#in a cozy little place with friends all around

[brunchable]

It's not a Meet-𝑪𝒖𝒕𝒆, it's a Meet-𝗨𝗴𝗹𝘆. 《 Chapter 2: Figaro The Sleuth. 》

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x f!Reader Themes: It's not a meet-cute, it's a meet ugly, Grumpy Meets ✨️Sunshine✨️, Opposites Attract, Sassy Pet Matchmaker, Enemies-to-Lovers (Lite), Destined to meet again, Bucky is a hidden softie. Summary: Smelling another cat's scent on his owner, Figaro took it upon himself to investigate. Fourdays later, Y/N found herself back at Sarah's apartment where she unfortunately have to ask Bucky is she could borrow some hot sauce. A/N: This story will be OUTSIDE of MCU but Bucky's traits will be mixed comics/mcu. I hope I tagged everyone? Credits to me for the Banner lmfao. credits to @ khaer for the divider.

Figaro had a new plan today: track down the intriguing scent he’d picked up on his owner. After his daring escape from the penthouse, he trotted purposefully down the street, trailing the scent until it led him to a familiar building—one he’d noticed you visiting before. He circled around, spotting an open ground-floor window with a fire escape leading up to it. With a practiced leap, he made his way to the windowsill and peered inside.

There, lounging on the other side of the window, was the white cat he’d been tracking. She was pristine, her fur gleaming as she carefully groomed herself, completely unbothered by his presence. Figaro tilted his head, studying her for a moment before he gave a soft, questioning chirp.

Alpine paused mid-groom, her icy blue eyes sliding over to meet his with a hint of disdain. She stared at him for a long moment before slowly stretching, as if to say, And who do you think you are?

Figaro didn’t back down, flicking his tail in a friendly, if smug, greeting. Figaro, he replied, his eyes scanning the cozy room behind her. You must be the reason my human came home smelling like… this place.

Alpine blinked, then raised a delicate paw, resuming her grooming as if he hadn’t even spoken. Oh? she drawled, looking entirely unbothered. And you’ve come all this way to investigate a little scent? How curious.

Figaro’s whiskers twitched with amusement. Let’s just say I have a nose for… mysteries. And last I checked, my human doesn’t usually come home with traces of other cats all over her.

Alpine tilted her head, a slight smirk playing at the corner of her mouth, there was no other woman she slept on except you. Your human happens to have a very cozy chest, she said coolly. Can’t blame a cat for taking advantage. She paused, her icy gaze sharp. In fact, you should be grateful.

Grateful? Figaro echoed, tilting his head. Why exactly?

Alpine gave him a level stare, her tail flicking with amusement. If it weren’t for me, your precious human would’ve had the cops called on her. My human doesn’t take too kindly to… unexpected guests.

Figaro’s eyes widened, and he gave an involuntary twitch. Cops? he muttered, momentarily thrown off his cool facade. He quickly recovered, looking her over with renewed respect—and mild suspicion. Alright, maybe I owe you one.

Alpine returned to grooming her paw, feigning indifference. Yes, she replied with a graceful flick of her tail. You do.

Figaro sat, tail curling neatly around his paws, trying to look nonchalant. You don’t exactly seem like the… charitable type.

Alpine finally met his gaze directly, her icy blue eyes narrowing. Maybe I’m just better at making friends than you are. She gave a dainty sniff, her nose twitching. I noticed you took the fire escape. Not exactly… refined, is it?

Figaro let out a soft huff, unimpressed. Refined? I’m practical, Snowball.

Alpine’s ears flicked at the nickname, but she didn’t rise to it. Instead, she leaned forward, her gaze assessing. You can call it whatever you like, Figaro. But from where I’m sitting, it looks like I’m running things here.

They stayed like that, locked in a silent stare-down, each refusing to break eye contact first. Finally, Figaro let his shoulders relax, flicking his tail in what almost seemed like an invitation.

Alright, Fancy Paws, he said, stepping back a bit on the ledge, but don’t think I’m letting you off easy. I’ll be around, keeping an eye on you.

Alpine gave a dismissive flick of her tail, already turning her back on him. Suit yourself, Figaro. But if you insist on loitering around my window, at least try not to mess up the view.

Figaro held his ground a moment longer, watching Alpine with an air of suspicion and intrigue before turning to leave. Just as he took a step back, the sound of footsteps approached. Alpine’s ears flicked toward the door, but she stayed still, her eyes narrowing at Figaro with a smug, unbothered gaze. Figaro, sensing a disturbance, glanced sideways, only to freeze as the towering figure of Bucky appeared in the doorway, staring directly at them.

Bucky squinted, arms crossed as he leaned against the doorframe. "Well, well, what do we have here? Alpine, making friends, are we?"

Alpine gave Bucky a dismissive flick of her tail, as if to say, You’re interrupting. She turned her head slightly, clearly unimpressed by his sudden interest in her business.

Figaro, meanwhile, stared up at Bucky with wide eyes, frozen mid-step on the windowsill. Who's this guy? he thought, sizing up the new human with a cautious flick of his tail.

Bucky raised an eyebrow, looking between the two cats, and then down at Figaro. "You lost, buddy? Or are you trying to start some kinda turf war?"

Figaro sat down, trying to look as dignified as possible, though the tip of his tail twitched with irritation. Turf war? he thought indignantly. I don’t fight over territory; I’m above that.

Alpine let out a low, amused mrrr, watching Figaro’s attempt to keep his cool. Bucky noticed and shook his head, chuckling. 

“Looks like Alpine’s not too impressed with you, pal,” he muttered, addressing Figaro with a smirk.

Slowly, Bucky crouched down and extended his hand toward Figaro, palm up and open, giving him a chance to sniff. Figaro gave Bucky a wary once-over, then cautiously leaned forward, taking a whiff of the offered hand.

After a moment, he deemed the human acceptable and rubbed his head against Bucky’s fingers, allowing himself to be petted. Bucky grinned, running his fingers along Figaro’s head and scratching just behind his ears. 

"Not bad for a visitor, huh?" he murmured, watching as Figaro leaned into the scratch, clearly enjoying the attention.

Once Figaro had gotten his fill, he stepped back, giving Bucky a cool, satisfied look, as if to say, You may continue.

Bucky watched this with mild amusement, shaking his head. 

“Alright, tuxedo,” he said, nodding toward Figaro. “Why don’t you head home before Alpine here decides you’re overstaying your welcome?”

Alpine lifted her nose in smug agreement, casting Figaro a sideways glance as if to say, You heard him.

Figaro shot her a pointed look, not backing down. I’ll leave when I’m good and ready, he thought defiantly, but he knew when he was outnumbered. With a haughty flick of his tail, he turned to make his exit, sauntering slowly toward the window as if he had all the time in the world.

Bucky crossed his arms, watching the tuxedo cat make his grand departure. 

“Yeah, you walk out of here like you own the place,” he muttered with a smirk, glancing at Alpine. “What is it with you and making new friends?”

Alpine gave him a single blink, cool and unbothered, her gaze following Figaro’s departure as if evaluating his exit strategy.

As Figaro disappeared down the fire escape, Bucky shook his head, half to himself. “This is what I get for leaving the window open. Next thing I know, there’ll be a whole parade of fancy-pants cats lining up for you.”

Alpine sat up, eyes following the retreating Figaro with a glint of satisfaction before she returned to her spot, grooming her paw as though nothing had happened.

Bucky watched her, chuckling softly. “Yeah, that’s right. You’re a real heartbreaker, aren’t you, Alpine?”

Alpine ignored him, flicking her tail just enough to indicate her complete and utter satisfaction with the encounter. She was, after all, a cat with standards.

× × × × 

Three days later, you found yourself sitting in a restaurant so lavish it looked more like a set for a movie than a place to have dinner. Soft candlelight flickered across the polished marble tables, casting a warm glow on the extravagant decor that screamed exclusivity. The maître d' had known Rhys by name, pulling out your chair as if you were royalty. It was the kind of place that made you feel like you needed to hold your breath just to fit in.

Earlier that day, your office had practically turned into a florist’s shop when an oversized bouquet of roses—deep red and fragrant—showed up on your desk. It wasn’t just one bouquet, either; it was a veritable mountain of roses, nestled in some kind of ornate, hand-painted ceramic vase. The card was short and simple: “Dinner tonight? 8 PM.”

Now here you were, seated across from him, watching as he signaled for the sommelier with a single, graceful nod. Rhys didn’t bother looking at you as he ordered a bottle of something with an Italian name, smooth-talking the waiter in a way that made you roll your eyes. He finally turned back to you, offering a soft, knowing smile, like he could sense your doubts and was ready to soothe them.

“Look, I know things got… a little off the other night,” he began, reaching across the table to take your hand. His thumb brushed gently over your knuckles, and he looked at you with that careful sincerity that had always been hard to resist. “I hate it when we’re not on the same page. You mean so much to me, and I wanted tonight to remind you of that. You deserve this, babe.”

You managed a polite smile. It wasn’t like he hadn’t done this before: a grand gesture, an expensive dinner, and words that, despite their warmth, somehow felt rehearsed. Last time, it had been diamond earrings. The time before that, a weekend getaway to Paris that he’d spent glued to his phone, disappearing to “handle some things” every few hours.

The sommelier arrived with the wine, pouring a small taste for Rhys, who swirled it with the grace of a practiced connoisseur. He took a sip, nodded approvingly, and gestured for the waiter to pour the full glasses.

“Perfect,” he said softly, as though he’d picked it himself, and turned his gaze back to you. “So, what do you say we start fresh?”

You tilted your head, studying him, hoping for something genuine in his expression. But there was nothing new. Just that same easy charm, the kind he wore effortlessly.

“Rhys…” you started, trying to find the right words.

He gently squeezed your hand, tilting his head slightly, his expression one of calm understanding. 

“Hey, babe, listen. I know I messed up, alright?” His voice was tender, soothing. “But can’t we just put it behind us? I’m right here, with you, doing everything I can to make it up. Doesn’t that mean something?”

A faint smile tugged at his lips as he leaned back, looking at you with an almost expectant patience, as if waiting for you to see reason. You forced a smile, telling yourself that it was fine, that maybe you were overthinking things. Relationships took work, right? And you loved him… didn’t you?

As your dinner arrived, he launched into a story about his latest business meeting, rattling off names of people he expected you to be impressed by, and you nodded along, offering the occasional polite laugh. But the small alarms in your mind wouldn’t stop ringing. Rhys didn’t really ask about your day, or your work—he never had. And if he did, you knew he’d be glancing at his phone before you finished, acting engaged but never quite listening.

“So, how about a weekend away?” he said suddenly, his eyes sparkling with that warm look he reserved for moments like these. “Just you and me, away from all this work stress.”

You looked at him, nodding, even as a part of you screamed that this wasn’t right. But the lure of another apology, another expensive night out, dulled the doubts, and you pushed the thoughts aside.

It was easier that way.

As the waiter cleared the last of the plates, Rhys stood and held out his hand, offering that practiced smile. "Shall we?"

You nodded, slipping your hand into his as he led you out to the valet station, where you waited for the chauffeur to pull up. The evening air was cool, and you were tempted to lean back and close your eyes, but a movement caught your attention. Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted Bucky walking by, his stride casual and confident, accompanied by a woman with a striking red braid. Your heart skipped a beat as you quickly ducked behind Rhys, hoping to blend into the background.

Rhys, however, turned, confusion in his eyes as he looked down at you. "What are you doing?"

“Stay still!” you hissed, pressing closer to him and peeking over his shoulder.

“Why?” he asked, craning his neck to look at whatever had made you react this way. Before you could stop him, he turned completely, exposing you from behind him.

You let out a panicked whisper. "Rhys, stop moving!"

Thoroughly confused, Rhys spun around again, only to reveal you once more as you scrambled to hide on his other side. 

“What are you—? Seriously, just stay put!” you whispered fiercely, holding his arm tightly and ducking behind him again, your cheek pressed against his back.

Rhys, looking even more baffled, twisted once more to try and figure out what on earth had you acting this way. “But why—?”

“Oh my god, just stay still!” you muttered, exasperated, as he finally held himself steady, though his eyes continued darting around, searching for whatever mystery threat you seemed to be hiding from.

As Bucky and Nat walked past, still engrossed in their conversation, you held your breath, ducking even lower and gripping Rhys’s arm like a lifeline. Nat laughed at something Bucky said, and you couldn't help but notice their casual, easy camaraderie as they walked by. You felt your heart pound as you willed yourself to blend into Rhys’ back.

Rhys finally exhaled, rolling his eyes as he watched them move down the street, oblivious to the scene. 

“Whoever you’re hiding from is gone,” he remarked, his gaze lingering a bit as he tracked Bucky’s figure down the sidewalk. Then he turned back to you, a bemused smile quirking up the corner of his mouth. "Happy now?”

You straightened, smoothing your dress as if nothing had happened, cheeks burning with embarrassment. 

"Yes, actually," you replied coolly, though your heart still raced. You could feel Rhys’s curious gaze on you, but you ignored it, simply hoping you’d managed to avoid a real meet-awkward.

× × × × 

The elevator doors slid open into your penthouse, and before you could fully step inside, Rhys’s lips were on yours, his hands wrapping gently yet firmly around your waist. He kissed you with tenderness, pulling you closer as he nudged you backward. You found yourself responding out of habit, but as his hands started to roam, a flicker of doubt stirred within you.

Your hand pressed gently against his chest, breaking the kiss. “Rhys… I’m not in the mood tonight.”

He paused, his expression softening as he pulled back, a look of quiet and heavy disappointment in his eyes. 

"Oh," he murmured, running a hand down your arm as though trying to be considerate. “It’s okay,” he said softly, offering a faint smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I just… I miss you sometimes, you know?”

A twinge of guilt pricked at you as he sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. "I mean," he continued, his voice taking on a gentle tone, “I get that you’re tired. I just thought we’d have some time for each other tonight, that’s all.”

You felt yourself wavering, the familiar tug of guilt making you second-guess yourself. But as his hand reached for yours again, you gently pressed both of your palms to his chest, holding him at a distance. 

“It’s been a long day, alright?” you said, almost apologetically. “I’m just… not feeling it.”

Rhys gave a small, understanding nod, though his face betrayed a hint of hurt. 

"Yeah, no, I understand," he replied, though there was a faint edge of disappointment in his voice. “You’re probably right. I mean, we just don’t seem to connect like we used to, do we?” He gave a soft, wistful smile, brushing a thumb over your hand. "Maybe it's just me."

Before you could respond, a low growl echoed from across the room. You glanced over to see Figaro, your tuxedo cat, perched on top of the bookshelf, his yellow eyes fixed on Rhys with an intensity that made your heart swell a little. Figaro leapt down gracefully, landing on the floor and taking a protective stance in front of you, tail flicking as he let out another warning growl.

Rhys looked at Figaro and forced a small chuckle, but you caught the faint flash of annoyance in his eyes. 

“Well, at least someone’s looking out for you,” he said lightly, though his smile was tight. He took a step back, fixing his shirt with a sigh. "I guess I'll leave you to it, then. Don’t worry about me."

Without waiting for a response, he gave you a small, lingering look before turning and striding out, letting the door click shut behind him. You let out a long breath, glancing down at Figaro, who was still sitting protectively at your feet, a soft meow escaping him as his fierce stance melted, and he looked up at you with wide, inquisitive eyes.

You crouched down to his level, reaching out to scratch behind his ears. 

“Thanks for the backup, Fig,” you murmured, smiling as he tilted his head into your hand, clearly relishing the attention. “You’re such a good bodyguard, aren’t you?”

Figaro gave you a quiet chirp in response, almost as if he understood. Then, with an air of determination, he began sniffing at your clothes, his nose twitching as he moved closer, inspecting every inch of fabric. You chuckled, catching on quickly. 

“Oh, I get it,” you said, amused. “You’re checking for Alpine’s scent again, aren’t you?”

Figaro paused mid-sniff, blinking up at you as if he’d been caught in the act. Then, with a haughty little flick of his tail, he resumed his mission, sticking his nose right into the sleeve of your blazer.

“It’s been three days, buddy. I haven’t seen Alpine since I… well, you know,” you said, laughing a bit at the memory. Figaro gave a soft meow, clearly still suspicious, and continued his inspection. “Don’t worry, she’s just a friend. I wouldn’t replace you,” you added, scratching under his chin as he leaned into your touch, still purring.

Finally, after a few more sniffs, he seemed satisfied, giving an approving chirp as he headbutted your hand, claiming you for himself. Figaro then climbed into your lap, purring loudly as he nestled himself comfortably, his paws kneading gently as he curled into you, pressing his head against your chest as if to say, You’re mine.

You sighed, leaning back into the couch and smiling down at him. “Alright, alright, it’s just us tonight, then. Think you can keep me company?”

Figaro blinked up at you, eyes half-closed in contentment, letting out a soft purr as if to answer, Always.

As you sat with Figaro purring contentedly in your lap, your phone buzzed with a new message. You picked it up to see a text from Sarah:

Sarah: Hey! How’s the new life as CEO? Keeping everyone in line?

You smiled, typing back a quick response.

You: Barely! But let’s just say I’m becoming best friends with caffeine.

A moment later, your phone buzzed again.

Sarah: Atta girl! Listen, tomorrow night? Chicken and beer, my place?

You grinned, feeling a wave of relief at the idea of a low-key night with your best friend.

You: Sounds perfect. See you then!

Sarah’s reply came almost instantly.

Sarah: Great! And don’t get lost ;)

You chuckled, rolling your eyes at the reminder, scratching Figaro’s ears as he nuzzled into you. “Haha, very funny.”

× × × ×

You clutched an empty hot sauce bottle close to your chest, heart racing from more than just the unfortunate loss at rock-paper-scissors with Sarah. She had grinned wickedly, all too delighted that you’d be the one asking Bucky for a favor. And now, here you were, standing outside his door, staring at the peephole like it was some sort of intimidating abyss.

Why am I so nervous? It’s just hot sauce, for crying out loud. You chewed on your thumbnail, whispering to yourself as you rehearsed what you’d say when he opened the door. “Hey, Bucky, I, uh… ran out of hot sauce. Well, technically Sarah ran out of hot sauce, and now here I am…”

Taking a deep breath, you gathered what little courage you had, then knocked softly.

Almost immediately, you heard his voice through the door. “Hold on a sec.”

Your pulse spiked, and you scrambled to fix yourself up, smoothing your hair, adjusting your shirt, and trying to look as casual as possible—despite the butterflies in your stomach. It’s just hot sauce. Just. Hot. Sauce.

The door swung open, and there he was, looking every bit as annoyed as someone whose night had just been interrupted. Bucky was dressed down in a gray hoodie and sweatpants, with reading glasses perched on his nose, as if he’d been in the middle of something far more important than your quest for condiment rescue. He took one look at the bottle in your hand and sighed, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Seriously?” he muttered, voice low and gruff. “Can’t stay away?”

You forced a grin, trying to seem unfazed by his tone, though your heart was doing a wild dance in your chest. 

“Couldn’t stay away,” you managed, waggling the empty bottle in the air. “Actually, I’m here on behalf of Sarah, who—shockingly—managed to run out of hot sauce.”

Bucky’s eyes narrowed as he looked at you, then down at Alpine, who had already trotted over to you, purring as she wove around your legs. He sighed, the tiniest bit of a smile tugging at his mouth, though his expression stayed mostly unimpressed. 

“You two really are a piece of work,” he grumbled, almost to himself and referring to you and Alpine. With a low huff, he turned and disappeared into the kitchen, calling back over his shoulder, “Fine, hold on.”

You watched him go, unable to suppress a laugh as you crouched down to pet Alpine. 

“Hey, sweet girl,” you cooed, scratching behind her ears. “At least someone’s happy to see me.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bucky’s voice echoed from the kitchen, the same grumpy tone as before. A moment later, he returned, holding out a nearly full bottle of hot sauce. “Here,” he said, handing it over like he was reluctantly offering his most prized possession.

“Thanks, grumpy,” you teased, flashing him a bright smile. “I promise I’ll bring it back—maybe with some cookies to make up for the trouble.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed, though you noticed he didn’t seem in a hurry to close the door. 

“I’m not in it for cookies,” he deadpanned, crossing his arms as he leaned against the doorframe. But the faintest hint of amusement flickered in his eyes, like he was trying not to smile. “But whatever keeps you from raiding my kitchen in the future.”

“Duly noted,” you replied, giving him a playful wink. “And I’ll remember that next time I need a ‘neighborly favor.’”

As you turned to leave, you couldn’t help but glance back, catching the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips—a small victory in cracking the grumpy facade of the guy with the hoodie, reading glasses, and a talent for perfecting the art of being reluctantly charming.

Just as you took a step into the hallway, you felt a soft brush against your leg. You looked down to see Alpine, trotting along beside you as if she’d decided to join you for the rest of your night. She meowed up at you, purring as she rubbed against your leg, clearly delighted by the idea. Long time no see~ Can I join you?

“Oh no, you’re coming back with me,” Bucky called from the doorway, his voice filled with an exasperated fondness. He stepped out, crouching down and reaching to scoop Alpine up.

But Alpine had other plans. With a playful flick of her tail, she darted down the hallway, paws tapping lightly on the floor as she glanced back at you both, clearly treating this as a game. You let out a laugh, glancing at Bucky, who rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide the faint smile tugging at his lips.

“Alright, let’s go,” he muttered, already jogging down the hall after her. You quickly followed, trying to keep up as Alpine zig-zagged down the corridor, occasionally pausing just to watch the two of you stumble over each other in pursuit.

You lunged, reaching out just as Bucky did, your fingers brushing against his hand, warm and rough against your skin. You both froze for a heartbeat, your hands lingering on each other, fingers almost intertwining. His blue eyes flicked to yours, a faint, surprised softness in his expression.

“Sorry,” he murmured, his voice suddenly low, as he reluctantly pulled his hand away. His cheeks had a faint tinge of color, and he glanced down, avoiding your gaze.

“It’s okay,” you replied softly, feeling your own face heat up as the lingering warmth of his touch pulsed through your hand.

A soft meow drew your attention back to Alpine, who had trotted a few steps farther down the hall and was now looking back, her tail swishing impatiently, as if to say, Come on, don’t stop now.

You shared a glance with Bucky, both of you chuckling before you took off again, nearly colliding as Alpine darted between you, then back down the hall. You tried to cut her off, reaching for her just as Bucky leaned down, and your shoulder brushed his chest, your arm catching briefly against his as you both reached for the cat at the same time.

“Gotcha!” he breathed as he finally managed to scoop Alpine up, holding her securely in his arms. She gave a little huff of protest but settled quickly, casting a satisfied look at the two of you as if she’d planned this entire chase.

Bucky looked down at you, his expression softened as he adjusted Alpine in his arms. “She’s got a mind of her own,” he murmured, giving the cat a gentle scratch behind the ears. “If I let her, she’d probably invite half the building over.”

You chuckled, shrugging as you met his gaze, still feeling the warmth of his hand and the accidental brushes that had left your skin tingling.

“Well, who could say no to her?” You paused, catching Alpine’s approving stare, and added with a grin, “She has good taste.”

With a final smile, you turned to go, the warmth of his touch lingering as you walked back to Sarah’s, already looking forward to the next time fate—and perhaps a certain cat—might bring you and Bucky together again.

× × × ×

Bucky set Alpine down on the floor, crossing his arms and narrowing his eyes at her. The lights cast a soft glow, shadows stretching as Alpine blinked up at him innocently before promptly starting to groom herself, as if she hadn’t just led him on a wild chase. Just doing my job here. Somebody has to give you a nudge.

“Oh, play it cool now, huh?” he muttered, watching her with a raised brow. “Got me running all over the place, and now you’re acting like you didn’t just make me look like a fool.”

Alpine paused mid-lick, giving him a blank, unbothered stare, then went right back to her grooming. Honestly, you wouldn’t need me if you’d get a clue. Ever thought of actually talking to her instead of grumbling? She flicked her tail with a touch of sass. Or maybe asking her name?

Bucky sighed, running a hand over his face. “You know, normal cats just sit still, Alpine. They don’t pull stunts like this.”

Alpine stretched out her front paws, yawned theatrically, and trotted over to her favorite spot by the window, where a perfect patch of moonlight poured in. She plopped down with a little huff, giving him a look that practically screamed Mission accomplished. Settling into the moonlight, she gave him a long, slow blink. Face it, you’re helpless without me. 

Bucky raised an eyebrow, watching her settle in, already giving up on him. “Oh, so that’s it? You run me all over the hallway, leave me looking like a fool, and now it’s straight to bed?”

Alpine stretched luxuriously, flicking her tail, her eyes half-lidded as if she were already drifting off. Exactly. All done here.

“You’re a real piece of work, you know that?” he muttered, unable to help the reluctant chuckle escaping him. “I’m starting to think you live to drive me nuts.”

Alpine’s only response was to give him a slow, deliberate blink, followed by a little yawn as she curled herself up into a neat ball. Trust me, I have better things to do. But if you need help with her, I’ll keep doing what it takes. She tucked her paws under her chest, purring softly as she settled comfortably into her moonlit spot.

Bucky let out a resigned sigh, shaking his head as he watched her drift contentedly into her nap, completely unbothered. “Nice, just real nice, Alpine.”

Alpine barely twitched an ear, her purrs steady as she nestled deeper, looking more self-satisfied by the second. If you’d stop being so dense, maybe I could finally get some rest. But nooo, someone’s gotta step in to make things happen.

With a chuckle, Bucky finally turned to leave, muttering as he walked away, “Yeah, alright, enjoy your victory. But one day, I’m gonna get the last word.”

She let out a long, dramatic sigh behind him, curling her tail neatly around her paws as she watched him go. Good luck with that.

× × × × 

You returned to Sarah’s place with the hot sauce in hand, still feeling the faint warmth of that brief touch with Bucky lingering on your skin. As soon as you walked in, Sarah’s eyes zeroed in on you, her mouth quirking up with barely-contained curiosity.

“Well?” she asked, leaning over the kitchen counter, an amused gleam in her eyes. “Did the hot sauce handoff go smoothly, or did you manage to embarrass yourself?”

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t hide your grin. “Oh, you know, just the usual ‘I tried to borrow hot sauce and his cat made a break for it’ kind of thing.”

Sarah let out a cackle, grabbing a piece of chicken and waving it at you. “Oh, I can just picture it! Poor Bucky, trying to wrangle you and Alpine at the same time. Man’s got patience, that’s for sure.”

You snorted, sitting down across from her. “Honestly, if that cat has a loyalty bone in her body, I sure didn’t see it. She trotted right after me, looking like she was about to pack her bags and move in with me.”

Sarah raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Well, maybe she just knows who has the better vibe.” She paused, then leaned in closer, her voice dropping conspiratorially. “And speaking of vibes… you still think Bucky’s kind of… hot, right?”

You blinked, caught off guard but unable to stop the laugh that bubbled up. “Sarah! I have a boyfriend, and you’re the one who’s supposed to be his neighborly buddy, not me.”

Sarah shrugged, unbothered. “Hey, just saying what we’re all thinking! I mean, that man is like a brooding mystery novel come to life—hoodies, reading glasses, and a cat? It’s like the universe took every mysterious loner trope and gave him an apartment across the hall.”

“It’s true. And he has this way of looking at you like he’s trying to figure out if you’re worth his time or if he should just ignore you forever.” You snickered, leaning back in your chair.

Sarah burst out laughing. “Right? It’s like he’s thinking, ‘Should I be annoyed by you, or should I give you a chance?’”

You shook your head, rolling your eyes playfully. “And then there’s Alpine. She’s practically his little accomplice, just trotting around, inspecting people. I swear she judges everyone who walks through that door.”

Sarah nodded solemnly. “It’s like she’s screening potential friends for him. I bet you passed her inspection with flying colors, which probably drives Bucky insane.”

You grinned, reaching for the hot sauce and holding it up victoriously. “Well, in any case, mission accomplished. Hot sauce acquired.”

Sarah took it from you, her eyes twinkling with laughter. “Good job, hot sauce hero. And, you know, if you ever need another excuse to go over there… just let me know.” She waggled her eyebrows suggestively, and you swatted her with a laugh.

“Calm down,” you said, grinning despite yourself. “I’ll leave the neighborly mingling to you.”

But as you settled back, that faint memory of Bucky’s hand brushing against yours slipped into your mind again, leaving you with a hint of a smile you couldn’t quite shake.

Sarah took the hot sauce from you with a grin, eyes twinkling mischievously. 

“Honestly, though? As much as I get why you’re fangirling over Bucky, I think I’ll stick with you know… Captain America? Steve Rogers?” She wiggled her eyebrows, smirking as if she’d just revealed the world’s biggest secret.

Your jaw dropped as you laughed. “Wait, wait��you have a crush on Captain America? Sarah, since when?”

“Oh, since forever, love,” she replied, completely unfazed. “I mean, come on. Bucky’s hot and all, with the mysterious, brooding vibe—total cat dad energy. But Steve? He’s, like, America’s sweetheart. Have you seen that jawline? And don’t even get me started on those shoulders…”

You rolled your eyes. “Alright, but what does any of this have to do with Bucky?”

Sarah raised an eyebrow, deadpanning, “You’re joking. Please tell me you’re not that clueless.”

“Clueless about what?”

She sighed, rolling her eyes. “I don’t know, girl. Figure it out yourself.”

× × × × 

You stepped out of Sarah’s apartment in a fluffy bathrobe, hair piled in a chaotic bun, and wearing one of those ridiculous panda face masks. Sarah had bossed you into taking out the recycling, claiming you were “faster and had better balance,” even though you were pretty sure she just wanted to keep watching her favorite Korean drama on the couch.

Armed with a wobbly tower of recycling in one arm and a half-empty mug of coffee in the other, you shuffled down the hall, muttering about how unfair this was—considering you were the guest. Just as you reached Bucky’s door, the inevitable happened: an empty can teetered from the top of the stack, then clattered loudly against Bucky’s door before rolling down the hall.

“Oh, for the love of—” you grumbled, watching as a few more items tumbled out of your grip, scattering in all directions like rebellious escapees.

Grumbling under your breath, you set down the rest of the recycling and dropped to your hands and knees, crawling around to collect the runaway trash. One by one, you reached for a stray plastic bottle, an empty cereal box, and a rogue pickle jar lid, grumbling the entire time. Just as you stretched out to grab the can in front of Bucky’s door, the door swung open.

You froze, one hand outstretched, still on all fours as you looked up to find Bucky staring down at you, his face set in that trademark grumpy expression, one eyebrow raised in exasperation. There you were, kneeling on the floor in a panda face mask, coffee mug abandoned on the floor beside you, and a look of pure horror in your wide, panda-eyed gaze.

He looked at you, deadpan. “Uh… good evening?” His voice held a hint of a grumble, as if you were the hundredth person to knock on his door that night.

“Evening,” you squeaked, voice muffled by the mask. Slowly, you grabbed the can you’d been reaching for and straightened, still clutching the recycling like a raccoon caught in headlights.

Bucky leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms with a sigh, like he’d been forced into this position. “Taking the recycling out, huh? Looks… intense. Is the panda look part of the routine?”

You cleared your throat, trying to save what little dignity you had left. 

“Sarah’s orders,” you muttered, attempting to sound nonchalant despite the panda face mask covering your face. “She said I’m faster, so… here I am.”

“Right.” He raised an eyebrow, looking skeptical. “Clearly, she picked the right person for the job.” He glanced down at the coffee mug on the floor, lifting his chin with a sarcastic edge. “And the coffee—emergency fuel for… panda-speed?”

“Oh, absolutely,” you replied, trying to sound dignified as you met his grumpy stare with a forced smile. “This is serious business. Not everyone can pull off recycling in full panda regalia.”

He nodded, holding his expression as flat as possible. “Right. Because it takes a real pro to look like a trash panda… while actually handling trash.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, fighting the urge to laugh. “Trash panda? Wow, that’s rich, coming from the guy who looks like he’d growl at Girl Scouts just for ringing his doorbell.”

His mouth twitched, but he stayed in character, leaning against the door. “Hey, at least I don’t terrify the whole building with face masks.”

“Oh, please,” you replied, rolling your eyes. “At least I put effort into my skincare routine. What’s your secret—‘scowl until the wrinkles gets intimidated’?”

“Cute.” He kept his tone flat, though you noticed the corner of his mouth twitch slightly. “I think the panda eyes bring out your sarcasm. Really… fierce.”

“Pandas are fierce,” you shot back, smirking under your mask. “They’re nature’s gentle-but-deadly combo. Kind of like me.”

“Right, gentle and deadly,” he repeated, barely able to hold back a smirk. “Noted. I’ll remember that next time I see you crawling around my doorstep with a coffee mug and a can of pickles.”

“Look, I was handling it,” you protested, still trying to keep a straight face. “Just because you caught me in the middle of a… tactical maneuver doesn’t mean I don’t have it under control.”

“Oh yeah, sure,” he replied, maintaining his unimpressed stare. “I’m sure that’s what it was. You were practically radiating grace.”

You couldn’t hold back a laugh, rolling your eyes as you gathered the rest of the stray recycling. “Alright, laugh it up, Mr. Permanently-Annoyed.”

“Hey, I’d offer to help, but it looks like you’ve got it,” he replied, making no move to lend a hand, arms still folded as he watched you with that unimpressed look.

You stood up, giving him a playful glare. “Yeah, I do. Just don’t go stealing my panda-recycling techniques. They’re patented.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” he replied, his tone dry. “I’ll leave that look to the professionals.”

You turned to head down the hall, tossing back, “Good choice. It takes real skill to pull off ‘panda chic.’”

“Goodnight, trash panda,” he called after you with a lazy smirk, watching you attempt to saunter off with some semblance of dignity, though the effect was slightly ruined by your still-panda-masked face.

As you disappeared around the corner, you could hear his quiet, begrudging chuckle echoing down the hallway. You couldn’t help but smile, already thinking up a new comeback for the next time you’d cross paths with Mr. Grumpy Neighbor.

× × × ×

The next morning you stepped out of Sarah’s apartment, adjusting the delicate gold earring in your right ear as you locked the door behind you. Dressed in a sleek, tailored blazer and wide-leg trousers, paired with heels that clicked confidently against the hallway floor, you looked every inch the CEO. The polished look was worlds away from the panda-masked recycling chaos of last night, and you felt ready to conquer the day.

As you turned, you found yourself face-to-face with Bucky, who’d just exited his own apartment. He paused, taking you in from head to toe with a carefully neutral expression, his gaze lingering slightly on the structured blazer and the quiet luxury of your outfit.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, and then, almost in sync, you both broke the silence with a slightly awkward, “Good morning.”

Bucky’s eyes met yours, but his expression remained unreadable, and you couldn’t tell if he was surprised by your transformation. Maybe he was, or maybe he just couldn’t resist an opportunity to tease you.

He tilted his head, eyes narrowing just a bit as he gave you a slow once-over. “Well, look who cleaned up nice. Didn’t recognize you without the whole… ‘trash panda’ ensemble.”

You raised an eyebrow, trying not to laugh as you shot him a sidelong glance. “Ah, the ‘trash panda’ look. You must be so disappointed I don’t wear it more often.”

With huff and a shrug, Bucky stepped aside, allowing you to pass, his eyes lingering briefly as you walked down the hallway, his blank expression still firmly in place.

You both stepped toward the elevator, waiting in silence as the numbers slowly descended to your floor. As you stood there, you found your gaze drifting toward Bucky every now and then, stealing quick glances at him out of the corner of your eye. Was it wrong to find another guy attractive? Maybe it was just because you knew next to nothing about him—his name, his apartment, the fact that he had a cat named Alpine who seemed to have adopted you.

Another glance. He was tall, with broad shoulders and a natural ease in the way he stood there, casual yet composed. 183 centimeters? you guessed, then reconsidered, 187? Wait, you were wearing heels, and he was still a good bit taller than you. 190, maybe?

The elevator doors opened, and you both stepped in, standing side by side in silence as the doors closed. Suddenly, your phone buzzed. You pulled it out, and Rhys’s name flashed across the screen. Stifling a sigh, you answered in a hushed tone, trying not to disturb the quiet.

“What is it, Rhys? I’m on my way to a meeting.”

His voice was casual. “Thought I’d just check in. Haven’t heard from you all morning.”

“I’ve been busy,” you replied flatly, your tone holding an edge.

“Busy with what?” he asked, sounding as though he couldn’t imagine what you’d be up to that didn’t involve him.

“Work, Rhys. You know, that thing I do for a living?” you replied, your voice dripping with sarcasm, feeling Bucky glance at you from the side, probably picking up every word despite your attempt at discretion.

Rhys scoffed on the other end. “Alright, no need to bite my head off.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’ll call you back when I’m free. Bye, Rhys.” You ended the call, slipping your phone back into your bag with a sigh.

Beside you, Bucky’s gaze flickered your way, a slight furrow forming between his brows. The last time you’d been stuck together in this elevator, you’d been all sarcasm and snapping at him for noticing your impatience. Now, here you were, practically glowing, looking like the kind of person who actually enjoyed mornings. He seemed to be weighing this change, his expression unreadable as he watched you out of the corner of his eye.

You slipped your phone back into your bag, trying to shake off the lingering frustration from the call. Clearing your throat, you glanced over at him, forcing yourself to sound casual.

“So… what’s got you out so early this morning?”

Bucky turned his head slightly, meeting your gaze with a flicker of surprise, his brows lifting as if he hadn’t expected the question. He shrugged, his mouth tugging into a faint, almost amused line. 

“Just some errands,” he replied, his hands still tucked in his pockets.

You nodded, raising an eyebrow as if trying to read more into his response. “Errands. Very mysterious,” you said, a small, teasing smile tugging at your lips.

He narrowed his eyes slightly, a low chuckle slipping past his lips as he watched you. 

“Mysterious?” he echoed, that faint smirk softening his usual gruffness. “What’s so mysterious about errands?”

“Oh, I don’t know… just something about the quiet guy, up early, hands in his pockets, looking like he’s got secrets.” You shrugged, casting him a mischievous glance.

He huffed, shaking his head, though his eyes held a flicker of humor as he glanced away. 

“Trust me,” he muttered, a trace of a smirk lingering, “it’s nothing exciting.”

You tilted your head, giving him an exaggerated once-over. “No, seriously,” you said, folding your arms with a mock-critical expression. “You don’t exactly give off ‘morning person’ vibes.”

He raised an eyebrow, playing along. “Oh yeah? And what’s that supposed to mean?”

You held back a grin, tapping your chin thoughtfully. “Well, you’ve got that whole ‘leave me alone or I’ll bite’ face going on,” you teased. “Figured mornings would be your natural enemy. You know, like sunlight to a vampire.”

A faint smirk tugged at his mouth. 

“Careful, now,” he said, eyes twinkling with mock offense. “Are you discriminating against morning people with a resting bitch face?”

You snorted, barely holding back laughter. “I don’t know, maybe! But you’ve got a chronic case of it,” you teased. “It’s tragic, really.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, real tragic. Guess I’m just doomed to terrify cheerful people like you.”

“Well, you’re definitely succeeding,” you replied with a grin, giving him a playful nudge as the elevator doors finally opened.

You let out a small sigh, looking up at him with a sweet smile. “Alright, well… I’ll see you later, Bucky,” you said, giving him a little wave as you stepped out, turning to head down the hall.

The moment you turned your back, Bucky’s hand started to lift, returning the wave as if on autopilot. Realization hit a second later, and he froze, staring at his own hand with a look of utter horror. He quickly dropped it, scowling at his own reflex as if his hand had betrayed him.

The elevator doors closed, leaving him alone, still side-eyeing his hand with a mix of disbelief and mild annoyance.

tags: @winchestert101 @lomlbuckybarnes @lveegsoi @itsshellzy @almosttoopizza

@aami98 @hextech-bros @hzdhrtss @winterslove1917 @infqnitysblog

@ayayaeyato @blackbirdwitch22 @mostlymarvelgirl @bohoooitsme @crdgn

@yiiiikesmish @jae0515 @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @nikey-no-likey @aami98

@almosttoopizza @hextech-bros

[veltana]

Stranded - 1

✦ Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Fem!Reader

✦ Word count: ~1,3 k

✦ Rating: Mature

✦ Warnings/tags: Grumpy mountain man!Bucky, don't ask me about US geography just go with it, eventual relationship/romance/smut.

✦ Summary: Bucky's solitude is disrupted when you show up at his cabin.

✦ Note: You decided you wanted Bucky's POV so here it is! Next poll will be up tomorrow! Stranded is an interactive story were you the reader gets to vote on what happens in the next chapter. You're also welcome to send in suggestions on what you want to happen in future parts! Everything is tagged with #stranded series. Please take a moment to reblog this fic if you liked it! Comments and asks are always welcome ❤️

Series Masterlist

Masterlist | AO3

The knock startles Bucky. He's about to eat dinner and not expecting any company. From the simple kitchen he can see through the window out to the porch, but the fading daylight makes it hard to make out more than a shape.

His first thought is to ignore whoever is out there, but if someone is lost they'll leave quicker if he helps.

Just in case he places his wood-cutting ax beside the door, out of sight from the visitor.

It's what he least expects out there. A woman. You smile brightly at him and introduce yourself. Before Bucky can ask you to leave you’re launching into a speech about your car. 

When you're done he can't do more than stare. He's not out in his cabin because he wants company, quite the opposite.

He thinks about sending you on your way, but then the wind blows freezing air into his face and he's not heartless after all.

Introducing himself with a grunt he invites you in. Grateful, you thank him and step inside.

All the serenity he previously felt is erased with your presence, even if you're doing nothing more than taking off your boots and jacket. To think about what he's going to do next he goes over to the stove and continues with his meal.

“So, eh… do you have a phone that works?” your gentle voice is like a bellow to him. Instantly he's annoyed. At you, at himself, at the world.

“I have a sat phone,” he explains without turning around, continuing to stir his pot. “But nothing is open right now, better wait till morning.”

As the words leave his mouth he understands the implications. You're going to have to stay the night. Fuck his life. Bucky wishes to turn back time and never open the door. How could he be this stupid?

“Oh, okay, so I can stay here?”

Fuck no, Bucky wants to respond. But he's made his bed and now he needs to lie in it.

“I guess. The couch’s a pull-out.”

He pulls the pot from the stove and finds two bowls before placing the steaming pot on the small table.

“You can have some if you want,” he gestures and looks at you properly for the first time since letting you inside. Now that you're out of your thick outerwear his mouth goes dry. Not only are you invading his space, but you're beautiful too.

“It smells delicious,” you smile and Bucky’s treacherous heart jumps. Fuck it all to hell. He quickly averts his eyes and sits down to eat. The sound of the chair opposite him being pulled out makes his pulse quicken. It's been a long time since he had company, and then it's been old friends or people from the community, never anyone this pretty.

Instead of making polite small talk, Bucky stares into his bowl as he eats. At first, you try to ask him questions about the cabin, if he built it himself, and such. He makes it his mission to answer as shortly as possible and you quickly understand he's not interested in talking. But it makes him proud when you tell him it feels cozy.

When the bowls are empty, you stand up.

“I'll wash up,” you say quickly and your tone makes it obvious that you're not taking no for an answer.

Before Bucky can warn you, you turn on the faucet. It's a little tricky and he's been meaning to fix it but never gotten around to doing it. The water sprays you right in the face and on your clothes.

With a yelp you turn it off and stand still for a second, then turn towards Bucky.

“Sorry,” he says and gets up to help you. “It's a little leaky.”

“A little,” you mutter before grabbing a towel and getting down to wipe up the water off the floor.

The sight of you, on your knees, dripping wet has Bucky's mind reeling in uncomfortable directions. With an irritated sigh he reaches down and janks the cloth out of your hand.

“The bathroom is down the hall, there are spare towels in the cupboards so you can dry off and change,” he says.

Slowly you get off the floor, looking crestfallen and apprehensive. Bucky knows it's because of him and he hates it, at the same time, he hates that he hates it. He doesn't know you. You don't mean anything to him. Everything you've done so far has only made him realize why he needs this time away from people.

“I didn't bring a change of clothes with me, everything is in my car,” you look down and wrap your arms around yourself, obviously uncomfortable.

It dawns on Bucky what he's going to have to do and he looks up towards the ceiling and says, “Un-fucking-beliveable.” Then he stomps off towards his bedroom to find you something to wear.

He rummages through the meager choices of clothing he has at the cabin, managing to find a t-shirt and a hoodie. It's just luck you don't need pants too. He deposits them on top of the toilet seat in the bathroom before going back to the kitchen.

While he's been gone you've cleaned up the water anyway and figured out the trick to not get drenched. When you hear him approach you dry off your hands.

“Clothes are in the bathroom, you can hang yours in front of the fire to dry,” he jerks his head, indicating for you to go and he doesn't turn to watch as you scurry away. 

He washes the rest of the dishes, puts them to dry, and then heads across the open room to the wood stove, throwing in a couple more logs before starting to make space for the pull-out.

“I can just sleep on the couch, you don't have to make the bed,” your soft voice startles him. Instead of answering he ignores you.

When it's done and he turns towards you he almost groans out loud. The hoodie is big on you and you look adorable. An image of the two of you curled up together in front of the crackling fireplace enters his mind.

Without another word, he retrieves a pillow, and a thick blanket and throws them on the bed together with the linen, then says “Good night,” and heads down the hall towards the bedroom.

“Thank you, good night,” your sweet voice calls after him and he bangs the door shut for good measure before leaning his back against it, and letting out a deep sigh.

He has half a mind to go back out and apologize but it will probably make everything worse so instead he pushes off and goes into the small on-suite bathroom to brush his teeth and think about his life choices.

He’s never had a visitor in his cabin that he didn’t invite himself, the few friends he has know not to come over uninvited. And over the years and a few relationships, he’s never taken anyone with him to the cabin. And now, you’re in it.

The sheets are cold and he usually leaves the door open to let in the warmth but that's not an option right now. He refuses to think about how warm and cozy it would be under the cover with you. How your soft skin would feel against his rough palms.

Irriterad he shakes his head to rid himself of the thoughts before they stray even further.

Tomorrow he'll call the local mechanic to have your car fixed and you can be on your way. Why the thought of never seeing you again bothers him is confusing, since he does not know you at all, but it's for the best.

[sturniololuv08]

I Need Something More (Matt Smut with a hint of Edging)

Song: i'm yours - Isabel LaRosa

Tumblr: @mattsfavoritegirl (Redo because I did it to the wrong song, this one is sooo much better <3 )

You tossed and turned in bed. Nick was deeply sleeping next to you unbothered. You come over for your Saturday night tradition, movie night. Friday they post the video they recorded on Thursday so to celebrate you guys watch a movie on Saturday. Nick doesn't get anxious or anything like that but he has told you personally he has a bad habit of watching the performance numbers on Saturday if he doesn't have something to do so you being the amazing friend you are, you go over every Saturday to keep him distracted. You have never had trouble sleeping over at their place it was almost like a second home to you but tonight you just couldn't. You tried cuddling Nick's teddy bear body. Didn't work. You tried every possible position with no luck in getting comfy. Fed up, you sat up and folded your arms pissed. You sighed out loud.

"You okay?" Nick mumbled.

"I can't get comfy." You huffed.

"Try the couch." He lazily suggested while rolling away from you. You tilted your head to the side and thought about it. It was cozy when everyone was watching the movie. You slipped out of his bed and fixed the blanket so he was still covered. You snuck down the stairs and slowed your pace in the kitchen.

"A little midnight snack never hurt anyone." You giggled to yourself as you opened the fridge and started rummaging through it. You grabbed a Go-gurt and turned around. "Ah." You stepped back into the fridge. "Matt, what the fuck?" Your voice cracked from surprise.

"Sorry, just wanted a Go-gurt." He said flat. You looked down at the one in your hand. Even though you were close to Nick you weren't close with Matt. Chris and you got on well but Matt was always short and one-worded with you. Bothered by it, you brought it up to Nick and he assured you Matt didn't hate you so you just took it as his anxiety acting up. When Nick and you did Saturday movie night and they watched it Chris would always yap and comment but Matt was completely flat. Not a word left his lips. Actually come to think of it, him saying he wanted a Go-gurt might be the most he's ever spoken to you. You stepped aside from the fridge and watched him do the same digging you had just done. You didn't know why you didn't just go to the couch since you had your snack already but instead, you just watched him. You thought maybe you could get him to speak to you more since it was just the two of you.

"What flavor did you get?" You asked hesitantly. He leaned up against the counter with one pajama leg in front of the other.

"Blueberry." He ripped the top off with his teeth. He was shirtless and with his arms folded you could see his tattoos contrasting his melanin.

"Me too." You smiled trying to seem harmless.

"Okay." He said monotone. And just like that, you felt like you were back to the start with him.

"Do you hate me?" You had a sudden surge of confidence mixed with anger. You never did anything wrong to him, Chris, or Nick, at least to your knowledge you hadn't.

"No." He didn't offer any more information. You lost my confidence boost but had already opened the door so now you felt like you had to explain your outburst.

"Why are you short with me? Have I done something wrong? Said something?" You lowered your voice to a shy whisper. He looked at you. He was just staring at you for a few minutes in the most suffocating silence. You felt the heat getting to you. You were nervous. You didn't know if he was going to tell you to fuck off or if he was going to just walk away. He started shaking his head from side to side. "What does that mean?" You asked still searching for a real answer.

"Nothing. I don't hate you." He stood tall from leaning over and started to walk passed you.

"What is your problem with me then?" You stepped in front of him. "You talk in all the Friday videos but as soon as I'm around -" You visibly saw his face tense up at your action. His jaw was tight. "I'm sorry." You shied away nervous you just made things worse. He lowered his stature a little to meet your gaze.

"I. Don't. Hate. You." He said inches from your face. He emphasized each word keeping your eye contact on him. His blue eyes were dark.

"Then why are you -" Before you could complete your repetitive questions he grabbed your shoulders. Instantly you felt his lips smashed on yours with a lot of heat. You could tell he had been holding this in for a while because of the amount of passion he put into every little press. You weren't sure how to react but he wasn't stopping. He continued to suck, bite, and pull your lips into his. You caved. You pressed back at him a little and his hands gripping your biceps pulled you right into his shirtless chest. This kiss was changing everything you thought you knew. Every time he was short or quiet around you, it all made sense now. The problem was he was so quiet that you didn't know him well enough to know if you wanted this. He was hot, they all were. You knew your best friend was attractive and with him came two incredibly hot brothers. You did watch their Friday videos and you loved when Matt talked and laughed but that person was a stranger. You had never met him.

"That's why." He pulled off of your mouth to whisper on your lips. Your eyes were closed because of your intense thoughts. You opened your eyes and for the first time in person, you saw the boy from the videos. It's like his icy wall melted and he was finally showing himself to you. You had to decide at this moment if you wanted to accept his advance or turn him down. You feared turning him down would rebuild the wall that made you uncomfortable in the first place but you didn't want to give him the wrong idea.

"Matt.. I... You never..." You just stuttered. He pressed your back up against the countertop.

"I want to try something." His smile was devious. You didn't know how to say no, but with his flannel pants hanging low on his hips you weren't exactly sure if you wanted to. He pressed his whole body against yours and started rubbing his hips up and down on yours. You felt him getting bigger and bigger.

"Matt..." You whispered. His hand covered your mouth. Your eyes widened a little in shock. This was not the Matt from the videos either.

"Shhh." He kept pressing against you through his clothes. His left hand was covering your mouth so you could see the tattoos shifting with the contraction of his muscles. His right hand was holding your hip bone pinned into the counter. His grip was so tight it was starting to make you ache. "Just let me do this." He grumbled. He had a dark aura surrounding him. Just when you thought he couldn't get any bigger he did. You shifted a little, uncomfortable from his blunt fingers digging into your muscles. "Don't fucking move." He wanted control. A little afraid, you obliged. He kept humping and pressing on you. He started biting his bottom lip. You had no choice but to lean pinned into the counter and watch him. You had to watch him scrunch his nose as he pressed into you repeatedly. You couldn't speak because his hand wasn't leaving your mouth. "I can't fucking take this." He cursed out. "I need something more." His breath was hot. You could see his frustration. You could see how badly he wanted you. He must have wanted you for a long time because he was struggling with his passion. You nodded. He stopped moving and looked at you. His face softened. The boy from the videos was present.

"Are you sure?" He asked innocently. You couldn't answer out loud because his hand was still over your mouth. You nodded again looking into the soft grey, blue eyes. After you nodded you watched the light blue swirl into a dark sea of lust. "Don't speak." He removed his hand from your mouth so he could reach into his sleep pants and pull himself out. His dick sprung out and you realized you were not going to be able to take him. You bit your lip in anticipation. His gaze picked up on your action and he licked his own lips. He finally let go of your hip and you felt your skin permanently indented from his desperate grip. You inhaled a long breath finally feeling like you could breathe. That changed immediately when he tugged your fabric shorts down. Your breath caught in your throat as you stood frozen knowing what he was going to do next. He looked all over your face but not for confirmation. He looked directly into your eyes because he wanted to see your face as he pushed in between your thighs. He gripped your neck with his left hand and squeezed making you feel weak and dizzy. You grunted a soft noise. He aligned himself quickly and your nerves were at an all-time high.

"Mhhmm." You hummed out nervous as you squirmed a little.

"I said don't speak." He said coldly. He pushed his hips flush against yours and you lurched forward into him.

"Oh." You whimpered from both pain and pleasure. Something about him wanting you was turning you on and making you wet. The idea of him desiring you for so long had you excited but you couldn't help but have your confused thoughts. Nothing would be the same after this. He thrust quickly smacking his pelvis to yours not caring about going slow. You buried your head in his neck trying to hide your wincing face. His hand shifted to hold the back of your head in a comforting way. After the pain was solely pleasure you felt comfortable enough to pant out words. "This changes everything." You acknowledge the fact your friendship, or lack of it in the beginning, would never be the same.

"I hope so." He stuck his lips to yours with the same passion as the very first time he kissed you moments ago. This time you felt a little different about him. So what if Nick was your best friend? So what you didn't know him all that well? So what if he held his true feelings in for so long? At this moment everything was changing and so were you. You gave in to him. You entangled your hands into his fluffy hair and felt his heat radiating. You heard him let out a low chuckle. You assumed it was because you were fully engaging with him. "Are you mine now?" He whispered in your ear. You nodded. You weren't sure if saying yes would have the same effect later when you were both having post cum clarity but you wanted to give in to this moment.

"I want you to fucking say it." He demanded calmly.

"I'm yours." You whispered fully meaning it.

[di-42]

October's Oh, Wow! Fictions

Only WIPs and fairly short stories this month, hopefully I'll have more time next month. But a lovely selection of them, nonetheless! If you are checking out this list, don't let yourself be fooled by the number of kudos some of the fictions received: there are some real gems among these recs that for some obscure reason don't get the interaction they deserve, be the person who looks past the numbers!

As always, I'll tag the tumblr usernames I know, if you are on this list and you'd rather I didn't please let me know!

WIPs:

Wavelengths & Frequencies, by @shadesofecclescakes and imposterssyndrome @maaikeatthefullmoon (Rated E, chapters 13/?)

I swear, every time I get a notification for a new chapter of this fiction, I do a little jump. I can't wait to have a little break to start drinking their words. This story is such a warm, cozy, comfort blanket. Human enemies-to-lovers where Aziraphale and Crowley work as DJ for the same media corporation. They have a history, but, while we know they do from the beginning, we don't know what it is. Great story, great humour, great characterisation, great fuzzies.

You're The Bad Guys by Nebz_AlphaCentauri @alphacentaurinebula (Rated E, chapters 16/?)

Cold war human AU in which Aziraphale is an MI6 agent and Crowley is a KGB agent. Each of them is assigned to a mission in Berlin, from opposite sides of course. Great characterisation, suspense and references to canon.

My own WIP And I Did (Rated E, chapters 12/15)

This is a story about faith. This is a story about love. This is a story about loss. This is a story about being apart and about being reunited. This is a story about fighting. This is a story about choices.

Where do we choose to place our faith? Will a god we have faith in come and save us? Will a friend? A loved one? When do we start doubting our faith? How long before we snap, before we raise our head? How far can we go before we crumble under the weight of our own misplaced faith? Under the weight of our choices? What does it take to make us feel betrayed, abandoned, left behind? What does it take for us to turn our back on what in which we had faith?

Who are we loyal to, and who is loyal to us? Who do we trust, and who trusts us? What are we ready to risk in the name of faith? What are we ready to lose in the name of loyalty? When are we going to take our lives into our own hands? What are we going to fight for?

This is a story about unbreakable faith. This is, after all, a work of fiction.

OR:

Yet another Good Omens post season 2 fiction.

Complete works:

Be Still, My Love, Be Still, by entanglednow (rated E, 26,766 words)

AU where Aziraphale is a human and Crowley is a sleep paralysis demon. Aziraphale is hit by spells of sleep paralysis and is curious about the man shaped being he sees in his room when he's in between sleep and wake, when his eyes are open, but he can't move a muscle. So, he does the thing any decent human being would do, he introduces himself. and leaves books around for Crowley to read. Oh, this fiction was so good. Potential for great angst, but with a beautiful happy ending. All my comments from chapter 1 to 5 read something on the lines of: "I'm going to cry so hard, god, I'm going to cry so hard." My comment on chapter 6 was: "I knew I would cry, but I cried happy tears." This is an E rated fiction where Crowley is a sleep paralysis demon, please read the tags and notes and mind as you go.

Until (Little) Death Do Us Part by Mimsynims (Rated E, 30,066 words)

Follow up to the equally great A Little Help From A Fiend, this story is hot, funny, and fluffy. And it has a happy ending. Aziraphale has summoned a demon. For reasons I won't spoil, this demon is accompanying him to a wedding in Paris as his plus one. Need I add more? Of course it's only for the weekend. This could never last. Crowley is a demon, after all.

Pay Per View, by IneffableToreshi (rated E, 22,050 words)

Set after season 1. Aziraphale has an event to attend in Canada and asks Crowley to accompany him. Crowley is delighted to oblige of course, until some additional reasons for Aziraphale's trip emerge. This story features fanon!Crowley at his best! The fiction goes from tender to heartbreaking to smutty in a heartbeat and it's great.

Something Good And Right And Real by @foolishlovers (Rated T, 30,884 words)

Lovely, delicate human AU where Crowley is a famous singer tired of fame and being on the road. He goes back to his hometown of Tadfield for a break, and there he finds something he thought he had lost forever. This is a story about love, about friendship, about finding a home and about happiness.

One shots:

One Conversation And Several Moments, by Angelica_Tree (Rated Teen, 3311 words).

This lovely fiction is set after season 1 and is not season 2 compliant. After the failed Armageddon, Aziraphale and Crowley are free to be themselves and to be together, but after spending 6000 years avoiding certain subjects, some conversation may be difficult to start. Or, in Crowley's case, difficult to take part in with ore than a monosyllable and a blink every couple of hours. Aziraphale is not deferred, of course. Sweet and funny in equal measure!

You Can Stay In My Bed, If You Like, by AppleSeeds (rated Teen, 3294 words)

Lovely human AU where Aziraphale and Crowley wake up together in Crowley's bed after Aziraphale's birthday party. Alcohol was involved. And Gabriel. Should they be alarmed? Mortified? Thrilled? Did anything happen? Let's find out while the two roommates snuggle a little closer to each other.

Will You Ever Stop Surprising Me? by @curiouspupsicle (Rated M, 1,077 words)

This fiction is a little gem. Set in a hypothetical future after our heroes averted the apocalypse again, it focuses on Crowley wondering if he might ever get bored of life on earth with Aziraphale. and then spending the rest of the story trying to catch up with all the ways the angel still surprises him. In the words of the writer, this is a story about Aziraphale being sex-positive. But it's that and so much more. It's joyful, it's clever, it's funny. The characterisation is spot on. I would have loved to have more of these two in this fiction!

A Little Help From A Fiend, by Mimsynims (Rated E, 2,615 words)

Sweet, funny, and, goodness me, so hot! What more can you ask of a fiction? AU where Aziraphale is human and in need of help, so of course he decides to summon a demon, who wouldn't? Did I mention it's hot? The just as good follow up to this fiction is also on this list in the multichapter section.

The Chains That Freed Us, by angelsnuffbox (MrsCaulfield) (Rated E, 6,747 words)

Set during the event of season 1. Crowley accidentally finds a way to go back in time and when and where would he accidentally go if not to 1793 in Paris? smut and sweetness ensue.

The Exponent Of Breath, by possibilityleft (Rated Teen, 8,566 words)

This is another absolute gem that I loved so much this month! It shows us moments in time when Aziraphale and Crowley have attended weddings. It's a mix of past, future, better times, warm feelings and happiness. Deep and beautiful. Some fictions you can clearly put it into words why you liked them, and some just speak to you at a deeper level, they just touch something inside you, and this is one of those.

My own one shot, An Angel And A Demon Go To A Halloween Party, (Rated E, 4,575 words)

Just a silly little thing to try my hand at smut (and end up in fluff. And a little humour, hopefully.)

Art:

Good Omens Art Therapy To Get Me Over Season 2 by Beet_Feet (Rated G)

Amazing Good Omens drawings and paintings, check them out!

[sunlightmurdock]

Can you do a cozy blurb with rhett abbott

-ˏˋ. actions / scenarios ˊˎ-

⋆ going to a carnival / fair

the fair | Rhett Abbott

warnings: none!

Rhett is actually the one to first suggest a trip to the county fair. It’s half to do with the slight guilt he feels about not being able to take you out more — money’s tight sometimes, and he’s often just so exhausted from work. But, the other half of his desire to take you out comes from the nostalgia of those places.

He’s holding back a grin like a little kid, his fingers laced through yours as he leads the way across the green-grass field. Ahead of you are stretches of neon string lights and whirling fairground rides, sounds of cheering and laughing.

Maybe it’s the noise that he likes best. It’s always so quiet out at the ranch, silence for miles and miles. It makes you learn to listen, learn to jump and get tense at the slightest sound.

There’s no chance of that way out here. The sounds all blend together, a happy kind of hum that makes him feel just a little more peaceful.

All of that combined with you, who seems to live to get under his skin in the best way, and still somehow manages to make him feel more settled than anyone in the world ever has.

Crisp leaves under your feet, the chill of the Wyoming winter creeping in through the end of autumn catching at your knuckles. One of Rhett’s old Carhartt jackets sits around your shoulders, a proud proclamation to the entirety of Wabang of exactly who you’re here with.

He’s leading the way confidently, brunette curls tucked under one of his trucker caps, boots crunching across the grass and brush. Wabang County Fair hosts an array of vendors every year, a lot of them local.

Homemade hard ciders from the Marsh family farm. Chilli from the pastor and his wife. Fresh, buttered popcorn sold by the elementary school teacher who had expelled Rhett as a kid.

She greets him with wide, cautious eyes and a stern hello. He grins as you giggle into his side.

He tells you their stories with an arm around your shoulder and his lips brushing at your earlobe. The chill in the air has you cuddling closer, but you’re far from looking for an excuse to do that.

You’ve got one eye on the spinning ferris wheel, too, watching the little pods glowing like stars in the darkening sky. Each one filled with smiling families or budding couples, whispering friends.

You bet that Rhett knows their stories too, and you know that he likes being the one not on the receiving end of the gossip for once.

After a scenic tour of each of the booths on the ground, Rhett catches sight of that spark in your eye as you look up at the moving ride. Squeezing you closer to him, he presses a soft kiss to your cheek as he turns and heads for it, with you in tow.

He’s got every intention of behaving on that ferris wheel, too. Sitting on the bench opposite you and taking in the view. You can see for miles up there, right across the stretching mountain ranges to the north. Grass and greenery for miles, the last of it before the season gets real grey and cold.

The ground below looks even more technicolour from way up here, glowing below you, abuzz with excited patrons.

Rhett’s got every intention of being a perfect gentleman on this date. Hell, he’s even planning on walking you to your door later and bidding you goodbye with a kiss on the cheek.

It’s just that right as your carriage reaches the very peak of the wheel, the whole thing comes to an abrupt stop. He can see the cold nipping at your skin, the slight shiver that wracks your body — the air’s just a little bit colder up here.

“It’s warmer over here, you know.” He tells you with a tip of his chin, his knees spreading just an inch further apart as his back settles against the bench behind him.

[dazzlingjaeyun]

𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐡 - 𝐤𝐢𝐦 𝐬𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐰𝐨𝐨

bf!sunoo x gf!reader

genre: fluff

warnings: skinship, suggestive jokes cause jungwon is a menace

word count: 754 (0.7k)

↝ dazzlingjaeyun's bookshelf

‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

it was a usual, cozy friday afternoon at your boyfriend's place. he had casually mentioned that his roommate, and best friend, jungwon would be out for quite a while, so the two of you decided to make use of the time.

you came over, and the two of you enjoyed some snacks and a cup of coffee, sharing stories about your weeks and chatting about which movie to watch later. the room was filled with the comforting scent of coffee mingling with the warmth of the late afternoon sun.

you had been just about 20 minutes into the movie, sharing soft pecks from time to time, as one particular kiss lasted just a little longer. you were surprised, but it felt too sweet to pull away, so instead, you leaned in a little closer in an attempt to deepen the kiss. soon after, you found yourself sitting in his lap, hands on his shoulders as he placed his hands on your hips. your kisses were full of emotion, nothing too intense – just the perfect mixture of softness and tension. sunoo's hand slowly traced under the hem of your shirt, resting it on your waist where he started to draw circles that sent shivers down your spine. his touch was soft, almost shy, as if really savoring the moment instead of becoming too bold.

the both of you were so absorbed by each other that neither of you noticed the door to his room creak open.

"hey, sunoo, i–" his roommate jungwon stopped dead in his tracks at the sight in front of him; you and your boyfriend were clearly not just watching netflix.

the sudden voice startled you, causing you to pull away abruptly. you quickly shifted off your boyfriend's lap and onto the mattress beside him, as if that could somehow rewind the moment. sunoo, who was equally shocked, immediately pulled his hands off you and almost knocked his forehead on yours in an attempt to sit up straight. your heart raced, a mix of embarrassment and adrenaline flooding through you.

"can't you knock?" sunoo asked, his cheeks painted dark red.

"i'm your best friend, i never knock!" jungwon protested. you were expecting him to just say sorry and leave the scene like any normal person would, but your boyfriend's roommate had other plans. "didn't think i'd walk in on you guys like this," he said, turning to sunoo with a grin, "actually, i didn't know you were moving so fast, sunoo. just a few weeks ago, i had to witness you getting all shy and blushy from just holding her hand."

despite the awkwardness of the situation, you pressed your lips together to suppress a smile. sunoo, on the other hand, didn't find it half as amusing. "i did not blush," he snapped back, his face showing the exact opposite, a mix of embarrassment and indignation. "it's okay sunoo, there's nothing wrong with that. nothing wrong with what you were doing here either, but if you're already going to these lengths, you might want to invest in some protection?" jungwon proposed, a smug grin on his face.

your eyes widened at the words, meanwhile, sunoo hid his face behind his hands, the heat from his embarrassment radiating off him. "we weren't–... this wasn't–... it wasn't like that!" he stammered, which only deepened his friend’s grin.

“oh really? cause it looked like you were all over each other…. literally,” he added, shooting you a glance. you felt the heat rushing to your cheeks and quickly lowered your gaze, staring at the mattress that you wished you could just sink into and disappear.

“can you just leave?” sunoo asked, sounding almost defeated. “yeah sure. but seriously, i have a pack in my room. drawer next to my bed. feel free to use them,” he said, suppressing a chuckle, before turning around and closing the door behind him.

“oh my god,” sunoo exclaimed dramatically, sinking back into the pillows on his bed and covering his face with his hands. “i’m never going to hear the end of it, am i?”

you shook your head. “probably not… god, this was so embarrassing,” you whined.

“embarrassing? you don’t have to live with him, he’ll remind me of this every day for at least the next two weeks!” sunoo complained.

“sorry, sun,” you said in an apologetic tone, quickly pecking his cheek as if that could make up for it.

“but tell me, did you really get ‘all shy and blushy’ over holding my hand?”

‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

© dazzlingjaeyun, 2024. please do not copy.

join my taglist here

[monkee-mobile]

i cannot put into words well all my thoughts about how soft the monkees are I have SO MANY THOUGHTS it’s just so hard to type them out. my drafts are crazy right now.

it all just comes out like “when they’re all at home and it’s bedtime everybody just cuddling and chilling out to the guitar and singing with each other and talking oh my god you know they just like you know when like the blankets and it’s warm and mike is so gentle to davy and they sing and then read stories and peter likes the lights low” like that’s not what i meant to say at all i have whole narratives going i’m just kind of sick and i’m thinking about the monkees being so soft and sweet and davy curled up in a blanket in mikes lap while he plays the guitar complaining about bedtime and petting at mikes beard and mike picking at some chords as he tries to reason with the (NOT sleepy!!) little one—this is turning into davybaby !!

[samarecharm]

Love being able to write. I can do whatever i want. I can make Ryuji interact w Lala-chan and u literally cant stop me.

[hanahaki270]

♡ Sharing a Dorm ♡

♡・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・♡

Synopsis ┊Your dorm is going under renovation and you need to find a place to crash in for a while. Luckily a certain someone offers you to stay in theirs for the time being.

Characters ┊Katsuki Bakugou, Shoto Todoroki, Izuku Midoriya.

A/N ┊beginner Writer here, these were harder to think of than I thought ngl. If you have any requests please send them to me, I'm open to do different characters and also different anime's!

♡・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・♡

Katsuki Bakugou

❥ By no means whatsoever does he offer his dorm out of the kindness of his heart. He just got pissed off of seeing you sleeping on the couch in the commons area every morning, and accidentally stepping on your blanket or pillows. After stepping on your blanket once more he grabs your shit and puts it in his dorm and acts like he's bothered by this but really he doesn't mind at all.

❥ Makes you sleep on the floor for the first two nights until you convince him to share the bed. He's reluctant at first but then allows it as long as you stay on your side of the bed. Do you really though?

❥ Expect to sleep earlier and get your sleep schedule in check because his dorm, his rules, lights are off at ten pm sharp with no exceptions.

❥ Also expect your grades to go up. While he's your roommate he's going to make you don't slack off on your studies.

❥ When he wakes up in the morning and notices your head resting on his chest he gets somewhat annoyed but secretly likes it. he's willing to get behind on his strict schedule and let you rest on him a little longer. but just a little.

❥ Demands you now be his training partner but is careful to not get carried away. You're strong, but he still doesn't want to run the risk of hurting you. therefore, he always keeps Aid kits in the bathroom just in case you do get any scratches, even if they're minor.

❥ Constantly threatening to kick you out over every little thing but actually has no intention of doing so. He won't admit it but he enjoys your company. "I swear if I see one more sock lying around I'm grabbing your shit and throwing it out."

♡・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・♡

Shoto Todoroki

❥ "Why don't you sleep with me." he said boldly unaware of how his sentence had more than one connotation to it. I mean you need help and as your friend he's more than willing to help you out. plus he has the biggest dorm compared to everyone else, if anything he's the most suitable to offer his help he thought.

❥ Asks you what temperature you prefer to sleep in so he can use his quirk to either make the room colder or warmer depending on your preference. and ALWAYS makes sure to make both sides of your pillows cold.

❥ When he's out visiting his mother you make sure the place is clean (though it usually is since he tends to be on the neater side) and prepare some soba for him as a token of your appreciation. After a couple of times he starts to look forward for it and got saddened the one day you forgot.

❥ In return he made sure not turn on the lights when getting ready in the morning as to not wake you up. Part of it was for a selfish reason though, he thought it was cute how you slept soundly on his bed.

❥ Speaking about sleep; During the night he would find himself cozying up next to you, not on purpose though. He just felt comfort in your presence and he realized you felt the same way when you also moved closer to him during the night.

❥ Leaves out coffee for you in the mornings since you tend to stay up late on nights and wake up always running late to your classes.

♡・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・♡

Izuku Midoriya

❥ Overheard you talking to Tsuyu and Uraraka about how you need a place to sleep in and walked over to offer his help without a second thought. You already spend most of your time in his dorm room during the day to share notes anyways. The only difference would just be you spending the night.

❥ Offers for you to sleep in his bed while he sleeps on the floor. After you refuse to let him sleep on the floor he shyly agrees to share the bed with you constantly asking you if you're okay with it.

❥ Midoriya stays up late at night writing in his notebook and murmuring thoughts to himself. You persuade him to go to bed and leave his worries for the following day. he deeply apologizes for the burden kind of embarrassed. "I-I'm sorry! was I keeping you up? I'll go to bed in a few minutes don't worry."

❥ Always invites you to go out with him whenever he leaves the dorm, even if it's something as simple as going to the gas station to get some snacks.

❥ he loves to talk your ear off geeking out about the knowledge he knows about the top heroes and their quirks. When he notices he got carried away he gets all types of flustered but even then he doesn't get the sense of being judged.

❥ Since he's constantly getting injured and going to see Recovery girl he always comes back exhausted. regardless, his stubborn ass still tries to go out on missions and push himself to the limits. he get's frustrated when you don't let him do so and force him to rest and leave his chores to you. But he loves you for it.

[yieldtotemptation]

ALWAYS ft. Hanni

hanni x male reader smut

9k words

This used to be your least favourite part of the day.

Waking up alone, to nothing but an alarm that’s far too loud, a bed that’s way too firm, a dorm room that mocks your financial instability with its harsh coldness. 

And that somehow, was the best-case scenario.

Beating getting kicked out of a library after passing out face first in a textbook, or booted off your best friend’s mouldy couch when his girlfriend wanted some alone time.

Or even, in your worst moment, getting yelled at by some stranger when you’re discovered on their bathroom floor in a pool of what you prayed to God was your own vomit.

All things of the past, since her.

Since Hanni—waking up was everything.

-

It starts, like it always does, in a tangle of limbs.

Most mornings, with Hanni’s face buried in your chest, cradled in your embrace, small puffs of breath tickling your neck. Others, with her back to you; pulling your arms around her, using the heat of your body like her coziest blanket.

One time on top of you; an exhausted smile plastered on her face, still basking in the afterglow of the night before.

She wrapped herself around you, refused to let go. Like there was a possibility that if she held you tight enough, she could bring you into her dreams.

That was the first day you truly saw her.

You talked about your pasts, your futures, shared your deepest vulnerabilities, made a million quiet confessions.

And when Hanni whispered: “I never want to go back.”

You pulled her closer, kissed her, and answered: “You’ll never have to.”

Since then, every morning always started with you holding her. Feeling her softness, her warmth, the calm rise and fall of her chest, as her exhales became your inhales and your breaths mixed together and synchronised.

This is how it had to be—how you both needed it to be.

So—now:

Nights and mornings since that promise; the sound of a guitar slipping into your ears.

It’s a recording she made for you, setting it as your alarm to make waking up a little more pleasant, to make sure the first thing you thought of when you opened your eyes was her.

Unnecessary, ultimately, seeing as the first thing you see when you wake up is her. Or, to be precise, her arm poking out from under the blankets, flailing about blindly.

“Off,” Hanni mumbles, fumbling around the bed, the nightstand, your face, seeking the offending device.

You stretch over her, a blanket on top of her blanket, and hunt down the invisible enemy that dared to interrupt your girlfriend’s peaceful slumber.

A muffled “thanks”, and she takes the opportunity to snuggle even closer.

There’s the smile quirking at the corner of her lips. Her nose, nuzzling closer into your chest, searching for your heartbeat. That pleased hum she’s making, letting you know there’s no place she’d rather be, like she’s completely content to stay all cozied up and warm for as long as you’ll let her (forever, if possible, please).

It’s hardly a tough sell—face the cold shower, the crowded buses and trains, the boring lectures that the rest of the day holds.

Or, stay wrapped up in the sanctuary of your (Hanni’s) bed. In fitted silk sheets, weighted duvets, plush pillows. Wrapped up in Hanni; in her very soft, very warm, very naked body.

It’s a no-brainer, really.

The rest of you, the more honest part of you that’s resting somewhere between her belly button and her thighs, seems to agree. It’s got a mind of its own, stirring to life, responding to the heat of her skin and the gentle pressure of her body; the familiar lines of her curves and the lavender scent of her hair.

She notices, of course.

It’s hard not to feel it, nudging against her, steadily growing with each passing beat, saying, ‘Hey, remember me?’

A kiss over your heart, a giggle into your sternum, and she’s up—sort of. She rolls onto her side, still in your embrace, but enough so that you can see the wry smile gracing her face, her sleepy eyes fluttering open to meet yours.

Chalk it up to whatever you want—relationship goggles, the honeymoon phase, or just the sheer joy of finding someone who actually cares about you—but when Hanni's looking like this, it's hard to believe you’re not dreaming.

The morning light kissing her rosy cheeks. The gentle pink of her full lips. Midnight silk hair curtaining her face. Her eyes.

A sweet, completely innocent question: “Having a good morning?”

She shifts, slightly.

An oh-so-incidental move that has the blanket sliding off her shoulder, down to her waist. It’s an invitation that you take, a proper wake-up call, from her collarbone to the curve of her hip. Softness and warmth, a stark contrast to the cold that whispers from the edges of the bed.

Hanni—your Hanni—leaving you with the implication: ‘Can I make it better?’

“Classes,” is all you say, because you have to at least acknowledge the responsibility, play the farce that you would actually abandon your (again—very warm, very naked) girlfriend for the sake of academia.

“It’s cold outside,” is her astute observation.

“Mhm.”

“It’s warm in here.”

“Right,” you nod.

“So,” she starts, bringing her hand up to your cheek, walking you through the incredibly simple, blatantly obvious logic. “Do you need any other reason?”

“Are you offering me one?”

Lips purse then pouts in that endearingly cute, Hanni way. “Does it help that I’m naked?”

“One would think that more clothes would be appropriate, considering the weather,” you posit, like you weren't already convinced long before she even opened her mouth. But, it’s still fun to pretend that her persistence doesn’t melt you every time. 

“One would be wrong.” Hanni edges closer, her bare skin gliding over yours, so you can properly assess the merits of her argument. The tip of her nose brushing against your own, the softness of her breasts passing along your chest, and her hand at your cheek, then your neck, your stomach, and moving lower, and lower. “Body heat, you know?”

Her hand gets lower still. You swallow. “Yeah.”

“Like when it’s freezing and people get lost in a snowstorm.” She finds you, reaches into the waistband of your sweatpants, wraps her fingers around you, wakes you up.

“Or when girlfriends are trying to convince their boyfriends to stay in bed all day long,” you groan out. “Again.”

“Exactly,” Hanni says, a breezy air of finality, proud of herself for making you see reason—or rather, feel it.

You kiss her forehead, conceding the victory to her, and she scrunches her nose; preens. It’s a subtle movement, the kind that you’ve come to recognise as her victory dance. She squeezes your body closer to hers, her cheek squishing into your chest, her other hand wrapping around your neck, her legs curling up around your calves. It’s like she’s absorbing your affection, turning it into warmth she’ll keep with her for the rest of the day.

Her hand winds up and down, these long, lazy motions. Smooth and tender, stroking the length of you, her thumb tracing the vein that pulses along the side. She’s not in a hurry; not anymore anyway. Just, enjoying the moment, enjoying being with you, enjoying how obvious you are with your sighs and shivers.

“‘sides,” Hanni adds, taking a break to kiss around your jawline, your neck, your shoulder. “You deserve it. A perfect day of nothing.” She sounds so hopeful, so earnest, and there’s a warmth spreading through you that has nothing to do with the friction of her hand on your skin. “We can order junk food, watch awful horror movies, and…”

“Just us.” A finger under her chin to tilt her head up, to capture those half-moon eyes with yours, to kiss her sweetly, deeply, remind her that she’s all you need to make a perfect day. “I wonder what I’ve done to earn this.”

“Not what you’ve done,” Hanni says in the breaths between your kisses. “What you’re going to do.” 

With that, she uses all her weight to push you, rolling you onto your back, climbing over you with a grace that leaves you breathless.

She straddles you, legs draped over your hips, small breasts bouncing just a little with the motion. There’s mischief lighting up her eyes, that playful glint that precedes all good things. The blankets fall completely off her with a dramatic flourish, leaving her bare and exposed for your eyes to drink in.

A pause to appreciate her—to really look at her. From her flushed cheeks to the tips of her toes. Every curve, every darkened freckle, every soft, sweet inch of her—yours to adore, to touch, to explore.

And then, she winks.

You can’t help but laugh.

Hanni joins you, giggling in uncontrollable fits.

It’s the ridiculousness of it all, of Hanni—the girl who blushes when you hold her hand in public—straddling you with a wink and a promise of a day of pure carnal indulgence.

You both laugh until your cheeks hurt, until the tension breaks and you’re just two people in the cozy bubble of her bed, sharing a stupid, silly moment.

It takes a beat, but you both somehow recover, gasping for air between giggles. She settles herself, placing her hands on either side of your face, looking down at you with all the adoration in the world. Her touch grounds you, brings you back to the present.

“You’re serious, aren’t you?” You ask, when you’re finally able to speak. “This is what you really want to do all day?”

“Well…” Hanni muses, sinking down to your waist, running her fingers over your t-shirt, stopping when she has the hem in her clutches. “A bit of this.”

She starts rolling your shirt up, sliding the cotton over your stomach. The cold air of the room kisses your skin before the warmth of her mouth replaces it. Her soft, plump lips meet your body, the small indent of your belly button.

Simple, innocent, playful. Hanni.

“A bit of that,” she continues, her hands keep moving, lifting the shirt higher, tugging it up and up, exposing your chest to her eyes, her lips.

She finds her target, a tongue over your nipple, paying you back for what you’re no doubt going to be doing to her later; flicking over your chest to make you hiss.

“A bit of me,” she adds, words vibrating against your chest, leaving goosebumps as she rises higher.

You lift your arms, allowing her to pull your shirt off your body, trapping you for a moment so she can suck at your neck, mark you as hers, and hers only. As if you didn’t already wear it on your face whenever she’s around.

“Doing a lot of you.”

Her eyes rake over you—your chest, your stomach, your abs. Lingering a touch too long, making her cheeks warm; colouring them with a soft blush that spreads from her neck up to her ears, hinting at the thoughts racing through her mind.

And then you're kissing her.

It’s gentle (your kisses always are) but that doesn’t make it any less passionate, any less intense.

She kisses you back, lips sliding over yours, the softness of her tongue tracing the line of your teeth, moaning your name in short stutters into your mouth.

It feels so right, so natural. The way she fits against you, feels on top of you, the perfect puzzle piece you’ve been desperate to find in a world full of mismatches.

It’s far too early to say it, but you know it—have known it.

You love her. Love how she lives in the moment; how even when you’re worried about the future, about deadlines and tomorrows, she can bring you back to the present and make things simple. In the least selfish way possible, she makes it about her.

(And that’s all you need).

It builds and builds; these slow, dragging kisses, these admissions of things that you’re not quite ready to say. Until you’re both well and truly needy for a touch more heat, as much of each other as you can possibly get.

You can’t hold it anymore, so you don’t bother trying.

With a firm grasp, you take Hanni’s hips in your hands, your thumbs pressing into vanilla skin as you pull her upward. It’s strategic, pull the best parts of her (which could be any part, really) closer, prove her earlier guess right by introducing her breast to your lips, her nipple to your tongue.

A million times you’ve repeated it and it won’t be enough—she’s so soft. Melting at your touch already, so responsive, letting you know she’s feeling it with every hushed gasp and shiver of her tight body.

One hand is filled by her other breast, a supple handful, spilling between your fingers, carelessly massaging as your mouth latches onto its twin. Her heart races, hammers against your palm, quickening with every passing flick, with each chaste suck between your lips.

Your other hand snakes lower, caressing the smooth plane of her stomach. You drag your fingertips over the ridges and valleys of her abs, down towards the juncture of her thighs.

She squirms.

Moans a little louder.

Scrapes the back of your scalp and pulls you in.

You’re insistent, your touch feather light as it grazes over the whispers of hair; trailing all the way down, down, where you ghost over her mound, tease her clit to make her gasp.

“Like that,” Hanni moans her approval, answers you with hips rocking against your hand. “So, so… nice.”

Your hand dips down further, parting her folds, sliding through her slick, greeted with the warmth and wetness of her opening. Soaking your hand, inviting you to delve deeper.

“Hanni,” you mouth around her nipple, “you’re so wet.”

“O-of course,” she manages, shuddering as you dare to ease a finger inside, pushing into her and pushing out a cry that fills the room. “It’s you.”

“It definitely is,” you confirm, stroking her walls with slow, deliberate care, feeling her tense around you with each movement. “And I’m just getting started.”

Her body arches, curves into you, tilting her head back and feeding you more of her; her breast into your mouth, her pussy on your fingers. You look up at her, feel her, memorise every little noise she makes, every twitch of her body as you touch her. Her breath skips as you start to move your finger in and out, a quiet pace to make her hips dance.

“This is a good idea.“ You’re pushing in deeper, adding a second digit to the mix, stretching her just so. She’s tight around you, always so tight, enveloping you in her heat, and there’s the urge to go even slower, to savour every moment. “Staying in all day. Making you feel good.”

Her legs tense, toned thighs flex as you curl your fingers up, pulling towards you just right to hit that spot that makes her mouth hang open, that makes her whine. There’s a plea in there, a silent request for more, for everything.

And you give it to her, because it’s what she deserves, because it’s what she’s asking for, because she’s yours.

She’s getting tighter around you, walls squeezing in. A prelude to something beautiful, something only you know how to give her, a skill you’ve picked up in this very same bed.

“God,” Hanni’s breaths are turning into short gasps, she’s so needy for it, for you. A slight tug of your hair, pulling you off her breast, forcing her nipple to ‘pop’ from your lips. She sinks down, further down onto your hand, her breasts dragging against your chest, her skin sticking to yours. “You’re such a tease.”

Her lips hang in front of yours, pillowy cushions begging for its partner—needing you to kiss her, now. You claim her mouth, let her be as loud as she wants on your lips; these delightful sounds when your hand moves faster, more insistent.

Arms hold you, wrap around your back, hugging you tighter, needing you to be as close as humanly possible. Hands everywhere—massaging your back, gripping in your shoulders, tangled in your hair, grabbing at your biceps—no matter how much of you she has, it’s just not enough.

Pliant is the other word to describe Hanni; so easy in your hands, like clay waiting for your touch. Waiting for you to mould her into whatever you want, even though you prefer her as she just is—all her perfect imperfections, beautifully flawed, wonderfully Hanni.

Another finger pushes into her; three now, moving in a steady rhythm, that slow, cautious manoeuvre that’s become so familiar. Sure, you could do it with your eyes closed, bring her to the brink and back with touch alone, but you’d miss the way she looks at you—the tears at the corners of her eyes, the tremble in her lips; like you’re her saviour, her everything.

“Hanni, you’re so—” you can’t put it into exact words—gorgeous, pretty, lovely—you test them out, but they all fall short, leaving you hanging until—

“Yours,” Hanni finishes, and that’s all you need, all you need to hear to make a vow to do everything in your power to keep her happy, to keep her here, to keep her—“always yours.”

She’s rocking on your fingers now, taking charge of her own pleasure, setting the pace that you so willingly match. It’s a give and take, and you take the chance to kiss at her neck, to nibble on the shell of her ear, to whisper to her all the things that create these little tremors in her thighs, that make her grip you tighter and tighter with each stroke.

She feels so good, so warm, so wet. Your hand is soaked, knuckles coated in her, making these noises. The muffled pop of skin on skin; the soft, sticky sound of wetness being parted; that satisfying squelch as you go in deep.

Hanni’s so close. So, so close.

Unwinding, melting in your palm; and that look. The way she smiles when she’s on that edge, because she’s so happy to be there, so happy that it's you that has her to be feeling this good.

But then—it’s the suddenness that gets you—she goes rigid, stops moving, begs, “Wait, wait, wait.”

It’s so unexpected, but you still do stop, fingers lodged inside her, pulsating with the urgency of her orgasm that’s just a heartbeat away.

She needs to hang onto you, to hold onto something as the world starts to spin again. Her pupils are blown wide, her cheeks a rosy pink that makes her look like she’s been running a marathon, sweat glistening over her, bathing her in this glow.

You look up at her, a soothing kiss on her cheek. “Problem?”

“No,” Hanni manages a gasp, reassuring you with a shaky smile, still doing her best to catch her breath. “I mean yes. I mean… It feels too good.”

You tilt your head. You smirk. “That’s a problem?”

“You always do this, you know?” Hanni chooses her words carefully, trying to break out of the haze of having almost been there, so she can properly articulate. “Make it about me when it’s supposed to be about you.”

You stifle your laughter against her neck, letting it vibrate through her skin. It’s her earnestness, really, that gets you sometimes; her concern for you, even now is too much, almost comical.

“I’m serious!” Hanni protests, though she’s betrayed by the wobble in her voice, that part of her begging to just let you do your thing and push her past the precipice. Her eyes flutter shut as she breathes in deep, trying to compose herself. “I want to make you feel as good as you always make me feel.”

Logic that you can’t argue with, not when it’s wrapped up in that sweet, sweet smile. You still attempt, though, “Hanni, making you feel good—”

“Makes me feel good—yeah, I know how it goes,” she finishes the line for you. “But, just. We have all day, so—"

There’s a point that’s finished by her kiss, specific in its tenderness, stealing whatever witty reply you had ready from your mouth.

“Let me start by taking care of you.”

It’s like you said—Hanni Pham, making it all about her, in the least selfish way possible.

You relent, bowing out to her whims.

“So, what do you want me to do?”

“Nothing,” Hanni nods, satisfied with your compliance. She takes your wrists into her hands, guides them away from her body to keep them at your sides. “Just relax.”

It’s a strange feeling, letting go, letting her be the one to dictate the pace, the rhythm of your morning. You watch her, watch the way her eyes wander over you. She’s fascinated, like she can’t make up her mind of where to start.

But she does, eventually.

Her gaze settles on your arousal, standing proud and waiting underneath your sweatpants.

“How about I start—” a light kiss on your lips, and she’s slinking down to your waist, tugging at the string of your pants, “right here?”

A kiss on your stomach, just above your navel, her fingers slipping between your waistband and your skin. They pull at the fabric, dragging it down with care until it’s pooled around your thighs. Your cock springs free, and there’s this gasp she makes—like she hasn’t seen it a hundred times before.

“You’re so big.” Hanni’s in awe, her voice hushed, reverent almost. It’s always been something she says, something that makes you blush—swells the ego that you like to pretend you don’t have. “I still have no idea how this fits inside me.”

“It fits perfectly, remember?”

“Mm, I know, but—" she can’t find the words, so she settles for the next best thing, “damn.”

She’s smiling—always smiling—and you can feel her breath on you, light and sugary, these little pulses of anticipation tingling through your skin.

You hold your breath, waiting for her touch, waiting for her lips, waiting for her to finally take you in.

But she doesn’t. She’s just looking.

“Hanni,” you say, giving your cock a teasing flex, brushing it against her cheek. It’s a light prod to break the spell, to remind her of the task at hand.

“Oh!”

It’s getting unbearable, your cock just inches from her mouth, straining to reach her lips. “You’re driving me crazy.”

“Good.“ She presses another kiss to your skin, a little nibble to your inner thigh that makes you jolt. Her hands skim over your legs, pushing your sweatpants down further and further, down your thighs, over your knees right until it’s stuck at your ankles, thwarting her attempted sensual seduction.

She makes this frustrated 'argh!’ at the minor struggle. Very cute. Also a little ridiculous.

"Help, please?” She looks up at you, expectantly.

You acquiesce.

“Aha!” Hanni cheers, slightly louder than she may have intended, having won her battle against your pants. She catches herself, blushing, flashing a cheeky smile.

God, you’re going to fall in love with her all over again.

“Oh right. I mean, are you ready?”

So casual in how she says it, covering for her fumble. It makes you want to laugh—except you can’t, because before you can even open your mouth, she’s already leaned in, pressing her plush lips against the tip of your cock.

Lightly, so light it makes your hairs stand on end. A calculated tease, right hand around your cock, stroking your length. Her left reaches up, laces her fingers with yours. A squeeze, a preview of what’s to come.

You can’t help but twitch under her.

It's her lips, mapping a trail of kisses down your shaft, leaving a warm, sticky mess of pre-cum that she’s quick to lick away. It’s how she’s looking at you—so focused, like she’s been learning, been studying you, creating a personal database of everything that makes you tick.

But above all else it’s just the simple fact that she’s doing this for you, because she cares about you. Because she wants to make you feel good.

It’s all of it and it’s working.

“This is much nicer, isn’t it?” She asks, not really expecting an answer, because she knows it’ll be a resounding yes.

She’s playing with you, not giving you exactly what you want, but just enough. Her hand wrapped around the base of your cock, stroking you from root to tip, thumb circling your head with enough pressure to drive you insane.

It’s pain and pleasure wrapped up into one perfect package, and you’re not sure which one you prefer.

You let her know as such: “Actually quite torturous, to be honest.”

“But it’s the good kind of torture, right?”

“There’s a good kind?”

“We’ve got all day to find out,” Hanni teases, taking a fistful of her own hair in her hand, looping it into a tight, messy bun; preparing herself—giving you a final chance to do the same.

Hanni takes you into her mouth.

It’s not a sudden plunge, not a surprise attack bringing you straight to the back of her throat—it’s a slow, slow descent that has you gritting your teeth and biting back a groan.

It’s hot. Wet. Heavenly. You can feel every inch of your cock being coated in her saliva, her tongue dancing around your shaft, her cheeks hollowing out, her lips creating the most exquisite suction.

When she reaches as far as she can go, fills her mouth with as much of you as she can take, she starts to move back up. Slowly, so you can feel every little bump of her tongue, every little drag of her teeth.

Her hand joins in, moving in tandem with her mouth, stroking the parts of you she can’t reach. She’s trying to find the perfect balance, trying to find that sweet spot between too much and not enough.

Hanni’s no pro at this, her technique is in no way perfect—but she’s so willing, so keen to please. She takes her time, getting used to the feel of you in her mouth, her eyes peeking up at you every so often to gauge your reaction; studying your face for any sign that she’s doing it right, that she’s doing it well.

It’s adorable, really.

And oh, so hot.

You give it to her again, reassure her, “So good, baby,” because it is—your hips buck involuntarily, pushing deeper into her mouth.

It takes her off guard, but she does her best to adapt; she’s trying not to gag, trying to take it all in. She’s a fast learner, your Hanni.

Your compliment serves its purpose—she’s getting more confident now, her tongue gliding along the underside of your cock, tentative, exploratory. It’s clumsy, yes, but it’s cute, and most importantly—it feels good.

She’s concentrating, her attention entirely on your cock; her lips sealed tight. Each time her head bobs down, she takes you in deeper, millimetres, but still, deeper and deeper.

And it’s the sound of her sucking you in, getting sloppier, filling the room with those noises, the soundtrack to your morning. She’s getting bolder, finding her rhythm, building her pace. It’s not precise in any way, shape or form—sometimes she’s a little too rough, sometimes she misses the beat—but the effort.

A harsh suck has your cock popping out of Hanni’s lips, strings of her saliva still connecting her mouth to you. She looks up at you, wanting to check in, still needing that hit of validation, “Is this—is this good?"

You stroke her hair, let her lean into your touch. "Unbelievably. You’re doing great.”

“But I can make it even better, can’t I?” She asks, the determination setting in her features, and she’s staring straight into your eyes, hopeful, “Tell me. Tell me how you want it.”

It’s not a demand—it’s a question, a plea for guidance; she’ll do whatever it takes (whatever you want) to get you there. And it’s the sight of her, straddling your thighs, kneeling before you; those full lips hovering just about your cock, her hand lazily pumping away, keeping you there.

Somehow, you manage to get the words out, a rough whisper, “Take me deep, Hanni. As far as you can go. Take me all in. Show me how much you want it.”

It’s the instruction she’s been waiting for; she’s nodding before you’ve finished, so willing to oblige. It’s that part of her that you’ve discovered, the part she might not even know herself. But it explains so much.

(Hanni: the teacher’s pet, always needing to excel. Competitive, desperate for the highest grades in school, the top evaluations in training; desperate for you to tell her that it’s her and only her.

That’s what makes her successful. That’s what makes her eager.

And now that you’ve put the challenge before her, she can’t wait to prove herself.)

She takes a deep breath, swirls her tongue around the tip of your cock, dipping her toe into the water before she dives right in. It’s like she’s playing it out in her head, memorising the taste of you, the smell of you, the feel of you; mapping out the best way to take you all the way in right before she breaks you.

“Ready?”

“Always.”

And she goes for it.

Her mouth opens wide, eyes locked on yours, and she takes you in again.

Deeper, throat tighter.

Her eyes water a little, and she coughs, retreating. But she’s unfazed—still smiling, still eager.

“Sorry, sorry, it’s okay.”

You stroke her cheek, act like it’s not already far more than you can handle. “Take your time, baby. No need to rush.”

A deep inhale, and she's trying again.

It’s a process, her getting used to you, your size, your taste, the way you make her throat bulge. She’s slow, tentative, but with every stroke, with every gulp, she’s getting closer. Her cheeks hollow out more, her eyes water a little less, and she moans.

You can feel the anticipation building in your chest, your balls, the sweet ache of your orgasm just around the corner. And she can feel it too, your body tensing under hers, your breaths turning shorter, sharper.

The fifth time, she hits the back of her throat, and she stops—holds herself there, panting. It’s a moment of victory, a declaration that she’s got it right, that she can take all of you, just like you asked. Your cock is nestled at the back of her throat, there’s more tears now, but she’s smiling with her eyes, looking up at you through her lashes.

It’s so intense. You groan. Your hips jerk. “Good, baby, so good—don’t move.”

The look on her face, the satisfaction, the pride.  

She swallows around you, working the muscles in her throat, pressing her tongue flat against the underside of your cock; it’s too much.

“Ha-Hanni—keep doing that—keep swallowing—it’s perfect—so perfect—”

It’s a struggle, but she does it, takes it all in, holds it there—just for you.

Her hands are at your thighs, grasping—not enough to hurt, but enough to let you know she’s there, that she’s with you. She coughs, gags, sputters bits of drool down your cock, but she keeps going.

And then, she pulls herself up, needing the air, pulling back with a long gasp; leaving a mess. Your cock slides out of her mouth, springing from her lips; her cheeks a vivid shade of red, glistening with lines of tears—beautiful, just indescribably beautiful.

“Was I good?” She’s asking out of courtesy, really. You’re sure whatever dumb look you’re wearing on your face is more than enough to confirm it.

But you nod and choke a ’Yes’ anyway, because you’re a gentleman, and words of affirmation are just as sweet as the act itself.

“I can do better.”

And before your mind can even catch up to what she’s saying, she’s sucking you back into her mouth. Now that she’s proven herself, she just has to push it even further, show you just what she’s capable of.

This time, she’s more assured, more confident. Her hands are at your hips now, holding you still, like she’s worried you’ll get away.

You won’t, of course. You couldn’t even if you tried.

Hanni’s bobbing her head; these long, deep sucks that have your fingers tangling in her hair, have you urging your hips to meet her mouth. Her eyes are watering more, she’s gagging more often than not, but she doesn’t stop, she just keeps moaning around you, keeps going and going.

She takes her hands off your hips, sliding one down to the base of your cock, holding it steady as she works you over and over. The other finds your balls, balancing them on her fingertips, rolling them around her palm. She’s figuring it out, figuring you out far too quickly, and it nearly has you coming undone.

And through it all, she’s grinning.

It’s a twisted, slightly pained grin, but it’s a grin nonetheless. She’s found her new favourite hobby, and she’s determined to show you just how much she enjoys it.

“I love this,” Hanni slurs against your cock, not really to you, not really to herself, just saying it out loud because it’s true. “I love being able to do this to you, making you feel so good.”

She’s saying these things, these simple words like they’re not dangerous at all, like whispering them against your cock is so harmless, like they don’t have the power to completely destroy your resolve.

“I love that it’s me,” Hanni keeps going, even when her tongue is occupied with licking you, lapping up your balls, the underside of your shaft. “I love that I’m the one who makes you feel this way.”

Gone is the shyness—she’s so smug now, so proud of herself, so in love with the fact that she has you exactly where she wants you: in her mouth, at her mercy.

It’s in the way she’s sucking you, her eyes closing, her hums of pleasure every time she takes you in—as deep as she can. She’s getting hotter on top of you, just from having you in her mouth, from taking you into her lips again and again.

Grinding herself into the mattress, needing a bit of friction, needing more. And that’s when she pulls away, panting for breath.

“Hanni?” You ask, finding your voice, letting go of a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding.

“It’s too much,” she admits, breathless, her hand still wrapped around your cock, stroking you gently, almost apologetically. “I’m sorry, it’s just—it’s too much.”

There’s a shift in the air—in Hanni. Usually, typically, soft. Now wild, desperate.

She’s climbing up you, back on your hips, her wetness smearing onto your skin, her thighs trembling on either side of yours.

"I need it, I can’t wait anymore. I just can’t.”

The suddenness, the urgency in her voice (in her body). Hanni, flushed, practically shaking with need.

“I need you—now.”

It’s so tempting—you could give in easily. And yet, there’s something in how she’s asking you, how she’s using innuendo in place of propriety, dancing around saying what she really wants in plain, explicit terms.

It’s not enough.

She’s already got you on the edge, so close you can almost taste it. But you need to hear it from her. Your sweet, adorable girlfriend, saying something so dirty it’ll make your knees buckle.

So, you sit up, shifting slightly so she’s still straddling you, face to face. Cradling her cheek with one hand, brushing a strand of hair out of her eyes; so you can look at her—take in all the tiny beautiful inflections that make her your Hanni.

“What do you need?”

Always with the blushes, but she holds your gaze, not breaking it even when you run your hand back down south, reaching to slip a finger through her folds, finding her still so wet and swollen. She gasps, but she doesn’t look away.

“Tell me, Hanni,” you coax, your finger moving in gentle circles, watching her face, watching the way her pupils dilate, the way her breath catches.

Hanni stutters, “You—I want you—need you—". But you just chuckle, slow down the pace of your finger, giving her a taste of the frustration she’s unintentionally been dishing out.

“Not quite specific enough. What part of me do you want?”

She’s biting her lip, squirming under your touch—she’s not used to this. Not used to anything outside of the usual playfulness, the sweetness; the gentle strokes and soft whispers. But something has you feeling different today.

Maybe it’s the excitement of trying something new. Maybe it’s how unusually forward she’s being. Or maybe, just maybe, part of you has always wanted to hear her beg.

She blurts it out: “Your—your cock!”

“And what do you want me to do with it?” You press, stroking her clit now; her chest heaving, these tiny whines escaping her, and the way she’s looking at you. Like she’s getting ready to pounce.

“Please—just—please, I need—”

“Need me to slide it in slow?” You suggest, kissing her neck, her perfect, porcelain skin. “Give it to you nice and deep?“

Hanni’s rolling her hips on you, grinding herself against your hand, trying to get through to your cock, trying to will it to enter her.

“Go ahead, be honest.”

She’s bothered. Annoyed—almost angry, if that’s even possible for her. Like how could you? How could her kind, loving boyfriend go out of his way to put her in such agony.

“Tell me, baby. What does Hanni want?”

“I—I need your cock inside me—I want you to—” Hanni swallows takes a deep breath.

A final push: “Say it.”

“Fuck me, hold me and fuck me. Deep, hard, slow—however you want just fuck me now.”

The words come out in a rush, spilling out of her lips. Even she’s surprised as she’s saying them, in disbelief that she’s even capable of saying something so filthy out loud.

But she’s not taking it back, she’s not apologising.

No, she’s taking hold of your hand, moving it out from between her legs, and replacing it with your cock, daring you to stop her.

Like you could ever.

You push in, inch by delicious inch, watching her face contort, features twist, feeling her stretch around you.

It’s the same every time—it feels like the first time all over again.

Her eyes squeeze shut, mouth parted in a wordless plea, and you’re moving so slow. So slow that she’s whimpering, begging, hips trying to push you deeper. But you keep it steady, setting the tempo, let her get used to the feeling of being made whole by you again.

“Oh, oh, oh—” Hanni pants, trying to keep her voice down, but it’s pointless. She’s failing already, loosening a strained 'fuck' when you bottom out, when your cock is finally, completely inside her.

You hold her like that; your arms around her, hugging her tight, her breasts squished against your chest. She’s so small in your arms, so soft, so warm; her pulse racing against your own, lapping it twice over.

“You okay?” You ask, placing a kiss on her shoulder.

“More than okay,” she sighs, holding onto you, moulding her body onto yours. “More than okay—just need a minute to adjust. Don’t worry about me—you can—you can make me feel good.”

So, you do.

Lifting her body off you, unsheathing your cock from her warm embrace, until only the tip is trapped in her wetness. Then: guiding her back down, a touch quicker, harder, deeper. And there’s that gasp as she takes you back in, as you fill her.

You’re moving with purpose now, her walls tight and wet and hot around you, clenching and releasing in time with your slow, deliberate thrusts.

Hanni’s breasts bounce in front of you, up and down with every pump, small peaks begging for attention. You’re kissing them again, sucking one into your mouth, suckling on the pink tips.

“So beautiful,” you’re repeating it, speaking it into her skin, because it’s all that’s on your mind as she takes you in. “You’re so beautiful, baby.”

And she looks it too, even though she’s not even trying; with her hair falling out of her bun, sticking to her face with sweat and saliva, her mouth hanging open, swollen and red from your kisses, her body writhing and jerking with every thrust.

Yet she remains focused, eyes glued to yours, like she’s afraid if she looks away she’ll miss something. Like if she doesn’t keep watching, she’ll wake up and find out it’s all been a dream.

But it’s not.

It’s you and her, in this bed, the sun peeking through the curtains, her naked body riding yours, hotter and hotter with each pass.

It’s you and her, together, wrapped up in each other making love like the world outside doesn’t exist.

It’s you and her, and it’s—

“So perfect—you feel so perfect,” Hanni finishes your thought for you, finishes each of your thrusts with her own hips; opening her body up to you, welcoming you in deeper with each stroke. “I think I’m gonna cry it feels so good.”

Her legs lock around your back, heels digging into your spine, until you’re fully seated inside her; so deep it feels like you’re a part of her. With a whine that’s half pleasure, half need, Hanni braces herself on you, rolling her hips on your cock, grinding down, taking as much of you as she can.

You grip her tight, one hand around her back, the other under her ass, fingers squeezing into the soft, tender flesh. Bouncing her up and down, watching her face as she takes you, as she keeps repeating ‘so perfect’.

And you know, you know she’s not just talking about the physical—that’s definitely there. It’s how you’re making her feel, it’s the connection. The way you’re looking at her, the way you’re holding her, the way you’re loving her that has her floating.

“I-I think I’m ready,” Hanni whimpers, “I can take it—you don’t need to—don’t hold back anymore.”

With a grunt, a nod, and a choked ‘Hanni’, you’re sweeping her up, keeping your cock buried deep inside her as you lift her. Your hand cushions the back of her head as you lay her down on the bed beneath you, her legs spreading wide on their own to accept you.

A moment to steady herself, to prepare.

A smile. A kiss on her forehead.

And then you’re in, all the way, again. Completing her pussy with your cock; one swift motion that knocks the wind out of her in the sound of your name.

“God—Hanni—”

It shouldn’t be like this—it should be impossible to be this much hotter, this much wetter, this tight.

But she is.

She’s squeezing herself around you, muscles, thighs flexing. Eyes shut, mouth wide open because there’s no way to stop from crying out; and her body, her lovely, perfect body, arching up to meet your every thrust.

You give it to her.

You’re building up speed, stretching her wide, hips moving in that perfect rhythm you’ve discovered together—the one that makes your name echo off the bedroom walls.

Hanni’s whimpering, mewling, whining, “Tell me—tell me how good it feels.”

You tell her everything—how tight, how wet, how perfect she is. You praise her, shower her with very compliment that comes to mind. She eats them up; her lips leaving marks on your neck, your shoulder, her fingers on your back, her hips swallowing you whole.

But Hanni still needs more, needs to hear more. Not just that she’s good, not even that she’s perfect. She needs to hear that she’s only yours.

“Like heaven, Hanni,” you manage, your voice hoarse, strained. “So perfect for me. Only me.”

“Really?” Hopeful. Ecstatic. So turned on.

“Always,” you repeat, the truth echoing in your voice and across her skin. “Always so perfect.”

“Mmm,” Hanni moans, nodding along, soaking in every word that flows freely from your lips.

“You’re so beautiful, Hanni. Your pussy is so perfect.” You kiss her again, a little harder this time, a little more possessive. “I love how you fit around me.”

Her breath catches in her throat, there’s that spark in her eyes, and she’s taking you deeper, urging you on. “Oh-oh. Keep talking—please—keep talking.”

“Made for me, aren’t you Hanni?” You continue, the steady stream of praise and admiration, caressing her as surely as your cock in her pussy. You can’t get enough, can’t get over how perfect she feels, how right it is to be inside her. “Like a perfect glove around me.”

Her eyes meet yours, her smile shy as she whispers your name. Whispers it like it’s a prayer, like it’s the only word she knows (like it’s the only thing that can give her peace).

She’s so close, getting there, it’s in how she’s pulling you closer; with her arms and her pussy. How she’s saying please, with a little quiver in her voice, alternating it with your name when you hit that spot just right.

“This feels so good, but-but-I think—” Hanni’s voice cracks, even now, still so shy, so adorable. She’s gasping, out of breath, trying her best to string the words together. “C-can I? Can I please cum?”

It’s all you need to hear. You kiss her, hard and deep, push into her. “Of course, baby,” you say, “Do it. Do it for me. I want you to cum for me.”

The effect it has on her—how it ripples across her face. She’s so thankful. So, so thankful for your permission, for what you’re doing to her. “Then please—please don’t stop.”

Harder, faster, deeper now—making her unravel beneath you. Hands holding her in place, feeling her, feeling her tense, quake around you.

Keep going, because she’s almost there, because she’s repeating it, that desperate ‘please’, over and over again.

‘Please-please-please’—with every thrust, saying it without saying it, with every clench of her walls, with every little gasp she lets slip.

Because that’s what she is—who she is—at her most honest, her most vulnerable. Pleases and thank yous on her lips, a constant stream of gratitude for you, for being here with her, for making her feel so much.

“Thank you,” Hanni manages, words almost a moan. “Thank you for making me feel like this, for making me feel so—”

But she can’t finish the sentence, can’t find the words to explain the storm that’s building inside her. So she just says it again, rising in pitch each time as the pressure builds. ‘Thank you, thank you, thank you—’

Her nails dig into your shoulders, the first time she’s ever inflicted anything close to pain on you; begging you to stay in place, to not move, to not pull out. You feel her need, feel it in your bones, feel it from the heat of her pussy.

“Feels so—” Hanni’s crying, sobbing now, trembling uncontrollably. You’re holding onto her, deep inside her, giving all the time she needs to let it out. “—so good, so deep, so, so much—”

She gasps. She tightens. She screams.

Hanni’s voice breaks off into a keening wail as it all comes crashing over her; and you don’t stop, can’t stop, can’t do anything but keep her tethered to you as she loses herself to her climax.

“Please—don’t pull out—please—don’t stop—please—please—please—”

She shudders, clenches around you, pussy tightening in the sweetest way possible. It’s that look on her face, saying everything she can’t manage to say, everything she can’t put into words—how much she loves you, how much you complete her, how much she needs this.

It’s a wave, pulling you under, and you let it take you, let it sweep you away until you’re drowning in the feeling of her coming apart around you, under the heat of her eyes and the grip of her body.

Her juices all over your cock, her pussy spasming around you, that blissful agony on her face. Hanni’s so sweet when she cums, so damn gorgeous, it just takes your breath away. She’s perfect, so perfect it hurts.

And as she comes down, as she rides out her orgasm and kisses your name into your lips, she begs of you, once last time: “Your turn.”

With strength you didn’t know she still had, her legs pull you in, anchoring you to her. Her walls pulse, her body begs for you to follow.

And you do.

“Give it to me, please, cum for me, love—”

You let go. Let the tension in your body melt away as you thrust into her one, two, three more times. Until you’re releasing, until you’re cumming, until everything’s white-hot pleasure and Hanni on your tongue.

Load after load inside her, a hot, deep stream that leaves you groaning, that leaves her sighing, panting, joyful. Filling her up until she’s complete, until she’s overflowing.

You cum hard and fast, and Hanni tries her best to keep up, tries to take it all, and she’s smiling—laughing even, the joy of making you feel this good lighting up her features.

“H-Hanni—” you try, your cock twitching inside her, your cum spilling out of her and onto the bed, onto your thighs.

She’s kissing you, kissing your neck, letting you make your mess; your glorious mess of cum and sweat and saliva and her.

It feels so good, everything feels so good about her, everything she’s doing. She’s holding you so tight, so greedily, shivering with every throb of your cock inside her, savouring every moment of your release.

There’s a moment of silence, where you just lay there, bodies entangled, hearts racing, breaths mingling. Just looking at each other, basking in the thickness of sex and satisfaction.

And Hanni smiles, so wide it could split her face in two, a smile that says she’s never been happier.

Then, with a sigh, she relaxes, her legs loosening, ankles unlocking behind you. You roll onto your side, pulling her with you, keeping her close. She’s still with you, still keeping your cock inside her, and you can’t help but feel like this is it.

This is home.

“Best. Morning. Ever.”

She laughs. “I don’t want to get up. Don’t ever want to leave this bed.”

“I don’t think I can get up,” you admit somewhere into her hair.

And then it hits you. Something in the air, something in the light hitting her naked body, something in that blissful expression on her face.

It spills out of you before you can stop it: “I think I’m in love with you.”

Her eyes widen a fraction, and she pulls back just enough to look at you, to read your face. “Careful, we’ve got all day for that kind of talk.”

But she doesn’t protest as you hold her tighter, feel the warmth of her body, the smell of the skin, the way she nests into your side. Fitting perfectly—like she’s always been there.

So yeah, you may have said it too early, but whatever.

Today’s the day for breaking normal rules and codes of conduct.

For breaking routines. For her.

For the promise of a long day filled with nothing but lazy kisses, whispered secrets, the sweet taste of her skin.

For staying in bed, wrapped in each other’s arms, forgetting the outside world.

For more of this. Of Hanni. Of this perfect, perfect feeling.

So, you stay there. Not moving, not speaking. Just holding onto the moment, as the sun rises higher and higher in the sky.

And as your eyes start to drift close, as you sink into the comfort of the mattress, with her in your arms and on your mind, and you’re thinking this day couldn’t get any better, Hanni whispers:

“Idiot. I’ve always been in love with you.”

[hvllevator]

roses [j.jh]

MDNI, 18+

SUMMARY | think i should text my ex (fwb)? what happens when jaehyun sees his ex-fwb with another guy?

PAIRING | ex fwb!jaehyun x afab!reader (with reader x jungwoo)

CONTENT | ex fwb to ?, college!au, unprotected sex (on pills), oral (f receiving), fingering, dirty talk, creampie. (probably more that i missed but its just smut)

WORDS | 4.3k

A/N | im so bad at giving summaries but it’s basically roses by jaehyun :D not proofread

you knew how to get under jaehyun’s skin. well, not on purpose, but he sure as hell was sending daggers in your direction as he saw you all cozied up with a tall blond-haired guy at his frat party. jaehyun scoffed as he took a sip out of the red cup in his hand. how dare you bring a boy into his house in the first place.

jaehyun’s gaze never left you as you laughed at something the french fry guy said. “bet it’s not even funny.” he muttered to himself, rolling his eyes as you placed your hand on the guy’s arm.

“dude, what is the matter with you?” mark pulled him out of his trance, hitting him lightly on the arm. his best friend followed his gaze and smirked when he figured out what he was so worked up about. “isn’t that y/n? didn’t you use to date her?”

“we did not date.” jaehyun moved his sight to glare at the younger boy instead. “i could care less about her.”

“couldn’t.” mark corrected him with a cheeky smile, “but you already knew that, so i’m guessing you do care a tiny bit.”

you and jaehyun met at university when you were freshmen. you accidentally walked into the wrong room at your first college party when a certain someone was changing out his clothes and flashed you with his penis on your first week. you screamed and ran as fast as you could. moments later, mystery penis guy found you amidst the crowd and apologized profoundly, which left you confused because you were so sure you should be the one apologizing. nonetheless, you both decided to put it behind you and start fresh.

“jaehyun.” mystery penis guy introduced himself to you while handing you a red cup that was most likely filled with booze.

“y/n.” you accepted his cup, inspecting it. “you’re not trying to drug me because i saw your dick, right?”

jaehyun laughed, and you smiled as he shook his head. that was the beginning of a new friendship.

until during your sophomore year, you were drunk crying over your ex, and you had jaehyun over because you needed a friend. he was awkwardly trying to pat your back while trying to keep a distance between the two of you. don’t get him wrong, he found you attractive as fuck, and he would fuck you the moment you let him. but he was somehow scared to ruin the year-long friendship between the two of you, so he never acted on what his dick and heart told him to.

this night was different, though; you were vulnerable and needed to feel better about yourself. “he said i couldn’t suck dick properly!” you whined, which made jaehyun freeze. “who breaks up with someone over that!”

jaehyun had to fight every bone in his body not to jump on you and kiss the living hell out of you. he felt apologetic that you were crying over a dumbass, but he couldn’t help but find you cute. your cheeks flushed, makeup messy with tears. you looked perfect. “i think that’s what they call an ick.” he tried lightening up the mood, but this just made you glare at him.

“i’ll bite your dick off.” you punched his arm, which did little to no damage.

“ouch, is that what you did while you were sucking his?” he rubbed his arm, but had the biggest smile on his face.

“you’re not helping!” you covered your face with your hands.

jaehyun didn’t know what possessed him then; he spoke without thinking about his words. “i could teach you a thing or two about giving…” he immediately regretted what he was offering. he coughed before ending his sentence, looking everywhere around the room but at you. he let his dick do the talking as if you were stupid enough to agree–

“teach me.”

needless to say, you knew how to suck dick (even a few pointers on how to kiss and fuck) that night.

jaehyun tried to pull his eyes away from you as you whispered something in the guy’s ear before disappearing into the crowd and heading upstairs. now he was frustrated. you ended your year-long arrangement just merely two weeks ago, and you have already found someone new? you just moved on and had enough. god, he sounded so pathetic; he got it bad.

- 

you lay in bed that night, chewing on your lip as you scrolled through your phone. you just left the party an hour ago after sleeping with another man. you felt weird. like what you did was wrong, but you couldn’t exactly point out why.

as if the universe decided to play tricks on you, your phone vibrated in your hand. the contact “PLS DONT ANSWER” on full display. you glanced at the time to see it was 2 am. you ran your fingers through your hair and sighed. closing your eyes, your finger swiped to answer the call.

“you answered?” his voice echoing through the phone, surprised you picked up the phone.

“don’t make me regret it.”

“i saw you today.”

“… okay?” you knew he saw you. in fact, you made sure he saw you with jungwoo, aka the guy you fucked an hour ago.

“with another guy.” mission success. you were being petty, but you were doing it for a reason (so you convinced yourself).

the very reason you broke off your arrangement with jaehyun was because you saw him with another girl’s tongue down his throat in a not-very-discrete section in the library two weeks ago. you could tell he enjoyed it by the way his hands were firmly gripping her ass. the sight made you sick to your stomach.

your agreement was strictly for physical reasons — you fucked, nothing more and nothing less. you were good friends who were having fantastic sex.

you don't know why the thought of him sleeping with other girls upset you. you both agreed to keep it physical. no strings attached, especially since you're both juniors and have to focus on finishing your degrees. yet why did it bother you he was out kissing girls?

“congrats, you can see.” you cringed at your attempt to seem like a cool girl.

“cut the bullshit, y/n.” jaehyun rolled his eyes even though you couldn’t see him. “you broke up with me, then you slept with somebody else just two weeks after?”

“i wasn’t aware we had a relationship that even allowed us to break up.” you opened your eyes. realizing how long you last talked to jaehyun, you hated to admit that you missed the sound of his voice.

“called it off, ghosted—whatever you call it! you know what i mean.”

“i did not ghost you.” practically mumbling against the phone.

“a text saying “let's stop this” is not an explanation, y/n. plus, that's besides that point!”

“i really don't want to talk about this right now, jaehyun.”

“fine. meet me tomorrow at the café you like at 2 pm.” and with that, he hung up on you.

- 

jaehyun sat in an easy-to-spot area at the café you loved. how did he know? because you used to have little study dates in this very coffee shop (if you could even call it a date). his heart was beating out of his chest. he didn’t know why his heart was beating so fast while he anticipated your presence. maybe he drank too much caffeine? he shook his head in an attempt to clear his mind. he wanted to believe that was the reason why he could not sit still.

the tiny bell at the front door rang, indicating a new customer. the sound made jaehyun whip his head up. there you were. a brown coat hugging your body, your hair in one of those clamps that held it up neatly. you were in the most basic clothes, yet you looked so beautiful. jaehyun smiled at the sight of you until he saw a dozen roses you had in your hands, the smile was replaced with a slight frown.

“hi, jae.” you breathed out, taking a seat on the empty spot in front of him. placing your belongings on the table, which included the bouquet that jaehyun was glaring at.

“aww, y/n, you didn’t have to.” jaehyun took the bouquet from the table to inspect it, trying to catch a glimpse of a card with the sender's name on it.

“shut up.” you mumbled, snatching it from him. cheeks heating up, you avoided his gaze.

“i’m assuming it's from lover boy last night?” jaehyun huffed, crossing his arms across his chest. he looked absolutely silly right now.

“it’s none of your business.” you fought back. leaning against your seat, “why’d you want to see me anyway?” 

“i didn’t.” he lied through his teeth, but you didn’t know that. “i just think i deserve some kind of explanation as to why our,” he paused to think how he would label your relationship, “friendship ended.”

“you’re so annoying.” glaring at him, you contemplated why you even showed up in the first place.

“you love me.” he grinned at you, flashing his damned dimples, to which you let out a snort. “was he better than me?”

“very much.” you smiled as he lost his grin. “bigger too.”

“we’re telling lies now?” jaehyun raised his eyebrow. “you said your shit ex had a big dick, too, so i don't really trust your judgment.” you chewed your lip in annoyance, wanting to slap his irritatingly beautiful face.

“asshole.”

- 

it had been a week since your last interaction with jaehyun.  your little café meet-up didn’t lead to anything as you still refused to tell him why you no longer wanted to see him. you would be lying if you said you had not thought of him at all. you missed him.

in the midst of doing your university work, your phone buzzed, a text message popping up on the screen.

PLS DONT ANSWER: are u awake

you stared at the message, with no intention of replying.

PLS DONT ANSWER: busy fucking french fry boy?

PLS DONT ANSWER: what position he got u in

you rolled your eyes at his last message. truth be told, jungwoo gave you the flowers as an apology. he apologized for sleeping with you that day, telling you how he was drunk and not over his ex, and he hoped that you would not take it the wrong way. you felt incredibly stupid and annoyed at how even in your attempt to forget jaehyun, you still failed.

the phone rang a few seconds later, but this time, you didn’t pick up. not knowing what to say to him. missing the call, he didn’t send anything after, making your heart sink.

you knew what you signed up for when you agreed to keep things physical between the two of you. although there were moments when it would seem like you two were a couple, you knew he would never like you like that. he was jeong fucking jaehyun for fucks sake. he could have any girl he looked at if he wanted to. you hear how women talk about him in the bathrooms, most of them very lewd. everyone wanted a taste of him. you couldn't blame them, even after having a taste of him, you still craved and came back for more.

a knock on your apartment door pulled you out of your trance. curious, you stood up to open it. there at your door was one very soaked jaehyun with a flower–that looked like it was picked out of a bush–in hand. his white shirt sticking to his chest, giving you a very slight peek of his toned body which gave you flashbacks to the nights you would spend together.

“jaehyun,” raising a brow, “why are you soaking wet?” you were sure there was not any weather forecast about rain tonight.

“it was raining and–” jaehyun let out, catching his breath, “wanted to see you.” pushing what looked like a rose in your direction. “here.”

eyeing the rose, you carefully scanned his face as you took it from his hand. you stepped aside to let him in your apartment. he stepped inside, careful of spreading rainwater all over your place. “stay here, i’ll get you something dry.” turning away from him, you walked towards your bedroom with your thoughts all over the place. why was he here? what was this rose about? and why did he look so fucking hot?

with a clean sweatshirt (that you were pretty sure was his) in hand, you walked back into the living room where you were greeted by jaehyun’s bare back faced to you as he looked at the pictures you had hung around. you bit your lip at the sight. feeling sparks shoot throughout your body.

you cleared your throat, which made jaehyun spin around to face you, shooting you a smile. you extended your arm to hand him the sweater, but he grabbed your arm instead and pulled your body against his. he was hugging you. you froze in place as he nuzzled his head into the crook of your neck, feeling him inhale against your skin.

“missed you.” feeling him mumble against your skin, “it was killing me knowing there’s someone out there buying you roses.”

“jaehyun, are you drunk?” placing your hands against his bare chest to push him away and look him in the eyes.

he shook his head, “i’m not. i’m serious, y/n.” he took a step closer to you, “why do you not want me anymore?” his breath fanning on you, lips dangerously close to yours, making you feel hazy.

“you know that’s not true.” your voice was so tiny he barely heard what you said. his hands landed on your waist, rubbing on it softly.

“tell me what i did wrong, please.” his voice soft.

“jaehyun..” you warned, feeling him close the gap between the two of you, to which you shut your eyes as you waited for the soft feeling of his lips. but it never came, so you opened your eyes to see him staring at you with a teasing smile on his lips. you glared at him, scoffing. you pushed him away, chucking the sweater at him before retreating and heading to your bedroom.

you heard him call out for you. feeling your cheeks burn from embarrassment. you were about to slam the door behind you, but his strength prevented you from doing so.

“go home, jaehyun.” you sternly said, wanting to bury yourself under the covers. you walked towards the bed, sitting on the edge.

“if you wanted a kiss that bad, you could have just asked.” jaehyun welcomed himself into your room. standing a few feet away from you, this time with the sweater you gave him on your body. he has been in your room plenty of times, so he has grown very familiar with where you keep everything.

“maybe i’ll ask jungwoo instead.” lie. but he doesn’t know that. crossing your arms against your chest. not missing the way his eyes fell on your exposed chest. you were wearing a tiny tank top and lounge shorts since you were just planning on studying all night.

“not fucking funny.” he walked over to you, stopping in between your legs before cupping your face with his hand. “maybe i should remind you who you belong to.” his words making you dizzy.

“i don’t belong to anyone.” you reminded him which made his eyes turn dark; he licked his lips, scanning your face. a sadistic grin forming on his face. he could tell you were trying to convince yourself of what you said, too.

“i thought you were supposed to be smart, princess.” he said, leaning down and planting his lips on yours. the kiss was hungry with the intention of reminding you of what you have been missing. you reciprocated his passion, arms flying to wrap around his neck. his tongue glided over your bottom lip before pushing it into your mouth, exploring your mouth, making you moan lightly. his other hand sneaked down to your clothed core and cupped it, which made you gasp and pull away from the kiss. “look at you, already so wet, and i haven’t even done anything.”

“yeah, and if you don’t do anything about it soon, you know who i’ll call.” teasing him, but he wasn’t having any of it. he grabbed you by your thighs, which you instinctively wrapped around his waist. he laid you down on the bed, your head against your pillows. in a swift motion, your shirt and shorts were pulled away from your body and discarded somewhere in the room.

“I can’t believe you let that asshole touch what’s mine.” jaehyun groaned once he took in the mouthwatering sight in front of him. his intense gaze made you lose all your tough facade, wanting nothing more than to be engulfed by him. he climbed in between your legs, leaning down to kiss you once again, but this time, it was more passion than hunger, savoring your taste.

“i’m not yours.” you whispered against his lips, and you could tell he had enough of your teasing.

“i’ll make you want to be mine.” kissing your jaw, leading down to your neck (making sure to suck on the spot he knew you loved), your chest before engulfing your nipple with his mouth. you whimpered as he sucked on the sensitive bud, his other hand circling the other nub with his thumb and index finger. his tongue exploring every inch of your tits, making you squirm under his touch. your hand flew up to his hair, lightly tugging on it, feeling the slickness from the rain. he pulled away from your chest after flicking his tongue against your nipple one last time. he sat up, grabbing the hem of his sweater and pulling it off him.

you bit your lip at the sight of his toned chest that you absolutely loved. you loved that he took care of himself in every way, especially his body. catching your gaze, he smirked. he, too, loved his own body.

jaehyun pressed a quick kiss on your lips before he went down on your body. your pussy in his face, he wrapped his arms around your thighs, pressing soft wet kisses against your skin. “god, you smell fucking amazing.”

“jaehyun.” you cried out as he licked your wet folds. your hips thrusting, trying to get more, but his arms held you down. pressing a tiny kiss on your clit, his tongue darted out, licking your entrance, lapping around the area. moans spilling from your lips as he fucked you with his tongue. his hand sneaking around to rub your clit, which made you curse his name. “oh my god!” arching your back at the sudden sensation.

“mine.” jaehyun grunted against your pussy, retracting his arm from your thigh, circling around to glide his fingers up and down your folds. “my pussy.” he said before inserting two fingers into your hole, making you gasp. his fingers easily slide in and out of you due to your wetness. the entire room fills up with the sounds of your pussy squelching as he continued to finger you, curling his fingers ever so often, which drove you insane. he attached his lips to your clit, sucking on the sensitive nerve as he continued the motions with his fingers.

“fuck, jaehyun, i can’t–” you barely got the words out as he inserted a third finger, making you gasp, and grip the sheets beneath you. your legs attempted to close but his grip on it prevented you from doing so. you felt the familiar coil gather in your stomach.

“say it, say you’re mine, then i’ll let you cum.” his breath fanning against you, fastening his pace as he fucks you with his fingers.

“mhm, fuck! i’m yours, jae.” your hips bucked upwards as you felt your orgasm coming. “please, let me cum.”

“see, was that so hard?” jaehyun rubbed your clit with his thumb, pushing you over the edge. you screamed out his name, body trembling as you came hard on his fingers. the sight of you arching your back went directly to his dick, hardening against his pants. he pulled his fingers out easily, covered in your cum. he sat up, bringing his fingers to his mouth. “so sweet, so pretty.” licking his creamy fingers clean.

chest heaving as you tried to recover from your high. you met jaehyun’s gaze, seeing him already staring at you. your eyes darted down, seeing his cock begging to be free from his jeans. arm extending, you palmed him through his jeans, hips bucking to meet your touch. “take it off.”

“eager to finally get good dick?” jaehyun smirked, undoing the buttons of his pants.

“get out.”

“taking my pants off right now.” he slid out of his jeans and boxers, cock springing out and bouncing off his stomach. your mouth watering at the sight. your hand reached out to grab his shaft, pumping it before gliding your fingers over the slit, spreading the precum that was leaking out. “fuck, baby.” he moaned, rutting his hips to meet your hand. “you look so good holding my cock.”

“i’d look even better when you finally fuck me with it.” frustration crept up your voice which made him chuckle. he grabbed hold of your hand, holding your wrists above your head while his other hand guided his cock towards your entrance.

“no one will fuck you as good as i do.” ramming his cock into you without warning. the sudden contact made you yelp, wanting to grab hold of him, but his grip on your wrist prevented your movement. “what a dirty little slut. remember, this fucking pussy is mine.” his thrusts were intense, his words laced with venom as he relentlessly fucked your cunt. you could barely let out your words as your breath kept getting knocked out of you.

“o-oh god, jae.” jaehyun was absolutely losing it at the sight of you crumbling beneath him. the pretty noises that were coming out of your mouth were like music to him. sweat trickled down your body as he increased his pace. he let go of your wrists, and your hands flew to grip his shoulders. he grabbed your thighs, pushing them close to your chest. his cock perfectly hitting your sweet spot with every thrust.

“you feel so fucking good.” his hands reached out to pinch your nipples, making you curse out his name.  “you take my cock so fucking well.” you rolled your hips out to meet his pace, leggings shaking from him as he hit all the right spots. your reactions were fueling him even more; he pulled his cock out entirely before slamming it back into your pussy. he gripped your waist as your back arched from the intense sensation, moans getting louder. “you like that, huh? remember who owns you, pretty girl. not that fucking jungwoo, me.”

tears sprang to your eyes from the immense pleasure. not being able to speak coherently, you nodded at his words. nails digging into his shoulder blades as you felt your second orgasm forming in your abdomen. he leaned down, burying his head in your neck, placing kisses on your skin as he continued to rock his hips into you. “i’m so close.” you managed to moan out, legs wrapping around his waist, wanting to be as close to him as possible.

“shit,” jaehyun pulled away from your neck, watching as your tits bounce from his trust, his hand snaked up your clit, rubbing it which built up the pressure in your stomach even more. “cum for me, baby.” his thrusts getting sloppy as he felt his own orgasm creep up.

“oh my god!” you cried out as your insides exploded from pleasure, your walls clenching around his cock as you came.

the feeling of your pussy tightening around his cock brought his orgasm out. his warm cum leaking inside you. “so fucking beautiful.” he groaned, pulling his cock out. your mixed cum spilling out of you. he collapsed beside you.

breaths heavy, you closed your eyelids, wanting to doze off for the night, feeling jaehyun’s arms wrap around you. peeking at him, but his eyes were already trained on you.

“hi.” you whispered.

“be mine.” he mumbled, pulling your body close to him.

“what?” looking at him in disbelief.

“be mine, y/n, be my girlfriend.” he nuzzled his head into the crook of your neck. you knew jaehyun was not one to do relationships. this was one of the reasons why you agreed to keep it physical in the first place. hearing the word girlfriend from his mouth was indeed a new experience, especially since he was saying it to you.

“is my pussy that good?” you giggled.

“yes.” he placed a kiss on your forehead, “and i want to be yours. only yours, and i want you to only be mine.”

“will you stop making out with other girls in the library if i say yes?”

“in the libra–? is that why you left!” he looked at you in shock, “i’m so sorry, i didn’t know you saw that. i promise you she meant nothing to me. i don’t even know her name.”

“wow, that makes me feel so better.” sarcasm rolling off your tongue.

“what about you and that blond bitch! who does he think he is giving you flowers. i fucking hate him.” he sulked, making you snort and laugh. “not funny. i cried, true story.”

so you explained to him what the reason behind the flowers was. his cocky ass got even more cocky when you admitted that it was your attempt to forget him. but you had the last laugh when you found out that even his friends could see that he was miserable without you. you eventually did give him an answer to his previous question, you indeed wanted to be his.

[scorpieuns]

KISS ME MORE | PARK SUNGHOON

summary: freshman year is just around the corner, and you still haven’t had your first kiss, so who better to ask for help than your best friend?

word count: 3.2k

MINORS DNI!!

warnings (18+): smut. fluff (just a smidge). kissing. swearing. oral (f. receiving). fingering (f. recieving).

A/N: this was literally just an excuse to write the ‘teach me’ trope im currently obsessed with lmfao. decided to return with another short fic while a longer one is currently in the works!

Your saturday was lazily drawing to a close, the amber light of the late afternoon bathing your room in a rich, golden hue as it filtered through the sheer curtains. Sunbeams danced across the floor, casting long, dappled shadows that shifted gently in time with the breeze from your fan, its low hum blending with the quiet outside. The heat of the day still lingered, but your room felt cool—a refuge from the summer heat beyond the window.

You and Sunghoon spent another day in the slow, unhurried rhythm of summer break. You had wandered through quaint little shops in town, indulging in some ice cream from your favourite parlour—before ending the day by hanging back at your place.

Soft, flickering light from the television illuminated the room, casting faint shadows over the cozy disarray of blankets and pillows on your bed.

The movie playing was one of your favourites—a classic romance that you knew almost every line to. Your gaze was fixed on the screen, eyes wide and captivated, but Sunghoon seemed content to only half-watch. His attention was mostly absorbed in a book he had got from one the thrift shops you’d visited a while ago, his glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose as he read quietly.

Sunghoon lay sprawled beside you, completely at ease, the quiet shuffling of his turning pages blending in with the murmur of the movie’s dialogue as the two of you comfortably sat in silence.

Every now and then, Sunghoon would glance up from his book, watching you for a moment with a fond, almost amused smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He silently chuckled at how deeply you were invested in the story, even though he knew you had seen it more times than you could count.

As the movie played on, the flickering shots of the couple lost in passionate kisses filled the screen, but your mind was elsewhere. Each romantic scene tugged at a part of you, stirring feelings of uncertainty that you tried to brush away.

The effortless intimacy the characters exchanged seemed so foreign and so far removed from your own experiences. A soft sigh escaped your lips as you shifted slightly on the bed, that weird feeling in your chest only returning.

Fall was approaching, and the thought of starting college without ever having kissed had been gnawing at you. You were always the one admired from a distance—some guys flirted but that was all they did. The real experiences, the ones you saw in movies and tv shows still remained an elusive mystery.

It felt like you were missing some crucial part of your youth, something that was supposed to happen naturally, yet it hadn’t.

In the locker room, when your friends would share their stories about their latest flings or kisses, you’d smile, laugh along, but inside you’d cringe, hoping no one asked about your own love life. It was your secret, the thing that made you feel out of place despite how perfect you seemed to everyone else.

Then, there was Sunghoon.

You glanced at him, your best friend, lying beside you with a cute focused expression etched into his features. He didn’t talk much about his romantic escapades, but you’d heard enough to know he wasn’t inexperienced.

Sometimes you’d catch a glimpse of faint hickeys on his neck or the way girls would glance at him. It left you with a strange feeling, one you couldn’t quite name…was it jealousy? Insecurity? Maybe both. You felt your face heat up, embarrassed by how much it bothered you.

As another kiss scene plays out on the screen, your gaze flickers back to the couple. You bit your lip, the pang of longing growing sharper. What did it feel like? To be kissed—or to have someone look at you like you were their whole world, if only for a second?

The thought of entering college without knowing something so simple yet so intimate made you feel…painfully awkward.

You tried to focus on the movie, but the thoughts kept circling back, louder and louder. The movie no longer held your interest, and the weight of your unspoken feelings became too much.

Unable to shake the feeling, you sat up as your mind ran on impulsivity. The movie played on, but you no longer cared about the plot or the characters. All you could think about was the current problem you had and the one person who would listen to you.

You shifted on the bed, turning to him. “Sunghoon." you murmured, your voice softer than usual.

He responded with a low, distracted hum, barely lifting his gaze. One hand rested on his chin, finger grazing his bottom lip in a way that drew attention to the curve of his mouth, while his eyes flicked over the pages with slow, deliberate focus.

"How does…kissing feel?"

That got his attention. Sunghoon’s eyes snapped up from the book, the words clearly catching him off guard. He pushed his glasses up with one hand, studying you with a mix of curiosity and amusement. “What are you on about now?”

You cringed at how juvenile your question sounded now, already hesitating, “I…” your face flushed with a mix of embarrassment, “I haven’t…kissed anyone before. And with college coming up, I just feel…I don’t know…insecure.”

Sunghoon’s brow furrowed in genuine confusion. “Wait, you’ve never kissed anyone?”

You rolled your eyes, “Okay, Mr. Midfielder. I’m not like you, alright? It’s not like I’ve had tons of people drooling over me.”

A soft laugh escaped him as he sat up, expression softening. “No (Y/N), it’s just hard to believe.” he said, a smile tugging at his lips. “You’re… like, insanely pretty.”

Sunghoon’s words sent a little flutter in your stomach—but you brushed it off, chalking it up to him just being nice.

“Of course, you would say that,” you muttered, playfully shoving his shoulder.

“I’m serious,” Sunghoon insisted lightly, catching your wrist, gently lowering your hand. His eyes locked onto yours, and for a moment, you couldn’t look away.

There was something in the way he looked at you making your heart race, your breath catching in your throat. You tore your gaze away, suddenly feeling exposed under the weight of his attention. “This is stupid,” you mumbled with a wry laugh, already regretting bringing it up.

But Sunghoon wasn’t letting it go. He muttered your name softly, his voice coaxing you to meet his eyes again. He reached out, his fingers gently tilting your chin up until your gaze locked with his once more.

His touch was soft, barely there, but it made your cheeks warm. “It’s not stupid,” he murmured, his eyes searching for yours. “It’s okay to be new to things. Everyone is at some point.”

“Yeah, I guess,” you muttered, staring at the comforter as if the intricate embroidery held the answers to everything swirling in your head.

Sunghoon watched you intently, his heart aching at the sight of your lips forming a soft pout and your expression so full of uncertainty. How was it possible that you had never been kissed?

He couldn't understand it, and yet, the thought of you being with someone else, experiencing that first kiss with someone who didn’t know you like he did—it twisted something in his chest.

Sunghoon would kiss you in a heartbeat if given the chance, but after ages of trying to ignore his feelings—of pushing aside how much he actually wanted you, he wasn’t sure he could handle it without letting everything else spill out.

His hand was still holding yours, his thumb tracing slow, soothing circles over your skin, and for a moment, the touch seemed to blur the lines of just simple camaraderie. The warmth of it messed with your thoughts, and before you could second-guess yourself, the words tumbled out.

“Well, you’ve done it before, right? You could, I don’t know… teach me.”

“What?” Sunghoon froze, his breath catching in his throat, his eyes wide with surprise. His voice dropped an octave,“you’re asking me to… kiss you?”

You nodded, scooting just a little closer, close enough to feel the faint warmth of his body against yours. “Come on, Hoon. We’re best friends. It’s not like it would… mean anything.”

Even as you said it, you couldn’t really believe the words yourself. There was an undercurrent, a dull gut feeling, that told you it wouldn’t feel like practice.

To you, maybe. The thought tore through Sunghoon’s mind.

He ran a hand through his hair, messing up his bangs as he tried to think. For the first time in a long while, he seemed genuinely flustered, “I don’t know, (Y/N).”

His voice was thick as he swallowed, cheeks slowly turning pink. “That’s not exactly something you just… teach.”

“It’s just a kiss. I just wanna know what I’m doing when I eventually have to kiss someone for real.”

Sunghoon’s gaze flickered, his eyes betraying more than he wanted to show. For a split second, his eyes darted to your glossed lips, his breath hitching as he quickly looked away.

He pushed his glasses up again, licking his lips as he huffed. “This is a bad idea,” he muttered, more to himself than to you.

“Why?” You asked, the plea in your voice betraying your own feelings. “It’s just one kiss, Hoon.”

Right?

You tried to keep it light, casual, like it didn’t matter. Like it was just a small favour between friends. But inside, your heart hammered against your chest, your skin felt flushed, and the air between you both had clearly shifted.

The way Sunghoon was looking at you now, though, like he was really considering it—like he was seeing you in a way he’d never let himself see before—it was almost too much.

“Are you… sure?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper, as if speaking too loud would shatter the moment.

Your fingers brushed against his knee, lingering for just a second longer, “I mean, it would just be practice.” You stated, but underneath it all, your heart skipped a beat, a buzz coursing through your veins as you looked back at him.

Sunghoon’s resolve crumbled at the feeling of your hand on his knee. How could he say no to you when you looked at him like that—those wide, pleading eyes making it impossible to refuse?

He swallowed hard, his breath shaky. “Just… a practice thing,” he muttered, his eyes flickering between your gaze and your lips, fighting the gravitational pull on them.

“Yeah,” You muttered quietly, reaching up to remove the wire rimmed glasses from his face and placing them on your bedside table before glancing back at him.

Sunghoon’s hand moved up, threading through your hair before gently brushing it away from your face, his touch slow, deliberate.

His thumb traced the edge of your cheek, pausing to brush against your bottom lip in a way that sent a shiver through you. The touch was soft, almost hesitant, but it ignited something deep inside you, making your breath hitch.

Your stomach fluttered as you met his intense gaze, his dark eyes trained on your lips. He leaned in closer, close enough that you could feel his breath fanning lightly over your skin, teasing, heightening the anticipation.

Sunghoon’s lips hovered over yours, just barely ghosting against them, brushing so softly that it made you ache for more.

Unable to resist the pull any longer, you closed the distance, pressing your lips gently against his. The kiss started soft, tentative, your body hyper-aware of every detail—the warmth of his breath, the way his lips responded immediately, moulding into yours with an eagerness that surprised you.

Oh.

You pulled away for the briefest moment, eyes flickering down to his lips, your heart pounding through your ears. Without a second thought, you leaned in again, this time a lot bolder, your hand finding the side of his face.

Sunghoon didn’t hesitate. He kissed back within a heartbeat, a soft sigh escaping his lips that sent a rush of warmth to the pit of your stomach. His hands slid around your waist, pulling you against his chest, the space between you vanishing as your bodies pressed together.

Your fingers slipped into his hair, the soft strands curling around your fingertips as you tugged on them softly, his soft groans between kisses making your pulse race.

Sunghoon’s lips were firmer this time, more needier with every kiss, sending a rush of heat through your body as his grip on your waist tightened.

You softly fell back into the bed as he hovered over you, his tongue tracing your bottom lip before you parted your lips a little more, a low groan rumbling through his chest as he licked into your mouth.

Your hands slowly drifted down Sunghoon’s body, slipping beneath the thin fabric of his shirt to trace the contours of his torso, his breathy moans travelling straight to your core.

“Fuck.” He rasped, pulling away, “maybe we should stop.” Sunghoon’s eyes were glazed over, lips were swollen and tainted with your lip gloss, “I don’t think I’ll be able to control myself (Y/N).”

“Then don’t.” You rushed, breathless and wasting no time kissing him again, an unmistakable moan leaving Sunghoon’s chest as he kissed back desperately.

He pulled away—already missing the feeling of his lips on yours before they moved to your jaw, trailing soft sloppy kisses that travelled down to your neck, the feathery feeling creating a dull ache between your thighs.

Your sighs of pleasure almost bordered on moans as he gently sucked your delicate skin—pink and purple marks blooming on your skin, recklessly marking you from your neck to your collarbone.

Sunghoon’s hand drifted over the small of your back, sliding over to find their place on your ass squeezing the soft flesh with a lewd groan—an involuntary moan slipping past your lips at the feeling, tugging his hair.

Everything had your mind spiralling. Sunghoon’s lips were on your neck, his hand roaming every inch of your body.

You’d be lying if you said you didn't want more—craved more.

He trailed wet kisses along your chest, lifting your shirt to press a few more along your stomach, revelling in the way you leaned into his touch, your soft whines and sighs driving him up the wall.

You admired the way Sunghoon looked when he glanced up at you with his eyes, weaving your fingers through his already dishevelled hair, moving to his face and caressing his rosy cheeks.

Sunghoon’s fingers finally met the waistband of your shorts, lifting your hips up as quickly pulling the layer of clothing away, “fuck, you’re so beautiful.” He hissed, running his hands up and down your thighs.

His other hand brushed over your underwear, groaning at the sight. His finger traced over your wetness on the silky fabric, and you leaned into his touch, with the most beautiful moan he’d ever heard.

“Fuck baby, you’re so wet.” Sunghoon groans as his thumb taps at your clothed clit, clenching around nothing at the mention of the pet name he’d just given you.

He kissed your thigh, hooking his finger into your underwear and sliding the damp pink fabric down your legs, almost moaning at the sight of your dripping cunt.

Sunghoon lifts your leg and holds it over his shoulder, swiping his tongue over his thumb before meeting your clit and your head falls back, “Hoon, fuck.” You moaned, grabbing at your sheets.

“Tell me if you want me to stop, okay?” Sunghoon says softly, and you nod—watching him dip below your thighs, lips move to your clit and sucking on it gently.

You never fathomed anything would feel this good. Sure, you’d touched yourself a couple of times, but nothing could beat the feeling being eaten out.

You cry, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of his tongue dipping into your folds, letting his thumb swirl around your bundle of nerves while his tongue enters your core, moaning into your entrance.

The vibrations from his moans sent shockwaves up your spine, head tipping back in from the sensation with a broken cry, legs attempting to fly shut but he pushed them apart with a sound of disapproval.

His tongue swiped upwards, and his eyes fluttered closed at the taste of your arousal, reveling in the insanely beautiful moans that tumbled from your lips.

Your hands weaved into his hair, tugging the soft strands as you shamelessly bucked into his mouth with broken whimpers.

Sunghooon held you firmly against the sheets to stop you from squirming, unable to stay still from the feeling of his nose causing friction on your clit as he lapped at your pussy.

Your eyes peer over at him and the pornographic sight of him buried between your thighs makes your cheeks burn. When his hand moves from your thigh you don't think much of it, until you feel his fingers circle your entrance.

Sunghoon pulls away from you, just in time to watch your plump lips fall open when he easily slides his fingers into your dripping core.

“You have know idea how good you look baby.” He panted, plump lips covered in your arousal biting his lip at sight in front him, completely enamored by your fucked out expressions.

Sunghoon’s fingers curl inside of you and they brush over your sweet spot, your mouth opening in a broken moan.

“F-feels so good, Hoon” you mewl breathlessly, grabbing his free arm as you bucked into his fingers, pumping them into you at a perfect speed.

You cheeks flushed furiously at the sounds of his fingers fucking your sopping wet core, broken raspy moans leaving your chest as his lips pressed kisses to your overstimulated clit—your mind a scrambled mess.

All you could think about was the pleasure that was currently surging throughout your entire body, making your toes curl and your head dizzy. A few whines and broken moans was enough to tell Sunghoon you were close, furiously clenching around his fingers as you begged him not to stop.

“That’s it baby, come for me.” He coaxed, his voice raspy and breathy, moaning at the sight of his fingers easily slipping in and out of you.

Your body jerked forward and your hand flew to his arm, blunt nails digging into his skin as you let out a whimper, back arching as his name tumbled past your lips in high pitched moans.

You were almost embarrassed by how fast Sunghoon made you come, mind clouded and hazy as he continued pumping his fingers, your walls clenching around his digits as he fucked out your high.

He pulled away shortly after, fingers slipping out of your entrance and placing a gentle kiss to your inner thigh.

You watched the messy haired brunette suck his fingers into his mouth, eyes closed and moaning at the taste of you—before you leaned over, softly grabbing him by his shirt and pulling him to your mouth for a kiss, lightly tasting yourself on his tongue.

"So we both agree that this wasn't just practice, right?" He mutters against your lips and you laugh, still dazed and high from the aftermath of your orgasm.

"Yeah, I don't think I wanna do this with anyone else. You're my only option, Park." His smile grows and he pecks your lips again.

[celestiamour]

‧₊˚✧ ❛[ pretty tipsy ]❜

ft. logan howlett x f! reader — xmen, marvel

╰₊✧ he brings you home after a night out drinking┊2.5k words

setting: deadpool & wolverine (2024) worst! logan contains: alcohol & intoxication, this man is WHIPPED, age & size difference, emotional drunk human reader, ooc? calling him kitty

➤ author's note: idk what this is but it’s my longest logan piece yet because i have yet to write any more than a thousand words for him

tonight was one of the few nights logan could finally have some alone time. wade was going out for drinks with vanessa with the plan to stay over at her place, the ever so mysterious blind al was off doing her own thing, and mary puppins was resting peacefully in her little bed, tuckered out after a long day of playtime. he could finally get some long-awaited peace and quiet, a moment to himself to relax and breathe. while he’s grateful for the presence of others since he arrived in this dimension, he’s still a lone wolf at heart who treasures his privacy above all else.

humming a little tune from the eighties, he sunk into the beat-up leather couch with a beer in one hand and a lit cigar in the other, taking a long drag on it and preparing himself for a relaxing evening until his flip phone started ringing. when he opened it up to read the “wade wilson” contact name staring back at him, he rolled his eyes with a groan before answering.

“what the fuck do you want?”

“not even a ‘hello?’ damn bitch, okay then— well, we ran into some friends and had some drinks together, but one of them is pretty shit-faced right now and her phone is dead, could you pretty please with sugar on top come and pick her up?”

“the fuck? that’s not my problem, just call her an uber—” he stopped mid-sentence when he heard a familiar giggle in the background, one asking a different partygoer to have another drink with her, “is that the neighbor who lives at the end of the hallway?”

“yeah, it’s your little crush~! you recognize her from just her voice over the phone, oh my god, you have it bad wolfie!! well, if you don’t wanna come, then fine, whatever, but you know, it’s not unsafe for a pretty lady to be alone this late at night! some guy might just swoop her up, actually, there’s some guy asking for her number right now—”

“alright, alright, i’m coming! send me the address.” he nearly shouted into the receiver, putting out his cigar on the ashtray atop the coffee table and slipping on his jacket to leave the comfort of his shared apartment.

the night was chilly in comparison to the cozy warmth of the indoors and the bar was filled with loud chattering and cheers, the clinking of glasses, yelling at the game being televised, and the general buzz of extroverted fun on a weekend night. 

“ayyy, there he is! come here, peanut, sit, sit, sit, have a drink with us!”

logan hesitated, not because he would ever shy away from free booze but because he was here on a mission with one sole goal in mind (and because he wasn’t familiar with this particular group of people, he didn’t feel like socializing tonight) “no, it’s fine, i’m just here to take her home.” his voice was uncharacteristically mellow, finding you napping on the table with your arms folded to be a makeshift cushion for your head. 

you peeked at the man coming up next to you and your face changed from exhausted to ecstatic to upset in the span of a few seconds, “looggann!! how are you doing, i feel like i haven’t seen you in foreverr— how come every time i see you in the hall, you always run off, are you avoiding me? did i do something wrong?” you cling onto his hand and shake his arm, paying no attention to your friends giggling at your behavior in the background, pouting and tearing up. 

oh god, you’re an emotional drunk, that’s so cute. neither he nor wade could get drunk at all on account of their systems constantly cleaning out the effects of the alcohol as soon as it’s consumed, but when he drinks around others, it’s a trait he typically finds so annoying quickly becoming so endearing when worn by you.

“i’m not avoiding you, you haven’t done anything wrong,” he consoled in the most gentle voice a wolverine could muster, also cringing at the fact that he wasn’t half as discreet as he thought he was. it’s true, he has been avoiding you, but only because he couldn’t stand the way you made him feel, smoothing out the rough edges of his personality and making him feel stupid butterflies he was far too old to be feeling, not to mention the nonstop teasing from everyone else when they noticed the way he seemed to look at you from afar. it was as if he was a child who thought hiding from it would make it go away, but it has become apparent it has only grown stronger.

“you’re telling the truth?” you sniffled.

“yes, i am. come on, bub, let’s get you outta here. i’m here to take you home.”

you didn’t protest or try to convince him you weren’t wasted, knowing your limit had been reached, and slowly picked up your things to follow him out of the building. he allowed you to intertwine your arm with his, providing support to your unbalanced mind and stumbling legs since you couldn’t even walk straight.

“why would you drink so much if you’re such a lightweight?”

“how do you know i’m a lightweight? you weren’t there, i could have drunk an entire bathtub full of booze before you showed up!” 

“nah, i can smell it, there’s no way you drank anything more than a few pints.”

“oh, so the kitty is a dog now? i thought you were more cat-like this whole time, but i guess i was wrong.” 

“what?” they say what a person says when intoxicated comes from their soul and true thoughts with little to no filter, but he certainly wasn’t anticipating those words to come out of your mouth.

“you look like a kitty, you know? with the way your hair does the little swoopy things— do you wake up like that or do you need to style it? you act like one too, grumpy ass kitty.”

“don’t call me that, kid, i hear it enough from wade already.”

“i’ll stop calling you kitty when you stop calling me kid! i know you’re old as hell, but i’m a grown-ass adult!”

“yeah? well, you’re certainly not acting like one right now.”

you were silent for a minute, making him worry for a second that he offended you by calling you childish, but when he looked back down at you, you were simply staring in astonishment. “i’ve never seen you smile before! you look a lot more handsome, you should do it more often!”

was he smiling? he didn’t even notice, grinning ear to ear and revealing his pearly white teeth, chuckling at your ridiculous words. was this really the first time you saw him smile and heard him laugh? no wonder you assumed he was avoiding you, he was surprised you didn’t hate him just because of a misunderstanding.

it took some time to get you up all of the stairs to your floor without tripping, and logan was almost sad the night was over so quickly. even if the conversation was mostly one-sided and you were intoxicated with slurred words, he swears he listened to all you had to say between comedic bits, insightful knowledge, random bullshit, and found it all fascinating. luckily for him, his time with you wasn’t up yet as he watched you fumble with your purse and frown.

“oh, fuck… i lost my keys… oh no…” you slumped against the wall until you fell to the floor, feeling yourself starting to cry at this inconvenience with heightened emotions. 

“god, please don’t, not again…” he’s the absolute worst at comforting others, it isn’t his strong suit, and acknowledging this weakness seemed ten times more difficult when you were the one in need. “come on, you can sleep at my place for the night and charge your phone.”

“...really?”

“yes, come on.” 

you took his outreached hand and found yourself in his grasp again as he held onto your shoulder to steady you, unlocking the door and leading you into his shared apartment. he felt somewhat grateful that you were too drunk to notice how messy the site was, seating you on the couch as he got you a glass of water to sober up. you looked so out of place among it all, so young and feminine with your vibrant club clothing around all of the aging, scratched-up furniture and muted colors.

“thank you,” you murmur, downing the entire tall glass with a few gulps, “uh, where is the bathroom?” he directed you to where it was and allowed you to use it, quickly hearing you turn on the shower after a minute and just as quickly hearing you swearing in regret over the loud pitter-patter of the steaming hot water. “i’m never drinking again, why am i being so fucking stupid?!” 

“are you okay?” 

“yeah, except for the fact i forgot that i don’t have a change of clothes and i stepped into the shower with my current ones on because i forgot to take them off!” your voice cracked, feeling yourself starting to cry once again from yet another inconvenience. you were really just embarrassing yourself and couldn’t wait for this shitty day to be over.

he let out a sigh of relief, “god, don’t scare me like that— i’ll get you something, hold on, please don’t cry.” he could have stolen some of al’s clothing since she wouldn’t have noticed, or he could have stolen some of the clothes vanessa left behind after spending time with wade, but for some odd reason, he pulled out one of his canadian hockey jerseys for you. the fabric was soft and worn with time, smelling slightly of him and laundry detergent, and arguably the most comfortable thing he had at his disposal. “i’ll leave it outside the door, okay?”

“thank youu!!” (and thank god your underwear is still clean and dry enough to wear again, you have no idea what you would have done if you didn’t realize your mistake soon enough and stood under the water for long enough to be soaked to the bone.)

logan allowed his fatigued body to rest for a moment, sinking into the couch just as he did an hour ago in hopes of relaxation. what the fuck was he doing? since when did the wolverine play babysitter for drunk young women, walking them back to play guard dog against possible creepy men, letting them into his home, and lending them his clothing to wear? this was so uncharacteristic of him, he couldn’t think of a single person he was willing to do this for other than laura, but you certainly weren’t nearly as close to him as he was to her! lord, he’s so pathetic, he thinks he probably would have carried you back bridal style too if you asked him.

the water stopped and he waited for you to exit so that he could show you where you could sleep, but he could now see he didn’t need to. your apartment layouts are nearly identical, and it looks like your brain was switched onto autopilot after cleaning up, mindlessly strolling into his bedroom and plopping down on his mattress as if it were your own. (his shirt was practically a dress on you, falling to your mid-thigh and ill-fitted on your smaller frame, his eyes lingering on it for a second longer than what would have been polite.)

he leaned against the doorframe, watching you make yourself comfortable and preparing to stay there until the early afternoon with a banging headache. “are you comfortable? do you need anything else?”

you murmured something in response and stretched out your arms, making grabby hands and inviting him to join you, “come cuddle with me! herree, kitty, kitty, kitty~”

are you really calling a fifty-something-year-old, six-foot-tall killer mutant with adamantium bones and razor-sharp claws that come out of his knuckles ‘kitty’? yes, yes you are, and you’re going to scream into your pillow from embarrassment when you recall it the next day.

“i don’t do cuddles, princess,” he chuckled even though he intended to scoff. “and i already told you to quit calling me that.”

“pleaseee? pretty pleasee?” you chirped, eyes going big and round just like a puppy in a cartoon, begging him to humor you in this request.

are you truly a human, or are you secretly a mutant who has hypnotic powers? the answer is obvious, he’s just an old loser who apparently answers at your every beck and call now because all he could do is sigh, slip off his jacket, and get under the blanket with you. 

you rolled on your side and wrapped your arm around his body, nuzzling your face into his comforting touch and inhaling the mild scent of pine and tobacco. humming a satisfied “good night” and dozing off within a few minutes, you clung to him as tightly as a koala onto a branch, and he couldn’t separate himself from you without making you stir and whine. 

trapped in the embrace of a beautiful neighbor whom he possessed a soft spot for, wearing his clothing and laying in his bed, he would be trapped like this until morning it sounds like a dream to most men, but to logan, it’s the fear of getting attached and losing someone else important to him rearing its ugly head to the forefront of his mind. it scares him to think what could happen if he allowed himself this pleasure of becoming close to you, and yet when he admires your slumbering face, he feels like it would be okay and work itself out in the end somehow.

he fell asleep more quickly than usual when you held him, and for the first time in forever, he wasn’t tormented with horrid nightmares of the past that always plagued him before now. when he woke up, his weary soul was well-rested and energized, almost as if he was twenty years younger again. the wonders of a good night’s sleep, or perhaps, the wonders of being with you. 

it felt so… natural to wake up with you next to him.

you were practically a dead weight by now, not rousing in the least when he slowly got up to leave the bed. he did feel a little back about undoing the grasp you had on him though, felt a bit like abandoning you in a vulnerable state. he sauntered into the kitchen to brew a cup of coffee as per his routine, only to find the most annoyingly loveable scarred face sitting in a chair waiting for him, legs crossed and hands in his lap like a supervillain. 

“sooooo, how was your night, you smitten kitten? you dirty dog!” there was a stupid smirk on his face, trying his best to hold back a fit of giggles. he knows nothing suggestive happened and was just teasing, but he still wanted to hear him say that it was a wonderful night nonetheless and to thank him for playing matchmaker.

“shut the fuck up before i stab you again. don’t ruin this morning for me.”

[soft4gguk]

yearning | jjk one shot

the one that finds you in Jungkook's doorstep after a night out...

Description: idol!jungkook x reader, fwb 

Content: porn with loads of plot!

Word Count: 7.5k

Warnings: oc smokes 1 cigarette lol, they’re so flirty ouch, so much kissing, cutest little dynamic, dry humping (a personal fave in this house), fingering, protected sex (they’re so smart!!), loads of spanking, jaykay ass man forever. 

Author’s Note: i once sworn to never write idol aus because… i know nothing about this man ok? i do not claim to know what he’s like in a relationship or a situationship or in his personal life!! so please thread carefully when reading <3333 that being said, his lives last year and these first couple of episodes of “are you sure?” have me feeling very delulu so here u go!! hope you enjoy xo

★ masterlist ★

This is a work of fiction. Please respect the members and their privacy. x

The moment you exit the club, a gust of summer breeze engulfs you. It makes you wrap your arms around your body, but it amounts to nothing, the little black dress that you’d made the executive decision to wear, in the name of fashion, betraying you. The tequila shots you'd downed before leaving the house sure had deceived your senses, too.

Needless to say, you regret said decision, a shiver running down your spine all the way to your legs, making you jump a little in place as you tipsily look around you. You’d cut the night short. Your friends had found another lonely pair they’d quickly gotten cozy with, leaving you to drink one too many gin & tonics all by yourself. You hadn’t minded it for the first two hours, enjoying the music, sparking conversation with the bartender from time to time and entertaining the occasional stranger. Eventually though, it became boring, predictable, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t make you feel a little shitty about yourself. 

It was all getting repetitive. Friday nights, the same faces, small talk, ice breakers. Even the strangers you met had a similar M.O., making it all seem predictable. It made it feel like a waste of self, more than a waste of time, and it ate at you in moments like these, where it was strange to feel lonely amongst a sea of people, unable to shake the feeling.

The bright city lights illuminate the night, lacing it with something livelier than your mood and you smile. At least the scenery is always pretty. Pretty places. You hear the laughter of a group of people that stand a couple of feet away from you, they seem happy in that genuine way that reflects in pure, unadulterated beauty. Pretty people. 

You think of him. 

It’s rather instant. Or perhaps instinctive. The very own butterfly effect of your thoughts because to you, he’s the prettiest of them all. He’d been since the very first day, and as you lose focus of the pretty sights the more you stare into the city lights with him on your mind, you can’t help but think nothing will ever stand close. 

A girl stands next to you, audibly shivering as she exits the club and the air greets her with the same fate it did you. She holds a cigarette between her red lips, the fire from her pink lighter shining on her red hair. It makes you crave one, too, rummaging through your bag for your own. You smile when you remember how he would tease you for smoking “the skinny kind” as he would call them. Calling you a bit of a snob, but all in lighthearted nature. After all, he could. He knew you enough to let your closeness turn into inside jokes, banter. 

Perhaps giving into a vice could prevent you from falling into another. 

“Can I borrow your lighter?” she smiles at you before she’s handing it over. Her nails are pink, too. 

The fire feels pleasant for all of five seconds, warm against your face as you take the first drag. You give into one instinct so as to distract yourself from the one that’s tugging at your heart and senses, begging you to make a reckless call. 

You check the time. 

2:32 A.M.

~

Jungkook scrolls through the endless list of channels aimlessly. Small snippets from whatever’s playing that he cuts short, not really giving it much thought. He settles on one, solely so he can stop putting exertion on his thumb and go back to leaning against his couch – fully relaxed. He sighs. On the screen, some drama he hasn’t gotten around to watching plays, and the story seems to be developing quickly. He doesn’t care for it, if he’s honest, simply content with the white noise it fills the room with. 

Bam leaves his dog house, standing right in front of him and they seem to start an unspoken staring contest. He smiles, patting the spot right next to him on the couch and the pup rushes to take the place excitedly. He gets cuddles and kisses simply for existing. For keeping him company – his presence giving Jungkook more peace than he’ll ever know. 

“Hey, Bam, should we, like, meet up in our next life as well? Perhaps I’ll be the dog in that one and you’ll be my owner.”

Bam simply stares and Jungkook swears if he could, he’d let out a deep sigh right now. This makes him laugh. 

“Hey, don’t be jumping of excitement at the idea, man.”

At this, he attacks. With kisses, that is – wet, sloppy kisses that have Jungkook giggling and pushing back, though it is no use, his dog is that determined to give him love.

“Alright, you win. Let’s go get a beer. For me, not for you. You’re still too young. One day, son.” His voice takes on a lower tone, imitating his father. Or maybe Yoongi’s, he can’t tell anymore. 

He retrieves a cold beer mug from his freezer and cracks the can open, nodding his head at the sound it makes, the fizziness bubbling up before he pours it in the cold glass. He takes a sip as he walks back to the couch, blissed out in leisure.

He doesn’t mind being alone, specially not on nights like this when sleep leaves him and everything but seems more tempting. He likes the way everything slows down at this time of day, the ease of it all. No one to see, no texts to reply to. As for what the world is concerned for, he’s asleep. It’s peaceful, just being. 

Plopping down on the couch, he rests against the pillows, making himself comfortable. He must’ve spoken too soon, he thinks, because it’s not thirty seconds after this that his phone buzzes on the coffee table in front of him. He ponders on the possibility of simply ignoring it, let it sit there, facing down. But something tells him he should check the message. It could be important, or not. The pull isn’t necessarily violent, just a quiet voice that tells him so, like a little nudge. He leans forward, setting his beer on the table before he’s taking a hold of his phone. 

He gets it now – the pull. 

From ___: jungkookie, u awake?

To ___: no

From ___: can I call?

He smiles – so fucking big he almost hates that he does, slightly flustered and embarrassed you have this quick of an effect on him. And before he can talk himself out of it, he calls you. 

~

Seeing his name flash on your phone screen does more to you than anything you’ve deemed exhilarating tonight. The simple prospect of hearing his voice rushes more excitement through your body than any of the mindless conversations you had this evening. Than any of the conversations you’ve had all week perhaps. You smile and there’s no doubt that he can hear it in your voice when you say,

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

There’s a moment of silence and you can hear the smile on his face, too. It’s warmth – he’s warmth, even far. How far is he, you wonder. Did you happen to demand of him at a bad time? Will the end of this call find you disappointed?

You cut to the chase. 

“What are you up to?”

There’s a pause and you can hear the way he sinks into his couch. “Can’t sleep so I’m having a beer and watching some TV with Bamie.”

He’s home and a giddy giggle escapes you. “Ahh,” you say.

“You? It sounds busy in there.”

“Yeah, I’m outside the club.”

“Fun night?”

“No.” You don’t lie, you never lie to him. Don’t have the need to, or the want to. Everything about Jungkook is comfort – the kind that welcomes. 

“Yeah, had a feeling. It’s not really your scene, is it?”

Your head leans to the side, eyes closing for a moment. He knows you in ways most people don’t, and it’s a simple remark but it gets to you. The fact that he doesn’t see you for the parts of you that feel the emptiest settles on your heart. It’s good, you think, to be seen by someone who observes.

“I want to see you.” There’s all the point in the world to be honest right now. 

“Come over. I’ll make you ramen.”

“Will you show me your cat?”

There’s a pause. You picture him smiling, biting his lip, running a hand through his hair. 

“Yeah, that too.”

~

You sway from side to side, a little drunkenly and a whole lot excited, as you stand in front of his door. It’s brief, but as you wait you make a little reflection on your emotions. What exactly do you feel right now? It’s been so long – probably not that long – but long enough to make you happier than usual to be seeing his face. Anyone else would make you nervous, and perhaps he does, too, if only a little. But it’s a different kind of nervous. It’s laced with sweetness, as opposed to anxiety. And the minute he opens his front door, it’s replaced by something sweeter. 

Yearning. 

He stands there, glasses and black sweatpants on, signature oversized shirt – something so very home about him. Your eyes widen as you take in his hair, it’s grown significantly, giving you a rough idea of when it was you last saw him. Two, three months ago. He looks good; rested, fresh, beautiful. You can smell him before you even touch him and it makes you smile. He returns it. 

Yeah – yearning. 

“I like your hair,” you say, because anything else would give you away. 

“Yeah?” he runs a hand through it. “I like you.”

“I like you, too.” Let it give you away, you think. Who cares?

“Alright, well- it was nice seeing you.” He says, closing the door in a too casual, yet dramatic manner and you laugh, simply standing there – a little flustered because, oh does it feel good when Jeon Jungkook flirts with you in that boyish, teasing way only he knows how. 

He doesn’t close the door all the way. Instead, he leaves it open far enough for you to see the way he peeks his head out, nose scrunch and toothy smile to signal just how proud he is of himself right now. 

“Come here,” he tells you, reaching his hand out from the little gap and pulling you closer as you yelp, squeezing through the nearly closed door. “I missed you.”

You’re in his arms again, and the moment he closes the door behind you, his lips are on yours. It’s a soft kiss, one that says I missed you because you know him well enough by now to understand the things he says with his lips, and his eyes. With his hands, too.

“Mm,-“ you don’t want to pull back to get your words out, so you don’t. “Me more.”

Jungkook was always a happy coincidence – or at least that’s what you told yourself in a futile attempt to tame the feelings down. But the truth was that being back in his arms felt like fate, in that gentle way that doesn’t come in a movie-like encounter or in some sort of catastrophe bringing you together. Just being here. Anywhere, with him, felt fateful. You opt to believe in angels right this second just to thank them. 

“How are you,” his hand cups your cheek, pecking your lips before you can answer. 

“Good- better now.” His kisses muffle your words and you think you could live with this interruption for the rest of your life. 

“Yeah, me too.”

You wrap your arms around his neck, bringing him closer as he circles his around your middle. You take him in, not one for big displays of affection yet this one you could never deny, could never not welcome. 

It’s a sweet moment but the pull turns hasty soon enough the more your lips become familiar with one another yet again. You run your fingers through his long hair, rejoicing in its softness and length. His hand travels down, slowly but a bit desperately, squeezing when they meet your ass. 

What has a promising ending is cut short by none other than your rumbling stomach. It’s rather loudly and you both hear it, laughing in the middle of the kiss you two seem to refuse parting from. 

“You hungry, baby?”

“You promised ramen. And something about a cat.” Your lips part and you look at him, a pretty smile on his equally pretty face. 

“Mm, yeah. I did. I’m all stocked up on ramen but the cat…,”

“I prefer Bamie anyways.” 

You leave his arms, a smile on your face as you walk towards his beloved child’s crate. The moment he sees you, he hesitates for a moment, not yet having Jungkook’s command to leave his space but he’s excited – you can even make up his little tail wagging from side to side. 

“Come here, baby.”

He runs to you and nearly tackles you, settling into the floor to give him the proper cuddles he deserves. He steps on you the way he did when he was a puppy, sitting down on your knees as you scratch under his ears. 

“No one’s allowed to tell him he’s grown up. He’s little forever.”

Jungkook laughs. “He’s Jiminie’s height.” 

You sneer at him, shaking your head at his joke. He stands there, staring at you with a fondness he reserves for certain things that bring him that kind of comfort that’s gotten rarer over the years. He’s grown up, matured and gotten real about a lot of things but not you.

Never you. 

You’re still the innocence he kissed you with that very first time and the little bit of fear it wouldn’t go further than that. You’re the excitement he had when it did. You’re the flirty teasing and the falling in trust, opening himself little by little. You’re still something he once dreamt about – he still does. You’re the thing he has and doesn’t at the same time. You’re you. 

Your loud giggles as Bam licks your cheek wake him up from his little daydream and he winces at the sloppy kisses he’s leaving. You don’t seem to mind though and he knows that if it were up to you, you’d stay there til dawn. No ramen, no cat. 

“Alright, alright. Daddy’s getting jealous now. You can’t have her all to yourself.”

Your cheeky smile tells him you’re up to no good. “Daddy, huh? Have we ever tried that?”

“What haven’t we tried?” He genuinely ponders on his own question. 

“Pegging!” You say, a little too quickly and excitedly for his liking. 

“Absolutely not.”

“Mean.”

“Come on, let’s feed you.”

You smile. “Okay, daddy.”

~

It’s a chaos in the kitchen in between distracting kisses and your tipsy antics, munching on Jungkook’s leftover fried chicken as you scavenger hunt his cupboards for anything that could satisfy your alcohol induced need for sweets and carbs. You’d begged for pancakes, but he didn’t have any honey, and what’s pancakes without honey, really? 

“Ramen. Enoki and spring onions.” He says, convincing himself more than he convinces you.

“Okayyyyy. Ramen, enoki- what else did you say?”

His thumb and pointer finger rest at his temples in mock exasperation, making you giggle. “Hey, why don’t you go shower? This’ll be ready when you’re done.”

“Will you be able to work a knife with the thought of me all wet and naked in your shower?” 

“I’ll get you wet and naked later. Go sober up. Quick, quick!”

You laugh, kissing his cheek loudly and ruffling his hair before you leave the kitchen, making your way to his bedroom with familiarity - like you’ve done it hundreds of times and perhaps you have if you were to count. 

You know where he keeps the towels, that it’s the left tap that opens the hot water, the way his soap smells and what brand of shampoo he uses. His face wash and moisturizer are familiar to you because it’s the same brand you use. You’d left them here once and never got the bottles back. He began purchasing them after they ran out. 

You put on the same black Carhartt shirt you always do. It feels and smells the same. It makes you yearn and when you miss him, you smile in the comfort of knowing he’s in the kitchen, probably eating ramen from the pot as you take your sweet time in the bathroom. 

All clean and cozy, his house always being the perfect temperature with the add on warmth that swarms your insides at knowing you’re with him, you make your way back to the kitchen. He’s reaching for bowls, back to you and your voice startles him when you say,

“Don’t get dishes dirty, let’s eat from the pot.”

He turns to you, a boyish smile forming on his lips at the sight of you in his comfy, oversized shirt. He’s seen you in it more times than he can count but it still makes his insides tingle. Butterflies, dare he say, is what the sight gives him. 

“You sure?”

“Aren’t you? Afraid of exchanging saliva?” You poke your tongue at him and he grabs your wrist, pulling you swiftly towards him. 

“Not the funnest way we’ve exchanged juices, but it’ll do for now.”

“Juices.” Your nose scrunches at his words.

“Mm.”

He kisses you, ramen getting cold in the pot as your lips make him forget all about his hunger in the first place. Your stomach doesn’t, though. Interrupting your heated little moment yet again. 

“Feed me.”

“On your knees, then.” He teases, lips still on yours. 

“That sounds more like a treat than a threat.”

He smiles, passing you the chopsticks. “I knew you’d say that.”

“Am I that predictable?”

“With me. Yes. Just me.”

His words are selfish, of this much he’s aware. He knows exclusivity is too much to ask for. He knows the baggage he comes with and the hesitation that shines through your eyes whenever you find yourselves slipping into comfort and familiarity a little too much. How he can almost tell he’s about to go a season without you, just by this comfort alone. But he can’t help but want you, all to himself. He can’t help but say you’re his even if he’s just saying it. And when the smile on your lips meet your eyes in an almost nostalgic way, he knows you feel the same. 

“Yeah. I am.”

“I am with you, too.”

“I’d say I tried to talk myself out of texting you tonight, but I’d be lying.” Your chopsticks play with the noodles, eyes not meeting his. 

“Why would you talk yourself out of texting me?”

You shrug. 

“Don’t.” His voice is firm and your eyes finally look at his. “I’m always- I always want to see you, ___.”

“I know, it’s just- you know.” You say, and he does. He knows what you mean and he’s glad you don’t voice it because he doesn’t think he can bear the words that would only add insult to injury to the way your gaze falls, that spark threatening to dim its light.

“Yeah,” he gets closer, but it’s almost careful. His thumb caresses your cheek and you lean into his touch. “But you’re here now. I want you here now. Come back to me.”

You stare into his big eyes, smiling at him not because your heart isn’t breaking but because you wouldn’t dare break his with the reality of the situation. So you lie, but it holds truth. “I’m always with you.” 

As you two eat, in bursts of comfortable silences and mindless yet meaningful conversations, you start to get used to him again. You’re too tired to fight it, and when you welcome it, it’s sweet. 

~

The pot is empty, your bellies full. You lean against the counter as he puts you to date, catches you up on what his life has looked like for the past two months or so. Trips to L.A., New York, photoshoots, late nights in the recording studio, music videos, long flights and a Calvin Klein campaign you shamelessly admit to swoon over every time you pass by it. He asks about you and you keep your updates mostly work related. Long flights, long meetings, long days. Short bursts of inspiration and even shorter waves of motivation. You omit to tell him about the things you’re maybe not so proud of. The partying, the drinking on a wednesday night, the way your friends don’t feel like your friends anymore, more like acquaintances that keep you around when they deem convenient. You think his words could help, provide comfort and advice, but at the same time you fear the reality of the situation could burst the bubble of bliss you find yourself in right this moment. 

So you talk. You catch up. You play friends for a while, feel real mature when he shares snippets of his life that involve other people, other girls. People in his radar, his line of work, the love interest in his music video. Jungkook does, too. Feels like perhaps he’s come a long way when you tell him about trips you’ve taken with friends, new restaurants you’ve tried, galas he knows you haven’t attended alone. It’s all fine, it’s good. Total control of your feelings as you take each other in. 

Bam interrupts him mid-sentence, a sleepy whine in half protest he lets out as he walks inside the kitchen. 

“Aw, Jungkook,” you coo, “he’s sleepy.”

“Time for bed, Bamie?” He smiles, reaching down to scratch under his ears. “I’ll be right back.” 

“I’ll be here.” 

You smile, well aware that he keeps his dog bed in a cozy room in his house, quite literally puts him to bed every night. It makes you think about how good of a dad he’ll make one day, how much love is stored inside of him, how he likes to be needed and shows affection through acts of service. Your smile drops a bit, a feeling taking over you that you don’t like but have grown used to over the years. 

You snap out of it, busying yourself as you begin to tidy up the kitchen, sliding his pink rubber gloves over your hands before you start washing the single pot, knife and chopsticks he’d used to make you dinner. It doesn’t take him long to be back, though, walking back inside the kitchen and smiling at the sight before him. You hum a song he can’t make up, hips shimmying to the beat as you scrub the pot. Your shirt rides up a little and he cocks his head to the side, smiling at the way your underwear peeks from underneath the fabric. A black and lacy thong that has him nodding his head in boyish satisfaction. 

“You don’t have to do that,” he tells you, making you jump in place a bit at the sound of his voice.

You turn around, bringing a gloved finger to your lips as you shush him before you’re pointing it at the couch and shooing him away. “I’ll only be a second. Wait for me there.”

“‘Kay, boss.” He army salutes you, turning around and walking back to the couch, sitting down and sinking further into the cushions, legs spreading as he scrolls through his phone, a bit impatiently, missing you even though you’re so close. 

And to Jungkook’s great fortune, he doesn’t have to wait for much longer. Wrapping it up in the kitchen, you give it one last glance to make sure it’s back to its pristine state before you’re making your way towards him. He looks up at you, throwing his phone to the side and following you with his eyes, smiling when you’re in front of him.

“Thank you for dinner,” you say, voice sweet and low, eyes a bit hazy.

“Come here.” He takes your hand in his, pulling you closer to him, bottom lip getting caught between his teeth as you throw your legs at either side of him, straddling him. 

“I needed this,” you admit.

“Me too,” he breathes. “I’m glad you called.”

You pout, eyes looking up for a second as you ponder. “You called me.”

He chuckles, not a single ounce of desire to deny you. “I’m glad I called.”

You giggle, arms wrapping around his neck and fingers getting lost in his long hair. His head draws back as your nails massage his scalp gently and he relaxes at your touch, goosebumps adorning his skin. His hands travel under your shirt, promptly finding your hips, waist, and then threatening to go higher but Jungkook wants to take his time tonight. He wants to stay in the sweet state of wanting you for a bit longer. When his eyes are back on yours, you kiss him. He sighs against your lips, bringing you closer to him by the waist, letting his tongue taste your bottom lip before he’s tasting your mouth. It’s slow, a bit sloppy and lazy, holds the quality of anything that happens in the middle of the night, when no one’s watching and time stills for the two of you. 

“Your skin is so soft,” he says, lips still on yours. 

“It’s your body lotion.” You roll your hips over his, smiling when you pull a low groan straight out of him. 

“Yeah,” he says, hands traveling down before he’s squeezing your ass, guiding your hips into his. “You smell like me. I like it.”

“I like it, too.” Your words get caught up in a moan as the outline of his cock parts your slit perfectly. 

You pull away a bit hesitantly, hands coming to rest at his shoulders as your hips pick up the pace. You go slow but sink deeper into him with every roll of your lips, eyes never parting from his as you take in the way his face starts to contort in pleasure, mouth parting slightly as his breathing grows heavier, little grunts leaving his lips with every push and pull. His hands travel back down to your hips, squeezing a little at the soft flesh, guiding them as you move over his cock. He’s so hard, can feel you through the layers, can bet on the fact that you’re wet and pulsing for him right now. 

“That feels good,” he sighs, gaze dropping as he rides your shirt up a bit at the front. His eyes fixate on the way the thin, lacy fabric of your panties bunches up every time you throw your hips back. 

“Brings back memories,” you say, voice a bit shaky when a particular roll of your hips has the tip of his cock hitting right against your clit. 

Jungkook smiles, mind hazy but perfectly able to picture the memories you refer to. “Mhm,” he sighs, so entrapped by the feeling he swears he can feel you pulse against him. He likes the way you consume his senses. The way everything around him stills and all he can think about is you. His hands squeeze at the flesh on your hips before he says, “turn around, baby.”

“‘Kay.”

Jungkook feels the loss of your warmth as you stand up before him once again, smiling at him before you’re turning around and sitting on his lap. You press your back to his chest, letting your head fall to his shoulder, your lips meeting his cheek in an open mouth kiss. His hands travel up your body, palms closing around your tits, thumbs playing with your nipples over the thick fabric of your shirt. You circle your hips, chasing the same friction from before but it’s not enough in this position. You bring your body forward, hands resting on his thighs as you throw your ass back at him, your pussy perfectly aligned on top of his cock, making you both moan at the same time. Jungkook’s gaze drops to your ass, enthralled by the way he feels, by the way you look. He rides your shirt up your back, exposes you to him and it only eggs you on, moving against his cock at the perfect rhythm. 

He hooks a finger down the side of your panties, letting it travel down, smiling lazily at the way you trap his knuckles between your pussy and his cock, moaning as you grind on them. He can feel how wet you are, dripping for him already even though he hasn’t touched you yet. “Want my fingers, baby?”

“Yes, please,” you plead, voice shaky as you look back at him. 

He’d usually tease you, make you beg for it a little longer, but tonight Jungkook obliges. It’s been long – too long – and all he can think about is being inside you, feeling you around him, making you feel good. He takes his time simply so he can savor the moment. So he can memorize it well enough to store it somewhere inside of him, just in case it’s another three months until he sees you again. 

He pushes his middle and ring finger inside of you, hissing at your warmth, cock jumping inside his sweatpants in anticipation and a little big of neglect. You close your eyes, pleasure taking over you as he begins to thrust his fingers inside of you slowly, arching expertly every time they hit your g-spot. His free hand squeezes around your ass cheek, groaning when the hand that fucks into you pushes down on his cock, aiding at giving him some much needed friction. You feel lightheaded already, all-consumed in his hold as he takes over your every sense. Your body relaxes and you can feel the way your tummy tenses right away. 

“Fuck, I think I’m gonna cum,” your voice is faint but he hears you well enough. 

“Already? That was fast, baby.” You don’t miss the cocky tone his words hint at. 

“Shut up and don’t stop,” you say, looking back at him playfully. 

You see the way he smiles at you before his gaze is dropping back down, fingers moving expertly inside of you at the same pace, applying a bit more force as he pushes in, massaging that spot with the tip of his fingers. The added pressure has you mewling in no time, nails digging into his thighs, teeth biting at your bottom lip to ground you back into the moment as you let go. 

“Fuck,” he says as he feels you cum around his fingers, sweet moans filling the space around you and he so badly wishes he could look at your face right now. “Yeah, baby, that’s it.” He feels the way you contract around him, hips circling over his hand as you ride the waves of pleasure. 

You come down after a minute, mind still hazy as you fall back into him, lips finding his the moment he turns his head to the side. You kiss him, breathing into his mouth, smiling in your fucked out bliss. “That was so good.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm,” you say, pressing your forehead to his. “I need you to fuck me now.”

“Want it?” he asks, and you nod your head. “You can have it.” 

“Yeah, want it so bad, Jungkook.” Your voice is needy, holds a dreaminess to it that Jungkook doesn’t miss – one that makes him melt into your words, your touch, your lips as you kiss him again. 

Jungkook presses his hips into you, raising them a bit as he pushes his sweatpants down. You help him take them off, hand reaching back before you’re wrapping it around his cock. He’s hard and pulsing for you and if you weren’t pulsing for him, too, you’d probably want him in your mouth right this second. He feels heavy, big and thick in your hold, a grunt leaving his lips when your thumb circles around the head. You love how sensitive he is, how receptive. 

“Condom,” he says, before he runs out of blood in his brain and it all falls down to his cock. 

“In my bag,” you say, reaching to the side and pulling it towards you. You rummage around it for a second too long – a second that has Jungkook’s mind betraying him. He shouldn’t. He knows he shouldn’t. But nonetheless he can’t help but wonder where you’d be right now if he’d been asleep and hadn’t seen your text. Perhaps in the same position but with a stranger. Or maybe a stranger only to Jungkook. Perhaps he hadn’t been the only person you texted tonight. “Here you go, baby.” 

Your voice dismantles his worries and he’s warm again, all thoughts vanishing and it’s back to you and him. He leans forward, kissing your lips as he takes the condom from your hand. It makes you blush slightly, biting your lip in anticipation as you watch as he rips the foil of the packaging with his teeth. You watch the way he smirks as he rolls the condom on. 

“Why are you smiling?”

“Just thinking,” he says, smile growing wider, cheek dimples making him look cute but something about his voice begs to differ. 

You hum. “Thinking about what?”

He smiles. “July 14th, 2021.”

You both crack up, laughter filling the air the moment the words leave his mouth because of course you know what July 14th, 2021 meant. You’d been in a position very similar to this one, perhaps a bit more hazy minded, the true meaning of the heat of the moment finding you the minute you’d realized neither of you had a condom. You’d looked into each other’s eyes and made the silent agreement to be a little reckless and put a whole lot of trust on birth control and Jungkook’s pull out game. 

He said he’d never forget that day. 

“Long live, July 14th, 2021,” you say. 

“Shhh,” he says, squinting his eyes and bringing a finger to his mouth. “Don’t remind me.”

“You reminded yourself,” you bite back. “Now, can you fuck me? Pretty please.”

“Yeah, baby, come here.”

You push your ass back at him, looking at him from over your shoulder, biting your lip in anticipation as he strokes his cock once, twice, before he’s lining himself against your entrance. His hand comes to your hip, pulling you down towards him as you push him inside of you. You both sigh, moaning as he bottoms out, so deep and warm it has Jungkook throwing his head back against the couch, sinking further into it and pushing impossibly deeper into you. 

“Fuck, Jungkook,” you whimper, nails digging into his flesh. 

“Fuck me, baby,” he says, running a hand through his long hair. You nod, circling your hips a couple of times as you adjust to his size before you start moving your hips into him, ass bouncing with every push and pull. He hisses at the sight alone, bringing his hand down as he delivers a hard slap against your cheek, making you moan. “Shit, just like that. You’re so hot, ___.”

“Jungkook,” you whisper.

“Yeah, baby?” His eyes are back on yours, threatening to close in pleasure at the way your pussy feels around him. 

“I missed you.”

“I missed you, baby. So much.”

You fall into his chest, kissing him as he wraps his hand around your throat, not applying any pressure, just simply holding you. You gasp into his mouth when his other hand travels down and finds your clit, drawing lazy circles against the sensitive bundle of nerves. You whine and he moans when you move your hips to the rhythm of his touch.

“I don’t wanna be on top anymore,” you say, pouting into his lips, frowning when you feel his chest shake in laughter. 

“Of course you don’t.”

“I’m an awful top.”

“You’re not a top.”

“Hey, I was a good top that one time,” you protest.

“Mm, yeah, that was hot. You got all bossy on me.”

“Oh, but that’s regardless,” you tell him, pushing your lips into his once more and straightening your back, smiling as you look back at him. He wipes said smile off your face in a second, hand meeting your ass in another hard slap. 

“Stay there,” he says, holding firmly onto your hips. 

“Okay, daddy.” That earns you another slap, though you can’t say it wasn’t exactly the goal in mind. 

“Behave.”

Your face grows pliant as you nod at him and Jungkook has to fight to keep up the front because if he’s being honest, the sight alone drives him crazy, threatens to break him down completely and leave him a needy, whiny mess. He holds you in place, legs raising you up a bit before he starts pistoling his hips against you, fucking you hard and fast and even though you saw it coming, it still takes you by surprise. The force of his thrusts, how good he feels as the pain translates into pleasure, the noises he makes – it’s all too much but fuck, you don’t want him to ever stop. Your mouth parts in a silent moan, eyes closing as your face contorts in pleasure before the sensation ripples through you and you’re crying out. Your hand holds onto his arm and the firm grasp you have on it let’s him know.

“Fuck, I’m cummin,” you breathe out.

“Fuck yeah, baby. Cum all over my cock.”

“Oh my God,” you say, voice shaky and faint as you throw your body back into his. 

“Fuck, I love your pussy.”

“I love your cock,” you say, fucked out giggles escaping your lips. 

It takes you both a minute to steady your breathing and regain your strength. Jungkook kisses your neck, snaking a hand inside your shirt and squeezing your boob as you arch your back at the feel. “Let’s get you to bed, princess.”

“Music to my ears,” you say, giddy and excited. 

Your knees buckle a bit when your feet touch the floor, the both of you laughing at your loss of balance, Jungkook a bit more cockily than you. He slaps your ass softly once, then twice as you begin to walk towards his bedroom. Once inside he takes his shirt off and when you turn around, your eyes scan over his body, metaphorically and possibly physically drooling over him. Your hands find the hem of your t-shirt before you’re pulling it off your body and tossing it aside until it’s landing on top of his. Your tits bounce as you do, and he nods his head at you, a satisfied pout adorning his lips. The pout turns sour the moment you turn around but is soon enough replaced with a smile when you start to crawl on top of his big mattress, finding the perfect spot over his pillows and laying down comfortably. 

“You’re so perfect.” Jungkook says, because anything else would downplay it and he’s not in the mood to run away from the truth. You giggle, soft and sweet and he feels the way his heart aches for you inside his chest. 

“Come to me,” you say, arms outstretched towards him. He makes his way to you, letting himself hover over you for a minute as he takes you in before he’s falling perfectly between your legs. You kiss him, letting your fingers get lost in his hair, breathing into the kiss and you swear this moment is laced in pure, unadulterated bliss. “Want to feel you inside me.”

“I’ll give it to you, baby. I’ll give you anything you want.”

There it is, yet again, and without a fail. It’s so common you nearly miss it – the way the moment turns tender. It’s mostly soft, this unspoken agreement you’ve fallen into with Jungkook. It’s friendship and attraction, good sex and years of exploring each other. It’s trust and communication. It’s understanding. It’s soft at the beginning and tender halfway through. It’s so tender it feels tangible, like the moment itself could fit inside the palm of your hand and feel ripe to the touch as you hold onto it. It’s tender when he looks into your eyes, it’s tender when his voice says your name, when you kiss his lips. It’s tender when the lust borders on something else. It’s tender when it lingers, when it threatens to fall. 

He fucks you, hips moving against yours slowly, pulling moans out of your lips that get caught between his own when he kisses you. 

“You feel so good,” you whisper into his mouth, words that only he could hear even if it weren’t just the two of you. 

“Fuck, baby, so do you,” he whines, supple and yours, even if for that moment. “I’m not gonna last much longer.”

You smile, hand running through his hair before your fingers are pushing a strand behind his hear. “Cum for me, Kookie. Wanna feel you cum for me.”

Your words throw him over the edge, falling blissfully into you. It feels so fucking good. Your fingers running through his hair, down his neck and then back up again. The way your pussy clenches around him, cock throbbing for you at the wake of his release. Your lips are soft and the rise and fall of your chest falls into perfect sync with his. His hand squeezes at your breast before it’s traveling down your body, squeezing at your thigh before you’re wrapping your legs around his waist, flushed to him. Every little thing you do heightens his senses until all he can breathe, think and feel is you. His face falls down the crook of your neck and you breathe out a moan into his ear, unraveling him completely.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum, baby.” His hips slow down before they still completely, a moan passing his lips as he releases into the condom, your nails softly running down his spine. His body feels spent but he doesn’t miss the way it relaxes on top of you, blissful and peaceful, growing sleepy right away. 

“Feel good?” you ask, your fingertips running down his back in what feels like a feathery whisper. 

“So fucking good,” he mumbles against the skin of your shoulder before his eyes are finding yours again. He kisses you. He kisses you because in moments like this he wants to say something else, something that makes more sense to his heart than anything his brain could say.

You kiss him back, afraid your heart will betray you, too. 

~

You stare at him as you make your way back to his bed. He lays on his tummy, cheek pressed against the soft pillow, his pretty hair framing his face in a way that makes him look dreamlike. He doesn’t move an inch when you pull back the covers, if only for a second, to get back in bed with him. You lay on your side, eyes still fixed on him and your heart grows a new kind of tender at the sight of his sleeping form. He’s pouty and soft and so, so peaceful. Something sinks in your tummy, but it’s not in a way that signals bad news. Perhaps it’s the butterflies settling, perhaps the heat of the moment has began to cool down. 

Your hand comes to his face, fingers gently pushing his hair out of his eyes before you let them wander down his face. His cheeks are soft, his ears cold and when it tickles, he frowns. Your thumb travels up again, smoothing his brow bone and he relaxes. Your eyes follow your touch as you trace the bridge of his nose, slowly, softly, as if you were being quizzed on it later. Wanting to take everything in, afraid that even blinking could take away from the moment. And when your finger lands on his lips, you trace that too the way your own did only minutes prior. 

His eyes begin to flutter, a failed attempt to open them but you know he’s partially awake from the smile that pulls at his lips. You feel it on your finger before your eyes meet his gesture and when they do, you close them instinctively, leaning over and kissing him. His body can’t respond to his brain right now, exhausted and more asleep than he is awake, but he hums in satisfaction, lips puckering as he tries to give into his instincts. 

“Let’s have breakfast together tomorrow,” he mumbles against your lips. “I’ll go buy honey and make you pancakes.” 

You smile, though he can’t see, and perhaps it’s for the best. Your voice is a whisper when you say, “deal.”

His smile is the last thing you see before you fall asleep.

~

[harrysfolklore]

can we have a little honorary wag blurb where she’s freaking out about meeting charles’s entire friend group but when she does , she gets along with them really well and baby chiara ADORES her 🥹

thank you for sending this request, i really missed writing about these babiesss 🥺🥺 i hope you like thisss

READ THE HONORARY WAG HERE

A few weeks had passed since Kika and Pierre’s wedding, and life had settled into a pleasant routine for you and Charles. It was a lazy Sunday afternoon, and you were sprawled on the couch in Charles’ living room, a cozy blanket wrapped around you as you watched TV.

Charles was in the kitchen, making coffee. You could hear him humming to himself, a soft, contented sound that made you smile. The past few weeks had been a whirlwind, but you were finally finding your rhythm together, and it felt perfect.

Being his girlfriend felt perfect.

“Do you want anything with your coffee, mon coeur?” Charles called out, his voice carrying into the living room.

“Just some cookies, if we have any,” you replied, stretching out and snuggling deeper into the blanket.

Charles appeared a few minutes later, balancing two mugs of coffee and a plate of cookies. He handed you your mug and placed the plate on the coffee table before sitting down beside you.

“Thanks,” you said, taking a sip of the coffee. It was perfect, just the way you liked it.

Charles smiled and wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. “I could get used to this,” he said, his voice soft and full of warmth.

You leaned into him, feeling a sense of contentment. “Me too. It’s nice to have some time to just relax and be together.”

He kissed the top of your head, his lips lingering for a moment. “So, I've bee thinking."

You turned to look at him, curiosity piqued by his tone. "Oh? About what?"

Charles took a sip of his coffee before continuing, "Well, we've been together for almost a month now, and things have been going really well…"

"They have," you agreed, smiling up at him.

"And I was thinking," he continued, his fingers absently playing with a strand of your hair, "maybe it's time for you to meet my friends. My whole friend group, I mean."

You felt a small flutter of nervousness in your stomach. You'd met some of Charles' friends in passing, of course, but the idea of meeting his entire friend group felt significant.

"Your whole friend group?" you repeated, trying to keep your voice casual.

Charles nodded, his eyes searching your face. "Yeah. Joris, who you've already met a few times, Riccardo and Marta, and a few others. They're really important to me, and… well, you're really important to me too. I'd love for you all to get to know each other better."

You almost melted at his words, his green eyes looking at you with a tenderness that made you regret not looking at them for so long.

It wasn’t just the idea of meeting his friends—it was the way he phrased it, making you feel special, like you were becoming an integral part of his life. But at the same time, your nerves fluttered in your stomach.

“Charles, that sounds… great,” you said, trying to sound confident, but the slight edge in your voice gave you away.

He narrowed his eyes at you, gently setting his coffee cup down on the table. “But?”

“I don’t know. I guess I’m just a little nervous," you sighed, shifting so you could look at him fully, "They’ve known you for so long, and I don’t want to feel like the odd one out, you know? What if I don’t fit in?”

“Mon amour, you’re not an outsider," Charles’ expression softened even more as he reached for your hand, interlocking your fingers with his, "You’re my girlfriend, and that means you’re already part of my world.”

You bit your lip, still feeling a little unsure. It was a lot of pressure—meeting the people who had been with Charles through thick and thin, who knew sides of him that you were still discovering.

“I’m sure they’re great,” you said, leaning into him a little, “but it’s still kind of intimidating. I mean, Riccardo and Marta have a baby. What if I’m awkward around Chiara?”

Charles let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “Chiara’s a baby. All she cares about is who makes her laugh and who gives her food. And knowing you, you’ll have her wrapped around your finger in no time.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at that, imagining a tiny baby giggling in your arms. “You think so?”

“I know so,” Charles replied, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Look, I get it. Meeting new people, especially people who are important to me, can be overwhelming. But I promise, they’re going to love you. And more importantly, I’ll be there with you the whole time.”

His words calmed the nervous buzzing in your mind, and you found yourself nodding slowly. “Okay. Let’s do it. I’ll meet them.”

Charles’ face lit up with that boyish grin you adored, and he kissed you softly on the lips. “That’s my girl. I’ll talk to them, and we’ll make a plan for next weekend.”

You smiled against his lips before pulling back. “Next weekend, huh? No pressure, right?”

He winked, squeezing your hand, “None at all. Just you, me, and my crazy friends.”

The following weekend came quicker than you expected, and before you knew it, you and Charles were standing outside Riccardo and Marta’s house, your heart beating a little faster than usual. The sounds of laughter and conversation drifted out from the backyard, and you could already hear Chiara’s high-pitched giggles.

“You okay?” Charles squeezed your hand as you stood at the front door.

“Yeah, just…" you took a deep breath, nodding, "You know, trying to remember how to be a functioning human.”

"Mon coeur, it's fine!" Charles gave you a huge grin, "Just think bout the first time you came to a race with Kika and met everyone. You were a natural."

You chuckled at the memory. "Yeah, and from that moment, I thought you disliked me for the longest time."

"Baby, we've talked about this," Charles raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. "I was just... reserved," he said, his tone teasing but with a hint of sincerity.

You nudged him playfully. "You were cold! Barely even smiled at me. I thought, 'Great, Pierre’s friend is grumpy and doesn’t like me at all.’"

"And now, look at me," Charles laughed, pulling you closer, "Head over heels for you. Who would've thought?"

You felt a warmth bloom in your chest at his words. His eyes softened, and before you could respond, he leaned in, brushing his lips against yours in a gentle kiss.

When you finally pulled away, Charles rested his forehead against yours. "I promise, they’ll love you. Just be yourself, like you always are."

You nodded, a small smile on your lips. "Okay, I’m ready."

With that, Charles opened the door, and the two of you stepped inside, the lively sounds of his friends filling the space around you. The air was warm, the atmosphere welcoming, and as soon as you stepped through, Joris waved at you from across the room, and Marta smiled brightly, holding little Chiara.

"Well, well, if it isn't the girl who used to roll her eyes every time Charles spoke," Joris teased, approaching you and pulling you into a friendly hug.

You laugh, feeling some of your nervousness dissipate. "What can I say? He grew on me."

"Like a fungus, I'm sure," Joris winked, earning a playful shove from Charles.

Marta spotted you both and beamed, making her way over with Chiara balanced on her hip. Riccardo followed closely behind her, grinning widely.

"Ah, there he is," Riccardo greeted, pulling Charles into a hug before turning to you with a bright smile. "And this must be YN. It’s so great to finally meet you."

Charles stepped to the side, his hand still holding yours as he made the introductions. "Riccardo, Marta, this is YN, my girlfriend. YN, these are two of my closest friends in the world."

You smiled nervously but warmly, offering your hand to Riccardo, who brushed it aside to pull you into a friendly hug. "We do hugs around here," he said with a wink.

Marta followed suit, hugging you carefully while balancing Chiara in her arms. "It’s so nice to meet you, YN," she said, her smile warm and welcoming. "Charles has told us all about you. It’s about time we finally get to meet the girl who’s got him smiling all the time."

You chuckled nervously, your cheeks flushing a little. "He exaggerates."

"I don’t think so," Charles teased, his arm slipping around your waist again as he beamed at you.

Another one of Charles' friends raised his glass from where he was standing. "And here she is—the woman who tolerates Charles better than any of us."

You laughed at that, feeling some of the tension slip away as everyone welcomed you with open arms. The introductions continued as more of Charles’ friends trickled into the conversation, each one greeting you warmly, making you feel like part of the group in no time. It was clear that Charles’ friends were just as kind and friendly as he had promised.

“I’m so glad you could come," Marta said as she sat down next to you, little Chiara still in her arms.

“Thank you for having me,” you replied warmly, already feeling more at ease with her friendly demeanor.

Baby Chiara’s curious eyes darted toward you. You waved at her with a soft smile, and to your surprise, Chiara giggled, her little hands reaching out toward you.

“She’s been so excited all day,” Marta said with a chuckle, adjusting Chiara on her lap. “I think she knew we were having company. You want to hold her?”

You hesitated for a moment, but before you could even reply, Chiara was practically leaning over to get closer to you. You couldn't help but laugh, your heart melting at the sight of her small, chubby hands reaching out.

“I think she’s made up her mind,” you said, taking Chiara from Marta. The little girl settled in your lap immediately, looking up at you with wide, innocent eyes before giving you a sweet, toothy grin.

Charles, who had been chatting with Riccardo and Joris nearby, turned around just in time to catch the scene. His expression softened as he watched you interact with Chiara, his heart clearly in his eyes as he leaned against the counter, completely mesmerized.

“She loves you already,” Marta said softly, watching the way Chiara kept reaching for your face, fascinated by your hair and earrings.

“She’s adorable,” you said, your voice equally soft as you gently played with the little girl’s hands. Chiara giggled again, her laughter filling the room, and you couldn’t help but beam at her.

Charles crossed the room, his eyes still glued to the two of you. "She’s not the only one," he teased, placing a hand on your shoulder as he bent down to kiss your temple. "She’s got good taste."

"You're such a sap," Joris called out from where he sat, grinning as he popped another cookie into his mouth. "Look at you, all gooey and soft."

“Careful, Joris,” Charles replied, smirking at him. “Don’t make me start telling embarrassing stories about you."

“Oh, I’d love to hear those,” Marta chimed in, clearly enjoying the playful banter.

“Hey, I’m not the one who once locked himself out of the house without pants,” Joris shot back, earning a chorus of laughter from everyone around the room.

Amidst the laughter, Marta leaned closer to you, her voice just above a whisper. “You know,” she said, glancing at Charles, who was still gazing at you and Chiara with that adoring smile, “I’ve never seen him like this. I can tell he’s really happy with you.”

Her words made your heart skip a beat. You glanced up at Charles, feeling a warmth spread through you as you caught his eye. He winked at you, completely oblivious to Marta’s words, but it only made the moment more special.

"Thank you," you replied quietly, feeling a bit shy under her knowing gaze. "That means a lot coming from you."

Marta smiled, patting your hand. "I'm really glad he found someone special. You fit right in."

Before you could respond, Chiara began fussing slightly in your lap, clearly looking for something. Charles noticed immediately and knelt down beside you, offering the small toy she had dropped earlier. As soon as you handed it to her, Chiara calmed down, grabbing the toy and happily gnawing on it.

"I told you she'd love you," Charles grinned as he watched the two of you.

"You're right," you replied with a smile, gently bouncing Chiara in your lap. "She's perfect."

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of laughter and easy conversation. You found yourself quickly settling into the group, enjoying the way everyone seemed so at ease with one another. Joris and Riccardo were relentless in teasing Charles, often making jokes about how smitten he was, while Marta continued to shoot you knowing glances, clearly pleased with how everything was going.

At one point, as the evening wound down, Chiara started to get sleepy. She nestled into your arms, her little fingers curling around your shirt as her eyes fluttered closed.

Charles, who had been watching the whole time, leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head. "You’re amazing with her," he whispered, his voice filled with warmth.

"She’s the sweetest," you whispered back, glancing down at the tiny girl fast asleep in your arms.

Charles’ gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, his heart completely full. He had never imagined that watching you with Chiara would have such an effect on him, but here he was, absolutely melting at the sight.

As the night drew to a close, Riccardo and Marta thanked you both for coming. “Next time, we’ll have to do it at your place, Charles,” Riccardo joked, clapping him on the back.

“Sure, as long as you bring Chiara,” Charles replied with a grin, his arm wrapped securely around your waist as you stood by his side.

Marta gave you a quick hug before you left. "Seriously," she whispered in your ear, "We're really glad you're in his life."

You smiled at her, feeling the warmth and sincerity behind her words. "Me too."

[angelicgirlmj]

an angels guide: sunday reset routine

hi angels! at the end of a busy and long week you need to prioritise taking care of yourself, your mental health and your space. i like to save sundays to be a ‘me’ day, a day where i indulge in self care, cleaning and preparing myself peacefully for a busy week ahead. resetting your space and self can be an intensive routine (think thirty minute youtube videos of someone deep cleaning their house) or just simple and short (having an early night). this is my more aspirational reset routine, on an ideal sunday i will do all of this but some days i may negotiate and do a little less. hopefully this post inspires you to take care of yourself and your space.

space ˚₊‧꒰ა ꣑ৎ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

open your windows, let air circulate.

wash bedding, pillowcases, towels and any face cloths.

light candles or incense to make your space smell good.

polish any mirrors and windows.

declutter surfaces or desks (put everything away and back into its place).

fold clothes and ensure wardrobe/drawers/clothes storage spaces are tidy.

wipe down surfaces.

clean any hair brushes, makeup brushes etc.

throw away any rubbish from bins or around you.

plan meals for the week ahead. look at what is in your fridge or cupboards and clear anything expired.

play calming playlist or playlist themed around the atmosphere you want to create in your space.

water any plants.

get new flowers/rid of old flowers.

plump any pillows, refold blankets and make your space cozy and safe feeling.

body ˚₊‧꒰ა ꣑ৎ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

apply hair oils + hair mask and leave to soak in for the day.

do yoga/stretching in the morning.

drink a glass of water first thing.

eat nutritious meals that will allow your body to feel good.

go on a walk or exercise.

have bath/shower.

do full body exfoliation - scrub off dirt and grime from past week.

shave (if you shave your body hair).

apply deep, cleansing body washes and give self a massage of sorts.

drink tea/matcha.

clean teeth, floss, mouthwash and oil pull twice.

apply body oils, body lotions/creams.

finish day doing light stretching/yoga.

face ˚₊‧꒰ა ꣑ৎ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

do full am and pm skincare routines.

ice face.

do gua sha routine.

apply a face mask.

tweeze/tidy eyebrows if that is a preference.

use a lip scrub or exfoliator.

gently facially exfoliate.

give self brief facial massage.

apply any spot treatments or specialised skincare.

mind ˚₊‧꒰ა ꣑ৎ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

meditate in the morning.

journal and plan week ahead.

read at least one chapter of a book.

watch a comforting/relaxing show.

ensure all school work or anything similar is complete or at a point where it needs to be.

do something for yourself (paint your nails, colour, make something, bake etc).

plan ways to stay on top of any goals set.

set weekly goals and targets.

have an early night.

be off devices by eight if possible.

spend time with a family member or friend.

spend some time outdoors.

drink plenty of water.

thank you for reading angels! i hope this post is helpful and you have a relaxing and productive sunday. all my love, m.