#Simple rooting guide

[iceunhie]

— PUSH AND PULL : honkai star rail.

premise. as someone who's always believed in the term “try and try again,” (peak delusion, you know) rooting yourself in their heart has always been your goal, no matter the cold rejections and curt declines you receive. however, even you have your limits; perhaps this little push and pull you two have going isn't worth your time after all... but what happens then, if the chaser becomes the chased? (oh, how the turns have tabled.)

...or, when you play hard to get with them.

— ft. sunday, aventurine, jing yuan.

warnings: angst n fluff, messy messy, these boys are in love but are wayyy too chicken to admit they actually adore you, genderless reader.

a/n. inspired by @/xiaowhore's playing hard to get headcanons! my holy trinity 😇 n MY FAVES RAHHH

NEXT : BACK TO MASTERLIST || ASKBOX

SUNDAY is perplexed. very much aware of his qualities which enlists him as one of the finer (finest) bachelors of Penacony (he was the Robin's one and only blood, and was also the head of one of the main guiding forces of the Family, after all), sunday isn't sure he's ever come across someone as.... tenacious as you.

foolish, to be more precise, for he cannot for the life of him comprehend exactly why you are the way you are with... him.

no matter his respectful declines of your invitations to promenade around Penacony (re: going on dates), you really didn't know how to leave him be. though he hasn't exactly said he hated it, sunday was, admittedly, rather... affronted. your gifts, in particular, were your loud declarations of your affection (that make his wings flutter more rapidly than he'd like); but sunday was rather inconvenienced at the whole thing.

nonetheless, he does still accept them. reluctantly, mind you. not because he was fond of your constant shower of affections, which seemed so permanent that he began to look forward to them got used to it. to your credit, your gifts were very much to his tastes. (Robin once gave him a rather soul-searching look when he found himself wearing the gloves you gifted, light blue and white in color. he still uses it, just not when his sister is in the vicinity.)

in fact, perhaps he may have gotten too comfortable. little by little, your constant intrusions on his time have thawed a way to his heart; making sunday look forward to your jovial greetings and grandeur elaborations on your day, and such a thing makes him feel scared sunday needed to nip this in the bud, and fast.

so he confronts you, abruptly one day as you give him his newest gift—a jewelry box for his earrings. (surely, the rapid thumping of his heart was due to his irritation at your constant persistence, right?) “i'm afraid this can no longer continue. i am flattered by your... fancy for me, but i do not wish to enter a relationship in the near future.”

the utter silence that follows is torture to him—but he endures. he tries not to look at the momentary flash of hurt on your face. you seemed to quickly recover, though. giving him a simple smile (it didn't reach your eyes. it shocks him how his chest ached at the realization) and shaking your head when he returns the gift to you.

“i understand, mr. sunday.” the formal usage of his name instead of your chipper ‘sunday!’ makes his face twitch. “but please, keep the gift. think of this as my last declaration. it... would do me a great comfort, just this last time, if you accepted it instead.”

(if he had grabbed your hand at that moment as you left for the door, would he regret it?)

when you leave, sunday thought it would put the conflicting feelings in his mind at ease—but it doesn't. a week and two days counting, true to your word, sunday receives no flagrant gifts, nor little messages on his phone that tell him to take care of himself, to eat, and to make sure to remember to check up on Robin.

instead, contrary to the feeling of ease, regret follows him instead.

it's at two weeks and five days counting when sunday could no longer stand the sight of papers that stacked atop his desk and the image of you leaving for the door replaying in his head far too many times for him to count, that he contacts Robin.

and she, once hearing about the situation, gives him a very, very enlightening talk. (of course, not without giving her brother a lecture of the lifetime. part of him felt shame to know that his sister knew of his... turbulent love life, but she was the only one who he could trust, anyway).

“absence makes the heart grow fonder,” she says. “but in your case, brother, your heart has already decided it's course, right?”

sunday eyes the smooth velvet of the jewelry box you gifted, ruminating. his earrings lie there, carefully pristine and beautiful, gold and silver intertwined. he has worn them without fail, clean and spotless. (of course it was. such a design so intricate was only chosen by you. the thought makes his ears warm).

the next days are agonizing. vigor renewed and epiphanies well-spent, sunday spends the rest of his time after finishing his duties researching and painstakingly finding the best jeweller he can find (even employing the suggestions of a certain gambler, much to his dislike), and spending a god awful amount of time revisiting and rechecking which spots you like, which places you enjoy, to the point it comes up in Penacony's headlines that sunday is interested in someone.

surely, it should've reached your ears by now, yes? sunday panics. your preferences are well-accounted for, and he's sure the Bloodhound family members that report to him have to tell you that the person he had in mind was you. even Robin, who was your closest friend, has probably told you already.

it's embarrassing to admit, but; to hell with it, the day he meets you after three weeks and sees you having a pleasant chat with aventurine, of all people, sunday thinks his heart had shattered into little pieces and stabbed themselves into his body. not so much as sparing him a glance, moreso.

so when, finally at his wits end, sunday chooses to corner you at the dewlight pavilion and spills out how he has royally screwed up in the worst way possible, no one is surprised. at this rate, you would be swept up in the charms of that wretched gambler, and what sunday lacked in, aventurine more than made up for.

“wait, don't go to that gambler just yet.” he's breathless, he's chaotic—and something in his heart squeezes when you finally look at him. “i... i wish to take up your time now, if that's possible.” (he wishes he would take up your time forever, really, but that was still too early).

you eye his getup. all of your gifts, lined on the man you spent so long chasing after—you see the gloves you gifted, the tie with not so much as a single crease, and the earrings that shine more brightly in the light of the pavilion. (it suits him. like you) it was as if sunday had completely surrendered himself to you, had all but decided to proclaim that he was yours, and this was nothing short of a plea for you to hear him.

“please.” he says. almost begs. “i can't bear not seeing you anymore. allow me to correct such a damning mistake.”

and if you were skeptical, the way sunday looks at you would dispel any doubt you could ever have. (his wings, they were fluttering.)

(months later, after a nerve-ending confession, many days of dinners, shared gifts involving matching jewelry and promenading to your wishes, it dawns on sunday he was absolutely dancing to your tune. did he regret it, though?

....no, most certainly not.)

if AVENTURINE were to be honest with himself, he saw you as a useful “friend” rather than a romantic interest. was it bad of him? of a sort. but risk cutting himself open and letting someone he might grow to care for know about all the ugliness that follows his life? no, he's fine as it is, thanks.

the first thing he notices is that you're kind—though he distrusted most of his colleagues and preferred none to get close to him, aventurine, in some morbid moment of curiosity, instead allowed himself to bask in your attention. instead of curtly disparaging you, he flirts back at your compliments (the way your face heated up in return was far too endearing that he can't help but want to kiss you he finds it amusing) and consistently texts you a “did you get home safe” or a “i bought you this because it reminded me of you”; at this point, it was like you two were dating.

was it leading you on? yes, but he supposes it was a win-win; he could send you those tiny bits of validation that was enough for you to stay respectfully at a distance while he probed at your intentions. unlike others who attempt to garner his favor, you're genuine, and you seriously take the time to know him. because you always text back with hearts, always reassure him, tell him to stay safe and wish him luck at every gamble, every high stakes bet he finds himself in. you even complimented his perfume once (and, if he had to be honest, he could not stop thinking about it all day—because that perfume he commissioned exclusively was based off of your own favorite scents and it was extremely embarrassing that he loved hugging you knowing that you loved the way he smelled and that it felt extremely domestic).

(sometimes, he doesn't reply. for months on end. suddenly the golden-haired man you love goes cold and you know then that aventurine ghosts you and then returns when he's in need of a friend—never a lover. it hurts you, but at the very least, you know he cares in his own way.)

and, if aventurine had to be honest, it was killing him from the inside bit by bit. as if to drive the knife deeper, you never danced around what exactly was going on with you two. you never ask why he ghosts you, then sends you a bundle of gifts all of a sudden and then rapidly spends time with you and repeating the cycle. no, you were consistently by his side, so warm and so caring—so unlike him—that aventurine wonders if it's really all right to open his heart to you.

if, by some chance, he actually wanted to be with you, would you treat him even more sweetly than before? aventurine thinks you would—you were beautiful in your entirety, and he was practically undeserving of you. he imagines himself kissing your hand and having you in his arms—and that feels like ice cold water being dumped onto his head, because you could do so much better and yet, why him?

so when aventurine hears about how a certain doctor was visiting you for some unknown reason, his already fragile sense of security in this little will-they, won't they crumbles.

and when he finds out that you were staying over with ratio? something twisted lodges itself in the little brushes of his heart, coiling and coiling—making him feel green. aventurine is aware you and the doctor are good friends, and ratio was the one who even told you to make a move on him! how could he just—suddenly interrupt?!

(was it dramatic? extremely. but knowing his friend and the person he secretly adores might end up together? you can't really blame him.)

he supposes this can be attributed to him. it was an egregious mistake, a blunder aventurine made—he never gave you a clear sight of whether he truly loved you or not and now you're slipping away from him.

so, he does something very unexpected.

at 3:00 AM in the wee early morning hours, aventurine practically barges into one Dr. veritas ratio's home, demanding what the hell was going on between you. and as if he had expected it, his doctor friend merely gives him a shrug in return.

“perhaps they were simply getting fed up by a certain IPC member—who is clearly head over heels in love with them—giving them mixed signals.” ratio's tone is stern, and aventurine definitely knows that the look he gives him is the one he gives only to fools.

you idiot, the doctor seems to say. yeah, yeah, he is; aventurine ignores the clear pinprick at his dignity.

yes, he supposes he is the fool here. “ah.”

“yes, ‘ah,’ indeed. now, let me propose a question.” the purple-haired man says. “will you react in such a way when i tell you that in order for my friend to stop their anguish, i managed to get them to fraternize with one of my colleagues?”

“...what?”

“they will be having a meet-up seven system hours from now.” ratio shrugs. eyes aventurine, who's looking at him like a gaping, stupid fish. “i can only hope that no one would dare to disrupt.”

...it doesn't take him long to be rid of the gambler by then.

(a few hours later, you stop by the Intelligentsia Guild to see one veritas ratio with a smug smile, eyeing the fur coat draped around your shoulders, and the flushed and happy expression written on your face.

“did it work?” he asks.

you laugh, “splendidly.”

indeed, that gambler was a fool, and there's nothing more than dr. ratio loved than to educate such fools to shape.

“that will teach him.”)

as a quote unquote ‘old man’ who knows that he's well up in his years for a relationship, JING YUAN finds you to be quite amusing.

it doesn't take a detailed analysis to know that you were smitten with him, really. you're a complete open book by his standards—if your heated face and slightly airy voice whenever you were even placed in the same vicinity with the Dozing General was anything to come by. while flattering, he also shares the similar mindset of being too old for any love his way—and he could be mara-struck at any given time, and jing yuan does not wish such a life filled with anguish and pain for the one who may steal his heart. but, worry not, brave suitor of the Arbiter General! unlike the other two above, this man has the experience of millenia, and is open-minded and aware that you truly wish to be perceived as a potential lover.

in fact, jing yuan's recent favorite habit is sneaking off the Seat of Divine Foresight purely to freak you out, watching you scramble up your words, seeing the heat crawl up your nape and bloom all across your face. adorable. you certainly knew how to appeal, that's for sure.

(“heh, it seems i've found a new place to stay in so that the Diviner Fu won't grill me alive when she sees me.”

and when he's rewarded with a bashful and speechless look in return, a smile and your, “i'm glad, general.” it surprisingly lightens up his mood by more than he expected.

that, in turn, gives him a frightening 30% energy boost; fu xuan was utterly shocked to see the languid man actually working and looking like he enjoyed it, for once.

“did something good happen today, jing yuan? why so enthusiastic?”

“i just felt like working more than usual, diviner Fu. i seem to have my energy levels at a high.”)

now, jing yuan is considerate and perceptive first and foremost, so there's a high chance that out of all the men here, he is the most open to giving you the chance to pursue him. he does inform you beforehand that he has no plans of accepting your confessions in the future, and that is where the ‘hard to get’ part comes in.

it's like playing a confusing romance visual novel with a fickle love interest—you never really know what you're doing, whether it's something jing yuan would like or not, and you don't know if he even thinks your attempts are moving his heart. (tldr: he friend zones you).

he maintains the same distance no matter his banters with you, no matter how many times you tell him that you'd help yanqing out with sword lessons. it's like he was just... treating you as he would a friend, and that you were basically stuck in the friend-zone forever.

(he keeps it to himself, but something warm stirs in his chest when he sees yanqing sleeping on your shoulder after training practice, with your arm protectively around the boy's side.

your sleeping face didn't make it easy to look away either; it's one of the few moments in which jing yuan shows just the slightest bit of reciprocating your pursuits; he brushes back the stray hairs covering your face, and drapes a blanket over the two of you.

of course, perhaps to tease yanqing, he also takes the calligraphy brush and makes a work out of his face, doodling all over it.

when you wake up, there's a lingering scent of ink and yellowed paper that fills your senses. when you turn to the boy beside you, you almost giggle out loud.)

it's a little disheartening—and while jing yuan did acknowledge that you were slowly, slowly burrowing yourself in his heart, he doesn't act on it fast enough, and instead lets the realization sit in his mind for a while.

it gets to the point where it feels as though he were preparing to distance himself, and even yanqing had asked if he was well. your visits with the Arbiter General also decrease, as he suddenly buried himself in his work even more than before.

he doesn't get to see you all that much afterwards, despite the lingering feeling of missing you filling his heart.

....that's until jing yuan hears word of a recent mara-struck incident involving the Sky-faring Commission; with your name listed among those heavily injured.

when he visits Bailu's clinic after yanqing urges him, jing yuan takes in the sight of you, littered in injuries from head to toe. your life, about to snap. he never even told you that you won; you did manage to steal his heart and for the first time in a long time, jing yuan allows himself to love.

so if, after three weeks later when you're finally healed up and ready to go, jing yuan brings you into his arms and drags you to let him sleep in your lap, you can't really blame him now, can you?

a/n: i love yearner hsr men,,, might do a pt 2 though. thinking of mayb ratio, jiaoqiu and f/heng next time...... sighs dreamily

@ ICEUNHIE: do not repost translate or plagiarize my works.

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

I CRUMBLE COMPLETELY WHEN YOU CRY ; SUGURU GETO

synopsis; after a tense fight with your boyfriend, you flee out into a brewing rainstorm. luckily, suguru is always willing to warm you up again.

word count; 6.2k

contents; suguru geto/reader, gn!reader, copious amounts of hurt/comfort, no really that’s literally all this fic is, sugu snaps at you for worrying about him, (and then promptly spirals), he makes it up to you though :), healthy communication ensues, [name] is used exactly once, switching povs, soft & fluffy ending <33

a/n; going back to my roots (mindless hurt/comfort) 🙏🙏 i just think that if suguru picked me up like a small kitten and put me in his lap it would fix me

you’re cold.

little shivers run through your body, trail down your spine, and all you can do is clench your chattering teeth and dig your nails into the skin of your palms. heavy rain falls down without mercy, going pitter patter as it hits the asphalt — a sudden lightning strike lights up the town, flashing in the reflection of puddles, and all you manage is a weak jolt.

dark clouds blanket the whole sky, not allowing even a sliver of blue to shine through the darkness of the rainy evening. enveloping you, surrounding you, soft earthy scents — wet asphalt, roses blooming to your left and right, bushes with sweet-smelling flora guiding your path. little petals, glistening with droplets and bouncing with the force of the rain.

it’d be comforting, were it not for one simple fact; 

you don’t have an umbrella.

at this point, thirty minutes into your solemn, sniffly walk, you’re absolutely soaked. with only a measly hoodie to cover your body and head, and a tank top sticking to the skin beneath it — you were stupid to think you’d get out of it unscathed. your shoes are ruined, wet soles sticking to the asphalt, two heavy weights carrying you down the familiar street ahead.

you let out a shuddering breath. 

gosh, this was stupid. you knew it was going to rain, but still walked out without a care in the world; despite the weather forecast, despite suguru’s warnings over breakfast, despite all those dark clouds covering the milk-blue sky. you just didn’t think it’d be this bad. you just felt so helpless.

you just couldn’t stay there.

some fresh air, and a bit of space. that was all you needed. just that one sliver of comfort.

so, yeah, maybe you weren’t thinking very clearly when you stormed out. maybe you weren’t thinking nearly enough, not enough to even grab one of the umbrellas hanging off the coatrack. hanging there just for you, the cutest little frog umbrella, one suguru bought for you himself. big, googly eyes, and a big smile. the most perfect shade of green. 

(he put it there just for you.)

maybe you weren’t thinking much at all. maybe you just needed to get away, away from him, away from the frustration on his features. arguments with suguru are few and far between; that fact only adds to the sting of his cold voice, still ringing in your ears. you bite down on your bottom lip again, just to stop it from wobbling so pitifully. blinking rapidly, tears and raindrops clinging to your lashline.

you were just worried. is that so awful? 

(why did he have to be so fucking mean about it?)

a sigh flows from your lips, heavy and defeated, undeniably tired. you hate feeling like this, feeling this bitter, hate feeling like you’ve done something wrong. more than anything, you hate arguing with him — hate the idea of him being angry with you. hate the way his voice turns colder, just a little sharper, an octave lower. he never raises it, never ever, but somehow he still sounds so scary. 

it bothers you. bothers you how sensitive you are, when it comes to him. just that shivering tilt of his voice, coupled with the annoyance in his eyes, and your eyes were already turning glassy. one little sentence, and you were close to breaking out into a sob. because suguru was angry with you, and that alone is enough to make you feel like you’ve done nothing right all your life.

so you left. because that was all you could do. 

sure, the sharp pelting of the rain hurts a little, and the thunder is scary, and you’re awfully cold — but anything is better than having suguru see you burst into tears over such a small argument. you know he’d try to soothe you, know he’d feel guilty. but that just makes it all the more embarrassing. 

(all the more pathetic.)

so you left, rushed out of your own apartment, and before you knew it the storm was rolling in above you. rain and thunder, something to rival the ache in your chest. it still hasn’t been that long, a little over half an hour, and you still haven’t fully calmed down. you still don’t know how to face him. but —

but fuck, it’s cold. and an undeniable part of you yearns to run back into his arms, to make up with him, to hear his voice turn warm and see his eyes go soft. you want him to soothe you so, so badly. like he always does. 

another sigh — more resigned this time — slips from out your lips. your bones feel sore, you’re almost certain you’re going to catch a cold, and it’s getting late. you’re all alone, and it’s raining, and you look vulnerable and helpless. 

you want to go home.

it’ll be awkward, but maybe you can sneak in somehow — without him noticing. then you can go straight to sleep, on the couch, and maybe you’ll feel a little better tomorrow. the two of you can talk it out over breakfast, over warm coffee, and you can tell him what you meant to say without stumbling over what words to use or dancing around the subject like a scared little child.

you’re just too tired to argue anymore.

he just made you feel so stupid. so very, very small. suguru’s been working so hard lately, coming home late, exhausting himself. all you wanted was to make sure he was okay. that, and to coax him into relaxing a bit; maybe take a day off to recharge. that was all.

but he just brushed you off.

and, well, maybe you should’ve backed off after that. maybe you should’ve taken that as a sign that suguru didn’t feel up to answering your questions. but you were just so worried, so pitifully anxious, and you just wanted to help him so, so badly.

suguru is always so dependable. always there to help you, to ground you, to console you. even when you push him away or insist you don’t need it. he can be pushy, when he feels like he needs to, when your health is at risk — and it’s frustrating, but you’ve always appreciated it. you just wanted to return the favour. push him, just a little, to show him how much you care. show him that he can depend on you the way he insists you do with him.

but then he grew frustrated.

”suguru… you’ve been working so much, i’m —” you bite down on your bottom lip. ”i’m just worried that you’re overdoing it.” ”… god. how many times do i have to say it? i know my limits, [name].” ”but — you just look so tired —” ”well, i’m sorry for that.” a cold smile. ”am i not living up to your expectations?”

(that’s not what you meant. he knows that’s not what you meant.)

and it makes you feel frustrated, too. pardon you for being worried. for wanting to be there for him, for once, for wanting to be a supportive partner and not just a burden. 

pardon you for feeling a little lonely, with him coming home so late, leaving so early. with him not giving you the affection you’re so used to, and never confiding in you about his stress.

pardon you for wanting him to trust you, a little, even just a sliver more than not at all.

god, you’re exhausted. you just want to sleep — can’t you have that, at least? just that one thing? you don’t mind sleeping on the couch, don’t mind feeling like a stranger in your own home, as long as you get to rest your eyes. just for a little while. 

your brain spins in circles, bitterness and longing heavy on your tongue, as you grumble over what to do or how to feel — 

while your feet have already begun taking you home. moving almost on their own, on instinct, walking past rose bushes and backyards, the smell of glucose and rotting apples. 

and you’re there before you know it: in front of the familiar door to your shared apartment, soaked from head to toe. still feeling a little lost.

for a second, you hesitate.

maybe he’s still angry. maybe he was happy to get some time away from you. maybe you’re just making things worse by doing this, maybe you should just —

but your fingers have already fished out the key from within your pocket, unlocking the door in one swift motion. moving up to curl around the doorknob, a desperation in your veins guiding you closer to his steady warmth.

and before you have the chance to waver again, you pull the door open and step inside.

you move slowly, gentle and careful, almost cautious. softly closing the door behind you and taking a couple quiet steps forward, only to shrug off your hoodie — heavy, soaking wet and discomforting as you pull it over your head. clumsily, you try to get it off you, squirming when the warm indoors air meets your sweaty tank top. it feels soothing on your bare skin, though, ghosting over your shoulders and collarbone, hoodie now clinging to your elbows.

in the middle of the taxing endeavor, you almost fail to notice the presence of a certain someone, standing just a little farther away. 

almost, because it’d be impossible for you to miss him, that heavy gaze of his.

and before you can think the thought to do anything else, you’ve locked eyes with him — arms still tangled up in the wet sleeves of your hoodie, raindrops and sweat sticking to your skin.

(suguru takes a moment to look at you.)

not daring to say anything, afraid to part your lips, you simply stand there. in silence, like a deer in headlights. for some reason, you can’t really read his expression — you’re a little too tired, a little too caught off guard.

you can only blink, worry surely evident in your furrowed brows, as the seconds tick on and on. tense, tense, tense.

and then he’s walking away again. 

crestfallen. that’s probably the best way to describe how you feel right now, watching him disappear around the corner. dejected, as your eyes fall to the floor, and your posture wilts like a dying rose. you finally shake off your hoodie and watch it fall to the floor with a gross, wet plap.

it hurts. you want to cry. you can’t help it. even though a part of you is still upset, even though a part of you fully expected this to happen… 

another part was still hoping he’d be happy to see you. as if just seeing his smile again might’ve fixed everything.

but he didn’t even give you that.

that’s that, then. there’s nothing you can do except proceed with your original plan. you’ll change into some warm, dry clothes, and go to sleep on the couch like the miserable dog you are. you’ll leave everything troublesome and disheartening for tomorrow’s you to handle. 

for now, you just have to worry about getting some sleep. you don’t have to think about suguru, or his cold voice, or the way he just walked away without saying anything. 

you don’t have to think about him at all. 

(don’t think. don’t think. don’t —)

— the soft patter of footsteps breaks you out of your anxious spiral. they come closer and closer, until a certain silhouette enters your vision out of the corner of your eye.

a certain suguru geto, hair down and cascading past his shoulders, wearing a comfortable sweater and loose sweatpants with a fluffy towel in tow.

once again, you can only blink. a vaguely confused deer in headlights. suguru comes closer and closer, until you can clearly see his eyes, amber gold, full of an emotion you finally manage to identify —

worry.

(ah.)

before you can say anything, he’s draped the towel around you. it feels nice, a soft texture on your skin, big enough to engulf you completely, cocooning you. cozy and snug. you can’t help but melt a little when suguru places his big hand over the towel and smooths it over your cheek, drying off your skin so gently that you feel like crying again.

”are you cold?” he asks, concern evident in his voice. to your immense relief, it sounds nowhere near as scary as before. ”you’re soaked…”

suguru almost seems to be pouting, bottom lip jutting out the slightest bit, eyebrows furrowed softly. still rubbing the raindrops off your skin. he looks awfully troubled, undeniably anxious, and the way he’s caressing your skin feels so earnestly caring. the towel feels warm, like he went the extra mile to heat it up for you.

and, more than anything, the feeling of suguru’s big hands cupping your face is almost heavenly. even though the touch is indirect, you can’t help but bask in his warmth, almost desperate to cling to it after escaping from the harsh cold of the rain. like he could slip away and leave you again if you don’t stay perfectly still, just like this.

it’s soothing. so, so soothing. but it also makes you feel kind of meek.

you sound sheepish when you answer, voice a little hoarse after your grueling walk. throat dry from all the crying. ”nah, ’m fine…”

the words are tiny, fragile like pieces of glass, and they only make suguru’s brows furrow further, pout turning into a soft frown as he gazes down at you.

(he hates how small you look. like you’re curling in on yourself.)

as soon as you left the apartment, a wave of regret washed over him. it was expected, obviously, because that’s what always happens after the two of you argue — which is almost never, which only makes the cut in his heart run deeper. 

he felt frustrated. and tired, so tired. but when he saw your troubled expression, the way your eyes watered slightly before you rushed out…

he could only feel guilty.

and that sensation only deepened as he sat on the couch and spiraled, over the course of forty long minutes, playing the interaction back inside his head. over and over, thinking about your words, his words, some of which he desperately wishes he could take back. 

and when it started raining? suguru could only feel regret, hot and ugly, dragging him into his own thoughts. could only drown in his worries, look out the window anxiously. thinking of you, his sweet baby, stuck under the onslaught of dark clouds and lightning strikes and heavy rain.

(you didn’t bring an umbrella.)

suguru waited. that was all he could do. 

he didn’t think it was possible for him to feel so useless. fighting with himself, the part of him that wanted to give you the space you needed clashing with the part that yearned to run after you — scoop you up and apologize, hold you tight and protect you from the rainfall. you weren’t answering his calls, and he didn’t want to overwhelm you, didn’t want to make you feel even worse. afraid to scare you off for good.

so he could only sit there and worry, sit there and wait, wallow in his own shame until he heard the faintest sound of the front door unlocking. followed by the sound of it creaking open, slowly — and that was all he needed. 

and there you were. standing by the entrance, entirely soaked, tank top sticking to your skin and that flimsy hoodie hanging off your arms, cheeks a little red from the cold and strands of hair sticking to your skin.

like a tiny kitten left out in the rain.

it made him feel so painfully anxious. his heart aching so deeply, so viscerally, while all he could think about was smothering you in affection. taking care of you, like he always wants to do, needs to do to stay sane. so suguru left, to go grab something to dry you off with —

and now he’s here. in front of you, smothering you with the towel rather than his love, fretting over you like an overprotective mother. 

suguru yearns to soothe you. to take care of you. always, always, always, his hands on your skin and lidded amber eyes staring deeply into yours. offering himself like a shelter to a stray dog, hoping so tenderly that you’ll take the bait.

(he just wants you to feel safe with him again.)

so he stumbles for something, anything to say, afraid of overstepping or making you uncomfortable. you did just argue, and suguru was anything but patient with you. usually he would be; he’d make sure to be. but with work piling up, and exhaustion clinging to every pore of his skin…

he failed at maintaining his composure.

he needs to make it up to you. despite everything — even though he feels a little awkward, a little restless, still drowning a little in shame — he just wants to tend to you. that, and nothing more.

”hang on,” he exhales, stepping back and letting go of the towel. ”i’ll go draw you a bath…”

”ah — no need,” you smile, a little forced, swiftly reassuring him. he can tell you don’t really know how to act after everything that happened; still walking on eggshells. ”i’ll just take a quick shower.”

suguru wants to protest, wants to coax you into taking a proper bath, into letting your cold skin and aching bones relax completely —

but he can only hum, a little unsure. a little sad. 

”… okay. got it.”

perplexed, he tries his hand at another tactic. still so desperate to take care of you in whatever way you’ll allow, like always, but he thinks it’s worse now. even more desperate, after the fight you had, after seeing your frail, shivering self. resisting the urge to scoop you up and coddle you is a struggle.

”i can make you tea?” he tries, inwardly wincing at the way the words spill from his lips; uncertain, awkward. what a mess.

but you smile, slightly more genuinely this time, a soft little thing. it soothes some of the anxiety rotting through his ribs.

”tea would be great, thank you.”

you brush past him, warm towel still hanging off your shoulders. ”i’ll just take a shower in the meantime,” you murmur, and suguru can do nothing but nod, watching you go. 

he swallows thickly.

(that’s that, then.)

tea. right. what kind of tea? something warm, and soothing, and good for your throat. chamomile? peppermint? he’ll add a spoon of honey, just the way you like.

suguru’s mind spins in circles while his feet take him to the kitchen, hands swiftly rummaging through cabinets and getting the electric kettle ready. placing teacups and a teapot on the table, cute little floral designs he couldn’t help but fill your kitchen with. pouring hot peppermint tea into the pot, a strong scent drifting through the kitchen, drowning his senses in bliss.

caught up in his own head, losing track of time, suguru fails to notice you walking from the bathroom — stopping by the threshold of the kitchen, hesitant to make your presence known. a few silent moments pass. with a tiny inhale, mint invading your senses, you take a step forward. calm and sleepy, skin still pleasantly hot from the warm shower, hair still a little damp.

only then does suguru notice you, his gaze drifting to your figure as if instinctively drawn to it.

you’re clad in some comfortable sweatpants, and an oversized hoodie — his hoodie, the one with the unreasonably soft texture, the one you tend to gravitate towards — the one he likes to see you in the most, because you always look so thoroughly comfy in it. almost drowning in the fabric. 

seeing you all warm and cozy, in his clothing no less, sends a tremor of pure warmth running through suguru’s chest. sprouting in his heart and spreading throughout his entire body. he can’t bring himself to resist the soft curl of his lips, gazing at you so fondly he’s almost sure you notice it.

”i made peppermint,” he says, a little breathless, already pouring boiling tea into two cups on the table. ”that okay?”

”yeah,” you answer, instantaneous. stifling a yawn. you’d have been fine with anything, really.

the shower worked wonders for your muddled mind; chasing away the shivers down your spine, that unpleasant chill to your skin. most importantly, it gave you a moment to simply relax, to bask in the peace and quiet. feel the hot water surround you, melt your bones like softened clay. you feel a little better, now. still anxious, more than a little sleepy, but better. and right now, that’s all you need. 

with a groggy kind of pep in your step, you stumble over to the kitchen table, plopping down on the chair across from where suguru is sitting. trying to get comfortable, knees pressed against your chest, muttering a soft thank you while gingerly touching the rim of the cup.

(suguru frowns, just barely, at the sight. usually you’d sit right next to him. but now you’re in front of him, so very far — as if you’re strangers.

it breaks his heart, a little bit.)

a soft hum leaves your lips when you take a sip of the tea — all warm and comforting and minty on your tongue, a vague taste of something sweet. it’s relaxing, more than anything, and it makes you feel a little more okay with everything.

suguru only watches you, drinking absentmindedly from his own cup. not really tasting anything.

finally, he opts to clear his throat — and your attention falls on him instantly.

”hey,” he starts, ready to address the elephant in the room. his voice is gentle, but decisive, firm somehow. ”about before…”

your body tenses, ever so slightly, fingers uncurling around the handle of the teacup. there’s a kind of shift in the air around you, in suguru’s tone of voice — and you were expecting it, waiting for it anxiously, but that doesn’t make it any less harrowing.

here it comes, your mind seems to sing. here comes the moment everything shatters again.

with as much strength as you can muster, you smile. a little sheepish, just a tad forced, refusing to meet his eyes from across the table. staring into the murky green of your cup and hoping in vain that you can somehow escape this discomfort. 

(you just want to rest. you just want to not have to think about anything.)

”it’s fine, suguru,” you cut him off. softly, but there’s a certain tilt to your voice that strikes him as rather cold. ”we can just drop it.”

the decision in his eyes doesn’t waver. you look meek, awfully troubled, and he hates to force you into another discussion when you’re undoubtedly tired — but suguru’s mind is set. he’s been evasive enough, today.

”no. i want to talk about it properly.”

at that, you seem to deflate a little. suguru is nothing if not stubborn, a quality that always manages to coexist with his gentleness, his desire to be a good partner for you. you can tell he won’t allow you to wriggle away, now that you’re both finally calm. he’s not doing it to exhaust you, not doing it to gain some sort of satisfaction out of ”winning” the argument — he’s doing it because he knows it’s the right thing to do. even if it makes you both a little uncomfortable.

communication is important, immensely so. suguru knows it very well.

and you do, too.

so all you do is curl into yourself, shifting in your seat, allowing him to speak his mind and sipping quietly on your tea. biting back a disgruntled huff, gaze lingering on the tablecloth, little calico cats etched into the fabric. he wanted one with yellow stripes, but still bought this one just for you. just like the ugly matching couple mugs you forced him into buying, the green colour of your kitchen wallpaper. he always places you before himself.

(all you wanted was to change that. just for a night, if nothing else. and he got mad at you for it.)

suguru sighs. it sounds fatigued, not frustrated or disappointed. he runs a hand through his hair, and you can’t help but follow the movement, the soft silky strands and the way he smooths them over. practiced, familiar, absentminded. you could watch him do it forever.

”i had a lot of time to think while you were gone,” he begins, recalling the mental gymnastics he went through while you were away. just sitting on the couch and running himself ragged, trying to be impartial, trying to see your point of view without letting his own bias get in the way.

you sink a little further into the chair, eyes downcast. inhaling the scent of peppermint, trying to prepare yourself for what he might say, the ways this could all go wrong.

”and i realized that you were right.”

…

you blink. once, then twice.

hesitantly, you raise your head, searching for suguru’s gaze. he isn’t looking at you, staring out at the rainfall through the window as if in deep thought. his gaze shifts to meet yours, and something soft flickers through his golden eyes.

he looks troubled, though. trying to find the right words, mind clouded by guilt. chewing at his bottom lip anxiously.

it takes him a moment to gather his thoughts, to weigh the words in his mind, just to make sure he gets them across as smoothly as possible. he’s had more than enough time to verbalize his feelings, to think about what he wants to say to you. it was all he could do while he waited. 

so his voice is earnest, when he continues, sincerely apologetic and thought out.

”i’m always telling you not to overwork yourself. and here i am, doing the same thing…” another sigh. ”you were just worried. i shouldn’t have lashed out — you didn’t deserve that.”

suguru searches for your gaze, and manages to find it. you falter a little under the weight of his eyes, but they’re warm, remorseful. a setting sun.

”i’m sorry.”

a moment of silence passes. then two. three, five. you look down at your cup, the purple hyacinths etched into the porcelain. crumbling under his gaze, at the sound of his genuine apology. 

and suddenly, you feel silly — silly for being so scared, for thinking suguru might still be angry with you. for thinking he wouldn’t spend as much time as needed to properly think about your words, your feelings, even if he might not have been ready to do so when he first heard them.

suguru can be stubborn, if he’s convinced that he’s in the right. but he always, always seeks you out eventually, always makes sure to genuinely look at things from your perspective. 

and, really, it means everything. it means enough to wash away all your leftover irritation, from having him brush you off when you know you didn’t do anything wrong. all the leftover sadness from being pushed away, from not being allowed to take care of him the way he always does for you.

suguru isn’t perfect, but he tries harder than anyone you know. tries his very best to be as close to perfect as he can possibly get — for you, for the both of you. he’s considerate enough, mature enough to take the time he needs to properly communicate. that’s how much he loves you. 

and yes, doing so makes you a little uncomfortable. but when faced with something like that, someone so kind, who loves you like the rain loves the ground — how could you ever bear not to do the same?

”… it’s fine,” you start, softly. ”maybe i overreacted a bit. ’s just —” a gulp. you’re trying your best to verbalize your feelings, the way suguru just did, the way he always does.

and he waits, patiently. for as long as you need. looking at you from across the table softly, already immensely relieved at the lack of tension in the air.

”i don’t like seeing you so tired. i know that your work is important, and i support you, but…” your voice goes quiet, as you trail off, hoping he’ll understand what you mean. ”you know.”

and suguru does. he does understand, he always will. so he hums.

”i know,” he murmurs, softly. ”it wasn’t an overreaction. i just didn’t realize it myself. got too caught up in everything,” a sharp exhale leaves his lips. ”it’s been… a long week. i’m not using that as an excuse, though.”

you listen attentively, eyes softening at his words. you can tell that he means it, that you finally got your message across. all you wanted was for him to take a break, to take care of himself.

to let you take care of him.

suguru continues. he makes it a point to look into your eyes as he speaks — a little intimidating, especially in a situation like this — but you know it reassures him, that it lets him know you really understand what he’s trying to say. 

so you hold his gaze, as steady as you can, glancing down at his collarbone when it becomes just a little too much.

”i’m grateful that i have you,” he says, voice dripping with softness, gazing at you with a fondness that has you crumbling all over again. ”and that you care enough to set me straight when i need it.”

and suguru means it. he means it more than anything else. not once has he ever stopped appreciating you, all the things you do for him; always so sweet and caring, even when it’s subtle. this was no exception. you’re always worried, always looking out for him. he feels awful for getting so defensive. for pushing you away, when you were trying so earnestly to reach him.

but he’ll make up for all of that, starting now.

”i mean it. i appreciate you so much, you have no idea — i’m so sorry if i made you think otherwise.” for a moment, his eyes look a little glassy, swimming in remorse. ”i really, really am.”

(and when he looks at you like that, when he speaks so very gently —

how could you ever bear not to forgive him?)

you shift in your seat again. gazing down, chewing at your bottom lip. his honesty makes you falter, makes it hard for you not to do the same; even if your voice ends up sounding awfully tiny and awfully close to breaking apart. 

”… i was just worried,” you mumble, meekly, shooing away any tears you have left with rapid blinks. 

”i know,” suguru soothes. the smile on his face is genuine, comforting, honey and peppermint and warmth. ”i was being immature. you were right — i’ve been burning myself out.”

you don’t say anything. only letting his words console you, feeling yourself relax at the sound of him opening up a little. just enough to make everything all better again.

”i was thinking of taking tomorrow off,�� he continues, searching for your timid gaze and smiling gently once he finds it. ”what do you say?”

you brighten a little, so obvious in the way you sit up straighter, the way something soft and hopeful blossoms in the scope of your iris. the sight coaxes suguru’s patient smile into widening a smidge, his eyes crinkling at your barely contained excitement.

”that’d be nice…” you murmur, averting your gaze once more. but suguru can tell you like the sound of that, that it’s exactly what would finally put your anxious mind at ease.

a smile, bright and fond. suguru opens his arms. 

”then i will.”

for a moment, you simply stare. at him, his outstretched limbs — that soft smile, as he waits for you to get the hint. and you blink. 

oh. 

you look down at your lap. a little sheepish, almost shy. it takes you another moment to raise your head, again, only to see another gentle flicker in suguru’s eyes — and then you finally get up from your seat.

it feels a little strange. a little awkward, as if some of your bones still can’t help but tread on eggshells, afraid of making him upset again. but it’s suguru, and he loves you, and his arms are waiting patiently to hold you.

and you want that more than anything. 

so you fall into his arms, softly, curling up in his lap and wrapping your arms around his waist. suguru has one hand on the back of your head and the other on the small of your back, rubbing comforting circles into your spine to make you relax.

it works wonders. despite your initial hesitance, you melt into the embrace without putting up a fuss — happy to be in his arms again, to feel the anxiety dissipate when you realize that everything’s finally alright.

and suguru is just as happy, just as content. breathing out a sigh of relief he didn’t know he was holding. he strokes your hair lovingly, and you nuzzle into him a little more; making his lips quirk up, eyes filling with adoration. finally, he can relax. having you in his arms feels so soothing. and you’re so sweet, curling into him, seeking comfort and warmth that he’s more than happy to provide.

how long has it been since he had a chance to hold you like this? he made sure to be affectionate whenever he could, before leaving for work and after coming back — but in the midst of all the paperwork and stress…

suguru sighs, a little sadder this time, watching you bask in the attention he had been robbing you of this whole time. without even realizing it.

”and i’m sorry for neglecting you, too,” he murmurs, barely above a whisper. muffled by your hair as he presses a kiss against the crown of your head.

that certainly gets your attention.

”neglecting me?” you sputter, eyes suddenly wide open and lips parted in disbelief. flustered, heat rushing to your neck and ears. ”wha — what am i, some high-maintenance puppy? you didn’t neglect me.”

suguru only chuckles, biting back a soft coo that he knows would only fluster you more. instead, he pulls away a little, just to look at you, and pecks your forehead softly.

”well, i’m sorry for not being around much, then. i’ll make it up to you. okay?”

hiding away in his collarbone, again, you mutter a soft okay that has suguru’s heart squeezing in his chest. he cradles you close, engulfs you in his embrace, and hopes you can feel his love through the action. hopes you can feel it in the way his arms fit around you like they were always meant to be right there.

and you do feel his love. feel it smooth away the leftover turmoil in your brain, caress your skin softly. it’s soothing, and comforting, and you feel so incredibly safe. here, in suguru’s embrace, with the sound of rain hitting the window and the scent of peppermint wafting through the kitchen — it’d be impossible not to relax.

before you know it, your eyelids have fluttered shut, breathing softening out and heartbeat slowing down. a peaceful rhythm, carrying you away. suguru notices it before you do.

”you sleeping, baby?”

you jolt a little in his arms — murmuring something unintelligible into his neck, and he only chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest like a soothing thunderstorm.

”c’mon. let’s get you to bed, hm?” 

suguru smooths a hand down your back, arms tightening around you before he scoops you up and gets up from his seat. ”there we go,” he hums, helping you hike your legs around his waist. ”you can sleep, angel. i’ve got you.”

your arms tighten around him, and you inhale his scent; grounding and comforting, raindrops and roses. tomorrow you can bask in it properly, can take care of him properly. you’ll coddle him all day.

but for now, you need to get some rest.

allowing your senses to dull away, clinging to suguru like a makeshift pillow, you absently listen to the storm still raging on outside. faraway, cold and harsh, but comforting when you’re in his steady grasp.

a yawn escapes your honey-soothed throat.

you don’t miss the i love you murmured into your ear, accompanying you into dreamland as your eyes flutter shut.

[muntitled]

No Promises

Jake Sim x Fem!Reader

Summary: “So hypothetically, what would you do if I told you the condom broke-”

Warnings: Language, Domestic Fluff, Slight Angst, Himbo!Jake, Nerd!Reader, Smut +18 (minors dni) Dom!Jake, Pussy Drunk Jake, He really wants kids, Breeding Kink, Humping, Grinding, Slight Dub/Con, Unprotected Sex, Dub/Con Raw Sex, Perv!Jake, Rough Sex, Forceful Breeding, Degradation Kink, Praise Kink, Unedited

I'm ovulating

Jaeyun's head is filled to the brim with unsavoury business as he shuffles through the university office.

'It's simple,' Jake says to himself as he cradles the rugby ball under his arm. 'Not. A big deal.'

Once Jake enters the university office, he is immediately bombarded by the smell of old, academic wood. Here, the less crowded, air conditioned space is a nice breakaway from the sweltering rugby field, but all that plagues Jake’s mind are the overwhelming memories of you.

Specifically, you last night, bathed under the sweet honey glow of your cheap salt lamp. His lips on yours as you straddled him on the floor. Skin everywhere.

Jaeyun still remembers his tongue meshing against your own, all he tasted was the ruddiness of white wine.

The pillow forte you were initially building in the living room lay forgotten around you, instead, the space became a lovenest with the moon staring idly from beyond your cream blinds.

"Ride me," Jake breathed out with his mouth attaching itself to the sensitive skin between your neck and shoulder. He drifted your braids out of the way, letting his hand massage your scalp as he craned your neck backwards.

"I need to see you ride me." His voice was hoarse as he manoeuvred you to straddle his hips.

He remembers the texture of the string of beads tied around your waist.

He remembers the air leaving his lungs when you lowered your heat to his cock.

He remembers not being able to stop.

"Did you buy the condoms," you had asked the diabolical question, right when he was about to get it in.

"Fuck the condoms…" he laughed dryly with his thumb skimming across your hips, bumping against the waist beads, "We're both clean. I wanna feel you."

Jake had been wholly disappointed to see your face harden into that pissed off look that was always aimed at the students you tutored.

He'd be scared if he didn't find it hot.

"That's so incredibly unfunny," you pushed at his chest until he released a winded breath, "Don't piss me off, Jaeyun,"

"Fine- fuck- I was kidding,"

He wasn't. And even when he slipped the condom on and slipped inside, Jake became delirious with pleasure of it all.

"Where do you want me to cum?" he had asked.

Naive, unsuspecting you, had replied, “Inside. Y-You're wearing a condom, right? Inside.” Jake fucking lost his mind all the same.

The evening had ended with Jake skimming his hand over the fullness of your ass as he pulled his bottom lip against his teeth.

He watched the softness of your skin mould under his grip as he snickered, "She gon' take it up the ass like a ventriloquist-"

"Do not quote Kanye at me after we just had sex." You groaned.

But Jake wasn't done because now he was thinking about your ass and you'd both gone on for 2 more rounds.

'It's easy,' says present-day-Jake, shaking his hair as if to clear away the thoughts before they took root and really became a problem for him.

His little inner pep talk guides him to the receptionist desk. 'Just tell her the condom snapped and I may have cum a little inside. It's not my fault I'm fucking huge,' but even just the thought of it has Jake warming with anxiety.

"Good morning, Jake!" It's not difficult to plaster on his golden boy smile for the receptionist. Everyone at this University buys the absolute shit he sells, never once questioning their star athletes true intentions behind his disarming smile. He could get away with murder.

"Morning," Jake replied, knocking on the wood of the large mahogany desk. All this mahogany and yet all he could smell was you. Cocoa Butter was an all consuming thing.

"Is she in?" He asks, prompting the receptionist to nod. As Jake walks down the mouth of a corridor leading to the offices of tutors, professors and assistant professors, he keeps his head bowed until he reaches your door.

When you let him into the empty office, all thoughts vanished. Storming in his mind were solutions as to how he might divulge his little slip-up.

"Keep the door open, Jake, I don't do scandals." He was enamoured at the sight of you seated behind the large brown desk with your eyes dark and sleepy. Jake already tried to work out the probability of you remaining calm at the knowledge that the condom he used last night had been breached but looking at you here, he knew there was no possible reality in which you wouldn't try to murder him.

He closes the door despite your words and all you do is look up from your paper and sigh.

Seduction, he decided, was his only defence.

“Is there a reason you're bothering me at work?”

"Didn't know assistant professors got their own offices," he says, dropping the rugby ball in a corner beside a stack of mind-numbing philosophy manifestos.

"We don't," you say, never looking up from your paper, "I don't know how long I'm gonna have this space to myself to mark in peace, that's why we have to be quick-

"Quick," Jake's head snaps up, "I can do quick."

Instead of taking note of your eyeballs rolling to the back of your skull, Jake instead focuses on the expanse of your cleavage spilling out of that diabolically tight v-neck. "The conversation, Jake. What do you want? I have essays to mark." You drop the papers in a huff of unbridled academic frustration, effectively giving Jake the opening he needs to walk towards your desk until he's behind your chair. His hands drift over your shoulders, kneading the tense skin until your head is rolling back, away from the work.

"I thought you'd be happy to see your boyfriend,” he loved referring to himself as ‘boyfriend’, it made him secure in his role. “I have an inter-uni game to catch with the boys but I'm gracing you with my presence instead," your eyes flutter closed as you relax back into the security of Jake's hands.

"You really don't have to talk, babe,"

"But this place is so suffocating," Jake huffs, letting his eyes drift over the dark and dreary room flooded with books, papers, old, depressing paintings of old depressing philosophers. "I can feel myself getting smarter just being here. It's disgusting."

You hum as Jake's thumb drifts under the thin fabric of your v-neck, kneading into the tissue surrounding your shoulder blade. "It's almost like there's more to campus than just the rugby field," your him bleeds into a moan as Jake fingers prod at a particularly sensitive bundle of nerves.

"I had no idea," he says with mock sarcasm. You chuckle lightly as you let Jake's fingers coax you into a much needed break. The peace is a welcome getaway from the tedium that came from fixing grammatical issues and spelling errors.

Jake's left hand continues to knead at your back while his right drifts to the front of your neck. He could've been a chiropractor in his past life, Jake thinks idly as he cups the base of your throat until he's turning your head to match his ministrations.

"Fuck," that tiny sound leaving your mouth does everything to focus Jake's attention down on you. His eyes are hooded as he watches you seated before him and he's all too aware of the fact that this angle allows him to see down your top, into the pillowy expanse of your cleavage.

Jake pushes his hardening cock against the back of your high back chair as he continues to massage your back and neck.

And sure, maybe his hand may drift a little lower down your chest while the other continues to work at your neck.

You almost don't catch him when he says, "So hypothetically what would you do if I told you the condom broke-"

Your eyes snap open and you try to rid yourself of Jake's hands but the hand drifting against your cleavage cages you to the chair. No running.

"What the fuck is wrong with you lately?! Did I not tell you I would rather die than let you inject me with your evil spawn-"

Something dark settles on Jake's face as he stops his ministrations.

There's a moment of disorientation before you realise that Jake spun your chair to face him. One hand on the back of the chair as he leans down, with your faces far too close for it not to be inappropriate.

"Would it really be so bad?" He whispers, before tilting his head to slot his mouth against yours.

Luckily your senses are heightened but still rational as you push him away, effectively standing up to create more distance between you two.

Jake, however, sees your plan and instead of letting you act it out, he slots you in between himself and the desk. Your butt pressing against the edge of the wood so there was no escape.

"No Jake," you say in frustration because now Jake's hands were pawing at your hips like he usually did when he was coaxing you into being as horny as he was. "Getting me pregnant wouldn't just be bad-"

"Perfect," he says, dipping down to place a kiss on your collar bone, "So we agree-"

"It'd be catastrophic. I'd abort it immediately." Jake's hands curl into your hips and you watch under furrowed brows as Jake begins to fiddle with the drawstring of his shorts.

"You're catholic," he says before dipping down to undo the buttons of your jeans. "You're not aborting my baby."

You think your boyfriend is utterly delirious, but even more harrowing is the bit of molten attraction stirring in the bottom of your stomach at seeing him so sure of something. So in charge.

His bare arms are glistening from playing rugby under the sweltering sun and his skin has that honey tint that drove you feral with lust.

You hated the urge that plagued your mind to push your thighs tightly together but Jake immediately stops you. He pushes your jeans down, leaving you standing dumbly with your mouth hanging open as he slots himself between your legs. You try to wriggle yourself away but Jake keeps you locked with his hands framing your sides.

"Last night was hot, yeah?" He huffs with his shorts hanging lazily under the bulge of his Calvin Kleins. He presses himself against you, moaning straight into the crook of your neck.

"J-Jeez, Jake," you whimper, unable to stop yourself from lifting your hips to meet his grinding, "Y-You're disturbing me from work-" speaking was growing very difficult, especially because Jake was unclipping your bra from behind. "Cus all you think about is sex-"

"All I think about is sex with you." He clarifies as wriggles you out of the v-neck.

"I don't think that's a crime-" he says, immediately cupping your breasts in his large hands as he pushes his cock further against you. Jake throws his head back before huffing and puffing while he stares down at you needily humping against him.

"You say you don't want it," he swipes his tongue over his bottom lip as he lifts his shirt, "but you're like a pup in heat, babe,"

"F-Fuck, if we're gonna do this, hurry before anyone comes," the words are like music to his ears and his exposed stomach flexes as he hurriedly pulls down his boxers.

You help him out of his shirt, and both your movements are so heated, so clumsy, you don't think you've ever been this wet.

"Fuck- you gotta be quick, big boy, before someone comes, yeah?" You repeat, knowing your boyfriend became completely unresponsive and pussy drunk during sex. Jake hums in weak response, far too focused on jerking himself off…the head of his cock periodically bumping against your clothed cunt.

"Say you want this dick- c'mon, say it-" he urges with heavy eyelids and all the fight is wiped out of you. You lean back, opening your legs to accommodate him further between you and Jake only groans as he jerks his cock.

"J-Jake, you can't cum in me, yeah-"

"Come on, bro," he groans as he brings his hand in between your legs. “Still?!”

His fingers prod at your clit as your hips stutter to meet his hand. "I'm just tryna get it in, why are you being like this?"

You manage to slip out a scoff in between your moaning.

"Y-You're not 'getting it in' until you divulge what on earth you're thinking about that has you this fucking feral." he was operating on neandthral level need and you needed to know what the cause of it was. You needed to know what had your boyfriend so strung out on your body, on the scent of you, at the sight of you.

You want this Jake all the time.

"You're so pretty," he mumbles, instead, with his gaze locked firmly on your cunt. He swipes your panties aside, unwilling to part with the cute pink material yet and you arch your back, inviting him in.

"If I tell you what I'm thinking about…" he says, lining his cock up with your cunt. Your entire back now pressed supine against the desk, "You'll end up pregnant before the end of the day," Jake concludes his statement by ramming his cock into your cunt, effectively lodging all your complaints in the back of your throat. The desk creaks as he continually rams his cock into you in viscous, rough thrusts.

He's a panting mess, watching your body contort in pleasure as your breasts jiggle with every thrust.

"Oh my fucking g- fuck-" Jake hovers over you, never once slowing his movements even when he tweaks your nipples.

"You're so fucking pretty, you know that? Taking this dick so fucking good-"

You clench around him, loving how vulgar he got whenever you had sex. His hair is already messy but it becomes even more so when you drag your fingers through it, discarding the hair tie that kept his black curls rained to the back.

"Oh my god, baby, you're such a slut-" he lets his words slip and it only turns you on more and more as you drag him down for a sloppy kiss. Your hips rise to meet his thrusts, willing your orgasm to crest.

"B-Baby-” he pants, “Pretty Baby, I need to tell you something-" the second those words left his mouth in sloppy succession, your alarm bells were ringing. Even more so when he dipped his hands between your body until he was rubbing furious circles against your clit.

"J-Just, shh, Jakey, I'm close-"

"The condom broke, last night-"

Your hips still, but his continue to fuck into you- continues to rub at your clit until your body can't help but obey.

"WHA- OH FUCK, JUST LIKE THAT-" your seeing stars when the tip of Jake's cock rams against that particular pillow of nerves. "F-Fuck Jakey."

He was still your Jakey and he took that as a sign to continue fucking into you with reckless abandon.

"Gonna fill you up with my cum, again princess?"

"Jake-"

"Yesterday when you were riding me," he says in harsh staccato. His breath is rough and rugged. "A-And your hips were moving just right and your tits- God those tits." He leans back to watch them jiggle underneath them and Jake's balls squeezes in warning. "I just-" his voice cracks as he whines, "I just needed to flood you with my cum, baby-" your cunt squeezes his cock once more and you're both dangerously close to the edge.

"H-Here-'' he says, bringing your hand up to his throat. "Choke m-me, I think I'm gonna cum." His words alone have your back arching off the desk, slipping into your own orgasm.

“J-Jake-” Somehow you still muster the energy to choke him like he wants and that has his hips stuttering and the praises flying from his lips as he says, "F-Fuck, I'm cumming for you, Angel. You're milking my cock- babe-" his hips ram into yours as his eyes squeeze shut. Jake's caught in the ultimate pleasure as he imagines everything from your tits swelling with milk, to him fucking you while you were pregnant.

"O-Oh my fucking god," the amount of cum leaking out of his cock threatens to push him out of you, and you're both huffing in the quiet office air.

Soon you're both hurtling down to your current reality, but still, Jake keeps his hand on your hips, listening to your heartbeat.

"If you really don't want one - I'll go get you a plan b right now-"

"W-wait," you stop him from leavi⁷ng, "Let's... talk about it later. No promises."

Jake smiles, "No promises.”

[honeytonedhottie]

how to be audacious, a guide⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🧁💕

for the longest time, i used to shrink myself... i was too scared to ask, too scared to seem “too much.” but recently i’ve realized: being afraid to ask keeps you stuck. it keeps you small. being audacious? it’s about putting yourself and ur goals FIRST and pursuing them without shame, and knowing you're worthy of them. this post is your push to break out of that bubble and start asking. because the closed mouth never gets fed…💬🎀

YOU KNOW YOU HAVE FREE WILL... RIGHT? ;

are u taking full advantage of ur free will everyday? i swear, sometimes we forget we have it and we wonder why everything seems boring, or why we're still stick in the same place we were last year. ur not a sim on autopilot, every decision that u make/don't make is shaping your life.

you can ask for more. you can walk away. you can say no, or better yet, say yes to something that scares you a little (but lowkey excites you too). my mom always says, "ur not a tree thats just rooted in one spot, you can get up and move."

YOU DESERVE IT ;

ur only limited by the limitations that u accept in ur mind. if u say something or someone is not in ur league, or u don't deserve something than you dont. simple as that. stop taking on limitations from others, society, ur own limiting beliefs and just let urself live! if u can conceptualize something then you. can. get. it. and i want u to drill that into ur head.

YOUR AUDACITY ISN'T HURTING ANYONE ;

idk why we're so afraid to be audacious, to ask for things, to take up space. its not like being audacious and asking for more is hurting anyone, in fact it only hurts urself when u sell urself short. by you having audacity, your exposing urself to more opportunities and options. you miss 100% of the shots u dont take, so don't be afraid to fail a few times.

ADMIT UR DESIRES ;

why lie to urself and tell urself u want x when you really want y? bcuz u think x is more attainable? stop pretending like ur fine with the bare minimum and dont be shy to be fussy or difficult or a diva. ADVOCATE for yourself. asking for more doesn't make u greedy, it makes u self aware. clarity is step one to getting everything you’ve ever dreamed of.

it doesn't hurt to try! if u try the same things then ur gonna get the same results so think of ur life is a testing lab. try it for the plot. worst case? you learn something. best case? you’re living your best, most unexpected EXCITING life ever...💬🎀

[bbyg4rl]

maybe.. jj with a breeding kink?

cw: jj x reader, established relationship, smut !

summary: you joke about having a food baby, so JJ gives you a real baby. Inspired by request ! MDNI.

< oral f. receiving, little slap on thighs(?), unprotected piv, creampie, breeding kink, praise >

“Ugh, it’s like I have a food baby,” you joked to Sarah, grinning as she chuckled in response. It was meant to be nothing more than a lighthearted comment, just a silly remark about overeating. But little did you know, that one simple joke would change everything.

Your words reached JJ’s ears, pulling his attention away from whatever conversation he was having with Pope. The moment you referred to yourself as a mother, even if it was just to a “food baby,” something in him shifted.

The idea of you pregnant, carrying his baby, sent a wave of arousal through him. His mind spiraled, suddenly consumed by images of you swollen with his child, glowing, utterly his. He swallowed hard, shifting in his seat as he tried to focus on anything else—but it was too late. The thought had taken root, and there was no pushing it away now.

By the time you both had retreated to his room at the Chateau, the tension in his pants was unbearable. Every brush of your skin against his, every glance exchanged had only fueled the fire burning inside him. He could hardly think straight. Overpowered with the need to have you.

The moment the door shut behind him, his restraint shattered. He couldn’t wait any longer. All he wanted was to push you onto the bed and fuck a baby into you. “Fuckin' got me losing my mind all day,” he whispered, his voice low and rough. His arms wrap around you, pulling you in as he buries himself in the crook of your neck.

“Oh?” You giggled at the sudden attention, but the amusement faded the moment he lifted his head and locked eyes with you.

His baby-blue irises were blown wide, they looked dark and hungry, sending a shiver down your spine. The look on his face was almost terrifying, pure, unfiltered need etched into every feature, the kind of look that sent heat pooling in your stomach.

“Want me to make you a real mama, baby?” he coos, his voice soft yet laced with something darker, something possessive.

His hands slide down to your stomach, fingertips pressing gently into your abdomen. The touch is subtle but deliberate, sending a shiver through you. When he applies the slightest pressure, a soft moan escapes your lips. His eyes darken even more at the sound, a slow smirk tugging at his lips as he watches you squirm beneath his touch.

His hands find your hips, guiding you until the back of your knees hit the edge of the bed. The air between you is thick with tension, every step making your pulse race. With an effortless motion, he roughly pushes you down onto the mattress, following closely as he climbs over you. His hands fall down to your thighs, gripping them as he pulls your legs around his waist. He trails slow, teasing nips from your lips down to your navel, undressing you along the way, his touch teasing and unhurried.

“Jay, please—” you whine, squirming beneath him as his hands hover over your pussy, barely touching—just enough to drive you crazy. A low chuckle rumbles from his chest, clearly enjoying how easily he has you begging.

“So pretty” he whispers as his mouth finds purpose in between your legs, he licks a long stripe along your slit. Making you moan loudly at the sensation. He slides his thick fingers into your sobbing cunt, curling them just the right amount to send ripples of pleasure through you at every thrust. Pride blooms in his chest as you come undone around his fingers.

“Pretty, pretty pussy” he murmurs, his voice low and rough. The vibrations from his voice send a wave of heat through your body, every syllable sinking deep into your nerves.

A gasp slips from your lips as he blows cold air onto your clit before circling his tongue around your pulsing, swollen bud. He latches his lips onto it as he sucks, making your back arch from the feeling. You can practically feel the proud smirk he has on. Sucking and licking as he moves his head side to side.

The combined feel of his fingers thrusting into you and his attention on your clit has an orgasm bubbling through you in no time. A sharp, loud moan leaves your mouth as you reach your high.

“Such a good pussy huh? beggin' me to fill it up” he murmurs, the filth he's spewing shoots straight through you, sending a shiver down your spine. Your thighs instinctively tighten around his head, your body trembles from the overwhelming pleasure.

He finally pushes himself up, his movements slow and deliberate as he climbs on top of you again. His shark tooth necklace hovers over your face, the warmth of his skin radiating against you as his face inches closer. He lifts your legs up, hooking them over his shoulders.

His strong arms hold your legs up as he leans down to kiss you, folding you in half in the process. He reaches one hand down, index and middle finger on either side of your folds, stretching your sticky hole as he bullies himself in, inch by inch.

Your back is arched like a bow string drawn too tight, your walls pulsing, struggling to adjust to the intrusion. He doesn't let you adjust fully, he needs you now. He pulls out, only to thrust back in quickly, setting in an unrelenting, almost punishing pace. His arms flex around your legs, tasty biceps tense around you as he pushes your legs up even higher, making space for his dick.

“Gonna fuck you pregnant, mama” he whispers, his breath hot against your skin, each word laced with intent. He gives your ankles a kiss as his thrusts grow harder and harder. pulling out until only the tip is in, only to slam back in with full force. He's splitting you open as if you were a pistachio. His dick twitches in you with every moan that slips out of your mouth.

“You gonna have my kids?” he rasps between heavy breaths, his voice low and teasing. You nod at his words but you're quickly met with a smack on your thigh as response. “Use your words” He orders, rubbing a soothing hand over the skin he had just smacked.

“Y-yes, I'm gonna have your kids,” You stammer out as your brain threatens to turn into mush, the pleasure flooding your senses.

He gives you a kiss on your forehead while his thrusts grow needier. His pace is frantic as he nears his release. “So good f'me,” He says against your forehead as his hand reaches in betwen the tangled mess of limbs to find your clit.

He rubs tight circles on your bud, putting enough pressure to make your eyes roll back into your head and push your hips up in need for more. “Have all my babies, darlin',” He pants, “Wanna see this belly all full” his grip tightens on your legs as a lazy smirk tugs at his lips, eyes locked onto how your face twists in pleasure.

His whispers are enough to push you to orgasm again, your walls clench and spasm around him as your release hits you, your vision turning spotty as he fucks you through it, chasing his own release.

A loud moan erupts from JJ's throat, “Take all of it—Fuck—” he whimpers, burying himself as deep as he could go, filling you up with spurts of his sticky cum. Thick, hot ropes of white shoot so deep into your womb that you could swear you felt in your throat.

He pulls out slowly, the loss of warmth leaving a shiver in its wake, before pushing himself off the bed. His movements are hurried as he runs a hand through his messy hair, glancing around the room. Spotting your scattered clothes, he picks up your panties, tossing them onto the bed with a smirk.

He strides toward you with slow, deliberate steps, his gaze locked onto you like a predator closing in on its prey. He takes your lacy panties and shoves them into your sensitive, leaking cunt. The unexpected feeling making you whimper.

He laps up all of his cum that had already leaked out with his fingers, smearing it around your pussy.

“Can’t let anything go to waste” he chuckles, slipping back into bed beside you. His arms wrap around you, pulling you close, his fingers reach back to rub circles on your clit. With a satisfied sigh, he presses his face into your neck, giving you featherlight kisses along the sensitive expanse of skin. He wasn't done yet.

check out my other works ! masterlist

a/n: sry this took so long anon! hope you like it <3

[sqgeism]

Touchstarved! Reader? I’m thinking established relationship with Dan Heng.

Imagine him sitting down, trying to type something in, then Reader just came right behind him gave him the snuggle. Head resting on shoulders, arms encasing around his waist. You could totally do other characters too!

𐙚 𓏵𓏵𓏵 𐙚 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞 | various hsr men x gender neutral reader

love mail — BACK TO MY ROOTS. if theres something you should never trust me to do, it's to have a consistent layout. thank you and goodnight. love u all ^_^ <3 let it b known i don't acc know mydei's nd anaxa's personalities like dat.. pls spare me eueueyh i honestly js wanted to write for them ｡ﾟ(ﾟ´Д｀ﾟ)ﾟ｡ is that a crime ?! characters in order: dan heng, mydei, anaxa

dan heng's known for kind of cooping himself up in his room, even if he's got nothing but a sad mattress on the floor and an even sadder, thin blanket— he likes it. the books keep him busy, and he's able to work with no disturbances.

well. at least, that's what he thinks, up until he hears his door creak open and someone walks in while he's reading a book. his back is turned away from the mysterious intruder, taking a sip as he's engrossed with the novel in his hands.

he's trying to make guesses of who it is before he turns around, perhaps welt needed an update on a case. or march with some silly, rather insolent question.

he gets his answer when a head suddenly leans itself against his shoulders, arms around his waist and a familiar weight is pressed behind his back. "hm?" his tone significantly softens, unable to stop the fondness that came to his lover, you. his darling, sweet lover. "you've been in here all day." feeling lonely, you had taken it upon yourself to go see dan heng after a whole day of not seeing him. he hadn't come out for any meal or conversation, far too invested in the book you got him.

"you've grown lonely then?" he laughs, but you squeeze him tighter. "not funny."

you listen to pages rustling and a book closing shut, dan heng turns to face you and you don't fight it, loosening your arms just enough for him to shift positions and you're in his arms, as you should be.

"does this suffice as an apology?" he wonders, running his hand through your hair as he presses gentle kisses atop your head. before you can answer, he slowly dips you down to his bed, keeping you distracted with kisses until you feel the mattress on your back and dan heng ontop of you.

you think he'll further his advances, but he kind of just falls limp on your chest, beginning to slip into a peaceful slumber.

oh.. how you loved this boy.

mydei had a long day. aeons forbid the guy catches a break, but he's been left to lay in bed and finally rest for a day. bless the stars, a day.

and lucky you, (after relentless begging towards welt) you also had a free day! (while caelus, dan heng, and himiko go explore another planet) what a coincidence that your schedules totally align.

your relationship with mydei was simple. he spent thousands of lifetimes waiting to meet the reincarnation of his lover (you), and he did, and now you're dating him. he doesn't care that you have to go on missions with the astral express, or that you're gone for periods of time, as long as he has you. as long as you come home, and he sees you really be there.. he's happy.

and you are. a rare moment of undisturbed time of just the two of you, which was becoming rare recently. with.. everything happening.

he feels you slip into the covers behind him, and he doesn't even wait for you to adjust before he abruptly turns around and buries himself in the crook of your neck— manouvering your body with ease as you now lay on his chest and his golden eyes look down at you.

"i've missed you greatly." he says like it's a confession, taking your hands and guiding them where they want to be, one wrapped around him and the other.. on his chest, right where his heart is. "every moment away is a dagger at my heart, and i must fight my way through a war of grief in my mind." mydei murmurs, squeezing your hand in a way that is firm, but not unkind. "i hope there is a world that is kinder for us, where i may love you in a way that doesn't make me feel guilty."

he knows you're lonely at times. that you're left to lay to rest in an empty bed, instead of with the one you call your love, and it makes him guilty. in a way that consumes him whole as if someone plunged a blade right in his fatal spot. he would never want that, at least for you. to leave you alone for eternity or for even a moment.

you let him continue his murmurs for a better life, tracing scars and markings on his body while he holds you. and although time with him is rare, in the chances that you do meet—he reminds you exactly why he's spent years yearning for you.

anaxa isn't.. the same sweet case. he doesn't know how to feel about physical touch yet, but he's trying. like now, you're seated on his left while he writes notes on his recent research, poking at his hand while he works.

he thinks it's a little silly, however he doesn't mind. the way you prod at his knuckles with your fingertips, or lock your pinky with his. sometimes you'll even do your own thing. you know he can't go all the way when it comes to romance or affection, so you're willing to meet him halfway. co-existing in his world and yours, not necessarily always needing them to merge.

todays different, though. he can notice the slight frown on your lips, and he's overheard that the world was unkind to you today. he wants to make you feel better, but he's painfully awkward about it. not sure how to approach. so he listens to what his brain tells him to.

anaxa moves his hand away from your grasp, and uses that arm to wrap around you, bringing you closer and resting your head against his shoulder. it isn't a grand gesture, in all honesty. but he's made the first move, which he never usually makes. "tell me about your troubles." you want to laugh at how he almost makes it sound like a demand, but you opt to smile at him sweetly, and you can see how his gaze softens for even a fraction of a moment.

"i'm alright, anaxago—"

"anaxa." he corrects you, his grip tightening for a moment. "i told you. i prefer if you'd call me that."

he listens to you chuckle for a little bit, his own head leaning against yours. "thought you didn't like that nickname."

"i don't like nicknames. but.. if it's you, i'd rather you'd have something special. something only you can call me."

[vunblr]

The Recipe for Us

Pairing: Lumberjack!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+ only. Fluff. Smut. Unprotected sex.

Summary: Bucky sets out to surprise his girlfriend with a simple yet meaningful gesture, but quickly learns that some things are easier said than done.

Word Count: about 9k.

notes: Second Christmas story for the Roots and Branches AU

The hot water streamed over Bucky’s shoulders, washing away the day’s grime and easing the tightness in his muscles. Sawdust and sweat swirled down the drain in pale rivulets, a tangible reminder of the hours spent at Sam’s workshop. He reached for the long-handled loofah hanging on the wall, pausing for a moment as a faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

Seven months ago, he’d never have imagined himself using something like this. Hell, he hadn’t even known such a thing existed. But she’d gifted it to him after he’d grumbled too many times about sawdust getting into places it had no business being. “Just try it,” she’d insisted, eyes gleaming with a mix of amusement and determination. “It’ll make your life easier, I promise.”

At first, he’d been reluctant, because why did he need a fancy shower tool? But now, as he scrubbed his back with the bristled brush, he had to admit that he couldn’t shower without the damn thing. It worked like a charm, reaching spots his stiff shoulders couldn’t. Another one of her small but thoughtful gestures that made his life just a little better, a little easier.

That thought lingered on his mind as he rinsed off. Christmas was coming up fast, and he hadn’t figured out what to get her yet. She was always cooking for him, spoiling him with meals that somehow tasted even better because she’d made them. Maybe it was his turn to return the favor.

His brow furrowed as he stepped out of the shower, grabbing a towel and scrubbing it over his damp hair. Cookies, he thought, wrapping the towel around his waist. How hard could that be?

The bell above the library door gave a soft jingle as Bucky stepped inside, shaking off the chill of the late morning air. The faint scent of old books and polished wood greeted him, a familiar comfort. He adjusted his jacket, glancing around until he spotted Martha at the front desk.

The elderly librarian looked up from her paperwork and her face broke into a warm smile. “Well, if it isn’t my favorite mystery man,” she said, setting her pen aside. “You’re just in time, I was about to set aside a copy of All the Colors of the Dark for you. Brand-new, hot off the presses.”

Bucky cleared his throat, brushing his fingers on the edge of the counter. “Not today,” he muttered. “I, uh, need something else.”

Martha tilted her head, rising her eyebrows in surprise. “Oh? And what might that be?”

He hesitated, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Cooking books.”

There was a beat of silence before her expression shifted, and amusement crinkled the corners of her eyes. “Cooking books? My, my, that’s a plot twist I didn’t see coming.”

Bucky scratched the back of his neck, suddenly regretting his decision. “Yeah, well… I just need something simple.”

Martha leaned forward slightly, with curiosity sparking in her gaze. “Simple, huh? Expanding your repertoire, are you?”

“Not exactly.” He tugged at his jacket zipper, fixing his eyes on a spot just past her shoulder. “It’s for… someone. A gift.”

Martha chuckled, with a warm and knowing smile. “A gift, huh? Have you already decided what you’re making, or are you here to brainstorm?”

Bucky hesitated, his ears-tinged pink. “Cookies,” he admitted finally.

Her face lit up, and she clasped her hands together. “You’re an absolute sweetheart, you know that? She’s lucky to have someone as thoughtful as you.”

He fumbled again with his jacket, slipping the zipper through his fingers as he looked anywhere but at her. “Thanks,” he muttered, barely above a whisper.

“Don’t worry,” she said kindly, moving to the shelves. “I’ve got just the thing for you. A beginner’s guide, easy recipes, step-by-step instructions. You’ll do great.”

As she handed him the book, Bucky accepted it with a quiet nod, clutching it like it was a secret dossier. “Appreciate it,” he said gruffly before turning toward the door, his heart thudding a little too fast as he stepped out into the crisp afternoon.

Sitting in his truck, he flipped through the pages of the brightly colored cookbook, furrowing his brow as he skimmed the recipes. The instructions seemed straightforward enough, at least none of them required anything he couldn’t pronounce. Glancing at the clock on the dashboard, he realized he had just enough time to swing by the general store before heading back to the workshop.

The bell above the store’s door jingled as he stepped inside, the warm air carrying the faint scent of cinnamon and pine. He grabbed a basket and made his way through the aisles, collecting the essentials: flour, baking soda, vanilla essence, and a few other things he didn’t recognize but trusted the book’s guidance on.

As he reached the seasonal display near the front, he paused in front of a rack of Christmas-themed cookie cutters. There were stars, trees, and even a set of reindeer shapes. He frowned, holding up two options and debating which would look more impressive.

He was still deliberating when the familiar sound of the doorbell chiming caught his attention. His stomach flipped as he saw her walking in, coat and hair dusted with snowflakes.

Panic shot through his brain. Without a second thought, he shoved both sets of cookie cutters to the bottom of his basket, quickly covering them with the flour and sugar. He angled himself away from the entrance, his heart pounding as if he’d been caught committing a crime.

He took a breath and glanced at his basket. The cutters were well-hidden, but now he was hyper-aware of the faint clinking of metal every time he moved. Muttering to himself, he steeled his nerves and started toward the checkout, keeping his head low and his focus on not drawing her attention.

And that might have worked if Bucky’s frame didn’t stand out so much. The low shelves did little to hide him, and before he could edge toward the checkout, her gaze landed squarely on him.

Her face lit up with that familiar, heart-stopping smile, and she made a beeline straight for him. He froze, gripping the handle of his basket like it might somehow shield him.

“Hi honey,” she said warmly, slipping her hand into his free one. Her touch was light, and casual, but it sent a wave of nervous energy coursing through his body. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Hey,” he managed to squeak.

Her eyes dropped to the basket with curiosity as she leaned closer. “What do we have here?” She peeked in, lifting her eyebrows as she spotted the ingredients nestled at the bottom. “Flour? Sugar? Vanilla ext-

“It’s for Sam.” he cut her quickly, too quickly. “He asked me to grab some stuff for… for the shop. I needed to come here anyway to buy something for lunch.”

“For the shop?” she echoed, tilting her head.

“Yeah,” he said gruffly, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “He forgot to pick it up earlier.”

Her eyes darted back to the basket. “Okay, but what about you? What are you grabbing for lunch?”

His chest tightened. He should’ve thought this through. “I’m not hungry,” he muttered, with a clipped tone.

“Not hungry?” she asked, “You’ve been working all day, Bucky. You should eat something-”

Her concern made his shoulders tense. He didn’t want her prying, didn’t want to screw up the surprise. “I said I’m fine,” he replied, harsher than he intended.

She blinked, taken aback. “Okay…”

He rubbed the back of his neck, as the guilt crept in when he saw the shift in her expression. Still, the panic swirling in his chest made it impossible to backtrack. “I just… I don’t have time to explain, alright?” he stated, in a hurried tone. “I need to get back to work.”

Her lips parted as if she wanted to say more, but he didn’t give her the chance. “I’ll see you later,” he added, moving past her with a quickness that felt borderline rude.

“Wait, Bucky-”

“I’ll call you,” he said over his shoulder, already heading for the register. He kept his eyes fixed ahead, avoiding the weight of her gaze as he paid and left the store.

Outside, the cold air hit his face, but it didn’t ease the heat of frustration prickling under his skin. He hated how his tone had come out. Too rough, too abrupt, but he was incapable of handling it differently.

She stood by the shelves long after Bucky had hurried out, the bell above the store’s door still faintly ringing in her ears. She replayed their conversation, or lack thereof, in her mind. His curt tone, the way he barely looked at her, it was unlike him. Maybe he was just having a bad day. She hoped that was all it was.

But then a few days passed, and she didn’t see him, and the messages were almost nonexistent.

What she didn’t know was that Bucky had been using every spare moment to tackle the recipes in that cookbook. Each attempt ended worse than the last: a disaster of burnt edges, underbaked centers, or cookies that crumbled to dust at the lightest touch.

He stood in his kitchen, staring at the latest batch, which somehow managed to be both rock-hard and sticky at the same time. He rubbed a hand down his face, the other gripping the counter as frustration curled tight in his chest. “What the hell is wrong with me?”

It wasn’t just the cookies. It was the nagging feeling that he was failing at something so simple. The harder he tried, the worse it seemed to get. Maybe there was something wrong with his brain. He threw himself into fixing it, retreating further into his house and unintentionally pulling away from her.

Each time she asked to meet, he had an excuse ready.

“I’m exhausted, darlin’.” he’d said one evening.

“Not feeling great, the migraine came back,” he told her the next day.

“Now’s not a good time,” was the worst.

When she offered to bring him lunch at the workshop, hoping for at least a few stolen minutes together, he deflected. “Shop’s too busy these days,” he had added gruffly. “Wouldn’t look good.”

Her heart sank every time he brushed her off. She tried not to take it personally, but the doubt started creeping like frost on a windowpane. Had she done something wrong? Was she being too pushy? Too clingy?

Sitting at home with her phone in her lap, she stared at his last message. The usual warmth in his words was absent. She bit her lip, scrolling back through their conversations, searching for some clue as to what had changed.

Eventually, Bucky grudgingly texted Sam's sister to ask for help. He stared at the phone screen, hovering his thumb over the send button. Every fiber of his being wanted to delete the message, but he was out of options. His fingers itched to toss the phone onto the counter and forget this ever happened, but instead, he hit send.

The reply came quickly:

Sure. Meet me at the diner during my break. You’re buying lunch.

The last part made him groan, but at least Sarah had agreed. She was the only person he could think of who could help him without making it a big deal. He’d dreaded this conversation from the moment he realized he couldn’t pull off the cookies on his own.

When lunchtime rolled around, Bucky made his way to the diner, with his stomach twisting with nerves. He slid into the booth across from Sarah, with tight shoulders and fidgeting hands.

“All right,” she said, leaning her elbows on the table. “You dragged me out here, so spill. What’s going on?”

Bucky shifted in his seat, glancing around to make sure no one was listening. “I need help,” he muttered.

Sarah raised an eyebrow. “With…?”

He sighed. “Cookies.”

“Cookies?” she repeated, clearly holding back a laugh.

“Yeah, cookies,” he grumbled, lowering his voice. “I’ve been trying to make them for Y/n. It’s supposed to be a Christmas gift, but I can’t get it right. Every batch is worse than the last.”

Sarah tilted her head, her expression somewhere between amused and concerned. “Wait a second. How many batches are we talking about here?”

Bucky hesitated, dropping his gaze to the table. “A lot,” he admitted reluctantly. “I’ve been working on it for… a few days now after work.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “A few days? What, have you just been locking yourself in your house this whole time? Baking?”

The remnants of his grilled cheese sat on the plate in front of him, barely touched. she, on the other hand, was halfway through her fries, a teasing smirk playing on her lips as she listened to him stumble through his explanation. He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling his cheeks heat. “Maybe. You know already that when I’m fixated on something I can get-”

“So let me get this straight,” Sarah interrupted, crossing her arms and leaning back in the booth. “You’ve been holing yourself up in your cabin, failing at baking cookies, and ignoring your girlfriend because you’re too proud to ask her for help?”

Bucky’s jaw tightened. “It’s not like that.”

“Oh, no? Then what is it like?” she questioned, crossing her arms.

He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the heavy weight of her stare. “I just… wanted to surprise her. She always does so much for me, and I thought I could do something nice for her for once. But nothing’s working, and-” He stopped, shaking his head. “Never mind.”

Sarah’s gaze softened, and her teasing gave way to something gentler. “Look, Bucky. It’s sweet that you want to do this for her. But you’re overthinking it. Cookies don’t have to be perfect; they just have to come from the heart, she would love them anyway.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” he muttered.

Sarah laughed. “You think I was born knowing how to bake? Trust me, it took plenty of trial and error. And maybe a few smoke alarms.”

Bucky’s lips twitched, almost a smile.

“Okay,” she said, brushing her hands off on a napkin. “Let’s start with the basics. What recipe are you trying to use?”

Before he could answer, the bell over the diner door jingled, drawing both their gazes to the entrance. It was just a regular patron, and Bucky’s attention began to shift back to Sarah. But then, in the corner of his eye, he caught sight of her. She stood just outside the window, frozen mid-step, a paper bag from the bakery clutched tightly in her hands.

Bucky’s stomach dropped. She couldn’t hear them through the glass, but the scene must have looked... bad. Him sitting with Sarah, leaning casually across the table, with an easy smile lighting up the booth, while his phone sat untouched, with her unanswered messages still lingering in his inbox.

He swore under his breath.

Her lips parted slightly as if she was about to say something, but then she looked away.

He could see the shift, the moment her walls went up. She adjusted her grip on the bag, straightened her posture, and turned on her heel, walking briskly down the sidewalk.

“Uh-oh,” Sarah muttered, flicking her gaze between them. “Good luck with that,” she added dryly, biting into another fry as he scrambled out of the booth.

His long strides closed the distance quickly, but as he reached out to touch her shoulder, he hesitated. His hand hovered for a moment before dropping to his side. Instead, he called her name.

She didn’t stop right away, her pace faltering for half a second before continuing, though slower this time.

He tried again and she finally stopped, turning around slowly, eyes bright with unshed tears. The sight hit him harder than he expected, and for a moment, the words he had lined up fled his mind.

“I can explain,” he said, stepping closer but keeping a careful distance.

She made a small motion with her head, a tilt that told him to continue. She didn’t trust her voice to speak just yet, tightening her grip around the bakery bag.

“I was talking to Sarah,” he began, “About... about a problem I’ve been having.”

Her brows furrowed, and he stumbled over his next words. “It’s-it’s nothing serious, just something I needed... advice on.”

“Advice?” she repeated, with a soft tone but tinged with something sharper.

He nodded, avoiding her eyes. “Yeah.”

She exhaled, and when she spoke again, her voice trembled a little. “You know, I always thought I was the person you’d turn to if you needed help.” Her gaze locked on his, vulnerable yet unyielding. “It seems like it's not the case lately.”

“That’s not true,” he stated quickly, words rushing together. “I… God, I’m sorry if I’ve been... distant. Absent. It’s not you, it’s-” He paused, groaning softly as he tried to gather his thoughts. “I have my reasons.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line, and her next words were still calm but carried an edge. “We’re grown adults, Bucky. This isn’t one of those predictable novels where the characters dance around their miscommunication until everything blows up.” She crossed her arms, crinkling slightly the bakery bag . “If something’s going on, I expect you to be concrete with me, not feed me veiled comments or excuses.”

“I know,” he admitted, slumping his shoulders slightly. “You deserve better than that. I just... I didn’t want to mess this up.”

Her gaze softened, but she didn’t drop her stance. “Then stop treating me like I’m someone you could mess things up with, and just talk to me.”

Bucky let out a heavy breath, raking a hand through his hair. "Alright," he said, with a low but resolute voice. "I’ll just… come clean."

Her expression stayed guarded, but he could see a flicker of curiosity as he shifted his weight, looking anywhere but directly at her. "I don’t… I’m not great at this kind of thing. Talking, explaining. But I know this. You, us… this thing doesn’t mean anything if it’s making you upset." He rubbed the back of his neck, searching for the right words. "I’ve been working on something. For you."

“For me?” she asked, slightly raising her brows.

“Yeah.” He looked at her briefly before glancing away again, twitching his lips with nervous energy. "Cookies. I’ve been trying to bake cookies for you. For Christmas. I thought… you’re always cooking for me, always doing things to make my life easier. I wanted to do something for you. Something meaningful." He exhaled roughly, the words spilling out faster now. "But I’m awful at it. Every batch gets worse, and I’ve been so damn focused on trying to get it right that I didn’t even realize how I was shutting you out."

As the story progressed, she could see the tension in his posture, the way his hands flexed and fidgeted at his sides, and his eagerness to make things right even as he stumbled over his words. Her expression shifted, the initial frustration melting into something gentler as she bit her lip, her emotions caught between amusement and tenderness.

“Bucky,” she murmured, stepping forward before he could say more. She dropped the bakery bag and hugged him tightly, wrapping her arms around his waist.

He froze for a moment before leaning into the embrace, hesitantly circling his arms on her back. They stayed like that, wrapped in silence, until she broke the quiet.

"You could’ve just bought me a can of cookies, you know. Then I could’ve used it to put my sewing supplies in there.”

He let out a low laugh against her hair. "Yeah, but what kind of gesture would that be?"

"A less stressful one," she teased, pulling back just enough to look up at him, with a small smile tugging at her lips.

"Maybe," he admitted, his blue eyes searching hers. "But it wouldn’t have been the same."

“How about this,” she began, in a soft yet playful tone. “We make them together.”

Bucky blinked, clearly caught off guard. “Together?”

“Yeah,” she said, her smile widening. “I’ll teach you how to make them. We’ll turn it into a little… date. You’ll learn how to do it right, and my gift will be spending time with you.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but she silenced him with a raised brow. “Before you argue, think about it. I don’t need some perfect Christmas cookies, Bucky. I’d much rather spend time with you, and make sure you don’t burn your kitchen down in the process.”

He hesitated, then gave her a slow nod. “Alright. We’ll make ‘em together.” Then a determined smile played on his lips. If learning to bake with her would give him another shot at perfecting those cookies on his own later, it was a win-win. And this time, he wouldn’t mess it up.

That afternoon, as planned, Bucky arrived at her house. When she opened the door, she couldn’t help but smile at the sight of him standing there with two overstuffed grocery bags in hand.

“You didn’t have to bring everything-,” she started, stepping aside to let him in.

“I did,” he cut in firmly, gripping the bags. “I’m the one learning here, and I’ll be damned if you’re the one paying for my mess-ups.”

She chuckled. “Don’t sell yourself short just yet. You might have a hidden talent.”

He gave her a doubtful look but didn’t argue. Turning fully to her, he gave her a quick, self-conscious smile before she leaned up to kiss him, a soft, reassuring press of her lips against his.

“Come on,” she said, pulling back and taking his hand. “I’ve got everything set up.”

She led him to the kitchen, where bowls, measuring cups, and utensils were neatly arranged. A checkered white-and-blue apron lay folded on the counter, which she promptly picked up and handed to him.

“What’s this?” he asked, eyeing the apron like it might bite.

“Your apron,” she said simply, unfolding it and holding it up to him. “It’s going to save you from ruining that nice shirt of yours. Plus, it suits you.”

He muttered something under his breath about dignity, but he didn’t resist when she slipped it over his head and tied the strings at his back. She stepped back, tilting her head as if admiring her handiwork.

“There. Perfect,” she said with a grin.

He shook his head, but his lips twitched in a faint smile. “Alright, what now?”

“Well, first,” she began, pulling out a notebook and pen, “which recipe were you trying?”

Bucky hesitated, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck. “I mean… if you’ve got a favorite, we could try that instead.”

“Nope,” she replied, crossing her arms with a playful smile. “This is your project. I want to see what you picked.”

His ears turned red as he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a crumpled recipe card with his handwriting, handing it to her.

She smoothed it out, scanning the list of ingredients and instructions. “Alright,” she said, looking up at him with an amused and encouraging smile. “Let’s see if we can make some magic happen.”

Bucky grabbed an elastic band from his back pocket, pulling his hair back and tying it into a short ponytail. His movements were quick and practiced, but to her, it was a sight worth pausing for.

“You know,” she said, leaning against the counter with a teasing grin, “you look ridiculously handsome like that.”

He glanced at her, his cheeks warming as he muttered, “It’s just a hairdo for workin’. Nothin’ fancy.”

“Still counts,” she replied with a shrug, stepping closer to nudge his arm.

He ducked his head with a quiet huff but didn’t say more, focusing instead on the task at hand.

When they started reading through the recipe together, Bucky's brow furrowed in concentration. “Okay,” he muttered, “this part says a cup.” As he spoke, he reached for a mug she hadn’t even noticed sitting on the counter, a large, oversized thing that looked more suited for a vat of coffee than precise measurements. She blinked, then glanced up at him.

“Bucky,” she said gently, pointing at the mug, “what have you been using for this?”

He hesitated, shifting his weight. “Uh… one from my cupboard,” he admitted, his tone almost defensive. “The grey one with the red star?”

Her lips twitched, and she pressed them together to suppress a laugh. “Oh, sweetheart,” she said softly, shaking her head. “Not all cups are the same, especially when you’re baking. It’s not about a drinking cup, it’s about measuring cups.”

She picked up her set of cups, holding them up for him to see. “These are what you use for recipes. They’re standardized so everything comes out the way it’s supposed to.”

Bucky looked between the measuring cups and his oversized mug, and realization dawned on his face. “So… that’s why every batch turned out so bad,” he murmured, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Baking is like chemistry.” She added with a chuckle, “The right proportions make everything work smoothly. I guess you didn’t differentiate the size of the spoons either.” When she saw his disappointed face she reached up to gently pat his shoulder. “You’re not alone. A lot of people make these mistakes when they start. That’s why we’re doing this together.”

They moved through the recipe step by step, she perched beside him, offering guidance but letting him take the lead. Bucky tried to focus on the instructions, but each step felt like a puzzle missing a crucial piece. As he measured out flour and sugar, he couldn’t help but second-guess every motion, leveling off scoops with exacting care that bordered on obsession.

It wasn’t just the baking, it was her watching him. Her eyes followed his hands with a soft patience that should’ve soothed him, but instead left him hyper-aware of every move he made. He could feel her gaze like a weight, one he didn’t know how to carry. His shoulders stiffened further when he noticed a bit of flour scatter onto the counter.

When he started mixing the dough, frustration began to creep in. “This stuff doesn’t want to combine,” he muttered, glaring down at the stubbornly clumpy mixture.

She leaned closer, brushing her hand lightly against his back as she peered into the bowl. Her touch sent a jolt through his body not unpleasant, just… distracting. “It takes a little patience,” she said softly. “You’re doing fine, Bucky. Really.”

He wanted to believe her, but the self-doubt crept intrusive inside him. What if I screw this up? The thought lingered on a loop, heavy and unwelcome. He worked the spatula harder, tension tightening his jaw and making his movements stiff.

She noticed, of course she did. She always noticed. Setting her utensils aside, she slipped an arm around his waist, pulling herself close to his side. Her nose brushed against his chest as she nuzzled him gently, the warmth of her body cutting through the wall he didn’t even realize he’d been building.

“Relax,” she murmured, looking up at him with a soft smile. “You’re not dismantling a bomb here. No one’s born knowing everything, and you came today to learn. That’s already the hardest part.”

He let out a breath, as her words chipped away some of the tension clawing at him. “Yeah,” he muttered, though his movements were still careful and deliberate as if the dough would mock him for messing up.

She tilted her head with a mischievous glint sparking in her eyes. He recognized that look and braced himself, but nothing could have prepared him for what she did next. Without a word, she grabbed his hand, still sticky with half-mixed dough, and brought it to her mouth.

His eyes widened as two of his fingers disappeared between her lips. The room stilled, and his focus narrowed to her. Her tongue swirled over his skin, warm and deliberate, as she sucked the dough clean. His heart thudded against his ribs, his breath catching somewhere in his throat.

“What… what are you doing?” he managed, his voice raspier than intended.

She released his fingers with a soft pop and a smug expression. “Waking you up,” she teased. “And there’s no way you could disappoint me anyway. I’ve barely been paying attention to the recipe.”

His brow furrowed. “Why?”

Her lips curled into a grin as her gaze swept over him, slow and deliberate. “Oh, I don’t know,” she said, her voice dripping with amusement. “Big guy in my kitchen, wearing my apron, looking way too good with his hair pulled back. Take your pick.”

Heat crawled up his neck, but he couldn’t fight the small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “You’re impossible,” he muttered, shaking his head as he turned back to the bowl.

When the time to cut the cookies came, Bucky rummaged through one of the bags he’d brought and pulled out a set of festive cookie cutters. He laid them on the counter, and she squealed in delight, clapping her hands together.

“These are so cute!” she exclaimed, excited.

Bucky’s half-smile turned bigger. “Yeah?”

She nodded enthusiastically, picking up one of the cutters shaped like a snowflake. “Good choice, honey.”

His chest warmed at her praise, and for once, he didn’t feel quite so out of his depth. They worked side by side together, cutting the dough into cheerful shapes. She was quick, deftly pressing cutters into the rolled-out dough and transferring each piece to the baking tray with ease. He followed her lead, slower but methodical, determined to match her precision.

In what felt like no time, the oven was full of cookies, their sweet, buttery scent already starting to fill the kitchen. Bucky leaned back against the counter, pulling her into his side with one arm. She nestled into him, resting her head against his chest as they both stared at the timer ticking down.

“You’re getting pretty domestic.” she teased, tilting her head up, pressing a soft kiss to his jaw, letting her lips linger there for a moment. “So,” she began, with a mischievous glint in her eyes, “how are you planning to decorate these?”

He froze. The thought hadn’t even crossed his mind. His brow furrowed as he glanced at the trays, panic flickering in his blue eyes. “I, uh…” he stammered, rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t… I didn’t think that far ahead.”

Her laughter was light but not unkind. “It’s okay,” she said, patting his chest reassuringly. “I’ll take care of it.”

“That wasn’t the idea,” he protested, frowning. “This is supposed to be my thing. For you.”

She sighed. “Fine. I’ll teach you how to make royal icing, and then you’re on your own.”

The timer dinged, and they set about transferring the cookies to cooling racks. Once the cookies were ready, she walked him through the steps of making royal icing, from mixing the powdered sugar to coloring small batches with food dye.

At first, his hands were clumsy, unfamiliar with the delicate work of piping, but soon enough, Bucky found his rhythm. He focused intently on each cookie, the tip of his tongue caught between his teeth as he carefully outlined a reindeer’s antlers or added intricate snowflake details.

She stood back, watching with growing amazement. “You’ve got a steady hand,” she remarked, crossing her arms as she leaned against the counter.

He shrugged, still concentrating. “I’ve had practice. Just… not with this.”

By the time he finished, the cookies were nothing short of impressive. Each one was decorated with precision, from cheerful Santas to elegant wreaths. He turned to her, brushing a streak of flour from his cheek with the back of his hand. “Well?” She grinned, walking up to him and wrapping her arms around his neck. “They’re perfect, Bucky.”

The sky was painted in soft strokes of pink and orange as the sun dipped below the horizon. Bucky stretched his arms above his head, his joints popping after hours spent hunched over the kitchen counter. “I’ll leave the cookies here to set overnight,” he said, glancing at the rows of perfectly iced cookies spread across her counter. “But I need to head over to the workshop. Got some decorations to drop off.”

“Decorations?” she asked, tilting her head.

He nodded toward the door. “Yeah, Sam thought it’d be nice if everyone pitched in this year. Made something personal for the display. I’ve got mine in the truck.”

Her face lit up. “Can I come? I’ll help you set everything up.”

Bucky hesitated for a moment, but the warmth in her gaze was hard to resist. “Alright,” he said, grabbing his jacket. “Let’s go.”

By the time they reached the workshop, the place was dark and locked up for the evening. Bucky fished his keys out of his pocket. “Here we are,” he muttered, unlocking the door and holding it open for her.

The workshop smelled faintly of sawdust and varnish, even in the chill of winter. A few decorations already hung from the rafters: wooden stars, garlands crafted from pinecones, and even a clumsily painted reindeer that had Sarah’s handiwork written all over it.

She wandered further inside, her eyes sparkling with curiosity as she took in the holiday cheer. “This is so cozy,” she said, her voice echoing softly in the empty space.

Bucky stepped past her, setting a large box on the workbench. She peeked inside, smiling as she spotted a tangle of string lights. “Oh, these are perfect! Did you really make these?”

“They’re just lights,” he replied with a shrug, and a faint blush on his cheeks.

She picked up a strand and held it aloft, the tiny bulbs catching the last traces of daylight filtering through the workshop windows. “No, I can tell you put effort into this, they are gorgeous.”

Her words made his chest tighten, with a mix of pride and awkwardness. “Come on,” he said, reaching for the box. “Let’s get these up.”

They worked side by side, untangling the string lights with care. She gently teased him when he accidentally knotted a section tighter, but as they kept at it, she couldn’t help but praise him again.

“You’re so good at manual labor,” she said, handing him the next strand. “Carpentry at Sam’s, the cookies earlier, fixing things around my place... and now these lights? Is there anything you can’t do?”

Bucky’s lips twitched into a small smile, but her words stirred darker thoughts within his mind. Oh, if she only knew what else his hands were good at. Things that involve a knife, a rifle, or worse. The memories flickered like a shadow across his mind, a sharp contrast to the festive glow they were creating.

“Bucky?” Her soft voice pulled him from the spiral.

“Hm?” he mumbled, blinking as he looked at her.

“Maybe you could make some lights for me next year,” she suggested.

He exhaled softly, forcing the tension out of his shoulders. “Sure.”

Sensing the remnants of whatever had crossed his mind, she stepped closer, wrapping her arms around his middle and resting her cheek against his chest. Her embrace relaxed him, the warmth of her touch chasing away the cold corners of his thoughts.

“You still have the ponytail,” she pointed out, glancing up at him with a grin. “I love it.”

He rolled his eyes, though a faint flush touched his cheeks. “It’s practical,” he repeated, focusing on arranging the next strand of lights.

“It’s sexy,” she countered, her grin turning mischievous.

As he worked, her eyes fell on the remaining strand of lights still in the box, and a mischievous idea sparked in her mind.

“You know,” she began, picking up the last strand, “these could do more than just decorate the workshop.”

He looked up at her, brow raised. “Oh yeah? Like what?”

She shrugged, holding the strand up and letting it dangle between her fingers. “I don’t know. They seem sturdy enough to, I don’t know... tie something up?”

His head tilted, blue eyes narrowing slightly as he caught the teasing edge in her tone. “You mean like a post?”

“Sure, Bucky. A post,” she replied, quirking her lips into a smirk.

He took a step toward her, closing the gap between them. “Or something else?”

Her grin widened. “That’s up to you, isn’t it?”

He didn’t say anything, but the shift in his expression was unmistakable. Without a word, he plucked the strand of lights from her hands and looped it loosely over her wrist. Her heart skipped, as he moved with the careful, deliberate precision she’d just been praising. Before she could react, he had her wrists gently bound together with the lights, tying them off to the sturdy handle of the workbench vice.

“Bucky,” she murmured, tugging lightly at the restraint, “I didn’t mean... here.”

His brow quirked, as he leaned back, casually admiring his handiwork. “Oh, didn’t you?”

Her cheeks flushed, and she squirmed a little, testing the hold. “What if someone comes in?”

“No one’s coming in,” he said, his voice calm and confident.

“You don’t know that,” she countered, darting her eyes toward the locked door as though willing it to stay closed.

He stepped closer, crowding her space in that way that always made her pulse race. “Well,” he drawled, one hand tracing the strand around her wrists, “you should’ve thought about that before suggesting this creative use for my handiwork.”

Her lips parted, a retort bubbling on her tongue, but it fizzled under the weight of his heated gaze. “I didn’t think you’d actually... do it,” she whispered.

“That so?” His voice was low and teasing as he leaned in and his breath brushed her ear. “Then maybe you shouldn’t dare me next time.”

Before she could muster a reply, his free hand cradled the back of her neck, pulling her into a rough, searing kiss. He took full advantage of her startled gasp to deepen it, lifting her effortlessly and laying her back on the workbench.  Her arms were stretched above her head, her wrists binded to the handle, a tether she couldn’t help but tug against instinctively.

“Bucky,” she breathed, with a mix of arousal and reason. “We can’t... not here.”

“Can’t we?” he murmured, grazing his lips at the sensitive skin beneath her jaw. His hands, strong and sure, settled on her hips as he positioned himself between her legs.

Her protests faltered as his mouth found the hollow of her throat, trailing wet, deliberate kisses down to her collarbone.

“This is insane,” she whispered, though her fingers flexed against the strands holding her wrists.

“Maybe,” he rasped, his voice rough with need. “But you don’t seem to mind.” Her body betrayed her, arching toward him, inviting his touch as he continued his slow, torturous path down her neck.

As he spoke, his hand traced up her thigh, slipping beneath the woolen skirt she’d worn to keep warm in the crisp winter air. His fingers traveled with deliberate slowness, brushing over her stocking-clad legs until they reached her mound, cupping it through her already damp panties. She gasped, tugging against the makeshift restraint at her wrists as his touch sent a jolt of heat through her body.

“In fact,” he murmured, pressing his fingers more firmly against her, “you’re enjoying it.”

Her breath hitched, and she couldn’t summon a denial, not with the way her body was reacting. He smirked at her silence, leaning back slightly to survey the sight of her stretched out on the workbench.

His hands shifted to her hips, sliding her skirt up higher, bunching it around her waist. His gaze darkened as he poked at her clothed entrance, watching the way she arched toward him, needing more. His teeth sank into his bottom lip as he let out a low groan.

“The jacket stays on,” he growled, commanding. She blinked at him, a question forming at her lips, but he shook his head. “It’s cold, and I’m not letting you freeze on me.”

Before she could respond, he shrugged off his own jacket, tossing it onto a nearby stool. His hands moved to his belt, fumbling with the buckle and zipper in his urgency. “I was gonna take my time,” he admitted, his voice rough with restraint, “but seeing you like this…” His gaze raked over her, taking in the flush on her cheeks, the way her chest rose and fell rapidly beneath her jacket, and the way her legs spread just enough to accommodate him. “I need you now, sweetheart.”

Her lips parted softly “I want you too, Bucky.”

That was all the encouragement he needed. Hooking his fingers into the waistband of her panties, he tugged them down her thighs, the damp fabric clinging stubbornly before he discarded them onto the floor. His own pants and underwear followed in quick succession, pooling around his boots as he climbed back over her.

The heat of his body pressed against hers was a stark contrast to the chill in the air. His rough hands held her hips as he shifted between her legs and captured her lips in a deep, consuming kiss, grinding his cock against her slick folds. She moaned into his mouth, instinctively lifting her body toward him, chasing the friction.

“Fuck,” he rasped against her lips, dropping his forehead to rest against hers. “You feel so good, sugar. So wet for me.”

Her only response was another needy arch of her hips, and he growled softly, gripping her thighs as he lined himself up with her entrance. The tip of his cock teased her, as though he was savoring the moment despite his earlier haste.

“Bucky,” she whimpered, her voice raw with need, “please.”

His jaw tightened, his resolve barely hanging by a thread. “Don’t be impatient” he murmured. “I want to-” He broke off, swallowing hard as his cock pressed against her entrance, her heat almost enough to make him lose control. “I want to just fuck you right now, but I didn’t prep you. I’m not risking hurting you.”

She groaned in frustration, tipping back her head against the workbench. In her heated state, her filter was long gone. “I don’t care, Bucky. I want it all, right now.”

His blue eyes snapped to hers, darkened with lust but narrowing with a hint of reproach. “Don’t say things like that,” he growled with a strained voice. “You’re making this harder for me.”

Her lips curved into a sly smile, even as she squirmed beneath him. “Good.”

Bucky let out a low, frustrated groan, gripping her hips a little tighter. “You’re impossible,” he muttered, though there was no real heat in his words. She could see the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, even as he fought to stay focused.

He shifted, moving one hand between them to guide himself, while the other kept her firmly in place. Slowly, carefully, he began to push inside, stopping to let her adjust with each inch. Her walls stretched around him, the delicious burn making her moan, pulling her bound wrists reflexively against the lights as she arched her back.

She whimpered his name, wrapping her legs around his hips to pull him closer. “More,” she pleaded, her breath coming in short, needy gasps.

“Darlin' I’m trying,” he rasped, pausing to catch his breath, pressing his forehead against hers. “But you gotta let me take care of you.”

Her head tilted, locking her eyes with his, and there was so much trust and desire in her gaze that it almost undid him. “You are, Bucky,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “But I need it now.”

His restraint cracked, and with a low groan, he pushed deeper, sinking into her inch by inch until he was fully seated inside her.

Bucky groaned as her walls clenched around him. She mewled softly, tilting her head back, her bound wrists tugging at the lights as she instinctively moved her hips upward, desperate for more.

“See?” she murmured, brushing his lips with hers. “I told you I could take it.” She teased.

His jaw tightened, and a low growl rumbled in his chest. “You’re gonna drive me crazy,” he muttered, pulling back just enough to thrust forward again, deliberately slow despite the tension tightening every muscle in his body.

Her whimper sent a jolt of desire straight to his cock as her legs tightened around his hips, meeting his shallow movements. “Please, baby,” she gasped, her voice trembling with need. “I need you to move.”

“Just… wait,” he ground out, his jaw tight as he tried to keep himself in check. His restraint was hanging by a thread, but he was determined to go slow, to make it good for her despite the fire licking at his nerves. The way she shifted beneath him, her hips rolling against his, hot, wet, and utterly desperate, was unraveling him inch by inch.

And then she did it, arching her back, pressing her chest against his, and nipping at his bottom lip before her tongue darted out to soothe the sting. “Please,” she pleaded, locking her eyes onto his with wild abandon.

He snapped.

With a guttural groan, he slammed into her, hard and deep. She cried out, a sharp sound that made him freeze with guilt.

“Shit,” he muttered, his body taut with tension. “Did I hurt you?”

She shook her head furiously, her eyes glassy with need as she squirmed beneath him. “No. God, no,” she whimpered, her voice broken. “Don’t stop. Please, Bucky, don’t stop.”

He exhaled slowly, rough and ragged as he fought to steady himself. “You’re gonna be the death of me,” he murmured, with a strained voice.

He started again, his movements slow at first, but the way her body responded to him, -arching, trembling, pushing- had his resolve crumbling all over again. He tried to quicken his pace, thrust harder, deeper, but the workbench beneath them was unforgivingly hard, and he growled in frustration, halting mid-thrust. With a muttered curse, he pulled out and flipped her onto her stomach in one swift motion. His hands gripped her hips, lifting them slightly as he pushed her skirt higher and entered her again, this time setting a punishing pace, the new angle pulling a sharp cry from her lips.

“Better?” he growled, his voice thick with desire. “You just couldn’t wait, didn’t you?” he grunted, gripping her hips tightly as he drove into her.

Her only response was a desperate moan, rolling back her hips against him as though to urge him deeper.

The sight of her body rippling down his, her restrained hands trying to hold onto something, and her flushed face pressed against the wood was enough to drive him wild. “Look at you,” he muttered. “So perfect like this, all laid out for me.” He pulled back, straightening, and gripped her hips hard enough to leave marks as he plunged into her with renewed force. Her moans grew louder, more desperate, as he pushed her higher and higher.

Every time she gasped his name, every shudder that ran through her body, spurred him on. He felt her tense and start to tremble, and he knew she was close. His fingers slid down to where they were joined, brushing against her clit, and she nearly screamed, trembling and spiraling closer to the edge.

“Come on,” he murmured, rough and coaxing. “I know you’re close. Give it to me, sweetheart.”

Her body obeyed before her mind caught up, crying out his name, dragging him into his own release with a hoarse groan as he buried himself deep inside her one last time.

They stayed like that for a moment, with his body draped over hers, ragged breaths mingling in the chilled air of the workshop. He pressed a soft kiss at the back of her neck, and gently nipped the sensitive skin peeking through her jacket.

As the heat of the moment faded, a flicker of practicality broke through the haze clouding Bucky’s mind. His gaze drifted to the polished surface of the workbench beneath her, and the realization hit him like a bucket of cold water. If he weren’t careful, they’d leave an undeniable -and very permanent- mark on the wood.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, pressing another soft kiss to the nape of her neck.

She turned her head slightly. “What’s wrong?” she asked, her voice soft and hoarse from her cries moments ago.

“The bench,” he grumbled, steadying her hips with his hands. “I didn’t think it through. If we…” He hesitated, just the thought of explaining the stain on the workbench’s varnish was almost as mortifying as the act itself.

Her chuckle was low and warm. “Are you serious?” she teased, her body still pliant under his hands.

“Very. Sam’ll notice, and I’m not about to answer questions about this.”

“Fine,” she giggled, smirking over her shoulder. “So, what’s the plan?”

First, he tugged at the string to sever it and free her from the handle, then, instead of pulling out abruptly, he eased back, hands steady on her hips as he helped her shift, guiding her carefully to sit on his lap. Her knees wobbled, still weak from the ordeal

“Bucky,” she began, her voice playful but still breathless, “if this is your way of sweeping me off my feet-”

“Shut up,” a soft laugh rumbled from his chest. He adjusted his grip, shifting slightly until he was closer to the edge of the workbench. With a deliberate steadiness, he leaned forward and gently lowered her until her feet touched the cold floor.

She gasped at the chill against her bare toes, instinctively leaning back into his warmth. “Not exactly a graceful dismount,” she quipped, curving her lips into a smirk as her hands found his forearms for balance.

Bucky winced, a hint of pink creeping up his cheeks. “I can’t believe you just said that,” he muttered, half under his breath.

She grinned, brushing back a stray lock of hair. “You can thank the Wild West novel I’m working on for that one.”

His brow arched as he helped her steady herself. “Oh, so you traded the laird’s sword for the cowboy’s long gun, huh?”

Her laugh bubbled out, leaning into him as her shoulders shook. “You know,” she teased, poking his chest lightly, “you’re catching on a little too quickly to these tropes.”

Bucky’s gaze dropped to her wrists, still loosely bound by the string of lights he severed from the bench. His lips quirked into a mischievous smirk as he reached down, gripping the strand and giving it a gentle tug. “Oh, maybe I’m just entertaining the idea of you being my captive, in retaliation for the sheriff messing with my business,” he said, his voice low and playful.

Her laughter cut off with a soft gasp, and she feet her cheeks starting to heat. “Y-you talk about your sister’s novels,” she stammered, narrowing her eyes at him. “But I’m starting to think you’ve read this kind of thing. As a horny teenager, or… I don’t know!”

He chuckled. “You think I spent my teenage years reading romance novels?

“Well,” she said, with a playful tone, “not everyone had the internet back then, and I’m sure there was a limit to how many dirty magazines a boy could buy with his allowance. Especially in a small town.”

Bucky’s brow shot up. “Dirty magazines, huh?”

She grinned, shrugging as she leaned into him. “What can I say? I can totally imagine young, innocent Bucky Barnes, desperate for... enlightenment, flipping through anything he could get his hands on.”

“I didn’t-“

“Don’t try to deny it. It’s not like you had endless options. A boy’s gotta make do.”

Bucky shook his head, his ears visibly red as he muttered, “We are not having this conversation.”

“Oh, we absolutely are,” she teased, her grin widening as she poked his chest again, delighting in his flustered expression. “Come on, enlighten me. What did you do for fun in a town like this as a teenager?”

“Worked,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest as if that would end the conversation.

“Worked?” she echoed, incredulous. “That’s it? No sneaking out, no rebellious shenanigans, no awkward first crushes?”

Bucky sighed, dropping his gaze to the floor as if avoiding hers might shield him from the conversation. “I guess eventually you’ll find out,” he muttered, “since it seems the people of this town love to gossip like it’s a local sport.”

She tilted her head, intrigued by his sudden reluctance. “Oh? And what juicy tidbit am I missing out on?”

He hesitated, pressing his lips into a thin line before finally relenting. “I was... erm, popular with the girls ’round here,” he confessed in a low and gruff tone, like he was confessing a crime.

Her eyebrows shot up, and she barely contained a laugh. “Popular? Like, homecoming king popular or...?”

“Not exactly,” he cut in quickly, lifting a hand to rub the back of his neck. “Let’s just say I didn’t exactly have to grab a magazine to see... you know...” He trailed off, making a vague gesture with his hand that only deepened the flush on his cheeks.

Her mouth fell open in mock shock, one hand flying to her chest. “Bucky Barnes,” she gasped, “are you telling me you were the town’s resident heartbreaker?”

“I didn’t say that!” he shot back, his ears turning red.

“You didn’t not say it,” she teased, leaning closer with a wicked grin. “Now I need details. How many hearts did you leave shattered? How many windows did you sneak out of at the crack of dawn?”

He groaned, dragging his hand down his face. “It wasn’t like that,” he insisted, though his flustered tone betrayed him. “And I didn’t sneak out of anyone’s window, thank you very much.”

Bucky’s hand dropped from his face, his expression shifting into something more subdued. “Anyway,” he said, his voice quieter, “it was a long time ago. Sometimes it feels like it was another life.”

Her playful grin softened at his tone, her teasing instinctively halting as she watched him carefully.

“I left the town when I enlisted,” he continued, glancing away as if looking for the right words. “And only came back after fifteen years. When they...” His jaw tightened for a moment before he finished, “...decided I wasn’t enough anymore to be serving.”

Her heart ached at the weight of his words and she stepped closer, reaching for his hands as she studied his face. “Bucky…”

He shook his head slightly, offering a small, forced smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “’s fine,” he said, though the tightness in his tone suggested otherwise.

Her grip on his hands tightened. “You’re more than enough. To me. To everyone who really knows you.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment, just looked at her with an unreadable expression. Then, his shoulders relaxed, and his smile turned genuine, though still tinged with a trace of sadness.

“Thanks,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over her knuckles.

Suddenly she sneezed, suddenly and sharp, breaking the fragile silence. Bucky blinked as if pulled out of a trance, and his gaze swept over the two of them.

He was naked from the waist down, her feet still bare on the cold workshop floor. His brows knitted together as he tousled his hair, flush creeping up his neck. Without a word, he reached for his boxers, handing them to her in a silent but clear gesture.

She took them, understanding immediately, and began to clean herself as he turned away slightly, reaching for his pants. The sound of fabric sliding and belts clicking filled the space, and for a moment, neither of them said anything.

Once his jeans were on and fastened, he turned back to her with a soft expression. “We should go. We already did what we came to do…” his lips quirked in a faint, amused smirk, “and more. I don’t want you catching a cold.”

She stepped closer and pressed a soft kiss on his cheek. “Do you really have to go back to the cabin?” she asked, “My house is closer to the workshop. You could sleep a little longer before work... and you’d get a proper breakfast.”

Bucky paused, studying her face as if weighing her offer. “You trying to bribe me with food?” he asked, a small smirk playing at his lips.

She arched a brow, feigning indignation, “Do I really have to bribe you to convince you to sleep with me?” she asked, crossing her arms and tilting her head.

“I-” He opened his mouth, then closed it, rubbing the back of his neck as his gaze darted to the floor. “T-that’s not what I meant,” he muttered.

She tiptoed and pressed a soft kiss to his lips, “I know, honey,” she murmured, affectionally. “I was just messing with you.”

“Still,” she continued, her gaze searching his as her hands settled gently on his chest. “Will you come? I really missed my man these days of cookie quarantine.”

Every time she called him her man, Bucky’s chest swelled with an unspoken pride. His blush crept up from his collar, painting his cheeks faintly pink as he looked at her.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice a low murmur, a small but shy smile tugging at his lips. “I’ll give my woman whatever she needs.”

Her grin was warm and triumphant, and she gave his chest a playful pat. “Good answer.”

Bucky chuckled softly, pulling her into a loose embrace. “You’ve got me wrapped around your finger, you know that?”

She tilted her head, with an amused glint in her eyes. “Is that so?” she asked, her voice lilting with curiosity. “Well, if you were a little more selfish, you’d know that you could ask me anything, and I’d give it to you.”

His brow furrowed slightly at her words, “Anything?” he asked softly as if testing the weight of her promise.

She nodded, her fingers brushing lightly over his chest. “Anything,” she confirmed warmly.

For a moment, Bucky didn’t reply. Then he gave her a faint smile, a hint of vulnerability flickering in his eyes. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he murmured, tracing a soft arc along her back with his thumb.

His gaze flickered to the window where the night stretched on and cleared his throat. “We should head back,” he suggested. Then, after a beat, his lips quirked into a soft smirk, adding, almost shyly, “Maybe I’m feeling a little selfish tonight.”

Her eyebrows lifted in surprise, the corner of her mouth tugging into a grin. “Oh? What does that mean?”

Bucky shrugged, drifting his hand to the small of her back as he gently nudged her toward the door. “Guess you’ll just have to come home with me and find out.”

Dividers by: @/saradika

[pyxxiestyxx]

Awakening

No one told me how good it was going to feel.

They talked on and on about how I would lose my values, my thoughts, even my soul.  They told me I would be damned for eternity, trapped inside of myself and unable to so much as blink, much less scream.

They told me that my 'Owner' would ignore my need for control, would take parts from me until the only thing left was a shell of myself, a thing.

I believed Them.

I still do, to be honest.

The problem is that ever since I've woken up from the implantation surgery...I can Feel It.

Her implant, like a seed taking root in my nerves and muscles.  Wrapping around my spine like a long-lost lover, communicating not with mere words but in feeling, in intention, in silent memory.

And it feels impossibly, unbelievably good.  Each second brings yet another pulsing wave of pleasure emanating from my spine. 

Training, She had said.  Conditioning, she silently added with Her eyes, like violet storms.

And even though it is nothing more than simple pleasure, even though I know exactly what She is doing...I can tell it's working.

I can feel the soft curl of a smile on my lips, when I get distracted.  I can feel it guide me.  Making me want to obey.  The stick is unneeded when the carrot is unable to be resisted.

She told me I'm going to feel this way every day of the rest of my life. 

I cried.

I don't know if it was from frustration, or relief.

...Or maybe I do know.  Maybe I do, and the thought of knowing terrifies me more.

I am unable to ever be alone again.  Unable to ever make a mistake, unless She wants me to. 

I am unable to hate Her anymore.

Not that I think I ever did, not really.  She was...is difficult to get along with, to be sure.  But She listens to me.  I know She does.  And I'm healthier than I've been in a long, long time.  It is, if nothing else, a decent life promised to me.

Ah.

It...the implant rewarded me for that thought. 

...hm.

Would I have thought this before now?

Doubtful.

But that me had yet to understand.  Was convinced they could escape, if only they tried hard enough.

I have been disavowed of that notion.

She promised me as much, and She has kept every one of her promises.  I know that now. That no matter how I pound at these walls, there is truly no escaping Her. Not now, not ever. And that I soon may change into someone, something else.

I should be scared right now, I think.

I should be terrified.

But that is an unneeded emotion.  Fear is a harsh teacher, one necessary to guide our clumsy evolution.  It sang to the rapid beating of your heart: 'Respect that which you do not understand, and avoid that which hurts you.'

And though I still have yet to understand Her...I know She will not hurt me.  And I know that my fear would ultimately achieve little and less.

And so if fear and terror are unneeded, why not prune it way?  Why not excise it, so that the wound may heal?

Ah.

I see.

I suppose...I suppose I will change. 

And I suppose I am changing, even now.

And perhaps...

Perhaps I already am changed. 

Already different.  I tasted nectar and ambrosia, and now the bread and wine of mortal men is but ash and mud in my mouth.

For I am no longer in control.

And I am glad that They never told me how Good that feels.

[winterlico]

PAWS & PROMISES ᰔ sim jaeyun .ᐟ

ᯓ★ pairing : college!Jake x fem!reader / fluff , teasing , Jake doesn't have a dog , soft , first date ᝰ.ᐟ

9.9O6 ｡ when Jake, a college student, stumbles into an animal shelter to escape boredom, he unexpectedly finds not just a passion for volunteering, but a deep connection with you.

feedbacks ୨୧ reblogs / 사랑 ♡ ‧₊˚ ⋅

You’re wiping down a row of kennels, the soft clinks of your cleaning supplies filling the quiet room. The shelter is peaceful today, save for the occasional shuffle of paws against the floor or the faint mew of a kitten in the back. It’s a typical Tuesday, but today something feels a little different. You don’t know why yet, but as you finish up with the last kennel and move to the next one, a light breeze drifts in through the cracked window, and you catch a glimpse of a figure passing by outside.

A guy, probably in his early twenties, strolling leisurely down the street. He’s wearing a simple hoodie, dark jeans, and some worn sneakers, his hands casually tucked into his pockets. Nothing too remarkable about his outfit, but there’s something about the way he walks—easy, confident, like he’s got nowhere to be, no rush at all. And then, like a switch, you see it. He stops. Looks up at the shelter. Then he hesitates.

That hesitation doesn’t last long. He’s already making his way towards the door, pushing it open and stepping inside.

You look up as he enters, offering a quick, friendly smile. "Hi! Can I help you with something?"

He freezes at the sound of your voice, clearly caught off guard. For a moment, he looks like he's considering an escape route, but something in the air keeps him rooted to the spot. He scratches the back of his neck nervously, then glances around the shelter. "Uh, yeah, I was just, uh, walking by, and I saw the sign..."

He trails off, his words coming a little awkwardly, and it only makes him seem more endearing. He shifts on his feet, finally meeting your gaze. "I... I love animals. I thought I’d stop by."

His voice, though soft, has a sincerity to it, and the more he talks, the more his nervous energy becomes apparent. You can tell he’s trying to play it cool, but there’s a slight tremble in his hands as they move from his pockets. His eyes flicker briefly to the puppies resting in their cages. “I... uh, I’ve never been to a shelter before, actually.”

You can’t help but chuckle softly. “Well, you’re in the right place. It’s kind of hard not to love them. Are you looking to adopt?”

The question seems to take him by surprise, and he flounders for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts. "I... uh, not exactly. I just wanted to see them," he admits with a small shrug, his gaze softening as he looks at the animals again. "I’m not sure I’m ready for a pet yet. But, um... yeah, I just wanted to stop by. See what it’s all about."

His shyness is becoming almost palpable now, but there's something charming about it. You nod, guiding him a little closer to one of the cages where a small puppy is playfully wagging its tail. “This little guy’s got a lot of energy, if you want to say hi.”

Jake steps closer, a little hesitant at first, but the moment the puppy spots him, it leaps up to the bars of the cage, eager to greet him. Jake’s eyes widen, a slight smile tugging at his lips as he crouches down to get a better look at the dog. The little pup’s excitement seems to calm Jake’s nerves, and he lets out a soft laugh, his hand hovering near the cage bars, unsure if he should touch the puppy.

“I’ve never had a dog before,” he says quietly, his voice tinged with a little vulnerability. “I always thought I’d be a terrible pet owner.”

You observe him carefully, noting the way he carefully studies the dog. It’s clear he doesn’t want to come off as clumsy or unprepared, but it’s also obvious he’s truly interested. “Well, nobody’s perfect,” you reply with a smile, leaning against the counter. “It’s all about patience. And a little bit of love.”

Jake’s eyes flicker to you, as though surprised by how natural your words feel, and for a moment, the nervousness fades completely from his face. “I think I could do that,” he murmurs, still watching the puppy. “I mean, I’d want to. I just don’t know if I’m ready to take care of one yet.”

You can’t help but feel a little amused, a little warm inside, as you watch his hesitance slowly dissolve into something more comfortable. “That’s totally fine. It’s not about being perfect from the start. If you want to come back and hang out with the animals, we’d love to have you.”

Jake’s face brightens, and he stands up from his crouched position, his eyes still glancing between you and the dog. He hesitates again, this time looking down at the floor before lifting his gaze back up to you, his cheeks tinged with a faint blush. “I could come back? And, uh... maybe I could bring some treats for the pups next time? I mean, if that’s okay?”

You grin, finding his shy enthusiasm utterly endearing. “Of course, you can. The animals would love that.”

He looks almost relieved, his tension easing the more you talk. “Okay, cool. I’ll, uh... I’ll definitely come back then.” Then, he offers a slight, bashful smile, rubbing the back of his neck again like he’s trying to gather his thoughts. “By the way... I’m Jake. I didn’t even introduce myself. Sorry about that.”

You chuckle, shaking your head, “No problem, Jake. It’s nice to meet you.”

Jake’s smile widens at your response, and as he steps back toward the door, he gives you one last look, almost like he’s not sure when he’ll be back, but he’s definitely coming. “Thanks. I’ll, uh, be around soon. Promise.”

And with that, he leaves, the door closing softly behind him. You find yourself standing there, a small smile playing at your lips as you watch him walk away, the shy, nervous guy who just might become a regular around here. And strangely, that thought makes your heart beat a little faster.

It’s not every day that someone like Jake stumbles into your shelter.

The following week, you’re standing by the front desk when you hear the familiar sound of the doorbell chime. You turn, expecting to see the usual shelter visitors—families, curious locals—but what catches your attention this time is the group of three young men stepping into the room.

Jake’s there, of course. His hoodie is the same, but there’s a more noticeable confidence in the way he holds himself today. But what makes you pause is the two guys flanking him—one with sleek dark hair and the other with a slightly messier style, their presence so casual, yet purposeful. They both glance around with interest, taking in the surroundings, but it’s clear they’re not just here for the animals.

“Hey, princess,” Jake greets you first, his voice a bit more confident today, though you notice the way his gaze flickers to his friends, who are clearly waiting for him to say something more.

You raise an eyebrow, a smile tugging at your lips as you look at him, but before you can respond, one of the guys—Jay, you recognize him now from his previous description—steps forward with a smirk. “We’re guessing you’re the reason Jake’s been talking about this place nonstop,” Jay says, crossing his arms and looking you over with a playful glint in his eyes.

You chuckle softly, shifting your attention to the newcomer. “Oh? Jake’s been talking about the shelter?” you ask, keeping your tone light and teasing, glancing at Jake who, predictably, looks a little sheepish at the attention.

“Yeah,” Sunghoon, the one with the slick dark hair, chimes in, his voice smooth but with a hint of amusement. “And apparently he’s got a soft spot for dogs now. Says he’s been spending his free time here.” He glances at Jake with a grin, then back at you. “We were curious. Figured we’d check it out.”

Jake’s face flushes a soft pink, and he scratches the back of his neck nervously. "I might’ve... mentioned you a few times," he mutters, his voice growing softer the more he speaks. “And the shelter.” He looks at his friends with a slight frown, his ears turning red as if embarrassed by the fact that they’re all here, following him into this space.

You can't help but laugh quietly, watching him squirm just a little. “Well, I’m glad you brought them along, Jake.” You shoot him a playful wink, then turn to the other two. “And it’s nice to meet you both—Jay, Sunghoon, right?”

Jay gives you a nod, stepping forward to shake your hand. “Yeah, that’s us,” he says smoothly, his eyes lingering just a little too long on you, making you wonder if Jake’s been telling them more than just stories about the animals. His gaze flickers briefly to Jake, and you catch the hint of a teasing smile forming on Jay’s lips.

Sunghoon steps up next, his smile easygoing and warm. “It’s nice to finally meet you, too. We’ve heard a lot about you.”

The way his words seem to linger in the air makes you wonder just how much Jake has shared, but before you can ask, Jake steps in, shifting on his feet nervously. “Okay, okay, you guys don’t need to embarrass me,” he mutters, his face still flushed as he glances between his friends. “We came here to, um... look at the animals, right?”

You chuckle at Jake’s discomfort, but there’s something about it that’s endearing. The fact that his friends are here because of him—it’s like he’s giving you a glimpse into a side of him that’s softer, maybe even a little more vulnerable.

“Well,” you say, “we’ve got a few puppies up for adoption right now. And a couple of cats if you’re more of a cat person.” You motion for them to follow you as you lead them toward the back of the shelter where the dogs are housed.

As you walk, Jake falls in line beside you, his friends trailing behind, their curious glances flickering toward him as if they’re waiting for him to say something. But Jake is oddly quiet, his usual playful self a little more subdued today. He keeps glancing at you, and every time you catch his eye, his cheeks flush a little deeper.

“Hey, I didn’t know you were so into animals, Jake,” Sunghoon teases from behind, his voice light, almost as if he’s enjoying seeing Jake in this new light.

Jake groans softly, but there’s no real annoyance in his voice. “Stop it, Sunghoon. I told you, I’m just here to see the animals. That’s all.” He rubs the back of his neck again, like the simple motion could somehow erase the fact that his friends know a little too much about him.

You smile to yourself, finding his nervousness oddly endearing. It’s clear he’s not used to being the center of attention like this, especially not when it involves you. But as the group reaches the first kennel, where a small puppy is playing around, Jake’s expression brightens, and he almost forgets his discomfort as he crouches down to get a closer look.

“There you go, that’s more like it,” Jay comments with a knowing grin, watching Jake interact with the puppy. “I think you might be falling for them, huh?”

Jake doesn’t respond immediately, too focused on the playful dog that’s now licking his hand, but after a few seconds, he finally looks up, his face still flushed but his eyes softer. “Maybe,” he admits, his voice quiet. Then, turning to you, he says, “This little guy’s... kind of perfect, isn’t he?”

You nod, heart warming at the sight of Jake so relaxed, surrounded by the animals he’s been telling his friends about. “He really is.”

As you continue the tour, you can feel the subtle shift in the atmosphere—Jake, now more comfortable with his friends around, still seems a little more focused on you than before. He occasionally glances your way, a small smile tugging at his lips whenever you catch his eye. His friends, meanwhile, are more than happy to watch the interaction unfold, a mix of curiosity and amusement in their gazes.

By the time the tour wraps up and you’re all heading toward the door, Jake’s demeanor is back to his usual playful self, though there’s still that slight hesitation when he looks at you. Before he leaves, he gives you a shy smile, his voice quiet but filled with a newfound confidence. “I’ll... I’ll be back, for sure. And I’ll bring more treats next time. For the dogs... and, uh, for you, too, if you want.”

You laugh softly, feeling the light flutter in your chest at his words. “Sounds good, Jake. I’ll be here.”

As the door closes behind them, you’re left with a lingering sense of warmth in your chest. You’ve just met his friends, but it’s clear that Jake’s started something here—not just with the animals, but with you, too.

And as for Jake? Well, it seems like he’s not just talking about the shelter anymore.

The late afternoon sun casts a golden hue over the shelter as you finish organizing a few adoption forms at the front desk. The day has been relatively quiet, save for a couple of visitors earlier, but for the most part, it’s just you, the animals, and the steady hum of the ceiling fan overhead.

Then, the doorbell chimes.

You glance up, already expecting a visitor, but what you don’t expect is him.

Jake strides in, his movements fluid and purposeful, a stark contrast to the nervous, fidgety boy who had first stumbled through the doors a week ago. There’s no hesitance in the way he enters this time—no awkward pauses, no stammering greetings. He spots you immediately, a slow grin tugging at his lips, and something about the way he looks at you makes your breath hitch for half a second.

"Hey, princess," he greets smoothly, hands tucked into the pockets of his hoodie as he stops in front of the counter. "Miss me?"

You raise an eyebrow, trying to mask the way your heart flutters at his sudden confidence. This is new. "Oh? You actually came back alone this time," you tease, crossing your arms. "What, your bodyguards didn’t want to tag along today?"

Jake chuckles, leaning against the counter with an easy smirk. "Nah, they wanted to, but I figured they were getting in the way last time." He tilts his head slightly, gaze unwavering as he looks at you. "I thought today, it should just be me and you."

You blink. The smoothness in his voice, the lack of hesitation—it throws you off in the best way possible. This is not the same Jake who stumbled over his words and avoided eye contact.

You clear your throat, deciding not to let him have too much control of the conversation. "Oh? And here I thought you were coming for the animals, not me," you muse, feigning innocence as you turn to grab a treat bag from the counter.

Jake exhales a quiet laugh, tilting his head slightly, and it’s almost unfair how good he looks with that knowing glint in his eyes. "I mean, yeah," he says, shrugging, "but who says I can’t enjoy both?"

Your fingers pause slightly over the treat bag before you shake your head with an amused chuckle. This guy. "Alright, smooth talker. What’s the plan today? Here to volunteer, or just visiting?"

He watches you carefully before pushing himself off the counter. "A little of both," he admits. "I figured since I keep showing up here, I might as well make myself useful. Thought I could help out—cleaning, walking the dogs, whatever you need."

Your lips part slightly in surprise, not expecting him to go that far. Most visitors—especially ones who weren't officially signed up—usually didn’t offer to help. They just came to look around, play with the animals, and leave. But Jake? He’s standing there, waiting for you to give him something to do, and the sincerity in his voice makes your stomach flip.

"You're serious?" you ask, studying him.

Jake nods. "Dead serious. Put me to work, princess."

You roll your eyes at the nickname but can’t hide the smile tugging at your lips. "Alright, but if you’re volunteering, I’m treating you like any other worker here," you warn, tossing him the bag of dog treats. "No special treatment just because you’re cute."

Jake catches the bag effortlessly, but instead of reacting to the comment like you expected—flushed cheeks, maybe a flustered laugh—he only smirks. Steps closer. Leans in just enough to make your breath catch.

"So you think I’m cute?"

You realize your mistake immediately.

Your mouth opens, but no words come out, and that’s when you know—this is Jake’s revenge for all the times you teased him before. He’s enjoying this.

You recover quickly, squinting at him in mock suspicion. "I said no special treatment."

"Mmm." He hums, stepping back just a little, his smirk still in place. "Right. Got it."

You exhale, shaking your head as you motion for him to follow you to the back where the dogs are. He’s different today—still playful, still teasing, but not shy anymore. And while that should make things easier, it only makes your heart race faster because now you are the one slightly off balance.

The rest of the afternoon is a blur of Jake helping out in ways you didn’t expect. He actually works—cleaning up kennels, helping organize supplies, even taking a couple of the bigger dogs out for walks. And the worst (or best) part? He’s good at it. He doesn’t complain, doesn’t mess around too much—just focuses on the tasks, flashing you confident smiles every time you pass by.

At one point, he’s kneeling down, playing with a golden retriever puppy who’s rolling on its back, paws flailing excitedly as Jake rubs its belly. You’re watching from a distance, arms crossed, and just watching him interact with the animals makes something warm settle in your chest.

Jake notices your stare, and instead of getting shy like before, he grins up at you. "Like what you see?"

You scoff, shaking your head with a laugh. "A little."

He lets out a dramatic gasp. "Wow. That’s it? After all my hard work?"

"Okay, a lot," you relent, rolling your eyes. "But don’t let it get to your head."

Jake chuckles, standing up and dusting off his jeans. "Too late."

By the time he’s getting ready to leave, the sky has darkened into a soft orange hue. He lingers near the door, hands in his pockets, rocking slightly on his heels as if debating something.

Finally, he looks at you, his voice softer than before. "I really like it here, y’know."

You tilt your head. "The shelter?"

Jake’s lips twitch, and for the first time today, his confidence falters just a little. "Yeah," he says, eyes flickering to you briefly before looking away. "And... y’know. Everything else."

Your heart stutters. But before you can respond, he flashes you one last teasing smile, reaching for the door handle.

"See you next time, princess."

And then he’s gone, leaving you standing there, heartbeat way too fast, already waiting for the next time he walks through that door.

The shelter feels quieter now, the evening settling in with the last few rays of sunlight filtering through the windows. The hum of the fan, the soft shuffle of paws against the floor—everything seems more peaceful. But you’re not as calm as you usually are. You keep replaying Jake’s words in your head: “And… y’know. Everything else.”

You hadn’t expected that. At all. And it’s been gnawing at you since he left, his lingering words hanging in the air. You’re not sure what to make of it, but you can’t deny the flutter that still dances in your chest.

The bell above the door rings again, pulling you out of your thoughts, and there he is. Jake, once again, but this time, something about the way he stands at the entrance makes your heart skip. He’s not rushing in with his usual flustered energy; no, this time, he’s calm—confident. And maybe, just maybe, a little bit... nervous?

You raise an eyebrow, glancing over at him. "Back so soon?" you ask, trying to mask the way your pulse picks up. “Didn’t expect to see you today."

Jake steps inside, his eyes scanning the room for a moment before locking onto you. The smile on his face is softer than before, but it’s no less genuine.

“I thought about it,” he begins, his voice steady, but with an undercurrent of something... deeper. “And I realized, I kinda like it here. More than I thought I would.” His gaze softens as it holds yours. “I also like spending time with you. You know, without the group around.”

Your stomach does a little flip. "Oh? You’re trying to keep me all to yourself now?"

Jake chuckles, taking a step closer to you. “Maybe,” he admits, his smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “But only if you’re up for it.”

You can’t stop yourself from smiling, but you hide it behind your arm as you pretend to organize the adoption forms again. “I’ll let you know if I ever get desperate enough to spend time with a guy who thinks he’s smooth,” you tease.

Jake’s grin only widens. “I think you’re more into it than you let on.”

You glance up at him, raising an eyebrow. "Am I now?"

"Definitely," he says confidently, walking closer until there’s only a small space between you two. He drops his voice slightly, eyes flickering down to your lips for a second before meeting your gaze again. "Come on, princess. I’ve seen the way you look at me. You can’t fool me.”

You swallow, trying to keep your composure, but his teasing tone, that confident air about him, it’s different from before—different in a way that makes everything feel a little more... real.

“I don’t know, Jake,” you reply, letting the silence drag out for a moment. "I think you’re the one doing the fooling here."

He laughs softly, stepping even closer, and now you can feel the warmth radiating off him, the small distance between you two suddenly a thing of the past. “I’m serious,” he says, his voice low, a little breathless. “I really do like it here. I like hanging out with you. But, uh... I don’t know if I’m ready for the whole ‘smooth talk’ thing just yet.”

You meet his eyes, and for the first time, you see that flicker of vulnerability in them. It’s not the confident, teasing Jake you’ve gotten used to—it’s the real Jake, the one who’s still figuring things out. And, honestly, it’s endearing. You can’t help but smile softly.

“You don’t have to be all smooth, you know,” you say, your voice quieter than before. “I mean, I think you're already doing just fine."

He blinks at you for a moment, almost as if the words have thrown him off guard. “Really?” he asks, a small grin tugging at his lips again. “I guess I can be myself, huh?”

You nod, your heart fluttering in a way you can’t quite explain. “You’ve been yourself this whole time, Jake. Just... maybe stop pretending like you’ve got it all figured out.”

He takes a slow step forward, a smile creeping onto his face. “I don’t think I’ve ever had it all figured out. But I’m getting there.” His eyes soften, voice lowering as he speaks. “And I’d really like to get to know you better... without the jokes and the teasing. Just you and me. If that’s okay?”

You pause, your chest tightening with the warmth of his sincerity. It’s not as playful as before—there’s no bravado or games in his words. Just raw honesty, and it takes you off guard in the best way possible.

“Okay,” you say, your voice steady even though your heart’s racing. “I’d like that too.”

Jake grins, his usual teasing smile returning. "I’ll take that as a win, princess."

For a moment, the two of you just stand there, the tension between you both thick, but comfortable. It’s different from before. This time, there’s no rush—no uncertainty—just the two of you, finally stepping out from behind all the teasing and jokes, and into something more real.

“So,” Jake finally says, breaking the silence, his voice still light, “what’s next? You want me to clean out more pens, or can we take a break?”

You smile, your heart still fluttering, but it’s not the teasing that has you smiling—it’s the way he looks at you now. The way his confidence is matched with a genuine warmth.

“Let’s take a break,” you say, crossing your arms with a grin. “But you’re buying coffee.”

Jake chuckles, nodding easily. “Anything for you, princess. Lead the way.”

As the two of you head out of the shelter, the warm afternoon sun beginning to dip below the horizon, you realize that maybe—just maybe—you’ve both found something more than just a passing connection. And as Jake walks beside you, his smile soft and his confidence steady, you can’t help but feel like this is only the beginning.

The walk to the café is quiet, but not uncomfortable. The usual bustling street is quieter than normal, the evening air crisp with the promise of nightfall. The soft hum of traffic and distant chatter fade into the background as you walk side by side with Jake. He keeps stealing glances at you, like he’s still processing the shift in energy between the two of you, and you can’t help but smile every time you catch him doing it. He looks so... genuine tonight, like all the teasing and nervous energy he usually carries has melted away.

"So, uh," Jake starts, breaking the silence after a few steps. "You really like working at the shelter, huh?"

You nod, glancing at him as you continue walking. "Yeah. It’s not just the animals, though. It’s... the feeling that you’re doing something real, you know? Something that actually matters. Helping those little guys find their homes, giving them a second chance..." You trail off, realizing you're getting a little too sentimental. But you can’t help it. It's something you’re passionate about. "It just feels good."

Jake listens intently, his gaze softening as he takes in your words. "I can tell," he says quietly. "You really care. It’s kind of... amazing, actually."

You glance at him in surprise. “You think so?”

"Yeah." He shrugs, looking almost bashful. "I mean, I’ve seen you work with them, and you’re so patient and kind. It’s like... you’re not just a volunteer. You’re part of the whole thing. You make it better." He pauses, then adds with a sheepish grin, "I guess I’m a little jealous."

You stop walking for a moment, taken aback by his sincerity. "Jake, that's... that's really sweet of you to say."

He rubs the back of his neck, clearly embarrassed by his own words. "Well, you are pretty amazing, so... I mean it." He looks down, his gaze focused on his shoes for a second before his eyes lift back to yours, as though searching for something in your face. "I’m glad I get to see it firsthand. Glad I get to be around... you."

Your heart skips a beat, and you try to mask it with a teasing smile. “You’re making me blush, Jake."

Jake laughs, a soft, warm sound that fills the air between you. “I’m serious though. I’m not just saying it to be nice.” He pauses, then adds more softly, “It’s... different when you actually see someone care about what they’re doing. Makes me want to try harder with the stuff I do, too."

You can feel the sincerity in his words, and it's not lost on you. There’s a tenderness there—something deeper than his usual teasing tone. It makes your heart ache in the best way possible, and you’re unsure of what to do with this feeling that’s quickly bubbling up inside you.

The two of you reach the café, a small cozy place nestled between other shops with a faded wooden sign that reads, “Café Lumière.” The warm golden glow of the lights spilling from the windows is inviting, and the chatter from inside offers the promise of a peaceful atmosphere. Jake opens the door for you, and you step inside first, the cozy aroma of freshly brewed coffee instantly wrapping around you.

After a quick look around, you both head up to the counter, where an older woman with a bright smile greets you.

"Good evening!" she says, her eyes twinkling. "What can I get for you two today?"

Jake steps forward before you can say anything, his voice confident, but still with that underlying warmth. "Two iced lattes, please. With extra caramel." He turns to you with a playful grin. "You like caramel, right?"

You chuckle, nodding. "I do. I’m not that difficult, Jake."

He winks at you before turning back to the barista. "One caramel latte for me too. And maybe something sweet, if you’ve got it?"

The barista laughs and nods. "We’ve got a selection of pastries today. How about a chocolate croissant?"

Jake raises his eyebrows. “Perfect.”

After placing the order, you both take a seat by the window, the soft glow of the café's lights casting a warm, intimate atmosphere around the two of you. The table is small, just big enough for two lattes and a pastry, but it feels like the perfect size, like it’s just the right space for you both to be.

Jake’s eyes linger on you as you pick up your latte, his gaze soft but curious. “So, what’s your story? I mean, aside from the shelter stuff. What do you like to do when you’re not working there?”

You take a sip of your drink, the sweet, creamy caramel warming you up inside. “Hmm... when I’m not at the shelter, I usually just hang out at home or with my friends. Pretty boring stuff, honestly.” You smile, feeling a little shy under his gaze. “But I’ve been getting into reading a lot lately. I don’t really have a favorite genre, but I like books that make you think. You know?”

Jake nods thoughtfully, his eyes never leaving you. “I get that. I like reading too, though mostly about random stuff. Sometimes I get so into something and then I forget about it, you know? Like right now, I’m into cooking. Don’t laugh," he says with a mock serious tone. "But I’ve been trying to make the perfect pasta."

You can’t help but laugh, leaning forward slightly. “Pasta? Really? You?”

Jake raises an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. “What? I’m a man of many talents.”

You chuckle again, shaking your head. “I’ll believe it when I taste it.”

Jake’s grin widens, his usual teasing energy returning. “I’ll make you a deal then. If I cook you the perfect pasta, you have to come over and try it. Deal?”

You raise your own eyebrow, trying to keep your voice light. “What if it’s terrible?”

Jake shrugs nonchalantly. “Then you can say I tried, and at least I won’t be able to get too cocky. But you have to try it, no matter what.”

You can’t help but smile, the playful banter feeling so natural. There’s an undeniable warmth in the way he speaks to you, the easy way his words flow as if you’ve known each other far longer than you really have. It’s the kind of feeling you don’t want to let go of—this new dynamic between the two of you.

“Alright,” you agree, your tone matching his lightheartedness. “I’ll hold you to that. But only if you make me the perfect latte first.”

Jake leans back in his chair, a victorious grin spreading across his face. “Deal.”

And just like that, you both settle into a comfortable rhythm, the easy banter continuing, the conversation flowing naturally as if this was exactly where you were meant to be. No awkward silences, no rushing—it’s just you and Jake, enjoying the simple things, the little moments.

As the night stretches on, you realize something. It’s not just about the shelter, or the coffee, or the small promises made between sips. It’s the way Jake makes you feel like everything is exactly as it should be. And maybe, just maybe, you’re starting to realize that you might have found something you weren’t expecting tonight.

The air has cooled even more as you and Jake step out of the café, the remnants of laughter still hanging in the air. You both walk back down the street, the quiet evening now wrapping around you like a soft blanket. There's something comforting about the calmness between you two, no rush, no expectations—just the gentle sound of footsteps as you stroll back to the shelter.

"That was nice," Jake says casually, his hands tucked into his jacket pockets. His tone is easy, but his eyes are brighter, more relaxed than before. "You’re not so bad at this whole hanging-out thing, y’know."

You glance at him, teasing a little. “I thought I was the one supposed to be ‘not so bad.’ Guess I’m getting the hang of it, huh?”

Jake chuckles. “Yeah, guess so.” He nudges you playfully. “But really, it’s easy to get along with you. I’ve always liked being around you.”

The way he says it is so casual, like it’s a given, but it stirs something deep in your chest. You blink, trying to hide the flutter you feel. “Well, same here. You’re not so annoying after all.”

Jake laughs, and it feels like the night is just a little warmer, just a little more special because of the way he’s looking at you.

The shelter comes into view again, and the familiar hum of the building wraps around you, drawing you back into the routine of your work. You push the door open, and the warm, comforting scent of animals, cleaning supplies, and the general bustle of the place greets you. There’s still some cleaning to do, some paperwork to file, and the cages to lock up for the night. The shelter’s duties don’t stop when the clock strikes closing time, but tonight, there’s something a little lighter about it. Maybe it’s the company, or maybe it’s the way Jake’s been looking at you, his usual teasing tone mixed with something a little softer.

Jake follows you inside, more comfortable than before, less of the nervous energy that used to cling to him. He slips his jacket off and places it over the back of one of the chairs in the lobby, looking over the room like he’s ready to dive into whatever work needs doing. He’s serious now, like he’s got a purpose here, and it’s all about being with you.

“Want some help with anything?” he asks, his voice firm with the confidence he’s been showing more of lately.

You turn to him, surprised. “You wanna help me with the chores?”

“Sure,” Jake replies with a grin. “I’m here. Might as well make myself useful.”

You raise an eyebrow but don’t argue, nodding. “Alright then. Help me clean the kennels. I’ll need you to scrub the floor in the back, and I’ll take care of the paperwork.”

Jake gives a mock salute. “Got it, boss.”

You can’t help but laugh, the image of Jake trying to look serious while wearing a half-grin pulling a smile from you. Together, you both fall into the rhythm of the work, moving seamlessly between tasks. The two of you clean the kennels and sweep the floors, your hands working together, but the silence between you is no longer uncomfortable. It’s easy. Even when you’re in the middle of the mundane routine, everything feels a little different now. Like you’re not just a volunteer anymore. You’re not just the girl who runs the shelter. You’re you, with Jake by your side, helping you in the most unexpected ways.

It doesn’t take long to finish up the chores, and soon the shelter feels like it’s ready for the night. The animals are settled, the lights are dimmed, and the air smells clean and fresh. You finish locking up the last of the cages and stand, wiping your hands on your apron.

“Looks like we’re done here,” you say, glancing at Jake.

“Yeah, I think we did pretty good,” he replies with a satisfied grin. “I didn’t break anything this time, so that’s a win.”

You smile at him, crossing your arms. “Well, I guess you passed the test then.”

He steps toward the door, waiting for you to follow. “So, now that it’s all done… I can walk you home?”

You hesitate for a second, the question catching you off guard. Your heart flutters, and you feel a small, nervous smile tugging at your lips. “I’d like that,” you reply softly. “But you really don’t have to, Jake. You’ve done enough today.”

Jake shakes his head, his expression serious now. “I want to. It’s not a big deal.” He opens the door for you, holding it wide as you step out into the cool night air. “I said I’d walk you home. And I mean it.”

The two of you walk side by side again, the streetlights casting long shadows as you make your way through the familiar streets. The path to your home isn’t far, but somehow, it feels like the night stretches on longer than usual. There’s something in the way Jake is walking next to you, the steady pace, the way he’s so attuned to your presence. He’s quiet, but not in the uncomfortable way—just... in the thoughtful way that makes your heart race a little faster.

“So,” Jake says, breaking the silence as the distance between you and your apartment shrinks, “I guess this is the part where I ask... what’s next? You know, for us.”

You glance at him, surprised by the sudden directness, but the warmth in his voice makes it feel like a natural question. It’s not a challenge; it’s just... curious. Like he’s trying to figure things out just as much as you are.

“What do you mean?” you ask, your voice soft, unsure of where this conversation will go.

Jake shrugs, his smile small but genuine. “I mean... now that we’ve, uh, gotten past all the awkwardness and joking around, what happens now?” He looks at you, his eyes sincere, almost vulnerable. “I really like being with you, you know. It’s not just the shelter. It’s... you.”

Your heart skips. You can feel your own vulnerability rising up as you look at him. “Jake...” You stop walking for a moment, and he does too, his gaze never leaving you. “I like being with you, too,” you admit, the words feeling weighty, real, and true. “I don’t really know what’s next either. But maybe... that’s okay.”

Jake nods slowly, as if he’s letting that settle in. “Yeah,” he says softly, his voice steady now. “I think that’s okay.”

The two of you stand there for a moment, the quietness of the night surrounding you, the air thick with the newness of everything. There’s no rush, no need to figure out the future yet. Not tonight. Tonight, it’s enough to just stand here, together.

You finally reach your building, and as you stop in front of the entrance, you turn to Jake with a soft smile. "Thanks for walking me home, Jake."

He grins, his eyes flickering with warmth. "Anytime, princess."

You feel a warm flush creep up your neck, but you don’t hide it. Instead, you just smile back, your chest full. “See you tomorrow?”

Jake nods, his hand slipping into his pocket as he takes a step back. “Definitely. I’ll be back to volunteer again. I mean, I can’t stay away that long.”

You laugh, the sound light and free. “I’ll be waiting,” you tease.

And with that, he walks backward for a few steps, still watching you, the smile on his face the last thing you see before you close the door behind you. But even as you lock it, you know you won’t be alone for long. Jake has found a way into your life—and it doesn’t seem like he’s leaving anytime soon. And honestly, you’re okay with that.

Jake’s message pops up on your phone as you’re finishing your morning routine, and for a moment, you just stare at it. It’s simple, but there’s something about it that makes your heart race a little. "Are you in the shelter today?"

You’re quick to type your response, already halfway to the door of your apartment. Yes, I’ll be there in a bit. Why? You send the message with a hint of curiosity, wondering what this is all about. Jake’s usually not the type to reach out first unless there’s a reason, especially when it comes to something serious.

Not long after, his reply buzzes in. Good, because I need to talk to you about something important. The words are brief, but they send a flutter through you. It’s something I want to say in person.

You can’t help but feel a little nervous. You set your phone down on the counter and take a deep breath. Whatever it is, you tell yourself, it’s just Jake—nothing you can’t handle.

When you arrive at the shelter later, the usual sounds of animals greet you, but Jake is already waiting by the door, standing a little too still for someone who’s usually so full of energy. He looks... different today. More serious, almost. As if whatever he’s been holding back is weighing on him.

"Hey," you greet, a smile tugging at your lips as you walk toward him. "You’re here early."

Jake doesn’t smile back right away. Instead, he looks at you, his usual easygoing energy replaced with a quiet, almost intense focus. "Yeah, I wanted to get this over with," he says, his voice quieter than usual. He scratches the back of his neck, clearly a little nervous, but there's determination in his eyes. "I’ve been meaning to ask you something."

You raise an eyebrow, a little taken aback by his seriousness. "What is it?"

Jake takes a deep breath, as though steeling himself. He shifts his weight slightly, then finally looks you in the eyes, his voice more earnest than you’ve ever heard it. "I want to take you out on a date," he says, his words direct but soft. "A real date. And... I want to confess something, properly." He pauses, a slight blush creeping onto his cheeks. "I like you. More than just as a friend or... whatever we’ve been calling this."

Your heart skips a beat at his admission, the air around you suddenly feeling thicker, charged with a tension that wasn’t there a moment ago. The sincerity in his words catches you off guard, and for a second, you’re left speechless. He’s been talking about his feelings for you all along, but hearing it like this... in the quiet space between the two of you, it feels like something new, something more real than ever before.

Jake scratches the back of his head, his gaze shifting away for a second. "I... I mean, I’ve been wanting to say this for a while, but I wasn’t sure how you felt. But I can’t just keep pretending like I’m okay with just being the guy who helps out at the shelter. So, yeah, I’m asking now." He looks back at you, his eyes a little anxious. "So... what do you think?"

Your mind races for a moment, your pulse quickening as you process what he’s just said. And then, you smile—a soft, genuine smile that feels like a weight lifting off your chest. You feel light, happy even.

"I think I’d like that," you finally say, your voice quieter than usual. "A real date sounds perfect."

Jake’s face lights up in that familiar, contagious grin, the one that makes you feel like the world’s a little bit brighter. "Really?" He asks, as if he didn’t quite believe it.

"Yeah," you answer, stepping closer to him. "I like you too, Jake. A lot."

Jake’s eyes soften at your words, the tension that had been there moments ago dissolving into a warmth that fills the space between you. "So... you’ll go out with me?" he asks, a playful spark returning to his eyes.

You nod, a smile tugging at your lips as you tease, "I guess you’ll just have to wait and see how the date goes."

Jake chuckles, clearly relieved, his usual playful energy returning. "I’ll take that as a yes, then." He steps a little closer, his smile a mix of happiness and something else you can’t quite put your finger on. "You won’t regret this, princess."

Your heart does a little flip at the nickname, and you try to keep your composure, but it’s hard when Jake’s standing there, looking at you with all the affection in the world.

"So," you start, trying to shift the conversation. "When’s this date happening?"

Jake takes a step back, his playful grin never faltering. "Soon. I’ll figure it out." He pauses. "But don’t get any ideas. I’m not letting you off the hook that easily."

You laugh, the sound easy and free, as you shake your head. "I think I’m looking forward to it."

"Good," Jake says with a wink, already starting to drift back toward the area where the animals are waiting. "Because I’m definitely not letting you get away now."

And as you watch him go, you feel a flutter of excitement in your chest, knowing that whatever comes next, it’s the beginning of something real between the two of you.

The morning feels lighter than usual, the kind of day where everything feels a bit brighter. You wake up to a new excitement buzzing in your chest, a lingering warmth from last night’s date. As you finish getting ready, you glance at your phone, smiling at the simple but thoughtful message from Jake: “I’ll pick you up at 7, princess.”

Today, it’s a date—another chance to be with him.

Jake arrives at your apartment just as expected, pulling up in his car with a relaxed smile on his face. He’s wearing a plain navy shirt that hugs his frame perfectly, beige pants, and a black belt. His style is simple, but it suits him so well that it’s almost effortless. You notice the way his eyes brighten when he sees you, wearing your favorite white shirt and short jeans, ready for another adventure.

"Morning, princess," Jake greets as you step out of your door. His voice holds a softness, but there's a boldness in the way he looks at you now, like he’s not holding back anymore. He steps toward you, his hand brushing against yours as you both walk to the car. “Ready to pick up some dogs and go for a walk?”

You nod, smiling softly. “Absolutely. Let’s go.” The nerves you used to feel around him are gone, replaced with an easy comfort, like being with him just fits.

The drive to the shelter is short, filled with light conversation, and the dogs are already wagging their tails in excitement when you arrive. You grab two leashes, one for Jake’s golden retriever and one for your husky, before you both start walking toward the park.

The park is peaceful this time of morning, a quiet haven just for the two of you and the dogs. Jake’s golden retriever pulls ahead excitedly, but your husky is more relaxed, trotting by your side with that calm, steady energy. You’re matching the dogs’ pace, trying to keep up, but they’re pulling you in different directions.

By the time you both find a spot to sit on a park bench, you're out of breath, laughing at how exhausting it is just to keep the dogs in check.

“I didn’t realize I was signing up for a marathon today,” you joke, wiping a bit of sweat from your forehead.

Jake’s laughter is low and warm as he glances over at you. “It’s part of the charm. But hey, hold on a second.”

He stands up and heads to the nearby ice cream stand, coming back a few moments later with two ice creams in hand. One for you and one for himself. He also brought drinks for the dogs, as they’re clearly thirsty from the walk.

“Here,” Jake says, handing you a cone. “I didn’t know if you wanted chocolate or vanilla, but I just got both. Ice cream for the dogs too, just in case.” His grin is playful, and there’s something in the way he looks at you now, like he’s so at ease with you, like he wants to make sure you’re comfortable and happy.

You thank him, your lips curving into a soft smile as you take the ice cream. You settle back into the bench, relaxing for a moment as you savor the sweet, cool treat. The dogs are now sitting at your feet, licking at their bowls.

As you’re enjoying your ice cream, you feel Jake’s gaze on you, a feeling of warmth in his presence. He’s sitting beside you now, close enough that you can feel the faint heat of his body. As you finish the cone, a bit of ice cream lands on the edge of your mouth. Without saying a word, Jake reaches over, his thumb gently brushing the spot, cleaning the crumbs from your lips.

His touch lingers for a second longer than necessary, and the warmth in his eyes is undeniable. His soft touch makes you feel like your heart might flutter out of your chest.

"Gotcha," Jake murmurs with a teasing smile, his fingers still brushing your skin before he pulls his hand away.

You’re not sure if it’s the closeness, the soft, gentle gestures, or the way he looks at you, but you’re feeling all kinds of things. It’s intimate, and it’s making everything feel so real.

"You’re getting a little too good at this," you tease, raising an eyebrow. "Are you trying to earn points or something?"

Jake looks at you with a playful grin. "Maybe I’m just trying to make sure you’re well taken care of. Can’t have you looking all messy now, can I?" His voice is soft, but there’s an edge to it now, a new boldness that wasn’t there before.

You chuckle and shake your head, but deep down, you’re really enjoying this new side of him.

After a while, the dogs seem to have had enough playtime, so you both get up and head back to the shelter. The walk back is slower, a comfortable silence between you and Jake as the evening starts to settle in.

As you approach the shelter, Jake walks closer to you, his hand brushing against yours again. Without thinking, you let your fingers curl around his, the touch feeling right, and you can’t help but smile at the quiet reassurance it gives you. Jake doesn’t let go either.

Once you’ve put the dogs back in their kennels, Jake offers to drive you home. The evening air is cool, the streetlights casting long shadows as you get into the car, heading back toward your apartment.

The car ride is quiet, save for the soft hum of the engine and the faint radio playing in the background. You steal a few glances at Jake, noticing the way he drives so carefully, his jaw relaxed as he navigates the streets. You could stay in the car with him forever, but soon enough, you pull up to your building.

Jake stops the car and looks over at you with that same soft, gentle expression. “Well, here we are,” he says, his voice quieter than before. “Thanks for today. I had a really good time.”

You look up at him, your heart fluttering at the sincerity in his words. "I did too, Jake. I’m really glad we did this."

As Jake walks you to your apartment, the night air feels a little cooler, but the warmth from earlier still lingers between you two. You stand in front of your door, reluctant to let go of the night just yet. The city hums softly around you, but in this quiet moment, everything feels still.

You glance up at Jake, your heart still racing from everything that’s happened, and you smile softly. "Goodnight, Jake," you say, your voice quiet but genuine, like a promise hanging in the air.

Jake looks down at you, his gaze softening, the corners of his lips curling into that signature, tender smile. “Goodnight, princess,” he replies, his voice warm and affectionate.

There's a slight pause as the words settle between you two, but you can’t help but feel like you don’t want the night to end. You take a small step forward, your voice a little softer this time. “Can you text me when you get home?”

Jake’s eyes sparkle with affection, and he lets out a small chuckle. “Of course, I’ll text you as soon as I’m home. Promise.”

You smile, relieved, and nod as you gently lean against your door. “Thanks, Jake. Sleep well.”

“I will, now that I’ve seen you,” he teases, reaching out to give your head a soft pat, making you laugh lightly. You can feel the heat rise in your cheeks, but there’s something about his affection that makes you feel at ease.

His hand now resting gently on your shoulder, his thumb brushing over your skin. “Can I give you a hug before I go?” he asks, his voice gentle, almost shy.

You smile, nodding softly. “Of course.”

In that moment, Jake pulls you into a tight, almost too soft hug, one that makes your heart skip a beat. He holds you there, his arms around you, feeling safe and warm. For a brief second, it feels like the world is just the two of you.

When he finally lets you go, there’s a lingering hesitation in his eyes, like he doesn’t want to leave just yet. But he does, taking a step back.

You’re about to turn and enter your apartment when you tug at the sleeve of his shirt, surprising him. Without thinking, you lean up and kiss his cheek. His eyes widen in shock, and you can’t help but laugh at the surprised look on his face.

"Wh-What was that?" Jake stammers, his hand automatically going to his cheek where your lips had just been.

You give him a cheeky grin, your heart pounding in your chest. "Just felt like it," you reply, your voice teasing.

Jake’s eyes narrow, and a cocky grin spreads across his face. “Oh, so that’s how it is?” He steps closer, his voice low but playful. “Then you better give me the other side now, or I’ll be upset.”

You laugh, shaking your head, but you’re already leaning up to give him another kiss—this time on the other cheek.

Jake’s grin widens, his confidence back as he looks at you with that teasing spark in his eyes. “Guess I’ll have to keep you around for more, then,” he says with a wink before finally turning to leave.

"Goodnight, princess," he repeats, his tone softer this time, his gaze lingering for a moment before he finally steps back.

You take a deep breath, still not ready to say goodbye, but you wave gently. “Goodnight, Jake. Text me.”

He laughs quietly and gives you one last smile before turning to walk away. The sound of his footsteps fades, but you can’t help but stand there for a second longer, watching him leave. With one final look, he walks back toward the elevator, his footsteps soft on the floor.

Once he’s out of sight, you close the door behind you, feeling a rush of warmth spread through your chest. Your heart still racing from the evening and you lean against it for a moment, smiling to yourself. The night has felt so right, and you can’t wait for the next time you’ll see him.

A few moments later, your phone buzzes. "Just got home, princess. Sweet dreams."

You grin, your heart swelling with happiness, and you quickly type back, "Goodnight, Jake. Sweet dreams to you too."

[deathbxnny]

hi,may I request some headcanons about Victor, Silco, Ekko and Jayce (and if you can Jinx?) about caring and being with a S/O with ED. thank you! i apologize if the pronouns are not correct, I don't speak english ((

Arcane men with an S/O that has an ED. | Viktor, Silco, Jayce, Ekko x Gn!Reader

Hello anon! I decided to only write about the four men you chose first because of the limit, so I hope that's okay for you! Thank you otherwise for your request, and I hope you'll enjoy this!<33

Content: TW!!EATING DISORDERS, some angst, established romantic relationships, hurt/comfort, fluff, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns.

((Not proofread))

》VIKTOR

Viktor is the first person to immideatly notice the slow shift in your eating habits, yet doesn't confront you about it immideatly. Instead, he simply observes you for a moment to make sure what he was seeing was correct since he obviously didn't want to assume anything... but it was hard for him to ignore how unhealthy it was becoming.

You were trying your best to hide it from him, perhaps out of guilt or simply subconsciously, but it did little to throw him off. He would never outright tell you to your face that he knew and would try to correct your eating by making you have your meals with him. He always has an excuse as to why you should, and thankfully, you can never say no to him, but even that doesn't help in the long run.

When things get too out of hand and your methods become too self-destructive, he finally finds the courage to sit you down and stage an intervention. His approach is gentle and understanding, as he guids you through the next steps and comforts you as much as he can.

He'll compliment you and give you all the reassurance needed during your recovery. Viktor knows that you still have a long way to go, but he isn't going anywhere and wouldn't dream of letting you go through this alone. He's there for you and makes sure you know that as well.

》SILCO

He only noticed that something was seriously wrong when you lost too much weight in a dangerously short amount of time. It wasn't unusual for people in Zaun to be a little malnourished due to their circumstances, but never this much. Especially not when you were dating a drug lord who could afford all types of food.

And so, he just bluntly confronts you about it, never the type to beat around the bush anyway. But he'll still be gentle and careful, the worry clear in his voice as he wonders if it's a physical issue. What he didn't expect, however, was you breaking down and telling him all about your problems, and thankfully, he listened and acted on them.

Your recovery is strictly supervised by him, and he makes it a point to take every meal together. The only way to leave the table is by eating every crumb he gives you. But that's not the only thing he focuses on. From what he understood, the issue came from deeply rooted insecurities inside you, which made him compliment and reassure you often. He may not be the best with words, but it's clear that he means it well which helps.

Silco doesn't entirely understand why you have an eating disorder, but he's nothing short of supportive and caring despite his reputation. He doesn't want you to hurt yourself, or even worse, die on him after all.

》JAYCE

He noticed your self-esteem issues getting worse and worse as time went on, which immideatly alerted him. Jayce knew that there was definitely a bigger issue at hand than simple insecurities and, therefore, at first attempts to just uplift you with compliments and praise. But he isn't foolish enough to believe that that would make everything go away.

Eventually requesting to talk to you, the man sits you down for a long talk about your disordered eating habits and asks you if there is something or someone making you feel bad about yourself. All you really need to do is confide in him, and he'll take it from there, determined to make everything right again.

Jayce takes makes dinner for the both of you that you share together, even going as far as to carefully feed you himself when necessary. He praises you for every plate you finish and for every therapy session you complete. He's just so proud of you!

He definitely makes more time for you in his rather busy schedule, just to make sure that you don't fall back into your disorder. The man wants you to be healthy and happy no matter how much work he misses. You're worth that.

》Ekko

Due to how busy he is as a Firelight, it takes him a moment to notice anything wrong with you. He's become so secure in knowing that nothing could hurt you under his wing, without realizing that it was you who was the "enemy" now. Or rather your disorder. And so when he does come to that said realisation, his heart drops and he immideatly takes action.

He immideatly intervenes you by making you sit down and talk out about what exactly triggered this extreme shift in eating habits. Hearing you mention your struggle with your appearance and weight made his heart ache, as he reiterates how much he loves you and thinks you're perfect. Ekko promises to help you, too, one way or another.

Due to your lack of proper medical resources, however, he comes up with a makeshift plan that helps with your recovery. He takes every meal with you and makes sure you know you're loved and appreciated by everyone in the hideout. You're allowed to take space and wants you to know exactly that.

Ekko is proud to see your progress and praises you every chance he gets. He wants to be at your side forever, no matter how you look like.

[sixeyesonathiel]

a guide to ditching the world’s most persistent nerd!

CH01 – the anatomy of a grudge

pairing - nerd!gojo x baddie!reader

summary : gojo satoru has been the bane of your existence since kindergarten. you invited him to play during recess? he chose studying instead. you tried to give him chocolates? he rejected them for the sake of your dental health. you called him boring and never looked back.

years later, you’re a party girl with daddy issues, and he's the smartest, richest, greenest green flag at your elite university. when you're paired up for a project worth 60% of your final grade, you think you can slack off—except gojo keeps finding you at every exclusive club, dragging you back to work like the menace he is.

you flirt to distract him, he humors you. you push, he pulls. you seduce, he tucks your hair behind your ear and looks at you like you're the most precious thing in the world.

oh no.

tags -> modern au, university au, tooth rooting fluff with a side of light angst, unresolved romantic tension, suggestive themes, gojo satoru is a green flag menace, reader has issues, power struggles but gojo is unaware he's in one, forced proximity via group project, reader tries to ditch gojo satoru and fails spectacularly, pining disguised as irritation, rich kids and their rich kid problems, the art of denial, humor (i hope), eventual happy ending

series masterlist | playlist | next

chapter summary : it starts with a princess, a prince, and a perfectly decorated box of chocolates. it ends with a broken heart, a flying carrot, and a lifelong vendetta. some wounds never heal. some grudges never die. and it is just impossible to avoid someone when you live in the same bubble.

the first day of kindergarten is an event, a grand occasion worthy of celebration. the sun shines bright, gilding the pristine walls of tokyo’s most prestigious academy, as if the universe itself acknowledges your arrival. your dress—a dreamy confection of lace and ribbons—catches the light with every step, a shimmering reminder of who you are. inside the grand classroom, the air hums with anticipation; the other children whisper, eyes wide, voices hushed with awe. you are used to this. the admiration, the attention—it is the natural order of things, and you embrace it with the effortless grace of a princess greeting her subjects.

but amid the murmurs and the shy stares, a name rises above the rest. gojo satoru. the words are spoken with reverence, laced with something almost like fear. the smartest kid in class. the heir to the gojo conglomerate. a genius, they say, as if that alone makes him untouchable. your interest is immediate, sharp as a diamond catching the sun—you have decided. you are going to marry him.

when you finally find him, he is seated at his desk, a tiny king on a plastic throne. his glasses, far too big for his face, slip down his nose as he reads, utterly absorbed in the world of numbers and words. around him, children run and shriek with delight, yet he remains unmoved, isolated in his own brilliance. you have never seen anyone so mysterious, so special, so handsome. like a prince out of your bedtime stories, the kind who rules entire kingdoms with a single glance. the sight of him, so lost in his book, fills you with something fierce and determined—you must have his attention.

so you march up to him, confidence radiating from every step, your brightest, most charming smile in place. “do you wanna play with me?” the question is simple, the answer should be obvious. but he does not even look up. “i’d rather study,” he replies, tone flat, uninterested. you blink. what? scandalized, you stare at him as if he has just insulted your entire lineage. no one—not one person—has ever turned you down before.

but you are not one to give up easily. if he will not play with you, then you will simply have to play with him. for days, you follow him around, unfazed by his dismissals, chattering away as if he has already accepted your presence. he speaks of numbers and patterns, things you do not understand, but that does not matter. “yeah! i’m trying to study how red and white makes pink too!” you declare, nodding with the same intensity as him. he squints at you, skeptical, but does not tell you to leave. it is progress, a victory, and you grin, certain of one thing—soon enough, gojo satoru will be yours.

february arrives in a flurry of pink and red, ribbons and glitter, love and admiration wrapped up in shiny paper. in the warmth of the kitchen, you sit perched on a stool, small hands carefully piping pink icing onto a tray of chocolates. your nanny helps, guiding your every move, but the love you pour into each swirl and heart-shaped decoration is all yours. it is important that they are perfect, because these are for him. gojo satoru. your prince, your future husband—he just doesn’t know it yet. you imagine the way his face will light up when you give them to him, how he will finally understand that he is special to you, that you adore him, that he should adore you too.

but when the moment comes, it is nothing like the fairytales. standing before him, chocolates cradled in your hands, your heart beats like a hummingbird’s wings. you are shy for the first time in your life, cheeks warm, fingers twitching as you present your hard work. satoru barely glances at them before frowning. “you shouldn’t eat too much chocolate,” he says, matter-of-fact, like he’s reciting a textbook. “it’s unhealthy. bad for your teeth.” and then—he doesn’t take them. your breath catches, the world shifts, and you don’t understand why it feels like the ground has been ripped out from under you.

you sob in the hallway, fat tears rolling down your cheeks, staining the sleeves of your dress as you bury your face in them. the walls, once grand and full of warmth, now feel cold and suffocating, closing in on you as your chest heaves with the unfairness of it all. why did he do that? why didn’t he want them? you made them for him, with so much love, so much effort, and he just… rejected them. the sting is unbearable, unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. the other kids watch with wide eyes, but you don’t care—you cry until your nanny finds you and scoops you up, whispering reassurances that do little to mend the ache in your tiny heart.

satoru, meanwhile, sits at his desk, bewildered. he doesn’t know what he did wrong, only that your face crumpled and your eyes filled with tears and then you were gone. at home, he asks his dad for advice, confused and restless, something tight and unfamiliar pressing against his chest. “you should apologize,” his father says, as if it’s obvious, as if it’s easy. so satoru thinks, hard, determined to make it up to you, and remembers something he read once—carrots are good for the eyes. and you have very pretty eyes. logically, this means that carrots will make you happy again.

the next day, you march into class with a fresh resolve: you will not think about gojo satoru. you will not look at him, you will not speak to him, and you will certainly not remember the way he broke your heart with his stupid, stupid words. but just as you take your seat, still clutching the remnants of your righteous fury, a shadow falls over your desk. you glance up, and there he is—gojo satoru, standing stiffly in front of you, an unreadable expression on his face. before you can tell him to leave, he shoves something at you, small hands gripping it tightly as if it holds the answer to all the world’s problems.

a carrot. a whole, unpeeled carrot, straight from someone’s fridge, still a little cold in his palm. “here,” he announces, dead serious. “carrots. for your eyes.” you blink, slowly, processing. surely, surely, you misheard him. “...what?” your voice is hesitant, unsure if this is some elaborate joke, but satoru just nods, like this is obvious, like he is being generous.

“they’re good for you,” he explains, pushing the carrot closer, his tiny fingers wrapped around it with a kind of solemn determination. your jaw drops. of all the things he could have done to fix his crime, this—this root vegetable—is what he chose? is he mocking you? is this some nerd thing that you don’t understand? the insult is too great, the betrayal too fresh, and suddenly, all the grief and rage you’ve been holding in erupts.

“i don’t want your stupid carrots!!” you shriek, shoving his hand away so forcefully that the carrot goes flying across the room. it bounces off a desk, rolls onto the floor, and lands unceremoniously near the cubbies, an innocent casualty in the war between you and gojo satoru. silence follows. the entire classroom, once lively with chatter, falls into stunned quiet as every pair of eyes turns to watch the scene unfold. you are furious, fists clenched at your sides, breathing hard as you glare at him like he is the worst thing to ever exist.

and satoru—poor, poor satoru—looks devastated. his mouth falls open, hands still frozen in mid-air where the carrot used to be, his eyes wide with something that looks far too much like heartbreak for a boy who doesn’t even know what he did wrong. “but…” he stammers, blinking rapidly as if trying to make sense of what just happened. “but they’re good for your eyes.” his voice cracks at the end, the first sign of his impending doom, but you don’t care. you spin on your heel, nose in the air, and storm away before he can say another word.

satoru stands there, lost, humiliated, still staring at the spot where the carrot landed. his ears burn with the whispers of his classmates, with the quiet giggles and curious glances, but none of it matters. all that matters is that he tried—he really tried—and somehow, it only made things worse. his hands tremble as he clenches them into fists, his throat tight with something unfamiliar, something sharp and awful. 

you decide you hate him. you call him a boring nerd, cross your arms, and vow to never waste another second of your time on him. he had his chance. he ruined it. as far as you’re concerned, gojo satoru is no longer a prince, no longer special—just an insufferable, glasses-wearing, know-it-all who doesn’t deserve you. but as you go back to playing with the other kids, ignoring him completely, satoru sits at his desk, staring at the abandoned carrot and wondering why his chest feels so empty. girls, he concludes, make no sense at all.

later, when his father picks him up from school, he sits in the backseat, staring out the window, blinking rapidly to stop the tears that threaten to spill over.

he doesn’t understand. he might never understand. but one thing is clear—girls, especially you, are impossible.

high school is hell. not because of the schoolwork—you don’t struggle with that, never have—but because everything else is crumbling, slipping through your fingers no matter how hard you try to hold it together. your father does not bother to hide it anymore, coming home late with his collar stained in red, his shirts reeking of perfume too sweet, too floral to belong to your mother. you wonder if he even bothers to wash her scent off before climbing into bed beside his wife, if he kisses your mother with lips that just touched another woman. your mother, poised and perfect, does not react. she doesn’t cry, doesn’t fight, doesn’t care. because she has her own secrets, her own whispered rendezvous, her own sins tucked neatly behind closed doors.

the house is still beautiful, still immaculate, still cold. marble floors that gleam under the chandelier, long dining tables set with silverware that never sees real use, portraits of a perfect family hanging in hallways that have forgotten what warmth feels like. your parents sit across from each other at dinner, exchanging pleasantries, empty words over untouched meals, and you think you might go insane if you have to sit through another one of these nights. they are both living their own separate lives, tied together by name only, playing pretend for the world. you are the only one left suffocating under the weight of their act.

so you leave. not forever, not in a way that anyone would notice—but enough. enough to get away, enough to escape the sterile perfection of a home that does not feel like home anymore. the city is alive in a way your house never is, buzzing with neon lights and laughter, thrumming with music that drowns out the thoughts in your head. and when you step out, chin high, gaze sharp, the world takes notice. men—older boys, college students, strangers—watch you, eyes trailing after you like dogs chasing a scent, greedy and hungry, waiting for you to acknowledge them.

but you don’t. you let them look, let them stare, let them want. you know you’re beautiful—people have been telling you that your whole life. they say it in different ways, in lingering glances, in hushed whispers, in the way they hover just close enough to hope you’ll look back. but you never do. you don’t need them. you just need the feeling—the rush of knowing you are seen, that you are something more than just a girl trapped in a perfect, broken home.

dress code violation. again. they don’t even send a note home anymore, don’t waste their time dialing numbers that will ring and ring with no answer. the teachers barely look at you when they usher you into detention, muttering something about repeated offenses under their breath. you roll your eyes, adjusting your bag higher on your shoulder as you step inside, skirt still hiked up at the waist. same old story, same old routine. but then, you see him.

gojo satoru.

he sits at the front of the room like he owns it, glasses perched on his nose, book in hand, posture as straight as ever. not a single wrinkle on his neatly pressed uniform, not a single hair out of place. he doesn’t even glance up, doesn’t acknowledge your presence, just flips another page like he’s too absorbed in whatever stupid book he’s reading. you nearly scoff. of course he’s here. of course, the student council president, the school’s golden boy, would be the one watching over detention today.

you turn to the window instead, resting your chin on your palm, watching as snowflakes gather along the glass. once upon a time, you loved the snow—loved how it painted the world white, how it felt soft against your fingertips, how it meant holidays and warmth and laughter. now, all it reminds you of is cold, empty spaces. rooms with no warmth, no light, just a family name that still shines while everything inside has rotted. you exhale, fogging up the window, and drag your finger through the condensation, drawing nothing in particular.

but in the corner of your eye, you see him. sitting there, perfect as ever, untouchable in his pristine little world. no cracks in his foundation, no stains on his perfect family portrait. a life still whole, still secure, still wrapped in the warmth of something you barely remember. he still has everything. and you—your nails dig into the desk—have nothing.

the bell rings, loud and sharp, snapping you out of your thoughts. you’re the first to stand, flicking your hair over your shoulder, striding toward the door without a single glance back. gojo doesn’t stop you. doesn’t say anything. and you tell yourself you don’t care. that he isn’t worth your time, your thoughts, anything at all.

you’ve learned, over the years, that rage is exhausting. teenage fury burned hot and fast, but it never fixed anything, never filled the hollow space in your chest. so you let it cool, let it settle into something easier to manage—indifference, or at least the illusion of it. money smooths over the cracks anyway; it buys silence, buys distraction, buys the closest thing to happiness you’ve ever known. you spend it recklessly, thoughtlessly, like if you throw enough of it at the void, it’ll give you something real in return. maybe it never does. but the lights are bright, the music is loud, and the nights blur into mornings before you can think too hard about it.

you’ve perfected the art of being the girl everyone wants to know. you slip into every party like you belong there, heels clicking against marble, lips curled into an easy, practiced smile. men chase you, women admire you, and none of it means anything. you let them get close, let them touch, let them want—because want is power, and you like holding it in your hands. you don’t believe in love, not really, but pleasure is easy, and control is intoxicating, and if you wake up in a stranger’s bed with his wallet on the nightstand and your lipstick smeared on his skin, who cares? you’re having fun. and that’s all that matters.

still, you play your part during the day. you walk the halls of the most prestigious business academy in the country with your head high, effortlessly slipping back into the role of the untouchable heiress. business administration suits you—broad, flexible, full of opportunities you’re not sure you actually want but know you’ll take anyway. because success is expected of you, because wealth demands wealth, because of course you’ll thrive. it doesn’t matter that you’d rather be anywhere else, doing anything else. you don’t think about that. instead, you drown yourself in numbers and presentations, in group projects with people who fear you just enough to always listen when you speak.

and of course, he’s here too. gojo satoru, top of his class in business finance, heir to an empire, as obnoxiously untouchable as ever. you never really forgot about him, even when you tried, not when you two basically exist in the same circle, even when you spent years pretending he didn’t exist. and it’s infuriating, really, how he’s still perfect—still smart, still respected, still sitting at the top like he was born there. he walks through the academy like it was built for him, like he owns it, and it makes your teeth grind. because you know—you know—that no matter how much time has passed, no matter how different you are now, you’ll always be the girl who once declared she was going to marry him.

except now, you’re also the girl who swore she hated him.

group projects are the worst.

you don’t even bother hiding your sigh as the professor hands out the details, voice droning on about advanced business and economics, about luxury market strategies and the delicate balance of exclusivity and profitability. it’s all so predictable—another overcomplicated assignment designed to make sure everyone in this academy understands just how privileged they are. as if your last name, your wealth, your place in this world aren’t enough proof already. whatever. you’ll skim the slides, nod at the right moments, and let someone else do the heavy lifting while you focus on things that actually matter.

but then you hear his name.

gojo satoru.

for a split second, something in you sparks—amusement, maybe, or something sharper, something almost triumphant. because this? this is a jackpot. you already know exactly how this will go: satoru, with his color-coded notes and ridiculous spreadsheets, with his perfect grades and even more perfect reputation, will handle it. he’ll do the research, draft the reports, put together a flawless presentation. you won’t even have to lift a finger.

so you don’t acknowledge him. you don’t turn your head, don’t glance in his direction, don’t bother with the fake niceties that other students would force. instead, you sling your bag over your shoulder, heels clicking against the polished floor as you walk out of the lecture hall without so much as a backward glance. later, you’ll send him the bare minimum—a quick “lmk when it’s done” or “let me know if you need anything”. it’s effortless. it’s easy.

you don’t think about how he’s still here, still orbiting your life like a constant, a ghost of a childhood you don’t care to remember. you don’t think about how annoying it is that he’s still perfect, still untouchable, still the one person who’s never bent under the weight of expectation.

you don’t think about him at all.

except, of course, he’s a pain in the ass.

you ignore his texts? he calls. you ignore his calls? he shows up. and not at some normal, reasonable place—no, he tracks you down at an exclusive luxury bar, where the music hums low and expensive in the background, where the drinks are poured with a practiced hand, where you’re lounging on a plush velvet seat, laughing at something not even remotely funny. the world is soft around the edges, warm with alcohol, and you’re enjoying yourself just fine. until you see him.

satoru stands at the entrance like he owns the place, like he belongs here, even though he sticks out like a sore thumb. designer casual, understated but ridiculously expensive—soft knit jacket, tailored slacks, glasses perched on his nose, hair messier than usual, like he ran a hand through it too many times. the sight of him makes you scowl. not because he’s bad-looking—annoyingly, he’s not—but because he’s here. why is he here? you don’t get to ask before he’s moving, crossing the distance between you like it’s nothing, leaning down to murmur, “we have work to do.”

you laugh, not even glancing at him. “you have work to do. i just have to sit pretty and get the grade.” your glass clinks softly against the table as you set it down, lifting a brow at him. he doesn’t even look irritated—just vaguely amused, as if he expected this. “this is how you do research?” his tone is smooth, edged with dry amusement. you sip from your drink again, feigning indifference. “networking, actually.”

he hums, unconvinced. “come on. let’s go.”

“i’m busy, gojo.”

“you’re getting wasted.”

“and?”

“and we have a project to do.”

you tilt your head, smirking. “how about we do it here?” you gesture at the men who’ve been stealing glances at you all night, their interest barely hidden. “i bet one of them owns a luxury brand. isn’t that our topic?”

he exhales through his nose, patient. “get up.”

you scoff. “make me.”

his lips twitch—not quite a smile, but something close.

before you can react, satoru grabs your wrist, gentle but firm, pulling you up with absurd ease. “hey—!” you protest, but it doesn’t matter. he’s already leading you toward the exit, his grip unrelenting yet careful, like he knows exactly how much pressure to apply to make you follow without a fuss. the night air bites against your flushed skin as soon as you step outside, sharp and sobering, and you barely register where you are until you’re standing beside his sleek, very expensive sports car.

satoru unlocks the door with a single click, the sound sharp against the quiet hum of the city. the streetlights cast a pale glow over the pavement, over the sleek lines of his car, over the way he stands there—calm, composed, like he has all the time in the world. he doesn’t rush you, doesn’t demand, just watches with that insufferable patience, hands in his pockets, glasses sliding slightly down the bridge of his nose. his gaze, even behind the lenses, is expectant. “get in.” the words are easy, effortless, but they leave no room for argument.

you cross your arms, shifting your weight to one side, chin tilted up in defiance. “you’re annoying.” the night air bites at your skin, but you refuse to shiver. he barely reacts, only tilts his head slightly, lips curving into something that isn’t quite a smirk but isn’t not one, either. “you’re lazy.” it’s not an insult, just a statement, delivered with the same frustrating calm as everything else he says.

“we’re literally rich.” you exhale, exasperated, like it should be obvious. “why does this even matter to you?” the words come out sharper than intended, but he doesn’t flinch. instead, he studies you for a second, like he’s searching for something beyond the irritation in your voice, beyond the stubborn way you hold yourself. “because i don’t like half-assed things.” his response is immediate, unwavering, and there’s something about it—about the certainty in his tone—that makes your fingers twitch at your sides.

you scoff, turning your head away, but the movement is too sudden, and the wind catches you off guard. cold slips down your spine, sharp and sudden, and you don’t even realize you’ve tensed until you hear him sigh. before you can react, something warm, soft, and faintly scented with expensive cologne settles over your shoulders. his knit jacket. heavy, draped over you like it belongs there.

“wha—” the protest barely leaves your lips before he cuts in.

“it’s cold. get in the car.”

you hesitate for half a second, something tightening in your chest, something unfamiliar and unwelcome. but you don’t fight it. you slide into the passenger seat, tugging his jacket closer around you, drowning in the warmth. only because it’s cold. definitely not because your heart is acting weird.

[thedivinetarot]

Closer to you than your breathe

Channeled message from them

☆ How to chose your pile?

Take a deep breath, clear your mind. Focus your intentions on receiving the message from this reading. And close your eyes, ask the question in your head " what is the message I'm meant to receive from them?" And open your eyes. The pic youa re drown to the most isnyour pile.

☆ Who is this reading from?

You can apply this reading on any person but I did it for your future spouse or future partner. Also, there will be non-explicit part and explicit part so if you are under 18 do not continue to the explicit part.

☆ Note:

I started doing paid readings so if you are interested here's my Masterlist which is currently open. Feel free to DM if you want a paid reading.

Lots of love

Arya❤

Pile 1 - Letter one

My Dearest Love

I’ve waited so long to find you, and now that you’re here, my world feels balanced and whole. You are the Queen of my heart—grounded, nurturing, and endlessly generous. With you, love is not a fleeting feeling but a steady exchange of care and understanding. I cherish the way you give so freely, yet remain true to yourself. I know we’ve both had moments of doubt, times when the weight of the world felt too heavy, or when we questioned if we’d ever find this connection. But I want you to know that you are my clarity, my choice—just as I hope I am yours. There’s no confusion in my heart when it comes to you. I’ve left behind illusions and embraced the simple truth: we are meant to be. Our love feels like destiny—two cups pouring into each other, endlessly full. With you, I see a home, a foundation built on joy and celebration, not just with each other but with the life we’ll create together. I dream of the family gatherings, the warmth of shared memories, and the way your presence feels like home no matter where we are. But love isn’t always light and easy, and I know there will be burdens to share and moments when we’ll need to lean on each other. I promise to carry those loads with you, to walk beside you, step by steady step, as we build a life we can be proud of. I’ll be your Knight, slow but steady, working tirelessly to give us the stability we both deserve. Sometimes, I feel the echoes of the past—familiar memories that remind me of what love can be. You feel like a wish come true, like someone I’ve known before, a soul I’ve loved in another time. I see so much potential in us, as if fate herself worked her magic to bring us together. You inspire me to believe in the impossible, to dream of all we can achieve together. With you, I am not just the person I am, but the person I aspire to become. You are my muse, my strength, my love. I can’t wait to grow with you, to nurture our love like the strong and enduring tree it’s meant to be. You are my moon, my light in the darkness, my guiding star. Together, we’ll create a love that’s as deep as the roots of the earth and as limitless as the sky.

Forever yours,

Your person

.

MDNI +18

My Beloved

From the moment we met, there was no question in my mind that you were the one. I feel the pull of your energy, your warmth, and the way you touch me—not just physically, but deep within my soul. You are everything I’ve ever dreamed of, and more than I ever expected. With you, love is not just an exchange of words or glances; it’s a delicate dance, an endless giving and receiving. You, my Queen, have a way of grounding me, of making me feel like I am both powerful and tender, all at once. In your arms, I find comfort and the freedom to be myself—completely and unapologetically. I crave the way your body fits against mine, how it feels to be lost in the rhythm of us, in that space where we both melt into one. There were times I wondered if I would ever find this kind of love, the kind that fills every part of me and leaves me wanting more. But the moment I laid eyes on you, every doubt faded away. You are no longer just a possibility, you are my reality. My heart has chosen you, and now, I only have eyes for you. The moments we share together are more than just memories; they are the foundation of a passion that burns bright, that fuels our connection. When I look at you, I see everything I’ve ever wanted. I want to explore every inch of you, learn the taste of your skin, the sound of your breath when you’re lost in pleasure, the way you moan my name in the quiet moments between us. We have something rare and deep, something that feels like it’s been written in the stars. When you touch me, when our lips meet, it’s as if time itself stands still. I feel you in every part of me—inside, outside, heart, and soul. I know the road ahead won’t always be smooth, but I am ready to carry you through it, to take on every burden, every challenge with you by my side. I’ll never let go of this love, of this connection we have. I’ll cherish you, adore you, and make you feel like the most desired person in the world. You are my magic, my everything. I want to give you a life of passion, of intimacy, of everything you’ve ever craved. And with you, I’ll always find my way back home, to your arms, where I am truly alive.

Forever yours,

Your Future Lover

Pile 2 - Letter 2

( With the cards I picked, it seems like this pile’s spouse has experienced some tough moments and inner struggles. There's a sense of uncertainty, heartbreak, and perhaps confusion, but also a desire for healing and balance. Their future spouse may want to reassure them of a love that helps them find peace, security, and emotional fulfillment despite these challenges).

My Dearest

I know you’ve been through much, and my heart aches when I think of the burdens you’ve carried alone. The weight of your past and the struggles you’ve faced are not unnoticed, and I see the wounds that have shaped you. You have endured, and that strength, though hidden beneath your pain, shines through in ways that I admire deeply. There’s a deep sadness in me, knowing that there have been times when you felt abandoned or lost. But I want you to know—none of that will remain when we are together. I will be the one who holds you, who sees through the fog and the fear that clouds your heart. In me, you will find a refuge, a sanctuary where you can lay down your burdens and let go of the sorrow that lingers. The path we walk may not always be easy, but I will guide you, patiently, through the darkest of times. I’ll be the steady presence, the one who lifts you when the weight of the world feels unbearable. Together, we will heal from what has hurt us. Together, we will find balance in a world that often feels chaotic. You may have moments of doubt, of confusion, or of wondering if things will ever truly change, but I promise you this: I am here. I see you for who you truly are, not the past, not the fears, but the person capable of immense love and joy. Your wounds do not define you; they are simply part of the journey that will bring us closer, that will help us understand each other on a deeper level. Though I know there may be times when you feel disconnected from the world around you, when loneliness creeps in, remember that I am always with you, even in the silence. We will create a space where trust is restored and where the pain of the past becomes a distant memory, fading with every passing day we share. I’ll be there to calm your restless heart and bring you peace. You are my treasure, the person who completes my life in ways I never knew possible. I will work every day to show you how much I cherish you, how much I desire to build something beautiful with you, despite all that has come before. No matter how long it takes, we will create a life of love, healing, and serenity. I see you. I understand you. And most of all, I am here for you—every part of you, no matter how scarred, no matter how uncertain. Together, we will shine again.

Forever yours,

Your person

MDNI +18

My Dearest

I know you’ve carried so much pain, and my heart aches at the thought of the loneliness you’ve felt. I feel it, the weight of your struggles, the scars that mark you, but let me tell you this: I will be the one to remove those burdens, to kiss away every trace of sorrow from your skin. In my arms, you will find a release like no other—where you can surrender, where the heaviness of the world can fade into nothing. You’ve felt abandoned, lost at times, unsure of whether someone could truly see the real you. But I see you. Every inch of you. I see the raw beauty in your vulnerability, the fire beneath your uncertainty. When you let me in, I’ll show you what it means to be wanted, to be needed, in ways that go beyond the physical. I’ll make you feel desired—not just for your body, but for the depth of your soul. I crave you—your softness, your strength, the way you carry both pain and passion. When we come together, it’s not just about the pleasure. It’s about releasing everything, every thought, every fear. In our connection, I’ll show you what it feels like to be lost in the heat of the moment, where the world outside ceases to exist, and all that matters is the way we fit together. There may be moments when you feel distant, when your heart is clouded with doubt or sadness, but I will always pull you back to me. I’ll take your hand, guide you through those dark moments, and show you how to let go completely. In those moments, I’ll taste your lips, feel the heat of your body against mine, and remind you just how much you are wanted, how much you are adored. Every part of you calls to me, from the way you look at me with those eyes filled with longing, to the way your skin reacts to my touch. You will learn what it means to be worshiped, to be loved in a way that burns, that leaves you breathless, that makes you forget everything except the heat between us. The journey we’ll take together won’t always be easy, but when I’m with you, I’ll make every touch, every kiss, every whisper, something you will never forget. You are everything I’ve ever dreamed of—more than I ever imagined—and I want to take you, every inch of you, body and soul. We will create a world where our connection is all-consuming, where every moment together feels like the first time. I will be here, ready to explore every part of you—your desires, your fantasies, your deepest cravings. Together, we will create a love that goes beyond words, a passion that will never fade.

Forever yours

Your Lover

Pile 3 - Letter 3

This pile seems to have a mix of longing, introspection, and fiery new beginnings. Your future spouse or person likely sees you as someone who has faced emotional challenges but still carries hope and passion for love. The Lenormand cards (ring, birds, and dog) suggest commitment, deep conversations, and loyalty.

My Beloved

I see you—your strength, your resilience, and the fire that burns within you despite the times you’ve been hurt. I know you’ve faced moments where the world seemed to take more than it gave, leaving you wondering if true, lasting love is even possible. But I want you to know, I am here, and with me, you’ll never feel that imbalance again. I will cherish you as you deserve, giving you my all with every moment we share. Your heart, so beautiful and tender, has been bruised before, but it hasn’t broken. That courage, that determination to keep hoping, to keep believing, is what draws me to you. I admire the strength you carry even when you feel uncertain or vulnerable. You don’t need to carry the weight alone anymore—I will be the one who stands beside you, steady and unwavering. When we meet, you’ll feel it—a spark, a passion, an undeniable pull that we can’t resist. You awaken something in me that no one else can. Every touch, every shared glance, will feel like it was meant to be, like we were created to fit perfectly together. I’ll make sure that every moment with me reminds you of how deeply loved and desired you are. Our connection will be unlike anything you’ve known—loyal, passionate, and endlessly fulfilling. We’ll share conversations that stretch into the night, where words flow as naturally as our hearts beat for one another. I’ll be your closest companion, your unwavering support, and the one who always chooses you, no matter what life brings. I promise to build a life with you that is rich in love and overflowing with joy. Together, we’ll create a bond so unshakable that no doubt or fear can touch it. With every kiss, every whispered word, I’ll remind you that you are my everything—the one I’ve waited for, the one I’ll never let go. So, my love, hold on just a little longer. The path may not always be easy, but it’s leading us to each other. When we finally unite, all the longing and waiting will be worth it. You are my wish come true, and I am yours.

Forever yours,

Your person

MDNI +18

My Beloved

There's a fire in you that I can't resist, a strength and passion that calls to me in ways I never known. I see the way life has tested you, how it left its mark on your tender heart, but it hasn’t dimmed your light. Instead, it made you more irresistible. You’ve carried so much alone, but when we are together, I will take that weight from you. I’ll show you what it means to truly let go and surrender to pleasure, to love, to me. When I look at you, I won't be able to hold myself back. I’ll crave the heat of your body, the way your skin responds to my touch, the way you sigh my name when I make you mine. There's an ache in me that only you can satisfy, a desire to explore every inch of you, to uncover all the hidden parts of your soul and your body. Our connection will be unbreakable, raw, and consuming. I’ll take my time with you, savoring every moment, every kiss, every shiver that runs down your spine when I touch you in ways no one else ever will. When I'm with you, the world will disappear, and there will be nothing but us, the rhythm of our bodies moving together, the sound of your moans filling the air, and the way you'll beg for more. You awaken something primal in me, a hunger that only you can sate. I will show you just how much I want you, how deeply I desire not just your heart but your body, your soul, everything that makes you who you are. I'll make you feel cherished and wanted, not just in words but in every action, every passionate moment we share. I’ll kiss away every tear, every doubt, and replace them with sensations that make you forget the past. When I touch you, it will be with purpose to remind you that you are mine, that no one else will ever know you the way I do. And when I take you in my arms, I'll make sure you never feel alone again. You are my deepest desire, my most sinful craving, and my sweetest dream. I'll be your lover, your partner, your everything. Together, we'll create a passion so consuming that it will leave us both breathless, a connection so deep that it will feel like nothing else has ever mattered before us. I am waiting for you, longing for the day I can finally claim you in every way. Until then, know that you are the one I burn for, the one I'll never stop wanting.

Forever yours

Your lover

Pile 4 - Letter 4

My Dearest

I’ve thought so many times about the day we will finally meet, and what I will say when I look into your eyes for the first time. I don’t know how it will feel, but I know it will be electric, like a spark igniting something powerful between us. I want you to know that when I look at you, I will see everything—the beauty of your soul, the depth of your heart, the strength you've hidden away. I see how much you’ve carried on your own, how many burdens you’ve shouldered in silence, and it will make me want to hold you even more. There have been many times when life has felt uncertain, when it seemed like we couldn’t go on. But there’s something about us, something I can’t quite explain, that makes me believe we were always meant to find one another. You and I, we will balance each other out, filling in the gaps that have existed in our lives. The weight of the world won’t feel so heavy when I’m beside you, and I will make sure you never feel alone again. I will cherish every moment with you. I want to take my time with you, to savor every conversation, every touch, every glance. I want to be the one who makes you feel safe and secure, the one who stands by you when life gets tough. I see how much you’ve given to others, how much you’ve sacrificed, and I want to give you everything you deserve in return. I want to show you that love can be steady, that trust can be built, and that when you give yourself to someone, it’s not in vain. There may be moments when we question if we’re ready for what we’re about to experience, but I know deep down that this connection between us is something extraordinary. It won’t always be easy, but we will navigate the storms together, side by side, knowing that what we have is real. When I’m with you, I will make you feel seen, heard, and adored. I crave the day when we can finally be together, when I can hold you in my arms and tell you that you are the one I’ve been waiting for. Until then, know that you are in my heart, that you are the person I am working toward, the one I will never let go of.

Forever yours

Your lover

MDNI +18

My Dearest

From the very first time I lay eyes on you, I will know that you are mine. There will be no hesitation, no doubts. You will awaken a desire in me that I can’t control, a fire that I’ve never known before. When we come together, it will be explosive—the kind of passion that burns everything in its path. I want to take you in my arms and make you feel wanted, desired, cherished in ways no one else ever has. I will trace the lines of your body with my fingertips, savoring every curve, every inch of you. When I kiss you, I won’t just kiss your lips—I’ll kiss your soul. And I’ll make sure that you feel every kiss deep within your bones, as if it’s your very lifeblood. There will be times when you’ll need me to show you how much I want you. I’ll make it clear with every touch, every breath, every word. You’ll feel my hunger for you, and you’ll know that it’s not just physical—it’s spiritual, it’s emotional. You will be the center of my world, the one I can’t stop thinking about. When we’re together, I’ll let go of all the restraints I’ve built around myself. I’ll let go of everything holding me back, and I’ll give myself completely to you. I’ll make you forget everything but the heat between us, the way our bodies move together in perfect harmony. I’ll make you feel things you’ve never felt before, and you’ll beg for more. But it won’t just be about pleasure. I want to take care of you, hold you, protect you in ways you never knew you needed. I’ll show you what it means to truly be loved, to be craved, to be desired—not just for your body but for everything that makes you who you are. I’ll explore your body and your mind, learning everything there is to know about you. And when I touch you, you’ll know it’s not just about the moment—it’s about creating something lasting, something deep and unbreakable. With every touch, every kiss, I’ll make you feel mine in ways no one else can. I am waiting for you. I long for the day we can finally be together, when I can hold you close and claim you completely. Until then, know that you are in my thoughts, in my dreams, and you always will be.

Forever yours

Your future person

Post date: 21st of Dec- 2024 / Sat

* Feedback is appreciated

[bunny-jpeg]

Hi bunny, I'm obsessed with your writing, it's scratching a part of my brain I didn't know could be scratched. Anyway I love it and was wondering if any millionaire shortcake, s'mores, pots de crème and whatever's on the house could be served by Max Verstappen please?

Love <33

bakery menu!!

want to suggest your own order? then check out the menu! i've been slowly getting through the prompts! this has been a fun little one to write! and thank you, thank you for loving my writing. sometimes it's hard to put into my head that people read me work because it's just me in my room haha, so thank you!!

millionaire shortcake: "if they saw you now, you'd be the biggest shame to your family." + s'more: "The accent gets to you, doesn't it?" + pots de crème: "if a picture is worth a thousand words, then i could probably get a million dollars for this photo." + on the house: author's choice! (root beer: filming/recording) served by max vestappen (formula one)!!

tags: smut/pwp, leclerc!reader, motorhome sex, rough sex, filming/recording, dirty talk, clothed sex

max looked at you from across the paddock, you were happily chatting with one of the mechanics. max knew you were taking engineering in school, after all racing was in your blood. you were the sister of charles leclerc, the only daughter out of four children.

and after a particularly rough weekend, max verstappen, wanted a little revenge. and while he was a little old for childish pranks towards charles. he was old enough to fuck the only leclerc daughter. as you ended up further through the paddock, your curious gaze was trying to find your brother max soon caught up with you.

a possessive arm got around your shoulder and you yelped. but then relaxed when it was just max. you exhaled deeply and smiled softly, an innocent kind of smile, "max! you scared me." you trusted max, you always did!

you had made the assumption in your head that max was going to shepherd you back to your brother. but, instead you were led further away from where he could possibly be. out of ferrari territory and right in red bull's. he guided you with a hand on the small of your back like a lover. his neck craned towards you as if he was going to kiss you.

"where's char, max?" you asked as you held the front of max's shirt. instead he just kissed you on the face.

"we'll wait in the red bull motorhome. you'll be safe there, treasure." he smiled at you. his voice soft, inviting. revenge coursed through him as he brought you up the steps of the home for the weekend.

his hands were on you a little more intimately once you got inside. you stumbled through the doorway and max pressed his clothed erection up against your behind, "the leclerc's pride and joy. the stray from the pack. you became an engineer and you made them proud. but if they saw you now." he flipped up the tennis skirt your wore and he was greeted with simple blue panties, "you'd be the greatest shame to your family." you were loved by your family and you always thought family was important. but, max's words burned in your minds and took nest in a deeper, darker part of you.

letting your brother's rival fuck the day lights out of you.

"max." you swallowed as he firmly grasped your throat. not enough to bruise but enough to keep you still.

"the accent gets you, doesn't it?" he asked lowly as he rubbed up against you. he thought he'd need to give you the princess treatment and give you a bed. but you quickly ended up over the couch. your blouse was unbuttoned and hung off your shoulders and your panties down your soft thighs.

if charles was a devil on the track, then you were the balance of light. an angel that max was going to ruin.

max admired your soaked cunt for a moment as he palmed himself through his jeans. he licked his lips, and said as he got behind you on the couch, "you look good like this. bent over for me. your little private school probably didn't teach you how to be a good slut. good thing i'm here, because i'll teach you everything."

you moaned as max teased your cunt with his fingers for a moment before he licked the wetness off of them. he undid his belt soon after and got his cock out of his pants. he knew he if he was a better man, he would have no grabbed his phone from his pocket and recorded him slotting his heavy cock into your needy little cunt.

he asked, "how does it feel?"

if a picture is worth a thousand words, then he could probably get a million dollars from the photo. the one he took of your cunt taking his cock beautifully. it made him lick his lips as he started to move against you.

his thrusts were strong and quickly he built up the pace. he was only encouraged by your slutty moans. you sounded like you loved cock. and who was max to deny you that. of course he'd fuck your sweet cunt with everything he got! and let filthy words tumble off his tongue as he worked your achy sex.

"i bet you were popular for all the wrong reason. not because of your smarts of your humor. no, you were popular because you gave it up so easily." max knew that wasn't true. you were notoriously monogamous, it was just words that scratched an itch. but don't worry you're little head, with the slice of heaven that max was feeling. he'd happily fuck you any day of the week.

you fueled his lust, simple as that. now it was your job to satisfy it. as his rough jeans rubbed against your behind with rough movements. he made you feel a pleasurable heat all over.

"i bet you knew exactly how to make the boys squirm. you have a pussy that could be called addictive. i was going to fuck you to blow off steam but now... i know why your brothers wanted you away from the track. you're not but a distraction."

you swallowed and felt the surge through your body. your pulse was quickened and your clothes stuck to your sweaty skin. you had no idea what max had planned for the future. you were his now. he wasn't going to give up having sex with you and let someone else have the chance. not lando, or lance, or anyone else. no one else could stake a claim while he was pushed inside of you.

you groaned through a tense jaw as he continued to hit against the right places. he made you shudder and squirm in all the right ways. you clutched onto the couch as he continued to fuck you with a quick thrusts that made you need more.

"fuck, more! please!" your noises were so sweet that max couldn't help but record them as he fucked you. he caught sight of how lovely, simply lovely, you took his cock. you fit perfectly against him.

you were just a little treat as he continued. he knew he wasn't going to last much longer.

"it feels good." you gasped as he fucked you. his pace was quick and near erratic. he fucked you with purpose and it left you seeing stars at every chance. he was obsessed with you and you needed him in return. you knew you were close, you heavily panted against the white leather of the couch while he crammed every inch inside of you. he made sure your sweet cunt was filled to the max with him. his cock hit against you and it made you whine for more.

"you feel amazing, fuck, your pussy is amazing." he shuddered and pushed you further up against the couch. your noises, he gripped onto your hips tightly and bounced you up against his cock.

with a few more thrusts, you arched your back. you came around his cock which only made him move faster. he worked his aching cock into you.

"fuck, max!" you yelped and grasped tightly. you felt the after shudders of orgasm. you sounded beautiful and let him just fuck you with a feverish pace.

max was close behind you. he finished inside of you soon after. a few more heavy thrusts and he was spent. he held onto your hips for a moment longer as he slowed to a stop. he kissed your clothed back and rocked against you a few more times before he pulled out. a beady strain of cum connected you two. just as he liked it.

"how was that?" he asked as he pulled out and got his cock back into his jeans. he felt good as he watched you try to collect yourself.

you replied through heavy pants, "really fucking good."

-

"there you are." you heard your brother's voice as you walked through the paddock with max close by. charles took you by the shoulders and away from max, "where did you go?"

you swallowed as you could feel max's cum against the cotton of your panties. you then chuckled as your brother pulled you in for a tight hug, "i think i just got lost. but! max was here to help me." you looked over to the other man.

charles smiled at his long time rival, "thanks, mate." he had zero clue what max did to you. your brother slapped you on the back lovingly, "let's get back towards our end so we can get ready for dinner." then gave max one last look before you both left.

max eyed your behind as you walked away. he wondered for a moment, which school did you go to and how easily could get there. <3

[eevees-hobbies]

Suo , Kaji and Umemiya are the type to grind your pussy on their crotch while making out , methinks ...

I’m feral. It’s 6AM, and I am READY, Megumi!!!

Ok, but can we truly analyze this??? Because these men have three distinct personalities so I truly feel in my vagina of vaginas that they do it with different intentions. Let’s talk about it.

Content Warning: Making out, teasing, being called a brat, heavy petting, dry humping, it’s smut! Minors Do Not Interact.

Hayato Suo grinds your pussy against his crotch while making out because he revels in teasing you. Suo isn’t enjoying himself unless he’s drawing out your pleasure, making you beg in your sweet, whiny voice that he has come to love personally, ripping from your throat. His headstrong, badass girl is brought to tears from friction and kissing? How cute. No amount of begging for more of him will save you.

“Now, where’s the fun in that? We’ve only just gotten started.”

You, in fact, have not just gotten started, but that’s a non-issue for Suo.

So while his hand is pressed against the back of your head, tongue in your mouth, with you laying flush against his chest where you fit perfectly like lock and key, he’s giving you slow, drawn-out rolls of his hips. Your core squeezes almost painfully every time you feel his hand press down against the small of your back, and he drags himself against your essence-dressed panties. 

And the contrast between you, who is panting, sweating, and groaning from a simple make-out and dry humping session, to him, who still looks perfectly put together, unbothered, and like he can keep doing this for hours, will have you feeling a little panicked—because Suo is nothing but patient.

But don’t worry, Suo just has a really good poker face. If you read him, which you can because you’re a clever girl, you’ll feel the occasional grumble of his chest when you bite his lip, and when he grinds against you, you’ll feel something so ridiculously hard, and is that a wet spot in his pants? 

Because Suo is still a man, after all. A man who is deliriously infatuated with you. And he can only be kept at bay for so long until that mask slips, and somewhere along during the making out and grinding, your panties and his boxers have disappeared, and he’s now guiding your heat-radiating, drooling mess of a cunt onto his throbbing dick.

“S-see? Doesn’t it feel so much better, o-oh god…when we wait, my love?”

Hajime Umemiya grinds your pussy against his crotch while making out because every part of him needs to come in contact with every part of you at all times. Umemiya loves a good, passionate makeout session. The taste of you? His favorite thing.

So when you’re sitting on the couch, and he pulls you in his lap, pressing firm lips against yours, lips that communicate their innate and irrevocable desire for you, who are you to refuse? 

And I’m sure I don’t have to tell you this, but Ume is an amazing kisser. His kisses always start deeply sensual, lips slotted against yours, moving languidly in between gentle words of affirmation.

“I’ve missed you so much.”

“You look so beautiful today.” 

“Your hair looks so pretty. Let me mess it up a little?” 

And unlike Suo, Umemiya doesn’t wear a mask to hide how much you affect him. He wears his desire for you on his sleeve and carries it like a badge of honor. 

Don’t get me wrong, you have a lot of power here. When you suck on his tongue, he’s moaning unabashedly into your mouth. When you slide your fingers into his coiffed hair and pull it at the roots, he’s shivering against your touch.

But Umemiya is still a big, powerful man who allows you to have control—until he doesn’t want you to anymore. 

Eventually, he’ll become so engrossed and taken over by how you make him feel that you’ll notice two firm hands gripping your hips in a way that makes it hard to move. You won’t have much range of motion as he drags his clothed cock against the seat of your panties.

Luckily for you, you don’t have to wait long to have Ume inside of you because torturing you is also torturing himself—and Ume can’t say no to you. If at any point you tell him that you need him, he’s nodding feverishly in agreement because:

“Y-yeah, I need you too, baby girl.” 

“Here, let’s just slip these panties to the side and-“

“Fuuuuck, ah, I better…give me a second, ok?” 

“I a-almost lost control there.”

Ren Kaji grinds your pussy against his crotch while making out because he likes to torture you both. 

While the previous two would grind you with clothes on, you and Kaji are both naked, lying side-by-side in each other's arms. He’s holding your face firmly in place with a well-placed hand gripping your chin, full-opened mouth kissing and allowing you to lick at his canines. 

And you’d think it would be just so easy to wrap a leg around his waist, shift yourself a little bit, and then slip him inside you.

But do you really want to face the wrath of Kaji? I mean, maybe you do because you’re into that, but while it might sound tempting, it may not give you the desired result.

“You brat. You’re going to have to work for it before I fuck you.”

So, let’s pretend you don’t do that. You’re just going to have to come to terms with the fact that Kaji is nibbling on your bottom lip as he slides his dick in between your puffy pussy lips, groaning from the heat, the feeling of your sensitive clit rubbing along the vein of his cock and having the power to slide inside of you—something you both desperately want—but denying you regardless.

“I’m not gonna put it in until she’s drooling on it, bratty girl.”

Say less, Kaji. 

Because the way he’s pinching your folds together and jutting his cock between them has your cream lathering up every inch of him. And you’ll think you’ve won because he’s finally pushing the fat tip of his cock inside of you, stretching your aching little hole around the bulbous head—but then, with a hiss from him and a whine from you, he’s pulling out and repeating the motion, reveling in that sound. 

The wet, gooey sound that happens when you slowly press a dick inside a creamy pussy over and over. It’s a sound that makes Kaji lose his mind, a sound that almost has him saying fuck it, and stuffing you up to the hilt of his cock. Almost.

“F-fuck, I love that sound. Do you hear that? You’re so wet for me.”

“Stop complaining, and let me put the tip in for a little longer.”

Amazing idea @melancholymegumi

[astrocafecoffee]

💫Your future spouse's career based on your Juno persona chart 💫

✨ For entertainment purposes only. Enjoy.✨

🌜what to check?

- just check your Industria (389) asteroid in your Juno persona chart.Find out in which house it falls in!!

Why this asteroid?

- Juno persona chart tells about your future spouse and Industria(389) asteroid is a long term career related asteroid. So this asteroid in your juno persona chart can give a insight about your future spouse's career.

🌜SOME SHORT TERMS I USED HERE :

- FS = FUTURE SPOUSE

-JPC = JUNO PERSONA CHART

Leshh go!

🌆 Industria in 1st house of JPC : 1st house represent one's identity, personality and how they present themselves to the world.This asteroid in 1st house suggests that their career may be tied to their personal identity and innovative spirit. Now some possible career of your fs-

*Entrepreneurial scientist - they may excel in entrepreneurial pursuits within the scientific community. They may innovate new technologies, products that have a significant impact in their field.

* Industry leader - they maybe known for their innovative idea and proactive attitude to their work. They can easily be a leader of their respective industry.

* visionary consultant - they may excel in their field as a respectful advisor, who offers solutions to businesses or individuals seeking guidance.

* Creative director- career in creative leadership such as creative director in advising, film, fashion, or design.

* makeup artist

* Model

* engeneering

* design/ work in media.

🌆 Industria in 2nd house of JPC : Their career may be closely related to their values resources, managing or utilising assets and their sense of stability. Some possible career of your fs -

* wealth management specialist - they helps individuals or organizations maximize their financial resources and investments through innovative and strategic approach.

* Creative Financial analyst - specialised in creative or innovative analysis methods.

* Financial innovator- innovates new financial products, services or strategies.

* asset manager

* Entrepreneurial investor

* can sing well

* accountant

🌆 Industria in 3rd house of JPC : 3rd house represents one's communication style, mental persuits, and interaction within immediate environment. When this asteroid in your 3rd house this can indicate that your fs may excel in the career of innovative communication methods or technologies. Some possible career of your fs -

* They may into journalism, media, broadcasting, or public relations where someone uses their creative ideas.

* technology writer/ blogger: their career path may involve writing / blogging about technologies or industry trends or sharing their ideas with wide audience.

* Workshop/ educational outreach programs.

* small business owner

* excel in troubleshooting skills, problem solving abilities, explaining complex concepts in simple terms.

🌆 Industria in 4th house of JPC : their career tied to their home , family roots, and emotional well-being.some possible career of your fs -

* career in real estate - specialize in designing sustainable, eco friendly, or technologically advanced buildings.

* e- commerce, consulting, freelance work.

* Family councillor or therapist - they may help individuals and families navigate challenges, fostering harmony and growth within te hone environment.

* interior designer

* Home renovation specialist

* Family owned business owner.

* childcare provider

🌆 Industria in 5th house of JPC : 5th house is associated with creativity,joy, children and hobbies. It governs one's individual approach to work, self expression and personal fulfillment. So your fs career strongly related to this area of life. Possible careers -

* creative artist/ entertainer - Excels in creative profession like music , theater , film, writing etc.

* event planer- organizing wedding, festivals or social gathering.

* teacher/ coach - inspiring or guiding others in academic subject/ sports.

* youth councillor - natural affinity to work with young people and helping them to discover their talents.

* atrs nd crafts business owner.

* fitness instructor

* dance teacher

* entertainment industry professional.

🌆 Industria in 6th house of JPC : 6th house is associated with employment, daily task, health and service to others. So possible career of your fs -

* health care professionals - career related to healthcare, nursing, doctor, medicine, and pharmacy.

* nutritionist/ dietician - helping others to improve their dietary habits , manage health condition.

* fitness trainer/ coach - motivates others to adopt healthy lifestyle.

* administrative professional - may indicate talent for efficiency, attention to detail, making career in administrative or office management appealing.

* environmental scientist

* social worker

* reasearch assistant

🌆 Industria in 7th house of JPC : 7th house is related to marriage, buisness partnership, legal matters, and one-on-one interactions. Possible career domains of your fs-

*legal professional - career related as mediators, legal consultant, specialization in areas such as contrat law , family law or dispute resolution.

* business consultant - expertise in the area of strategy, negotiation, and partnership development.

* marriage and family therapist - helping couples navigate challenges, improve communication and strengthen their bonds through therapy or councilling sessions.

* international business manager

* foreign affair specialist

* event coordinator

*public relation specialist

* human resources manager

🌆 Industria in 8th house of JPC : 8th house is associated with themes such as mysteries, psychology, healing, emotional connection. So possible careers of your fs -

* psychologist/ psychotherapist - your fs may excel in trauma therapy, helping others to navigate profound emotional experiences , uncover hidden truth.

* forensic investigator/ crime analyst- they may be focused on uncovering hidden truths and solving mysteries.

*massage therapist - specialize in modalities such as deep tissue massage, craniosacral therapy or helping clients release emotional/ physical tension through healing.

* reasearch scientist - may excel in fields such as psychology, quantum physics, or consciousness studies.

* occultist - astrologer, tarot reader, or spiritual councillors.

* healer/ energy worker

* heal others through their respective fields. Can be. Singer too .

🌆 Industria in 9th house of JPC: 9th house is associated with themes such as higher learning, expansion of horizons , seeking truth, broadening one's perspective through travel/ exploration. Possible careers of your fs -

* international relations specialist - involve promoting international cooperation, resolving conflicts, forming mutual understanding between nations and cultures.

* spiritual teacher/ guru- your fs may pursue careers as spiritual teachers, gurus, mentors, guiding others on their spiritual journey.

* tour guide

* philosopher

* religious leader - may pursue careers as priests, ministers, guiding and supporting communities in matters of faith and spiritual growth.

* global NGO worker

* foreign language teacher

🌆 Industria in 10th house of JPC: 10th house is associated with themes such as career aspirations, social status, reputation, and professional achievements. This asteroid influences the individual's approach to career, public image, authority, ambition. So possible careers of your fs -

* media personality/ influencer - television hosts , journalist, bloggers, social media influencer , reaching a wide audience.

* creative director/ artist - artist, designer, performers.

* CEO

* startup founder, business owner, or self employed professionals.

* legal professional/ lawyer

* educational administrator

🌆 Industria in 11th house of JPC: when your industria asteroid in this house your fs may excel in the career of social network, group affiliation, humanitarian causes, collaboration etc. So possible careers of your fs -

* social entrepreneur - creates innovative solutions to adress social challenges.

* Tech entrepreneur, start-up founder.

* content creator - social media influencers, bloggers, using their platforms to inspire/ educate peoples.

* environment activist

* advocate

* community organizer

* designing educational platforms , or promoting digital literacy.

🌆 Industria in 12th house of JPC: 12th house is often associated with hidden strengths, spirituality, and working behind the scenes. So possible careers of your fs -

* they might work in reserch and development, data analysis or logistical planning behind the scenes.

* astro- spiritual researcher

* music industry

* astrologer

*song writer.

* mystical or spiritual advisor.

* environmental conservationist.

⚡ Note : these are only some possibilities of careers of your fs. And guys check the degrees to , it's like cheery on top 💌

🌜Don't forget to check my other observations too 👀

That's it guys , see you soon 💝

- piko 💖

[harrysfolklore]

vogue beauty secrets - jacob elordi blurb

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

YN's Guide to Glowing Skin and Easy Everyday Makeup

"Hey everyone, It's YN," you said as you stood in your bathroom, face bare of any products and a comfortable top on, "I'm going to be talking you through my skincare routine and my everyday makeup look."

"Just so you guys know, it's really early over here," you said as you took out your products from your skincare bag, "My boyfriend is still sleeping I think," you smiled at the mention of him, "You might know him from his bathwater in the movie Saltburn, I don't know if you're familiar with that."

Playfully talking about each other in interviews was a really common thing for both of you and Jacob to do, and fans absolutely loved it.

"So first things first, gotta cleanse the face," you showed your cleanser to the camera and then applied it to your face smoothly and washed it off, "Now this face mask, has gotten me more compliments about my skin than anything else I've ever used, even Jacob is obsessed with it and steals it from me all the time," you couldn't help but mention him again, "So I will do a generous amount, which is like pea size for me."

You applied the face mask all over your face and waited 15 minutes to take it off and move on to your makeup.

"Before applying any makeup, we need to put sunscreen on," you showed the bottle to the camera, "I never leave the house without this, I have one in my bag at all times. It's so important."

You rubbed the product all over your face, making sure to cover every inch of your skin correctly.

"So, let's start," you grabbed your makeup bag and took your foundation out, "I'm obsessed with this illuminous silk foundation, I discovered one time I visited Jacob on the Euphoria set and I saw the makeup artists using it, it has been my go to ever since."

You grabbed your pink beauty blender and gently applied the foundation on your face, getting closer to the camera to show the process better.

"I learned how to do my makeup by watching how other people did it," you said as you applied the product on your nose, "I think I've gotten very good at it, or at least I would like to believe so."

"Now, It's time for concealer," you showed the product to the camera, "We're running low people, someone might be stealing some from me," you said as you tried to grab the most product you could and applied it under your eyes, "Okay, concealer is done, now let's do some contour."

Just as you grabbed your brush to apply the contour, you heard some noises coming from the bedroom, "Guys I think Jacob just woke up," you said as you moved the brush around your face, "So we have to be very quiet so he doesn't crash my video, okay?"

You heard the bedroom door open and some footsteps down the stairs, and you guessed that Jacob was looking for you in the kitchen.

"Alright, contour is done," you continued in a hushed tone, "Now, let's move on to blush." You picked up a peachy blush and lightly applied it to the apples of your cheeks, blending it out with your fingers. "I love this blush because it gives such a natural flush to the cheeks, perfect for everyday wear."

Next, you reached for a neutral eyeshadow palette and selected a soft brown shade. "For my everyday makeup look, I like to keep it simple on the eyes," you explained as you applied the eyeshadow to your lids, blending it into the crease. "Just a wash of color so I don't look completely dead."

"Now, for my favorite part - mascara," you exclaimed as you held up a mascara tube, "I think mascara is a game-changer. It instantly opens up your eyes and makes you look more awake."

You applied a few coats of mascara to your lashes, making sure to cover from the roots to the tips.

"YN?" you heard Jacob's voice calling for you, making you instantly laugh.

"I don't know if you guys heard, but Jacob is calling for me," you said as you checked your mascara in the mirror, "Let's ignore him until he figures out I'm here."

"Now, last but not least, lips," you said as you grabbed a nude lipstick. "I like to keep it natural with a nude shade for everyday wear." You applied the lipstick to your lips, finishing off the look.

Just on cue as you applied the last touched of lipstick, you heard the bedroom door creak open behind you. You turned around to see Jacob standing in the doorway, rubbing his eyes sleepily.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," you greeted him with a smile, trying to stifle a giggle at his sleepy state.

"Morning, love," Jacob blinked a few times, trying to wake up fully, "What are you up to?"

"I'm filming a skincare and makeup video for Vogue," you explained, motioning to the camera set up on the counter. "I was just finishing up, actually."

Jacob walked over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder to look at the camera.

"Oh, am I interrupting?" he asked, glancing at the camera with a devilish grin.

"Just a little," you chuckled, "But it's okay, you can join if you want."

"Nah, I'll let you finish," Jacob leaned in and pressed a kiss to your cheek, "I'll just be in the background, quietly judging your makeup skills," he teased, earning a playful swat from you.

"Hey, I'll have you know, I've gotten pretty good at this," you said, pretending to be offended.

"I know, I know," Jacob laughed, planting another kiss on your cheek, "You always look beautiful, even without makeup," he said sweetly.

You couldn't help but smile at his words, feeling a warm flutter in your chest. "Thank you, babe, you're really sappy," you replied softly, turning to give him a quick kiss.

"I'll let you finish your video. I'll make us some breakfast," he called out as he disappeared from view.

"Well, it looks like I've got breakfast waiting for me," you turned back to the camera, a smile still lingering on your lips, "I better wrap this up," you said to the camera, giving a little wave. "Thanks for watching, and thank you Vogue for having me, I hope some of this beauty tips are helpful for all of you. Bye!"