting a cute little frog tattoo. You’ve seen the way his lustful eyes look at you during his appointments. You’re not that oblivious.

“Nice ass tattoo, by the way.” He pinches the bit of skin with two pink butterflies. You’d always regretted that one because not everyone shares the same appreciation for it, but that tiny love pinch made it all worth it. “You and your cute little tattoos.”

He slides in and out, pounding your deepest spot, and drawing a pathetic whimper from your throat every few seconds. Doesn’t help that he has a finger or two rubbing away at your swollen little clit. That’s when you realize you’ve been missing out on amazing sex for far too long. Seven whole tattoos. That’s how long it took before you gave in.

He’s already rougher now than the playful shove that nearly knocked you over earlier. Good.

This is exactly what you need after such a boring work week.

“What would you be doing now if I were taking wedding pictures in Hawaii?” His voice is getting breathier. He’s working hard out there.

“Gagging at all the romantic shit you’d be sending me.” Even if he weren’t physically there with you, you know he’d still find a way to be annoying. He’d let you know he’s still thinking of you.

“Don’t worry, I won’t make you gag tonight.” You don’t have to turn around to know he’s got that dumb smirk on his face. “Maybe another time. If you’re into that.”

Your response is a soft moan into the pillow. The thought of his cock shoved down your throat isn’t as repulsive as you would’ve thought two months ago. Giving head isn’t usually your thing, but you’re open to trying it with him. You’re glad he can’t see you lick your lips.

He doesn’t slow down either, instead picking up the pace and going harder. Your fingers dig into the pillow, your whole body dripping in pleasure. It feels too good.

“Mm, Jungkook,” you pant like a poor puppy with your ass up in the air. Your little clit can’t take much more of his fingers. You’re so close.

“Thought you couldn’t stand me,” he teases as you tighten around him. He’s so annoying! During sex, too. “And now you’re about to cum for me?”

“Fuck you,” you gasp as the wave of pleasure passes through you. His fingers and cock help you ride out the high. He’s lucky he’s a sweet guy with a strong sex game. Otherwise you wouldn’t have fallen for his annoying ass.

As soon as he pulls out, he flips you onto your back, staring down at you with his cock in hand. A few extra pumps along his length is all he needs to get his release and drizzle your belly with his creamy glaze.

He climbs over you to give you a soft peck on the lips. You’ve been with a lot of fuck boys before, but you can’t remember any of them kissing you once the sex was done and over with.

This boy is different.

He lets you lie there, basking in the afterglow as he searches the studio for a clean towel. When he finally gets ahold of one, he offers a hand to help you sit up and gets you cleaned up.

“All jokes aside, I’m happy you were here tonight,” you say in a tiny voice. “Fuck Hawaii weddings.”

He chuckles in his usual adorkable way. “You should come to a wedding with me sometime—when I’m not working, of course. Maybe you won’t hate them as much as you think.”

You lean in for another kiss. There’s still a hint of pancake on his tongue, but it's even sweeter. “Sure.”

The corners of his lips curve upward in satisfaction. The annoying little shit is about to jump out. You can feel it. (The annoying little shit does not jump out.)

“Now finish your pancakes,” he smiles. For once, it’s not him looking all smug and shit. And it’s really endearing.

Somehow, he just keeps proving you wrong. In a good way.

You look at your favorite pancakes on the table and wave them off. “Nah, I’m good.” Once more, you scoot your ass onto him and press a finger to his lip. “I think I like the taste of you better.”

#bts smut #jungkook smut #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts fanfic #bts x reader #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #jungkook tattoo #bts fluff #jungkook fluff #bts fuck boy au #seven tattoos later

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