#ignore me typing lazily

[kumakuma-circus]

ok this is just random ass rambling but like. it feels like kujikuma's in a weird spot where it's like. ppl like it n ship it. a decent amount even i'd say given that the content it does have gets decent traction. but they dont like it enuff 2 actually like. MAKE stuff 4 it. yk. like. teddie n rise aren't suuuuper popular characters (unfortunately). so obv a ship that's just the 2 of them isn't gonna b 1 a lot of ppl r super passionate abt. idk. just smth that's been ruminating in our mind 4 a bit.

[amethystarachnid]

BET

⤷ JAMES B. “BUCKY” BARNES

ᯓ★ Pairing: James B. “Bucky” Barnes x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, angst and fluff

ᯓ★ Request from: not requested but taken from MARVEL bingo

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 10k (damn this surprises me too)

ᯓ★ Summary: When Bucky Barnes suddenly starts talking to you you don't think much of it and when he asks you out on a date you couldn't be happier, Bucky truly is everything you could ever want in a man, a man that really loves you...At least that's what you thought until you discovered that it was real all just a bet.

ᯓ★ TW(s): mentions of virginity and virginity loss, small mentions of a smut scene

ᯓ★ AU: college au

ᯓ★ Request: not requested

ᯓ★ Comment if you want to be added to the taglist (specify if you want the everything taglist or for a specific character)

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo (requests closed)

ᯓ★ Masterlist

ᯓ★ If you are a Charles Xavier fan click on this link!

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language and this isn’t proof read

The music is loud, pulsing through the walls of the frat house as Bucky sits slouched on a couch, one arm draped lazily over the back. The night is already wearing on him, but he knows he’s going to be here until Sam and Steve call it a night, which—based on the collection of red solo cups by their feet—might be a while.

They’re all trading stories from the semester, voices buzzing with that blend of laughter and cheap beer. Sam is in the middle of recounting his latest dare when he nudges Bucky’s arm, catching his attention.

“Bet you couldn’t last a month with someone like her,” Sam says, nodding toward the corner of the room.

Bucky glances up, following Sam’s gaze until he spots you. You’re perched near the bookshelf, alone and fidgeting with your drink as you flip through a book someone left behind. He’s seen you around campus before, usually with your nose buried in a novel or surrounded by a pile of textbooks. There’s something unassuming about you, something quiet and untouchable. His friends know he’s more the type to go for a party girl—someone loud, someone who doesn’t ask too many questions.

“What, the bookworm?” Bucky scoffs, raising an eyebrow. But his friends don’t let up, and soon Steve and Sam are egging him on.

“You’re always chasing the same type,” Steve chimes in. “What are you afraid of, that she’d actually challenge you?”

Bucky laughs, rolling his eyes. He knows he should shut it down, but their teasing digs at him, scratching at that competitive edge that’s always lurking just beneath his smirk.

“All right,” Bucky finally says, shrugging. “I’ll do it. One month.”

His friends exchange knowing grins, slapping him on the back. But as soon as the words leave his mouth, Bucky feels a strange knot settle low in his stomach—a feeling he’s not used to. He brushes it off. It’s just a game, a challenge. It’s not like he’s actually going to care.

The next day, you’re tucked into your usual corner in the library, surrounded by a fortress of books. You barely notice him when he walks up, leaning against the edge of the table with a casual confidence that doesn’t match the usual quiet of the space.

“Mind if I join you?” His voice is smooth, low enough that you almost have to lean in to hear him clearly.

You glance up, surprised to see Bucky Barnes standing there, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. You’ve seen him around campus—he’s hard to miss with that leather jacket and effortlessly messy hair, the type of guy who always has someone laughing beside him.

“Sure,” you murmur, unsure of what else to say as you move your books aside, offering him a seat. You’re used to people mostly ignoring you here. It’s your refuge, your sanctuary. So when he sits across from you, stretching out as if he belongs there, it feels jarringly out of place.

“You look like you’re buried in work,” he observes, nodding at the mountain of papers in front of you. “What’s got you so busy?”

You hesitate, but something in his easygoing manner convinces you to answer. “Just…assignments. Trying to keep up with everything.” You give him a small smile, your guard still up but feeling oddly curious.

“What’s your major?” he asks, and the question catches you off guard. Most people don’t bother to ask; they assume or don’t care enough to wonder. He listens as you talk about your studies, nodding, asking small questions. Before you know it, you’re telling him more than you intended, falling into an easy rhythm that surprises you.

It becomes a pattern. Over the next few weeks, he finds reasons to run into you—at the coffee shop, in the library, even in the quad between classes. Each time, he stays a little longer, asks a little more, his eyes holding yours with that subtle intensity he wears so well. At first, you’re wary, cautious of his attention. But Bucky is good, easing his way in like he has all the time in the world, his jokes and questions slowly weaving a thread of trust between you two.

And Bucky? He’s surprised at how much he finds himself drawn to you. Each time you laugh, he catches himself watching, feeling something strange and warm unfurl in his chest. There’s a gentleness in you, a quiet intelligence, that keeps him coming back even as he reminds himself this isn’t supposed to mean anything.

But the longer he spends time with you, the more he feels the weight of what he agreed to, creeping up on him every time he catches your smile, every time you look at him like he’s someone worth knowing.

He tells himself it’s just part of the bet. But deep down, he knows he’s starting to cross a line he never meant to touch.

It’s been a few weeks since Bucky started spending time with you, and against every reminder he gives himself, he’s found himself looking forward to it more than he wants to admit. He tells himself it’s harmless—he’s just getting to know you, just finding ways to pass the time. But he knows he’s lying, especially when he starts finding excuses to see you outside of the library or when he catches himself glancing at his phone, hoping for a text from you.

One night, back at the frat house, he’s lounging with Sam and Steve again, half-listening to their conversation when Sam nudges him.

“So, Barnes. How’s it going with the bookworm?” Sam asks with a knowing smirk. Bucky rolls his eyes, trying to brush it off, but Sam isn’t so easily deterred. “Don’t tell me you’re catching feelings.”

Bucky scoffs, forcing a laugh to keep the truth buried. “It’s going fine. Like I said, a month’s no problem.”

Sam exchanges a glance with Steve, a wicked grin spreading across his face. “Let’s make this interesting then. If you really want to win this thing, you’ve got to take it further.”

Bucky’s jaw clenches. “Further?” He has a bad feeling about where this is going.

Steve raises his eyebrows. “Come on, Buck. You’ve been hanging out with her, sure, but we’re talking about actually making her fall for you. Ask her out, and, you know—” He raises an eyebrow meaningfully.

“Sleep with her,” Sam adds bluntly, laughing. “Seal the deal, and there’s two hundred bucks in it for you.”

Bucky hesitates, that uncomfortable knot tightening in his stomach again. He tells himself it’s just a stupid bet. He’s done things like this before—gotten close to people just to prove he could, had plenty of meaningless hookups that never meant a thing. He’s Bucky Barnes, the guy who doesn’t do commitment or complications. But for some reason, picturing it with you makes him feel…off.

“Fine,” he says after a beat, his voice steady, betraying nothing of the uncertainty he’s trying to ignore. “Two hundred bucks. Done.”

The next day, he texts you, his fingers hovering over the keys a little too long before he finally sends, Hey, you free Friday? Let me take you out somewhere nice.

When you see his message, your heart skips a beat. It’s been a while since anyone has asked you on an actual date, and even longer since you’ve felt genuinely excited about someone. Bucky’s been different from the start—warm, attentive, and surprisingly easy to talk to. You’ve caught yourself looking forward to his company, replaying the moments he laughs at one of your jokes or leans in close enough for you to catch a hint of his cologne.

After a second, you type back, Yeah, I’d love to! You add a smiley face, feeling almost giddy as you press send.

The days leading up to Friday drag by, each one marked with bursts of nerves and anticipation. You spend a little more time getting ready than usual, finally deciding on a simple but pretty dress that makes you feel confident. When Bucky picks you up, his usual leather jacket replaced with a dark button-up, you feel a thrill of excitement. He looks genuinely happy to see you, his eyes scanning over you appreciatively as he gives you a lopsided grin.

“You look amazing,” he says, his gaze warm. There’s something softer in his eyes, something that makes you blush.

“Thanks,” you mumble, smiling as you walk beside him. He leads you to a small Italian place tucked away from campus, the kind of cozy, dimly lit restaurant you wouldn’t have expected him to know about. The conversation flows easily between you two, laughter spilling out as you talk about classes, hometowns, and childhood memories.

The night feels magical, almost surreal, and you start to wonder if maybe, just maybe, there’s something real here. Every time his hand brushes against yours, a spark shoots up your spine. And when he reaches across the table, fingers lightly grazing your wrist as he laughs at something you said, your heart flutters in a way that’s both thrilling and terrifying.

After dinner, he suggests taking a walk, and soon you’re strolling through the quiet streets, the chill of the night air making you shiver just slightly. Without a word, Bucky slips his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. It feels so natural, like you belong there.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever been on a date this nice,” you admit, smiling up at him, your voice soft.

He chuckles, though it sounds slightly strained. “Really? I find that hard to believe.”

You shrug, trying to brush it off. “I guess I’ve just never…met anyone like you before.”

There’s a flash of something in his eyes—guilt, maybe, or regret. But it’s gone as quickly as it came, replaced with that charming grin. He steps closer, his arm slipping from your shoulders, and you hold your breath as he cups your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin.

“You’re pretty amazing, you know that?” he murmurs, his voice low.

You feel like the world has stopped, your heart pounding in your chest. This is the moment you’ve been dreaming of, the moment where everything finally falls into place.

But for Bucky, something sharp and painful twists inside him. He can feel the weight of what he’s doing pressing down on him, can see the way your eyes look at him with such unguarded trust, and it’s enough to make his stomach turn. He’s never felt guilty over a stupid bet before, but right now, the idea of hurting you feels unbearable.

“Hey,” he says softly, his hand still on your cheek. “You trust me, right?”

Your eyes widen, and you nod slowly, too caught up in the moment to notice the tension in his gaze. “Yeah,” you whisper, a small smile forming on your lips.

He leans in, pressing his forehead against yours as he takes a steadying breath. “Good,” he says, trying to keep his voice steady. Because if he’s going to go through with this, he tells himself he has to believe that none of it matters—that he won’t let himself care. But even as he kisses you, his lips soft and warm against yours, he knows he’s lying to himself.

The days after that first date drift into a series of moments that feel surreal, almost like they’re happening to someone else. You find yourself checking your phone at odd times, waiting for his texts, smiling down at your screen whenever his name lights up. Bucky is a part of your routine now, and it feels strange, thrilling even, like there’s this magnetic force that draws you to him despite every bit of caution you try to hold onto.

Every time you’re with him, the outside world fades. He makes you laugh with stories about his friends, leaning in close, his voice warm and low as if he’s sharing some secret just for you. You catch yourself stealing glances when he’s not looking—at the way his jaw clenches when he’s lost in thought or how his eyes soften when he looks at you, a mix of curiosity and something you can’t quite name.

It’s after one of your study sessions at the library that Bucky invites you over to his dorm room for the first time. He tells you he’s got some old movies you’ve probably never seen, and, honestly, he’s right—you’d never pictured Bucky as the type to own black-and-white classics, but that’s exactly what he has, a surprisingly large collection lined up on a low shelf near his TV. He insists you pick one, and soon you’re sitting side by side on his couch, your legs tucked up beneath you, feeling almost shy in the soft glow of the screen.

The movie starts, but his arm stretches along the back of the couch, barely brushing your shoulders. The faintest touch sends electricity through you, but you stay quiet, not wanting to ruin the moment. Then, halfway through the movie, he shifts, glancing at you.

“You can get closer, you know,” he murmurs, his eyes glinting with something mischievous yet gentle.

Your heart flutters as you scoot closer, until you’re tucked into his side, his arm draped around you in a way that feels possessive yet comforting. He smells faintly like cedar and something distinctly him, a scent that’s becoming familiar. Before you know it, your head is resting on his shoulder, his hand absently tracing patterns on your arm, and you feel like you could stay there forever.

Time slips by in a collection of small, perfect moments. There are more dates—little coffee shops tucked away from campus, a bookstore where he buys you a copy of a novel you mentioned in passing, a late-night diner where you both end up after laughing so hard that you can’t breathe. You never expected him to be so attentive, so eager to listen to your stories and learn every detail about your life. He even surprises you with your favorite snack on study nights, tossing it to you with a grin before leaning in close to steal a bite for himself.

One evening, after a long day of classes and a surprise text from Bucky inviting you over, you find yourself curled up on his couch once again. This time, he’s stretched out beside you, one arm tucked under his head while the other rests around your shoulders. His fingers brush against your arm absently, and you can’t help but notice how natural this feels. It’s terrifying, too, the way he seems to melt into your life so effortlessly, as if he’s always been there.

You glance up at him, catching him mid-laugh as he recounts an embarrassing story about Sam, who apparently tried to show off on a skateboard and ended up with a sprained ankle.

“You’re terrible,” you tease, nudging him with your shoulder, though you’re laughing too.

“Oh, come on. It was hilarious,” he insists, grinning down at you. He tilts his head, his gaze dropping to your lips for just a second, and your laughter fades as something shifts between you.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you ask softly, your voice barely more than a whisper.

He shrugs, the corner of his mouth twitching in a faint smile. “I just…can’t believe you’re real sometimes.”

The words catch you off guard, and for a moment, you’re too stunned to reply. But then he leans down, his lips brushing yours with a tenderness that makes your chest ache. The kiss deepens slowly, each touch feeling like a promise, and you lose yourself in the warmth of his embrace, forgetting every doubt, every insecurity that ever kept you guarded.

As the weeks pass, you find yourself falling harder than you ever expected. Bucky seems to find every crack in your armor, every scar and hidden fear, and instead of pulling away, he draws closer, listening to your stories and letting you into his own in ways that leave you breathless. He’s there to listen on your tough days, wrapping his arms around you and murmuring words of reassurance. He’s there on your good days, too, laughing with you, pressing kisses to your forehead as if he can’t believe his luck.

One night, you’re back on his couch, cuddled up under a thick blanket as a storm rages outside, the rain tapping against the windows. You’re nestled against him, his arm holding you close, and he’s quiet, his fingers tracing patterns along your shoulder absentmindedly.

“Bucky?” you ask, breaking the comfortable silence.

“Hmm?” he murmurs, his gaze dropping to yours, his eyes soft and warm in the dim light.

“Thank you,” you say, your voice barely a whisper. “For everything.”

He frowns slightly, shifting so he can look at you fully. “You don’t have to thank me for that,” he says, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “Being with you…it’s the easiest thing in the world.”

You smile, warmth spreading through your chest, and he kisses you again, slow and soft, like he’s savoring every second. It’s moments like this that make you feel like maybe, just maybe, you’re finally safe with someone, that this is something real.

But for Bucky, each moment with you is a double-edged sword. He’s never felt this way before—this calm, this…connected. Every time you laugh at one of his jokes or lean against him, trusting and unguarded, he feels that awful twist of guilt, the memory of that stupid bet lurking in the back of his mind.

He’s supposed to ask for more. That’s what Sam and Steve were expecting, weren’t they? They wanted him to win the bet, to seal the deal and prove he could pull this off. But every time he thinks about going further, about pushing this relationship into a place where he can’t turn back, he feels that nagging ache, that quiet, gnawing feeling that he’s crossing a line he can’t uncross.

He knows he needs to tell you. He needs to come clean, but every time he opens his mouth, the words get stuck in his throat. You look at him with those bright, trusting eyes, and he can’t bring himself to shatter the way you see him. So he holds his silence, hoping that somehow, he can bury the truth forever, that maybe you’ll never have to know.

One evening, as you’re lying together on his couch, you let out a contented sigh, resting your head on his chest as his hand traces lazy patterns along your back.

“Bucky?” you whisper, your voice soft.

He glances down at you, his fingers pausing as he meets your gaze. “Yeah?”

You hesitate, then take a steadying breath. “I…I think I’m falling for you.”

The words hang in the air, vulnerable and open, and for a second, his face goes still, his eyes widening just slightly. Then, his expression softens, and he tightens his arms around you, his hand coming up to cup your cheek.

“You have no idea how much that means to me,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. But as he kisses you, the warmth of his touch hiding the flicker of guilt behind his eyes, a single thought haunts him.

She deserves the truth.

That night, Bucky barely sleeps, lying awake with the knowledge that he’s in far too deep to ever come out of this unscathed. Every soft breath you take beside him reminds him of how much he’s risking by staying silent. He knows he has to tell you, but he’s terrified—terrified that this fragile, beautiful thing you’ve built together will shatter, that you’ll look at him with betrayal instead of trust.

In the morning, he makes a decision. He’ll find a way to tell you, he promises himself, but he wants one more day, one more memory before he risks everything. Just one last perfect day where he can pretend that none of it was ever a lie.

So he takes you out, leading you down to the pier just as the sun begins to set, casting the sky in hues of pink and gold. You laugh, leaning into him, and he wraps his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“It’s beautiful,” you murmur, watching the waves lap against the shore.

“Yeah,” he replies, his voice soft. “It is.”

But as he stands there, holding you close, he knows that the beauty of this moment is fleeting, that the truth waiting in his chest is too big to ignore. And tonight, when he finally gathers the courage to tell you, he knows there’s a chance he’ll lose you forever. But for now, he lets himself savor this last quiet moment, memorizing the feeling of you in his arms, the warmth of your laughter as it fills the air.

For now, he holds onto the hope that maybe, somehow, you’ll understand.

The sunset fades, leaving the world painted in muted purples and blues, but neither of you seem ready to break away from each other. Bucky holds you close, feeling the steady rhythm of your breath against his chest as if it’s his own. He knows he should say something—that he needs to say something—but the words seem so impossible now, tangled up in his chest. The truth would ruin this moment, shatter whatever he’s built with you. And so, he tells himself it can wait just a little longer.

As the evening slips into night, Bucky leads you back to his dorm room, his hand intertwined with yours. You can feel the heat of his palm, the way his fingers wrap around yours as if he never wants to let go. The air feels charged, every touch electric, each shared glance simmering with something that feels fragile and exhilarating. Neither of you says much, as though speaking would break the quiet spell between you.

Once you’re inside, Bucky hesitates. He turns to you, his expression vulnerable, softer than you’ve ever seen it. "You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing against the back of your hand.

“I want to,” you say, the words escaping before you can even think. There’s no hesitation in your voice, only a gentle certainty that makes his chest tighten. The way you look at him, so open and trusting, makes his heart ache with a mix of guilt and longing.

Bucky’s eyes search yours, lingering for a moment that stretches into forever. He reaches up, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before his fingers trail down to your jaw, cradling your face as if you’re something fragile and precious. Slowly, he leans down, capturing your lips in a kiss that’s softer than any before. It’s unhurried, tender, as if he’s savoring every second.

The kiss deepens, and you can feel yourself melting into him, your heart pounding so hard you think it might burst. His hands move to your waist, steady and grounding, and he pulls you closer until there’s no space left between you. You can feel the strength of him, the warmth radiating through his clothes, and it makes your head spin.

Before long, you find yourselves tangled together on his bed, the world outside fading into nothingness. Each kiss is deeper than the last, each touch laced with a longing neither of you can deny. There’s a gentleness to Bucky’s movements, a quiet patience as he explores the curve of your shoulder, the softness of your waist, as if he’s memorizing every inch of you. He’s slow and careful, constantly looking at you as if to make sure this is what you want.

“Are you okay?” he whispers, his voice rough with barely-contained emotion.

You nod, feeling breathless but certain. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

His eyes darken, filled with a tenderness that makes your chest ache, and then he’s kissing you again, deeper this time, his hands skimming over your skin with a reverence that leaves you feeling cherished. You lose track of time, surrendering to the way he makes you feel—safe, wanted, like you’re the only thing in the world that matters.

When you finally fall back against the bed, your bodies wrapped around each other, you’re exhausted yet filled with a warmth that feels all-encompassing. The reality of what just happened settles in, but instead of feeling nervous, you feel at peace, secure in the quiet intimacy that has grown between you.

Bucky shifts beside you, pulling you closer until your head rests against his chest, his arm draped protectively around your shoulders. The steady thump of his heartbeat lulls you into a peaceful daze, and you feel his fingers trace small circles on your back, soothing and grounding.

You’re both quiet for a long time, the silence comfortable as you bask in each other’s presence. Eventually, though, you feel a need to tell him something you’ve been holding back, something you hadn’t planned on revealing but that feels right to share in this moment.

“Bucky,” you begin softly, lifting your head to look at him. He gazes down at you, his eyes warm and attentive, as if you’re the only thing he sees. “I…I want you to know that this was my first time.”

The words hang in the air, and for a moment, you’re afraid he’ll pull away, that he’ll think you were too inexperienced or that you should have told him sooner. But he doesn’t flinch or hesitate. His hand moves up to gently cradle your cheek, his thumb brushing softly against your skin.

“Your first?” he echoes, his voice filled with a mixture of surprise and something that sounds almost like reverence.

You nod, feeling your cheeks heat as you look down, suddenly self-conscious. “Yeah…I wanted it to be with someone who made me feel safe. Someone I trusted.”

Bucky’s chest rises and falls slowly as he takes this in, his expression softening. He seems almost humbled, like he’s just been given something rare and delicate. He leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead before resting his own against yours.

“You have no idea how much that means to me,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. There’s a vulnerability in his gaze, as if he’s holding back a hundred things he wants to say but can’t find the words for.

You smile, the last traces of your nervousness melting away. “Thank you, Bucky…for making it so special.”

He pulls you close, wrapping his arms around you like he’s afraid to let you go. “I’d do anything to make you feel special,” he whispers, his breath warm against your skin.

You nestle into his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, feeling safe and cherished in a way you never have before. And as you lie there, drifting between sleep and wakefulness, you wonder if this is what it feels like to be truly, deeply in love.

But as you fall asleep in his arms, Bucky lies awake, his heart heavy with the weight of everything he’s kept from you. He knows he should be content, that he should just let himself savor this night and the closeness you’ve shared. But the memory of that stupid, careless bet gnaws at him, a dark cloud looming over everything.

He runs a hand through his hair, staring up at the ceiling, feeling torn between the desire to protect you from the truth and the fear that he’s already crossed a line he can’t uncross. The realization that you trusted him enough to give him something so deeply personal makes the weight of his lie even heavier, almost unbearable. He swallows hard, tightening his hold on you as he resolves to tell you the truth—soon, somehow, even if it means risking everything.

But tonight, he lets himself stay silent. He closes his eyes, breathing in the scent of your hair, the warmth of your body against his, and allows himself to believe, if only for a moment, that this can last.

The morning sunlight filters softly through the blinds, casting warm, golden patterns across the bed. You stir beside him, your movements gentle as you wake up, and Bucky watches you with a quiet awe, his heart racing as he takes in the peaceful expression on your face. For a moment, it feels like he’s exactly where he’s meant to be.

You blink up at him, your face lighting up with a sleepy smile that makes his chest tighten.

“Good morning,” you murmur, your voice soft and a little shy, as if the night is still too fresh, too beautiful to fully believe.

He grins, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Morning,” he replies, his voice low and warm. His fingers trail down to your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze, and you squeeze back, a shared moment of silent understanding passing between you.

The morning stretches on in a gentle haze of quiet touches and soft words. Bucky makes you coffee, insisting you stay curled up under his blanket while he brings it over to you, and you laugh, watching him with a mix of affection and disbelief. This side of him—the playful, thoughtful side—is something you never expected to see, and it makes you fall for him even harder.

You’re both lounging on his bed, your legs tangled together, talking in low voices about everything and nothing. He tells you stories about his childhood, tales about him and Steve getting into trouble, and you share your own memories, laughing as he reacts with wide eyes and exaggerated shock.

It feels so real, so natural, that you almost forget about everything outside this room, about the possibility that this could be something fleeting. You feel like you’ve found a place that’s safe, a person who makes you feel more like yourself than you ever have before.

But in the quiet moments, when you catch him staring at you with that far-off look, you wonder if there’s something he’s not telling you, a hesitation lurking behind his gaze. You don’t press, not wanting to shatter the peace between you. But part of you wonders if you’re seeing a glimpse of something deeper, something you’re not yet ready to confront.

As you leave his dorm room later that morning, he kisses you softly, lingering as if he’s trying to memorize the taste of your lips, the feel of your hand in his. There’s an unspoken promise in his touch, a silent assurance that this isn’t the end.

Later that afternoon, you make your way back to the frat house, humming softly as you climb the steps to Bucky's door. You left your notebook there, a little blue book you’re pretty sure you’ll need for your upcoming assignment. You barely slept last night, too caught up in the warmth of his touch, the memory of his whispered words that lingered long after you left his dorm this morning. You’re nervous, too; you feel so much for him that it scares you.

As you approach his room, laughter drifts out into the hallway, low voices filtering through the partially open door. You recognize Bucky’s laugh, the familiar sound stirring warmth in your chest, but the laughter feels different, carefree and loud. And then you hear a familiar voice—Sam’s—cutting through, low and joking.

"Guess she fell for it pretty hard, huh?" Sam’s voice sounds amused, lighthearted, as if he’s talking about something trivial.

You freeze, your hand hovering inches from the door. Something about his tone makes you hesitate, a strange, unsettling feeling creeping into your chest.

"Come on, Bucky," Sam presses, “don’t act all innocent now. I saw you this morning, looking like you just won the lottery.” You can hear the grin in his voice, a laugh bubbling beneath it. “So? How was it?”

Bucky laughs, the sound uncomfortable, but he doesn’t argue. “Yeah, yeah,” he says, his voice casual, light. “It was… good.”

You feel a stab in your chest, a faint panic that tells you to leave, to walk away before you hear any more. But your feet don’t move, and you find yourself listening, every word driving another splinter into your heart.

Steve’s voice joins in, chuckling. “Well, you earned it, man. She had no clue, huh?”

“No clue,” Bucky murmurs, his voice softer now, almost unreadable. You can picture him there, maybe rubbing the back of his neck the way he does when he’s nervous. But the words are there, undeniable.

Sam laughs again, louder this time. “And hey, bet’s a bet,” he says, and then there’s a pause before you hear the unmistakable rustling of bills being exchanged. “Two hundred dollars, as promised. Can’t say you didn’t earn it, though—you even managed to get her into bed. Didn’t think you had it in you, but here we are!”

Your vision blurs, the words echoing in your mind, distorting into something raw and jagged. Every affectionate touch, every gentle kiss, every whispered promise from the past few weeks twists into something ugly, something unrecognizable. You feel sick, the image of Bucky’s earnest smile, his soft words about wanting to make you feel special, tainted beyond repair. Everything you felt for him, the trust you’d handed him so freely, crumbles beneath the weight of their laughter.

Slowly, you turn and leave, gripping the strap of your bag tightly as you make your way out of the frat house. You don’t let yourself cry, not yet, not when you still feel the echo of his betrayal throbbing in your chest, too raw, too painful to acknowledge fully.

Hours later, you’re back in your dorm room, your heart aching as you sit in silence, the truth settling over you in waves. Part of you wants to believe it was a misunderstanding, that maybe there’s an explanation you’re missing. But the memory of their laughter, the casual way Sam handed him that money, makes the truth impossible to ignore.

A knock on your door interrupts your thoughts, and your heart skips a beat as you hear Bucky’s voice calling your name softly from the hallway. It’s just him now, his voice hesitant, almost as if he senses that something’s wrong. You take a steadying breath, steeling yourself before you answer the door.

When you open it, Bucky’s eyes light up, and he steps forward, a soft smile on his face as he reaches for your hand. “Hey, you,” he murmurs, his voice warm. But when he sees the look on your face, he pauses, his smile fading. “What’s wrong?”

For a moment, you can’t bring yourself to speak. You can only look at him, trying to reconcile the gentle, caring person you thought you knew with the man who took a bet to seduce you. You pull your hand away from his, ignoring the confusion in his gaze as he watches you.

“Were you even going to tell me?” Your voice comes out quieter than you intended, a dull ache threading through every word. “Or were you just going to take the money and pretend it never happened?”

Bucky blinks, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Tell you what? I—I don’t understand.”

A bitter laugh escapes your lips, and you look away, wrapping your arms around yourself as if it’ll keep you from falling apart. “Don’t play dumb, Bucky. I heard you. I was at the frat house earlier, and I heard everything.”

He freezes, his face going pale, and you see the truth in his eyes, clear as day. He opens his mouth, stumbling over his words. “Y/N, I—I didn’t… I didn’t mean for you to find out like this.”

The admission twists the knife deeper, and you feel yourself trembling as you look back at him, tears stinging your eyes. “So, it’s true, then? All of it? This whole… this whole thing was just for some stupid bet?”

He reaches for you, his expression desperate, his hands hovering just inches from your arms. “Y/N, please. Just let me explain. It wasn’t like that, I swear. It started that way, but then… then it became real. I fell for you, okay? Everything we did, everything we shared—it was real.”

You shake your head, pulling away from him, the anger and betrayal simmering beneath the surface. “Real? You think that makes this okay? Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” Your voice breaks, and a tear slips down your cheek before you can stop it. “I trusted you, Bucky. I thought… I thought you cared about me.”

His face crumples, and he takes a step closer, his hand reaching out as if to wipe away the tear on your cheek. “I do care about you. More than anything, Y/N. That’s why I wanted to tell you, I just—”

“Wanted to tell me?” you interrupt, your voice shaking. “When, Bucky? After you cashed in your winnings? After I found out on my own?”

The silence stretches between you, heavy and unbearable, and Bucky’s shoulders sag as he looks away, guilt etched deeply into his face.

“Do you even realize how humiliating this is?” you continue, your voice a mixture of anger and heartbreak. “I trusted you with something… something I’d never given anyone. And the whole time, it was just part of a game to you.”

His eyes snap back to yours, filled with anguish, his voice barely a whisper. “It was never just a game, not after the first night. I swear, Y/N, I was going to tell you everything. I just… I didn’t want to lose you.”

“You didn’t want to lose me?” you repeat, laughing bitterly. “You lost me the moment you made that bet. You had no right to… to play with me like that, to make me believe that any of it was real.”

He looks at you, his blue eyes full of desperation, his voice breaking. “Y/N, please. I know I messed up. I know I hurt you, but I need you to believe me when I say I never meant for any of this to happen.”

“Just stop,” you whisper, the weight of it all crashing over you. “You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to make me feel sorry for you when you’re the one who lied.”

Bucky’s face falls, and he drops his gaze, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “I know. I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness. But please, just… give me a chance to make it right.”

Your heart aches, torn between the memories of every gentle touch, every whispered word, and the undeniable truth of his betrayal. Part of you wants to believe him, wants to believe that somewhere in all of this, there was something real. But the pain is too deep, the wound too fresh, and you don’t know if you can ever look at him the same way again.

“I can’t do this,” you say, your voice barely more than a whisper. “I can’t just forget what you did. You hurt me, Bucky. And right now, I don’t even know who you are anymore.”

He flinches, as if your words physically hurt him, and he nods slowly, a look of resignation in his eyes. “I understand. I’ll… I’ll leave, if that’s what you want.”

You nod, wrapping your arms around yourself as he takes a step back, his gaze lingering on you one last time before he turns and walks toward the door. Just as he reaches it, he pauses, his hand resting on the doorknob as he glances back at you, his voice soft, broken.

“For what it’s worth, Y/N… I love you. I know I don’t deserve to say that, but it’s the truth.”

You don’t reply, staring at him with tear-filled eyes as he finally steps out of your dorm, the door closing softly behind him. The silence that follows is deafening, and you sink to the floor, the weight of everything crashing down as you realize that the person you thought you loved never truly existed.

The days blur together in a haze of heartbreak and emptiness. You go through the motions, attending classes, completing assignments, and showing up to study groups, but it all feels mechanical, like you’re on autopilot. It’s as if something inside you has shut down, leaving only an echo of who you were before you met him, before he became the center of your world.

It doesn’t take long for your friends to notice the change. They ask if you’re okay, if something happened, if maybe you just need a break. But you give them the same answer each time—a nod, a small smile, and an assurance that you’re just tired. It’s easier than explaining the mess of emotions tangled inside you, the hurt that seems too big to fit into words.

Late at night, lying alone in your dorm room, you can still feel the warmth of his arms around you, the softness of his voice in the quiet hours when he’d whisper promises you thought would last forever. The memory feels cruel now, tainted by the knowledge that it was all built on a lie. And yet, despite everything, you miss him. You hate yourself for it, but you miss the way he looked at you, the way he made you feel safe, special, as if you were the only person in the world who mattered.

Bucky isn’t doing any better. In fact, he’s a mess. Days have passed, but the guilt, the emptiness—it lingers, gnawing at him, refusing to let him move on. He can barely sleep, haunted by the look in your eyes, the betrayal, the hurt he put there. Every time he closes his eyes, he sees you, hears the way your voice cracked when you told him you didn’t know who he was anymore. And the worst part is, he doesn’t blame you. He knows he did this, that he ruined everything, and now he has to live with the consequences.

Sam and Steve notice almost immediately. Bucky, the confident, charming guy they’d known for years, looks hollow, as if he’s carrying a weight he can’t shake. He barely speaks, keeps to himself, and they rarely see him at the frat house anymore. Instead, he spends most of his time shut up in his dorm, a shadow of the person he used to be.

One evening, as the sun dips below the horizon, Sam and Steve exchange a glance, silently agreeing that they need to intervene. They knock on his door, and when he doesn’t answer, Sam pushes it open, finding him lying on his bed, staring blankly at the ceiling.

“Hey, man,” Sam says, stepping inside. Steve follows, closing the door behind them as they both approach Bucky’s bed.

Bucky doesn’t react right away, his gaze still fixed on the ceiling. But eventually, he sits up, running a hand through his hair, looking exhausted and defeated.

“What’s up, guys?” he mumbles, though his voice lacks any real curiosity.

“We should be asking you that,” Steve says, his tone softer than usual. “You haven’t been yourself lately. Ever since things ended with Y/N, it’s like… you’re a completely different person.”

At the sound of your name, Bucky’s face falls, and he lets out a long, shaky breath. “Yeah,” he says quietly, almost to himself. “That’s because I am.”

Sam frowns, studying Bucky’s expression, the guilt etched into every line of his face. “Look, man, we didn’t mean for things to get this serious. But if you cared about her, really cared… why didn’t you just tell her the truth from the start?”

Bucky shakes his head, his hands gripping the edge of the bed so tightly his knuckles turn white. “I don’t know,” he whispers, his voice breaking. “I was scared, I guess. I knew I’d screwed up, and every time I tried to tell her, I just… couldn’t. I thought I could fix things, somehow, make it up to her without her ever finding out.” He lets out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Stupid, right?”

Steve sighs, sitting beside him on the bed. “Not stupid, just… a mistake. A big one, yeah, but you’re not the first guy to mess up. You’re just… Bucky, this isn’t like you. I’ve never seen you like this over anyone before.”

Bucky looks away, a sad smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “That’s because I’ve never felt this way before. Not like this. I love her, Steve. And I threw it all away over some stupid bet that meant nothing. I hurt her in ways I can’t even fix.”

Sam places a hand on his shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze. “So what are you gonna do about it? You can’t just sit here, wallowing. If she meant that much to you, then maybe you owe it to her—and to yourself—to try and make it right.”

Bucky laughs, but it’s empty, hollow. “And how am I supposed to do that, Sam? She told me herself she doesn’t know who I am. She doesn’t trust me. I don’t deserve another chance.”

Steve exchanges a look with Sam, and then he says, “Maybe. But you can’t just give up without trying. If you really love her, Bucky, you have to prove it. Show her that you’re not just the guy who hurt her, that you’re willing to fight for her. And if she doesn’t take you back… at least you’ll know you tried.”

Bucky sighs, leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he stares at the floor. “I don’t know if she’ll ever forgive me. I don’t even know if I deserve it.”

Sam crosses his arms, his expression softening. “Look, man, I get that you’re hurting. But don’t you think she’s hurting, too? She’s probably out there feeling just as broken, wondering if anything between you was ever real.”

Bucky swallows hard, his chest tightening at the thought. He knows you’re hurting, knows you trusted him with something precious, something he didn’t deserve. And knowing that he’s the reason for your pain… it’s a feeling he wouldn’t wish on anyone.

Over the next few days, Bucky wrestles with himself, caught between the fear of making things worse and the desire to show you that he’s truly sorry, that he wants to be the man you thought he was. He writes and rewrites texts he never sends, shows up outside your dorm but never works up the courage to knock. He’s terrified, but he can’t ignore the way his heart aches for you, the empty, gnawing feeling that only seems to grow with each passing day.

Finally, he decides to try one last time. He doesn’t know if you’ll listen, doesn’t know if you’ll even give him a chance. But he has to try—to give you the truth, no matter how painful it might be.

And so, as the evening sun begins to dip below the horizon, casting a warm, golden glow over campus, Bucky finds himself standing outside your dorm, his heart pounding as he gathers the courage to knock. He knows this is his last chance, that this is the moment that will decide everything. And he only hopes, as he takes a deep breath and raises his hand to the door, that you’ll give him the chance to show you that he’s not the man who hurt you—that he’s ready to fight for you, no matter what it takes.

The knock on your door is soft, almost hesitant, but it’s enough to pull you from your thoughts. You’ve been lying on your bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to find the strength to move forward, to somehow patch yourself up after everything that happened. When you open the door, you see him standing there, his eyes filled with an uncertainty that’s almost heartbreaking. He’s gripping a small notebook in his hands—your notebook, the one you left in his room—and his gaze is fixed on you with a desperation you’ve never seen before.

“Hi,” he says quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You don’t reply right away, the sight of him dredging up the familiar ache in your chest. Part of you wants to slam the door and hide, to keep yourself safe from any more hurt. But you don’t. Instead, you meet his gaze, forcing yourself to remain steady.

“Hi,” you reply, your voice guarded.

He shifts on his feet, glancing down at the notebook before offering it to you. “I, uh… you left this. Thought you might need it.”

You take it from him, feeling the familiar weight of it in your hands. “Thanks.”

A heavy silence hangs between you, one that neither of you seems willing to break. Bucky swallows, his face creased with an anxious, uncertain look that makes him seem vulnerable in a way you’ve never seen before.

“Can we… can we talk?” he asks, his voice almost pleading. “Please. I know I don’t deserve it, but I just need to say a few things. If you don’t want to listen, I’ll understand, and I’ll leave you alone. I just… I need you to know the truth.”

You hesitate, but finally, you nod, stepping back to let him into your room. He steps inside, closing the door softly behind him, and takes a seat in the small chair by your desk while you remain standing, arms crossed protectively over your chest.

For a moment, he just looks at you, his gaze heavy with regret. Then he sighs, running a hand through his hair.

“I know you have every right to hate me,” he starts, his voice barely steady. “I know I messed up in ways I can’t even fix. And I know… I know what I did was horrible. I just—” He swallows, his throat tight. “I just need you to know that it wasn’t all a lie. When we started this… when we first got close, I didn’t expect any of this to happen. I didn’t think I’d feel the way I did.”

You look down, his words stirring a fresh wave of pain in your chest. “But it was a bet, Bucky,” you murmur, your voice trembling. “You… you did all of that just to win some money. To you, it was just a game.”

He flinches, guilt flashing in his eyes, and he nods. “I know. I won’t make excuses for it—I was stupid, and I hurt you. But somewhere along the way, it stopped being about the bet. It stopped being a game. And I started… I started caring about you, more than I’ve ever cared about anyone.”

You feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, but you force yourself to keep your voice steady. “Then why didn’t you just tell me the truth?”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair again, his expression tortured. “Because I was scared. I was terrified that you’d look at me the way you’re looking at me now, that I’d lose you. I know that doesn’t make it better, but it’s the truth. I tried to find the right time, tried to find the right words, but I kept putting it off, thinking maybe… maybe I could make it up to you before you ever found out.” He looks down, his voice breaking. “But that was stupid. I should’ve just been honest with you from the start.”

You take a shaky breath, feeling the full weight of everything he’s saying. Part of you wants to believe him, wants to forgive him, but the wound he left is still fresh, still raw. “I trusted you, Bucky,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. “I thought… I thought what we had was real.”

He looks up at you, his eyes filled with a desperate sincerity that takes you off guard. “It was real. For me, it was real. And I know that doesn’t change anything, but I need you to know that. I never meant to hurt you, and I’ll spend as long as it takes to make it up to you if you’ll let me.”

You study him for a long moment, searching his face, trying to find some indication of sincerity, something to show that he’s truly sorry. And when you see the remorse in his eyes, the sadness that mirrors your own, you feel something in your chest soften, just slightly.

“Bucky,” you begin softly, forcing yourself to stay strong, “I can’t just go back to how things were. I can’t pretend this didn’t happen. You hurt me more than anyone ever has, and it’s going to take time for me to get past that.”

He nods, his expression resigned, but he doesn’t look away. “I understand. And I don’t expect you to forgive me right away. I just… I just want the chance to prove to you that I’m more than the guy who hurt you. Even if we can’t go back, I want to be there for you, even if it’s just as a friend.”

You let his words sink in, feeling a flicker of hope amidst the ache in your heart. Part of you still longs for what you had, for the closeness you shared, but you know that you can’t rush back into it. If Bucky truly wants a second chance, he’ll have to earn it, piece by piece, day by day.

“Maybe…” You hesitate, feeling vulnerable but determined. “Maybe we can start as friends. Just… friends. No promises, no expectations. If you’re willing to do that, to rebuild things from the ground up… then maybe, someday, I’ll be able to trust you again.”

Relief floods his face, and he nods, a small, hopeful smile tugging at his lips. “I’ll take that. Anything you’re willing to give, I’ll take it. I’ll prove to you that I can be better. I’ll prove that I’m worth your trust.”

You give him a tentative smile, and for the first time in days, you feel a flicker of hope. It’s small and fragile, but it’s enough to remind you that maybe healing is possible.

Over the next few weeks, Bucky becomes a constant but careful presence in your life. He shows up when you need help with an assignment, offers a listening ear when you need to vent about a long day, and joins you for coffee on campus, keeping the conversation light and easy. He respects your boundaries, never pushing for more, never expecting anything beyond friendship. You’re surprised at how attentive he is, how willing he is to wait, to prove that he’s serious about making things right.

Slowly, the walls around your heart begin to crack. You start to feel comfortable with him again, to let your guard down, if only a little. You catch him glancing at you sometimes, a soft, almost wistful look in his eyes, as if he’s seeing something precious he thought he’d lost forever. It’s in these moments that you remember why you fell for him in the first place, why his smile used to make your heart race, why his touch felt like home.

One day, as you’re both sitting on a bench by the campus pond, he turns to you, a hesitant smile on his face. “I know we’re just friends right now, and I’m okay with that. But I want you to know that I’m grateful for every moment I get to spend with you, even if it’s just like this.”

You feel a warmth spread through you, a sense of peace you haven’t felt in a long time. “Thank you, Bucky,” you say softly. “For not giving up. For being patient with me.”

He reaches out, hesitating for a moment before resting his hand on yours, his touch warm and steady. “I’ll wait as long as it takes. I’ll prove to you that I’m here for you, no matter what.”

And as you look into his eyes, you feel a flicker of something you thought was lost—a tentative, fragile hope that maybe things could be different this time. That he could truly be the person he’s trying to be, the person you wanted him to be all along. And though you know there’s a long road ahead, you’re finally willing to take that first step with him, trusting that maybe, this time, he won’t let you down.

The night is alive with music and laughter as you step into the crowded frat house. It’s your first time back here since everything happened, and you can’t deny the nervous flutter in your stomach as you take in the familiar scene. But tonight feels different—Bucky is by your side, watching you with a gentle smile as he guides you through the chaos of people, his hand warm and steady on your arm.

Over the past few weeks, things between you and Bucky have been slowly mending. He’s proven himself time and time again, showing up when it mattered, respecting your boundaries, and never pressuring you for more than you were willing to give. He’s become someone you can lean on, someone who’s earned back your trust bit by bit. And, to your own surprise, you feel something new blossoming between you—something deeper, stronger, and more genuine than before.

When you reach the main room, you spot Sam and Steve near the keg, both of them giving you a thumbs-up as soon as they see you with Bucky. You laugh, rolling your eyes, but Bucky just grins, shrugging as if to say, They’re harmless.

“Glad you came tonight,” he says, leaning closer so you can hear him over the noise. “I was worried you might skip.”

You shrug, glancing up at him. “Well, I figured it was about time I faced the frat house again.”

He chuckles, a warm, rich sound that sends a spark of something familiar through you. It’s the same feeling you used to get when you first met, when you were just getting to know him, before anything got complicated. Only now, it feels even better—because you’re finally on solid ground with him, without secrets or lies standing between you.

As the night goes on, you find yourself enjoying the party, laughing with friends, and even dancing a bit. Bucky stays close, his presence a comforting, steady anchor amidst the noise and chaos. He’s attentive, offering you drinks and glancing over every so often to make sure you’re comfortable. And every time you catch his gaze, you feel your heart race just a little faster.

At one point, as you’re talking with a friend, you feel Bucky’s hand gently touch your arm, and he leans in close, his voice soft and intimate against your ear. “Want to get some air?”

You nod, letting him lead you through the throngs of people until you step out onto the back porch. The cool night air is a welcome relief from the warmth inside, and you breathe deeply, taking in the quiet calm of the evening. Bucky leans against the railing, watching you with a soft, almost nervous smile, his hands tucked into his pockets.

“I’ve been wanting to tell you something,” he begins, his voice low and steady, as if he’s thought about this moment a thousand times. “I know we’ve been rebuilding things, and I know you wanted to take it slow. But, Y/N… being with you these past few weeks, even just as friends, has been everything to me. And I can’t stop thinking about you. About us.”

Your heart stirs at his words, and you feel a warmth spread through you, a sense of longing that’s been building quietly since the day he asked for a second chance.

“Bucky,” you say softly, stepping a little closer. “I… I feel the same. It’s been hard, letting go of the past. But I think—no, I know—I’ve forgiven you. You’ve shown me who you really are, and… I like that person.”

His eyes brighten at your words, and he reaches out, his hand brushing your cheek as his thumb strokes gently across your skin. He leans closer, his gaze searching your face as if to make sure you’re truly ready for this.

“Can I kiss you?” he whispers, his voice barely audible in the quiet night air.

You feel your heart skip a beat, and you give him a small, almost shy nod, your pulse racing as he leans in, closing the distance between you. The moment his lips meet yours, it’s like the world melts away, leaving only the warmth of his touch, the softness of his mouth against yours. It’s gentle at first, tentative, as if he’s afraid of breaking the spell. But as you respond, his hand slips to the back of your neck, pulling you a little closer, deepening the kiss with a quiet, aching intensity.

When you finally pull away, he rests his forehead against yours, both of you catching your breath, sharing a smile that’s equal parts relief and joy.

“Y/N,” he murmurs, his voice full of warmth, “I promise, I’m not going to mess this up again. I want this with you—for real, no games.”

You smile, reaching up to run a hand through his hair. “Good, because you’re stuck with me now.”

He laughs, pulling you into a tight hug, and you bury your face in his shoulder, feeling a happiness you haven’t felt in a long time. You’re finally ready to move forward with him, to start fresh, knowing that this time, it’s real.

maybe I should've made it more angsty? I love angst, request angst people! lol

[butterflytint]

birthday boy

Summary: how the jjk men have birthday sex (p.s. it's their bday)

Pairings: jjk men x fem!reader

Warnings: nsfw, sexual content, morning sex, missionary, oral (giving and receiving)

a/n: i wrote this a while ago for gojo’s bday but never got around to posting it…let’s pretend it’s still his bday

Satoru Gojo

He's a light sleeper so he ends up waking up when you press a soft kiss to his forehead in the morning. With a sheepish smile, he wakes up, his eyes hardly opening.

You wish him a happy birthday, kissing his lips.

He deepens the kiss, lazily throwing an arm around you and before you know it, you’re having sex first thing in the morning.

“-Toru—I had a whole morning planned—ah—I was going to make you breakfast before I gave you your present—it’s why I woke up so early.”

His fingers dig into the flesh of your waist, his breaths shallow and his strokes deep. His blue eyes flick up to your face, watching you struggle to take his cock. He can’t help but crack a crooked smile, his snowy hair falling over his forehead.

“Baby, you’re so cute—thinking I need anything else when I’ve got you.”

The smooth talker he is, you don’t even bother arguing as he flips you over, getting on top.

He beams at you brightly before kissing your lips, “Best gift I could’ve asked for.”

Suguru Geto

He comes to pick you up for “dinner”  which is actually a surprise party you and his friends had planned. Your plans go up in smoke when he sees you in that dress he likes.

You barely make it past a “Happy Birthday” before he’s inside your apartment and shoving the door closed behind him. All the while, he wears a smug smirk, seemingly unsuspecting.

Except you know him all too well, already knowing what was going on in his head.

His lips are on yours and he’s groping at you like he’s never touched you before—or that he’ll never get the opportunity to ever again.

You giggle, “Suguru—we have to go—we have a reservation.”

“The reservation can wait,” the reservation being all your friends waiting for the birthday boy to arrive.

You don’t even argue any further before he has you pressed up against the wall, hand slithering up your thighs to drag your underwear off.

Next thing you know, he’s got your legs wrapped around his waist as he’s ploughing his cock in and out of you.

“Can’t believe you were gonna keep me waiting all night for my present.”

“I was—was gonna make you—work for—for it,” you gasp, feeling the tip of his dick prod deeper inside you.

“On my birthday, too?” he scoffs jokingly, pressing his forehead against yours. “Baby, you’re breaking my heart.”

You claw at his shoulders, gasping for air before your arms wrap around his neck. You bury your face in his shoulder, ignoring the constant notification pings coming from your expectant friends.

Kento Nanami

He’s the type of guy to go about it in a classy way.

He insists on taking you out on his birthday.

When the two of you come back home, you let him unwrap his present (you in a brand new lingerie set).

He’s very tender and gentle with you most the time but on his day, he lets YOU take care of him.

He groans as quietly as possible as you trail soft kisses down his neck, unbuttoning his shirt before kissing down his muscly chest. You work to unbuckle his pants, his eyes growing hazy with desire.

He tips his head back as you finally wrap your lips around his cock, flicking your tongue over the tip. Your hand wraps around his dick from the base, sliding it up and down his length. And he can’t help but buck his hips into your hold.

When you pull your mouth off, a desperate whimper escapes him as he flicks his gaze back down to you.

“Happy birthday, baby” you smile.

Toji Fushiguro

He has you on your back, face buried between your legs while his large hands grasping your thighs enough to bloom everlasting bruises on them.

He can’t help but grin when he pulls whine after whine from you.

Birthdays were never a big deal to him. Why should anyone care so much about getting older? It only reminded him that he was yet another year older than you.

But when you’d treat the day like it was a special occasion—getting all giddy to make him dinner and get dolled up in that lacy dress he loved, kissing him a little extra too, he was so fucking happy to have been born after all.

And no way in hell was he going to pass up the opportunity to unwrap his present after dinner.

He pulls your hands away from your face, “Don’t hide that pretty face from me, wanna hear you scream my name, baby.”

He nearly melts when you whimper, your chest heaving in heavy breaths as your eyes met his.

He lowers himself again, his fingers spreading your folds, his tongue flicking over your clit as you screamed out his name just as he asked.

“There you go, pretty girl,” he chuckles, eating you out because he prefers that over cutting a piece of damn cake on his birthday.

[sleepyjuice]

Request, after fratboy!jj writes your name on his dick (with sharpie ofc like a dumbass) you help him get it off but the stimulation makes him cum

EEEEKKKKKDJ his dumbass!!!!

“Why the fuck did you use sharpie?!”

“You know, I didn’t think that part through.”

You rolled your eyes for what was probably the twentieth time in the past ten minutes as you walked back into JJ’s bedroom from the slightly disgusting frat house bathroom carrying a warm, wet washcloth with soap.

“You gotta admit, it’s hot though, right?” He grinned at you as he sat on the foot of his bed, clad only in a t-shirt and his boxers.

“Yes,” you sighed, kneeling down by JJ’s feet as you gestured for him to pull off his boxers. “But the fact that you used permanent marker is not. I don’t even think it’s gonna come all the way off.”

He obliged, pulling his boxers off and revealing his soft dick, your name big and bold along his shaft. This was such a JJ thing to do and you could tell his intentions were to make you feel special in his own JJ type of way.

“Well, just do what ya can,” he looked down at you with an endearing smile. “Totally worth it though, got you on your knees for me.” He half joked, wiggling his eyebrows.

You rolled your eyes once again, swatting his bare thigh as you grabbed his cock, feeling it immediately begin to stiffen, growing harder by the second.

You couldn’t help but blush. Regardless of the situation, the fact that you just had to get on your knees and lightly touch your boyfriend’s dick to get him hard made you feel all warm inside.

With a fake annoyed hum, you began gently rubbing the washcloth along JJ’s cock, careful to not be too rough and hurt him but using enough pressure to hopefully make some progress on removing the ink.

JJ’s stomach tightened immediately as you worked away on his dick, swallowing thickly as he attempted to keep his composure, even though at this point, he was fully hard.

“Well, I guess it is easier with you being hard…” you mumbled, staying focused on the task at hand. You really did not want to have sex with JJ while there was sharpie on his dick, so the sooner you got it off, the better.

“Mhm.” Was all he said in response, his fists clenching the sheets at his sides, his breathing becoming a bit heavier the more you rubbed his cock.

The warmth and the wetness of the washcloth was a nice enough feeling on its own, but the sight of you on your knees beneath him, brows furrowed in concentration and seemingly oblivious to the fact that he was getting off on this was bringing him close to nutting all over your hands.

And that’s exactly what happened.

“I think it’s starting to— oh!” You gasped as JJ let out a loud and shaky moan, his eyes widening as he met your shocked expression, taking you by complete surprise as he came in thick spurts all over your hands as well as the washcloth.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he panted, reaching down to cup your face. “I didn’t think— yeah… felt so good, baby, ‘m sorry.” He apologized, squeezing your cheeks lightly in his large hands, his own face slightly flushed, eyes glossy as he finished coming down from his unexpected orgasm.

You were quiet for a moment before you giggled loudly, shaking your head at your boyfriend as you wiped your hands clean with the apparent magic washcloth.

It was hard to ignore the blood that rushed to your center, thighs clenching absentmindedly as you fully realized everything that had happened. You just accidentally made him cum.

“JJ—“

“I know, I know,”

“Hey. That was hot, you’re fine, it’s okay.” You giggled again, but spoke firmly to assure him. You knew he was embarrassed and nervous he had upset you, but you weren’t upset in the slightest.

“Oh yeah?” He smirked lazily at you, his demeanor shifting once he realized you weren’t upset, rather the opposite.

“Yeah, but don’t get all cocky, you just nutted from me cleaning your dick.” You challenged, slowly standing up.

“Valid point.” he reached for your waist, pulling you onto the bed and laying you onto your back. He lowered himself onto his stomach, quickly reaching for the hem of your soft shorts and sliding them down your legs.

He positioned himself between your legs, his face inches away from your pussy as he spread your thighs, the only barrier being your quickly dampening panties.

“Let me say thank you for doing such a good job then.”

[fluffylino]

minho helps you let out your pent-up emotions

-contains mature themes

"you've been having an attitude since morning" minho hissed out, hips brutally thrusting into you.

"that isn't your p-problem" you practically shouted. body squirming from how much he had edged you.

minho's face morphing into an annoyed expression. your stomach doing flips when he shot you a glare.

you didn't mean to shout. he had unknowingly hit that spongey spot inside of you.

saying sorry was too late now. you had your pride. yet you were still scared of how he'd react.

"it is my fucking problem" he answered back, sitting on his haunches.

"if you're in pain. im in pain"

staring down at you. lazily thrusting inside of your sopping heat.

"start talking" you threw your head to the side.

whenever you got like this he'd make you open up. you were the type to keep things to yourself.

and minho knew about it.

you had even asked him to help you talk more about your feelings. why you had gotten so worked up. and snapped at him when he asked if you wanted to watch a movie with him.

"no..." you mumbled, eyes watering. he sighed, pushing his hair back.

"fine. be that way"

"i'll just fuck it out of you"

stifling your moans against your arm when he used all his strength to rail you. his hand roughly pulling your arm that was covering you mouth.

"m-minho" you mumbled, trying to look at him. but he ignored you. choosing to keep his eyes fixed on where he entered your cunt.

"minnie"

tears welling up in your eyes. a few slipping out. why wouldn't he look at you.

you deserved to be treated like this. he didn't deserve to be the brunt of your outburst.

his fingers reaching up to hold your waist. making you meet his thrusts. you felt like all your pent up emotions were letting loose. thighs trembling.

his eyes finally meeting yours.

he cooed.

"there we go..." a feeling of accomplishment in his tone. you were crying. broken sentences.

"n-not studied...exam"

he understood. humming in response. exams were in a month and you were stressed. you'd kept procrastinating until finally you were pacing.

it was all your fault. minho seemed to notice how you fell into a dark place.

choosing to ask you. yet you yelled at him. you didn't mean to hurt him. it was all a mistake.

"what do you have to say to me?" he whispered, just for you to hear.

"m'sorry. i didn't mean to be rude.."

"no more thinking now kitten. im here" you sniffled. feeling much better after he accepted your apology.

whining as he pulled out completely.

"get on top" he instructed, sitting upright. successfully pulling your limp body on him. gently lifting you up and sliding right back in.

"always so tight for me" he moaned out. you grinded down on him. letting out little noises as he made you ride him. hands firmly holding your waist.

lips kissing up your neck and gradually going lower. until he mouthed at your tits. sticking his tongue out playfully to toy at them. eyes locked onto yours with a flirty glimmer in them.

"h-hurts" you mumbled, thighs aching. you tried though to keep your composure. how could you let him do all the hard work.

instantly his hands slid down, kneading at your thighs. easing out your tense muscles.

"relax for me" he said in a hushed tone. practically melting against him. his dick still in you.

"let me take care of you princess"

.

.

.

[honeipie]

can i request kuroo x reader? they get ready for bed together in the bathroom and then have a little make out session in bed. nothing smutty just some kisses maybe a few hickies if you want 🥰🥰🥰

routine

kuroo x reader

synopsis: you and kuroo take in the domestic feel of getting ready for bed together

w/c: 651

authors note: thank you for the request!

“ugh, i hate that you take longer in the bathroom than i do. you’re such a girl” you groaned leaning on the door.

“well you could always come inside. couples usually do that”

“yeah but you’re peeing. i don’t wanna watch you pee”

“you know, some girls would pay to watch me pee” he flushed the toilet moving over to wash his hands “you’re telling me you get this whole show for free and you don’t even want a peek?”

you opened the door face scrunched up in disgust “i will look down there any other time. but if we’re in a bathroom i’m not” making your way over you grabbed your toothbrush hands brushing as he grabbed his.

“you’ve already broken that. remember that one time on our honeymoon. they had this rain shower that hit just-“

“okay! yes! thank you i remember that. i remember it very well..” he grabbed the toothpaste putting it not only on his toothbrush, but yours as well. this was when he finally noticed your choice of pajamas.

“the hell are you wearing?”

you were dressed in a dark blue hoodie, an all too familiar one to him. on the back it had hinata’s name and jersey number on it.

“.. a hoodie?”

“yeah but it’s not the right teams hoodie”

you rolled your eyes with a smile “tetsu you work for the volleyball association. aren’t you supposed to be rooting for all teams?”

“nope! i work for the japan volleyball association. that’s brazil. plus i don’t like having another guys name on you”

“it’s your hoodie!”

he mocked your words before placing the toothbrush in his mouth. you scoffed giving him a light shove.

“don’t be like that!”

“jush brush your teef” he jumbled out his words through the foam. you started to brush your teeth contently beside him. it didn’t take long before his hand was lazily resting on your waist.

it felt nice. the two of you doing these types of things together. being honest, kuroo never knew if he wanted a life like this. stuck in some routine with a person when he could be out partying in some VIP lounge with his friends. though now that he was actually here with you, the person he loved more than anything, he wouldn't trade it for the world.

the two of you finished up in the bathroom moving into the bedroom. you immediately got under the covers while kuroo shed his shirt throwing it to the floor.

"damn you couldn't even wait for me?" he mumbled climbing right on top of you.

"nope, bed was too comfy to ignore"

"i'm comfy too y'know"

"says the guy laying on me instead of the other way around"

you raised an eyebrow at him making him roll his eyes "shut up" you giggled at his sass. he moved his head up so he was face to face with you "i love you"

"i love you more"

he leaned into your smiling face, catching it in a kiss. it started off slow but he quickly got impatient. you could feel the coolness of his hands running up your sweatshirt. he moved his mouth from yours to your neck.

everything was going smoothly, just tiny kisses being peppered across your neck until-

"tetsu!" you yelped pulling him away "did you just bite me?"

kuroo scoffed trying to fight your grasp "no!.. i nipped you" he took his thumb rubbing the slightly red spot "sorry about that, but at least that one kid from your job will stop hitting on you now"

your body relaxed again feeling him rubbing the spot "he's not a kid, he's just an intern with a lot of questions"

"yeah, a lot of personal questions"

"oh my gosh i forgot to tell you. he asked what i was doing tomorrow and-"

"that's it i'm biting you again"

"but you didn't let me finish!?"

[chestersturniolo]

“so you miss me when you’re tipsy, huh?”

PART TWO

Chris Sturniolo x fem!reader

part one HERE

In which; Your best friend Chris takes care of you when you show up to his house wasted , fluffy fluff

⋆·˚ ༘ * ⋆·˚ ༘

It was later in the night now, and the music seemed to get louder as the club filled with even more people. You felt your body starting to drag with exhaustion, the drinks you’d had finally catching up to you. Your friends were still dancing, but you were over it.

Your phone buzzed, and you glanced down, blinking a few times to steady your vision. A small smile creeps onto your lips , seeing It was Chris checking in, just like he said he would.

You stared at the message, suddenly feeling a wave of emotions hit you all at once. The fun, the drinks, the noise, it was all starting to feel like too much. You just wanted to leave, to be somewhere quiet

You typed back, fingers fumbling slightly, trying your best to make the letters string together in your drunken state

it took seconds for chris to respond

Relief washed over you. He always had your back. You said your goodbyes to your friends, ignoring their protests, and stumbled your way to the front of the club. Stepping outside made you realise how drunk you really were, but the cold air woke you up just a little as you spotted the silver car pulling up. You climbed in, beginning to hear your heart thumping in your ears now the music was gone.

~

Before you knew it, you were standing in front of Chris’ place, swaying slightly as you fumbled to close the Uber door behind you. The driver gave you a sympathetic nod before pulling away, and you wobbled towards the front door.

The door opened before you even had a chance to knock. There he was, standing in the doorway, looking like the most familiar thing in the world. His eyes softened when he saw you, taking in your disheveled state.

“Chrissss” you sing, as you go to step towards him, tripping over your own feet. Chris lunges to catch you,

“Woah kid, easy” he says, steadying you by your waist. “Oopsy” you mumble , resting your forehead against his chest , his familiar scent lingering in your nose.

“Alright, I got you, c’mon-” he murmured, his voice soothing as he scooped you up into his arms without hesitation. “-let’s get you inside”

Your arms wrapped lazily around his neck as he carried you through the front door, closing it behind him with his foot.

“You dont have to carry me” you slurred with a sleepy smile, your head resting against his chest.

Chris chuckled “Yeah, but when’s the last time you made it anywhere on your own two feet when you’re this drunk,huh?” he teased, looking down at you with a smirk.

You groaned, half-laughing. “Rude”

“Honest” he shot back playfully, shifting you in his arms as he carried you up the stairs, through living room “Besides, you always like it when I carry you”

All you could do is giggle as his response, he was right, whether you admitted it or not, you loved it.

When you reached his bedroom, Chris gently set you down on the edge of the bed. You start to sway lightly in your spot, eyes unable to focus properly. He chuckled as he stood over you “You’re a mess, you know that?”

You just giggled in response, the sound muffled by how tired you felt.

He knelt down infront of you, his hands resting on your knees. “Alright, let’s get you out of this stuff” he said softly. He started with your shoes, slipping them off one by one before looking up at you. “Can you lift your arms for me?”

You blinked at him slowly, still processing his words. He smiled and lightly guided your hands up, helping you out of your shirt. It slipped over your head, and he tossed it aside, “Gonna grab you one of my shirts, alright?” he said, standing to pull out one of his big t-shirts from his dresser. He came back over, and with the same gentleness, he helped you put it on, tugging it down over your body.

Next, he hooked his fingers around the waistband of your skirt. “You want this off too ma?” he asked, waiting for your nod of permission.

You gave a small, sleepy nod as you try your best to raise your hips slightly, and he carefully slid the skirt down your legs. He threw it aside and stood up, turning to grab a makeup wipe from the drawer he had prepared for you. He knelt before you once again, gently cupping your face, starting to wipe away the makeup as you blinked at him with heavy, glazed-over eyes.

“You’re always taking care of me” you murmured, your voice slurred

He smiled, his thumb brushing your cheek as he finished cleaning your face. “Mm-Hmm, wouldn’t want it any other way”

Chris rose to his feet “Let me grab you some water”

You whined, reaching out to grab his arm. “Nooo, don’t leavvvvee”

He grinned ,before leaning forward and kissing the top of your head. “I’ll be right back, promise”

You let out a big huff, as he laughs at your neediness, disappearing to the kitchen.

It took him only a minute to grab a glass of water from the kitchen, and when he returned, he sat down next to you on the edge of the bed “Here” he said, holding the glass out to you.

You took it, taking a couple of small sips, the icy water doing wonders for your dry throat. You hold the glass back out to him as he raises his eyebrows “Few more f’me” he softly orders. You sigh before bringing the glass back to your lips, taking multiple gulps. “Good girl” he whispers, before taking the glass and going to put it on the bedside table, and pulling the bed covers back.

He makes his way back to you, scooping you up bridal style and placing you in bed properly. You watch as he takes off his shirt, climbing in next to you. Chris pulls the covers over both of you before wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close. You immediately nuzzled into him, resting your head on his chest as you let out a content “Mmphm-“

“-I missed you” you whispered, your words almost inaudible against his chest.

“I missed you too” Chris whispered back pressing a kiss to the top of your head. His hand rubbed soothing circles on your back, putting you in a state of peaceful drowsiness.

With your last bit of consciousness, you felt his hand intertwine in your hair, laying long soft strokes, “Sleep, sweetheart-“ he whispered, his voice soft and comforting “-I’ve got you”

⋆·˚ ༘ * ⋆·˚ ༘

MASTERLIST

taglist; @sturnobsessedwh0re @nayveetbhh

@phone4pills @demzzz @sturniooolos

@monroesturnns @mattsbitchh @pvssychicken @tsturniolo4 @brianna-grace12

@blahbel668

@stvrlighht @witchofthehour @ilyttmatsa @asherrisrandom @l0ver-i

@starstrucktyrantinfluencer @fratbrochrisgf @emely9274

@chriseatingmeoutin4k @slvttie-zx

@bbybloop @sturnn372 @chrissturnsss @slut4m4tt @izzylovesmatt

@spideylovin

[boyfhee]

✶ JEALOUSY, JEALOUSY !

jealously looks good on them

pairing enhypen x reader / fem reader in hoon's genre fluff warnings kissing in jake's, ignore the typos pleek notes happy reading ^^ requested

HEESEUNG

you know he's the jealous type just three days after dating him. it's in a fun way— of course. despite being the jealous type he doesn't overdo it ( or at least tries not to. ) you're gushing about your favourite character from a show or a celebrity you like and he's sulking on the inside.

“byeon wooseok is hot but not hotter than me. right, darling?” he would ask the moment he catches you watching the edits of the actor on tiktok. with eyes fixed on you, his lips morph more and more into a pout when you take more than a few seconds to respond. “i can't believe this,”

you watch him sit on the far end of the couch, away from you, refusing to spare you a glance even though you know his attention is on you. “c’mon hee, are you jealous of an actor? he doesn't even know me,”

“well, good for me because with how pretty you are, he will definitely fall for you if he gets to know you,” he replies through a frown, eyeing you through his peripheral gaze, arms crossed. it only makes you laugh at how cute he can be sometimes.

“and i'm in love with you so it doesn't matter,” and he's back to normal, crawling to your side and wrapping his arms around you. you just have to remind him that every time jealousy gets the best of him, even though he already knows it; but he likes to hear you say it. 

JONGSEONG

jay thought it would be cute to ask you out on a little convenience store date until your neighbour's son crashes it. well, not literally since he only happened to be there at the store. however, despite all, being the person he is, he doesn't think much of it.

that is until that guy decides to follow you around throughout the time you two shop. even when you two make it to the counter, he's next to you, talking to you and you're responding nicely, considering he's your neighbour.

“um, we're dating,” he says with an awkward smile when that guy asks if you're single. and jay has always been patient but he grabs the shopping bags and your hand, and walks out of the store with the speed of light.

“you can let go of my hand,” you laugh at the look of pure jealousy on his face. it's not really obvious, but you can see it. you've known him long enough to know how he is when he's jealous.

“nope,” he shakes his head, lacing his fingers with your own while you two are walking back to his place. “not until we're home,”

JAEYUN

he thinks he's being subtle about it but you don't miss the way he keeps scooting closer while you're texting a friend. he's not trying to peek, he's trying to get your attention.

“who even have you been texting for so long?” he asks after a few seconds, sitting lazily next to you on the bed with a faint pout residing on his lips.

“my friend. it's her birthday soon and she wants me to go shopping with her,” you don't even look up at him as you respond, smiling at your phone screen. he stares at you for a brief second before laying down with a slight whine.

“you're leaving me,” his words reach your ears and you turn your head towards him, brows furrowed. “i need to die,”

and the ‘j’ in jake stands for jealousy, it was never a secret. however, you didn't expect him to act like this right now. “jake, it's not that serious,”

“it’s four in the evening and not a single kiss today,” he sits up and says with a dramatic gasp— eyes wide open as if the situation is oh so scandalous. he sighs, putting a hand on his chest, shaking his head. “i'm afraid this is my last day. any last words?”

and you chuckle, putting your phone away before scooting closer to him and cupping his face, pressing his lips against his. “you're so dramatic,” 

SUNGHOON

sunghoon was all up for an evening stroll around the campus after classes but definitely didn't appreciate the transfer student from your class ruin this little date.

subtle glares and his fingers intertwined with yours, and yet that guy couldn't catch a hint. sunghoon knows he's hitting on you, perhaps you do too but knowing how nice you are, you can't be rude when all that guy is doing is complimenting you. so, he'll do it for you— sunghoon is going to eat him up.

"i know, right? my girlfriend is the prettiest girl on earth. and guess what? she's smart as hell— i love my girl. oh you want her number? well, she's mine," all in one breath, followed by an awkward silence and sunghoon's prideful smile. "now, me and my girl have somewhere to be so if you'll excuse us,"

he doesn't even give a chance for your classmate to speak, walking away while bringing you along with him. as funny at it is, you know he wasn't taking any of it.

"was all that necessary?" you ask, fingers still laced with his as you two walked down towards an ice cream parlour.

"what's necessary is for us to get married," he says it in the most casual way, getting you your favourite ice cream flavour and handing it too you. "too many guys looking at you. i can't take the risk,"

SUNOO

"i thought you're no longer in touch with him," sunoo says quietly when you bid your goodbyes to your friend, holding your hand as you two walk back to your class together.

"yeah, but we're classmates so it was unavoidable," you respond with a smile, looking up at him. it only takes you a fraction of the second to notice the troubles expression on his face, behind the smile. "what's wrong?"

your boyfriend shakes his head, the smile getting wider but it's only an attempt to throw you off the topic. "nothing,"

"sunoo," you stand in his way, hands on your waist, looking at him with a cheeky grin. it's not often you catch sunoo with such an expression. "are you jealous?"

"i'm not!" he quickly defends himself, eyes going wide and cheeks heating up out of embarrassment. however he sighs, giving up the very next second. "well, maybe a little. he's your ex after all,"

"he was my friend before we started dating," and you couldn't help but chortle at his actions, nodding as you get back to holding his hand, this time a bit more firmly than earlier. "besides, i have you now,"

"right," he couldn't help but smile at your words and pulls you a bit closer to him, speaking with a triumphant grin. "you're too good for him anyway,"

JUNGWON

jungwon has been watching you for fifteen minutes now, laying on the bed, eyes squinted at you. "do you remember you have a boyfriend?"

"of course, i do. why would i forget that?" you furrow your brows at his question, looking up at him briefly before looking back at your boyfriend's pet dog.

"i don't know, seems like you did," he sighs, getting off the bed and sitting next to you on the floor, looking at his pet dog. "i called you over to spend time with you. not to watch you play with maeumi,"

and you laugh, caressing maeumi in your lap while looking at your boyfriend with a teasing grin. "i can't believe you're jealous of your own dog,"

"and what if i am?"

"it's a bit silly," you nod, the smile never leaving your face. "it's cute," his eyes follow your actions as you lean down to plant a soft kiss on maeumi's head and then lifting him up slightly. "but can you really ignore this cutie?"

and that was the end of his patience. jungwon gets up, picking maeumi before putting him away in the living room. "yeah, he's going up for adoption,"

"jungwon!"

RIKI

"he's so ugly," riki comments bitterly as you walk out of your class, eyeing one of the classmates you've been talking to while he was waiting for you in the hallways. "what a creature,"

"creature?" you repeat his words in disbelief, even though it's not really unusual for him to say that. "riki, that's my classmate. he was giving me yesterday's notes,"

"yeah, he's still ugly," he shakes his head, scoffing, grabbing one of your hands while sliding the other in the pocket of his pants.

you simply laugh at his words as you both get downstairs, a few students passing by you two, rushing towards the school exit. "you look stupid when you're jealous,"

"jealous? me?" he scoffs yet again, a prideful grin on his face as he stops in his tracks, looking at you. "you have quite an imagination,"

"what i have is a jealous boyfriend who sucks at lying,"

and who even is he kidding, because both of you know he's the more jealous one between the two of you. about the lying part. . .he's not too sure. "well, at least i look better than him, don't i?"

you nod, tip toeing slightly to kiss his cheeks, still holding his hands in the process. "the best,"

[princessbrunette]

Mid argument with rafe and you tell him “Fine, i don’t care anyway, cause you’re not invited to my birthday party.” even though he’s literally funding the whole thing, and he’s just like “i really don’t give a fuck.” and now you’re crying cs wdym you don’t care about my birthday party ?!?? - 🍄

˚˖𓍢ִִ໋🐼🎀˚˖𓍢ִ✧˚.

you’re hot, overstimulated, pissed off — there’s clothes all over your bedroom floor as you rifle through them — looking for that one specific top and rafe has the audacity to just stand there, being so rude and then checking his phone mid argument whilst you talk to him.

“sorry was i meant to ignore the text from my dad just to stand here n’listen to you whining?” he drawls, gum smacking as he chews— fingers typing away at his screen. you sigh, heat rising in your chest from your own anger.

“you’re just being so mean and so unhelpful!” you yell, half turning around to look at him.

“so mean and so unhelpful!” he whisper yells mockingly albeit distractedly, fingers still not quitting their incessant typing. his attention is finally regained when a balled up pair of socks just miss him from your poor throw. he snorts, glancing up at you. “oh we’re throwing shit now? okay.” he nods in faux understanding, lips turned down.

you scramble to your feet, panting — clearly enraged. your brain rifled for the most hurtful thing you could think of in that moment, to try and get a reaction.

“you’re not coming to my birthday party anymore!” you explode, eyes wide and fists clenched at his sides. he stares blankly at you for a moment, still chewing but he doesn’t even seem fully there, brain somewhere else.

“the… the party that i’m paying for?” he raises his eyebrows.

“you’re not. coming. uninvited.” you spit, begging for some kind of emotional reaction. the final straw is when he continues to type, shrugging a shoulder.

“yeah uh, i think i’ll survive.”

devastated, you burst into tears. he really seemed to not care for your outburst — and the one time rafe wasn’t having an emotional reaction was the time you were trying to press for one. you were disappointed in yourself, but over everything just tired and overwhelmed. surprisingly, you hear him sigh and he steps through the mess of clothes scattered around you in piles.

“jesus.” he mutters before squatting down to your side. “hey, what— what is this? what are you crying for huh?” he dips his head, trying to catch your eye.

“you’re mean! and you don’t even care about my birthday party.” you sniffle into your hands, undoubtably a snotty mess. he presses his lips together, shuffling to a more comfortable spot before pulling you against his side.

“i do… i do. just figured i’d let you have your little tantrum. not tryna be the bad guy here, a’ight?” he exasperated, finally catching side of your damp cheek and wiping at it lazily with his thumb. “you don’t need to be doin’ any of this shit right now.” he gestures around you. “what you need, is to go lie down n’have a nap. you’re tired.”

“what i need is for you to be nice to me for once.” you sulk, sparing him a glance through wet spiky eyelashes.

“i’m being nice… okay? i’ll — i’ll come with you. just… chill. yeah?” he gives you a friendly little jostle with his hand on your waist and you sniff, not totally hating the idea of a nap with rafe. “alright. c’mon.” he stands up, and pulls you up by the hand before instantly lifting you beneath your arms to carry you on his hip. “s’like looking after a toddler sometimes. jesus.”

˚˖𓍢ִִ໋🐼🎀˚˖𓍢ִ✧˚.

[itneverendshere]

you said i have to trust more freely - r.c series (three)

requested here; (one); (two)

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader (the duff inspired) word count: 5.4k

You hadn’t planned for that kiss to happen the other day.

It was supposed to be all part of the game, of the plan.

You just wanted to learn things properly. Right? But you knew, you had wanted it, and worse, you had liked it.

God, what the hell were you doing?

He was Rafe Cameron. Cocky, rich, your nightmare with a reputation that should have sent you running in the opposite direction. And yet, here you were, feeling the ghost of his lips against yours, wondering what would’ve happened if he hadn’t pulled back. If you hadn’t let the spell break.

"Focus," you muttered to yourself, shaking your head like you could shake him off too. You had bigger things to worry about—like Nate.

Remember Nate? The whole point of this was to get him to notice you, to finally realize that you were more than just the girl he studied with. You weren’t supposed to be getting caught up with Rafe Cameron’s sudden vulnerability or, God forbid, catching feelings for him.

You groaned, running a hand through your hair as you turned down the street toward your apartment. But no matter how hard you tried to ignore it, the thought of Rafe stayed with you for hours, sneaking its way back in every time you thought you’d pushed it out for good.

What was it about him, anyway? He was hot, sure. But it wasn’t just that. It was the way he looked at you sometimes, like he was seeing something deeper. Like there was more to this than either of you were willing to admit. And maybe that was the problem. Maybe you were starting to want him to see more.

By the time you reached your door, you had spiraled enough to know you needed a distraction. So you did what any girl in your situation would do: you grabbed your phone and texted Harper back.

You: Movie night better include wine. Lots of wine.

Her reply came almost immediately.

Harper <3:  “Already taken care of, babe. See you soon.”

You smiled to yourself, feeling a little better. It was exactly what you needed. Maybe after a few glasses of wine and some cheesy rom-coms, you’d finally stop thinking about that stupid kiss.

As you closed the door behind you and flopped onto your bed, your phone buzzed again. Expecting it to be Harper, you lazily reached for it, but your heart nearly stopped when you saw Rafe’s name instead.

Rafe: got your notes ready for tomorrow? or should i just show up and charm my way through it?

You stared at the screen for a second, unsure whether to laugh or throw your phone across the room. Why did he always have to do this? Act like nothing had changed when everything felt different?

Not that you were any better.

Finally, you typed back.

You: “depends. can ur charm get you through an entire chapter on portuguese colonization?”

His reply came almost instantly. Like he’d been waiting for yours.

Rafe: “we both know my charm can get me through anything.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the stupid smile tugging at your lips.

You: “let’s not test that theory. see you tomorrow.”

You tossed your phone aside, willing yourself not to overthink the fact that just seeing his name pop up on your screen made your heart race.

You were going to get through this. Nate was your goal. This thing with Rafe was just a detour. A very distracting, very complicated detour that you’d handle... eventually.

But tonight? Tonight was for your girls, your movies, and drowning out the chaos in your head with as much wine as it took to stop thinking about blue eyes and stupid smirks.

Later that night, you found yourself sprawled out on Ava’s couch, surrounded by blankets and popcorn, watching some cheesy rom-com that Harper had picked out. The glow of the TV cast a soft light over the room, but your mind was still elsewhere. Even with your best friends beside you, laughing and making snide comments about the movie, your thoughts kept drifting back to him.

It wasn’t just the kiss—although that had definitely been messing with your head lately—it was everything. The way he’d been acting, the things he’d said, the stupid nickname that you couldn’t seem to shake. Harper and Ava had a point, but they didn’t know Rafe like you did. Not anymore, at least. You’d seen sides of him recently that no one else had, and while you weren’t exactly sure what to make of it, there was something there. Something more than just the cocky rich boy everyone saw.

You sighed, reaching for another handful of popcorn, but Harper, ever the perceptive one, caught the look on your face before you could hide it.

“You’ve been quiet,” she said, nudging your leg with her foot. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

“Yeah, you’ve barely roasted this movie,” Ava added, throwing a piece of popcorn at you. “That’s not like you.”

You didn't want to get into it, “Just tired, I guess. Long day.”

Harper wasn’t buying it, though. She turned the volume on the TV down and sat up, crossing her legs underneath her. “Okay, spill. This is about Rafe, isn’t it?”

You groaned, covering your face with a pillow. “Can we not talk about him ?”

“Nope,” Harper said, yanking the pillow away. “Not until you tell us what’s going on. I know a liar when I see one."

Busted.

“Did something happen?”

You hesitated, glancing between the two of them. They were your best friends, and you knew they only wanted what was best for you. But the whole thing with Rafe felt complicated, like more than just a stupid crush. Still, you couldn’t keep it all bottled up forever.

“Fine,” you sighed, running a hand through your hair. “There was... a kiss.”

Harper’s jaw practically dropped. “A kiss? With Rafe?”

“When did this happen?” Ava demanded, practically bouncing in her seat. “Why didn’t you tell us earlier?”

“I was scared!” You bit your lip, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks again as you thought back to that moment in the library, “He knew I never kissed anyone and offered.”

“Wait, what? Your first kiss was with Rafe freaking Cameron?”

Ava gasped, covering her mouth in shock. “He offered? What the hell does that even mean? Did he just, like, present his lips to you like some weirdo?”

You groaned, wishing you could shrink into the couch and disappear.

“It wasn’t like that, okay? We were talking, and it came up. I told him I hadn’t kissed anyone, and then he was all, ‘I can fix that,’ or something. It just... happened a few days later.”

“So, what was it like? Was it good? Did he use tongue? I need details, girl.”

Harper elbowed her. “Ava! Let her breathe, she’s clearly still processing.”

You felt your cheeks heat up even more as you fidgeted with a loose string on your sweater. “I don’t know. I mean, yeah, it was good, okay? Really good. But it’s Rafe, and now everything’s weird, and I don’t know what to do.”

Harper’s expression softened,  “Okay, I’m trying to wrap my head around this. You’ve hated Rafe for, like, ever, right? And now, all of a sudden, you’re kissing him? What about Nate?”

“I know!” you groaned again, throwing your head back against the couch.

Ava looked like she was about to explode. “So... do you like him? Because it sounds like you’re starting to like him.”

“No! Maybe? I don’t know.” You buried your face in your hands. “I wasn’t supposed to like him. It wasn’t part of the plan. But then he had to go and be all... different. Like, he’s still Rafe, but sometimes he’s—I don’t know, sweet? Ugh, that sounds ridiculous.”

Harper sighed, shaking her head slowly. “Babe, if you’re getting all messed up over a guy like Rafe, this could be a problem.”

“Tell me about it,” you muttered. You didn’t want to like Rafe. He was the last person you should be catching feelings for. 

“Guys like him? They’ll pull you in, mess with your head, and leave you confused as hell.”

“I know,” you said, hating how true that sounded. “But it’s not just that. There’s something else. Like, when we’re alone, he’s— I don’t know. He lets his guard down, and I see a side of him that I don’t think anyone else does. He's weirdly honest."

Harper raised an eyebrow. “You sure you’re not catching feelings?”

You let out a frustrated sigh, flopping back against the couch. “I don’t even know anymore. I thought this was just a stupid kiss, but now it feels like everything’s different. And it’s so dumb because I should be focused on Nate!"

Ava and Harper exchanged a glance, both of them looking concerned. Harper was the first to speak.

“Okay, maybe this is a sign you need to figure out what you really want. Do you want to keep chasing Nate, or... do you want to see where things go with Rafe?”

You blinked, the question hitting you harder than you expected. What did you want? Nate had always been the plan—nice, safe, uncomplicated Nate. 

It wasn’t just the kiss. It was how you couldn’t stop thinking about him. His stupid grin, the way he’d tease you but also get serious for like, two seconds, just long enough to make you question everything.

You sighed, pushing your hair out of your face, “This was a terrible mistake.”

Harper crossed her arms, studying you. “Okay, here’s what we’re going to do. Call him.”

“What?!” You sat up, heart racing. “No way. I can’t just call him out of nowhere.”

“Yes, you can,” Ava chimed in, nodding like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Here’s the test—if he picks up right away, it means he’s been thinking about you too. If he doesn’t? Then maybe he’s just playing games.”

You stared at them like they’d just suggested jumping off a cliff. “Are you guys serious? There’s no way I’m doing that. You're not serious."

Harper smirked, grabbing your phone off the table and holding it out to you. “Do it. Right now. Trust me, if he cares, he’ll pick up.”

What kind of fucked up science was that? Rafe? Liking you? It was ridiculous. There was no way. Not when he'd been with so many girls, kissed even more, and never gave you a second glance. You were just...there.

Your stomach twisted in knots. “What if he doesn’t answer? What if he thinks I’m weird for calling at night? What if I just— explode from embarrassment?”

Ava waved her hand dismissively. “If he doesn’t answer, then you know where you stand. But if he does... well, that’s another story. And I highly doubt you’ll explode. Just call him and see.”

You took a deep breath, staring at your phone like it was about to bite you. It felt reckless, terrifying even. But you were curious too—what would happen if you actually did it? Would he care? Would he answer?

“Fine,” you muttered, grabbing the phone from Harper and quickly finding Rafe’s name in your contacts before you could change your mind.

Ava grinned, leaning in. “Ooh, this is gonna be good.”

“I thought you hated him—"

“Call him!”

You hit call, holding your breath as the phone rang once, twice—

And then, to your absolute horror, it stopped. He picked up.

“Hey,” Rafe’s voice came through, “Everything okay?”

Your heart jumped into your throat.

You glanced at Harper and Ava, who were both staring at you like this was the most exciting thing to ever happen. You cleared your throat, trying to sound normal, like you hadn’t just spent the last ten minutes freaking out about calling him.

“Uh, yeah, everything’s fine,” you said, cringing at how awkward you sounded. “I just... wanted to see if you were ready for tomorrow’s study session.”

Lame. So, so lame.

Rafe chuckled softly. “You called me at night to ask about studying? I didn’t know I was that irresistible.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart was pounding. “Don’t flatter yourself, Cameron.”

He laughed again, and you could practically hear the smirk in his voice. “Too late. Anyway, I’m ready for tomorrow. Was studying really the reason you called?”

You glanced at Harper and Ava, who were both nodding furiously, encouraging you to say something—anything that wasn’t study-related.

“Well... maybe not just that,” you admitted, feeling your cheeks heat up again.

There was a pause on the other end, and when he spoke again, his tone was softer, more serious. “I’m glad you called.”

Your heart skipped a beat. You weren’t sure what to say, so you just muttered, “Yeah, me too.”

There was another moment of silence, like you were both trying to figure out what to say next.

“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow then,” Rafe said, his voice a little lower, almost... warmer? “Night.”

“Night,” you replied, and then the call ended.

You dropped your phone onto the couch, staring at it like it had just turned into a bomb.

Harper squealed. “He picked up right away! And he was flirty! Oh my God, he likes you!”

Ava clapped her hands, bouncing on the couch. “I knew it! He’s totally into you. Nevermind what we said earlier. Rafe Cameron is into you. We were wrong. Scratch the whole 'he’s just messing with your head' thing. He’s definitely catching feelings.”

You scowled, “Where’s your backbone? Five minutes ago, you were all, ‘Rafe’s trouble, don’t fall for it,’ and now you’re practically shipping us?”

Harper shrugged, unapologetic. “Yeah, but that was before he picked up right away and sounded all soft. That’s different, babe.”

“Exactly!” Ava chimed in. “Nate who?”

You rolled your eyes. “I don’t know. He’s... safe. And uncomplicated. Why am I even entertaining this idea of Rafe?”

Harper raised an eyebrow. “Because safe doesn’t make your heart race. And it sure as hell doesn’t make you stay up all night overthinking. If you were so into Nate, you wouldn’t be calling Rafe at night. Or letting him kiss you!”

You opened your mouth to argue, but nothing came out. They had a point, as annoying as it was. Nate might’ve been the goal, but Rafe was what had your head spinning. You groaned again, flopping back against the couch.

Sure, maybe he’d been acting a little off lately. Like, sometimes he’d actually ask you how your day was or show up when he knew you’d be around. You didn’t think much of it, though. That’s just how it was with guys like Rafe—he probably wanted something, or maybe he was just bored.

You huffed, feeling your cheeks heat up. “It’s just so stupid. He’s Rafe. He’s... ugh, he’s complicated, and I don’t even know if he’s serious, or if he’s just bored, or what. And now I’ve kissed him, and I can’t stop thinking about it, and—”

“And now you’re realizing that maybe Nate isn’t what you really want after all,” Harper finished.

You sighed, hugging a pillow to your chest. “What am I supposed to do now?”

He’d flirt, he’d flash that stupid grin, and then he’d move on like nothing ever happened. Why would you be different? 

“Easy. You figure out what you want. Not what Nate wants, not what Rafe wants. You. And until then, just... enjoy. No one said you had to decide everything right now.”

Harper nodded in agreement, giving your arm a reassuring squeeze.

“Yeah. Take it slow. And for tonight, let’s just not overthinking every little thing, okay?”

Yet, you thought about him all night. You’d seen the way he treated other girls. He’d throw them those lazy smiles, the ones that practically screamed I’ll forget your name by tomorrow, and it always seemed to work.

They all fell for it—why wouldn’t they? Rafe was good at getting what he wanted, and he never stuck around long enough for things to get messy. You? You were invisible up until recently. He only paid attention when he felt like pissing you off. Your friends had to be reading too much into things.

This was Rafe. The same Rafe who was impossible to figure out, who never took anything seriously—least of all you. There was no way he liked you. 

But the next day came way too fast, and you were paying for it. Hard.

You groaned as you dragged yourself into the library, sunglasses on like they were going to somehow shield you from the pounding headache.

Harper and Ava had insisted on one more glass of wine, which of course, turned into two. And now, you were here, praying Rafe wouldn’t notice that you felt like death.

As you slumped into the chair across from him, he immediately raised an eyebrow, “Rough night?”

You gave him a look, your head already throbbing too much for his sarcasm. “Don’t even start, Cameron.”

He leaned back in his chair, eyes twinkling with amusement as he took in your state. “Wow, I can smell the regret from here. You look like you partied with a bottle of tequila and lost.”

You groaned, rubbing your temples. “It was wine, thank you very much. And yeah, it was a little too much.”

He chuckled softly, flipping open his notebook. “A little? You look like you just survived a war zone. Was the study session that boring to look forward to?”

“Ha ha, so funny,” you muttered, wincing as you reached for your bag. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Barely.” He tilted his head, clearly enjoying every second of it. “I’m impressed you made it at all. Should I have brought a bucket? You know, just in case?”

You glared at him from behind your sunglasses. “I hate you so much right now.”

Rafe just grinned, unfazed. “Trust me, it’s mutual. But seriously, you need water or something? You’re about two seconds away from face-planting on that table.”

You bit your lip, knowing he was right but not wanting to give him the satisfaction. Still, your mouth felt like a desert, and the thought of anything cold and hydrating sounded like heaven.

“Maybe… a coffee?”

“Have you eaten?”

“Huh? No?”

“You’re not drinking coffee before you eat.”

You squinted at him, thoroughly annoyed. “Rafe, I’m hungover, not five years old.”

He just raised an eyebrow, clearly not swayed.

“Hungover means your brain’s working even worse than normal, so yeah, I’m pulling the adult card here. You need food before coffee.”

You rolled your eyes, regretting it instantly as your head throbbed harder. “Fine. I’ll get food after the coffee.”

He shook his head, already getting up. “Nope. I’m grabbing you a bagel or something.”

“Rafe, seriously—” you started, but he was already walking away, not even bothering to let you finish.

You slumped back in your chair, groaning under your breath. As much as you hated to admit it, he was right. You hadn’t eaten anything since last night, and your stomach was twisting in a way that wasn’t just from the hangover. But it was so typical of him to boss you around, like he knew what was best for you. He seemed almost too serious about all this, like it wasn’t just about breakfast or caffeine. Was he actually… worried?              

He was being so over-the-top about something so simple. Maybe he noticed things you didn’t even realize were slipping—how little you’d been eating, how tired you always seemed. You didn’t want him to worry, to get so wrapped up in how you were doing. But the fact that he did… 

Rafe returned, dropping a bagel in front of you. “Eat. Then you can have your coffee.”

You blinked at the bagel, caught off guard. “You actually got me food?”

He gave you a look. “You really thought I wouldn’t? What kind of person do you think I am?”

“A pain in my ass?” you muttered, but there was no real bite to it. You unwrapped the bagel, taking a cautious bite, and, annoyingly, it actually helped. “Thanks, I guess.”

“You’re welcome. Now, once you finish that, we’ll get started on actual studying. You might wanna take those sunglasses off too. It’s not that bright in here.”

“Stop being so smug about it,” you grumbled, but you took another bite of the bagel, your headache easing just a little.

He leaned back in his chair, stretching out like he owned the place.

“Hey, if you’re gonna drink like that, you should at least have someone who can take care of you after.”

There was something about the way he said it that made your heart skip a beat. “Is this your way of saying you care?”

“Eat your bagel.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was no denying the flutter in your chest. Why was he always like this? One minute he was the biggest pain, and the next, he was sweet? You took another bite of the bagel, trying to ignore the way his comment made your stomach do a weird little flip.

Rafe just watched you, arms crossed, looking smug as ever. "I'm not saying anything," he teased, leaning forward slightly. "But you did call me last night."

You nearly choked on your bagel. "That was for studying!"

He raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth pulling into a grin. "Oh, right. You totally call guys at night to talk about history."

You threw a balled-up napkin at him, feeling your cheeks heat up again. "Don't start with me, Cameron. You texted me first!"

"Fair enough," He caught the napkin effortlessly, still grinning, like teasing you was the highlight of his day. He was holding his hands up in surrender, but there was no hiding the amusement in his eyes. "Don’t know if it’s the kiss or maybe you’re just starting to realize I'm not all bad."

You scoffed, trying to brush off how much that actually hit home.

"Please. You're still an entitled jerk, Rafe. One kiss doesn’t change that."

But the truth was, maybe it did change something. You hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him since. And now, sitting here with him being all unexpectedly considerate, it was getting harder to pretend like there wasn’t something going on.

“So it hasn’t been keeping you up at night?”

“Why would it? It was just a kiss. Happens all the time, right?”

His smirk widen, “So I didn’t get your panties in a twist?”

You were going to throw a book at his face.

"You’re so full of yourself," you muttered, trying to act unbothered, but your pulse quickened.

Rafe leaned in a little closer, that stupid smirk still plastered on his face. “I’m just saying, it seemed like more than ‘just a kiss’ with the way you keep getting flustered. You sure it didn’t mean anything?”

You narrowed your eyes, determined not to give him the satisfaction.

“What do you want me to say, Rafe? That I’m totally falling for you? That I can’t stop thinking about the kiss? Because that’s not happening.”

He chuckled softly, leaning back again, but something shifted in his expression. He was still teasing, but there was an edge of curiosity now, almost like he was testing the waters.

“Good to know. Guess I’ll just keep doing my thing then.”

“Your thing? What, being an annoying, arrogant jerk?” you shot back, though there was less bite in your tone than usual.

Rafe’s lips twitched, “I’d hate to think I’m keeping you up at night.”

Ugh. Why was he like this? Why was this working on you?

You rolled your eyes, trying to stay focused on the whole reason you were here in the first place: studying, Nate, anything but this. But the way Rafe was looking at you right now, like he could see through all the walls you put up... yeah, it was messing with your head again.

"Can we just study now?" you grumbled, flipping open your textbook, praying the conversation would shift before your cheeks got any redder. "I didn’t drag myself here to talk about your ridiculous fantasies."

His grin softened into something more genuine, and he shook his head, finally relenting. “Alright, alright. I’ll be good. Let’s get started before your brain melts from that hangover.”

But as you pulled out your notes, you couldn’t help but notice the way his gaze lingered just a little too long. And worse, you knew your heart was doing the same—stupid fluttering and all.

There was something about this back-and-forth with him that was starting to feel... different. And maybe, just maybe, that scared you more than you were willing to admit.

As the two of you dove into the study session, you tried—really tried—to focus on the material in front of you. But every time he leaned in a little closer or cracked a joke that made you roll your eyes, your mind wandered back to that kiss. To the way he looked at you when no one else was around. To the fact that, as much as you hated to admit it, Rafe Cameron was making you feel something you hadn’t expected.

“Do you remember that bonfire when we were sixteen?” he asked all of a sudden.

You raised an eyebrow, confused for a moment. “Which one? There were like, a million bonfires.”

“The one where you dumped your drink in my face.”

Your hand froze halfway to your mouth. Oh. That bonfire. It felt like a lifetime ago, but the memory came rushing back, clear as day.

“I can’t believe you remember that.”

Rafe chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, it’s not exactly something you forget. One minute I was talking to you, and the next, I was soaking wet with a face full of—what was it? Lemonade?”

“Spiked lemonade,” you corrected, biting your lip to keep from laughing. “You deserved it.”

“Deserved it?” he echoed, leaning forward, clearly enjoying this trip down memory lane. “I asked if you wanted to hang out by the water. How’s that deserving a drink to the face?”

You rolled your eyes, feeling the old annoyance bubble up again. “You asked me to hang out after you and your friends had spent the whole night making fun of me."

He raised his hands in mock surrender. “Okay, okay, maybe we were a little rough back then. But I swear, I wasn’t trying to be a dick that night.”

“You were always a dick,” you muttered, but there was no real heat behind your words. Sixteen-year-old you had despised him and his cocky attitude. 

He smirked, “You were so pissed off. Your face was all red, and you were shaking with anger, like you couldn’t believe I’d even dared to speak to you.”

“You had it coming.”

“I probably did,” he agreed, a softer look crossing his face. “But I remember thinking, even back then, you were different. You didn’t take shit from anyone.”

You blinked, taken aback by the sincerity in his voice. “Wait, are you actually complimenting me right now? What is happening?”

Rafe just grinned, leaning back again, but his eyes stayed locked on yours. “I’m just saying, you’ve always had more fight in you.”

Your stomach did that weird little flip again, and you quickly looked away, focusing on the crumbs left on the table. “Well, maybe if you hadn’t been such an ass, I wouldn’t have had to.”

“I think that’s why I liked messing with you so much.” His voice was quieter now, more thoughtful. “You always pushed back.”

You bit your lip, not sure how to respond to that. The Rafe you remembered from back then was all arrogance and teasing, but this... this was different. It was like he was admitting that he’d seen you in a way no one else had back then. 

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps approaching cut your conversation short. You glanced up, thinking it might just be another student passing by, but your heart nearly stopped when you saw Nate walking toward you and Rafe.

Rafe’s smirk faded instantly when he spotted him approaching.

“Hey,” Nate greeted with a casual smile, though his eyes flicked quickly between you and Rafe, “Didn’t know you guys studied here too.”

You cleared your throat, trying to sound normal even though your brain was racing. “Yeah, uh, just catching up on some work.”

Nate’s smile wavered slightly as his gaze lingered on Rafe, then back to you. “Mind if I join? I was just gonna find a spot to get some work done, but...” His voice trailed off, leaving the question hanging in the air.

For a second, you were torn. Nate was here, right in front of you—the guy you’d been chasing for months, the one who was supposed to be the plan. But Rafe was sitting across from you.

He leaned back further in his chair, crossing his arms with that signature smirk creeping back onto his face. “Yeah, sure, the more, the merrier.”

You shot him a look, silently pleading with him not to make this worse, but he just raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the situation.

Nate pulled out a chair, setting his bag down, “What’re you working on?” he asked, glancing between you and Rafe.

Before you could answer, Rafe spoke up, again, “Just a little review. Nothing too complicated, right?” His eyes flicked to you, daring you to answer.

You swallowed hard, feeling both their gazes on you. “Yeah, just going over some notes. We’re almost done, actually.”

Nate’s eyes lingered on Rafe for a beat longer than necessary, like he was sizing him up. “Right. Cool. I guess I’ll just... grab a spot over there.” 

“You do that.”

“Rafe.” you grumbled under your breath, kicking him under the table.

"You wanna grab lunch after? I was gonna head to that new sandwich place, and figured you might want to come."

For a split second, you hesitated. Lunch with Nate was the safe, easy option—exactly what you’d been trying to hold onto. But the way Rafe was watching you now... Nate’s invitation wasn’t just about lunch. It was a claim, a reminder that he was the one you were supposed to be into.

"I, um—” you started, but the words were stuck in your throat.

You’d just spent the last half hour trying to convince yourself that Rafe didn’t matter. That this whole thing with him wasn’t a big deal. But now, with Nate standing right here, it felt like your brain was short-circuiting.

Rafe stood up suddenly, his chair scraping against the floor. "Well, looks like you’ve got plans," he said, his voice flat. He glanced at you, before grabbing his notebook. "Catch you later, I guess."

Before you could say anything, he walked away, his footsteps heavy as he left the library. You stared after him, your heart doing this weird thing where it felt like it was both racing and sinking at the same time.

Nate raised an eyebrow, watching Rafe go. "That guy’s... intense," he said, his tone light, but you could tell he was fishing for something.

You forced a smile, "Yeah, that’s Rafe for you."

But even as you said it, your mind wasn’t on Nate. It was still stuck on Rafe—on the way he’d looked at you before he left, like maybe he’d been hoping you wouldn’t just go along with Nate’s plan. Like maybe he’d wanted you to choose something different.

"So, lunch?" Nate asked again, his smile back in place, but it didn’t feel the same. Not anymore.

You swallowed hard, nodding automatically. “Sure, lunch sounds good.”

But as you followed him out of the library, you couldn’t ignore the feeling that you’d just walked away from something important. 

[furuu]

I live for your wiring everyday😭💖 Could I please request a Heian-Era Sukuna and reader in an arranged marriage scenario? Something like she wants to give him a kiss but feels shy 👉🏻👈🏻

𐔌 . ⋮ The room was dimly lit, the flicker of candlelight casting long shadows against the ancient stone walls of Sukuna’s grand estate. You sat at the edge of a low table, nervously smoothing out the fabric of your elegant robes, heart racing as you glanced at the towering figure seated across from you. The King of Curses himself—your husband.

You hadn’t asked for this marriage, but it was necessary. A union forged in power and strategy, a way to keep peace between your clan and his immense, fearsome influence. Sukuna, in all his terrifying glory, had agreed to the arrangement without much thought. It wasn’t like him to care about human matters.

But here you were. Bound to him by ceremony, with little idea of how to act around him. Every time you looked at him, your heart fluttered in your chest—not from fear, but from something you hadn’t anticipated.

There was something undeniably captivating about him, despite his fierce appearance. His four muscular arms rested lazily at his sides, his crimson eyes glinting with something unreadable as he sat back on his throne-like seat, watching you closely.

He hadn’t spoken much since the marriage. You’d exchanged only brief conversations, and while Sukuna wasn’t exactly the talkative type, there was a certain tension in the air that you couldn’t ignore. It was like he was waiting for something. Watching you.

And right now, all you wanted to do was give him a kiss.

But the very thought of it made your cheeks burn with embarrassment. How were you supposed to be so bold? You weren’t used to this—weren’t used to him. And yet, every time you looked at his lips, the urge grew stronger.

Sukuna shifted in his seat, and you noticed the way his gaze sharpened, like he could sense your inner turmoil. He was good at that—picking up on the smallest of details, even though you tried your best to remain composed.

“What is it, woman?” His voice rumbled, low and commanding. “You’ve been sitting there for ages, staring at me like you’ve lost your tongue.”

You swallowed hard, your hands fidgeting with the sleeves of your robe. “It’s nothing,” you said quickly, though your voice betrayed you—soft, hesitant.

Sukuna raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. His four arms uncrossed, and he leaned forward slightly, eyes gleaming in the dim light. “Lying to me, are you?” he murmured, his tone dark, but with a hint of amusement.

Your cheeks burned hotter, and you averted your gaze, heart pounding in your chest. You couldn’t exactly tell him the truth, could you? That you were dying to kiss him? The thought seemed ridiculous—he was Sukuna, the King of Curses. What kind of human bride just leaned over and kissed him?

But your silence was all the answer he needed.

Sukuna let out a low chuckle, a sound that made your stomach twist in knots. “So, you do want something,” he said, his eyes never leaving yours. “Out with it, then.”

You bit your lip, unsure of how to even begin to explain. The silence stretched, heavy and filled with tension, until finally, you couldn’t take it anymore. You stood up abruptly, your legs feeling wobbly as you stepped closer to him, your eyes glued to the floor.

“I… I wanted to…” you started, your voice barely above a whisper, “give you a kiss.”

The words hung in the air, and you braced yourself for some kind of mocking response, expecting Sukuna to laugh at your sudden burst of courage.

But instead, there was a pause. A long, tense pause that made your heart race even faster.

When you finally gathered the courage to look up at him, you saw something unexpected. His crimson eyes were focused on you, but not with the disdain you thought you’d see. Instead, there was a flicker of something else—curiosity, perhaps? Amusement? He remained still, his expression unreadable, but his gaze was piercing.

Sukuna leaned back slightly, his lips curling into a slow, wicked smirk. “A kiss, hm?” he mused, his voice deep and rich with amusement. “And here I thought you were too shy to ask.”

You felt your face flush even more, heat crawling up your neck as his teasing words washed over you. “I just…” You trailed off, suddenly too embarrassed to continue.

But Sukuna wasn’t one to let you squirm for long. He leaned forward again, his four arms moving in a languid, graceful motion as he reached out to you. His large hands—strong and warm—gently grabbed your waist and pulled you closer to him, lifting you effortlessly until you were perched on his lap.

Your breath hitched as you found yourself face-to-face with him, his towering form making you feel small in comparison. His smirk widened, and you could see the mischievous glint in his eyes as he looked down at you, clearly enjoying your flustered state.

“Well?” he said, his voice low and almost… playful. “Are you going to kiss me or not?”

Your heart leapt in your chest, and for a moment, you were frozen, unsure of how to respond. But then, with a surge of courage, you leaned forward, pressing a soft, hesitant kiss to his lips.

His lips were warm and surprisingly soft against yours, and for a second, Sukuna didn’t move. But then, his arms tightened around you, pulling you even closer as he returned the kiss—slow, deliberate, with an intensity that made your head spin. It wasn’t harsh or forceful, but it was powerful, like everything Sukuna did.

When you finally pulled back, breathless and a little dazed, Sukuna let out a low chuckle. His eyes gleamed with satisfaction, and he tilted his head slightly, watching you with an almost predatory gaze.

“Not bad for a shy little wife,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear as he spoke. “But next time, don’t make me wait so long.”

You blushed furiously, burying your face in his chest to hide your embarrassment. Sukuna just laughed softly, his arms holding you close as he nuzzled into your hair, his voice a soft rumble against your skin.

“Don’t think this means I’ll go easy on you,” he teased, his tone both playful and dangerous. “But I suppose I can tolerate these kisses.”

Despite the teasing, there was something warm and protective in the way he held you, and you couldn’t help but smile to yourself. Maybe this marriage wasn’t so terrifying after all .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

[steviewashere]

I want to write something sort of meta, hear me out on it. Sorry, if this hits too close to home. The idea came to me and I needed to get it out of my system. And...would you look at that, another half-written fic.

Steve ends up getting really into Star Wars after Dustin shows him to it. Like, so much that he gets himself involved with conventions, cosplay, collecting anything and everything he can. He's involved in a fandom space. Learns the world of fan fiction. And let's say that maybe, during his time figuring out where he wants to go with life, he picks up writing fanfic as a hobby.

It encourages him to get an English degree. Encourages him to lean more into that hobby, but then expanding upon it to write original short stories and small novels that go published. But he holds strong to Star Wars and fandom and finding his spot cemented in it. He's been a fan for...nearly forty years at this point (set in 2024, ugh I know).

And maybe he dabbles in online spaces here and there. He ignores the insufferable adults in the Star Wars fandom (the "um, actually..." guys, btw). Indulges the effort of typing out his handwritten fan fiction, ones he used to bring and pass around at conventions, ones he'd let Eddie read with a shy look in his eyes. And he posts them online, has a Tumblr account, maybe does a few short things on Twitter, definitely is on AO3 (albeit newer, having never attempted online fan work before).

But then...then he gets his first little bit of hate. Vicious, gross comments on his work. Sometimes in private messages. Even publicly, once, on Twitter. It irks him. He holds strong, he does. But then it gets worse and worse and somehow, worse. Younger people claiming he's too old, others claiming that he can't write for certain characters because they're out of his age range, that he can't ship certain people, he can't say that a character would do this or that, that Star Wars is media for a younger audience (despite being somebody who saw it "back in the day"). But that he...That he's not supposed to be there.

And that last little comment sticks with him for a long time. It makes his effort and his attention and his love for writing fanworks falter. He stops. Thinks about the characters he loves, of Leia and Han or even Luke and Han or Lando and Han (listen he loves writing Han). But then he wonders if it's even worth it, to indulge this interest anymore. Yeah, maybe he's older than the source material. Sure, maybe he was introduced to it a little later than most, but that doesn't mean he doesn't love it. Yet, his attention towards Star Wars completely falls away.

He stops watching it. His DVDs going dusty and unused. Starts putting away all his action figures, because what if he posts a photo one day and somebody sees them and claims that that's not for him and—

Then, he goes completely offline from fandom. Even if he still gets the emails from users who actually enjoy his stuff, ignoring them completely. Focuses on using the internet for work. For his novels, for the little stories he actually gets paid to write. But his work just isn't the same. The passion, despite being an original story and original source material, is completely dwindled.

His hobby has been stripped from him. His interest has been knocked straight out of his hands. And he just...moves on.

Even if it hurts to go down into the basement of he and Eddie's home, eyes catching on the see-through bins of original action figures, Lego sets, comic books. Even if it makes something strangle in his chest when he opens up the browser on his phone and it immediately opens to a new ship he'd been getting into: Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker—because he finally picked up The Mandalorian, because he was finally talked into watching it when he had the free time.

And then it all bursts over when Eddie finally approaches him about it, when they're enjoying a night-in, sitting around lazily on their sofa.

"There's a convention coming into town," he comments, "supposedly, Hayden Christensen is going to be there. We should go, try and meet him."

Steve just grunts in response.

"Oh-kay...or we could just stay home and watch the movie?" Eddie suggests. "Been a while since I've seen Darth on screen, telling Luke about"—

"I don't want to," Steve cuts in quietly, "isn't really my thing anymore."

Silence then follows. For a beat. Then two. A third.

"Not your thing?" Eddie asks him incredulously. "Not too long ago you were raving all about that new show that's coming out! That you saw they were doing lightsaber whips and you were excited to see how they worked! What do you mean it's 'not your thing'?"

Steve shrugs. "Grew out of it or whatever. Got more important things to focus on now." He sniffs, trying to keep himself held together, grumpy and firm in his decision.

Eddie's stare drills into the side of his face. Scalding, just like that lava was in Revenge of The Sith. "Baby," he speaks softly, "did something happen? You haven't even...you don't read your beautiful little stories to me anymore. In fact, now that I think about it, I haven't even seen your lightsabers around here. What's goin' on?"

He fiddles with the hem of his shirt. A ratty plain white t-shirt that he wears now when he's lounging around the house. It used to be one with the Millennium Falcon on it, but that's tucked down far in his dresser. Not for him anymore.

"Steve," Eddie presses, "did something happen?"

His stare stays down at his lap, still fiddling with his shirt. Fingers flexing unfamiliarly in the strings, unlike the loose ones on his Star Wars shirts. "I just"—Steve heaves a deep sigh—"it's time I grow up. It's...not for me anymore. Too old for it now, I guess."

"You guess or you know? Because nobody's too old for anything. Unless, y'know, you're like eighty-nine and in terrible health and trying to hike Everest, then..."

Despite everything, Steve finds himself chuckling. A giddy little sound here and gone in a breath. He shrugs again, albeit smaller this time. Crumbling within himself. Quietly, honestly, he admits, "People were being mean to me about it online. About my writing. That I'm doing it wrong, that I—that I'm too old for it. That I don't belong because of my age." He finally brings himself to look at Eddie, blearily because his eyes are aching and wet. "I got to thinking and I...maybe I've just been too caught up in my own bliss to realize that those people are right. They're right and I shouldn't be into kids stuff anymore."

Eddie makes a soft, sad cooing noise in the back of his throat. "Oh, baby," he breathes. "Baby, those people don't know a single damn thing about your love. But...but I do. I know that you've seen every single Star Wars movie more times than I've probably eaten in my entire life. And what about all those Halloween costumes over the years? I didn't dress up like Leia for nothing, Mr. Solo."

Steve scoffs wetly. Goes to protest, but—

"And...and that handshake! The one with Dustin? You guys have had that for nearly forty fucking years! So, why bother indulging any of these...these hardasses on the internet? Did they sit next to you on the sofa as you fucking curled yourself like a shrimp and wrote every little intricate detail of a kiss between Luke and Han? Have they read your work while you blushed all shy, while you tucked your hair behind your ear and asked for the most earnest of feedback, to make sure you spelt things correctly or put a comma in the right place? These people, did they get to see you blossom and grow like a fucking bushel of roses over your hobby?

"Because I know I did. And even though you were nervous about your words on the paper, you still came to me. You still wrote and wrote and wrote until I had to bully you into breaks, just so you wouldn't ruin your poor wrists. If they had even an ounce of the passion that you do, they could write their own stories. They can make their own endings and make the characters the way they imagine them.

"They choose, instead, to—what—make fun of you because you have a space to express yourself? Because you found passion and turned it into something so beautiful, even I—a dungeon master, someone supposed to be amazing at storytelling—can't put into words? You found a way to do that, Steve. And you do that with kindness. You do it for free, mind you. If their only passion sits within sending you vitriol over people who aren't even remotely close to real, then they're the ones who don't belong.

"If I've learned anything, fandom is a space to share and bounce off each other's words. It's community and it's belonging and it's sharing what you love because you just love it. Fandom isn't bullying. Bullying is just bullying, Steve.

"And everything you've ever done in your life, in regards to fandom and outside of it, is so much better than hate. You may be a nerd or...or a little bit overzealous or whatever, but at least you aren't hateful. I think being hateful, that's worse—don't you think?"

Steve can only stare in response, fast tears down his cheeks, hands shaking in his shirt. Mind reeling. Because, yes, Eddie's right. And he maybe should've talked about it initially, but the hurt festered and festered and tangled and grew until he was nothing but an unhealed scab. And Eddie, he's the antiseptic to his uncovered cuts—the ones deep on his heart, where all his love is—even for things considered mundane, like movies, like TV shows.

"Steve," Eddie carefully murmurs, wrapping Steve's hands with his own, "you don't have to do something right to love it. You don't have to be a certain way to be happy. If Star Wars made you happy, then why give it up?"

He sniffles and chokes back on a sob. Because, again—damnit—Eddie's right. "I miss it," he admits quietly, "all I've done is miss it."

Eddie gives him a small smile. Something achingly soft that reaches deep within Steve. "Then open your arms and welcome it back, baby," he whispers, "even if you can't be online anymore, do it for yourself."

"I...I want to try it again, I'm just...scared. What if people hate it all over again? What if they're just nasty to me and shut me down and push me to the side and"—

"But what if they love it? What if your readers have missed you just as much?"

"You think?" he meekly asks.

Eddie's eyes widen and his eyebrows shoot up his forehead. "I know, actually. Your emails keep coming in on the computer's desktop because I keep forgetting to log you out. And, baby, you would not believe how many people have been eager for updates, for your return." His thumbs work into the backs of Steve's hands, warm and sure. "And, if it helps, maybe I can moderate your comments before you look at 'em? I'll read them to myself and if they're mean, I'll delete them."

Steve blows out a breathy little chuckle. "You'll just get mad at them," he gently teases. "But that doesn't sound too bad. Maybe I should try again. Not yet, though. I'm not ready."

"That's okay," Eddie assures, "take things slow. Maybe we start with watching the movies again? Getting your lightsabers back on display?"

"Can we go to the convention, too?"

"We can do whatever you want, Stevie."

For the first time in a long while, Steve finds himself smiling. "I love you," he whispers.

"I know."

[gloxk]

just sitting here high asf thinking about getting the sloppiest head from aot guyzzz…*HEAVY ASS SIGH* let me wish upon a star hoping someone could write about this for me…*LONG HEAVY EXTREME SIGH.*

⁺ 　 . ✦ Favorite eaters ⁺ 　 . ✦

(Eren Y. Armin A. Connie S.)

A/N: ugh yes girl ik the feeling … im to sitting here wondering how nasty eren would eat the kitty…BUT ANYWAYS TYSM FOR 600!!! NEXT STOP 700!!! AHHH!

Synopsis: Aot men as your favorite eater.

━━━━━━━⚥━━━━━━━

♡ Eren ♡

Ughh omg..Eren giving you nasty head after he pissed you off…The type of head that makes you run away in shame!!!

“Givin me an attitude ain’t gonna get you anywhere, you know better den that.” Eren scoffed, while tossing a blunt over to you.

Oh boy how he was so undeniably wrong.

You could tell Eren was unamused with your bullshit. He wasn’t taking you ignoring lightly at all.

“You gon fix it or am I, figure it out.” he whispered in your ear. You stood on what you dished out, you weren’t fixing shit.

You chuckled at him in response, how stupid he was to think you were going to pipe down.

That was until he found his way between your thighs..

One hand tangled in his brown locs and the other one holding a blunt. Best combo..

You lazily rutted against his tongue while his piercing twirled against your puffy clit.

It was so hard to look him in the eyes after he made you cum on his tongue 3 times.

“Still got an attitude baby?”

Let’s just say..you ain’t had one after that.

♡ Armin ♡

Oh..lawd. I said this once i’ll say it A FUCKING AGAIN. Armin is a pussy eater expert. He’s VERY talented in that ‘field’..

This man has no problem eating it for breakfast, lunch, or dinner. Hell, he will wake up and decide he’s hungry and start going crazy.

That’s how your morning starts..with Armin stuck between your thighs eating it so you can wake up.

Eyes barely opened and you’re already on the verge of cumming..his way of saying ‘goodmorning’.

He so eager to do it too. Sometimes yall could just be watching netflix and he will insist on eating you out.

“Well, I mean, the show is kind of boring. Just come on, it will be quick.” He’ll beg and beg, “Please, I know you’re tired, I can help you go to sleep faster!”

His contact name is NyQuil in yo phone! (If you know. you know .)

When he say fast..oh baby he mean fast. That tongue can move at speeds you didn’t even know existed.

But his favorite time to get to munching is before you go to work.

“We got 10 minutes Armin.” He don’t need even need 10 he will make you cum in 5.

♡ Connie ♡

Ex! Connie getting fucking wasted and coming back home and eating you till your cummin everywhere…

I just know he eats it with his grillz on..I just know.

You want nasty head? Connie is your man for it. He gonna make it SLOPPY SLOPPY.

“Baby whatchu mean, we supposed to be in love..” his words slightly slur, he had a fuck boy grin plastered over his face. “stop acting like you ain’t happy to see me.”

He wasn’t supposed to be there and he knew that. But you couldn’t stay mad at him for long, especially when he was telling you how much he missed you. “Cmere baby i’ve been missin you..” & “I know you mad at me lemme change that.”

if ‘Let my face be yo chair’ was a person…

Sitting on his face is a pleasure to you and him. He gets to see his (ex) girlfriend and you get some head.

A win win in your books!

You grinding against his golden grills while his hands rub your waist up and down. “You got such pretty moans, lemme hear em baby.” & “Uh-huh, let it out mama.”

He’s looking you dead in your eyes while doing it too…

“You made such a mess baby. Don’t worry go to sleep, ima clean it up.” UGH THIS MAN….

best ex ever!

━━━━━━━⚥━━━━━━━

going absolute feral for these men it don’t even make any sense.

[hotwritergf]

Working hard or hardly working?🗃️

Just thinking about Aaron Hotchner being so pent up with need for you while he’s working. He’s sat at his desk listening to the sound of notifications coming through on his phone as he stares at the screen with carnal desire. He traces his thumb around the picture you had sent him of yourself.

You’re posing in the mirror, wearing the skimpiest little red lingerie piece you’d picked out the week prior, with his white dress shirt covering your shoulders. The sheets on the bed still un-made, probably smelling of the night before. Each picture you send is of you in a different position, but the last one is what makes him feel like losing control. You’re lying on the bed, your legs spread and your bare cunt facing the mirror.

Hotch has to resist the urge to unbuckle his belt right there and then, he’s hot under the collar of thoughts of fucking his fist just wishing it was your heat. He gets off work at 5, glancing up at the clock to see it’s only 3, he’s not going to last. Squeezing his thighs together for any form of relief, he responds, frantically typing away on his phone.

“My sweet girl, such a tease. Just you wait till daddy’s home.”

He flushes, watching the message get read immediately. You respond with a video of you laying in his bed, wearing his shirt over you, the ring he bought you on your hand as you zero over your clit, lazily circling over your button as you let out soft whimpers.

“Angel. You’re testing me, you know that right?”

He texts back, his cheeks burning as he feels a bead of pre-cum leaking from his cock. Aaron strains against his pants, the tent shape becoming completely visible as he rubs his palm against it, willing himself to soften. He couldn’t masturbate at work. He was a professional, a leader, the thought of him being caught with his dick in his hand causes him to pale. He places his phone face down on his desk, desperately trying to ignore the images that have engraved in his mind. Until he hears the FaceTime call ringtone coming from his table.

Nervously, he picks up. Pressing his teeth into his bottom lip until he tastes the blood drip onto his tongue. You’re more than teasing him, he watches you pump your dildo deep into your hole, whispering sweet nothings about how it doesn’t fill you up like he does. How you miss the burn of him stretching you open, how you ache for his calloused fingers massaging your clit as you come undone on his cock. You watches you, fixated on your gentle mewls turning into groans and grunts as you finish. Squirting over his sheets, making a mess over his bed. He misses the taste, he misses you drenching his face as his tongue flicks up and down your sensitive clit, your thighs clasping over his cheeks.

“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself my love, but you’ve made my day ten times harder.” He speaks with a chuckle before clearing his throat.

“Not as hard as you are right now.” You respond cheekily, you smirk. You were so in for it when Hotch gets home.

[dandelions-143]

Secrets

Hyunjin Masterlist

For Other Members Masterlist

Pairing: non Idol, Rich, Bad Boy Hyunjin x Mid/Plus size, College student, Fem! Reader.

Word Count: 2670k

Warnings: Sexual content and descriptions, Body image issues, Infidelity, Alcohol consumption, Drug use (mention of marijuana), Emotional manipulation,Trust issues in relationships

Summary: Established relationship between Y/n and Hyunjin but it’s technically a secret. What happens when Hyunjin is pretty much caught kissing someone else?

A/N: THIS ONES A LITTLE DEEP…The bad boy series I’ve been slowly writing does cross over here and there. This party that Hyunjin attends is the same one from Do It For Me but, y/n from that story is a completely different y/n than this one. Each member will get there own little story with crossovers. Currently working on a playlist for this series so stay tuned! Also if you have already read this just ignore!! Adding all saved tags to all of my works. If you wish to no longer be tagged just let me know.

You had just gotten home from your last class of the week. You dropped your heavy bag full of art history books by the door of your dark apartment. As the door closed, you kicked off your shoes and began to unzip your jacket. You were so tired from a full day of classes at university that you didn't care about leaving a trail of clothes behind you as you made your way to the bathroom.

You were in desperate need of a hot bath to relax and unwind. By the time you flipped on the bathroom lights, you were standing in nothing but your cute little Hello Kitty panties—a gift from your grandmother who still seemed to think you were 12.

"Cute." A velvety voice sliced through the silence of your apartment, making you jump nearly out of your skin.

You instantly covered your breasts as you turned around to see who had broken into your apartment. When your wide, terrified eyes met his dark and brooding stare, you let out a loud sigh of relief. "Hyunjin! You scared me to death!" A soft giggle escaped your now smiling lips, but you still kept your hands over your exposed breasts.

Hyunjin walked over to you, allowing you to really take him in. He wore dark jeans with rips in them, a black and blue shirt with a matching beanie. His long fingers were adorned with his signature silver rings. "I like these," he said as he playfully slipped a finger into the waistband of your panties and tugged at them gently. "Although they would look so much better on the floor."

You blushed and stepped back a little, trying to shield your half-naked body from his intense gaze. You couldn't help but be shy around him, even though you two had been together for months now and were well past the point of seeing one another naked for the first time. Hyunjin was perfect to you—tall and lean, with beautiful lips and long hair. And you... well... you were soft and thicker in the middle than you would like to be.

You had dimples on the back of your thighs and faint stretch marks here and there. In your mind, you were not the type of girl a guy like Hyunjin would ever want. So when he wanted to be intimate, you got bashful and asked to have the lights low or off completely.

Hyunjin stood there for a minute, and you could see the wheels in his head turning. "What?" you asked softly. Hyunjin stepped closer to you and wrapped his long arms around you, pulling you into his chest. "Honey, you are the most beautiful woman I have ever had the chance to know." Hyunjin ran his hands soothingly up and down your back for a while.

He kissed the top of your head, and then his hands began to wander. He spread his large hands over the plump swell of your ass and gripped you hard. "I love this ass." He moved his hands around to your curvy hips and pulled you into him. Your hips met his, and your bodies seemed to fit so well together. "I love these hips."

Hyunjin lazily dragged his hands up your soft stomach to pull your hands away from your breasts. You reluctantly let your arms fall to your sides, and his hands cupped them, squeezing and playing gently with your nipples. "I fucking love your tits," he groaned and leaned down to leave soft, open-mouthed kisses around your nipple before taking it between his pretty lips, sucking gently.

Your hands tugged off his beanie and slipped seamlessly through his long hair as a soft sigh escaped your mouth. His eyes stayed on your face the entire time. Once he gave a little love to your other breast, he slowly knelt down in front of you and began to kiss up your thigh. His warm tongue gently lapped at your soft skin. "Mmm, and these thighs—you could smother me with them. I would die a happy man."

You couldn't help but giggle at his absurd words, but Hyunjin only continued. He hooked his fingers into the sides of your Hello Kitty panties and pulled them down. "And your pussy..." He leaned in, kissing the lips of your now very wet sex. "It's so pretty and pink, so warm, soft, and tight. Just perfect for me." He gazed at you as if admiring a work of art, and in that moment, you allowed yourself to be seen.

He made you feel truly beautiful—the way he touched you, spoke about you, and looked at you. Hyunjin stood up and once again pulled you close, engulfing you in his arms. "Let's take a bath, yeah?" he said simply before kissing your lips a few times.

Once the bath was drawn, you watched as Hyunjin undressed. He was lean and muscular in all the right places, with a few small tattoos scattered across his skin. His erection stood proud between his muscular thighs. Hyunjin stepped in first and sat down, holding out his hand to help you into the bath as well. "Face me?" he asked, and you complied, settling onto his thighs.

You could feel the twitch of his cock resting against your lower stomach. Hyunjin's hands rested on your thighs before moving up to your hips, pulling you closer. He dipped his head, pressing his lips to yours. The kiss started slow and sweet, just how you liked it. Hyunjin seemed to know all your preferences.

His wet tongue swiped across your bottom lip, seeking entry. You parted your lips without hesitation, allowing his tongue to tangle with yours. The only sounds were the gentle sloshing of bathwater and the soft, wet noises of your deep kisses.

When you finally pulled apart to breathe, Hyunjin's gaze was filled with need. His hands roamed over your body, cupping your breasts and gripping your thighs. "I want you so bad, y/n," he breathed against your lips. "Fuck me, baby..." His velvety voice cut through the silence as his strong hands lifted you up.

Hyunjin helped position you, his cock poised at your entrance. "Is this okay? I don't have protection," he asked cautiously. You always used protection, but at this moment, you couldn't care less. Your body craved him, needing every inch inside you. "I don't care, it's fine," you said hurriedly, gripping his broad shoulders as you sank down onto him.

You gasped loudly at how deep he was inside you. Hyunjin's unexpected whimper surprised you, but you found yourself loving it—he was usually so quiet in bed. You moved your hips in a circular motion, causing water to slosh out of the tub, but neither of you cared.

Eventually, you found a rhythm together, Hyunjin rolling his hips up to meet yours. Your arms wrapped firmly around his neck as you made love in an agonizingly slow way. It was sweet torture, both of you chasing that high but taking your time to savor every moment.

"God, you feel so good wrapped around me," Hyunjin murmured, his lips trailing from your chest to your neck. He peppered kisses and love bites across your breasts and collarbone. Your moans grew louder and deeper as your orgasm approached.

Hyunjin's breathy moans became more urgent and intense. His hands grew greedier, tugging and gripping at your wet skin. Your bodies slid smoothly against each other as you moved together. "Hyunjin... I'm going to cum," you whined, burying your face in his neck to muffle your sounds.

Hyunjin lifted your head, cupping your chin. "Look at me as you cum," he said, his lips parted and breathing heavy. You could tell he was close too, his thighs trembling beneath you. "Oh fuck... cum with me," you moaned as your orgasm hit you hard.

Your cries of pleasure filled the room as you clenched around him. You felt Hyunjin pulse inside you, his eyes rolling back and head tilting as his own release washed over him. "Fuck, y/n," he chanted your name until he was spent.

His head fell onto your chest, your arms loosely encircling him. "Baby... you're going to be the death of me," he said with a muffled laugh against your breast. "Like you said, at least you'd die a happy man," you teased. Hyunjin lifted his head and kissed your lips softly. "Hell yes, I would. I'm the happiest man on Earth right now."

After regaining your strength and cleaning up, you both took a shower together before deciding to fix a late supper. Hyunjin fetched water for you both, walking shamelessly around in nothing but his boxers. You were cooking some ramen in the kitchen, wearing his oversized shirt.

You two had been dating for a while, but despite spending so much time together, you had yet to meet his friends or family. He hadn't met yours either. You both had agreed to keep your relationship low-key, mainly due to your parents being difficult and having your entire life planned out for you. Hyunjin said he had his reasons as well, but as you stood in the kitchen, you couldn't recall him ever sharing those reasons.

"Babe, can I ask you something?" you called to him across the small space separating your kitchen from the living room.

"Anything," he replied, entering the kitchen with a smile. His arms snaked around your waist, pulling you close.

"Do you think maybe we could start telling people about us?" His eyes clouded at this question, and his hold on you loosened.

"I'd just like to do more than eat at my place," you continued. "I want to see where you live. I want to meet your friends and family. I actually think I'm ready for you to meet my parents too." You turned off the stove, drained the noodles, and placed them in separate bowls. Hyunjin watched you for a moment before speaking.

"Y/n, I'd love to go on dates with you, and we can do things anytime you want, but you don't want to meet my friends or family." He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "They... they just aren't worthy of meeting someone as precious as you." He then flashed that sweet smile of his and pulled you close again, pecking your lips.

"I have some things to take care of on Saturday, but Sunday, let's go eat brunch and have a day out together. What do you say?" His eyes shone as he looked down at you. You melted instantly and nodded.

"Okay, we can go shopping, maybe see a movie," you suggested. As you two settled in to eat and spend the evening together, a nagging thought lingered in the back of your mind: why couldn't you meet his family and friends? Why couldn't you see that side of his life?

The next morning, sunlight filtered through your bedroom window, casting a golden glow over your face and gently rousing you from sleep. You reached out, finding Hyunjin's side of the bed empty and cold. With a small stretch, you crawled out of bed, memories of last night's intimacy bringing a smile to your face.

Slipping on Hyunjin's discarded shirt, you went in search of your lover. You found him on the balcony, a coffee mug on the small iron table beside him and a sketchpad in hand. The morning sun illuminated his features, making him look even more beautiful than usual. Your heart clenched as the thought "I love this man" passed through your mind, though you weren't ready to say those words aloud.

Hyunjin must have heard you approaching. As you slid your hands over his bare shoulders, he turned to kiss the side of your hand. "Mmm, how did you sleep?" he asked softly, looking up at you. Your eyes moved from his handsome face to the sketch he was drawing. "I slept really well. I see you didn't sleep that well," you replied, leaning down to kiss the top of his head.

"I just have things on my mind. Nothing to worry about, though. Come here," he said, gently tugging you around the chair and onto his lap. You sat in comfortable silence, watching the sun rise higher and feeling its warmth. Hyunjin peppered tiny kisses on your shoulder, neck, and cheek.

"Are you getting hungry? Maybe we could go out for breakfast?" you asked. Just then, Hyunjin's phone rang, instantly distracting him. "Hold on, love," he said, gently moving you off his lap to take the call inside. You sighed heavily and glanced at his sketch—a very pretty woman, naked in her bed, curled up with twisted covers around her.

"Y/n," Hyunjin's voice pulled you from your thoughts. "I'm sorry, but I have to go." He was buttoning his pants as he approached, hoodie in hand. "Really? How long will you be gone?" you asked, watching him with pleading eyes. You wanted to ask him to stay, but held back, not wanting to seem clingy. You followed him inside, watching as he put on his shoes and hoodie. "I'm not sure, baby. I know I'll be late. I'll call you to let you know if I'm coming over to stay again, okay?"

He finally looked at you properly as he ran his fingers through his messy black hair. Seeing your expression, his face softened. "Don't be upset. I still remember promising you a date tomorrow. You'll have me all day." Hyunjin pulled you close, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips, then your forehead. "I'll see you soon, my love." And with that, you watched him leave.

Hours passed since Hyunjin's departure. You reached out to friends, hoping to hang out, but everyone was busy. To distract yourself from boredom, you turned on music and cleaned your apartment. Throughout the day, you texted him several times and called once, but received no response.

As night fell, you sat on your couch, struggling to focus on assignments for your classes. Your mind kept wandering to thoughts of Hyunjin.

Where was he? Why was he always so secretive?

Just as your thoughts began to spiral, your phone lit up with your friend's name. You answered on the second ring. "Hey, Dea. How are you?"

"I'm good! Actually, I was calling to see if you'd want to go to a party tonight?" Her tone was hopeful. She knew parties weren't your thing—you'd rather visit an art museum than watch college kids act wild. "Umm... I... I don't know."

Dea huffed into the phone. "Oh, come on! You never have fun. You never go out. You're always with that mystery guy. Come hang out with me. I promise I won't get drunk, and if you end up having a really bad time, we can leave." You considered it for a moment, hearing her whisper "please" repeatedly under her breath. You couldn't help but smile at her childlike energy. "Okay, fine. Come pick me up and I'll go with you. But if you leave my side, I'm never hanging out with you again."

Dea squealed into the phone, making you jerk it away from your ear. "Yes! Okay, I promise you'll have a good time! See you soon." After hanging up, you started getting ready.

Not trying to impress anyone, you slipped on a pair of jeans and a simple beige tank top. You left your hair down and applied minimal makeup. Sandals to match your tank completed the look. Dea, on the other hand... When you opened your door to leave with her, she was fully put together in a classic little black dress, her makeup flawless and hair loosely curled around her face. She was tall, thin, and gorgeous.

"Come on, bestie!" She grabbed your hand and pulled you out the door.

On the way to the party, you learned that Dea's friend Minho—whom you'd only met once—had invited her. The event was being hosted by Minho's best friend, Chan. As you approached your destination, anxiety crept in; you didn't know any of these people.

It turned out Chan came from wealth. Dea pulled up to a mansion in a gated community, resembling a miniature White House. "Dea, what the fuck?" was all you could muster. She grinned widely, "I know, right? Minho said it was a big house, but damn... this guy must be loaded."

After parking and overcoming your initial awe, you followed Dea inside. The place was packed with bodies. "Come on, Y/n! Let's get a drink!" Dea linked arms with you, pulling you through the crowd. The air was hot and hazy with cigarette and weed smoke. People were dancing, shouting, or engaged in intimate acts—you even spotted a couple grinding against a wall.

You eventually found the drinks, manned by a cute guy with chubby cheeks and wavy brown hair that fell over his round eyes. "Two beers please!" you yelled over the music. He looked at you oddly. "This isn't a bar! Get it yourself!" he shouted back before turning to a long-haired blond guy. Rolling your eyes, you grabbed two cups and poured drinks for yourself and Dea.

"Here yo—" you began, but Dea had vanished. "Seriously!" Leaving the beer behind, you searched for your friend, determined to give her a piece of your mind when you found her.

You wandered through the massive house and even checked the backyard pool area. No luck. Deciding to head for the front door to call an Uber, you navigated the maze-like crowd of tipsy partygoers. In what appeared to be the living room, you finally spotted Dea dancing with a muscular dark-haired guy.

"You've got to be kidding me," you muttered, approaching her. But you froze, witnessing the worst sight imaginable.

There on the couch was your boyfriend, kissing a heavily tattooed girl. You felt faint, your heart pounding painfully. The music blared, but you couldn't hear it. As another guy pulled the girl off Hyunjin, his eyes met yours.

His dark brown gaze locked onto you. At first, you were paralyzed, but as he rushed towards you, your legs sprang into action. You pushed through the crowd, desperate to escape. At the front door, Hyunjin caught up, grabbing your arm. "Y/n! Please wait!"

You didn't pull away but kept moving, tugging in the opposite direction as Hyunjin tried to draw you closer. He gave up and followed you to Dea's car. "Y/n, just let me explain. That wasn't what it looked like." You whirled around, fixing him with tear-filled, angry eyes. "It wasn't? Then tell me, Hyunjin, what the hell was it?"

He stumbled over his words, "She's my best friend. The one I've mentioned from high school. She was only trying to make Chan jealous. I didn't even kiss her back." He reached for your hands, but you stepped away. "Don't." The simple word visibly hurt him, but you couldn't bear his touch.

Tears streamed down your face. "Okay, let's say I believe that. Why didn't you tell me about this party? Why didn't you invite me?" You hugged yourself, closing off. "Are you embarrassed to be seen with me, Hyunjin? Am I not pretty enough to be seen with you like your so-called best friend?"

He inched forward, hands outstretched. "No, baby, God no! That's not... that's not it at all. I've told you how I feel about you." You pulled out your phone, "Actually, no, you haven't. I never know what's going on in your head. In fact, I barely know you at all, and we've been dating for six months!" You raised the phone to your ear, "Dea, I'm at the car. Can we leave? I'm suddenly having the worst time. I want to go home."

Dea agreed to come right away. "Please... let's talk about this," Hyunjin pleaded, finally grasping your hand. You jerked away. "Don't touch me!" Seeing Dea emerge from the house, you delivered your parting words: "When you're no longer ashamed to be seen with me in public, call me. But for now, just leave me alone." You got into the car as Dea approached, her questions already beginning.

Hyunjin remained in the darkened street, wiping his eyes as tears fell freely.

Tags:

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[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

A Little From You | Yandere Mori Ogai

The tug at your pants had you looking down at a younger girl—blonde and wearing a bright red dress. With wide blue eyes and a small pout on her face, she actively ignored the others around you who were looking concerned. 

“Will you help me find my father?”

You took a glance at your coworkers who were between watching in awe or had the decency to quickly look away as if they weren’t staring at you both. Retaining a sigh, you send a smile to her before scooping her up. Resting her on your waist you keep your attention on her while you answer. 

“Of course, I will! Where did you last see your Papa?”

The crowd was dissipating and your team was hard at work. Recently you piloted a new organization in Yokohama. Not nearly as infamous as the Armed Detective Agency or the Port Mafia; your nameless group sought to clean up and save as many during the times they were completely enraptured with battle. While you were grateful for the Agency’s tendency to send one of their own to help, you were sure it’d be better to delegate this menial task to a smaller group like yours. 

“I don’t know but I just can’t see him anywhere,” the girl cried into your neck holding you tight. Rubbing at her back there were so many panicked people, panicked parents searching for their little ones. It’d be chaos-inducing to mindlessly call out for a father without a name. Holding her close you lightly stepped forward, making yourself float above the crowd to stand on top of a street light. Giving a comforting squeeze you encouraged her to look at the crowd below.

“Do any of them look familiar to you, little one?”

Her sky-blue gaze lazily darts around—boredly searching within the crowd. You turned to the girl, your intuition steering you. 

“Do you…not want to find him?”

The side-eye the girl gives you speaks loud enough as she scoffs and mirthlessly chuckle into her hand. So much like an adult. She turns to you with a crooked smile and condescending tone,” So observant.”

You’ve dealt with sassy kids before and you had a feeling her disdain wasn’t necessarily towards you.

“Thank you! It’s very helpful for my job.”

She stares blankly as you smile at her. She turns her head away, a blush lightly blooming on her face as she continues to look over the crowd. Speaking of the crowd, it had begun to dissipate now. Dispersing more calmly than before. Which made it much easier to spot the man in a lab coat waving frantically at the two of you. 

“Elise-chan! Elise-chan! Elise-chan!”

The groan from the girl confirms what you suspected and you send a pitied smile at the girl who returned to wrapping her arms around your neck. Securing her to your side you swiftly step down, letting your footsteps float as you take your time to reach the ground in front of the crying man. 

“Oh, my Elise-chan! I was so worried.”

He reaches for her only for the blonde to look disgusted as she tightly keeps herself attached to you. 

“I’m not going with you! I’m going to stay with (Y/n) who actually knows how to take care of me!”

“C’mon Elise-chan! I didn’t mean to lose you, I promise.”

Looking between the two, there seemed to be a stalemate. Stifling your own sigh you shifted the little girl on your waist to look at you, “Elise, what can he do to make it up to you?”

The girl looks exasperated at you, urging her to answer she rolls her eyes before smiling at you. 

“A whole bakery’s worth of desserts and that designer dress and matching tea set I’ve been wanting!” 

You heard a groan from the scruffy-looking man with black hair. Turning to him with a smile of your own, “Can you do that, Papa?”

The man went still at that. Perhaps it was the name. Elise didn’t seem like the type to say such an endearing term and it might have reminded him of something. 

“Yes! Anything for you, my Elise.”

You release the girl, watching as she dodges his attempts at a hug to walk in the direction of the bakery she was referring to her father following behind. It warmed your heart to see the two reunited again. That’s what made your job worth it.

“Stay safe you two. It was nice meeting you both!” 

Your call out had Elise stopping in her tracks, before running into your stomach violently as children often do. Wrapping her arms around your waist, you see her sky-blue eyes filled with tears, “How will we see each other again!?”

The tears caught you off-guard as you reached for your handkerchief, dabbing at her tears. You gave a few more comforting pats before coming up with a solution. Reaching into your coat pocket you pulled out your business card reaching over her to hand it to her father. 

“Here we are! I’ll give your Papa, my business card so you can call me if you like.”

“Yay!” 

Reaching for the card from her father-who seemed hesitant to hand it over-she snatches it the second he gets in range. She sends another wave to you before skipping on her original path, not even waiting for her father to follow. Speaking of, the man turns to you grasping both your hands in his as he seems to fight unshed tears. 

“Thank you! Thank you for protecting my precious Elise-chan!”

You shuffled in your jacket hoping to release the heat that came with your embarrassment. 

“U-u-h no problem! C-c-call me if you need me!”

He nods and stays in his position, still holding your hands in his. His tears aren’t there anymore and his lips are wobbling as though they’d like to say something more. 

“Oi the bakery you promised me is right over there!” Elise a good bit away from him but her shouts making him wince. He releases his hold on your hands to nervously rub at the back of his neck before running after his daughter screaming,” Elise-chan! Wait for me!”

Chuckling at the duo you float back to the crowd and your team is prepared to help the next batch of troubled people. 

It was always nice to help and it warmed your heart when you thought of the memories that would be made today. Thanks to your help.

“Commander!”

“Coming! Coming!”

_____________________________________________________________

Mori couldn’t stop looking at his hands. As though it would help him burn the memory of those soft and calloused hands in his. He smiled wider if that was possible as he brought his hands to his face relishing in the memory being transferred to his face.

“You creep.” The blonde girl sneered at the older man from over her shoulder.

He doesn’t respond, too busy regulating his breath. Finally claiming control once again the doctor donned his typical white gloves; opening and closing his hands. Elise scoffed again, “Those gloves aren’t going to keep their germs on you, Stupid Rintarou.” 

Mori stifled a groan holding his gloves close to his chest. 

“But I can pretend can’t I?”

“You’re disgusting.”

They walked around the fifth corner before stepping into the black car already waiting for them. Settling into the leather seats surrounded by gift boxes and patisserie packaging they let the sound of the empty street fill the silence. 

“Elise…”

“What?”

“Where’s the card?”

“Why?”

“...Elise…give me the card please.”

The blonde turned away from him unfurling her fist to look at the little card. Rubbing her gloved fingers over the paper that etched your name. 

“They gave it to me.”

“Excuse me?”

Elise turned her around to him glaring with a violent intensity,” No! They gave it to me! You can’t take this from me!”

Mori didn’t speak. Staring blankly at the girl as she glowed pink. He ultimately shrugged, exasperatingly leaning against the seat as he looked out the tinted windows. 

“Can I…at least have the handkerchief?”

“No!”

“Awww c’mon Elise-chan!”

He sulked and whined the whole way home.