#yeah its nice to have lost some weight

[venusheartsyou2]

can't reach you | bucky barnes

summary: rooming with bucky barnes comes with its downsides.

pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader

warnings: explicit. 18+ only, MDNI. afab!reader, mentions of alcohol and drinking, lowkey a little matt murdock x reader, strangers to friends to enemies to lovers (?), bucky barnes is the worst, zero communication, set pre-endgame, mentions of my goat sam wilson, fluff, barely angst, sub!bucky, dom!reader, oral (male receiving), piv sex, unsafe sex, no use of y/n.

wc: 9.8K

a/n: erm so i didn’t think this fic would be so long. got a little carried away… anyway i had a lot of fun writing this fic so i hope u enjooooyyyy!!!!

— MAY 25TH, 12AM

The city exhausted you.

It wasn’t always that way. It had been your dream to move into ‘The Big City™’ since you were a teenager. But god, you could not keep up. You were too timid for the big personalities of New York City. You stuck out like a sore thumb. There had been too many times you had apologized for simply existing around others on the subway. You were too slow and too nice. Also, one time a pigeon literally shit on your head. People tried to say it was good luck, or something, but that’s just a bunch of horse shit. Whatever, you were trying your best to get over that. Guess you haven’t been too successful.

You were trying to scrape by. You had just recently graduated from college with a bachelors in Accounting. Too bad you were nowhere near getting a job in the field, as you were currently a server at a semi-bougie restaurant down a few blocks from your apartment. Speaking of apartments, you had just gotten a text from your roommate, Bucky. He was warning you that he was going to be home late again. Not that this was different from any other night. Whatever, you guess. More time and space for you.

A loud groan exited your mouth as you finally entered your apartment. You lean against the door, hoping it won’t crumble at your weight. Not that it would, but you wouldn’t be surprised if it did. The walk from your work to your apartment had a grueling uphill that nearly killed you every time you had to walk on it. Which was quite often. You’d think you’d get used to it by now, right?

You dropped your long shoulder bag. The handle digs into your shoulder every time you use it, but it’s cute and convenient enough to keep using. You didn’t have the funds to splurge on a nicer bag. Rent ate your money like a gluttonous pig.

Turning on the TV and mindlessly tidying up was a part of your basic routine. Come home, wind down, go to bed, wake up, go to work, then repeat. Well, maybe there was some masturbation with your trusty vibrator thrown into the mix every so often. That’s no one's business though.

Hours pass, and your roommate returns back home. It might be around 2AM, but you haven’t checked in a while. You’re too busy attempting to use a spreadsheet to plan your finances for the month to hear Bucky come in. You’re attempting to be organized, but honestly, you won’t be too surprised if this spreadsheet becomes some sort of lost relic that gets abandoned in the deep trenches of your computer drive.

“You’re up late.” You hear a low voice emerge from the darkness.

“Jesus! Oh— Bucky,” You let out a deep sigh of relief, “You scared the shit out of me.”

Bucky breaking you out of your trance makes you realize just how close you’ve been staring into the bright white light of your computer screen. You blink away the dryness in your eyes. That shit hurts.

“Told you I was coming back late.” Bucky shrugged as you took off his shoes and started walking closer to you.

“Well, yeah. I know that.” You say while giving an annoyed look at Bucky. Bucky simply raises his eyebrows and gives a slight grin.

“Were you out frolicking with your boyfriend Steve? Or.. oh! Or was it Sam?” You joke. Bucky rolls his eyes, simply saying, “Yeah, sure.”

You didn’t know much about Bucky before living together. The two of you had only crossed paths after you had seen a weird Craigslist ad for a wanted roommate. The price of the room had seemed like a scam, at least compared to other prices for shared apartments in New York. The guy was hot enough for you to give him a chance, but you were definitely suspicious. There were a lot of deliberate conversations — just to make sure this guy wouldn’t kill you in your sleep — before you had signed the lease. He seemed decent and quiet enough for you to be on board.

You didn’t quite understand his job. He was an Avenger, kinda? To be frank, you didn’t care much for the Avengers. Yeah, yeah, ‘Earth’s Mightiest Heroes’ and all that, but after they had wrecked your best friend, Isabella’s, car in a battle against the gajillion-th attack against New York that month, you had grown a brewing distaste for them. Tony Stark wrote up a small check for your friend though, so maybe it wasn’t that big of a deal. It was fine that you were roomies with a somewhat Avenger. Whatever. As long as he doesn’t touch your shit, you’ll be fine.

Bucky calls your name, to which you turn over to face him rather slowly. Maybe the sleep deprivation is catching up to you. “Hm?”

“My ‘boyfriend’ Sam wanted to know more about you.” Bucky says, using air-quotes over the word boyfriend. Funny. You let Bucky have a small laugh from you. You had heard about Sam here and there, but you were still a little wary about a guy you never met asking about you. That’s usually never good news.

“Why does Sam want to know more about me?” You ask, cautious.

“I told him about you. He’s a good guy. Annoying, but good.” Bucky assures. You’d heard about Sam’s big personality. It would be refreshing to meet someone genuine, you think to yourself. The service industry has been stripping you dry of all the warmth you had left.

“I’ll be there too. Obviously.” Bucky shrugs, hoping it’ll convince you.

“No shit, Bucky,” You smile as you laugh at his attempt to bring some sort of comfort, “Okay, okay. Fine. I’ll meet your damn boyfriend.”

Bucky gives a grin before saying, “If anything— Steve would be my boyfriend.”

“Alright, smartass.” You giggle as you close your laptop, notioning that you’re going to head to bed soon.

Bucky acknowledges your body language as steps back to his own space, ready to go back to his room as well.

As you walk back to your room, Bucky shouts, “Neither of them are my boyfriends, by the way!”

“The first step is denial!” You shout back.

— MAY 26TH, 10AM

The next morning went by as it normally does. You slept a little past your alarm, as per usual. You put your alarm an hour earlier than you need to be up, to account for the time you’re going to lay in your bed, before actually getting up. You only feel a small gnawing itch in your head to hurry up and leave for work, which differs from the usual loud pounding feel of anxiety. Improvement!

You walk down the hilly route to your work. It’s nice now, but you know the inevitable uphill walk back is waiting for you. Best not to dwell. You enter your work with 10 extra minutes to spare, and you pump yourself up for doing so well today. That lasts up until after you clock in with the POS system at the hostess stand, and you realize that your waist apron that’s required for your work uniform was missing from your bag. Shit. You must’ve forgotten to put it back into your bag after doing your laundry. You’ve already asked for so many different alternate waist aprons from management already, and you didn’t want to deal with their pesky attitudes today.

It wasn’t the end of the world. But you mean, it felt like it. You remembered that Bucky said that today would be his off-day, and you frantically called him. The service was bad around your area, but after a brief waiting period, the call finally went through.

“Oh, thank God, Bucky,” You sigh, “Could you, possibly.. do the biggest favor for me ever?” You ask, the hints of desperation in your tone begging to be let out.

“You know, calling every favor the ‘biggest favor ever’ really dulls the whole meaning of it.” Bucky’s voice breaks through from the other side of the line.

“Okay, whatever. Just help me. Please.” You add, hoping it’ll get your lazy-ass roommate up and on his feet.

“Aw. Okay. Because you asked so nicely.” He replies. You roll your eyes, like he can even see you do that.

“Can you grab my waist apron from my drawer and bring it to my work?”

“Jesus. So far.”

“Bucky—” You try your best not to curse him out, “Just fucking do it.”

“Alright, alright. Easy,” He says, “I’ll bring the damn apron.”

“Thank you. Lifesaver.” You say, rubbing your forehead with your hand. Hopefully that doesn’t fuck up the foundation and contour that had been hastily applied on your forehead.

“Yeah, yeah.” Bucky says, before he’s cut off by the end of the call.

Approximately 9 minutes later, Bucky pulls in front of the restaurant in his fancy little car. Show off. He turns on his hazard lights, then exits the car. He comes up to the restaurant and enters.

The hostess is already asking how many people are in his party, probably spewing words from their internal customer service script. Bucky politely cuts her off, telling them that he’s looking for you.

“Got something for a server here.” Bucky says as they show off the little stupid waist apron. The hostess asks for the name of the server, to which Bucky responds with yours. Before the hostess could call for you, you’re walking towards Bucky with a wide, semi-panicked grin. 

“Lifesaver.” You say, as you give Bucky a hug. Bucky feels the urge to pull back, but eventually gives in.

“Not as big a deal as you made it seem.” Bucky smirks as he hands you the waist apron.

“Everything’s always a big deal.” You brush off as slowly inch back closer to the server station.

“Whatever. Well, okay. Remember, we’re meeting Sam at 6PM, yeah?”

“Pick me up?” You try to score a car ride back home. Bucky laughs. “Sure.”

You fist pump discreetly, but Bucky’s able to catch it. 

“At least try to contain your excitement.” Bucky says, dryly.

“Okay, whatever— See you at 6PM!” You whisper out to Bucky, as you gently push him out of the restaurant, trying to not make the customers in the store notice the exchange between you two.

“See you at 6.” Bucky scoffs lightheartedly. He leaves in his car.

As you walk back to the server station to prepare utensils for incoming customers, your work friend, Zara, inches closer to you. “Who’s the guy?”

“My roommate.” You reply, simply.

“You two dating.. Or what?” Zara asks, looking giddy.

“God, no.” You laugh off her assumption.

“And you not gonna hit that?” Zara asks, looking for permission.

“He’s all yours.” You look at your friend, looking wide-eyed at the boldness of it all.

There’s some more exclamations of attraction from your co-worker. A flurry of ‘girrrllll…’s’ from you follows suit. You mean, if they wanted to, you’re not gonna cock-block. It’s just funny to think about, is all. You promise Zara that you’ll introduce the two of them and you even hand Zara Bucky’s number, as you know his ass isn’t on any social media platforms. Maybe Bucky can finally get some.

— MAY 26TH, 5PM

The smell of garlic on your clothes invaded your poor nostrils. Bucky pulled up at the front of the restaurant, to your relief. Not that Bucky would forget, as you were blowing up his phone around 4:30PM reminding him that he said he’d get you.

As you enter the car, Bucky grimaces at the smell of your work clothes. “You smell like garlic.”

“Shut up. I know, I know.” You say, your head resting against your hand, with your elbow resting on the closed window. Bucky just smirks as he heads back home.

Getting ready to meet Sam was a chaotic speed-run. A rushed shower, a rushed decision of what clothes to wear, and a rushed make-up job. At least you looked presentable. Whatever. Sam isn’t the Queen. Or maybe he is. Anyways, this’ll do.

Central Park smelled better than it did in your hometown. Well, at this time of year, those fishy-ass Bradford Pear trees are usually out and about in your hometown. You traded fishy-smelling trees for awful, warm NYC sewer odor. Sometimes you think you could go back. Until you go back to visit home. The trees smell pretty bad.

Sam was waiting on a simple blanket in the field. How cute, a picnic. You’re glad the three of you guys weren’t going out to eat somewhere. Not a lot of leisure money on you right now. Sam had a spread of assorted snacks for the two of you. How thoughtful of him.

Sam shouts out you and Bucky’s name when he sees the two of you walk closer. “My favorite roommate duo!”

You grin at Sam’s kind energy. “You must not know a lot of roommate duos, then.” You say, as you roll the handle of your bag off your shoulder and lay it on the ground. Bucky grins and rolls his eyes in response. The two of you sit and join Sam. You greet Sam, and he offers a hug, to which you accept after a hint of hesitation.

“Bucky mentions you a lot.” Sam says.

“Does he now?” You ask, your eyebrows raised at Bucky. Bucky looks at Sam, his eyebrows furrowed, clearly confused and a little angry.

“No, he doesn’t. I just wanted to fuck with him.” Sam admits, after no confrontation. It earns an honest laugh from you, and earns an annoyed glare from Bucky.

“A shame then. I’d like to think I’m a good roommate.” You shrug.

“You are.” Bucky assures, rubbing his forehead with his hands.

“He mentions you a little bit.“ Sam leans in and whispers to you, playing it off cool. Of course, Bucky could hear him. He decides to let Sam get away with his shit for today.

You and Sam hit it off immediately. His genuine personality was refreshing. The dynamic you find yourself with you, Sam, and Bucky makes you laugh. You and Sam jokingly throw digs at Bucky, to which he promptly shoots down each dig. Bucky doesn’t stop you guys from making each joke. He’s probably used to Sam’s bullshit anyway. At least that’s what you assume.

“Where’s Steve?” You ask, “I hear a lot about him.” You say, telling the truth.

“He’s busy.” Bucky replies, simply.

“He’s always busy. Doing whatever diplomatic bullshit he’s always doing,” Sam elaborates. “You know, being an actual Avenger— and shit.”

“Right, course.” You say, as if it was common knowledge.

“You don’t gotta worry about that guy. He’ll meet you eventually.” Sam guarantees.

You cock your head slightly to the side and purse your lips. “That’s intimidating,” You note, “That’s Captain America.”

“He’s a loser.” Sam laughs.

You sigh and shrug. “I’ll guess I’ll take your word for it.”

“What’s not to trust?” Sam shrugs as he looks at you. You and Bucky look at each other instinctively with a knowing gaze. The two of you giggle at the unexpected coordination.

“Whatever.” Sam rolls his eyes as he takes a sip of his drink.

— MAY 26TH, 10PM

After having an unexpectedly lovely night with Sam and Bucky, you and Bucky open the door back into your home.

“What’d you think of him?” Bucky asks, as the two of you wind down.

“He’s great.” You respond, earnestly. That earns a discreet smile from Bucky, but you didn’t catch it, as you were already tired and walking back to your room.

“Leaving so soon?” Bucky asks, only a tinge of disappointment staining his tone.

“Aw, you want more of me?” You tease, your smirk growing bigger on one side of your face.

Bucky scrunches his nose, instinctively. “Nevermind, just go to bed.” He grimaces.

“Wait—” You start, but Bucky walks towards you and forcefully pushes you into your room.

“Nope, lost your chance.” Bucky says, unconcerned. A little ‘aw, man’ leaves your mouth, to which Bucky grins.

“Whatever, didn’t even wanna talk to you anyway.” You lie and roll your eyes. Bucky, still grinning, places his hand on your mouth to shut you up. “Go to your damn bed.”

“Okay, whatever.” You say, your voice muffled under Bucky’s big hand. As you push Bucky out of your room, you start lifting your shirt to change. Bucky closes his eyes and turns swiftly to give you privacy.

“Night!” You shout from inside your room.

“Goodnight!” Bucky groans from his.

— JUNE 17TH, 7PM

It had been a couple weeks since you had met Sam; you were glad you had done so, since now, every time Sam would make a surprise visit to your apartment, it was a bit less awkward. You still had yet to meet Steve, but you didn’t mind as much. He was busy being Captain America. You and Bucky became closer due to Sam’s presence. You and Bucky even had plans to have a ‘girl’s night’ tonight. Sam was devastated he couldn’t come.

A while ago, during the first few months after you had moved in, Bucky had mentioned how he couldn’t get drunk. He had a heightened metabolism due to a super-soldier serum he had received while he was the Winter Soldier. You were curious, of course, but you didn’t dare to ask further about his past, as he seemed a little tense when he had explained it to you. You don’t want to pry.

Luckily, for Bucky, he had been gifted a mysterious, potent elixir from Thor. Asgardian alcohol, basically. If Bucky or Steve wanted to get drunk, they would drop a little bit of the elixir into their drinks. Works like a charm. It smells disgusting, so you wouldn’t dare to touch it. Also, you had been shown a video of the aftermath of Clint accidentally drinking one of Steve’s drinks at an Avenger’s party. Safe to say, you didn’t need to be told twice about staying away from that elixir. Not unless you plan on spending a night in the ER.

You pour your wine into a simple glass. Bucky is beside you, carefully adding a drop of Thor’s elixir into his homemade whiskey sour. Bucky is lucky that you used to be a bartender, and you have extra drink-making supplies around the house. The drink that Bucky made doesn’t look presentable at all, but whatever. There’s no one to impress around here.

The plan was: get drunk, watch a bad movie, complain about said bad movie, and go to bed hoping the hangover doesn't kill you in the morning. You had randomly picked a movie. It seemed like a romance-drama film, but you couldn’t necessarily tell from the oversaturated movie poster.

As the movie starts, you and Bucky get comfortable on your shared couch. There’s a big batch of popcorn you had begged Bucky to prep in front of you. You’re cozy underneath your fluffy blanket. You shoot out your hand, with the wine glass in it, gesturing to clink glasses with Bucky. He grins and rolls his eyes, but still clinks glasses with you.

“I hope the movie’s terrible.” You say, taking a drink from your glass.

-

After approximately an hour and a half, you were nearing the end of this god awful film. The alcohol was the only thing pulling you through.

“I mean, seriously,” you groan, “This movie has just been porn, Bucky—” You grimace.

Bucky doesn’t look too invested in the movie, as he’s too busy shoveling popcorn in his mouth. You frown and stare at the movie as you simultaneously grab popcorn to eat. 

You stare at the screen as the main character, who has been juggling between 2 guys and is pregnant by one of them (but is unsure of who is the father), goes on a long monologue about how she is choosing herself in the love triangle. Unbelievable. You laugh at its absurdity, and you turn to see Bucky rubbing his temples for comfort.

“Get a load of this fucking guy.” You mumble as you stuff more popcorn in your face. Bucky lets out an amused breath, looking at you.

The horrid movie ends, to you and Bucky’s relief. As the credits roll, you turn to Bucky, after taking another swift sip of your drink.

“So,” you start, “Debrief time.” You grin, excited to complain about something.

“Is there much to say? It was bad.” Bucky shrugs.

“That’s no fun, Bucky—” You roll your eyes, “What didn’t you like about it?”

“Main character was bad. Awful person.” Bucky says, simply. You give up asking for elaboration.

“You’re so boring. Anyway, I agree! I mean, Jesus. She was just a bad person the entire movie and then suddenly she has that stupid monologue and it’s all okay?” You start to ramble. Bucky listens intently, but only gives mundane responses. Mainly a few ‘mmhm’s’ and ‘yeah’s’ sprinkled throughout the conversation. You continue ranting about the movie.

“And seriously, I wouldn’t complain if Frank was my baby daddy. Better him than Jack.” You laugh, talking about the 2 main male love interests.

The words had already left your mouth before you realized that one of the main characters, Frank, looked eerily similar to Bucky. But.. that’s just a coincidence, right? Surely Bucky wouldn’t read too much into that. Of course, that’s not to say you didn’t find Bucky attractive, because you most certainly did. It would just create a weird dynamic between the two of you. Being roommates and all.

Luckily, Bucky didn't seem to catch onto your Freudian slip. He only scrunches his face and replies, “Frank’s an asshole.”

“I’m not known for attracting people that are good for me.” You reply, honestly.

“Shoot for better.”

“Moving on.” You chuckle off. Bucky simply smirks as he sips his drink.

As moments pass by, you feel the presence of the silence surrounding the two of you. You go up and turn on your semi-busted speaker that lays in the kitchen. 

“It’s so quiet in here.” You say as you pick a song to play. You play an upbeat song you haven’t been able to stop listening to recently. You might as well put Bucky on as you force him to dance.

“C’mon, Buck!” You say as you peel Bucky away from the couch. There’s some resistance from Bucky.

“No— I don’t dance.” Bucky confessed.

“You do now.” You respond, not taking no for an answer. Bucky lets out a gravelly groan. You swore that shit came from his chest. Your hands linger on Bucky’s hands as you force him to dance. Nothing crazy. Bucky’s hands feel rough and calloused. You’re sure your hands are sweaty and gross, but luckily, your buzz from the alcohol stops your mind from overthinking.

Dancing with Bucky feels good. It’s a kind break from the rest of your life. You count your blessings having a roommate that you actually enjoy being around. Even if he’s boring sometimes. Unfortunately, the next song is some sentimental, slow love song.

“Ah, let’s just skip this.” You walk towards your phone.

“Oh, now you’re the one who doesn’t dance?” Bucky teased, “C’mon, it won’t kill us.” Bucky reasons, as he stops you from leaving by holding onto your wrist. He pulls you in, and the two of you start slowly swaying together.

“You want to dance to this song?” You comment, noting that it’s out of character for him.

“Just call it practice.” Bucky shrugs, his eyes fluttering slowly. Bucky’s feet movement is a little scattered. He stumbles from time to time. Must be the Asgardian alcohol. The scent of the alcohol lingers on Bucky’s lips.

The two of you are quiet while dancing. Only the sounds of the soft piano and grainy audio from your bad speaker fill the air. The quiet between you two is a break from the constant teasing and sarcasm. It feels weird, but not bad. You assume it’s just because you’re not used to being like this with Bucky.

As you start to zone out, letting your body start to move mindlessly, you feel Bucky’s rough hand push a thick lock of hair behind your ear.

“Couldn’t see your face.” Bucky says. Jesus, you nearly choke on air from hearing that. Did he mean to sound so sweet?

“Aw, you like my face?” You laugh off, trying to assert some control and lightheartedness in this situation.

“Yeah.” Bucky responds naturally. Your attempt to assert control has flown out the window. Unfair.

Bucky notices your flustered behavior, to which he only stifles a grin. He’s trying to not be an asshole about it, but the way you react from his words only boosts his ego. Bucky looks into your eyes, and it feels like his blue eyes are burning holes in your retinas.

You swear this song has been playing forever. Maybe that’s because Bucky hasn’t ripped his gaze away from you. As the song closes, ending on light piano and strings, Bucky plants a kiss on your cheekbone. Your head rushes with heat, but you try to keep composure. No way you’re gonna let a man catch you like this. As Bucky holds you lightly, he turns your head up to him. Bucky places a light kiss on your lips. Your head rushes with too many thoughts, and you feel yourself push Bucky away.

“It’s getting late, don’t you think?” You dust yourself off, laughing awkwardly. Maybe laughing too much. Bucky’s eyebrows furrow, and his lips look like they’re about to say something. Bucky closes his lips and frowns.

“Yeah. Guess so.” He responds, a sour frown still present on his face.

You run to grab your speaker and phone, rushing to your bedroom.

“Goodnight!” You flash an anxious grin to Bucky.

“Night.” Bucky muttered.

Of all the people you could find yourself flustered over, of course it had to be your goddamn roommate. There’s no way you could let yourself fall down this route. Hooking up with a roommate? That sounded like a quick way to find yourself apartment hunting in a few months. No thanks. What you and Bucky had was good, and there was no way you would let yourself — or Bucky —  ruin that.

— JUNE 21ST, 8PM

You and Bucky hadn’t talked about what had happened 4 days ago. There wasn’t really a good chance to, as you and Bucky had worked so often. There was never an open time to have a serious conversation. Not that you were prepared for a serious conversation, anyway. You’ve still been talking to Bucky, but only during brief exchanges when the two of you pass by each other in your home.

It was inconvenient, for sure. You two don’t realize how dependent the both of you guys are on each other until you’re both gone. Some simple groceries were running low, as Bucky couldn’t bring himself to ask you for  more. You were running on fumes, as you couldn’t bring yourself to ask Bucky to grab coffee for the both of you every morning. It used to be easy, Bucky had your coffee order memorized. It never changed. Now, Bucky’s been going to work without saying bye, and without getting you your coffee.

It was awful compared to how it used to be. You reassure yourself that this was normal. This is just how some roommates live. It’s better to be like this than to feed into your delusions, and inevitably fuck up something good. You want to keep living with Bucky. He’s a good roommate and a good person. You just can’t let him be a good partner either. It’s not worth the fallout.

Bucky sends you a text, more-so of a warning. “Bringing someone over tonight. Just letting you know.”

Hm. Interesting. Maybe it’s a friend? Surely it can’t be a date—

Your train of thought is interrupted by the sounds of the door unlocking. You sit up from the couch in a hurry, to look presentable to whoever is entering. It’s Bucky.. and some blonde. Huh. He really does have the nerve.

Bucky sends you a quick grin as he shows the blonde the place. He’s quick to place his hand on the small of her back, guiding her towards his bedroom. Absolutely shameless.

Bucky peels away from her for a second to talk to you. “I’m sorry, I know this is out of nowhere, but do you have somewhere to be for about.. 4 hours?” Bucky estimates. You shove down a scoff that’s begging to be released from your throat.

“Sure, Buck.” You respond, monotone as you grab your purse and your phone.

“You’re the best.” Bucky grins. You want to smack that shit-eating grin off his fucking face. You call Isabella, hoping to God she’ll pick up soon.

-

After 5 hours, and after you and Isabella get ice cream for some soothing for the soul, you head back to your apartment. Isabella begged to know everything about the situation with Bucky. You told her the bare minimum, as you swore it wasn’t anything. Isabella didn’t buy it, but she let you get away with it, for now.

The apartment is quiet when you enter. Isabella offered to let you stay at her place for the night, but you declined as you had work the next day, and you would be more comfortable getting ready in the comfort of your own home. Bucky’s dumbass isn’t going to stop you from living in your home.

You get ready and head to bed, hoping tomorrow will be more bearable.

— JUNE 22ND, 9AM

As you exit your bedroom, you rub your eyes as they try to acclimate to the bright sun shining through your apartment windows. You stop at the sight of the pretty blonde standing in nothing but Bucky’s red shirt, which is way too large for her. You’ve got to be kidding me.

The blonde grins at you and says your name. “Bucky told me all about you.”

Did he now? 

“Hope it’s nothing bad.” You respond, honestly.

“No, nothing like that. I was just worried since he had a girl roommate, you know?” She shrugs. You nod your head in understanding.

“I’m no threat.” You laugh as you head towards the bathroom.

“I sure hope not.” She responds.

God. A meteor from the sky hitting you at this exact moment would feel better than this.

— JULY 20TH, 9PM

The few days after were no better. The days turned into weeks. You swore Bucky was inviting every girl, and occasional guy, he could find from off the street. Your apartment felt like a warzone. You were constantly worried about accidentally walking in on something you didn’t want to see.

Isabella was down to have you over whenever you needed her to, and you loved her for it. However, Isabella had her own life, and you couldn’t make yourself an unofficial roommate that doesn’t pay a penny of rent. The days you had to spend in your apartment were rough. It was like Bucky knew you were home, and would intentionally be louder on purpose.

Loud moans and incoherent praises from the newest girl invited into apartment room 405 has plagued you for the past hour. The girl was loud. Exclamations of ‘oh, yes, Bucky!’ and numerous ‘fuck, fuck, fuck’s—’ left Bucky’s bedroom. Worst of all, you could hear Bucky reveling in her praises. You could hear Bucky respond with praises like, ‘Yeah, you like it like that?’ and ‘So pretty.. all for me’. You can feel your stomach knot. Noise-cancelling headphones can only do so much. As you head to the kitchen to grab your leftovers, you make a pit stop to bang on Bucky’s door.

“Keep it down, Bucky!” You yell through the door.

— JULY 21ST, 7PM

You lay your bag down as you come back from another long day of work. Bucky had told you that he wasn’t coming back home tonight. You didn’t care, in fact, it was probably the best news you had heard for a while.

The latest girl he had brought in was your co-worker, Zara. You mentally hit yourself for giving her his number to begin with. Once the moaning started, you forced yourself out the house. You couldn’t stomach the thought of it. Giving her number seemed so easy at a different point of time, but now, it seemed like your worst mistake. You didn’t blame Zara at all. She made it clear to you that she liked Bucky, and now she was the lucky lady who had all of Bucky’s attention that night. It’s not her fault the thought of it makes you sick.

As you reheat some food you had brought from work, you revel in the privacy. And quiet. You used to pray for times like these.

An hour later, you find yourself in your bed, consuming your favorite TV show. The main male love interest does have some similar features to Bucky, which you hate to admit. A man with brown hair and beautiful blue eyes hates to see you coming. It’s even worse once the show starts playing a rather graphic sex scene. You turn off your computer, trying to blink away the image of Bucky.

You plant your hands on your face, groaning. Why did everything remind you of him? Everything reminded of his beautiful eyes, his beautiful hair, and the beautiful sounds he makes when he has someone over… What?

Jesus Christ. You’re really losing it now.

The damage had been done. The knot in your stomach could only be released one way. You grab the joke gift your friends had gifted you a few years ago from your bedside table. Behold, the humble, 7-inch purple dildo named Woody. Which paired ever so nicely with your trusty vibrator named Buzz.

You ease up on Woody, who’s slick with lube. A soft moan exits your mouth as you bounce lightly on the dildo. You were letting yourself be louder than you normally would be, as you had the promise of an empty apartment. You were thinking of it as some sort of lewd present towards yourself.

The walls were thin, proven by how well you’ve been able to hear Bucky this past month. Surely the walls were thin enough for you to hear the door opening.

Your face falls flat on your cool bed, as you pump the dildo deep into you. The sounds are god awful.

Bucky comes home earlier than expected. He would’ve texted you, but he knew you were angry with him. His undying stubbornness didn’t let him accept the fact you were angry with him. It made him feel better just saying he was angry with you for pushing him away.

As he unplugged his headphones from his ears, he’s surprised to hear some commotion from your room. Surely you wouldn’t have anyone over, right?

Bucky presses his ear against your door, trying to gauge what was happening. He felt gross and pervish, but his curiosity dragged him to low depths. He heard soft moans from you. He itched as he listened to you fill yourself with your dildo. He can barely breathe, he can’t let himself be caught listening to you. What would you think?

You were greedy and lustful. As you inched closer to your high, you turned on Buzz and lightly hovered it over your clit. The double stimulation nearly draws you over the edge. You’re vocal, and needy.

Bucky can barely breathe hearing you. He doesn’t need to be as close to the door as he is, but he’s greedy as well. He wants to only hear you. He wants to be surrounded by your scent, sound, and body.

You feel your body twitch at the sensation, and your mind can only think about how much better this would be if Bucky was above you, bullying his dick into you. Woody can only get you so far. You wanted to be surrounded by Bucky’s scent, sound, and body.

Bucky nearly feels himself come undone from your sounds.

“F-Fuck, I need it—” Your voice sounds muffled from all the blankets in your face. “B-Bucky.”

Holy shit. Bucky groans at the sound of it. Which he hopes to hell you didn’t hear. He nearly explodes right then and there. He swears he could die happy right now.

“Harder, Bucky—” You moan out. Bucky couldn’t take it anymore. He either needed to join, or he needed this to end. Bucky bangs on your door. 

“Keep it down in there!” Bucky shouts, as he chooses the latter.

You feel yourself stop breathing. Shit, there’s no way he heard you, right? You hope that you start ceasing to exist anytime soon. The intense wave of embarrassment is then filled with anger. Unwarranted, maybe. But enough is enough. Even if Bucky hadn’t heard your pleads for him, him asking for quiet was rich coming from him.

You slide your pants back on, a little disappointed you weren’t able to fully finish. You barge outside, to where Bucky peacefully sits in the living room.

“You’re a fucking asshole, you know that right?” You bark at Bucky.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Bucky rolls his eyes, “I’m not the one screaming in my bedroom.”

“Are you fucking kidding me, Bucky?” You groan, “As if you���re not fucking some person’s brains out every fucking night? You think I don’t hear that shit?”

Bucky frowns. “I’m just asking for you to keep it down. You ask me to do it all the time.”

You scoff, your anger filling you up, you swear you could light up in flames. 

“Un-fucking-believable.” You say as you slam your door shut. Bucky clears his throat, palming down the obvious tent in his pants.

— JULY 23RD, 8PM

Isabella had the brilliant idea of going out after another shift. You normally prefer to have a fun night-in with your friends, but the idea of getting impossibly drunk and forgetting all about your roommate from hell sounded more appealing as the days passed. 

Your friends and you had planned a small pre-game at Isabella’s, only deciding to drink lightly for now. Maybe at the club you could splurge on a few drinks here and there. The idea of being surrounded by people that weren't Bucky was refreshing. It was about time.

You had gotten a couple of texts from Sam, who had heard about the situation from Bucky. Even with Bucky’s bias, Sam was sympathetic towards you. He would make a joke that he was on your side in the divorce, but the term ‘divorce’ made the whole thing sound more serious. And you and Bucky were never serious. And never will be.

Isabella was obviously on your side. She had planted the idea of finding a sort of rebound from Bucky. That also made the two of you sound more serious than you actually were. However, the idea of getting laid tonight didn’t seem so bad.

-

You were drunk, which was exactly what you had wanted. The club was sweaty, hot, and full of hormones. A perfect breeding ground for horrible one-night stands.

An attractive man had approached you. He had cute red glasses which blocked out his eyes, and his hair was tinged with red. He said his name was Matt. It was interesting; he was blind, but he held himself up like he could see everything. You could smell the alcohol flow from his lips.

The music was loud and the bass boomed throughout the club. You could feel each vibration throughout your body. Whenever Matt had tried to talk to you, he had to basically scream in your ear for you to hear. Matt could always make out what you were trying to say, even if you didn’t shout. He looked severely overstimulated.

“Do you want to go somewhere quieter?” Matt asked, shouting in your ear.

“Please!” You shout back. 

You get Isabella’s attention, and gesture to Matt, who’s started to drag you out of the sweaty club. Isabella gives a knowing look, and tells you to call her if you need anything. You send a few kisses her way, and follow Matt outside.

“I can barely hear.” You laugh, as you and Matt finally exit the club.

“Tell me about it.” Matt strains. “The club isn’t really my scene.”

“Why’d you come then?” You ask Matt, while walking on the sidewalk. It’s starting to drizzle.

“My friend – co-worker, really – Karen wanted to have a fun night tonight. We just started a new business together. Attorneys.” Matt says as he hands you a dingy business card. It reads ‘Nelson & Murdock’ in small, black print and corresponding braille underneath it. What a cute touch.

“So, are you Nelson, or Murdock?”

“Murdock,” Matt grins, “Nelson’s my friend, Foggy.”

“I’ll make sure to call you if I have any legal trouble.” You promise.

“Please do. Our only clients have been paying us in chickens.”

“Chickens?”

“Long story.” 

You let out a small chuckle, pulling Matt in close. Your arms rest on his shoulders and you purse your lips, thinking. Matt’s hand glides towards your waist, as he waits for you to speak.

“You seem like you have something to say.” Matt reads you well.

“I’m trying to think if this is a good idea.” You admit.

“I’m sure there’s a few ways I could convince you.” Matt whispers as he presses an instantaneous kiss on your jawline.

“I can’t be won that easily.” You grin as you shake your head.

“A shame.” Matt clicks his tongue.

-

Turns out, with a few more sweet phrases and corny pick-up lines, you really could be won that easily. You and Matt stumble into his apartment, kissing as you walk in. The neon of the obnoxious glowing billboard from the opposite building fills the apartment with purple and blue light. Free mood lighting. 

Matt pushes you against the door as he closes it. He plants hot kisses on your jawline and neck. He knows where all of your pulse points are, which only drives you crazier. Matt breaks away with a deep breath, grabbing you and dragging you to his bedroom.

The next morning, you wake up naked in Matt’s bedroom. Your phone is nearly dead, but you’re still able to see the numerous texts and calls you have from Bucky. Christ. This isn’t helping your pounding headache. Matt still lays in bed next to you, and he wakes up from your movement.

“In a rush?” He asks, his voice tired and gravelly.

“Searching for a phone charger around here.” You laugh as you pick up Matt’s shirt from off the ground, throwing it on.

Matt chuckles as he takes your phone and grabs his charger to plug your phone in. He either really has his house memorized or he’s not blind. You’re not gonna be the one asking the seemingly blind guy if he’s actually not blind. You’d rather sit in your confusion.

“Last night was fun.” You say, as you find your pants on the floor.

“I’m not the type of guy to sleep with someone the first day I meet them.” Matt confesses.

“Am I the exception, then?”

“Seems so.” Matt shrugs, sitting up from his bed. You grin to yourself.

“I think we should do this again.” Matt proposes.

“So soon? That’s a little desperate, Matt.” You joke.

“What can I say? I go for what I want.” Matt responds. You raised your eyebrows with a grin.

“Two days from now. I’ll be free then.”

“Sounds great.”

— JULY 24TH, 2PM

You finally arrive back home after spending the morning with Matt. The door closes with a small click. Bucky is sitting in the kitchen, his gaze immediately snapping towards you. He gets up from his chair, walking straight towards you. It’s intimidating, you’ve never seen him so serious.

“Where the hell have you been?” Bucky barks, his voice stern. You roll your eyes, as you put your bag and jacket away on the coat hanger.

“Who’s fucking shirt is that?” Bucky says as he notes your new black shirt from Matt. He doesn’t mention how it smells like cologne, though he feels his cheeks burn with fire. It’s a shitty cologne, in Bucky’s not-so humble opinion.

“I’m not sure how this is any of your business, Bucky.” You respond, snarky.

“Don’t get a fucking attitude with me.” Bucky scoffs.

“Me? That’s rich.”

“I called and texted you multiple times.”

“My phone was fucking dead, and it was like— 5AM.” You groan, pushing past Bucky.

“Where were you?” Bucky asks again, his voice getting increasingly more desperate.

“I told you last night. I went out with friends.”

“And you didn’t come back home? And with a new shirt that’s been dunked in cologne?”

“I’m an adult, Bucky.”

Bucky frowns. He didn’t like the way he was begging you for answers, and how you wouldn’t give him anything.

“Whatever.” Bucky brushes past you, walking back to his room. Unbelievable.

— JULY 26TH, 6PM

You wait outside Matt’s apartment, patiently waiting for your date to start. You had gotten encouragement from your friends to see Matt again, especially since you had seemed so excited planning your date. Matt was a charming guy, and he definitely wasn’t bad in bed. Truthfully, you were looking for more ways to get out of your house other than work. You wanted to experience more life, and you definitely weren’t doing that being stuck in your apartment with a roommate who hated your guts.

Matt opened the door, grinning as he did. 

“You look good.” He compliments.

“How can you tell?” You ask.

“Intuition. I’m usually good at these things.” Matt shrugs, which earns a small laugh from you.

“Let’s go.” You say, still laughing. Matt gestures for you to hold onto his arm as the both of you exit his apartment complex.

-

The date was going well. The conversation was easy, which was a relief. You’ve learned more about Matt. He was a Hell’s Kitchen native, and his dad was a boxer. You told him about your small hometown, and your dreams of finally leaving your server job. You weren’t passionate about accounting, but you wanted to live more lavishly than you did now.

You had offered your place for Matt to spend the night. The date was going well, so why not? You send a text Bucky’s way, telling him that someone would be spending the night. He promptly leaves you on read. Asshole.

You and Matt quietly enter your apartment. You tell Matt to leave his shoes by the door. You scan the apartment, searching for any signs of Bucky being home. Thankfully, you can’t seem to see any sign of him.

“Do you need anything, Matty?” You say, dropping a nickname. Matt raises his eyebrows and smiles in response.

“Water would be good.” Matt responds.

As you head to the kitchen to grab Matt a glass of water, Bucky enters the living room from his bedroom. He looks shocked, nonetheless, to see a guy sitting so casually in his living room.

You mutter small curses to yourself, hoping Bucky doesn’t make a scene.

“Bucky.. This is Matt. Matt, this is Bucky, my roommate.” You take the liberty of making introductions. You walk over to the living room to hand Matt his water.

“Bucky. I’ve heard a bit about you.” Matt says as he politely greets Bucky. Bucky returns a tight-lipped grin to Matt.

“You did tell me someone was coming over.” Bucky says to you.

“I did.”

Bucky’s grip on his phone was tightening, his knuckles turning white from the sheer force of his grip.

“Well, hope you two lovebirds enjoy yourself.” Bucky says as he turns back into his bedroom. His bedroom door closes with a click.

“Don’t mind him.” You sigh, telling Matt as you close your eyes.

“Got it.” Matt laughs off the awkward interaction.

-

Later, you and Matt find yourselves in your bedroom. He places soft kisses on your collar bones as you unbutton his nice top. It would be a shame if it were to wrinkle. Matt’s body envelops your senses. Matt rubs your clit kindly and slowly, there’s added friction from your underwear. You can’t help but arch your back, leaning into his touch.

Matt says sweet praises as he preps you with his fingers. He slowly slides your underwear to the side as he thrusts himself into you.

Just as shit was getting good, you hear loud banging at your door. There’s no way. You whine as Matt removes himself from you.

“That can’t be Bucky, right?” Matt whispers, as he furrows his eyebrows.

Matt’s cut off from Bucky shouting your name from outside your door.

“Give me a second. Put your clothes on.” You warn as you get up from your bed. Walking out in only your top and underwear. Matt groans as he obliges.

As you open your door, Bucky pushes through to speak to Matt. “She has a long day tomorrow. I’m sorry, you gotta go.”

The genuine audacity. You scoff, and then you look at Matt, who looks mortified. This is your nightmare.

“What the fuck are you doing?” You ask Bucky in a low, short whisper. Bucky doesn’t respond, only focusing on cock-blocking your night with Matt.

“I’m gonna head out.” Matt says, seeming done with this weird dynamic between you and Bucky. You want to slap the shit out of Bucky, he’s driving away your chances with Matt, and the chance to get fucked tonight.

“I’m so fucking sorry, Matt.” You whisper as Matt grabs his things and heads out of your apartment. Matt shoots you a confused look and turns away quickly. There’s nothing he wants more than to get away from whatever you and Bucky have going on.

As the door closes, you turn to Bucky. You can’t even look at him. You’re shaking with anger. You’re embarrassed of the tears that well up in your eyes from the anger. “What. The actual fuck is wrong with you?”

“You were only going to regret it tomorrow. I’m helping you dodge a bullet.” Bucky replies nonchalantly, not admitting that he just couldn’t stand the sounds of another man making you moan. If it’s not him, it can’t be anyone.

“You have a lot of fucking nerve saying that shit. You’re making my choices for me now, Bucky?” You accuse, pointing your finger at Bucky.

Bucky didn’t like seeing you angry, but he was too stubborn to apologize. You want to shake some sense into Bucky, but your anger paralyzes you, only being able to stare at Bucky. His eyes gleamed in the dark, the only light coming from the dim light from your hallway.

“You two wouldn’t last.” Bucky shrugs. You turn your head towards Bucky with your eyes wide, looking like you could explode any second. He stands, overconfidently. His face is painted with an artificial smugness. In reality, his heartbeat was booming out of his chest.

“Jesus Christ, Bucky.” You scoff. Bucky’s lips part as if he was going to say something, maybe apologize, but he closes them promptly. You couldn’t stand the way he just sat there, looking so pretty. You pushed Bucky into the wall, balling fistfuls of his shirt in your hands. It’s a bold move, attacking someone so much larger than yourself. Adrenaline runs through your veins.

“You’re gonna tell me what the fuck is wrong with you, Bucky,” You threaten, your teeth baring, “What happened to you? We used to be so good, you used to be so good-” You’re cut off by the feeling of Bucky’s semi-hard dick pushing against your stomach. 

“Are you fucking hard right now?” You laugh. Bucky’s eyes are wide, as he pushes himself away from you.

“You were so fucking talkative, now look at you. Cat got your tongue?” You tease, finding this utterly hilarious. Bucky had the nerve to cock-block you twice, you might as well revel in this moment.

Bucky doesn’t respond, being too embarrassed to muster up some snarky reply.

“C’mon, Buck, use your words.” You coo, cocking your head slightly at Bucky.

“Don’t fucking do that.” Bucky mutters.

“Or what? You don’t like it?” You grin. You definitely like it.

Bucky adjusts his pants, making more room for his aching boner.

“Surely you want someone to help you with that, Bucky.” You say as you push Bucky on the couch. Bucky flops onto the couch, too breathless to respond.

“You’ve been so fucking annoying recently, Bucky. You know that, right?” You kneel in front of Bucky, unbuckling his pants masterfully.

“I— I’m sorry.” Bucky apologizes, shallowly.

“You don’t get to get away with that shit. You gotta face some consequences, no?” You purr.

Bucky’s face is flushed, embarrassed with how easily he was able to shut up. Bucky’s dick springs out of his boxers.

“Is this all I had to do to shut you up, James? Should’ve just told me. You would’ve gotten this earlier.” You tease. Bucky’s breath is stolen from him by the use of his first name. It feels too intimate, too personal. It feels right coming out your mouth, however.

“Please.. Please, make me cum.” Bucky pleads, pathetically.

“Gotta wait a little longer, James. You made me wait so long to cum.”

You place short and sweet kisses along Bucky’s dick, making him reel from the light gifts of pleasure. It’s not enough, and Bucky’s getting more antsy.

“You want more? Tell me how much you want more.” You grin, cruelly.

“I need it…”

“Need what? C’mon, use your words, baby.”

“Need your lips.” Bucky breathes out, his head laying on the couch.

“So pathetic.” You tease, as you finally lick the pre-cum that’s been leaking out of Bucky’s dick. Bucky groans at the sensation. You wrap your lips around Bucky’s tip, pumping the rest of his shaft with your hand. Bucky’s a mess under you. His back arches from the pleasure. You take most of Bucky in your mouth, moving your hands to lightly play with Bucky’s balls. Tears prick in Bucky’s eyes.

“Fuck— Please— so good, it feels so good.” Bucky mumbles incoherently. The sounds he makes drives you crazy, and your hand naturally finds itself at your core. You lightly rub your clit, your moans against Bucky’s dick drives him insane.

As you feel Bucky draw closer and closer to his high, you take that as a sign to pull back. The only thing connecting you and Bucky is the string of saliva from your mouth. Bucky whimpers as you leave.

“Why— Why did you do that? I was so close.” Bucky whines.

“You were going to cum without my permission, James. That’s no good.” You say as you place a soft kiss on Bucky’s mouth, letting him taste himself on your lips.

Bucky looks at you, his eyes pleading. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll make you cum, baby,” You promise, “You’re just gonna have to do one small thing for me, Buck.”

“What? Please, I’ll do anything. Baby, please.” Bucky begs.

“Apologize.” You grin, “Apologize for how much of an asshole you’ve been to me lately.”

Bucky swallows thickly. His stubbornness yells at him to keep dying on this hill. However, he can’t ignore the way he needs you. The way he needs to feel himself in you. Your hand starts slowly pumping his dick, urging him to apologize.

“I’m so sorry.” He breathes out.

“That’s not good enough, baby.” You coo, as you stop pumping his dick entirely. The absence of you drives him insane.

“I’m so sorry. I’ve been a selfish asshole. I couldn’t bear the fact that I couldn’t have you. I’m an asshole, baby, I’m so sorry.” Bucky pleads. You grin, happy with his answer.

“Yeah, that’s good, Bucky. You’re so good for me, aren’t you?” You say, slowly restarting your pace on Bucky’s dick.

Bucky nods fervently. “I’ll be good for you.”

You’ve heard what you had to hear. You’ve reveled in Bucky’s long overdue apology, now it’s time to give Bucky what he deserves. You unbutton your pants, sliding them off with ease. Your underwear is hastily thrown behind you, and you straddle Bucky’s hips. As you slide down on Bucky’s length, both of you moan out in pleasure. You bounce lightly on Bucky, the delicious friction nearly pulling you over the edge.

You place warm, affectionate kisses on Bucky’s lips. As you hold onto Bucky’s shoulders for support, your nails dig into his flesh as you feel yourself coming undone over Bucky. Bucky’s lips are pink and swollen from all your kisses, his eyes being clouded with lust and affection.

Bucky places soft kisses on your neck and collarbones. It drives you crazy. You lean your head back, allowing for more room. Bucky plants kisses all over your chest, letting out soft moans as you bounce on him. 

“So good for me.” You whisper.

“Were you this wet when you were touching yourself thinking about me?” Bucky asks, his breath light. So he did hear you. You chuckle in response.

“No, Bucky. You’re so much better.” You praise, being followed by loud moans. Bucky grins as he grabs your ass.

“Could’ve just told me you wanted me, Buck. This would’ve been so much easier.” You groan out.

“I know. I’m sorry, baby.” Bucky replies, trying his best to get his words out, as he’s too busy enjoying the feeling of your wet walls clenching around his dick.

You rest your arms on Bucky’s shoulders for support as you feel yourself getting closer and closer to your release. Bucky cups your jaw, and holds your face up to meet his gaze. His eyes are needy and filled with care. Your lips are parted ever so slightly, allowing for grotesque noises to be freed from your mouth.

“You want me to come inside of you, baby?” Bucky asks. You nod vigorously. You’re too busy being drunk off Bucky’s presence to speak.

“Please— Please, gorgeous boy.” You beg.

“Fuck—,” Bucky groans at your sweet words, “Gonna cum for you.”

“So good.” You croon. You lay your head on Bucky’s shoulder as you bounce faster on Bucky’s dick. “Come for me, baby.”

Bucky’s cum fills you up. Your eyes roll back as you feel yourself release on Bucky’s dick. Bucky groans from the feeling, and the both of you slow your pace as you come down from your collective high. As you pull yourself off of Bucky, the mixture of your arousal oozes out of your pussy. You place kisses alongside Bucky’s cheek, eventually lowering to his chest.

Bucky lies in his afterglow. He brushes your hair lightly as you lift yourself from him. You sit next to him, enjoying his presence for the first time in a while. You’re not sure yet if this is something you’ll grow to regret, but living in the moment sounds a lot better than always expecting the worst. 

–

ok now imagine they talk it out and its all sunshine and rainbows and they all apologize and its awesome and cool. #sorry #lowkeytoolazytowriteit

[hyuniemyunie]

her sweet girl<3

fem!reader x cho hyun-ju

nsfw

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

(ФωФ): nsfw, fem reader, soft dom hyun-ju, fingering, praise, cum eating(a lil)

nothing much really just her fingering you.

HARROOO this is my first time posting so beee nice(/--)/ anyway i love her! diva, queen, girlboss, princess.

⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･

another game ended, and just like that, more people got murdered.

you sighed, sitting down on your bed, looking up at the prize money above your head. before you could get lost in your thoughts, you heard footsteps approaching you from behind. and AGAIN, before you could even react, hyun-ju sat next to you, the mattress dipping slightly under her weight.

"good to see that youre alive.."

she said, raising a hand and resting it on your knee.

"the last game was tough, huh?"

she looked down at her feet, zoning out, lost in her thoughts. you turned around, cupping the side of her face, making her meet your gaze

"yeah, im alive."

you said, voice barely above a whisper as you leaned in, your lips meeting hers in a soft kiss. her eyes fluttered shut at the tender touch, a soft sigh escaping her lips as they met yours in a gentle, lingering kiss. hyun-jus hand came up to cover yours on her cheek, holding it there as she savored the feeling. she could feel the warmth of your skin, the softness of your lips.

"yeah" she murmured, her voice low and soothing in the darkness. "im just glad i get to see your face again." her thumb gently caressed your cheek, tracing the curve of it. "you scared me today, i thought..." she trailed off, not wanting to put voice to the fear that had gripped her heart when she saw you fall. "but.. youre here now."

her other hand slid down to your hip, giving it a gentle squeeze. "rest now" she whispered, her face still only inches from yours. "sleep. tomorrow will be here soon enough." tomorrow would bring new challenges, new trials, but for now, in this moment, they had each other. and that was enough.

"i..dont wanna sleep."

you said, a hint of desperation in your voice. you missed her, youve been missing her for so long. and fuck, who knew if one of you was going to die tomorrow? you couldnt just..sleep, you needed to spend some time with her before the next game. so you leaned down, nuzzling your face in hyun-jus chest.

hyun-ju let out a soft chuckle at your whiny tone, feeling your head nuzzle into her chest. she wrapped her arms around you, holding you close as her fingers gently stroked your hair. "shh, its okay," she cooed softly, rocking you slightly in her embrace. "I don't want to sleep either."

she leaned down to press a soft kiss to the top of your head, breathing in the scent of your hair. "but we need to. we have to be strong for tomorrow." her voice was gentle but firm, knowing that rest would be crucial for their next challenge.

her hand slid down to your back, rubbing soothing circles on it. "tell you what" she murmured, "why dont you stay here with me? just for a little while longer." she tightened her arms around you slightly. "we can talk, or just... be quiet. whatever you want."

she tilted your chin up with a finger, looking into your eyes in the darkness. you melted from her touch, a dreamy sigh escaping your lips

"im so happy i have you.."

hyun-ju felt a warmth spread through her chest at your words. she couldnt help but smile, a genuine, loving smile that lit up her eyes even in the darkness. "im happy I have you too" she murmured against your lips, pressing soft little kisses to them "my sweet girl..."

her hands slid down to your waist, pulling you impossibly closer until you were pressed fully against her. she could feel every curve of your body, soft and warm against her own. hyun-jus lips captured yours in a deeper, more intense kiss, her tongue traced the seam of your lips, seeking entrance.

"stay with me tonight" she breathed against your mouth, her voice heavy with want and need. "let me hold you" she punctuated her words with another kiss, another press of her lips against yours. "please..i..i need you."

"need..me..?"

oh. oh. so thats what she meant, not like you had ANY complaints, of course.

her hands slid down to your hips, squeezing them gently as she pulled you even closer. she wanted to explore every curve, every dip, every flaw and imperfection. she needed you.

hyun-ju leaned in, her lips brushing against the shell of your ear as she whispered, "i need to feel you" she nipped lightly at your earlobe, sending a shiver down your spine. "can I touch you, sweet girl?" her hands slid down to the hem of your shirt, her fingers slipping beneath the fabric to caress the smooth skin underneath. "do i have permission?"

you let out a shaky sigh, arching into her touch, giving hyun-ju a shy nod

she trailed her lips down the column of your throat, her tongue flicking out to taste your skin. "youre so beautiful, so perfect, so sweet..." her hands slid up to cup your breasts, kneading the soft mounds gently. she could feel your nipples hardening against her palms, and it sent a bolt of lust straight to her core. her hips pressed against yours, and she could feel the evidence of her own arousal, hard and insistent against your belly. she pulled back slightly, her hands slid down to the waistband of your pants, her fingers toying with the button.

you lifted your hips up slightly, allowing her to take your pants off

her breath hitched as you lifted your hips, allowing her to slowly peel your pants down your legs. she took her time, savoring the revealed skin inch by inch. once your pants were gone, tossed carelessly to the side, her hands slid back up your calves, your knees, your thighs. she caressed and massaged your skin, feeling the softness and warmth of it. her fingers found the hem of your underwear as she looked up at you. "can i?" she asked softly, her voice low and rough with want. "can i touch you here, beautiful? i need you to tell me if i can"

she hooked her fingers into the waistband, waiting for your permission, your consent. she wanted to worship your body, to bring you pleasure and ecstasy like you had never known before. but she needed you to want it too.

"yeah- yeah, just, just..touch me?"

you whispered, getting desperate. you wanted her as much as she wanted you.

she leaned down, her breath hot against your ear as she whispered, "oh...youre so beautiful, so perfect. i want to kiss every inch of you..."

she pressed a trail of soft kisses down your neck, your collarbone, the swell of your breasts. her hands slid up your sides, cupping your breasts once more, reverently. "your skin is so soft, so smooth... like silk," she breathed, kneading the soft mounds. "and these... they're perfect, just the right size to fit in my hands..."

hyun-jus lips closed around one hardened nipple, suckling gently, humming at the taste of your skin. "mmm, you taste divine...so sweet" she praised, swirling her tongue around the sensitive bud. she lavished attention on your breasts, determined to worship and adore them until you were writhing beneath her touch.

her hand slid down your belly, over your navel, coming to rest at the apex of your thighs. she could feel the heat radiating from your pussy, the dampness of your arousal through the thin fabric of your panties. hyun-ju groaned softly at the sounds you made, feeling your back arching into her touch. it spurred her on, encouraged her to continue her worship of your divine body. "that's it, sweet girl... let me hear you," she purred, her fingers slipping beneath the fabric of your underwear to caress your slick folds. she could feel your arousal coating her fingers, your body preparing itself for her touch. "you're so wet..so ready for me,"

she circled your clit with the pad of her thumb, feeling it throb beneath her touch. hyun-jus fingers slid lower, teasing your entrance, feeling your muscles clench and flutter. she slowly pushed one long, thick finger inside you, groaning at the tight, wet heat that engulfed it. she sighed softly, beginning to pump her finger in and out of you at a slow, steady pace. she leaned down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, her tongue delving into your mouth to dance with yours. she swallowed your whimpers and moans, relishing in the taste of your pleasure.

her other hand slid up your body to cup your cheek, her thumb brushing over your lips. she added a second finger, pumping them faster, deeper, wanting to feel you come around her.

you let out a soft moan, your hips rocking back and fourth against her fingers pumping in and out of you. you could feel yourself clenching around her digits, having to bite your lower lip to keep quiet, your hands going up to tangle in her hair. she felt your hips rocking against her fingers, your body instinctively seeking more of her touch. she obliged, adding a third finger and increasing her pace, plunging into your slick pussy with a newfound urgency. the obscene sound of your arousal filled both your ears, dripping onto her fingers as she pumped them in and out of your clenching hole

"oh, love... listen to you," she panted, her voice heavy with lust. she leaned down to capture your nipple between her teeth, biting down gently before soothing the sting with her tongue.

her thumb found your clit, rubbing tight circles around the sensitive nub as her fingers continued their relentless assault on your G-spot. she could feel your walls beginning to flutter, your body tensing as your climax approached.

"that's it, pretty girl... let go," hyun-ju urged, her voice low and rough with desire.

she sealed her lips over yours once more, swallowing your cries of ecstasy as she pushed you over the edge, her fingers never stopping.

your velvety walls clamped down around her fingers, pulsing and fluttering wildly as you rode out the intense crest of your climax. she could feel your juices gushing out, coating her hand and dripping onto the sheets below. as your body finally began to relax, going boneless beneath her, hyun-ju gentled her touch. she slowed her fingers, now only lightly stroking your sensitive folds, helping you down from your high. she rested her forehead against yours, her own breathing ragged and shallow. she withdrew her fingers slowly, bringing them up to her lips, making a show of licking them clean, a moan of pleasure escaping her lips at the taste

with her clean hand, she caressed your cheek, brushing a few errant strands of hair from your face. she leaned in to press a tender, loving kiss to your forehead, your temple, your cheeks, your lips.

"there you go, my love"

she cooed softly, gathering you into her arms and holding you close as you drifted down from your high.

"thats my good girl...my beautiful girl.."

[lemon-limess]

What Friends Don't Do

cw: smut, 18+ MDNI

//unedited, I'm not the best at writing smut so please have mercy on this poor soul

Pathetic moans and whimpering echoed into the room, your nails dragging against skin. The bed creaks, slamming the bed frame against the wall.

You and Tobias recently finished your college finals and decided to celebrate by drinking together, nothing out of the ordinary, right? This is what friends do.

But what friends don't do, is make sweet love to each other.

Surely, it must be the alcohol that's making you moan like a porn star and definitely not the way Tobias's hips slams into yours, his cock hitting your spongey sweet spot in a demanding pace. It's also not the way your pussy clenches at the sight of the way Tobias is sobbing above you from the pleasure, overstimulating himself from countless orgasms. Obviously, he didn't forget about your pleasure, you already lost count, and the night is still young. It was 9:38 PM last time you checked.

Feeling your approaching orgasm, you flutter your eyes open to take a peek at the pathetic whimpering man. And was that a sight...

His hair spilled from his shoulders, shutting you out from the outside world, his bruised-kissed lips were slightly parted to try and calm himself from not busting in you again. His neck was covered in bite marks and red splotches, which you thought suited him nicely. Around his neck, was a necklace Tobias never took off. You've given it to him for his 16th birthday and he's haven't taken it off since then.

It was the perfect thing to pull him in a hard kiss. And that's what exactly what you did; tugging his bruised lips to your own, Tobias's eyes widen at the action, slowly melting into it. It only lasted for a moment until you locked your legs around hips and pulled him closer as you came, hard.

A few 'mm, mm, mm's left Tobias's lips, he pulls you even closer as he came, hips sputtering from its bruising pace. His cock paints your fleshy walls white, some of it spilling out and sliding down your ass and eventually staining your sheets.

Shuddering at the sight, Tobias pulls out and flops on top of you, causing you to let out a groan at the sudden weight.

Yeah, You thought, not noticing the lovesick smile that's on Tobias's face as he held you in his arms, It definitely is the alcohol.

My tip jar! (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

[superhoeva]

You cannot tell me Frank is not thinking about the Frank or Francis Affect the entire day at PTMC because he is knows you are sleeping and recovering on your day off

tw(s): language, one quick scene of smut, oral (m receiving), quick pov change (flashback), bodily fluids, food (mentioned), illness (mentioned), undefined relationships, frank missing you bad and realizing something big, plus a quick dana and robby appearance :)

✩ THE FRANK EFFECT PREVIOUS PART (ONE) ✩

Fuck. Frank misses you. He saw you less than three hours ago, and he’s missing you already.

Your presence lingers in everything–in the roll of your eyes he doesn’t see when he brats out his seventh wisecrack of the hour… the wink he doesn’t get to throw at you while you stand across from him and work with the rest of the room to save your patients… the playful hip checks he can’t help but give you whenever you pass him.

It’s weird without you here. Still bustling and demanding, but there’s a weight to your absence. The rainbow is missing one of its colors. The third of the chord isn’t here, and there’s a persistent irritation that sours the back of his throat when he can’t figure out the quality of the day’s collection of notes.

With that being said, Frank’s glad you decided to spend the day at his apartment. It took him a few deep, whining pleeeases and a squeeze of your ass but he’d been able to convince you to sleep your exhaustion off in his bed instead of your own.

…God, he loves that shit. You in his space, wearing his clothes, using his shower–all while you’re still full with the remnants of the loads he blew this morning 

Yes… loads. He might’ve had to rush to throw on his scrubs but he’s a weak, weak man. And you’ve got a tongue like a snake and look so pretty when you’re gagging on his cock like you did before he finally dressed.

“C-can I… can ask you a question?”

You’re mid-bob when it stops, tongue sticking along the bottom of his cock while you drag him out of your throat. “You’re joking right?”

Frank shudders at the hand you start stroking him with, hips flinching and hand reaching to press against the nearest wall of porcelain.

“I just, uh, just wanted to know if you think it’s weird I wanna beat up whoever you learned to suck cock like this on?”

Eyebrows furrowing, a surprised laugh peppers out of you. What the fuck?

“Jesus, Frankie,” you breathe out with a shake of your head. “You do realize you don’t have to say everything you’re thinking right?”

Frank shrugs, scrunching his nose in a half smile, half frown.

“Yeah, but what’s the fun in that? And can you really blame me for wanting to? Beat ‘em up, I mean,” he pauses, coming to “You’re kinda… hard to not be crazy about.”

The softening of his eyes as he speaks is a nice sight. It’s a warming, reassuring act that clouds you full of something sweeter than the piece of brown sugar crepe cake he bought you yesterday evening.

It was a spur of the moment thing, the dessert. Got you all drunk on sugar and eased you into the haze of The Frank Effect. There’s something about having some sweet on your tongue that opens you up a little more to his charming but overbearing wits and fast counter jabs. Never spiteful but edging just enough to keep you on your toes, which you take beautifully… and make sure to match when you feel like it.

Last night was great. Perfect. This morning, even better.

And when Frank thinks of tonight, around nine hours from now, it makes his stomach turn happy flips. You make him soar higher than heaven and shake with nerves and come so hard that his abs burn a deep fire and he loves it… loves you–

“All good?”

Frank blinks with lost eyes, turning his head to where both Dana and Robby are staring at the man over their glasses.

“Hm?”

“Got a pulmonary on the way, three minutes out. You ready to rock?”

Frank shakes out of his daze, clapping his hands together with a sobering sniff.

“Born ready,” he assures them, scurrying to the nearest box gloves and sliding them on with a loud snap.

Frank hopes you’re sleeping okay, ‘cause he’s gonna have you up half the night to ramble about all the cases you missed today.

© 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐨𝐞𝐯𝐚

[jzprncess]

love language by sza

“help me understand how you speak your love language ”

pairing: Max Verstappen x Y/N reader

part 1/2 next part

word count: 2,823

summary: a girlfriend of a successful f1 driver decides to learn Dutch to better understand her boyfriends world—his culture, his emotions, and the language he speaks—hoping to connect more deeply and navigate the complexities of their high-speed, high-pressure relationship.

note: first time writing a fan fiction so be nice please! i don’t know how to work tumblr to the fullest so if you want to requests anything, message it to me! this will be in two parts! please leave comments so i know im doing something right!!

　　　　　　 ❛ ━━･♡❪ ❁ ❫♡･━━ ❜

Out of all the unexpected turns her life had taken, learning another language was never on Y/N's radar. Yet, here she was, grappling with the complexities of Dutch, staring at her laptop screen during a Zoom call with her tutor, Anne. They had been chatting frequently, especially while Max was off competing in a grueling triple-header race weekend.

Before he left, Y/N had noticed the shadow of frustration in Max's eyes, a rare shift from his usually upbeat demeanor. It wasn’t lost on her—or anyone, really. The weight of the season’s challenges had begun to press down on him, making his once confident posture seem a little more hunched, his usual optimism now clouded by self-doubt. Everyone could see it. With the way the season had started, Max had envisioned triumph. But now, in October, his hopes felt distant. He hadn’t clinched a victory since June, and every reminder of that fact only seemed to add to his frustration. Y/N wished she could lift that burden, even if just for a moment.

In an attempt to brighten his spirits, she decided to do something special for him—a gesture that would help him escape the pressure he was under. The very day he departed, Y/N found herself scouring the internet, searching for someone who could teach her some basic Dutch. Max, ever the romantic, had always whispered sweet phrases in his native tongue—whether it was giving her a compliment or simply wishing her a good morning. And though she often required translations, Y/N thought, Why not learn the language myself? It couldn’t be that difficult, right?

And so, here she was, earnestly trying to master the phrase “I love you, handsome” in Dutch, yet somehow fumbling over the words.

“Y/N, your pronunciation is getting better, but you need to keep practicing,” Anne encouraged from the other side of the screen, her fingers dancing over her keyboard. The rhythmic sound of her typing seemed to fill the space between them, as if punctuating her words with gentle encouragement. “Have you taken my advice and started watching shows in Dutch? Immersing yourself in the language will really help you improve, especially with those tricky pronunciations.”

Y/N leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms, and stared at the screen, her lips pressing together as she tried to hold back the exhaustion creeping in. She had been working hard at this—between the classes, the practice, the late nights watching Dutch shows, and the constant racing schedule with Max, it was all starting to feel like a lot. “Yeah, I’ve been talking to the TV like it’s my best friend,” she said with a small, self-deprecating chuckle, her voice sounding a bit weary. “The characters probably think I’m crazy by now. But, you know, I think I’m making progress? Or at least I hope I am.”

Anne’s eyebrows raised in an encouraging way. “Well, that’s the spirit! The more you immerse yourself, the more natural it will feel. Dutch can be tricky, especially with its sounds, but you’re not giving up, and that’s what matters.”

Y/N exhaled slowly, rubbing her temples. It had been one of those days—between working on the language and managing the quiet space Max left behind when he was away, the weight of it all was starting to wear on her. “I don’t know... I keep stumbling over the same words, Anne. Like, I feel like I’m so close to getting it, but then I hear myself speak Dutch, and it just sounds... off. I’m trying, but it’s hard to know if I’m really improving.”

Anne smiled gently from the screen, as though she understood exactly where Y/N was coming from. “That’s completely normal. Language learning isn’t a straight path. There are ups and downs, but the key is to be patient with yourself. Remember, it’s not about perfection—it’s about progress. You’re already doing so much more than most people would.”

“I guess so.” Y/N’s voice softened, her eyes drifting away for a moment, lost in thought. “I just wish I could see it, you know? Max always speaks so fluently, and when he says something sweet in Dutch, it sounds so effortless. I want to understand it all, to be able to speak with him like that without stumbling or needing translations.”

Anne nodded, her face sympathetic. “I get that. You want to connect with him in the language that’s so familiar to him, and that’s a beautiful thing. But don’t forget, language is just one part of communication. Max will appreciate your effort no matter where you are in your learning. It’s about the intention, the heart behind it. And besides, if you’re working hard at it, he’ll see that.”

Y/N let out a small sigh, leaning forward in her chair and running a hand through her hair. “I just want him to know how much I’m trying. I know it’s hard for him when the season gets tough, and I want to be able to understand him better, not just the words, but how he’s feeling... especially when he gets frustrated. I want to be able to share those moments with him in his language.” She looked back up at Anne, a mixture of fatigue and determination in her eyes. "But it's like I'm still learning a whole new world, Anne. It's a lot to take in."

Anne’s expression softened even more. “Learning a language is like learning a new way to see the world. And you’re doing it for the right reasons. Max will notice that. Even if you don’t think you’re where you want to be yet, he’s going to appreciate your effort, your commitment to him and to his language. And you’re already showing him that you care in ways most people wouldn’t.”

Y/N gave a faint smile, feeling the weight of Anne’s words settle into her. She took another deep breath, her gaze flickering back to the screen. “I hope so. I’m doing this for him, and... for me, too. It’s just hard to see the progress sometimes when you’re so deep in it.”

“Well, keep at it, Y/N,” Anne encouraged again, her voice gentle but firm. “The progress is there, even when you can’t see it. And remember, when Max comes back, you’ll have a whole new way of connecting. That’s something special. Now, how about we wrap up for today, and next time, we focus on a few of those tricky sounds you’ve been stumbling over?”

Y/N nodded, the exhaustion beginning to fade as she felt a renewed sense of determination wash over her. "Yeah, let’s do that. Thanks, Anne. Really."

Anne smiled warmly, her tone softening. “Good night, Y/N. You’re doing great. Keep going, and keep believing in yourself.”

With that, the call ended, leaving Y/N in the quiet of her room. As the screen went dark, she sat still for a moment, letting Anne’s words settle into her. She still had a long way to go with Dutch, but now, she felt a little less weighed down by it all. She stood up from the desk, stretched, and with a deep breath, made her way to the kitchen. There was more to learn, yes, but she could do it. For Max. And for herself

This had become her routine for the past few weeks—immersing herself in a new language while navigating the emotional ups and downs of Max's racing career. Each night flowed into the next, filled with lessons and the hope that her efforts would spark joy in him when he returned. In a way, she couldn’t help but feel that this small adventure might not only help her connect with him in a deeper way but also serve as a reminder that even in tough times, he had someone in his corner—someone ready to support him and learn alongside him.

Time passed, and soon enough, the hectic three-race weekend was behind them.

Y/N wasn’t exactly sure when Max would be home. The unpredictable nature of his F1 schedule made it hard to keep track of his exact arrival time. As the hours stretched on, she decided to make the most of the quiet afternoon. She started by tidying up the house, picking up scattered race memorabilia and smoothing out the couch cushions, which always seemed to get tossed around after a long weekend of travel. The kitchen was next—dishes stacked in the sink, a few crumbs left from breakfast, and the faint scent of coffee lingering in the air. She cleaned with a kind of absent-minded rhythm, her thoughts drifting between the tasks at hand and the excitement of his return.

Not wanting to spend the whole day indoors, Y/N grabbed her coat, slipped into her shoes, and decided to run a few errands to break the monotony. She mentally made a list of things she needed—a trip to the grocery store for fresh produce, perhaps a quick stop at the florist to pick up some flowers for the dining table. The gentle hum of the city as she walked outside felt like a welcome distraction. As she moved through the familiar streets, her mind kept drifting to Max—imagining his arrival later that evening and wondering how he would feel after the intense race weekend. With a small smile, she pushed the thought aside. There were errands to run, and time had a way of slipping by faster when you were busy.

After a while, Y/N decided it was time to head back home, the errands and quiet city stroll leaving her feeling a bit more tired than usual. The exhaustion crept up slowly, settling into her bones in the best way—a peaceful kind of tiredness that made the thought of being home all the more appealing. Once she stepped inside, she kicked off her shoes by the door and shrugged off her jacket, instantly feeling the comfort of her own space wrap around her.

She sank onto the couch, letting the weight of the day melt away, but it wasn’t long before she found herself wanting to do something—something simple and familiar to bring a sense of warmth and routine to the day. The kitchen seemed like the perfect place. She stepped into the kitchen, the warmth of the space a comforting contrast to the quiet of the house. Her mind immediately wandered to dessert—something sweet to fill the silence. Pulling out her phone, she swiped through a few recipe sites, curiosity leading her fingers. After a moment, she typed "Dutch desserts" into the search bar. Her eyes quickly landed on appeltaart, the iconic Dutch apple pie. The thought of the rich, spiced apples wrapped in buttery crust made her stomach rumble. It was exactly what the moment called for.

With a smile, she set the phone down and rolled up her sleeves. The comforting hum of her favorite playlist began to fill the room, chasing away the silence and replacing it with familiar tunes. As the music flowed through the speakers, she started pulling ingredients from the pantry—flour, sugar, butter, and cinnamon. She paused for a moment, letting the soft beat of the song take over as she laid everything out on the counter. The scent of cinnamon already began to stir a feeling of warmth and anticipation.

With a deep breath, she moved into the rhythm of the recipe, the steady motion of measuring, mixing, and prepping grounding her. She could already picture the golden crust and warm, sweet filling that would soon fill the kitchen, and her heart swelled with a sense of simple joy.

As she hummed softly to the tune playing in the background, completely engrossed in the rhythm of her mixing and the warmth of the kitchen, she remained oblivious to Max stepping through the front door, his footsteps barely audible on the hardwood floor. Max paused for a moment, his eyes scanning the room before he crept quietly toward the kitchen, careful not to make a sound. He peeked around the corner, his gaze falling on you as you worked your magic, your movements fluid and focused. A smile tugged at his lips as the sweet scent of apple pie hit him, and he inhaled deeply, savoring the warm, comforting aroma that filled the air.

Max moved silently behind her, his steps light as he closed the distance between them. With a smile, he slipped his arms around her waist, pulling her close against him. He rested his chin on her shoulder for a moment, savoring the warmth of her presence, before pressing a tender kiss to her soft skin. As he inhaled the sweet scent of the kitchen, his lips brushed her shoulder, and he murmured in a low, appreciative voice, "Smells amazing."

The unexpected touch causes her to flinch, a small gasp escaping her as she instinctively tenses, but her body quickly relaxes when she turns to find Max standing there. A soft smile tugs at her lips as she meets his gaze. "I didn't hear you come in," she murmurs, her voice gentle and warm as she leans slightly into his embrace, feeling the comforting weight of his presence. She glances toward the counter, her hands still lightly dusted with flour, and then looks back at him, her eyes sparkling with a mix of affection and pride. "I made apple—" Her words falter for a brief moment, and she pauses, taking a breath before finishing with a playful smile, "Ik heb appeltaart gemaakt." (i made apple pie) She lets the Dutch phrase roll off her tongue with a touch of pride, her eyes lighting up as she anticipates his reaction to the homemade treat and at the sudden Dutch.

Max chuckles, the sound warm and teasing. "Oh, dus je spreekt nu Nederlands?" (Oh, so you speak Dutch now?) His eyes narrow playfully as he takes her in, studying her with a hint of disbelief, almost as if he couldn't quite believe what he'd just heard. It takes a moment for her to process his words, the surprise registering on her face before a grin tugs at her lips. She lets out a soft laugh, shaking her head slightly as she meets his gaze. “Leren voor jou,” she responds with a mischievous twinkle in her eye, her voice light and teasing as she repeats the phrase—"Learning for you."

Max hums contentedly into her skin, his voice soft but filled with affection. "What did I ever do to deserve you?" His words are a gentle murmur, as though he's savoring the moment. She chuckles, the sound warm and light, as she wipes her hands on a nearby towel. Without missing a beat, she spins around, her eyes sparkling, and wraps her arms around him in a tight embrace. "I've missed you," she whispers into his chest, her voice filled with sincerity, as if the distance between them had only made her feelings stronger.

He gently pulls away, his hands lingering at her waist as he looks down at her, his eyes soft with affection. There’s a quiet warmth in his gaze, a tenderness that makes his heart swell with emotion. "I've missed you too," he murmurs, his voice low and sincere, the words wrapped in a quiet vulnerability. He smiles, a soft, almost teasing glint in his eyes as he adds, "Mijntje," (my little one), his tone filled with both love and playfulness. With a tender sigh, he leans down, his face drawing closer to hers. As he lowers himself, he brushes his lips gently against hers, the kiss soft and lingering, a promise of everything he feels for her in that quiet, intimate moment. 

She pulls back just enough to look into his eyes, her breath catching in the space between them. Her heart races, each beat carrying the weight of everything she feels for him. Her hands rest gently on his chest as she searches his gaze, finding warmth, safety, and a quiet promise there. With a soft sigh, she leans in just a little closer, her lips barely brushing his as she whispers, her voice trembling with sincerity, "Ik hou van jou."

The words, though soft, are heavy with all the emotions she can't quite put into words—years of trust, laughter, passion, and quiet moments, all wrapped in those simple yet profound syllables. His breath hitches, and a smile plays on his lips as he leans in, closing the small space between them with a kiss that feels like both a promise and a beginning. There’s a warmth radiating between them, an unspoken yearning that lingers in the air, electrifying yet restrained. The kiss deepens, lingering just a moment longer, igniting a flutter of anticipation in her chest—a taste of what could be. As they pull away, their eyes lock, and in that shared gaze lies a world of possibilities, a silent acknowledgment of the passion that awaits them.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

tag list : @heluvsjappie

[rebelfell]

(parentheses)│e.m.

Nasolabial folds.

You had looked it up just to know what to call them. Eddie had the most pronounced ones you had ever seen, a pair of deep lines that ran down from the tiny creases behind his nostrils and curved around the corners of his mouth.

“It’s like everything you say is in parentheses,” you said, making the lines deepen as he smiled.

It brought out his dimples too, the little divots in his cheeks the ideal size for the tip of your pinky to dip inside—practically begging for it.

So you obliged them.

“Get adda here,” Eddie laughed, reaching out to intercept your hand and biting the air like he was going to eat it. You half-shrieked, half-squealed, attempting to wrestle your hand away only to giggle as he kissed up your arm instead.

Your laughter quieted as he laid your hand on his chest and covered it with his, pressing down just slightly to add pressure. Enjoying the weight.

“You think they're your best feature?" you mused, head dropping back onto the pillow. Still staring at them, loving how they remained on his face even when it was completely at rest.

“What? My labia?” he snorted.

His brows bounced suggestively, disappearing behind his scraggly bangs. Your eyes rolled and you dragged your hand out from under his to swat him with it, only making him laugh and smirk harder as he dodged it.

“C’mon, tell me. What do you think it is?”

Eddie hemmed a bit, his pink lips sputtering as he blew a raspberry and stared up at his ceiling.

“Uhh...some people say I have a nice neck?”

His eyes darted away and he shrugged, like he wasn’t even sure if that counted. You smirked.

“People, huh? You mean girls.”

Hopping onto your knees, the ancient springs of his mattress creaking with the sudden motion, you pushed your face in close to his. Teasing.

“That how you got ‘em in high school? Offer this thing up like an all you can eat buffet?”

You reached out and traced the hard lines of his, admittedly very nice, neck. Imagining all the girls who’d been distracted by it buying weed off him, who’d asked him if he minded them marking it up, painting it with dark and mottled bruises.

“Yeah, right!” Eddie snorted incredulously, “I had a better chance of getting a hickey from Gareth.”

He shivered when the tips of your fingers reached the bottom of his ear, his eyes ablaze with hunger.

“Your neck is nice,” you whispered, leaning in to let your lips brush along his jugular.

“Y-yeah?”

His breathy stutter of the word made you grin into his skin, relishing the way it made his blood pump harder under your lips as you made your way up.

“But I still like these better…”

You pulled back just enough to take in his face. Heavy-lidded eyes blinking out of the haze he had slipped under when your lips touched his skin; his mouth still parted from the soft gasp he let out.

With your thumb, you traced the lines on his face again, feeling where the shape of his lips met the graceful curve of his cheek. There were no sharp edges on him, only gentle roundness. Full lips, bulbous nose, eyes like giant dinner plates.

Even his jaw lost some of its hardness when he tucked his chin into his chest.

And even if other people liked his other features better—his thick neck or his big hands or his cute and slutty little waist—that was just fine, because those lines on his face would always be yours.

You would be the only one who knew he was always speaking in parentheses.

divider by my love @strangergraphics 🥰

[lovelysmutswriter]

Special Gym Exercise Pt. 1

This isn’t your average fitness center—it’s a private, ultra-exclusive gym reserved for the wealthy elite. Lavish interiors, state-of-the-art equipment, and a serene atmosphere define this hidden haven. But hey, life isn’t so bad when a generous rich friend slips you a guest pass to this luxury workout paradise. Most of the time, this exclusive gym feels like your own private gym, silent, spotless, and completely empty. But one day, you walked in and someone had already beaten you to it. Just one person: a girl in a white gym top and black leggings with a nice ass, quietly focused in the corner. You both mind your own workouts inside, at least for some time. You have done Barbell Squats, Kettlebell Swing, Romanian Deadlifts and Curtsy Lunge. Now it's a turn for some Hip Thrusts. While doing Hip Thrusts, you saw how amazed she was. She went for some Back Squat workout. But... While doing Back Squat her ass faces in your direction where you can clearly see the form. Big and juicy, must be tasty. Doing Back Squat with almost no weight, yet she is making lewd sound. "AAAAH, OOOOH, YES AAAH" - almost like she was seducing you. She got your attention, and you lost focus by looking at her ass. She knew she got your attention and looked at you with a lewd face and continued with the lewd screams. Now moving towards you. "Hey you like what you see?" with a teasing voice

"Uhm yeah its beautiful, but I'm so sorry if this made your uncomfortable" You stuttered "I'm just joking, you can keep looking." - She winked and continued and then asked "Whats your name?"

You introduced yourself and she introduced herself. "I'm Imane Anys, you come here often?" "Only lately, how about you?" - You two asked questions back and forth. "I workout here from time to time, so what do you do? Here is quite an exclusive gym, usually only rich people can access it, I'm a streamer myself alias Pokimane but you can call me Poki if you like." "Oh, I'm just a student at the moment, I got this card from my rich friend" "Well anyways, you look strong, maybe you can help out with my workout?" - Poki indicates something you couldn't imagine. "Yeah yeah sure sure, how can I help?" She leads you to a workout bench, where you sit down and her kneeling down. Baffled and confused as you are, but follows her lead. She pulls off your pants "Wow you're big and this is not even hard yet" - Amazed Poki as she has a little sniff of a strong mans cock. She continued saying you better show how strong you are. Indeed you have to show her what you are capable of, you grabbed her white top and ripped it off, this should show enough how strong you are. "Oh fuck yes you are strong, now I will explain my rules of workout, ok?" You nodding as she explains more detail. "We are gonna do different workout positions and usually it in sets and reps, so this position will have 5 sets with 10 reps" "GURP ONE...GURP TOWWOOWOO...GURP THWEEE....GAWK GAWK FFFFOORR...G....GAWK FIIII....." - Poki deepthroated the whole cock while you were grabbing both her tits and played with them until the sets was done. The first workout positions done, she was panting heavily "Wow this was amazing...and now into another position" - She stood up with excitement and wiggled her ass in front of you. "You know what to do" - Wiggle wiggle wiggle You ripped off into some holes of her tight black leggings, enough for her asshole and pussy to be used for the next workout position. You are still sitting down as she takes your cock and leads into her pussy. Down up down up down up. This workout position has 10 sets 10 reps. Down up down up down up. Luckily there is still no one in the gym, her moans and screams are so loud from the pleasure. Last two sets you showed her what real workouts are for, you were thrusting upwards while she was moving down. "FUCK YES AAAAH YOU ARE USING MY HOLE CORRECTLY YESS FUCK" - Screaming from pleasure while her pussy juices are dripping. Workout position 3 - She stands up and leans on the workout bench, a standing doggy position. 10 sets and 10 reps per set. You grabbed her thick hips and pounded at a fast pace, firm and rough. You realize because it's 10 per set, you last so much longer. For hours you two workout in many different fun positions. But you two understand this has to an end soon, now last workout position, Pokimane's favorite and this doesn't have any set or reps, just pure workout. She leads you to a yoga mat on the floor, and in front a mirror. Her face is down and her juice ass is up, her hands pointing to her asshole and saying. - "Rough, fast, no mercy, no pauses, and cum inside" You inserted into her tight asshole and as she wished. Her moans and her face showed in the mirror reflection, eye rolled up and lip biting, she is totally lost in euphoria state. After non stop of pounding her asshole you are finally going to burst "NNNNGGGGH TAKE IT!!!" . You are such a good sport listen to what she says. ROUGH, FAST, NO MERCY, NO PAUSES and CUM INSIDE, indeed. Both of you are exhausted from the workouts, sweaty but happy. "Hey, lets "workout" together every friday here from now on" - Poki said with a lewd seducing way. Well you can't say no to free pussy and ass.

[noira-l]

𝚂𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚂𝚗𝚘𝚠, 𝚂𝚘𝚏𝚝 𝙻𝚒𝚙𝚜

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: On the most romantic night of the year—December 24th—what should’ve been a simple mission leaves you walking home through snow-dusted streets with Gojo Satoru, a boy you’ve had a hopeless crush on for as long as you can remember. The falling snow and quiet glow of streetlamps set the perfect scene… until he casually asks if you’ve had your first kiss.

𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 — teen!gojo satoru x gn reader

𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜/𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚜 — really shy reader, pining, reader has a crush on Gojo, first kiss, romantic setting.

𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝 — 1,5 k

𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚛'𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎 — Just a mini special! Consider this a small Christmas gift from me to all of you. I hope this brings a little joy your way. Thank you for being here, and Merry Christmas! c:

𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚖𝚎 — sia - snowman

𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

"What a pain..." he groaned, his voice cutting through the stillness "Why’d we even have to do that mission tonight? Christmas Eve, seriously?"

The snow crunched softly beneath your boots, muffling the sound of your steps as you walked beside Gojo. The mission had taken longer than expected, and now the two of you were making your way back through the quiet streets. A thin layer of snow blanketed the ground, dusting the branches of the trees lining the road. Street lamps cast faint halos onto the snow, their warm light stretching out in pools along the empty path.

Gojo let out an exaggerated sigh, stuffing his hands deeper into his coat pockets as he tilted his head back, staring dramatically at the falling snow.

You glanced at him from the corner of your eye, feeling the way your cheeks warmed up despite the chill in the air. It wasn’t unusual for him to complain - if anything, it was part of his charm - something about his tone always made your heart flutter.

"It wasn’t that bad." you said quietly, your breath curling in the frosty air.

He shot you a sideways glance, his glasses lowered, white hair speckled with snowflakes. His scarf, sloppily thrown around his neck, billowed slightly in the wind.

"Not that bad? We could’ve been in warm beds right now, drinking hot chocolate or something. But nooo, we’re out here fighting curses in the snow like in some tragic drama."

You suppressed a smile, biting the inside of your cheek.

He had a point. The mission had been cold and tiring, and you were already beginning to feel the weight of exhaustion creeping into your legs. Still, there was something... so nice about this. Just the two of you, walking side by side in the quiet winter night.

And the imagine of you with him, under a blanket, sharing hot chocolate as snow gently tapped against the window. Dreamy, to find yourself in such a scenario with him.

Well, it wasn't surprising, you had a crush on him since forever.

Gojo’s breath puffed out like soft clouds as he spoke again "Everyone else gets to be at home, watching movies or doing couple-y stuff." he nudged you lightly with his elbow, his tone turning teasing "Bet you’re sad you’re stuck with me, huh?"

Your heart stumbled in your chest, you gripped the edges of your scarf tighter, as if it might somehow hide the heat blooming on your face.

"N-no." you mumbled, hoping your voice didn’t betray the way you felt.

"Aw, come on." he leaned closer, peering at you with that mischievous glint in his eye "Don’t tell me you’re enjoying this."

"I—I just think the snow is pretty." you deflected, focusing intently on the snow-covered path ahead. The way the street lamps lit up the flakes made them look like falling stars. Anything that might help turn his attention away from you.

Gojo hummed thoughtfully, falling quiet for a rare moment "Yeah." he said softly after a beat "I guess it is."

His voice had lost its bratty edge, settling quieter, almost thoughtful. When you glanced at him again, you noticed the way his gaze softened, lingering on the snow-laden branches overhead. The orange glow from the lamps highlighted the curve of his jaw and the faint smirk tugging at his lips.

You catch yourself looking at him, heart squeezed in your chest at the realization. You quickly looked away, afraid he might catch you staring.

"Hey." Gojo’s voice broke the silence again, but this time his tone was playful "Have you had your first kiss yet?"

You nearly tripped over your own feet "W-what?!"

Gojo snickered, clearly enjoying the sight of you flustered "I’m just curious. You seem like the type who’d get all red and shy about it."

"I—I don’t see why that matters!" you stammered, feeling your face heat up more with every word.

He grinned, watching you with that, stupidly handsome amused expression of his "Ohhh, I’ll take that as a no."

You huffed, pulling your scarf higher over your face, but the warmth in your chest lingered despite your embarrassment. You desperatly wanted to hide you face from him.

Suddenly, Gojo tilted his head, his voice dropping to a low, teasing murmur "Want me to change that?"

Your eyes widened in shock, your heart racing painfully in your chest "W-what?! No—I mean, I—"

The more you tried to respond, the hotter your face felt, your words tangling over themselves hopelessly. You became a blabbering mess. Gojo burst out laughing, his breathless chuckles filling the cold air.

"Relax, I’m just messing with you." he said with a grin, though the glint in his eyes suggested otherwise.

You slowed your steps, letting him pass you by just slightly. The sound of his footsteps continued ahead as you lingered behind, your breath visible in the cold night. You glanced down at the snow, your breath curling like smoke as it left your lips. The quiet was heavy, but it felt like the kind of silence that could shatter with just one word.

And it did, with one sentace.

"I... I want you to change that." you said softly, barely above a whisper, more to yourself than to him.

Gojo stopped mid-step, the snow crunching softly beneath his feet. Slowly, he turned around to face you, his expression unreadable under the dim light of the streetlamp.

Then, with a devilish grin, he leaned slightly forward.

"Oh? You really just said that? Bold of you. What if I’m terrible at it?" he smirked wider, tilting his head playfully "But~ I could go all out – twirl you under the streetlamp, dip you low, and make it look like a scene straight out of a cheesy romance movie. How’s that sound?"

Your face burned hotter than ever, and for a second, you couldn't even look at him. The thought of Gojo actually doing that- of his hand gently reaching for yours, his face inching closer under the soft glow of the streetlamp - felt like too much to bear. You think you're on a verge of heart attack.

"Forget it!" you blurted, your voice higher than intended. So many emotions mixing under your shy shell. You stared walking again, embarrassed.

Gojo laughed again, hands behind his head as he strolled ahead.

After a few steps, he slowed, letting his arms drop to his sides as he turned and stepped closer to you. You also stopped your steps.

His face hovered just a little too near. Intense gaze lingered on yours for a heartbeat too long, his bright blue eyes glimmering under the faint light, framed by delicate white lashes that catched the falling snow.

Slowly, he even stepped closer, his hand gently curling around your wrist as he pulled you toward him, the soft fabric of his coat brushing against your arms. Your breath hitched in surprise, but you didn't pull away. You couldn't grasp what was going on.

His breath warmed the space between you. Then he leaned in, the tip of his nose grazing yours for just a split second before his lips met yours.

Oh wow.

He kissed you.

It was so shy, so soft, that it almost doesn't resemble his style at all. You dreamed of tasting his lips, which proved to be warm, plush and faintly sweet, like the lingering trace of candy or the memory of laughter shared on a quiet afternoon. The brushes of his pink lips sent a shiver down your spine, and you found yourself leaning in without realizing it.

Gods, you're kissing him.

The heat from that though spread through your chest, making your heart hammer loudly in your ears, drowning out the world around you. His white lashes fluttered faintly as his eyes half-closed, and for a second, you thought he might pull away.

But no, instead, his hand slid gently to your lower back, pulling you impossibly close, and his kiss grew more assured. A little more intense. You rested your hands against his chest for stabilization, fingers curling into the fabric of his coat. His heartbeat thumped faintly beneath your touch. Your head began to spin and you knees slightly bend from the sensation of his tongue against yours.

His arms tightened around you, as if he could feel you melt in his embrace.

You pulled away after a while, breathless, hearts racing wildly. That was the best first kiss ever.

"How'd that go?" he asks, his voice low and playful, but still mesmerized as if he was still savoring the kiss as much as you were.

You, completely captivated, red and mushy, manage a soft.

"Amazing." your voice wavers slightly, betraying the lingering breathlessness he left behind.

He chuckles, the sound warm enough to melt the snow between you, and reaches out to adjust your scarf with a gentle touch. His fingers brush against your neck for the briefest moment, sending a ripple of warmth through you despite the chill in the air.

"How about more of that… and some hot chocolate when we get back?" he suggests, his signature boyish grin on place, yet there’s a bit of softness in his expression that makes your heart flutter all over again.

You nod, unable to suppress the big smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

© noira-l | all rights reserved. do not copy, translate, modify, or redistirbute my work without permission

[booksfansworld]

Sirius black x reader

Set during the order of the Phoenix

The Order meeting had long since ended, but neither of them had moved from the kitchen table. The candlelight flickered, casting shadows along the worn wooden surface, but Sirius was too focused on her to care.She was watching him carefully, the way she always had—like she could see past the smirk, past the sharp edges, straight to the boy he used to be. And Merlin, how he had missed that.

"How long have you been back with the Order?" he asked, fingers idly tracing the rim of his cup.

"Since Dumbledore called us," she said. "I was working abroad before that."

Sirius raised an eyebrow. "Abroad?"

She nodded, setting her tea aside. "France, mostly. Some work with the resistance there. It kept me busy."

Busy. Right. He knew what that meant. It meant she had been trying to run from the same ghosts he had.

Sirius exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "You should have written."

A bitter smile tugged at her lips. "So should you."

He had no response to that.

Silence settled between them, heavy with things unsaid. Outside, the house creaked under the weight of its history, and somewhere upstairs, Buckbeak shifted restlessly.

Finally, she spoke again, voice quieter this time.

"I thought about you, you know. All those years."

Sirius’s throat tightened. "Did you?"

“Of course, I did." She shook her head, almost incredulous. "You and James were my family, Sirius. And then—" She swallowed hard. "Then he was gone. And you were—"

"Locked away." His voice was rougher than he intended.

She flinched but didn't look away. "I didn’t believe it. Not for a second."

Sirius let out a slow breath, staring at the woman in front of him—the only person, who didn’t doubt him.

"You were always too smart for your own good," he murmured.

She huffed a laugh. "That’s what James used to say."

At the mention of his best friend, something cracked inside Sirius. He had spent so long running from the past, trying not to think about everything he had lost. But she had been a part of it all—his best memories, his worst moments, every reckless adventure and quiet conversation in between.

And she was still here.Slowly, he reached across the table, his fingers grazing over hers. She didn’t pull away.

"We can’t get those years back," he said, voice low. "But we’re here now."

She met his gaze, and for the first time in years, Sirius felt something close to hope.

"Yeah," she whispered. "We are."

————

For the first time in weeks, Sirius slept.Not well, not peacefully, but he slept. And when he woke, he remembered what had been different. She had been there.

After their conversation in the kitchen, she hadn't left right away. They had lingered in that quiet space, words giving way to silence, the weight of old wounds settling between them. And when he had finally dragged himself upstairs, her presence had followed, settling in his chest like a warmth he hadn’t felt in years.It was dangerous, this feeling.

The next evening, the house was buzzing with Order members preparing for a mission. Sirius stood in the hallway, arms crossed as he watched her talking to Kingsley. She was serious, nodding along as they discussed logistics, but there was a spark in her eyes—the same fire she had always had, the one that had drawn him in all those years ago.

"Staring again, mate," Remus murmured beside him.

Sirius scowled. "Shut it, Moony."

Remus only smirked. "It’s nice, you know. Seeing you act like a lovesick schoolboy again."

Sirius shot him a glare, but the truth was, he felt exactly like that—like he was sixteen again, watching her laugh with James, pretending he didn’t want to be the one making her smile.

She caught his eye then, and something in her expression softened. Before he could think better of it, he pushed off the wall and walked toward her.

Kingsley excused himself, leaving them alone in the hallway.

"You’re going out tonight?" Sirius asked, eyeing the pack she carried.

She nodded. "Just a quick mission. We’ll be back by morning."

He hated this part. The waiting. The not knowing. He had spent too many years locked away, helpless, and now, even in freedom, he was trapped within these walls while the people he cared about risked their lives.

"You better be," he said, forcing his voice to stay light.

Her lips quirked. "What, worried about me, Black?"

Sirius held her gaze. "Always."

For a moment, neither of them moved. Then, hesitantly, she reached out, her fingers brushing against his forearm.

"I’ll be careful," she promised.

"Good." His voice was rougher than he intended.

She gave his wrist one last squeeze before stepping away. "I’ll see you soon, Sirius."

He watched her go, heart hammering against his ribs.

And for the first time in a long, long time, he realized just how much he still had left to lose

———-

She came back.Battered, exhausted, but alive. And Sirius didn’t know whether to embrace her or yell at her for making him worry so damn much.

He had spent the entire night pacing the length of Grimmauld Place, snapping at anyone who dared to ask what was wrong. He wasn’t sure when it had happened—when she had become the one person he couldn’t bear to lose. Maybe it had always been that way. Maybe it had started when they were thirteen, when she had first smiled at him in the common room, and never truly stopped.

And now, she was standing in front of him, peeling off her cloak, wincing as she rotated her shoulder.

"You’re hurt," Sirius said, sharper than he meant to.

She gave him a tired smile. "Just a scratch."

“Let me see." Before she could protest, he reached for her arm, carefully rolling up the sleeve of her shirt. A deep gash ran along her shoulder, barely healed, and rage bubbled in his chest.

"Who did this?" His voice was low, dangerous.

She sighed. "Sirius, I’m fine—"

"Who. Did. This?"

Her fingers curled around his wrist. "It’s over. We got what we needed. That’s what matters."

It didn’t feel like enough. Not when she had nearly been taken from him.

Sirius exhaled sharply, forcing himself to calm down. His thumb brushed absently over the skin of her wrist, grounding himself in the fact that she was here. That she had come back to him.

"You’re reckless," he muttered.

She huffed a quiet laugh. "Look who’s talking."

Fair point.

They stood there, close enough that he could feel the warmth of her skin, hear the steady rhythm of her breathing. He should step back. He should let go.

But he didn’t.

nstead, he reached up, fingertips ghosting over a stray lock of her hair. She watched him carefully, her breath hitching, but she didn’t pull away.

"You scared me," he admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

She swallowed. "I know."

Sirius hesitated—then, before he could think better of it, he leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to her temple.

"Don’t do it again," he murmured against her skin.

Her fingers tightened around his. "I can’t promise that."

He closed his eyes for a moment, breathing her in. "Just—come back to me. Always."

She tilted her head, resting her forehead against his.

"Always," she whispered

[cherry-pop-elf]

Follow My Lead

Curly x Disabled!Reader

Can be read as platonic

AN: Purely self indulgent. I’m suffering extreme disability issues do to the change in weather and it’s very painful and exhausting. So here we are. Friendly reminder of disability’s existing and lives can still be lived. Thank you

SUM: You were returning to the Physical Therapy center for your weekly appointment. As you enter the designated gym, with its nurses, you noticed someone new. New people in the waiting room, and new people in the gym. Wonder who that new nurse is to…

Warnings: Disabilities, medical discussion, reader’s disabilities are vague but will have issues that are common in the disability community, PTSD, Trauma, Everyone lives except Jimmy, lots of medical discussion, so much trauma Jesus Christ

“Just wait for a few minutes and we can call you back.” The woman would tell you. You would give a nod and returned to your seat in the waiting room. Right next to quite the chipper fellow. With floral attire. There with a much older man. Perhaps his father?

“Hi-!” The floral guy would say, before the older man nudged him. Telling him not to bother the other people here at the gym here. You didn’t mind. People can make the atmosphere here so depressing sometimes. It’s nice to have some sunshine.

“Hello!” You returned, meeting his energy. That had him just beaming.

“You two are new here, aren’t you? First time here?” You asked, as the floral man nodded. The older just let the younger do all the talking. The floral one seemed the social butterfly anyway.

“Yeah. It’s not for us though. It’s for our friend Curly. And also Anya! She’s a nurse. Since she’s a nurse she’s helping him with the other like physical therapists here. He really needs a-lot of extra help. His arms and legs are missing, eye is missing, had so many skin graphs. He’s been through A LOT. So we’re here for moral support.” He explained to you, and you would listen.

Damn that Curly really went through alot. Sounded like he lost the limbs then actually was without them earlier in life. He’s going to have a long journey ahead of himself.

“Swansea here is also helping install stuff at Curly’s place to make it easier to move around in. Like railings, changing door knobs, stuff like that! He’s got prosthetics he’s still getting used to, but he also uses a wheelchair when they make his muscles ache too much.” He would ramble on, and you happily listened.

It was so nice to have someone be so positive. Many able bodied people just treat disabled situations with such mourning and sadness. It was refreshing to have someone have a positive outlook. To be excited to help compared to just mourning and worrying.

“You can come back when you are ready-!” A physical therapist would call for you. As you went to leave, the floral man was quick to call out.

“Oh! I’m Daisuke!”

“Well hello Daisuke. Please talking to you-!” You would wave, before heading back to the gym area with everyone else.

Typically most physical gyms would have a designated nurse for each person, that way you can be watched carefully and monitored for improvement. This gym, however, allowed that people who had progressed to a certain level can work out independently with the gear offered here. As a means to allow more independence, and for them to improve or care for their health by their own speed.

It seems like that Curly guy won’t reach that milestone for ages.

He was very easy to notice amongst the often elderly folks there. The rare younger type, but often it’s from some kind of long turn injury or recovery of surgery.

There you would see a man using the standing bars. Metal bars on each side, and a person would walk through the middle. Gave them the ability to use their arms to keep support instead of using all their weight on their legs.

Just like Daisuke said he was in pretty rough shape. His arms had prosthetics and same for his legs. A eye patch covered his missing eye, and much of his skin still was incredibly rough.

Despite it all, he’s trying. He’s shakily walking through, with his arms on the metal, and he’s taking it step by step. Still trying to adjust to having somewhat of limbs again.

Next to him was a kind looking woman. Her eyes looked like they had seen too much, but her smile said she is willing to keep on living. To spite the world she will be happy.

“There you go Curly. You are doing a good job. Just take it very slow. There’s no need to rush. You will be able to do more once you adjust. How about you finish this walk and we can sit down. Then we can try and use your arms for a while. Legs are the most exhausting.” She would say to him.

She had such a warmth in her voice. A nurse that everyone wished they had after any life threatening event. She was perfect for a physical therapist.

“Shit shit shit-!” He would start to panic, and he would end up slipping. She was quicker though. She managed to grab him by his chest, as his limbs went limp. Just dangling like a doll. He looked so humiliated.

Maybe he needed a friend.

“Hi! I heard you two are new here. That guy in the waiting room, Daisuke, told me a little about you two. Do you need help with like, oh I don’t know, anything? I’ve been coming here for a while now. If you want anyway.” You would offer, as Anya would help him stand back on his bionic feet again.

“Oh that is very kind of you. I think we are alright, for the time being. But thank you so much.” She was so gentle with her words. Clearly each word was truly kindness, and not just words to push someone away.

“I wouldn’t mind it. I….I have no idea what I’m doing.” Curly would admit, as there was still shame in his expression. As if he felt unworthy to be there. To be helped at all. That he just deserved the worse.

Very relatable.

“Oh sure! Oh oh! Maybe I can be on the other side of the bar. You can place your hands on my shoulder and your other arm on hers. We will hold you up ourselves so when you slip you don’t fall.” You offered, as you stepped into position.

Anya would do the same, and made sure there was a hand on his back and one on his chest. To help him keep himself straight, and if he slipped you both can push him back into place.

“Deep breaths Curly. You got this. You are almost to the other side.” Anya reassured, as you smiled as well. Suppose seeing you both trying so hard helped him gain the motivation to push through.

Each step was heavy, slow, and frustrated. He was trying his best, but sometimes his muscle spasms kicked in and his leg would just move the wrong way. You could relate to that. Muscle spasms were so annoying to deal with. Especially in public. People think you are on some kind of drug and question you. Annoying as hell.

It was slow, but you didn’t care. He needed a little extra help and you figured you could offer it. Make things just a little easier for him. It’s rough. You know it so well.

He finally reached the other end, and Anya couldn’t help but clap and beam. So proud of him. So damn happy he did it. Course when she let go he ended up falling into you, but you managed to help him get back up again.

“Sorry! Just you did it! Before you know it you’ll be running and jumping. You’ll be back to skiing in no time.” She would encourage, before bringing the wheelchair over. The two of you helping him sit in it. Such a relief.

“You ski?” You asked, as Anya would help take his legs off. Let him breathe for a while. While she did that, he gave a small nod.

“Before all….this….I used to really be quite the athlete. I loved winter sports. If it was in the snow I was there. Snowboarding, Skiing, ice skating, ice climbing, I used to do it all. Even was a body builder. To think I used to do so much…..” He sighed, as he looked over at his arms. Looking at what was once muscle and bone. Now just metal and specialized plastic.

“Hey….I know you’ve been told this a million times, so I’ll just say it from a person that also doesn’t have the best mobility either. You’ll have good days and bad days. Some more extreme than others. It’s gonna to fucking suck. It’s gonna hurt. It’s going to be exhausting. You’ll have days wondering why you should even stay alive. But you’ll also have days where you can accomplish simple things like making your own dinner. Taking out the trash. Fold some laundry. You’ll get there. It’s gonna suck but you’ll reach it.”

Having someone keep it blunt with him seemed to be what he needed to hear. Was like he learned a mistake about keeping things to sweet. That sometimes you need a reality check.

“Thank you….I think it was very important for me to hear that. Thank you.” He would do his best to smile at you, but the nerves in his face were rather damaged. You wouldn’t be surprised if he needed some more surgery there to.

He’s still going to go through so much, but maybe having someone who can genuinely relate to it all could help.

“Hey, I come here every Saturday. That way when I’m painfully exhausted from it I can just relax and have Sunday be a complete recover day.” You said, as you walked with him as Anya rolled him over to a spot to not bother people. She would soon sit across from him, with a small ball, and the two of them would try and play simple catch with it. Both to help with his arms and his new adjustment with a single eye.

“Think that sounds like the best plan for me right now as well…” He nodded, as that was the way you two could agree on it.

He would do his best to play catch with her, but it kept falling in his lap. His limbs just not moving quite fast enough, and his send of direction never quite there. Was so frustrating, and you understood it.

“Said a million times, I know, but take it from me. You’ll genuinely get there. But it will take a while. Not days. Not weeks. Months if you keep at it. But it’ll get there.” You reassured, as you stepped away. Off to do your own exercises for your own issues.

Was a peaceful gym day like that. Spending what spoons you had to take care of yourself. Every now and again, when taking a breather, you looked over to him. Seeing Anya help him get used to his limbs. Small things like picking up something, catching, even paddy cake. Taking it slow for him.

Once you ran out of energy you would kinda hang out with them.

You didn’t ask him how he ended up like that, you just let yourself breathe. Breathe as he spoke what he wanted to speak about. Same for her.

From what little pieces you could pick out from them it sounded like they were victims of a ship crash. No wonder he ended up so fucked up. That fact he’s alive at all is insane to you. Anya deserved way more credit.

There also seemed to be a shared enemy between them. When a person called over for a therapist, named Jimmy, the way they flinched and looked around like someone started unloading a gun. Whoever this Jimmy was sure made his mark on them.

Once he finally couldn’t go on any longer she would take the arms off as well. Letting what was left of his limbs breathe. He was so exhausted, but he seemed happy. Happy to have made some kind of progress, and even happier he had someone to talk to through it.

“I’ll see you next Saturday.” You smiled, and waved, as you started to leave. He gave a wave of his own, before Daisuke and Swansea returned to him. There to carry his prosthetics and be his cheerleaders.

You were happy for him. He deserved a support network.

He deserved to smile again.

You just knew he did.

[acexsmhking]

HEY BAE CAN U WRITE EYELESS JACK W/ A GN READER WHO HELPS HIM W/ DAILY THINGS BC OF HIS YK.. BLINDNESS? I THINK ITS CUTE IDK LIKE HELPIN HIM W/ WASHING OFF DIRT AND GRIME OR MAKING FOOD OR TYING HIS SHOES(idk which canon or fanon jack u write tho my bad😔) BUT YEA THANKS BAE I LOVE UR STORIES💗💗

𝐓𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐟𝐮𝐥

(𝗮𝗱𝗷.) 𝗱𝗲𝗲𝗽𝗹𝘆 𝘆𝗲𝘁, 𝗿𝗼𝗺𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗰𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗺𝗲𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗵𝗼𝗹𝘆

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Jack x GN!Reader

Summary: GN!Reader having to navigate a relationship with Jack, learning new habits and adapting constantly

Warning(s): 18+ content, mentions of sexual content, mentions of inner turmoil, slight angst, descriptions of gore, descriptions of human consumption, mentions of kidnapping, alienation from family and friends, controlling behaviors

Jack is very used to his life, he’s been like this for almost a decade now. However, adjusting to another person? Yeah you have to help him with that one

Jack is very.. what’s the simplest word.. ah! Yes, greedy. He kinda of really just takes you, kidnaps you, so now instead of a nice comfy, cozy warm home you’re stuck in some random hole or cave

…not Bonita

Your life basically completely shifts a whole 360° until you can find a way to completely communicate with each other

It’s not that Jack doesn’t want to meet your needs, he’s just.. so.. him and he’s forgotten anything of a human life so he just tries.. everything

He tries making you a nest; full of warm furs and pelts, laying atop you during winter so you don’t freeze to death, even letting you make a fire in the den to stay warm, giving you the best slabs of meat or organs from a kill

However, that isn’t human. It isn’t sustainable enough for a modern day person. He’s utterly distressed on why you keep getting sick, losing weight, constant shivers during cold weather

He cannot figure out how to take care of you. After a while he starts trying to really learn what you’re TRYING to say. Taking you more and more rivers and creeks to bathe, finding more editable vegetation for you, fruits and letting you cook your meat at least in peace

He also starts letting you wander into closer stores and shops to get new things you’ll need. Clothes, toothbrush, deodorant, etc. All in all helping Jack with day to day things is more so focused on your uh.. relationship(??)

He is kind though! He’s never hurt you and tries to be more and more gentle with you subconsciously. He lays on your lap and lets you play with his hair or ears. He lets you comb and braid his hair, do his nails, help wash him

By now, let’s be honest if you’re in an apartment you’ve more than lost that shit. Family and friends putting up missing posters and announcements. And while sure you do still have your phone, it’s not like it’s functional anymore. And how would u even tell someone about this?

Jack tries to communicate with you more, letting you speak and speak even if he doesn’t really understand and nodding along

He starts bring home more food so he can spend more time with you and you don’t feel lonely

Learning how to speak to Jack is a very very difficult thing, he doesn’t speak much of anything and he’s far too possessive to let Toby near you and teach the one thing he does speak

However, let’s say you do manage to make Jack take you back home. Wowie do you have a lot of work to do. So much that maybe staying missing is really for the best

So. Many. Phone calls

You have to get resituated so you probably are staying with a friend or family during this time… which Jack doesn’t like. But you thankfully manage to keep him at bay and hidden somehow

Getting legal things handled takes a long time, police are rather consistent in check-ins and asking you all sorts of questions. And these strange.. agents? Keep coming to your door asking things. But you don’t give up Jack

You’ve stranglely gotten attached to him, probably some sort of Stockholm Syndrome but he’s so nice to cuddle that really it’s a fair trade

Once things are settled, you find yourself in a better position and living. You start teaching Jack newer things

One, you have to help him learn the layout of wherever you both are now living. It takes a short amount of time since Jack can echolocate so he’s not just useless on his own

…you’re gonna have to find a place with faux pet friendly hardwood. While he can retract his feety nails he can still get a little excited when you get home or just absentmindedly scratch it

So no real hardwood or carpet floors for you

HATES THE TV

It’s loud, and spooky

Loves the shower though, even though he doesn’t really… fit.. in it

You have to get a detachable shower head for him

Food is strange. Jack has a very adaptable digestive systems so he can eat literally anything without problem. He just still doesn’t really understand the whole cooking thing

He likes the oven though! Very warm

You’ll often find Jack laying by the heaters or oven when they’re on, he’s attracted to heat

You have to invest in a place with high ceilings btw. He’s already 6’10 right now and doesn’t seem to stop growing..

He does NOT like doorways, still hits his head sometimes

Big. Bed.

He actually loves it though, I mean you’re gonna need the strongest reinforcement bed frame ever but he does really like the bed!

He understand why you probably missed it

You have to tell him not to make biscuits on the bed or couch.. messes them up

Clothes, yes you have to help him with. He doesn’t wear shoes so you’re spared from that but you do probably have to learn some sewing to make him more and more clothes

You find out he is actually very picky about what kind of fabrics he likes lol

When he’s about to leave for hunts he actually likes when you do his hair. Braiding it or pinning it up so it’s not in his face as much!

Also learning how to clean his mask, it’s a very strange material that you aren’t familiar with. It doesn’t quite feel like anything you’ve ever touch. Not a metal, crystals, porcelain or plastic. Definitely not fabric

Conclusion, yeah you’re gonna have to help Jack with a lot. However those things are just human things. So good luck

: ̗̀➛ Thank you for the ask Anon and all your support! I’m sure this wasn’t quite what you were expecting mostly cause I haven’t talked about my version of Jack a lot but I actually appreciate how much this allowed me to talk bout him more and struggles you’d face being with him! Love y’all make sure to stay safe! —Ace

[cherryredcheol]

pizza night

tldr: why order a pizza when you can craft one? a/n: say hi to chef!boyfriend jun. i love him. also, jun nickname reveal! please act surprised when i upload his nickname fic.

since moving in together, you and jun have divided the chores evenly. he folds the laundry, you put it away. you vacuum, he dusts. some chores are shared, like grocery shopping. but the weekly fridge clean-out was your job. if you didn’t do it, it would never get done. jun brings home all sorts of weird stuff from the restaurant and it accumulates. it’s really not a bad trade-off though. you clean out the leftovers weekly in the fridge, and jun cooks you some of the most delicious food you’ve ever had. some of it was weird, some familiar, all delicious.

“junnie? is this squid ink pasta still good? or should i trash it?” you called out to your boyfriend in the other room. you were almost done, finally on the back of the last shelf. the stack of dirty tupperware in the sink was growing steadily, and you pitied whichever one of you lost rock, paper, scissors later when deciding who had to do the clean-out dishes; you secretly hoped it was jun. 

lost in your thoughts of how to sabotage the game later, you hadn’t noticed jun appearing next to you, holding a hand out to inspect said pasta, “dumpling, pass it to me please.” 

you held it out to him, watching as he brought it to his nose, breathed in, and…

“definitely toss.” after emptying the contents into the trash, the final dish joined its yucky friends in the sink. you let out a deep sigh, happy to be done with this part of your day. 

“i have an idea for dinner.” you knew this would pique his interest. it was his night off from the restaurant and you were hoping this meant he’d be open to something different. something you usually didn’t do. “i want pizza.” 

his eyes lit up, “sure thing! i have that sourdough starter in the fridge still, right? we can make the dough using that. and i think i still have that tomato sauce from the special two nights ago. i brought it home with me just for this!” he craned his neck around you to get a peek in the fridge, babbling on excitedly about his starter and sauce. 

you reached up to his shoulders, the weight of your hands pulling his attention back to you, “yes, dumpling?” 

“can we just order one from that place around the corner?” you pulled out your best puppy eyes, hoping he’d fold. jun loved cooking for you, he says food is his love language. he loved knowing the food you were fuelling your body with was made with love, his love. in his mind his love literally fueled you, so getting him to agree to take-out, let alone greasy pepperoni pizza take-out, was a challenge. 

he cupped your cheeks, eyes softening as they looked at yours, still in full puppy mode. his thumbs rubbed at your skin, “dumpling, let me cook for you. it’ll be so good. better than that pizza place.” 

your hands moved from his shoulders to his wrists, “i have absolutely no doubt in my mind that you would make me the best pizza i’ve ever had. but tonight, i really want to order one in, and eat it sitting on the couch with you while we catch up on our shows.”  you could see him imagining it, a cozy night together;  sharing jokes, pizza, and beer. maybe some kisses if he’s lucky. releasing his wrists you go in for the kill. wrapping your arms around his waist, you prop your chin on his chest and look up at him, “don’t you want a nice night with me, junnie?”

 you can see the moment he folds. “yeah, dumpling, i do.” he leans down and kisses you gently, smiling.

 when you separate, you fish your phone out of your back pocket, “i’ll order right now. what do you want on your half?” 

he laughed, “my half? dumpling, if we’re having a pizza night we’re each getting our own.” 

[peeweekey]

everyone adores you (at least i do)

pairing: sam x reader

wc: 1.1k

tags: CHEEEEESY cheesy cheesy puppy love, mutual pining, sam is PATHETICALLY down bad, pre-relationship, abigail and sebastian mentioned, friends to lovers

synopsis: if it were up to sam, he'd spend every second of everyday at your side.

a/n: in all of my other sam fics, its reader embarrassingly in love with him...he gets a taste of his own medicine here lol!

With vanilla ice cream melting and dripping down your fingertips, coarse sand underneath you and the salty ocean waves lapping at your feet; you are a child again, sitting with your grandpa at the docks, watching as he reeled in a ‘big one’. Filling his bucket with loads and loads of fish.

Those days are far gone now, but the memory remains, as clear as the day you remember it. The feeling is nostalgic, sleepy in the way your senses are dulled by syrupy thick contentment. Beaches at sunset have that effect on you, you suppose. 

“This is fun,” Sam says, tone lacking its boisterous loudness, you almost don’t hear it over the sound of crashing waves. “I had a lot of fun today, farmer.”

Your eyes flicker to him, his green gaze dead-set on the peachy golden sky, the taste of sea salt mingling with sweet ice cream heavy in your tongue. The sea breeze is cold, whipping against your face and running through your hair.

“I did too,” you agree. “Y’know, I don’t get a lot of off time with the farm and stuff. This is a nice change of pace.”

He smiles, that sunshine smile you’ve come to associate with Sam. “I caught you at just the right time then, huh?” 

You shrug, your own smile mirroring his. “Auspicious.” He did.

The sun is setting, the day is coming to a close yet Sam wishes it wouldn’t, silently pleading with any higher being to somehow stretch time. He is barely a religious person, but the weight of his want is enough to transcend his own beliefs. Every second with you barely feels like enough; like sand slipping through his fingers.

One thing’s for certain, Sam isn’t going to just let it end here.

“We should hang out like this again,” Sam says, a little hurriedly, captured all in one breath. Shy and tentative, like a bashful child with a school crush. “Uh, I mean, do you? Wanna? Hang out with me?”

You can barely suppress a delighted chuckle from slipping past your lips, your chest warming with fond affection. “I’d be more than happy to. Yoba knows I need a break or two or I’ll actually explode,” you huff while Sam hums in agreement. “We can even invite Abigail and Sebastian… so can demo that new song for me, I see you all working very hard when I visit sometimes.”

He should be happy to hear that; that you’d be more than happy to spend your precious off time with him out of all people. You and him, him and you, Sam and the farmer. Your name connected to his with ‘and’, it makes him giddy, causes his cheeks pinken and pinken. 

Just the two of you, though. Sure, he loves his friends, Abby and Seb have been with him since day one. But it feels out of place—

(Sam, Sebastian, Abigail and the farmer doesn’t have that ring to it…)

“Yeah, I—I dunno, it’s just…”

The unfiltered truth is stupid, at least to him. Vincent is far too young for some of the things Sam longs to say. There’s a reason Abby and Seb hang out under his nose, he won’t blame them, they have their own secrets he isn’t privy to—too serious, too dull for him.

(And now with you, he thinks you might just be the one he can share his own secrets with. Because even he has his own serious, dull thoughts. Thoughts that he doesn’t want brushed away with a snarky remark or a sarcastic laugh.)

“I kinda like that it’s just the two of us?” 

His voice sounds unsteady, squeaky. Trailing off at the end, lost in the sound of water crashing at your feet. Phrasing his statement into a question that you could deny, that you could easily brush off—because if you did, he would too. 

(It would be a bummer if you did though, but Sam is cool with that, chill with any decision you make. Really, he totally is.)

You grin, bumping your shoulder against his, your ice cream is dripping down, down, down your knuckles. Once your skin meets his, you don’t pull away, you press closer and closer to his side. Leaning your head against his sunburnt shoulder—but he barely registers the sting—and your arm against his own. It’s a pleasant weight, having you against him—grounding and tethering him to you.

“I do too. Like it, I mean. I think I get to see so many other sides to you, Sam. Without the others and all that.”

Sam feels his breath hitch, his cheeks flush even pinker even with the sunburns. “Woah, phew, I mean—awesome… When, when do you think we can meet next?”

You tilt your head, running calculations through your mind. You’re very busy on that farm, he knows; but Sam can’t help but keep his hopes up, you’re fun company. Maybe the best he’s had yet.

“I know I won’t have enough time until my melons are ready for harvesting—and don’t you dare try making a joke about that,” you smile, wide and cheeky. Right as Sam readies an innuendo at the tip of his tongue; it makes his blood pump faster and his breathing stutters at the thought of you knowing him so well. 

“So how about this?” you propose slowly. “We spend one day every month doing all the stuff we wanna do, together. just you and me—fun right? I’ll even sleep a little earlier the night before.”

Sam bites into his ice cream—chocolate and your treat, at your insistence—though he isn’t quite sure if the immediate smile on his lips is due to its sweetness, or yours.

He leans closer into you, resting his head on top of yours, strands of your hair tickling his lips. Lowering his voice into a whisper so only you can hear.

(The secret is that you make Sam want. Want, want, want like he’ll never get sick of it. He hoards these stolen moments with you so greedily yet wants more.)

“…two days, two days each month.”

He feels your body shake with the strength of your laughter, warmth swirls all throughout his body, tingling wherever your body brushes against his own. Sam finds that he likes the feeling, the buzz of it—it’s addicting.

“Yeah, alright then,” you reply, mirth dripping from each and every word. “two days. We have a deal. Better?”

“Yeah,” he turns back to face the water, the ocean spray misting his face. “Yeah, a lot better. That does sound fun.”

Anything sounds fun when it involves you.

[bump1nthen1ght]

A Very Monstrous Kinktober (2024) Day 25 - Shower Sex

Kink: Shower Sex

Pairing: M!Reader x M!Shadow Demon

Other Kinks: Soft Sex, Fluffy Smut

Word Count: 1284 words

Kinktober Masterlist

After a long week at work, stressed out under the fluorescents, there’s something soothing about darkness.

The lack of light feels weirdly warm, sucks you in like a hug, wraps itself around you. It blots out all the worrisome things, like the unfolded pile of laundry on your desk chair, or the dishes still sitting in the sink. In the dark your worries seem to flit away, forgotten and consumed whole.

Shucking off your sweaty work uniform, you don’t bother flicking on the bathroom lamp. No, you just light some candles and enjoy the browns and purples of the night and the fire, watching the hot water fog up the mirror. You could get lost in here; You, the water, and the dark.

The shower spray is heavenly on your sore body, pressure beating out the strain on your neck and shoulders. Stress melts down your spine, settles and spins before being sucked down the drain. A palm caresses your lower back, another sliding up to your stomach.

“Hello, dear.” Val whispers from above your head. His large, looming figure fills the shower behind you, horns brushing against the ceiling as he blends in with the shadows. Another reason to love the darkness.

“Hey Val.” You sigh, falling into his grip. Water streams down between you both, makes his inky black skin shine. 

“Long day?” The hand on your lower back pushes in with its knuckles, finding quickly the knot that's been bothering you since this morning. You arch your spine, nodding your head with a sigh.

“Yeah.” You don’t elaborate, too exhausted to even recount every annoyance in your mind.

Val hums, just lets you sit in the warmth of the water and his body. Spindly fingers draw up and down your navel, making art with the water droplets. A warm, thick tongue laps at your neck, like a cat trying to comfort its frightened kitten.

“That feels nice.” You let your head fall to the side, feel the muscle lather up and down. It moves like a python, relaxing with its languid stretches down your neck.

Val hums again, moving his spindly hand downward from your belly button. It hovers over your cock, still gentle. It's you who makes the first move, who lets Val know you’re down for some physical comfort with a quick jut of your hips

Shadowy tendrils crawl up your legs as Val cups your sack. Your inhale sharply, mouth drooping open as he moves up your shaft to brush his thumb against your head, making your cock twitch. You were already half-hard when he pressed against you, your cock now fully erect in his hands. The tendrils around your thigh become slick with water, sopping wet and dripping onto the tiled floor of the shower. 

It takes all you have to not fall over when Val jerks you off, slow and relaxed. Instead you just rest your weight into his grip, let his semi-amorphous shape wrap around you for support. You let out a breathy gasp when tendrils sneak between your ass cheeks and begin circling your hole, prodding at the ring of muscle.

“Fuck.” You mutter under your breath. The flicker of a tongue presses against your lips, polite in asking for access to your sweet mouth. You comply, meeting Val tongue first in your makeout. He kisses you the same way he jerks you off, at his own sensual pace.

Your hand slams against the glass shower window when the first tendril pushes inside you, leaving a dramatic handprint as you moan into Val’s mouth. The hand on your cock speeds up, thwapping against your thighs and spraying water droplets everywhere.

“Feeling good?”

You nod, gasping in between kisses. The water still beats down, blurring your vision. It’s always difficult to fully see Val in the dark, but under the showerhead he seems more all encompassing, like he spreads to every corner of the room.

Tendrils nudge and twist around each other inside you, pressing against your insides and feeling around your prostate. Lightning sparks across your back when they do, your body unconsciously writhing in Val’s grip.

“I want you.” You beg, eyes going cross. “I need you.”

Vall chuckles, his clawed finger tracing the underside of your jaw.

“Of course, dear. Whatever you need.”

Val is gentle when he bends you over, hands wrapping around your wrists to set you against the shower wall, lets you splay your palms out for support before he unwraps from around your upper half. You whine when his hand moves off your cock and his tendrils pull out, but the oozing tip of his cock quickly shuts up any complaint. His hands find their place on your hips instead, his mouth laying kisses on your spine. 

“I’m going to put it in now.”

“Please.”

Val chuckles again, presses his lips to your skin and doesn’t pull away as he sheaths himself inside you. His cock pulses across every inch, smooth shadowy ooze spurting out from between your hole and his shaft.

 A brief shock travels up your spine once he’s fully seated, nudging against your most sensitive area. Some tendrils fondle your ass cheeks while others wrap around your thighs, nudging you to hold them open. The spindly fingertips press into your pelvis, a long, shuddering breath ghosting down from behind your shoulder.

“Feels so good.” Val whispers against your shoulder, dancing his lips up across the blade and to the back of your neck. “You always feel so good.”

Val jerks his hips, a micro of a movement that makes you yelp.

Your desperate whines, bubbling and simmering at the back of your throat, are enough to urge Val on. He starts off slow, lets you adjust to his size, just feeling you squeeze, until he finally lets go.

“A-ah~” You whisper, quiet under the noise of Val’s hips against your ass cheeks as he thrusts up and into you. Water drips down your hair, down your nose and across your jaw. You have to spit it out every couple of seconds, lips caught open in your moans and collecting water like a sink. 

Your skin sticks together, the inky darkness of Val’s form coming undone as he loses himself inside you. The hand moves back around your cock but it's far less coordinated, sloppy and slick as it runs up your shaft. It finds its place on your head, keeping it in a squelching grip and watching the water run through the digits.

“Kiss me.” You pant, arching your neck, tongue stuck out in desperation. With Val’s long tongue it’s not hard for you to meet in the middle, his torso growing and expanding so his lips can lock with yours. Saliva mixes with shower water as it dribbles down your chin, the kiss sloppy like it's your very first one.

Your toes begin to curl, your cock twitching as your orgasm steadily climbs up. All that stress at the base of your spine has begun to unfurl, the memories of your long day fading away. You gasp into Val’s mouth.

“I-m gonna-”

“Me too.” Val whispers, stealing your breath in another kiss, forcing his cock to the deepest part of you. It’s all the push you need, hips jumping forward as your cock bursts into its orgasm. The trembling feeling is only exasperated by Val himself, his cock notched against your prostate and pumping you full.

Fluids mix and drip down between your two bodies, melting into the water and smoothly down the drainThey go alongside the worries of the day, the stink of anxiety and nerves. All that’s left is the darkness. The warm, comforting darkness.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

[roosterforme]

Always Ever Only You Part 3 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley just wants to make you as happy as you make him, and he hates it when you won't even let him try. But when your frustration boils over, you snap at the person you believe deserves it the most.

Warnings: Fluff, smut, angst, swearing

Length: 4200 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order. Gorgeous banner by @mak-32

You had been foolishly holding out hope. Until your period actually began, you'd been telling yourself that maybe there was still a chance. Maybe you had just taken the pregnancy test too early. Maybe you got a false negative.

So when you woke up for work on Monday and needed a tampon, you scolded yourself for your optimism. There was no point in it, because it only made you feel worse in the long-run. 

Bradley rubbed your shoulders and kissed your neck as you put your contacts in at the bathroom vanity. You looked gross. You were bloated, and your face was broken out. You vowed to stick to a better diet until you lost some weight. 

"Morning, Baby Girl," he murmured against your ear. It wasn't even fair. You wanted him all the time. He was perfect all the time. His voice gave you chills. 

"Morning," you whispered. "My period started." Your voice shook pathetically. 

"It's okay," he promised. "It's going to be okay." 

But you really felt like it wasn't. And work was pissing you off. When you got to your lab, you remembered that you and Cat were going to be spending the day working on proposals together. Great. 

"Did you have fun at the Hard Deck?" you asked her, practically throwing your computer onto the counter next to hers. 

She looked up at you, and you could tell she wanted to roll her eyes. "It was fun," she replied. "Not really my scene, but I can see where it would be yours."

You wanted to ask her what that was supposed to mean, but you bit your tongue. You wouldn't give her the satisfaction of thinking you cared about her opinion of you. And you were definitely going to have to tell Jake to get a crush on a hot looking woman who was actually nice, because you'd had just about enough of this. He had bugged you all night at the bar to introduce him to Cat again. He asked you about her all the time, but there was nothing to tell.

You took a seat and pounded away at your keyboard, working all morning while trying to ignore your cramps and your irritation with the woman next to you. Neither of you spoke a word about anything personal. It was all professional. When you noticed that it was noon, you said, "Let's take a break," in as bright a voice as you could.

Jake was waiting in the doorway for you. Or maybe he was just trying to catch a glimpse of Cat. But regardless, when you approached him, he smiled and handed you a container of soup from the cafeteria. "Angel. Let's eat in your office," he drawled. And when Cat breezed past him, he murmured, "Hi, Lieutenant Coleman."

She smirked in response, and Jake turned to watch her walk the entire way down the hall. "You're such a dog," you told him, inspecting the soup and finding it was chicken noodle. "You just need to get laid. Go to the bar tonight. There'll be a line of girls waiting for you."

He met your eyes and shook his head. "I'm not really doing that anymore."

You snorted as he followed you to your office. "Could you imagine if I agreed to go out with you? Bradley and I would have never happened after that."

Jake kicked his booted foot along your office floor before he plopped down into your extra chair. "Yeah, well... he'd have likely killed me if we went out. But, hey, you're not listening to me, Angel. Tell me more about Cat Coleman."

You sighed and ate some soup. "She's mean to me, okay? She doesn't like me."

"I don't believe you."

"It's true. She's so bitchy to me but nice to everyone else. She makes fun of the way I work. She won't eat lunch with me. She avoids me all the time. She hates me."

You swallowed another spoonful of soup, and tears immediately sprung to your eyes. You looked up at Jake, and you knew he could tell something was wrong immediately. When he jumped to his feet, you tried to wave him off, but he was kneeling next to your chair and rubbing your hand before you knew it. 

"What happened?" he asked softly. When you didn't respond, he gave you a few seconds before asking, "Do you want me to go get Rooster?"

"No," you croaked, your throat burning with the effort to talk. "I'm fine."

"You do not sound fine. You can talk to me about anything, right?"

"Right."

"Well, I'm all ears."

And he just knelt there next to you while you told him how much you hated going to your lab now. And you told him that you had your period. And then you said, "Bradley and I are trying to start a family, but it's just not happening."

"Hey," he said, letting you cry it out. "You and Bradley are already a family. Plus, you've got Tramp. And Nat and I are like siblings you guys never even wanted."

You kind of shrugged at him. "It's not the same thing."

"I know that, but sometimes it takes time," he told you.

"It's been four months," you whispered. 

Jake stood up and pulled you to your feet, and then he wrapped you in a hug so tight, his name tag was digging into your collarbone. "Just give it some time. You want me to talk to Rooster?"

"No. Let's just finish eating lunch."

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

Bradley had been trying all week. Kissing along your neck and rubbing your hips through your khakis while you made dinner. But you finally snapped at him on Wednesday night when you were trying to cut up some sun dried tomatoes for the Marry Me Rooster he had requested. 

"I'm trying to cook dinner, Bradley. Yes, I realize you're trying to get me in the mood. Yes, I can feel your erection. No, I don't want to have sex. I look gross, and I feel gross." You set down your knife and turned to face him. He had taken one huge step away from you, and now he was looking at you with the saddest brown eyes. 

"I'm sorry," he muttered, running his fingers through his hair as he walked down the hallway toward your bedroom. 

"Shit," you whispered as you rushed after him. "I'm sorry."

He was standing next to the bed unbuttoning his uniform shirt when you walked in and headed right for him. But he didn't say anything, just yanked his shirt off and tossed it onto the bed. The sight of him in his khaki pants and black undershirt had you sucking in a deep breath. It wasn't that you didn't want him. You just didn't even want yourself right now.

"Bradley," you whispered. 

"Nah. I'm going to go workout in the garage," he told you, stripping out of his pants and digging in a drawer for some gym shorts. "I'll eat later. Don't wait for me."

You watched him walk back out of the room. Then he called for Tramp, and you heard the sliding glass door open and then close. You went back to the kitchen and finished making dinner. You had to fight the urge to go out to the garage and get Bradley, because somehow you knew you'd just end up making things worse. You made him a beautiful plate of dinner and left it on the island. And then you got yourself ready for bed. You were no longer hungry. 

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

Bradley was stressing out. He could feel his composure crumbling as every maneuver he performed in the air was wrong. Everything felt wrong. It was like he and his Super Hornet were out of sync. Like he couldn't trust himself. 

"What are you doing, Rooster?" Phoenix asked him through the comms. But Bradley didn't even know how to respond, because he hadn't been paying attention. He was distracted. He was never like this in the air. 

And then he heard Maverick call his team back to the ground, and he knew it was his fault. He wished he could take all of the pushups for Phoenix and Bob as well, but it was a team effort after all. So Bradley had to try to keep calm while he could feel them glaring at him through all two hundred pushups.

He had been like this all week. Nothing made as much sense to him as flying did. Well, other than you. But things had been a little rough and unpredictable at home. He wasn't really trying to do it, but he had begun to memorize when you were ovulating and when your period was due. Fucking you was no chore, but he was absolutely ready for you to miss a period. He was obsessed with the idea of you showing him a positive pregnancy test. But it just... wasn't happening yet.

And now he was putting pressure on himself. Because he knew he was a ticking time bomb. He felt it in his bones. Any day now, he would be getting deployment papers. And then you would be alone for who knows how long. Weeks or months. Bradley would be on an aircraft carrier in the Pacific Ocean, and you would be at home, worrying about him. And the mission to make a baby would be put on hold, replaced by a different kind of mission.

The thing was, all of this was bothering him a hell of a lot more now, because it was bothering you so much. 

Bradley slammed his locker closed only to find Jake standing there. "You better pull it together, Bradshaw," he said so calmly that it pissed Bradley off even more. "Or you're going to get grounded."

"Do you think I don't know that?" Bradley asked, getting in his face. "Do you think I don't know I'm flying like shit right now?"

But Jake didn't move an inch, and his expression didn't change. "I think whatever is bothering you... well, you should take it home to your wife. Angel will help you feel better."

Bradley took a deep breath and let it out slowly, leaning against his locker with his fist clenched. "She's part of the fucking problem," Bradley growled, and he watched Jake's eyes grow wide. 

Jake gaped at him before he said, "I can't think of a single time you've ever said something like that about her." His feelings seemed to be hurt on your behalf, but Bradley didn't know how to explain how he felt. 

"When she puts pressure on herself, all I want is to relieve it for her," he told Jake softly, trying to unclench his fist. "But I can't. She won't let me."

Jake sighed. "I think I know what it's about. She's been pretty upset. Tried to tell her it's not her fault, but I can tell she's blaming herself."

Bradley could feel his cheeks flushing. You and Jake were close. The other man probably did know some details about your intimate moments with Bradley which was kind of mortifying. However, Bradley would never want you to feel like you couldn't confide in someone you trusted. It was just hard to gasp that Jake was oftentimes that person for you. 

"We just want to have a baby," Bradley growled. 

"It's only been a few months," Jake reminded him. "Deep down, Angel knows it takes time."

Bradley looked up at the flickering fluorescent bulb. "Sometimes I feel like I'm never doing enough for her," he whispered, grabbing his bag and brushing past Jake. 

But he almost ran into Payback on his way out. "What are you still doing here, man?" he asked with a grin. "If I had a girl as hot as your wife, I'd be home by now, pumping her full of babies."

The urge to punch his friend directly in the face was so strong, Bradley had to bite his lip and keep moving. He needed to get home to you but not take this out on you. That would be unacceptable. Because while you were adding to his stress, he would never tell you that. 

You were already home when he walked inside, and Bradley had to try to fight for composure. "Hi," he managed to say. Of course you looked impossibly cute, laying with Tramp on the couch in Bradley's oversized UVA tee and a pair of his boxer briefs. He wasn't sure how he was supposed to keep his hands off you right now, but you'd been distant with him for more than a week. 

"How was your day?" you asked him softly.

Somehow your sweet voice just made him angry. Your voice and your gorgeous face and the way he could see your nipples through the shirt. And Bradley couldn't help himself. His voice was rough to his own ears, and he sounded mad. "My day fucking sucked. It was terrible," he growled. "I flew like an asshole. I got everyone assigned to pushups. I was so distracted from work, thinking about you."

Your eyes were wide as you sat up. "Thinking about me?" Tramp jumped to the floor and ran over to sniff at Bradley's boots as he untied them. 

"Yeah," he grunted, wrestling out of his flight suit and tossing it to a heap on the floor. His skin felt too hot. He needed to go for a run or lift weights. "I told you I think about you all the damn time. And today, trust me, I wish I hadn't been."

"What does that mean?" you asked him, standing up between the couch and the coffee table, your lips forming a little pout. 

Bradley yanked his undershirt off as well, standing just inside the front door in only his compression shorts and his socks. "It means I'm mad because you won't let me try to make you feel better! You don't even want to talk to me, but you'll talk to Jake! I'm fucking pissed that you're skipping meals and ditching me for lunch every day!"

Bradley took off toward the bedroom, leaving you behind. He was afraid of what else he was going to say if he didn't get some space to himself right now. And the last thing he wanted to do was make you cry. But when he got into the bedroom to get some workout clothes, you followed him. 

"I'm sorry," you whispered, biting your lip and looking at him with wide eyes.

"What are you sorry for?" he asked loudly, slamming his drawer shut instead of actually pulling anything out of it. "Tell me."

"I'm sorry I've been shutting you out, Roo." You took a deep breath and said, "I'm sorry I haven't been eating lunch with you. I know we can keep trying, but when I get my period now, I panic."

"You panic and talk to Jake," Bradley growled. When you simply nodded, his blood boiled. He knew he was red in the face as he closed the distance to you. The words were there before he could take them back. "If you want to talk to Jake all the time, maybe you should have married him."

Your lips parted soundlessly, and then you moaned. A needy sound, from the back of your throat. One that had Bradley's cock stirring immediately. 

"I don't want him. I've never wanted him. I just want you."

"Do you want me right now, Baby Girl? Because I wanna fuck you right here," he said as calmly as he could, but his voice was still gruff and unsteady. "You're going to have to tell me to go out back to the garage if you want me to keep my hands to myself. Okay? Because I want my wife. But I will settle for my hand and then the bench press if you don't want me back."

You whimpered, reaching for the hem of the tee shirt and guiding it up over your hips. "I am so turned on," you whispered. "Please."

"Please what?" Bradley demanded, running his hand along his cock through his shorts. 

"Daddy," you gasped in shock. Like you couldn't even believe you said it to him. Like you needed him as badly as he needed you. "Fuck me."

"Baby Girl," he whispered harshly as he pressed himself against you.

You yanked the shirt over your head and pulled his boxer briefs down over your delicious hips as you moaned, "I want my husband."

His cock was fully at attention now as he stroked your dainty Rooster tattoo with his fingertips. "I'm right here," he growled, watching you step out of his underwear and kick them aside. Your eyes were wide and fixed on his as you stood naked before him. "You gonna let me take care of you?"

"Yes," you gasped when he moved his hand to your pussy. "Are you still angry, Daddy? From your bad day?"

Bradley raised one eyebrow. He knew how he sounded. He knew he was breathing heavily. He also felt how fucking wet you were as he slid his middle finger along your slit. 

"Do you want me to be?" he asked before placing a rough kiss to your lips. 

"Yes," you moaned, and in one swift movement, Bradley had the front of your body pressed up against the wall next to the bedroom door. You squealed and braced yourself with both hands as he gently kicked your legs a little further apart. 

"You like making me this way?" he growled next to your ear before sucking hard on your neck. "I think you do."

Bradley reached his hands up to squeeze your tits as you whined his name. He stroked your nipples softly with his thumbs while he sucked on your neck some more. 

Then he took his cock in his right hand and guided himself to your opening. He filled you in one swift motion, and started fucking you so hard, your face almost hit the wall. He caught you with his hand on your jaw as you whimpered for him. 

"You think it's fun to get me all pissed off at work?" he asked, low and soft. "You love having so much control over me, don't you?"

"I do," you whispered as he turned your face so you were looking at him over your shoulder. 

"You love knowing I think about your voice during lectures. Think about your body when I'm flying. I can't stop thinking about how much I love fucking you," he said, his voice getting louder as he pressed his forehead against your perfect cheek and brushed his fingers over your tattoo before stroking your clit.

You cried out for him. "I do, Daddy! I love it!"

Bradley was determined to get you off. He wouldn't have a repeat of the dining room floor. Not today. He went a little harder, a little deeper. He listened to the incoherent words tumbling out of your mouth. And then he said, "Try and find someone better than me. Someone else who can fuck you this good. You can't."

"No!" you grunted, your fingers bending, nails digging into the wall. You were struggling to look at him as your eyes fluttered closed. 

He kissed along your jaw before ending at your ear and whispering, "I love you." And then he felt it. That beautiful clench of your pussy as you came for him. He knew the feel of you so well. He wanted to take care of everything for you. He needed to give you everything you wanted. Be everything you needed. 

He came for you too, hands drifting to your hips as his movements slowed. You were unsteady on your feet as you turned to face him. Bradley's cum was dripping down your legs and onto the floor as you reached for him. Then you were in his arms, kissing him just right with your fingers in his hair. And he couldn't remember why he'd been upset in the first place. 

"I love you," you whispered against his lips. Bradley stumbled back onto the bed with you wrapped up with him. When he fell back with you on top of him, you laughed. 

"Come here," he coaxed, and you straddled his waist and kissed him until your lips were puffy. When he tried to move, you held him down and kissed him some more. He felt himself relax completely with every little sound you made and every swipe of your tongue against his. 

"Roo," you crooned, your lips moving to his neck and kissing him softly there.

He groaned and started to sit up. "What's it called when the foreplay comes after sex?"

You giggled. "Post play?"

"Shit, Sweetheart," he said, letting you keep going with your lips. "You want more?"

"Mmhmm," you hummed against his skin, setting his nerve endings ablaze. 

"Give me a minute, and I'll take care of you again."

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

You were sore on Monday morning. In the best kind of way. You and Bradley had spent the weekend talking and having sex. And then having more sex. Only taking a break to go grocery shopping and swing by the Hard Deck. Jake knew right away that you were both feeling much better. He was always so patient with you that you found it hard not to smile when he bought you and Bradley beers. 

You needed to be more open with Bradley. And you would be. And starting today, you'd meet him and Nat in the cafeteria unless you really were honestly working through lunch instead of hiding in your office. You just needed to get through your morning with Cat. Which was easier said than done.

She gave you short answers to every question. When you asked her to type up some of the notes you wrote, she looked at you with a raised eyebrow. "Shouldn't you have typed this up yourself?"

You sighed. "I worked it up over the weekend. In my free time. I read it to my husband as I wrote it, and it seemed to flow easier when I wrote it."

She scrutinized your notebook. "Well I can barely read it. I'll work in the code while you type it up. I'm better at the code anyway."

Was she implying she was better at coding than typing? Or that she was better at coding than you were? She made you so mad. The next time Jake mentioned how beautiful her eyes were, you were going to pummel him. 

Everyone else had already deserted the lab when you realized what time it was. "Should we take a lunch break?" you asked, scrambling to lock up your computer. Bradley and the others were probably waiting for you already. You did not want to disappoint him today. Not after such a perfect weekend. 

"Fine," Cat agreed. Her tone was short, like you were throwing off her entire day by deciding to take lunch at lunchtime. 

You squared your shoulders and turned to face her as she stood up. Then you blurted out, "I don't understand what I did to make you dislike me."

Cat froze in place, her eyes appraising your face. You felt the prickle of embarrassment along your skin, and you were afraid she was going to laugh in your face. But she just shook her head slowly. "I don't dislike you."

"Yes, you do," you scoffed, your embarrassment swiftly replaced with annoyance. 

"No, Lieutenant Commander. I do not," she said, firmly closing her computer. Then she went off, and you didn't stop her. "But your life is so perfect, it's honestly hard for me to relate to you. Even at work. Your husband dotes on you. He's always in the lab, bringing you snacks and asking you about your day. You've got Seresin in here all the time, too. And you're the golden child. Bickel sings your praises at the meetings every week."

Your eyes were bugging out. "But, that's not-"

She cut you off and kept going. "You and I both have the same master's degree, but I'm a year older than you, and you outrank me." Her voice sounded bitter as she said, "I'm a single mom. My life is a mess. I'm broke. We live with my uncle. I feel like a joke all the time. But your life is perfect. And trust me, I wish more than anyone else that I wasn't jealous of you." 

You stood completely still and watched her walk out of the lab and disappear down the hallway. Your life was not perfect. The fact that it maybe looked that way to someone else shocked you. Cat thought she was a mess. Well, you were a mess, too. But she was a mom. 

A moment later, you followed her down the hallway toward the cafeteria where Bradley was waiting for you with a smile on his face and a bottle of your favorite hot sauce on his tray.

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

Oh. Cat's a little jelly of BG. Well, Cat... BG just might be a little jelly of you. Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 4

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[sohnric]

sweet like candy – e. sohn

pairing: eric sohn x fem! reader

genre: summer au, strangers to something more ?? fluff, suggestive. very much stargazing by the neighbourgood and fantasize by the boyz capsuled into a fic. eric is a simp and a hopeless romantic because i said so. a girl romanticizes sharing a lollipop (its me im girl)

warnings: alcohol, maybe some minimal swearing, a heated make out session that hints onto a hookup (no smut mentioned!). the use of a cheesy nickname babydoll (dont @ me or i will deactivate), reader has hair long enough for a claw clip

word count: 6.9k

a/n: almost cried while trying to name this fic somebody send help. Also this doesn't feel like my best work its kinda rushed imo but 🤠 yolo

part of the @deoboyznet summer on you event! cant believe i made it on time

a summer tradition of renting out a cabin every year invented by a couple of friends takes a turn for eric when a new addition to the circle brings him to his knees - in other words, he never knew tequila could taste so sweet.

If anyone ever asked Eric Sohn if he believed in love at first sight, he would, without a doubt, say yes. 

What was the proof he had? Well, absolutely nothing. All he ever knew about love at first sight was from romance movies he watched during lonely nights with his roommate Juyeon, never having the experience of the whole world stopping and zooming in on one particular person, taking his breath away– but to put it simply, Eric Sohn is a true romantic. Call him cheesy if you want– he wouldn’t like it, but he also wouldn’t disagree. 

On one summer afternoon, though, his world tilts in its axis– the moment comes, and he is finally able to test out his theory.

You walk out of the passenger’s side of a red 2008 Toyota Auris, hair put up into a claw clip, jean shorts showing off your long legs and a pearl white button-up opened and lazily thrown over your outfit, and suddenly, Eric Sohn finds his knees buckling and his palms sweating with affection. He was aware that Juyeon’s girlfriend was bringing her best friend to tag along to their little summer retreat (more like a trip to a cabin in the middle of the woods), but he sure as hell didn’t expect the stranger to make him feel this type of way. 

Sure, it might just be him being incredibly attracted to you. But with how fast his heart was beating when you smiled at everyone after introducing yourself to the group, he was sure he was slowly, but surely falling for you. And he was falling hard.

He feels like the world is moving in slow motion as he watches the group go and unload the car– you and your best friend Yeri were the last ones to arrive– and what wakes him up from the haze is when he watches you struggle to carry a cooler out of the trunk into the cabin, his legs dragging him closer to the vehicle and near to your body.

Now is his time to shine. “Let me help!” he hurries out, sneakers crunching on the gravel. His hands firmly grab onto the handle of the blue cooler, muscles flexing under the weight (making him wonder why you would willingly want to carry the thing and not ask him or any of the guys for help in the first place), and when your eyes look up at come in contact with his, he presses a smile to his lips. “I’m Eric, by the way.”

“Ah,” you gasp, a grateful expression breezing over your features, “thanks. I’m Y/N, nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Eric hums, watching your every move. Your figure walks over to the front of the car, your head popping in close to the window to look inside, and when a satisfied look overtakes your features, Eric finds himself asking. “Is that everything?”

“Yeah,” you nod, “we can head inside, I think.”

The boy tries hard to keep his cool, he really does. But with how he’s trailing behind you like a lost puppy, attempting to find a topic that would engage him in a conversation with you, he feels like a boy that is just experiencing a crush for the first time in his life. Everything about you is enchanting– and sure, you could say he was just painfully attracted to you and this had nothing to do with love– but he was also convinced that if you asked him to jump off the Empire State Building, he would do it without giving it a second thought (which is kind of worrying, but again– it says a lot). 

You open the door to the cabin for him, and he finds himself speechless at the action. Once your eyes meet again and you offer him another subtle smile, he finds himself gasping at the sentence that comes out of your mouth.

“Hey! We’re matching, kinda,” you note, pointing towards his outfit.

And you’re right– Eric didn’t even notice at first, too enchanted with your sheer existence– but you two were indeed wearing the same thing. Jean shorts, and a white button-up– in your case, thrown over a white tank top, in Eric’s, closed (although he did leave it a bit open at the top, revealing his tanned skin). Suddenly, the boy is glad he’s wearing a red cap to cover up his hair, since he foolishly thinks the hat provides him enough shade in the face to not reveal his burning cheeks as he utters out a weak response.

“It looks so much better on you, though.”

With that, he walks into the cabin– escaping the situation, not really paying a single thought to chivalry and letting you go through the door first– and as he reaches the crowd of people in the kitchen, he prays for all high sources to find him, get to him and wipe his brain clean of all thoughts, because

even though you are basically matching (and he does think you look so much better in the outfit than he does), all he can think about is just how much more he’d like your outfit if the white button-up enveloping your body was the one he’s wearing right now instead.

The next time Eric finds courage to talk to you is when it seems like you’re not finding it to talk to anyone else yourself– the big group is currently sitting around a fire, marshmallows and sausages slowly burning in the blazing flames– and while everyone around was either talking to each other or singing along to the songs Jacob was playing on the guitar, you were sitting alone in the middle of two commotions: Chanhee and Changmin arguing about something seemingly important, and Yeri and Juyeon making out right in front of everyone’s eyes. 

And Eric was supposed to listen to Sunwoo talk about his latest heartbreak– how the man still gets no girls despite having such an objectively handsome face, Eric truly doesn’t know– but the topic of the conversation was too boring for him to engage with it. That, and he was also painfully aware of your every move– you didn’t even move much– and word– you weren’t talking to anybody– and that was slowly driving him insane.

You looked a little out of place. Eric supposes it was because you didn’t really know anyone here– except from your best friend and her awfully sappy boyfriend– but even though it was logical and a little expected for you to be a bit excluded in such a foreign circle, the man took it as his mission to make you feel as welcome and as included as he physically could.

Completely ignoring Sunwoo’s blabbering (like he was doing for the last few minutes anyway), Eric confidently (and a bit shakily– hands sweating and breath hitching in his throat) walks to the other side of the bonfire, from where he’s been watching your stone expression through the flames, and sits down in the small place between you and Changmin. Changmin wasn’t even facing you, too engrossed in the debate he was having with Chanhee, and so it was Eric’s job to wobble his bottom into the place, efficiently making the older boy move away with a light elbow jab sent into his lower back.

“Hi,” he clears his throat, “are you having fun?” he asks, but mentally curses at himself right as the question escapes his mouth– does she look like she's having fun? Of course she doesn't, you stupid idiot.

You smile at the question, though, nodding. “Yeah,” you hum, “having lots of fun listening to your friends argue and my friends making out next to my ear.”

“You seemed like it too, y’know,” Eric laughs, “they’re always like this, by the way. They’ll forget about the fight in the morning.”

“Oh, that could never be me,” you sigh, shaking your head at the sentiment.

“No?”

“No,” you shrug, “I get too petty. If we have a fight, I’m not speaking to you for at least two weeks.”

Eric finds himself laughing at your comment. “I’ll remember that for future reference.”

Straightening your back and looking at your companion– as if you were going to call him out on his subtle hint of there being any future meeting between the two of you– you suddenly gasp and swiftly turn towards the bonfire, an honest mourn escaping your lips.

“Oh fuck!” you curse under your breath as your hand reaches towards a stick that’s had its end in the flame, the device efficiently resting against a rock in a position where you didn’t have to pay any attention to the snack you were cooking– more like burning– for yourself. With a quick move for the stick, you pull the tip of it out of the scorching red of the bonfire and look at it in an examining way, as if the result would be different and the marshmallow would unburn itself if you stared at it long enough. “I completely forgot about this!”

Eric takes a glance at the burnt piece of fluff, letting out a laugh at the black marshmallow in front of your face. “That’s not how you make a good s’more,” he notes, poking fun at your annoyed face.

“Oh, no shit, Sherlock…” you mutter under your breath, but your face looks a bit sad to see the piece go to waste. “I don’t know why I even tried, I’m bad at this stuff.”

There comes his moment, Eric thinks. “Well, you’re lucky, ‘cause you just met an expert at making s’mores.”

“Does a thing like that even exist?” you chuckle, rolling your eyes at the male in disbelief. 

“Of course it does! You’re looking at one now,” he grins, leaning over you to take a brand new marshmallow out of the bag to your right– sandwiched between your thigh and the couple in love– before he reaches over to your hand and takes the roasting stick out of your hand, slides the white fluffy cloud through the sharp tip and hovers it above the flame.

“The key is to hold it above the flame, and not in the flame,” Eric chuckles as he looks at you from the corner of his eye, watching your expression change.

“Oh, but I thought the key is to burn the thing,” you ironically gasp, shaking your head at his teasing. “Where did you even learn all of this?”

“I grew up in the States,” Eric hums, “they would deport me if I didn’t know how to make s’mores.”

The comment gets a giggle out of you– a sound Eric almost folds at and falls into the open fire (thankfully, he held his composure– he doesn’t think 3rd degree burns would suit his look) – and it takes everything in him to not scream like a teenage girl at the thought of making you laugh. Yes, that’s how down bad you managed to get the male.

“Do you have a special recipe?”

“Just the basic one,” he shrugs, turning the skewer in his hand to make the marshmallow equally glazed on each side, “I will make it extra good for you, though.”

“I thought a master always does their best?” you tease, watching as the boy crumbles under your gaze.

“Not always. I don’t like to put effort into things that aren’t worth it,” Eric hums as he takes the marshmallow out of the burning fire, examining it, and after deeming it worthy, taking the skewer and holding it up in between his knees. The male takes a graham cracker and tears it in half, before adding chocolate to one of the sides. After he’s done, he carefully places the golden fluff ball onto the cracker and closes it, offering the sweet sandwich to you with a subtle smile.

“For you,” he winks as he turns back towards the fire, putting another marshmallow onto the stick to make himself a s’more as well (and also mentally kicking himself at the sudden burst of courage). He hears you take a bite out of the snack, his knee bouncing up and down nervously as he awaits the verdict.

“Man,” you hum, “this is so good.”

“Told you,” he says, “if there’s something I’m confident in, it’s making s’mores.”

“That’s a very unuseful skill to have,” you note, but continue to eat. The comment has him chuckle and shrug.

“Well, I used it now, so I’d argue it’s actually very useful.”

A hum cuts out of your throat at this, finishing the s’more he made for you with a satisfied sigh. “Is this how you got girls back in the States?” you ask, making the male choke on his spit.

Eric was too young to get girls when he learned how to make the greatest s’mores. He went camping with his dad and his older sister and he burned a couple before he got it right. He was in middle school and before what the kids call a glow-up these days (back in the days, you just called it overcoming puberty), but still– he decides to test the waters with another lazy, half-assed flirty comment. “Only the pretty ones.”

He hears a chuckle out of you– a reaction he decides to not pay much attention to or overthink, for he doesn’t really remember what a good reaction to flirting is anymore– but then, you sigh and nod. “Well, I give your s’more a 5 star review, so I’d find that believable.”

The comment has Eric press his tongue into the inside of his cheek, battling a victorious smile that wants to oh so desperately appear on his lips. Turning his attention fully to you, he looks at you with confidence coating his insides– it only grows when he notices you staring at the side of his face, the flame of the fire twinkling in your eye and making your features sharper and twice as attractive to the poor boy. 

His eyes scan you over for a few seconds before he notices a glimmer of something on the side of your lip– a chocolate stain that has him cautiously lean in and swipe a thumb over the sweetness, not even thinking twice before smoothing his finger over your skin. 

“You had a little… something there,” he hums as he licks the chocolate off his thumb. Your eyes still trained on him force him to avert his gaze back to the fire– for it was unbearable, as if sparks were flying and burning his skin, everything about the interaction making goosebumps appear over his body; even though he felt hot in his cheeks and not at all cold– when the sight of his marshmallow in flames suddenly comes to him, startling him awake.

Hurriedly dragging out the burnt snack out of the fire, he hears you chuckle at him from the side– so much for not ruining the moment. (It’s okay, though. As long as you’re entertained.)

“I thought you were a master at s’mores,” you poke fun at him, “got distracted?”

Meeting eyes with you, Eric shrugs, a lazy grin settling to his lips. “I guess you could say that.”

The night progresses quickly– with Sunwoo getting so drunk he borrows Jacob’s guitar and clumsily strums the strings, freestyle rapping about the most random topics with flushed cheeks and eyes dramatically glued to the fire; Hyunjae wanting to have a competition of who can jump over the flames and Sangyeon having to stop his drunk friend with the force of his own body– and Eric finds his eyes lacking the candy he’s been occupying himself with the whole evening. You disappeared somewhere into the house a few minutes ago, and although he didn’t want to be clingy, he walked up to the cabin with a nervous pep in his step– that’s it, he just wanted to make sure you were okay.

Eric walks through the doorway, having his body immediately be met with the joined common room slash kitchen area. The cabin is kind of small (too small for the amount of people currently occupying it) and kind of old, but it’s a tradition to rent it every year during the summer, so no one ever questioned the decision or made the move to rent out a bigger one, no matter the growing friend group.

Your figure finally appears in the dimly lit kitchen area, your back turned to the doorway. Standing at the kitchen sink, it seems like you were doing the dishes– tons of plates used to carry grilled meat and sausages dumped carelessly into the sink, forgotten in a minute and leaving the last remains of food dry up on them and get hard to scrape off, a couple of glasses and mugs with their ears broken off from their age waiting with coffee stains at the bottom– and Eric immediately feels his heart fall down to his stomach, because why would one do the dishes in the middle of the night? Those usually get left there until the morning, when the least hungover person will take mercy on the rest and take care of them. Were you feeling excluded from the conversation? Did you feel bored? 

“What are you doing here so alone?” he asks, making you turn your head over your shoulder and smile at him– a stone falling off his heart at the action– before you shrug at him.

“Washing the dishes,” you say, as if it wasn’t clear already.

“I see that,” Eric chuckles, “what I meant to say was, why are you washing the dishes in the first place?”

“Well, somebody’s gotta do it.” 

Eric huffs– and he doesn’t even know why he’s so defensive about it. “That someone didn’t have to be you, y’know.”

He’s standing next to you now– your eyes meeting as you stare at the boy for a heartbeat– a smile spreading on your face at his furrowed brows. The action has him visibly relax, watching as you shrug and get back to the dish washing. “I just wanted some alone time for a bit,” you muse, “outside was getting too loud for a second, I’m not used to crowds.”

“Ah… once Sunwoo drinks, he can’t shut up, so I kinda get that it was starting to feel insufferable,” Eric notes, nodding at you in acknowledgement before the realization hits him. “Wait– you said you wanted to be alone, so I should probably-”

You halt him with a soft laugh– the one Eric finds his heart liking a little too much, with how it jumps up and down and makes all of him feel warm inside– a soapy hand reaching out in his direction. “It’s okay, you can stay,” you muse, “I enjoy your company.”

“O-okay,” Eric stutters– so much for the smooth lines he had prepared in his head before coming in here, all of them flying out of his head straight out of the window– and to not seem so silly, he gets his hands occupied and reaches for the clean dishes you started stacking on the counter next to the sink, deciding to dry them and put them away. The kitchen falls into a comfortable silence that only gets broken by an occasional scream landing through the walls from outside, and Eric can’t help but indulge himself in the domesticity of the act.

He can almost imagine you two washing the dishes like this in your shared apartment after you two cook dinner together and eat it in your cozy living room. That scenario sounds almost too good for the boy, having warmth slowly ooze into his cheeks, and that, he finds to be the hint that he should probably stop thinking about you in that way now or else he’ll get too distracted and break the glasses he is currently putting away. (God forbid– there were not enough of them for the entire friend group in the first place.)

“Are you having a good time, though?” Eric finds himself asking through his weird delirium.

You smile– oh god you smile, you should stop doing that if you want him to survive the night– and nod at the boy, calmness overtaking your aura and slipping into his cracks as well. “I am. It’s nice meeting new people and everyone’s very nice,” you say.

“That’s good to hear. How long have you and Yeri been friends?”

“A couple of years,” you note, “we met during high school. We always dreamt of moving away to college and living together at dorms or something, so it’s… it’s nice that it worked out for us,” you say, having Eric nod at your words with a sweet smile.

“That’s great to hear,” he muses, “I met Juyeon and Sunwoo in my freshman year of college, and the rest just… came along after a while.”

“Your friend group is pretty big,” you point out, having the boy shrug.

“I guess so,” Eric mumbles, never really thinking of it this way– in his eyes, this was normal. This was how he operated, how he lived. A lot of people around him, always close– one would think such a large friend group wouldn’t be as close with each other, but it’s quite the opposite in his case, he thinks. Maybe he was just blessed.

“How do you do that?” you sigh, shaking your head in disbelief.

“I dunno,” he snickers, “guess you could say I’m quite the social butterfly.”

“I can see that,” you laugh. Eric watches you, his hands now empty of any dish– he’s been drying them quicker than you manage to clean (and rightfully so, the food is stuck on there) – he starts noticing the details of your sheer presence. How you have a slight smile playing with your lips even when your eyes are glued to the sink, how your hair slightly slips out of the claw clip and frames your face, how close you’re standing– his eyes slip towards your hands, noticing the water running down your forearms and dangerously close to the sleeves of your shirt.

Acting on reflex, mostly, the boy reaches towards your sleeves and gently tugs them up, the contact of your skin that he initiates and should realistically be prepared for making the tips of his fingers tingle, the action having you stop in your movements and glance up at him through your eyelashes– a sight he wishes he could engrave into the back of his eyelids so he could stare at it forever and always.

“Thank you,” you hum, voice barely louder than a whisper when he retracts away from you, taking his previous stance against the kitchen counter.

Eric hangs his head low for a second, clearing his throat to ease his own tension. Now is your turn to start up the conversation, a casual question falling off your lips as you get back to washing the last remains of dishes. “Yeri said you come here often?” 

The boy nods enthusiastically to your sentence. “We do. We started in freshman year, because Juyeon was going to this exchange program to Paris for a couple of months, so we threw him a goodbye party. Then he came back, so we threw a welcome back party here. And then we celebrated Younghoon hyung’s birthday here, and it kind of stuck, I guess? We go here at least once a year during summer.”

“That’s a nice tradition to have,” you sigh, turning the faucet off as you finish rinsing off the last dish– a big bowl that Sangyeon used to marinate the meat a few hours ago.

“It is,” Eric nods, smiling fondly at the sentiment. He reaches for the bowl and dries it with the now damp rag (there were a lot of dishes to dry, after all), and moves to put it back to its place under the sink. With your figure still in its previous spot, the boy puts away the towel onto the kitchen counter and gently grabs your waist with his free hand, moving you away a few inches to the left. He crouches and opens the cabinet under the sink and puts the bowl into the pyramid of other ones, straightening his back when he goes back into a standing position, catching you staring at him from above, watching his every move. Your body is leaning against the counter, having Eric mirror your stance only a few inches away from you before speaking up again. 

“You’re welcome to join us when we come back next time.”

The time reads 3AM– or at least that’s what his circadian rhythm tells him, because he doesn't bother to check as he twists and turns in the bed, too hot and too alert to fall asleep– when Eric decides to walk down the steep stairs and try to get some fresh air. The cabin is hot inside, but he still takes his lost button-up that he had thrown over one of the kitchen chairs and puts it on before he makes his way outside, knowing that the forest will make his bones get cold with the crisp breeze. 

He opens the door and moves to sit on the little patio– the silence of outside is overwhelming even after the cabin has quieted down and everyone has gone to sleep (each one on a different level of tipsy ranging from completely chill Sangyeon to doesn’t know where he is Sunwoo– with Eric somewhere in the middle of the spectrum). His legs drag a little tiredly as he scans his surroundings– god forbid there’s a bear out waiting for him– when the sight of a figure sitting on the floor takes him by surprise, their head already turned to him after hearing the sound of the door opening. 

“What are you doing here?” he asks as he walks over to you, noticing your frame dressed in a tank top and sweatpants, hinting that you at least tried to get some sleep before coming out here, just like he has.

“Couldn’t sleep,” you shrug, confirming his suspicions.

“Same here,” the man sighs, “mind if I sit with you?”

“You’re welcome to join me,” you smile at him, patting the floor next to you and watching as Eric crouches down before taking a seat on the wood, ignoring the sunbeds and old rattan chairs situated all over the patio. (If you’re on the floor, he’s on the floor– it’s as simple as that.)

You’re holding a lollipop in between your fingers, your other hand occupied with a half-empty bottle of tequila that was previously passed around the circle at the bonfire. Eric raises his brows at the sight, having you shamefully avert your gaze from him.

“I thought it would be a waste to not finish this,” you say, snickering, “and I also… kind of hoped that it would put me to sleep…”

“Desperate times call for desperate measures?” 

“I guess you could say that,” you laugh. Taking a sip from the bottle, you gulp the alcohol down before putting the lollipop inside of your mouth, sucking on it and licking your lips after. This is not the way you’re supposed to drink tequila, but Eric figures that gathering salt and a lime would be too much work anyways.

“Are you really using that lollipop as a chaser?” he giggles, making you hum.

“Yeah,” you stare at him, a grin overtaking your features, “this girl taught me to do that at a party last year. It’s not as good as literally anything else, but it gets the job done. Wanna try?” you ask, offering him the sweetness on the stick and the bottle.

The truth is, you were only a bit tipsy when the group slowly started to scatter into their beds. Eric didn’t drink as much either– only enough to make him laugh at everything that was said and make his staring at you twice as obvious as it was before– so he thinks he can take some more. As you said, it would be a shame if the bottle went to waste– and also, something about the idea of drinking with you alone on the patio was making his hopeless heart hammer against his chest in dangerous measures.

“Sure,” he agrees, taking the bottle first. The boy takes a sip, feeling the alcohol burn down his throat, and when he moves the dark brown glass away from his lips, he is met with the image of you leaning closer to him, offering him the lollipop. His hand instinctively grabs the plastic stick, thinking you’re letting go of it, when he’s met with the feeling of your flesh under his fingertips. You put the lollipop against his lips, making him open up on instinct and suck on the strawberry flavored candy, a million different sensations (all unrelated to the alcohol) swimming through his brain– you’re so close, you smell so good, he’s holding your hand, he’s sucking on the lollipop you previously had in between your lips and it’s driving him crazy– before you take the candy out from between his lips and put it back into your mouth, tongue swirling around the sweet ball. 

The lollipop had an aftertaste of tequila on it, but it was enough to chase down the faint bitterness– Eric finds himself wanting to taste more of the sweet strawberry, but foolishly desiring to get the sensation off your lips instead. His eyes stay locked with yours throughout the whole exchange, sparks flying in between the two of you even though the bonfire has long gone out, his fingers lazily dropping from the candy.

“How was it?” you ask, voice barely louder than a whisper– goosebumps appearing all over Eric’s skin when he swears your eyes flicker to his lips for a split second. 

“Good,” he admits. It’s silly how he feels so breathless at the action.

The sound of the wind playing with the leaves of the forest is the only thing accompanying you two. It’s as if you two were thinking of the same thing when you pull out the lollipop out of your mouth and offer it back to Eric, watching with utmost interest as the boy leans closer to capture it in between his lips, never breaking eye contact. The action feels a little too electrifying to him, a little too intimate, but he can't stop– can't even imagine wanting to.

Taking a sip of the tequila, but not chasing it down with the candy, you speak up again, lazy eyes practically glued to him. “This would be a perfect moment for a kiss…” you mumble, licking your bottom lip for a split second before biting down on it.

“Are you flirting with me?” Eric foolishly asks, tone of voice a bit weak, a little unsure, the candy still in his mouth, making his words come out a little jambled.

“Mhm,” you nod, grinning to yourself– Eric wonders how much of your behavior and how much of his raging heartbeat is due to the effect of alcohol in both of your veins.

His fingers pull at yours as he takes the candy out of his mouth, voice dropping as he answers you. “Then we probably shouldn’t waste the moment.”

Even though the intentions are clear, the boy can’t bring himself to make the first move– he’s completely enchanted with your presence, staring at you with tension in his shoulders and eyes trained onto your face, watching and examining it for any shift or change. Focused on the way you move, he thinks you must have realized you were going to have to be the one to take the first step– your lazily smile before you lean closer, impossibly close– making Eric’s eyes flutter shut with anticipation, your breath fanning his face making goosebumps appear all over his body.

When your lips finally touch his, he feels like he’s being kissed for the first time again, with the amount of fuzziness in his stomach and buzzing in his ears. He regains his composure quite quickly, though, as he positions his head in a way that makes you two even closer to each other, lips pressing firmer against yours now. His hand instinctively reaches out to hold your jaw, fingertips glazing the soft skin under them, your lips retracting only to go in for more. 

Blindly placing the bottle onto the floor next to your bodies, you peck his lips and sigh into the kiss. “Damn, you’re good at this…”

“We’re only getting started,” he muses, making you chuckle. 

“Oh yeah?”

“Mhm,” he nods, watching as you once again lean in and suck on his upper lip, making his eyes flutter close again. A weight appears over him as you shift in your place and move to straddle his lap, your hand moving to cup his cheek and tilt him upwards, everything about the kisses getting more hurried– less gentle, less hesitant– when you tug on his bottom lip with your teeth and grant your tongue entry into his mouth.

Sweetness mixes in between you, your hands moving around his neck, heavy breaths shared across the patio. Eric feels like he’s levitating, his body having an out of body experience, yet being awfully present– every little shift pushing him to overdrive, the slightest touch making his skin burn and heart drum against his ribcage.

You shift in his lap, making him huff under the pressure, his lips trailing wet kisses down the side of your neck. Teeth glazing the jointure of your shoulder, kitten licking the place and sucking in a bruise that will eventually be visible to everyone when you two wake up in the morning, Eric feels your hands tugging down the sleeves of his shirt, fingers feeling up his biceps. The action makes him chuckle into your neck, but the smile fades quickly as he feels your nails scratching gently at his flaming skin.

“Take this off,” you mutter, and Eric finds it endearing– helping you take him out of the button-up, sitting under you in just a white tank top and black basketball shorts. 

“Why?” 

“Your arms looked good in this,” you hiss before you hide your face into his neck, leaning down to give him your fair share of kisses and love bites, having the male teasingly joke as his hands run up under your tank top, painfully aware of the fact that you weren’t wearing a bra anymore.

He moves his head to the side to give you more access before speaking out, tone of voice husky and coated in lust. “What if I get cold now?” 

“Then I’m more than happy to move this to your room,” you purr into his ear.

Eric sighs, fingers playing with the hem of your top before he lets his palms drift towards your exposed stomach, roaming across naked skin. Goosebumps appear all over your body at the action, making the boy victoriously grin. “It looks like you’re the one that's cold, though, babydoll.”

Rolling your eyes at the male, you shut him up by latching yourself onto his lips before you speak against his mouth. “I’ll take that as an invitation, then?”

“Wake up Eric! The girls are leaving, you should at least go say goodbye!” Sangyeon roars into the boy's room, making the male turn over in the bed and huff out in frustration. He drags his arm up to shield his eyes from the sunlight hitting his face, the intention of just rolling over and sleeping more written very clearly in his face.

“Come on man, we’re leaving in an hour too, so you should go send them off and then pack your shit so we can load the cars,” Sangyeon says when he gets no reaction from the youngest. It’s to no use, apparently, and so as the oldest and most observant out of the group, Sangyeon decides to use physical force– he knows Eric would hate to have you go without saying goodbye. He’s not stupid. Or blind. 

A strong hold on his calves drags Eric out of the bed and makes his half-naked body fall to the floor, a yelp coming out of his throat finally making Eric’s body fully alert and awake. 

“Yo! What the fuck–”

“Put a shirt on and go say goodbye to Y/N before she goes, would you, sleeping beauty?” Sangyeon huffs before rolling his eyes at his younger friend, escaping the room and shutting the door close after himself with a loud thud (to add more effect to the scolding, Eric thinks).

The mention of your name has Eric quickly scrambling out of the bed. His heart hammers at the adrenaline rush, pulling a clean shirt out of his bag and dragging it over his head, the basketball shorts from yesterday’s night found on the floor being pulled over his lower frame in approximately 0.5 seconds. Eric takes the stairs 3 at a time– with how steep they are, he questions how exactly does he not trip and break his spine on his way down– and puts on a pair of slippers he finds at the door (that are not his, or his size, for the matter, making his heels comically stick out from the back). 

Without checking his appearance in the mirror anywhere, he swings the door open and walks out of the cabin, watching as the group settles in a half-circle around your car, Yeri loading the trunk with her duffle bag before she closes it shut and smiles at her boyfriend Juyeon on the side. Eric joins the crowd, clearing his throat when his eyes fall onto your figure, the sight in front of him freezing him in his spot.

You’re standing there, in your jean shorts from the day before, an oversized white button-up enveloping your frame. A clueless stranger might not tell the difference, but he does– you put the shirt onto your bare skin and buttoned it just enough to reveal a bit of your cleavage– and it’s so similar to the outfit you had on yesterday, just with one difference. 

You’re wearing Eric’s shirt. You’re wearing his shirt and your neck is scattered with red and purple-ish bruises, and no, Eric wasn’t that drunk and he remembers everything, but the events of last night suddenly play out right in front of his eyes like a movie, still nailing him to his spot and wiping out all of his vocabulary.

The boy feels hot in his cheeks as he watches you and your best friend pay your goodbyes to the rest of the boys, the men pulling you into side-hugs and fist bumps, shared ‘It was nice meeting you’s and ‘You should come by next time too’s resonating through the place. Soon enough, you reach the end of the make-shift half circle and lock your eyes with Eric, a playful smile softly appearing on your face.

“It was nice meeting you, Eric,” you hum, “I had fun,” you note, shooting him a knowing look.

“Me too,” he nods, nervously chewing on his bottom lip. He doesn’t know where the confidence of last night went, but he suddenly feels unarmed and lost. What does one do now?

The sight of you in his shirt makes him feel like his biggest (wet) dream has come true– call him cheesy, but it also wakes up a sense of déja vu in him from the day before– you with sunlight in your eyes, hair messed up in a claw clip. He feels like he just fell in love at first sight again. Is that even possible?

It’s good you have a sense in you that makes you take the initiative and be in charge when you see him faltering. A giggle cuts out of your throat as you lean in and hug the boy around his neck, your lips dangerously close to his ear as you speak in a hushed whisper, not wanting to be heard by the men around you.

“I stole your shirt from you, by the way. You should text me if you want it back, so we can meet up, or something,” you mouth, lips gently glazing the sensitive skin of Eric’s ear, and god does he feel like he's going to suffocate from the lack of oxygen this causes in his lungs.

“You look amazing in my clothes, so I won’t ask for it back,” Eric hums, “but I’ll text you just in case you ever wanna bless my eyes with the sight again.”

“Deal. I’ll make Juyeon text me your number,” you say before you pull away from him, shooting him a wink that almost has his knees buckling like a school boy in love for the first time.

You walk backwards and wave at the group, sending Eric one last look before you join the passenger’s side and close the car door behind you, the sound of Yeri starting the engine resonating through the quiet forest. The men wave at you until the Toyota disappears out of sight, only scattering inside when it does to gather their things and load up their cars as well.

Eric is woken up from his trance by a teasing whistle coming out of Sunwoo’s mouth and a father-like slap to his back from Sangyeon.

He wonders if he’s truly being so obvious. (He's unaware of the fact that you two had very visible matching love bites on your necks. It doesn’t take much effort to put two and two together– don't tell him that, though.)

Still, Eric shrugs and goes inside with a different kind of pep to his step. 

When he licks his lips, he swears he can still taste the strawberries.