#i said i would share spicy takes and here they are

[star-suh]

Boys Interrupted

Jake Sim & Jay Park x Male Reader

cw: idol au, yn is part of enhypen, threesome, voyeurism.

—

“finally we're done” jay cheered, talking to the rest of the members, it's been a rough week for them with all the promotions they have to do with their recent comeback. they were sitting in the living room now, some of them after showering, others eating or playing video games but two of them were missing, jake and yn. and jay noticed it.

“jakeee!!. ynn!!” he yelled at both, “come to the living room, we're gonna eat some spicy noodles”, they didn't respond. weird, he thought, but he heard something weird, the more he gets closer to their shared bedroom the more weird sounds he hears. “what the..” he walks slowly, carefully, his steps becoming quiet. his hand grabbed the knob of the door while some hushed fucks and harder rumbled on his ears, he turn it slowly, opening the door just a bit to peek inside –he already had an idea what was happening but curiosity got the best of him.

there they were, jake folding yn in half on the bed, his hips snapping wildly against yn's ass. jake whispered dirty words while biting his lower lip and kissing him to swallow his whines and moans. surprised –and excited– by the lewd sight in front of him, a tent formed in jay's pants, “fuck, it's not fair they're the only ones enjoying things here” he sighs, palming his growing erection restrained on his underwear. he looks around to make sure no one is coming to keep staring, giving in into his voyeuristic experience.

“fuck you’re so… tight” jake growls on yn’s ear, his big veiny hand on yn’s mouth, muffling every sound coming out of his throat. his sexy low voice making yn’s body tremble in pleasure, the top then shifts his angle, scraping other parts inside yn’s hole. yn couldn’t help but arch his back, burying himself deeper in the other’s meat –chasing that heat that jake’s provoking on him. jake kept muttering curses, his breath hot against yn’s neck –tickling it, his hole closing around his thick shaft. jake swallowed a moan, biting his lower lip while looking up with his eyes closed –focusing on not cumming right there, with yn’s sloppy hole taut around his hole. sweat dripping down his face and neck, some of them splashing and falling on yn’s body, mixing it with his own. and that’s when he realized something, a peeping tom on the other side of the door, but instead of getting startled by it jake became more aroused, his dick grew bigger inside yn, “fuck, your dick feels bigger all of a sudden” yn mutters burying his face on a pillow, to cover his moans.

jake and jay locked eyes, both flushed faces staring at each other while continuing doing their respective things –one fucking and the other masturbating. jake lifts yn, he puts his legs around jake’s hips while he introduces his dick on his hole, showing jay how well yn is taking him. the scene was sinful, jake getting off on someone watching him doing sexual acts that most péople would consider are intimate but having an audience light something up inside him. jake kissed yn’s collarbone and nipped at it while still looking directly towards jay, like a hunter warning another hunter that that prey is his already, but jay didn’t got intimidated by him –who said a hunter can’t steal another’s prey?.

jake invited him to come in.

who even said hunters can share prey?

yn didn’t notice jay entering the room, jake distracted him with rapid thrusts that sent him to cloud 9. jay leaned against a wall, pulling down his sweatpants, his dick sprung out hard the tip with a red hue, it ached – it needed to be stroked, he coated it with his own saliva, going up and down slowly, soothing the pain of being restrained tight under his underwear. “i like how you’re doing. you’re taking me so well” jake spoke, “glad someone else is a witness of how much of a slut you are for some dick” jake slowly lifted yn’s head by grabbing the back of his neck, showing him how jay was there, they both locked eyes –jay’s stare was dark, pure lust and hunger in them. he didn’t say a thing, he left his cock do the talk, yn’s eyes stared down –another thick cock, his hole throbbed and jake felt it –he chuckled lowly.

fuck, why is he so hot?

feeling his gaze on him now, send shivers down yn’s spine. jake relentlessly snapped his hips against yn’s hole, his ass wobbled with every thrust –he then slowed his pace, drawing a whine out of yn, he positioned himself to now lay on the bed while yn is now on top of him –in a riding position– al without pulling out of him. “wanna join?. there’s room for one more” he puts four digits inside the ring of muscles, showing jay how gape he was already. “should we let him join?” jake asked yn who shook his head in yes motion, his ass closing around the top’s shaft and digits –he was eager to be stuffed to the max, what a slut.

jake nips at yn’s ear, “you hear him, put it in already”. yn’s heart raced, his pulse spiked at jake giving jay permission to fuck him too –as if he was just a fucktoy for him, and he loves it. the heat spreaded throughout yn’s whole body, his body became flushed –back, face, ears all in a red pink-ish hue, the sweat increasing too, he was a mess. jay discarded only his sweatpants, staying with the hoodie on. jake withdrew a little, just enough for jay’s tip to make its way inside the already occupied hole. yn’s whimpers were shaky, jay and jake caressed his back and thighs, teasing, testing him how good is yn doing. jay touched the sensitive skin, it crawled all the way up yn’s back to his head, tugging at the hair to make him look towards him “you’re so fucking pretty” he positioned his hand on yn’s neck to help his head stay still and kiss him, in the process arching his back, letting both dicks go deeper. “let us take care of you” he whispered, cleaning the remaining saliva around his lips with the back of his hand.

jake kiss him next, claiming his mouth too, while jay kept steady thrusts, jabbing his dick constantly –his shaft rubbing against jake’s, the friction making them both to move their hips on their own, chasing more of that heat they’re getting, two big cocks held tight inside someone’s hole, that squeezes them like his life depended on it. jake’s hands roamed around yn’s body while jay’s spread him open, squeezed it and spanked the jiggly glutes of yn, moving due to the recoil caused by the thrusts. jay’s hoodie became soaked in sweat, wet patches appearing on it so he discarded it, his chest now pressed against yn’s back while jake’s fingers were on his lips. yn sucked them, strings of saliva connecting each finger with his mouth.

“fuck, relax” jake manifested, slicking back his damp hair with his hand, sighing in pleasure, he was being overstimulated like everyone else in the room. the feeling of two cocks rubbing against each other in a tight space or of being filled completely –sensations that they haven’t felt until now. it’s a dizzying feeling that felt good –the only words coming out of yn were broken moans and some “more’s” but they came out of him with every thrust the tops did, as if they were pushing them out of him, their dicks jabbing quickly inside him. yn’s insides felt warm, the constant friction making it look as if he was having some kind of fever. “good boy” jake praised, kissing him, “you’re taking us so well” jay compliments too.

the orgasm built fast, the overstimulation there wasn’t a joke at any moment they would reach their climax. jake’s grip tightened while jay angled himself deeper and yn was in between them trembling and in the blink of an eye both tops came, their cocks spurted loads and loads of semen jake whispered loudly a curse while jay groaned lowly. yn followed them soon after, his dick spurting ropes on jake’s abs, painting them white. the three of them riding their highs after such an amazing climax.

the room was filled with the manly scent of sweat and sex, the two tops musk intoxicating a fucked up yn, feeling cockdrunked. jay’s dick slip out of the slippery hole with a pop, coated in white with strings of it connecting his shaft to jake’s and yn’s ass. “so fucking hot. i should've spy you two sooner” he growled while flopping onto the bed besides the other two, that fucking sexy –almost cocky– smirk of his plastered on his face and jake stayed close to yn, his hand resting on one of yn’s asscheeks his dick slipping out slowly too, followed by a stream of mixed cum and lube that felt right on his balls, coating them in the sex-scented liquid. “worth the watch?” jake asked jay, and he nodded, “indeed, it was worth it”.

yn collapsed on top of them both, lazily snuggling in between them to sleep after the tired session. the other two, also feeling weak, followed him to sleep, they could deal the next morning with the other members’ questions.

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Fly Back Here, And Keep Warm

Main Masterlist - Bucky Masterlist

Read on A03!

Tags: Bucky Barnes/Female Reader, smut (sharing body heat, p in v, fingering, praise kink), angst, light fluff, humor, no use of y/n, enemies to lovers.

Summary: Bucky hates you. He doesn't talk to you, or look at you, or linger in your presence for too long. But he's still saving you from the river. From the cold.

And maybe, if you're not losing your mind, he doesn't really hate you at all.

Author's Note: Doing the body heat fic. Had a lot of fun with it. We're post-Endgame but no one died, cause I am the god of my own emotional smut. Enjoy!

Word Count: 9.1k

There’s smoke in the air. Stars and smoke and a harsh wind that turns it all into a shifting, glimmering haze of cold.

You’re so cold. Frozen into your bones, blood stilled in your body, eyes blurring, because maybe everything around you has been plunged into ice as well, and the smoke has fogged the usual clarity of the glass.

The ice they put in drinks is always clear, like crystal. Smooth, see-through and glossy, a chill that’s welcome in the heat of crowds.

This isn’t that ice.

This is the ice that had been below your feet, only minutes ago. Clouded and thick and cracking in strange, dangerous places. And now it’s spreading through the world, and everything is fogged, and god, if you die here—somewhere high in the mountains where your bones will be eaten, and your grave will wash down the river in the spring—it will really fucking suck.

“Shit, God, Christ-“ Someone is swearing above you. A low voice that you recognize, but can’t put a name to.

You can’t really put a name to anything right now. Not when it’s so goddamn cold.

“Do not die on me, you got it. That’s an order, keep your eyes open and don’t die.”

You can put a feeling to that voice. A hot, feverish, wrathful feeling. There’s no name for the feeling, either, but it’s sparking in your blood and acting as jumpstart to your brain. Just enough to take a ragged breath.

“Thank fuckin’ hell.” The voice mutters, and your hands fist in a warm cloth. 

Your face quickly follows, when the cloth wraps itself around you, and starts to move your body. It’s awfully warm for just a cloth. In the dead of winter. Out in the wild.

Not a cloth. A person. Voices, you can remember now, usually belong to people.

“We’re getting you out of here.” The voice—person—mutters in your ear. “Just hold on.”

This cloth must belong to him. There’s a word for that, too, when a cloth is on a person, and it smells like them. 

This cloth smells like him. Your burning voice. The cloth smells like smoke—but a summer smoke, where wood becomes sweet from all the flowers and chocolate of the clear night—and a dried fruit, as well as something strong and spicy.

Your burning voice is strong. He’s holding you his chest like you’re nothing, and never breaking stride as he wades through something that might be a swamp. He’s not even grunting. Just speaking to you and moving a little more, useless warmth over your body.

“I told you not to step on the river. I said it would break, and you didn’t listen cause you’re trying to test if I can have a fucking heart attack, little dove. Trying to die on me, when I ordered you not to.”

You know who your voice is.

And he’s not your anything.

But no one else in the world calls you little dove.

It’s enough fire to clean off the daze from your eyes, and when you blink up, there he is.

Bucky. 

Floating above you, the smoke and mist of the mountains combining with the night sky to make it seem as if he’s found himself a halo.

He must have saved you, from the river. There’s a slight ache on your wrist—the numbness of the cold giving way to a rough, painful bruise—because that’s where he’d grabbed you to drag you out of the ice. The shirt smells like Bucky, and you’ve never been allowed close enough to feel his heat or smell his shirt, but now you can.

He’s invading your every dulled sense, and you can smell him, and it’s like a fucking drug.

You’re in pain. You’re so cold, and this might not even be real—you might already be dead—but you could swear that your ice-addled brain is starting to cling to the warmth and smell of Bucky Barnes the same way a patient clings to an opioid.

It won’t be good for you. If the world knows what’s good for you, they’ll take it away soon, because you can’t be trusted with it. 

Bucky himself has certainly never trusted you with it. 

You’re really not sure he did grab you. That you’re not still drowning in the river, and this is just some sort of reaper, wearing Bucky’s face, carrying you to hell.

Your hand is shaking, when you reach up to trace over his face. The stubble on his cheek feels what you always imagine. Soft and prickling and right against your fingertips.

Just to be safe, you still have to ask.

“Are you real?”

Sharp, blue eyes fall down to yours, burning right through your skin. “Course I’m real, I’m- Shit, we’re further than I thought. You need to keep talking.”

You hum, shaking your head and burrowing a little further into his chest.

Bucky never lets you this close. Usually he keeps you a safe pace away, as if you’ve been infected and he’s afraid you’ll rot him too. He always has, since you met, and you’ve always wanted to come closer, but that’s not your call to make.

You understand why he hates you. You can’t find it in yourself to hold it against him, or even to let it crush out your raging, white-hot wildfire for him that’s always burning where no one can see it.

And you try to be respectful. You really, really try to keep your distance, all the time, because Bucky shouldn’t have to organize and regulate his life to accommodate your existence. 

But your willpower is weakened. Every part of you is weakened. And your voice is only a shivering rasp, so you’re a threat to nothing at all, and it would be unreasonable not to steal as much warmth as possible from Bucky, while you have him.

You love him in secret all the time.

This can just be a little fuel to turn the wildfire into a hurricane, and then you’ll go back to secret once more. 

“You’re supposed to be talking, little dove-“

“‘M tired.” You mumble. “It’s cold, Bucky, I don’t wanna talk when it’s cold-“

“You talk all the time.” He grunts. “You were talking an hour ago-“

“Wasn’t cold an hour ago-“

“You still have to fucking talk.” He snaps, grip tightening around you.

You can feel his muscles flexing, hear the whir of his arm near your ear, almost in a perfect time with his heartbeat.

You can hear Bucky’s heartbeat, and it’s so fast, and you feel a little drunk. 

It might be the cold.

It might still just be Bucky.

“Your heart is pounding.” You frown against his chest, fingers tracing over the spot where you think it is. “It just skipped a beat.”

Bucky grunts. “I’m running. That happens.”

“Don’t run then. I’m oka-“ You start hacking before the word is even out of your mouth, and Bucky might leave more bruises on your body, with how he seems to be trying to fuse you to his chest.

“Convincing.” He mutters your name, and you feel like you’re going to cry, but all your tears have frozen in your eyes. “Talk.”

“I don’t have anything to say-“

“That’s the biggest lie I’ve ever heard out of your mouth, dove. Try again.”

You pause, your brain still not fast enough to come up with something interesting, something Bucky will actually want to hear, something that will make him maybe listen more, or even look at you, when all of this is done.

“Talk-“

“Steve ate bug.”

There’s a second where the wind and Bucky’s heart are the only sounds in the world, and you don’t know if he cares about that. Steve’s his friend, and the bug thing was pretty funny, but you can count on one hand the number of times you’ve seen Bucky laugh, so maybe he doesn’t find it all that important or amusing to hear about at all. Maybe he’s already sick of your voice and he’s going to drop you into the snow-

“Keep talking.” He grunts, and you take a shuttering breath.

When this is done, you’ll apologize in a million ways where you’re silent. Bucky never listens to you talk, and he shouldn’t have to now, just because you’d decided to be an idiot and fall in the ice. 

“It was a beetle.” You whisper into his chest. “A black one. And he thought it was a horsefly, so he freaked out, because you shouldn’t swallow a horsefly- Well, you shouldn’t swallow any bugs, but he was really worried about it being a horsefly, and I told him it was a beetle but he said beetles don’t buzz, and I said they can, and they can, Bucky. Beetles can buzz, anything that flies can buzz, but he was really freaking out, so he made me ask the beetle to come back up, and he still thought it was a fly, so I had to ask the fly to come back up, but it didn’t, cause it wasn’t a fly. Then I asked the beetle to come up, and it did, cause I was-“ You break out into a long yawn, and the air in your lungs is really starting to feel heavy. “’S a beetle. I was right.”

More silence. You can hear a birdsong in the trees, and maybe if you sing back, the eagles won’t pick your skin off your bones. 

“Steve swallowed a horsefly in the 30s.” Bucky grunts, and you blink up at him with wide eyes. “Back when he was still a twig. It nearly killed him.”

“I know.” You mumble. “I asked him after, cause he was really freaked out, and he told me. He said not to tell anyone.” You pause. “Oops.”

“I don’t count, doll. I already knew.”

“Oh.” Your smile returns, and you can’t tell if you’re losing your mind from the cold or just happy Bucky called you doll. “Right.”

“You’re not done talking.”

You shake your head. “‘m tired-“

“I- Shit, I know you are,” Bucky says your name, and tonight might be the most he’s ever said it. This might be the most he’s ever spoken to you.

You hope it never, ever ends. You hope that for the rest of time Bucky’s voice saying your name sings to you in the spaces between silence, his heartbeat keeping rhythm like a drum.

“You still need to talk.” Bucky’s voice is almost a growl. You feel kind of dizzy. “Fucking hell, little dove, just keep talking, first time you’re shutting up and it’s-“

“‘M sorry.” You’re definitely going to try now. Bucky doesn’t deserve this. “I know I talk a lot, I’m just-“ Another yawn. It feels like an iron is pressing over your brow. “I’m so tired-“

“I know, doll, I know.” Bucky lets out a long breath that ghosts over your skin, and the shivers up your spine are warm. “Just keep- Say fucking anything-“

“Tony fell off the roof.” You hum, letting everything that comes to your head slip out, just to ease what sounds like something close to pain in Bucky’s voice.

You really must be losing your mind. 

“He was doing experiments, and he fell off the roof, and then I got yelled at cause I didn’t catch him, but I was laughing, Bucky. It was funny, he yelped, and I didn’t mean to let him fall, but he still stole all my chocolate because he was angry, and that wasn’t nice, it was the expensive chocolate that Nat gave me-“

“From that place in Canada.” Bucky cuts you off with short words, and you nod a little stupidly. Everything is starting to blend and flow together, and there’s a numbness creeping up your spine you’re too tired to stop.

“Yeah, and she told me that you lost your favorite gloves on that mission, which sucks ass. But I-“ Another yawn. This one seems to be creeping into your eyes. “I can make you feel better, Buck, cause I’ve got a secret.”

Bucky grunts. “That right?”

You nod again. “I’ve got three secrets. ’S a lot of secrets.”

His chest vibrates slightly, and a smooth sound that’s better than anything sounds near your ear. “Three secrets is a lot of secrets. You want to share-“

“There’s someone who won’t listen to me.” You hum, playing with his shirt. “I know cause Nat said she got me the chocolate, but she’s a liar cause when I asked the box to open it said no, said I had to read the note first, and note said to give it to me, and it wasn’t in Nat’s handwriting. Then when I asked the box who got it, it said it wasn’t allowed to tell me. That it was a secret. Someone’s going around telling things not to listen to me, and that’s mean cause I’m not worth anything if people don’t listen. And then I asked Nat who gave it her, and she wouldn’t tell me either-“

You cut yourself off, and get a little colder as your words finally hit your own ears.

“I mean I asked, like, with my normal words. Nothing else.” You manage to look back up at Bucky, and he’s staring with a stone-like face out into the night. “I promise, Bucky, I didn’t ask, I don’t use it like that-“

“I know you don’t.” He mutters, his gaze flicking back down to yours, only for a second. “Your secret is that someone’s keeping a secret from you?”

“No, it’s-“ Yawn. This one is long, and the trees start to become a blur. “I’m keepin’ a secret that someone can resist me. Maybe they’re deaf. Can deaf people hear me? No, I mean- You know what I mean, Bucky-“

“I do. Second secret,” he says your name again. “Keep going.”

You nod, and you don’t even start this one before you’re yawning again, pulling your words together. “Sam has a girlfriend. He says she’s just a friend, but she’s a girl. And he’s fucking her, cause I walked in on them. Didn’t mean to. And I- Fuck,” you rock slightly in Bucky’s arms, trying to twist your body to look at him again. “I’m not supposed to tell you, Bucky. You can’t tell Sam I told you, cause then he’ll tell you my secret.”

Bucky frowns. “You just told me your secret-“

“’S Sam’s secret-“

“No, doll, the thing about your powers-“

“That’s a dumb secret. Mostly just stupid. This is my big secret.” You yawn again. You can’t really hear your own voice anymore. “You can’t know my big secret.”

“Well, now you have to tell me.”

You just shake your head, because anything else feels like it will drain you down to nothing. 

Bucky grunts your name, and suddenly you’re not as steady in his arms. It’s like he’s trying to jostle something from you. “Shit- You gotta keep fucking talking, I told you-“

“Why?” Your voice feels high in your throat. Hopefully, to Bucky’s ears, it’s not a whine. “You hate it when I talk.”

“No, I don’t-“

“Yeah, you do, and I’m sorry, but I’m-“ This yawn moves into your heart, and everything feels so slow. “I’m tired, Bucky. I’m sorry I fucked up, just please let me sleep-“

“No.”

“But you can keep going without me. You’ll be free.” You sigh, and you didn’t die before, but this feels heavier than sleep now. “You hate me, you hate listening to me-“

“I do not hate you-“

“’S okay, I hate me too, but least you can leave. I-“ Yawn. All the way over your skull, and anything but feeling the cold sounds perfect now. “’m stuck here-“

“You’re being delirious.” Bucky grunts, and you shake your head. 

You think you shake your head.

You can’t really think or feel anything beyond what’s falling out of your mouth, and the lingering, quickly dying warmth of Bucky.

Everything is so cold.

“Bucky?” You hope that was aloud. Based on the rumble of the last warm thing around you, it probably was. “I don’t wanna die here.”

“You- Fuck, you’re not gonna die, just keep goddamn talking-“

“Don’t let the birds eat me-“

“Nothing’s eating you-“

“And I’m sorry-“

“Stop apologizing and- Goddamnit, doll, you’re gotta be okay, just keep talking-“

You can’t keep talking. You can only let the last yawn sweep you away, and hope that—if it’s real—the last warmth of Bucky burns a little brighter in your body than hellfire.

———

Bucky didn’t know anyone at this party. Not in any way that mattered.

He knew Steve, but everyone knew Steve. Bucky wouldn’t be able to stand silently in a corner without being alone, because Steve had things to do. People to talk to. A show to put on that Bucky wasn’t ready to be a part of. 

Sam could stand with him, in his corner.

Bucky really didn’t want his only option to be Sam.

He’d tried to avoid this. First week back from Wakanda, he couldn’t possibly be expected to immediately become best friends with a whole team of people who’d tried to kill him, more recently than anyone seemed to be willing to admit.

“Tony’s apologized for that, Buck.” Steve had sighed. “And you just have to go in and walk around. It needs to be a good faith thing, so that you’re trying-“

“I am trying.” Bucky’s arms had crossed over his chest, his whole body bracing for a fight he knew wouldn’t come. “And Stark can shove it up his ass if he thinks I’m not-“

“He knows you are. We all know you are, but congress-“

“Who cares about congress.” Sam had leaned around the doorway, a shit-eating grin on his face. “I think you should come to the party for fun, Buck.”

Steve had shot the bird-fuck a glare, and it was a lot more generous than he deserved.

“You’re not helping, Sam.”

“I’m not tryin’ to help, Cap, but I do think it’ll be good for him. He can’t coast off our charismatic coattails forever-“

Bucky had scowled. “I’m not coasting, Wilson, I’m fucking adjusting-“

“And this’ll be great for adjustment.” Sam had shrugged. “You ain’t the only one here who’s done things they ain’t proud of, Buck. You don’t have a monopoly on brooding, and it’ll be good to bond with some people who don’t have an overt connection to your past. Proven method to movin’ forward after service is building those new relationships.”

Sam had, annoyingly, been right. That was exactly what Bucky’s therapist had told him, only without throwing in a comment after about how the ladies might go crazy for Bucky’s hair.

“A lot of people like us popped up during the Blip,” Steve had told him in the elevator, watching Bucky fidget with the cuffs of his shirt. 

It was too tight, and too loose, and felt like fire on his skin. He hadn’t earned nice things like a pressed shirt yet, but Stark would—apparently—get real damn pissed if Bucky showed up in anything less than proper cocktail attire. 

“I don’t care who popped up-“

“You will.” Steve had shrugged. “You’ll find someone you like enough to at least talk to, Buck, I promise.”

In the elevator, Bucky had rolled his eyes and bit his tongue, because grumbling that he didn’t need people to talk to right now wasn’t going to do anything but prolong the conversation.

Now, Bucky was really getting sick of his friends being right.

He’d found his corner, while Steve and Sam did the rounds. Right on the edge of the room, where the noise of the party was a little quieter, and most people weren’t going to try and ask him dumb questions about Hydra. The spider kid had been tolerable, and managed to distract himself, but the guy who got big and small kept trying to make small talk, and Bucky didn’t remember how to do that yet. Too many people—two—had already tried to touch his arm. The talking raccoon had been looking for him all night, and hopefully he wouldn’t think to find Bucky here.

Slightly behind a curtain, near an unoccupied balcony.

A previously unoccupied balcony. 

Someone was definitely out there now. 

Bucky could hear her. She had a soft voice that seemed to almost flow over and through the night and crowd, like a siren song that told Bucky everything was really, truly fine. 

She was talking to someone, though. And Bucky wasn’t sure he was even supposed to be listening to the conversation, but he couldn’t stop himself from leaning a little closer to the door, just to hear if there was a lull in the conversation. A chance for him to slip in, and be able to report back to Steve that he managed to do something besides brood all night.

That he, possibly, made a friend.

“I made pancakes yesterday morning.” She was saying. “They tasted horrible. I don’t know how to make pancakes. Natasha said she could help me, but I think I should try to do it myself. And it’s not because I’m trying to prove anything, it’s because I- They’ll trust me more, if I do things myself. I mean, I’m still a person, I think. I’m not sure. I feel like a person. I feel… Yeah, I feel like a person. And don’t tell Steve I’m worrying about this, because then he’ll tell me I should see a therapist, and I don’t need it.” She giggled, and it was the best sound Bucky had ever heard. Soft and light, almost shimmering, making his body relax further as he tried to follow the conversation.

This woman knew Steve. And Natasha. 

Bucky could be a third person She knew. One she liked.

“You won’t be able to tell Steve anything,” She hummed, and Bucky leaned a little closer to the balcony door. “You can’t talk. But you’re a really good listener, even if you, um, don’t mean to be. Most people here don’t know me, and I can’t really go up and introduce myself without a prelude, because then people freak out. Tony told me I was allowed to talk, but I don’t- I make people uncomfortable. I mean, they’ll hear me later anyway. I thought about hiring someone else to play the piano, but apparently it won’t be as impressive. I think that’s stupid. We have all the money in the world, and it’s not like I’m not already impressive. If I had half the money Tony has, I’d hire someone to follow me around and play different songs based on what’s happening. Give myself a score. I think that would be funny.”

It would be funny. And if whoever She was talking to couldn’t talk, Bucky could. He could be a good listener, as well, if that was all She wanted. He could listen to here say anything for a million years and never, ever get sick of it.

“I just- I dunno, I don’t want to only be the songbird. And if I ask you too, you could tell me what I should do, but I’m really trying not to do that. I can figure this out myself.” There was a pause, and when She spoke again, her voice was softer. “I’m going to try to make pancakes again tomorrow. And if they’re bad, I’ll ask them to be good, and I’ll give them to Wanda as a thank you for the dress. It’s a nice dress, right? Shit- wait-“

She cut herself off with a clear of Her throat, and Bucky was a goner.

Because She started to sing, and he didn’t recognize the song, but he knew that they didn’t really matter. Every note was clear, like crystallized honey, there was something running under every word that was asking someone to speak. Not Bucky, but someone else, and suddenly Bucky really wanted to be the person She was wanting things from.

She wouldn’t have to ask.

Bucky would just do it. Whatever She needed.

He rounded the corner, because he had to see Her. See the woman who made him want to talk. Maybe it would spur him into actually speaking, or he’d see that whoever She was already speaking to was a nobody, and Bucky could be someone-

She wasn’t speaking to nobody. Or somebody.

She was the most beautiful woman Bucky had ever seen—every feature looking like it had been crafted out of clouds and flowers and water and the night sky—and She was leaning on the balcony, talking to a dove.

The dove was looking at Her. Listening to Her as she sang.

And Bucky was goddamn jealous. Of a bird. 

She was looking at the bird.

Bucky wanted Her to look at him. Talk to him. Sing to him. He didn’t even know Her name, but he’d like to learn it, because it would probably be beautiful, and he’d have to practice saying it in the mirror to get it right on his tongue.

“Hey, Bucky, c’mon- Fuck!”

Sam stumbled back as Bucky’s human elbow slammed into his gut, and there was something close to guilt bubbling in Bucky’s stomach at the sight.

“What the shit, man-“

“You snuck up on me.” Bucky grunted, glancing back over his shoulder. The woman had stopped singing. Now She was just looking at the dove. “What do you want.”

Sam straightened up with a groan. “I got something for you see, man.”

“Pass.”

“You can’t pass, Bucky-“

“I just did.” He didn’t have time for this. The woman might be gone soon.

“C’mon, man, you’ll like it, I promise.” Sam jerked his head into the crowd. “You can leave this whole freakin’ party after, but Steve and I really think you’ll like it.”

Bucky glanced back to the balcony, and the woman had fucking vanished.

He had no clue where She’d gone. If She’d even been real at all. And asking Sam if there was a perfect goddess of a woman who spoke to doves anywhere around here would make him sound crazier than he already was. 

So Bucky sighed, and followed Sam into the crowd.

He wasn’t really paying attention, at first. There was nothing to pay attention to. He was standing between Steve and Sam—like they were trying to herd him into place, ensure that he didn’t book if for the exits the moment the lights turned off—and Stark was up on stage, giving some speech about the unity of the Avengers, and victory against Thanos, and how they had a very special performance coming up to show off their best new addition to the team.

Bucky didn’t care. I could be the tree kid growing plants, or that fiery space-lady showing off, or the sorcerer doing all his glowing magic tricks. Bucky really didn’t damn care, they were all here because they were ‘special’ in stupid, pointless ways, and he wanted to shove Sam and Steve away so he could go work out if he was just losing his goddamn mind, or if that woman had been-

She was real.

She was gliding onto the stage with a bright, sweet smile, and everyone else in the room could see Her, so she was real.

And when it wasn’t muffled through the glass, Her voice was even more enchanting than it had been before.

Bucky didn’t know what song She was performing, but he didn’t know most songs anymore. He didn’t know how She was making the keys of the piano move on their own, but he knew from the balcony that She hadn’t wanted to. He didn’t know exactly what Her powers were, but he knew that everyone in the room was just as entranced by Her song as he was, and that the windows were opening on their own so that more and more doves could fly over their heads in a perfect dance, and the fireflies from the summer night could fill the room.

He knew that vines and flowers were growing up the balcony from the forest, all the way across the compound, and that there was nothing in his body but peace. 

He knew that—risking a glance away from her for only a second—everyone else was at peace as well. Steve’s shoulders were relaxed. Sam was smiling in a gentle way that Bucky had never seen on his face. Even Nat, across the room, was slumping and looking almost dopey.

This woman was dangerous.

Bucky knew he didn’t care.

And he hadn’t been paying attention, and he’d missed Her name. 

He needed to learn, at least, Her name.

When the song ended, he was ready to damn it and ask. Sam could make fun of him. Steve could raise his brows. But God, Bucky needed to know Her name-

“Follow me, Buck.” Steve started through the crowd, and Bucky blinked for a second before jogging after him.

“Slow the hell down, punk, you gotta give me a warning-“

“You caught up-“

“Yeah, but you still could’ve waited-“

“Nothing to wait for. I’ve got someone I want you to meet.”

Before Bucky could protest that he didn’t want to meet anyone, he just wanted to know Her, Steve was pushing through a curtain and the words died in his throat.

There She was.

Fidgeting with the skirt of Her dress as she sat on the floor and wiping Her nose, looking up from Her phone with a wide, pretty smile.

The smile wasn’t for Bucky. It was for Steve.

Bucky wanted to figure out how to make Her smile for him, then make that smile brighter than this one.

“Hi.” She said, and goddamnit just that word was the best thing Bucky had ever heard.

He needed to pull himself together. He couldn’t slip that he’d been creeping on Her earlier. That he knew She spent her time talking to birds, and it was the most adorable thing he’d ever thought someone could do. That She was looking like some sort of angel to him, and he was a damned man, but he wouldn’t mind finding a river to clean himself in, for Her.

Then Steve said Her name, and it was just as beautiful as he’d thought it would be.

She looked like Her name.

She looked like She could be Bucky’s whole world, if he was allowed to make her so.

“This is Bucky Barnes,” Steve said, and Bucky felt himself stand a little taller under Her attention. Like some dumb kid, puffing his chest out to impress a pretty girl in school.

She was the prettiest girl Bucky had ever seen. It was a fair reaction, and now She was smiling at him, so it was worth it.

“Nice to meet you, Bucky.”

He damn liked his name when She said it. It almost short-circuited his brain—as if he was the cyborg Sam teased him about being, and his only weakness was Her—and all he could do was grunt in response and stare.

He needed to do better than that. But before he could find the words, any words, one’s that were even half worthy of her, Stark pushed off the stage with a clap of his hands and a grin, and She looked away.

“Hey, Cap, you seen the Disney Princess-“

“I’m on the floor, Tony.” She cut Stark off with a dry tone, and Bucky was in love. “Can I please go home now-“

“Give me one more hour,” Stark said Her name with a fake pout, offering his hand to help Her up. She ignored it.

Bucky was going to marry Her.

“Do I have to sing again-“

“Not unless you wanna ask someone to do something-“

“I don’t do that.” She mumbled, shooting Bucky a look he didn’t understand. “I told you, I don’t use it on people-“

“Yeah, I know, just-“ 

“Tony.” Steve’s words were firm, and She looked more relaxed.

Bucky wanted to be the person who made Her relax.

“Stop pushing her.”

“Yeah, Tony.” She stuck Her tongue out at Stark. “Stop pushing me.”

Stark raised his hands in surrender. “I’m not pushing anyone, and I’d know if you were using it on people, everyone gets that bloody nose thing, I’m just saying-“ Stark paused, narrowing his eyes at her. “Your nose is bleeding right now, kid.“

“The performance was hard.” She snapped. “I had to ask the piano, and the animals, and the planets, and all your stupid guests-“

“Ha! You said you weren’t using it on people-“

“You told me to! And I-“ She looked at Bucky again, Her words almost frantic. “I was just asking them to relax, I promise, I don’t ask people to do things for me-“

It clicked in Bucky’s head.

She was a mind-controller, or plant controller, or object controller, or something. That was the song. That was peace.

That should freak him out. 

It wasn’t. 

She was still arguing with Stark about the party, nobody’s nose was bleeding anymore, and She was still the best thing in the world.

But She looked afraid of him. She probably knew what he’d been, and was worried about what he’d do to Her. 

She should never be afraid of him. She should be free and happy and flying around like all Her pretty doves. And Bucky would like for Her to land next to him every night, but as long as She was flying, he could just watch and listen until She asked him to sing back.

He’d just watch. She leaving to make last rounds with Stark, and still avoiding Bucky’s full gaze, and he could just watch. 

Whatever She needed, to trust him as much as She trusted her doves.

“Nice to meet you, Bucky.” She mumbled as She passed him, staring at the floor. 

She couldn’t even look at him.

He couldn’t stop his response.

“Have a good night, little dove.”

———

“You need to wake up.” There’s a warm breath ghosting over your skin, a strong voice saying your name, but you’re still so cold. “Shit, you just need to open your eyes for me, c’mon, shit-“

A high whine leaves your throat—you think it’s yours, everything is still sort of numb so you can’t really tell—and the world around you goes still.

Not the world.

Just a body. 

A big, warm body that feels kind of like the world, the same way that voice sounded like home.

“Goddamnit, dove, you’re so cold- hang on, I- I’m sorry about this, I swear I wasn’t planning it-“ The voice sighs, and that’s Bucky.

You don’t know why he’s sorry. He’s never done anything to you, and your love may be trapped in your body forever, but that’s not Bucky’s fault.

Your tongue is stuck to the roof of your mouth, though, so you can’t tell him that. You can only make a long sound of pain, and feel the warm body fold into you a little further.

“You’re gonna be okay,” Bucky grunts, and of course you are. He’s here. “I- Shit, I put my arm in the fire for an hour, and it’s cooled down now, but it should still be warm. When you wake up, I promise I’m gonna explain what’s happening, but you gotta wake up, doll. I- Fuck, I got secrets too. I got a lot of secrets, and I’ll tell you all of them if you just wake up.”

It would be nice to wake up. Bucky’s asking so nicely, but it’s still only a suggestion—no matter how much he makes it sound like an order—and he can’t make your body wake up. 

But his voice is starting to stoke your small, always burning want for him, and you think if you listen a little longer, it could sweep through your whole body and get you to move once more. At least to open your eyes. 

And Bucky’s never spoken to you this much.

So you’ll just listen.

“My secrets aren’t as interesting as yours.” He mutters, and you doubt that. Most things about Bucky are interesting. “I’ve been keepin’ a cat at my apartment, and Stark doesn’t know. You’d like her. She’d like you, too, but everyone likes you. That’s my second secret, I know you’re gonna say it’s not true, but I know everyone likes you. They’re planning a party for your birthday. Big party. I think it’s stupid, but not cause it’s for you. You deserve a party. I just don’t think you’ll like it. Big parties aren’t really your style, but when I tried to tell Nat that, she told me to shut up and grow some balls to talk to you before I talk about you.”

Bucky sighs, and your body seems to be lighting up one nerve at a time, because you shifting to be a little closer to the warmth all around you. 

You think it’s Bucky’s body. It’s a good guess, given how all his word seems to be rolling through your chest. How he grunts at your movement, and his grip tightens around you.

“Can you- Shit-” he mutters your name, low caution in his voice. “Are you awake?”

You hum—it’s all your voice can manage—and Bucky really seems to be trying to press himself into you.

“Thank Christ, alright- I’m gonna keep talking, okay? Is it helping?”

You press your nose right into his chest in response, and it’s warm, and now you can feel his voice even deeper.

“Uh- I’m not a good talker, dove, so- How about this. I’m pissed you fell in the river. I told you not to ask it to be more solid. You were shivering and your voice was already kind of going, didn’t think we could avoid a nosebleed, and goddamnit, it seemed like a good idea, but then you just looked sad, and you fell in- And I don’t hate you. You said I hate you.” 

There’s a long pause, and you can feel hands on your hips. They’re both warm hands, one of them bordering on burning, but you don’t really mind.

“And Sam and Nat both told me you thought that. That’s another secret, they figured me out a few months back. Both been telling me to do something about it, but I couldn’t. Didn’t wanna do that to you. But I- If I was in charge of the party, I’d get you some cake and watch whatever TV you want, then we could go to the planetarium, and I’d make you some pancakes.”

That sounds perfect. You wish you had the words to tell him that you’d like that far more than a party, but you don’t. Not yet. And you’re really not sure what’s happening overall.

“Here’s another secret. I got you that chocolate.” 

You roll slightly at that, your body seeming to understand what that means more than your thoughts, and Bucky’s chuckle rolls through your body.

“Thought that would get you. You like knowing things. You like- You like everything, and I don’t get it. I don’t like things like that, but I try to- Just, give it everything I got. And I’m, uh- I’m kinda running out of secrets, so if you could wake up and start talking, that would be nice.”

Another pause. You’re not sure if it’s the warmth of Bucky’s body, or his voice, but you almost have all your body and head back. Almost.

“I’ll listen. Just say anything, please-“ Bucky’s voice is growing strained, and he cuts himself off with a long breath. “And you’re worth more than people listening. You are. But for the record, I listen more than anyone. I like listening to you. I really don’t hate you, doll. Promise. Just, god, please wake up.”

That’s a command you can follow, just at the right time, as the words I really don’t hate you flow through your blood, and you feel… better.

Not warm. But better.

“Those are good secrets.” You mumble, and Bucky doesn’t laugh.

He just holds you tighter, and lets out a slow breath. 

And when you blink your eyes open, you realize why he’s so everywhere around you. 

He’s naked.

You’re naked.

Fuck.

“Bucky,” your voice is a hoarse, and when you tip your head back to meet his gaze, he’s looking at you like he’s afraid you’ll start running away.

You couldn’t if you wanted to. Most of your body is still frozen.

“We’re naked.” You whisper, and he swallows.

“I know. You were- The fire wasn’t doing enough, and you were turning colors people shouldn’t be, so I-“ He sighs, but doesn’t look away. “I’m sorry.”

“’S okay.” You force your body not to wiggle closer, because every part of it that can move really just wants to touch him. “Did you- are your secrets-“

“I meant them.”

“Oh.” You drop your gaze to his chin. “I- You never come near me, though.”

Bucky shrugs. “You never come near me.”

“Fair.”

“Yeah.”

There’s a beat, and then—before you can stop yourself—the words are falling out of your mouth in a flood of you need to know. Your brain is still too slow to piece things together, so Bucky just saying whatever the hell he seems to be getting at would be really helpful, because you need to know.

“Why’d you buy me the chocolate?” 

“Because I- Uh-“ Bucky clears his throat, his chin moving to rest on the top of your head. “You like chocolate.”

“Oh.”

“And I- Fuck, this is- I’m sorry, doll, I’m not good at this-“

“’S okay.” You curl your fingers on his chest, letting out a slow breath. “If you want to be friends, we can be. I, um, I love you, but friends is good. I like friends.”

Bucky tenses around you. You’re not sure what you said—everything flowing a little too quick and smooth around you—but it made Bucky tense, so you fucked up-

“You love me?”

Oh. You don’t remember saying that. “I- Fuck, Bucky, I’m sorry-“

“Do you?”

“Yeah, but I know you don’t want me like that, I mean, friends, maybe, but not that because I’m your worst nightmare, and you shouldn’t ever have to worry about losing control again. And I’m really sorry, cause I can’t stop my feelings, but that shouldn’t be your problem. And I do love you, I love you a lot, that was my big secret, and I should stop saying that but I can’t, I’m still really cold and I’m warmer now and thank you, for that, I mean, for not letting me die, but you really don’t owe me anything, Bucky-“

Your frantic words are cut off as Bucky tilts your head back with a tug of your hair, and kisses you.

He’s kissing you. Soft and slow, and his lips are little chapped but it’s nice. He tastes like salt and chocolate and that same warm smoke from before, and when he groans it rushes a whole new spark through your body, and he’s so warm-

“Needed to slow you down, little dove.” He mutters, nipping at your low lip. “Good that you’re talking again, but I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

You take a shaking breath, and when you lean back to apologize, Bucky’s grinning at you. All teeth and joy and adoration, that might be adoration in his gaze, and you don’t know what to do with it-

“Bucky-“

“And, just so we’re clear,” his nose bumps yours, and if you couldn’t feel him everywhere, you’d be certain you had died and somehow ended up in heaven. “That is not the type of control I’m worried about losing with you.”

You can feel the flush heat your face. You might move into bursting flames, if Bucky keeps looking at you, keeps running his hands up and down your back, the metal one is still so hot and it’s sending more, live-giving shivers up your spine-

“You’re still cold, doll?”

“Yeah, but-“

“Want me to warm you up?”

You blink at him, trying to read on his face if he’s serious, but all the right words to ask are still so far away. 

He looks serious. That’s his serious face—Bucky mostly only has a serious face—and there’s a fire in his eyes that’s brighter than usual.

His eyes have always been bright. Blue the same way stars are blue. The same way fire is blue.

And it’s burning right into you.

So you just move. Leaning up to press your lips carefully to his, and letting out a soft, happy sound when Bucky kisses your right back.

It starts gentle. Your hands gripping at his shoulders and his tongue carefully exploring your mouth, as if you wouldn’t offer him the world and every single piece of you if you asked.

Then you tug at his hair, his cock twitches near your thigh, and there’s the heat. Building in your core and looking for relief, making you start to grind into the sheets, into Bucky’s torso, until you can feel his cock pressing to your abdomen and if you’re ever going to be warm again, you need him now-

“Hold on.” 

Bucky’s grunt rolls through your body, and the second your arms wrap around his neck, he’s moving. Flipping you onto your back so your caged against the bed, devouring your squeak with a deeper, rougher kiss that’s just making you need him more. He’s playing with your tits and rolling his hips down above you, and you’re warm but you want to be on fire, and-

“Shit-“ You gasp as his hand drifts between your folds, his thumb finding your clit and start to rub slow, teasing circles all around it. “Bucky-“

He hums, sucking a small bruise into your neck, and his fingers start to rest right at your cunt, moving away every single you try to squirm into them.

“Fuck, please-“

“Tell me you want this.” He mutters, looking up at you with darkened, almost hopeful eyes. “I know I do, but you gotta say-“

You yank him back up in a borderline violent kiss, only pulling back to give him a full, toothy smile, and nod.

There’s something reverent, in Bucky’s gaze. You hope you can earn it staying there forever.

“I want you, Bucky.” You whisper. “I love you, and- God-“

That was all he needed. Bucky’s fingers push into you right as he dives back down into another hot, heavy kiss, and there’s too much pleasure building in your body to even really know what’s happening. Those two fingers in you pussy are pumping in and out at a brutal, perfect pace where he scissors that the exact right time, and crooks them right against the deepest, spongey and need part of your cunt, and you’re gasping his name and grinding down onto his hand, but Bucky’s not relenting. His kiss is only deepening as he takes every needy sound you throw at him as turns it into more, more, more-

“I’m gonna- fuck-“ You yank at his hair, and he groan into your mouth, and more- “Bucky, please, I’m-“

He pushes up, scanning over your open, sweaty features with a slight smirk, and seems to find whatever he’s looking for in half a second.

Bucky moves onto his knees above you, his metal hand pressing right over your clit and starting to rub-

“Cum, babydoll.”

There’s the fire. Relieving and washing through your whole body, burning you up from your core and making everything a new, better haze of Bucky.

He never looks away, as you shake below him, or clench around his fingers still buried in your cunt. 

Then he smiles, lowing back down over you as he gently pulls out, leaving a small slap to your pussy that makes your let out a soft, whimpering moan.

“You like that?” He asks, brows raised, and you roll your eyes.

“Obviou- Fuck-“

He repeats the motion, you wiggle under him—unsure if you’re trying to move away or closer—and Bucky’s grin might be able to power your heart for the rest of your life.

“You’re so beautiful.”

You flush, and that’s worse than the teasing. You might cum again from nothing at all. 

“Thanks.”

He hums, watching you carefully. “You like it when I tell you you’re gorgeous, little dove?”

You clench around nothing, your back arching slightly off the bed, and he sees it. 

Fuck. 

“Bucky-“

“How about if I tell you that you’re squeezing my fingers so good, I might cum before I even get my cock inside you pretty pussy?”

You moan, finding enough strength to reach up and whack his chest. “Shut up, I notice your hair-pulling thing-“

“Yeah,” Bucky shrugs, and whatever sheepishness had him muttering and struggling earlier seems to be gone now that he knows you love him. “But I can just do this,” your hands are suddenly pinned above your head, and Bucky scans over your body with an almost starved expression before looking back to you with a grin. “And my problems are solved, doll. You can’t escape me tellin’ you that you’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen, that you’re so sweet and kind and fuckin’ hot-“

You whine, grinding up into the air, and this is mean. You feel like you’re going to explode, and you can see how hard he is, but he’s just stroking himself between your bodies as you writhe beneath him, like the sight alone is enough to get him off.

“So pretty, babydoll, all wrecked for me-“

“I- Fuck me,” you try to vault your hips up into his, but you’re still a little weak from the cold, and it doesn’t nothing but make him laugh.

“I’m getting there,” Bucky drawls, and you’re going to fly out of your skin. “I just wanna take my time with my best girl, listen to all those pretty sounds you make, cause goddamnit, doll, you make some pretty sounds. Fell in love with your voice, before I even saw how gorgeous you are-“

Bucky cuts himself off with a frown, stilling above you, and you blink at him.

“What’s-“

“Forgot to tell you I love you.” He grunts, leaning down to press his brow to yours. “I do, little dove. Have forever. Just kind of got carried away-“

“I know,” you whisper, offering him another smile. “I love you too, and that’s amazing, but can you please-“

You grind against him once more, and his eyes widen. 

“Shit, right- yeah.” Bucky pushes back up, keeping your hand above your head as he lines himself up at your entrance. “Deep breath, doll, gonna go slow, alright?”

You nod a little dumbly, because there’s nothing else to do. Slow is good. He’s big, and you’re still sensitive, and slow—for now—is all you think you can take.

Then Bucky slaps his cock over your clit, and you squeak, shooting him a glare.

“Need words-“

“Slow.” You drop your head back, already too cockdrunk to make a proper, full sentence. “’S good.”

He chuckles again, and you’d reach up to shove him, but he pushes in, and every other though is gone from your head.

Bucky drops his head to groan into your shoulder as he guides himself in further, and it’s not enough. You’re slowly being split open on his cock, and you’re fuller than you’ve ever been in your life, but it’s not enough.

When he’s pressed right on that deep, needy spot without friction, you snap.

“More.” You whisper, and Bucky look up at you with a furrowed brow.

“Are you-“

“I told you to fuck me, Barnes.” You roll your hips, and Bucky’s nostrils flare as he twitches inside you. “Fuck me.”

He glances down to where you’re joined, back up to your desperate face, and gives a rough nod. 

“Yes, ma’am.”

You don’t think you’re ever going to go cold again. Not as Bucky fucks you into the mattress, pounding in and out of you with a brutal but careful pace, just enough to send you rocketing back up to the edge in a second, but not enough to push you over.

And he’s everywhere again. Burning you alive in the best way possible, and everywhere. Muttering more and more praise in your ear that makes you clench around his cock, then groaning down your throat and kissing you’re until you’re dizzy and drunk on him. On his taste, and free hand holding your hips still, and his dick slamming so deep into your that you can see heaven, and it’s all made of summer smoke and spice and Bucky-

“Gonna cum, babydoll.” He grunts against your lips, and you only nod, letting out another needy sound. “Where-“

“Inside.” You gasp, giving him your best, pleading eyes, and he groans.

“Shit, doll, you gotta be sure-“

“I’m sure, just, Bucky,” you arch off the mattress, throwing your head back into the pillow as he slams into that spot once more. “Please- Please-“

“Just- fuck- Hold on,” he moans your name, and that’s almost enough to set you off by itself.

But then you moan his name and his hips slam home inside of you, right at the same moment that he kisses you stupid into the mattress, and he pinches your clit one last time, and there it is.

You cum with a scream of his name, and there’s the stratosphere, and the sun, and everything warm and good is melting through your body and Bucky just keeps kissing you, reducing you to a moaning, oversensitive mess below him.

When he rolls you over, you stay caged in his arms, and his cock stays buried in your fluttering pussy, hot cum leaking down your thighs and onto him stomach.

Neither of you seem to mind, and this is just a little bit more of him you get to have, so you’ll stay like this as he allows.

Based on how the reverence on his face hasn’t faded—only seemed to bloom, growing into a hot, fervored ardor that could outburn the sun—he’ll let you stay here for a while.

“I love you,” you whisper, burying your face in his chest, and you can hear the grin in his voice as he responds.

“Love you too,” Bucky grunts your name, pressing a kiss to your brow, and if you do die, you’d like to do it here. “You warm now?”

“Yeah,” You smile, and hum against his skin. “I am.”

End Note: I get way too invested in writing the Bucky fics. Wish I had magic brain powers to write 50 things at once, so I could make all of these into big series. But alas, here we are.

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[n0rmal-cat]

Curious about alien Yan! Are there more? Since yn was taking from one of multiple space stations, there must be more aliens with human pets, right?

If so, do they all keep in touch and share info on their "pets" like pet parent groups? And omg do they set up lil pet play dates?? It would be so adorable! Like,,, yes this is my lil human, yn, they bite sometimes and dislike the heat, but we love them,, and,, here's our yn, they love their artificial sun room and enjoy food that is "spicy" and hurts their mouths,, or gasp, imagine! ,,, my human insist on milk even though it's bad for them?? How do I keep them from it??,,,

THIS YESSSSSS

Alien x pet reader- stupid human things

ok so I imagine reader was sent to space with at least one other crew member the aliens see this as though they were “in a pack”

When they get adopted the aliens will definitely keep in contact with each other in fear that their humans may get depressed. Sending small pics like this “we saw a cement roller today:)…reader said they wanted me to run their back over with it so now I’m taking them to the doctor to get back pain meds…”

And yes they will set play dates up because if they know one thing it’s that humans need to socialize with other humans. And the play date are just.

“does your human want to talk about a book they read?”

“My human saw they had it in the background of one of the photos you sent to the group chat”

“My human says yes”

“Great when are you free?”

“Does twenty minutes sound ok?”

“Perfect :)

The group chats are also used as a say to gain helpful information from other pet owners.

“Umm guys…why is my human making noise in their sleep?”

“Don’t worry humans do that sometimes it’s called ‘snoring’ hope that helps!”

-

“Guys I’m literally crying, my human is allergic to dairy but they keep eating it :( I’ve tried so hard to keep it away from them but they keep finding it. Should I just get rid of the milk all together? I don’t want to spend another afternoon at the vet”

“Pro tip: get milk substitute instead of real milk, if they ask why it tastes weird say it’s ’space milk’ trust me it works like a charm”

Also another thing, I don’t think aliens would use collars I think they would use harness instead. They would fear that if they used a collar it would choke them so they just don’t take the chance.

Aliens are all about the safety of their pets, like humans already look so sad they at least gotta make them smile sometimes.

[himbodruid]

Merry Christmas, ya filthy animals 😘

Midnight Warmth

What happens when Sylus brings you to one of his remote countryside homes for a long weekend?

An expansion on the Midnight Warmth Secret Times

Sylus x Reader

Soft Sylus -:- he loses control -:- you get no sleep

Intended for readers 18+. MINORS DNI

Fic Master List

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The week had been a long and hard one, full of ups and downs. Disappointment was high near the end when your team had failed to gather intel on illegal protocore operations, the lead having been bogus from the start.

You were just glad for four glorious days off of work, days you would get to spend with Sylus. The moment he learned you had a long weekend, he planned to whisk you away to one of the ranch houses he owned out in the middle of nowhere. Surrounded by nothing but fields and forests, you were excited to watch the frosty April sunrises with the horses grazing in the fields.

The moment you arrived at the house, though, exhaustion pulled at your bones. The drive had been longer than you expected, and the fact you had to navigate the winding country roads on your own didn’t help. Sylus told you he wouldn’t be there until later in the night, to make yourself comfortable and choose whichever room you wanted. He’d planned on making the drive with you, but something came up last minute that needed to be taken care of.

You hauled your bags in and plopped them right onto the floor of the first room you found. The decor was quite similar to Sylus’s base, but you didn’t really have time to take it in before you were sprawled across the bed and nodding off.

You awoke sometime later, then the sun had set, to Sylus gently brushing hair out of your face with the back of his knuckles. You smiled and stretched, allowing him to pull you up and into a hug. His riding leathers were still cool from the evening breeze, and you rubbed your face on the buttery leather surface

“Sorry I’m late, love,” he said. You didn’t even know how long you’d been asleep, but you were glad to be wrapped in his warm embrace all the same.

“It’s okay, you’re here now,” you say, sleep still evident in your voice. “I’ve missed you.”

His lips met the crown of your hair before he released you. He walked over and gathered your luggage, teasing you about how much you’d brought for a simple four day getaway. You defended yourself by claiming you had to be prepared for everything.

“Well, are you prepared to share a room with me, or did you mean to take this one?”

You could feel your face flush and you took a closer look at the room. A wall lined with everything music should have been your first clue, or even the beautiful console record player that was set up on an adjacent wall. That explained why the bedding held a faint hint of Sylus’s spicy scent and why you were lulled to sleep so quickly.

“Honestly, I just crashed in the first room I found. I can take a different room, it’s not a problem!”

You made to move towards your bags, but you were blocked by Sylus holding them away from you. Looking up at him, you quirked a brow in confusion. You made a grab at them again, only for him to take a step back.

“Oh, no, love. You chose this room and now it’s yours. It’s also your decision on if you want me to stay or if you want me elsewhere.”

This playfully mischievous side of Sylus had become more prominent the last couple of months, but his words still made you pause. At the base, you had your own rooms just a few doors down from Sylus, and any other dwelling he owned it was the same story. You’d snuck into his rooms more times than you could count, but…

“Could you…stay?” You asked timidly. You’d never fully shared a single space with him, and the bed was large enough to fit a horse between the two of you if really necessary. Sylus smiled that crooked half-smirk of his and gathered up your things once again. You plopped onto the bench at the foot of the bed, watching as he swiftly unpacked your luggage and put them away in the closet and dresser. It was such a domestic task that all you could do was watch dumbly as the universe’s most wanted criminal just…neatly folded or hung your clothes. Existential was too mild of a word for what you were feeling right then.

When he was done, he removed his jacket and also made sure to hang that in the large closet by the door. You didn’t realize you’d let your eyes trail down his broad back to his leather-clad ass until he turned around and chuckled. Your face flamed, and you quickly looked away.

“Come, Kitten, the cook should have something prepared for us by now.”

You were grateful that he didn’t tease you for getting caught staring. You couldn’t help it, though. His clothes were tailored to fit his athletic frame to perfection, almost like they were just painted on. The black shirt he wore was stretched taut across his shoulders and clung to him straight down to his narrow waist and hips. And those damnable leather pants that looked like they barely contained him with the zippered panels on each side of his- you shook yourself, forcing your eyes away from his ass again. His chuckle let you know that he was very well aware you were checking him out, but he chose not to comment.

Something must be wrong with you. Sure, he was an attractive man, but you’d never been so caught up in him to openly stare at him like that before. You were usually much more reserved, so you decided to blame it on the atmosphere and the idea of being relatively alone with him for the whole weekend. Or maybe you were just touch-starved and horny, not that you would ever admit to it.

Dinner held a vast array of food you loved, and you were suspicious that he called ahead to make sure everything was prepared to your exact liking. You chose not to press the matter, instead dancing happily at each delicious bite.

Dinner ended with Sylus teasing you about how you managed to stay so small while eating so much. You flexed your meager biceps at him, spouting some nonsense about being a hunter keeping you fit. It wasn’t fully a lie, but a lot of the job was desk work along with field work.

After dinner, Sylus took you on a quick tour of the main house, explaining that the property was actually a housing complex of people he employed to keep it running. A large barn also rested on the property, housing the finest horseflesh Sylus could find. His prized stallion, an Akhal-Teke, also resided there. You listened to his gravelly voice with rapt attention, adding things to your mental list of all the things you wanted to do.

Even through the excitement, you found yourself dozing off when you sat to watch a movie with Sylus in front of a crackling fire. He lounged on the chaise section of the sofa and your head rested in his lap. He bundled you in the soft throw blanket that lay across the back of the sofa. His large hand rested on your shoulder, letting his fingers play in your hair, and the feeling of safety was so immense that you had no qualms about napping.

The movie reached some sort of crescendo that startled you awake. You stretched, playing it off as though it hadn’t scared you. Turning your gaze upward, you saw Sylus watching you instead of the film. He sat with his arm resting on the sofa arm, cheek palmed, and a painfully tender expression on his face while he played with your hair.

“What?” He said with a smile, swirling a strand of your hair around a finger on his free hand. “You’re still awake?”

“Whaddya mean ‘still’? I was asleep but now it’s too loud,” you grumbled.

“You’re the one who asked me to put on a movie to help you fall asleep. And now you’re complaining it’s too loud?” He said with a chuckle, gently tugging that strand of hair. “You’re fussy, Kitten.”

You rolled your eyes with a smile and sat up, snuggling closer to him until the both of you were stretched on the chaise. His arm came around your shoulder and you rested your head against his chest. You listened to the steady thrum of his heart, an unnamed emotion swelling in your chest. You were really here, with him.

“Do you really like this place?” He murmured against your hair as he placed a gentle kiss there.

“Mhm, I’m so excited that I can’t sleep.” He chuckled at your statement, seeing as you had napped twice since arriving.

“You're spoiled rotten, that's for sure.”

“Only because you spoil me,” you say, scrunching your nose. You fall into companionable silence, still having no clue what was happening in the movie. It appeared to be some sort of vampire romance flick, but you couldn’t focus with the way his fingers drifted across your skin.

“Stay here a few more days,” he murmured, suddenly. “Extend your vacation. After all, it’s just you and me.”

You thought about it some, on the verge of agreeing. After all, you never took time off, and you had a hefty cache of vacation hours built up. You would have to call Captain Jenna and request more time, but that was a problem for tomorrow.

“We’ll see. But I already know what I wanna do tomorrow!”

“Tell me,” he said softly.

“You’re really gonna trust me with the planning?”

He chuckled, “I'll see what you’re planning first, and then decide whether I'll come.”

You shifted, turning so that you could face him a little more fully. The action put you in a position that may as well have you laying on him, and you could feel a blush slowly creep across your face. Sylus seemed unphased, though, watching you with half-lidded eyes.

“How about…picking strawberries?” You threw out the idea without much thought to the frost that still greeted the mornings.

“Sure, why not,” he said with a smile. “There’s a farm nearby.”

“You’ll have to teach me horseback riding, of course.” You were conscious of his face getting closer to yours, his hands chastely exploring you.

“Okay. We have a racetrack in the back,” he said. Something in his voice made you want to shiver. His tone dropped and his usual rasp was more noticeable. “What else?”

You mindlessly rattled off other things you wanted to do. You’d made a whole list before even leaving for the country, and admittedly it was…a lot.

Sylus chuckled and mirrored your thoughts. “That’s a lot.”

“I just…want to spend time with you. As much as I can.”

“Your words are coated in honey,” he rumbled. “But if you’re tired and complain halfway through…”

He rolled you halfway underneath him, so that you were now laid down on the chaise and he laid on his side beside you, propped up on an elbow with his head resting in his palm. He leaned in, caressing your cheek. “I wont accept that.”

You knew your face was flaming. You couldn’t help skirting your gaze from his eyes to those perfect cupid’s bow lips that hovered entirely too close. Huffing out a heated breath, you dragged the blanket over your head in embarrassment.

“Don’t hide under the blanket, Kitten.” He tugged at the blanket, and you let him pull it away from your face. “I remember everything you said.”

“I’m not hiding,” you said. Your voice was too bright and awkward, making the lie obvious. You cleared your throat before adding, “I’m going to sleep.”

“But your eyes are still open.” He flashed that devilish half-smirk that you loved. “Can you fall asleep while looking at my face?”

“Hmm. Maybe if you sleep with me.” The words escaped you before you could think about their meaning, and you were glad he seemingly chose to ignore it.

“Did you forget what time it is, hm? For me, the day has just begun.” He heaved a sigh, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. “Since you can’t fall asleep, I'll tell you a story.”

“A story?” You raised a brow and smiled. You rolled to lay on your side, giving him your full undivided attention. The crackling of the fire added to the ambiance of your shared intimacy, and you wouldn’t trade this moment for the world.

“It took place in this…old castle. Tuck yourself in, close your eyes,” he began. You pulled the blanket up and draped it over the both of you, and then you obediently closed your eyes. The lilting rumble of his voice would be enough to lull you to sleep any other time, but the air crackling between you felt too charged.

“Once upon a time, this castle was shrouded in a heavy fog. Every year, there would be a day when the fog disappeared. Only then can one truly see the castle.”

“Hmm, and how did you hear of this castle?” You opened your eyes, needing to see him as he told the story.

“An old man who used to live nearby told me about it,” he chuckled.

“Is this a true story?”

He quirked a brow at your absurdity, gifting you with another warm smile. “How am I supposed to know if the story’s real or make-believe?

“Anyway, a girl found herself lost in the woods. She was lucky to stumble upon the castle when the fog was gone. She knocked on the door.”

“And did a prince answer the door?” You could feel yourself getting lost in him and needed to ground yourself.

“I’m afraid not. Sorry,” he said. “The castle was empty, so the girl decided to live there. Then, one day, as she was getting ready to sleep, the fireplace suddenly roared to life.”

His sentence was punctuated by a shift in the fireplace and a series of crackling sparks being released. The sudden sound startled you and you gripped his hand.

“Why are you holding my hand so tightly,” he chuckled. “Relax. It’s not scary.”

You moved closer to him anyway and he chuckled.

“How is this not an excuse to cuddle me,” he teased.

“So what if it is,” you grumble in reply. “Just continue the story.”

“The girl took a deep breath, turned around and saw- Yes, the window was open.”

You scrunched up your nose at the unexpected turn. He grinned and played with your hair while watching the expressions play on your fact with rapt interest.

“You seem to be disappointed. I told you it wasn’t scary, what were you expecting?”

“I don’t know, maybe she’d see a vampire. Perfect for an old creepy castle surrounded by fog.” He was leaning into you and you were acutely aware of the heat his body radiated. You swallowed but found your throat dry.

“Hm, I guess that makes sense,” he murmured, bringing a strand of your hair to his nose. “The movie we were watching did the same thing. The girl had walked into a vampire’s castle. Hmmh, come to think of it…the vampire’s castle and this castle look similar.”

He pulled away slightly, his eyes darting around your face as you looked at him. “What are you thinking about?”

“You kinda look like a vampire,” you say with a mischievous smile.

“How so?” His hands roamed over you again, and it took effort to concentrate on his question.

“Well, you have pale skin and red eyes. And you seem to be…very active at night,” you murmur as you allow your hand to flatten against his neck. He moved his chin up a little, letting you explore him.

“I do sound like one when you put it that way. What else?”

You poked his cheek. “You also like to bully people.”

“Bully people? How does a vampire bully someone, exactly?” He leaned over you again, imposing and crowding your space. His lips hovered so close to yours in a silent threat, only proving your point.

“Like this?” He asked. His lips descended, and you leaned up to receive him, but his face diverted at the last second. Instead, he buried his face against your neck.

“Let me…sniff your neck.”

You let your head fall back and your hand that rested on his neck slid to the back of his head. Your gasp rose to mingle with the sounds of the fire.

“Mmmh,” he moaned. “Your scent…I want it.”

He pushed you back into the chaise, rolling on top of you. You became aware of every inch of him that touched you. His knee wedged between your thighs, and it took far more effort than you cared to admit to not rub yourself on him. Your arms wrapped around broad shoulders and your hands met at the back of his head to touch his feather soft silvery strands.

“I’ll just…nibble this,” he murmured against your neck before his tongue found your pulse. Teeth scraped against your skin and you couldn’t contain the gasp that escaped. You tilted your chin to give him better access. But then he pulled away.

“Is that it?” He asked, lowering his lips to capture yours for a moment. His thigh pressed more firmly into the apex of yours, and you couldn’t help but to suck your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Don’t bite your lip,” he growled. “Look me in the eye, answer me.”

You couldn’t answer him, you were far too focused on keeping your body still instead of squirming against him. His eyes left yours, searching out where he’d bitten you, looking to see if a mark rose there. A self-satisfied grin on his face told you there was one.

“Was I too rough? Is this what they call bullying?”

“You did it on purpose,” you complained half-heartedly.

“You’re the one who said I looked like a vampire,” he chuckled. “And in the movie, the girl got marked right…here.”

His finger brushed against the opposite side of your neck, tapping your thundering pulse with those damnably elegant fingers of his. Your breaths came in short bursts, his simple touches igniting your body. You thought you could feel his body reacting to yours, the length of him stiffening against your hip as he teased you.

“I want to leave a mark, too,” he murmured against your neck. And then he latched on, his mouth working at your skin in a way you knew would leave a hickey that would be visible for weeks. Your fingers tangled in his hair, the sensations of him sucking on your neck sending tremors through you. He pulled back and observed the purpling mark.

“Mmh. It’s still not enough,” he growled. He dipped his head again, using that hot mouth to create more marks on your neck and collarbone with satisfied growls. Your gasps and moans rose to mingle with his sounds. His hands roamed your torso, sneakily lifting your shirt until your breasts were bared to him.

“Why did you close your eyes? You’re finally going to bed?” He kissed the top swell of your breasts. “You don’t want to listen to my story anymore?”

Words wouldn’t come to you as he tugged down your bra so that he could swirl his tongue around your nipple.

“But, Kitten. I haven’t even gotten to the ending. The girl and the vampire were snuggled against each other.” He moved to tease your other breast. “It was a tranquil, midwinter day. Sitting in front of the fireplace…”

You gasped and arched into him when his teeth scraped against your nipple. Your every nerve was on fire and you wanted to push him away and pull him close at the same time. He crowded your every sense and you couldn’t get enough of him.

“Hold me,” he murmured, “but not too hard. Save your strength for later.”

His mouth traveled further down, completely contradicting his command. He left a trail of biting kisses, pausing every so often to leave a mark.

“I t-though you wanted to help me sleep by telling the story,” you said, mind overwhelmed by the sensations he was eliciting.

“Yeah…but now I regret it. You’re not sleepy at all.” His gaze flicked back up to yours and his hand slipped beneath the hem of your shorts, into your underwear and you sucked in a breath when his fingers slid through your slick folds. “I need to try something else.”

In one swift motion, he had your shorts and underwear stripped from you and you laid bare beneath him save for your sweater and bra. He perched your legs on his shoulders, settling his face between your legs when he looked up at you with a predatory gaze.

“We won't wake up in time to…pick…strawberries in the morning.” His tongue found your clit and you gasped. He worked at you, licking, sucking, biting until you couldn’t hold back the sounds of your pleasure any longer. When it felt like you were about to fall over the edge, he stopped with a dark chuckle.

“The strawberries aren’t ripe…yet,” he said. He lifted himself from you, and your sound of protest died on your lips when you realized it was so that he could strip his own clothes from his body. He fell over you once more, his lips crashing against yours in a punishing kiss.

“I still have to ‘show’ you the rest of the story. You’ll get everything you could ever ask for. Just. Be. Patient.”

Sylus slipped his hips between your thighs once more, and you could feel the length of him resting hot and heavy against your pelvis. His mouth crashed into yours, coaxing you open so that his tongue could tangle with yours. His satisfied growl rumbled in his chest and you could feel it reverberate against you. Your knees came up to bracket his torso and you rolled your hips so that his cock slid against your folds.

You gave a self-satisfied chuckle when he moaned at the feel of you slick and ready for him. He silenced your mirth by positioning the tip at your entrance. Slow, so slow, he pushed into you. Pulled out, pushed back in. A pattern that left you brainless and trembling until he was finally sunk into you to the hilt.

“Fuck, Kitten, you feel so damn good,” he moaned against your neck. Your reply was drowned by a moan of your own when he pulled out only slightly and then slammed back into place. His cock dragged so deliciously against your walls, you could feel your climax building before he’d even done much.

He maintained that torturously slow pace, working you into a mess with his tongue and his hips. With every slow removal of his cock, he ground himself into you when pushed back in. You clenched around him automatically, as if your body didn’t want to let him leave your body.

“S-Sylus,” you whimpered into his mouth. He growled in response, his hips jerking forward.

“Again,” he said. At your sound of confusion, he added, “say my name again, Kitten.”

“Sylus,” you moaned against his neck. The sound of your desperation seemed to goad him on and he slammed into you.

“Again,” he commanded. He was getting rough, but your heart thundered with the excitement of him losing control.

“Sylus!” You cried, clinging to him as he plundered you.

“Fuck,” he grunted, his pace picking up until the lewd sounds of your bodies joining rose with the crescendo of your moans. Your nails dug into his back as the last remnants of his control snapped and he relentlessly pounded into you. His hand gripped the back of the couch, the other one biting into your hip to give him leverage.

“Sylus,” you breathed, caressing his cheek with one hand and grasping his bicep with the other. He tilted his face into your touch, moaning explicitly against your palm with his eyes clenched shut. He was lost to the sensations of your body, to the sounds you made squirming beneath him, down to the scent of your love-making mixing with woodsmoke.

You hooked your ankles together at the back of his hips and a final clench of your walls around him was enough to throw him violently over the edge. He came with a guttural moan, a shout echoing into the room before he buried his face into your neck while he kept plunging into you with involuntary jerking movements. The twitching pulse of his cock flooding you with his cum brought you to the precipice with him. Your moans joined his as you clung desperately to him, your body milking him for every last drop.

He collapsed atop you, kissing and nuzzling every inch of skin that he could reach. His lips found yours in a tender kiss before he rested his forehead against yours. His eyes bounced between yours, an emotion you could only describe as love in his crimson gaze.

“Are you sleepy now?” He questioned with a cheeky grin. A grin you wiped off his face by clenching your walls on him. His cock twitched in anticipation inside you.

“Not in the least bit,” you replied, dragging his face back to yours.

As the night progressed, the two of you eventually made it to his bed, where you proceeded to explore each other further. You definitely did not get any sleep until the sun peeked over the distant mountains.

There was no way you’d be able to wake up in time to pick strawberries, even if they were in season.

[nnight-dances]

CASUAL

PAIRING: karina x fem!reader

GENRE: fluff, angst, smut (explicit, but not too much?)

TROPES: fwb to lovers except you're roommates and best friends, unrequited love but not really.

LISTEN TO: casual by chappell roan

NOTE: i may be having a bit of a military wife moment rn but i'm still a sapphic at heart yearning for something more... my first gay fic i've posted on this account yay! cannot reveal if ive been in a similar situation but you could say this is based on real life! whose life, i will not say. hope u enjoy and stay safe everyone <3

knee-deep in the [twin bed] and you're eating me out

you want to say you're in control when it happens, but you'd be a big fat liar if you did. truth be told, karina had you wrapped around her finger since she moved in. (in more ways than one, if you catch my drift.) 

you met her late freshman year in college when you shared a gender studies course with her – which alone would've been enough of a clue to which ways she swings, if not for the black leather jacket and unnecessary amount of rings she wore to class. she'd sat next to you the first week in and approached you after class. "this class is a bore," she said as a matter-of-factly, "wanna get coffee with me?" 

you'd agreed because you were mesmerized (even though secretly, that was the favorite course you took that year) and followed her into a cafe, letting her sweet talk you into all kinds of things from there. she had a big friend group which welcomed you generously when they found out you were friends with karina and eventually, that became your everyday life. 

you worked on papers sincerely while karina watched you with an unreadable glint (maybe it was unreadable, maybe you didn't want to read too much into it), swirling her untouched coffee. eventually one day, she asked you, "wanna be roommates next year?" 

that was karina. easy-going and confident. she didn't hesitate to ask you to do things with her, even if they were often bending the boundaries of what friends could do. exhibit a: she'd asked you to make out with her at a party just so she could shake off a creep. in general, she was touchier than the normal person, finding a way to cup your stomach under your shirt when you weren't looking. you get the idea. 

that's how when she moves into the same room as you sophomore year, you lost all sense of self and reality. you have to thank your mom who convinced you to arrive on campus a day earlier than most, so you could settle in without the bothersome crowd. 

you're in the middle of fixing a poster of your favorite band, the strokes, in the wall when she lets herself in with a, "you're already here, jagiya!" you almost lose your footing on your chair in order to face her, heart already a fluttering mess thanks to her shameless flirting. 

"karina!" you call out, thrilled to see your friends, complications aside. you step down carefully before throwing yourself in her waiting arms. "you're here earlier than i thought."

she pulls away with a devilish grin, "missed you too much so i came early." she looks around the room, "i see you've already made this place home."

you smile, unsettled by the way she's still holding you in her arms, your bodies attached at the hip as she takes in her home for the next year. she smells like she always does: like grapefruit and spicy cedar. you feel relaxed in her embrace, taking in her appearance. she's wearing a cropped tank with a large flannel that slips off her shoulder thanks to the heavy tote she carries.

with a sigh, you take the tote off her. "your hair grew longer," you comment as you place the bag on her desk. karina does a little spin for you, giving a full view of the wavy locks that came all the way to her navel. it only made her that much more charming (you couldn't resist wanting to know what it would feel like to run your fingers through them). 

you watch as karina lugs all her stuff into the room, refusing your help with a strict look. "can't have you spraining something already, jagiya," she quips and that's all it takes for you to sit back obediently. she takes off her flannel, letting you take in her arms. was it just you or did her biceps get bigger? (it wasn't just you. karina spent her summer the gym rat way.)

"you barely have any stuff…" you murmur mindlessly when she's nearly done in half an hour. for reference, it took you three whole hours for two days to set your stuff in place.

"you just have a lot of stuff," karina laughs, closing her closet with a satisfied clap. "thoughts on ordering in for din'?"

you raise a brow, "shouldn't we at least go see if everyone's back?"

she shrugs, "we can just go after we eat." she approaches your bed, resting her forearms next to you. "come on, i don't feel like eating that prison food just yet."

despite karina's exaggeration (your dining hall makes perfectly edible food), you let karina order for you. who are you kidding? the thought of sharing a meal with your newly established roommate in your new room on your first day together… it was sweet, you had to admit. so you give in and tell karina exactly what toppings you want on your bowl. 

but where you had expected to bond in all kinds of cozy ways with karina, the night quickly an unexpected turn. you're not sure how it happens but you end up caged under karina's body on your bed. her hot breath is hitting your face, "you got even prettier over the summer, huh?"

her words make it harder to think. to think about how this your best friend slash roommate slash the person you would do anything for. fuck, it's too late and you're too helpless when it comes to her. karina's already sliding her hand down your stomach, eliciting a mewl of her name from your throat. 

she looks pleased, chesire grin lighting up her face when she reaches your panties. "mhm, karina–" you claw at her shoulder when a cold finger meets your slick folds. she kisses your cheek and then your mouth, so strong that you can't do anything but hold her closer to your chest till she's ripping a scream from you. 

"karina, what are we doing?" you cry out, still coming down from your orgasm. what the fuck, this not a situation to be with your roommate.

"what?" she whispers, lips attached to your neck without a care in the world, "i'm just doing what i've been wanting to all summer."

"okay, that's enough," you push her off until you're both sat. you're breathless so it doesn't help the gravity of the glare you hold karina captive under. she sits back on her palms, eyes hooded. 

"we're friends," you start and sensing the protest rising in her, you hold up a hand, "and roommates. you know what they say about that, don't you?"

"don't shit where you eat," she deadpans, "but i don't care. i'm not shitting anywhere. i like you, you like me. that's why we're friends. if we want to fuck around a little, what's the big deal?"

you contain a scoff at how unbothered she is. at the same time, her words stab you in the heart, the subtle friendzoning nature of them not going unnoticed (that's why we're friends? what if you wanted to be more?)

"listen, jagiya," karina shifts dangerously closer, a thumb wiping away the sweat on your lip. "it's chill. we don't have to if you don't want to. but i'll tell you right now; i want to do things with you."

"things?" you breathe even though you know you shouldn't fall into her trap.

"yeah," she caresses your cheek, licking her lips, "want to kiss you. make you come. that sort of thing."

you fall against her weakly, feeling the soft strands of her hair envelope you like a dream. with your eyes closed, all you can feel is warmth of her body and none of the cold of her words (kiss, fuck, chill. no love.) 

"only if you let me eat you out, too," you finally murmur against her skin. feel her shake with laughter.

"thought you'd never ask."

you wake up in karina's arms. she'd dozed off in your bed as if hers wasn't two hops away. the thoughts makes you flushed (despite everything) and you turn around to face her. she's still asleep, peaceful as ever. you trace the mole below her lips, envious of how little she was attached to you.

not to drown yourself in self-pity, you had always been too attached to karina for your own good. a week into being friends with her, you would jump at a text from her, dropping everything to meet at her the cafe she had wanted to try or to help her get ready for a party. 

but it wasn't without reason. she was sweet to you, genuinely. karina sensed your moods smoothly, knowing when your silence was more than comfortable and when your drunk crying meant you were actually upset over something. she listened to you, no matter how little you claimed the problem to be, her reliable shoulder always yours when you were in trouble.

so you couldn't blame the butterflies in your stomach at waking up with her. right?

"we never made it to meeting our friends," karina mumbles through a yawn later. you're both in the middle of getting ready for the day, thankfully still a grace day before classes start. 

"you clearly had other plans," you purse your lips in the mirror, working on fixing a bump in your hair. stupid karina and her arm under your head all night. 

she comes up behind you with a playful smile, taking the brush from your hands to rake it through your hair herself. "you say that like you didn't have fun," she says. she brings your hair into a bun, taking a hairtie off her wrist to secure it in place. patting your head with eyes on you in the mirror, "there. you look cute."

you heave a deep sigh at the motions that stir up at her actions, sliding away to pretend to busy yourself with your bag. "we should go meet them today," you say, "or they might declare us dead."

"definitely," karina laughs.

meeting your friends helps you a little. maybe it's because you're seeing them after so long or maybe it's just the fact that you have normal friend feelings for them. but it's nice, you can lose yourself in a nonsense conversation with seungkwan about your recently acquired obsessions with various mobile games.

he's in the middle of offering to show you his brand-new coffee machine when karina shouts, "guys! gather up! minjeongie is driving us to get ice-cream! on her!"

you spot the short blonde attacks on karina at the presumably false declaration. your rommate dodges well, bent in a fit of laughter at minjeong's tantrum. "okay, i lied! everyone buy your own ice-cream."

as it turns out, minjeong's car is definitely not big enough to fit all 8 of your friends. "looks like we're fighting it out the fairest way," seowon declares, readying her fist for rock paper scissors. 

"since only five of us can go," karina starts, somehow finding her way next to your side. you shiver when her hands clasps yours. "minjeong, y/n, and i are definitely going."

you watch in shock as everyone wreaks havoc at her words. "now why would we allow that–"

"see, it's technically just two seats taken," she explains calmly, "y/n's sitting on my lap anyway." you gape at her audacity as she holds up your intertwined hands, like a wedding announcement.

you try to weasel out of her grip, mumbling, "that's fine. i don't really want to go–"

"what? of course you do," karina's hand tightens and you curse her strength, "you love ice-cream, jagiya. come on. let's go."

your friends seem dubious of the interaction but with a few statements along the lines of they're in their honeymoon phase as roomies, they return to the rock-paper-scissors battle at hand, now the stakes reduced to four seats now. 

"calling shotgun by the way!" karina calls as she pulls you after. you don't know what to say honestly, overwhelmed by her hand in yours. you had expected her to pretend things were the same as always but clearly not: you had never gone as far to sit in her lap with your friends around (alone was a different story. but you swear you'd only ended up in her lap because she'd wanted to hug you through your breakup with your ex.) 

"karina, you're crazy," you tell her, finally shaking your hand free. you cross your arms and karina simply takes a chug of water from the brita in geum's minifridge. 

"why? because i volunteered my lap so we'd get to go?"

before you can really give her a piece of your mind, minjeong interrupts. "looks like they figured out the winners. we're leaving in the next five minutes or the offer's off the table."

– 

two weeks and your mom invites me to [lunch]

"y/n, it's so nice to see you again," karina's mom is saying, sliding a menu toward you. thanksgiving week was around which meant parents were abundant on campus these days. it also meant your own mom couldn't make it because she was swamped with work, no thanks to her job as an on-field reporter. 

"of course, you've lost so much weight since we last met, eommeoni," you smile.

this is fine for the most part of it. you genuinely enjoy karina's mom's company. she's kind and sincere, always bringing a gift for you along with karina and treating you like her own. but this time around it's different because it's the first time you've been sleeping with her daughter.

in fact, just that morning, karina had kept you in bed longer than usual, complaining because you had gone to bed earlier than usual. it had been part of your plan to keep your conscience clean for when you met her mother, to make sure you didn't lose her respect. but being the nefarious idiot she was, karina had crawled up your torso, eyes going sweet at you, "please, just once?"

so now you had a dirtier conscience than usual, having been panting in karina's lap just hours before this lunch. 

but even if you tried to maintain composure in front of her mom, karina made it impossible. she slid close to your shoulder, hand splayed across your bare thigh (curse you and your decision to wear your sundress out today). it's honestly harmless and even excusable as a friendly gesture, but ever so occassionally, her hand climbs up, reaching closer and closer to a position that was far from appropriate.

"so tell me, do you two have any classes together this semester?" karina's mom asks you between mouthfuls of rice. you take the chance to peel karina's hand off but it ends up at your knee like a magnet. 

"not really," karina answers easily as if unaware of the power struggle going under the table. probably because she was winning by a mile. 

"i told karina she should take an elective with me but she refused," you complain, deciding if this was the way you could hit back then so be it.

"i think you forgot to mention it was an economics elective," she corrects you, hand basically clawing at your inner thight by now. you shift uneasily and karina's mom laughs.

"you know jimin," she shakes her head, "she doesn't take the serious courses. only painting all day long."

"eomma," karina groans, "how many times do i have to tell you? it's not just painting. i'm an arts major. that's like the second hardest major at this school."

"really? what's the hardest major?" (the only right question for a mother to ask.)

the rest of the lunch goes by quickly, fortunately for you. you're the first out the door, eager to put some distance between you and karina. you pretend to fan yourself out of the hot mess she's made of you.

"i have to say," karina's mom says as she gets ready to leave, "you two seem to have gotten closer since you started rooming together."

"really?" karina wonders as if clueless to the arm around your shoulder, where it had been the whole walk back to campus from the restaurant. (insufferable, you whisper to her. cute, she accuses you.)

"thanks for sticking next to her, y/n. who knows where my little girl would be without you?"

you brush of karina's mom's words of flattery, not voicing the thoughts that arise. where would i be without your daughter? 

– 

i know what you tell [our] friends

imagining a life without karina becomes terribly real when it becomes clear to you that karina truly has no intentions of treating as anything more than a friend who she sleeps with and not just as roommates. 

it's a cold slap of reality that you finally feel one day when you're eating with minjeong and seungkwan. karina's next to you, like she so often is, hand on your elbow for no good reason.

"so everyone's been wondering…" minjeong starts to say and seungkwan shoots her a glare, realizing where this was going.

"...are you two a thing?" she points to the point of contact between you and karina.

"what?" you squeak, pulling away at the call-out. but your mind goes blank, all the excuses you had practiced in your head deserting you. you had expected someone to catch on sooner or later, but somehow right now all you can think of is how you already miss karina's touch. i'm in love with her, it occurs to you to say. (wait, you love her? you wonder distantly as if the answer hadn't been crystal clear the minute she crossed lines with you.)

karina shrugs, "we're fucking. but it's casual. no attachment or anything." she adds with an arm around you, "just girls being girls, right?"

you muster out a laugh to agree with her, ignoring the concerned look seungkwan pins you with. minjeong seems convinced though, "no way! you're sleeping together? i guess it must be convenient… you live together."

"yeah, you could say that," this time it's you responding, swallowing the tremble in your throat. you'd rather die than let karina get a whiff of your true feelings. you stand up.

 "it's easy." it's the hardest. "not a big deal." you thought about it every waking second. "i have class now though. see you guys later." 

you did not have class. you ran to the nearest bathroom stall to lock yourself in and let out the sobs that had been threatening your system for the past three weeks. you make sure nobody can hear you and then wipe your tears with the spare tissues you carry in your bag. 

you leave, hoping nobody notices your red eyes. 

that night, you go to your room later than usual, counting on karina to be asleep. you should know better though because she's up, in nothing but her night shorts, sitting on your bed. 

it almost frustrates you for a moment, the sight of her curled up so comfortably on your bed like you were lovers. but you weren't. you weren't even close. but she perks up like maybe you are, calling out your name sweetly, "you're so late today. is everything okay?"

"yeah," you say, not making eye-contact for too long as you rest your bag on your desk. you contemplate leaving the room just so you didn't have to feel this hot volcano erupt in your chest. but instead, you undress, aware of karina's unwavering gaze. you make sure to slip off your pants and put on a baggy shirt. no shorts, like karina liked.

"we're a fully dressed person put together," she liked to joke when she'd bring your bodies close. you laughed along but all you wanted was to actually be one person with her. maybe that would justify why you were so attracted to her. 

"come on,," she coos when you jump into bed. "i know something's wrong. your eyes are red. your shoulders heavy."

"can't lie for one second with you, can i?" you sigh into her skin when she hugs you. 

"sorry, jagiya. maybe if i was a man, you could get away with it."

maybe that would make it easier. if one of you was a man. at least then someone would bat an eye at the concept of a no strings attached situationship between best friends. you were practically begging for someone to object to its apparently platonic nature. (you were begging yourself.)

"i didn't even shower," you complain when she explores your bare stomach with her fingers.

"it's fine. we'll just take one in the morning."

she holds you to the promise, waking you up half an hour earlier than usual just so she could drag you into the shower. two girls showering together, a sight nobody would see because it was dead quiet until an hour from now. 

– 

i try to be the chill girl 

you knew it was too good to be true, your friends-with-benefit situation with karina. but now that your feelings are actually catching up to you, you can barely hold in the tears that overwhelm you when you look at her.

then, when you finally decide to suck it up and show up to dinner with your friends, it all goes south. thanks to some dumb group project karina's doing, a guy named taeyong was at your table. you knew him by name from college gossip. he was fit to be the protagonist of a rom-com, nice guy with the looks to go with it and he was friendly, fitting right in with the group of friends. 

bitterly, you reflect on how long it had taken you, in comparison, to warm up to everyone. a month, maybe? plus, he looked perfect next to karina, their unusually good looks matching each other's quality.

you're not the only thinking that because geum pipes up, "you two look good together! when's the wedding?"

seowon hits his arm though most of the people on the table join in laughter. (you don't.) "come on, you can't force it, geum," she says, "they're clearly still getting to know each other."

"so it'll be official in say, a week from now?" minjeong teases, earning herself a blush from taeyong. karina is unruffled but she does smile a little at the teasing comments, side-eyeing the boy next to her.

right. they did look good together. 

much to your discomfort, karina and taeyong only seem to become closer, with the latter frequenting your table at every meal. he assimilated easily with the group, already circulating inside jokes that you were conveniently not a part of.

speaking of which you were circulating a word tornado yourself: casual, no attachement, chill, convenient, easy… not a big deal. as taeyong became a regular with your friends, you became increasingly absent, coming up with excuses to take your meals at much earlier or later hours.

you're officially spiraling, doing your best to avoid karina. but avoiding karina meant avoiding your friends. it was a harsh truth but you came to realize you were only friends with them because of her and if you decided to break things off with her, you'd also end up a loner.

it was a cold, miserable place to be in, your mind. you left your room early and came back late to karina asleep. she'd tried to stay up for your sake a few times but you'd made your arrivals later and later, until she gave up and went to sleep. 

you know you can only avoid her for so long before she caught you and grilled you but for now, you just had to come up with a way to keep yourself occupied. that afternoon, you get a text from her, asking to talk to you after dinner. you leave her on read for hours before texting back a quick "sure," afraid to go too far. you may be mad at karina for treating you in ways that left you confused, but you didn't actualy want to hurt her. 

but come the time when finally face her and you realize it may be too late. 

"so… why exactly have you been avoiding me?" more than anything, karina's voice is weary. she appears worried when you first take a seat across from her but when you don't look like you're in actual physical pain, her expression morphs into one of frustration.

"i'm not," you sigh, "i'm just busy."

"busy during every single meal? busy enough to leave before i wake up?"

"i'm taking more classes than usual," you say and though it's the truth, it's far from being the reason why you were acting this way. karina seems to know this. 

"i'm taking an art class that has me staying back in the studio till 11," she tells you. only then, you notice the black charcoal marking her cheek. "but i still come home."

"sorry," you mumble, averting your gaze. "i'm not– you didn't do anything. i'm just… thinking through some things. i'll come back to the room earlier today."

"great, so now we're not close enough for you to share your thoughts with me?" this time karina actually sounds hurt. it was the indication of your friendship finally falling apart that has her sitting forward, eyes blinking in panic. "y/n, what the fuck?"

what the fuck, indeed. you try your best to reassure karina but it seems like she's done talking to you after that point so you see yourself out. a small part of you manages to wonder whose jacket was laid across the chair next to her. taeyong?

you find the answer the hard way when you come back to your room at a reasonable hour for the first time in a week. only to run into taeyong himself.

he seems like he's in a hurry when you step in, rushing to put his jacket on (yes, the jacket that you saw next to karina earlier today) and avoiding your gaze. you don't even pretend to seem pleased encounter him there.

you fix your glare on karina, kneeling on her bed. she lets out a sigh when she sees you. "you're finally back."

you watch as taeyong leaves without a goodbye and you scoff, "i feel like i interrupted something. maybe i shouldn't have come back." you feel the blood rush to your head, all your convictions to lay out your unreciprocated feelings out to karina because she deserved an explanation.

right now, you just feel empty. and mad. so as soon as you rest your bag, you get to changing. but not into your night clothes.

"are you going somewhere?"

"...maybe."

"and what happened to our talk earlier?"

with a huff of disbelief, you throw your sweaty shirt on your bedroom floor. "well, i decided it meant nothing when i saw that guy leaving our room."

"taeyong?" karina looks baffled and you want to shake some sense into her so bad.

"yeah, i don't know, karina, the thought of you already replacing me with some dude–" you cut yourself off when your voice breaks. "it's not a great feeling. so i'm just gonna leave."

"wait, what?" karina jumps out of her bed. "is this what you've been mad about all week?"

you pause your angry movements about your space when she comes close to you, touching your arm, first contact in days. you breathe unevenly, "karina, i just need some time–"

"are you crying, jagiya?"

you want to say it's stupid nickname that gets to your nerves finally breaking your walls down. but really, it's the warmth in her tone, the sound of her breath hitting your ear so close. you'd missed karina. that's why you end up sobbing, arms finding her neck to support you. 

"karina, i'm–" she rubs your back calmly through your sobs. "i'm sorry."

"what's wrong, baby? why are you crying? please, talk to me."

"i think… i'm in love with you."

your confession is quiet, just like your love for karina has always been. actually no, that's what you want to think but no, your love is loud: you look for her in every room you enter, hands already welcoming hers when she runs over to you. you're the first to laugh at her jokes, no matter how nonsensical or how many times she's told them to you. you may be a flustered mess when things got intimate, but you always made sure karina felt good, too – going far beyond your comfort zone to please her.

karina pulls away with a soft gasp. "that's not what i expected you to say."

"i know," you sniffle. "but it's been killing me. i know you wanted to keep things casual. and i know you and taeyong are–"

"okay, just so we're clear for once and for all– there is nothing between me and taeyong."

you freeze in shock, having been rock-solid in your assumption of their relationship. "what?"

"come on, i barely know the guy. but apparently, everyone's teasing got to his head," karina sighs, "he came here to confess to me earlier today. and i rejected him."

now his urgency to leave the room makes even more sense, you realize slowly. but you realize another thing: karina had looked cold when you'd entered, ending things with him clearly. yet, here you were, standing with her arms around your waist as if you hadn't declared your love for her.

"...and?" you prod her, biting your lip hopefully.

"and?" karina echoes you, eyes locking in yours to understand your hint. "oh, you wanna know how i feel?"

you nod coyly, a stray tear falling down your cheek as if on cue. 

"well, let's start with a recap of this week. you ignored me so i felt like shit for most of it. and then you ignored me some more and i had to go to sleep lonely and sad. then, you stopped showing for meals so i didn't even want to eat anymore. what happened next? oh right, this evening. i had to practically beg you to talk to me–"

"okay, i get the idea!" you stop her with a groan, "i'm sorry, but i clearly had good reason to act the way i did."

"did you?" karina is suddenly holding your face, smiling turning bittersweet. "you idiot."

"huh?"

"i wanted to keep things casual because i wasn't sure how you felt about me. i wanted you to keep your options open till someone who you actually liked came along–"

"but–"

"this was long before i knew you were into me like that. you're really hard to read, you know? but yeah, i kept things casual because i'm selfish. i wanted to sleep with the girl i love without losing her friendship. i was obviously an–"

"idiot!" you hit karina's arm repeatedly at her revelation, tears filling up your vision yet again. "you love me?! why would you do that to me, then? are you–"

karina catches your fists in her with a heave, "i know, i know. i'm sorry, jagiya. but–" she brings your first to her chest, exposed by the deep neck of the tank she wore to sleep. "i'm serious about you, okay? i didn't want to gamble someone i cherished over some fucking around."

your body feels weak now that the truth is out in the open. you lean into karina. "you're so mean," you say into her neck, "i thought… you were chill."

she laughs at your complaint, "sorry. i'm dumb. dumb in love?"

you let karina coax you into her bed that night, kissing your body free of the tension you'd carried all that week like she was nursing you back to health. you can't help the tears that escape at her sweet touch, not new for her by any means – but different for you nevertheless, now that you knew how she felt. later that night, when you're falling asleep in her arms, in her twin bed this time, you feel her snuggle closer. warm nose against your cold cheek, she kisses you goodnight. (and a soft love you that you can barely distinguish from a dream.)

[im-ovulating]

Alright, here me out. CollageStoner!Sero and bookworm!reader having grown close and blah blah blah he's casually smoking while yn is reading, but she's reading a spicy book and the main Male character has a Jacob's ladder and now, she's straight up curious as to how sex would work/feel with that piercing, and how convenient is it that Sero just happens to have said piercing 🤔

(A/n: You're speaking my language, Anon)

(Sorry for the delay; this was supposed to be out the other night but tumblr decided to play with my feelings and sap my inspiration to write...)

(Not proofread)

@bigboomboi @neon-gothicc

Word Count: 3,078

Summary- It helps that you have *such* a helpful best friend.

Warnings: Weed, Non-established Relationship, We believe in Hispanic Sero in this household (<- not warnings, it was just funny that it was "Warnings: Weed")

Age Rating: 18+ Minors DNI

Stoner! Sero x Fem! Reader: College Experimentation

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

You lounge against your bed, book in hand as Sero reclines against your pillows, joint in hand as he scrolls on his phone; there a haze of smoke filling the room, giving you a buzz. Neither of you speak, but it's a comfortable silence.

Your eyes dart across the pages as the main character's love interest backs her into a wall, his hand snaking its way to the hem of her shirt, his fingers dancing across the soft skin of her waist.

It's not until her hand is down his pants, tracing his length before coming to a stop at the feel of solid metal barbells that your head cocks to the side and you let out a soft, "huh…"

Sero glances up at the noise, peering over the mattress at your hunched over form. "Care to share, princessa?"

You blink, head shooting up with wide eyes as you quickly snap the book shut. Your head feels sick from the sudden movement; the secondhand high urging you to get your movements under control. "It's nothing."

Your cheeks burn as you try to gauge whether or not he was reading over your shoulder.

"Nothing, huh?" He braces his weight on his forearms so he can lean closer, the smoke of his joint curling around as your breaths disturb the air between you. "Then why did you close the book without this?" He holds your book mark up with two fingers, twirling it between his fingers before letting it flutter back down to the floor next to you.

"…" You're silent for a beat before you manage to mutter out, "I DNF'd it."

"You DNF'd it? After ranting to me just an hour ago about how much you loved it?"

He raises a brow at you. "C'mon, babes," you inhale sharply at the nickname, "When have I ever judged you for the dirty shit you read?"

He has a point, you regularly rant to him about the raunchy scenes in your books; why does it feel so different now that he's approaching you about it?

You meet his gaze before sighing in defeat. "Fine… Fine! You win."

"Her love interest has his dick pierced and I was just thinking about what that would even feel like - surely that would be uncomfortable to for the partner, right?" It's a metal bar rubbing against some of the most sensitive skin on the body, it has to rip at you and hurt, there's no way it doesn't.

Staring at you, a slow smirk grows on Sero's face as he thinks about something.

With a huff you start to turn away, "See? You're judg-" "Want to find out?"

"What?" You blink, freezing in place.

"I said -" he takes a drag before dropping down enough that your noses almost touch. He grips your jaw in a steady hand to gently press his fingers into your cheeks to pry your lips open; he exhales it slowly from his mouth, forcing you to shotgun the smoke. "- It's your lucky day. Do you want to find out?"

He leans back up, propping himself against your pillows again with a hand behind his head, ever the picture of tranquility. He lets one bent leg fall to the side, showcasing the bulge in his sweats, extra bumps adorn the side of the print that you can see and your mind finally puts two and two together.

"You have it?" You ask, twisting your body to face him. "Why did I not know this?"

"You want updates on my dick?" He teases. "Okay, fine: update numero uno - I'm hard and would like to do something about it. Update dos - you're curious and can do something about it; let's solve each other's problem, yeah?"

Staring at him with your mouth slightly agape, you think it over.

On the one hand, you have been friends with Hanta long enough that he's seen you naked, so you know it wouldn't be that awkward - hell, you're lounging in just an oversized tee and underwear and it's been fine all night; on the other, though, this could break the easy-going friendship you've built.

"Any day now, princessa. I won't be offended if you say 'no'."

You know he's not lying; you've turned him down before - a very drunken night during hazing week - and he has never once made it awkward…

Deciding Schrodinger can suck it, you make your move. This cat is alive and is going to stay that way.

"Okay," you say, getting up to join him on the bed.

He places the joint between hip lips before reaching to pull you into his lap. "Atta girl…" He murmurs, eyes already lidded as his hand slide up your shirt to trace your sides.

He rolls his hips up and you can feel the multiple metal balls drag against you even through the fabric separating you.

"You sure it won't hurt?"

"Haven't had a girl complain yet," Sero smirks, pulling the joint from his lips and holding it to yours. "Take a hit and relax, Amor, I'll take care of you."

The smoke curls in your lungs as you take his offer. You hold it until you feel a cough coming before exhaling. The effects don't hit yet, but the forced deep breath settles you.

Feeling a bit more confident, you rock your own hips down, letting out a sigh at the friction.

"Do you have a condom?" You ask, bracing your hands on his stomach as you grind down harder. His head is leaned back, watching you dry hump him with blown pupils.

"Backpack, smallest pocket on the front," he instructs.

You quickly climb off of him, and lean off of the bed to find it. "You just keep these with you?" You tease, pulling out a sleeve of at least 7.

"Complaining?" Hanta asks with a lazy smile, dropping the roach into an empty soda can on your nightstand.

"No," You rip one off the end and make your way back to him, tossing it at him when close enough. "But I do think you're a whore, now." He hooks his thumbs under his waistband, ignoring your jab as he shimmies them down with his boxers until he can kick them off the bed, his shirt coming next. He brings the packet up to his mouth to rip the foil open with his teeth.

Just before he rolls the condom on, he glances at you, "You gonna strip or am I supposed to just rip your panties off?"

But you're not even listening to him, too busy taking in the nine neatly spaced bars that peak out from the underside of his penis. Just wide enough for the ball screws to be visible from the top.

"Impressive, right?" He jokes. You nod, breathing out a 'yeah' as you step closer. Kneeling on the bed, you reach out to touch the metal but stop just before you make contact.

"Can I?" You look up at him, hand hovering.

Hanta simply grabs your wrist, "I'm about to fuck you and you're asking if it's okay to touch my dick? Go for it, sweetness."

With that, he drags your hand closer until your fingertips graze him; he lets go so you can explore. You close your hand around him, running it up the length loosely, feeling how the bars gently shift with each pass. Sero's breathing gets heavier when you trace the bottom of his cock with your fingertip, feeling the little ridges of the metal beneath the skin.

You rotate one of the barbells to see how snug they are and suddenly he's yanking your hand away, startling you out of your stupor.

Thinking you hurt him, you rush to apologize but he's flipping you onto your back before you can even start. "Fucking tease…" he growls out, eyes dark as he stares down at your shocked form.

Hanta yanks your panties down your legs, barely stopping to admire the silvery strings that connect your cunt to the cotton before they snap. As soon as the offending material is across the room, he's all but ripping your shirt off as you laugh at his impatience.

He quickly rolls the almost-forgotten condom on and pushes into you in one go.

"Ah, fuck, you asshole!" You yelp, cutting off mid-laugh and shifting your hips to accommodate the intrusion.

"What are you gonna do about it?" He pulls back just enough to slam his cock into you, causing you to grip at his arms as you loose a strangled moan. "Nothing? That's what I thought," He smirks, sitting back to properly see you as he starts thrusting.

You can feel the solidity of the barbells pressing into your sensitive walls. It's a bit odd at first, but as he moves, the drag starts to become addictive; the thick bars adding a ridged texture even through the latex that has you basically panting under him, craving more and more of the delicious feeling.

"Feel good?" He teases. When you nod, he hums, "Told ya so~"

"Shuddup," you grumble.

It's when one of the bars catches and harshly drags against you as it snaps back into place that your eyes are rolling back and your back is arching, the most pornographic noise dripping from you as you shudder. Hanta freezes above you, face scrunching up as he lets out an animalistic growl that shoots straight to your cunt. "Fucking hell…"

"I-I'm sorry…" You don't know what caused the tug, but if you had to guess, it was probably from the way you're cunt is clenching around him, unforgiving.

"Don't be, I'm good" he huffs, recovering enough to resume his pace. "Just- try to relax, yeah? Can't fuck you if my dick's ripped." His joke isn't enough to ease your concern, though, and you shift a bit with uncertainty.

"Are you sure?" Your worry is taken out on your bottom lip until his thumb gently pulls it from your teeth.

"I wouldn't still be inside you if I wasn't," Sero reaches his other hand down to trace firm circles on your clit, "now c'mon, sweetness, relax for me so I can fuck this pretty pussy like it deserves."

"God-" You gasp, "-Stop.. *doing* that!"

Your hips jerk up despite your words, chasing the tantalizing pressure of his thumb as it continues to trace the bud. Tingles shoot through you almost painfully as you start to all but hump his hand and you swear you don't mean to knee him in the hip when he lightly pinches your clit. The muscles in your stomach start to tighten as your cunt pulses out a wave of arousal. The wet noises of his cock sliding home again and again echo with the roaring in your ears around your skull, creating a deafening crescendo.

You vaguely hear him growl out a "That's it- Open up for me..."

You're not sure when you loosened around him, but his thrusts have become fast and rough, crashing with a loud *slap* against your ass as your bed frame slams against the wall. You briefly think about the fact that your neighbor is definitely going to be filing a complaint against you with the Dean, but you can deal with that later, you decide.

"God, look at you, taking me so well, my pretty, pretty princessa..." He murmurs, nosing at your jaw. "Doing such a good job for me; taking this dick like you were made for it."

The pleasure fogs your rationale and with the added haze of the pot, you're uttering words you'll definitely regret in the morning.

"Kiss me," you gasp out, reaching for Hanta. This is supposed to be an impersonal fuck, but oh well; he's looking too good, hovering over you with that damn-near feral look in his eyes as he drinks in the way your pussy all but drags his cock back inside with each drive of his hips. Consequences be damned, you want his mouth on yours.

He apparently feels the same if the way he all but dives to slam his lips against yours in a frenzied, messy kiss. His tongue bullies its way into your mouth to tangle with yours, easily winning dominance and eagerly exploring its new terrain - tasting you thoroughly for all you have to offer.

Your head spins at the multiple sensations bombarding you.

HIs hand is still shoved between you, working you in a way that makes you feel like you're floating, slipping ever closer to release. the cloud fogging your mind is the only thing keeping you from tipping over the edge - time feels like it's slowed down just so the two of you can savor this for all it's worth and you can't tell if you're thankful or if you want to scream in frustration. The drag of his cock against your walls makes you want to live under him, stuck being his dumb little cocksleeve, especially with the way his piercings are caressing you in all the right places. Just when you think it can't feel any better than it does, one digs just a tad harder into you and it makes you reel, convinced you're going to go insane.

There's no way a couple pieces of steel are amplifying your pleasure this much - you refuse to believe it.

But believing or not, Hanta still has you writhing under him with your nails digging track down the smooth planes of his back. You're sure you've drawn blood on at least a couple of passes, but if he feels it, he doesn't let on.

Finally pulling away, you greedily suck in a lungful of oxygen, cursing when it makes your vision swim with black and purple spots.

God you're so close. You're so so close and - oh!

'Oh, that's deep...' you think, stunned at the way he reaches impossibly deeper into your soaked cunt when he tosses your leg over his shoulder. Hanta stretches you to your max as he dips down to suck marks into the column of your neck, his free hand stops holding him up as he drags it to your throat, angling your head to the side so he can suck and bite on more of the delicate skin. His weight presses you into the mattress as he stops rubbing on your clit in favor of gripping your hip and dragging you down with each roll of his hips, forcing you to meet him thrust for thrust.

"Hanta-" You whine out, chest heaving from exertion. "I'm, oh god, I'm close... Hanta, please- Please, I wanna cum!"

You know you sound like a cock-drunk whore, but if that's what it takes to finally cream all over his godly cock, so be it.

"Yeah?" He pants, a drop of sweat rolling down the sharp angle of his jaw. It lingers for a second before dripping onto your chest; it rolls down your sternum, curving around the mound of your breast. "Then cum for me, sweetness. Let me see how good this dick is making you feel." His voice is gravelly as he holds your gaze.

You try to look away if only for your own sanity, but he slips his hand up, holding you in place. "Eyes on me, baby..."

It's all way too much, way too fast and you can feel yourself spiraling - the devastating pace of his thrusts, the almost harsh grip he has on your jaw, the intensity with which he watches your every reaction. You can feel the high coming. You can feel yourself becoming Icarus, but unlike he, you're so ready for the crash; almost begging for your waxed wings to melt so you can feel the rush of the fall.

The sun blazes, getting hotter and hotter; you can feel the scorching rays beat down on you as the hot wax starts to drip, burning into your flesh as you reach the extent of your high. And all at once, your wings break apart and the roaring sea rages in your ears as you cum.

"Oh fuck..." You rasp as your nails dig even deeper into his skin, finally drawing a hiss of pain from Hanta.

"That's it, sweetness, there's a good girl..." He grunts out between clenched teeth as you clamp down in him in a vice. "God-" he growls, hips frantically thrusting into you as he chases his own high; he finds it not long after, burying his cock into you as he fills the condom with his spend.

His head hangs between his shoulders as you both catch your breath. "Fuck, you feel so good, babes," He huffs after a while; looking up at you through his damp bangs, he gives you a shit-eating smirk, "Might have to do this more often~"

"Don't go falling for me just yet, Sero" You chuff with no venom, staring at your ceiling as your heart calms down.

He starts to pull out of you, causing you to hiss at the sudden emptiness. Hanta removes the condom, tying it off and just barely making it when he shoots it at your deskside trashcan.

"One sec," he says, getting off the bed with a soft grunt and heading to your bathroom. After a bit of rummaging and the sound of your sink running, he slips back towards you with a damp wash cloth in hand. "I'mma need you to spread those sexy-ass legs for me one more time, Princessa." He only laughs when you chuck a pillow at him, gripping your ankles to drag you down the bed and spreading them himself.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm oh-so awful and your new nemesis," Hanta mumbles at your protests, lightly wiping away the sweat and cum from between your thighs. "Betcha feel better now, though." He tosses the cloth at your face, making you let out an indignant scream.

He can't help but cackle at your reaction, head tossing back as his deep rumble echos through the room. "It's your own fluids??" He lets out his own screech when you chuck it as his own face. "Now that's just nasty!" He tries to dodge it, laughing. It lands on the ground with a wet thud and he finally climbs back onto your bed - well, he jumps over you, landing on his back before dragging you into his side.

"You never answered me about doin' this again," he mumbles into your hair, chuckling at your answering chest smack.

"...definitely..."

[yuuhwa]

Red Flags and Red Hair

Pairing: Baku (Park Humin) x FemReader Genre: Humor + Soft Romance Context: After the previous incident, you and Baku started seeing each other more.

a/n: English is not my language, sorry for grammatical errors

You and Baku started seeing each other more often after that incident with the guys last week. What began with him walking you home turned into regular meetups — mostly unplanned, always chaotic. You bonded over shared music taste, dumb memes, and especially the fact that both of you could knock out a full-grown man if necessary. He was loud, funny, and had zero filter — but for some reason, you didn’t mind. In fact, it became the part of your day you looked forward to the most.

And now here you were, sitting at your usual spot, sipping on a can of soda and minding your own business.

Until you saw him.

You squinted. Was that—?

Oh. Oh no.

Walking towards you like he was starring in his own movie, hoodie swinging, sneakers hitting the pavement like a soundtrack, was Baku. With bright. Red. Hair.

You almost choked on your drink.

He grinned at your reaction like he’d just won a bet.

“Well?” he said, spinning dramatically in front of you. “I’m looking good, right? I mean… do I look like Hanamichi?”

You blinked.

“…The guy from Slam Dunk?”

He pointed at his head with both index fingers. “Exactly!”

You stared for a second longer. “Baku… what the hell did you do?”

He gasped, feigning offense. “Whaaat? Come on, this is iconic. Legendary. Powerful.”

You put your drink down slowly, eyes still locked on the disaster that was his bright red hair. “You look like someone dipped your head in hot sauce.”

He snorted. “Spicy. I’ll take it.”

You laughed despite yourself. “No seriously, are you trying to summon attention or summon demons?”

He stepped closer. “You love it.”

“Do I?”

“You do.”

You tilted your head. “You look like a stop sign.”

“Then stop looking if you’re gonna hate!”

“I can’t look away. It’s like a car crash.”

He held his heart. “Ouch. Okay. Rude.”

You let out a breathy laugh and shook your head. “What made you do this anyway?”

He shrugged. “Boredom. Plus, I always wanted to try something dumb and dramatic. But…” His voice lowered, just a notch. “I was a little nervous to show you.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You? Nervous?”

He scratched the back of his head, ruffling the red mess even more. “I mean, yeah. You’re always so put together. You got that ‘cool and mysterious’ vibe. I didn’t wanna look like a clown next to you.”

You stared at him for a second. That wasn't a joke. He really meant it.

Softening your voice, you said, “Hey… You don’t look like a clown.”

He perked up instantly. “You think it suits me?”

You looked him over again — messy red strands, crooked grin, that ridiculous spark in his eyes.

“It does, actually,” you said. “It’s loud. Chaotic. Slightly alarming.”

“And that’s a good thing?”

“For you?” you teased, “Weirdly, yeah.”

He beamed.

And just when you thought he couldn’t get more endearing, he added, “So... would you ever dye yours too? I mean, not red. That’s my thing. But maybe like, blue? Or purple? We could match. Be unstoppable.”

You snorted. “We’d look like a pair of highlighters.”

“Coolest highlighters on the block,” he shot back.

You shook your head, smiling. “You’re ridiculous.”

“But you like me anyway.”

You didn’t deny it.

[stars-interlude]

HII i saw your post asking for inspo and Imma tell you about a fantasy i had. Yk how hot tubs have those jets you can turn on? Imagine spicy time in a hot tub with Scaramouche, him sitting you down nice and pretty on one of the jets until you're practically begging for him, multiple orgasms later :,)

Hot Tub

Sometimes you and your longtime boyfriend Scaramouche just wanted to get away from it all. This time he recommended a vacation house that just happened to have a pool and a hot tub.

“You know, we have the whole week off”

he brushes a stray strand of hair out your face. You smile up at him as you sit down “A little fun wouldn’t hurt” you shrug your shoulders.

Packing your stuff was always a pain in the ass especially for Scara because either you packed way too much or way too little and you end up wearing scara’s graphic t-shirts

Scara glances over at your bags “You really need to learn how to pack less..” he rolls his eyes “And you need to learn to pack more things other than black t-shirts” you throw back a snarky remark quickly. “Well black goes with everything sweetheart. No matter I’m gonna start packing the car.”

He then walked away.. You zipped up your last bags and you walked to the car yourself to find Scara sitting waiting for you. “Archons.. about time” you give him a nasty look playfully as you sit in the car “i should’ve made you wait a little longer huh”

The drive started and you had the honor of the music playing. Scara looked at you “I have a feeling that this particular get-away is gonna be.. interesting” You raised an eyebrow “Interesting? please elaborate” you smirked He just laughed his eyes still on the road and it left you wondering what could he possibly be thinking.

You decided to press further “Interesting huh? Are you gonna share or keep me guessing” Scara smirked finally giving you a glance “I don’t have a single doubt that you won’t be pleasantly surprised for what i have i store for you..” he placed his right hand on your thigh as his left hand was on the steering wheel.

No matter how much you tried he didn’t seem to crack, you settled back into your seat the music kept playing in the background as you looked out the window at the small towns and the few scenic landscapes you guys passed

The hours in the car passed by fast, and before you knew it the two of you were at the vacation house. “Darling” Scara called out to you “we’re finally here” you said as you sat up

“I don’t need all that sass” He crossed his arms. you got out the car to admire the house that the two of you would be staying in. “Babe, you know what we should do?” Scara said as he got out the car with you. you looked back at him “hm? what are you thinking?” He grabbed your waist and put his head on your shoulder “we should take a dip in the hot tub.. relax from that long ass drive” You considered his request and silently agreed

After unpacking your bags the two of you were in the warm Hot tub as the sun started to set “I must say Scara.. this is quite nice” Your boyfriend soon shifted closer to you “hey darling, do you wanna try something?” He said with a smirk, you scoffed and raised your eyebrows “and what would that something be?” you folded your arms as you said it

Scara got close to your ear like he was trying to make sure no one heard even though it was just the two of you “why don’t you sit on one of those jets huh? sit all pretty just for me” You got warmer from the idea “Uhm maybe..” you thought what could possibly go wrong? You looked back up at your boyfriend “okay..” You stood up and slowly took off your bikini bottoms and you sat back down in the same spot you were in before. Scara chuckled he then turned around and turned on the jets the hot tub got bubbly quick

He took your waist in his hand and pushed you up against one of the jets, at first it felt weird but soon the discomfort turned into pleasure. Moans started to spill from your lips even with your eyes closed You could still feel scara’s eyes watching you intensely. Your moans started to get more intense, when you opened your eyes you saw him staring at you with a grin.. “Scara.. i’m gonna cum, it feels weird” he laughed “what do you want me to do?” his eyes narrowed as he smirked at you “okay, after you cum once or twice maybe i’ll consider taking you on my cock how bout that?” you didn’t have any other choice but to nod

It felt like it had been ages, you’d came for the nth time. as you came and your eyes rolled back scara held your chin and kissed your lips gently you’d like to think of it as an apology to what he’s put you through “[name] are you ready for the real thing?” you sluggishly opened your eyes to look at him “mhmmm i think so..” he slowly pulled you away from the running jet, you felt a wave of relief wash over you after the pressure from the water was gone

But soon after he pulled you away, he pulled down his swim shorts and his cock was stiff you watched as he pumped it a few times. You were nervous at the thought of taking him after being so sensitive from the jets, you were soon pulled out of your thoughts when Scara pulled you into his lap aligning his cock with your hole. He then quickly thrusted into you, you let out a yelp of pain mixed with pleasure.

Your head fell onto his shoulder and moans began to fall from your lips “fuck baby your pussy is taking my cock so good..” Scara was groaning in your ear. He took a hold of your hips as he bounced you up and down your moans getting louder with each one “Scara! it’s to much i can’t” he let out a laugh mixed with a moan “you’re so cute baby, but i can feel you twitching around my cock” your eyes rolled back and you gripped your boyfriend’s shoulders tight enough to bruise after he said that it sparked some in you

you let out one more loud moan before you came, Scara still showed no mercy and kept going after you came for the nth time “shit.. i’m gonna cum” He mumbled his thrusts got harsher and he let out a loud grunt as he came inside you and you both laughed as you saw his cum sink to the bottom of the hot tub

a/n: see you in another 5 months, the end was so rushed so don’t be surprised when you don’t like it ! have a good day/night people

[natalievoncatte]

Kara had a guilty pleasure, one she didn’t share with anyone. It would have been awkward, and besides, everyone- friends, family, Lena; they all would have mocked her, relentlessly. It was the first of September and Kara was bracing herself for six months of the most exquisite torture.

She wasn’t expecting it on Lena’s desk.

When she walked into the office, the scent hit her. It tickled something in her brain and set her nerves alight, cascading shivers of excitement running down her limbs.

Kryptonians, you see, are not human. They are aliens, and react to things, to stimuli, in ways humans do not. The most obvious implication of this is Kryptonite, or rather the Kryptonite radiation it emits, which is unique to Kara’s lost homeworld and is deadly poisonous to her while being essentially harmless to humans without both significant and prolonged exposure.

There were, however, other things that Kara responded to differently. Certain flavors were too intense; some things her peers found pleasant were overwhelming or inexplicably bitter or otherwise unpalatable. Her enhanced hearing, even without her powers active, made her sensitive to noises that a human wouldn’t even notice. The list went on and on.

One thing in particular, though, was especially… stimulating to her. It got her motor going, as it were. Not like that, of course. Ironically it had the same effect on her that caffeine had on humans, even in small quantities.

There was something in pumpkin spice that excited Kara. Just not like that.

Okay, maybe a little like that. Even the scent of it made her feel things, and there was a steaming hot cup of it on Lena Luthor’s desk.

Kara had been summoned over some editorial matter of little consequence, probably an excuse to chat. When she stepped into her office, Kara stopped dead because Lena reached across her desk and picked up that cup and Kara was already having trouble.

Lena was… Lena. She was dressed in thigh high boots and black jeans and a tight, low cut green sweater that revealed a generous swell of cleavage that immediately drew Kara’s brazen eye. She caught herself looking and quickly put a stop to it, but Lena was looking right at her, smoldering green eyes peering at her over the rim of that damned coffee cup.

Great Rao, Lena was beautiful. Her hair was swept over one shoulder, baring the elegant column of her neck and her sharp jawline. Her visible ear carried multiple piercings dripping with diamonds and there was a faint pink tinge to her pale cheek. The red of her lipstick was almost violent and she positively smoldered. One might have thought she was dolled up for a photo shoot.

Kara was staring at those lips as she took a sip of coffee, leaving a faint white stain on the white cup.

Such a visual feast with the mere scent of the spices in her coffee was enough to weaken Kara’s knees and make her secretly fidget her toes inside her shoes. It was only a quick chat, a five minute conversation, but it was excruciating trying to get through it like this.

“Earth to Kara,” Lena sighed.

Kara blinked. “Okay.”

“Okay, you’ll go?”

“Where am I going?”

Lena rolled her eyes.

“Okay, Kara, you’re benched.”

“Wait, what?”

Lena huffed. “Look, it’s noble, going days without sleep while you live your double life, and we did agree that Supergirl duties will take precedence over your work here… but I can see you’re exhausted. I can’t order you to stop rescuing cats from trees and helping old ladies with their taxes, but I can order you to take the rest of the week off from working here. Which you are. Starting now.”

Actually, Lena probably could order her to stop doing things. Lena could probably order to do anything with the spicy tang in her nostrils and the quivering weakness in her limbs as heat gathered low in her belly. Kara was glad that she had just been ordered out.

“Oh,” Lena said, “and stop at Noonan’s on your way out. I hear the pumpkin spice lattes are your favorite and well,” she gave her cup a little shake.

Kara decided she would not stop at Noonan’s.

She stopped at Noonan’s. She got a PSL and a pumpkin spice bear claw and a dozen pumpkin spice donuts and consumed them all in the span of five minutes once she set foot inside her loft, after which she spent the next thirty in the shower thinking about Lena’s pillowy red lips and how kissable they were and her pale skin and how badly she wanted to mark it as hers and she sort of spent an hour in a pumpkin spice fueled fugue, and then passed out on her bed buck-ass naked.

Which was where she still was when the knock came at the door.

Her head shot up from the bed and she realized that it was movie night and she was hosting. She had no movies picked out, no snacks, and no clothes.

What she did have was super-speed, and this had a spread of frozen snacks ready to go in the oven, and a stack of blu-rays to be voted on, and pants. She needed pants and probably a bra and definitely a shirt. Humans were weird about their torsos. Fortunately Kryptonians were, too. Kara was rather lucky that she hadn’t landed on a planet that considered shirts obscene.

There were at least two like that, which isn’t a lot, but it was more than you’d think.

Kara opened the door and greeted Alex and Kelly, ushering them in. Brainy and Nia were next.

Lena showed up last, dressed in one of her peculiar movie night fits- a stylish leather jacket over honest to god fluffy pajamas, like a fashion plate going to a slumber party. Her hair was down and wavy and she looked soft and inviting and Kara wanted to snuggle her relentlessly and was very glad that the pumpkin spice was largely out of her system.

Largely.

Oh.

Lena lifted the two six packs she was carrying, giving Kara a suggestive arch of her eyebrow. Lena liked to bring gifts when Kara hosted, usually wine. Tonight she had twelve chilled bottles of… pumpkin spice beer.

Kara wanted to scream. Or possibly moan. Or possibly make Lena moan and maybe spank her a little.

Fuck!

“Hi-hi,” said Kara.

“Hi yourself,” said Lena. “Mind if I come in, or do you want to drink these right here?”

“C-come in,” said Kara.

“Eyyyyyy,” said Alex, as she saw the six packs. “The spice must flow!”

“The spice must flow,” Kelly repeated.

“Chai Hulud,” Nia said, in a faux-deep voice.

“I believe it is “Shai Hulud,” said Brainy.

“Sure, honey,” said Nia, patting his knee.

“You gonna hand those out?” said Alex.

“These are for our host,” said Lena. “Kara has plenty of spirits in her fridge.”

Alex busted out laughing, confusing the others.

Kara remained stone-faced.

Movie night then went on as normal. Everyone took seats, the first movie was voted on, snacks were enjoyed and beers were had. The pumpkin bottles sat in their cardboard holders in the fridge, untouched.

Until they got into the second movie, and Lena sauntered over from the kitchen carrying two bottles, and thrust one into Kara’s hands as she wedged herself in between Kara and Nia, casually tossing her legs over Kara’s lap.

Kara steadfastly did not look. She would not look. She would not look. Surely Lena was just making herself comfortable and private hadn’t noticed that the top couple of buttons on her pajama top had popped themselves and she was showing quite a generous amount of…

Kara looked away sharply. She had looked.

“Do the thing, darling,” said Lena.

“Do the thing! Do the thing! Do they thing!” Nia began to chant.

Sighing, Kara took her bottle and Lena’s, and popped the caps loose with a flock of her thumbs. Lena squealed in delight and Kara realized that actually drinking this concoction was an amazingly terrible idea.

Especially since Lena was basically in her lap now.

Kara tried not to drink, but the hint of that spicy scent from the beer was enough to make every nerve ending tingle and start a fire in her belly. She took a long pull on it and quickly realized she’d drained the bottle in one go.

Lena, grinning, stood up. Kara watched every sway of her hips as she marched to the kitchen, bent to grab another bottle from the bottom shelf of the fridge, and sashayed back to shamelessly plop right in Kara’s lap and offer her the new bottle.

The little display has gotten at least Alex’s attention, and she looked somehow at once horrified and amused and whispered to Kelly, who snorted.

Nia picked up on it next, after Kara had downed her fourth one of the cured pumpkin brews and her brain was sloshing around in sweet cinnamony goodness.

She was running into a considerable problem. Lena was curled up in her lap, draped across her in fact, a soft weight that was driving her absolute insane even as the scent of Lena’s… of Lena mingled with the spices singing in her veins. She forgot the movie. She forgot the existence of everything but Lena, and barely noticed when Alex announced,

“Guys, it’s late. I think we better head out so that Kara and Lena can clean up.”

“Perhaps we should help,” Brainy suggested.

“Nah, let’s go,” said Nia, who then muttered, “seriously Querl we need to go.”

Kara blinked and watched them all pile out, Alex shooting Lena a knowing look before rolling her eyes and closing the door.

Two seconds after the door closed, Lena twisted languidly in Kara’s lap, and was now no longer sitting in her lap but straddling her.

Kryptonians, you see, are not human. They are aliens, and react to things, to stimuli, in ways humans do not. They also have anatomical structures that humans do not, something that was was currently causing Kara to blush furiously, because Lena was well… sitting on it.

“I can explain,” Kara squeaked.

The look Lena gave her would have been devastating, pumpkin spice or no pumpkin spice. Lena’s face filled her vision as Lena placed her hands on Kara’s sides and rolled her hips, dragging a groan out of her.

“Is that explanation going to include a hands on demonstration?” said Lena. “I may need a few rounds before I fully understand.”

Kara swallowed hard. “You mean… you w-want to…”

“Kara,” Lena sighed. “How is someone who’s been flirting with me for five years so bad at flirting?”

Kara stared at her.

“Just, um, to clarify, you’re flirting with me, right?”

“I’m sitting in your lap unbuttoning my top, darling. I believe that qualifies.”

“You’re what?”

Lena grinned and swept her fingers down her chest, popping the rest of the buttons in sequence. The pajama top suddenly hung lose, baring the lush inner curves of her breasts while obscuring the rest of her in an agonizing promise.

Kara, finally, after years of this, took the hint and had Lena relieved of her fuzzy pajamas by the time they hit the bed.

The next morning, or rather next afternoon when Lena woke up, Kara looked over at her. Her eyes had just opened and she was grinning ear to ear.

“Lena?” said Kara.

“Yes? Before we go again I’m going to need a protein shake and some supplements.”

Kara felt her ears burning as her cheeks heated.

“Did you know about the pumpkin spice thing?”

“Pumpkin spice thing?” said Lena.

“Alex told you, right?”

Lena pursed her lips.

“Nope.”

“Cat Grant?”

“No, although I did ask her and she said you, and I quote, ‘creamed your khakis’ in front of her one time.”

“Then who?”

Lena grinned.

“I went to Clark to ask him the right way to go about seeking your attentions. Lois overheard and pulled me aside. Apparently you two share the same weaknesses.”

“My only weakness is you, baby.”

“Oh, it’s baby now, is it?”

“Yup,” said Kara.

[archerdepartures116]

Hey hey your art is gorgeous and I appreciate how much you love Liu Qingge. He is the best of all of everything and so under appreciated.

Do you have any Liu Qingge specific headcanons?

HHAHH tysmmm he's the best and I think he needs more appreciation because he as so much potential

my pookie adnsndjkdjeakfjt

anyways here is a list of my personal favorite headcanons:

first off, I hc that he's great with small children or babies, cause he used to take care of his sister when she was very young

He squeezes himself into fuckass crevices or sleeps in trees when he has to camp out and the hunt or mission took longer than he anticipated and there's no inn near (that being said, he would probably kind of suck at making campfires the normal mortal way cause why go through all that effort when you can just blast qi to light up the branches + he never needed to ever since he cultivated a core)

can smoke or grill some banger meat, he sometimes shares it with his disciples and they love it

secretly is a little vain, afterall someone put that braid there and having a long piece of hair dangling in front of ur face isn't very practical for certain situations

probably cuddles with cheng luan, need I say more?

him and his sister look very similar (except for height) so they can usually get away with swapping identities

he looks like he stands on his tiptoes most of the time (based on the eng novel art, Ik that's prolly just for dynamic posing sake but this is such an awkward stance for a normal human being lmfao)

probably autistic, i can feel it in my bones

he can crawl on all fours really efficiently for no reason, sometimes uses this skill to scare/test his disciples

giggly typa drunk, i just think it's cute

mf is stacked so he often overestimates the monetary value of items, great for the seller, excruciating for whoever was assigned to accompany monitor him

views food as another testament to his physical will, loves spicy food (but also really likes sweets)

in a modern au, he would be so untech savy it would make your 90 yo grandpa look like a NASA engineer

his closet is one of those cartoon ones where its the exact same fit across the board

[kidicaruslover911]

random wife!sevika headcanons

tw: slightly suggestive, may be ooc, brief mention of murder!, kids!!, mention of scissoring

a/n: bro i needed to write something to get out of my writers block so yeah here I am. also these are a random mix of before and after the marriage and also more random things so yeah enjoy!

wife!sevika who’s favorite moments are pretty much any that include you but who really loves the ones are where she gets to oil your scalp and scrape her fingers through your hair to work her magic and who ABSOLUTELY would and goes out of her way to find different and/or new ways to style it.

wife!sevika whos big on your hair, body and skin care in general

wife!sevika who’s always the one reminding you to eat, to drink (borderline has to jokingly threaten you about it), take your meds etc even though she’s also the one who tends to forget to do so herself- more than you

wife!sevika who tries really hard to regulate her bad drinking for you but who you also try to convince to try and do it for herself as well; it’s not something that’s going to change in a day but she is making progress, and so baby steps it is.

wife!sevika who you sometimes share cigarillo/cigarette with. she still smokes a little something from time to time but compared to before she met you she’s practically clean

wife!sevika who is obviously touch starved yet still remembers how much she avoided your hugs when you first started dating and who now can’t go a day without feeling your entirety press against her- you guys really have come a long way

wife!sevika who snores-

wife!sevika who…of course shed a little tear when you said yes at the altar and who may or may not have been trembling a little when it was time to put the ring on the finger

wife!sevika who’s voice cracked and hiccuped because of the salty tears that danced on her waterline when it was her turn to say her vows

wife!sevika who thinks that anything suits you and who you would trust with your life to style you- (even if the woman somehow were to develop alzheimer she’d still be able to remember what aesthetic/vibe you bring to the function) and who happens to thrift things that she believes would go with your fashion- and they usually do!

wife!sevika who usually has something to tie your hair with

wife!sevika who naturally smells addictively warm and spicy, like ginger, combined with fresh and fruity notes like mandarins or apples…very specific yes, but I wouldn’t know how else to describe it

wife!sevika who knows you better than yourself; “you shouldn’t be eating these, they upset your stomach last time, remember?”, “i warned you that you’d be forgetting that- honey you know me, of course I still brought it with me”, “you really just forgot your social security number? really? *sighs* well it’s-“😭

wife!sevika who somehow (wants to believe) believes that pretty much anything suits but if you were to actually ask her what dress specifically she likes to see you in, it would be open back dresses, especially if you have a back tattoo (has her drooling and she WILL be checking you out) she thinks that it simply looks elegant and commands attention, and not always necessarily in a sexual way

wife!sevika who loves to see you in her blouses. they’re oversized on you of course, but that’s what adds onto the look AND it only makes you look cuter in her eyes

wife!sevika who is STRESSED whenever your marriage anniversary comes around bc the chances for things to fuck up are always very low but never 0

wife!sevika who’s not the best with texting (she takes 2-3 business days to respond to everyone except for you- she takes a day) and prefers to call you directly

wife!sevika who is victim of using the dad emoji “👍🏽” she means well and you know she does

wife!sevika who you facetime religiously and who you screenshot whenever she does something you find cute or silly

wife!sevika who had many engagement gifts for you; one of them being a collection of physical copies and albums of your favs and who feared that maybe you’d be disappointed in her choice to do so- a bit old school yes but you absolutely loved it

wife!sevika who doesn’t or rarely ever wears the glasses that were prescribed for her even though she probably should…

wife!sevika who you do ghibli movie marathons with and who absolutely despises horror movies

wife!sevika who always immediately fixes things for you, doesn’t matter where you are or what it is, she notices directly; got lipstick on your teeth? she tells you right away before you can leave the house- your necklace isn’t sitting right? she’d explode in an instant if she doesn’t fix it right away… you just bled through your pants- she gotchu

wife!sevika who simply can’t help but kiss you when you least expect it, totally on random places and who sometimes even bites down just enough to have you make some sort of noise; you reciprocate

wife!sevika who when asked how she pulled you says that she honestly has no idea tbh 😭

wife!sevika who loves your repeated chaste kisses on her cheek when she’s occupied with work or doing something she needs to seriously focus on

wife!sevika who freaks out a little (more in a *😕* way) when you’re outside and not wearing your wedding band, hers is practically burnt into her skin; people NEED to know that you’re taken, ok?

wife!sevika who if asked what her favorite body part about you is, would probably respond your back and your neck

wife!sevika who despite wanting for you to simply stay home and be her (extremely spoiled and pampered) housewife, respects and even admires your choice to work and bring money home as well, if that is what you want

wife!sevika who’s a fan of licorice and who you always give yours to when eating those candy mixes

wife!sevika who likes to keep her hands on your belly because it's always warm- well, apparently you're always warm when she's around

wife!sevika who…unfortunately (or fortunately) would back the worst of your wrongs even if it meant that you need to get rid of a body; as long as the blood on you isn’t your own, she’s ready to take care of the mess

wife!sevika who wouldn’t tell you about the police asking about the disappearance about of someone- can’t have you stressing out over things she’s already handled

wife!sevika who feels like she should be publicly executed whenever she makes you seriously mad and receives the silent treatment but who always gives you the space you need

wife!sevika who’s a very knowledgeable tea enjoyer and who always carries some with her

now this is really subjective but…wife!sevika who likes erykah badu??? also wife!sevika who claims not to care about celebrity drama yet still stands in the doorway whenever you watch wendy wiliam’s show (my dad was like this with my mom goodbye), huffing and clicking her tongue at the gossip

wife!sevika who doesn’t really hate cleaning after you, lowkey enjoys it but would never straight up admit it

wife!sevika who will NOT have you clowning her for still keeping her Snoopy plushy in bed, matter fact, where is yours??

wife!sevika who makes her Snoopy plushie face the wall whenever y’all get hot and busy-

wife!sevika who never throws any of Jinx’s, Isha’s or your gifts away; especially when it’s something silly or useless

also if you guys have kids I feel like she’d be more of a “they didn’t teach us this way at school” parent and you’d be a “they didn’t teach us this at all” parent :’))

this is probably for people with a multitude of piercings but wife!sevika who you had thinking about getting more piercings herself…maybe even a little tattoo…? and let’s assume you’re a piercer/tattoo artist and you get to choose whatever for her *cough cough* tongue piercing *cough cough*

wife!sevika who legit wanted to die when she realized having a tongue piercing would mean no eating you out and kissing you for the first 6 weeks😭😭

wife!sevika who thinks that stretch marks look like the reflection of mild waves on the sands deep end when the sun shines through...you've never felt insecure about your own ever since she shared that with you

wife!sevika who still can’t believe that she’s actually married to you and reminds you every even how grateful she is for you even when you’re not in the best of moods

wife!sevika who instinctively wears that smug grin of hers whenever you guys get a little flirty and your kids go “ewwwwwwww🫣” and pulls you in by the waist to rest her chin on top of your head after sharing a short lived yet passionate kiss, her loud and raspy laugh resonating throughout the space.

wife!sevika who turns to kiss your ankle when you guys scissor

wife!sevika with whom you’ve developed this habit of sneaking your hand around her forderarm and wife!sevika spoils your children a lot, like A LOT since she didn’t have that privilege when she was younger

wife!sevika who instead of using the "you got mcdonald's money?" method to discourage your kids from being such huge fans of fastfood, has them cooking with her, explaining what food/spice is responsible for what and soon enough, they don't want to eat junk anymore, they prefer the food that they make as a team with their mom. she teaches them to be happy and satisfied with their cooking: the kids do want burgers and fries? no worries, mama sevika will find the time to make some with your babies.

wife!sevika who kisses and sometimes even licks the palm of your hand for no specific reason

wife!sevika who your parents had a hard time finding valid reasons to dislike and who may or may not have been overwhelmed with her blatant display of being unapologetically butch

wife!sevika who has to make sure all her tasks are done for the day and the ones to come or else she won’t be able to sleep in peace, you had to drag her back to bed on multiple occasions already

wife!sevika who picks up on your own habits as well; cleaning your shared home isn’t done until you have incense burning and its scent flowing throughout your house/apartment

wife!sevika who occasionally buys herself a happy meal because I said so-

[amethystarachnid]

Hey there! Can I request for Marvel Bingo “marriage of convenience” for Steve Rogers and female reader.

I’m not sure if you’re still taking requests, I just want to share what I have in mind, it’s up to you if you want to consider it.

So, Steve and reader both belong to influential families and Steve picked reader over her elder sister (Sharon/Peggy) to marry. They’ve known each other since childhood and Steve has been secretly in love with her but he doesn’t show and doesn’t even know if she likes him. So he gets married to her to protect her from her family. His love language is taking care of her… like a slow burn, a build up towards a passionate and beautiful confession of their feelings. If you wana make it spicy, that’ll be cherry on top.

MARRIAGE

⤷ STEVE G. ROGERS

ᯓ★ Pairing: Steve G. Rogers x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, fluff

ᯓ★ Requests status: open

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Summary: what the ask said

ᯓ★ Word count: 7.3k

ᯓ★ TW(s): some little spicy scenes (2)

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The polished mahogany table between you gleams under the dim light of the private study. You sit with your hands clasped tightly in your lap, your nails digging into your palms as you try to keep your expression neutral. Across from you, Steve Rogers leans forward, his broad shoulders casting long shadows across the room. His blue eyes—soft, concerned, and endlessly patient—are fixed on you, but you avoid them, focusing instead on the crest embroidered into the sleeve of his finely tailored jacket.

The Rogers family crest.

The room is too warm, the air heavy with the scent of aged leather and wood polish. You’ve been in this study a hundred times before. It’s where your father and his friends would discuss business deals that shaped entire industries, where your sister Sharon would charm visiting dignitaries with her effortless wit and poise. You, on the other hand, always felt out of place here, like a child wearing shoes too big to fill.

But tonight, you are here for something far more personal.

“I won’t pretend this is how I imagined things going,” Steve begins, his voice steady but tinged with something unnameable—regret, maybe, or resignation. “But it’s clear to me that... things can’t continue as they are.”

Your breath catches, and you bite the inside of your cheek to keep from saying something foolish. Of course, he doesn’t mean you specifically. He’s talking about your family, your situation. You know Steve well enough to recognize when he’s treading carefully, picking his words with the precision of a man dismantling a bomb.

“I know your father,” he continues, his jaw tightening briefly, “and I know what kind of man he is. The kind of... expectations he has for you and Sharon.”

You flinch at the mention of her name, your elder sister, the golden child of your family. Sharon was meant to marry Steve, not you. Everyone knew it; the whispers at gala events, the approving nods from their respective parents, the way Sharon carried herself around him like a queen certain of her crown.

And yet, it was you Steve had chosen.

The memory of that announcement still makes your heart race, even now, months later. It had been surreal, watching your father’s barely concealed fury, Sharon’s stunned disbelief. You hadn’t been able to look at Steve that night, terrified your face would betray the feelings you’ve kept locked away for years.

You clear your throat, forcing yourself back to the present. “Steve, you don’t have to—”

“I do,” he interrupts, his voice firm but not unkind. His eyes lock onto yours, and for a moment, the intensity of his gaze makes it impossible to breathe. “You don’t deserve what they’ve done to you. What they’re still doing to you.”

The words hang in the air between you, raw and unvarnished.

“I want to help,” he says softly.

Your heart aches at the sincerity in his voice. He means it. He always means what he says—one of the many reasons you’ve loved him since you were too young to understand what love even was. But you can’t let him see that now, not when everything is so precariously balanced.

“Marriage,” you murmur, testing the word as if it might shatter on your tongue. “You think that’s the answer?”

“I think it’s the best chance you’ll have to get out from under your father’s thumb,” Steve replies without hesitation. “And it’ll keep you safe.”

Safe. The word feels foreign, almost mythical, like something out of a bedtime story.

“And you?” you ask, folding your hands tighter to steady them. “What do you get out of this, Steve?”

For a moment, he doesn’t answer, his expression unreadable. Then he leans back in his chair, exhaling slowly.

“Peace of mind,” he says finally. “Knowing you’re not being hurt anymore. Knowing you’re not... alone in that house.”

Your throat tightens, and you swallow hard to keep the emotion at bay. You can’t let him see how much his words affect you, how desperately you want to believe in the future he’s offering.

“And what about Sharon?” you ask quietly.

Steve’s lips press into a thin line, and he looks away, his gaze settling somewhere over your shoulder. “She’ll be fine,” he says after a moment. “She doesn’t... need me the way you do.”

The words hit you like a lightning strike, and you’re sure he can hear the hitch in your breath, even though you try to hide it.

You force yourself to nod, your mind racing. If you agree to this, you’ll be tying yourself to Steve in ways you’ve only dreamed about—and yet, it won’t be real. Not for him.

But then again, isn’t that better than nothing?

“Alright,” you say softly, the word barely audible.

Steve’s gaze snaps back to you, his brows knitting together in surprise. “Are you sure?” he asks, his voice gentle but insistent. “You don’t have to decide now.”

“I’m sure,” you say, more firmly this time. “If it’ll... help, then I’ll do it.”

He studies you for a long moment, and you wonder if he can see through the careful mask you’re wearing. If he knows how much of this decision is driven not by logic, but by the love you’ve kept hidden from him for so long.

Finally, he nods, a small, relieved smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Alright,” he says. “Then we’ll make it work. Together.”

Together.

The word echoes in your mind, a promise and a torment all at once.

And as Steve begins outlining the next steps, his voice steady and reassuring, you can’t help but wonder how long you’ll be able to keep your feelings buried now that the future you’ve always wanted is so tantalizingly close—and yet, still out of reach.

The weeks pass in a blur of arrangements. You’d never thought a wedding—your wedding—would be so impersonal, a series of carefully orchestrated events where your opinion seems to matter the least. Your family dominates every decision, from the floral arrangements to the guest list, while Steve listens patiently, occasionally intervening with quiet authority when the plans grow too elaborate or stray too far from practicality.

“We don’t need a five-tiered cake,” he says during one such discussion, his tone calm but firm. He sits beside you at the long dining table, his fingers grazing yours briefly under the polished surface. “Something simpler will do just fine.”

Your mother sniffs delicately, clearly displeased. “Simpler isn’t what people expect from a union like this, Steve,” she says, as if this is the most pressing concern. She doesn’t even glance at you when she says it, her sharp gaze fixed on Steve as if she can convince him to reconsider with sheer willpower.

He doesn’t flinch. “They’ll have to manage their expectations,” he replies smoothly, leaning back in his chair.

You catch yourself staring at him, your heart swelling with a quiet gratitude you don’t know how to express. Moments like this, small but significant, remind you why you fell in love with him in the first place. Steve Rogers has always been unshakable, a solid presence in the chaos of your life.

Still, your mother isn’t the type to back down easily.

“I just think,” she says, her voice laced with sugar-coated venom, “that Sharon would have been better suited to manage the kind of attention this marriage will bring. She’s always been... more poised under pressure.”

The words are a knife, slipping between your ribs before you even realize it. You glance down at your hands, your fingernails biting into your palms. This isn’t the first time she’s made such a comment, and it won’t be the last.

“Y/N is perfectly capable of handling herself,” Steve says, his voice cold enough to frost the edges of the room. “And if anyone has an issue with her, they’ll have to take it up with me.”

The silence that follows is heavy, your mother pursing her lips in annoyance but wisely deciding not to push further. You feel Steve’s gaze on you, but you keep your eyes fixed on the tablecloth, unwilling to let him see the cracks forming in your carefully constructed composure.

Later that evening, when the guests have gone and the house has fallen silent, you find yourself standing by the window of the guest room Steve insisted you use whenever you stayed over. The city lights shimmer in the distance, blurred by the tears you refuse to let fall.

You don’t hear him enter, but you feel his presence before he speaks.

“Y/N?” His voice is gentle, almost hesitant.

You wipe at your eyes quickly and turn to face him, forcing a smile. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you come in.”

He doesn’t buy the act for a second. He never does.

“They shouldn’t have said those things,” he says quietly, his expression shadowed with anger and something deeper, something protective.

“It’s nothing I haven’t heard before,” you say, trying to brush it off. But the tremor in your voice betrays you, and Steve’s jaw tightens.

“It’s not nothing,” he says, stepping closer. His hand hovers near yours, as if he’s waiting for permission to close the distance. “You shouldn’t have to deal with that, not from them or anyone else.”

You want to argue, to tell him that it’s fine, that you’re used to it—but the words catch in your throat, strangled by the weight of years spent trying to live up to impossible expectations.

“I don’t know how you do it,” you whisper instead, your voice barely audible. “How you always seem so... steady, even when everything’s falling apart.”

His lips curve into a faint smile, but there’s no humor in it. “I’m not as steady as you think,” he says. “But when it comes to you...” He trails off, his gaze softening. “I just want to make things easier for you, Y/N. Even if it’s just a little.”

The vulnerability in his voice undoes you. Before you can stop yourself, you reach out and take his hand, the warmth of his skin grounding you in a way nothing else can.

“Thank you,” you say, the words simple but heavy with meaning.

His thumb brushes over the back of your hand, a small, comforting gesture that sends a shiver down your spine. For a moment, you let yourself imagine what it would be like to stay like this forever, to let go of all the fear and doubt and simply trust in the man standing before you.

The moment doesn’t last.

The wedding approaches faster than you anticipate, each day bringing new challenges and fresh reminders of your family’s disapproval. Sharon, in particular, takes every opportunity to remind you of what she sees as your inadequacy, her words barbed and cutting.

“You should really work on your posture,” she says one afternoon as you stand for yet another fitting. “You’ll be photographed from every angle, and we wouldn’t want people to think you’re uncomfortable in your own skin.”

You grit your teeth and force a polite smile, refusing to give her the satisfaction of a reaction.

Steve, however, is less inclined to stay silent. “I think she looks perfect,” he says from where he’s leaning against the doorway, his arms crossed. His tone is casual, but there’s an edge to it that makes Sharon’s smile falter.

“Of course,” Sharon says smoothly, recovering quickly. “I’m just offering some advice. You know how the press can be.”

Steve doesn’t respond, his gaze shifting to you instead. “Ready to go?” he asks, his expression softening.

You nod, grateful for the excuse to escape.

In the car, the tension in your shoulders begins to ease, the quiet hum of the engine a welcome reprieve from the chaos of the day. Steve drives with one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the center console.

“You okay?” he asks after a while, his voice low.

“I’m fine,” you say automatically.

He glances at you, his blue eyes full of quiet concern. “You don’t have to be fine all the time, you know.”

The words hit you harder than they should, and before you can stop yourself, the tears you’ve been holding back spill over.

Steve pulls the car to the side of the road without hesitation, cutting the engine. He turns to you, his expression unreadable, and for a moment, you’re afraid he might say something that will break you completely.

Instead, he reaches out and takes your hand, his grip firm but gentle. “Y/N,” he says softly, “you’re stronger than anyone gives you credit for. But you don’t have to do this alone. Not anymore.”

His words unravel something deep inside you, and you let out a shaky breath, the weight of everything finally catching up to you.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, ashamed of your tears.

“Don’t be,” he says, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.”

The sincerity in his voice is almost too much to bear, and for the first time in a long time, you let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, things will be okay.

The wedding day arrives sooner than you expect, the morning a whirlwind of activity and last-minute preparations. Your family is on their best behavior, their smiles polished and their words carefully measured. But you can feel the tension simmering beneath the surface, a reminder of all the unspoken grievances and unmet expectations that have defined your relationship with them.

Steve, however, is a calming presence throughout it all. He stays by your side whenever he can, his quiet strength a constant source of reassurance.

When you finally stand at the altar, his hands holding yours, the world seems to fade away.

“You ready?” he whispers, a small smile tugging at his lips.

You nod, your heart pounding. “Yeah,” you say, your voice steady.

And for the first time in years, you feel like you might actually mean it.

The moment the car pulls up to Steve’s penthouse, your breath catches in your throat. It’s not that you didn’t know it would be beautiful—everything about the Rogers family speaks of understated elegance and wealth—but seeing it in person is something else entirely.

The building is sleek and modern, towering over the city with floor-to-ceiling windows that glint in the afternoon sun. The lobby is quiet and luxurious, with polished marble floors and discreet staff who greet Steve with quiet deference as you walk through.

The elevator ride to the top floor feels endless, even though you know it’s only a matter of seconds. Steve stands beside you, his hands in his pockets, his expression calm and unreadable.

“You don’t have to be nervous,” he says softly, glancing at you.

“I’m not nervous,” you lie, gripping your clutch like it might save you from drowning.

He doesn’t call you out on it, just offers a small smile as the elevator doors slide open.

The penthouse is breathtaking.

The first thing you notice is the light. Floor-to-ceiling windows span almost the entire space, offering an uninterrupted view of the city skyline. The open-concept design is modern but warm, with sleek furniture in neutral tones and touches of warmth in the form of rich wood accents and soft throws draped over the sofas.

But what strikes you most is how... lived-in it feels. There are signs of Steve everywhere: books stacked neatly on a low table, a well-used leather armchair in one corner, and a collection of vintage records on a shelf near the fireplace.

“You don’t have to unpack everything today,” Steve says as you step inside, his voice cutting through your awe. “Take your time.”

You turn to him, unsure of what to say. “It’s beautiful,” you manage.

He smiles, a little sheepish. “Thanks. I had it redone a few years ago. It’s nothing fancy, but it’s home.”

Home. The word feels strange on your tongue, foreign in a way that makes your chest ache.

Steve seems to sense your hesitation. “Come on,” he says gently, nodding toward a hallway. “I’ll show you to your room.”

You follow him, your heels clicking softly against the polished floors. The hallway leads to a series of doors, and Steve stops in front of one near the end.

“This is yours,” he says, pushing the door open.

The room is spacious and bright, with soft, neutral tones and a large bed that looks like it belongs in a luxury hotel. A vase of fresh flowers sits on the nightstand, their fragrance subtle but soothing.

“It’s perfect,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I’m glad you like it.” He hesitates, then nods toward the door across the hall. “That’s my room. I figured you’d want your own space.”

You blink, caught off guard. “Oh. I... thank you.”

Steve rubs the back of his neck, looking slightly awkward. “I meant what I said before,” he says. “I’m not expecting anything from you, Y/N. This arrangement... it’s about giving you a chance to breathe, not making you feel trapped.”

The sincerity in his voice is overwhelming, and for a moment, all you can do is nod.

That night, as you lie in the unfamiliar comfort of your new bed, you think about his words. About how, for the first time in as long as you can remember, you feel like you can finally exhale.

The first few weeks of married life are surreal.

Steve is considerate to a fault, never overstepping boundaries or making you feel uncomfortable. He leaves early for work most mornings, though he always makes sure there’s coffee brewing and a note on the counter with a simple message—Take your time today or Call if you need anything.

You spend your days exploring the penthouse, slowly making the space your own. Steve encourages it, even going out of his way to pick up little things he thinks you might like—a throw pillow in your favorite color, a set of candles that smell like lavender.

At night, the two of you settle into a routine of quiet companionship. Sometimes you watch movies together, sitting on opposite ends of the couch with a bowl of popcorn between you. Other times, you talk about nothing and everything—his work, your favorite books, the quirks of city life.

It’s easy, in a way you never expected.

But the outside world is harder to ignore.

The first time the two of you go out together as a married couple, the paparazzi are relentless.

You’re having dinner at a quiet restaurant Steve picked specifically for its privacy, but as soon as you step outside, cameras flash like fireworks, and voices shout questions you’re too overwhelmed to process.

“Steve! Over here!” “Y/N, how does it feel to marry into the Rogers family?” “Any truth to the rumors that Sharon was the first choice?”

The last question hits you like a slap, and you flinch despite yourself. Steve notices immediately, his hand coming to rest lightly on the small of your back as he steers you toward the waiting car.

“Don’t listen to them,” he says quietly as the driver pulls away from the curb.

“It’s hard not to,” you admit, staring down at your hands.

He doesn’t respond right away, but when you glance up, you find him watching you with an intensity that makes your pulse quicken. “You don’t owe anyone an explanation,” he says finally. “Least of all them.”

His words linger in your mind long after you return home, and you find yourself replaying them whenever the gossip columns grow particularly vicious.

It’s not all bad, though. There are moments of levity that catch you off guard, moments when Steve’s dry humor or unexpected playfulness makes you laugh so hard you forget the world outside entirely.

Like the time you catch him trying to teach himself how to cook.

“Steve,” you say, barely holding back a laugh as you step into the kitchen and find him staring intently at a cookbook, his apron already dusted with flour. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to make pancakes,” he says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“At eight o’clock at night?”

“Breakfast for dinner is underrated,” he says with a grin.

The pancakes are terrible—burnt on the outside, raw on the inside—but you eat them anyway, laughing together at the absurdity of it all.

Moments like these, small and unexpected, are what make you realize how dangerous this arrangement is becoming.

Because the more time you spend with Steve, the harder it is to ignore the feelings you’ve spent years trying to bury.

It happens gradually, the way you and Steve grow closer.

He starts leaving his door open at night, and sometimes you find yourself lingering in the hallway, talking until your voices grow soft and drowsy. Other times, he joins you on the couch, sitting closer than usual as the two of you share a blanket and argue over what to watch.

The tension between you is subtle but undeniable, a quiet hum that grows louder with each passing day.

One night, after a particularly long dinner with your family—where your mother spent most of the evening hinting that it wasn’t too late for Steve to change his mind—you come home feeling like you might shatter.

Steve finds you sitting on the floor of the living room, your knees pulled to your chest as you stare out the window.

“They’re not worth this,” he says softly, sitting down beside you.

“I know,” you whisper, your voice thick with unshed tears. “But it doesn’t make it hurt any less.”

He doesn’t say anything, just wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulls you close. The warmth of his embrace is comforting, and for the first time that night, you feel like you can breathe.

“You deserve better,” he murmurs, his voice barely audible.

You don’t respond, but the way you lean into him says more than words ever could.

The months slip by, and the world outside continues to watch, speculate, and gossip. But inside the walls of the penthouse, you and Steve carve out a life that feels uniquely yours.

It’s not perfect—there are moments of doubt and miscommunication, times when the weight of everything threatens to pull you under. But there are also moments of joy and connection, moments that remind you why you agreed to this in the first place.

And as you sit together one night, sharing a quiet meal and laughing over something inconsequential, you realize that somewhere along the way, this marriage stopped feeling like an arrangement.

It started feeling like home.

The nights blur together in a haze of quiet companionship. You and Steve continue to drift closer, though neither of you acknowledges it outright. It’s in the little things: the way he pours your coffee just the way you like it without asking, the way you find yourself lingering in the kitchen just to hear him hum softly while he cooks.

And then there’s the night everything changes.

It starts innocently enough. You’re sitting on the couch, a blanket draped over your legs as you both watch a late-night movie. Steve looks as relaxed as you’ve ever seen him, his long legs stretched out on the ottoman, his arm resting along the back of the couch.

“You’re going to fall asleep,” he teases when your head droops for the third time.

“I’m not,” you mumble, though the weight of your eyelids betrays you.

He chuckles softly. “Come on, let’s get you to bed.”

You barely manage to shuffle down the hallway, exhaustion tugging at your every step. When you finally collapse onto the edge of your bed, you don’t even bother to change out of your clothes, too tired to care.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” Steve says from the doorway, but you’re already slipping into unconsciousness.

When you wake up hours later, it takes you a moment to realize what’s different. The room is dark, but the steady warmth beside you is unmistakable.

You turn your head, your breath catching as you see Steve sprawled on his back, one arm draped over his face. He must have come to check on you and fallen asleep without meaning to.

For a moment, you think about waking him, but something stops you. Maybe it’s the way his face looks so peaceful in sleep, or maybe it’s the comfort of his presence. Whatever the reason, you close your eyes again, letting the soft rhythm of his breathing lull you back to sleep.

The next morning, you expect things to feel awkward, but Steve acts as if nothing unusual happened. If anything, he seems more relaxed, his smile a little softer, his touches lingering just a fraction longer.

That night, as you stand in the doorway of your room, you hesitate.

“Steve?” you call, your voice barely above a whisper.

He looks up from his place on the couch, his book resting in his lap. “Yeah?”

“Would you—” You hesitate, your cheeks flushing. “Would you mind sleeping here again? I just... I slept better with you there.”

You half expect him to laugh, but he doesn’t. Instead, he closes his book and sets it aside, his expression unreadable.

“Of course,” he says simply.

The warmth that spreads through your chest is almost overwhelming.

That night, you fall asleep with the quiet reassurance of his presence beside you, and when you wake up to find his arm draped lightly over your waist, you don’t move.

The next few weeks are a delicate balancing act. You and Steve don’t talk about the nights you spend together, but they quickly become a routine. He starts reading in your room before bed, and you find yourself looking forward to the quiet moments before sleep when you can hear the low timbre of his voice as he reads aloud.

But the outside world isn’t as accommodating.

It begins at a family dinner, one of the infrequent but mandatory gatherings your mother insists on hosting. The Rogers family is there, Steve’s parents a picture of poise and sophistication. Your own family is on their best behavior at first, their voices sugary sweet as they discuss inconsequential topics.

But then the conversation shifts.

“So,” your mother says, fixing you with a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “How are you settling in? Married life seems to agree with you.”

“It does,” you say, keeping your tone polite.

“It must be so exciting,” Sharon interjects, her voice dripping with feigned enthusiasm. “Starting a life together, building a future...” She pauses, her eyes gleaming. “Planning for children.”

Your fork stills on your plate, but before you can respond, your mother jumps in.

“Yes, children are so important, aren’t they?” she says, looking pointedly at you. “I’m sure you’ll want to start soon, won’t you? After all, a family name like Rogers needs an heir.”

Your stomach churns, but you force a smile. “We’re taking things one step at a time,” you say evenly.

“Oh, but don’t wait too long,” your mother continues, ignoring your words entirely. “Sharon always said she wanted at least three. Isn’t that right, dear?”

Sharon smiles sweetly. “Of course. I’d already have one by now if I were in Y/N’s position.”

The words hang heavy in the air, a pointed reminder of everything they think you’re failing to be.

Steve’s fork clinks against his plate, and when you glance at him, his expression is stony.

“That’s enough,” he says, his voice calm but carrying an unmistakable edge. “Y/N and I will handle things in our own time. And I’d appreciate it if we could leave it at that.”

Your mother’s smile falters, but she quickly recovers, smoothing her napkin over her lap. “Of course,” she says, her tone saccharine. “We’re just so eager for you two to start a family. It’s such a big responsibility, being part of the Rogers legacy.”

Steve doesn’t respond, his jaw tight. You don’t miss the way his mother raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed with your family’s behavior.

The rest of the dinner passes in strained silence, and by the time you return home, your nerves are frayed.

“I’m sorry,” you say as soon as the door closes behind you.

Steve frowns, shrugging off his jacket. “What are you apologizing for?”

“For them,” you say, wrapping your arms around yourself. “For the way they act, the things they say... It’s not fair to you.”

Steve crosses the room in two strides, his hands coming to rest gently on your shoulders. “Y/N,” he says softly, his eyes meeting yours. “You don’t have to apologize for them. None of this is your fault.”

You nod, though the knot in your chest remains.

He hesitates, then pulls you into a hug, his arms wrapping around you with a quiet strength that makes your knees weak.

“They don’t get to define you,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your hair. “Not them, not anyone. You’re more than enough, Y/N. You always have been.”

The words break something inside you, and for the first time in a long time, you let yourself cry.

Steve doesn’t let go, holding you tightly until the tears finally subside. And when you pull back to look at him, the tenderness in his gaze steals the breath from your lungs.

“Thank you,” you whisper, your voice trembling.

“Always,” he says, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

That night, as you lie in bed with Steve’s arm draped protectively around you, you feel something shift. The walls you’ve spent years building are starting to crumble, and for once, you’re not afraid.

The nights you share become a solace, a quiet refuge from the chaos of the outside world. Steve is patient, never pushing, always letting you set the pace. And though neither of you says it outright, the way he holds you, the way he looks at you, speaks volumes.

Your family continues to hover on the periphery, their expectations weighing heavy. But with Steve by your side, the weight feels a little easier to bear.

And as the days turn into weeks, you find yourself wondering if maybe, just maybe, this could be more than an arrangement.

Maybe it already is.

The penthouse is quiet, save for the soft hum of the city below. You’re curled up on the couch, your laptop balanced precariously on your knees as you type furiously. Working from home has its perks—no dress code, no commute—but today, your focus feels like it’s slipping through your fingers.

The ache in your neck reminds you that you’ve been hunched over for hours, so you decide to take a break. Stretching out your legs, you grab your phone from the coffee table and unlock it.

Scrolling aimlessly through your feed, you skim past news articles, memes, and a few updates from friends. And then you see it.

A headline that makes your blood run cold.

“Steve Rogers Spotted Cozying Up to Wife’s Sister: Is Trouble Brewing in Paradise?”

Your thumb hovers over the screen, trembling. Against your better judgment, you click the link.

The article is riddled with speculation, but it’s the photos that steal the breath from your lungs. One shows Steve and Sharon standing close in what looks like a cozy café, their heads tilted toward each other as if sharing an intimate moment. Another shows Sharon touching Steve’s arm, her smile coy.

The accompanying text twists the knife deeper: Sources say the two have been seen together frequently in recent weeks, sparking rumors of a secret affair. Could Sharon have been Steve’s first choice all along?

Your stomach churns. You know it’s ridiculous—you know Steve, the man who has been nothing but kind and devoted to you, would never betray you like this. But the images... the way they seem to tell a story you don’t want to believe... it’s too much.

Tears blur your vision as you toss your phone aside.

The door clicks open a moment later, and you hear Steve’s familiar footsteps in the foyer.

“Y/N?” he calls, his voice warm but tinged with concern. “I’m home.”

You don’t respond, your hands clenched into fists against your lap as you try to hold back the sob building in your throat.

When Steve appears in the living room, his expression shifts instantly. “Hey, what’s wrong?” He’s beside you in an instant, crouching down so he can look up into your tear-streaked face.

You shake your head, but the tears spill over anyway. “I... I saw something,” you choke out.

His brows knit together in worry. “What did you see?”

You reach for your phone with trembling hands, pulling up the article and thrusting it toward him. He takes it from you, his eyes scanning the screen with growing disbelief.

“Y/N,” he says after a moment, his voice steady but laced with emotion. “This isn’t what it looks like.”

“How can it not be?” you whisper, your voice breaking. “The photos... they look so—”

“They’re misleading,” he cuts in gently, his hands reaching for yours. “Please, let me explain.”

You look at him, searching his face for any hint of deceit, but all you see is the same Steve you’ve always known—the man who has been your rock through every storm.

“I ran into Sharon a few weeks ago,” he begins. “She approached me. She wanted to talk, to clear the air about everything that happened between us.”

“And you went to a café with her?” you ask, your voice trembling.

“Yes,” he admits, his gaze unwavering. “Because I wanted to make it clear that my choice was you, Y/N. It’s alwaysbeen you. She was upset, and I didn’t want there to be any lingering tension. But that’s all it was—just a conversation. Nothing more.”

The sincerity in his voice is undeniable, and yet your heart still aches. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to upset you,” he says softly. “I didn’t think it was worth mentioning because, to me, it didn’t mean anything. But I see now that I should have been honest with you from the start. I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

You look down at your hands, your tears falling silently onto your lap. “I felt like such a fool,” you admit.

“You’re not a fool,” he says firmly, his hands tightening around yours. “You’re the smartest, strongest, most incredible woman I’ve ever known. And I would never, never do anything to hurt you.”

The weight of his words sinks into you, and when you finally meet his gaze, the intensity in his eyes takes your breath away.

“I love you, Y/N,” he says, his voice trembling with emotion. “I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember. And this marriage—it started as a way to protect you, but somewhere along the way, it became so much more. You’re my everything.”

Your breath hitches, tears spilling over anew. “Steve...”

He cups your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away your tears. “If you don’t feel the same, that’s okay. But I need you to know that my heart is yours. It always has been.”

You shake your head, your hands clutching at his shirt as a sob escapes you. “I do,” you whisper. “I love you too, Steve. I’ve loved you for so long, but I was so afraid you didn’t feel the same.”

A soft, disbelieving laugh escapes him, and his forehead rests against yours. “God, Y/N,” he breathes. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited to hear that.”

The air between you shifts, charged with unspoken longing. His hands slide from your face to your waist, pulling you closer as his lips hover just inches from yours.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, his voice barely audible.

You nod, your heart pounding as his lips finally meet yours.

The kiss is slow at first, tentative, as if he’s afraid to push too far. But the moment your hands slide into his hair, pulling him closer, the restraint breaks.

Steve lifts you effortlessly, carrying you to the bedroom without breaking the kiss. The world fades away, leaving only the two of you as he lays you gently on the bed.

“Are you sure?” he asks, his voice thick with emotion.

“Yes,” you whisper, your hands trembling as you reach for him. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

What follows is a blur of heat and emotion, the culmination of years of unspoken love and longing. Steve’s hands explore every inch of you, his touch reverent, as if memorizing the very essence of you.

He whispers your name like a prayer, his lips tracing a path along your skin as he worships you with a devotion that leaves you breathless.

And when he finally joins you, the connection is so overwhelming, so all-encompassing, that it feels as if the pieces of your heart are finally falling into place.

Afterward, as you lie tangled together in the sheets, his arms wrapped tightly around you, you feel a sense of peace you’ve never known before.

“I love you,” he murmurs against your hair, his voice soft but sure.

“I love you too,” you whisper, your fingers tracing lazy patterns on his chest.

And for the first time, you realize that the life you’ve built together isn’t just an arrangement. It’s everything you’ve ever wanted—and so much more.

Things change between you and Steve in ways that are both subtle and monumental. Gone is the polite distance, the carefully maintained boundaries. In its place is something real, something undeniable.

Steve is more affectionate now, his touches lingering longer, his kisses coming more frequently. He pulls you into his lap when you’re watching TV, twirls you around the kitchen while dinner simmers on the stove, and presses his lips to the back of your neck as you work at your laptop.

You, in turn, find yourself doing little things for him—pressing his shirts for work even though he’s perfectly capable of doing it himself, surprising him with homemade cookies when he mentions a craving, sneaking into his office at lunch just to kiss him.

The shift doesn’t go unnoticed, especially at family dinners.

On the next one, held at your parents’ estate, the tension in the air is palpable from the moment you walk in. You and Steve arrive arm in arm, his hand resting comfortably on your lower back. When you lean into him slightly as your mother greets you, Sharon’s eyes narrow.

The evening unfolds as expected: your parents ask loaded questions about your life together, Sharon hovers like a shadow, and the Rogers look vaguely unimpressed by everything.

But something’s different.

You’re not the quiet, uncertain woman who let her family’s jabs and comparisons chip away at her. Not anymore. Steve’s presence beside you, his unwavering support, has given you a strength you didn’t know you had.

When your mother comments on how lovely Sharon looks, her gaze darting toward Steve as if to gauge his reaction, you smile sweetly.

“Yes, Sharon’s always been so polished,” you say, lacing your fingers through Steve’s. “But I think I’ve been glowing lately. Don’t you think, Steve?”

He looks down at you, his eyes warm and amused. “Absolutely,” he says without hesitation. “You’re the most beautiful woman in any room.”

Your mother’s smile falters, and Sharon’s fork clatters against her plate. You don’t miss the way her cheeks flush with anger, nor the way she glares at you when she thinks no one’s looking.

Dinner continues in much the same way. Every time Sharon tries to draw Steve’s attention or steer the conversation in her favor, Steve redirects it back to you.

“You must miss being on the dating scene, Steve,” Sharon says at one point, her tone light but her eyes sharp.

“Not at all,” Steve replies easily, his hand resting on your knee under the table. “I’ve got everything I could ever want right here.”

By the time dessert is served, Sharon looks ready to explode. You sip your coffee with a smug smile, enjoying the rare satisfaction of seeing her knocked off her pedestal.

After dinner, your parents pull you and Steve aside.

“Why don’t you stay the night?” your mother suggests, her tone saccharine. “It’s been so long since you spent any real time here. We could all have breakfast together tomorrow.”

Steve hesitates, glancing at you. He’s always careful not to push you into situations you might not want, but tonight, you feel bold.

“That sounds lovely,” you say, surprising even yourself.

Your mother beams, clearly pleased to have you under her thumb for a little longer. Sharon’s jaw tightens, and you can’t help but enjoy the way her evening seems to be going from bad to worse.

Your old bedroom hasn’t changed much. The floral wallpaper, the antique vanity, the plush pink comforter—it’s all a reminder of the girl you used to be.

Steve steps inside, looking almost out of place in the overly feminine space. He closes the door behind him, his eyes sweeping over the room before landing on you.

“You sure you’re okay with this?” he asks, his voice low.

You smile, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I’m more than okay.”

His hands settle on your waist, pulling you closer. “You were amazing tonight,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Did you see Sharon’s face?” you ask, grinning. “She looked like she wanted to scream.”

Steve chuckles, his lips brushing against your temple. “You were enjoying that a little too much.”

“Maybe,” you admit, your grin widening. “But can you blame me?”

He laughs again, his hands sliding up your back. The mood shifts as his laughter fades, replaced by something deeper, something more intense.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, his gaze dropping to your lips.

The heat in his eyes sends a shiver down your spine, and before you can respond, his mouth is on yours.

The kiss is slow and deliberate, his hands roaming your body with a reverence that leaves you breathless. When he lifts you onto the bed, his weight pressing you into the mattress, you feel a thrill of anticipation.

You arch against him, your fingers tangling in his hair as he kisses a trail down your neck. The sounds you make are uninhibited, each gasp and moan spilling from your lips without thought.

“Y/N,” he murmurs, his voice rough with need. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” you whisper, your hands gripping his shoulders. “I want this. I want you.”

Your heart pounds as he takes his time, his touch both gentle and insistent. Every caress, every kiss, every whispered word is a promise, a reminder of the love you share.

When he finally moves within you, the sensation is overwhelming, a perfect blend of passion and tenderness. The headboard creaks against the wall, and you can’t help the sounds that escape you—louder, more desperate, as you lose yourself in the moment.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you remember that Sharon’s room is on the other side of the wall, but instead of holding back, you let the knowledge fuel you.

Steve seems to sense it too, his movements becoming more deliberate, his mouth capturing your cries in heated kisses.

Afterward, as you lie tangled together in the aftermath, your skin slick with sweat and your heart still racing, you can’t help but smile.

“You’re incredible,” Steve murmurs, pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

“So are you,” you reply, turning to kiss him softly.

The satisfaction of the night lingers as you drift off in his arms, the weight of your love for each other wrapping around you like a warm blanket.

The next morning, Sharon avoids you entirely, her lips pressed into a tight line as you join the family for breakfast. You sip your coffee with a serene smile, enjoying the quiet triumph of knowing that for once, she’s the one who’s been bested.

Steve catches your eye across the table, his gaze filled with warmth and affection. You’ve never felt more certain that you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.

[ellswritings]

Shake It For Me

Cody Rhodes x Reader

TW: Country music (ik ik, I’m sorry. It’s cute tho I promise), cursing, men who can’t take no for an answer, Cody being possessive/protective, foul language, some spiciness (2/10), neck kissing, I think that��s it…

Tags: @reebs-luvs-rhodes-and-wrestling

═══════•°• ⚠ •°•═══════

Nashville Tennessee.

One of Y/N’s favorite places to be. Whenever she saw that they would be putting on a show in Music City, she couldn’t help but smile. It was one of the only other places she would consider living in besides her hometown. The people are amazing, the food is phenomenal, the sights are beautiful, and even though she would never admit it out loud, country music is her guilty pleasure.

When the plane landed earlier that day, she was practically buzzing with excitement. Everyone in the locker room watched her with amusement as she went through the entire day with a huge smile on her face. Her energy was so contagious that she managed to convince even the people who usually don’t like going out after shows to go out with them to the bar.

Cody watched his best friend with nothing but adoration and enthusiasm. He loves seeing her like this, so in her element. He spent the entire day before the show with her, allowing her to drag him to all of her favorite places. Broadway Street, her favorite hole-in-the-wall barbecue joint, the boot shop she always stopped at even though she already had a closet full of cowboy boots. They decided to sight see while they could since they had to spend the entirety of their Friday at the arena for SmackDown.

It was already pretty late after the show ended and the talent was released, but she was determined to go out to the bar. She had her outfit for the night packed in her gym bag and everything. A sparkly red top, cut off shorts, and a nice pair of brown cowboy boots. She looked like a native to the city. Even with exhaustion swirling around inside them, simply seeing the bright smile on her face was enough to get everyone to the bar she had found.

It was one of the most lovely honky tonk bars in Nashville. People were eating, talking, dancing, and drinking. It carried a wholesome feeling where tourists and locals could come together just to enjoy their evening. It was a safe place where everyone could soak in the neon lights and whiskey-heavy air.

And Y/N was absolutely thriving.

Cody, on the other hand, was just along for the ride.

It's not that he didn’t want to be there. He always went out with Y/N after shows when she wanted to go. Sometimes they would simply go back to their shared hotel room and watch a movie, or they’d do a little snack run to a local gas station and sit up talking, it all just depended. But the two of them always ended up sharing a hotel room whenever going anywhere, so they usually drove and stuck together when going out.

He had a beer in his grip, the condensation of the glass hitting the soft skin of his hand due to the humidity in the air. His drink was mostly untouched, only a sip here and there. They planned on calling an uber when it came time to leave, but something inside of him told him not to drink. He leaned against the bar nodding along to whatever Josh and Jon were saying to one another. He wishes he could say he was paying attention, but truthfully, he wasn’t. His eyes kept flickering to Y/N.

She managed to be everywhere and nowhere at the same time. From conversations and laughing with Rebecca (Becky Lynch), to taking tequila shots with Bianca and Trinity, and even dancing to the beat while she talked animatedly to Kevin and Rami. She fit right into the lively scene, looked like she was exactly where she belonged standing under the flashing lights.

Cody always knew she loved nights out like this. Where it was everyone just enjoying their time, not worried about catching an early flight or interviews. She said it felt like a family outing, and with all of them being on the road so much and being away from home, it was nice to have a makeshift family here.

There was just something different about seeing her here though. Seeing her in her true element, completely in her zone, having all the fun in the world. It was nice seeing her so carefree. Y/N has a tendency of carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders. She takes on her own burdens along with everyone else’s, because that’s just who she is. She loves everyone and would do anything to help.

That’s what drew him to her in the first place. They’ve been friends since his ‘Dashing’ Cody Rhodes phase. Even when he left WWE, she was the one person who consistently kept in touch with him, who went out of her way to visit him in Atlanta, who came to see his shows when he was in AEW, who never missed a birthday or important milestone in his life. She even threw him a huge welcome back party when he returned to WWE. Y/N stood by his side always. She truly was his best and closest friend.

“You know… you got a bit of a staring problem.”

Cody blinked, turning his head over to Colby who took the empty seat next to Josh and Jon. The twins snicker at the man’s joke causing Cody to roll his eyes playfully. The knowing smirk on his three friends' faces makes him sigh, pushing his beer further away from him.

“I do not,” he denies smoothly, keeping his face stoic. He tries to cover up his reaction by retaining an unbothered tone, but glass is harder to see through.

“Uh-huh,” Colby nods mockingly, taking a sip of his own drink. “Anyone who’s glanced your way knows those baby blues have been on her since we got here.”

“He’s got a point,” Jon jumps in with a menacing grin. “You like lookin’ at her so much, why don’t you just… I don’t know– hang out with her?” He quips sassily.

“I am hanging out with her,” Cody tells them. “She’s just having fun with other people too. I don’t need to suffocate her all the time.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Josh chuckles. “Don’t y’all practically live together? Stayin’ in the same hotel rooms n’ shit. Woulda thought you’d be attached at the hip tonight. ‘Specially after her win against Natalya.”

“I’m just letting her enjoy her night,” Cody tries to laugh it off. “Damn. It’s almost like you want me to be following her around.”

“It is entertaining watching you trail her like a puppy dog,” Colby laughs obnoxiously, Cody lightly smacking his arm.

“I don’t follow her around.”

“Sure, man,” Colby pats his back, getting up to go bother his wife. “Keep tellin’ yourself that.”

Cody ignores him, but he does force himself to look away from Y/N. It makes him uneasy taking his eyes off of her. Despite Y/N knowing Nashville like the back of her hand, neither of them are from here. It’s a city filled with strange people that they don’t know. Anything could happen and it makes him shift uncomfortably. It takes about five minutes before he finally caves and turns back around to find her.

That’s when the music shifts.

It’s a newer song that she showed him in the car a few months ago. “A Bar Song (Tipsy)” by Shaboozey. He remembers her mentioning there was a line dance that accompanied the tune, but they never had enough time for her to teach it to him.

He watches as Y/N’s face lights up. She excitedly shakes Bianca’s arm, a small squeal escaping her lips. “C’mon, I know this one!” She exclaims, trying ot pull the EST onto the dance floor.

Biance laughs but shakes her head, “You pick the one damn dance I don’t know.”

“I can show it to you,” Y/N pleads. “Please, please, please, please…” she folds her hands together beggingly.

“Just go do it,” Bianca encourages her. “I’ll join you on the next one.”

This 9 to 5 ain’t working

So why the hell do I work so hard

Y/N huffs with a small pout but nonetheless runs out to the dance floor. She hops in the front of the line, quickly picking up where everyone else is already at. Cody barely noticed that she had gone, he knew it was only a matter of time before she ended up on the dance floor. It’s her thing. But just because he wasn’t looking at her, doesn’t mean everyone else wasn’t.

A low whistle is heard from Austin Theory as Grayson Waller’s eyes nearly pop out of his head. “Damn…” Theory sucks his bottom lip between his teeth. “Look at her!” He claps loudly. “Go L/N, go!”

“Man, I didn’t even know Y/N had that in her,” Grayson adds.

Cody frowns, his grip on his beer tightening. He knows their comments don’t mean anything, but it annoys him sufficiently hearing anyone comment on his best friend. “Had what in her?” He asks with a small sigh.

“Dude,” Austin snorts, gesturing over to the front of the bar, “Just look.”

So, he did.

He turns, glancing back to where he was just looking. She had just gotten in line for the dance, but when his eyes find her again– fuck. He wasn’t at all prepared to see what he does when he sees her dancing form.

One, here comes the two to the three to the four

Tell 'em bring another out, we need plenty more

Two steppin' on the table, she don't need a dancefloor

Oh my, good Lord

People were lining up all around her. It’s not hard to see that she became the center of attention in a very short amount of time. Her movements are so fluid, like she’s secretly been a professional dancer this entire time rather than a wrestler. Her feet move perfectly in time with the beat, her hips matching the upbeat rhythm. It sends Cody’s mind spinning as he tries to keep up with her movements, but it’s almost impossible. All he sees is a blur of sparkling red and the clack of her heeled boots.

Every step she takes, every spin, every heel touch is deliberate. She knows the hold she has on the entire bar. Everyone is either watching her to pick up on the steps or simply just to stare. Her movements are completely effortless yet… dangerous.

Someone pour me up a double shot of whiskey

They know me and Jack Daniels got a history

There's a party downtown near Fifth Street

Everybody at the bar gettin' tipsy

Everybody at the bar gettin' tipsy

Everybody at the bar gettin' tipsy

She adds one extra step that clearly wasn’t originally in the choreography. She spins, dropping low to the ground which makes something catch in the American Nightmare’s throat. He clenches his beer even more than he was before. Because– holy shit.

He’d never seen her in this light before.

He always knew she was beautiful. Just because he’s her best friend doesn’t mean he’s blind. He’s aware of how easily she could turn heads. Her mere presence gains attention no matter where she goes. But this? This is something else. Something that made his stomach tighten in a way he wasn’t sure he wanted to acknowledge.

But his trance is quickly broken when he notices a guy slowly finding his way towards Y/N. Cody’s icy stare locks onto the approaching threat. The stranger clearly thinks he’s slick, that no one can see what he’s doing, but Cody did. He saw his intentions from clear across the bar. He tries to fit in with the large crowd, dancing his way towards the front unil he finally reaches his destination.

Y/N.

Cody stiffens as he watches he man lean forward, whispering something into Y/N’s ear. She laughs at whatever it was– not the kind of laugh she gives Cody whenever he tells her a joke, but a polite, dismissive one. One that should have communicated she didn’t want to have a conversation.

“I haven’t seen you around here before.”

Y/N fights the urge to roll her eyes. This is the exact reason why she wanted Bianca to come out onto the floor with her. It’s easier to get rid of over zealous guys when she has back up. She doesn’t usually like to cause confrontation, especially on the night’s where she gets to go out, but she’s not afraid of it. She just really didn’t want to engage or cause a scene if she she could avoid it. She doesn’t have to ruin his night, and he doesn’t have to ruin hers. Hopefully he knows how to take a hint.

“Yeah, I’m in town visiting for the weekend,” she replies in a clipped tone. “So, if you’ll excuse me.”

She tries to dance away from him, but he doesn’t back down. Y/N can already feel the upcoming conversation and she knows the stranger isn’t going to take her bruising his ego very lightly. She ried to make a graceful escape, but he clearly couldn’t take that for an answer.

“Visitng, huh?” He licks his bottom lip, his movements sloppy in comparison to hers. “What for?”

“Work.” Once again her answer is cut and dry, not revealing too much about herself, showing she has no interest in continuing the conversation.

“Well, what’s a pretty lil’ thing like you do for work?” He inches closer to her, his head dipping down closer to her neck. She can smell the cheap bourbon on his breath and it makes her eye twitch. She tries to take a blatant step forward to get out of the situation. At this point she just wants off the dance floor even though the song isn’t over yet. “Oh c’mon darlin’, where you goin’?” He moves to try and grab her waist. “I’m just tryin’ to get to know you.”

Y/N grabs his wrist, not tight enough to hurt him, but firm enough to get her message across. “Don’t touch me,” she says stiffly. “Find someone else to bother.”

If she wanted to, she could lay him out across the bar floor in a second. She’s taken down women who are bigger than him, but again, she doesn’t feel the need to cause a scene and get herself kicked out of the bar. Especially when it was her idea to go out. She doesn’t want to ruin her friends’ night over some guy who can’t keep his hands to himself.

“You really gonna be like that?” He deepens his voice to try and make himself sound more intimidating. He shrugs, “That’s all right. I don’t mind a little game of cat n’ mouse.”

Y/N sighs. It’s almost like he begins to move in slow motion. She can see his hands are now trying to skim far too low for comfort. She braces herself to get kicked out of the bar for breaking the guy's nose when suddenly a familiar arm coils itself around her waist, pulling her into his chest. In an instant her senses are flooded with the familiar addictive mix of woodsy cologne, clean aftershave, and a hint of warm leather.

Cody.

He lowers his head, his lips ghosting across her neck as he glares daggers into the man in front of them. He places chaste kisses along her skin, leaving goosebumps in his wake. It’s a clear claim of what’s his. A silent warning.

The strange man looks startled by Cody’s appearance. Y/N has to admit that she’s a bit surprised herself. One minute he was lounging at the bar with the guys and the next he’s behind her, his hands griping her hips like a vice. Not that she could dwell on it for long as her mind is fogged by his intoxicating presence. She finds herself leaning into his touch, her head falling against his chest. Normally, she would be more considerate, not being so touchy with her best friend, but there’s something about the possessiveness in his stance that makes her forget he’s her best friend in the first place.

The man blinks, clearly thrown by the way Y/N immediately reacted to Cody, “Uh–”

“She’s not interested,” Cody said flatly. His voice was calm. Too calm.

He scoffs, probably feeling emasculated by the way Cody doubles his size just in muscle. “I don’t see her complainin’ about me being here.”

Cody’s grip on her tightens, “That’s because she doesn’t have to.”

The guy looks like he’s about to say something again, but he’s startled by Y/N suddenly letting out a breahy moan. That’s when he notices Cody full on nipping at Y/N’s neck, leaving marks over her soft skin. Y/N is so lost in the feeling of Cody Rhodes that she doesn’t even realize the guy had left. He had muttered something under his breath that neither of them caught before finally taking off.

Y/N giggles, “He’s gone…” she says teasingly. “You can stop that now.” Not that puts forth any effort to move away from him.

Cody barely looks up, keeping her flush against him, “Y’know… I think I’m good where I’m at,” he mumbles.

Y/N smiles, turning in his arms in order to face him. She loops her arms around his neck, amusement dancing in her eyes. “So, what? You just decided to mosey on over here and stake your claim?” She pokes fun at his show of possessiveness.

Cody smirks, enjoying the new view of her face, “Just figured you could use a better dance partner.”

Her eyes light up, “Oh?” She grins, her fingers lacing through his bright blonde locks. “And you think you’re up for that?”

Cody admires the way the light dances on her face for a moment before smiling softly, “Why don’t you teach me?”

The flirty tension disappears for a moment and all she feels is pure love for the man in front of her. Her face is overtaken with excitement as she grabs his hands and places them exactly where she wants them.

“You ever tried swing dancing before?” She asks him with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

He raises an eyebrow, “No… But I’ve heard of it.”

“Well, saddle up cowboy,” she says in the worst southern accent he’s ever heard. “ ‘Cause I’m about to take your ass for a ride.”

“Country Girl (Shake It For Me)” blasts through the bar as Y/N begins the dance. Other people are participating in the designated line dance for the song which looks about just as complicated as what Y/N was trying to show him.

“Normally the guy leads, but since you’re a newbie, I’ll take the reins,” she says with a cocky smirk that makes Cody roll his eyes. “Just don’t fight me, okay? I’ll give you a little nudge every time I want you to move. Just follow my lead.”

Got a little boom in my big truck

Gonna open up the doors and turn it up

Gonna stomp my boots in the Georgia mud

Gonna watch you make me fall in love

Get up on the hood of my daddy's tractor

Up on the tool box, it don't matter

Down on the tailgate

Girl I can't wait

To watch you do your thing

Cody is slightly taken aback by how quick paced the dance moves. He watches in awe as Y/N leads him through the dance, but somehow makes it seem like it’s him doing all the work. She spins herself outwards before flinging herself back into him, hooking her leg around his to slide down. He squats down slightly with her, following along closely.

Y/N grins, “Look at you, cassanova,” she says teasingly. “You’re a natural.”

“I’ve got a good teacher,” he fires back, his tone gravelly and his eyes solely focused on her.

Shake it for the young bucks sittin' in the honky-tonks

For the rednecks rockin' 'til the break of dawn

The DJ spinnin' that country song

C'mon, c'mon, c'mon

Shake it for the birds, shake it for the bees

Shake it for the catfish swimmin' down deep in the creek

For the crickets and the critters and the squirrels

Shake it to the moon, shake it for me girl

Y/N lets out a small yelp as Cody spins her rapidly under his arm before dipping her in time with the beat drop. She raises her eyebrows as he pulls her back up, suddenly taking control from her as they keep dancing. She nods her head, “Not bad…” she teases. “But don’t get too cocky.”

Cody hums, his grip tightening just enough to send a shiver up her spine. Without warning, he practically threw her outwards before pulling her back in, having her jump in the air and into his arms. Her legs are tucked under his bicep as he uses the momentum to rock forward before launching her back out onto the floor. Y/N feels the breath leave her lungs, not knowing how he picked up on such an advanced move so fast. She exhales shakily as they continue to dance.

“Show off,” she breathes out, her chest rising and falling as she tries to steady herself.

He chuckles, his face mere inches from hers. “You walked right into that one.”

“I’m starting to think maybe you have done this before,” Y/N raises a suspicious brow.

“And why would I lie to you?” Cody asks her with a small smile.

“So I would be more impressed when you pulled something like that,” She titles her head, once again spinning under his arm.

Now dance, like a dandelion

In the wind on the hill underneath the pines

Yeah, move like the river flows

Feel the kick drum down deep in your toes

All I wanna do is get to holdin' you

And get to knowin' you

And get to showin' you

And get to lovin' you

'Fore the night is through

Baby, you know what to do

“Ever think maybe I’m just a fast learner?” He counters with his signature half-smile.

“Hmm,” Y/N looks him up and down, still not convinced in he sliightest. “You may pick certain things up quickly, Rhodes, but that foot work tells me you have some experience.” She nods towards his boot-clad feet that are moving far too smoothly for it to be his first time.

He sighs dramatically, his smile growing. “All right, all right…” his sparkling orbs meet hers. “You caught me.”

Y/N scoffs loudly as he dips her and swings her body up. She squeezes his hand as a way to scold him, “Why didn’t you just tell me you knew how to swing?”

Cody’s eyes soften as he looks at her. The way her eyes glimmer under the light of the bar. The way her posture is more relaxed than usual due to the small amounts of alcohol circulating through her system. She looks free, comfortable even. Seeing her here compared to at work, it’s nice. Watching her be able to let go.

“...Maybe I did just want to impress you,” he admits quietly.

Y/N’s heart flutters at the confession. She shoots him a dopey smile of her own, her hand moving before her brain can register. She cups the side of his face as they continue dancing to the beat of the next song that starts to play. “You always impress me, Rhodes…” she says tenderly. “You don’t even have to try. You’ve been impressing me since your ‘Dashing’ days.”

Cody laughs, his chest rumbling with the melody of his own voice. Y/N’s always loved the sound of his laugh. It’s more satisfying to hear than the music blasting through the speakers around them. “You mean that?”

“Of course,” Y/N laughs like it’s the most incredulous thing she’s ever been asked. “You’re always finding new ways to keep me on my toes.”

He leans into her touch, her hand never leaving his face. His fingers trace small circles onto the small amount of exposed skin between her top and shorts. He’s never felt more comfortable in his life. The way their bodies move perfectly in sync, the trail of chills he leaves whenever he moves his hands to a different location. The way his own heart rate speeds up when she lightly fiddles with the ends of his hair.

At this point, they both knew what they did to each other.

And it was about time they both stopped acting like it didn’t affect them.

This wouldn’t be the first time one of them got a little too possessive over the other. Y/N would never admit to it, but she’s interjected herself into many conversations Cody has had with other females who got a little too close for comfort. Cody did the same. He remembered a specific moment when Damian Priest tried his hand at flirting with her, and all Cody remembers was seeing red before he was suddenly pulling Y/N away with some fake emergency he came up with.

They both chalked it up to friendly behavior, using the excuse that no one was good enough for the other. And they did truly believe that, but not for unselfish reasons. It’s because they believed the only person meant for the other was each other.

“Y’know, you say that, but then you’re the one out here pulling out crazy dance moves that I didn’t even know you could do,” he whispers in her ear as she spins around. Her back is now flushly pressed against his chest. His breath hitches when she rolls her hips at just the right time with the perfect amount of pressure. “I mean… why did you never tell me you could move like this?”

Y/N leans her head to look back up at him, looping her hands around his neck. “You never asked.”

Cody leans down to whisper in her ear, his smile growing when she pushes herself impossibly closer to him. “You’ll have to show me what else you’re hiding when we get back to the hotel…”

“You askin’ for private dance lessons, Rhodes?” Y/N grins teasingly.

“Obviously,” Cody scoffs out even though both of them know that is nowhere near what he meant. “I might have some basic swing experience, but I’ve clearly got some catching up to do if I’m gonna be your new dance partner.”

“That’s a big commitment…” Y/N warns. Cody is now suddenly aware of how close her face is to his. Her lips are ghosting his, the smell of tequila and minty gum infiltrating his senses. “You sure you’re up for the challenge?”

“As long as you’re willing to keep me around,” he replies, somehow managing to inch closer to her, noses brushing against each other.

“I’ve managed to keep you on a leash for this long,” she smiles. “I don’t plan on letting you go anytime soon...”

And with that, she closes the gap between them, her lips colliding with his. The kiss is tender and full of yearning. After years of unspoken tensions and pretending to be just friends, it has to be the most satisfying thing in the world to feel one another in this capacity. Y/N shifts, turning around to fully face him, lips only separating for a split second before she’s back on him.

The entire bar around them fades as Cody wraps his arms around her waist. He pulls her into him, embracing her in the way he’s always wanted to. Words couldn’t convey everything that this kiss does. They know exactly what the other is thinking, what they want to say, simply by the way their mouths move in sync.

Y/N smiles against his lips, her own giddiness getting the best of her. Cody pulls back slightly, pressing his forehead to hers, “What are you smiling like that for, huh?”

Y/N rolls her eyes and tries to push him away but he doesn’t let her move even a centimeter further. “Nuh uh,” he teases. “Who’s got you smiling like that?”

Y/N huffs, not wanting to give him the satisfaction just yet, “You already know why, asshole.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I wanna hear you say it,” he raises an expectant eyebrow. “So I’ll ask again…” he leans forward, “why are you smiling?”

She’s never been able to fight the influence his perfectly blue eyes have on her. Any time he flashed those icy irises in her direction, she knew she was a goner. Reluctantly, she sighs, “Because of you…”

His cocky smirk returns, “Yeah? Because of me?”

Y/N wants to wipe the smugness of his face, but she can’t help finding it endearing, “Yes. Because of you.”

“Well, shit…” he smiles goofily. “If I would’ve known I could make you smile like that I would’ve kissed you sooner.”

“Oh shut up,” she scoffs out a laugh before grabbing his collar and pulling him into once more, connecting her lips with his again.

Now this time both of them are smiling and anyone looking at them knows those dopey smiles aren’t fading anytime soon. The line of friendship that was once between them has been completely obliterated. There was no going back from this.

And it’s clear, neither of them wanted to.

[slytherinshua]

NIGHTS WITH YOU

genre. fluff. warnings. food (ramen). pairing. soobin x fem!reader. wc. 700. request. requested by @blue-jisungs (my baby) for #25: "are those my clothes" and #34: "where's my goodnight kiss?" a/n. i've been writing just so much sleepy fluff either sleepy morning fluff or sleepy bedtime fluff im not complaining cause its always so soft but yeah :(

Soobin stepped out of the bathroom, still drying his hair with a towel. His eyes immediately scoured around the room for you, and when he didn’t find you anywhere, a frown etched on his face. Since he had been at practice all day, you forced him to take a shower before delivering any hugs or kisses, despite how much he begged for them. It was a reasonable request, of course. He was sweaty and stinky— of course you’d rather kiss a clean Soobin. But your boyfriend hadn’t seen you all day and simply needed to be as close to you as possible for the rest of the night. 

He located you quickly, following the smell of spicy noodles to the kitchen. His eyes softened as he saw your figure, wearing one of his black t-shirts.  He pouted, coming up behind you to hold you in a back hug. 

“Are those my clothes?” He asked softly, a giddy smile growing on his face as soon as you laughed.

“You left your drawer open. They were practically asking for me to take them. Plus, they’re more comfortable than my pyjamas.” You said simply, stirring the sauce packet into the pot of ramen noodles you were preparing. 

Although Soobin’s shirts were much too big for you to wear daily, they made for the perfect oversized sleeping garment. As they were designed to fit your 6 foot man both height wise and broad back wise, they practically swallowed your figure. But you loved it, especially the way the shirts smelled exactly like your boyfriend. Soobin didn’t mind. How could he when you looked so cute in his clothes?

“We already share everything anyway. Including that ramen—?“

“No! You’re not getting any!” You shoved your boyfriend off of your back, defensively shielding the ramen pot from his prying hands. He frowned, eyebrows furrowed as he tried to find a way through, but each reach he took got expertly blocked by your chopsticks.

“That is not one bite. That’s like, 6 at least!” You slouched back onto Soobin’s chest, keeping up your pretend grumpiness after you had finally agreed to give him just one bite. Truthfully, you had prepared the ramen more for him than you in the first place. You just wanted to see him eat well after practice. But it was always fun to tease him. Admitting that you carefully prepared them for your boyfriend would make you look unbelievably whipped. Which you were, but you weren’t about to admit it out in the open.

“Here, open up.” Soobin said, holding the chopsticks up for you, feeding you the bite of ramen carefully. Maybe he was just as equally whipped. You whipped your frown off your face and snuggled closer to your boyfriend, enveloped by his fresh scent and warm skin. 

“I can’t believe Beomgyu got to see you more this week than me. It’s not fair.” You sighed, thinking back to the past couple of days. Even when Soobin didn't have a schedule, he’d busied himself in the company building with Beomgyu, playing games or writing lyrics. 

You had nothing against the younger member, you were as close to him as you were any of Soobin’s friends. But nothing hit you quite as hard as the loneliness you felt when Soobin was away from you. It felt nice to be back in his arms, knowing that there was nothing left for that day that would prevent you from falling asleep and waking up next to him. 

“Where’s my goodnight kiss?” Soobin asked once you were back in his arms after doing the dishes. 

“Right here.” You smiled, cupping his cheeks to bring his face down to your lips. As always, Soobin’s lips tasted heavenly. And, just like always, Soobin was the clingier of you two. He chased your lips every time you pulled away, causing you both to giggle. Countless soft pecks were placed around your face until his head hit the pillow and he gathered you up in his arms, close enough to hear his relaxed breath and steady heart beat. The rhythm lulled you to sleep, head resting against his chest and your back blanketed by his arms.

↳ txt taglist (bolded could not be tagged): @kangtaehyunzzz,, @eternalgyu,, @90steele,, @ddeonudepressions,, @minholing,,

@wolfmoonmusic,, @98-0603,, @weird-bookworm,, @candewlsy,, @blossominghunnie,,

@amara-mars,, @wccycc,, @seunghancore,, @ujisworld,, @heavenfilm,,

@sobun1est,, @bananabubble,, @talkingsaxy,, @sxmmerberries,, @talking-saxy,,

@nicholasluvbot,, @cupidslovearrows,, @50-husbands,, @hursheys,, @stannwjnss

[amongemeraldclouds]

blowing off steam

Bar meet cute with Mattheo Riddle.

Mattheo Riddle x f!Reader

A/n: Celebrating @acourtofchaos festival of aus! Here's my official entry for week one: modern au.

Content: slightly suggestive but no smut.

✿ Masterlist | 799 words

Mattheo Riddle always minded his own damn business. So why did his gaze keep returning to you? To call you gorgeous would have been a waste of syllables. No, there was something enchanting about you that went far beyond what any word could describe.

Not that he was ever good with words anyway. He'd be much better at showing you. Hands pinned on your sides, your back pressed against a wall, while his kisses told you everything he thought about you. And - no, he shook his head. He had no business having his blood rush to his jeans in public.

He cleared his throat and picked up his rum and coke, the cool condensation running down his fingers, as he turned his eyes away from you. It was a test of wills he was already sure he'd fail. He was not one for acing tests. He had dropped out of university for fuck's sake, he scoffed before he brought the drink to his lips, letting the bittersweet taste wash away his spicy desires. He was supposed to be blowing off steam here at the bar, it was not a night for sharing his bed.

But Mattheo Riddle was nothing more than an opportunist. Giving up false pretenses, he looked at you again, the gears in his head spinning. And what do you know? Someone else had sidled up beside you, offering a drink, which you outright refused with a shake of your head, a look of discomfort overcoming your features.

He couldn't help but smirk when the other bloke couldn't take the hint, his stubborn arse still sat firmly on the seat beside you. Now there was the perfect opportunity to blow off steam. He downed his drink with one final gulp and strode over to you, fist clenching in anticipation as he prepared to be your knight in shining armour.

Yet he was only halfway through when he saw your fist fly, punching the guy on the nose. Curious patrons looked toward the scene. For a moment, conversation hushed while upbeat music continued thumping through the speaker. His head flew back with the impact and he covered his nose on instinct, wincing when he touched it, his hand soaking wet with blood. With a final look of pain and embarrassment, he stormed off and left the bar. A sadistic grin lit up Mattheo's features.

Everyone had gone back to their drinks and partying by the time he reached you.

"Want to be the next one?" You asked him playfully, flexing your fist in warning.

He laughed in surprise, you were a lot more delightful than he thought. "I can take a rejection," he replied, clutching his chest dramatically as if he had been shot. "I'm a lot cuter than that guy though," he said, pointing in the direction he had exited from.

"Can't be rejected if you don't ask," you shrugged your shoulders and picked up your drink, a rum and coke, just like his, nd sipped it.

"Okay, what's 278 x 45?"

"Smart ass," you exclaimed, shaking your head, intrigued by this stranger.

He motions to the waiter, "another rum and coke," he orders and waits.

"Not going to buy me a drink, aren't you?" You asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Nope," he smiled mischieviously. "Just drinking here, it's a pretty comfy seat," he said patting down the hard wooden chair. "Besides, I think we've established. I'm not going to end up like that guy."

"So it won't matter to you if I sat over there instead?" You motioned to the other end of the bar where a few seats were vacant.

"You know, I heard the chair over there is quite comfortable too. I might just try it for myself," he replied.

Just then, the bartender handed him his order and you took this opportunity to study him. He has curly hair that fell in waves near his eyes, just messy enough to be sexy without being unkempt. His sharp jaw gave him a serious look while his eyes looked bright and alert.

He wore a black leather jacket over a white shirt and jeans, that looked casual yet stylish, and he sat with the relaxed confidence of a man who belonged everywhere he went.

You cleared your throat, trying to focus back on the conversation. "And how would you know that chair was also comfortable?" You looked back at the corner you had pointed to earlier.

"Because it would be the chair right beside you," he stated.

You shook your head, smiling. "I'm Y/n."

"Mattheo Riddle," he said, matching your smile.

With the way things were going, he sure hoped you remembered it, for it would be the exact name you'd be screaming later tonight. After all, there are many ways to blow off steam.

[leonsdolly]

Dog Days

Leon Kennedy x fem!reader

Synopsis: You're sick, but Leon's here to take care of you.

CW: fluff, comfort

WC: 785

A/n: looks like everyone's sick rn !!! ruru, this one's for you since you also got sick (╥﹏╥) sending you all the love and best wishes so that you can feel better @laceycoffins (๑-﹏-๑)

“Leon…” Your whines fly weakly through the room and hit your boyfriend’s ears in the living room. “Leonnnn…” It takes everything in you to muster up enough energy to call out his name.

You hear a sigh before the sound of his footsteps make their way to your shared bedroom. “Everything okay, baby?” He internally coos at the sight of you laying in bed with a cool rag over your forehead and thin covers pulled up to your chest. You’re like a woodland creature of sorts, a little dormouse curled up snugly in its burrow for the winter. Except it isn't winter. The scorching early July sun looms over the city, ready to penetrate through your lace curtains and exacerbate the fever plaguing your body. You pout up at him as you feebly lift your arms out for him.

“What do you need, baby?” He chuckles as he takes one of your hands in his. “Just brought you more fluids, changed that washcloth, made your bed ‘til you said it was comfy enough.”

“I need you,” you say like it's the most obvious thing in the world. Which it is. Did he really expect his needy girl to recover through her illness without being pressed up against him 24/7? Would he also let her succumb to the bubonic plague, damning her to a burial pit on the outskirts of a European city in the 14th century? He sighs and lifts the washcloth on your forehead to feel it with the back of his hand. He turns his hand over to rub soothingly at your forehead, and suddenly you're a child again, relishing in your mother's healing touch over your little ailing body while her dramas blare in the background and the aroma of spicy noodle soup invigorates you. You close your eyes, relishing in the relief of his cool touch against your warmed skin. He lifts the blanket up to slide in next to you, and when you open your eyes again, he's wrapping his arms around you.

“Weren't you bitching about how you can't get sick right now?” You snuggle against him, enraptured by the way his warm breath hits the top of your head when he chuckles.

“You’re a pain, you know that?” He drops a kiss on your hair. “Can’t have my baby suffering, that's all there is to it. Even if your snot gets all over me.”

“Whatev-” your croak is intercepted by a coughing fit that erupts from within your lungs.

“Sound like the exorcist girl.”

“You have such a way with words.” You bat your eyes like you’re really head over heels for this man. Which you are.

“Look like her too,” he says pointedly at the god-awful leakage dripping from your nostrils.

“When his love language is words of affirmation.”

He grunts as he snakes an arm over to pluck a lone tissue from the nightstand and pinches your nose with it. “Blow.”

“You know I don’t ever say no to that,” you joke as you close your eyes and force the air to expel through your clogged sinuses and into the flimsy tissue Leon holds.

“Now you sound like a lawn mower. Or a chainsaw.” He tosses the tissue into a spare plastic bag you’re using for trash before vigorously sanitizing his hands which makes you giggle.

You tuck your face into his chest, feeling the cooling fabric against your flushed cheeks. Nothing is quite more miserable than falling ill alone during the hottest months of the year. He’s your relief against the hazy summer world just outside your windows, threatening to seep in and shake your body’s best efforts to maintain homeostasis. Your symptoms are alleviated by his mere presence, and his hands are the most effective treatment in your frail state. His familiar scent envelopes your senses even through your congestion, whispering words of reassurance into the depths of your brain like you’re that little girl laying in your mother’s soft arms again. The bottle  of generic acetaminophen laying on your nightstand fails in efficacy when Leon’s around.

“Love you,” you mumble against his shirt as he repeats it back, and you cling to him for all that you’ve got in your weakened condition. This is your source of wellness, your reason for waking up every morning and braving through the travails of life. The love is mutual - you’re his sole reason for fighting. There’s a plethora of horrors alive and breathing in this world that you’ll never have to witness; he’ll make sure of that until he’s drawn his last breath. But for now, he’s content in just holding you close while the summer heat rages on outside the walls of your home.