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kingofbodyrolls · 2 days

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Friendcation (m) | myg | baby special

Yoongi spends time with your daughter 💜

→ Pairing: mechanic!Yoongi x reader (female) → AUs: roadtrip!au, non idol!au, established relationship, mechanic!Yoongi, dad!Yoongi, married!au → Genres: slice of life, humor/crack and so much fucking fluff → Rating: mature/explicit/R18 (this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact.) → Word count: 3.5k → Warnings (explicit): this is just pure fluff, so nothing smutty in this one! But there’s mention of pussy, if that is a warning? I swear, it’s just funny, sweet and lovely 🥹 it's written completely in Yoongi's pov, just because... you'll see 💜 → Author’s note(1): the last extra for friendcation that I’ve planned 🥳 I don’t think I’ll write more for this series/couple so please consider this officially completed (but you never know, lol). But I really don’t know what more I could add to this. I hope you enjoy this one too! 💜 And thank you all so fucking much; thank you for reading, commenting, reviewing, reblogging—everything means so much to me, you truly don’t know. Knowing what you think, and that you like reading my stories matters a lot to me, and essentially that is what keeps me going (especially when I’m struggling). So thank you 🫂 → Read on AO3? [link] ✨

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The gentle patter of tiny feet echoes through his dreams, a soft cadence pulling him from the depths of sleep. Not fully awake, yet not entirely asleep, he hovers on the fragile edge of consciousness. The sound of those footsteps—familiar, beloved—grows louder, closer, until a tender warmth touches his cheek.

“Daddy! Daddy! Wakey, wakey!” Mee-Yon’s voice bursts with joy, her excitement bubbling over as she bounces on the balls of her feet, her laughter a melody that could rouse the sun itself.

He groans, stretching the stiffness from his body as the couch protests beneath him. Slowly, he opens his eyes, and there she is—his daughter, beaming down at him with a grin so pure it melts away any lingering weariness. How could he be upset when faced with such a sight? That tiny, radiant face is too full of life, too full of love.

“Hm?” he groans again, as Mee-Yon’s tiny fingers press against his cheeks, her eyes wide and insistent, sparkling with the boundless energy only a three-year-old could possess. She bounces still, a little ball of endless enthusiasm, and he marvels at how so much vigor can be contained in such a small body.

“Uncle Minnie is here,” she announces, her voice dropping just slightly, though no less vibrant, as if she’s sharing a grand secret. Her eyes shine with excitement, practically glittering—no, bursting with rainbows, if only this were a cartoon. And in this moment, he thinks, maybe he’s been watching too many cartoons lately, breathing in too much of that magic.

“He is?” he murmurs, running a hand through his dark hair, now cropped shorter than usual—a change he knows you’ll notice. He remembers how you prefer it longer, but for now, this is how it is.

“Mhm,” Mee-Yon confirms with a dramatic little stance, hands on her hips. That flair for the dramatic—definitely not something she got from him. Him, dramatic? Never.

He chuckles, gently patting her head, his fingers tracing through her soft hair that hasn’t yet been tamed into the neat bun she usually wears. Should he tie it up? He hesitates, knowing she’ll just pull it out moments after he’s finished.

Looking up, he sees Jimin standing in the doorway, a soft smile on his face as he watches Mee-Yon with an adoration so profound it almost makes the room glow. Jimin, the ever-dedicated godfather, has taken his role to heart, showering her with a love so abundant it spills over, warming the whole house. He spoils her endlessly, and though he’d never admit it, he’s grateful for it. It’s nice. It’s more than nice. It’s love, in its purest form.

“MINNIE!” Mee-Yon cries out, spinning on her heel to race toward Jimin, arms flung wide. He scoops her up effortlessly, lifting her high into the air, the room filling with the sound of her gleeful giggles and his playful airplane noises. As his arms tire, he lowers her gently to the ground, and she wraps herself around his legs, claiming him with a possessive “Mine.”

Jimin grins, glancing over at him. “I see she’s as possessive as you,” he teases, and Yoongi responds with a playful scoff, rolling his eyes in mock exasperation. But deep down, his heart swells, knowing these moments—these precious, fleeting moments—are what make everything worthwhile.

He rises from the couch, stretching the remnants of sleep from his limbs, and finally, the sweet, intoxicating aroma of dinner weaves its way to him, causing his stomach to rumble in anticipation. The scent is warm, rich, filled with love, and it beckons him forward like a siren’s call.

As he moves past Mee-Yon and Jimin, their laughter like a soft melody in the background, he follows the trail of that delicious fragrance into the kitchen. There you are, immersed in the ritual of cooking, your focus entirely on the simmering pans before you. You’re making dinner—far more than necessary, as always, though tonight it’s just you, Yoongi, Jimin, and little Mee-Yon. But since becoming a mother, you’ve taken to preparing meals that last for days, an act of foresight that saves time and allows for more precious moments together. He loves this about you, this quiet efficiency that carves out more space for family, more time to bask in the warmth of togetherness.

You haven’t noticed him yet, lost in the rhythm of your work, the soft sizzle of the stove and the gentle clatter of utensils. He knows better than to startle you, aware of the way you lose yourself in the dance of cooking. So he deliberately makes his steps audible, the floor creaking underfoot as he approaches. “Smells nice,” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble as he slides his arms around your waist from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Yoon,” you sigh, your voice dripping with affection as you lean into him, and he presses a tender kiss to the curve of your ear. He can feel you melt under his touch, the way your body instinctively relaxes into his, a soft giggle escaping your lips—music to his ears. He lives for these sounds, the small, intimate noises you make, even the ones in your sleep that pull him from his dreams but awaken something else within him, something that fills him with love and desire.

His fingers trace gentle patterns on your skin, lifting the edge of your blouse to feel the warmth of you beneath his hands. His calloused fingers draw circles, savoring the softness of your flesh. You moan softly, your body swaying slightly as if moved by an invisible melody, a song only the two of you can hear. His hands drift lower, brushing your hip, pausing as if savoring the moment.

“Dinner! Dinner!” Mee-Yon’s excited shout rings out behind you, shattering the tender moment with her boundless energy. He can’t help but chuckle as he turns to see her cradled in Jimin’s arms, her little face glowing with joy.

“You know she can walk, right?” he teases, grinning at the pair of them.

“Yeah, but this is more fun,” Jimin replies, bouncing her gently, drawing out another round of her infectious laughter.

“You’re spoiling her too much,” you chide playfully, turning off the stove and casting Jimin a mock death stare, your eyes twinkling with mischief.

“I have to stay her favorite uncle,” Jimin retorts with a carefree shrug, his smile widening as he carries Mee-Yon over to the table, already set and waiting. Mee-Yon giggles, sticking her tongue out at you, and in that moment, the room is filled with warmth—a perfect snapshot of love, laughter, and family.

Yoongi can’t help but smile, knowing that none of your other friends stand a chance at becoming Mee-Yon’s favorite—not with the way Jimin spoils her, showering her with endless affection. There’s something special between them, an unspoken bond that binds them closer than the rest. Mee-Yon seems to naturally gravitate toward Jimin, drawn to his playful spirit and gentle heart.

Of course, she enjoys the company of the others too. She adores playing with Seokjin’s kids and his wife, their home a haven of laughter and warmth. Jungkook, with his eternal boyishness, is always ready to dive into whatever adventure Mee-Yon dreams up, his energy a perfect match for her wild imagination. She lights up when Namjoon reads her stories, his deep voice weaving tales that captivate her young mind. Once, when Namjoon’s girlfriend was over, her belly round with the promise of new life, Mee-Yon innocently asked how babies were made. Yoongi was relieved not to be on the receiving end of that question, watching with a mix of amusement and sympathy as Namjoon fumbled for the right words—balancing truth with tact.

Then there’s Taehyung, who spoils her with gifts from his travels as a photographer, bringing the world to her in the form of exotic trinkets and stories that transport her to far-off lands. Each friend brings something unique into Mee-Yon’s life, and while they all have their place in her heart, it’s Jimin who holds the brightest spot.

“Dinner’s ready,” you call out, wiping the sheen of sweat from your brow, a testament to the steam rising from the pots on the stove. The meal is a labor of love, and as you all gather around the table, it’s no surprise that Mee-Yon instinctively takes her place next to Jimin.

The first bite is met with murmurs of approval. “It’s so good,” Jimin exclaims, and Yoongi nods in agreement, his eyes catching the soft blush that spreads across your cheeks. He knows how you are with compliments, especially about cooking—something you usually leave to him. But tonight, you’ve outdone yourself, and it’s clear that your efforts have not gone unnoticed.

Then, out of nowhere, Mee-Yon’s small voice cuts through the comfortable silence like a bolt of lightning. “Vagina!” she shouts, slamming her tiny hands on the table for emphasis. “Vagina!”

All eyes snap to her in stunned disbelief, the room frozen in a moment that feels suspended in time. Yoongi isn’t sure if he heard his daughter correctly, but as she repeats the word with gleeful abandon, there’s no mistaking it. Your gaze darts frantically between Jimin and Yoongi, as if deciding who to unleash your wrath upon. Fortunately, Jimin ends up as the target.

“What the fuck did you teach my daughter?” you demand, your voice trembling with incredulity and a hint of anger. Yoongi, relieved not to be in the line of fire, watches as Jimin blinks back at you, utterly bewildered.

“What?” Jimin stammers, shaking his head in denial. “I didn’t teach her that! She must have picked it up at daycare,” he says, his tone calm but defensive, trying to deflect the blame.

Yoongi, ever the realist, can’t help but let a remark slip, one that’s more truth than tact. “Just be glad she didn’t say pussy.”

You sigh, a mix of exasperation and reluctant acceptance, realizing that he has a point. Better to let it go, not to give Mee-Yon’s newfound vocabulary too much attention. After all, the more focus you put on it, the more she’ll repeat it, and there’s no need to make a spectacle out of a word that, to her, is just another part of the world she’s discovering.

“Pussy! Pussy! Pussy!” Mee-Yon’s voice rings out with glee, her innocent delight filling the room as she proudly chants the forbidden word. Your stern gaze snaps to Yoongi, and in that instant, he knows he’s made fucked up. The realization hits him like a wave, and the weight of it is evident in his sheepish expression. “You taught her to say pussy. Why would you do that, Yoon?” you groan, frustration lacing your voice, a trace of self-doubt creeping in as you wonder if this makes you a bad mother. But Yoongi knows better—shit happens, and he reckons this isn’t the worst thing she could have picked up. After all, with the amount of time she spends with Jimin and Jungkook, he’s surprised this is the first explicit word to slip out.

“Peeing from my pussy!” she sing-songs with abandon, and you all groan in unison, only for the tension to break as laughter bubbles up, impossible to hold back. It’s bad, he knows it, but it’s also undeniably funny and, in a way, just a little bit cute.

Mee-Yon soon loses interest in the word, her attention drifting as she begins to babble a stream of playful nonsense, her laughter joining yours in a chorus that fills the house with warmth. As the evening settles into a comfortable rhythm, Yoongi helps clean up while Jimin entertains Mee-Yon in the living room, the sound of their laughter echoing through the walls. He silently hopes Jimin isn’t teaching her any new vocabulary, knowing full well that the daycare likely isn’t to blame for this latest outburst.

Later, Jimin takes on the task of putting Mee-Yon to bed—a routine she seems to prefer whenever he’s around. Neither you nor Yoongi mind, as it offers you a rare moment of peace, a chance to sit together in quiet companionship while Jimin’s gentle voice carries through the door, reading her a bedtime story. When he emerges, his face softened by a tender smile, he bids you both goodnight and slips away into the night. It’s late, and Yoongi can’t help but curse the fatigue that overtook him earlier, leaving him to doze off on the couch.

He’s been working more than usual lately, picking up the slack as you scale back your hours, determined to keep your finances steady. He doesn’t mind, knowing this is just a season of life, a phase that will pass. There may come a time when you’ll work more hours again, and he can step back. What he truly appreciates is the flexibility you both have in your work—his garage at home, a sanctuary where he can manage his own time, and your ability to work from home, offering you a reprieve from the relentless stress of your marketing job and the demands of your boss.

Tonight, though, you’re both too exhausted to stay up, even though the allure of a new K-drama tugs at your thoughts. Yoongi knows better—you’ll both likely fall asleep on the couch, and while it’s sleep, it’s not the restful kind. Better to retreat to the comfort of your bed, where real rest awaits.

So that’s what you do, slipping into a simple nighttime routine, brushing teeth, and taking care of your skin before crawling under the covers. Yoongi loves these moments, spooning you for the warmth and comfort it brings, not just for the obvious reasons but for the pure joy of being close to you. He nestles into your neck, breathing in your natural, sweet, and earthy scent—a fragrance that grounds him, that makes everything else fade away.

He doesn’t know how much time passes before he’s jolted awake by Mee-Yon’s piercing scream. His heart races, the familiar surge of fear gripping him—always worried that something terrible has happened. But as he listens, he realizes it’s likely another night terror. With swift, practiced movements, he’s out of bed and crossing the short distance to her room, just opposite yours.

The room is bathed in the soft glow of a unicorn night lamp, casting gentle shadows on the walls. The rest is cloaked in darkness, except for the faint hum of white noise playing in the background, a melody that usually soothes her into sleep and keeps her there through the night. But not tonight. Her screams persist, shrill and heart-wrenching, as he approaches her bed. She’s calling for you, her mother, her small body trembling in the dim light.

“Mom! Mom! Mommy!” Mee-Yon’s cries pierce the quiet night, her voice tinged with distress as her tiny body thrashes beneath the sheets. Her eyes remain tightly shut, yet it’s as if she’s caught in a battle with unseen phantoms, lost in the throes of a bad dream. Yoongi’s heart aches at the sight, a deep, primal need to protect his daughter surging within him.

“Mee-Yon,” he whispers, his voice soft as a lullaby, “it’s okay, sweetheart.” But his words are like echoes in a canyon, powerless against the storm of her nightmare. She continues to scream, panic tightening her small frame, and Yoongi feels a pang of helplessness. He hates seeing her like this, hates that there’s nothing he can do but wait it out, knowing it’s just a part of her growth, an inevitable phase that will pass. Yet that knowledge doesn’t ease the knot in his chest.

He places a gentle hand on her stomach, feeling the rapid rise and fall of her frantic breaths. “Mee-Yon,” he calls out again, a bit more urgently, but she’s still far away, lost in the dark corners of her dream. Then, suddenly, she stirs, her tiny body moving in fits and starts until she sits up, her eyes still closed, arms reaching skyward as if begging to be held.

“Mommy,” she whimpers, her voice a broken cry, and Yoongi’s heart twists in response. “It’s Dad,” he says softly, reaching for her, lifting her delicate frame into his arms. “I’m here. It’s okay.”

“Daddy,” she murmurs, still caught between sleep and waking, her small arms wrapping tightly around his neck. For a moment, Yoongi just stands there, holding her close, unsure of what to do but knowing he can’t leave her alone. He knows the experts say it’s not ideal for her to sleep in their bed, but sometimes, practicality takes a back seat to love and the desperate need for rest. Nothing has ever gone wrong before, but there’s always a flicker of fear that lingers in the back of his mind, the thought that one of them might roll over her in their sleep. Thankfully, that has never happened, and they are super careful.

With gentle care, he carries her into your bedroom, placing her tenderly between the two of you. He tucks the duvet around her, ensuring she’s warm and secure, then arranges her favorite bunny plushie—Jungkook’s sweet gift—beside her. The tension in her small body slowly ebbs away, replaced by the soft, rhythmic sounds of her breathing as she finally begins to relax. Mee-Yon snuggles closer to him, her little form instinctively seeking his warmth, and Yoongi wraps an arm around her, holding her protectively, careful not to press too hard. Her heartbeat, still quick but steadying, pulses against his chest, and with that comforting rhythm, he drifts into sleep.

His dreams are light and whimsical—cotton candy clouds, pink skies, and the sensation of soaring on the back of a white and blue pegasus. But his slumber is interrupted by the sharp prod of a tiny foot to his face. With a groan, he tries to nudge the offending limb away, slowly opening his eyes to find Mee-Yon sprawled across the bed, her feet in his face and her small hands clutching your waist. Despite the rude awakening, Yoongi can’t be mad—how could he be, when his daughter is so undeniably adorable?

You catch his gaze, your hand gently caressing Mee-Yon’s back, and without a word, you communicate a world of emotion. Words aren’t needed between the two of you anymore; the years have woven a deep understanding, a silent language spoken through glances and touches. He reads you like a well-loved book, its spine softened by countless readings, and in your eyes, he sees the depth of your love for him and your daughter, the way you cherish these fleeting moments of family life.

As Mee-Yon stirs awake, she wraps her arms around both of you, pressing soft kisses to your cheeks. Yoongi’s heart swells with joy, savoring this precious moment he wishes could last forever. Life with a three-year-old is a rollercoaster, equal parts delightful and exhausting. Yoongi’s patience, his temper, and his love are tested daily, but he wouldn’t trade this for anything. Mee-Yon has a knack for pushing his limits, as all children do, keeping him on his toes with her boundless energy and curiosity.

But it’s these moments he treasures the most—the time spent together as a family, whether on picnics, trips to the zoo, or simple walks in nature. Teaching Mee-Yon to ride a bike, watching her little legs pedal with determination, fills him with pride. He loves witnessing her growth, her wit, and her ever-present cuteness. There’s never enough time to soak it all in.

On a crisp autumn day, Yoongi finds himself in the garage, working on a customer’s car, with Mee-Yon by his side. She loves being there with him, her curiosity as vast as the sky, her eyes wide with wonder at the sight of tools and car parts. He explains everything to her, pointing out the coils, tubes, and wheels that make the car run. His hands are stained with oil, but Mee-Yon doesn’t mind; she grabs his hand, her own tiny fingers getting smudged as she points at something.

“What’s this, Dad?” she asks, her voice full of earnest curiosity.

He grins, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “That’s the battery,” he explains, “the heart that keeps the car alive.”

She hums thoughtfully, turning her hand over to inspect the oily smudges. “Dirty,” she declares, but there’s no disgust, only fascination.

“Yeah, that’s oil,” he says, reaching for an old rag to wipe her hands, though it doesn’t do much to clean them. Maybe it’s time for some new rags in the garage.

“Like paint,” she giggles, her fingers now exploring every surface under the hood, leaving tiny handprints on every rube and rusty surface.

Yoongi chuckles, unable to resist her infectious joy. “Daddy?” she calls, looking up at him with a bright, mischievous smile.

He kneels down to her level, ruffling her hair with a fond laugh. She giggles and cups his cheeks with her small, oily hands. “Love you, Daddy. You my best friend.”

He doesn’t care that his face is now smudged with oil; he just pulls her into a warm embrace, holding her close. “I love you too, Mee-Yon,” he murmurs, his heart full to bursting.

Author’s note(2): Thank you so much for joining me on this wild ride that friendcation has been! And can you believe it’s been over a year since I first published this??? It’s so crazy. I’m so happy that so many people love it, and still read it. Truly, it means the world to me 🫂✨

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ljaylmaoo · 3 days

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Brat Contest

dom!hook x bratty!fem!reader 18+

UNEDITED

request: Hello! can you do a dom!hook x reader smut please! With the reader and hook acting bratty to each other and giving each other attitude all day and finally hook has enough of it and fucks her please! I haven’t been able to find much descendants hook smut and I was so excited when I saw you were taking requests for it! 🥰

request 2: Hello again! I’m the one who requested the bratty hook x reader smut can you make it a bit rough? Thank you!

summary: you and hook have been acting up to each other all afternoon and hook eventually gets tired of it

genre: SMUT!!

warnings: this is EXTREMELY smutty lol, rough UNPROTECTED sex (please use condoms lol), cream pie, degrading, denied orgasm, aftercare, bratty reader (hook too at the start), reader just can’t keep her mouth shut LMAO, think that’s it

HOOK AND READER ARE 18!

a/n: yea this is filthy LMAO, this is for all you hook whores (light hearted of course). thank you for the request! you asked for rough so I gave you ROUGH. just know that this will contain smut so if that makes you uncomfortable then I strongly suggest you don’t read. sorry if there’s any errors/typos!

word count: 3.2k

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All afternoon you and Hook have been giving each other attitude.

You don't know when or how it specifically started but you knew it began sometime during lunch and since then, you two would seemingly be (unintentionally) taking turns talking back to each other or giving some sort of snarky remark. You both were getting fed up with it, yet neither of you could help it. You had the same amount of attitude and stubbornness so of course none of you backed down, always getting the last word in whenever one of you was getting scolded from the other to stop or simply giving a glare in the others direction and it seemed that every shot you took at each other would only provoke you more and pushed you both to keep going. It was quite childish and stupid really. Your friends had even pointed it out in class and asked why you were being so "bratty" to each other, with your responses only being "it's her/his fault." Maleficent would laugh and say that Hook "finally met his match" and the rest of the VK's joking about how they just know this "fight" would end up physical. You would be lying to yourself if you said that there wasn't any type of sexual tension behind it or that it wasn't turning you on. Your bickering would have implication with some type of dirty comment along with it.

Though you were both completely fed up with each other's attitudes, you still couldn't stay apart. So as of now, you were in your last class of the day sat at the back of the class, working on your paired assignment in silence with your leg draped over his and his hook rested around your thigh.

"Hey, Y/n?"

You perked your head up as you heard your classmate that was sat in the desk in front of you call out your name, "yeah?" The sound of your "overly" sweet and gentle voice gaining the attention of your boyfriend who was sitting next to you just as you suspected it would. You knew how possessive he was and how jealous he got when you would give any other guy attention, and with your tone of voice, you made sure that he could tell you knew that he knew that what you were doing was on purpose. Just to irk him a little more. "could you maybe help us out with this question please? We tried asking the teacher but it still didn't help like at all" he explained, while gesturing to their papers. It wasn't completely out of the ordinary for someone to ask you for help as you were quite smart, especially in this class, "Oh, yeah of course!" You happily replied, taking Hooks hand off your thigh and got up, leaving Hook behind with a scowl as he watched you walk up to their desk and explained it to them. He was convinced that whenever you smiled at them or laughed with them was in a flirtatious manner and were "purposely" doing it to get him angry, and it was definitely working. He watched intently as you smiled politely at the two boys as they thanked you for your help, "no problem!" you replied back causing him to roll his eyes.

You strutted back to your seat and caught the pout in his face as you sat back down, you scoffed, "they needed help." He glanced at you with his arms crossed, you mirroring his actions, "I didn't say anything." - "you didn't have to." You snapped back at him while raising your voice a little. He was about to reply back, most likely another snarky comment when he was interrupted by the same guy who was in front of you, turning around to ask another question about the assignment. He saw the once annoyed expression on your face immediately switch up and into a fake yet convincingly warm smile as the two of you had a simple conversation which in his eyes, seemed like another attempt to try and flirt with you. He instantly threw his arm around you and rested the other on your thigh under the desk pulling you close, not taking his eyes off the guy, giving him a threatening look. He rubbed soft circles on your thigh, but with every giggle you let out while talking, he would squeeze your thigh just a little tighter which would cause you to falter your laugh. When your classmates finally turned back around to continue their own conversation and work, by then his hand had made its way higher up your leg, closer to your crotch and just under your skirt. You would squirm with every movement of his fingers causing him to smile as you did so, he knew exactly what he was doing. You tried your hardest to focus on the assignment as best you could, but his touch was heavenly. It didn't help that he knew exactly how to touch you to make you feel good without even trying.

The teacher quieted the class and began going over how the rest of the week would look like as it was nearing the end of the school day, just 5 minutes before the bell and Hook still continued his actions, "Can you like, mhm- chill out?" You hissed as quietly as possible, letting out a soft, closed mouthed moan in between your words after he moved even higher, just a few inches away from your heat, if that, that was starting to dampen your underwear. He kept his eyes to the front of the class where the teacher was going over something that you didn't care about, nor could you even focus on even if you tried, taking a few seconds before replying with a simple, "what am I doing?" he asked, a cute clueless look on his face as he turned and made eye contact with you. The movement of his thumb making you squirm and breath hitch once again, this time while making eye contact with him which made it all the more embarrassing for you. You gave him a silent glare and he glanced down to where his hand was under your skirt which made it ride up just enough for him to see the wet spot on your underwear causing him to smirk, "am I making you wet, darling?" He whispered with a cocky voice making you feel frustrated (both sexually and angrily from his cockiness) and flustered. You rolled your eyes and before you could stop yourself you mumbled under your breath while still being in a bratty mood, "who said it was you who turned me on.." your eyes shot wide open in shock as you realized what you'd said, his grip instantly tightened on your thigh, "oh, really..?" He said in a low, threatening tone causing you to let out a small squeak.

A few seconds later the bell rang and you quickly packed up your things, Hook immediately took your hand in his and dragged you out the door and into the hall, "fucking brat." He said through gritted teeth while pushing past people in the hall. You had mixed feelings, scared yet slightly excited for what he was going to do. He had already turned you on, and whenever he would get mad, it would turn you on even more and with every quick step you took with him getting closer and closer to your dorm, the wetter you got.

When you arrived, he swung the door open and yanked you inside, pushing you by your waist harshly up against the door causing it to shut with a loud slam! throwing your books to the side. He placed his leg in between yours, separating them as he stared down at you with pure fury behind his eyes, breathing deeply as you were staring up at him with innocent eyes filled with nervous anticipation. "You wanna repeat what you had just said to me there in class, darling?" His voice was deep and menacing as he spoke, the name sounding more taunting than anything. You shook your head, "I didn't mean it-" he instantly cut you off, "no, no. I want you to clearly tell me what you said. Now." He demanded, getting closer to your face. You were practically dripping now, your pussy throbbing with every word he spoke. You were so turned on at this point all you could do was shake your head with a whimper, slightly grinding on his thigh that rested between yours. The feeling of the fabric of your underwear and his leg on your clit making a breathy moan escape from your lips. He laughed and shook his head in disbelief, "dirty little slut." And with that he dropped his leg and pulled one of yours up to wrap around his waist as he dove down to your neck and began harshly kissing and biting all over causing you to gasp in pleasure, your hands finding their way to his hair as you pushed your body up against him. "I need- put you- in your- fucking place." He growled in between kisses along your collarbone, your only response was a quick nod, gasping as you rolled your hips against his, trying desperately to feel any type of sensation on your clit. He trailed kisses up your neck and roughly slammed his lips onto yours, his tongue instantly gaining access inside your mouth and his hand up your shirt, fondling your tits. He wrapped his hook around your waist to hold you up as you pressed your back up against the wall, using it to jump up, wrapping your other leg that was once on the ground around his waist.

As you continued to grind your hips you could feel him growing harder, adding more friction to your aching core. "Please-" you mumbled into his mouth, a moan escaping as you felt him twitch beneath you from your plead. "Please what, darling?" He teased, taking his hand out from under your bra and trailing down your body to your ass, gripping tightly as he kissed back down your neck causing you to gasp. You to let out a loud moan when he nipped at your sweet spot on your neck, "please- mm- more. I want more." You begged, his touch driving you mad. "Are you done being a brat?" He questioned, looking up at you. "But you're the one who-" you stopped yourself from saying anything more, the hand on your ass tightening its grip as he gave you a warning look, he gently pulled you down along the bulge in his pants and stopped just where your clit met the tip. You nodded, "yes, yes I'm done. I swear." You said in desperation, you clung onto him and attempted to grind your hips again but his firm hold stopped you, "I'm s-sorry, I didn't mean what I said. I-I just need to feel you. Please." You rambled, showering his neck in kisses as a pathetic attempt to convince him causing him to roll his eyes.

Without speaking he brought you over and threw you down on the bed. He glanced down to his pants noticing the wet spot you'd left and looked back up at you who only blushed. He began taking his jacket off, "be a good girl for once today and undress for me, love." You quickly obeyed and took off your shirt, throwing it somewhere off to the side and unclipped your bra discarding it in the same direction, watching in anticipation as he unbuttoned his shirt, gnawing on your bottom lip at the sight, a shy smile tugging at the corners of your lips. Of course you've seen him shirtless plenty of times, but the sight never fails to make you blush. He was gorgeous. He unbuckled his belt and came in between your legs, his face just above yours, "i'll fuck you but you can't cum until I say you can, okay?" He smiled while caressing your cheek with his hook making you shiver. You nodded, still nibbling on your lip. "Use your words." He brought his hook under your jaw, "okay" you whispered, "good girl." he praised before he placed his lips delicately on yours. You immediately pulled him closer, tangling your hands in his swept back hair.

He lifted your skirt up and rubbed circles around your clothed clit making you let out a high pitched moan, "so wet-" he complimented before sliding your underwear to the side and slowly entered two digits into your folds with ease. You tugged at his hair, pleasured sounds leaving your lips, the feeling of his fingers curling up and hitting your g spot, but as much as it felt good, it wasn't enough. You whined and reached for the waistband of his underwear that sat just above his pants that were already unzipped, he swiftly pulled away and pulled his fingers out of you to stop you from stroking him, "needy, aren't we?" You nodded and looked up at him with pleading eyes. He stared back down at you for a moment, a smile appearing on his face scoffing before giving in and began removing your underwear off your legs. The coldness of the room hitting your soaked and now bare pussy causing you to instinctively close your legs but he stopped you from doing so, pulling them back apart and pulled you closer to him. He lined himself up with you and slowly pushed into your walls earning a sharp moan from you, wrapping your legs around his waist. He was big, and every time it took you a bit to get used to his size, he held your hand beside your head to comfort you, "that's it darling.." he soothes as he eases into you. You squeeze his hand as he fills you up with his length, both gasping in pleasure as he lays his head on your shoulder, bottoming out. "Fuck.." He breathes out against your shoulder. He stills for a moment, letting you get used to his size before moving.

After a minute he lifted his head and looked at you, his hair framing his face you nodded, "okay" you whisper, biting your lip at the sight, he grabs your waist and slowly pulls out half way and sinks back in repeatedly, the pained winces and gasps soon turning to pleasured moans. "You're taking me so well.." he husks, picking up pace. Pornographic moans escape your mouth as he hits your cervix, throwing your head back against the soft sheets of your bed as his attention is focused on the way his cock is disappearing into your guts over and over. "-close" you cry out, he grabs your face and brings you up closer, forcing you to look at him, "not yet." He says sternly as he continues to plow himself into you before letting go. You grab for the sheets below you desperately, "brats don't get to cum that fast." He states, the knot in your stomach tightens and you grow frustrated after he says that, "like- I, mm, said- it's you who- started it!" You retorted in between moans each time he pumped back inside you. Within a matter of seconds he pulled out and flipped you over on your stomach effortlessly. He pulled your hips up and slammed back into you, this time harder and faster causing you to curse loudly with every movement of his hips. You let out a yelp as you felt a harsh slap to your ass, "guess we haven't learned our lesson have we?" He slapped your ass again, "wanna keep acting like a fucking brat? I'll treat you like one." He snapped his hips into yours, getting deeper and deeper with each thrust, your screams were being muffled by the sheets, he was reaching places you never knew were even possible. He grabbed your hair and pulled you up so you were against his chest, "ungrateful little whore." He mumbled into your ear before throwing you back down to the bed and proceeded to ram into you mercilessly causing your eyes to roll backwards and your mouth fell agape. He had a grip on your hips that were surly going to leave bruises when he was done with you and was scolding you for your bad behaviour, but you were so fucked out of your mind that you couldn't concentrate on anything but the extreme pleasure from his deep and hard thrusts that were causing you to see stars, you could only barely manage to get out small breathless "sorry's" here and there.

The filthy noises of your hips slapping against each other and the squelching of your wet cunt echoed throughout the room turning you on more, making the knot in your lower abdomen grow larger and more painful, "pl-e-ease Ja- need- to- cum" you groaned out in pure bliss, you began clenching around him making it harder for him to move and pushed him closer to the edge. "Shit-" he cursed under his breath, "cum for me, love-" he told you before moaning out again. He pulled you up again, this time by the waist and held you as your orgasm began to wash over you, "you're okay, I'm right here.." the intense sensation of the knot coming undone made you whine and cry out, legs shaking and you fell back into him with your head falling back on his shoulder as he continued to fuck into you and talk you through your orgasm. At this point you couldn't even form coherent sentences and your mind was a complete blur, still clenching hard around him as the feeling was still washing over you. He eventually finished inside of you, spilling his seed deep into your pussy. You both stayed in that position for a bit before he gently put you down, still buried deep inside of you. You caught your breaths and he slowly took his cock out of your messy hole causing you to whimper, still feeling overly sensitive, “Shh, it’s okay, you’re okay.” he assured. The mixture of his cum and your sticky juices spilled out of you as he pulled out, he grabbed a towel and cleaned up the mess you'd both made and changed you into more comfortable clothes as you were too out of it to do it yourself, making sure to be careful around the bruises on your hips and your sensitive area. He laid down beside you in the covers and pulled you close, you instantly snuggling into him.

"Was I too rough, my love..?" He questioned, you looked up into his deep brown eyes and smiled, "no, you weren't" you said softly, knowing full well that you were definitely going to have trouble walking for at least a few days. He kissed your forehead and played with your hair as he whispered sweet nothings into your ear and soon after, you fell asleep.

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chiscaralight · 10 hours

Note

Threesome with Scara and Childe 😳 Include whatever you like, dear. Just let your fingers type. Hopefully, inspiration comes to you. If you don't write for threesomes, it's totally cool, dear❤️

i’ve written double scara, double reader, kinich/scara threesomes. at some point i was considering writing childe/aventurine x reader. even because i thought they would be the cutest thing together. i enjoyed writing it😝 thank you suzu

nsfw tartaglia x reader x scara.

you're a mess, really. sobbing, shaking while tartaglia presses his fingers deeper into your dripping heat. you would usually cry out, dig your fingers into his wrist, making futile attempts to push the pleasure away. but your hands are full, tight hold on scaramouche's thighs as he steadily fucks into your mouth, reveling in the way you gag and swallow around him.

his eyes are hard on yours. you're squinting from the feeling, fat tears welling up quick as he prods against the back of your throat. your moans are choked back by his length, vibrations making him twitch just the slightest bit as he picks up his pace. but it's a little too excluding for the ginger-haired man's liking. he's not one to stop the fun though, you've always been a sparkle in his eyes. so hell ignore the whine you let out when he pulls away, and relish the gasp you produce when he starts to rub his cock against the slick of your weeping cunt, giving scaramouche a teasing look before pushing in.

scaramouche is a mean person. you’d expect him to keep your mouth plugged up, but much to your surprise, he pulls away. don’t mistake this as him trying to give you a break, he’s only doing it so he can properly take in the sinful noises streaming from your lips. his fist tightens in your hair as your weak fingers begin to drag up and down his cock, and you weakly whimper your name, much to his amusement.

“moaning my name like this while someone else fucks you, what a nasty thing you are.”

tartaglia laughs.

“i think your words are doing more good than harm.they’re squeezing me so tight now. who would’ve thought such a sweetheart like you enjoys being spoken down to?”

and you’re whining out in shame, trying to hang your face low, but they’re both quicker than that. scara’s fingers grip your jaw tight and tartaglia offers you a rather deep and angled thrust that has you yelping hard, eyes squeezing shut and body trembling as he decided to keep this new pace. it’s the harsh slap to the flesh of your ass that has your eyes flying open, meeting with scara’s. he’s still looking at you, demeanor full of want as he hums in the other man’s direction. no words are spoken, but it’s a silent agreement. tartaglia is pulling out of you without warning, but he coaxes you to face him as he lays back. unlinked scara’s rough approach, his fingers are soft to guide your head down. the way you easily take all of him in has him groaning, the thought of you savoring yourself on his length making him buck up into your mouth.

the action has you gagging, but the feeling of being filled once again is what halts your breath. you’re moaning around tartaglia once again, nose pressing against his pelvic bone as scara relentlessly pounds into you. it’s almost a pain trying to keep up, but tartaglia sweet words keep your mind at bay and completely devoid of every doubt. the difference in their control is dizzying, and you soon find that you’re not the only one on the verge of pleasure.

“gonna cum, pretty. where do you want me to-“

“where do you want us to cum. because i’m just about ready to fill you to the brim.”

scaramouche’s words make you moan, again. so crude, so vile, but so sexy all the same. the way your body goes rigid doesn’t go unnoticed between the two.

“you want that? you want me to fill your mouth and you want him to fill that cunt?”

and the only answer you can give him is a squeeze to his fingers. that’s all he needs, because he’s nodding at scaramouche before he starts to fuck up into your face. and he cums first, hitting the back of your throat with such fervor that you’re barely not choking. scara will give you no recovery times as his hips significantly slow down, and you can start to fill the warmth dribble into you as he groans.

you’re weak, and in the back of you’re mind actually satisfied. you’re just about ready to give up, pulling your lips from tartaglia with a satisfying pop. but it’ll be scara that nudges you first, pushing you to lay on top of childe while he closes in on you two. there’s no way they’ll leave you like this without such a delicious orgasm of your own. you’ve done your part and passed with flying colors. so now, let them do theirs.

#genshin impact smut #genshin smut #childe smut #gi smut #scaramouche smut #scara smut #tartaglia smut #ajax smut #wanderer smut #scaramouche x reader smut #scara x reader smut #tartaglia x reader #tartaglia x reader smut #childe x reader smut #wanderer x reader smut

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latenightdaydreams · 10 hours

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Eldritch!König X Princess! Reader

The reader is a stubborn princess with a childish personality, she is considered a treasure by the king, loved and pampered, however because she was imprisoned in the castle for too long and learned too many royal rules and rituals, she decided to escape to leave the castle and on her journey of discovery, she accidentally strayed into the forbidden sea of the kingdom... if you don't mind, there is rape

thank you for doing my previous requests,i always follow your posts everyday,i love the way you write your fanfics,by the way,can you post your fanfics at 6am or 6pm?the time hook in asia and other continents are different,so it will be difficult to adjust the time to receive your post notifications,thanks!!!🥰😍🫂🤲😗😙

Of course! I've been trying to post later after reading this and I appreciate your recommendation!

Eldritch!König x Princess (fem)

MDNI🔞

🚫!Trigger Warning!🚫

Master List✍🏽

>cw: fem/afab, creature, tentacles, non-con, virginity loss

1.6k word count

👸

Being the eldest daughter to the King means a lot of responsibilities are placed on your shoulders, one day this will all be yours. The sad thing is that you want none of it. You’d love to be free, like the children in the town outside the castle walls.

Every day is consumed with boring lessons and practice. While your body may be here, your mind wanders often to what lies beyond your gilded cage. The King is a kind but overprotective man. He tells you continuously about a scary world filled with evil, yet all you can find is magic in the stories you’re told.

Today is like every other day. While sitting at the piano, you mindlessly press on keys as you stare out the open windows. It is a beautiful and bright day; the sound of the birds carrying through the light breeze makes you crave only a moment outside. You smash your hands down on the keys with annoyance. It’s as if the world is teasing you.

The staff around looks at your out the corner of their eyes, rolling them. You often act out as if you’re a child, yet you’re in your twenties already. What more should they expect from such a spoiled brat? They fear the day your queen; you’re nowhere near ready for that type of responsibilities.

Lucky for them, they won’t have to worry about that. You don’t plan on being here for much longer. Over the last few months, you’ve been putting together an escape plan. Armed with the knowledge of lore spoken and countless hours of studying; you’re ready to make a new path for yourself. The thought of being a Queen has never appealed to you, you’ve always dreamed of living like a daring adventurer. Someone not bound to the confines of their overbearing parents.

You wander down into the kitchen to see a room of busy bee workers preparing dinner. Some look at you, but choose to ignore you as to not get wrapped up into any of your wild antics. Walking over to a bowls of freshly picked blueberries, you grab a handful and twirls innocently towards the door. As you scan the room, you notice that no one is looking at you. Perfect.

The door opens with a bit of weight applied. You quickly slip out the door without anyone noticing. The kitchen faces the woods; with only a bag with money and some food you begin your new journey.

Your feet carry you eagerly through the brush and into the woods; your escape is almost too easy. For a moment you turn to look at the castle for one last time, letting yourself commit the view to memory. You don’t know when you’ll be back again and it’s bitter sweet. Once you feel as if you’re ready to move on, you turn with no intentions of running back a scared little girl.

Hours of walking tire you quickly. You never figured that the ground might be difficult to walk on, meaning you haven’t made it as far as you planned to before sun down. Off in the distance you can hear the sound of waves crashing, piquing your interest. All these years and you’ve never seen the ocean before, it’s always been a dream.

The sun setting causes a stunning golden hue to cover the water, making it feel as if you’ve just stumbled into heaven on earth. You quickly remove your shoes, eager to feel the sand between your toes. As you rush forward, the warm sand is relaxing. The small worry that lingered in the back of your mind is completely forgotten as you become entranced by the crashing waves.

You approach the shore line allowing the cool water to wash over your feet. It’s such a welcoming feeling, it’s impossible to believe that your father said this world is evil. How can it be evil when such beauty exists? You sit, your dress gets wet but you don’t care. Minutes pass as the sun continues to set. Out of the corner of your eye, you see something poke out of the water.

König sees you; you’re new. His eyes drift over the royal purple dress that you’re wearing. A princess? In this part of the world? How did you ever get here? Either way, he wasn’t going to complain. It’s as if the universe just hand delivered a new toy to him. He watches you curiously as you simply…enjoy the view.

You lay back, closing your eyes with a big smile on your face. Day one of freedom and you’re already confident that you’ve made the right decision. Then, you feel the presence of something- someone- approaching you. When you open your eyes, you see a large man looking down at you. His eyes a pale blue, body nude other than a piece of fabric covering his face. From underneath the fabric, eight large purple toned tentacles move about.

There is a moment of just staring at him with a slack jaw. He’s a massive eight feet tall, making the way he looms over your much smaller body that much more intimidating. You watch as his eyes trail over your dress; he somehow makes you feel exposed while fully clothed.

“Hello…” You speak in a timid tone.

“Hallo…Prinzessin.” His voice is low and gravely.

“Y- you know who I am?”

“Ja. You’re Princess y/n.” He begins to walk around you, inspecting you.

“I am…who are you?”

“König. You’ve wandered into my kingdom, Prinzessin. Did you know that?” He kneels and looks into your eyes as you sit up, feeling uncomfortable with him. “People don’t usually come here.”

“Why?” Your voice shakes slightly.

“Because of me.”

For a moment you linger, staring up at him. Your stomach churns and you feel sick. He smells of the ocean and it’s very unpleasant. The alarm going off in your line is telling you to get up and run; that you’re in danger. You decide to try and just push that feeling down.

“Wh- why is that?”

König can smell the fear emanating off of you. A small band of sweat forms around your hairline from the warm day and the heavy dress overheating your body. A small drop drips down the side of your face, traveling over your delicate features.

“You’re wearing far too many layers.” One of his thick tentacles slowly wraps around your ankle, slipping up underneath the hem of your long dress.

That is what triggers panic within you. You quickly jump up, but his tentacle tightens its grip and pulls you back down. Your face smashes into the sand, cutting your lip from the impact. The sand slips through your fingers as you grab at it, trying to get away.

König grabs your arms and turns you around, laying you on your back. As you sit up to hit him, he grabs your arms and slams you back down. A loud laugh leaves him, he wasn’t expecting such a delicate little thing to be so feisty.

“Where do you think you’re off to? You’re in my world now, Prinzessin.”

“Get off of me!” You scream.

“I’ve been looking for a queen. A warm body for my offspring to grow in.”

König’s slimy tentacles come up and wrap around your wrist, pinning you to the ground as you squirm. His massive weight rests on your legs as he begins to slip the fabric that covers you up, exposing a sweet little bush covering your precious center. A low hum rumbles from his chest as his pale eyes meet yours.

The stomach churning feeling of his appendages slithering up your leg makes you jerk to the side but you can’t move. König is much bigger and much stronger than you; it would be a useless waste of energy. You can feel the tip slip back and forth, parting your folds.

“You can’t do this to me! I’m the princess!”

“You’re no one here.”

König shuts you up with a hand over your mouth as his tentacles move to hold you down and your legs apart for him. Tears stream down your face as you realize that no matter how much you scream, there is no one here that can help you. His unsettling gaze lingers on yours as he moves his erection closer to you.

Your muffled cries are drowned out but the loud sound of König’s moan as he presses the tip of his leaking cock against your pure cunt. A virgin princess, exactly what the king deserves. A stinging pain travels throughout your body as he struggles to press his girthy 13 inch cock into you.

“Mein Gott, you’re so small. I’m going to break you.” He chuckles as his hips buck forward.

The walls of your vagina feel gummy as they wrap tightly around him. You’re like the perfect little glove, little sex toy for him. He pulls his hips back and repeatedly continues the assault on your defenseless smaller body. Unable to do anything, you just lie there and take it.

“Does daddy know where you are?” He mocks in a low gruff voice as he thrust at a merciless speed, not allowing you to catch your breath.

“M-mm” You mumble and shake your head, his hands still on your mouth not allowing you to speak.

“Stupid…little…brat.” König manages the words between each thrust. His hands move to your legs, pulling them back so he can angle himself deeper into you, trying to shove more of himself into you. Your pained pathetic mewls boom out across the empty beach.

Back at the castle there is panic after hours without any sight of you. Your father went to your room to see a note placed on your bed. In a hurry he reads it, tears streaming down his face as he reads your final goodbye to him. He is torn between sending every knight to find you and just leaving you to be the woman you’ve dreamt of becoming. Little does he know you’ve only doomed yourself to the life of being bred.

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foreverisntenough · 2 days

Text

‘Act II’

Summary: Attraction is like a gravitational pull that is undefinable and unavoidable. Unbeknownst to you, Jude had been keeping an eye on you since he caught a glimpse on his best friend’s girlfriend’s Instagram but he’s been loving his single life. You always were independent and know how to swim on your own but maybe you have been just treading water. Could the tides change on a holiday in Greece when you finally meet? It might get a little rocky but maybe you could be his paradise.

Index

Warnings: This series is 18+ MDNI

Note: Thank you for reading! Please be sure to like, comment, or message me what you think of the series! ‘Act II’ is interconnected to the 'You’re Mine' and 'Ours' Series but can read it independently.

Chapter 12 - 'Like Your Home' | ‘Act II’

word count - 11.2k

You and Jude were both exhausted, not just physically after probably too many rounds making up for lost time but emotionally, having navigated the long, winding path back to one another. You and Jude had had sex for hours, you couldn’t get enough. So after you felt completely spent, you closed your eyes, letting yourself relax into him, but then you heard something that caught you off guard. Jude started laughing. It wasn't a big laugh, more like a quiet chuckle that came from deep in his chest, but it was enough to make you lift your head in confusion. You looked up at him, your brow furrowed and a smile pulling at your lips, unsure of what was going through his mind.

"What?" you asked, starting to laugh yourself, tilting your head slightly, wondering what had caused this sudden burst of amusement. Jude grinned, his eyes sparkling with a kind of boyish joy you hadn't seen in a while. His hand came up to brush a strand of hair from your face, and he let out another small laugh before he spoke.

"Sorry. I don’t know. I'm just...so happy," he said, his voice soft but filled with that unmistakable giddiness. He looked at you like he still couldn't quite believe this was real, that you were here with him again, in this way. “Angel, I haven’t fucked you in ages and I cannot tell you how often I’ve thought about that.” He laughed. You blinked at him, a smile tugging at your lips despite your confusion.

"You're laughing because you're happy you fucked me?" you asked, teasingly raising an eyebrow. Jude nodded, his hand running gently down your back.

"Yeah," he admitted, looking slightly sheepish but still grinning. "I just missed this so much. Being with you like this... I missed being in bed with you." His confession made your heart flutter, and your smile widened. It was backwardsly sweet. You felt the same sense of relief and joy that he did, that this space between the two of you had finally been filled again. The weight of what had been lost, the heartbreak, the distance-it all seemed to melt away in this moment. It felt good. It felt right. You leaned up and pressed a gentle kiss to his bare chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your lips.

"I missed it too," you whispered against his skin, your voice soft but full of truth. You cuddled into him, feeling his warmth, his presence, and that giddiness he had spoken of was reflected in your own heart. “Missed how good you make me feel, baby.” You cooed, kissing his bare chest. Jude wrapped his arms tighter around you, his hand running soothing circles over your back as the laughter faded into a peaceful quiet. The two of you just laid there, wrapped up in each other, feeling the joy of having found your way back. But the longer you laid there in that comforting warmth of Jude’s arms, a sudden wave of insecurity washed over you. You couldn’t help it—everything between you felt perfect now, but the time apart still lingered in the back of your mind. You hesitated, unsure if you should even ask, but the question slipped out before you could stop it. “Jude… Did you…did you sleep with anyone while we were apart?” Your voice was soft, almost timid, but the moment the words left your lips, you felt your heart drop into your stomach. Jude’s body stiffened slightly, and that brief silence made your pulse race. The fear that you had maybe shattered this perfect moment crept in, gnawing at your chest. He sighed deeply, and for a second, you feared the worst. But then he pulled you closer, his hand gently cupping your face as he tilted your chin up so you were forced to meet his eyes.

“No, angel,” he said firmly, his voice soothing but serious. “I didn’t. I don’t want you to ever have to ask me that again.” He leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. “You’re the only one I want.” You blinked up at him, relief flooding your body, and you gave him a small nod, feeling a bit silly for even asking.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “It’s just… I guess I got scared.” Jude shook his head, giving you a soft smile.

“Don’t be sorry, I know I’ve hurt you, you deserve to know I haven’t, but I’m just for you, yeah?” he murmured, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “I’d be crazy to want anything other than this—other than you.” You couldn’t help but giggle softly at his words, a smile breaking through the lingering doubt.

“Yeah,” you teased lightly, “I know just what you like, huh?” You teased. Jude’s eyes glinted with warmth and mischief as he hummed in agreement. His hands dropping to squeeze your ass and pull your body flush against his.

“Oh, you seem to know more than that,” he said, his voice dropping to a playful murmur. “So good f’me. Always have been.” He cooed. Your heart fluttered at the affection in his words, and you buried your face into his chest, feeling the tension dissolve into a soft, shared laughter. It was as though the vulnerability of the moment had brought you even closer, deepening the bond between you two. Jude kissed the top of your head and held you tighter, both of you sinking back into that familiar, comforting space, knowing that you were exactly where you belonged—together. You lay there in the silence of the night dipping into the early morning, wrapped up in each other.

The world felt quiet, still, like nothing existed outside this moment. Jude's arms were securely around you, You had moved for his chest to be pressed against your back, and his steady breaths brushed your hair.

“I missed you so much, angel… I missed going to sleep with you.” Jude whispered, breaking the silence. His voice was raw, and it tugged at something deep inside you. You shifted slightly in his arms, turning your head enough to catch a glimpse of him.

“Did you ever think about me when we were apart?” You asked fairly naively considering he was in New York so evidently he had.

“Every night,” he admitted softly. “Every fucking night, angel. I couldn’t escape you. I hated when we got to a point when your scent started to fade from my sheets, but even then you were still there, in my dreams.” He told you. You felt a rush of emotion, his words hitting you harder than you expected. You blinked back the sudden sting of tears, trying to keep your voice light, even teasing.

“Well,” you said with a playful smile, “I didn’t want to let you go that easily.” You cooed. Jude chuckled softly, his breath warm against the nape of your neck.

“I wouldn’t have let you anyway.” Jude told you through a tired laugh. “Missed falling asleep with you in my arms, ya’know.” He whispered, keeping his voice quiet in the dark room.

“I did too. You know what I missed?” You smiled coyly. Jude hummed. “I really missed the way your cock pushes into me when we cuddle like this.” You pushed your ass back into Jude so his hard cock nestled just barely in between your ass cheeks. “I love going to sleep feeling that.” You cooed laced with seduction, getting a second wave having this gorgeous boy back in your bed. It was honest though, you did miss it.

“Fuck. Angel, c’mon I’m knackered don’t start.” Jude breathily laughed, pulling you tighter to him, further pushing himself against you. Despite his caution, he betrayed himself. “I just missed my hands on you. Missed getting you out of all those silly little things you’d wear to bed every night.” He kissed your temple as his massive hands ran over your warm skin.

“I know you like that. I come to bed with such cute lingerie sets on for you to see and I just end up naked.” You giggled, placing your hands over his, turning your head back to look up and see the smug greedy smile on his face.

“Eh, that’s okay baby. I like seeing you climb into bed with them on and I really like taking them off of you. I still appreciate them. Just you know… better on my floor is the saying, hmm?” He smirked squeezing you. You shook your head but couldn’t hold back the giggle remembering that very phrase vividly from when you first met in Greece. As you cuddled closer, letting yourself sink further into him, you felt his lips graze your bare shoulder, pressing a gentle kiss there. It was such a small gesture, but it meant everything. That single kiss held all the love, the longing, and the promise of everything you’d been through together. You took a deep breath, but it caught in your throat as you felt the tears well up again. The overwhelming flood of emotions, the relief of being back in his arms, was too much.

“I never thought I’d miss someone kissing my shoulder,” you whispered, your voice cracking just a little. Jude heard it, the fragility in your voice, and without a word, he kissed your shoulder again, more tenderly this time.

“You’ll never have to miss that again,” he whispered back, his lips brushing against your skin as he spoke. His words wrapped around your heart, and you couldn’t hold back the tears any longer. They slipped silently down your cheeks, but this time they weren’t out of sadness—they were out of relief. Jude’s arms tightened around you, his lips lingering on your skin, and for the first time in a long time, you felt like you were exactly where you belonged. You turned your face into the pillow, not wanting him to see your tears, but Jude noticed. He always noticed. He kissed your hair, then whispered against your ear, “I’ll never stop loving you. Never. Never stop kissing this shoulder.” He kissed you again. And as you lay there, in the quiet, secure in his embrace, you believed him. Every word.

Waking up with Jude after he arrived in New York felt like slipping into a dream, you didn’t want to leave your bed. The morning sunlight peeked through the sheer curtains, casting a soft, golden hue across the room. You were nestled against him, his body warm and solid beneath you, one of his arms draped lazily over your waist, pulling you close as if even in sleep, he couldn’t bear to be apart from you. His breath was soft against the top of your head, a steady, calming rhythm. You could feel the slow rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek, the comforting beat of his heart grounding you in the moment. It was one of those rare mornings where time seemed to stop, and the rest of the world didn’t matter. You blinked your eyes open slowly, taking in the sight of him—his hair slightly messier than he’d ever want it, the peaceful expression on his face as he slept, his jawline softened in the morning light. For a moment, you just watched him, marveling at the fact that he was there, with you, after everything. You shifted slightly, and Jude stirred beneath you, his grip tightening around your waist as he let out a sleepy, contented sigh. His eyes fluttered open, and when he saw you looking at him, a sleepy smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

"Wow. Good morning beautiful girl," he murmured, his voice rough from sleep, but there was a warmth in it that made your heart swell. A sleepy smile pulling on his lips as he took you in. You smiled back, your fingers absentmindedly tracing circles on his chest.

"Good morning," you whispered back with a bit of a giggle. For a moment, neither of you moved, content to just be there, wrapped in each other’s warmth. But then Jude shifted, rolling onto his back and pulling you with him so that you were lying on top of him, your faces inches apart. His hands found their way to your ass, his touch gentle but firm as he held you close.

“God, I really fucking missed you, angel” he whispered, his eyes searching yours as if to make sure you knew just how much he meant it. You felt a lump form in your throat at his words, and you nodded, leaning down to brush your lips against his in a soft, lingering kiss.

“I missed you too.” You whispered, your lips ghosting over his. Jude smiled against your lips, his hands sliding up your back, pulling you even closer.

“You know,” he said, his voice low and teasing, “I’m not sure I can ever let you out of my sight again.” He cooed. You giggled, your heart fluttering at the way he was looking at you, so full of love and something deeper, something unspoken but understood.

"You don’t have to," you whispered, resting your forehead against his. "I’m not going anywhere." He let out a soft chuckle, his hands tightening around you as he kissed your temple, then your cheek, and finally your lips again, slow and unhurried.

“Good,” he murmured against your lips, his voice filled with a mix of relief and contentment. You laid there for a while, tangled up in each other, the world outside the window fading away as you reveled in the warmth and comfort of simply being together. The city noise hummed softly in the background, but in that moment, it felt like it was just the two of you, wrapped up in your own little bubble. As the minutes passed, you found yourself unable to stop smiling. It felt surreal, having him here, waking up next to him after so much time apart. You could feel the love radiating off him, in the way he touched you, in the way he looked at you like you were the most precious thing in his world. Eventually, Jude broke the comfortable silence, his voice playful as he whispered in your ear, “So, what’s the plan for today? Staying in bed all day sounds pretty good to me.” You laughed, burying your face in the crook of his neck.

"That doesn’t sound too bad," you admitted, feeling the familiar comfort of his embrace. But then you lifted your head, looking into his eyes with a soft smile. "Although… Maybe we could go get some coffee… please.” You smiled with a childish smile. Jude raised an eyebrow, his smile widening before he began to tease.

"You can’t mean from your kitchen?" He mocked you a little. You grinned, nodding.

"It’s one of the few things I take pride in making in that kitchen.” You added, leaning in to kiss him again. Jude’s laughter rumbled through his chest as he kissed you back, his hands finding their way back to your waist. The morning light filtered softly through the curtains, continuing to cast a golden glow over his bare chest. Your fingers absentmindedly traced the contours of his skin, feeling the steady, reassuring beat of his heart beneath your touch. His arms were wrapped around you, holding you close, as if neither of you could bear to be apart even for a second, even for coffee. Not yet. You lifted your head slightly, catching his gaze, and the emotions that had been building up within you—emotions you had kept locked away—finally rose to the surface. A seriousness washed over the room.

“I love you,” you said, your voice trembling slightly with emotion. “I’m pretty sure… from the very first moment we made eye contact, I knew this would be the kind of love that could destroy me.” You unintentionally frowned. The words came out softly, but there was a weight behind them, a truth that had been waiting too long to be spoken. Jude’s eyes darkened with emotion as he processed your words. He reached up, gently brushing a loose strand of hair from your face, his fingers lingering on your cheek as if grounding you both in the reality of this moment. His touch was gentle, but the look in his eyes was intense—like he was feeling everything just as deeply as you were. He took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling beneath you, and you could feel the gravity of what he was about to say.

“I know,” he whispered, his voice low and full of raw emotion. “Looking back… it’s been a little like a hurricane, innit? Something so powerful that you can’t control it, even if you wanted to.” He cooed. You nodded, your throat tight as you remembered all the moments you’d shared, the highs and lows, the intensity of it all. It had been overwhelming at times, but as Jude said, it was like a force of nature—uncontrollable, inevitable. He held your gaze, his eyes softening as he continued, “But we can weather any storm, hmm?” He hummed and you nodded. “I’m sorry it took me so long to get here. You were patient with me… and for that, I’m so thankful. You’re everything I could’ve ever wanted—everything I never thought I’d be lucky enough to have.” Hearing him say those words—words you had waited for, words you hadn’t known you needed so desperately—made your heart swell. Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them away, smiling through the emotion that threatened to overwhelm you. You laid your cheek back down on his chest, letting the warmth of his skin soothe you, the steady thrum of his heartbeat a comforting rhythm beneath your ear. It was quiet, and peaceful, but the love between you was louder than words could express. His hand stroked your back, sending gentle waves of comfort through you, and the quietness of the room felt sacred, like nothing outside of this moment mattered. You felt so safe in his arms, like this was where you were meant to be all along. As if this love, intense and unrelenting as it was, had finally settled in a way that felt whole.

“I’ll never stop loving you,” you whispered against his skin, your voice muffled slightly by his chest. “Not for a second.” Jude’s arms tightened around you, pulling you even closer, like he never wanted to let you go.

“Please don’t,” he whispered back, his voice soft but firm. “I love you, angel.” The depth of the words hit you both, but then, as if breaking the tension, you let out a soft, breathy laugh. You lifted your head, meeting his gaze again, this time with a lightness that hadn’t been there before. Jude’s lips curved into a smile as he looked at you, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. “What?” he asked, his thumb brushing over your cheek. You smiled, shaking your head slightly, but you couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up again.

“I don’t know,” you admitted, feeling a little giddy now that everything was out in the open. “It’s just… we finally said it. We’re finally saying we love each other.” Jude chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he pulled you closer.

“I know,” he said with a grin. “Little overdue, no?” You nodded, biting your lip as you laughed.

“Yeah, about time. Honestly, it was so hard not to say it before. There were so many moments when I just wanted to blurt it out.” You shyly smiled thinking of all the times you almost said it, almost typed it.

“Oh yeah? Like when?” Jude raised an eyebrow, teasing you. You thought back to the many times you had come close—so many little moments, like when you’d see him smile, or when he’d do something kind without thinking.

“I don’t know,” you said with a smile. “All the time, really. When we were lying in bed like this, or even when you were just being yourself. I just wanted to text it to you out of the blue.” You explained. It felt like the phrase was a nervous tick. Jude laughed at that, his chest vibrating beneath you.

“Yeah?” He asked, interested. You giggled, hiding your face in the crook of his neck.

“Yeah, but I chickened out every time. Sometimes I wasn’t sure if you deserved to know. If I wanted you to know.” You confessed. He shook his head with an amused grin, his hands running up and down your back soothingly.

“That’s fair. Probably didn't deserve it. But, I’m glad you finally said it now.” Jude told you. You lifted your head again, meeting his eyes with a smile that mirrored his own.

“Me too.” You muttered. Jude leaned in, his lips brushing softly against yours in a tender kiss. When he pulled back, he whispered against your lips,

“I’ll never make you wait for anything again. Not another kiss, not another second of knowing how much I love you.” He mused and you smiled, your heart feeling lighter than it had in a long time.

“Never?” You giggled.

“Never,” he promised with a grin, sealing his vow with another kiss. And for the first time, everything felt right—no more waiting, no more wondering. You were in love, and you both knew it, and it felt like the most beautiful thing in the world. The only thing you could really focus on was Jude, holding you so close you felt like you were sharing the same heartbeat. His arms had stayed wrapped around you the entire night, like a protective cocoon you never wanted to leave. You felt safe, cherished, and loved. You stretched lazily, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep, but even as you moved, Jude’s arms never left you. Instead, he stayed close, almost glued to you, his chest pressed to your back as if he couldn’t bear the thought of letting you go. You smiled softly to yourself, that familiar warmth spreading through your chest.

“Okay, so I was serious, I really need coffee” you muttered groggily as you slowly made your way toward the kitchen. “But you’re in for a treat. Mon café du matin” ['my morning coffee'] Jude hummed lowly, the sound reverberating through his chest. His lips brushed against the back of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine.

“You already treated me pretty well last night,” he teased in a hushed tone, a playful smirk in his voice. A small laugh escaped your lips as you shook your head.

“I meant with my coffee, Jude,” you said, glancing back at him with a teasing smile of your own. “But I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.” He chuckled again, his breath warm against your skin.

“Oh, I definitely did. But you know, I could get used to this as well… and definitely that,” he added, his arms tightening around you briefly before he loosened his hold just enough to let you move freely.

“I agree,” you admitted softly, your voice quieter now as you reached for the cabinet to grab your french press. “I’m not ready to leave this little bubble we’re in yet.” You glanced down at yourself, still in his oversized shirt that barely skimmed the tops of your thighs. Jude was just in his shorts, and the sight of him so comfortable and relaxed only made you want to stay in this moment forever. Jude leaned back against the kitchen island, his eyes following your every move.

“I’m not complaining,” he said with a grin, his gaze heavy as he watched you reach up into a cupboard. The shirt lifted slightly with the motion, revealing a glimpse of the curve of your ass and you could practically feel his eyes on you. As you stood on your tiptoes, trying to grab the coffee grounds from the top shelf, Jude moved toward you, his large frame effortlessly closing the distance between you. He pressed up behind you, his chest warm against your back as he reached over your head. “Here, let me help,” he said, his voice a low murmur in your ear. His fingers brushed against yours as he took down the coffee grounds, his touch sending a small thrill through you.

“I could’ve gotten it,” you said, though there was no real protest in your voice. His closeness was something you’d never tire of. You turned slightly, giving him a playful look.

“I know,” he replied softly, his lips dangerously close to your ear. “But I like helping.” With a small smile tugging at your lips, you turned back to the counter, setting up the French press. You worked quietly, enjoying the comfort of the moment, the smell of freshly ground coffee filling the air. Jude leaned against the island, still watching you intently, as if you were the most captivating thing in the room and you were to him.

“I can help, you know,” he offered again with a grin, his hands resting on the counter as he leaned forward slightly. You waved him off with a teasing smile.

“You can help by staying right there and looking pretty,” you quipped, your voice playful but affectionate. His grin widened, his eyes sparkling with that familiar mischief.

“I can manage that.” You reached up into another cupboard for the milk frother, but once again, it was just out of your reach. Jude was behind you in an instant, his hands gently guiding yours as he grabbed it for you. “You really don’t use this kitchen.” He laughed teasingly. “I’ve got you, angel,” he whispered softly, his breath warm against your neck, and it made your heart flutter. You rolled your eyes, but the smile on your face was undeniable.

“What would I do without you?” you teased.

“I don’t know,” he replied, his voice full of mock seriousness as he handed you the frother. “Probably suffer in silence without my help.” You laughed softly, shaking your head as you finished preparing the coffee. You frothed the milk carefully, the warm, creamy foam rising perfectly in the cup, and finally poured the coffee, the rich, dark liquid filling the air with its inviting aroma. You handed Jude his cup with a satisfied smile, and he accepted it, his fingers brushing against yours for just a moment longer than necessary. He took a sip, his eyes still locked on yours.

“Perfect,” he murmured, the corner of his mouth lifting in a small, appreciative smile. “But I think watching you make it was the best part.” You rolled your eyes again, playfully this time, but you couldn’t help the warm flush that spread across your cheeks.

“You’re so full of shit,” you muttered under your breath, though there was no real bite to your words. Jude placed the coffee cup down on the counter and pulled you into his arms once more, his hands sliding around your waist.

“And yet you love me,” he whispered, his voice low and filled with affection. You leaned into him, resting your head against his chest, your arms wrapping around his waist.

“Yeah,” you murmured softly, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “I really do.” The two of you stood there for a while, wrapped in each other, the world outside the apartment feeling like a distant memory. It was just you and him, in this quiet, perfect moment—your own little bubble where nothing else mattered. And in that moment, everything felt exactly right. Jude took another slow sip of the coffee, savoring the taste with an exaggerated hum of approval.

“Wait a minute,” he said, his voice tinged with mock seriousness. He set the cup down with a dramatic thud and raised an eyebrow at you. “Why have you never made this for me before?” You giggled, taking a small sip from your own cup, pleased that he liked it.

“Oh, I mean,” you waffled, “It’s not that I was purposely withholding good coffee from you.” Jude leaned back against the counter, arms crossed, a playful pout on his lips.

“Feels like I’ve been slighted,” he said, tilting his head as if genuinely offended. “This is really good coffee.” He explained as if you didn’t know. You laughed, shaking your head.

“Well, you don’t have a French press in Madrid, so it wouldn’t be the same,” you explained with a small shrug. “Plus, these beans are from my favorite cafe in France, so… it’s kind of a special treat.” Jude’s expression didn’t change; instead, he squinted at you in mock offense.

“Oh, look at me, my coffee is European,” he said, throwing his hands in the air dramatically, his voice bouncing around the kitchen. He heightened his voice into a thick, exaggerated version of your accent and mimicked you in a teasing tone. You scoffed and rolled your eyes at him, feigning annoyance, though you couldn’t help the smile creeping onto your face.

“You’re actually so annoying.” you said, brushing past him toward the sink. But just as you tried to walk by, you felt a sudden tug at the hem of your shirt, pulling you back. Jude wrapped his arms around you from behind, pulling you against his chest as he slid his hands under your shirt, his fingers trailing lightly over your bare skin. His touch sent a small shiver up your spine, and you melted back into him instinctively.

“If I promise to get you a French press,” he murmured against your ear, his voice low and filled with playful affection, “and I find these fancy Parisian coffee beans—” he paused to squint at the label on the bag you’d left on the counter, “Café du something or other—will you make me this coffee again in Madrid?” You couldn’t help but laugh at how serious he was pretending to be. You leaned your head back against his chest, letting his warmth envelop you as you smirked.

“If you promise to get the Maison Flaneu French press.” You stressed the brand. “and the coffee beans, then yes,” you said, turning your head slightly to catch his eyes. “I’ll make it for you whenever you want.” Jude’s grin widened, his eyes lighting up.

“Deal,” he said, and before you could say anything else, he leaned down to press a kiss to your neck, his lips lingering just long enough to send another shiver through you. You smiled to yourself, feeling that familiar warmth in your chest as he held you close, the two of you wrapped in this perfect moment. The teasing, the affection—it all felt so right, like this was exactly where you were meant to be. And as you stood there, with Jude’s hands still resting on your skin, you knew that no matter where you were—New York, Madrid, maybe even Paris—moments like this would always feel like home. As you sipped your coffee standing at your kitchen island, Jude caught you off guard by asking if he could go to work with you. You laughed, nearly spilling your drink, teasing him lightly,

"I wasn’t even planning on going to the gallery today, but if you really want to, I’ll take you." You explained. Jude, however, was adamant.

"You’ve been to where I work a hundred times," he said, a slight smile playing on his lips. "I want to see where you do your thing. I’m interested." It was an unexpected request, and it warmed your heart to see how curious and involved he wanted to be in your world. So, with a soft smile, you agreed. You both got ready for the day, heading out into the crisp Manhattan morning, you in a brown cropped cardigan, Jude in a cream jumper. The ride over was quiet but comfortable, both of you lost in your thoughts. The city buzzed with its usual energy as the Uber wound through the streets, finally pulling up outside the gallery district on the west side. When you arrived, Jude leaned forward, squinting through the car window at the sight of your last name engraved in elegant gold lettering on the plate outside the gallery entrance. He clicked his tongue, impressed, a low whistle escaping him.

"Damn, okay" he murmured, a playful grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Your name in gold, huh?" Before you could respond, Jude was already out of the car, rounding it quickly to open your door. He reached for your hand, helping you out with a small smile that made your heart swell. His hand felt warm, grounding, and as you straightened up, he kept your hand in his, but didn’t let you walk toward the gallery door just yet. Instead, he tugged you gently back to him, his eyes soft but serious. "Wait a second," he said, and there was something in his voice that made you pause, looking up at him expectantly. Jude gazed at you, and for a moment, the noise of the city, the bustling streets, and even the fact that you were standing outside your gallery all faded into the background. It was just the two of you, standing there, and the look on his face told you he was about to say something important. "Have I ever told you how proud I am of you?" he asked quietly, his voice low and sincere. His eyes scanned your face, searching for your reaction. "I mean, I always knew you were amazing, but standing here… seeing your name on that plate… I don’t know, it just hit me." You blinked, taken aback. Your breath caught in your throat as his words settled in.

"Jude…" you started, but he wasn’t done. He stepped closer, his hand now gently squeezing yours.

"You’re incredible," he continued, his voice filled with genuine admiration. "I don’t think I’ve told you enough how much I admire what you do. This place—it’s yours. You’ve built this yourself, this career, and I just… I’m really proud of you, angel." There was a vulnerability in his eyes, a rare moment where he let the layers fall away completely, showing you exactly what he felt. It wasn’t just admiration. It was awe. He was in awe of you—of everything you had achieved, everything you were. It felt special that you had a building of your own. You felt a lump form in your throat, your eyes stinging with the sudden threat of tears. Jude had always supported you in his own way, but his job seemed to take importance so hearing him say it like this, with such honesty, struck something deep within you.

"You… you don’t know what that means to me." Your voice wavered as you spoke. Jude smiled softly, reaching up to brush a strand of hair away from your face.

"I think I do, I know footie feels like the biggest thing in the world sometimes around me but it's not. I know how important this is, how hard you’ve worked," he murmured, his thumb lingering on your cheek for a moment before dropping back to his side. For a second, you stood there, caught in the overwhelming emotion of the moment. The pride in his eyes, the sincerity in his voice—it was everything you didn’t realize you needed to hear. You swallowed hard, blinking away the tears that had gathered, and gave him a small, watery smile.

"Come on," you said, your voice still thick with emotion, "let’s go inside." Jude smiled back, his hand slipping around your waist as the two of you finally made your way into the gallery. But the words he had said outside stayed with you the entire day, a warmth that filled your chest, reminding you just how deeply he understood and valued you. As you stepped inside the gallery, Jude spun slowly, taking in the large white space adorned with the current exhibition. His eyes wandered from the walls to the art and then back to you. A small, proud smile curled at the edges of his lips. He was trying to take it all in—the breadth of what you’d created. You tried to play it modest, shrugging as you noticed the small line of people forming outside the entrance. There were appointments scheduled for the day, gallery tours, and more. It was busy, but in a way that felt fulfilling. Still, you felt the need to downplay it, like you weren’t completely running an entire space that was clearly a success. "So, what do you think?" you asked, trying to keep it casual. Jude turned his attention fully to you, his eyes soft but filled with pride.

"It’s incredible," he said. "But of course, it is. You’re behind it." You blushed, laughing it off,

"You’re just saying that because you’re in love with me." You told him. He gave you a cheeky grin.

"Maybe. But it’s still true." He cooed. You gestured for him to follow as you began showing him around the space, pointing out the different pieces on display. Jude nodded along, listening as you explained the curation process, the artists you’d chosen, and the themes that ran through the exhibition. After a while, you glanced over at him.

"Want to see my office?" There was a playful lilt in your voice, and Jude raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"Your office?" he repeated, as if he hadn’t really considered the fact that either of you had what could be classified as an ‘office job.’ You rolled your eyes at his reaction, teasing.

"Yeah, someone’s got to actually run this place. You think it just happens on its own?" You giggled and he followed with a chuckle, then tilted his head, giving you a curious look.

"I guess I never really thought of it like that." He smiled. You led the way, and Jude followed closely behind, his arms suddenly slipping around your waist from behind. He rested his chin gently on your shoulder as you walked, and for a moment, you felt the warmth of him against your back. It was comforting, grounding, like he was anchoring himself to you—and you to him.

"You know," you continued, your voice soft, "I feel like more of a figurehead these days. There’s a whole team that keeps things running day-to-day, but I still have to occasionally show up and make the decisions. Keep the place alive but I keep finding myself out of the country in Spain." You teased. Jude squeezed your waist gently, his voice soft in your ear.

"And Spain really likes when you’re there. Any county is very lucky to have you. Any man even more so, angel. But you’re doing more than keeping it alive. You’ve built something amazing. You should be proud." The sincerity in his words made your heart ache in the best way. He was seeing you in a way that felt so validating, so true. You’d spent so long doubting whether you could balance everything—your career, your relationship with Jude, your life in New York—and hearing him acknowledge your success like this was overwhelming in the best way. You reached the office, a modest but well-decorated space tucked away at the back of the gallery. Jude looked around, impressed. It was your sanctuary, filled with art books, framed photos, and personal touches that made it distinctly yours. You could see the wheels turning in his head as he took it all in, and you couldn’t help but laugh.

"Not what you expected?" you asked, turning to face him. He grinned, leaning against the desk, arms crossed over his chest.

"I don’t know what I expected. But this… this is pretty perfect, like an extension of your apartment, you in a room." You smiled, leaning into him, and for a moment, there was a comfortable silence between you. Jude lifted his hand to your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly across your skin. "I know I keep saying it," he murmured, "but I honestly am so fucking proud of you. Seeing it first hand is just different." Your breath hitched, the sincerity in his eyes making your heart flutter. You didn’t respond with words—you didn’t need to. Instead, you leaned up and pressed a soft kiss to his lips, letting the moment speak for itself. You giggled, catching Jude’s attention.

"Can I show you my favorite part?" You asked with a glint in your eyes. He nodded eagerly but with a hint of confusion, glancing around the small office.

"Uh… sure, but where? I feel like we’ve already seen everything." Smirking, you leaned back against what looked like a solid wall, but with a gentle push, it gave way, revealing a hidden door. Jude's eyes widened in surprise before bursting into laughter.

"Why do you have that?" he asked, still chuckling in disbelief. You shrugged, grinning.

"The previous owners of the building had it installed. Figured I’d keep it for secret escapes." Without further explanation, you led the way through the hidden door, which opened to a small, bright staircase. Jude followed behind, his curiosity piqued. The stairs were narrow and led up to the roof of the building. As you reached the top, the cool New York air hit your skin, and you stepped out onto the rooftop. It wasn’t the highest rooftop in Manhattan—not by a long shot—but there was something undeniably beautiful about it. The surrounding buildings framed a small slice of sky, and the quietness of the tucked-away street made the space feel like a secret oasis in the bustling city. You turned to Jude, watching his expression as he took it all in. "I come up here for everything," you said softly. "To think, to drink, to have friends over. To escape when I need a breather... to paint." You paused, your voice dropping a little. "To cry, lately." Jude’s heart shattered at your admission. He hadn’t realized how much you’d been carrying on your own since the fallout between you two. Without hesitation, he stepped forward, wrapping his arms around you from behind. He held you close, his chin resting on your shoulder again as he swayed with you in a gentle rhythm, offering comfort the only way he knew how.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered against your ear. “For all of it.” He murmured. You closed your eyes, feeling his embrace sink into you.

"It's okay now." You whispered back to him. The thing was… you actually thought it was okay. The warmth of his body against yours felt like home again, the weight of everything that had happened finally starting to lift. Jude kissed the top of your head softly.

"Do you think I can add something to the list of things you do up here?" He asked you gently. You turned slightly, curiosity lighting up your face.

"What’s that?" You asked. He leaned in, his eyes locking onto yours, and you knew before he even said a word. He closed the space between you, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss that was soft but filled with everything he couldn’t say. You felt the love pouring through it—the promises, the apologies, the commitment—and you melted into him, letting it wash over you. When you finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, both of you smiling. “That’s a very good addition.” You giggled. In that moment, surrounded by the city, it felt like the world had paused for just the two of you.

After you left the gallery, you walked down the busy New York street, hand in hand with Jude, it was all bizarre. It was like every step, every glance around felt charged, and you were acutely aware of how the world seemed to stare at him—or maybe at the two of you together, more than ever. If people didn’t know he was the Jude Bellingham, they certainly noticed the way he commanded attention—tall, striking, and beautiful in every sense of the word. His presence was magnetic, and you couldn’t help but glance up at him too, still in awe of the fact that he was here, beside you. You felt lucky. You didn’t want to be anywhere but with him. You reached a crosswalk, waiting for the light to change as you nestled closer into him. Jude responded instantly, pulling you tighter against him with a gentle sway, his lips pressing a soft kiss to your hair. It was one of those moments that felt too perfect, too intimate to be happening in such a bustling city. The world around you blurred, and it was just you two, back in your little bubble again. But then, his voice cut through the comfort of the moment.

“Come back home.” Jude asked you quietly. You pulled back slightly, your brow furrowed, trying to make sense of what he was asking.

“Jude, this is my home,” you gestured around, pointing to the towering buildings and streets filled with life. But you kind of pouted. The sentence felt wrong. This wasn’t your home, it hadn’t felt that way for awhile. Jude was your home but nevertheless laced with fear of really committing, you told him otherwise. “New York is my home.” He shook his head, a soft but sure smile tugging at his lips as he looked down at you.

“Your home should be with me.” His words sank into you, deeper than you expected. His voice was steady, filled with an unmistakable certainty. “Anywhere can be home if we’re together.” His hands found their way to your waist, his fingers pressing gently into your skin as he leaned in, his lips just ghosting over yours. “Please,” he whispered, his voice a mix of longing and vulnerability. Your heart fluttered, your chest tight as the weight of his request settled. This was what you had been craving from Jude all along—his honesty, his willingness to fight for you, to make it clear that you belonged with him, that he needed you. “I’m not asking you to stop working with the gallery, I wouldn’t do that. I know how important that is, I told you how proud I am for doing just that but… angel just come be with me. Please. I don't want to be apart right now.” Jude unintentionally pouted. His heart sinking at the idea of being apart again, something that had definitely crossed your own mind.

“Okay.” You whispered softly. You bit your lip, the corners of your mouth lifting into a cheeky smile as you nodded. You couldn’t say no. You didn’t want to say no. His eyes brightened at your answer, a quiet relief washing over his face as he pulled you even closer. This was the side of Jude you had been waiting to see, the side that wasn’t afraid to take control, to tell you what he wanted. And in that moment, you knew that you’d made the right decision. You wanted this, you wanted him.

As you and Jude boarded the private plane bound for Madrid at JFK, exhaustion weighed heavily on you. You really hadn’t been sleeping much at all because of Jude. Before he arrived you couldn’t sleep because you missed him. Now, you couldn’t sleep because you were staying up fucking all night. Tiredly, you clung to Jude, both of you in sweat sets, your arms loosely wrapped around him as he effortlessly carried your smaller pieces of luggage onto the plane. The coziness of your clothes, the intimacy of the small gestures—it all felt like the home you were looking for except you were on tarmac. Once on board, Jude, ever the drama queen, made a show of dropping onto one of the plush seats, pulling you down with him in a clumsy, playful tumble. You giggled tiredly, the sound soft and content as you nestled into him, your body melting into his as if it belonged there. After a few moments, you started to shift, slinking off Jude to pull your jumper off in a sluggish attempt to get comfortable. But as you did, the fabric snagged on your shirt underneath, pulling it up with it and exposing a lot more of you then you were anticipating; revealing a tantalizing glimpse of your skin and the lacy black bra that barely contained your generous cleavage. You sucked in some air, your eyes widening as you realized the unintended striptease. Jude's eyes widened comically, his hand darting out to dramatically yank the shirt back down as if you were flashing a stadium full of people.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," he teased, covering you up with an exaggerated flourish. "This is a private plane, angel, but it’s not that private." You couldn’t help but laugh at his antics, the tiredness fading away for a moment as you swatted his arm.

"Relax, Judey, it's just you and me." You cooed mischievously with a wink. He grinned, still playing up his faux alarm. You’d be lying though if you said your heart didn't race. You glanced around, hoping none of the cabin crew had witnessed your accidental exposure.

"Exactly, and I know how I get when you're taking your clothes off. Gotta make sure you don’t strip down completely." You rolled your eyes, sinking back into his side, feeling his arm wrap protectively around your shoulders. Jude's eyes sparkled with amusement as he looked down at you after your predicament. "Well go on then…if you want to take your clothes off f’me, take your clothes off f’me.” He winked, his gaze burning into you.

"Oh, really? Now you want to see? And what if I don't feel like putting on a show for you right now?" Feeling your cheeks flush with embarrassment and arousal, you tried to play it cool. Jude's smile turned devilish. He pressed a button, and the cabin crew appeared, ready to assist.

"Actually, we won't be needing anything for a while," he said, waving them off. "If we could just have a few minutes, we’d like some privacy." The attendants nodded discreetly and retreated, leaving you alone with Jude and your growing desire. He leaned closer, his lips brushing against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. "Now, take that shirt off f’me, baby. Let me see you." Your breath caught in your throat as you surrendered to his request. Slowly, you raised your arms, your fingers deftly peeling your top up over your head until you and your black lace clad tits were exposed. Your nipples immediately hardened in the cool air, begging for attention. Jude's eyes darkened with hunger as he feasted on the sight of your naked body. "Fuck, you're gorgeous," he growled, reaching out to cup your heavy breasts in his large hands. His thumbs brushed over your nipples, sending sparks of pleasure through your body. You moaned softly, arching into his touch, your inhibitions melting away. He unclasped the bra and the fabric fell.

"Please, Jude," you whispered, your voice hoarse with need. "I want you so bad." He leaned in, capturing one taut peak between his lips, sucking gently while his fingers pinched the other, eliciting a delicious moan from your lips. His tongue teased and flicked, driving you wild with desire. You squirmed against him, your core throbbing and aching for his touch.

"You taste so fucking sweet," he murmured against your sensitive flesh as his hands ideally pulled down your joggers. "I want to taste all of you." Before you could respond, Jude's mouth trailed kisses down your stomach, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. “Let me see more of you.” Jude looked up from beneath you, his eyes locking with yours, and he gave you a wicked grin. He gently pushed your legs apart, his breath hot on your inner thighs, making you tremble with anticipation. You knew what was coming, and you couldn't wait to feel his talented mouth on more of you. You whimpered, your body already on fire, as Jude's fingers gently parted your folds, exposing your glistening pussy. He leaned in, his warm breath tickling your sensitive skin, and then his tongue swiped slowly through your slit, making you gasp.

"Oh, fuck Jude," you cried out, your fingers gripping the plush seat as he teased your clit with the tip of his tongue. He took his time, licking and sucking, driving you closer to the edge with each pass. Your hips bucked involuntarily, seeking more of his mouth, more of his skilled touch.

"That's it, angel," Jude encouraged, his voice thick with desire. He delved deeper, his tongue thrusting into your wetness, finding your sweet spot with ease. Your body trembled as he devoured you, his hands gripping your thighs, holding you open for his pleasure. Even as you tried to close your legs he pinned them open.��

"I'm gonna cum, Jude! Shit!!” You felt white hot pleasure begin to course through you. You were practically shaking but Jude held you tighter to him as he ate you out. Your voice hoarse and desperate. The sensations were overwhelming, and you felt your orgasm building, tightening every muscle in your body. “I love you, oh my god fuck I’m cumming!” Jude increased the pace, his tongue working feverishly, driving you over the edge. You climaxed with a shout, your body convulsing as waves of pleasure washed over you. He didn't let up, continuing to lap at your sensitive flesh, drawing out your orgasm until you were reduced to a trembling, satisfied mess.

"You wanna be a good girl f’me?" he said, his voice rough with need. You nodded as your breathing slowly returned to normal, Jude rose, his eyes smoldering with desire. “You’re so fucking hot, baby.” Jude moaned as you traded places with him, beginning to work kisses down his neck. You kissed at his chest and slowly started to get onto your knees in front of him. “Fuck you’re perfect.” You eagerly slid off his joggers your hands trembling with anticipation as you freed his straining erection. His cock was thick and hard, pulsing with each heartbeat. You stroked him gently, reveling in the feel of his velvety skin and the warmth of his length in your hand. His breath hitched as your hands wrapped around his hard cock. "Suck my cock, angel," Jude growled, his eyes never leaving yours. "Show me how much you want it." He told you. You needed no further encouragement. You wasted no time, immediately leaning forward, you took the head of his cock into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the sensitive crown, tasting the salty pre-cum that beaded at the tip. Jude groaned, his hands tangling in your hair, guiding you as you took more of him into your hot, wet mouth. You bobbed your head, taking him deep, your throat welcoming the invasion. Your hand pumped the base of his shaft in time with your movements, and you reveled in the power you had over this gorgeous man. Jude's breath came in harsh gasps as he fought for control, his hips thrusting gently to meet your rhythm. You moaned again around him, the vibrations just about sending Jude over the edge. You hollowed your cheeks and forced yourself to take more of his cock down your throat. Spit pooled in the corners of your mouth as you gagged a little around him. “Fuck, good girl, just like that” Jude groaned. His words making your pussy throb. He started to twitch in your mouth as he hit the back of your throat continuously "Baby, you're gonna make me cum," he rasped, his body tensing. You redoubled your efforts, sucking and stroking, determined to bring him to the brink. Jude's hands tightened in your hair, and with a guttural groan, he spilled in your mouth, his hot cum shooting down your throat. You opened your mouth for him to see his cum dripping from your tongue before you swallowed eagerly, relishing the taste of him, milking his cock until he was spent. You opened your mouth again to show him how good you did. He smiled and shook his head in disbelief as he pulled you off him slowly and brought you back up to him. As he recovered, Jude pulled you up for a deep, passionate kiss, his tongue tangling with yours, sharing the taste of his release. "That was fucking incredible," he whispered in between kisses, his eyes burning into yours. "I need to feel you around me now." You straddled his lap, guiding his already re hardened throbbing cock to your entrance. With a slow, torturous descent, you sank yourself down onto his length, your body welcoming the fullness. Eliciting a deep moan from both of you. Your eyes fluttering closed from the stretch. Jude's hands gripped your hips, helping you set a relentless pace, your tits bouncing with each thrust. "You feel so good, angel," he groaned, his eyes rolling back in pleasure. "Ride me, ride my cock." You obeyed, your body moving in a sensual rhythm, your core clenching and releasing around his hardness. The cabin was filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin and your erotic moans as you both chased the pinnacle of pleasure minute after minute.

“Fuck! Ffuck Jude, I’m gonna cum. Shit baby, you feel so good, oh my god.” Your head collapsed onto his shoulder as he relentlessly thrusted up into you as your high barrelled towards you. You could barely speak from how good he felt.

"Cum with me, baby," Jude urged, his voice hoarse. "Let go. Be a good girl and cum on my cock." Your body tightened, every nerve ending on fire as you spiraled towards ecstasy. Jude's hands cupped your tits, his thumbs brushing over your sensitive nipples, pushing you over the edge. Your stomach tightened and your walls fluttered as you came. You cried out, your body convulsing around his cock as you climaxed, your juices flowing freely, coating him with your essence. Jude followed suit, his cock throbbing and pulsing within you as he emptied himself deep inside you. You collapsed against him again, your hearts pounding in unison, the taste of victory on your lips as you joined the exclusive Mile High Club for the first time with him. You snuggled against Jude, your bodies still entwined, satiated and blissfully content.The plane hummed softly around you, the gentle noise blending with the quiet rhythm of Jude’s breathing. You sighed, resting your head on his chest, feeling the warmth of his body seep into yours.

"I can’t believe you got me like that from me just trying to take off a jumper.” You shook your head very aware there was no possible way the cabin crew didn’t hear you. Jude shrugged as if it was no big deal. “Oh my god…You're such a loser," you muttered teasingly, your voice muffled against his chest. It wasn’t ‘no big deal’ to Jude and you knew that.

"And you love it," he replied, kissing the top of your head. You smiled against him, your exhaustion finally winning out as you settled deeper into his embrace. As the plane glided through the air leaving New York behind, you knew with Jude by your side, Madrid—or anywhere else for that matter—felt like home. You smiled against him, your exhaustion finally winning out as you settled deeper into his embrace. As you lay in Jude’s arms on the plane, the hum of the engines lulling you into a comfortable calm, you felt safe. It was the kind of peace you’d been yearning for after everything you two had been through. Half way through the flight you began a quiet conversation. But as Jude brought up Aurélien’s party, his tone was tentative, pulling you out of your thoughts. You nodded, shifting slightly to look up at him,

"Yeah, I heard about it. He texted me." You tried to keep your voice light, sensing the unease creeping into the conversation. Jude knew you’d spoken but you didn’t know he knew that. Jude winced, and you noticed how his hand tightened a little around you. There was something weighing on him.

"Didn’t know you even had his number," he said, awkwardly trying to navigate the conversation. His voice was low, careful. Your brow furrowed, confusion mixing with a bit of concern.

"He gave it to me after we chatted on Instagram. Neither of us really use the app that much, so it was easier. It wasn’t a big deal, baby." You explained. Both of you felt like you were fast approaching an eggshell ridden path. He nodded slowly, clearly still unsettled. His eyes flickered with something you recognized — jealousy, maybe insecurity. Jude had never been good at hiding how much he cared, and even now, with everything back on track, that worry still lingered.

"Did you two talk about more than the party?" Hesitantly, he asked. His voice was softer, like he was afraid of the answer. Your stomach twisted a little. You didn’t want to lie, but you also didn’t want to hurt him, especially not now, when things were starting to feel good again. Still, honesty was what had made things so rocky and if you were going to rebuild this relationship, you couldn’t hide anymore. You shifted in his arms, not quite meeting his eyes.

“We… might have talked about the party maybe more than we should’ve,” you admitted quietly, biting your lip as you tried to gauge his reaction. You could feel his body tense beneath you, and the silence that followed was deafening. He swallowed hard, his jaw tightening slightly as he stared at the ceiling of the plane.

“What does that mean?” he asked, his voice betraying the emotion he was trying to keep in check. He didn’t want to ask — you could tell — but he needed to know. You exhaled, feeling a little scared of where this was going. It was arguably more uncomfortable considering what happened hours earlier in the flights.

“I mean… it wasn’t anything serious, but I don’t know, you probably wouldn’t want to hear about it.” You tried to sound as casual as possible, but the weight of your words hung in the air between you. Your vagueness seemed to make things worse. Jude’s grip on you loosened slightly, and he let out a shaky breath.

“What was it then?” He asked. Jude couldn’t figure out what emotion he was meant to feel. You hesitated, knowing that whatever you said next could either calm him down or make things worse.

“It was flirty I guess,” you admitted, your voice small. “But I swear it didn’t mean anything. I was hurt, and I guess I just needed a distraction.” His face darkened slightly, but he didn’t say anything right away. His eyes were searching yours, trying to figure out if he could handle this, if he could trust that it didn’t mean anything more. You could see the struggle in him — the way he was trying to push down the jealousy, the hurt, the insecurity.

“I really don’t like the idea of you talking to him like that. I really don’t fucking like the idea of him talking to you like that,” he finally said, his voice tight but not angry. He was holding back, trying to be understanding, but you could feel the weight of his words.

“I know,” you whispered, placing a hand on his chest. “And I’m sorry. But it wasn’t real, Jude. It was just me trying to cope, trying to fill this void that I knew only you could fill.” Jude closed his eyes, taking a deep breath before looking at you again.

“I get it,” he said softly, surprising you. You wrapped your arms around him tighter, resting your forehead against his chest. You sat there remembering bits of your conversation you had initially sat in your wardrobe with Aurelian that had moved into your bed that night. The weight of everything you were feeling mixed with the warmth of the champagne you had decided to drink that night, you found yourself slipping into a conversation that felt easier than it should have. Aurélien messaged you about his party, the mundane logistics of the night quickly turning into something else. The champagne had loosened your thoughts, made them flow in a way they normally wouldn’t. You weren’t actually interested in him and Aurelian at the end of the day wasn’t interested in pursuing you. You both weren’t really going to cross that line, but flirting was flirting. He knew maybe it was just to get your mind off things but you knew the moment the conversation shifted, there was a danger in it—but the loneliness inside of you craved something, anything, that would make you feel less empty. Aurélien mentioned how excited he was for champagne that night, and you had laughed, replying with a comment that surprised even you.

‘I have to be careful with Dom Pérignon… I always get a little too friendly after a few glasses.’

You had thought it would stay light, a harmless joke. But then he replied…

‘No man in the world would ever complain about you being too friendly. Especially not me.’

You blinked at the message, your stomach turning in that way it does when you know you’re toeing the line, but you didn’t stop. You didn’t pull back. Maybe it was the champagne, or maybe it was the hurt that had been building for the past month, but you kept the conversation going. The truth was, in that moment, you loved the attention. You weren’t used to being seen this way by anyone other than Jude lately, and with the state of your relationship then, you had felt starved for affection. The cynicalness of it being Aurelian made it all the more enticing.

‘I doubt that.’

You had typed back, fingers moving quickly across the keyboard as you laid in your bed, the alcohol making everything a little hazy.

‘It feels like there are oceans between me and anyone remotely interested in being ‘friendly’ with me.’

You were, of course, thinking about Jude. How distant things had become. But the conversation wasn’t about him anymore—it was about you and Aurélien and this strange tension that had been building between you two in the shadows of your messages. But you didn’t want to stay in that uncomfortable place, so you made another joke, something to shift the tone.

‘But it’s fine, I’ve got Dom Pérignon in bed with me tonight, and that will have to do.’

His reply came almost instantly.

‘Dom Pérignon is one lucky man.’

You remembered lying there, staring at your phone, your heart beating a little faster, not because of Aurélien exactly, but because of what this meant. You were crossing lines, even if nothing physical was happening. You were venturing into emotional territory that you didn’t even fully understand. You had craved the connection, but when you put your phone down that night, a small part of you knew you were just trying to fill a void that only Jude could fill. The guilt didn’t set in right away. In the moment, you had felt a strange sense of validation, a thrill that someone was paying attention to you when you had felt so invisible for so long. But as you lay there in the dark, the champagne buzz slowly fading, reality crept in the same way it was on the plane right now.

🪩🫶❤️‍🔥🍹🌞🍒 Thank you for reading! Please like, comment, or message what you think of the chapter 🍒🌞🍹❤️‍🔥🫶🪩

Next part - Chapter 13 xx

#jude bellingham fanfic #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham smut #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham #jude bellingham x you #footballer x y/n #footballer x reader

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lina-linny · 12 hours

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summary: Your boyfriend Minho comes home after a busy week and just wants to relax.

words: 0,8k

genre: fluff

"Ok im not letting you cook ever again."It was the first sentence your boyfriend uttered after entering your shared apartment.

You had offered to cook for him despite your lack of cooking skills. Minho had had a stressful week. From photo shoot to video shoot to dance practice to interviews. He hadn't had much time to relax so you had thought about taking at least a little stress off him. You had cleaned the whole apartment, fed and bathed the cats and last but not least you wanted to cook dinner for him.

Even though it was a bit late, you knew that minho hadn't eaten yet. So you sent your boyfriend a message about two hours ago and asked what he would like for dinner. His crative reply "I don't care" didn't really help you. So you decided to go off on your own, go to the supermarket and pick out everything for his favorite meal.

It already started badly, as it was quite late and half of the ingredients you needed were already sold out. But instead of seeing this as a sign to simply go with ramen or take out, you decide to improvise. What could possibly go wrong?

Quite a lot, as it turned out. Because that's how you ended up here. In the large kitchen of your apartment. There were ingredients and bowls everywhere. Everything was dirty, including you, and the ingredients that had ended up in the cooking pot were burned.

You were on the verge of tears when you heard the door open. Which could only mean that your boyfriend was home. Minho came into the kitchen after some time and snorted when he saw you standing there in such despair.

"Ok im not letting you cook ever again Jagiya." You just glared at him. He came over to you and ran his hand over your hair to remove what you thought was a little flour. A long, blessed sigh escaped you and you wrapped your arms around Minho's torso. He buried his face in your hair, laughing.

"I'm sorry," you mumbled against his neck.

"I just wanted to cook something for you because your week has been so stressful..." he laughed softly at your apologies.

"You're sweet... What do you say I order us dinner, clean up your mess and you take a shower in the meantime?" You just nod, but don't move, not yet ready to give up your boyfriend's body heat.

He breaks away from you and starts to order food for the two of you on his cell phone.

"Thank you for trying... with the cooking Jagiya." He doesn't look up from his cell phone. Not even when he adds:

"But please do me a favor and never touch our kitchen again. Especially not with the intention of cooking something, otherwise you'll probably burn down the building." He laughs lightly as your lips curl into a pout.

"I hate you, Minho." You grumble and head to the bathroom, where you take a much-needed shower while your boyfriend cleans up your kitchen grinningto himself.

Just as you finish, you hear Minho taking the food delivery. Exhausted, you plop down on one of the chairs at the dining table and wait until minho places two plates of food in front of you. One for you and one for him. He sits down opposite you and pulls his plate towards him, which contains a little less food than yours.

Sometimes it's hard for minho to show or express what a person means to him and little things like that have always been proof that he cares about you. You smile as Minho immediately starts shoveling the food into himself.

"Does it taste good?"

"Yes," he replies curtly and goes back to eating. You start eating too and you both enjoy the silence that has settled over your apartment. After dinner, you get ready for bed, still in silence, until you and your boyfriend finally slip under the covers.

You lie quietly and relaxed next to each other and are almost caught up in a dream when you feel your boyfriend wrap his arms around you.

"Thank you for always taking such good care of me and the cats." He whispers in your ear as he snuggles closer to you.

"And that you tried to cook... I really appreciate it all. I don't know what I would do without you." You turn into his embrace so that you can wrap your arms around him and that's enough for an answer. No words needed between you and Minho. Because you both know how deeply you care for each other.

You hear his breathing become more even and feel yourself relax more and more. The two of you snuggle together, nourished by each other's body heat, and soon drift off to sleep.

#kpop #south korea #boyfriend #stray kids #skz x reader #stray kids imagine #skz #skz imagines #skz scenarios #skz minho #minho #lee minho #lee know #skz lee know #skz lee minho

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kkanabel · 1 day

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façade ❃ twoshot ❃ chapter one

prohero! bakugou x prohero! reader

you and bakugou have been broken up after he "cheated" on you with a coworker at Endeavor’s Agency in your third year. seven years later, you both have to go under disguise as a newlywed couple to gather intel against a crime syndicate in a small town.

directory/m.list

next chapter ⇨

Words: ~5.8k

t/w: cheating (but it was a misunderstanding), angst with a happy ending, alcohol use, cursing, fluff

Your steak was partially-eaten at the restaurant next to the hardly touched side dishes. Across from you was a person who was familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. Watching him was like listening to a once-favorite song you no longer enjoyed. The words that came out of your mouth were sugared.

“Love, your food is getting on your face!” You giggled, light and sweet, a performance for everybody else in the room, but your appetite shriveled. Just looking at him was enough to ruin it.

His black hair might’ve been part of the disguise, but it was his eyes that truly twisted your stomach. That fiery intensity in his look hadn’t dimmed, no matter how much he tried to blend in. His physique was no different. Broad shoulders and strong arms were all wrapped up in a get-up that he’d usually never wear— polos and khakis hardly fit his personality, but they fit his arms and shoulders damn well.

Though you’d never admit it.

You were hungry earlier, truly. After an entire day of scouting the town with Bakugou, both of you memorizing the layout and studying the locals, you were ready to devour anything. But you’d forgotten one critical detail—you’d have to share a meal with him. Now, Bakugou sat directly across from you, his damn eyes watching you, piercing through your every thought with a single glance.

You were so hungry earlier, too. After an entire day of scouting the town with him to discreetly memorize and study the surroundings and the locals, you were ready to eat anything and everything. But you’d forgotten one critical detail—you’d have to share a meal with him. Now, Bakugou sat directly across from you, with those damn eyes piercing through and analyzing your every thought with a single glance.

It made you sick. These eyes were the eyes that ruined you when you were younger. More stupid, more naïve.

Bakugou—disguised under a different name—grinned in a way that was so unlike him it almost made you laugh. Almost. “Thanks, honey. What would I do without you?”

The sound of his voice, those saccharine words, made your skin crawl. He was acting, just like you. But knowing he didn’t mean it—knowing he never would—made it worse. It twisted the poisoned knife he’d left in your heart all those years ago.

Your target was at another piece of steak, sawing at it until the knife clattered against the plate. The small bite tasted like cardboard in your mouth. It wasn’t the restaurant’s fault—you were just in bad company. The restaurant reviews were beaming even though the only reason you came here was to memorize the faces of the workers, who were all suspected to be working with the villain organization you were targeting.

“Pfft, I know. Just like when I fixed that old shirt of yours the other day. You’re welcome, by the way,” you replied, snark dripping from every word, as if you really had been together for years.

He paused mid-chew, his jaw tightening for just a moment before he forced another smile. This one was all teeth. “I’m lucky to have such a talented wife.”

It sounded wrong coming from him, hollow. He never said things like that, not genuinely. You forced your lips into a lovesick smile, but it was hard to keep the bitterness from bubbling to the surface.

If you had your way, you would’ve never spoken to him again. But fate, cruel as ever, had other plans. A mission had dragged you back into his orbit, this time forcing you into the role of his newlywed wife of all things. Your agencies had decided you two were the best fit for the job in this small town by the edge of the mountains—because apparently, everyone else was too busy.

However, the reason why you decided this wasn’t exactly for the “better of the world” or for some selfless bullshit reason. It was him. It was all Bakugou. He was the reason why you used work as an excuse to run away from life in the beginning.

You both work in the same field in neighboring towns. How did you not expect to have to work with him in close quarters again? You had to do it a couple times in the past, of course. But in those cases, you never had to utter more than a polite greeting or a quick debriefing to him.

But heroes don’t disobey orders. You couldn’t choose anything else. This was a month-long mission, so you’d both have to concentrate and act like the world’s best couple while you two secretly worked and played right next to the villains.

After almost a decade of working in the pro hero field, you were able to eat your restaurant food while listening in to conversations between the world’s most disgusting people. It never got rid of your appetite. But sitting here with a simple coworker was like torture.

Even after seven years, he wreaked havoc on your emotional state. Sure, his existence was like listening to an old favorite song. But that song that you once enjoyed became corrupted with bad memories—memories of him kissing a coworker that he told you “not to worry” about while drinking.

Bakugou looked at you, his fiery gaze softening for a moment, like he could sense the storm raging inside you. But he said nothing, just smiled that infuriating, fake smile.

You pushed your plate aside, hunger long forgotten. Even after all this time, he still had the power to wreak havoc on you. It didn’t matter how much you wanted to move on, how much you tried to bury the memories. The song you once loved had been tainted—ruined beyond repair. And now you were trapped in this duet, pretending for the sake of the mission, pretending for the sake of the people living in this town. But no matter how well you acted, every glance from him chipped away at the facade, like a scab being picked off a wound that refused to heal.

The restaurant's warm lighting reflected off the metal utensils on the table, your plate of half-eaten steak a reminder that some things, no matter how familiar, could never taste the same again. His voice, a mockery of normalcy, grated on your ears, each affectionate word laced with a layer of tension you couldn’t ignore.

As Bakugou stood, you noticed he was two paces ahead of you by the door. He turned slightly, waiting, and extended his hand as any good husband would. You hesitated for a fraction of a second before slipping your fingers into his. The warmth of his hand, once comforting, now felt suffocating.

"You okay, honey?" he asked in that low voice reserved for public ears, his eyes softening just enough to sell the act. But then his tone dropped further, meant only for you. "I know you hate me, but you need to commit."

The subtle squeeze of his hand sent a warning up your spine, anger sparking in response. You glanced away, biting back the retort that hovered on the tip of your tongue. He was right, and that made it sting more. When you looked back at him, his expression had morphed into something bright, affectionate. Disgustingly fake.

With a soft, practiced smile, you leaned in and pressed a kiss to his temple, your lips lingering just long enough to sell the charade. "Sorry," you murmured sweetly, "I'm just exhausted from today."

The two of you walked out of the restaurant hand-in-hand, each step weighed down by the tension between you. Onlookers would see a couple perfectly in sync, fingers intertwined like a newlywed pair lost in their own world. Only you knew the truth—the burning desire to be anywhere but here, holding the hand of the man who shattered your trust years ago.

You heard whispers about him from time to time—rumors swirling like autumn leaves caught in a gust of wind. Bakugou was popular among the female heroes, and his name was often accompanied by a chorus of giggles and teasing remarks. “Dynamight totally hooked up with so-and-so last night!” they'd say, exchanging knowing glances and coy smiles.

You knew. You were at the same party that he was at, and you saw him with a random woman seated on his lap, all proud that she was there. The way he looked at her sent disgust through your stomach.

You didn’t know that his eyes darted to you as soon as you sent your attention back to your partner.

Your coworkers would drench the office in gossip, speculating about his encounters, claiming he still refused to settle down with anyone, despite his countless admirers. At the moment, you brushed it off, telling yourself it was just idle chatter—nothing more than the usual buzz of workplace gossip. After all, you were in a relationship, and Bakugou was just an ex, a chapter of your life you thought you had closed for good.

But beneath that confident facade, a knot tightened in your stomach each time you heard his name mentioned. You tried to shake it off, burying your feelings under layers of indifference. Yet, deep down, the echoes of those conversations stirred up memories you thought you had forgotten, rekindling the doubts and insecurities that haunted you.

Nobody at this office knew that you and him used to date in your UA days. Even within your class, only a handful of people knew about it out of fear that villains would try and use you against each other.

Even as you forced a smile and participated in the banter, a part of you was always wondering: Did he really move on, or was he just pretending?

And now, with every step you took together, the countdown to your next "date night" loomed, an event you dreaded more than the mission itself.

Walking hand-in-hand, you left the restaurant together, keeping up the facade. Every step felt like it dragged you deeper into the pit you thought you had clawed your way out of. The town’s dim-lit streets were quiet, a peaceful contrast to the storm inside you.

As you approached the small cottage the mission had forced you to share, you tugged your hand away from his. The weight of his touch lingered, a reminder of how easily he could still reach you, even if you despised it.

The two of you had been sleeping in the same bed, despite how much you hated it. The first night you arrived at the cottage, you’d tried to sleep on the couch—anything to avoid the shared space that felt far too intimate for what you were capable of handling. You thought you’d been quiet, moving around pillows and blankets in the dim light of the living room. But of course, Bakugou had noticed.

“We’re married,” he said, the words like a shot to the chest, each one punctuated with a venomous reminder of the act you both had to maintain. He stood at the doorway, arms crossed, his silhouette barely visible in the shadowed room. “Come to bed.”

It wasn’t a request. His voice was low and laced with a touch of irritation. You knew why. There could be eyes on you, even now. Someone could be watching from the shadows, waiting for a crack in your performance—waiting to tear down everything you were working to accomplish. The mission was clear: gather intel, take down the villains, and do it without drawing suspicion. And part of that required playing your part as the loving, newlywed couple.

The perfect, unblemished duo that could never be doubted.

You stood there, clutching the blanket in your hands, torn between what you wanted and what you had to do. It felt like a cruel joke. You and Bakugou, sharing a bed, pretending like the past years hadn’t carved a canyon between you. But you knew he was right. He was always right. No matter how much it stung to admit, he now had a way of pushing aside personal feelings, of locking away anything that might distract him from the mission.

You, on the other hand, weren’t that strong.

The memory of his voice—so sharp and cold—lingered as you made your way back to the bedroom that night. It was a silent truce, but you hated the way it felt. Like you were once again trapped in his orbit, dragged back into the center of something you thought you had escaped. You slid under the covers beside him, the bed too small for the space that stretched between your bodies. You could feel the heat of him, so close, and yet miles away. It was suffocating.

It didn’t help that Bakugou played his part so perfectly. He’d initiate the small touches, the easy smiles and kisses in public, all with that infuriating ease of his. It was like he had no problem pretending you were still the couple you once were. As if the memories didn’t hang over him the way they hung over you. Every kiss in public, every affectionate gesture was a jab, a reminder of how effortlessly he could turn his emotions off. He was so damn good at his job, not letting anything—especially not the past—interfere with his focus.

But for you, it was different. Every time he reached for your hand or pressed his lips to your temple, it cracked something inside you. He wasn’t kissing you—he was kissing the role. You knew that. He was just following orders. And yet, there was something about the way he could act like nothing had changed that left a pit in your stomach.

Did he still care? Or had he buried the past so deep that it was nothing more than another file in his mind like you thought you did?

Even after dating multiple other people, you thought you were fully over him, but this mission just opened up this rusty can of worms.

The thought kept you up more nights than you’d admit. You stared at the ceiling, the weight of it pressing down as you listened to his steady breathing beside you.

How could he pretend so well when you were struggling just to breathe in the same room?

You hated that he could compartmentalize everything, lock it all away as though nothing between you mattered. It felt like you were the only one still caught in the wreckage of what you once were—while he had moved on so easily. There were times, especially in the quiet, that you almost wanted to confront him. To throw it all out there, demand answers, demand something. But the mission hung over you both like a guillotine, ready to drop the second one of you messed up.

It was worse at night. The bed felt impossibly small, the silence thick between you. Your shoulders would brush sometimes, and every accidental touch sent a jolt through your body that you hated yourself for. The memories of the past—the good ones, before everything fell apart—would trickle in when you were lying next to him, and it was impossible to shut them out.

You’d catch yourself remembering what it felt like to sleep beside him back then. The warmth of his body against yours, the way his arm would drape over your waist in a protective, possessive way. Those nights, you’d feel safe, wanted.

Now, lying beside him in silence, you felt the exact opposite.

The worst part was knowing that you truly still weren’t over it. Over him. Even after all the hurt, all the unresolved anger, he still had that power over you, and you hated him for it. And maybe, somewhere deep down, you hated yourself more for still caring.

It was a cruel twist of fate that had thrown you into this mission together. Forced to act like you were happy, like you were still in love. Because, no matter how much you resented him, there was a quiet, bitter truth that gnawed at you—a truth you didn’t want to face. Some small part of you still was.

The people you dated after him? They were nothing more than distractions. Fleeting attempts to erase the mark he’d left on you. But nothing could ever compare to the way he made you feel during those two brief years at UA. When you were together, he made you feel like you could conquer anything. He brought out a side of you—someone confident, strong, capable. You’d grown, both as a person and a hero, because of him.

And then he destroyed it all.

What happened at the end of your relationship had shattered you. His betrayal had torn through everything you thought was real. He ruined your trust, your sense of self-worth, everything you’d built with him. In one moment, all of your confidence—your certainty in yourself and your place in the world—was obliterated.

You still remembered how it felt, that crushing weight in your chest when you saw him with her. The girl he told you not to worry about, the one who was nothing but a friend, according to him. The image was burned into your memory, an ugly scar that you couldn’t heal. How could you ever trust anyone again after that? How could you believe that you were enough when the one person who made you feel like everything had turned around and made you feel like nothing?

You spent years trying to rebuild yourself, but the cracks remained. No matter how far you’d come in your career, no matter how many missions you succeeded in, there was always a small, insidious voice in the back of your mind that whispered doubts. The kind of doubts that made you question whether anyone would ever see you as more than just a temporary convenience.

Listening to the steady rhythm of his breath while he slept beside you each night made your stomach twist. The peace he found in sleep was maddening, as if he could slip into unconsciousness so easily while you lay there, trapped in the turmoil of your own thoughts. It was cruel, really, how he could do this so effortlessly.

The next morning blurred into a haze. Sleep had eluded you, leaving your body heavy with exhaustion and your mind thick with unrest. You and Bakugou went through the motions, keeping up appearances, going to your fake jobs—tasks that were merely covers for gathering intel on your target. But the mission wasn’t the only thing that weighed on you.

It was the end of the week. The day you had been dreading.

Date night.

The two of you walked through the park, just like a real couple. His hand fit securely in yours, his grip firm but relaxed. It was all for show, you reminded yourself. This was just a role he was playing, nothing more.

The air was damp and cool, the scent of rain still lingering from yesterday’s showers. Autumn was settling in—the breeze carried whispers of the coming cold as orange and red leaves fluttered through the air. You watched as they drifted down, spiraling slowly before landing at your feet.

You stole a glance at him, studying his sharp profile as he stared straight ahead, expression unreadable. His jaw was tight, betraying nothing, but you knew Bakugou better than anyone. He was never oblivious. He simply chose not to show it.

"I overheard this couple the other day," he said suddenly, his voice light, laced with an artificial sweetness. It was code, meant to sound innocent to any passerby. "They were planning a trip to Kyoto. Like our honeymoon."

It was a message. A meeting would take place 14 kilometers away, in a forest. His words, however, stung for different reasons. The mention of Kyoto dredged up memories you had tried to bury. Of stolen moments, of the days when you believed him. When his words weren’t tainted by lies.

Your gaze lingered on his lips—lips that had once promised forever, now nothing more than a vessel for deceit. "Sounds nice," you said, keeping your tone light. "I miss it already. Maybe we should go back sometime." Your answer was clear—affirmative. You would assist him.

His eyes widened, just for a moment, caught off guard by the weight in your voice and the look in your eyes. Then, he stopped in his tracks, pulling you into his arms as if this were just another romantic stroll in the park. He kissed you, soft and slow, his lips sending a confusing warmth through your veins.

“I love you,” he whispered, his voice gravelly, low enough for only you to hear. It was too rough, too raw—too close to something real. And for just a second, you questioned whether this was still part of the act.

You hesitated, the words sticking in your throat. When you finally forced them out, they sounded hollow. “I love you, too.”

He stiffened ever so slightly, his expression shifting into something hard that was more like him, before his face softened into that easy, charming smile he wore so well. A passerby would have seen a happy couple, sharing a sweet moment in the park. But you weren’t a random passerby. You knew him.

You hated it—the way his touch still sent heat curling through your chest, the way your heart betrayed you every time he got too close. You couldn’t stop the growing blur between the facade and the truth, and that terrified you.

As you strolled through the park, the memories of your time at UA flooded back, weaving through your thoughts like the golden leaves swirling around you. You could still remember those late-night study sessions, the way he would pull you close while you both tried to catch some sleep in your dorm after a long day of training. Bakugou was always warm, a solid presence that made you feel safe, even when the world outside was chaotic.

But there were moments that cut through that warmth like a winter chill. You recalled the time during your third year when everything had gone wrong. The mission had turned sour—dangerous and overwhelming. You had been curled up against him, your head resting against his shoulder, the two of you trying to find solace in each other. His warmth wrapped around you like a blanket, a comfort that made you forget the world for just a moment.

Then the call came. His phone rang, breaking the fragile peace. It was a female coworker of his, voice laced with panic, relaying urgent news about the mission. Without a second thought, he’d shot up, leaving you behind with a “Babe, I’m sorry. I’ve got to go. It’s the agency.”

The way he’d jumped into action had shaken you, the sudden absence of his warmth leaving a hollow ache in your chest. In that moment, you had brushed it off, convincing yourself he was simply doing his job. You understood, or at least you wanted to believe that you did.

But now, as you walked hand in hand with him, that memory gnawed at you. You felt a pang of regret for not stopping him, for not looking back and saying something. You had let him go, thinking it was the right thing to do, thinking it wouldn’t matter.

This mission was nearing its end. Soon, you’d be pulling down the entire crime syndicate together, all the pieces falling into place. But each step you took beside him tightened the knot in your chest, making it harder to keep the lines between your past and present clear.

You both walked home as the sun set, painting those same oranges and reds everywhere. A color that suited Bakugou too well.

You couldn’t fall for him again. Not after everything. But despite all your efforts, you were slipping.

And you didn’t know how much longer you could keep pretending.

“We’ve got another date tomorrow,” Bakugou said, his tone measured as he unlocked the door.

You nodded stiffly, the thought of another evening like this one making your skin crawl. “Yeah. Can’t wait.”

But just as you turned to head inside, his voice caught you off guard. “(Y/N)—” Your real name slipped from his lips, so casual, as if the past years hadn’t driven a wedge between you. The sound of it froze both you and him mid-step.

You hadn’t heard him say your name in years, and it hit you harder than you’d care to admit. When you turned, his eyes were locked on yours, an expression there you hadn’t seen since before it all went wrong. Something raw, maybe even regretful.

“I mean—” He caught himself, the moment of vulnerability quickly masked with irritation. “Forget it. Just… whatever.”

But the damage was done. That one slip cracked through the walls you thought you built. You both knew it.

Your phone buzzed with a message from a number you had blocked for the past seven years. You had unblocked it for the mission, but part of you had hoped he wouldn’t reach out.

1 New Message from Bakugou Katsuki:I’m outside.

No other explanation, just like him.

The mission was over; the crime syndicate was dismantled, and both of your agencies had everything under control from here on out. You didn’t have to talk to him anymore. Yet here you were, standing at the threshold, opening the door to the man who had shattered your heart.

Bakugou stood there with two meals and a bouquet of flowers, the sight both comforting and surreal. He was no longer in disguise—this was him, the real Katsuki, stripped of the masks he'd worn during your mission. You accepted the flowers, their scent pulling you back to memories you had tried to forget, and sat down to eat, but the air felt heavy, thick with unspoken words.

“You’re quiet,” he muttered, eyeing you with that familiar intensity. “What’s going on? You’ve been actin’ weird since I got here.”

You swallowed hard, knowing he’d pick up on it. He always did, whether you wanted him to or not.

“I’m fine,” you lied, the words catching in your throat. Suddenly, you stood up, desperate for distance, but his hand shot out, gripping your arm gently but firmly, halting you in your tracks.

“Don’t pull that bullshit on me.” His voice was low, thick with concern. “You’ve been off for days now. Spit it out.”

Your heart raced, pulse hammering in your ears. You couldn’t keep this bottled up any longer.

“I can’t do this,” you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Can’t do what?” he pressed, brows furrowing in confusion.

“This,” you said, gesturing vaguely between you. “Pretending. Acting like everything’s okay. It’s not. You—” Your voice cracked, but you forced yourself to continue. “I can’t let myself fall for you again. Not after what you did.” Regret seeped in, laced with self-loathing for letting him affect you this deeply.

His expression twisted, a mix of bewilderment and concern. “What the hell are you talkin’ about?”

You felt the dam inside you break, the flood of emotions you’d been holding back spilling over. “I saw you, Bakugou. Seven years ago. You kissed her, that girl on your mission. You ruined everything, and now I’m—” You clenched your fists, struggling to keep your voice steady. “Now I’m falling for you all over again, and it’s killing me.”

He stared at you, stunned into silence. Then, slowly, he let go of your arm and stepped back.

“Wait,” he said, his voice barely a whisper, tinged with disbelief. “You… you think I cheated on you?”

“I don’t think,” you snapped, bitterness flooding your words. “I know. I saw it with my own eyes, Bakugou.”

His gaze widened, processing your accusation, then something clicked, and realization washed over him. “Holy shit,” he whispered, shaking his head in disbelief. “You really thought…? That kiss wasn’t what you think.”

You blinked, confusion swirling inside you. “What?”

“I didn’t kiss her,” he said, voice rising slightly, desperate to clarify. “She kissed me. I didn’t want it. I pushed her away and never talked to her since.”

Stunned, you stared at him, grappling with the weight of his words. “But… you never said anything.”

“I wanted to,” he admitted, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. “I thought you knew. I thought… damn it, I thought I didn’t deserve to fix it.”

The air around you felt charged, heavy with emotions that threatened to explode. Could this entire mess really be a misunderstanding?

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” you asked softly, the hurt spilling over into your voice, memories of your pain surfacing anew.

“Because I’m an idiot,” Bakugou admitted, his voice thick with regret. “I thought it was too late. Thought I’d already lost you.”

The truth of his words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of unspoken feelings. As tears began to well in your eyes, you felt the walls between you shatter, leaving behind only a fragile, flickering connection.

Tears blurred your vision, and before you could process it, he stepped forward and wrapped you in his arms. “I’m so fucking sorry,” he murmured, voice cracking. His grip was tight, as if he was afraid you’d slip away. “You’re the only one— fuck, you’ve always been the only one.”

The tension between you dissipated, but the weight of everything you thought you knew hung heavily in the air. His eyes were bloodshot, reflecting the pain and regret etched into his features, tears spilling over. It was a sight you’d never thought you’d witness—the strong, brash Bakugou Katsuki, reduced to this vulnerable state.

Just how deeply had this affected him? The thought lingered, and as the truth hung between you, you couldn’t help but wonder if this was the beginning of a new chapter or just another cruel twist of fate.

Bakugou’s grip on you tightened, as if he feared the moment would slip away, just like the years had. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, grounding you in a way you hadn’t realized you needed. It was a comfort and a reassurance, a silent promise that he was here now, willing to fight for this connection.

“Just let me in,” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin. “Please.”

And with that simple plea, the dam holding back your emotions broke. You stepped closer, heart pounding in your chest, every insecurity and doubt crashing against the newfound hope. You needed this; you needed him.

In that moment, you surged forward, pressing your lips against his. The kiss was tentative at first, a gentle exploration, as if both of you were afraid to break the fragile spell woven around you. But as his lips moved against yours, the urgency of everything unspoken flooded the space between you.

He kissed you like a man starved, lips tangling into a kiss that held all of yours and his pain for the last seven years. It was a kiss that spoke of longing, regret, and an undeniable desire that had been buried for far too long.

You responded with fervor, deepening the kiss as his hands tangled in your hair, anchoring you to him. Every hesitance melted away, replaced by a passion that ignited every nerve ending in your body. It felt like coming home, a feeling you had both craved yet feared to admit.

As the kiss deepened, you could feel the weight of the past slowly lifting, the pain of misunderstandings giving way to the warmth of reconciliation. You lost yourself in the moment, surrendering to the feelings that had been pent up for seven long years. His lips moved with a fervor that mirrored your own, igniting a fire that blazed brighter than anything you had experienced before.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and dazed, your foreheads rested against each other, hearts racing in unison. He searched your eyes, looking for confirmation that this was real, that he wasn’t just dreaming.

He felt himself overheating from the passion of your kisses, each one igniting a fire within him that he had thought long extinguished. His mind soared in high heavens, finally basking in the warmth of your presence after years spent in the cold shadows of longing. He had followed your social media from behind an alternate account, feeling like a ghost haunting your life, a silent spectator filled with regret every time he clicked on a photo that showcased your happiness without him.

All the weight he had carried—the suffocating pain of feeling unloved and unwanted—began to lift, like a storm finally breaking. He regretted even talking to that female coworker, ever. In hindsight, he would have quit his job at Endeavor’s Agency in a heartbeat if he had known it would cost him the chance to be in your arms. The memory of those years was a constant ache, a reminder that he had let something precious slip away.

He had tried to move on, but the moments replayed in his mind like a cruel movie reel. He remembered the nights when Kirishima had dragged him to parties, urging him to loosen up, but the moment Kirishima disappeared into the crowd, all he could see was you and some guy—glowing with laughter, surrounded by people who didn't understand the depth of his heartache.

Then he saw it—the news flashing a photo of you with that actor. “A fucking actor this time? She’s fucking an actor?” The bitterness clawed at his throat. “They lie for a living. They’re just damn frauds.”

You looked so damn happy, smiling up at that guy as if he hung the stars in the sky—just like you used to smile at him. It felt like a knife twisting in his gut, a searing reminder of what he had lost. He was consumed by jealousy, the bitterness so overwhelming that he downed shot after shot, trying to drown out the memory of your smile, the way it lit up his world. He found a random girl with the same hair color, desperate to fill the void, but it never worked. She didn’t talk like you; her voice didn’t hold the same warmth, the same inviting tone that wrapped around him like a familiar blanket.

He replayed the same mantra every month when you posted another photo on Instagram or when he saw you on the news with someone new. “You’ll never be mine again.” The words echoed in his mind like a painful lullaby, lulling him into a false sense of acceptance while simultaneously ripping his heart apart.

Yet here you were now, in his arms, and for the first time in years, he dared to hope. But the memories lingered, haunting him, the ghost of every moment he had let slip away swirling around them. Bakugou knew he had to confront the past he had run from, and as he kissed you, he resolved to do everything in his power to make sure you never felt that emptiness again.

a/n: smut coming for the next chapter in this two-parter! i realllllllllly enjoyed writing this one! it pulled at my heartstrings WHILE writing it. i had to pause from time to time and just take a breath lmfao

thanks for reading! anywayy, taglist is open! lmk if you want to be on the taglist for just bakugou/bnha chars or if you want news on allll my fics. i plan on writing haikyuu characters eventually, too!

btw. not beta read, pls lmk if there are any typos or inconsistencies <3 stay safe & hydrated as always!

taglist: @kalulakunundrum

directory/m.list

next chapter ⇨

#bakugou katsuki #bakugo x reader #reader insert #bnha #boku no hero academia #mha #my hero academia #bakugo katsuki #bakugou x reader #fluff #bakugou x you #bnha x reader #bnha fluff #bnha au #katsuki bakugo x reader #katuski bakugo #bakugo katsuki smut #bakugou smut

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peacheeeliz · 2 days

Text

006. DAY SEIZED (wc: 821)

You let out the umpteenth sigh of the hour, staring blankly at the disinterested boy that sat across from you in the library. He types away endlessly at his phone, not even sparing you one glance. You could disappear out of thin air right in front of him, and he would have no idea. How he was able to drown you out so easily was beyond you.

You're about to say something to him before a figure standing at the study room door catches your attention. Mark stands on the other side of the glass, smiling kindly as he waves at you. He raises his other arm, brandishing a plastic bag that you could only assume held the sweet, sweet dinner you had been craving for all day. You're positive Jaemin wouldn't mind, so you motion for him to come in.

Mark enters the study room, soaking in the bright smile that overtook your face; of course, it was for the tacos and not him. But, a man can dream. He places the bag down in front of you, “some refreshments, milady.”

You choke out a laugh, finally catching the attention of your unresponsive student. Jaemin stares up at Mark, finally showing some kind of reaction as a smile grows on his face. “Yooo, Mark Lee?” He starts, standing up to dap up the Canadian man. “Didn't expect to see you of all people here, man.”

“Haha, yeah,” Mark replies, eyeing the boy. As friendly as he usually was with the freshman, he couldn't help but feel disdain as he looked at his playful smile. He was sure that this was the first word he had said all night, and boy, was he correct. “So, Y/N here is tutoring you, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, she's a great teacher,” Jaemin answers, although he had to be honest; he didn't even know your name. You scoff, but he ignores it and continues. “I'm learning so much from her.”

“I could tell, you know, with the lack of notebooks you have out right now,” Mark notes, glancing over how bare his side of the table was. “You must be more of an auditory learner then?”

Jaemin hesitates before nodding slowly. “Yeah, totally,” he breathes out a laugh. “One hundred percent auditory learner.”

“Well, I'm glad you have Y/N as a teacher,” Mark continues, resting his hand on your shoulder. “I mean, she learned from the best. Her older brother, Jung Jaehyun.”

Jaemin's eyes go wide, and for the first time in three days, they finally turn to look at you. “Your brother… is Jung Jaehyun?”

“The one and only,” you answer, sending Mark a questioning glance before looking back at Jaemin. “He, uh, taught me everything I needed to know.”

“Wow,” he breathes out, eyes sparkling. “You've got to keep tutoring me, then.”

“I'd be glad to,” you reply, smiling at the boy's starstruck daze. You slam your textbook shut, bringing the boy back down to Earth. “But, looks like that's time. See you next time, Jaemin.”

The boy nods quickly, almost skipping out of the room in excitement. You struggle to hold in your laughter at the sight, shaking your head as you begin to pack up your things. “Thanks for that,” you tell Mark. “Don't think I would've gotten anything out of that kid if it weren't for you.”

“Oh, it's nothing,” he says, shrugging. “You know, you always complain about the attention you get because of your brother. But I think it can be a gift too.”

“I guess I'll take that into consideration next time,” you nod slowly, throwing your backpack over your shoulders. “And, I guess I also owe you one.”

“Oh, big time,” he responds. “I should be asking you to like, shine my shoes or something.”

You roll your eyes, and as you do so, your eyes flicker to the door behind Mark. You meet his eyes again, smiling at the cheeky smile that plays on his lips. “You should really kiss me right now,” you tell him, watching his mouth go slack.

He wants to question your words, but before he can, you're leaning in. Your lips meet his, and he instantly melts into the kiss. As cheesy as it sounds, fireworks are going off in his head as he reaches up to cup your cheek. But, just as soon as it happened, you pull away with a soft smile.

From behind Mark, Lee Taeyong appears on the other side of the glass door. “Day seized!” He shouts, quickly getting shushed by a nearby librarian.

“We're even,” you tell him, patting his chest before you go to leave.

“A plus, Mark,” Taeyong continues, laughing. “I know a life-changing kiss when I see one.”

Mark continues to stand there in shock, paying no mind to his instructor that dances away. “Yeah, fooled you,” he says to himself, as you were now halfway out of the library.

synopsis ⤏ mark, desperate to talk to the cute girl in his japanese class, forms a study group. who knew that other struggling college students might want to join a study group?

a/n: first kiss only six chapters in let's goooo 🥴🥴

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lightlycareless · 1 day

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what would naoyas reaction be to finding out Satoru was y/ns first kiss?

Hello!!

Well, it would be chaos. LOL. Poor Naoya is very insecure even if it doesn't look like it 🤣 but why say this when I can show you?

warnings: fluff. a jealous naoya. satoru is a jerk? maybe. he likes to be silly. a lot. too much. also not sure if to tag this as a regular prompt or a side story, but considering that happened in my fic... i've decided to take it as a small side story.

Happy reading!

He would lose it. Even if you explained that it was nothing but a bet, curiosity getting the best of you and no feelings involved, Naoya would take this as a quick starter for his one-sided competition against Satoru.

He just had to prove how he was so much better than the Gojo heir in everything; from clothes, to cars, to what phone model he had for the moment, even the places he took you out to eat!

And naturally, Satoru wouldn’t even know what was going on, believing Naoya was simply doing whatever spoiled heirs did (never him, of course. Self-awareness is out the window) though he was curious to know what you thought of the matter, you appeared to be quite… overwhelmed by these sudden changes, surely, you’d be able to offer some insight behind all this.

Thus, after asking you to meet at a nearby café…

“You mean to say you don’t know why your husband is acting all…” Satoru scowls, failing to find the right word to describe his behavior, if there even was one…

“No, really, I don’t! I mean… sometimes he just likes to buy things! Sometimes for himself, sometimes for me, especially after a well-done mission or simply because we’ve been apart for far too long. I don’t like it when he does it impulsively, though, since I suspect he gets in trouble with his family over it…” You say. “Well, that’s a bit off topic—anyways, I don’t think he’s doing anything… differently. Why do you ask?”

“Come on, Y/N. You don’t actually believe that do you?? I’ve seen it in your eyes, you know that isn’t your typical obnoxious Naoya—”

“Don’t say that of him. And, well, I guess he’s been a bit off, but…”

“There! Now, let’s backtrack your steps, when did he begin acting this way?”

“Why does it matter so much to you? You’re the same too!” You frown.

Because he’s been far more attentive than he liked to let on; noticing that whenever he went all-out on his spending, he was around. With anyone else he was just… normal, he supposes. If that adjective could even be used on Naoya.

Or maybe because he didn’t want to take his actions as a reflection of his own. But since when did he even care what others thought of him? Might’ve been after one nasty comment from your sister…

“I’m actually more likeable but thank you for trying.” Satoru says, you roll your eyes. “Anyways, when did he begin acting this way?”

“Oh, if you really must know then I guess a few days ago?”

“And what happened then? You have to give me all the details Y/N! Don’t half-ass your story!”

“You’ll have to be nicer about it if you want me to tell you!”

“I’ll buy you any sweet you want—”

“I already have Naoya for that.”

“Then I’ll get you a copy of that game you’ve been looking for ages, deal?”

“Alright, alright.” You sigh, conceding. “…I mean, I don’t think there’s much else for me to tell you. We kind of just talk about anything that crosses our minds; make the most of our time together before he has to leave for work again, you know?”

“Ugh, that’s gross.”

“Satoru!”

“I mean—oh, poor you; anyhow, there must’ve been something you said that made him act this way! Come on, remember!”

“Well, we… we talked about wanting to go down to the city for dinner, before settling for the garden. We then laughed about something funny that happened to one of the servants, something that reminded me of that one thing I did when I was younger—with you, actually! You know which one, when I bet you a kiss—”

Oh.

OH.

And just like that, everything made sense.

“No, Satoru—I know that look, don’t even—!”

“Jealous?! Your husband’s acting like that because he’s jealous? Of me?!?” Gojo shrieked, undoubtedly having the time of his life with this revelation.

“No, he’s not! Stop it already, it’s not even funny…”

“I mean, surely you must know how he is.” He snickers. “He’s always been the competitive one, even when we were kids! I just never thought it would come to you—do you think he fears I’m going to steal you away? Or maybe—oh no, are you falling for me, Y/N??”

“What?! You need to lay off whatever it is you consume; it’s affecting your perception of reality!”

“How about it? Wanna see the limits his jealousy takes him to?” Satoru continues teasing. “Ah, he must be devastated that I took your sweet first time, do you think he has nightmares because of it? Wonders if he could ever compare to me?”

“No! Now, if you excuse me, there’s some misunderstandings I need to clear up.” You swiftly interrupt, standing up from your seat before making your way back home, back to an anxious Naoya who has been nothing but torturing himself with self-deprecating thoughts ever since you told him you were to meet Satoru. His biggest contender for your affections so it seems, the one putting his marriage in jeopardy…

But thankfully, you were there to ease all of these hurtful thoughts away, once and for all.

“Naoya… my dear, can we talk?”

“…What is it?” a pout on his face as he grumbles, side effects of his overwhelming jealousy.

“There’s a reason why you’ve done all that… compulsive spending, isn’t you?”

“No. I just do it because I want to.” He responds sternly, you sigh.

“I know why, Naoya. You don’t have to hide it anymore.” You reveal, making him tense for a quick moment before sighing too. “It was long ago, and it didn’t mean anything to me.”

“Ugh, I know, and yet—I can’t help but feel resentful. Like I… I lost something.”

“Oh, Naoya… but that was just a silly thing I did as a child, you know?” you coo, soon wrapping your arms around him and pulling him to you. “Besides, you’ve taken something much more important from me.”

“What?”

“My heart—and that is something no one will ever win from you, not even Satoru.”

“…I truly acted like a child, haven’t I?” Naoya says, embarrassed.

“Well, I always thought you were cute when jealous, but… never to the extent of making you insecure. Less with someone as annoying as him! How could you possibly even think I liked him?” you giggle.

“I don’t know… He’s… not that bad, I guess.” He looks away, flustered.

“Yet, he’s not you, silly.” You say, standing on your tiptoes to give place a sweet kiss on the lips. His heart warms up for the first time since that day, slowly melting away all his uncertainties. “He’ll never be. Thank God! So… does this mean we can settle everything and leave all this behind?”

“Only if you show me how much better I am than Satoru…”

“Was that even disputable?” you ask, Naoya’s arms snaking around your waist and pulling you even closer.

“No, I just need a reminder—wouldn’t mind a demonstration for him too…” he teases, you frown.

“… Just one kiss, and that’s it. Nothing more. You know I don’t like it when other sees us like this.”

“Of course, you’re only mine, after all.”

Y/N to the rescue 🥺 But don't I seem to always write her reassuring him? Thankfully I do have something planned for that... a jealous Y/N that needs to be reminded of how much Naoya truly loves her :))))

Anyways, thank you so much for sending in this ask!!! I'm sure I've spoken about Naoya reacting to Y/N's first kiss and how it involved Satoru (unfortunately) but this time around I've decided to write a little something :> I hope you enjoyed it!

Now, take care and hope to see you soon!

#ask #naoya zenin #naoya zen'in #naoya x reader #naoya zenin x reader #naoya zenin x you #jjk naoya #naoya zen'in x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk x you #series side stories: first it hurts—

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captain-hawks · 6 hours

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IS IT CASUAL NOW?

issei matsukawa x f!reader

Casually asking your werewolf roommate to put his scent on you to ward off creeps is...well. It's platonic, until it's not.

wc: 2k tags: 18+ only, werewolf!matsukawa, roommates to lovers speed run, dry humping, mattsun's big dick, werewolf scenting -> 2k event

“Matsukawa.”

Your roommate looks up from where he’s idly scrolling through his phone on the couch, eyes widening a fraction once he sees your outfit.

Self-consciously, you tug at the hem of the short dress, steeling yourself to ask the question that’s been idling in your mind all afternoon. “I’m supposed to be going to The Black Crow tonight for my friend’s birthday—”

“My condolences,” he cuts in, face blanching slightly as he puts his phone down on the coffee table.

Sighing, you nod. “Yeah, it wasn’t my first pick either. But anyway, I kind of wanted to ask you for a favor.”

He winces. “Please don’t tell me your friend is still trying to get you to hook her up with me.”

It’s embarrassing how relieved you were when he shot that down months ago—not that you’d ever tell him that.

You shake your head, snorting. “No, definitely not. I just…I want to have a good time without having to deal with the weirdos that always hang around there. And one of the girls in my lit class the other day was talking about how nice it is to have a were boyfriend, because she’s always scented when she goes out now. Nobody bothers her.”

Matsukawa waits patiently for you to continue.

“SoIwasmaybewonderingifyou’dscentmebeforeIleave.”

He blinks.

“As a friend,” you add, for good measure, to punctuate your mortifying word vomit.

He blinks again, lips parting.

Heart pounding with embarrassment, you turn on your heel and squeak out, “God, I knew that was going to be weird. Forget I said anything please and thanks. Bye!”

“Wait.”

You’re stopped by a hand loosely wrapping its way around your wrist, Matsukawa leaning forward off of the couch cushions.

Soul three-quarters into its journey of leaving your body, you slowly turn to face him once more.

“I don’t mind. I just want to make sure you know what you’re asking for.”

There’s something slightly odd that wavers in his voice when he says it, his throat bobbing as he swallows.

“You just have to like, hold me for a little bit, right?”

He looks up at the ceiling before returning his gaze to you. “Yeah, uh. It’s not that. You’re a human, so it might not affect you in the same way. But it’s…scenting is very intimate for my kind. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, if it ends up being too much.”

Crossing your arms, you furrow your brow. “We’ve been friends for like, eight years, Mattsun. We’ve hugged plenty of times. I’ll be fine.”

Scratching the back of his head, he nods, gesturing for you to come and sit next to him on the couch. “Just tell me if you want me to stop, okay?”

He puts an arm around you, his skin warm against your bare shoulders. Your heart knocks against your ribcage at his proximity, as it always has, but that’s a secret you’ll keep firmly locked behind your teeth. You asked Matsukawa to do this because you trust him, nothing more.

Slowly, gentle notes of pine begin to settle over you, drifting and settling like delicate needles atop freshly fallen snow.

It’s subtle, but something inside of you stirs all the same, rising like dust motes in a cracked window’s breeze.

Your skin prickles.

Your toes curl.

Matsukawa leans in, his nose pressed to the side of your neck, and like a carefully twisting dial, the smell is amplified. A sweet, herbal scent dances across your nostrils, tickling the back of your throat—lavender. A field of purple flowers sways delicately in the wind, and you feel warm all over.

Your tongue rests heavily in your mouth.

“Is this okay?” he asks, lips moving against your neck as he speaks.

Your ribcage shudders beneath the weight of what’s blooming behind it, a trellis for the edges of your fragile heartstrings.

You nod.

Matsukawa inhales and begins to drag his nose down the side of your neck, the day-old stubble on his cheeks tickling your skin as he rubs his face against it.

Lemon. The clean scent of lemon trickles in, buried beneath the pine and lavender. You want to tip your head back and part your lips, feel drops of sour juice sink onto your tongue.

(You want Matsukawa to grasp your chin, to slip his thumb into your mouth and hold your tongue there as you inhale—)

Your fingers dig into the couch cushions.

You swallow.

Matsukawa’s wavy black hair is soft against your face as he moves to the base of your throat. And it’s funny, because you know the eucalyptus scent of his shampoo like the back of your hand, can picture the brown bottle where it sits nestled between your shaving cream and body wash.

But right now, while you specifically remember the sight of his dripping wet hair this morning when he walked into the kitchen after showering, right now—

You can’t smell it at all.

Not over the all-consuming scents that permeate you from head to toe.

“Oh,” you gasp, unable to hold back the noise that slips out of you, gut churning at the sensation as his lips skirt your collarbone.

He pauses, slowly going to pull away, and before you can think better of it, you thread your fingers in his hair.

“No, no,” you exhale, a little dazed. “It’s fine, it’s…keep going.”

He’s still for a moment.

“Please,” you add.

Matsukawa breathes out, his breath hot and damp against your sternum, and you roll your shoulders.

Pine and lavender and lemon and heat—

“I should move to your other side to get the rest—”

You shift, not waiting for him to finish his sentence as you start to throw a leg over his lap, your body acting before your mind can fully contemplate the action. Matsukawa grunts, and the room sways as strong hands grip your waist, pulling you fully into his lap in one swift movement. Your dress is rucked up enough to allow your thighs to spread wide, and you try not to think about the way your panties are now on clear display.

Forehead falling against his, you’re both quiet, save for the sounds of your breathing.

“Okay?” he asks, voice a little rough.

“Yeah.”

Matsukawa leans back in, bringing his face to the other side of your neck that he’s yet to rub his scent on. It’s more difficult to mask how affected you are by this, now that you’re straddling his lap. Your mind floats untethered in a lush forest, and you unconsciously press closer.

Something rumbles in Matsukawa’s chest, and the hand that’s still curled around your hip flexes, thumb pressing into your hipbone. His free hand slides up to the back of your neck, fingers slipping through the hair at your nape.

Lush lavender interspersed with pine needles.

Matsukawa’s face strays a haphazard path as he scents his way across all of the exposed skin he can reach, his breathing going a bit ragged.

Lemons and tall trees and a soft forest floor.

You tilt your head to the side, and he buries his face in the tender juncture between your shoulder and neck.

“Matsukawa,” you exhale.

Matsukawa shifts, and teeth graze your skin.

You’re on the verge of combusting.

“Issei, please.”

It was an accident, the slip of his name. But Matsukawa just shudders beneath you, one hand cupping the side of your face. “I can stop, if you want.”

He misunderstood.

And you’ve slipped so deeply into the cradle of his lap, his erection now lies flush against your cotton panties.

“No,” you whisper. “No, I don’t want you to stop.”

“Why?” he rasps.

Your lips move of their own volition, “It feels so good.”

He growls, but the sound is somehow soft. It goes right to the simmering heat between your legs all the same. “Yeah?”

You nod, inhaling slowly as you run a hand over your sternum, body arching into his.

“Then enjoy it,” he murmurs, both hands now on your hips.

He breathes hot and heavy against your shoulder, and you card your fingers through his black hair. Giving in to the urge, you tug, just a little. Just hard enough for him to—

“Hah—” he exhales, tongue sliding in a firm, broad stroke over the low neckline of your dress, skirting the swell of your breasts.

Matsukawa rocks his hips upward, fingers pressing into your skin, and you gasp at the friction of his hard cock against your swollen clit. You belatedly realize just how wet your panties are, the material now soaked through with sticky arousal as it clings to your sopping folds.

“You have no idea,” he grounds out. “How good you smell.”

“Me?” you ask, breathless. You thought scents were strictly a werewolf thing.

He nods, dragging his nose from the hollow of your throat to the sensitive spot behind your earlobe. “Humans can't smell themselves, but wolves can.”

He inhales deeply.

“Salt water and oranges,” he groans.

Your chest flutters at this new information, and he nips at your earlobe.

“But when you’re—” He groans, rocking his cock against your clothed cunt again. “When you’re like this…”

In any other situation, you might be mortified over what he’s implying. But right now, all you can do is whimper as he places a hot, open-mouthed kiss over the corner of your jaw and tells you how you smell when you’re aroused with a gravel-rough voice that will fucking haunt you until you die, probably.

“It gets sweeter…like a peach,” Matsukawa murmurs. “Drives me fuckin’ crazy.”

Oh.

Your cunt aches as you dry hump his erection, mouth watering at the sheer length of it. When you look down, the back of your neck heats up as you see the dark stain on his gray sweatpants, your slick arousal having soaked clear through your underwear.

He must see you looking, because one of his hands slides to the small of your back to urge you to keep going as he murmurs, “I don’t mind.”

You gasp when he presses up into you harder, and the zap of pleasure that ricochets in your chest and settles in your gut leaves you dizzy with need. Shiny precum pools on his abdomen, the head of his cock flushed red as it pokes out from the waistband of his pants.

“Issei, can you—” your chest heaves as you try to get the words out. “Will you ki—”

Matsukawa doesn’t let you finish, one large hand cupping the back of your head as he brings his mouth crashing into yours. He swallows down your gasp of surprise, the moan of pleasure that leaves you at the feeling of his plush lips slotted against your own.

His stubble caresses your chin as his tongue skirts the seam of your mouth, beckoning your lips to part. Matsukawa deepens the kiss, his other hand wholly palming your ass while you drag yourself up and down his length. It’s possessive, the way he’s touching you now. Your entire body shudders and trembles with pleasure, your raw nerves alight as your composure slips with each thrust.

Pine and lavender and lemon and Issei, Issei, Issei—

You don’t realize you’re crying out his name until you feel him cup your face and start to murmur your own, his pupils blown wide with lust as he watches you come in his lap.

When you can finally breathe again, you look down to find thick ropes of cum all over his t-shirt as he tugs up the waistband of his pants to cover his spent cock.

Pine.

Lavender.

Lemon.

Issei.

He blinks a few times, dragging a hand through his hair before he stares at you, dazed.

Your phone vibrates on the coffee table, and there’s a banging noise at the front door, followed by the distant shout of one of your friends yelling, “Let’s paaaaaarty!”

But what the fuck just happened—

You glance between the door and Matsukawa, and he gives you a lopsided smile. “Go.”

Sighing, you start to pull yourself out of his lap, but a firm grip on your hip stops you. Matsukawa takes your chin between his thumb and pointer finger, pressing a soft kiss to your lips before he adds, “We’ll talk about this later.”

#matsukawa issei x reader #matsukawa issei #dee writes #dee's 2k #haikyuu!!#mattsun #mattsun x reader

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cheeseboi420 · 14 hours

Text

Of A Feather - Chapter One Preview

A/N: hi everybody!!! I am super duper stoked to present u all with the first 2k words of Of A Feather, aka the "what if Jason's bio mom didnt SUCK" fic. Im hoping to have the full chapter ready for publishing in the next week or two! Big thanks to everyone who's talked to me abt this fic so far, and an ESPECIALLY big thanks to @jayladfanpage for basically being my jaybin encyclopedia while i work my way through this fic!!! This warning will be more applicable in future chapters but it should be noted that this fic is NOT canon compliant and does significantly change/recontextualize a couple things about Jason's background, but you the audience get to find out about all that in real time alongside Jason lmao!! Anyways, without further adieu, please enjoy this preview ❤️

TW: mentions of drug use, teen pregnancy, allusions to underage sex

You expect this evening to play out like the one before it. And the one before that. And the one before that. Your routine hasn't changed in the last 13 years. Why should it? It serves you well enough, keeps you alive and… Well, that's about all it does for you. Not that you're looking for more! For the most part, you are… content, maybe isn't the correct word. Complacent fits a little better, but still isn't wholly accurate. You're content in the knowledge that your boy is safe and loved, somewhere far away from the trouble that chases you. You're complacent in your own quiet misery. The longing and loneliness had been a bitter pill to swallow those first few years of running, but after this long you've learned not to complain. God knows no one would listen if you did.

You've got a shitty box pizza in the oven. This will be your dinner, tomorrow's breakfast, and tomorrow's dinner. You won't particularly enjoy any of the meals, but they'll sustain you well enough. These days, food brings you little, if any joy. Meal times are a chore to slog through before the distraction that work brings or the sweet embrace of sleep. You look forward to, more than anything, going to bed. Not because you're tired (though there is a bone deep weariness that permeates- that no amount of rest could ever fix) but because bed means sleep, and sleep means dreams, and dreams mean a chance to hold your baby again.

You don't dream of Jason every night, but every morning, you wake thinking of him. Is he still asleep right now? Having breakfast? Is he eating well? Is he happy? Is he happy? Is he happy?

By the time you push your way through breakfast most mornings the cacophony of thoughts revolving around your son quiets to a dull roar in the back of your mind. It's better that way, you think. If you thought about him as much as your mind seemed to want you to, you'd never get anything done.

Life carries on, you suppose. However dreary and dull that life may be.

At one time you'd found the whole thing very exciting- though not in a particularly enjoyable way. The adrenaline rush has worn off over the years, no longer do you feel as though death is nipping at your heels. The paranoia never fades though. Even if your doom does not cast a shadow over you, you're always looking over your shoulder, always ready to bolt at the first sign of trouble.

You keep a bag packed and ready in the closet by the front door for when you have to leave this place, too. Though, you think it's buried under a winter jacket and your spare blankets. You really ought to dig it out, keep it easily accessible. You should do that but… it's been a long day. You want to eat your shitty pizza, lay down on your futon, and let the sound of tv static fill your studio apartment, lulling you to sleep.

You're getting too comfortable here, you think. You've lived in Michigan for nearly a year now. It is simultaneously entirely too close to and entirely too far from Gotham. The apartment itself was a godsend after spending most of your time sleeping in cars, tents, whatever unfortunate business was willing to employ you, anywhere you could, really- sure it has bugs, and the windows don't close all the way, and you're fairly certain it'll only take one more bad winter storm for the place to come crumbling down, but rent is dirt cheap, and the slumlord you rent from didn't ask for any ID when you signed your ‘lease.’ You're fairly certain that thing's not legally binding anyways- it was written on a cocktail napkin for Christ's sake. That didn't stop you from using a fake name when signing it. You can never be too careful.

You haven't seen your landlord since you moved in anyways. You don't ask for maintenance when things break, you fix them yourself or just learn to live with them broken. You deliver your rent by slipping a cash stuffed envelope with your name (your fake name, the one you signed your lease with, the one you use at work, the one you'd use at coffee shops if you ever went to any) on it through the slot in the office door. You do your best to be invisible. You don't cause problems, and you don't go out of your way to fix them for others. You make no friends or enemies. You've left no impact on the many places you've been, the cities you've drifted through.

The only evidence you've gone anywhere at all in your life is a stack of postcards, held together with a worn rubber band, sitting at the bottom of your go-bag. The only evidence of a life lived before that is in a similarly bound stack of polaroids, held together with a too-small paperclip. Every now and then, you'll buy a bottle of cheap wine to chug as you pour over the old photographs. Only when you leave for a new city do you dare to touch the stack of unsent postcards.

You can't bear to look at the photos too often, a painful reminder of your own failings. A reminder of the stupid, reckless little girl you'd been and the shell of a woman you'd become in the aftermath.

Girls like you'd been were a dime a dozen in Crime Alley. Really, you weren't even a particularly special or severe case. Sure, you did drugs, but you weren't on crack. You were just a bit of a stoner! Sure you'd been sixteen and pregnant, without the slightest idea which of your former paramours had knocked you up- but it was all above board, really! None of those men had forced you to do anything. In fact, you sought them out of your own volition for all sorts of reasons. Attention, cheap affection, cheaper drugs, something to do, somewhere to go when the home you'd once shared with your father and brother had become too stifling to bear.

It's all your own fault, really.

At least that's what you keep telling yourself.

It's easier to swallow than the alternative: that you were a vulnerable and unloved thing, eating from any hand that would feed you, until the hand that feeds decides to beat.

This, you think, is why you shouldn't think too hard about the past. It doesn't do you any good to dwell on it.

You force yourself to focus on the present, on the here and now. The scratchy polyester blend of the futon cushions, the scent of cheap cheese melting in the oven, the distant sound of sirens, and howling wind outside your apartment. There's no sense in thinking about Gotham now, not when you're so far from it.

You sit up on the futon, no longer content to lounge and let your mind wander. Instead you task yourself with flipping through channels on TV, seeking something mind numbing enough to distract you from your unusually strong urge to reminisce.

The Wonder Years? No, you don't want to watch anything about a family.

Alf? No, that puppet creeps you out.

Cops? Fuck that.

You're about to resign yourself to another night of murmuring the (mostly incorrect) answers to Jeopardy questions at your tv, when you're startled by a knock at your door.

A… knock… at your door.

No one ever knocks on your door. You don't get mail, you don't have friends, if your landlord wanted something, you're willing to bet the greasy bastard wouldn't be willing to haul himself all the way up to the fifth floor at nearly 10 PM.

Oh God… Did… Did he find you? Is this it? Are you going to die in the upper peninsula of Michigan, of all places?!

No, no. You have to stay calm. This could be anything. It's just a knock at the door. It could be anyone!

Oh lord, it could be anyone.

You keep the tv on, hoping that the sound of Alex Trebek grilling folks on useless trivia will cover your footsteps as you creep towards your front door. You hold your breath as you press yourself against it, double checking that all three of your locks are secure before you risk a glance out the peephole.

When you look out into the hall you're surprised, and frankly a bit confused by the sight before you. Standing at your door is a boy, dark haired and bright eyed. He stands straight but not particularly tall- he can't be more than five feet. He's glancing around the hall, rocking back and forth on his heels. He's wearing a red sweatshirt and jeans, with a backpack slung over one shoulder. Despite his small stature he holds an air of determination that makes you think he must feel quite old for his age- you get that, you were the same way in your own youth. A chip too big for your shoulder.

You're so focused on studying him that it startles you when he leans forward to knock again. You jolt, accidentally kicking the door (with your bare feet too, damn does that hurt your poor toes) and responding to his knock-knock-knock with a solid knock of your own.

“Hello?” The boy calls. “Anybody home?”

“I don't have any money!” You call back, cursing yourself for the shake in your voice. You should not be this rattled by a random adolescent on your doorstep. “So, if you're selling popcorn, or cookies, or whatever, you should try next door.”

The boy rolls his eyes.

“I'm not a boy scout!” He says. “I'm looking for-”

And then the shoe drops; he says your name. Your full name. Not your fake name, that you use at work, and on envelopes, and in hypothetical coffee shops. Your real name.

It takes every bit of emotional regulation you can muster not to spiral into a full blown panic right then and there because good God, did He send a child to finish you off? The cruel irony is not lost on you. Come to think of it, this boy on your doorstep does bear an uncanny resemblance to-

“My name is Jason Todd,” the boy continues. “And uh… well, I might be your son?”

He could be lying, the logical part of your brain insists. This could be a ploy to get you to open the door, don't open the door! But your hands are moving on their own, shakey as they may be. The first lock twists unlocked with ease, the second takes a fair bit more of your fine motor function, and by the time your shaking hands reach up to unhook the chain on the door, you're struggling to see through unshed tears. You attempt once, twice, three fucking times to get your hands to cooperate and unlatch the damn chain.

Fuck it.

You open the door, yanking it inwards, towards yourself as hard as you can. It should probably unnerve you that the flimsy chain breaks at the first sign of real resistance, but that's not what's important right now.

What's important is the boy standing before you- your boy. Your Jason.

He looks as surprised as you feel, his eyes flitting between the broken chain, and you.

For a long moment the only thing you can do is look at him, reacquaint yourself with the sight of him. Of course, you know that he did not stay frozen in time, the way your memory of him is. It's been many years since you've held that babbling toddler. But knowing and seeing are two different things.

He's small for his age, is your first thought. Your own fault, you're certain. Between a premature delivery and your own malnourishment during that first trimester, it's a miracle he'd survived in the first place. Small, but well fed. His cheeks are full and flushed. Despite his size, he seems healthy. Good. That means Will's been feeding him. Hopefully, it means they got the hell out of The Alley, into a nicer neighborhood.

His hair isn't as curly as you'd pictured it- too short in most places to hold a curl, save for his bangs, which seem to almost form the shape of a heart over his forehead.

“Jason?” You can barely manage to say his name through the lump in your throat. You find yourself suddenly struggling to focus your gaze on him, the haze of tears welling up in your eyes makes it difficult to see. You try to blink them away but instead they roll down your cheeks.

God, when's the last time you cried?

You reach out to him, cupping one of his cheeks in the palm of your shaking hand. He leans into the affectionate touch, and you're reminded of puppies, overeager and seeking love at every opportunity.

“Mom,” he says back to you, his tone just as reverent as your own. “Mom,” he says again, voice crackling. And then, in unison, the both of you have pulled each other into a crushing hug. You can't tell if the sound you make is a sob or a laugh. You hold onto Jason like he'll vanish into the ether if you loosen your hold for even a second, one hand clutching at the back of his sweatshirt, the other at the back of his head, petting his hair as he buries his face in your neck.

Finally, at long last, your heart is home.

SO. What do we think folks. Are you hooked? I hope youre hooked. Please be hooked. I wanna talk to people about this fic so damn bad. Please send anons or dms or literally anything. When the chapter is complete I'll be putting it up here as well as on my ao3, which I'll link to! Thanks so much for reading and i hope yall are enjoying yourselves so far! Send me an anon or a dm if you'd like to be included on the taglist for this series!

TAGLIST: @leirobles

#jaybin #jason todd #batman #jason todd x reader #robin!jason #can this be tagged as batmom???#im tagging it as batmom #batmom #of a feather

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