#and steaming milk is like in muscle memory for me

[dokyeomini]

all my co-workers are so fucking nice fr 🥹🩷

[hier--soir]

heart to heart

john price x f!reader

rating: explicit, 18+ mdni summary: john takes you away for the weekend, and nestled in a cottage on the countryside, you show him just how much you've been missing him. warnings/tags: long term boyfriend!john, john price never finishes his cigars, explicit smut, a little body worship, oral [m receiving], fingering [f], unprotected piv sex, multiple orgasms [m], some overstim [m], come eating x2, brief cock warming, idiots in love, porn with minimal plot. word count: 4.4k masterlist a/n: this was born out of me being physically unable to stop thinking about that middle picture being john price, so here we go follow @hier--soirupdates if you’d like to be notified when i share my writing

It hasn’t rained in six days.

Late autumn spins the countryside in its grasp; a warm cloak that sends the leaves golden and the grass dewy. In a small, unfamiliar kitchen you drop teabags into mugs and gaze out the window. Admire the vast acreage that surrounds the cottage, and the marshland beyond that.

The early morning rays are bright and cool, turning the cabinets a washy yellow colour around you as you wait for the kettle to boil.

Everything is quiet, calm. If you listen closely, past the sound of birds chirping and water bubbling, you can hear John’s heavy snores down the hall; still catching up on sleep after a long few weeks away.

When he came through the front door two nights ago, you’d been quietly surprised to see him home so soon. After not hearing much for almost a month, you’d resigned yourself to getting on with things in his absence. A fairly covert operation, you knew, so you’d spent your days waking to an empty house. Working and eating and showering alone and never exceeding the appropriate number of messages you could send him in one day without stirring worry. Little Angus with his long orange tail and his soft whiskers your only company in John’s stead.

Home at last, he’d wrestled out of his heavy boots and draped himself over where you lay on the couch. Soap opera long forgotten on the tele, he’d slipped an arm around the back of your head, held you to his chest and said, Let me take you somewhere.

The kettle whistles and you pluck it from the stove, still smiling at the memory. Douse the teabags in boiled water and watch as the windows cloud with steam. You leave his black, just the way he likes it, but soften your own with sugar and milk. Your toes are numb against the cool tile, and you rub them against your calf in search of warmth. Inside, your body is at sleepy old war with itself. One half longing to be back in bed, or perhaps to have not gotten up at all yet; the other half taking great pleasure in the mundanity of doing things like this for him again, after so long of not. Tap tap tap of an impatient finger against the counter until his tea turns the perfect colour, and then you’re on your way back to the room.

Leant amongst paisley patterned pillows and white linens, John looks a little out of place knuckling sleep from the corner of his eyes. A little too rough around the edges, too big, too hardened for such soft surroundings. In your brief absence, he’s drawn the curtains and nudged the window beside the bed open a crack. A long arm stretches out toward the sill, ashing a cigar onto the small dish he’s balanced there.

Naked as the day he was born, he lifts the cigar to his lips and blinks drowsily at you. Stretches his legs out, the muscles in his thighs straining, curled toes skimming the end of the bed. Eyes wandering, you kick the door shut with your foot and slink to the end of the bed, holding out his mug.

“’Morning,” he murmurs, voice still thick with sleep. Accepts the tea with a soft smile, the skin beside his eyes crinkling as he watches you crawl in beside him. Hands full, he twists an ankle around yours, face pulling up at the feel of your cold skin against his. “Jesus, you’re like ice. I’ll shut the window.”

“Don’t move,” you hush, nestling your head against his shoulder. “You’re right where I want you.”

John laughs softly, warm body vibrating against yours. “Is that right, sweetheart?”

“Mhm.” You watch him tap his cigar against the dish, sipping your tea and trailing fingers through the dark hairs on his stomach. Enjoy the way his body draws tense beneath your cool touch, goose flesh sprouting across his skin. “Middle of nowhere… unfamiliar town… no one will ever find you. You’re all mine out here, Price.”  

“M’all yours everywhere,” he says, abandoning his cigar in the dish so he can tug on the neckline of your—his—t-shirt. “This proves it, yeah?”

“I suppose,” you smile, lifting your mug to hide behind a sip. He watches you move, calculating and quiet as he sips his own tea. You fidget beneath the intensity of his stare, painfully aware of how well he knows you. That your want, your need, must be painted across every inch of your face.

“Love you in my clothes, sweetheart, I do.” John’s fingers curl beneath the hem of the shirt then, rough callouses tickling over your collarbones. “But you’re makin’ me feel awful naked.”

Heat flares in the base of your stomach and you chuckle, matching smirks splashed across your faces as you sit up and drag the shirt over your head. He watches as you flick it to the floor, gaze darkening as he looks over your body, focusing on the thin grey panties that cover the skin between your thighs. A thick arm curls around your waist, tugging you back onto him, and as you settle there his fingers slip down to fiddle with the band of your underwear.

“Cute,” he comments airily, middle finger dropping under the band to caress the skin beneath it.

Mug discarded off the side of the bed, you put both hands to his stomach now. Tickling his soft skin, playing with the hair there as you lean in and press a kiss to the centre of his chest. And then another, and another, with John simply humming, palm flattening against the small of your back to hold you against his side.

Your lips part, tongue dancing lazily against his nipple. Soft strokes until the flesh is stiffening and you’re practically purring against his skin, drifting across to the other one. You hear the soft clink of his mug hitting the side table, and then John’s hand falls against the back of your head. Thick fingers twist through your hair, playing as you kiss and lick over his collarbones, and the little tugs he gives have a low throb starting up between your legs.

“Feelin’ needy this mornin’, hey lovey?” John asks. His fingers come to the front of your face, cupping your jaw and forcing you to look up at him. Big blue eyes watch you pout, cheeks squished between his fingers as you nod.

“I missed you,” you say, turning to press your nose into his palm and inhale the smell of him.

His eyes soften, and all sense of teasing seems to slip out the window. “I know, sweetheart, m’sorry. Come here’n give us a kiss.”

His lips are soft against yours. Warm, and familiar, with a hint of Darjeeling. Pulling you up to straddle his waist, he coaxes your chest down against his and huffs into your mouth at the feel of your nipples against his skin, teeth sneaking out to smart at your bottom lip.

“Thought about you every day,” he mumbles against your lips. “Missed you every second, love, always do.”

You feel something hot and sharp spark behind your eyelids at those words, and flick your tongue against the seam of his lips, pushing it away, not now not now. You go soft and pliant against him; let him guide you through the kiss, coaxing your mouth open with his long tongue as his fingers dance down your spine. When his hand reaches the round of your ass he grips your flesh there, kneading it between his fingers and pushing down so your clothed cunt comes flush with his cock.

“Feel that?” John says, pulling away an inch to nose at your cheek. His cock is heavy between your legs, thick and stiff where it presses against the gusset of your panties. You gasp as he rocks his hips up, grinding against you until the damp fabric slips between your slick folds and rubs over your clit. “That’s how much I missed you, sweetheart.”

As he talks, the hairs on his moustache prickle against your lips, and you find yourself opening your mouth. Breathy moans spill as you roll your hips against his, lathing hot opened mouthed kisses over his jaw.

“Looked at your picture every night,” he continues raggedly, breath hitching as you suck at the hollow of his throat. His cock twitches against you, the slide only getting smoother as more slick spills into your panties. “Thought about comin’ home ‘n’ never leavin’ again, just so I could play with this pretty little cunt whenever I like.”

Your hips stutter into his and you whine, a tiny glimpse of an orgasm fluttering through you just from those words.

“S’yours,” you whisper against his skin, the words he spoke moments before dancing through your mind. “All yours everywhere.”

Faster than he can stop you, you’re slipping off his lap and settling beside him on the bed. Continuing the onslaught, you lick hot, messy kisses over the skin of his neck, across the broad span of his shoulders.

“My big man,” you say tenderly, fingers itching their way across his chest. You skirt your teeth down the middle of his sternum, squeaking a little when he murmurs in enjoyment and presses a hand to your ass again. “I missed your body so much.”

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“Yeah.”

“Show me then,” he goads lightly, grunting around a smirk when you sink your teeth into the soft flesh over his ribs in response.

His fingers toy with the material of your panties as you drag your tongue over the dip of his belly button, and when you kiss the soft curve of his lower stomach, nose buried in the dark hairs above it, you feel him grip the fabric tight. You can see his cock in your peripheral vision. Swollen and heavy against his hip now. The tip has turned a pretty shade of dark pink, accented by little streaks of white where pre-come oozes from his slit and glides down his throbbing shaft. With your mouth on his belly, you reach out and wrap your fingers around him.

“Fuck,” John grunts, head lolling back against the pillows.

You smile, stroking him slowly as you drag your nose through his thick happy trail, all the way down to nuzzle against the dark thatch of curls above his base. Insistent now, his fingers push beneath the edge of your panties and drag through your slick seam.

You whimper, forehead resting heavily against his skin as he slides two fingers through the wet mess of you. Lewd sounds of your arousal fill the room as John traces featherlight circles around your clit, and your face heats against his stomach, fingers returning to their lazy pace around his length.

The throb between your legs has become a second heartbeat now, so strong that you’re sure he must feel it beneath his fingertips. If he does, he just sighs softly. Lets the thrumming of your cunt sync with the pulse in his fingertips, heart to heart, and murmurs low encouragements as you tilt your head to the side and begin mouthing at his cock.

“Missed my cock.” Your voice is low and unfamiliar in your ears, mouth overrun with desire and spilling your guts before you can stop it. “So pretty, John…”

Circling your entrance with a thick finger, he just says, “I know, love, s’yours. Go on.”

As slow as you can bring yourself to be, you lay gentle kisses down the entire length of him. Wetting your lips and gliding them over his warm, silken skin, before dipping lower and sucking his balls between your lips. A harsh grunt sounds behind you, and, as if in retaliation, he sinks two thick fingers inside you. You moan around his sensitive skin, holding his balls in your mouth and jerking him off until he’s trembling beneath you, broad thighs straining as he tries to hold himself together.

“That’s good, love,” he murmurs softly, almost speaking to himself as he curls his fingers inside you, humming when you grind into his hand. “Need ta get my fuckin’ mouth on you.”

But you just shake your head. Let his balls slip from your mouth with a soft pop before sticking out your tongue and guiding the weeping tip of his cock towards your mouth. Hasty, too needy for your own good, you slip your lips around him and try to take him deep on the first pass. Out of practice after weeks away, your throat constricts and you choke a little around him. So big, so overbearing, you’re too eager to be filled by him that you push and push until you’re gagging and sputtering. Cheeks hot and eyes downturned, you draw back, skin prickling as you hear him say something past the rushing in your ears. Take a moment to catch your breath and ground yourself, fingers tight on his thigh as your tongue swirls around his tip.

“This what you missed then?” he’s saying, collecting your hair in his fist to keep it off your face. “Hm, missed bein’ all full of me?”

“Mhm,” you hum around him, pulling back with a gasp only to press his head against your cheek. Eyes closed, you rub his ruddy tip against your chin, your lips, painting your skin with his precome. Feel the weight of him warm your skin and sigh in quiet delight. And when he groans, exhaling a heavy, ragged breath, you press your mouth around him again, desperate to hear him make that sound over and over again.

“Easy, darlin’, lemme see you,” John chokes out, thumbing sliding over the apple of your cheek. “So pretty with your lips around my cock.”

Heat floods your chest, and you drool around him. The words seem to trigger something in your mind, some insatiable desire to please, to make him feel good, because you’re relaxing, sinking your mouth down further on him. A low, drawn-out curse falls from his lips, fingers curling in the hair behind your ear.

Gaudy sounds of sucking and slurping fill your ears, and you would be self-conscious if it weren’t for the way John’s growls met them in the air. Wordlessly, he slips a third digit inside and the stretch brings a dull burn that has your mouth slowing against him.

Your eyelids flutter as his thick fingers stroke at your walls, searching for the spot that makes you spill every time, but your wanton cries of desperation are muffled by the heavy weight of him on your tongue. In slow, measured movements, he begins to shift his hips in time with your head. Feeding his cock to you and grunting when he feels your throat go soft and easy around him, letting him slip further in until your nose buries in the hair at his base.

John watches you, the blue in his eyes almost entirely swallowed by desire fattened pupils. Rakes his gaze over the way your lips stretch around his thick cock, tears dancing on your lashes as you take him in your throat. The heady taste of him is intoxicating, and you can only hold his gaze for so long before your eyes are rolling back, stomach pulling tight as you swallow around him.

Stuffed to the brim with John, John, John. He’s everywhere, filling your mouth, your aching cunt; it sends your heart racing, thighs trembling as your orgasm begins to crest.

Molten heats swims in the base of your stomach, curling and bubbling there as he you ride his long fingers, moaning his name around his cock. But just as you feel everything begin to go tight and tingly, John’s pulling on your hair and dragging you off him.

A thin strand of spit dangles between his tip and your mouth and he snarls at the sight, swiping his thumb across your bottom lip.

“Fuck, c’mere,” he huffs, squeezing insistently at your shoulders. “Wanna feel you on my cock when you come for me, yeah?”

Mind a hazy blur, you let the weight of him fall from your mouth, the hinge of your jaw still burning as you peel your underwear down your legs and spread yourself over his lap. John doesn’t pull his hand away though. No, he keeps his fingers between your legs, pumping them in and out, slowly, as you hover over his cock.

“My girl,” he says, eyes focusing on where the puffy lips of your cunt almost touch his cock. “My filthy, sweet girl.”

“John,” you puff his name, abdomen tensing when he rubs his thumb against your clit. Balanced on your knees and the tips of your toes, your legs shake a bit. Fingers dance forward to touch his shoulder, desperate for an anchor.

You frown a little, swollen lips parted in a torturous mix of desire and confusion, but he just offers a filthy grin and says, “Tell me you missed me again.”   

“Oh, fuck off,” you smart instinctually, lips twitching when he barks a laugh and slips his fingers from your wet clutch, grasp drifting to your waist. “Please.”  

“There she is,” he rumbles, jaw tensing as you glide his tip through your folds, coating him in your slick. A heavy rush of air spills from his nose. “My impatient girl.”

Once he’s got you on his cock, it doesn’t take long for you to fall apart.  

He lets you keep having it your way for a bit. Watches, gaze heavy, as you bounce on his cock, hands gripping his shoulders for leverage. You squirm on him, face twisted up as you adjust to the thick stretch of him after so long. It burns and aches between your thighs, but you can’t help but keep coming back for more, sinking down on his length faster each time. He tilts his head forward to suck one of your nipples into his mouth, moaning against the plush of your breast when you arch your back, crying out at the feeling of his teeth on the sensitive bud.

After a while he slots his greedy lips against yours. Presses hot, sucking kisses to your mouth, swallowing down every gasp and moan that crawls its way up your chest. The bristles of his facial hair scratch at your cheeks, your nose, and you love it. Have desperately missed the way it warms your skin as he presses his tongue inside your mouth and tastes behind your teeth.

Using his hold on your hips, he rolls you against his lap. Meets you thrust for thrust until you start to soak his length, jaw going slack as he growls into your open mouth.

“Fuckin’ hell, love, that’s it,” John groans, fingers tightening on your waist as your cunt pulls tight and hot around him. Thighs shaking, you let your forehead fall against his chest and ride out the flood of your orgasm. “I know, darlin’, I know, I’ve got you.”

Fingers fly up to grip the back of your neck, his other arm snaking around your waist as he continues fucking up into you. His cock presses hot and heavy into that soft, gushy spot deep inside you and you shudder against him, helpless little moans slipping from your parted lips. Face smushed against his hairy chest, you drool a little. Feel it pool between his pecs and smear across your cheek as your eyes roll back, dopamine pounding in your veins as he pushes you relentlessly through the high.

“Gonna let me fill you up?” he’s panting, feet planted on the bed now as he bucks into you, hips stuttering as he sinks closer and closer to his end. “Fuck, I’m gonna make a right mess of you, darlin’. That’s it, lovey, show me that pretty face.”

“John,” you mewl, toes curling against the sheets. “Shit, oh shit.”   

“Christ,” he grunts when you meet his eyes, jaw pulled tight. “So tight, m’ gonna come—”

“Wait,” you mumble suddenly, senses sharpening despite the way your thighs still shake against his hips. John stills immediately, grip tightening on your waist. “In my mouth, I want you in my mouth.”

His face crumples at that, a guttural noise sputtering from his lips as you lift off him and slip down to rest between his legs. He nods, brushing hair back off your face as you sink your mouth down on him, slick tongue hungry on the underside of his pulsing cock. He mutters your name, tells you how perfect you feel as he rocks his hips forward, tip nudging the back of your throat with every careful thrust.

“My sweet girl, doing so good for me,” he breathes, a coy grin on his face and a firm hand at the base of your skull. He holds your head in place as he fucks your mouth with slow, steady strokes. Groans every time you swallow, warm wet throat drawing tight around his swollen head.

“Look at me, let me see those eyes,” he mutters urgently, tugging on your hair until you’re blinking, focusing blurry eyes on his face. He thumbs at the teary streaks on your cheeks and gives a rough, prolonged groan as he begins to spill down your throat. “Fuck, fuck.”

You bob your head as his cock twitches and jerks against your tongue, sucking until he’s filled your mouth with warm come and it starts seeping from the corner of your mouth, dribbling down his shaft. You catch the spill with your fingers, swallowing his thick spend down and then licking what’s left from your trembling hands.

John watches on, chest heaving, and tuts fondly when you whimper, head spinning with the salty taste of him on your tongue.

“Bloody hell,” he exhales after a moment, dragging his knuckles over his face. “We’re never goin’ home.”  

You laugh, drowsily nuzzling your cheek against the inside of his thigh as his cock softens against his stomach. John cards his fingers through your hair absentmindedly, legs still twitching and eyes drifting closed as he tries to catch his breath. Lips slick with spit and come, you lay soft pecks along his sweaty skin. Smile when he shudders, fingers tightening against your scalp, but doesn’t pull you off.

There’s a hot flush of red splashed across the skin of his neck, his cheekbones, and his stomach is still warm to the touch when you reach out to graze his soft flesh. Sated and sleepy, he wets his lips and continues to play with your hair. Lovingly curls strands of it around his fingers and tugs gently before letting go, only to pick a new strand and do it again.

Overcome with emotion, and unable to stop yourself, you lean forward and take his soft cock back into your mouth.

John hisses through his teeth in surprise, eyes flashing open.

You don’t do anything crazy yet. Just let him feel the warmth of your mouth around him, the soft glide of your tongue against the ridge around his head. When he doesn’t pull you off after a second, you give him a little suck. Not hard—just enough to make his hips flinch down into the mattress and his legs pull tight at your sides.  

“Fuck,” he exhales, face pinched. His hand trembles against your head. “Fu—hang on, fuckin’ hell, love.”

You peer up past his stomach to where his mouth hangs open and his eyes are shiny and wide. His nails scratch against your scalp. Needy little nudges that blur the line between too much and not enough. You hum in pleasure around him when a choked sound falls from his mouth. Feeling a little mean, though, you pull back, licking your lips and smiling apologetically.

“Sorry,” you murmur, face hot as you squeeze his thigh. “Just want to love on you a little longer, that’s all.”

He hums deep in his chest, brow creasing a little as he brings his big hands to cup your face. His thumb swipes at your chin, smearing the saliva there, and you part your lips for him. He makes a sort of pained sound as he slots the digit into your mouth and watches you hollow out your cheeks out around it, swirling your tongue and sucking like you’d done to his cock just moments ago.

“Christ,” John breathes. Something needy and desperate glints in his eye, and he slips his finger from your mouth. Grips the back of your neck and gives a short nod. “Gonna be the death of me, ain’tcha?”

Guided by his hand, you take him back in your mouth and sigh in relief. Your eyelids flutter closed, and you rest your face against his hip, taking deep breaths through your nose and just holding him like that for a while. You can hear the way his breathing goes haggard above your head; short sharp bursts of air huffing from his nostrils. Sensitive as he must be, John lets you have your fun, shivering and spiting low curses as your touches get increasingly needier. And when you begin to suck softly at his length again, he seems unable to help the way his strong legs writhe against the mattress.

He says your name, rough and urgent, when you pull back only to snake your tongue out against his slit. Eyes fluttering open, you look up at him as you lathe your tongue down his length, smiling at how red his face has gotten, at how he seems to be holding his breath. John’s cock starts to swell and stiffen beneath your touch.  

“D’you want me to stop?” you whisper, tracing the blue vein that pulses down the side of his length with your tongue.

“No,” he pants, head lolling from side to side. “Fuck no, gorgeous. Just go easy on me, yeah? It’s ohh—” he winces “—s’a lot.”

You nod understandingly and press a kiss to his tip, smearing the fresh pearl of precome there against your lips. He’s fully hard now, throbbing when you wrap your fingers around his thick base and wrap your lips around his head. A guttural sound rips from his chest and he’s tugging at your hair. For a moment you pause, unsure, but then he’s pushing a little on you. Nudging you closer, further, so you take him deeper and deeper until his tip is nudging against your throat.

“Fuck,” John gasps, hips stuttering against your palms, sensitive cock twitching against your tongue. “S’too much, love, it’s—oh fuck.”

With a ragged grunt his cock pulses in your mouth, and a little spurt of come dribbles from his head. You moan, eyes closed, and swallow tight around him, milking every last drop of spend from his cock until he’s winded and clumsily pushing you off of him.

Breathless, you fall flat on the mattress beside him, feet dangling off the end of the bed. John’s broad palm cradles the back of your head still, a comforting weight as you wipe your face against the sheets.

Ears pricking, you realise it’s begun to rain outside. Soft patters of liquid that knock against the window, thin rivulets that drip down to splash and splutter against the sill. Long forgotten, his cigar sizzles and dies beneath the spray.

“Another tea?” you murmur finally, pushing up onto your elbows.

But with a soft, startled laugh, you find that John’s eyes are closed, chest rising with steady breaths; already back to sleep. Shaking your head a little, you smile fondly at his lax form, and consider closing the window. You settle instead for pulling the duvet from the corner of the bed. Curled against his thick side, you settle the blanket over the two of you and lay an arm over his stomach, content to have a proper lie in after such a busy morning.

thanks for reading, i'd love to hear what you thought x

[onlymingyus]

Bound to You (fall-ing for you collab)

pairing; yoon jeonghan x f!reader 

genre; smut (minors dni), angst, supernatural au, soulmate au

warnings; warlock!jeonghan, wonwoo side character/family member, mentions of magic, curses, death/murder, auras, soulmates, death of parents, complicated family dynamics, borrowed story point from Goblin, protected sex, fingering, oral (f receiving), cum eating, orgasm denial, edging, overstimulation, very light bondage in the form of binding hands/tying to the bed, marking/biting, pet names, aftercare

w/c; 12.9k and some change 

svthub fall-ing for you collab masterlist 

a/n; thank you to @wonwussy and @wooahaeproductions for beta/proofreading -- if you have been following me for a while you might notice this fic is in the same universe as Lavender Tea and Honey. I hope you enjoy this. 

before continuing remember reblogs are incredibly important and please read how to support me here

Jeonghan’s slender fingers run over the pages of the book in front of him as he lifts the cup to his lips. The warm vanilla latte runs down the back of his throat before he settles the cup onto the table, getting lost in his own world once again. 

Two weeks and three days—that was how long Jeonghan had been in this new town. He didn’t hate it but it was different than where he had lived before. He didn’t mind being around his extended family. He was enjoying the benefits of their cafe and the quiet ambiance that came along with the little corner he had stuck himself into but there were reasons he had ended up here. 

Say one thing wrong when you are what Jeonghan and his family are and know the wrong people, you might end up cursed or dead. It wasn’t entirely Jeonghan’s fault that he had the attitude or the mouth that he had. No, those were passed down to him by his parents as parting gifts.

Maybe this would be better in the long run… Jeonghan thought to himself as he traced a small doodle he had scribbled in the margins of his book a few years ago. A fresh start never hurts anyone. A little peace and quiet never hurts anyone. 

“Hi Wonwoo. Can I get —” 

“A chai tea latte?” 

Your laugh is soft and like bells, drawing Jeonghan’s attention up towards the counter. He hadn’t paid much attention to his cousin's work or anyone else ordering but for some reason now he couldn’t look away. Jeonghan watched as you tilted your head at the tall, dark headed barista. It wasn’t like you were flirting with the man; instead, it was clear you were friends. 

“Yeah, please. Am I that predictable?”

Wonwoo grins, turning from you to start making your order. His hands are precise with years of training and muscle memory. You came in almost every day and almost every day you got the same drink. So yeah, you were predictable. 

“You want the truth or do you want me to just make your latte?” 

Jeonghan watches, not realizing a smile had caused his lips to lift at either side. You were effortlessly beautiful. The type of beautiful that someone doesn’t even realize how beautiful they are until someone explains it to them. 

“Mm, my latte. If I want the truth, I’ll visit my family.” 

Sliding the exact change across the wooden counter, you smile at Wonwoo once more before turning to lean against it. The barista laughs as the sound of milk steaming causes you to feel warm from your head to your toes. You loved this cafe. Not just for the drinks but for every part of it—the employees, the other patrons, the sounds, the smells, and the familiarity.  

Hearing Wonwoo’s gentle, deep sigh, you turn back towards him, taking the cup from his hands. With a soft thank you, you turn towards your usual table to find the usual familiarity of your favorite cafe is broken. A man with dark hair and eyes watches you from your usual corner, a slight smile on his lips that makes the pit of your stomach feel deeper. 

The feeling is a confusing one. It wasn’t a feeling of dread. Not even a feeling of fear. Instead, this was a feeling somewhere between anxiety and desire. Smiling back at him, you quickly lower your gaze, deciding to pick a table close to where you usually sit out of the desire to be close to your favorite spot and this unfamiliar man. 

When you smile at him Jeonghan feels his breath get caught in his throat. He was no stranger to women. He knew he was attractive and charming so the fact that you caused such a reaction from him with just a simple smile and your mere existence was baffling. Taking in a deep breath, Jeonghan watches you walk closer towards a table next to him to take a seat. The calming scent of your chai tea latte wafting to his nose causes him to let out a soft sigh as he lowers his eyes to his table in an attempt to not make you feel uncomfortable. 

The overwhelming desire to look up at you, watch you, or perhaps speak to you was causing Jeonghan’s stomach to twist into a knot. Licking his lips, Jeonghan closed his eyes, his fingers shakily spreading across the wooden table in front of him as he tried to bite back on his whims when your voice shocked him out of his trace. 

“Your latte smells delicious. I’m always so tempted to try something new, especially something vanilla, but I’m a creature of habit, I suppose.” 

Smiling into an amused scoff, Jeonghan is ready to answer you before he meets your eyes but that is when any intelligent thought he once had fades into nothingness. He hadn’t noticed it before. Perhaps you were too far away? Perhaps it had been because you hadn’t spoken to him yet but a ribbon like maroon aura was spirling around your left arm and hand. 

“I–what?” 

Furrowing your brows, you wonder if you had read the room entirely wrong when the man speaks to you. He had seemed so confident not a moment before and now he seemed awkward and confused. Swallowing hard, your eyes downward at your own cup, you run your left index finger around the rim of the cup, not having the courage to look back over at him just yet. 

“Just…was talking about your drink. Making conversation. I’m sorry if you wanted to just be alone. You were looking at me; I thought it would be okay to talk to you.” 

Jeonghan shook his head at your words. He didn’t want you to be sorry. The knot in his stomach was so tight, he felt like he could fold in half if he didn’t figure this out. He had seen auras before but they were rare. 

Usually, if witches or warlocks were going to do something unthinkable, they would give off an aura of danger to those who could see them. Humans could give off auras if they were considering ending their lives or if they were bringing new life into the world. Jeonghan had only seen a handful of auras in witches, warlocks, or humans in his entire life, and they had never been focused around someone’s hand like yours was. 

“I’m sorry. I don’t want you to leave me alone. You just–-it’s really impossible to explain. You were talking about my drink. I get the same one every time too. I’m so used to the taste; it's familiar. What is your name?” 

Smiling a bit to yourself as the man rambles, you take a sip of your drink, letting out a pleased sound to the taste before licking your lips of the sweet foam. You're startled by how handsome the man truly is when you finally lift your head to see his eyes.

“I’m–my name?” You had one—a name. At least you had one up until the moment before you looked up into the man’s eyes. Now you weren’t sure if you remembered how to breathe, much less speak or think straight. 

Jeonghan smiles, feeling himself becoming more enamored with you as you look confused and as scattered as he had felt just a moment ago. Did you feel it too? The sudden, odd connection? Biting at his bottom lip, Jeonghan slides his chair closer to your table, turning it towards you as his fingers delicately trail along the handle of his cup. 

Your eyes are drawn to his fingers; your pretty eyes are almost entranced by the movement as you take a steady breath, seeming to come back to reality. “Y/N. I’m Y/N.” 

You hadn’t asked for his name but Jeonghan didn’t mind. You were looking at him like he was the first and last thing you wanted to see on any given day and he knew the feeling. Taking his own deep breath, Jeonghan glances back down at your fingers and the maroon ribbon of magic swirling around them. 

“I’m Jeonghan. It’s nice to meet you, Y/N.” 

Your name on Jeonghan’s lips was better than any music you had heard in a long time. It was reverberating in your ears, causing goosebumps to erupt along your skin. He was so handsome that you were having a hard time keeping your thoughts organized. Everything seemed jumbled, speeding towards him, and at the same time, everything was in slow motion around you. 

“I–” You laugh softly, shyly looking down, before you force yourself to look back at Jeonghan once again and into his pretty dark eyes. “It’s nice to meet you too. I come here all the time, and I feel like I would have seen you here before. Are you new to town?” 

Meeting your eyes, Jeonghan can’t help the way his smile exposes his enthusiasm. He wanted to play it cool and be some attractive man you had met in the coffee shop that you would pine after for weeks. Instead, he couldn’t help feeling like some schoolboy with a crush as his stomach tightened when you smiled back at him.  

Leaning his arm on the table, Jeonghan bites at his bottom lip, drawing your attention towards it briefly before he laughs almost as if he’s trying to consider his next words carefully. His eyes move past you towards the counter where Wonwoo was talking to a customer before he furrows his brows and shakes his head. 

“Yeah, I mean, I’ve visited before. Many times, actually. My family…extended family owns this shop. Wonwoo is my cousin; it seems like you know him pretty well. I just recently moved here, though. I’ve been spending a little more time here in the shop, at least for the past week or so.” 

That made more sense to you as you nodded along, staying quiet. Your eyes move to Wonwoo, who seems to notice, giving you a friendly smile, only to glance towards Jeonghan with a curious look in his eye. There was a bit of caution laced in his gaze but he didn’t seem to linger, instead going back to his tasks. 

“I see, I was out of town a couple days. I normally come in almost every day to get my drink so I probably would have seen you sooner.” 

You smile again, making Jeonghan swallow hard. There was no way that if you had stepped into this cafe before today, he would have missed you. There could be 100 people surrounding him now and he would find you again. 

Looking down at his own drink, Jeonghan lets out a soft, breathy laugh as you seem to study him, waiting for what he will say next with baited breath. You had never cared that much about anything anyone would say. It wasn’t like you needed a partner. It wasn’t like you came to this cafe or any cafe for that matter, looking for someone to be with. Especially not someone that you needed to speak to you so that you could breathe, but that is how it felt after just fifteen minutes of sitting at a table near Jeonghan. 

“I wish you could have come in sooner...  Fuck, I can’t explain what I’m about to say. I–I swear, I’m not a creep.” 

Almost afraid to meet your eyes, Jeonghan laughs, only to fall silent when you shake your head, letting out your own soft laugh. 

“For some reason, and I really can’t explain why I’m even saying this but I think no matter what you are about to tell me...I think I’ll understand. I sound like a crazy person.” 

Jeonghan shakes his head this time, lifting his eyes to yours to meet them with a persistent look, trying to shake away that feeling from you. You weren’t crazy. He knew crazy; he had met crazy, and that wasn’t you. Crazy couldn’t hide from him. 

"No, you don’t. Not to me. I was going to say I’d like to get to know you better. Could I get your number? I’d like to take you out.” 

Normally, you could hide your enthusiasm about situations. In this sort of situation, your friends would tell you to play it cool and play hard to get. Yet here you were smiling at this handsome man you had just met, like he had asked you to marry him when all he had asked for was your number and the chance to see you again. 

Jeonghan watches you rub your lips together, your pretty smile only dimming slightly with effort before you nod. His eyes follow your hands, the maroon ribbon swirling like water around your fingers as you slide your phone from your purse and look at him expectantly.

“Only if I can have yours too.” 

With numbers exchanged, conversation came easy until drinks were finished and your cheeks hurt from smiling. You had learned more about Jeonghan, yet you still knew nothing. He was still just as much a mystery as he had been when you spotted him at your table but the spiral of nerves and fluttering of butterflies in your stomach begged you for more. 

Keeping his eyes on you as if you were vanishing into thin air, Jeonghan couldn’t help the way his brows knitted together as he watched you return your cup to the counter. His chest felt tight and heavy listening to your voice as you said your goodbyes to Wonwoo, promising to be back tomorrow. Even though Jeonghan knew he had a way to contact you and the promise of plans with you, it was hard to bear the idea of the meeting ending already. 

Turning back to the tables, you stop when you find Jeonghan standing, a similar tightness in your chest, realizing what was happening. Smiling in an attempt to shake off the feeling, you sigh when he moves to meet you halfway, mimicking your sigh. 

“Thank you for letting me sit in your spot, Y/N.” 

Jeonghan smiles as you laugh, walking towards the door beside him. His hand reaching it first so he can push it open for you, the chilly fall air hitting both of you, causing you to shiver and wrap your sweater around yourself a bit tighter. 

“Mm, you’re welcome. You can join me anytime you’d like. The company wasn’t half bad.” 

Biting at your lip, you wrinkle your nose at your attempt at flirting. Your eyes fixed on the sidewalk, as neither of you can bear to make the first move to part from one another just yet. Jeonghan just laughs into a small sigh watching you, his eyes moving over your beautiful face even as you look down from him. He wanted so badly to reach out to tilt your chin up to him so you’d look at him but he finds himself tightening his fist instead to push away the instinct. 

“No? I hope I can keep being “not half bad company” then. Uh, how ‘bout tomorrow? Do you have any plans? Or is that too soon?” 

Finally lifting your head, you smile at Jeonghan like you had before and he feels his heart ache. If he didn’t know any better, he’d call the feeling love. 

“Yeah? I mean, no. I–let me try this again. I would love to see you tomorrow. I do not have any plans, so I would love to spend time with you.” 

Heat creeps along your cheeks as you stumble through your words, Jeonghan’s lips pulling up into a smirk and then a full smile. Stepping closer, he laughs and shakes his head, keeping his eyes on yours. In his mind, you were impossibly perfect. Every stumble of your words was you stumbling right into his life and he was ready to catch you. 

“Then it’s a date. Do you want to meet here tomorrow afternoon? Around 4?” 

Nodding, you take in a breath, finding your knees feel weak with Jeonghan so close to you, even though you are grateful he is blocking the wind. You were happy not to feel as much of the cold air on your face but the overwhelming scent of vanilla was clouding your thoughts and making your mouth water. 

“Mmhm, I’ll be here. I can’t wait.” 

Taking in his own deep breath, Jeonghan nods along with you, Chai invading his senses and making his head swim with desire for you. How hadn’t he noticed before that you even smelled like chai tea? It was delicious and almost overwhelming. 

“I–me either. I should…get going. It’s getting cold. You are going to get too cold standing out here because of me. I’ll see you tomorrow, beautiful.” 

Swallowing hard Jeonghan speaks before he thinks, his lips and brain not seemingly connected as the scent of you clouds his judgment. Taking a step back, Jeonghan takes in a breath of fresh, crisp air before smiling at you and lowering his head as you watch him bewildered as he walks away, leaving you with your thoughts and how he had called you beautiful. 

Out of nerves, you had gotten to the cafe early. It was even colder so despite wanting to wait for Jeonghan outside, you had to give up on that idea and wait inside, where Wonwoo had quickly put a togo cup in your hands to warm them up. 

“Oh…I–thanks, Wonwoo. I didn’t even tell you I wasn’t staying today.” 

Shaking his head, the barista pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose as he moved around the counter with a damp cloth in his hand. You smiled at him, watching him clean off a table as you listened to him talk, your eyes moving to the door every time the bell would ring. 

“You are meeting my cousin. He’s pretty prompt, so you have a few minutes. Hang out and get warm before you leave again. I was kinda hoping to talk to you before you met him again.” 

Your smile faded slightly with Wonwoo’s wording, causing you to clear your throat before you brought your drink to your lips and took a sip. Was this one of those be careful and don’t hurt my family kind of talks? You weren’t sure why this was making you so nervous. You liked Wonwoo and he had never made you uncomfortable before, but now you were afraid to disappoint him. 

“Mm, okay? Am I in trouble?” 

Wonwoo’s laugh sends a wave of relief over you but it’s brief and fleeting as he sighs, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. 

“Course not. It’s nothing like that. It’s just... You’re my friend and I just wanted to... Damn, no matter how I say this, it sounds bad so I’ll just say it.” Nodding mostly to himself and gaining the courage to keep speaking, Wonwoo gestures with his cloth before continuing. “Jeonghan is a great guy. He’s my family and I love him but he’s had a rough past. He’s had a hard life at times and I just want you to remember that going into whatever this is you two are doing.” 

Watching from outside through the window, Jeonghan rubs his fingers together inside the pocket of his jacket as you talk to Wonwoo. The conversation seemed casual enough but something Wonwoo said caused your brows to furrow in a way that made Jeonghan’s stomach tighten. 

Wonwoo rubs his lips together, looks over your face and sees how your brows are knitting together as if you were trying to piece together a puzzle right in front of you. He wasn’t trying to scare you away from Jeonghan. He didn’t want his cousin to not find someone to be with; he just wanted you both to be careful and he could see something was moving quickly between the two of you that neither of you understood. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N, if I upset you. That is not my intention. I’m not trying to tell you what to do, and I’m certainly not saying not to see Jeonghan…” 

“I’d hope you wouldn’t be saying that, Wonwoo.” 

Jeonghan’s voice seems to break through the tension, pulling you away from Wonwoo, who sighs at meeting his cousin’s gaze. You had almost expected him to be angry at Wonwoo but instead you find him smiling as if it were expected and part of a joke. Wonwoo shakes his head, glancing down at the table in front of him and picking up a tea cup, then turning back towards both of you. 

“I’m not. I’m just talking to my friend. You want a drink to go?” 

Not waiting for his answer, Wonwoo walks behind the counter, leaving you with Jeonghan, who laughs under his breath, rolling his eyes out of slight annoyance. 

“Yeah, please.” 

The sounds of Wonwoo working on Jeonghan’s drink become background music as you swallow hard, finally looking up at your date to find him watching you curiously. His dark eyes move over your face almost as if he were checking you for sighs of pain or injury, though there was clearly no need before he finally smiles, causing you to do the same. 

“Hey, I feel like I’m late.” 

Laughing, you feel warmth rush over your cheeks at Jeonghan’s words. You start to explain yourself when Wonwoo says his name and Jeonghan sighs out "just a second,” leaving you to watch him move to the counter. His hushed voice and Wonwoo’s are enough to tell you that you should mind your own business but you find yourself trying to turn your ear in to hear them better, only being able to catch a word here and there. 

“Just–she’s not like you. She’s not like us. Be careful with her.” 

“I’m not an idiot. Thank you for your concern.” 

When Jeonghan turns back towards you, you put your drink to your lips in an attempt to look as if you hadn’t been trying to eavesdrop on his and Wonwoo’s conversation. Your eyes move from his face to Wonwoo at the counter as the barista shakes his head, muttering something to himself and Jeonghan finally makes his way to you with a long sigh. 

“Ready to go? It’s pretty cold, and the wind is making it even colder. Here…” 

Nodding, you start to speak when Jeonghan offers you his drink, making you tilt your head like a confused puppy. It’s only when you take it that you realize why he offered it to you to hold. His hands move to the jacket zipper, pulling it upwards before he fiddles with your scarf, making sure it is against your neck, keeping you warm and protected against the cold air. 

“Oh…I–thanks.” 

Jeonghan smiles at your softly spoken words, his fingers slipping over yours briefly to take his drink back. Your eyes follow him to the door, where he holds it open for you, gesturing his head towards it and taking in a deep breath of the crisp, fall air. 

“No problem, can’t have my date catching a cold. Wonwoo might kill me.” 

You can tell it’s a joke while also taking a stab at his conversation with Wonwoo but even as you move out onto the sidewalk with Jeonghan, you can’t help but feel bad about the conversation you had shared with his cousin. Chewing on your cheek, you walk beside him for a moment before finally letting out a breath and a whined sound as you speak. 

“I’m sorry… You know if that was my fault? I don’t want you to fight with your family because of me. I know I’m friends with Wonwoo so if that’s too weird and it means you can’t see me or something, I totally get it.” 

Jeonghan’s eyes widen slightly at the whine in your voice, his lips pulling up in a smile as you start to ramble out your apology as well as his “out”. Shaking his head, the man laughs, glancing over at you and lifting his brow curiously. 

“If you think I’m going to let Jeon Wonwoo get in the way of something or someone I want...Y/N, you need to get to know me. Yeah, he’s family, but that’s it. I value family, sure, but blood is just blood. It doesn’t mean everything.” 

You swallow the lump in your throat as Jeonghan watches you, his eyes falling to your lips before they move back to your eyes. He laughs again into another sigh as the two of you turn towards the entrance of the park. Soon, it is just the soft sounds of traffic, quiet, distant conversations, and the crunching of leaves that fill your ears as you walk. 

“Was that too much? The family thing?” 

Shaking your head at Jeonghan’s question, you lift your head to look at him, finding his brows softened. You hadn’t realized the two of you had been walking in silence for a few moments; you had just been lost in thought. 

“No, not at all. Family is complicated. People are complicated. If we weren't, we’d be made of plastic or something.” 

Jeonghan can’t help but scoff in disbelief at how easily you seem to understand him. Nodding, he furrows his brows before leaning his head back towards the sky as he walks beside you. The sky was gray, but the maple trees in the park looked like they were on fire, all red, yellow, and orange. With each new burst of cold wind, more leaves shook loose from their branches, making their way to the earth, reminding Jeonghan of how easy it was to fall. 

You watched Jeonghan for a moment before looking up at the sky yourself. The trees made you smile as the leaves drifted to the ground around you and the man beside you. It was beautiful because, where he saw falling, you saw possibility. 

“The leaves are so pretty, don’t you think? You know, I was told once that maple leaves are special.” 

His eyes falling back to you, Jeonghan stops walking with you. He watches you standing with your eyes towards the sky, your hand out in front of you, a smile on your face as the chilly air brushes by you both. 

“Yeah? Whys that? 

Your smile seems to get bigger at his question and Jeonghan feels that feeling of his heart aching—that sensation of falling in love. You laugh, and your words are spoken with that same laughter, as if you are trying to believe them as much as you are trying to get him to believe them. 

“I was told if you catch a falling maple leaf, you will fall in love with the person you are walking with.” 

Jeonghan smiles at your words, his eyes moving to the falling maple leaves as he reaches out to catch one. 

“Yeah? What if you have already fallen in love with someone and you catch a maple leaf?” 

You shake your head. Another laugh is on your lips when you look at Jeonghan as he catches a maple leaf walking towards you. Falling silent, you press your lips together, feeling your cheeks heat up even as the cold air nips at them like kisses. 

“Well? Do you know the answer to that one?” 

Watching your lips pull up into a smile, Jeonghan offers you the maple leaf as he leans down to brush his lips against yours like a question. Even with his face so close to yours, he meets your eyes as your fingers brush against his, taking the leaf from his fingers before you answer his question by pressing your lips to his. 

The kiss is warm and safe. Nothing feels rushed and yet you feel like if you don’t keep kissing him, you might cry. Jeonghan smiles against your lips when you whine softly, feeling him pull away from you. His thumb rubbing the back of your hand as he leans back to look at you and your wide eyes. 

“I–don’t know the answer to your question.” 

Jeonghan laughs, his hand dropping from yours to lift to your face when you notice something that startles you. Your shocked gasp as you lean back from Jeonghan causes him to look at you, concerned that he has hurt you. 

“What’s on your hand?” 

Shaking his head, Jeonghan looks around for other people, pleased to see the two of you alone when you take his hand and study it. He watches as you run your finger along his left hand, tracing something he couldn’t see but somehow, because of what he had seen with you and what he knew, he had an idea. 

“Tell me what you see, Y/N. I don’t see anything; that doesn’t mean it’s not there. Trust me, okay?” 

Your hands were shaking. Jeonghan knew then that Wonwoo was right; you weren’t like them. Not completely anyway. He had wondered if you had a little magic in you, so in a way, they were both right. 

“It’s impossible. I’m going crazy. It’s like...gold ribbons? Gold ribbons around your wrist, your hand, and your ring finger? Jeonghan…I swear I don't—I'm not insane.” 

Sliding his fingers through yours, Jeonghan shakes his head once more, leading you towards a nearby bench to sit down. Taking the maple leaf from you, he puts it into a small book before putting it back into his pocket and turning to take both of your hands, meeting your eyes. 

“I know you aren’t crazy. I’d never call you insane. I don’t like that word. It’s used far too often for people who can do things that others can’t, for people who can see things others can’t.” Sighing into his next words, Jeonghan smiles at you. “I can explain this to you but it would take time. I would need more time than I have in this park and honestly, what you saw... I'm not even sure what it means.” 

You knew logically that you should be scared of what he was saying about what you had seen, but then there was something about you that made you know there was nothing to be scared of. There was something inside of you telling you that he was telling you the truth and that you could trust him. Taking his hand back into yours, you watch the gold ribbon shimmer along his skin as Jeonghan watches the maroon ribbons on your left hand. 

“I want to understand it.” 

Nodding, Jeonghan reaches up with his free hand to brush his fingers over your cheek. His thumb resting on your cheekbone, the man sighs, hoping he isn’t overwhelming you, feeling like he can’t lose you just as much as he doesn’t want to lose you already. 

“Then I’ll explain it to you. We have time. I’m not planning on going anywhere.” 

Jeonghan’s words were comforting, just as comforting as watching the gold ribbon move around his hand. Smiling, you nod, finally looking up from his hand to meet his eyes. Out of the corner of your eye, you see more leaves fall and you can’t help but think about how they seem to fall slowly at first when they first leave the branch and then all at once the closer they get to the ground. That was how you felt about Jeonghan, even in a short amount of time. 

Daylight was shorter so by the time Jeonghan walked you back to your apartment building, it was dark. Your fingers were laced with his, the taste of chai in your mouth, though you were beginning to wonder if it was still lingering from the tea you had had earlier or if it was something else Jeonghan needed to explain to you.  

Jeonghan’s eyes moved over the door that seemed to want to take you from him and his fingers tightened to keep you with him for even just a moment longer. He knew it was selfish but he didn’t care anymore. He had already had so much taken from him in his life and now you had been placed in front of him like a gift. Why couldn’t he hold on a little tighter for as long as he could, even if it seemed too quick? 

“I’m beginning to think we should have met at the beginning of the day.” 

Your pretty laughter makes Jeonghan’s heart beat faster as you let go of his hand in place of wrapping your arms around him as if you had known him for years. Taking in a breath as he leans to rest his face against your hair, Jeonghan closes his eyes, wrapping his arms around you in return, feeling that urge to hold on tighter once again. 

“Next time, we will meet at the crack of dawn. I can learn about your entire life.”  

Jeonghan smiles against your hair before shaking his head. He would tell you anything, even things he didn’t want to but he wanted to know about you. He wanted to be part of your life and your family. He wanted to keep his family here but now there was you. There were those ribbons. 

“Mmm, I’ll tell you whatever you wanna know, Angel.” 

You smile, moving to nuzzle your nose against Jeonghan’s neck, when he calls you Angel. You hadn’t expected him to call you something like that. First, it had been beautiful and now, Angel? He really knew how to sweet talk you. 

Feeling the warmth of your cheek against your skin, Jeonghan laughs, leaning back to look down at you. His fingers press into your jacket, wishing he could get closer to you, touch your skin, and be skin against your skin. 

“What? You like that? Angel?” 

Jeonghan watches you nod shyly, causing him to laugh. You were perfect and you were his; at least that was how he felt. At least that was what he wanted. Swallowing hard, Jeonghan couldn’t fight his urge to kiss you again. He had to do it at least once more before he left. 

When Jeonghan’s lips meet yours this time, you can’t help the soft moan that slips from between yours. Between how warm the kiss felt and the gentle brush of his tongue against your upper lip, you find your knees going weak, needing his arms to keep you upright. 

Furrowing his brow at your reaction, Jeonghan tightens his grip on you, deepening his kiss. He becomes braver, daring to let his tongue explore your mouth. His tongue glides along yours, causing goosebumps to erupt along his skin when the taste of vanilla spreads along his taste buds. You were unlike anyone he had ever been with in his entire life. 

It is almost painful when Jeonghan forces himself to kiss you one last time, knowing he's saying goodnight. One last chaste kiss that lingers before he pulls away, watching your smile fade even slightly as he does. Jeonghan smiles still, brushing his nose against yours as you speak softly. 

“Would it be weird to tell you that you taste like chai?” 

Laughing Jeonghan shakes his head, leaning to rest his forehead against yours as your fingers slide into his jacket to get as close to his skin as possible through the layers of his shirts. 

“No, I was going to tell you that you taste like vanilla.” Sighing, Jeonghan then lets out a groan almost in pain when he leans back to stand up straight. “I guess I should say goodnight. Your cheeks and nose are getting really cold standing out here.” 

You laugh, furrowing your brows, learning that you taste like vanilla, only to frown when Jeonghan says he should say goodnight. You knew that he was right. You were cold; you were starting to shiver but you wanted to say you didn’t mind. You wanted to say, “Come upstairs?" and so you did. 

Jeonghan swallows hard at your request. He knew he should be the gentleman and say no. He should politely decline and come back another day. He shouldn’t go upstairs until the two of you know each other much better than you do now but looking at you now, Jeonghan can only nod. 

Two flights of stairs and a few seconds of fumbling with your keys out of nerves later, you stood in your living room with Jeonghan. Jackets and shoes discarded, you watched as he looked around at your life. A smile was on his handsome face as he moved to look at pictures of you with your friends and family. Hushed comments about how beautiful you are and how you looked like you had so much fun and were so loved. 

“Yeah…I’m pretty lucky, I guess. I’ve been here my entire life so I’ve always had them. I wanna know about you, though…You said you’d tell me if I asked. You said you could explain this?”

Moving back to Jeonghan, you lift his left hand, showing it to him. Though he couldn’t see the golden ribbons, they still spiraled around his hand, just like the maroon ones moved around yours. Jeonghan’s fingers flex before he sighs, furrowing his brows, leading you towards your couch to sit down. 

“Not going to run away from me or kick me out?” Laughing, he watches you shake your head no, a sweet smile on your curious face even though the nerves were eating him from the inside out. 

“Uh, ok, well, here goes. I–” 

Holding up his finger, Jeonghan leans from you to reach into his jacket, lying on the nearby armchair, to take out the book he had stored your leaf in. You watch as he opens it, offering you the leaf once again before placing the book on his leg. 

“If my mother was still alive and she knew I was showing this to someone who wasn’t a witc–well, someone who wasn’t fully… Fuck how do I even say this?” 

Turning the leaf in your fingers, you furrow your brows, hearing that Jeonghan’s mother isn’t alive, only for them to deepen when he struggles to find his words. Shaking your head, you lean to put the leaf on the table, moving to slide your legs under you so you can turn towards him, resting your hand on his chest, feeling his heart beating hard and quick in his chest. 

“You do it at your pace and truthfully? I swear to you, I’m not going to run away from you or be afraid. Jeonghan, your hand is glowing gold, so if you are about to tell me magic is real, I think you are a little late. I think you are a wizard, Harry.” 

Jeonghan stares at you for a moment before starting to laugh. You watch, amused but also concerned, until he finally calms down and shakes his head. 

“Did–did you just quote Harry Potter to me?” 

You nod, and Jeonghan scoffs lightly, leaning to kiss you softly, shaking his head as he leans back, feeling his chest lighten as his heartbeat slows and the panic subsides slightly. 

“I don’t know how the fuck I got lucky enough to meet you. I certainly don’t deserve you.” You start to speak and Jeonghan shakes his head, lifting his hand to stop you. “I–please, it’s how I feel. I can explain it.” 

You didn’t agree with him. There was nothing he could do or could have done to make you agree with him. Furrowing your brows, you want to comfort him but you aren’t sure how so instead, you press your fingers against his chest and just listen. 

“Yeah, magic is real. It’s not what they have in Harry Potter. Most of that is bullshit. But I’m a warlock; I was born that way. Anyone with magic is born that way. I think you were born that way too.” 

Leaning your head back, you scoff, causing Jeonghan to lift his left hand, letting you see the gold spirling around his hand. Your brows soften and Jeonghan knows his point was taken, allowing him to continue. 

“Perhaps not to the degree of some witches but everyone has a little magic in them. All humans, just a little bit. Deja vu is magic…but you there is a little more—fuck,  maybe a lot more. We can figure that out together, okay?” 

You just nod, feeling your heart quicken at the idea of having some magical potential. You had always wanted to believe in magic. That was something that any little girl or boy would want to believe in but you had never truly let go of it and now it was staring you in the face. 

“This…” Jeonghan gestures to the book on his lap, “is my grimoire. I’ll let you look through it later. It’s really personal to each warlock and witch. We can start you one, if you want, once we figure out what’s going on with you.” 

Jeonghan glances at you once again, watching you press your lips together. He knew it was a lot of information, even if it was just basic things. He didn’t want to overwhelm you but you had asked. Flipping a couple of pages, Jeonghan sighs and taps the page, causing you to gasp lightly as some words shimmer and then fade back to normal ink. 

“Some warlocks or witches have little things about them. My mom could transfigure into her familiar form. My dad could perfect any potion that he tried on the first try. I–I can see auras.” 

Glancing down at your hand, Jeonghan slides his fingers over your hand, tracing the ribbons as you watch him. 

“Auras? Like, you know when someone is good or bad?” 

Tilting his head back and forth, Jeonghan purses his lips, trying to think of how to describe it before he looks up at you. 

“It’s more than that and it’s rare. I can’t always see them and they aren’t always that simple. I saw an aura in a warlock who visited my house when I was little. It was dark green and it scared me. I didn’t know what it meant.” 

You watch as Jeonghan looks down at his grimoire, your eyes scanning over the Latin that you don’t understand as his voice shakes slightly. 

“I should have asked my parents because I had to find out later that dark green auras mean not only greed but to the point of ill intent. That warlock cursed my parents and a few weeks later they were both gone.” 

Feeling your heart tighten with Jeonghan’s grief, you look up at his face as a soft "oh" slips from your lips. You aren’t sure what to say and Jeonghan understands by just shaking his head and whispering that it’s okay. 

“When I said that I don’t deserve you, Y/N…I mean that because there is a reason that Wonwoo was telling you to be careful around me. There is a reason I moved here. I saw my own aura.” 

Sliding your hand over Jeonghan’s left, you tighten your grip on his and he feels the warmth spread through his arm, though he doesn’t have the courage to look at you, feeling like if he tells you the truth, he will lose you. 

“I searched for that warlock until I found him and followed him for months last year. I had decided that I would do it indirectly. That’s worse, you know? Cursing someone else to kill someone.” Jeonghan swallows hard, nodding to his own words, feeling your eyes on him even if you don’t speak. 

“My aura was black in the mirror. Pitch black, and I knew that was death and it should have scared me from doing it but I did it anyway.” 

Lifting your hand from his, you turn Jeonghan’s face towards you, tears running down his cheeks. You watch him close his eyes in an attempt to hide his shame, even as you push away his tears with your thumb.  

“Jeonghan…Did you come here to start over?” 

Nodding, Jeonghan keeps his eyes closed, leaning into your palm. The brush of your fingers like the rungs of a ladder helped him climb out of the darkness of the hole that he had been in for far too long. 

“Then start over. I don’t care about what you did. I care about your past but not that. Open your eyes and look at me.” 

Slowly opening his eyes, Jeonghan meets yours, almost afraid that you will be angry with him despite your words but instead he finds you looking at him lovingly. A sigh of relief escapes between his lips and Jeonghan turns his head to press his lips to your palm, whispering, “Thank you.” 

The two of you stay quiet for a moment, the story of Jeonghan’s past lingering like a breath before the weight is gone and Jeonghan can smile seeing the ribbons on your hand once again. 

“You have an aura on your hand. I think that’s what you are seeing too, on mine.” 

It is your turn to tilt your head as Jeonghan turns to sit towards you, offering you his hands and trying to explain the ribbons. The words on his lips seem to fall short when you gasp while watching the gold of his finger extend towards your finger and a ribbon of a different color come into view on your own hand. 

“Holy shit…you can see that?” 

Jeonghan watches you nod, your mouth open in awe, as his own hand spirals with gold. You watch as your hand shimmers with maroon warmth, extending up your arm and into your chest. Moving his hand from yours, Jeonghan scoffs in disbelief as the gold ribbon from his hand extends from his finger to meet the maroon trailing from yours, tethered. 

“What does it mean?” 

Jeonghan laughs at first, shaking his head. He wanted to be able to tell you something that sounded less like a fairytale but all he had was magic. Jeonghan recalled being young and his mother telling him about soulmates and how they were incredibly rare. How some witches and warlocks were very lucky and were tethered to another witch or warlock. 

“Do you believe in soulmates?” 

Furrowing your brows, you smile at Jeonghan’s words. You wanted to laugh and shake your head, tell him no, but instead you feel it in your heart that you do believe. You believe full heartedly. You hadn’t before. You hadn’t believed in anything like that or love at first sight and now here you were staring at him. 

“Yeah…I do.”

That hadn’t been what Jeonghan had expected. Your words were welcomed but they had thrown him off. He hadn’t expected you to accept him as a warlock or to accept him past and now you were accepting him as your soulmate? You took his breath away. 

“Yeah?” 

You smile and nod as Jeonghan smiles too sliding his hand along yours, the ribbons fading into your skin. Gold and maroon meshing and becoming invisible to the naked eye. You could feel they were still there if you wanted to but right now you didn’t need to see or feel the ribbons to know Jeonghan was yours. 

“Shit–I…this is not how I thought today would go.” 

Jeonghan’s words are spoken on a breathy groan as you slide across his lap to sit across his leg. His hands working their way along your thighs towards your hips feeling your body against his for the first time. It was familiar in a way that shouldn’t make sense. 

“I trust you. I–don’t understand any of this, not really but god that’s all I know, Jeonghan. I trust you and in my heart all I know is you’re mine.” 

It was what he had known and had been afraid to let himself accept all day. You were his. He had felt bad for thinking it, feeling it but there had been a reason. You were his. You were born his. 

Groaning at the feeling of your hips sliding over his, Jeonghan leans his head back, trying to keep his cool, unsure of how quickly you want this to go despite your words, “I trust you,” echoing in his mind. 

“Baby…fuck. You’re mine, I know. If you don’t…I’m trying to be good. Let me kiss you.” 

You wanted him to kiss you but you didn’t want Jeonghan to be good. You wanted more than that and you could feel that he didn’t want that either. You knew it was fast but that didn’t matter. Sliding your hand along Jeonghan’s arm, your nails scratching at his skin, you lean down to brush your lips over his hearing and feel his hiss into your mouth before he mutters against your lips. 

“I said I’m trying to be good.” 

“And I said I trust you.” 

You had lit a fire in Jeonghan and now you were fanning it hotter with your kisses. He remembered how much he had wanted to touch your skin while standing outside of your apartment. How many layers of clothes had been in his way and now here you were sitting in his lap, his fingers pushing your shirt up your back so that his skin could finally brush over yours. It was like pure electricity connecting you to him. 

Jeonghan smirks against your lips when you moan into his mouth. His hands pull you down by your waist over his hardening erection trapped in his jeans. Your leggings were allowing you to feel every bump and ridge of his jeans and how his cock had gotten hard for you so quickly between your legs. 

“Please…please… touch me, Jeonghan.” 

His brows furrowing, his lips pursing into a silent groan, Jeonghan feels his cock twitch in his jeans when you beg him to touch you. It was beautiful, and you were beautiful. He could listen to you say that all night long. He wanted to listen to you beg for him until the sun came up and maybe even longer. 

“I am touching you. See, don't you feel my hands?" 

You whine, squirming on Jeonghan’s lap, feeling his fingers under your shirt as he trails them along your back. It wasn’t what you wanted and you knew that he knew that. The smirk in his voice told you that. Sliding your hands along his chest, you lean back to look into Jeonghan’s eyes, your voice full of want to the point where you almost sound like you could cry. 

“Touch me everywhere. Take me to bed.” 

Jeonghan had half a mind to make you beg him again but your lips brushed over his and then his cheek, causing him to lose his resolve. He laughs under his breath before nodding, feeling you slip from his lap to take his hand. The warm feeling of magic, ribbons tangling and spinning around your hands and fingers, makes Jeonghan take a moment to pause before he finally does stand, letting you lead him toward your bedroom. 

The scent of vanilla and chai overwhelms him for a moment as he watches you take a step away from him. Your pretty smile enraptures him as his eyes follow you backwards to your bed. Jeonghan breathes out your name, taking a step towards you before stopping to glance at your bedside table. Three candles are placed in a triangle, each a different color. 

“Do you want me to light them?” 

Your voice is soft and sweet, almost innocent in your question. You clearly didn’t know what they were or what you had been using them for. 

“I can, Ignis.” 

The Latin word is half whispered and half just a breath but each candle flutters to life with it, causing you to gasp with wonder. Jeonghan smiles at your reaction, moving closer to step between your legs, his fingers once again sliding to the end of your shirt but this time he drags it up your torso, urging you to lift your arms so he can pull it over your head as he speaks. 

“Why did you pick those colors? White, red, and pink?” 

Shrugging, you shake your head, biting at your bottom lip as your shirt leaves your fingertips. Jeonghan’s eyes are searching your face before he glances down at your body. His fingers glide along your shoulder as his eyes follow until he looks back into your eyes. Your back arches to the feeling of his hand running over your spine, a small laugh slipping from between your lips as his fingers make quick work of your bra clasp, causing the straps to slip from your shoulders. 

“I just like the colors. They look pretty together.” 

Jeonghan gives you a skeptical look. His fingers trailing back along your shoulder to guide your bra strap further down your arm as you let it fall from you completely. 

“God, you are so beautiful, Angel. Lay back on the bed for me?” 

You watch Jeonghan drop your bra onto the floor on top of your shirt as you scoot back onto your bed. His eyes follow you, listening to your steady breath while his hands move to his own clothes. You find yourself being jealous of his hands while also enjoying watching him undress himself. You wanted to run your hands over his skin but you also knew you’d get your chance. You knew you’d only get this chance once. Seeing him like this, undressing for you for the first time, only once.

Jeonghan runs his fingers through his hair as he drops his shirt onto the growing pile of clothes, a sigh on his lips. His eyes glance over you as you lay half naked on the bed in front of him. He wanted to get you out of your leggings and panties to be between your legs but he was going to savor this. He wanted to savor all of it, every discovery. 

“I think it’s more than you liking the colors together.”

Shaking your head, you give Jeonghan a confused look. Your fingers slide along your stomach towards your breast as his slender fingers undo his belt and jeans, pushing them door. Jeonghan smirks, his dark eyes following your fingers every move as he kicks his pants from his legs and repeats the process with his boxers. 

“White candles represent new beginnings. Like a blank canvas. Red, well, that’s an intense color and an intense candle choice, especially paired with white and pink.”

Sitting up, you whine softly, somewhere mixed between Jeonghan’s name and a moan as you see him fully. His body was perfectly sculpted, from his head to the toes. You feel your mouth all but water as your eyes shamelessly look over his cock, hard and leaking for you. While you were listening to him about your candles, you also wanted him in your bed. You wanted his mouth on you, his hands on your body, and him inside of you. 

“I know, Angel. I’m right here. Be a good girl for me…be patient.” 

Jeonghan walks beside your bed, his fingers trailing along your hand and arm as you reach out for him. A smirk on his lips as you try to hold on to him, only for him to keep just far enough away. Without asking, as if he had been in your room a hundred times, Jeonghan opens your nightstand drawer and tilts his head. You watch as he sighs softly, pushing a couple things to the side before opening a box of condoms and taking one out. 

“The red candle represents fire. It means protection, strength, and courage, but also lust and power. So it’s fitting for a bedroom. I keep one in mine as well. 

Your cheeks burn with embarrassment and desire at Jeonghan’s words. Your eyes are fixed on him as he lays the silver square on the nightstand before finally looking at you and resting his knee on the bed to hover over you. Jeonghan’s fingers glide over your stomach and his touch feels like the fire he had been talking about. It’s almost as hot as a candle to your skin but you arch towards it, begging for more as his fingers splay out, inching towards the top of your leggings. 

“Pink is an interesting choice next to red. It’s like the flip side of the coin. It’s the candle I would choose for you. It represents tenderness, compassion, and acceptance. If you were a candle, you’d be a pink candle.” 

Sucking on your lips, you let go with a small moan as Jeonghan’s fingers dip below the waistband of your leggings. He watches as you lift your hips, your head shaking slowly to his words, before you smile and push your head back into your pillows. 

“So I’m a pink candle and you are red?” 

Tilting his head, Jeonghan purses his lips, adjusting his fingers into the elastic of your panties as he tugs your leggings down. Jeonghan finally smirked once again, dropping the rest of your clothes off the side of the bed as he answered you. 

“That’s a good way of saying it. Do you still trust me?” 

Sliding his fingers along the side of your face, Jeonghan stops to rest his thumb against your cheekbone as you look up at him. He knew the answer before you even spoke, but hearing your soft "yes" made his heart beat quicker and his cock jerk against your thigh. You were so innocent and his. 

“Mm, yeah? If you ever want me to stop, I want you to say so, okay? I want to try something.” 

Jeonghan was moving away from you again, causing you to whine but he didn’t go far. You watch as he picks up your silk scarf from a chair near your bed. You hadn’t given much thought to the scarf in some time; the deep red accessory had been worn a handful of times before you had tossed it on the chair, out of sight and out of mind. 

“Hands above your head. I promise, I’ll be gentle. I just want to see…just how much you trust me. Is that bad of me?” 

He watches as you shake your head, your arms lifting so that you can cross your wrists above your head. Jeonghan’s breath hitches as your fingers wrap around the wrought iron headboard slot. The cold iron under your fingers causes your skin to erupt with goosebumps as you watch the man in front of you curiously. 

“It’s not bad. I said I trusted you. I know you won’t hurt me.” 

Shaking his head, Jeonghan smiles a bit at your words, moving to his knee on the mattress next to you. You were right; he’d never hurt you. Not in any way you wouldn’t enjoy it, and certainly not in a way you wouldn’t like it if he could help it. 

“This is why you are the pink candle. So tender and trusting. You have your white light around you and yet... you choose a maroon scarf and your arua is the same color? What’s hiding inside of you, my angel?” 

Jeonghan’s fingers glide over your skin as he loops the silk around your wrists and finally around the slot between the headboard, loosely tying you to the bed. You were a vision to behold like this, laid out bare and vulnerable for him. So perfectly innocent, yet as he met your eyes, a small smirk played at your lips. 

“Oh? Is there something I am going to like when I go looking? Something you might not be able to keep hidden once I’m between your legs?” 

With his hand trailing along your side, Jeonghan slowly moves backwards on the bed towards your feet but he keeps his eyes on your face. He didn’t expect an answer but he didn’t need one. The way your breath hitched when his fingers traced over your hip and grazed just shy of your pussy answered the question just as well as anything you could have said out loud. 

“Spread your legs for me…” 

Closing your eyes, you feel a rush of embarrassment wash over you at Jeonghan’s words. It wasn’t that you didn’t want him between your legs or that you wouldn’t do as he asked; it was that he wanted you to do it for him. He wanted to see you; all of you lay bare in front of him and you could feel how wet you were. You could feel it running between your legs and on to the comforter beneath you, almost as if someone had left a faucet dripping overnight. 

“Baby…spread your legs. I won’t force them open. Not tonight, not this time.” 

Jeonghan slides his hands along your shins to your knees, watching you consider his words before you let out a slow breath and let your legs fall open in front of him. His eyes drift down your body and fall to either side of him as he moves to kneel between your thighs with a groan. 

The candlelight was just enough light for Jeonghan to see how wet you were and he couldn’t help himself. Leaning forward, Jeonghan mutters how beautiful you are as he brushes his fingers between your folds, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh. Using what had dripped on his fingers, Jeonghan rubbed his fingers and thumb together before pressing his thumb against your clit, his middle finger sliding back towards your already throbbing entrance. 

“This okay?” 

He didn’t have to ask. Once again he knew the answer from the way your body was reacting and the moan that spliled from between your pretty lips but he wanted to hear it this time. It was important. It was the first time and it was going so fast. 

Pulling at the headboard, the scarf bites into your wrist gently as you feel Jeonghan’s middle finger circle your pussy when he asks for permission. Nodding you whine out yes pushing your hips towards his finger in order to get what you want. You wanted more than just his fingers. You wanted Jeonghan’s mouth, his fingers, his cock. If it were possible to have it all at the same time, maybe then you’d be satisfied. 

“More…I can take more. Don’t be so gentle.” 

Jeonghan smiles against your knee as he leans to rest his cheek against your leg. His finger is slowly working into you as your walls clench around his single finger. You were greedy. There was the red candle. There was how you were like him. 

“You want me to leave marks on you? Remind you who was in your bed when I finally go home? Is that it, Angel?” 

Working a second finger into your gummy walls, Jeonghan groans, hearing your whines as you nod and beg him for more. He had never felt like this with anyone else in bed or in a relationship. There had been others in the past. The sex had been intense but there was never this much passion or this much territorial instinct. 

He wouldn’t fool himself into thinking he was the first person you had ever been with. He wouldn’t even ask you. Instead, he would fuck you so hard and good that you’d forget their names. He would erase them from your memories so that even if he did ask one day, you’d only be able to say, “I think there was someone…” 

Arching your back from the bed as Jeonghan’s third finger slides into you, you cry out in pleasure. His mouth latching onto your thigh hard, somewhere between a bite and a kiss. You can feel the way your skin is going to bruise under his mouth and yet you want spots like that one to paint your entire body like a map that you can revisit in the morning. 

“So–I’m so close. Don’t stop…” 

Your words cause Jeonghan to smirk against your leg. His tongue runs the length between the love bite and your mound before he replaces his thumb with his tongue. Your mind was hazy with bliss. You were right on the edge when….nothing. Jeonghan kisses your folds but his fingers slide from you, leaving your thighs trembling—your first orgasm taken from you. 

“No…no no no… why?” 

A quiet laugh and warm breath fanning against your wet folds draw your eyes downward, though you aren’t able to lift your body enough as you strain against silk and iron. Jeonghan lifts his brow at you, his fingers lazily playing with his spit and the wetness dripping from your wanting pussy as you whine at him confused. 

“You beg so beautifully. Nothing worth having was given so easily. Try again, Y/N.” 

Throwing your head back against the pillow you close your eyes feeling Jeonghan’s fingers slipping back into you slowly, one by one. The pressure slowly beginning to build once again. He wanted you to beg? You could beg for something you wanted, especially when it was him. When it was this. 

Jeonghan groans to the taste of you, his tongue running along your folds to his fingers before he finally wraps his lips around your clit sucking lightly. You were panting his name and begging under your breath but it wasn’t enough just yet. He could get you to do more. With a curl of his finger, brushing the spongy spot on the roof of your walls, Jeonghan smirks, his tongue resting against the throbbing bundle of nerves at his mouth as you cry out his name loudly. 

“Oh fuck! Jeonghan! Please? I need it. Please? Please, can I cum? Let me cum for you. I’ve been good. I can be better. I–ah! Please!” 

Your words were urgent. Tears fell over the rims of your eyes from feeling overwhelmed and the pleasure that ripped through your body as Jeonghan finally gave you what you wanted Groaning against your pussy, he buries his fingers in you deeply over and over again until finally the floodgates keeping your orgasm back break. 

Jeonghan’s warm, soft, wet tongue runs to your entrance, collecting your cum on his tongue as he moans in appreciation. His hands slide under your body to pull you closer to his face as he eats you out as if you were his last meal. Alternating between his tongue and his lips, Jeonghan takes his time to clean you of every last drop of cum as your thighs tremble around his head, your muscles screaming from overstimulation by the time he is finished. 

Moving between your legs, Jeonghan smiles, reaching up to wipe his hand along his mouth and chin as you look up at him with lustful eyes. There was what he had been searching for. That look in your eyes. 

Reaching towards the nightstand, Jeonghan swipes the condom from it, bringing the corner of the silver square to his lips as you watch him catch your breath. Carefully, he rips the foil open as if he’s done it a hundred times, making you roll your eyes playfully. Jeonghan grins, the latex in hand, his eyes moving from yours only for a moment as he reaches between your body and his to roll the condom onto his length as he speaks into a groan. 

“What? Was that too cheesy?” 

“You reminded me of a college fuckboy, but I think I might love you anyway.” 

Your words stop Jeonghan from moving and cause his breath to hitch in his throat. He had hinted at it earlier in the park. The leaf had fallen within his reach and you had mentioned the story about catching them and falling in love…But what if you were already in love with who you were walking with? 

Lifting his eyes to meet yours, Jeonghan finds you looking away. You had clearly realized what you had said and you were trying to hide your face without the use of your hands. Your fingers were straining against the silk that kept you bound to the bed but he didn’t need you bound to the bed anymore. 

Using his right hand, Jeonghan quickly unties the scarf, letting you pull your hands from the headboard but he is quick to catch them before you can cover your face. You watch as he shakes his head, lifting your left hand to his lips to press a kiss to your fingers as he does. 

No, he didn’t need you bound in anyway, except to him, which you already were. The maroon ribbons of magic swirling around your fingers again caused a glow against his lips as he let them rest there but you could see how the fibers of the ribbon trailed off and down to the bed where his left hand rested next to your body. 

“You think you love me?” 

Swallowing hard, you feel your heart beating hard and fast in your chest. You knew that Jeonghan could feel it against his own skin as he lay on top of you. There was no point or reason for you to lie, so you nod. 

“Yes.” 

Jeonghan smiles, pressing another kiss to your fingers. His hand slides along your arm until he lets go of it completely, instead of trailing his hand along your leg to your knee. Pulling it up to his hip, Jeonghan groans, leaning down to brush his lips against yours as he rolls his hips towards yours. Your soft moan fans hot breath against his mouth when you feel his cock press against your folds but not quite hard enough to push into you just yet. 

“I think I knew that I loved you the moment I caught that maple leaf. You were and are so beautiful. You were smiling up at the sky and the stupid trees and I was jealous of them. Then you were telling me about this fairytale..." 

Whispering Jeonghan’s name, you start to tell him that you love him again but fall short when the head of his cock finally gets the perfect angle and he is able to slowly thrust into you. Jeonghan closes his eyes, his fingers digging into your skin at your hip, feeling your warm walls clenching around him with each slow inch that you take inside of you. 

“Fuck…baby. You feel so good. I–god…You were telling me about falling in love and leaves and I was falling in love with you. I fell in love with you because we were born for one another. You were born to be mine. No one elses.” 

And he would never let anyone else have you. Not now, not ever, Jeonghan thought to himself as he bottomed out into you for the first time. Your hand sliding along his waist to rest on his back, pulling him closer to you as you gasped out a moan, feeling full of him. 

While Jeonghan’s words and the magic of it all didn’t make complete sense, what did was the feeling that he was describing. You knew it too. You knew it the moment he walked away the first time at the cafe. That man was yours. This man…is yours. 

Scratching at his skin lightly, you nod and mutter his name on a moan before throwing your head back, feeling pleasure rush through you when Jeonghan starts to pick up his pace and deepen his thrusts. He was beginning to learn about you. He could feel it now, every time your pussy would tighten around his cock if he moved just the right way. So he would move that way again and then purposely make you wait before he would do it all over again, just so he could listen to you cry his name against his lips. 

“Are you gonna cum for me again?”

Nodding, you wrap your hand around the back of Jeonghan’s neck, trying to keep his mouth near yours but he laughs at your instance. There was your greed that he loved so much. He wasn’t leaving you. He would kiss you every day for the rest of your shared life together but right now…he wanted to watch you fall apart on his cock for the first time. 

“Angel, I love how you cry for me like this. Is it that good? You like my cock that much?” 

His words were making you feel shy but still, you nodded and whined out a yes as tears ran down your cheeks. The pressure of your orgasm building in your abdomen as Jeonghan reaches between your legs to circle his thumb around your clit only causes your thighs to tremble even harder. 

“Ah…Jeonghan! Please…” 

The last of your words are whispered, almost tearfully between a moan and a sob, as you try to keep your orgasm at bay, though it hurts to try. Jeonghan hisses back his own groan. His climax is on the edge, barreling behind yours as he tightens his grip on your thighs, thrusting into you harder and pushing your head towards the headboard with each powerful thrust. 

“Cum baby. Do it… I’m not going—fuck, I’m right behind you.” 

Your hands clench on the bedding under you as you tightly close your eyes, seeing white the moment your orgasm washes over you for the second time. The intensity of pleasure is so intense for you and Jeonghan as you clench around him like a vice that any attempts he has at holding himself back are futile. 

Jeonghan groans, feeling warm, thick cum spill into the condom with one final thrust before he falls over you, burying his face in the crook of your neck. You are grateful for the weight of his body as you come down from your high. Your legs slowly stop shaking as Jeonghan’s hand runs along the length of your outer thigh. His lips work soft, tender kisses along the span of your neck before he makes it to your lips, catching his breath on the way. 

Smiling against your lips, Jeonghan knows he has pulled you. He knows he has to take care of the condom and that he needs to get you cleaned up but when you smile back against his lips he can’t make himself move just yet. Instead, he runs his fingers from the side of your face and neck to the back of your head, pulling you closer to his mouth. The kiss never rushed, feeling like it took your breath away while also giving you all you would ever need to survive, up until the moment Jeonghan finally pulled back to whisper against your lips. 

“I love you.” 

You had a feeling he would say the words. The two of you had been playing around with the words the entire time. You knew how fast it was. You knew how crazy it was but how crazy could it be when there was something bigger than both of you telling you it was meant to be? 

For your entire life, there had only been a handful of people you had ever spoken those three words too and meant them completely. Now you knew that as you said them to Jeonghan, you meant them for the rest of your life. 

“I love you too.” 

Closing his eyes for a moment, Jeonghan takes in the feeling of hearing the words on your lips. His fingers slide along the back of your head and over your hair before he kisses you once more and pulls from you at last. You watch with fond curiosity as he takes care of himself, disposing of the condom, cleaning up the wrapper, and moving towards your bedroom door, searching for something. 

“What are you looking for?” 

Sighing into a yawn, Jeonghan stretches his left arm above his head to feel the muscles in his back extend, knowing all the while that your eyes were taking in every inch of his skin. He had no reason to feel shy or embarrassed after what had happened. In fact, he was loving every moment of your eyes on his bare skin; he was taking pride in your enjoyment of him. 

“Your bathroom. I wanted to start a bath or shower for us. Something…” 

Sliding up in the bed, you smile, pulling your legs up towards your chest as you watch Jeonghan as he finally turns back to look at you. There was still so much to learn about one another but you knew there were many hours left in the night and many years left for the rest of your life. 

“Next door on the right. I’d prefer a bath.” 

Nodding, Jeonghan glances towards the door you mentioned before looking back at you fondly. You were the most beautiful person he had ever seen in his entire life at that moment. The moonlight shining on you from the window, the candle light in the reflection of your eyes, and that maroon arua around your hand that signified you were his. 

“Then a bath is what you get, Angel.” 

You follow Jeonghan for as long as you can with your eyes until he is out of your view. Just the sounds of water filling the tub and his humming as you lean back on your bed, lifting your hand to look at the magic swirling around your hand. All that maroon and a spot of gold at the tip of your left finger to let you know he was bound to you. 

“This is crazy.”

You laugh at your own hushed words, lifting your other hand to run it over your fingers. You don’t notice as Jeonghan comes back into the room, leaning against the doorframe for a moment to watch you. 

“No, it’s just a little magic, baby.”

© onlymingyus - all rights reserved. Reposting/modifying of any fic, or pieces of original writings posted on this blog is not allowed. Translations not allowed

[b3ach-bunn7]

WET CIGARETTES

Gojo Satoru, your prettiest customer, insists on ordering the most insane drinks possible. As a barista, it’s your duty to fullfill them.

alternate!universe, fluff, happy ending

(This is a long one guys 🙈)

——————————————————————

You love your job. The truth is, the people who romanticise working at a coffee shop were exactly right. Yes, the hours can be long, and the occasional Karen can turn what should be a five-minute interaction into a half an hour one. And sometimes you go home with burns from a hot coffee pot, or spills on your favourite trousers. But you love every part of your job.

Except for Gojo Satoru.

Your most troublesome customer. You know he goes to your university, because you’ve seen him wearing a hoodie with its logo on it. You assume you both have different majors, because you don’t cross paths at all.

But he comes to the shop every day without fail. And he orders the most complicated, diabetes-inducing drinks known to man. He strolls up to the counter, blinking those bright blue eyes at you, with his perfect smile and his hair that looks so soft to touch and starts rattling off his order.

Okay, it’s not the worst thing in the world. Gojo is easy on the eyes, and it’s quite funny to see how far he’ll take it. You’re not exactly sure if he even consumes the stuff he buys. Maybe he’s trying to impress you. Maybe he’s trying to annoy you. You think he succeeds more with the second option, but it’s fine. You like the little challenge everyday.

Today, you’re wiping down the counter when you see him appear behind it and begin drumming his fingers against it.

“Hi, sugar.”

You look up, unamused. He’s wearing a black compression shirt that hugs his muscles and grey sweatpants. He’s probably come back from the gym, judging by the sweat that sticks some strands of his white hair to his forehead. He looks good. Whatever.

“Gojo. What monstrosity will it be today?”

He hums under his breath. He rests his cheek on his palm. His skin is so clear. For all the coffee he drinks, at least.

“I would like… A single shot, 4 pumps sugar free peppermint, nonfat, extra hot, no foam, light whip stirred grande white mocha.”

Your mouth gapes. “Gojo. What? That’s not- what even is that?”

He laughs, loud and boyish. The shop is quite empty, so, you can take your time to mock his ridiculous request.

“I don’t know. Thought I’d try something different, you know?”

“You try something different everyday. I think this one wins the stupidest order yet.”

“Don’t be like that, sweetheart. You know you like it. I bring some joy to the darkness that is your shift.” He pouts and leans forward.

You rolls your eyes. You turn and grab a cup to begin concocting his drink.

“Don’t call me that. And it doesn’t bring me joy. It does test my memory, though,” you pause, “How many pumps of peppermint was it?”

“Four. And what’s wrong with sweetheart?”

“I’m not your sweetheart, Gojo.”

He groans. He watches as you flit around behind the counter, going to steam the milk for his drink.

“Come on, what else am I supposed to call you? I don’t know your name.”

You point to the name tag pinned to your shirt.

“Yes you do.”

“That’s not your name.”

You nod and insist that it is. His eyebrows raise and he nods towards it.

“Your name is Brian?”

“Cute, right? I don’t like strangers using my real name, so they let me print a fake one.” You smile.

“It’s a shame, really. Brian suits you.” You stick your tongue out and Gojo grins.

The drink doesn’t take long. You make one of the fancy milk designs on the top, and slide it over to him.

“Here you go.”

He thanks you. He peers at the design at the top, eyeing the drink.

“I like this. You should learn how to draw my face on there.”

“Ah, yes. You’re right, that does sound like a great way to pass my time.” You nod sarcastically.

He sips the drink carefully. His nose scrunches and he sticks his tongue out.

“Oh, that is not good. At all.”

You laugh. You reach over and grab the drink, taking a swig. Gojo protests, but you can tell his effforts to get it back are half-assed. You wince, the warm peppermint drink sliding down your throat.

“Yeah, gross. How did you even come up with this?”

He shrugs, “They just come to me.” He nods at the cup in your hand, “You know, we basically just kissed.”

You snort, “You can keep dreaming, Gojo.”

“Oh, you’re definitely in my dreams, baby. All the dirty ones.”

Oh, he’s feeling brave today. You turn to hide the flush that dusts your cheeks. You wipe down the steamer.

“Baby is gross.”

“Tell me your name then.”

You point at the name tag on your shirt. Gojo groans and runs a hand through his hair. You glance down at the ignored drink on the counter.

“Gojo, you haven’t even touched your drink.”

He shrugs. “Oh, well. It’s not like I can’t pay for it.”

You hum under your breath. Rich people.

The shop starts filling up, and your manager pops his head around the door to tell you to get a move on.

“Sorry, Gojo. You gotta get a move on.”

“Fine. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You wave him off, sighing as he drops his drink in the trash.

——

The next day, Gojo walks in with someone else. A girl, short brown hair and an unlit cigarette in her mouth. It’s the first time you’ve ever seen him with anyone else. Maybe she’s a girlfriend. Gojo seems awfully close to her, a smile gracing his lips as she says something to him.

You’re staring. You turn away quickly. It’s none of your business what he’s up to and you don’t care, anyway. Gojo could be married for all you care.

He bounds up to the front. Gojo has a way of taking up every space he’s in, and as he leans across the counter, he’s all you can see.

“Hey, cutie.”

“Hello. What can I do for you today?”

“Aw. No complaints. You like cutie?”

“Feels like something a 12 year old would call his discord girlfriend, but. Sure, let’s go with that.”

He laughs, but he straightens up quickly.

“Look, I’ve got no time for our cute banter today. I’ll have a Venti, triple-shot caramel macchiato, with three pumps of vanilla, two pumps of hazelnut, one pump of caramel, a sprinkle of cinnamon, and extra whipped cream on top.”

“No time for banter, but time for all of that.”

“Oh, and a mocha.”

You smile. “Who’s that normal order for?”

He points at the girl he came in with, who’s gone outside to smoke her cigarette.

“Shoko. Luckily for you, she likes normal people drinks.”

You turn to start making their drinks. Today’s order is much tamer than usual. It actually sounds like it might taste nice, and it’s sugary enough to satiate his sweet tooth. You wonder if he’ll ask that girl to try it for him.

“So. You got any plans today?” You say.

“Mhm. My friend and I are going shopping. She asked me to keep her company, but I think she likes my credit card’s presence more than mine.”

“Makes sense. At least she gets something out of the card.”

“Ha ha ha. Come on, she gets mean when she’s impatient.”

You shake your head, waiting for the milk to steam. “It takes as long as it takes.”

“Okay, Carla.”

“Wrong.”

“Bridget?”

You tell him he’s wrong again and laugh at his whining. You finish his drink off with an alarming amount of whip cream, to his request, and place it and the mocha on the counter.

“Done in record time.” You wink.

He tries it, and perks up.

“I’m impressed. This one actually tastes nice.”

He slides it over to you, and you take a sip.

“Yeah, you’re right. It is nice.” You say, incredulously.

“Can I have a sip?”

You look to the left and Gojo’s ‘friend’ has appeared. She smells a little like cigarettes but she’s so breathtakingly pretty that you don’t think anyone‘s really worried about that. She takes a drink before Gojo can protest, and she winces.

“God, it’s so sweet. You’ll die an early death if you keep going on like this.”

“Well, good thing it’s not for you.” He grabs it and passes her the mocha.

The girl looks over at you and smiles.

“Hey. I’m Shoko. It’s nice to meet you. Gojo doesn’t shut up about you.”

You tilt your head at the boy, who is looking away from the two of you, and coo.

“Aw, how sweet!” You awe, pressing a hand to your heart.

“He calls you Barista girl. Says you make the best drinks.”

You shrug. “I wouldn’t say best. I am the only one who will make his insane orders, though.”

“That’s true. He doesn’t even drink them half the time. Just throws them away the second he leaves. It’s like the only reason he comes here is so-“

“Okay! Okay, we’ve got to go.” Gojo claps his hands together, cutting off Shoko, and steering her away.

She grins, waving at you. She yells it was nice to meet you, and you say it back, much to Gojos dismay, and wonder what the real reason he comes here is.

——-

The next time Gojo comes in, he looks good. He’s wearing a black button up, the top few buttons undone, the sleeves rolled up to show his forearms. There’s a silver chain around his neck, and his hair is done up in a way that looks effortless and prepared at the exact same time. He’s also holding a bouquet of pretty flowers, pink and white and perfect looking.

God. You move away before he notices you blatantly staring at him. It’s almost closing, and you’ve got ten minutes before you’re free to go. You should be annoyed at his presence. You and Choso, the guy you were working with tonight, had just cleaned up, and you know Gojo’s order would probably need every appliance in the building. Any other customer would be shunned away, a quick point at the clock.

But Gojo’s not any other customer. Not that you’d ever tell him that.

“Hey, Gojo.”

He smiles. “Hey, gorgeous.”

Your cheeks heat up. God, if only he wasn’t so attractive. It would be so much easier to act like you don’t care when he calls you all those things.

“You look nice. You going somewhere after this?”

“Mhm. I’m going on a date.”

You pause to where you’re emptying out the coffee pots. A date? He was seeing someone else after spending god knows how long flirting with you?

You shouldn’t be surprised. He’s never asked you out, and Gojo is attractive enough to be someone who doesn’t care about girls' feelings. You know you should’ve seen this coming. It probably was just a little fun he had everyday, joking around with the oblivious, head-over-heels barista who allowed him to act like a dick with his stupid coffee orders.

Whatever.

“That’s nice. What can I get for you? You need to hurry up though, because we’re closing soon.” Your voice is flat, and your hand rests on your hip.

“Uh. Just a coffee.”

You frown. “No obnoxious order today?”

“Nah. I’ve got places to be. And I need to be awake tonight, if you get my drift.” He winks and you scoff.

You turn and fill the coffee pot, a little more aggressively than normal. You unfortunately do get his drift. Before you can say anything in response, Choso comes out from the back.

Choso is cute. He looks intimidating, always monotoned and looking sleep-deprived, but he was a sweetheart. He always ties his hair into little buns, draws cute designs on top of the lattes, and always makes sure you don’t close alone. Plus, he looks good in an apron. You think you’d like him if it weren’t for an annoying blue-eyed boy and his stupid orders.

“You okay if I clock out?”

You turn to him and smile. “Yeah, I’ll lock up. You working tomorrow?”

Choso takes his apron off and drapes it over his shoulder. You turn to face him, effectively ignoring Gojo.

“Nope.”

“What? Choso, come on, I can’t work if you’re not there, it’s so boring!”

He laughs, crossing his arms and leaning against the counter. It make the muscles in his arms stand out, and wow. Does he work out? Probably.

“You’ll be fine without me.”

“I won’t.” You pout.

“Goodbye.” He walks away, nodding at Gojo, who looks just peachy waiting for his coffee.

“So who’s that?”

You turn back to face him. “Choso. He works here.”

“Yeah, I figured. You like him?”

“Yeah. He’s great. My favourite coworker.”

Gojo nods slowly. A weird sort of quiet settles over you two. A part of you wants to ask who’s he’s going on a date with, but you respect yourself too much for that.

“What time do you get off?” He speaks up.

You pause slightly. “Me?”

Gojo raises an eyebrow. “No, the other barista behind the counter. Yes, you.”

“Oh. I’m done in ten.”

“Okay, good. Our reservation is in half an hour, so we should make it.”

The coffee pot whirs to let you know it’s ready. Instead, you keep staring at Gojo, who’s looks all too serious for somebody speaking nonsense.

“What?”

“It’s a nice place, don’t worry. Thought I’d splurge, to impress you. These are for you, by the way.” He thrusts the flowers towards you.

“I- What? Gojo, what’s going on?” You laugh, a little hysterical, confused as to what the hell is happening.

He grins. He walks right over to the you, leaning over the counter, so you’re a couple inches away from each other.

“You really think I’d ask anybody else out? I’ve been asking for these stupid orders at for weeks now just to throw them out so I could talk to you, that wasn’t a hint?”

“Yeah, but I just. I don’t know, I thought you were just messing around!”

“Are you really that clueless?”

“Hey! You-“ You stop for a second.

You take the apron from around your neck and throw it behind you into the office. You cross your arms and you nearly laugh at the nervous look that crosses his face.

“Did you make a reservation and dress yourself up for a date you didn’t even ask me to?”

Gojo scratches the back of his head. “I-“

“And then come in here and just tell me when it’s happening, without even giving me time to prepare myself?”

“I- Barista girl, I can explain.” He clasps his hands together.

“And you still don’t even know my name.”

He sighs. “The mystery is part of the fun, babe.”

You smile slightly. You have no idea what went through his head, but it’s cute he tried so hard. Even if it was a little weird.

“What if I had plans tonight, huh?”

Gojo shrugs. “I was hoping you’d cancel them for me.”

“And if I didn’t?”

“Not too sure. Maybe throw the coffee I’m still waiting for in your face?”

You perk up suddenly, remembering the pot that was still bubbling behind you. You take a cup and fill it for him, fit it with a lid and give it to him.

“So. Are you going to ask me out properly?”

He nods. His face is determined and he grabs the flowers from your hands. He takes two steps back and he walks forward.

“Barista girl, will you do me the honours of going on a date with me tonight?”

You frown, sighing dramatically, “I don’t know. I’ve had such a long shift. I’m tired.”

Gojo grabs your hands, pulling you towards him. The counter gets in the way, but you don’t think he cares. The two of you are still close enough that if you moved a couple inches forwards you’d be kissing. He smells like something expensive, and it overwhelms your senses. His lips quirk up in a little smirk, and you think your skin is buzzing where he’s touching you.

“I’m sure I can help wake you up, baby. You just gotta say yes.”

“I- I kinda look like shit, though.” You whisper.

“Don’t say that, you look beautiful.”

You know you don’t. Your hair is being held up poorly by a claw clip, random strands falling out of it. Your mascara is slightly smudged under your eyes, and there’s a lovely new coffee stain on the shirt you're wearing, courtesy of Choso knocking into you before you got a chance to put your apron on.

But he’s looking right at you like you’re the most incredible thing that he’s ever laid his eyes on that you feel like you might actually believe him.

“Okay. Okay, fine. If you let me go home and freshen up. Put a dress on, or something.”

“Oh, I can get behind that.”

You snort a laugh, stepping back. The nervousness from before is gone, and he’s grinning at you excitedly. He waits the few minutes it takes you to lock up, and holds his arm out for you to take while he walks you to his car.

It’s seven in the evening and the sun is just starting to set. The sky is beginning to turn, seeping from blue to orange to pink, and the light is catching off Gojos face. He’s speaking animatedly as he talks about the restaurant he’s taking you too, oblivious to your staring. He’s planned every last detail, somehow remembering when you said that you loved Asian food about a month ago.

You don’t really know much about Gojo. You do know enough to say that he is so sweet it makes your teeth rot.

You say your name, then, softly enough that he nearly misses it. He stops mid sentence and turns to you.

“Is that your name?”

You nod.

“You have a very pretty name.”

You smile. “Thank you.”

He nods slowly. “You can call me Satoru, by the way.”

“Okay, Satoru.” The name feels nice on your tongue.

He groans when you say it, hand reaching up to cup your face.

“God, it sounds so beautiful when you say it. It’d sound even better if you were screaming it, though.”

You roll your eyes, face a fiery red, and let a laughing Satoru lead you into his car.

——————————————————————

AUTHORS NOTE

Gojo satoru the man that u r.. also that cosplayer is EXACTLY how I envision him in my brain.. so obsessed..

again, any requests r welcome! (I’m literally lost for ideas)

[dollwritesarchive]

requested by @allthefandomstogether !!

for doll’s bizarre birthday blurbs !!

cw: smut ( minors dni ), subspace, dacryphilia, size kink / belly bulge, fem!pet names

you were gone.

and he knew that, but he didn’t stop. he couldn’t stop, because you were still perched on his lap, legs wrapped so tight around his waist that your knees dug into his ribs, regardless of their pathetic quivering. “Please,” you pant, though you’d whined the word so many times that it’d lost its meaning. what were you begging for anymore? what could you possibly want that he hadn’t already given you? “Please…”

it wasn’t that you were still begging for more, though. you already had more than you could handle— from this position, on his lap, there was no resistance. you ride him deep, grinding your clit relentless against the firm muscle pads pulled taut beneath the skin of his lower belly. the rough patch of coarse hair sprouting out from the section acting as your texture mat to experiment with. but he was so fucking deep inside you that it didn’t matter. you couldn’t think of anything but the tip of his cock poking against your belly button. you only uttered the plea because it was the only word you could find in your poor, empty head. muscle memory, you decided. you were so accustomed to begging for N’Doul that you didn’t have to think to beg him.

“Greedy, little thing.” N’Doul husked against the shell of your ear, the rumble sending shudders through you as both of his fierce hands grip your hips and keep you flush against him while his hips rock— pumping at that same, maddening depth. “How many times have you cum, already?” but he knew the answer, and he didn’t expect you were of sound mind to answer him. your nails sank into his bare shoulders, the heat of the desert sun coaxing diamonds of sweat to the surface of his sepia skin, glistening like a mirage. you couldn’t focus on them, or anything really, your vision blurred with ecstasy overload. “And still—“ he moans, incredulous at just how tight you clench around him, “still that soft, little cunt of yours won’t let me pull out? You still want me buried deep in your belly, yes?” your eyelids flutter when one hand slips to press against the bulge he’s pushing out of your lower abdomen from the inside, surrounding the sensitive area with pressure from every angle. the tension forces a strangled half-babble from your lips, and your arms hook around his neck to cling as close to him as possible, eyes welling up with salty tears.

it was too much.

you were going to explode.

“You’re going to cum again.” it wasn’t a question, it was a statement rasped out from between his teeth because he could feel you trembling as you tried to hold on to him, burying your face in the heat of his sweat-soaked, bare chest. your walls clamped around him harder the moment he pressed the bump in your belly. you try to blink your tears away, but it only coaxes them to race over your cheeks, and the heat of the afternoon sun seems to burn them into steam as soon as they do, leaving your countenance streaked with saline, but N’Doul smells the tears, close enough to feel their course, and presses his open mouth to the wet apple of your cheek. “You can’t even move anymore, can you, little girl? You’re crying—“ he rubs the tip of his cock as it prods against your belly when he thrusts upwards into you, murmuring close to you so you’re mindless mewling wouldn’t drown it out, “that sweet, little head of yours is all empty, I’ve already fucked your sense out, and you’re still milking me tight? You still want my cock?”

the best you could do is nod, partially, as your head lolls around on your neck— it feels like a fishbowl filled with jelly; impossible to stay upright, so he pulls you back, rough, and your face collides with his chest, where you stay, slumped, and enjoy the thoughtlessness of it all.

“That’s it,” he grunts in your ear, the hot puffs of his breath flittering through your hair, “you don’t have to try too hard. Don’t even think, little girl, just keep squeezing my cock in that tight, little pussy. Just… keep… clenching…” his head drops back, tongue flicking against his lower lip as his mouth hangs open in ecstasy, “Yes! You feel so good right now!” with your nails scraping along his nape, you hug him as tight as your exhausted muscles will allow, shivering regardless of the heat of the desert. his breath is loud, thick, as he grips your hips tighter and bounces you up and down so abruptly that you start to lose track of how many times he’s slammed himself into your guts— every thrust running together as the world around you spins. “I’m close…” he mutters, grinding his teeth, before his head tilts, his shiny hoop jangling against his neck, “do you— want me to pull out?” he asks, breathless, “I’ll— paint your soft tits—“

but you whine, and your knees spur his ribs, hooking your ankles together at his lower back. you don’t have to say no, because you’d made it abundantly clear to him. you weren’t letting him pull out.

[thats-a-lot-of-cortisol]

Corentin {The Prodigal Saer}

wood elf storm sorcerer // they/them // dark urge

"Getting lobotomized was the best thing to ever happen to me. Getting dissected gave me IBS."

Age: ~30 y/o

Background: Haunted One

Favorite Weapons: The Spellsparkler Staff and the Sword of the Emperor

Style of Combat: fly by the seat of your pants and pray to whoever's still listening

Most Prized Possession: the acorn. you know the one

Deepest Desire: To remember their family from before they were taken to the cult. it's a desire they'll likely never be able to fulfill- they couldn't remember their mother & sibling even before the tadpole.

Guilty Pleasure: Eating just frosting. Gale taught them how to make it one day and they haven't been the same since. They experiment with different flavors and add-ins sometimes too.

Best-Kept Secret: There are definitely some things they've remembered that they haven't told anyone (yet) because either they're too ashamed or it's too painful. I think the raid/mission that directly broke them & resigned them to their lot as Bhaal's Chosen is one of those.

Greatest Strength: They're pretty good at recognizing when to be charming vs intimidating, when to use violence and when to at least try to talk their way out of a situation, etc. It's a skill they re-learned and honed over the course of the game.

Fatal Flaw: They're stubborn as hell and don't like to budge on their convictions and decisions, which is great when they're correct and really not great if they're not. And they can be careless with their words when arguing about said convictions and decisions, especially if they don't know the other person(s) involved or if they don't care that much about them.

Favorite Smell: wood smoke

Favorite Spell/Cantrip: Shocking Grasp for sure

Pet Peeve: Slow walkers who also take up the entire pathway for unclear reasons. They can deal with one or the other, but not both at the same time.

Bad Habit: Chewing their fingernails. Sometimes they'll wear down the nailbed so badly their fingers bleed. They swallow the nail

Hidden Talent: Weaving. They got really good at braiding while they were a teenager, practicing both on their hair and Orin's. It was calming to them, and they pretty quickly expanded to looms and more intricate plaits/knots/etc as a way to cope. Muscle memory meant they started doing it out of habit after getting off the nautiloid.

Leisure Activity: Gardening; stabbing the ground and pulling up weeds can be great ways to blow off steam. Also reading- they didn't exactly get much of an education, and what they did have they'd forgotten. They want to learn as much as possible

Favorite Drink: Hot chocolate, made half with cream & half with milk.

Favorite Food: hand pies, especially ones filled with sausage or beef. But they have to either make them themself or be certain whoever made them is telling the truth about the ingredients they used.

Favorite Person: Wyll, hands down.

Favored Display of Affection (Platonic or Romantic): Hair! Playing with it, brushing it, styling it, etc.

Fondest Childhood Memory: sitting on their bed, detangling and braiding Orin's hair when they were teenagers. They're sure they have some happy ones pre-Bhaal but all that's left of them is that inkling, no specifics.

Other: Their fashion sense was pretty bad when they got off the nautiloid. The others (especially Astarion and Shadowheart) stepped in pretty quickly to remedy that, which means most of their outfits in Acts I and II were picked out by their companions. They'd gained their footing by Act III but still made some...questionable color and cut decisions occasionally. It's unclear whether they've always been that way or if it was from their brain getting scrambled. Also, they bind sometimes! Whether or not they do depends on how they're feeling that day (physically & mentally), if it's practical, and if it goes with the vibes of that day's outfit(s).

Fun Fact: Wyll helped them cut their hair after the proposal!

Top 10 Songs: - "Nunemaker's Parable" (Everybody's Worried About Owen) "I am mourning/I am morning/So break me anew" - "A Good Thing" (Kyle Stibbs) "This is birth, in reverse/This is sacred, tell me, how'd I take it worse?" - "Pyre" (Mel Bryant & the Mercy Makers) "I am a child of god my fingers move the earth and yet/I cannot scrub the dirt beneath my nails" - "Prologue" (Shayfer James, Kate Douglas) "We build a cradle from our grave/And feel it rock with every wave" - "A Pearl" (Mitski) "It's just that I fell in love with a war/Nobody told me it ended" - "The Price of Life Itself" (Moon Walker) "But mama didn't raise no wolf/And I was never really one to fight" - "Bloody! Bloody!" (Junie & TheHutfriends) "A craving that cannot be fed/It's happening again/(I think it's getting worse now)" - "Take Me to War" (The Crane Wives) "So I will leave it where it's standing/And instead I will find me a match/I'll turn it all to kindling/I'll burn it all down to ash" - "Fate Goes" (Shayfer James, Kate Douglas) "Fate is the only one that's just, and I trust/That fate goes as ever fate must/Ashes to ashes, dust to dust" - "In the Woods Somewhere" (Hozier) "The creature lunged/I turned and ran/To save a life I didn't have"

Questionnaire template by @sporeservant!

[sweetestberryofthebunch]

WIP Wednesday

A deftly little piece of Sashnetra Angst that has me in a literal chokehold right now. I love them, why do i have to hurt them?

Not even twenty minutes later, and here they were. It felt odd, a slight sense of deja vu in the warm air, steam coming from the cups between them. Anetra sat across from Sasha on the kitchen table. She’d taken her shoes off, just like she knew Sasha preferred her guests to do, but her long, brown coat still hung over her slouched shoulders.

Anetra brought her cup up to her lips, sniffing the steaming liquid inside. „That’s not Ceylon“, she noted, raising her brows as she took a sip. Sasha chuckled, of course Anetra remembered her favourite still. Just like Sasha could still make her Cappuccino exactly how she liked it, almost like muscle memory. And she didn’t even drink coffee herself.

„Lavender“, she explained, watching Anetra‘s face light up in pleasant surprise at the taste, „And honey, of course“, Sasha added. No matter how stoic her outside demeanour was, Anetra despised bitterness in her drinks, needing a thick, warm portion of foamed milk in anything caffeinated Sasha made her. Or, in this case, a good spoonful of sweetener.

Anetra‘s lips curled up into the slightest smile, however it didn’t reach her lifeless eyes. „Trouble sleeping too, huh?“, she asked, setting the cup back down in its saucer.

Sasha brought her shoulders up in a shrug, shaking her head. „What can I say, I don’t like how we ended up.“

[neopuppy]

Dive Into You: Part 2. (M)

Preview: “You’re not seriously just fucking with her to get back at me are you? It’s not like everyones talking about you being dads problem child here.” Jeno’s arms fold over his chest. Bicep muscles straining under tight sleeves.

“Shouldn’t you be happy? I’m allowing you to spend alone time with your church girl. You should be thanking me nono.”

Pairing: brothers Jeno/Haechan x female reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Genre: pwp, church boys AU, smut, love triangle, brothers nohyuck

Warning: daddy issues, sacrilegious themes, explicit language, master manipulator Haechan, innocent Jeno, virgin reader, corruption, bible quotes

Smut Warning: oral(F receiving), slight sensory deprivation, fingering, all in church.

Intro—>

Part 1–>

“I told the new family in town that you’d be showing their daughter around boys. I expect you to be on your best behavior.” Pastor Lee slaps a hand over Jeno’s shoulder with a firm grip. “No funny business.”

“You got it, father. You know, like because you’re a pastor.” Haechan snorts, pouring hot steaming coffee into a ceramic mug.

“Ha ha ha, you’re hilarious. Make sure your brother acts right. People around town are already talking enough about my atrocious parenting skills. Word travels fast in these small towns you know.” Pastor Lee adjusts his tie in the mirror. Stepping out of the front door with not even a wave goodbye. Jeno left rubbing at his shoulder with irritation.

“What time do you want to head out?” He questions, eyes burning into Haechans back.

“Oh, I can’t do that ‘show the new townies’ around thing today. Got a brunch date in the next town over with someones mom.” Haechan turns, leaned back along the kitchen counter blowing steam from his coffee.

“What?? She’s your girlfriend now. Aren’t you supposed to hang out with her tonight?” Jeno’s eyes widen befuddled. More in disbelief his brother would be two timing you, familiar with his antics.

“Your point?” Haechan scoffs, checking messages through his phone. Petty smirk on his lips sending you a ‘miss you’ text.

“You’re a dog. You’re not seriously just fucking with her to get back at me are you? It’s not like everyones talking about you being dads problem child here.” Jeno’s arms fold over his chest. Bicep muscles straining under tight sleeves.

“Shouldn’t you be happy? I’m allowing you to spend alone time with your church girl. Should be thanking me nono.”

“Dick..” Jeno mutters, grabbing his bag to head out. Not wanting to spend another minute around his brother.

“Wait a minute..” Haechan grabs a hold on Jeno’s arm, pulling him back into the kitchen. “Take good care of my girl today yea?” Jeno’s eyes squint as his brother sneaks a $20 bill into his side jacket pocket.

“Maybe get her a milk shake or something. Whatever it is you kids drink. We’re not really going on a date tonight if you know what I mean.” Haechans eyes shift around mischievously. Knowing damn well Jeno knows. Knowing exactly what to say to get under his skin.

Jeno grips at Haechans collar, huffing against his face. Anger seething through fingertips aching to bring his brother physical pain. Jaw tightening, resisting the deep urge inside building for years everyday.

“Gonna give me a black eye nono? What will father think when he finds out his bad seed is also abusive?” Lips curling with a slick grin. Haechan the expert on how to push Jeno’s buttons. Worked on himself well to get exactly what he wants.

“That’s what you want isn’t it?” Jeno clenches the fabric between his fist, arms shaking with rage. “You’re the perfect one, I’m the fuck up. You’re the one dad brags about, I’m the one he pretends doesn’t exist.”

“You think your daddy issues would get your little church girl turned on? Should I tell her how you cry yourself to sleep wishing you were me?” Haechan snorts, loosening from of Jeno’s grip. Hands smoothing out his freshly ironed shirt.

“I’ve never wanted to be anything like you. You don’t care about anyone but yourself.”

“That’s not true nono..” Haechan pulls on a jacket. Fingers twirling around keys. “You know how much I love my car” with a cocky wink matching a shit eating grin Haechan heads out. Leaving Jeno festering in his anger. Fists slamming against the counter. Back tense with underlying hatred, hatred for himself. Tired of how easily Haechan manages to provoke him.

——————————————————————————

Jeno’s nervous, pissed off, feeling anxious. Pacing back and forth in front of your house. He didn’t have much of a choice with the looming threat of getting shipped back off to Jesus camp hovering his mind. The idea to ditch this whole ordeal passing his thoughts more than once. It’s not that he liked you, but it’s also not necessarily that he didn’t like you. Convincing himself he just hasn’t gotten any for too long now. Dick probably desperate for anything at this point. Nothing related to how cute you looked with your lips all swollen after kissing him. Jacking off at home that night reliving the events long forgotten.

Forget about stroking himself off in the shower the next morning again. Or the other five more times since. No he didn’t like you, not really..

“Aren’t you one of Pastor Lee’s sons??” And older woman carrying bags of groceries approaches. Lipstick covering her two front teeth, over sized dress hanging from her body.

“Oh uh.. yes I am. I’m supposed to.. show your.. daughter? Around today..” Jeno stutters out, mentally slapping himself.

“Oh..” the woman adjusts a bag in her hold, throat clearing. “What about that lovely brother of yours? What’s his name again?”

“Haechan..” Jeno’s eyes shift, looking away. How did his brother manage to convince everyone he was such an angel. A modern day fallen angel, roaming earth in disguise.

“Ah that’s it..” she makes a sound of disapproval, bag dropping on the porch. “A polite young boy would have offered assistance.” Voice lowly whispering as she unlocks the front door. Jeno’s eyes darting between the groceries and woman, cursing himself yet again for coming off exactly how everyone says.

“I’ll call her down.” She steps inside. Loud shouting vocals calling out your name. The sound of foot steps against stairs following. Your figure appearing, dressed up to impress. Jeno’s throat itching, swallowing, adjusting his collar.

“That’s not your bike- is it?!” Your mothers shrieking voice questions. Eyes bulging out, taking in the sleek black motorcycle off the sidewalk.

“I’m here!” Your smile falls, only spotting one brother waiting for you outside. Not the one you’d expect even. You subtly give a look around, searching for someone else maybe hiding in surprise. Jeno unfortunately does not fail to notice.

“That is my bike Ma’m.. it’s safe. I promise.” He holds up two helmets. Craving to crawl into a hole under your moms scrutinizing gaze.

“I’m not so sure about this..” she mumbles. Eyes glaring into Jeno, trying to put the fear of God...fear of a strict crazy mother, in him.

“It’ll be fine mom! He has a helmet! I’ve been on a motorcycle with dad before!” You lean up, pecking your mothers cheek. Summer dress twirling up with air as you run forward. Jeno catching a glimpse of your underwear. Shifting a helmet over his groin momentarily.

“I thought Haechan was coming too?” You asks, taking the helmet held out for you. Typically being his brothers helmet, little did you know.

“He’s busy.. errands out of town or something.” Jeno mumbles, avoiding your eyes. He’s being weird, but then again you didn’t know him well enough to confirm he wasn’t always this way.

“Oh.. well I guess I’ll see him later anyway.” You frown, tugging at the light fabric of your dress. What a waste. “You ride a motorcycle?”

“Yea.. I don’t have a car so.. you’ve been on one before you said?” Jeno’s brows furrow. Eyes trained on your feet, teeth digging into his lower lip. You had to wear cute strappy sandals with a summer dress. That just made sense, to show off your cute freshly painted toes..Jeno’s brain feels like its turning in his skull. Lips begging for mercy to let out a scream.

“I actually haven’t. Just said that to make my mom shut up.” You lean in close. Lips grazing his earlobe as you whisper. Words muffled, Jeno blinking slowly. Perfume wafting around his head, as if this could get any worse.

“Uh..” Jeno steps away abruptly. “Put that on!” His voice awkwardly shouts to you, chin jerking toward the helmet in your hands. Head shaking, pulling on his own. Straddling around the bike seat, engine coming to life.

“Am I supposed to hold on to you?” You stand to Jeno’s side. Admiring the shining black bike, fitting for his character. At least physically.

“I..” Jeno’s breath catches under his helmet shield. Only now realizing you’ll be riding with him around today. Legs parted on him.. arms squeezing his abdomen.

“Jeno??..” you pull on your helmet with confusion. He wasn’t much for words it seemed. So opposite of his brother.

“Uh.. yea.. just hold on to me..” he sighs to himself. Sounding more displeased than intended. Uncomfortable awkwardness travels through you watching his shoulders slump. With reluctance, you lift your leg. Straddling Jeno’s back, bad day to wear a short dress..

“This is kind of..” your lips purse together, center a little too close to Jeno’s body. More than close, right on him. Cotton airy smell coming off his black jean jacket. Scent fresh and clean, hair lingering of lightly scented shampoo. His broad shoulders covering majority of your view.

“You should.. hold on tight.” Jeno licks his cracking lips. Foot kicking up the bikes lock. With another look toward your mom motioning the sign of the cross. You lean your body forward, chest pressed up on Jeno’s wide back. Arms circling around his small waist.

Jeno’s own thoughts rolling in like rapid fire. Throat squeezing in, heat between your bodies pressed together moving between his legs. Trying to focus on anything, anything but your breasts pressing into him. Anything besides your smooth thighs around him. The memory of kissing you too vividly choosing to repeat itself.

“God be with you!” Your mothers voice screams out. Bike engine too loud as Jeno rides off. Your dress blowing behind you, smile covering your face. Chin on his shoulder, admiring the view of your new home.

Could only be an even more perfect moment if it was Haechan you were wrapped around..

——————————————————————————

“That’s it? A diner? That’s the tour of the town?” You twirl around the cherry sat atop melting whipped cream. Chocolate shake looking unblended and less than appetizing.

“There really isn’t much to do here..” Jeno mumbles, chin tucked into his chest. Basket of half eaten fries more interesting than you apparently.

“I could have told you that..” you murmur in response. Sitting back in the booth with boredom. Jeno does the same, brows furrowing in thought. A minute or five of silence passing. He grunts lowly, pulling his phone out.

“Look at you two!” Mark jogs over sporting a huge smile stretched across his cheeks. Red and white striped apron covering what looks like an all white uniform.

“You work here?!” You sit up, eyeing the uniform. Almost too fitting, a too old altar boy working part time at a cheap fifties diner.

“Well of course, phone bills don’t pay themselves! Timothy 6:10 For the love of money, is the root of all kinds of evil!” Mark proclaims, finger waggling about like a mad man. Your lips pulling back over your teeth in...displeasure.

“Right..”

“Fucking shit” Jeno groans, kicking at a foot under the table. Tsking as thumbs slam down at his phone screen.

“Ah Jeno! Proverbs 21:23! Whoever keeps his mouth and his tongue keeps himself out of trouble!” Mark places hands on his hips. Lips pursed together with disappointment.

“Yea..sorry Jesus. Whatever.” Jeno mumbles again, eyes not moving from his phone.

“Gamers right” Mark shakes his head your way. Eyes lighting up, taking your own phone out.

“What do you play??” you scoot in closer to Jeno. Closing the space between the two of you in the booth. His shoulders stiffen, curling in hunched over the table.

“Kartrider..” Jeno barely whispers. Catching enough of it, familiar with the game.

“I play too! Oh! I bet I have a better rank than you!” Laughing unlocking your phone, swiping the game open. “Look at my character, she’s so cute!”

“There’s no way you’re better than me....I’m always top ranking in this county..” Jeno’s eyes widen. Forgetting about his current race, watching you hold up your phone with laughter.

“Come on, let’s race. I’m gonna kick your ass!” You lean in closer, reading out Jeno’s ID as you enter it in. “Add me!”

“Language!” Mark sighs, head shaking with both of you. “God’s children have truly fallen. After everything the lord has done for us.”

“Come on Jeno! Play me! I’ll go easy on you” nudging at his side with a wink. Your smile grows, finally something you can do together. Jeno dragging you around downtown past rusty antique shops. The only thing that caught your interest a quant little family owned bookstore. Learning fast he wasn’t much for conversation. Face appearing pained and uninterested with every word from you.

“Don’t feel like playing anymore..” Jeno shuts his phone, screen turning black.

“What?! Aw come on. Can’t stand the thought of a girl beating you?” Jeno leans back, eyes taking in your face slowly. All he cared about was winning, competing in stupid games just to achieve a high ranking. You’d win of course, he’d never let you lose.

“Just don’t feel like playing anymore.”

——————————————————————————-

“Thanks for showing me around, the one street you took me to.” Your voice drips with sarcasm. Hopping off the back of Jeno’s bike. He removes his own helmet, hair flopping around messily. “Was fun I guess.”

“Yea well” Jeno holds out his hand for the helmet you borrowed. You hold it under your arm, brow quirking in confusion. Your hand slowly lifting, placing in his. Jeno’s eyes widen, staring at your hands held together. Too many feelings rushing at him all at once.

“Helmet!” Jeno shouts abruptly, hand flying away from yours like you’re too disgusting to touch.

“Geeze, fine. Sorry...” you place the helmet on the back end of Jeno’s bike. Turning away, without even a goodbye. He grabs your elbow, your foot stopping mid-air.

“You..” head turning, staring down where he holds you.

“Yes?” You implore him to continue. Jeno’s hand dropping from you when you fully turn to face him again.

“You.. you really like my brother..?” Jeno’s eyes fall to the ground. Thick dark eyelashes shadowing across his cheeks.

“Yea of course. Is that what this is about Jeno? I really do like him, I would never use someone.” You smile, bouncing back on your heels. Jeno’s lips suck in with frustration.

“Wish I could say the same about him.” Jeno mumbles, turning his engine back on.

“What was that?” Voice raising, trying to speak above the loud roar from the motorcycle. Jeno flicks down his helmet shield, speeding off. Cloud of dust surrounding you. Smacking at the air coughing out, bike disappearing behind dusts.

“Fucking jerk.”

—————————————————————————-

“Haechan! Where are we going? The church?!” Your shoes lift up dust. Arm in his hold pulling you toward the small old building.

“Where else would we go baby? Can’t go to my place, the holy spirit’s home.” Haechan laughs, pulling a lanyard from his back pocket. “Besides, this is my dads church you know right? It’s like my property too, we’re safe here under God’s watchful eye.”

“Isn’t this.. I don’t know. Sacrilegious?!” You anxiously follow him inside. Haechans easy smile comforting you, arms wrapping around your waist. He steps back down the center aisle. Pews displayed at your sides, Haechan leading you one in front. He pulls you to the center of the pew, sitting with hands on your hips.

“This feels..” you start, chest rising and falling faster as guilt passes through you.

“Wrong? God didn’t make us this way..” his hand smooths down your bare thigh. Passing the fresh new dress just for your date tonight. Fingers skirting between your thighs, one playing at a side covering your mound. “..for us to not touch and explore..”

“It’s just..” your hands grip at the front of the pew behind you. Where you’d normally kneel to pray..

“Just?..” Haechans eyes gaze up at you. Pure sin and danger hidden in the face of an angel. Tongue sliding up your other thigh. “You’re so sweet.”

You sigh in defeat, legs quivering, upper body doing the work to hold you up. His head dipping under your dress, nose pressing into your slit. Cotton from your panties shoving between you. Soft moans sounding from underneath, Haechans tongue licking at your underwear. Enough to properly soak them up, allowing drool to freely fall from his mouth. You gnaw at your lip, gathering up your dress fabric in one hand. Admiring the way the beautiful boy between your legs eats you up.

Haechan lets out a dreamy sigh. Long fingers stroking up and down your thighs. Teeth biting your at core with cloth between. Your stomach folds in, curling closer to where he sits below you. Fingers wrapping around the sides of your panties, tongue lapping at your inner thighs.

“Body of a virgin can heal more sins than body of christ you know..” underwear at your knees. Haechan leans back in, lips wrapping around your clit. Tongue swirling around, suctioning between. Your other hand lifting to your mouth, biting down on your thumb. Muffled moans and whines echoing around the church walls.

Haechans eyes stay on your face, tongue rolling your clit around. Hands squeezing your inner thighs, pulling back, clapping down slaps. Your hips jolting forward with suppressed cries. Everything about him was absolutely depraved. Looks deceiving from the boy your mother had always warned you about.

“Don’t hide your pretty sounds baby.” Haechan pulls away. Lips shining, coated in your wetness. Glares from the colored glass reflecting off his skin. Red tinted eyes sparkling up at you. Haechan reaches for your wrist, yanking your hand out from your mouth. His lips part open, tongue swirling around your entrance. Sucking up the wetness gathering around.

“Oh God!” You shout out, neck loosely dropping back. Tears on the brink of escaping the corners of your eyes.

“That’s it baby. You pray to me now.” Haechan groans, mouth closing over your entire mound. Eyes rolling back into his head, swiping up and down your core. Hands finding his hair, fingers digging into his scalp. Haechans tongue thrusts into your tight entrance, muscle working extra hard to enter.

“Oh my God!” Body shaking, ass digging into the pew. Hips twitching forward, grinding against Haechans face. Chin covered in your wetness, tongue wiggling inside you. Fingers finding way to your clit, pinching and rolling the bud. “Oh my God!!”

Haechan groans inside you, scalp in pain from your pulling. Cock hardening in his jeans, taste of innocence in his mouth nearly orgasmic. You taste too fucking good, nothing like that used up whore from earlier..

“I-I c-can’t!” Haechans fingers work at your clit. Rapidly sweeping back and forth. Tongue sliding out, jaw hung open. Eyes return to your face, smile breaking out over his cheeks.

“You can.” He pants, tongue hung out lazily lapping at your hole. Clit pinched between two fingers, massaging every little nerve. “Cum on my tongue.”

Your head drops forward, tear slipping free. Haechans raspy tone saying those words driving you past your limit. Ass lifted off the pew, core convulsing. Haechans tongue placed against your fluttering entrance. Catching all of your release. You weakly fall forward again, forehead resting on top of his messed up hair.

“So good.” Haechan moans words out, licking clean the wetness seeping from you. Neck lifting, hands cupping your cheeks. “Taste.”

Tongue pushing between your parted lips, trying to catch your breath. Haechan laps at your tongue, realization hitting you in seconds what he’s making you do. Tasting yourself between your lips. His tongue covering every corner inside your mouth. Haechans hands return to your hips, pulling you off the front of the pew to straddle his lap.

“You want it?” His hand digs into the back of your hair. Jean clad dick shoving between your thighs at your heated core. Weakly nodding, eyes half open lazily pecking pouty lips. Haechan lays back down flat across the pew. Warm hands rubbing up and down your back soothingly. “Come here.”

Your head nods, under his command. Mind controlled by whatever he’s saying, telling you ‘I want it- no matter what it is.’ If it’s from Haechan- give it to me, now. You lay down on his chest, kisses continuing. Hands squeezing around your ass, pulling up your dress. Hands flying down hard with mean slaps. Fingers gliding down finding way between your legs again. Skimming up and down your slit from the back. Soft moans passing between your swollen lips.

Body tensing, sounds of the large entrance doors opening up with a slam. Haechans eyes open up staring into yours, brows lifted. His lips purse out with a silent ‘shhh’, earning a rapid head shake from you. Familiar smirk pulling at his lips, free hand clamping over your mouth. Your eyes widen, lips pressing into the palm of Haechans hand. Fingertips circling around your needy entrance. Panic rushing through you as loud foot steps approach closer and closer.

Your forehead shoved up against Haechans. Mouth closed off, silent whimpers falling out behind his hand. Finger sliding inside you, his lit up eyes watching your expressive eyes react. The fear and curiosity alone could make him cum.

“Are you kidding me!” A flash light shines over your faces. Mark standing at the end of the pew in disgust. Your head lifts quickly, ripping Haechans hand off your mouth. Cheeks heating up absolutely mortified. Moving fast, adjusting your dress to cover up. Haechan stays laid down, eyes fluttering shut with irritation.

“Fucking cock block.” He whispers to himself, sitting up. Tent in his jeans extremely evident.

“I knew you stole my keys again Haechan!” Mark clicks the flash light on and off angrily. Both of you covering your eyes. “and you! Mary of Magdala! You should be ashamed! Think of your mother!”

“Dude, chill.” Haechan stands, hands held up trying to block the bright light from his eyes. “We weren’t doing anything.”

“Weren’t doing anything?!? If people found out what you were doing, this one would be getting pelted with stones!” Mark passes the light over your face. You cringe, hands coming up to hide yourself.

“Mark, quick, what’s the verse about fucking that really cute voice of an angel choir boy?” Haechan throws him a knowing look, pulling a lanyard from his pocket. Marks eyes widen, snatching his keys away.

“Don’t steal my keys again! Next time I will be telling your father!” Mark scurries away, door slamming behind him.

“Oh my God he’s gonna tell your dad!” You panic, pulling your dress down. Attempting to wipe away any mascara that could be on your cheeks.

“Nah he’d never, can’t risk everyone finding out about Renjun. Don’t worry baby, I got something on everyone.” Haechan pulls you in, gently pecking your lips. Your senses relax, mind torn with stress still. Who the fuck were you right now..

“You know..” Haechan turns you around, hand scooping your chin. “I’m gonna fuck you. Right there.” He holds your jaw up. Eyes on landing on the altar.

“Jesus will know all your sins after I’m done with you.”

Part 3–>

Taglist:

@seuomo @unknown5tar @sunoosi @safariria @nctlover94 @underjeno @nanascupid @jenorenle @scruffiejelly @mel-yjh @count-your-shadows @sunflowerhae @johnjaespeach @nctflix @notsooperfect​ @skrtbeepbeep​  @lanadreamie​ @nctstrawberrycow​  @meonlightuniverxse​ @sunshinedhyuck​ @haechanswhore​ @brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr​ @kpopmultiifandomm​ @d1nne​ @neobanguniverse​ @pewpewpwe00​ @abitofafan​ @haechansworld​ @born5sos​ @bockhyun​ @prettychannie​ @xuyiyangstan​@alexameliamg​ @ahsshilee​ @jeon-jungkook-is-actually-god @xwanna127x @heyitsbreeeeee @tarolovebot @loveyukhei @eleanorfreakingchan @classic-antifood @winwiniee @sheytanni @player23 @wavetease @nahyuckk @n0hyuck @doyoungssouthernbabygirl

[tenkasato]

hi! if you’re requests are open could i requests headcanons of megumi with a second year s/o whos pretty close with the other second years? (you can ignore this if requests aren’t open, have a nice day :D)

I absolutely adore the second years. Forgive me if it got too lengthy. I enjoyed writing this a lot. Hope you like this, anon! Thanks for the ask and have a nice day too!

The first time he met you, you had knocked him off the ground and made him land on his ass. Maki’s boisterous laughter filled his ears and he continued to stare at your much smaller frame tower over him. You smirked, and his breath hitched.

You’re strong. Megumi always stayed by as you trained with your batchmates. Muscles taut and lips pulled to a straight line, you lunge towards Maki barehanded, undeterred by the mammoth of a blade she held. He told Itadori it was for learning purposes. He never told Itadori he just liked watching the piercing look in your eyes whenever you fought.

He felt the symptoms of liking someone, as Nobara had generously enumerated from a magazine she read---palpitating heart, sweaty palms, tongue-tying, breath staggering. No, he told himself, it’s probably the adrenaline from the mission. No, it’s likely because of the summer heat. No, it’s because of his excitement over learning something new from his senpais. No, it definitely wasn’t because he was going to see you today for training. Absolutely not.

Megumi loved how your hair looked. When he first met you, your hair was long and unkempt. You cut your hair to a very short length a year after. You dyed the tips with a wild color, once. You tied it to a very neat bun in one party. He didn’t know how any hairstyle could literally fit you.

Megumi liked how you always cooked for Inumaki. Granted you always ended up with cuts on your fingers, you always thought it was worth it for the glow in Inumaki’s eyes whenever you gave him the bento. Megumi thought your smile when you see someone else happy was the most breathtaking.

You were thoughtful, if that wasn’t much obvious yet. Thoughtful enough to always buy a carton of milk for Panda when you purchased some snacks for yourself. Thoughtful enough to make onigiri for everyone when you had only planned to make enough for your dinner. Thoughtful enough to call Yuto abroad to remind him to drink water. Thoughtful enough to drop by Megumi’s room just hand him a thermos filled with steaming ginger tea one stormy afternoon.

“Megumi-kun, what’s with your hair?”

“It tends to be unruly, I know.” Subtle frown.

“Well,” a soft laughter, “It suits you. I like it a lot.”

You liked to coddle your juniors. You take Nobara out for shopping. You challenge Itadori in Call of Duty (and beat his ass every single time). You badger Megumi to ride the bike with you. You thought he hated it, given the sullen glower he shot you whenever you invited him to the park. You had no idea how wildly his heart beated with your side pressed unto his back as he pedalled.

He couldn’t stop thinking of you. With his arm thrown over his eyes, back lying rigidly on his bed, he swallowed hard. He couldn't stop thinking of you, and he hated it.

The latest mission ended with Inumaki almost losing an eye, Panda with a huge gash on his abdomen staining his white fur with rich crimson, Maki with four or five broken bones, with you in coma for almost a week. Megumi almost lost his mind.

Your eyes fluttered open just asr Megumi entered your room. He looked at you, disbelieving, his mouth falling open. “Senpai?”

Your heart quivered. Your lips trembled. Right in your dazed memories, the special grade cursed spirit clawed at your chest to reach into the recesses of your soul. Were you even alive? Was this real? Before long, Megumi’s hands were around yours. Secure. Warm. Tender. And just like that, clarity dissipated the haze in your mind.

“Megumi-kun. My friends… my friends, are they alive?”

And of course, you worried about your friends first. Megumi gritted at his teeth, boldly intertwined your fingers together and nodded firmly. The beautiful smile you cast at him seized his heart and squeezed at it.

If he wasn’t in love with you yet, he sure was now.

[sleep-i-ness]

Wrong Door (Sirius Black x reader)

Synopsis: Your roommate wakes you up in the middle of the night because she can’t get into the flat. Or so you think. (Muggle AU) FOR MY 500 WRITING CHALLENGE

A/N: do not follow what reader does in this in real life. IF SOMEBODY PASSES OUT DRUNK AND DOESN’T WAKE UP, CALL AN AMBULANCE (usa people i don’t know what you do. call an uber to the hospital?)

WARNINGS: Alcohol, really shitty first aid, swearing

BANG! Y/N bolted upright. Fuck, were they being burgled? She checked her watch, groaning at the time. It was 3 in the bloody morning and she had an 8am class. She swore lightly under her breath; she’d clearly fallen asleep while studying on the sofa, a textbook on her lap and an empty bottle of wine in her hand.

She wasn’t one for going out in middle of the week, unlike her roommate Marlene, so being woken up in the early hours of the morning was a common occurrence. Usually Marlene would just stumble back into the apartment, tripping over everything lying in her way. Tonight, she had clearly decided to break the fucking door down.

Y/N heard a key fiddling at the door, and she sighed. That was when the pounding on the door started. Time for her to go help Marlene out.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” she grumbled, extracting herself from the cocoon of sheets and cushions.

The banging didn’t lessen, and Y/N groaned as black patches clouded her vision momentarily. Mentally reminding herself to grab some water on the way back from the door, she trudged over to the hallway, propping herself against the wall for two seconds as she swayed slightly. Her fingers clasped around the latch and she pulled it, swinging the door open.

“You’re not Marlene.”

“You’re not James. Did he bring you over or something?” The brunette stranger rambled, pushing past her as he stumbled into the apartment. Y/N was too taken aback to protest at first, watching the man walk in as if he owned the place. “You can close the door, y’know. I didn’t bring back a girl this time because James said he’d literally kill me if I kept him up again. What a hypocrite.”

The man reached out to hang his jacket on an empty patch of wall, staring at it blankly when it fell onto the floor. He tried again, feeling for a hook that didn’t exist and Y/N watched him confusedly from where she stood by the still-open door.

“What on earth are you doing in my flat?” She found her voice at last; his audacity was astounding!

“Your flat? Love, just because James brought you over once doesn’t mean you can start claiming our stuff,” he seemed almost affronted, slurring his words as he let his jacket be on the floor. 

“No, this is my flat that I share with my roommate Marlene. Who the fuck is James? And, more importantly, who the fuck are you?” Y/N had to admit, she was getting a little riled at this point. This drunk man had just waltzed in and begun claiming the place as if she didn’t exist.

The man opened his mouth to protest before taking a good long look at the coral walls and pictures that hung all over them. He closed his mouth, paused, and turned to look at the hall table with their tatty fringed lampshade and geometric-print table runner. Y/N could almost hear the cogs whirring in his brain as he stared bemusedly at the room.

“Fuck. This isn’t my flat. Where am I?” He seemed honestly and completely confounded, scrunching his face up.

“You’re near Kensington, we’re a few roads back from the high street and the market. This flat block is number 48-53?” Y/N gesticulated as she tried to explain where exactly her apartment lay.

She was too busy explaining to notice the queasy expression spreading across the man’s face. He shoved back past her to stick his head out her door and promptly throw up all over her front step. Disgusting. And she was going to have to clean it up! He swayed back and forth, before collapsing backwards, narrowly avoiding falling feet-first into a pile of his own vomit. Y/N contemplated just leaving him there and shutting the door on him. But she knew deep down she’d sorely regret it if any harm came to him because she refused to help him. It wasn’t the dodgiest of areas, but the nights were bitterly cold.

“Hey,” she tapped him on his shoulders, calling upon her memories of first aid and how to deal with a drunk person. He didn’t stir, even as her taps got harder and she decided to take her chances and slapped him straight across the face. She gasped as a red handprint bloomed on his cheek, yet he still didn’t wake up. Hand still stinging, Y/N grabbed his arms, heaving as she attempted to pull him inside. Managing to pull him into the living room, she gently rolled him into the recovery position, ensuring that he was still breathing and that he wouldn’t choke on his own vomit. A dead man in her living room would be difficult to explain to her flatmate.

Y/N trudged to the kitchen, dragging her feet along as she pinched her eyelids to try and keep herself awake. She just needed to grab a glass of water to help with tomorrow’s inevitable hangover and a blanket for the drunkard. Somehow, she managed to complete the task, leaving her standing over the man now covered in her biggest blanket. She knew that she should go back to her room, but it just seemed so far, her legs protesting at the thought of moving an inch. Besides, the blanket was big enough to cover the two of them without having to even touch each other, right?

Sliding under the furthest corner, she quickly curled into a ball, eyes drifting shut before her head even touched the carpet.

:.

Waking in the morning, Y/N nuzzled further into the broad arms wrapped around her, sighing as she breathed in the stale scent of cologne and whisky. Her head pounding as she tried to recall the events of the night before that had led to her in a man’s arms. She startled, bolting upright as she remembered the drunkard who had stumbled through her door. And now she was in his arms. Fuck.

Seeing the man afresh with sober eyes, Y/N stopped to appreciate that he was actually really fucking attractive. It didn’t excuse him trying to break into her flat, but it helped, now knowing she’d cuddled him all night. God, that was embarrassing. How was she ever supposed to explain to the guy on the floor or Marlene what had happened. Slipping out from under the blanket, she tiptoed into the kitchen and slumped against the counter.

Coffee, she needed coffee. Then she could think about what had happened and how to sort out the man passed out in the living room.

Y/N filled the kettle up and spooned out the coffee granules into the cafetiere, frowning when her hand came into contact with air rather than her favourite mug. Fuck. It was still dirty from last night, probably abandoned on the table with her textbooks.

Meanwhile, Sirius groaned as he twisted under his covers. God, his head was aching, and his back was incredibly sore. Remus was going to kill him if he’d pulled a muscle; he was meant to be helping him move on the weekend. His mattress was uncomfortably lumpy; he knew he needed to get a new one, but he’d been putting it off. The bobbly fabric scratched his skin as he stretched out, flexing his fingers.

Hang on. Bobbly fabric?

Sirius cracked an eye open, flinching at the bright light. As his eyes adjusted to the bright sunlight streaming in, his heart rate picked up. This was not his apartment. He was pretty sure they didn’t have such awful, tasselled cushions or green lace curtains.

Did he-? He glanced down, releasing a sigh of relief when he noticed he was still fully dressed. Okay, so not that drunk. So how the hell did he end up here?

“Here.” A girl stood in the doorway, an unimpressed expression on her face as she offered him a steaming mug of black coffee. “I didn’t know how you liked it, but I have milk and sugar if you need.”

Sirius nodded, still trying to process how he’d got here. She stared at him, waiting for something. He quickly backtracked the conversation in his head. “Oh, no, I’m good, thanks.”

He sipped at the scalding liquid, face contorting into an expression of pain as it scorched his tongue. His eyes trailed over the girl, surely he’d remember someone this gorgeous. “So,” he winced, “how did I get here?”

She pursed her lips, as if she’d tasted something sour. Okay so that had been a bad question to ask.

“You barged into my apartment, claiming it was yours, threw up on my doorstep and then passed out.”

Oh fuck. His head spun as it tried to remember the events of the night before. He did recall somewhat throwing up, but it was a blurry flash. “Sorry about that.”

She hmphed, stacking some scattered sheets on the small coffee table and collecting up dirty crockery. Sirius swallowed the coffee, grimacing at the awkward atmosphere. Funnily enough his parents had never bothered to teach him the etiquette for accidentally bursting into the wrong flat and passing out.

His phone buzzed in his pocket and he fished it out, glad he didn’t have to feel the pressure of breaking the silence anymore.

JAMES: Where are u?

JAMES: When I said don’t bring a girl back I didn’t mean go back to hers

JAMES: Ur boss called. I said you were feeling under the weather. He said u should get over ur hangover & get into work

REMUS: Why did ur boss call me to ask if we went out last night? I said no btw

JAMES: He called again; said he’d fire you if you didn’t turn up before 11. I told him u were properly ill and I could send him a pic of the thermometer. I think I got you out of that one

JAMES: Mate, I’m getting a bit worried

Shit. When was that last one from? Okay, 11:15 and it was now 11:34. Sirius tapped out a reply to James, unsure how much detail to go into. I’m alright, be back soon. Yeah, that would do. He really couldn’t deal the endless mocking yet, once they’d found out what had happened they’d never let it go. So that would be saved for when the pounding headache had finally settled down.

His phone binged again. JAMES: We’re out of milk can you grab some on the way back?

Sure.

Sirius got to his feet, groaning as the room spun, beige walls all blurring into one. Rubbing at his face, he stumbled towards the kitchen, empty mug in hand.

“Hey, sorry, I don’t know your name.” He leant against the door frame, body sagging. God he was exhausted.

“Y/N.” Her tone was bitter, and Sirius couldn’t help the pang of guilt shooting through him. She’d probably stayed up all night worried he’d attack her or steal something.

“Well, thanks for the coffee, Y/N, and for not leaving me on the doorstep. I’ll get out of your hair now.”

He placed the mug down on the counter and slung his leather jacket on. She smiled at him, but it didn’t quite meet her eyes.

Y/N trailed him to the door, holding onto it as he stepped out, raising a hand goodbye.

“Bye.”

“Thanks, bye.” Sirius watched the chipped door swing shut, sunlight glinting gold off the battered number on the door. Hm, Number 51.

:.

Y/N groaned as the doorbell went. She’d just got settled into her studying. “Marlene, did you order something?”

“No. I’m broke.” Marlene yelled back, sticking her head out of her room. Her makeup was half done, mascara brush in hand and dress round her hips. “I can’t answer it like this!”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Fine, I’m on it.”

She tipped the papers onto the floor, ignoring the mess they made. Future her could tidy that up. Trudging to the door, she grabbed her phone off the table. So that was where she’d left it.

“Hi,” she nodded at the delivery guy. He was holding a large bunch of flowers and Y/N bit back a sigh her eyes. Probably from another of Marlene’s boys. Honestly, she was thinking of opening up a flower shop, considering the amount of flowers Marlene’s newest was insisting on sending.

“Hi, I’m looking for,” the delivery guy scanned the list on his clipboard, “Y/N?”

She froze. Huh. “Yeah, that’s me.”

He tucked the clipboard under his arm, passing her the flowers. “These are for you. There’s a card with it.”

“Thanks.”

Y/N shut the door, staring at the bunch of vivid blooms in confusion. Who on earth would have sent her these? She racked her brains for any possible romance in her life, but nothing came to mind. With her luck, it was probably her grandma or something. Not that she’d be upset by flowers from her nan but a mystery lover was much more interesting.

She pulled out the gilded card from where it was tucked into the side of the paper, scanning the words.

Sorry for breaking in and passing out in your flat, princess. Text me if you want to go for drinks at some point: +44 7xxx xxxxxx

A smile broke across her face. Maybe she’d take him up on his offer.

-

-

all hp tags: @missmulti @acciotwinz @1marvelavengers1 @samnblack @neymarlionelmessi7 @okkulta  @gredandforge @onestela@yourenotafailureoverall  @milkshakelol

sirius black tags: @holybatflapexpert @methamphetaminee @thefernandasantana @uglipotata72829 @cheapglitter @lozzybowe @persephonehemingway @blisfvlll @mads-bri @fific7 @electrasworld666 @ccosmic-illusion @anniewhoiam @20coldhearts @imcreepininyourheartbabe @whointhehellisbucky @isntmadrid @blackblossomqueen @wheezyreads @tugabooos @atomic-chickenwings @its-evita-here @inkandpen22 @Rue-123  @emilianamason @mesmerisedalien

[henryobsessed]

The Veterinarian and the Werewolf - Chapter 17

Word Count: 1543

A/N lockdown is over so updates will slow, but here is chapter 17 :) again thank you for continuing to support this story. And thank you to @sillyrabbit81 even after a bad night you still edited this for me mwah

Chapter 17 – Tom

Tom stood waiting, holding it together until the pick-up was out of view. As soon as he knew he was safe he removed his arm as if Henry’s body had burned him. He turned quickly moving through the house until he was in the bathroom. Holding the sink hard he looked into his own eyes and asked the question, “What the hell was that?” His hands shook as he looked at them turning them back and forward.

When he had put his arm around Henry, he was just showing Miss Jessie that he was being the better man. But the moment they had touched Tom had felt something, familiar, warm, comforting, he didn’t want that, he wanted to tell the man… What did he want to tell him? He knew Jessie would be hurt but he would be there. Henry was dangerous, he could never change back to being a were if he wanted to stay alive. The boys would hunt him for life now that Boyd was dead. So why did that thought, the thought of Henry leaving grate against his chest?

He ran the tap for a few minutes then splashed the cold water against his skin, no he was going to talk to Henry, he had to. He stepped out and listened, wondering where they were was hiding. The faint sounds of the coffee machine simmering could be heard. Following the sound, he found the solid man leaning against the counter, Tom could see his muscles quivering with weakness as he attempted to fill the jug with water. He moved quickly taking it from the trembling werewolf. “Here Henry, ask me next time. Miss Jessie will have my head if she comes back and you are worse.”

Henry gave him a wobbly smile. “Thanks, Tom?” he questioned, reminding the boy he did not have his memories. “I just really wanted coffee. I seem to be craving it.”

Tom couldn’t help but smile at the memories of Jessie describing Henry drinking it out of a bowl. He took his arm and lead Henry into the living room and slowly the injured man sank into the couch. “Don’t worry, I’ll bring it in for you. Milk, one sugar?”

Thankful for Jessie story, Henry looked at him with an odd smile. “Yes, thank you.” Moving quickly away he heard him mutter, “So strange.”

He didn’t want to like him, he was trying so hard to forget the wolf, his friend. Steaming hot coffee in hand he went and handed one to the elder and sat as far across from Henry as he could. Henry’s blue eyes bore into his, never wavering, the action caused Tom to squirm. Trying hard to be a man he sat up straighter. He was doing this for Jessie's sake, “You need to leave. You can’t stay here, it’s dangerous for Jessie and for you.”

The man just cocked his eyebrow and tilted his head staring. The look was so real, he could just imagine Wolfy doing the same thing, his bottom lip trembled, trying to hold it in. “You say you want me to leave Tom, that it’s for mine and Jessie's sake. But I think you are lying to yourself. I think the real reason is you don’t want to get hurt. Am I right?”

He couldn’t hold himself high anymore, all the talking in the world couldn’t get him to look up. He felt ashamed. The first tear slipped past his lashes and then another. But before he could run out of the room as was his intention, two large warm arms tighten around him pulling him into a hard yet soft chest. He stayed ridged for a moment but that warmth permeated his body settling around the tight ball of ice that had been building in his chest since yesterday. As it began to thaw the dam truly broke, and the tall boy fell apart in the werewolf’s arms.

Tom’s body ached, his eyes puffy and his voice was scratchy, and yet the scent of his friend’s body was still surrounding him. He had been somehow pulled so they were laying on the couch, Tom cradled in Henry’s arms. His furry chest rose and fell, he slept, and yet he did not release his arm from Tom. Realising he did not want to be released at this point he snuggled in closer. “You awake pup?” the soft rumble reached his ears. Pup? Hesitantly, he wondered what the man meant. Not ready to discuss anything yet he just rumbled his own voice. He heard the door open and close softly and footsteps. He was ashamed of the position he held. Men didn’t hold men like this did they? Truly he didn’t know, his father had never shown any affection for him. Wolfy’s affection had taken him by surprise, but then he was an animal and animals had always loved Tom. But this? He tried to move but the iron arm held him firm pulling him in closer.

“Hello, my mate. How was your work?”

There was nothing out of the ordinary, no indication that this was out of the ordinary. He heard Jessie’s voice hesitate for just a second before she replied. “Thankfully it was easy. The boys are getting Chinese for us, with a side of stake for you. They will be here in about fifteen minutes.”

A breathe Tom didn’t know he was holding suddenly left his body as a hand rested on his head. Here he was encased by two who loved him. He knew it at that moment, he could tangibly feel the tingling throughout his body as if he was their own.

Henry chuckled and then so did Jessie. “Well my mate, I think we have a very tired pup here. Normally it would be not a problem, but could you help me sit him up. I need to um well… find the little boys room.” He felt her slender arms reach under him and lift him up. He had three inches on her, but he was still a lightweight, yet to fill into his own.

“Come Tom. Let’s put you to bed, ok?” Another wave of peace wrapped around him as he laid his head on her shoulder. This wasn’t the embrace of a lover but something entirely different.

Tom slept for hours, the feel of her soft lips caressed his dreams, bringing with it a calm he had not felt since he was a very little boy. The sound of laughter finally pulled him from his sleep, outside was dark, the stars the only light. He wanted to stay in the warm bed, ignoring below, until his stomach grumbled. Slipping his feet out onto the cold floor, he walked as quietly as he could. He could see three people in the living room, a comedy was on the TV causing Joe to jump up and down laughing hysterically as Dillon tried unsuccessfully to tame him. Henry was sitting propped up on the couch a soft smile on his face as he watched the odd couple. Slipping past the noise, he entered the kitchen, where Jessie cleaning up the mass of empty cartons. She looked up and smiled. “Hey sweetheart, sit down and I’ll bring you some food.”

He sat, head still fuzzy with sleep, was he dreaming? This whole situation seemed so unreal. She moved with ease, heating a plate of Chinese and placing it in front of him. “Eat up, honey.” She smiled at him then turned around. He focussed on his food, slowly taking bite after bite. Stomach full and ready to head back to bed, he realised he was alone in the room. He wanted to join them but truly felt guilty for his earlier actions. Slowly he moved to head back upstairs, until silence fell and an unmistakable tone sounded from the couch, deep and full of authority.

“Pup, come here.” There wasn’t even a hesitation as his feet turned and walked him over to the couch. His eyes widened slightly as Henry lifted his good shoulder in an invitation. He sat next to the man and breathed deep as his arm came around him pulling him in close. “It’s family night and you are part of this family.”

Slowly once again he melted into the werewolf. The sounds of the movie started again and people began to laugh and giggle. Giving up he snuggled and began to join in the laughter, looking around he really did see that this was becoming its own family unit, with ma and pa and the three boys. He giggled at the absurdity of it all. Henry didn’t even have his memory back, and he was sure his father was going to cause a problem sooner or later, but right now he breathed in the sight and smells enjoying for the first time in a long time a sense of belonging.

Once again Jessie stepped up instructing them all to clean up, then toilet, teeth and bed, that was until Henry spoke, his voice slightly wavery as he asked, “This, tonight, you all, this was wonderful but can you please stop beating around the bush and tell me where the rest of my family is?”

Chapter 18

[wkemeup]

Honey and Chamomile

summary: Four cups of tea, four distinct moments in time, and each pulls you in closer beyond the walls surrounding Bucky’s heart pairing: bucky x reader word count: 5.8k warnings: lots of fluff, but also nightmares, and lots of tea because im a fanatic a/n: this was written for @coffee-with-bucky​​‘s 2k writing challenge and it’s a thousand years late, but I hope you enjoy it! My prompt was 🌟 tea 🌟

It starts late in the evening as the thunder rolls in, low breaks amongst the clouds in the distance, a flicker of lightening touching the night sky and illuminating the shadows cast by the city. Painted raindrops slide against on the windowsill, racing one another to the edge of the pane. It’s soothing as you close your eyes and lose yourself in the soft tap-tap-tap to the walls of the tower and the hums of thunder miles beyond the city. It’s better than the silence, anyway.

The whistle of a kettle sings by the stove and it pulls you gently from your stance at the window. Mug in hand, you grab a bag of peppermint tea from the small box to the right of the kettle; paintings of sunsets and starry nights along the wooden frame. You close the lid and tug the string of the bag so it lays over the lip of the mug. Hot water finds its home at the center and the air around you fills of candy canes and memories of nights wrapped in blankets by the fireplace.

You hear footsteps behind you as you set the kettle back on the stovetop, careful of the bright red rings of the burner, and slowly wrap your hands around the mug. There’s a shuffle at the edge of the kitchen as the warmth of the mug touches your palms, soothes right up into your arms, the liquid too hot to drink but the steam of it is comforting against your cheeks. Crisp and cool amongst burning heat.

“Didn’t think you were home,” you say quietly, back turned to the figure who takes in a sharp breath in response.

The team was out on a mission, one Cap insisted you stay clear of after your near fatal gunshot wound in Bratislava last month. You fought it tooth and nail, but what Cap says goes, and well, you didn’t.

“Steve says I need more time,” Bucky replies, voice barely a whisper and you can practically picture the way he digs his hands into the pockets of his plaid pajama pants, scrunching at the fabric from the inside as a way to ground himself.

“Steve’s a little overprotective, don’t you think?” you chuckle lightly, turning from the window where the raindrops cast down along the glass in full, sweeping lines to find Bucky standing just beyond the plane of the kitchen. Just close enough to make his presence known, far enough to escape. Always one foot in, one foot at the exit. Self-preservation is a hell of a drug to kick.

“He’s right, though. Hard to trust a teammate who doesn’t trust his own mind,” Bucky mumbles slowly, scratching at the nape of his neck.

The shine of silver catches your eye under the dim overhead lighting and he notices it almost instantly, the way your gaze draws to solid metal, how you study the lines and bolts in his joints, and he drops his arm. He holds it then behind his back, tries to play it off casually, but you see how he hides it from view, like he’s been caught with something he shouldn’t have. A weapon.

You sigh, setting the mug down on the counter, the whisper of peppermint on your lips. He sells himself short, gets locked up in the mindset of what Hydra conditioned him to be, struggles to come back to himself and trust that he can control his own mind again. You know how often he wonders when he’ll lose it again, when he’ll break to someone else’s will and be forced to commit terrible acts again. It’s never a matter of ‘if’, but ‘when.’

He wonders when he’ll hurt Steve, or Sam, or Nat, or you. He wonders when the final straw will break and the floor will be ripped out from under him, when he’ll take a life he can’t give back. He wonders when enough will be enough and you’ll decide he’s not worth the trouble.

“I trust you,” you say, and you do mean it, but Bucky only shrugs, eyes downcast.

He shuffles he feet again. It’s uncomfortable for him to hear, you realize. It's foreign in his body and he barely recognizes the kindness in it when he feels it, the certainty of it, because it has been so long since he knew anything but cruelty and manipulation.

So, you pull a second mug from the cabinet; the one behind the Captain America logo painted on the side and Tony’s Disney themed mug that reads ‘Greatest Place on Earth 2003’ down the handle. You grab onto the edge of the mug tucked far into the back; light blue in color, soft undertones along the bottom. It’s painted like the waves of the ocean. It reminds you of him.

Bucky doesn’t say anything as you grab a second teabag from your wooden box and drop it in the mug, or as you fill the cup with the steaming water. You set it at the edge of the counter, eyeing him carefully as he remains still in his stance. One foot in, one foot at the exit.

“There’s sugar and milk if you want some,” you offer but Bucky shakes his head.

“No, no, this is just fine,” he says, voice a little uneven, almost as if he’s surprised by the gesture.

He steps forward, out of the shadows of the hallway and lets the soft lights of the lamp at the couch’s end touch his skin. They illuminate over messy hair, a few strands out of place, creases in his cheeks from pillow cases, the way he sways side to side in his stance. Nervous energy for a man with precision behind a barrel unlike anyone you’d ever seen.

He takes the mug, testing the heat of the surface, before he pulls it between his hands. You busy yourself with your own tea, taking a sip as you watch him bring it the mug to his lips. He pauses, smelling the hot water and you’re almost certain you see his cheek twitch. Ever so slightly, gone in an instant, but a remnant of a smile remains.

“I’ll be at the gym by nine tomorrow morning if you want to join me,” you say as you head towards the hallway. “I’ve seen your left hook and I could use some help on my stance.”

Bucky swallows back scalding hot tea like it’s nothing, his shoulders pushing up by his ears, startled by your request and it makes you laugh a bit. He chokes out a short nod, flustered perhaps judging by the pink in his cheeks. 

You smile back at him, pausing at the doorframe to look at him one last time as he leans against the kitchen sink.

The smell of peppermint lingers in your wake.

***

You sit on the couch in the living room with your feet kicked up on the ottoman, book resting in your lap and a warm cup of tea nestled in your right hand. Its leans onto your chest as the steam of a sweet, woody scent of green tea filters through the air. 

Fresh off of a month-long surveillance mission in Chechnya, your body is sore from long nights in cramped cars and your mind a little disengaged from hours staring out at a single window through the short end of binoculars.

Natasha sits quietly at the kitchen table behind you, flipping through the files spread out amongst the surface in organized chaos. The soft hum of a playlist on the overhead speakers drown out the grunts of Steve and Sam sparring down the hall in the training room.

You smile as you hear the shuffle of footsteps at the edge of the room, feet dragging purposefully along the tile. You don’t have to look up to know who is it, but you do wonder when Bucky decided to start dragging his feet to alert you to his presence.

He used to be impossibly quiet in his steps, like he was hunting prey even with his defenses down as much as he would allow them. He's snuck up on you a few times before without meaning to, his voice in greeting startling you enough to drop a mug of scalding tea from your hands and onto your exposed thighs and the tile below. If you think hard enough about it, you’d realize it was that moment, as he scrambled to dry your skin of the hot water, frantic apologies under his breath, as he knelt into the broken shards of your mug, that his steps became louder when he approached.

He hasn’t been able to sneak up on you since.

“Hey,” he says quietly from the edge of the room.

You smile to yourself, eyes still on the lines of the novel though you haven’t looked up at him yet. “Hey.”

“Smells good.”

You nod, taking in a heavy whiff of the steeping tea. “Wanna try?”

Bucky sits down on the couch beside you, a full cushion as a barrier between, but you don’t mind. He’s slow to warm up, cautious with even the people he trusts most, and you have no interest in pushing him beyond his boundaries. He sits rigid on the couch, stiff, though you can tell he’s trying to relax. He's fighting with his muscles and arguing with his mind.

“Here,” you offer, extending the mug to him.

He stares at you, blue eyes flickering from the tea and back to your face suspiciously.

“I haven’t poisoned it, Bucky,” you tease, pulling it back to your lips and taking a sip in proof. You sigh as it passed down your chest, warming you from the inside. It doesn’t slip your notice that Bucky’s eyes linger on your lips long after you’ve extended the mug back to him.

“If it’s a germ thing, I can make you a fresh cup,” you offer, laughing a bit under your breath.

“No, uh, thank you,” Bucky musters out and slowly takes the mug from your hands.

You nod and quickly return to your book, though you keep an eye on him in the reflection of the television screen. He studies the mug for a moment, looking over the slightly uneven edges of the ceramic, the speckles of golden flakes mixed amongst the brush strokes.

“Did you make this?”

“Steeped it myself,” you chuckle. “Strenuous work.”

Bucky laughs at that, though it’s muffled a bit, restricted, but it’s still there, still light and airy and incredibly beautiful.

“The mug,” he clarifies as he holds it up. “Did you make the mug?”

“Hey, even an Avenger need a hobby, right?” you shrug, albeit a little embarrassed. The walls of the mug are uneven, the painting done under dim lighting after hours as the little ceramics shop would have been swarmed with fans if not for the kindness of the owner who let you stay late into the evening. “I know it’s not very good--”

“I like it.”

Bucky smiles softly as he nods at you, examining the mug further. He traces over the handle that’s slightly too small for his grip, the edges that sway up and down like waves, the dot of red paint at the bottom that accidentally made its way onto the surface.

He takes a sip and you watch as his whole body seems to sigh in response. Muscles easing, tension leaving him. It’s a respite.

When he hands the mug back to you, you expect him to leave. He doesn’t. Instead, he stays quietly with you, sitting contently as he picks up a newspaper from the end table and you resume your place in your book. Perfectly quiet. Comfortable.

***

“Will you just take the medicine... please?”

“I’m an Avenger, Bucky, I can fight off the common cold.”

“You can barely breathe on your own. I might call for an ambulance. It's starting to look dire. Life or death kind of situation.”

“Oh, shut up,” you laugh, swatting his hands away as you quickly move to cover your mouth as another coughing fit takes over. It burns deep into your lungs, aches hard in your chest, makes it quite hard to catch your breath again, but you feel a soft touch on your back; gentle, soothing circles of a flat hand pressed to your spine, and you manage to find air again.

You wipe your lips as he pulls back. “Thanks.”

“It’s nothing,” he says with a soft smile, waving you off.

“I could get you sick. You should’ve had me quarantined like everyone else.”

“Aren’t you dramatic today?” he chuckles, shaking his head. “I can't get sick with this serum running in my veins, you know that. Besides, no one’s quarantining you. They’re just--”

“--avoiding me like the plague?”

Bucky grimaces. “Yeah, maybe.”

You smile tiredly at him, heat a little fuzzy, vision a little tunneled, but you enjoy the way he smiles back at you. He has such a nice smile, pretty, to the point where it’s almost unfair. It curves up into his cheeks, creating lines around and under his eyes, bright and cheery and you almost forget he’s also a ghost story of an assassin with the sharpshooting range more precise than a drone.

Before you can realize what you’re doing, under the haze of a clouded mind, your hand reaches out and touches his cheek. He freezes under your touch, surprised more than anything else, and he watches with wide eyes as you dreamily trace the lines in his face, the curve of his jaw and the tip of his nose. Your head feels a little fuzzy and your eye lids flutter heavily, just as Bucky begins to smile again.

“Take the meds, doll,” Bucky asks again sweetly. He slowly pries your hand from his face and sets two red pills in your left hand, a glass of water in your right. He guides your hand with the medication up towards your mouth. “Please? I miss my training partner. Can’t spare with someone who’s half dead in the living room from a stuffy nose and I refuse to go back to Wilson.”

“Okay, okay,” you grumble playfully, quickly swallowing the medication and chasing it with the water.

The couch dips slightly as Bucky gets up, jogging over to the kitchen. The whistle of the kettle is muffled in your ears, like it’s distant and behind several walls and closed doors. You stretch your jaw, trying to pop away the barrier, but it’s of no use.

You watch silently as Bucky scrambles around the kitchen, a little flustered for his frame, and you can’t help the smile that pushes at your cheeks.

“Top right,” you tell him, pointing to the cabinet over his shoulder.

He sighs, shakes his head, and sure enough, the mugs are in the cabinet on his right. He pulls down two from the shelf. For you, the one with the tiny cartoon dinosaur on the front dressed in an Iron Man suit, and for himself, he grabs the one you made months prior, with the uneven edges and the red paint stain on the side.

Then, he starts in search of the wooden box and you give him a minute of pulling open every drawer he can find until you tell him, “behind the bread bin on the counter.”

"Oh, of course. Makes perfect sense,” Bucky teases and flips through the packets inside.

He purses his lips, narrowing his eyes, clearly in search of something specific. His whole face lights up as he grabs what he’s in search of and quickly rips open the packets and sets them inside the mugs. He pours the hot water and carefully blows on the surface of the mugs, the steam pushing out in front of him as he sighs.

“Careful, it’s hot,” he says as he makes his way back to you, setting the mug on the arm rest of the couch to give you enough leverage to grab the handle. You smile up at him appreciatively as he takes his seat next to you.

Bringing the mug to your lips, you take in a deep breath – or, as much as you able to give the swarm of congestion in your head.

Spiced and warm. Peppery sharp. Lemon and ginger.

“Bucky Barnes, did you use google for me?”

He chuckles nervously as his hand rakes through his hair, pushing it from his eyes only for it to fall back to place again. “It, uh, it said ginger tea is supposed to be good for you when you’re sick, so I thought, uh, it thought it would help.”

You struggle to contain your grin, hiding it behind the mug as you take a sip. You can already feel your sinuses beginning to clear.

“That’s very sweet of you. Thanks, Buck.”

He nods a little sheepishly, fluster burning warm in his cheeks, but he meets your eyes; the perfect wave of blues and greys, a gentle ocean amongst a sweeping current.

***

When you wake with a harsh gasp in your throat, a sharp yank of reality away from your dreams, the piercing sound of screams echoing down the hall, it’s not the first time.

You know the routine well by now, know that Steve will meet you in the hallway by Bucky's door where the screams only seem to get louder with every passing second and he’ll ask you gently to go back to your room, remind you that he’s got this and Bucky will be alright. He always is, Steve tells you, but it doesn’t lessen the heartbreak of hearing the cracks in Bucky’s voice, the sudden whimpers, the shattering silence that follows as he wakes.

The two of you will skirt around things in the morning as you always do. Bucky will stumble out of his room with dark circles under his eyes, a drag in his feet, shoulders slumped as he slides into a chair by the kitchen. He’ll sit silently as you pour him an herbal tea from your box, never something with caffeine because he’s got enough energy in his veins as they come out in tremors in his hand and bouncing in his knee. Sometimes you give him raspberry, sometimes apple caramel, sometimes peach, and he’ll nod without looking at you, pull the mug close to his face and hold the steam to his lips until it goes cold.

Those mornings frighten you because it takes him back to Bucky you knew in the beginning, before he’d learned to smile and laugh again, before he became a permanent fixture in your life, one you were unwilling to live without.

So as your feet carry you down the hall, skirting around the corner and chasing after the screams, you realize Steve won’t be there waiting. He’s out on a mission with Sam in Ukraine for the next few days. There’s no one else on this floor. It’s just you.

You, Bucky, and the monsters in his dreams.

You freeze at the edge of his door, hand gripped tight to the handle, but you can’t move. 

You’re made of marble and stone because even though you and Bucky had come miles since he first came to the tower, you’ve never seen him like this; scared, begging to invisible forces, voice breaking, crying. You haven’t seen him at his lowest and you don’t know if he’ll resent you opening this door, if he’ll be angry with you for breaking that wall of trust, for intruding on something so vulnerable he doesn’t share with anyone but Steve.

But when a scream leaves his lips again, one so broken and distorted it jars itself straight through to your heart like the serrated edge of a blade, you shove your way inside, pushing consequences to the morning.

Bucky lays amongst a mess of sheets, damp with sweat as his hands curl into the fabric, teeth gritted, chest heavy with labored breaths. His eyes are closed shut, painfully so, and you try to ignore the drip of sweat down his exposed chest, how it falls along the lines of his muscles, because he’s thrashing in his sleep like something is holding him down, chocking him, and there’s tears in your eyes as you rush forward.

“Bucky,” you call far too gently. “Bucky, wake up.”

You don’t know what to do. Steve is the one who usually wakes him and you don’t have the kind of strength he does. You don’t know what laying a hand to Bucky’s shoulder will do, if the touch will ground him or shock him to a dream like state, pull him from his nightmares or throw him back to the clutches of the soldier.

But you have to try.

You can’t listen to him beg through bated breaths, “stop, stop please-- don’t! Please, someone help--”

“I’ve got you,” you say a little louder. “You’re okay, Buck. You’re not alone. You’re safe, alright? But you’ve gotta wake up now. Please, Bucky. Wake up.”

You set a hand on his forearm and he jolts up in an instant. You stumble back a few paces in shock, heart beating like thunder in your chest as you hit the sharp edge of his dress to your spine. Hands clutched tight to your chest, afraid you might have to fight him to bring him back, but Bucky remains still. He’s panting, chest heaving as hair falls down into his eyes.

You decide to test the waters.

“Bucky?”

He flinches violently, a sharp intake of breath, though he doesn’t turn to look at you. His hands dig deeper into the sheets in search of a respite he will not find and it nearly breaks your heart in two.

“I’m sorry,” he chokes out, voice rough and used. He can’t bear to look at you. “I thought it was under control. I—I told Steve it was okay for him to go. You shouldn’t-- You shouldn’t have to--”

“Do you want some tea?”

The words tumble out faster than you can process them. It feels like the wrong thing to say, especially with that look on his face, the guilt and shame seeping through beautifully soft and kind features, but you know his heart is racing a hundred miles a minute. Judging by the tension in his back, he’s stiff as a board, too.

You step forward as he slowly turns to look at you. There's confusion mixed in with the undeserving shame, but it’s a start at least, you think. A couple cautious more steps closer to the bed and you’re standing right next to him, hovering above him as he bends his legs and wipes his brow of sweat with the edge of the sheet.

“It usually helps me calm down at night,” you offer slowly, as gently as you can manage. “I, uh, I get nightmares, too, sometimes. Not quite as loud as yours but...”

Bucky nods in understanding. He’s heard you pacing in your room in the dead of night when sleep evades him as it often does. He’s seen when you trudge out from your room in the early hours of the morning with the kind of look in your eye that reminds him too much of himself.

“It’ll only take a second,” you say, nodding to yourself as you try to calculate the time it would take to boil the water and ready the mugs. “I’ll be right back.”

You move to take a step back but there’s a tug on your wrist. You pause, glancing down to find Bucky’s hand circling at your arm, holding you steady, though his stare remains glued to the sheets.

“Don’t go.” 

It comes out in a whimper, a low break in his voice, and your heart plummets down to your stomach.

“I’ll come right back. I promise,” you ease him, stepping closer again, though you notice he doesn’t release your hand. It’s not painful, but it’s firm. He’s holding on for dear life.

“Please,” he whispers and this time, as he looks up with you, you’re met with tears in the blue of his eyes. It cracks your resolve in an instant.

“Okay. Will you come with me?”

Bucky swallows thickly, holding your gaze for a moment before he eventually nods. The sheets are thrown from his legs and you realize he sleeps only in his boxers. The realization seems to hit him just as quick.

“S-sorry,” he mumbles, “just, um, just let me--”

You step back as he releases your hand and slowly stands at the edge of the bed. He grabs his pajama pants from the floor and quickly step into them with a heated blush on his cheeks. It makes you painfully aware of the mess of an old, ratted t-shirt and shorts you sleep in, though you push it aside quickly because Bucky’s eyes have fallen to the ground and you don’t want him to retreat within himself. Not again.

“Come on.”

You extend your hand for him, waiting patiently as he stares at it for a moment. It’s an intimate gesture, more contact than you’ve had with him, but you know despite his aversion to touch, he craves it unlike anything else. He’s vulnerable right now and you hope he’ll take the anchor as you throw it to him.

When his hand does mold to yours, it fits perfectly, exactly where he’s supposed to be and you can’t help but wonder if he’ll ever let you do this again. You squeeze his hand softly as he finds an even pace at your side and you lead him to the kitchen.

He lets go of your hand to give you enough space to prepare the water, but he’s never far from reach. When you glance back at him, you find a strange mixture of fear and something you can't quite place in his eyes. It isn’t until you catch him surveying the room, the adjoining hallways, the flinches at the slightest settling of the tower, that you realize he’s on guard. It’s like he’s protecting you.

“Take a seat, Buck,” you ask of him gently, nodding to the chair at the kitchen table. “Try and relax for me. Deep breaths, okay?”

He follows your gaze, hesitantly glancing over the area, always on alert, before he turns back to you. There’s a resistance in his movement as he takes his first steps away from you, but he holds your gaze, holds the softness of your smile as long as he can, while he slumps down into the chair. It’s too far away from you, but he manages.

The kettle boils quickly and you slip two bags of tea into the mugs. Hot water in next, you drizzle an ounce of thick amber on top, swirling it around with the heal of a spoon. The smell of earthy apples and sweet nectar.

Honey and chamomile.

When you make your way over to the table to join him, Bucky is slouched down in his seat, dark circles heavy under his eyes, though he forces out a strained smile as you slide in next to him. You drag a chair up as close to his as you can, your shoulders bumping somewhat as you set the mug in front of him.

“Drink,” you tell him. “It will help you fall back asleep.”

“I can’t go back to sleep after that. I never do after... you know,” he mumbles, shaking his head, though he does take in a heavy inhale of the sweet aroma of steam.

“You’re telling me my teas won’t cure all of life’s problems?” you scoff playfully. “Blasphemy.”

It steals a smile from his lips, curving up ever so slightly into his cheeks though you can see his body fighting against it. You set a hand on his forearm, one that comes in comfort by stark contrast of the way he used to flinch out of your touch. With a slight squeeze, you draw his attention back to you, the blue of his eyes overcast into deep navy, lids falling heavy with sleep despite the race of his heart.

“You don’t have to tell me what happened,” you say slowly. “You don’t have to say a thing. Just let me help you, alright? Drink the tea, Bucky. I’m not going anywhere until you do.”

He nods, a slight ghost of a laugh in his exhale. “Okay.”

You smile triumphantly as you pull your own mug to your hands, warmth spreading into your palms and you take a sip. It stings on your tongue a bit, too hot, but it feels nice as it travels down into your chest, warms you from the inside out.

The two of you sit in silence for a while, the only sounds between you coming from the muffled purr of the furnace and the contented sighs as the tea touches your lips. Bucky’s shoulders start to relax as he his mug nears empty, his body swaying in his seat and you can practically see the exhaustion nestled in his bones.

You swig back the last sip in your own mug and set it on the table, a task you’ll deal with in the morning as you slowly push Bucky’s mug out of his reach.

“Come on, Buck. Let’s get you back to bed.”

He comes easily as you offer your hand, guiding him away from the sanctuary of the kitchen and back to the room that holds his monsters. The grip on your hand tightens with every step and you rub your free hand down his forearm soothingly, trying to pull the tension away. You can feel the anxiety rushing through his veins, the panic reemerging back to the surface as you cross the threshold into his room.

You know he won’t ask. He won’t dare because he can so often get wrapped up in his own mind, the chamber of burden and isolation, of guilt and shame, and he often forgets how much of yourself you’re willing to give to him.

So, you don’t say a word as you lead him slowly to the bed, releasing his hand as he slides back under the covers. His body is rigid as ice and you can feel his eyes on you, trying to memorize your face for when the darkness takes over and he prepares for you to leave.

It surprises him when your hand slips over his forehead, brushes up into his hair, and you lean down to kiss his temple. The gasp that it pulls from him is muffled, impossibly sweet, and you linger there a moment longer before you pull away.

Bucky stays silent though you can see the question burning behind the blue of his eyes.

Stay. Stay. Stay.

There isn’t an ounce of hesitancy as you slowly make your way around to the other side of the bed and pull back the covers. The mattress is firmer on this side in its lack of use as your knee dips onto the surface. Bucky is watching you cautiously, stunned, but his muscles start to relax as you settle in next to him.

“This okay?” you ask, just to be sure.

He nods quickly. “Y-yes.”

“Try to get some sleep, alright? I’ll be right here.”

He doesn't say anything, but there’s relief slipping through the tension in his body, pushing out the stones with the gentle flow of a calming stream. You smile at him as you turn onto your side, one hand gently resting on his shoulder, grounding him to the earth, to you.

You close your eyes and hope that he will feel safe enough to follow.

***

“Y/n?”

“Yeah?” Your voice is muffled by the pillow and you turn to find stars still littering the night sky. You don’t know how much time has passed, how long he’s been lying there in the prolonged silence, churning thoughts racing through his mind, so you turn onto your stomach, prop yourself up on your elbows to get a better look at him.

“You wanna go to the tea shop in Brooklyn with me tomorrow?”

You narrow your eyes, confused why he’s asking you near – you check the clock by his bedside – three in the morning. His stare is trained up at the ceiling for a moment before he turns to look at you, ocean blue littered with nerves, a new kind of vulnerability you haven’t seen in him before.

“Of course, Buck. Whatever you--”

“As a date, I mean.”

It catches you off guard, wakes you quickly. Tongue tied and throat dry.

Bucky swallows nervously and you can tell that he’s been working himself up to asking you in the hour or so that he’s been lying here awake as you curled up next to him. There are dozens of excuses brewing in the back of his mind, ways to play this off as a joke or anything but what he wants it to be in a way to preserve the friendship between you, but before he can start the waterfall of backtracking, a smile curves up along your lips.

“That sounds really nice.”

He smiles back at you. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. Okay, good.” He nods to himself, settling back into the mattress with the widest grin you’d seen on him in ages. It wrinkles up into his eyes, brightens across his face bright and cheery, sits in startling contrast to the way you’d found him just hours before. You like seeing him this happy. You like being the cause of it even more.

“Will you go to sleep now?” you tease him, nudging at his shoulder enough to pull a laugh from his chest.

“Yeah, I can do that.”

“Good. Don’t want you half asleep on our date.” It twists pleasantly in your stomach as you say it, butterflies and goosebumps and you bite back the smile pushing high up into your cheeks.

“Can’t have that,” he replies, chuckling to himself and it doesn’t slip your notice how his smile seems to widen as you say the word, too. Date.

You slide back down onto the mattress, trying to find your comfortable position again when Bucky extends his arm. There’s a short pause as he waits, staring up at the ceiling, and you realize what he’s offering. Without a second thought, like you’re coming home, you scoot your body closer to him, rest your head on his shoulder as his arm curls around your back, holding you securely against him.

The soft thumping of his heart beats gently under your ear, your hand resting against his ribs, tracing lines that leave shivers in their wake. He traces patterns onto your back, his eyes slowly fluttering shut until the movement stops and he falls into the warm embrace of sleep.

You sigh, content in his even breaths, the slow pace of his heart, the muffles snores. Hugging him close, holding him in your arms where he’s always belonged. You fall asleep wrapped in the scent of honey and chamomile.

Thank you so much for reading! ❤️ If you enjoyed this fic, please consider supporting me at my ko-fi account ✨

[fungi-maestro]

Another quick little comic because I can't sleep. I have a lot of thoughts on how they met and what the circumstances surrounding it looked like. Dialogue transcript under the cut bc I know my photos leave some to be desired, clarity wise.

Roger: a well-dressed spy? If this were a scifi story, freak baby, I'd know who you'd be.

Roger: *he is thinking about Garak from DS9 saying "my dear dr.-"*

Nathan: That's rediculous. Anyway, I'm not a spy. I already told you. No one is paying me to do this. And. Stop calling me that.

Roger: All I'm saying is, you seem to have a knack for this junk. And hey, I could be the Leiter to your Bond.

Nathan: ...

Roger: picture it now, baby. You and me. I'll be the charm and you be the brains. You can use your robotic sense of pattern seeking and I'll seduce our enemies. I'll be your Ms. Honey.

Nathan: Robotic..?

Nathan: Roger, ho much do you know about me. How did you come to the conclusion that we could work together safely. In what way am I "Robotic" exactly.

Roger: I really didn't mean anything by it, freaky. Oh, just what you've told me, baby. You like your coffee black, you always steam your shirts twice before hanging them, you follow local news practically religiously-

Roger: you hem pants for cash, you like chocolate cake, your birthday was recently and you spent it with frien-

Nathan: Stop.

Nathan: Roger, answer my next questions very carefully.

Roger, internally: OH MY GOD I JUST REMEMBERED SOMETHING

Nathan: Are you...

Roger, internally: Didn't this guy's file say he was a suspected killer?

Nathan: ...an android?

Roger, panicked: ...An android? Now who's being rediculous? Groovy theory, but I swear I'm as human as you are. I mean- androids? This isn't star trek, baby. Get real, huh? What makes you even ask?

Nathan: Roger.

Roger: Let's stay cool, baby. I'm human! Hey, what are you thinking? Asking that kind of question in the first-

Nathan: Stop.

Roger: PLEASE DONT KILL ME

Nathan: I knew what you were as soon as you started talking. I don't know how, but I knew. You work for the ones that made me. The ones that erased and rewrote my memories for god knows how long or for what purpose. I'm not sure why they sent you instead of more of their muscle men. Maybe you're stronger than them. We're the same, Roger. I'm not going to kill you. I'm also not going to be rewritten. If that's your purpose, you can leave. Otherwise, you can stay for coffee. Be on your best behavior.

Nathan: ...Am I correct?

Roger: M-mostly. Man, they weren't kidding. You are damn scary sometimes.

Roger: Sorry. I'm not here to reset you, though. I'm just supposed to check on you. We got reports that you were acting... Off. There was some concern that you were going to do something dangerous. You're under. um. Sentience rules now, so they can't reset you. Company policy.

Roger: They also wanted me to let you know that they're sorry it took so long. It must have been scary.

Nathan: ...

Nathan: Would you like milk or sugar? I'll get it for you.

[cybertronian-cupid]

Sorry can I ask you to write about how TFP Megatron, Sound offer their s/o to take a bath with their participation.(nfsw, fertilization)?

I will be grateful❤️

No need to apologize, and here's the pregnancy sex in a bathtub!💥 Some fluff at the end as well.~Gregoria🏩

............................. ....................... ............................

They let the robe fall to the ground and grasp Megatron’s servo.

“Careful love,”

Soundwave’s cables protectively wrap around their lower back, 

“I’m pregnant, not made of glass, I think we established that.”

“Indeed, a reason why we should take special care with how you are handled.” 

They’d roll their eyes, if their attention wasn’t focused on the warm water embracing their aching body. Megatron’s servos pull them back towards his chassis by their hips. Soundwave’s blunt, thin digits reach for the swelling abdomen, tracing the jagged lines where the skin stretches, his touch almost reverent. Megatron's claws slide from their hip and begin carefully kneading into the sore lower back, other servo sliding down between their legs. 

Soundwaves digits scrape firmly against his armor before he could touch.

“::You shall have the first place next cycle, Soundwave,::” The half growled recording is full of the lewd moans from their human, and heat rises up their neck at the memory.

Megatron switches both his servos to their thighs, spreading their legs as far as they’ll go.

Tentacles that unfurl from Soundwave’s cables stroke across their cunt, his digits still tracing their stomach. Megatron fondles their breasts, hefting the heavy weight and squeezing, sharp claws rolling sensitive nipples.

“You’ll take such wonderful care of our sparkling,”

Their toes curl with the sensation of shallow thrusts from Soundwave’s cables, tentacles spreading them wider with each thrust.

“Soundwave- '' the plea is cut off by Megatron’s growl shaking deep from his chassis, the force of it reverberating down their aching muscles. They lean back, face firmly nuzzling against him.

“Yes, yes oh this feels so good-” 

Megatron muffles their words with a deep kiss. His other servo possessively grips their swollen middle, the claws still careful to not scratch at taut skin. Soundwave finally withdraws his tentacles, the pointed tip of his spike pressing at their entrance. Megatron bites at their lip with a snarl when they attempt to look at the reflection of their cunt in Soundwave’s visor. He laps at spots of blood seeping from where his fangs have pierced their lip with their whine, his engine turning down to a purr, leaving their attention free to fully enjoy the bliss of Soundwave’s spike seating deep inside of them, withdrawing and beginning a harsh, fast pace. They find a seam in Megatron’s forearm and brace against it, water splashing over the tub with each thrust.

Soundwave’s servos grab the soft thighs, cables moving forward and possessively curling around the belly, attempting to nudge Megatron’s claws out of the way.

“Do not assume you spiking them first gives you any special privileges Soundwave.” Megatron warns in a low voice.

A recording of Knockout mocks back.

“::Wouldn’t dream of it, my Liege.::” 

A tentacle latches onto a nipple, tugging in imitation of suckling. His pace picks up, plating flaring, steam rising from where water makes contact with his hot metal.

“You’ve been acting bold my friend,” Megatron growls, his servo maneuvering their partner on their side, spreading the leg in his grip even more, allowing Soundwave a new angle to draw sounds of pleasure from their beloved. His denta curls in a grin, sharp teeth glinting when his glossa slides over them, optics dimming.

“A wonderful quality of a future sire.”

Soundwave grips at Megatron’s servo and finally overloads, his cable squeezing their partner’s stomach in a show of another trait he will have as a sire.

He’ll make sure their sparkling is safe.

“Of course you will,” Megatron’s field brushes against the other’s flaring field. His spike transforms from its casing, tip nudging at the underside of Soundwave’s. Their partner attempts to grind against it, trying to convince him to get on with it. 

“They need, they need both of you.”

Soundwaves tentacles focus on their nipples, smearing some of the leaking milk around.

“And they shall get both of us,” Megatron soothes, rearranging their position in his lap, before pushing himself deeper into them as soon as Soundwave withdraws. 

Sounwave has filled them well, his transfluid, sharpening the senses of newly onlined sire protocols. He leans forward and grinds his hips, spike setting a steady rhythm, pulsing in them with each clench of their walls. They pant, eyes closed in bliss when they feel Soundwaves helm press against their middle. Their hands grip his helm, curling around a sensitive wire and tugging, drawing a staticy moan. 

They repeat the motion, as Megatron nuzzles his helm into their neck, denta scratching at their shoulder. They ease up, and instead pinch at the cable, crying out when the suckling at their nipples becomes more forceful, blunt digits digging into Megatron’s thigh plating, the knuckles pressing against theirs when Soundwave kneads his servos into the hard metal and overloads. Megatron grunts, thrusting deep and sharp, and they groan as they are pumped with his transfluid, feeling it spill into the water when their body can’t take any more of it. His thrusts end when his spike locks in place, securing both loads of transfluid inside.

The three of them bask in the half empty tub, the air filled with thick steam that tingles with electricity.

“Stunning,” Megatron whispers into their ear, kissing their cheek, one servo reaching down to caress Soundwave’s helm.

A small tune plays, ending with a sound similar to a ring of a hotel bell. The two mechs tense.

“Tell me you heard that,” Megatron says in a hushed voice, optics widened. Soundwave’s vocalizer clicks an affirmative. The tune repeats like that for another time, before the tones turn louder and rings demanding, followed by a sharp kick that has their partner grunt, hand pressing against the spot. When both of them press their servos over the hand of their beloved’s pregnant belly, the tune evens out and the three of them listen to the happy noises of their future bundle of joy.

[navegandoaciegas]

Little doll

Pairing: dark!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: stockholm syndrome, manipulation, controlling!Bucky, unhealthy relationship, mentions of violence in the past (no graphic description), smut, vaginal sex, oral sex (both male and female receiving), vaginal and anal fingering, slight praise kink.

Summary: You used to be a strong-willed independent woman, but after a whole lot of training, you’ve finally become Bucky’s perfect little doll for him to own, love and take care of. 

A/N: I had this idea in mind today and wrote this in a couple of hours for @jtargaryen18​ ‘s 4k writing challenge. Congrats! I hope it’s decent lmfao 

There is no graphic violence or non-con in this story, but it’s stated/hinted pretty heavily that these things did happen in the past. Reader has no physical description. 18+ only. English is my third language so sorry for any mistakes.

7.09 am

There’s a pulsing ache between your legs and a hot breath fanning over your neck that sends tingles down your spine.

“Baby?” you mumble in a daze, still half asleep, moaning and clutching the sheets when you feel a finger tease your entrance.  

“‘Morning, sleepyhead.” Bucky murmurs, peppering your cheeks with small kisses. 

You can’t fight back the smile that spreads on your face and you slowly pry your eyes open, finding your husband already looking at you in adoration. He lets his lips move downwards, nipping the skin of your throat and sucking little bruises there. A moan escapes you when the hand that was kneading your breasts pinches one of your nipples while his fingers keep sliding in and out of your pussy, sending jolts of pleasure all over your body.

You’re burning up, feeling a familiar pressure build up in your core already. You’ve been together for years, but you’ll never get over how good he is at this.  

His hands are everywhere and nowhere at the same time. The hair on his chest and lower abdomen rubs on your sensitive skin, and you can’t get enough of all this. You never will. 

His name is on your lips like a prayer as you beg him for more, for that sweet release only he can give you. He complies, spreading your legs and settling between them. He trails open mouthed kisses down your body, slowly bringing his face to your awaiting cunt. The anticipation of what he’ll do to you is killing you slowly. He licks a strip of your dripping pussy and dips his tongue in your folds, pushing as far as he can go.

“So sweet.” 

He groans against you when you grab a fistful of his long hair and the vibration goes straight to your core, making the knot inside you tighter. You grind your hips against his face, fucking yourself with his mouth and crying out loud in pleasure. 

“So wet, so needy, all for me.”

He draws circles on your swollen clit and crooks a couple of fingers inside of you, hitting that sweet spot that makes your toes curl and your back arch even more. 

You’re writhing underneath him, desperate for a release.

“Please, faster.” you moan, bucking your hips wildly.

“Beg for it.” he demands, jerking four fingers inside of you.

His bruising touch, the vibration inside your cunt, his soft kisses. It’s all too much and still not enough.

“Please Bucky, please let me cum all over your face, please, please, I’ll be good for you.” you beg like the cockslut you are.

He sucks hard on your clit, and that’s all it takes to tip you over the edge, body shaking uncontrollably and vision going white. .

You’re spent, panting on the bed and feeling the familiar burn that his beard leaves behind on the soft skin of your inner thighs. Your walls flutter around nothing, and somehow you want more.

“Such a good girl for me.” He looks at you through half lidded eyes, lips red and swollen, face covered in your slick. You taste yourself on his tongue when he dips down and slants his mouth against yours, reigniting the fire inside of you.

“Do you want me to fuck you? Do you want to come again, all over my cock? Yes?”

You whine, feeling yourself grow hotter than before. “Yes, please, fuck me.”

He thrusts inside you, slowly at first, faster once he can sheathe himself fully without feeling any pain. You’re still sore from yesterday, but the familiar stretch of his thick cock is so good that you ignore the burn. You only feel him and the pleasure he’s giving you.

“So perfect, made for me, my sweet girl.” he grunts in your ear, and the praise sends jolts of electricity directly to your cunt.

Your hands are roaming over his hard muscles and your walls are clenching down on his cock, impatient for another orgasm to wreck you.

The room is filled with the lewd sounds of him fucking you, his balls hitting your ass, the squelch of your arousal, and he’s so vocal with his moans and grunts that you could come hard just listening to him.

His pace is more frantic than before. Your walls are milking him as he pounds into you relentlessly. Just when you thought you couldn’t feel more pleasure, Bucky dips his hand behind you, fingers covered in your slick teasing your back entrance and pushing inside you, finding no resistance in your relaxed state. His pubic bone hits your clit repeatedly and you’re so full of his cock and fingers and him that you see stars.

“Cum pretty girl, cum all over my cock. Show me how good you are.”

He snaps his hips harder against you and you cry out when the pressure in your core releases, jolts of pleasure shooting from your cunt to the rest of your body, vision going blank. 

He swallows your cries with his mouth, and the feeling of you clenching around him is enough to send him over the edge too. His thrusts become sloppier and he cums hard, holding onto your waist with a bruising grip and biting down on your bottom lip.

He collapses on top of you, and you relish in the feeling of his hot release filling you up.

“Love you.” he mumbles, caressing your cheeks.

“Love you more.” you whisper with a smile, scratching his scalp the way that makes him purr like a cat.

You stay impossibly close for what feels like hours, Bucky still inside you, encompassing your whole body, until the alarm clock goes off and he lifts himself up with a grunt. He stares in fascination as his cum slowly drips out of your cunt and onto the sheets.

“Don’t wanna go to work today, doll.” he whines, clinging onto you again and pouting like a child, “Wanna stay in bed with you.”

You chuckle, because he’s always so needy in the morning, and push him off you.

“We’ll stay like this all weekend, I promise. Now go get ready.”

-

The smell of freshly brewed coffee invades the kitchen and your senses. You love the fragrance, even though you aren’t allowed to drink it. Bucky says it’s bad for a dainty doll like you. You remember you used to be addicted to caffeine before; it was the only thing that kept you going during your long, strenuous shifts at the hospital you worked at as a nurse. Bucky provides for you now, so you don’t have to worry about that exhaustion anymore.

You drink loose leaf herbal tea these days.

You smile when a ray of light shining through the window hits the diamond ring on your fourth finger, projecting a kaleidoscope of colors on the walls. The eggs are sizzling in the pan, the bread slices are toasting in the oven and you can hear the faint noise of Bucky taking a shower.

You arrange the table the way he likes it: buttered toast and scrambled eggs on a plate, yoghurt and cut up fruit in a little stained glass container, a steaming mug of coffee, a tall glass of ice cold water and fresh flowers in a vase; the paper towel goes to the right side of the plate, with a fork and a knife with the sharp side that faces left on top of it. You nod in satisfaction at the spread and remove the strainer from your teacup.

Bucky greets you with a peck on the lips and a bright smile. He pulls the chair back for you, ever the gentleman, and sits on the other one, “Any plans for today?”

“The usual, y’know. I may go for a walk at the park, if that’s okay with you?” you hesitate on the last part, giving him a hopeful smile. You love to collect the wildflowers in the meadow and feed the ducks at the pond. Plus, walking is good for your health, and Bucky has you exercise at least once a day anyways.

“Of course you can, princess. Do you have enough birdseed or do you need more?” he asks, chewing a mouthful of eggs and toast, “I’ll give you extra money if you want to get it.”

You’re grateful he agreed. Truth be told, he hardly ever denies you anything now that you’ve learnt to behave. “Thanks, but it should be enough to last me another week, I think. Is Steve coming for dinner tonight?”

He shakes his head and sips on the coffee you made him, just the way he likes it: two sugars, one splash of full fat milk, a sprinkle of chocolate powder. “No, I think the punk’s staying home with Sharon tonight, ‘member her?”

You nod. You do remember Sharon. They’ve been dating for a while. She is a nurse like you used to be. Would Steve make her keep the job? 

Bucky doesn’t seem to notice your pensive mood and checks his phone as he finishes the last of his strawberries. “God, it’s 8.35 already. I gotta hurry sweetheart, don’t want to be late again like yesterday.” he says with a mischievous smirk.

You feel warmth creep up your face at the memory of the reason why he was late, and you clench your thighs shut as you recall the image of you bent over this same table you’re at and him pounding into you from behind. He wouldn’t leave unless he gave you one more, and then another, until you were shaking and crying in pleasure. 

You both get up. He grabs his jacket and backpack, you hand him the lunch you’ve packed for him. He pulls you in for a sweet kiss, holding you by the waist. You taste the coffee lingering on his tongue and it reminds you of another life.  

He pulls away and nuzzles your hair, hugging you tightly. “I’ll miss you.” He mumbles in your ear, inhaling the calming scent of the lavender shampoo he’s chosen for you.

“I’ll miss you more. Have a good day at work.”

“Thank you, have fun at the park. Behave.”

You wave him goodbye from the front porch and stand there until his sleek black car disappears in the distance. You sigh, missing him already, and get inside, ready to start your day.

-

9.00 am

Bucky is a business manager at Stark’s IT company and his job is a 9-5, Monday to Friday, which means every week day you start your chores after he leaves.

He likes the house spotless and you never want to disappoint him. You shudder at the thought of what happens when you do. Thankfully, it hasn’t occurred in a while. Only bad girls get punished, and you hate punishments too much to be one.

You start downstairs: you open all the windows to let the fresh morning air inside and get to work. You vacuum and mop the floors, disinfect the kitchen counter and empty the dishwasher, sanitize every surface in the bathroom until it’s squeaky clean and smells like Bucky’s favorite lemon scented detergent. Then you move upstairs: you wipe down all the furniture, scrub the ensuite, change the soiled sheets and sort through the hamper, separating whites and colored.

You hum as you work, proud of yourself because you’ve perfected the cleaning routine in your time with your husband, so now it only takes you an hour and a half now to do the entire house.

You grab the basket of dirty linen and clothes and head downstairs to do the chore you hate the most: laundry. The basement where the washer and dryer are makes you quiver in fear when you think of it, but you haven’t found the courage to ask Bucky to move the appliances upstairs yet. Sometimes you still have nightmares about your time there, and Bucky has to hold you and rock you all night to calm you down.

It’s where you spent the first six months after he took you, locked up all alone. He’d visit you every night, but you didn’t appreciate that. You feel guilty now for all those times you fought him, especially the one time you managed to break his nose with your elbow and sprinted upstairs. He caught you just one step before the front door. God, you were so stupid. You’re lucky he got to you in time. What would a girl like you do without a man like him?

As punishment, you spent a week locked in a wardrobe, with no food and barely enough water to survive. You stopped fighting after that, and when he got you out you sobbed on his shoulder and let him hold you and bathe you. You slept in his bed that night, and all the nights that followed in these 3 years. 

Bucky never meant to hurt you, only take care of you, but you were too stupid to understand that back then. You understand now.

-

12.55 pm

It’s a beautiful spring day, the sun is bright and there’s a light breeze blowing from west. 

You think of how you weren’t allowed to leave the house until a year and half ago. You missed the outdoors. But Bucky is a fair man and he lets you go wherever you want now that he can trust you. He even takes you on weekend trips wherever you desire. Maybe if you’re good enough, one day he’ll buy you a car, so you won’t have to walk everywhere.

You still have a tracker implanted in your forearm, but that’s for your own safety.

You spread a blanket underneath your favorite tree; from your position you can see both the water and the meadow, and that lovely wooden bridge over the pond too. 

You’re basking in the sun as you reflect on all the new hobbies you’ve picked up now that you don’t have to spend the better part of your days in a hospital.

You embroider, you try out new recipes, you read, you do yoga, you paint and draw, you collect flowers and leaves and you dry them up in your botanical journal. You’ve become quite good at taking care of the garden in these past few months, and the roses you’ve planted are growing nice and strong. Sometimes you go for a swim in the ocean, some others you go shopping. The house is entirely decorated in your paintings, and you often give them to Bucky’s friends and family too.

You don’t have friends or family anymore. You only have Bucky.

You never thought you would enjoy these activities so much, just like you never thought you could be so free. Of your job, of so much pain and sorrow, of the hardship that comes with free will, of the choices you make that weigh you down until you can’t sleep anymore.

Who knew having your freedom taken away would be so liberating. Not you. 

You have Bucky to thank for that. He always knows what’s best for you.

-

5.29 pm

Bucky’s been thinking about you all day and as soon as he’s clocked out, he couldn’t come back home fast enough. He smiles when the front door opens and he’s hit by the smell of freshly baked cookies. You really spoil him too much.

You run into his arms as soon as you realize he’s back, hugging him tightly, mumbling about how much you’ve missed him.

You’ve made dinner for him, just like he expects of you. Homemade basil pesto pasta, grilled salmon, oven roasted vegetables, white wine for him, tonic water for you because alcohol is bad for little dolls, white chocolate chip cookies for dessert.

You chat about your days over food, and when you’re both done you clean up while he changes into more comfortable clothes.

He has a reward for you, since you’ve been so good lately, but he wants you to earn it.

“On your knees.” he commands, and like the perfect doll you are, you comply.

You look up at him with your innocent doe eyes and Bucky knows he could come at the sight of you so beautiful, so obedient alone. His hands work swiftly as he pulls down his sweats and gets his already hard cock out. 

“I want to fuck your mouth.” he says, tracing your lips with his red tip, “Open up, doll.”

You do as he says. You take him in your mouth and his eyes instinctively roll back at the feeling of your wet tongue licking a strip from base to tip; your cheeks hollow around him, sucking him off, one hand pumping his length and the other massaging his balls.

He aches for more, so he grabs a fistful of your hair in what is probably a painful grip, judging from the way you gasp, and he takes that as an opportunity to slant himself inside your mouth until he hits the back of your throat. He shoves himself deeper and deeper until you can't breathe, your face is red and your eyes full of tears. You steady yourself holding onto his thick thigs as he keeps fucking your mouth harder, balls slapping your chin.

Saliva is dripping down on your face as you’re choking on his cock, and those gagging noise you make vibrate against him, making this all the more pleasurable. He knows you won’t complain anyways, no matter how much he abuses your mouth or your cunt.

He knows you’ll always comply. He’s made sure of that.

With a last thrust in your mouth he pulls out just in time to paint your face with his hot spurt. You look perfect with tears streaming down your cheeks and his cum all over you.

“You did so good princess.” he praises you, and you smile up at him, “Go get cleaned up now, we’re watching a movie. You choose.”

You beam, and he knows you’ll choose one of those Disney movies you like so much.

Good girls always get a prize.

-

11.00 pm is your bedtime. Little dolls need their 8 hours of sleep.

You’re already fast asleep, and Bucky looks in complete devotion and adoration at your form. You’re so pretty, so perfect, so completely his.

You’ve been so good lately that he hasn’t had to punish or discipline you in more than six months.

You’re no longer the stubborn woman you used to be, the one that broke his nose and resisted all he’s put you through for months. You’re finally a little doll for him to own, love and care for. His little doll to dress up and play with. He’s especially happy tonight, because he knows you’ll love the reward for being so good this time. 

It’s only taken Steve two years, because Sharon wasn’t as strong as you, but he’s done now.

Bucky knows how lonely you can get. Tomorrow you too will have a friend, another little obedient doll like you to play with.

-

read my other dark!bucky fic here

I hope you liked this! If you did, please reblog and let me know what you thought of it. 🥺

[honeesucker]

Darling, Dearest | Part 3

Pairing: Shigaraki Tomura x F!Reader (READ ALL WARNINGS)

Word count: 4,307 (Ch. 3 of a multi-chapter fic)

Series Content Warnings: Non-Con / Dub-Con | Drug use | Depictions of violence | Dacryphilia | Unprotected sex | Depictions / mentions of blood | Kidnapping | D/s dynamics | Pet play | Degradation | Multiple partners | Stockholm Syndrome |

Part one ♡ 

Part two ♡

Divider designed by Firefly-Graphics ♡

‘Uhhnfhh!” My voice was hoarse from the constant screams being pulled from my throat so easily. I had since lost the ability to form coherent sentences using real words, my brain muddled from orgasms I long since lost count had resigned itself to baser sounds. My pussy was squelching so lewdly amidst the tireless ministrations of the man between my legs, which were draped over his shoulders. I was surprised my body could still produce any sort of substance after cumming so much but I was continually surprised by how the man brought out one more orgasm, pushing me over the edge again and again with each hungry stroke of the magic muscle currently devouring my sloppy, numb cunt like a starved animal. “Mmfmfhh, p-please! Stop s’too much!”

“Oh, come on now princess,” the deep rasp of a familiar voice sounded from between my legs. I peel my heavy eyelids open, sticky with tears from overstimulation as I glance down, my half-lidded gaze meeting deep carmine eyes shimmering up at me with a mischievous hunger. The soft baby blue waves framed his face unhidden by Father as he tilted his head like a curious puppy, despite his scars and rough patches of skin, he was beautiful.

So beautiful.

“P-please can’t take anymore, please don’t make me cum again,” I was a mewling mess of tears, saliva and heavy sobs wracking my whole body with trembling shakes but it only made Shigaraki glow and smirk, “Tomu p-please, n’more” I slurred as my eyelids fell shut.

“Okay my princess,” Shigaraki whispered, clambering up the length of my body to meet me in a sweet kiss. My eyes still shut but I felt him lean down and nuzzle against my neck gently, applying a soft peppering of kisses along the column of my neck and along my jaw, making me giggle. “I’ll give you some time to rest before the real fun starts,” I sighed contentedly while allowing the feeling of exhaustion to take over my body for a short rest, the elation of finally receiving a reprieve from Shigaraki’s insatiable needs halted by the feeling of my pussy being stretched wider than ever before, my body began to shake in the motions of being fucked at a brutal pace but when my eyes shot open Shigaraki was gone, and the soft pink dream world we shared was starting to bleed into deep hues of blackened blue. It felt like I had been holding my breath underwater for longer than I could, and wasn’t near the surface yet until finally I broke through with a sobbing gasp.

My eyes met almost total darkness aside from the dim glow of a gaming menu left to repeat on the screen of the wall mounted TV. The frantic thumping of my heart took over as mind tried to gather its bearings from being ripped out of a peaceful dream into reality in such a harsh way. I heard huffing and felt wet droplets fall onto my face. Blinking away the sleep in my eyes I watched in horror as Shigaraki, the real Shigaraki, was leaning over me while droplets of saliva from his tongue lolled out of the side of his mouth fell onto my face again. His cock was spearing in and out of me without abandon or care for my comfort, feeling like I was being torn apart. I tried to scream but found that there was a wadded-up piece of fabric shoved in my mouth, and secured with a silken gag tied around my head which only allowed a muffled cry to break through the sounds of Shigaraki’s labored breathing. His eyes finally snapped down to my awakening form with a wide smile.

“You did say you’d do anything, right Y/N?” Shigaraki mimicked the way I pleaded with him earlier, the embarrassment of being made fun of heating up my cheeks to a fiery pink. “Why don’t you keep being such a good, compliant cock-sleeve for me hm?” I tried to thrash my body but found that my wrists and ankles were bound to the bed and unable to move beyond an inch. The relentless slap of heavy balls against my ass added a strange sensation that sparked a fire straight into my core while the thrusts of the villain above me began to quicken and stutter before a few final pushes that had the head of his cock slamming up against my cervix over and over, sending full-body jolts throughout my nervous system that had the coil of an impending orgasm ready to snap.

“Come on little cock-sleeve, why don’t you cum for me? I feel you squeezing my cock, ready to milk me for all I have,” Shigaraki was laughing like a maniac above me as he finally let out a loud groan while he pinned his hips against mine, anchoring his cock as deep inside of me as it would go as it shot ropes of hot white cum against my womb, and the coil snapped as he was filling me up. My walls were clamping down around his cock, spasming and sucking him in deeper as my body thrashed against the bindings, my blood felt electric as I cried and drooled against my gag. Shigaraki fell fully on top of me, skin slick with sweat causing us to stick together like half-dried glue. He kept his cock seated fully in my cunt as he caught his breath, and once he did, he slowly pulled his length out of me simultaneously pulling a whimper from my throat with it as the ridges and veins caught every sensitive part inside of my abused hole on the way out.  

“You’re turning out to be more useful than I initially thought,” Shigaraki mused, more to himself out loud than to me. I was left shaking, sweaty and full of warm, sticky cum that was leaking out of my pussy and onto the mattress. Fat rolls of tears were still spilling from my eyes and down the sides of my face as I lay back on the pillow, my limbs ached and I wanted to badly to curl in on myself but my wrists and ankles were still tied to the bed without much give. “I have to go and meet someone about some prospective members for the League, you be a good toy and stay put,” and with that he was gone.

I wasn’t certain how long it had been since Shigaraki left. Ten minutes or two hours felt the same when my mind remained a hazy mess of pain and disgust at myself that I came on the cock that fucked me awake. I was in such a tormented state of mind that I didn’t realize that my quirk had activated and was working itself on my body, I didn’t take notice when the blue tendrils of energy healed the raw skin around my wrists and ankles where the ties dug in... didn’t realize I was pulling my knees to my chest and tucking arms against my stomach in as tight of a ball as I could get after the energy worked itself away at the material keeping me hostage.  

I fell asleep sobbing.

I woke up in a muddled haze of pain and confusion. My body ached like I’d been in the same position for days, and I stretched out and welcomed the sting that came with using the dormant muscles. I sat up and realized I was back in the room that had become ‘mine’ the one I initially woke up in when this whole mess started. I stretched and twisted my body until the ache dulled to a comfortable degree, and walked into the bathroom to shower; well-deserved as my skin felt filthy, sticky and wet with sweat. I turned the shower on and let the steam fill up the entire bathroom before stripping and stepping under the burning spray. I showered until the hot water turned tepid after over an hour of scrubbing, sudsing, conditioning and exfoliating every inch of my body – something in my head telling me to scrub. Scrub until it was gone.

Until what was gone?

I stepped out of the glass door and into the steamy room, enjoying the way the air quick-cooled my skin and left me feeling more refreshed than I had in a while since my arrival here. I was watching myself in the mirror as I brushed my teeth.

“You said you’d do anything, right Y/N?” Shigaraki’s voice came through the haze of my mind like a wasp sting to the psyche. I spit out my toothbrush and gagged on the memory, slipping to the floor as the night of horror came back to the forefront of my mind, something my restful state tried to protect me from but wasn’t strong enough to overtake.  

I swallowed the thick memory back down while resigning myself to the reality of what happened.

I did say I’d do anything, didn’t I?

Fucking coward.

After a glacial-paced week of sitting and watching Kurogiri take care of the bar with Shigaraki always watching some lesser-known Pro Hero on the TV complete an interview for the most recent villain attack that they thwarted, muttering to himself about the hypocrisy of it all. “Government mandated violence all in the name of the Greater Good... y’ugh,” he’d murmur angrily as his nail dug harshly into the column of his throat where new wounds and old scars comingled. With a sigh I’d stand up and walk over to where Shigaraki was sat, ruby eyes glued to the TV in silent rage as I slowly cupped his large, slender hands in my own as I pulled them down, replacing the scratch of his nails with the soft palms of my hands allowing the liquid glow of my quirk to cool and heal the raw wounds. He was resistant to me touching him in this way at first but it soon became a softened reluctance over an outright disgust.

Sometimes I almost felt him sigh and soften into my touch; and if I caught him on a particularly good day he would let me rub a moisturizing ointment on his neck, around his lips and eyes, and the scarred ridges of his forehead he seemed especially tender about. I’d always thank him for letting me into his personal space without killing me. The sarcastic quip always got me a slight tug at the corner of his lips, not a full smile but close enough in my book.

Being a reluctant (see compelled) member of the Leage of Villains as the go-to feel good girl wasn’t as awful as the first few weeks that compiled a list of horrors I was never exposed to in my day-to-day civilian life. I had a coming-to-self moment with all that had happened and recognized the pedestal I set my standards on didn’t apply here, not when I was doing whatever it took to survive each day as it came... be it an uppity thug with a colt .45 placed between my eyes (he was dusted before he thought about pulling the trigger) or Shigaraki and his hellishly huge cock - I’d take it on. I had to, had to mold myself to this uncertain lifestyle.  

The pain was starting to morph into something I derived a sick amount of pleasure from, body numb from overstimulation and pussy filled and leaking on an almost nightly basis whether back at the bar in Shigaraki’s room, or out somewhere in a filthy backway alley because his temper got out of control and he needed something grounding to reestablish his dominance over – and of course I wouldn’t let Shigaraki come an inch on to knowing I was getting more enjoyment than what reactions he forced from me with his brutal ministrations.  

I was walking shortly behind Shigaraki along the dimly lit street coming back from one of the many meetings with Giran that Shigaraki has been attending, hearing promises of new blood to come for the League of Villains – Giran was set to bring a few new bodies to the bar next week after a failed rendezvous earlier the previous week with Stain, the Hero Killer, hadn’t panned out the way Shigaraki had hoped it would; though he was completely unfazed by the failing of Stain’s recruitment and just moved on to bigger plans that included destroying him instead along the way. It was a miraculous turnaround after the failed recruitment of Stain and a meeting Shigaraki had mentioned with a student that was ‘surprisingly insightful’ - I wasn’t sure what it meant then but Shigaraki had slowly began to morph into a true leader of the League as opposed to the childish brat with an anger problem and disposable resources. He was still angry, still had all he could want short of the collapse of Hero Society at his fingertips... but his demeanor and reactions to certain things shifted and I admired the change in him.

I was pulled from my mindless day dreaming by someone quite literally pulling on me and shoving me hard against a wall behind a convenience store Shigaraki and I had been walking past, though his long legs had meant he was further ahead of me when I was grabbed. A meaty hand that smelt like cigarettes and filth was clamped over my mouth and I looked up to see the stocky form of some no-life thug in a grey wifebeater and jeans looking at me with blown pupils and a sick grin of uneven black and yellowed teeth. There was an indistinguishable press of a dulled knife in my stomach, not quite puncturing into me yet but I felt the tiniest amount of blood trickling down to my navel from the initial push. I glowered at the hunk of fat and ill-intent pinning me to the wall, struggling against the grip that while shaky, was still strong enough to overpower me. I had just gotten one of my legs loose from where his own were pinning them just enough to give a good kick straight up into his family jewels but just as my boot was meant to contact balls his body crumbled and disintegrated to comingle with the other debris and filth of the alleyway where he truly belonged.  

“Fuc-” I was cut off by Shigaraki’s annoyed expression, shaking his hand slightly as it dusting it off.

“You’re an incessant magnet for scum,” he growled, yanking me from my shocked position still on the wall and out back onto the sidewalk toward the bar. He had an iron-tight four fingered grip on my wrist that I knew was going to leave an angry looking mark once he let me go. With his pace set to a brutal haste, we were back inside the bar in no time. Walking quickly past Kurogiri who gave us a questioning look but didn’t push Shigaraki any further, knowing the man was furious and on a mission. We rounded a corner and down a hall to where I knew Shigaraki’s room was, and he opened the door and threw me inside, shutting it behind him and leaning against it with his slender arms crossed tightly across his chest, his gleaming red eyes glaring daggers down at me where I fell on his mattress, his right hand came up to his neck and scratched at it relentlessly, picking at the tender skin and causing pearls of blood to show.  

“May I ask what the hell this is?” I motioned to my bruised wrist and outwardly to the room around us in general. Shigaraki was taking in sharp, deep breaths like he was trying to calm himself down.

“Shut up,” is all he growled out.

“W-” I started and then decided to clamp my mouth shut, thinking better against speaking up like my need for the last word is fighting me to do. I just give a small nod and fold my hands in my lap, waiting; and I wasn’t kept waiting long before slender, pale fingers reached out in front of me and quickly decayed my sweatshirt and the joggers of Shigaraki’s I was still wearing. Knowing where this was going to head, I quickly kicked off the boots I was still wearing and waited, almost afraid to breathe as Shigaraki’s fingertips ghosted over the contours of my body, stopping to press a red mark into an especially soft spot with a pleased hum. He finally decided upon utilizing both his hands pointer finger and thumb to tug and roll my nipples harshly between his fingers with an unforgiving pressure, taking extra pleasure in the pathetic, pained mewls that left my throat when he tugged forward harshly.

“You belong to me,” he said evenly, his deadpan tone and calm demeanor scaring me more than I am during any of his previous outbursts. One hand let go of the abused nipple it was holding onto to rain down a slap that left the room echoing with a deafening silence. I bit into my bottom lip until it bled, holding back the cry as a few tears escapes my eyes. Shigaraki leaned forward and licked up along the curve of my cheek, taking my throat into his hand, leaving his middle finger up in the air as he pressed into my throat with force. “Say it,” he growled.

“Y-yours,” I choked out as best I could from the pressure on my throat, “I belong to you - I’m yours.”

“That’s right, you’re mine. Mine to do with as I please, mine to keep,” Shigaraki leant down and took a long breath in, leaning in further to place a kiss on the top of my head. “Then why do you keep letting the slums of the Earth put their hands on what’s mine? Once or twice might be a coincidence, but it’s happened what, princess, three or four times now? That’s a pattern...” Shigaraki’s tone was dangerous and my heart leapt up into my throat jack hammering like a rabbit caught beneath a wolf’s paw. “A pattern that needs to be broken,” he finishes and the tears are flowing in a silent river down my cheeks, landing on my bare chest and mixing with the remaining ash of my clothes in grey streaks.  

“S-Shigaraki, I don’t... I-I can’t control what others do to me,” I whisper nearly inaudible, “I don’t ask to be touched or threatened, or – or fucking whatever!” I didn’t realize I was shaking until Shigaraki placed his hands on my shoulders careful not to lay all fingers down as always, and pressed down on them until I was laying back on the bed underneath his weight. My body was still trembling beneath the hard crimson stare of the villain above me as he slowly leant down to draw a deep breath against the skin of my shoulder, sending a shiver up the length of my spine. “P-please I don’t mean to draw their attention, I don’t want it,” I was whining weakly as he kept up his slowly ghosting over my body, drawing deep inhales of my skin and hair, tracing a long wet line with his tongue up the column of my neck and the curve of my face... the way you’d imagine a dragon would play with a sheep before it devoured the poor creature. I stopped my pleading quickly when I realized it wasn’t changing his demeanor, or my inevitable fate, of what that was I wasn’t certain, but I had one last pleading question. “W-why am I being punished for someone else’s transgressions?” I wasn’t proud of the way my voice cracked and bubbled with fear, and lost the fight to the threat of tears almost spilling over my eyes.

“You’re not,” Shigaraki breathed, ghosting his against my neck before placing sweet kisses against the skin.  

“Then why-?” I was cut off by the press of his scarred lips to mine, and while it was always an odd feeling blooming in the pit of my stomach at the uncharacteristically intimate act, I allowed him to do as he pleased; and despite the side effects of his quirk affecting his skin, his lips were still warm and welcoming. Shigaraki pressed his body further against mine, lodging a knee between my thighs as he pressed the joint hard up against my pussy causing my cheeks to burn hot and pink with the embarrassment of how turned on I was by the simple action, my arousal evident in the hot pulsations of need aching where his knee pressed and rubbed just enough to frustrate me.

“Is being with me really such a punishment?” He asked, his tone even despite the personal sting the question would bring anyone asking that of themselves. He doesn’t wait for an answer though before his mouth is back on mine, slender fingers kneading harshly into the soft fat of my stomach and hips with a bruising force, dipping down to my thighs as he hiked them to curl up around his own hips. Shigaraki was rutting his clothed cock against my core, already shamefully hot and wet, soaking into the fabric of his pants as he grinded against the slick lips. He broke the kiss and pressed his forehead against mine, as my lips parted with puffing breaths from the growing arousal of his grinding, wanting more friction, more anything... more of him. “Don’t you see that someone so weak like you, someone so naive and alluring to such pathetic scum needs to be kept and looked after by someone who is able to protect them?” Shigaraki was punctuating his sentences with deep grinds against my bare pussy, the rough seams of his pants bringing me a mixture of pleasure from having just enough friction, and pain from how harsh the fabric was against the sensitive bud. I just nodded, dumb from the aching between my legs. I was always a magnet for trouble, big or small, and I noticed it more and more since having first been taken that night in the alley; it’s been one shitty situation after another with someone trying to take something from me. Shigaraki seemed to sense the change in my thoughts as he decayed his own clothing in a fit of frustrated rage at what was separating our bodies. His pale cock slapped up heavy against his stomach as the fabric fell from his body. The head was red, angry with need and leaking a bead of pearly precum. As if my body decided to move on its own, I was on my hands and knees on Shigaraki’s bed and leaning forward to grab at the delicious looking cock, lavishing the head with kitten licks swirling around the tip in a mess of saliva and precum. His long fingers were tangling in my hair, gentling scratching my scalp with the main four fingers, eliciting a hum from me as I leant into his palm like a cat. His fingers found purchase tangled in my hair on the back of my head as he gripped hard and gave a hard yank that had tears brimming my eyes as Shigaraki looked down at me with a charming smile stretching his lips and his ruby eyes narrowed down at me. “Answer me, princess,” Shigaraki purred and I only nodded along quickly.

“Y-yes I need protecting,” I whimpered out when his grip tightened, pulling at the roots of my hair painfully.  

“You need me,” he stated simply and I nodded fervently.

“Yes, I n-need you,” I let out a breath when Shigaraki released his Titan grip on my hair, plopping onto the bed and rubbing at the back of my head with a series of pitiful whines.  

“What do you need me for, princess?” Shigaraki asked with a wicked grin on his face.

“Mmfmmph n-need you to protect me,” I managed out between the small thrusts Shigaraki made of barely his cockhead in and out of my mouth, teasing me. “Need your coc-” a hard shove had his full length sheathed down my throat as I drooled and gagged around the fleshy member. Sputtering and trying to breathe through my nose until Shigaraki used his forefinger and thumb to pinch my nostrils affectively cutting off all my air which had me struggling against him.  

“That’s right,” Shigaraki stated above me, as cool and collected as ever as I thrashed and struggled for air beneath him, “you need me, my cock. I am the Master of your future, I can give you so much and take everything away,” he said giving one final thrust into my mouth after I calmed down from lack of oxygen and resignation to my fate, and pulled out letting me sputter and pull hungry breaths of air in as he looked on with a sick satisfaction etched across his soft, scarred features. I fell down on my stomach flat like a frog and just let the tears flow freely as my body shook with hiccups and fits of coughs as the ability to breathe came back to me fully.  

Shigaraki leant down until he was face to face with me, his hand reaching out to cut my tear-soaked cheek as he spoke, “You’re going to make such an exceptional player two when I’m done with you.”

I resigned myself to the comfort that came as he crawled into his bed with me, wrapping his frame around mine as I still shook a bit from the sobs that wracked my chest. I fell asleep coming down from the high of fear, sinking into the comfort of no longer being used for the time being having been pushed past a limit tonight.

I felt strong, slender arms grasp my waist tighter in my sleep as I drifted off into a black, dreamless sleep.