#but I’m trying to decide which to finish first

[trendywaifus]

ZHU YUAN X FEMALE READER BUT ZHU YUAN IS AN ABSOLUTE LOSERRRR, like your usual pubsec officer Zhu yuan is so focused and composed but once reader comes into her office to ask her about work related things. She's so AWKWARD, like in an endearing way. She'll try to maintain professional cuz she's still at work duh. But she'll make small talk while smiling awkwardly and laughing at you nervously fidgeting with her hands under her desk 💔. She definitely wouldn't act like this on the job in public cuz she prioritizes her work. But in private it's lowkey over

I just know she also doesn't know how to flirt so when she does decide to 'flirt' it sounds like "Your outfit today looks nice today" and it'd be your fucking pubsec uniform LMFAO reader has to ask her out first💔. I'd type more but I literally have 1 minutes left until submissions are closed😫

If you don't like this and don't do it can u just do cockwarming Zhu yuan with a strap idk

-🍔🍔🍔

how can I not like this??? n the funny thing is you could’ve type more i remembered u sending it like an hour before it closed. 💔 GOSHDAMN BUT I LOVE THIS. zhu yuan is such a dork. cw: none. fem! reader, fluff

firm knocks reverberates around zhu yuan’s office as she finishes up paperwork for her shift. she has exactly thirty minutes before she clocks out. the upcoming conversation with whoever is behind the door will mostly take up the time she has to finish. sighing, she quickly scribbles a few reminders on a stick note for what documents she has to finish on tomorrow’s shift.

“ you can come in! “

the door gently opens and her composure pathetically crumbles away when she sees you strolling into her office with a beautiful smile on your visage.

“ zhu yuan, i know it’s almost time for your shift to end and i’m sorry, but i have some inquiries about patrol tomorrow. “

the aforementioned woman nervously fiddles with her pen, answering back, “ a-ah (name)! it’s alright! please don’t apologize. ask me anything you want to know about t-tomorrow’s patrol. “

you are a squad leader for a different team who patrols in a different part of the city. recently, there’s been reports of increased robberies in the lumina square area and the streets surrounding it. your squad was handpicked to help out with patrols. it puts her little more at ease that you’ll be helping her and her squad. saying that she’s inspired by your work ethic and compassion would be an understatement, she inspired by everything about you. you were apart of her graduation class and how you comb through fields even she struggled with, inspired her to do and be better.

you walk up to her desk and zhu yuan swallows lightly, placing her pen down, and rests her hands on her lap. “ the area we’ll all be patrolling is pretty darn big. . .mm, since you know the ins and outs of it, have you decided on our positioning? which is fine if you don’t because—“ she is trying so hard to pay attention to what you’re saying but it seems like she suddenly lost the ability to properly focus. did your eyes always looked so bright whenever you talk to her? the way your hands would move around as you articulate makes you look. . .what’s the right for it. .cute? she has the same habit but she thinks it doesn’t look good on her compared to you.

“ u-um. . “

“ hm? “

zhu fiddles with her thumbs under her desk, “ s-sorry, what were you saying? i-it’s not like i wasn’t listening to you—i just got a little distracted with something! h-haha. .”

you tilt your head at her, blinking. she was always a little shy outside of her workspace but getting distracted during work is kind out of character for her.

“ sorry but distracted with what? “

“ i. .uhmmm. .” zhu yuan’s cheeks turn a rosy pink, the tips of her ears turning red. “ w-with. .your outfit!”

your brows curl upwards and you glance down at your stylized pubsec uniform. was there something wrong with it?

“ does my uniform look weird today or something? i always make sure that it’s within dress code. .“ you inquired with uncertainty in your voice.

“ n-no, “ she sputters, waving her hands frantically, “ i meant it looks good today—y-you look. .good today! “

your face contorts into a look of realization once it clicked that the socially awkward woman in front of you is trying to flirt.

you break out into a knowing smile and laughed chastely. “ thank you, zhu yuan. but i think you look good everyday. “

the shy smile on her face was borderline dopey. zhu yuan clears her throat awkwardly, “ th-thank you too. i-i’m sorry for diverting the conversation, let’s go back to the plan. what were you saying—“

“ are you free tonight? “

“ i-i’m sorry? “ zhu yuan looks so cutely appalled by your sudden question, you just wanna kiss her.

“ let’s go out for noodles after our shift. we can discuss the plan while we eat, beautiful. i don’t think we’ve had time to properly hang out after years of knowing each other. “ you offered, giving her a sweet smile. bashful, she hurriedly nods her head with a timorous smile. “ i agree! that would be nice but. . “

“ but? “

zhu yuan taps her pointer finger against her thigh as exhales out a subtle shaky sigh. her heart is beating against her ribcage. “ i’m not sure what to wear. .” you chuckle, leaning your body over the desk and extended your hand out. her gaze flickers between you and your hand, puzzled.

“ hand please? “

she complies tentatively, placing her gloved hand into yours. “ it can be just casual wear, it’s a casual date after all, “ you start, guiding her hand to your lips and gently kissed the leather pad. although zhu yuan can’t feel it, the mere gesture turned her face hotter. “ you look flawless in your uniform. can’t wait to see how perfect you look in something else. “

[my-beloved-dragon-sylus]

Refuge

Basically I wanted MC to run to Sylus after she found out Caleb was still alive, but other people's fanfics weren't quite scratching the itch so I decided to write it myself. This is my first ever fanfic, I figured I’d post the beginning of it and see if it was any good. Self indulgent, strays from canon a bit, no violence, just Sylus comforting MC (aka me; I want to cuddle this man so damn bad)

Enjoy :) let me know if you would want to read the rest when I finish it

I weave past the few cars on the road, their speed far too slow for me. My singular goal at the front of my mind: get to Sylus immediately. Any other thoughts were forcefully shoved aside, I didn’t have the mental capacity for anything else.

To process what happened back in Skyhaven.

That Caleb was still alive. 

What he did.

No, no, can’t go there. 

I rev my bike even faster and the rest of the N109 zone passes in a blur. 

Finally I pull into the garage under his mansion, barely putting the kickstand down and turning the bike off before I’m striding through the entryway. Mephisto swoops by, cawing anxiously. I hadn’t seen him at the beginning of my ride, so he must’ve only started tailing me for the past few minutes.

Going through the main foyer, I don’t get my usual welcome from Luke and Kieran, but that’s okay. Not sure I could manage any words right now. I make a beeline for Sylus’s office, barely holding off the chaos in my mind. 

I just need to get to Sylus. Then I’ll be safe.

He’ll make sure I’m safe. 

But when I push open the door, I’m greeted with silence. No classical music drifting from the vinyl player, no snarky comment about barging in without knocking, nothing to indicate his grounding presence.

Panic squeezes my chest, but there’s a couple more places I can check first. The armory, the boxing gym, the kitchen. Surely he’ll be here somewhere, right? He’s gotta be. 

I know this was the longest I’d been off the grid and out of contact with him since we’ve gotten to know each other, but he knows how it is. How missions work, how you have to infiltrate and go underground sometimes to deal with problems. He’s the head of Onychinus after all. Surely he does things like that all the time.

Mephisto follows me as I search the rooms, cawing softly every once in awhile as if to try and soothe my growing anxiety. When I find the master bedroom empty, I lose motivation to look any more. 

He’s not here.

Sylus isn’t here, and the twins aren’t here. 

Despair threatens to swallow me whole. I was barely holding it together, and reaching him was the main reason I hadn’t crumbled yet. Still, there was one last shred of hope. I wasn’t completely alone. Mephisto was here—on his perch now—watching me with his ruby eyes. Which meant Sylus would know I was here. Probably on his way to see what was wrong and why I had shown up out of the blue at an uncharacteristic time for me.

I just need to hold out until he gets here.

SYLUS

Something was definitely wrong.

First, she had gone radio silent for several weeks—not responding to any of his calls or texts—and then Mephisto spots her riding at a breakneck pace towards the base at 2:53 in the morning like her tail was on fire? Normally she rode more safely than that.

Every protective instinct demanded he return and find out what scared her so much. 

And kill it immediately.

Only issue was he had been out with Luke and Kieran dealing with some pests, which hadn’t been close to home. They were en route but still 45 minutes away when she finally reached the base. His chest ached as he briefly checked Mephisto’s live feed again, showing her frantically searching the rooms for him.

He would’ve called her, except she didn’t seem to have her phone on her. Otherwise she would’ve seen the texts he left. 

If she lost it, I’ll buy the newest version and give it to her tomorrow.

After he’s made sure she’s safe, checked her for injuries, and completely destroyed any and all threats. 

He presses down on the gas pedal even more, phantom echos of claws gripping the steering wheel, determined to bend space and time to get back in record time. 

When Sylus finally reaches his base, he pulls up next to her bike, noting the helmet carelessly dropped on the concrete floor. She usually at least hangs it on one of the handle bars.  His long legs eating up the distance, he makes straight for where Mephisto last reported her location. Where she hadn’t moved from in the past 30 minutes. 

First thing his sharp gaze snags on when he entered the master suite was the bedding. Rather, how much of it was missing. The multiple pillows were gone and the comforter seems to have been pulled off unceremoniously, leaving only the mussed up sheets on the king sized mattress. 

Something pricks at the edge of his subconscious, an idea he dare not let solidify. 

A quick scan of the rest of the room reveals nothing else out of place, no other possessions of his seized by the normally feisty kitten. The only other indication something was amiss was the door to his walk in closet was cracked open.

“Sweetie?” Sylus asks, knocking softly before slowly pushing the door wider. 

Instead of feeling relief, his heart cracks as he takes in her huddled form, tucked as far into the corner as she could manage. Under a row of hanging shirts, she was curled up in a nest of pilfered pillows and a comforter cocoon. Every aspect of her behavior—the unnatural stillness, the unfocused eyes, how tightly she clung to the blanket—screamed that she was in full on survival mode, perhaps had even gone into shock.

And her first instinct was to soothe herself with her mate’s scent. His scent.

He shook his head slightly as if to dislodge the thought he’d been trying to resist. She’s human, she wouldn’t think the way he does. She didn’t have ancient, primal instincts demanding things a dragon would require. No, what he needed to focus on taking care of her first. Finding out what happened.

She didn’t seem to have registered his presence though, so he tried softly calling out again.

“Kitten, are you injured?” 

He eased himself towards her, crouching down to her level. He was just about to reach out and brush her shoulder when she became a blur of movement. She struck hard and fast, pulling out a dagger that had been hidden under the comforter, seeking to defend herself against this invader. 

But Sylus was faster. 

He caught her wrist with the blade inches away from his chest, never once taking his eyes off of his precious hunter. Internally, he swelled with pride at how ferocious her ambush had been, even in her vulnerable state. She thrashed and attempted to free her arm, but Sylus held firm.

“It’s only me, I’m not going to hurt you.” 

She faltered, finally looking at him directly. She blinked a few times, as if to clear away whatever visions were haunting her, and he held still. Seconds tick by—although it felt like eternity—and recognition dawned in her gaze. 

“Sylus.” Barely audible, and whatever was holding her together seemed to break.

The knife clattered onto the floor as she burrowed into his arms, seeking refuge in his embrace. Her sobs shook her whole body, and he could feel the hot tears on his shoulder. He held her tightly, anchoring her through her storm. One hand rubbing soothing motions up and down her back, while the other gently checked for wounds, searching for any hint as to what happened to his beloved.

Once satisfied that there were no physical injuries, Sylus shifted positions so he sat with his back against the wall of the closet. He cooed reassurances at his kitten in his arms while adjusting her so she was most comfortable, keeping her head tucked in the warmth of his shoulder.

“I’m here, sweetie. I’m not going anywhere.”

He would sit and hold her for the rest of eternity if she wanted. 

[vettelsvee]

LET'S MAKE BIRTHDAY SEX A TRADITION | Sebastian Vettel

PART OF VETTEL FEST 2025 ˚ ༘✶ ⋆｡˚ SEBASTIAN VETTEL BIRTHDAY EVENT (June 30th - July 4th)

⋆ PAIRING: 2012 Red Bull Sebastian Vettel x Race engineer girlfriend!Reader ⋆ SUMMARY: Your birthday. A holiday on a cruise. Many shared thoughts between you and Seb... and maybe more than just thoughts ⋆ WARNINGS: Smut (female receiving oral sex, protected p in v, praising), curse words, mentions of death ⋆ WORD COUNT: 4426 ⋆ VEE'S NOTES: First fic of the Seb birthday event! Hope you like it and, if so, reblogs and comments are truly appreciated! Thank you so much for reading <3 ↳ LET'S TALK/REQUESTS! | FORMULA 1 MASTERLIST

As you raised your glass of wine to your lips, you noticed how Seb’s fingers moved, showing, apparently, nervousness.

"Are you okay, sunshine?"

Your question seemed to catch the blond off guard. His gaze was lost somewhere in the room.

He shook his head and finished the little wine he had left on his glass, not knowing what to do.

"Yeah, yeah… Sure," he answered quickly. "Why are you asking?"

"I don’t know. I just wanted to know if something was wrong… and see if I could help you in case something’s bothering you," you said casually.

"There’s nothing wrong, love."

No matter how much he insisted, his words couldn’t fool you. You felt the table shift slightly from the subtle movement of his legs beneath it; his gaze still wandering, carefully avoiding yours, and his seemingly tense posture made it clear that something was bothering him.

You knew that, sooner or later, he'd end up telling you what was wrong, just like he always did but. However, you decided to shift his focus and change the subject for now.

"You want to get out of here, don’t you?"

"I’ve wanted that ever since I found out we had to dress up properly for this fancy dinner. You know I’m not someone who likes drawing attention. And it’s not like I like fancy dinners either," he emphasized.

"Well, you manage to do it every day without even trying, sunshine," you replied. Standing up, you offered him your hand, which he took without hesitation as he placed his napkin on the table. "It’s not my fault you’re the sun in my life and have every girl in the world trailing after you."

"I thought that line was mine, love. Are you stealing everything I say now?"

"You made me yours completely the day you asked me to be your girlfriend in the most original way possible. Let me tell you, I never expected you to be such a hopeless romantic, Sebastian," you added.

He laughed, following you as you left the dining room behind.

"You didn’t expect that after I’ve made you breakfast more times than I can count, brought you flowers whenever I had the chance, and supported you since you entered Formula 1? Not to mention, I made sure you met Taylor."

"That thing again?" you groaned. "What do you want from me? Paying you back by taking you to a concert or—”

"Actually yes. I’d love that," he simply replied.

Once you were outside on the deck, the salty scent and sea breeze greeted you both.

The air was colder than you’d expected, and considering you were wearing a flowy purple dress that left your arms almost bare, it was no surprise you started freezing. You stopped leaning on the railing and hugged yourself, hoping to find some warmth.

Seb noticed. In the blink of an eye, he had taken off his jacket and placed it over your shoulders and pulled you close, wrapping his arms around you to share his warmth.

A smile started appearing on your lips.

"Thank you."

He turned to look at you and returned the smile.

"I don’t want my girl catching a cold. It wouldn’t be nice spending your birthday with a fever."

"If I get sick, you’ll have to stay with me and take care of me," you replied, standing on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

"Don’t say those things. You know you’d just pass it on to me, and we’d be stuck in an endless loop. Besides, you're with me more than you’re in your house," he added.

You stepped back, pretending to be offended, just playing.

Seb was right. He had asked more times than you cared to admit for the two of you to live together. And every single time, you had refused, not wanting to be more of a burden to him than you already felt you were.

You both stayed quiet for a while, staring at the darkness of the ocean ahead, leaning on the railing as your bodies drifted closer together. Your left arm wrapped around the driver’s waist, and his right arm came to rest over your shoulders.

"Weird and random question, but… What do you wish for most in this life?"

The question left your lips so quickly, it surprised even you. You turned to look at Seb, who now seemed a little… thoughtful.

"What do you mean with that?"

"If you have some sort of dream," you clarified. "I don’t know, sunshine… something you’ve wanted a long time for or something you want to fight for in the future. You’ve got it pretty easy."

Seb didn’t answer right away. He thought for a moment, probably trying to find the right words. A part of you wondered if he was overthinking just to avoid saying something inappropriate that might hurt you, and that idea made you feel very bad about yourself.

"I just want to be happy," he finally said. "The house in Switzerland is pretty great, and I could live there for the rest of my life," he began, "but I feel like there’s something missing…"

"A dog?" you asked with a smirk.

"You," he blurted out. "You, and a couple of kids running around, making us go after them and letting us relive our childhoods."

You stood there, processing his words longer than you should have.

And you hatred that about yourself.

The mere thought that Seb wanted a family with you made your skin tingle, and a wave of pressure gripped your chest.

"Okay… yeah," was all you managed to say. You tried to relax, but it didn’t seem to work.

"And what about you, darling? What’s your dream?"

Seb extended his arm toward you, still smiling. You took it without hesitation and nestled close to him as you resumed walking most likely toward your room.

"I feel like I’ve already fulfilled my dream," you answered, referring to being his Formula 1 engineer. "I want to try, even if it’s hard, to have a voice and help people. Lately, I can’t stop thinking about starting an organization to help those who’ve gone through similar things as me."

"You mean…?"

"Yeah. I’d like to help victims… you know… and also… those who, whether them or their loved ones, have attempted to take their own lives. I’ve been saving a little each month to try and make it happen," you admitted.

Seb stopped in his tracks and looked at you. You saw admiration in his eyes. Yours, teary, thanked him in silence.

"That’s admirable, darling. I know you’ll follow wherever you go, even if you think you won’t."

"My biggest dream, though… is to be a mom," you blurted out without thinking, instantly regretted it.

But it scares you. A lot, you admitted to yourself.

To be a mom.

A rush of nerves and regret surged through you, and even though your boyfriend had said something similar earlier, you couldn’t help but feel uneasy.

But he didn’t say he wanted to have kids with you.

"That’s your biggest dream? To be a mother?"

"Yeah…" you said, shyly.

He must be annoyed by what you said. Your heart started racing while you kept nodding, feeling the flush creeping up your cheeks. You were sure this was your last screw-up at your current age.

Seb squeezed your hand tightly, pulling you close as you reached the door of your room.

“I can’t wait to see you with a little baby bump, to spoil all your cravings and to watch a mini version of you running around.”

“And what if it’s a mini you?” you teased, playing along.

“The good will be perfect if it’s with you,” he said, “and the bad won’t seem so bad if I’m going through it by your side.”

You hugged him from behind instantly, covering his face with a flurry of kisses as he tried to open the door to your cabin.

When he finally managed to get it open, he let you in not without first stealing a quick kiss. Blushing, you walked in and threw yourself onto the bed on your back, arms spread wide. But you immediately sat up when you heard a few curse words.

“What’s wrong?”

You watched as Seb checked the right pocket of his pants, then the left, then both back ones. A flicker of panic crossed his face; he sighed and looked down before murmuring an apology.

“I think I left my wallet at the restaurant…”

You jumped up at once, offering to go with him so he wouldn’t be alone and, truthfully, because you didn’t feel like sitting around bored while he was gone.

“Don’t worry, love,” he said quickly, voice a little shaky. “It’s better if you stay here and rest. I won’t be long.”

You reluctantly nodded and let him go after one of those long kisses you liked so much.

While he was gone, your thoughts began to spiral. You were just a few hours, or maybe minutes, away from turning another year older, and as every year, reflection seemed inevitable.

You wondered whether you were truly happy with the position you had earned through so much effort and yes, with some help, in Formula 1. Whether you really had a place in this male-dominated world where whispers and inappropriate comments were something you endured just to keep chasing your dream.

You questioned if the suffering was worth it. But then you pictured yourself doing what you loved… what you had fought so hard for. Every time you thought of Seb and the life you were slowly building together, day by day, and how proud your parents would be of you... it started to feel like maybe it was worth it.

There was a time, not long ago, when you thought it was the end, but maybe it wasn’t. Maybe you still had so much more to give.

Maybe you both did.

Your thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a knock at the door. You jumped off the bed, eager to shake off the storm inside your mind.

Without even checking the peephole, you opened the door and there he was. 

Your Seb. Your boyfriend. Smiling ear to ear, holding a vibrant bouquet of multicolored tulips in one hand, and a mystery bag in the other.

“What is all this?”

He gave you a radiant smile. You were surprised, excited, and while you’d expected some sort of gift, that wasn’t what you imagined.

“Happy birthday, love.”

Before he could even step inside, you launched yourself at him, grabbed his shirt, and pulled him into the room. You started kissing every inch of his face, clinging to him as if he might vanish at any moment.

Between kisses and gasps for breath, the only words you could string together were “thank you” and “I love you so much,” to which he replied, “it’s nothing,” “you’re welcome,” and your favorite, “I love you even more”.

All words you never wanted to stop hearing for the rest of your life.

“Easy, love,” Sebastian whispered between kisses, gently pulling back. “We’ll have time for cuddles and kisses, I swear. But first, you have to open your gifts.”

You laughed quietly, realizing you might have overdone it, especially since his face was now covered in crimson lipstick.

“Then give them to me already.”

“Here you go, my lady.”

He handed you the bag. Without hesitation, you snatched it and tore it open, curiosity and excitement taking over. Inside were a few neatly wrapped packages. You looked at him. He shrugged, and you knew immediately: he’d gotten help to make everything perfect.

“You know wrapping gifts isn’t one of my strengths,” he admitted.

With trembling hands, you began opening the presents slowly, carefully, feeling your anticipation grow. A soft blue sweater, a few cord bracelets you’d been eyeing for a while, a signed Speak Now special edition album by Taylor Swift, a box of chocolates, and the bouquet now resting on the desk, all of it exceeded your expectations.

This was the first birthday you’d truly celebrated in about three years, and this time... it felt like a celebration. Maybe because the person behind it was the same one who threw you that surprise party back in 2009.

“Do you like it?” Seb asked nervously, stepping closer.

“Like it? That’s not enough to describe it. This is... perfect. I don’t know how you always manage to give me the best gifts.”

He wrapped his arms around you and kissed your temple.

“I’m glad you like them, darling. I was a little unsure what to get you, especially after what I did for Valentine’s. I honestly thought maybe you wouldn’t like this.”

“How could I not, sunshine?” you asked, genuinely. “Everything that comes from you is perfect.”

“I don’t know, love. After…”

You moved in gently, stood on your toes, grabbed his neck, and kissed him, silencing the doubts that were likely weighing him down. You didn’t think he’d respond the way he did, but when he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you even closer, your thigh brushing lightly against him, you were caught off guard.

You ran your fingers through his hair as your mouths stayed connected. His hands roamed your body, hungry but respectful. You realized you were slowly moving across the room when your back hit the wall near the bathroom. Your soft moans spilled out naturally as Seb lifted you, his mouth exploring your neck. He seemed surprised when you began cursing and asking for more, but he didn’t judge. 

You were surprised at yourself, too.

“Oh God... Seb...” you moaned uncontrollably.

“Fuck, love, if you keep moaning like that I’m going to come just from hearing your voice.”

You and Seb had never gone this far before, though you had longed for it longer than you wanted to admit. And you were sure he had, too.

“I want to do it.”

Your voice barely came out, a whisper. The blond paused for a moment. He gently lowered you, hands still gripping your hips. Though he knew exactly what you meant, he asked for confirmation:

“What do you mean, sweetheart?”

Sometimes it annoyed you how many times he double-checked everything, always making sure you were okay. But you knew him. And one of the things you loved most about him was the way he treated you: with kindness, and more importantly, with care and full consent.

You had been hurt, both physically and emotionally. You had needed, and still needed, time and support to heal from what you’d been through, and to prepare for whatever might come.

Seb had made sure, from day one, that you were psychologically ready not just for intimacy, but for any new experience you wanted to share with him.

The only thing you could give him was gratitude, for his patience, even after he had promised time and time again that he’d wait forever… for anything.

Just imagining the two of you becoming one made your heart swell in a way you never thought possible.

“I want us to do it. I… want to have sex with you, Seb,” you said clearly, firmly., but shyly at the same time

“Are you sure?”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything, love.”

“Love… are you really sure you want to do this?” he asked again.

He stepped back slightly and looked at you, really looked, his eyes scanning yours, seeking certainty.

"I'm serious, sunshine. I'm ready. And I think today, on my birthday, is the perfect time for us to share a… gift."

Sebastian said nothing more. As you leaned in, bringing your face back to his once again that night, he gently held your cheeks and deepened the kiss.

You don’t know how long you stayed like that, but you were sure it had been long enough to realize it was something you never wanted to stop doing.

When he finally pulled away, now both of you lying on the bed you shared, catching your breath, you noticed a smile curling on his lips. You couldn’t help but laugh softly and wrap your arms around his waist, trying not to get completely squashed.

All you could do was smile at him, remind him how much you loved him and how grateful you were to have him in your life.

You repeated, again and again, that you were ready to have sex with him, and Seb, once more, made sure you were absolutely certain.

“We don’t have to do this if you’re not sure, you know it, right?” he insisted again, wearing down your patience.

“I’ve been waiting for this for a long time,” you told him honestly, “and I’ve also been preparing myself for it. I know you’re not… you know who, and I know you’d never hurt me. I trust you, Seb. You don’t have to worry, especially not about me.”

You believed the truth in your own words, but… a part of you was still afraid of being wrong.

“You can be sure of one thing,” he said, voice low: “the only marks I’ll ever leave on you will be from my lips kissing your skin.”

“Seb!”

“Sorry,” he apologized quickly. “So…?”

“I want you to make me yours, Seb,” you whispered in his ear, as seductively as you could manage. “Fuck me.”

You felt him tense up at those words. God, even you were surprised at what had just come out of your mouth. You expected him to get a little more excited than he already was, but he ended up surprising you. You noticed his arousal, prominent beneath his pants. When you reached to unbutton them, he gently pushed your hands away.

“Today’s your day. Let me take care of everything.”

You stood still in front of him as he began to slowly unbutton his shirt. He didn’t even let you help with that. Once his chest was exposed, you ran your trembling hands over his skin, letting yourself go, trying to steady your nerves.

He took your arms, turned you around, and carefully pulled down the zipper of your dress. It slid to the floor on its own, leaving you in the lingerie set he’d given you for Valentine’s Day, the one you’d never dared to wear until now.

You turned to face him, standing so your eyes met his.

“What’s wrong?” you asked softly.

“Nothing,” he said with a small shrug. “I just can’t believe I’m about to make love to the love of my life for the first time.”

“Are you nervous?”

No. You’re the nervous one.

“I just want it to be perfect,” he admitted. “I don’t want to hurt you or turn this into something you regret. I want our first time to be special. And I’m going to try my best to make it that way.”

“Then I don’t know what you’re waiting for, sunshine.”

He gently lifted you into his arms and laid you down on the bed. You sat with your back against the wall, a little tense. Seb sat beside you, on your right, and cupped your chin to kiss you again.

This time, your lips moved slower. You felt one of his hands start to massage your breast through the fabric, focusing on your nipple. The other hand trailed down between your legs, and when his fingers began to toy with your clit, a strangled moan escaped your lips.

“Do you like that, sweetheart?”

His fingers slipped past your thong, making full contact. The way he moved, rhythmic, deliberate, grew faster and faster.

“Yes, Seb,” you managed to say through shallow breaths.

At your response, he suddenly stopped. You didn’t argue. You didn’t even look at him. He pressed a soft kiss to your lips and then started leaving a trail of kisses down your body, stopping at your lower stomach.

“Love…”

His hands brushed the edge of your thong, sending chills down your arms. You were pretty sure you even held your breath when he began to remove your lingerie, bra and all, his eyes silently asking for permission.

“If anything we do tonight makes you uncomfortable,” he said gently, “just say so. And, before your brain starts spinning out, no: I won’t be mad if you change your mind. I promise.”

“Seb,” you cut in, “it’s you. I could never feel uncomfortable with you or anything you do.”

“Promise me, love.”

“I swear.”

He nodded and took hold of your thighs, pulling you to the edge of the bed so that his face lined up perfectly with your pussy.

Without warning, he flattened his tongue and ran it slowly along your folds. Even that first motion was almost too much to bear. He alternated speeds, fast to slow and back again, letting his nose brush your clit as his tongue worked wonders.

When Seb began to explore you more deeply with his tongue, and slid his index finger between your folds, the same finger he raised to the sky after every Formula 1 win, you arched your back, hands flying to his hair, pulling him closer while your hips rose to meet his mouth.

“You’re enjoying this, huh?” he asked between strokes, pausing the oral contact but not his finger.

“Don’t stop, sunshine. For God’s sake, don’t you even think about stopping.”

“Your wish is my command, darling.”

With that, he slid one finger inside you. A gasp of surprise left your lips, and when he looked up at you, laughing with a blush, he kissed your thighs while he kept moving his hand. Before long, he added a second finger.

Everything was happening so fast. Waves of pleasure kept crashing over you, stealing your sense of time. You weren’t even sure when it happened, but as soon as he added his tongue again, along with the motion of his fingers, a strange pressure built in your lower stomach.

It was getting harder to hold back your moans. Your eyes fluttered closed, your legs started to shake.

“Come for me, love,” Seb whispered. “Go on, love. You’ve got it… just let go.”

And so, you did.

Your back arched hard enough that your sweaty body could barely keep writhing the way it was. You were moaning like you never had before, and Seb noticed because he let out a small, proud laugh while licking your release, his mouth teasing your clit just enough to draw more gasps from you.

Then the German climbed over you.

“I love you. You don’t know how much,” he whispered between kisses, making you taste yourself on his lips. “You’re the most beautiful girl in the world. Never doubt that.”

“Seb, I’m not…” you tried to protest, unable to pull away from him.

“Yes, you are. And I’m not going to let you speak badly about yourself. You’re perfect.”

After those words, he pulled away slightly, reached into the nightstand, and pulled out a condom. With care, he put it on before positioning himself at your entrance.

This was it. The moment had come.

“I don’t want to sound like a broken record,” he said, looking into your eyes, “but if you want me to stop, just say so. I need to know you’re really sure about this.”

It took just the slightest nod from you for him to enter you. Slowly, carefully, without warning. He stayed still for a moment, likely giving you time to adjust to the length of him.

“F-Fuck, Seb!” you cried out as you felt him fill you completely. His hips began to move again, a steady rhythm building between you. “Seb…”

“Does it feel good, sweetheart? Are you enjoying my cock as much as you seemed to crave it before?” he groaned, biting softly at your neck.

“This feels insane,” you said. “Don’t stop. Please.”

“For you? Never, baby.”

His movements grew faster. You arched your back, moaning nonstop as you felt the depth of his thrusts intensify. Your moans blended with his, forming a rhythm of pleasure that was probably echoing into the rooms nearby.

“Seb,” you cried again when you felt his fingers press into your bundle of nerves.

“God, baby…” he groaned through clenched teeth. “Don’t stop saying my name. You don’t know what it’s doing to me right now.”

“I hope it makes you feel even better when we do this again,” you gasped, drowning in pleasure. You sat up slightly, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I want to do this again, Seb. Every chance we get. I want to be like this with you as many times as we want.”

“We’ll always be one, love. Don’t you dare think otherwise.”

You kept moaning his name while he kept whispering yours in your ear, his pace building faster, harder, deeper.

You couldn’t hold it back anymore.

“Fuck, Seb…” you stammered. “I think I’m gonna—”

“Let go, baby,” he encouraged you, voice thick and full of emotion. “You’ve got this. Come for me.”

“Yes, sunshine—”

You didn’t even get to finish the sentence before your climax took over. It hit so hard your whole body arched, slick with sweat, writhing beneath him as wave after wave tore through you. Seb followed just a few seconds later, thrusting a little deeper before letting go inside the condom, his body trembling above yours.

He leaned down and gave you a soft, lingering kiss before carefully pulling out and collapsing beside you, breathless.

Neither of you said anything. Only your ragged breathing filled the room, your chests rising and falling in sync, slowly calming.

You noticed Seb sitting up, pulling the covers over himself, suddenly shy, as though modesty returned after you’d both seen every part of each other.

“Was it okay?” you asked quietly, unable to stop yourself.

He let out a soft laugh, leaning toward you to curl up against your shoulder. You welcomed him, even though you were overheated, pulling the sheet around both of you as you clung to each other.

“You were amazing, baby,” he whispered, arms sliding around your waist to draw you closer. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you? I should’ve asked if you liked the pace... I think I might’ve gone a bit too fast…”

“You don’t need to worry about a thing, sunshine,” you interrupted gently, cupping his face and pressing your lips to his. “Let’s make birthday sex a tradition. Our tradition.”

“We can make anything a tradition, love,” he said, nuzzling into your shoulder. “Today, tomorrow, two weeks from now... every time you want us to.”

© VETTELSVEE (2025). Please, do not steal, copy, translate and share my works in other platforms. Thanks for reading!

[littlepinkbirdie]

Coffee Grounds & Clear Skies — Part Two

Pairing: Robert “Bob” Floyd x Reader Setting: A cozy off-base café, then a walk under the stars Vibe: Sweet, gentle, tentative first date warmth Word Count: ~1,600

You spent the rest of the day at work replaying his smile over and over — the way his glasses slid down when he got nervous, how he ducked his head when he asked you out, like he half-expected you to laugh. You didn’t, of course. You said yes. You said yes so quickly it made him blush all the way up to his ears.

By the time you step into the little café just off the beach, the sun’s dipping low, painting the sky in soft pastels that match the soft flutter in your chest. Bob’s already there — of course he is — standing awkwardly by the counter with two drinks in hand, like he couldn’t decide which you’d like better.

When he sees you, he straightens up so fast he almost spills both.

“You’re here! Hey — hi. Um, I — I wasn’t sure if you’d want something warm or cold, so I got both, but you don’t have to —”

You laugh, stepping closer to rescue one of the cups. “Bob. Breathe.”

He huffs out a shy laugh of his own, shoulders relaxing a little as he hands you the iced latte. “Thanks. I’m — I’m glad you came.”

“Me too,” you say honestly. And you mean it more than he probably knows.

You find a corner table tucked by a big window that looks out at the ocean. The café is small and quiet, the hum of conversation and low music filling the comfortable gaps when neither of you quite knows what to say next.

For a while, you just talk about nothing — movies you both love, a book he’s been trying to finish, the best diner near base for pancakes at 2 a.m. Every now and then, Bob says something that makes you laugh so hard you have to hide your face behind your cup — and every time, he looks so proud and flustered at the same time.

He tells you about growing up in Kansas — how his mom still sends him homemade cookies when she knows he’s stressed about a mission. You tell him about the time you got stuck on a layover in Denver for twelve hours and made friends with a stray cat at the airport. He listens like it’s the most fascinating story in the world.

At some point, he notices the sky turning from pink to indigo through the window. He glances over, then back at you, like he’s working up the courage for something.

“Would you — um — would you maybe want to take a walk? Along the beach? If you’re not too cold, I mean.”

You grin, finishing the last sip of your drink. “I’d love that.”

Outside, the air is cool but not cold, the waves rolling up the sand in gentle hushes. Bob walks beside you, close enough that your arms brush every so often. You think about just grabbing his hand — but you wait, because part of you wants to see if he’ll do it first.

He does. After a few false starts — one brush, then another — he finally slides his pinky against yours, then his whole hand, fingers threading so carefully with yours it makes your chest ache. His palm is warm, a little clammy with nerves. You squeeze it, just so he knows he’s doing fine.

You talk about everything and nothing again — about the constellations overhead, about how much he loves the quiet after a long flight. He tells you he likes this beach because it’s always a little empty at night, so you don’t have to share it with the world.

When you reach a driftwood log halfway up the shore, you sit down, shoulders touching. Bob leans forward, elbows on his knees, looking out at the dark ocean like it’s something he needs to memorize.

“I’m really glad you said yes,” he says after a minute. His voice is softer than the waves. “I was — I was so sure you’d say no.”

“Why would I say no?” You tilt your head, nudging your shoulder against his. “Bob, you’re — you’re one of the best parts of my day.”

He looks at you then, really looks, like he’s trying to find the joke — and when he sees there isn’t one, he blushes again. You’re pretty sure you could live off that sight for weeks.

Before either of you can overthink it, you lean in and kiss him. It’s shy at first, a gentle brush of lips, and then he exhales like he’s been holding his breath forever. His hand comes up to cup your cheek, careful and warm.

When you pull back, his eyes are wide behind his glasses, mouth curved in a smile you want to bottle up and keep forever.

“Can I — can I take you out again?” he asks, like you could ever say no.

You laugh, pressing your forehead to his. “Yeah. Yeah, you can.”

And when you walk back, shoes dangling from your hands, sand sticking to your ankles, Bob’s hand never leaves yours — steady and sure as the moon climbing higher in the sky.

Author note: HAII HERE IS PART TWO HOPE U ENJOY @sunflowrhaze

[the-real-couchrat]

A new chapter of ‘Transdimensional Arc!! Alcor Finds a Ford’ (by @random-dragons-interest-hoarde) came out recently, and I just had to draw the delphinidae dimension residents!

The orca (named Graham) was described as having lots of scars, but I don’t actually know how or where his humanoid self got them, so I just gave him rake marks. (Rake marks are just a fancy name for the scars orcas get from each other)

I Drew some Dolphin!Alcor as well, even though he probably doesn’t exist in this dimension, because I love him and we got his canonical dolphin species confirmed by Stan (who’s name I changed a bit to be more dolphin-y)

Closeups and notes below

I tried to replicate Graham’s wing(?) pattern things on his fins, and his horns(?) on his eye markings, but I’m not so sure how well it turned out. I also tried to replicate Liam’s tattoos from ‘Once Again, Again’ (by @vallis-cineris---wanderer) because I have many theories of how he exists in that world (this will be a separate post once I get my thoughts together). Funnily enough, this is the first fanart of Liam I’ve ever made.

Also some closeups of Fiddleford McBucket, because despite saying I wouldn’t draw him, I did and love how it turned out!

Quick tangent but I’d like to give a thank you/shoutout to Dragon’s Hoard for writing dolphins in a positive light. Recently, dolphins have been getting a terrible rep, and it’s gotten old. There’s duality in anything intelligent, and dolphins s are some of the most intelligent creatures around. Even then, they’re just animals acting on instinct, and we shouldn’t hold them to the same standards we hold humans to.

[dagaan]

The next chapter of SkullHacker, my cyberpunk shivrye AU, is finally out! You can check it out at the usual spot, over here.

[milkymiks]

Prev

Jason just finished up apprehending the foreign pricks that decided they should deal drugs to kids, telling Oracle to call the GCPD to deal with the clean up, when suddenly a glowing mass barreled on to him. He winced as he fell on his ass, his hands automatically wrapped on the handle of his gun. He lifted his face to look at what clung to him.

It’s a very handsome man with white hair, dressed like royalty with a floating crown, and the man also emits a faint green glow. Said man is also trembling and Jason realizes that fat globs of tears are running freely down his face.

“Jason!” The man gasped, arms clinging tight around his waist, He buried his face on Jason’s neck.

This is all very weird to Jason. He ignored the twinge on his chest as he brought the gun to the man’s head, who froze when he felt the cold muzzle pressed to his head.

“Who are you?”

The question seemed to dismay the man, as tears fell harder from his sculpted face. He sighed and pulled back from Jason’s neck, the gun following the movement. He sighed and pulled a small sad smile on his face.

“I expected this to happen” he murmured, He paid no mind to the gun digging on his skull to rest his forehead against Jason’s.

“Would you believe that we are lovers and that I've been trying to find you this whole time? and now that I found you, you’re full of nasty ectoplasm which might be the reason why you don’t remember me?”

Jason scoffed “as if i’ll believe that bullshit” seriously why was this nutjob clinging to him? The nutjob only sighed again “right” he murmured before plunging his hand inside Jason’s chest.

Jason yelled at the unexpected intrusion, finally pulling the trigger on the gun but aimed at the shoulder, only weirdly the bullet seemed to go through him. Fuck.

Weird sensation of sifting happened inside him. The man only looked Jason dead in the eye as he did what he did while Jason desperately tried to get away from him. pushing at his shoulders and chest with both hands, kicking his sides, only the man didn’t budge, like he was made of steel.

“What are you doing?! stop!”

“I’m filtering the corrupt ecto in you, it really did lock away a lot of your memories. Stop struggling, I don’t want you to injure yourself”

Jason did not, and as if the man expected it, took the hits with no problem. After a few more moments, he finally reluctantly took his arm out of his chest -It’s weird to see his chest still intact when it felt like his insides were being messed up- He looked up at Jason with hopeful eyes, then faltering when he was met with cold indifference.

“You still don’t…?”

Man the guy sounded wrecked, He found the wrong guy it seems and unfortunately Jason doesn’t feel bad, He was just violated by the man.

“Oh man, I know it’s you Jase, I can feel it! Why won’t you remember?” The man whimpered, and Jason could definitely hear the sound in his dreams if only this weren’t a bad time.

“I’m sure you got the wrong guy, now can you get off me-?” Jason was cut off by a growl, A fucking growl coming from the man before him who looked angered by the prospect that Jason isn’t the person he was looking for.

“I’m not wrong! You just don’t fucking remember!” He groaned -oh god are those fangs?- before taking Jason’s face in both hands and smooshing their lips together.

It hurt and it was awkward at first, The fangs nicked Jason’s bottom lip, before the man adjusted and suddenly Jason is experiencing the hottest makeout he ever had in his life. Oh and the man is still growling for some reason, but it’s oh so hot, and Jason might die because of the nutjob, and oh god he has a very long tongue, it’s actually reaching down his throat and isn’t that super hot?

Then flashes, memories that he does not remember having, flying by and seemingly returning to it’s spot in his brain. Memories of him and Dick in his fuckass Discowing uniform, sitting on top of a building sipping slushies together. A peaceful dinner with all of the family at that time without Dick storming off. Barbara attempting to teach him code. Saving a boy falling from a fire exit who’s holding a camera and looking at him like he hung the moon. Danny…

Memories of his time as a ghost still wearing the robin uniform came back, How through the years in the realms, and months in Danny’s home dimension, the two slowly fell in love.

“I’m supposed to take over and officially be King once I’m mostly done with my education, or so Clockwork says. Does that mean you’ll be my Queen?”

“Rude, you haven’t even proposed to me”

Danny threw his hands up in exasperation “We’re still minors!” Jason fake sniffed “You’re not even courting me properly…” Danny just stared at him, in fondness or irritation.

“I cannot kill this ‘Joker’ for you when I don’t even know how to go to your dimension, I already took Freakshow’s core as a placeholder for now” True, Jason has the clown's core in a mason jar in his room that he sometimes shakes when he’s bored. So he kisses Danny’s cheek and watches in satisfaction as his lover’s face turns red.

The last memory he had before he was revived and force filled with anger. So the Lazarus pits are just fucking waste ectoplasm.

Jason can feel when Danny pulls out -the tongue literally shoved down his throat retreating- and looks at him concerned while Jason absentmindedly stares at his face. The man in front of him is his long lost lover, who is now King judging by his attire, and who has been looking for him all this time while Jason lost the memories of their precious time together.

Jason let out an ugly sob, then another, and another, as tears bursted from his eyes he had to take off his mask. He threw himself in Danny’s embrace as he continued to cry, Now Danny is crying again, but of happiness as he pulled Jason to his lap.

“I knew I came back wrong, I just didn’t know what” Jason murmured, He felt a hand carding through his hair. “It’s okay, I found you and we’re together again” Danny said, Jason can feel a rumbling from his lover’s chest and smiled.

“Can we go home? I miss you and the castle”

“I think you only miss the castle, fucking favorite” Danny teased

“Not my fault she likes me better than you”

Danny stood up, carrying Jason with ease. Jason settled comfortably on Danny’s arms as the man started making a portal back to the realms. He really did get stronger and more handsome the years they were apart, Jason can’t wait to discover new things from his lover.

“Stop!”

Both of them turned their heads to see Batman and a few others from the justice league rushing to them.

“Fuck, Danny hurry!”

Danny shifted Jason in his arms so he was only holding him with one, and tore a glowing green portal through the space in front of them with the other.

Oh fuck that was hot, Jason needs both of them in Danny’s bed right about now.

“Red hood!” was the last thing they heard as they stepped through the portal before it vanished.

[shaiyasstuff]

side effects may include: marriage, blushing, and one shirtless husband. | zayne

synopsis : You never planned on getting married straight out of college—especially not to a broody, absurdly attractive cardiac surgeon with the emotional range of a paperweight. But one wine-infused chocolate, a half-unbuttoned shirt, and an accidental kiss later, you’re rethinking everything.

content : arranged marriage!au, pure fluff, comedy, writer on crack

The letter in your hand crumples with the weight of betrayal as you wave it in front of your mother’s face like a white flag soaked in passive-aggression. “What is this?”

She barely glances up from her tea. “Your marriage agreement,” she says, taking a sip as if she hadn’t just casually handed your freedom over like a lunchbox.

“Why didn’t I know about this?!” you exclaim, arms flailing like you’re directing traffic in a thunderstorm.

“Because you wouldn’t have agreed,” she replies smoothly, as if this were the most obvious thing in the world.

Which, apparently, to her, it is.

“Mom, I literally just graduated,” you groan, dragging your hands down your face.

She raises a perfectly plucked brow. “I married your father before I even finished.”

You let out another groan, louder this time, before collapsing face-first onto the designer couch like a Victorian heroine with a Wi-Fi addiction.

It probably doesn’t help that your family owns one of the biggest tech companies in the country.

Wealthy, yes.

Emotionally prepared for an arranged marriage? Absolutely not.

“I don’t even know the guy!” you practically shout, sounding one emotional notch away from launching yourself into a soap opera.

“I do,” your mother says, flipping open her book like this conversation is just background noise. “He’s a very charming young man.”

You grab the nearest pillow and dramatically smother yourself with it. “I’m not doing it,” you declare, voice muffled and full of angst.

“It’s already been decided.”

You fling the pillow aside like it personally betrayed you. “No!”

Somewhere in the distance, a rich person’s violinist probably sighed in sympathy.

“You can’t make me do this!” you cry, pointing an accusatory finger at her like you’re about to cast a spell of teenage rebellion.

“You will move into the new house in a week. Pack your things,” she replies, turning the page of her book without even looking at you, as if she’s ordering takeout instead of destroying your life.

You gape at her. “I’m not going to prison, Mom. I’m just trying to live my mediocre post-grad life in peace!”

She sips her tea. “And now you’ll do it as a married woman. Congratulations.”

You consider packing alright—packing your bags and running to a country where arranged marriages are considered ancient history.

Except, here you were—one week, three tantrums, and a very dramatic attempt to fake your own death later—standing in front of your husband.

Tall. Towering. Probably sculpted by ancient gods who had nothing better to do.

In your new marital home.

You blink up at him, still hoping this was an elaborate prank and Ashton Kutcher was going to leap out from behind a curtain with a camera crew.

No such luck.

Your new husband just stood there, looking like he stepped out of a magazine and into your worst-case scenario.

“I’m Zayne,” he says calmly, like you’re meeting at a networking event and not at the start of your forced domestic partnership.

You stare. Tall, brooding, buttoned-up like he’s allergic to joy.

Of course his name is Zayne—the kind of name that comes with a tragic backstory and an impressive skincare routine.

A shudder runs through you.

You’re married to that?

Somewhere in the background, the universe probably gave you a thumbs-up and whispered, “Good luck, sweetheart.”

You gulp, trying to summon the dignity your pajama-clad soul clearly lacks. “I’m Y/N.”

He nods. Nods. No handshake, no smile, no “Nice to meet you, fellow victim of our parents’ power trip.”

And then—he just turns and walks away.

Walks. Away.

You’re left standing there, blinking like a Wi-Fi signal trying to reconnect.

Married. To a man who treats introductions like optional software updates.

—•

“This is what Mom called charming?” you grumble, side-eyeing the empty hallway like it personally offended you.

You replay the interaction in your head—“I’m Zayne”—and resist the urge to punch a pillow just to feel something.

Naturally, you do what any responsible adult in a forced marriage would do.

You begin a full-scale reconnaissance mission.

Operation? Figure Out Who the Heck I Married.

You start with the basics—tracking his schedule, observing his comings and goings like an underpaid spy in a bad rom-com.

The man has the consistency of a German train schedule, the emotional availability of a stone wall, and the mystery level of a locked diary in a teenager’s room.

You have no idea what he does for work. He leaves in crisp suits and comes home even more pressed. He talks to no one. He reads thick books with no covers. You’ve yet to catch him watching a single cat video.

So, naturally, you conclude he must be a rich heir. Or a prince. Or some exiled monarch trying to lay low until his kingdom is restored.

It helps that he’s unfairly attractive—black hair that falls just right, piercing eyes that could probably see through walls, and a jawline that could cut glass.

Yep. Definitely a prince.

A very emotionally constipated, tragically handsome prince.

“I know you’re there,” he says, voice smooth and unbothered—of course he does, because apparently your espionage skills rank somewhere between amateur squirrel and nosy neighbor.

He doesn’t even look up from his book at first. Just turns a page calmly, as if catching his new wife spying on him is an everyday occurrence.

Then, slowly, he tilts his head and meets your eyes.

Oh no.

That look is lethal—cool, unreadable, and annoyingly attractive. He sets the book down with a soft thud and takes off his glasses like he’s about to lecture you, interrogate you, or casually ruin your life with a single sentence.

“Come in,” he says, and somehow it sounds less like an invitation and more like a challenge.

You briefly consider fleeing the country.

But your legs move anyway.

You let out an awkward laugh, the kind that sounds more like a hiccup caught mid-lie. “I was just… trying to see what you do.”

Zayne arches a brow, amused. “And lurking behind walls was the most effective method?”

You shrug, stepping inside, the door clicking softly shut behind you. “I considered asking. But you don’t exactly give off ‘share your feelings over coffee’ vibes.”

He leans back slightly in his chair, arms folding as he studies you—like you’re a puzzle he didn’t ask for but now can’t resist solving. “And what have you learned from your mission?”

“That you read a lot of intimidating books and might secretly be a prince,” you mutter, eyeing the hardcover he’d set down. “Or an assassin with excellent taste in eyewear.”

That earns you the ghost of a smile. Barely there—but it softens something in his expression.

“You’re not entirely wrong,” he says, and somehow, that doesn’t help.

You step closer, cautiously. “So… what do you do?”

Zayne tilts his head slightly. “Why? Interested now?”

“Trying to decide if I should be impressed… or mildly concerned for my safety.”

He chuckles under his breath—quiet and low, like he’s not used to laughing, but might want to try. “Maybe both.”

And for a moment, just a flicker, the air between you shifts. Less awkward, more curious. Like two strangers on the edge of something not quite comfortable, but not cold either.

“Well,” you say, fiddling with a stray thread on your sleeve, “I figured if I’m going to be married to a mystery man, I should at least get to know the mystery.”

Zayne watches you for a beat longer, then gestures to the seat across from him.

“Then stay,” he says. “Ask your questions properly this time.”

And you do.

You sit down across from him, suddenly hyper-aware of how your knees almost brush beneath the table.

His gaze is steady—too steady—and you gulp like you’ve just asked for his hand in courtship instead of mild information.

“So… what do you do?” you ask, trying to sound casual. It comes out more like a nervous frog asking a favor.

Zayne doesn’t answer right away. He leans back slightly, arms still folded, one brow lifting like he’s debating how much to reveal—or maybe just how much fun he’ll have watching you squirm.

“I’m a cardiac surgeon,” he finally says, voice low and even.

You blink.

“I—what?”

“I operate on hearts,” he says, like he’s talking about changing a lightbulb.

You stare at him. This whole time you thought he was brooding over world domination or writing dark poetry about rain. Heart surgeon was not on your bingo card.

“Wait, seriously? Like… actual hearts? With… scalpels?”

He tilts his head, clearly amused. “Is there another kind?”

Your jaw drops slightly. “Wow. I was prepared for ‘billionaire with a tragic past,’ not Grey’s Anatomy.”

“I assure you, there’s still a tragic past,” he deadpans, and for a second you’re not sure if he’s joking.

He doesn’t elaborate—but something in his eyes flickers. Quiet. Guarded.

You lean back, blinking slowly. “Okay… that’s kind of hot.”

That gets him. His lips twitch, just a little. “Are you flirting with your husband?”

You pretend to examine the ceiling. “I’m just saying, it makes the whole mysterious-silent-guy thing slightly more tolerable.”

He lets out a soft laugh—barely audible, but it’s real.

And suddenly, sitting across from him doesn’t feel so heavy.

He stands up suddenly, the chair sliding back with a soft scrape against the floor. You jolt slightly, halfway through processing his laugh, and blink up at him.

His expression has shifted—still calm, but there’s something else now. A hint of gravity in the way he looks at you.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly, catching you off guard. “For the suddenness of all this.”

You sit up straighter, unsure what to say. It’s the first time he’s acknowledged the whole arranged-marriage-against-your-will situation out loud.

Before you can respond, he steps closer, extending a hand—not forceful, just open. “Let me show you why.”

Your heart skips. “Why what?”

“Why our parents thought this could work,” he says, and for the first time, there’s no teasing in his tone—just sincerity. Gentle, but certain.

You stare at his hand. His fingers are long, precise. A surgeon’s hands. Hands that fix hearts.

And here he was, offering them to you.

So, slowly, hesitantly, you place your hand in his.

And just like that, something shifts again. Less awkward. A little warmer. A little more real.

He guides you out to his car—a sleek, polished thing that looks like it probably knows more about taxes than you do. He opens the passenger door for you, which is either chivalrous or unsettling, you’re not sure yet.

You slide in, still trying to wrap your head around this whole situation, when he leans in unexpectedly close—and reaches across you.

Your breath catches.

Then—click—he fastens your seatbelt.

You blink at him, flustered. Not because it was romantic. It wasn’t. It was clinical. Efficient. Like buckling you in was a task on his daily checklist.

Still, your brain short-circuits a little.

“Thanks,” you mumble, confused by how something so unromantic could still make your stomach flutter.

He simply shuts the door and rounds the front of the car, settling into the driver’s seat like he’s done it a hundred times.

You glance over. “So… where are we going?”

He shifts the gear with practiced ease, eyes on the road. “To see my parents.”

You freeze. “Now?”

“Yes.”

“As in—meeting the in-laws now?”

Zayne glances at you, completely calm. “You’re my wife. It’s only natural.”

You groan quietly into your palms. “This day just keeps getting better and better.”

At your dramatic groan, Zayne gives the faintest hint of a smile—so subtle you almost miss it. Just the smallest twitch at the corner of his lips, like your misery is a quiet source of amusement to him.

You narrow your eyes. “Was that a smile?”

“I don’t recall,” he says, cool as ever.

You huff and turn your gaze out the window, resigned to what you assume will be an awkward, overly formal afternoon in a mansion filled with judgmental in-laws and porcelain teacups.

But twenty minutes later, when the car slows to a stop, your sarcasm dies in your throat.

Because this isn’t a mansion.

It’s a cemetery.

Your eyes flick to him, your voice suddenly small. “Zayne…?”

He cuts the engine and unbuckles his seatbelt, his expression unreadable again.

“You said you wanted to know why,” he says, gently. “So I’m showing you.”

And just like that, your earlier words—your groaning, your dramatics, your little internal jokes—feel like they belong to someone else entirely.

Zayne steps out of the car without another word, and you follow, suddenly quiet, your footsteps softer on the gravel. The wind tugs at your sleeves as he leads you up a small hill, the world around you hushed, respectful.

The trees part at the crest, revealing an open clearing.

Two gravestones stand side by side, worn but well-kept, the grass around them neatly trimmed. Fresh flowers rest at their bases—white lilies, carefully arranged.

Your breath catches in your throat.

Zayne slows as he approaches, his hands in his coat pockets. He doesn’t say anything right away, just looks at them for a long moment. When he does speak, his voice is low, quieter than you’ve ever heard it.

“These are my parents.”

Your chest tightens.

You glance at him—his posture still straight, still composed, but there’s something softer now. Something heavy that doesn’t show in his face, but in the silence he carries around it.

“They passed away when I was in my first year of med school,” he says, eyes fixed on the stones. “I visit them every week. I always bring lilies—my mother liked them.”

You stand there beside him, uncertain at first, then quietly fold your arms, the weight of the moment settling on your shoulders.

“I didn’t know,” you murmur.

“I know,” he says, and for once, there’s no edge in his voice. Just truth.

And suddenly, you understand what he meant earlier. Why he said he wanted to show you. Why he apologized.

Because this marriage wasn’t just sudden—it was the first thing in a long time he hadn’t had to face alone.

“My parents made an agreement with yours,” Zayne says, his voice steady as he turns to face you.

There’s no accusation in his tone, no bitterness. Just quiet honesty.

“So in a way,” he continues, meeting your eyes, “we’re both stuck in this predicament. Not just you.”

The word predicament almost makes you laugh—because that’s exactly what it is. A polite, miserable mess you’ve both been handed like a family heirloom no one wanted.

But the way he says it… it’s not cold. It’s not detached.

It’s shared.

For the first time, you see the man behind the silence. Not just the polished stranger with perfect posture and unreadable expressions—but someone who lost his family, who carried grief with clinical grace, who walked into this marriage just as unprepared as you.

You lower your gaze, toeing the earth gently beneath your shoe. “Guess that makes us reluctant allies.”

“Something like that,” he murmurs.

Then, after a pause, he adds, “But I don’t intend to stay strangers with you forever. Not if we’re in this together.”

You feel something small and strange crack open in your chest.

Hope. Maybe. Or just the beginning of something real.

After the quiet moments of prayer—hands clasped, heads bowed, the wind weaving through the stillness—you and Zayne make your way back down the hill in silence. It’s not uncomfortable this time. Just… thoughtful. Like something unspoken has shifted between you.

The ride home is calm, the late afternoon sun casting soft light through the windshield. You glance over at him, watching the way his fingers rest lightly on the steering wheel, the way his profile is bathed in gold.

You hesitate, then ask, voice gentle, “How do you feel about this marriage?”

He doesn’t answer right away. The road stretches ahead, lined with trees and fading light, and you think maybe he won’t answer at all.

But then, a faint smile tugs at the corner of his lips—small, but unmistakable.

“I don’t mind it,” he says, not taking his eyes off the road. “Now that I’ve met you.”

You blink.

It’s not grand or poetic. It’s not a love confession or sweeping gesture. But something about the way he says it—so simple, so sure—makes your heart trip a little in your chest.

You turn back to the window, trying to hide the warmth creeping into your cheeks.

And for the first time, the silence between you feels like something full, not empty.

—•

When you reach home, Zayne unlocks the door with quiet efficiency and steps inside like he’s been doing it for years—even though technically, it’s your first week as reluctant roommates.

He shrugs off his coat and heads straight for the kitchen.

You trail behind him, curious. “What are you doing?”

“Making tea,” he says, already reaching for the kettle.

You arch a brow. “Seriously… did you go to husband-training-school or something?”

He glances at you over his shoulder, eyes just a touch amused. “Is that a thing?”

“It should be,” you say, hopping up onto a stool at the kitchen counter. “You open doors, buckle seatbelts, visit your parents’ graves with fresh flowers, and now you make tea? Either you’re weirdly good at this or you’ve been raised by a very intense etiquette instructor.”

Zayne smirks—an actual smirk this time, not the half-ghost of one. “My mother believed in manners. My father believed in precision.”

You nod sagely. “Ah, so you were raised by royalty.”

He sets two mugs on the counter, then adds, “And I believe in not poisoning my wife with bad tea on day seven of our arranged marriage.”

You lift your hands. “Low bar, but I appreciate it.”

He chuckles quietly as he pours the water, and you watch him, a strange sort of warmth settling in your chest.

Turns out, “reluctant husband” looks a lot like “softly competent tea-making mystery man” when no one’s looking.

You watch him as he carefully stirs the tea, trying to look casual, though there’s an edge to your curiosity. “So, have you got a girlfriend? Before all this…?”

The question hangs in the air, a little awkward, but you can’t help yourself. You’re still trying to figure out who he is outside of this whole marriage thing. You need to know what kind of life he led before it all changed.

Zayne doesn’t answer immediately, his movements slowing for just a moment as if he’s considering the question carefully. His eyes flick to you, then back to the steaming mugs.

“No,” he says after a beat, the word simple but loaded. “I didn’t. Too busy, I suppose.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Too busy for dating? I find that hard to believe.”

He lets out a quiet breath, placing the spoon down with the kind of deliberation that makes you think there’s more behind it. “It’s not that I didn’t have time. I was just… focused on other things.”

“Like saving lives?” you tease, leaning on the counter.

He glances at you, his eyes meeting yours for the briefest moment before he gives a small nod. “Exactly. I never made time for anything else.”

You hum thoughtfully, but there’s something in his voice that makes you stop. Focused on other things. You wonder if that was his way of avoiding other things. Or maybe he just never let anyone close enough.

You catch his gaze again, and this time, there’s a flicker—an unspoken something in the way he holds it. You can’t quite place it, but it’s enough to make your stomach tighten, just slightly.

“Well, now you’ve got me,” you say, trying to keep the tone light. “I guess that makes two of us.”

Zayne’s lips curl into the faintest smile. “Indeed.”

That night, you change into something nice—half-expecting a stiff, high-end restaurant with white tablecloths, six forks, and judgmental lighting.

But when Zayne pulls the car up to a quiet little corner bistro tucked between a flower shop and a bookstore, you blink in surprise.

It’s not fancy. No valet, no sparkling chandeliers, no menus written in French.

It’s… cozy.

Warm lights glow from inside, casting golden puddles on the sidewalk. Through the windows, you spot mismatched chairs, little potted plants on the tables, and the soft flicker of candlelight.

Someone’s playing gentle jazz on a guitar in the corner, and the air smells like garlic and fresh bread.

“This isn’t what I expected,” you murmur as he opens the car door for you.

He raises a brow. “Disappointed?”

You shake your head slowly. “No. Actually… I like it.”

He doesn’t smile, not really—but there’s a flicker in his eyes, like that’s exactly the answer he was hoping for.

Inside, you’re seated at a small table by the window. The waiter greets Zayne like he’s been here before, which surprises you even more. You hadn’t pegged him as the “quiet Italian bistro” type. More like “emotionally distant, espresso-fueled loner.”

But here he is. Ordering your meal with quiet confidence, asking if you want sparkling or still water like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

And somehow, it feels normal.

As you sip your wine and let the warmth of the room settle around you, you realize this whole evening—isn’t part of some obligation or checklist.

He brought you here because he wanted to.

And that realization sits quietly between you, more intimate than candlelight.

“What did you study?” Zayne asks, his tone casual but deliberate.

You pause, fingers tightening slightly around your water glass—not because the question itself is startling, but because he asked it. He, who rarely volunteers anything beyond necessity, is choosing to ask you something personal. Choosing to know you.

And that… that makes your chest feel oddly warm.

“Uhm,” you say, blinking out of your surprise. “I majored in Economics.”

He nods, his gaze steady. “I assume it’s to help your parents, then?”

You smile faintly, setting your glass down. “Yeah. I mean, I was never really pushed into it, but it felt like the logical thing to do. Legacy and all that.”

He hums, clearly understanding. “Pressure has a way of wearing itself like a choice.”

You glance at him, eyebrows raised. “That was poetic.”

He shrugs, unbothered. “It’s true.”

And you find yourself smiling—not the awkward, forced kind you used to wear around him, but a quiet, genuine one.

“Did you always want to be a surgeon?” you ask in return.

He considers for a moment, then says, “No. I wanted to be an architect when I was younger.”

You blink. “Seriously?”

“I liked building things,” he says, eyes flicking to you with a faint glimmer of amusement. “But life had other plans.”

And just like that, you realize you’re not dining with a stranger anymore.

You’re slowly, carefully, getting to know your husband.

You narrow your eyes at him, lips twitching as you lean back in your chair. “You wouldn’t have made a good architect,” you say, your tone teasing.

Zayne glances up from his plate, one brow arching in mock offense. “Oh? And why’s that?”

You shrug, swirling your water like it’s a wine glass. “Too serious. You’d probably design buildings with no windows. Just perfectly symmetrical, intimidating concrete blocks where joy goes to die.”

He huffs a quiet laugh, the corners of his mouth lifting. “I happen to like symmetry.”

“Exactly,” you grin. “You’d build dystopian fortresses and call them modern masterpieces.”

He leans forward slightly, voice lower, a touch playful. “And what would you build? Something inefficient with fairy lights and personality?”

You gasp, hand to your chest. “Yes. And they’d be beloved.”

Zayne smiles, really smiles this time—and for a second, you forget the marriage was arranged. Because god damn, he looks good when he smiles.

—•

Zayne drives you home after dinner, the quiet hum of the engine filling the space between you. The city lights blur softly past the windows, and you catch yourself smiling—again.

Not because of the food.

Not because of the warm, candlelit atmosphere.

But because he smiled at you.

Not a smirk, not a polite twitch of the lips—an actual, honest-to-goodness smile.

And it was for you.

You lean your head against the window, trying to play it cool, but your heart’s doing backflips like it’s auditioning for the Olympics.

Who knew one smile from a broody cardiac surgeon could make you feel like you were in a coming-of-age movie?

When he pulls up to the house and parks, he doesn’t rush out or unbuckle your seatbelt like earlier. He just sits for a moment, hands resting lightly on the steering wheel, glancing at you through the corner of his eye.

“Thank you,” you say softly, turning to him. “For dinner. And… for today.”

His eyes meet yours, steady. “You’re welcome.”

You linger a second longer than necessary, then reach for the door handle.

But before you can step out, he adds quietly, “I’m glad you came.”

Your breath catches, but you manage a soft smile.

“Me too.”

And as you walk up to the front door together, side by side, you realize something strange and terrifying and kind of wonderful:

You might actually be starting to like your husband.

—•

You’re halfway through your bedtime routine—hair tied up, comfy shirt on, emotionally bracing yourself for your nightly existential crisis—when you hear his voice from the living room.

“Y/N. Come sit with me.”

You freeze in the hallway like a startled cat.

Your brain short-circuits.

Come sit with me.

On the couch.

In the living room.

You peek around the corner, and there he is—Zayne, in his neatly rolled-up sleeves, glasses off, looking painfully relaxed and devastatingly unfair with one arm resting along the back of the couch like this is some indie romance movie and not your actual, real-life arranged marriage.

You fight the very real urge to scream.

Because—hello?? Attractive, emotionally reserved doctor asking you to sit beside him in dim lighting?

No. Absolutely not. Husband or not, this is a threat to your mental health and emotional stability.

Still, your feet move traitorously toward him.

You sit at the very edge of the couch, posture stiff, like you’re preparing to be interviewed, not casually sitting with your husband.

He glances at you, amused. “You look tense.”

“I am tense,” you mutter, clutching a throw pillow like it’s a life raft. “This feels like a trap.”

Zayne chuckles under his breath, clearly enjoying your slow descent into chaos. “You’re overthinking.”

“You’re underthinking. Have you seen yourself right now?”

He doesn’t answer—just reaches for the remote and switches on a movie.

And you sit there, slowly melting into the couch, wildly aware of how close he is, and wondering how on earth you’re supposed to survive a husband who smiles at you one moment and invites you to sit with him the next like it’s nothing.

It is very much something.

You shoot up from the couch like you’ve just remembered you left the stove on. “I’m gonna go… look for snacks,” you say, your voice a touch too high-pitched to be innocent.

Zayne turns his head slightly, probably about to say something—maybe to offer help or point out where the cookies are—but you don’t wait. You flee the room with the grace and urgency of someone definitely not running from their feelings.

Out of the corner of your eye, just before you disappear down the hallway, you swear you see it.

A smirk.

That little—

Nope. You’re not thinking about that. You are not spiraling over one stupid, stupid smirk.

You fling open the pantry door with more drama than necessary and scan the shelves like a raccoon on a mission. And then… there it is.

A not-so-suspicious box of chocolate. Sitting there. Unlabeled. Untouched. Almost like it was waiting for you.

Naturally, the logical thing to do is take it.

You snatch it like a gremlin, muttering to yourself, “If this is his secret stash, he shouldn’t have left it where I could find it.”

Because if you’re going to emotionally unravel over a handsome surgeon who asks you to sit with him, you might as well do it with sugar.

You shuffle back into the living room, trying not to look suspicious even though you’re literally holding the loot in both hands.

Zayne glances at the box, one brow lifting ever so slightly.

Without a word, you plop down next to him again—this time slightly closer, because apparently you’re a danger to yourself—and open the lid. You pick one out, hesitate, then hold it out to him.

He looks at it, then at you.

And takes it.

Just like that—without hesitation, without question—like it’s the most natural thing in the world for you to offer him something sweet and for him to accept it.

He pops it in his mouth, casual, like he didn’t just cause your heart to skip a full beat.

You stare at him. “You didn’t even ask what it was.”

He shrugs. “I trust your judgment.”

Great. Now you’re emotionally compromised and flustered.

You quickly shove a chocolate into your own mouth before you say something like “Why are you so attractive when you chew?”

This marriage is going to ruin you.

As the chocolate melts on your tongue, rich and smooth, you frown slightly. There’s something… extra about the flavor. A little too warm. A little too bold.

You squint at the box, lifting it closer to inspect the label. The fancy script mocks you as your eyes land on the fine print.

“Hey, these are infused with—”

You stop mid-sentence, turning to Zayne.

He’s flushed.

Not dramatically—but enough. His ears are a little pink, the tips of his cheeks tinged with color, and he suddenly seems very interested in the pattern on the coffee table.

Your eyes widen.

“Oh my god,” you breathe, holding up the box like a smoking gun. “They’re infused with wine.”

He clears his throat. “Just a little.”

“Zayne.”

“I forgot,” he mutters, and now he won’t meet your eyes.

You blink at him, then at the chocolate, then back at him.

And then you burst into laughter.

“Are you—are you buzzed from one piece of wine chocolate?”

He narrows his eyes at you, but there’s no real heat. “I’m not buzzed.”

“You’re flushed.”

“I run warm.”

You clutch your stomach, giggling. “Oh, this is so going in the mental scrapbook.”

He shakes his head, but you swear you see the corner of his mouth twitch.

And suddenly, the couch doesn’t feel so intimidating. The air between you is warm—not from the chocolate or the wine, but from the quiet, ridiculous comfort of two strangers slowly, awkwardly becoming something more.

But fate, in all its twisted sense of humor, decided to laugh directly in your face.

Because as it turns out, Zayne does not do well with alcohol.

At all.

One wine-infused chocolate later, and he’s leaning back into the couch, flushed like he’s been running laps, and visibly warmer—literally and metaphorically.

You glance over just in time to see him tug at the top button of his shirt.

Then the second.

Then the third.

Your brain short-circuits.

You grip the edge of the sofa like it’s the only thing anchoring you to reality. Do not scream. Do not make a sound. You are strong. You are composed. You are—

He exhales, fingers working at the last button near his collarbone, exposing smooth skin and that maddeningly perfect line of his throat.

“I feel… warm,” he murmurs, more to himself than to you.

You don’t respond. Because you can’t.

You’re too busy having an internal meltdown.

This is not a movie. This is real life.

Real life where your emotionally-reserved, wine-chocolate-flushed husband is currently undoing his shirt on your shared couch like he doesn’t know what it’s doing to your sanity.

You bite your tongue and stare straight ahead.

This marriage is a trap.

This couch is cursed.

And Zayne, evidently, is dangerous in more ways than one.

You try—truly try—to focus on the TV.

You fixate on the screen like it holds the meaning of life, repeating in your head. Not looking. Not thinking. Muscles aren’t real. Buttons are lies. Stay strong.

But then—

You feel it.

A hand around your wrist. Warm. Firm.

You barely have time to register it before you’re turned toward him—face-to-face with all of him.

Half-unbuttoned shirt. Lean muscles. Broad chest. Collarbone on full display like it paid rent to be there. His eyes, slightly glazed but locked onto yours with an intensity that could melt furniture.

Your breath hitches. “Z-Zayne!”

Your voice comes out embarrassingly high-pitched. Like a cartoon character caught in a romantic ambush.

His hand doesn’t let go.

Neither does his gaze.

“You’re really red,” he says, eyes narrowing slightly, as if you’re the one being strange in this situation.

“I’m red?!” you squeak, trying very hard not to look down. Or up. Or anywhere.

He leans just the tiniest bit closer, and his voice drops, slow and low. “Are you feeling warm too?”

You make a noise. Not a word. Just a sound. Because your brain has left the building and taken all coherent thought with it.

This couch is no longer a piece of furniture.

It’s a battlefield.

His grip on your wrist softens, but he doesn’t let go. His thumb brushes lightly—absently—against your skin as he stares at you like he’s trying to memorize your entire existence.

And then, with absolutely no warning, he slurs softly, “You’re really… pretty… you know that?”

Your soul momentarily evacuates your body.

You blink at him. “I—what?”

“You are,” he says, a little slower, a little sleepier, his words curling lazily like they’re wrapped in velvet. “Your face is nice. Your eyes do this… sparkle thing. Like the stars. But not, cliché stars. Like… classy stars.”

You open your mouth to reply, but absolutely nothing intelligent comes out.

Because here is your emotionally closed-off husband—tipsy from a single chocolate, shirt halfway undone, staring at you like you hung the moon and casually comparing your eyes to classy stars.

This has officially become too much.

You grab the throw pillow beside you and bury your face in it with a muffled, “Zayne, you’re drunk.”

He hums, leaning back slightly, satisfied like he’s just confessed something profound.

“I’m married to a pretty girl,” he mumbles, like it’s the best realization he’s had all day.

And you? You are one slurred compliment away from combusting.

You reach out without thinking, hand aiming straight for his cheek—half to ground yourself, half because you want to see if he’s real and not just a hallucination brought on by wine chocolate and emotional confusion.

But before your fingers make contact, he catches your wrist again.

Gently. Firmly.

And then—he tugs.

You let out a surprised gasp as you stumble forward, barely catching yourself with your free hand against his chest. He’s solid. Warm. Way too warm.

Your heart skips, then trips, then sprints like it’s running late for something.

You barely have time to react before he looks up at you—eyes soft, dazed, and entirely sincere—and asks:

“Can I kiss you?”

It’s not breathy or desperate. Not bold or teasing.

He says it like a gentleman asking for a dance. Like he’s asking your permission to step into something delicate. Something real.

Your breath catches. The world stills. The TV hums in the background, forgotten.

You’re close enough to see the way his lashes rest against flushed skin, close enough to feel his breath brush against your lips.

And now, you have a choice to make.

Because despite the chaos, the circumstance, the wine-infused madness of it all—Zayne just asked you so politely to kiss you.

And god help you…

You kind of want him to.

You open your mouth to reply—maybe to say yes, maybe to question your sanity—but the words never make it out.

Because his lips are already on yours.

Gentle. Soft. Careful, like he’s still half-expecting you to pull away. Like he knows he’s toeing a fragile line and doesn’t want to break it.

Your eyes flutter shut as instinct takes over, and the world tilts slightly.

You can barely taste the chocolate on his lips, a hint of sweetness tangled with something warmer, something that makes your heart thrum unevenly in your chest.

Your mind goes fuzzy. Not from the kiss itself, but from the feeling that comes with it—the quiet kind. The kind that settles in your chest like a secret you hadn’t realized you were keeping.

He doesn’t rush it.

His hand stays on your wrist, thumb brushing softly along your skin, as if even now he’s asking—Is this okay? Are you sure?

And you are.

Somewhere between wine-infused chocolates, teasing banter, and the way he said Can I kiss you? like it meant everything—you became sure.

And so you kiss him back.

Somehow—somehow—you’re still suspended there, caught in that precarious space between balance and disaster, one hand on his chest, the other still held by his.

And then his hands slide to your waist.

Slow. Sure. Steady.

He holds you like he’s anchoring you—like if he let go, you might float away.

And that’s when the kiss deepens.

No more polite hesitation, no more softness at the edges. It’s still gentle, yes—but there’s more now. More pressure. More heat. More intention.

Your fingers curl against his shirt, and it takes every last ounce of self-control not to start undoing the buttons he didn’t already conquer earlier. Because God, you can feel the strength in him—lean muscle under your palm, warmth radiating like it was meant for you, and he’s kissing you like he’s waited a long time to do it.

You gasp softly against his mouth, and he swallows the sound like a secret.

Your mind is a whirlwind. Logic? Gone. Restraint? Dangling by a thread.

You are this close to losing all common sense and just undressing him right here on the couch like your sanity isn’t hanging on by a single, wine-infused thread.

But then he pulls back, just slightly, his forehead resting against yours, breath warm and uneven.

And he whispers, barely audible, “You taste sweet.”

You’re going to combust.

This man is going to ruin you.

The world blurs at the edges, warm and hazy like honeyed sunlight through half-closed curtains. His breath still ghosts against your lips, his hands still resting on your waist like they belong there, like you belong there.

You feel weightless. Drunk, not on wine or chocolate, but on him—the warmth of his skin, the way he kissed you like it was something sacred, the way he looked at you like you were something more than a stranger handed to him by fate.

Everything is soft. Glowing. Surreal.

Too perfect.

And then—

Blink.

The warmth fades. The light shifts.

You’re no longer on the couch.

You’re standing, stiff, in a room full of flowers and polished silence, your fingers cold at your sides.

Zayne stands across from you, buttoned-up, composed, unreadable. No wine in his system. No flushed cheeks. No trace of that kiss.

Just a man you’ve never met.

And the moment of your arranged introduction.

Your breath catches, and for a second, you don’t know what’s real.

But you do know one thing.

Whatever just happened—dream, vision, or cruel trick of the mind—it’s already begun.

masterlist

[rikiiholic]

ᴇɴʜʏᴘᴇɴ ʀᴇᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴ - ᴡʜᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴄᴜʀʀᴇɴᴛ ʙᴏʏꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅ

ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: fluff

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: nothing just a bunch of cute moments

Lee Heeseung

You’d seen tons of prank videos on TikTok—couples pulling harmless tricks on each other for laughs—and out of pure curiosity, you decided to try one on your boyfriend too. The prank? Referring to him as your “current boyfriend” on camera just to see how he'd react. You figured he might get a little offended and start sulking, but then again, he was Lee Heeseung—his reactions were anything but predictable.

“Babe!” you called out after setting up your camera. He came downstairs without question, plopping down next to you, already used to being part of your random little videos. He probably thought you wanted him to taste something or join you for a casual vlog.

Without missing a beat, you hit record and began speaking, Heeseung sitting beside you, quietly listening.

“Hi guys! So today, I have some Japanese food I’ve been wanting to try, and I’ll be tasting it with my current boyfriend here—”

The moment the words left your mouth, his head snapped toward you.

“Your what?” he said, a little sassier than usual.

You couldn’t hold it in—you burst out laughing.

“I’m your what now?” he repeated, squinting at you like you’d just committed the ultimate betrayal.

He shakes his head dramatically, grabbing the bag of chips off the counter like it was his last shred of dignity.

“Well, your current boyfriend is gonna go cry in your shared room,” he declares with mock betrayal, already turning on his heel and walking away like a heartbroken K-drama lead.

You can’t stop laughing, nearly doubling over as you call after him between giggles.

“Hee, it was just a prank!”

He doesn’t look back, but his voice echoes down the hallway with perfect comedic timing.

“Tell your next boyfriend I left him some chips!”

Park Jongseong

It had been one of those lazy, uneventful days at home—filled with naps you didn’t need and a lingering sense of boredom. But everything shifted the moment your boyfriend walked through the door, arms full of groceries… and your favorite snacks.

You rushed into the kitchen to greet him, your energy instantly lifted. As he unpacked the bags, an idea sparked in your head.

“I’m gonna record a little taste-testing video for TikTok,” you said, already grabbing your phone. Jay nodded with that soft smile of his, fully supportive—he knew how much joy you got from making videos for your followers.

You sat down beside him, camera propped and recording. What he didn’t know was that you were also about to prank him mid-video.

“Hey guys! So today I’m here with my current boy—”

Before you could finish the sentence, Jay clapped a hand over your mouth, cutting you off with perfect comedic timing. Then he turned to the camera, eyes wide and dramatic.

“Oh hell naw,” he said in an exaggerated accent, like a character straight out of a sitcom.

You burst into silent laughter, shaking as you tried to hold in the sound, while he gave the camera the most betrayed, meme-worthy look.

“I’m NOT your current boyfriend,” he says with full offense, making you finally burst into uncontrollable laughter. The look on his face was priceless, and the way he’d immediately silenced you with his palm? Even funnier.

“It was just a prank!” you manage between laughs, wiping tears from the corners of your eyes.

Jay shoots you a side-eye, his voice dripping with sass. “It better have been, ‘cause you’re not gonna have an ex or a next. I’m your first and your last.”

He casually pops a slice of apple into his mouth like he didn’t just drop the most possessive rom-com line ever, then turns and strolls off toward the bathroom, leaving you sitting there, phone still recording, absolutely wheezing.

Sim Jaeyun

Jake was known for being a little naive—and even more famously, for getting sulky over the smallest things. He took everything to heart, which made this prank feel perfect. You figured there was no harm in teasing him a little. After all, that cute pout of his was practically a reward.

You hit record on your camera, pretending to film a casual video while Jake sat in the background, eyes glued to his phone. You started talking to the camera like it was nothing, trying not to laugh in anticipation.

Hearing your voice, Jake wandered over, phone still in hand, and wrapped his arms around you in a warm hug. “What’re you doing?” he asked sweetly, smiling like a puppy.

You glanced at him, then looked back at the camera.

“Sorry, guys, I forgot to introduce you to my current boyfriend.”

You barely finished the sentence before Jake’s face shifted—his brows knit together, and that signature pout made its debut. He didn’t say anything at first, just gave the camera a slightly betrayed, skeptical look. Then, quietly, he mumbled:

“Hi… I’m the boyfriend,” and sat down beside you, shoulders slumped, refusing to meet your eyes with the most dramatic sulk you'd ever seen.

You had to bite your lip to keep from laughing right away—he was already down bad and the prank had only just started.

You carried on with the prank, trying to keep your voice casual. “Anyways, so I’m eating this—”

Before you could finish, Jake leaned in close and whispered into your ear, his voice heavy with genuine hurt, “What do you mean, current boyfriend?”

The sadness in his tone hit you harder than you expected, and for a moment, the prank felt a little too real.

You fought back the laugh threatening to burst out and gave him your biggest, most reassuring smile. “It’s a prank,” you said gently.

Instantly, you saw the tension drain from Jake’s eyes, his expression softening as relief settled in.

“Don’t ever do that again,” he murmured, voice small but serious.

You nodded, feeling a mix of affection and sympathy—and maybe deciding this prank had reached its limit.

Park Sunghoon

You had been racking your brain trying to prank Sunghoon, but he was notoriously difficult to catch off guard. Confident to a fault, no joke or prank ever made him flinch. Still, you were determined to find one that finally would—and you thought you’d hit the jackpot.

Setting up your camera in front of you, you invited Sunghoon to sit beside you as you prepared to film.

“Hi everyone! So, me and my current boyfriend went out to get Dubai chocolate strawberries, and we’re gonna try them today,” you said casually, watching his reaction.

At first, Sunghoon didn’t register the slip-up. His eyes were fixed on the decadent strawberries, fully focused on how good they looked.

But when you repeated it—“My current boyfriend actually bought these because he knew they were on my taste list”—his brow quirked up in realization.

“Excuse me?” he said, eyes narrowing playfully as he looked at you, phone still in hand. “Your current boyfriend? Is he… in the room with us?”

You bit back a laugh as Sunghoon shot you a mock-annoyed glare.

“I’ll just wait and see if you can find someone better than me,” he said with a sly smirk. “maybe then you can call me your current boyfriend. Hmph.”

He crossed his arms and turned away, the picture of exaggerated sass and pride.

“It was a prank,” you said, trying to keep a straight face.

Sunghoon just flashed you a confident smirk, like he already knew you well enough to be sure. “You’re lucky I know you,” he teased, eyes sparkling with mischief.

Kim Sunoo

Sunoo’s sass was practically legendary—it was the first thing people noticed about him and the last thing they forgot. Even your family had made a running joke out of it, often teasing you about dating the sassiest man alive. But despite his dramatic flair, everything about him was perfect. He was sweet, attentive, and the kind of boyfriend who—even when you pulled a prank on him—just let it happen like it was part of the script.

He didn’t get mad. He didn’t even flinch. He just leaned into the drama, as always, like he was born for it.

“Okay guys, so I went to the store and bought some new clothes,” you began, smiling at the camera as you hit record on your TikTok. Behind you, Sunoo was sprawled comfortably on the bed, scrolling on his phone but still half-watching you with casual interest.

You held up the first outfit, giving a little spin before stepping off camera to try it on. As you came back into frame, Sunoo glanced up and raised a brow, clearly unimpressed—but in the most Sunoo way possible.

“Mmm… seven out of ten,” he said, lips pursed. “Cute, but is it giving main character energy?”

You laughed and shook your head, grabbing the next piece. “Okay, tough critic.”

He flipped his phone facedown, sitting up slightly just to get a better look at you. “Babe, I am the main character. I have standards.”

You look at the camera and speak again

“My current boyfriend, who’s beside me right now, is ranking which outfit he likes more,” you said casually to the camera, pretending like it was just another part of the video.

Sunoo immediately caught on.

He sat up straight, cleared his throat, and gave you the look—head tilted, eyes wide, and a disgusted expression that could win an Oscar.

“Your what?” he repeated, his voice laced with sass and mock betrayal.

“Girl, you better be joking,” he added in the most dramatic tone, flipping an imaginary strand of hair.

You burst into laughter, nearly dropping your phone from how fast you broke character.

“I hate that you always know!” you whined through your laughter.

Sunoo nodded proudly, arms crossed. “I’m smarter than you think. And prettier too, by the way.”

Yang Jungwon

Jungwon was lying on the couch, eyes glued to his phone, completely unaware of the chaos you were about to bring. You had gone live on TikTok just moments ago, and the comments were already flooding in—everyone begging you to prank him.

You gave in with a mischievous grin, walking into the room with your phone held up and the camera rolling.

Quietly, you sat on the floor near him, pretending to scroll aimlessly while waiting for the right moment. As soon as Jungwon’s hand moved to casually rest around your shoulder, you took your chance.

“Sorry guys, if you hear background noise, that’s just my current boyfriend on his phone right now,” you said smoothly, trying not to crack.

His head snapped down immediately, eyebrows raised in disbelief, the corners of his lips twitching like he was fighting a smirk. He stared at you, then glanced at your phone—and with zero hesitation, grabbed it and flipped the camera to face himself.

“Oh, right, sorry guys,” he said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Let me lower my volume so my current girlfriend here can hear everything she needs to.”

He handed your phone back, still smirking, before dramatically falling back on the couch and planting a quick kiss on the top of your head.

“Don’t ever prank me like that,” he muttered with fake sternness. “It’s not funny.”

You looked up at him, trying to act innocent, but the laugh you’d been holding in finally slipped out—and he couldn’t help but laugh too.

Nishimura Riki

Riki never let you get away with a prank. Ever. Even if you managed to sneak one past him, he always had something bigger, crazier, and more chaotic lined up—like it was a competition he refused to lose.

But this time, you were prepared. He’d been locked in his room for three straight hours, yelling at his friends over a losing game. It was the perfect storm: distracted, loud, and emotionally invested. No chance he’d notice what you were up to.

You quietly sat on the bed behind him, turned on your front camera, and went live on TikTok. His voice echoed in the background, filled with frustration over missed shots and bad calls.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING, YOU CAN’T JUST—bro…” he groaned.

The live chat blew up immediately.

“What’s that noise in the background?” you read aloud, smirking.

“Sorry, that’s just my current boyfriend playing video games.”

The second the words left your mouth, everything went still.

Riki’s hands froze on the mouse and keyboard. His character on screen probably got eliminated—but he didn’t care. He pulled off his headphones, stood up, and turned toward you slowly.

“What’d you just say?” he asked, voice lower now, more serious.

Before you could even finish repeating it—“My current boy—”

He was already leaning in, placing both hands on either side of you, trapping you between the mattress and his body.

And then he kissed you. Firm, confident, shutting you up entirely.

When he pulled back, he looked you right in the eye.

“Don’t say shit like that,” he said, voice calm but serious. “We’re gonna date until I propose to you."

Then, just as casually, he turned and went back to his chair like nothing happened

You sat frozen on the bed, heart racing, face red, while the live chat exploded.

“HE SAID WHAT??”

“PROPOSE?! RIKI YOU CAN’T JUST DROP THAT—”

“YOU BETTER MARRY HIM AFTER THAT OMG.”

You ended the live with shaky hands and a stunned smile.

And somehow… he still won the next round.

[anylady-fics]

First | Mingi x F Reader

Cross posted on ao3

Summary: You just wanted to lose your virginity — no drama, no strings attached. What you didn’t expect was for your friend Mingi to make it that good. One wild night, a lot of firsts, and maybe… just maybe, a reason to do it all over again.

WC: 10.5k

⚠️ warnings: smut, first times, virgin!reader, oral sex (f/m), vaginal sex, dry humping, dirty talk, praise kink, voice kink (kinda), big dick Mingi (canon, right?)

An: sorry about the wc, I just really like Mingi 🫠

Ⴡ Masterlist

You got dumped again. Yeah, seriously. At this point, it was getting old. But no matter how frustrating it was, you knew exactly what the problem was, and it wasn’t something you could just fix overnight.

You were… inexperienced.

Going to college after a lifetime of being smothered by overprotective parents meant they had successfully sent you off as a virgin. And for a while, that was fine. It wasn’t a big deal—until people started acting like you were some kind of loser just because you hadn’t fucked anyone yet.

And the guys? Every single one you tried dating was the same. Either they wanted to get into your pants before the first drink was even finished, or they pretended to be patient—like they weren’t just waiting for the moment you’d cave. You might be inexperienced, but you weren’t stupid. And as much as you wanted to get it over with, you couldn’t do it with just anyone.

But after getting dumped for the third time in two months, you decided to do something about it. Something had to change. You wished you’d just handled it back in high school like everyone else, but that ship had sailed.

Your friends told you to just ask one of your guy friends to help you out. Which sounded easy enough… until you actually pictured doing it, and embarrassment nearly killed you on the spot.

Still, if you wanted to lose your virginity, your options were limited. The random guys you’d been trying to date were too impatient, too pushy, and way too stupid.

Which meant your only real option was actually asking a friend. But which one? 

You had a few options, but you needed someone who wouldn’t laugh in your face or make things weird. Someone who’d get that this was just a favor, not a relationship.

Okay. That made things a little easier.

Maybe Mingi? You’d been friends for years, you went to the same college now, and he was definitely experienced enough to help. Plus, he already knew you were a virgin, so at least you wouldn’t have to explain that part.

But how were you supposed to ask him?

Like… “Hey, I need someone to fuck me so I can finally lose my virginity and date like a normal person”?

Yeah. That didn’t sound awkward at all. Well, you would have to try. Maybe it would be less awkward if you could text him…

You: Hey! You good? Look… I kinda need to talk to you about something. 

Mingi: Hey, pretty. Long time since we talked, wanna hang out at that coffee place you like? 

You: Sure, we can meet there after class. Byeee, see ya.

Well, if you couldn’t even type the question, saying it out loud was going to be a nightmare. But you had to try. No backing out now.

After class, you went straight to the coffee shop and ordered your usual before Mingi arrived. The second you saw him walk through the door, your stomach dropped, a cold, nervous, oh-god-what-am-I-doing panic settling in. You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down.

“Hey! Still buried in your books, nerd?”

“Yeah, and it’s been causing me some problems.” Mainly the one you were about to dump on him. “What about you? Still hitting up every party?”

“Not as much. Kinda got tired of it.”

That… was a surprise.

“Oh. Right.”

He ordered his drink, then leaned on the table, watching you. “So… what did you wanna talk about?”

Okay. You can do it.

“Uh… so… I don’t even know how to say this, Mingi.” You took a slow sip of your way too large Americano, trying to find the right words. “I mean, it might be a lot to ask, but I’m kinda out of options.”

He tilted his head, waiting.

“I got dumped again yesterday. And look, I know these guys are assholes and not worth my time, but it keeps happening because I’m a virgin. And I feel like… it’s really getting in my way, you know?”

“Uh… I don’t.”

“Of course you don’t.” You groaned, shifting in your seat. “Okay, what I’m asking… it’s just a favor, that’s all. I really want to lose my virginity, and I really don’t want it to be with those idiots I’ve been dating.”

Mingi blinked. Then blinked again.

“You’re asking me… to take your virginity?” His eyebrows shot up, his expression somewhere between shock and did I hear that right? “…Is that what’s happening here?”

“Yeah… I mean…” You trailed off, shifting uncomfortably.

Mingi still looked shocked, but you could tell—this whole situation was doing wonders for his already massive ego.

“I gotta ask… why me?” He leaned back slightly, arms crossed, clearly enjoying this a little too much. “You have a few friends.”

You sighed.

“You already know I’m a virgin. And you also know I’m not an idiot.” You glanced down at your drink, feeling your face heat up. “We’ve been friends for years, and I don’t know… I trust you.”

Mingi didn’t say anything right away, and the silence made your stomach twist.

“But if this is too much,” you added quickly, forcing a laugh, “just forget I ever said anything. And then I’ll dig a hole in the ground and hide from you for the rest of my life.”

“Relax, I was just curious,” Mingi said, holding back a grin. “Of course, I can help you with that. I think any guy in the world would.” 

You rolled your eyes. His ego was thriving.

“But,” he continued, tilting his head again, making that cute puppy face at you “I gotta ask… how far have you actually gone?”

You exhaled sharply. Alright. You can do this. You weren’t exactly the type to chat about your sex life — or lack thereof — but considering you’d just asked Mingi to take your virginity, honesty was kinda mandatory at this point.

“Huh… I…”

“Oral? Fingering?” He had zero shame. Which, good for him. Terrible for you.

You cleared your throat.

“No. And… yes.”

“And did you ever… you know, finish from it?”

“Nope. Only by myself.”

That bit of information seemed to stir something in him. His expression flickered between offended and genuinely shocked.

“Damn. So the guys were really that bad, huh?” He shook his head, exhaling like this was personally upsetting. “Yeah, okay. We’re definitely not jumping straight to it, that’d be traumatizing.”

Your eyes narrowed. “What exactly are you suggesting…?”

“That we take it step by step.” He leaned in slightly, voice a little lower, a little slower. “I can’t just… do it. I mean, it’s already a painful experience for most girls, and it’d be a hell of a lot easier for you if we… prepped first.”

You were already blushing because of his lower voice. It got worse.

“Oh…OH…”

“Yeah. Well, that’s my one condition if I’m gonna help you.”

“Okay… I guess.” You swallowed, fingers tightening around your cup. “So, uh… when do we start?”

Mingi shrugged, finishing his coffee.

“You can come over tonight if you want. My roommate’s out.”

He set his cup down and looked at you expectantly. You, on the other hand, were frozen.

That soon? 

You did want to get this over with. But you’d kinda imagined having some time to mentally prepare. Then again… maybe not thinking too much about it was the better option. If you gave yourself too much time, you might just chicken out entirely.

“Okay. So…”

“We can go now,” Mingi said, already standing up. “It’s getting dark anyway.” He waited for you to do the same, then tilted his head before asking you. “You’re really sure about this?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. I can ask you to stop anytime, right?”

“Of course.”

You nodded, but your mind was already spinning. You couldn’t stop thinking about what you were about to do — and who you were about to do it with. But the truth was, you had no idea what was actually going to happen. Mingi had been clear, this wasn’t going to be just jumping into it.

So… were you two just going to make out and see where it led?

Jesus. Just thinking about that made your stomach flip.

You hadn’t really considered how weird this could get, but for some reason, you still felt safe about it. Mingi was a lot of things, kind of a fuckboy, sure, but he wasn’t a liar. If something felt off, he’d tell you. You just knew that.

As soon as you got to his place, Mingi gestured for you to sit on the couch before heading to the kitchen. A moment later, he came back with two cans of beer, handing you one. The silence was already killing you.

“Drink,” he said, popping open his can. “Might help you relax. You’re really tense.”

“Yeah, I am… thanks.” You exhaled, cracking yours open. “I was just about to ask for one.”

Mingi smirked before sinking into the couch beside you. “So… tell me more about these guys you dated. They’re really dumping you just because you’re a virgin?”

“Yeah… I mean, they always try to get in my pants, and when I don’t let them, they just… lose interest.” You shrugged, taking a sip. “I don’t even always tell them I’m a virgin. I don’t need that getting around and people making fun of me, you know? So I just let them assume I’m, like, frigid or something.”

“They’re just assholes.” He paused, tilting his head. “But, like… your virginity… it’s not something important to you?”

“Not exactly…” You sighed, swirling the beer in your can. “I just wish I’d gotten over it when I was younger, like all my friends did. But you know my parents.”

Mingi nodded. He definitely knew.

“I just couldn’t do it with some random guy,” you continued. “That would’ve been awful.”

“Yeah,” he murmured, watching you. “I get that.”

“And I know you’re very experienced, so…”

Mingi chuckled, finishing off his beer and setting the empty can on the coffee table.

“I wouldn’t say very… Just… enough.”

Oh. His voice. The way he looked at you.

There it was.

That shift in the air, the kind of tension you could feel settling between you. You took a slow, deep breath, then placed your empty can next to his.

“If you say so…”

“So… whenever you’re ready, pretty.”

Your stomach flipped again.

“Can we… kiss?”

Mingi’s lips curved into a small, knowing smile. “Yeah. That’d be a great start. I told you… I wanna take things slow.”

You were already sitting close, so all it took was him leaning in, a slight tilt of his head, a shift in the air between you. You mirrored him, your breath catching just before your lips met.

Soft. Damn, his lips were soft… and so plump.

So far, nothing too unfamiliar. You let yourself ease into it, testing the feel of him. But then his tongue brushed over your lips before slipping into your mouth, meeting yours in a slow, teasing slide. And that… that sent a rush of heat straight through you.

In just seconds, that shy kiss turned into something messy, wet, hot, needy. Damn it. You could feel the effect between your legs, heat pooling inside your panties. And just when you thought it couldn’t get worse, Mingi chuckled, that deep, lazy sound vibrating against your skin as he trailed kisses down your chin, your neck. 

“How you feeling?” he murmured against your throat, his voice low, teasing.

“G-good…”

His lips curved against your skin. “Hm… you’re pressing your thighs together.” Another kiss, right under your jaw. “Already horny?”

God. You swallowed hard. Why were you suddenly so shy?

“Uh… yes.” 

Mingi hummed like he expected that answer. 

“Ever dry-humped someone before?”

“No… never.”

Another smirk, he was such a tease… and then, two slow taps against his thigh.

“Come here. Sit on my lap.”

You hesitated for half a second before obeying, standing up just to settle yourself over him. His thighs… fuck. Thick. Comfortable. Solid under you. And even through his jeans, you could feel him. He was hard, very. 

“Good girl.” Those words hit you in a very specific way…

Your hands rested on his broad shoulders as you kissed him again. Embarrassment still lingered somewhere in the back of your mind, but it was quickly drowned out by the heat pooling deep in your core. You let your body take over, responding to him — the kissing, the touching… the way his big hands gripped your waist, strong and steady.

“Come on, baby. Grind on me.”

Oh, fuck.

You felt those words straight between your legs, a sharp pulse of need making you clench so hard you whimpered against his lips.

Mingi groaned, his hands sliding down to cup your ass, guiding you into motion, urging you to move against him. Against his hard cock pressing through his jeans. Against his thick thighs.

“Just like that…” The delicious friction sent sparks up your spine, and soon enough, you were moving all on your own, chasing more of it. “Don’t stop.”

“Mingi… fuck!”

You ground down harder, a little faster, just enough to push you right over the edge. The orgasm hit you in waves, leaving you shivering and whimpering in his lap as his hands held you steady. He murmured soft praises, his voice thick with something dangerous, something that made your toes curl. Wow, that was really fast.

And all you could think was: Holy shit! You just had the best orgasm of your life. From grinding on your friend. And you didn’t know how you were supposed to feel about that, but you were just fine for now.

“So… was it good?” Mingi chuckled against your neck, his lips trailing soft, teasing kisses back up to your mouth. “You good?”

“Yeah, but… I feel… uh…” You pulled back just enough to catch your breath, to think. “I don’t know. I just came, but I’m still…”

Needy. You didn’t have to say.

His lips curled into a smirk, and you didn’t even know you like that pretty face of him that much.  

“We can keep going if you want to.”

“What would be the next step? Since you wanna take things slow.”

“Hm…” He tilted his head, considering. “Maybe I can make you feel good with my fingers. If you’re okay with that.”

Your brain short-circuited for a second. Because fuck. Your panties were soaked, embarrassingly wet just from kissing and grinding against him. But you were still throbbing, still desperate for more.

So you just… nodded. 

 “Yeah… it’s fine.”

Still perched on his lap, you hesitated before shifting off him, kneeling on the couch beside him. Your legs felt shaky, but not from exhaustion, no. It was pure anticipation.

Mingi followed, sliding down to kneel on the floor in front of you, his eyes dark and hungry as he leaned in.

“You want me to take your shorts off, or you wanna do it yourself?” He murmured the words against your lips, stealing a quick peck before trailing his fingers down to the waistband of your shorts.

“Y-you can do it…”

His touch was slow, deliberate, as he unbuttoned your shorts and slid them down, pushing them aside like they were nothing.

Then, his hands settled on your hips, his thumbs rubbing slow, soothing circles against your skin.

“Wanna keep the panties on?” His voice was low, husky. “I can still make you feel good like this, if you’re not ready to take them off.”

You should’ve been embarrassed. Should’ve felt shy about the way he was staring at you, at your pussy, taking in the obvious wet stain darkening the fabric.

But you weren’t.

Because he looked wrecked just from seeing you like this. And you loved that, really turned you on even more.

“...It’s okay,” you whispered. “You can take them off too. I mean… there’s no point feeling shy now, right?” Your breath hitched. “You’re gonna see my pussy anyway…”

“Hm…” He chuckled at your words, fingers toying with the waistband of your panties. “So… you told me you’ve been fingered before, right? How was it for you?”

You hesitated for a second before exhaling, remembering the times you let that happen.

“It was always rushed. Like… in the backseat of a car, or some dark corner in a club. Sometimes it just felt uncomfortable. Sometimes a little painful…”

Mingi hummed, his fingers slipping lower, tracing light patterns over the fabric.

“So has anyone actually seen this pretty pussy, baby?” His voice had dropped, thick with something you couldn’t quite name. “Am I really the first?”

Your breath hitched as he hooked his fingers under the elastic, dragging your panties down slowly, revealing your mound first, then the rest as you lifted your hips just enough to help him.

“Yes… you are.”

“Fuck.” His exhale was heavy, like he was struggling. His hands smoothed over your bare thighs, slow and teasing, while you instinctively pressed your legs together. You had just told him there was no point in feeling shy, but still… his eyes on you like that made your skin burn. Mingi let out a soft, amused hum, his lower voice killing you. “You don’t have to be embarrassed, baby.” His thumbs brushed gently along the inside of your thighs. “But I need you to talk to me, okay? I don’t want you to feel any pain.”

You nodded, but he wasn’t done.

“Good girl.” He said that again, making you shiver once more at his words. His lips curled into something dangerously soft, dangerously sweet. “Now… spread your legs for me.” His voice was just sinful, God. “Let me see you.”

Even with a lingering trace of shyness, you spread your legs for him. Mingi let out a sound that looked like a moan, his eyes locked onto your glistening pussy like he was savoring the sight. You knew you were dripping, could feel it pooling beneath you, and the thought alone made you squeeze your eyes shut, bracing for his touch.

“Nah-ah.” His voice was pure, silken dominance. A soft kiss landed on your thigh, his warm palm resting against your belly. “Eyes on me, baby. I wanna see every little reaction. So behave, and look at me while I touch you, okay?”

Your breath hitched, but you obeyed, blinking up at him, cheeks burning under the weight of his gaze.

Mingi started slow, his fingers first trailing over your mound, teasing, barely there, making you ache for more. Then, with the lightest pressure, he dipped lower, parting your folds, gathering your slick on his fingertips. You whimpered when he finally brushed over your clit, already swollen, already throbbing for him.

“Fuck, you’re so wet…” His voice was rougher now, and when he pressed down on your clit, moving in slow, deliberate circles, your body reacted instantly. Your thighs threatened to snap shut, but his free hand kept you open.

“Talk to me, baby.” He smirked at you, making your cheeks burn again. “You like it when I touch you here?”

“Y-yes… feels so good, Mingi…” Your voice was barely more than a breathy moan, your chest rising and falling rapidly. God, what was this man doing to you?

“Good…” He kept up the slow, torturous rhythm, circling, sliding, making sure you felt every second of it. And then he smirked again, eyes flickering down between your legs. “I can see you clenching…” His fingers teased lower, brushing over your dripping hole, but never pushing in. “You want a finger inside this pretty pussy, huh?”

“Yes… please.”

You’d never felt like this before. Sure, you’d touched yourself before — your fingers, the desperate grind against your pillow. But this? Craving someone else's touch this badly? That was new.

“Yeah?” Mingi’s voice was warm, teasing, his breath fanning against your skin. “Alright, baby. Gonna put it in now. Tell me if it hurts, I’ll stop right away.”

He played with your clit for a second longer, making you squirm, before twisting his wrist and easing his middle finger inside you. He slid in easily — too easily — because you were already so wet, dripping onto his palm.

“Fuck…” He exhaled, watching the way you clenched around him, his voice thick with something almost reverent. “You’re clenching around my finger so tight, baby. Tell me how it feels.”

“Hm… it’s okay. No pain…” Your words were soft, airy, but your body was already responding to him, hips shifting just the slightest bit, searching for more.

“Yeah?” He started moving, slow thrusts, just the tip at first, then deeper, dragging against your walls in slow, deliberate strokes. “You like it like this? Or maybe…” He let his finger sink all the way in, curling it just right, hitting somewhere entirely new inside you.

A moan ripped from your throat before you could stop it. 

Mingi chuckled, clearly pleased. “I think I have my answer… Looks like I just found your G-spot.”

“It’s… embarrassing that I couldn’t find it myself…”

“Mm, it’s fine, baby…” His tone was honeyed sin, smooth and coaxing. “It’s kinda deep, see?” He pushed in again, curling that single finger right against the spot, making your body jolt. “Here… this spongy little place… this is where you’re most sensitive inside.”

Another slow press, another deliberate curl of his finger, sending a shudder down your spine, leaving you gasping.

“Feels… different…”

“A good different? Or do you want me to stop?”

“No… keep going. It’s good… really good…”

“Mm…” He smirked, his free hand sliding down to find your clit, circling it in slow, teasing motions while his finger pressed against that spot inside you over and over again. “Like this, baby? Feels good?”

“Yes…” Your voice was breathy, almost desperate. It felt too good — like nothing you’d ever experienced before. You had no idea your body could respond like this, that just one finger could unravel you so easily. But now you knew. And you needed more. “Don’t stop…”

Mingi hummed in approval, his movements shifting, pressing into your G-spot with more precision, rubbing your clit with just the right amount of pressure. It was overwhelming, the pleasure washing over you in such an intense way it left you breathless. Your hips had a mind of their own now, rolling into his touch, grinding against his hand as you chased the high building inside you.

“That’s it, baby…” His voice was low, dripping with praise. “Keep riding my fingers like that… fuck, you look so pretty like this…”

You felt something building inside you—something different. A weird kind of pressure you’d never felt during an orgasm before. It made you panic a little.

“Mingi… feels weird.” But it still felt good, so you didn’t stop. You kept grinding against his hand, chasing the high.

“Weird how? Talk to me.”

“Like I’m gonna… pee…” you admitted, your voice small, embarrassed.

“Mmh…” He didn’t sound the least bit bothered. “Wanna try letting go, baby? You might squirt if you do. It’ll feel so good…”

But you couldn’t. The sensation was too intense, too unfamiliar. And the idea of actually doing that in front of him made your whole body tense up.

“I can’t… I just wanna cum, please… make me cum…”

He kissed your thigh again, soft and reassuring, his finger still buried deep inside you. But now his focus shifted. His other hand is working your clit in that perfect way. God, he knew exactly what he was doing.

“Come on, baby… cum on my fingers. Keep moving, just like that…”

You did. And it hit you hard. Your orgasm crashed over you, stealing your breath, making your legs tremble uncontrollably. You couldn’t even speak, so you just moaned and whimpered as he worked you through it, drawing it out until you were spent.

Then he slowly pulled his finger out and, without breaking eye contact, brought it to his mouth and licked it clean. The sight alone made your pussy clench again.

“You taste so fucking good…”

You bit your lower lip, trying to hold back a moan, because fuck. He wasn’t even touching you anymore.

“So…” Mingi sat back down beside you, his tone playful. “How was it for you?”

You let out a breathy laugh, still recovering. “That was amazing… thank you. Uh—” your hand moved to his thigh, remembering how you’d been grinding on it minutes ago, “—want me to return the favor?”

“Not today, pretty. Tonight was all about figuring out what you like.”

“Well, mission accomplished.”

“Next time we can try adding another finger… if you’re up for it. Maybe I could eat you out, too.”

“You really wanna do that?”

He looked at you like you were crazy. 

“What kind of question is that?” His eyes dropped briefly to your bare skin. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“I don’t know… Some guys just don’t like giving head, I guess.”

“Straight guys? I don’t think I know anyone like that. Shit… were your exes that kind of loser?”

“One of them… maybe two.”

“Yeah, they probably didn’t like girls to begin with.” He laughed, shaking his head. “But me? I love eating pussy. You’re so damn responsive… so sensitive. Probably ‘cause you’re a virgin. Honestly, I had a lot of fun today.”

You smiled, cheeks warm. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It is!” He gave you one of his cutest smiles, like he wasn’t just talking about eating you out a minute ago.

“Wanna crash here or want me to take you home?”

“I don’t know… I think I could stay on your couch.”

“Damn, do you think I’m an asshole or something?” He laughed, but it had a bit of a bitter edge to it. “You can use my bed. I mean, if you want, we can share. It’s big, and I don’t mind. But if it makes you uncomfortable, I’ll take the couch.”

“Calm down, Mingi… I just don’t wanna bother.”

“We’re friends, relax. So, bed or couch?”

“We can share the bed, I don’t mind.” You were just a little embarrassed, but it was fine. “Give me one of your shirts or something so I can sleep.”

“Wanna shower?” You did. You were still a mess, sticky and flustered, adjusting your clothes like it would help somehow. “Go ahead, I’ll order some food.”

Mingi was so sweet you couldn’t help but feel safe there, like actually comfortable. That post-makeout awkwardness you usually felt with guys? Nonexistent. Maybe it was because he was your friend, and it really felt like he cared.

You took a long, needed shower, and when you were done, he handed you a pair of boxers, some comfy shorts, and a soft oversized shirt like you’d asked. He’d ordered Chinese, and you ate with him while watching TV like nothing had just happened between you — chatting about college, life, random stuff. At some point, you were barely keeping your eyes open.

“Let’s go to bed. It’s pretty late,” he said, turning off the TV and getting up. “I’m gonna shower. You can go ahead and sleep if you want.”

So you did. You headed to his room, crawled into his bed and immediately sank into the smell of his sheets. That soft, clean scent of his cologne was everywhere. Your brain briefly panicked about what you’d tell your roommate the next day, assuming you’d even tell her anything. But she'd probably annoy you until you did.

You were drifting off when you heard Mingi come in. He had a towel slung low around his hips, and you peeked — just a little — before shutting your eyes again. He changed, then slipped into bed right beside you, and suddenly your heart was racing. He smelled like soap, like shampoo, like everything warm and familiar, and holy shit, all you wanted to do was reach out and touch him. But you didn’t. You forced yourself to stay still, and eventually, you managed to fall asleep.

But nothing — nothing — could’ve prepared you for the morning.

You woke up to a warm weight draped over your waist. At first, you almost ignored it… until you remembered you weren’t in your bed. You weren’t in your room. You were at Mingi’s. And his arm was on your waist.

And then it all came rushing back… the way his finger felt inside you, the things he said, the way you came so hard you couldn’t speak… and now? Now he was pressed right up against you, and very clearly hard. You could feel his cock resting against your lower back, thick and hot even through the fabric, and you really, really didn’t want to freak out.

But fuck.

How?

You shifted your hips, just a little, enough to grind back into him, slow and deliberate, because you wanted to feel him. All of him.

Mingi mumbled something low, half-asleep, and pulled you closer, spooning you tight, his breath warm against your neck. The way it made you shiver? Unfair. You bit back a soft moan, trying to keep it together.

You couldn’t stop wondering… was this just morning wood? Or was he actually turned on?

But the way he was holding you, not moving away, letting your ass press right up against him like that… yeah, it could definitely be both.

“Hey…” His voice was deep and rough, soaked in sleep, and it went straight to your core. “You doing that on purpose?”

“I was just… trying to feel you.”

Your voice came out breathier than you expected. He let out a low groan, somewhere between sleepy and way too sexy for your own good.

“Then why don’t you just touch it?”

“You want me to touch your dick?” You didn’t mean to sound so surprised, but damn.

He chuckled against your neck, his body shaking a little with it.

“You did say you wanted to feel me.” Then he rolled onto his back, arms behind his head, shameless and relaxed. “I’m all yours.”

You could see it. The tent in his shorts, the thick bulge straining against the fabric… and shit, it looked huge.

You swallowed hard, your shaky hands practically begging to touch him.

You sat up on the bed, reached for him, and the second your fingers brushed over his clothed length, you felt it. Hard and heavy, all for you. Fuck. 

“Shit, baby… want me to take it out for you?”

His voice was low and wrecked, thick with lust, and god, he wanted this just as badly as you did.

“I can do it.” Your fingers slid under his waistband, tugging down his shorts and boxers in one go until his cock sprang free. Thick, flushed, and already leaking, smacking lightly against his stomach. “So big…”

“Yeah?” He wrapped a hand around himself, giving a slow squeeze that made precum beads at the tip. “You like it?”

“Yes…” God, you did. He was pretty, and that wasn't something you'd ever said about a dick before. But his? Fuck, yes. “Let me touch you.”

You weren’t some handjob expert or anything, you’d done it before, sure, but this felt different. Bigger. More intense. More him. Still, you wanted to do it right. You wanted to make him feel good.

Mingi watched you as you wrapped your fingers around him, slow strokes at first, eyes flicking between your hand and your face. His cock twitched in your grip, and that alone made your thighs clench. 

He hummed in approval when you squeezed a bit harder, stroking slowly, getting his tip wetter with precum before you could do it a bit faster.

But you wanted more. 

You didn’t even think, just leaned in and spit on his cock to help your hands glide easier.

The slick sound it made when you started stroking him faster had you biting your lip, and then came his whimper… breathy, needy, absolutely filthy.

“Fuck… you’re good at this…”

Hearing that lit something in you. Gave you all the confidence you needed to keep going.

You spit on him again, not giving a damn about being messy, and the way Mingi moaned for you… it was the hottest sound you’d ever heard.

You were using both hands now; he was big, too big for just one. It made your hands feel small, and the thought of having his cock inside you? Kinda terrifying… but mostly it just made your pussy clench and drip even more.

“Baby… I’m gonna cum—” he panted, voice desperate, eyes locked on you like he was begging you not to stop.

And you didn’t. You weren’t stopping until you felt his hot load spill across your fingers.

He let out a deep, wrecked moan as he came, hips twitching, cock pulsing in your hands. His cum painted your fingers, spilled onto his belly, his pelvis, so much of it.

God, it was so hot.

You loved the feeling, knowing you made him come like that. Make him lose it with just your hands.

“So…” Mingi was still catching his breath, chest rising and falling. “Now you’ve felt me.”

You laughed under your breath. Yeah, the whole thing started with you just wanting to feel how hard he was. But this? This was so much better.

“Yeah… I liked that. And…” You still had his cum on your fingers, warm and sticky. And you didn’t fight the urge anymore. You brought them to your mouth, licking them clean right in front of him — just like he did with you. “I like your taste too.”

“Fuck, you’re killing me.”

He sat on the bed and pulled you closer, kissing you like he needed it. That caught you off guard. You thought most guys would be grossed out by kissing you after you had their cum in your mouth.

But not Mingi.

He kissed you deep, tongue and all, messy and hot, just the way you liked it.

“Can I do something? Please?” he asked, breathless against your lips.

“What?” You were already dizzy from the kiss alone.

“I wanna eat your pussy…”

You felt heat rush through your whole body. You wanted that, bad. Even if the sunlight was peeking through the window, making everything feel more exposed. There was no way you could say no.

“…Okay.”

You didn’t know exactly what to do, but Mingi did. He gently switched your positions, laying you on your back and climbing over you.

He tugged your shorts off and tossed them aside without looking, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from your pussy. You were soaked, your arousal shining under the light, and it clearly drove him wild.

You didn’t need to be asked, your legs opened for him on their own, desperate to know how it would feel to have his mouth on you.

He kissed your thighs first, slow and wet, his soft lips making obscene sounds against your flushed skin. You couldn’t stop staring at him, he looked like he was enjoying this as much as you.

Your eyes locked, and in that second, you knew: if you wanted him to stop, he would. You felt safe. Even with your legs spread wide open in front of him.

Then his lips met your mound. A chill shot through your spine and you had to fight the urge to squeeze your thighs together.

But Mingi kept you open for him.

He pressed a kiss to your clit first, then started to lick it, slowly, teasing, just getting a taste of you. Watching your reactions.

Your eyes fluttered shut. It was already one of the best things you’d ever felt — and somehow, it got better. He started sucking your clit, flicking his tongue over it, then dipped just the tip of his tongue inside you. Then he was making out with your pussy, completely lost in it.

You wanted to scream. Your whole body was trembling, your chest tight with how good it felt. You couldn’t keep your hips still, you were grinding against his mouth, moaning uncontrollably, fingers tangled in his hair as you pulled him even closer.

You were so close. You could feel yourself falling apart.

And when your orgasm hit, it wrecked you.

Your legs trembled, your stomach clenched, and your moans were so loud you didn’t even register them until your body started to come down.

It was hands down the best orgasm of your life.

Fuck.

Mingi kissed your thighs while you were still trembling, then crawled up your body to press soft kisses to your neck and lips.

You could taste yourself on his tongue, and fuck, that was easily the hottest thing you’d ever done.

“So… did you like it?”

“Are you kidding?” Your voice was barely audible. “That was insanely good.”

“I’m glad.” He let himself drop beside you with a satisfied sigh, stretching lazily. “Hmm… I think we should get some breakfast. But… my roommate might be home already…”

What?

Fuck.

There was someone there? And Mingi just let you moan like that?

“You didn’t think that was worth mentioning before I screamed loud enough for your neighbors to know your name?”

“Nope,” he said, grinning. “Didn’t want you to hold back. But relax. If he heard anything, he won’t care.”

“Fuck, Mingi. I’m so embarrassed.”

“There’s no need. He won’t say anything, and he won’t even know it was you. I’m not telling anyone.”

“…Okay then. Thanks. I guess.”

You didn’t stay in bed much longer. Not because it wasn’t tempting, but because you were starving. You changed back into your clothes from yesterday, and Mingi took you out to your favorite coffee shop so you could have your much-needed morning caffeine.

What surprised you most was how easy everything felt. There was no awkwardness between you two.

You talked about college, cracked dumb jokes, and laughed about random stuff like nothing had happened. Like he hadn’t just made you come harder than anyone ever had.

But then it hit you: a vivid flashback of Mingi’s mouth between your legs, and your thighs clenched on their own. Your cheeks burned instantly.

“What?” he asked, smirking. “You’re blushing.”

“Yeah, I…” Why couldn’t you breathe properly all of a sudden? “Sorry, I just…”

“You were thinking about the dirty stuff we did, huh?” He leaned closer, teasing. “I think you might be ready to really do it.”

“I was… and you think so?”

“Yeah. I figured you might be a little traumatized from the other guys,” he said gently, “but you’re doing fine. So, whenever you feel ready… we can.”

You were speechless. Truth was, you’d felt ready the second he first kissed you. He had been nothing but respectful, never pushing, never rushing, and that made you want him even more.

“…Okay, so what do you think about tonight?”

Mingi raised his eyebrows, looking a little surprised by what you’d just said. You were surprised, too. You thought it would take longer for you to let go like that. But the truth was… you felt ready. And the best part? Him.

You weren’t going to lose your virginity to some random loser. It was going to be with someone you trusted. Someone who cared about you.

“It’s totally up to you. I’m free tonight,” he said with a soft smile, a sweet one this time. “You sure about this?”

“Yeah… I really want to.”

Mingi smiled wider and, like the absolute prince he was, formally invited you on a date. He said he didn’t want to just take you to his place and jump into bed — he wanted to give you the whole experience. And you kinda liked the idea.

He even walked you home. But the moment you stepped into your apartment, your roommate nearly lost her mind.

“Tell me everything!!! You slept with your hot friend, didn’t you?! I saw you two! Holy shit, he’s gorgeous… you’re so fucking lucky.”

“I didn’t…” you muttered, cheeks burning. “Yet.”

You were way too embarrassed to give her all the details, like how he made you moan louder than you ever had in your life. So you just said one thing led to another… and now you had a date.

That was enough to send her into full panic-mode-on-your-behalf. She practically dragged you out of the house to buy lingerie, insisting that if you were finally going to lose your virginity, you needed something sexy. And you knew that she was right.

You found a few beautiful sets. Lacy bras and panties that made you feel way hotter than you expected. But once you bought them, it really hit you: this was happening. You were finally going to have sex.

Fuck.

You still couldn’t believe it.

Back home, your roommate helped you style your hair and pick out an outfit for the night.

She was genuinely happy for you, and you were getting really nervous. But in the best possible way.

“Listen… it might hurt a little. But it’ll feel good after, okay? Just keep that in mind.”

She wasn’t trying to scare you — she was actually being gentle — but it wasn’t exactly helping. “And he’s experienced, right? That’s a very good thing.”

“I know it’s gonna hurt…” Because Mingi was big. Like, the biggest you’d ever seen. “But I’m not really that scared about the pain. I’m more nervous about… what happens after.”

“Like… things getting weird between you two?”

“I don’t think they will…”

And you meant it. Mingi didn’t make things weird. He made you feel safe.

“Then relax,” she said, placing a hand on your shoulder. “And for the love of God, use a condom.”

That made you laugh, even if you weren’t sure why. Maybe because you were quietly freaking out and laughter was the only thing keeping you from losing it.

And yeah… time was running out. He’d be there any minute, and your nerves weren’t exactly calming down.

You took a deep breath, reminding yourself that it was Mingi. You’d already done things with him, intimate things. This was just the next step. You wanted it. And you trusted him. Everything was going to be fine.

Your roommate helped you finish your makeup, soft and glowy, just the way you liked, and a few minutes later, your phone buzzed.

Mingi was calling. He was already downstairs, waiting for you. 

When you came down, he was already in the car, parked right in front of your building. As soon as you got in, the scent of his cologne hit you. Clean, expensive, and so him. He looked really good too, even more so in those clothes.

“Hi…” you said, trying not to fall apart while buckling your seatbelt. “Where are you taking me?”

“Well… I know you like Italian food, so I picked a nice Italian restaurant.”

“You’re making me really nervous, you know? I…” your voice was shaky, your breathing unsteady. “I just feel a little weird doing this, like…”

Like it was something serious. That’s what you meant.

“There’s no need to be nervous, you know that, right?” he said gently. “We’ve gone out to eat a bunch of times. The only difference is that tonight, I’m helping you with something… personal.” He smirked, starting the car. “Could’ve happened before, if you wanted.”

“I just don’t want you to think I’m unsure about this. I want it. I’ve been thinking about it all day, actually… it’s just… I don’t know how to explain it.”

“Maybe you’re just overthinking it,” he said, flashing you that same calm, charming smile. “It’s all good. We don’t need to plan every step. Let’s just eat, talk, and see where the night takes us.”

He was right, you knew that. But still, why was your heart racing like that? Damn. 

Either way, you managed to calm down a bit when he let you pick the music.

Dinner was amazing. You ate well, sipped on some very good wine, and Mingi showed you just how much of a gentleman he could be on a date. You’d been out with him before, sure, but it never felt like this. This was different. This was a real date.

A few hours passed in what felt like minutes. Eating, drinking, laughing, talking. When the check came, he grabbed it and paid before you could even peek at the price.

As you were leaving the restaurant, his hand found your lower back — guiding you gently, protectively, until you reached the car. That simple touch made you shiver, even though you were way calmer than earlier.

“So…” he said once you were both buckled in. “Wanna go somewhere else?”

The playful tone in his voice helped a lot. You were still a little nervous, sure, but you knew exactly what you wanted now. You weren’t backing out.

“Maybe your place, handsome,” you replied, matching his tone.

He chuckled, turning the engine on. “Not nervous anymore?”

“Just a little. But I’m good.”

“That’s good.”

You looked over at him while he drove, and damn, he looked so good. So relaxed, so confident. You were on a date with a ridiculously hot guy… and you were going to sleep with him. Silly thoughts, maybe. But you couldn’t stop them.

Not long after you left the restaurant, Mingi was already pulling into the parking lot of his building, and you could feel the thick tension between you as soon as you stepped into the elevator. He was acting all relaxed, but you could tell… he was probably just as nervous as you.

When he opened the door to his apartment, you walked into the living room a little faster than you meant to, maybe driven by all that anticipation building inside you. He locked the door behind you and turned the lights on.

“Do you want something to drink…?”

“Not now, but thanks. I’m kinda nervous…” You bit your lower lip, taking a good look at him. God, he looked so good. So fucking good. “Can we… go to your room?”

“I’m kinda nervous too, to be honest. I’m gonna be your first, and I really don’t want this to be a bad experience for you. I’ll try my best.”

“Mingi, I trust you. I really do. I’m not even worried about that…”

“Good… so, we’re both nervous and in the mood. What are we waiting for?”

You chuckled at his words as he guided you to his bedroom. He had changed the sheets, it smelled really nice in there, clean but still like him. You sat right on the edge of his bed and waited as he closed the door behind you.

When he turned around and looked at you, his gaze was so intense, you could feel he was holding something back. And fuck… you couldn’t wait to find out what he was going to do to you.

Mingi sat right next to you, and after making you squirm under his intense stare, he grabbed the back of your neck and pulled you into a rough, hungry kiss. Fuck… it was really happening now. Kissing him wasn’t new, but this time it felt different. It felt hotter, more desperate, like you both couldn’t wait any longer.

Your body was already burning up, and it was like he knew exactly what you needed. Without saying a word, he unzipped your dress and slid it off you like it was nothing, not even giving you a second to overthink it. You let him, kissing him harder, wanting more.

You couldn’t help but silently thank your friend for making you buy that lingerie set, because the second Mingi saw you sitting there in just your bra and panties, he let out the filthiest fucking groan.

He hooked a finger under the strap of your bra, playing with it, before biting your lip and trailing his mouth down your neck. Then, without hesitation, he reached behind you, unhooked your bra with one quick move, and tossed it aside like he couldn’t get it off fast enough. 

He was still fully dressed, it didn’t feel fair at all. So you tugged at his shirt, desperate to feel more of him. You had to break the kiss for just a second to pull it off, and that gave you a chance to really look at him… his flushed face, his lips already swollen from how hard you’d been kissing him. You couldn’t help yourself. You had to bite them, suck on them, make him feel just as desperate as you did.

You pushed him back until he was lying flat on the bed, and as soon as he hit the mattress, you climbed on top of him, straddling his hips. This time, it was you who kissed him like you were starving for it, your tongue in his mouth, your hands all over his chest, raking your nails down his skin.

His hands slid down from your waist to your ass, gripping you so hard it almost hurt, squeezing and groping until you couldn’t help but moan into his mouth. He pulled you closer, pressing you down against the bulge in his pants, making you grind against him as your bare tits brushed over his chest.

But he wanted more. He pulled you enough to bury his face in your breasts, licking and sucking your nipples, teasing them with his hot tongue until they were aching. He devoured you, biting just hard enough to make you gasp, his lips marking you, claiming every inch of your skin. Fuck, it felt so good you couldn’t think.

You shifted to kiss him again, grinding shamelessly against his clothed cock, your hips moving on instinct as dirty flashbacks flooded your mind. You could already feel how soaked your panties were, though they barely counted as panties at all. The thin, see-through thong did nothing to hide how wet and desperate you’d gotten for him.

“Baby… I gotta…” He grabbed your hips, holding you still for a second as his hands moved down to unbuckle his pants. You hadn’t even realized how tight they were on him. “Let me take these off.”

As soon as he shoved them down and kicked them away, you climbed right back on top of him, grinding against his cock again, slow and needy. He left his boxers on, but you could already see the wet spot spreading there. 

You really wanted to make him feel good, you felt this urge to try something new, it was pulsing inside you. You rested your hands on his chest, slowly breaking the kiss.

“Mingi… can I…” Your fingers slid down to his waistband, teasing, pulling the elastic just enough to catch a glimpse of the neatly trimmed hair there. “Can I suck you off?”

He blinked at you a few times, like he couldn’t quite believe what you’d just said. Of course, you knew you were offering something no man in the world could resist, and you wanted to get that exact reaction out of him. It worked.

“F… fuck. You really wanna do that?” He licked his lips, almost trembling beneath you. “If you really want to… do it. I know I’m gonna fucking love it.”

“It’s my first time…” you murmured, trailing wet kisses along his jaw, down his neck, then over his chest and hard abs. “Tell me how to make you feel good.”

He just nodded, breath hitching, eyes fixed on you as you slid his boxers down, finally freeing his cock. It sprang up, thick and heavy, slapping against his lower belly. Your mouth watered instantly. Fuck… you’d never thought about sucking a dick before, but you needed it, craved the taste of him.

You wet your lips first, then stroked him slowly a few times, just to watch the precum bead at the tip. You leaned in and cleaned it up with your tongue. It tasted a little salty, but it only made you crave more. You licked along his length, making him groan again, a sound that you felt deep between your legs as you clenched harder than you thought was possible.

Wrapping your hand around the base of his cock, you started sucking on the tip, just like your friends had described before. God, you liked his taste, and you were already making a mess with your spit and his precum.

“Just like that, baby… make it wet. I like messy.”

Fuck, his voice. You couldn’t believe how turned on you were just from sucking him off.

You tried to take more of him into your mouth, and you gagged a little when he hit the back of your throat, but the way he moaned almost made you not care at all.

“You’re so pretty sucking dick, baby… keep going…” He caressed your head, holding your hair to get a better view as you started moving a little faster. “Fuck, yes… use your hand too. Like that… fuck. Such a good girl for me.”

You didn’t care if you were choking on his cock or not. You loved being praised like that. You could already feel how wet you were, ready to drip at any second.

You kept using your hand just like he told you to, listening to every instruction, loving how much he kept telling you how good you were at it. You bobbed your head faster, getting used to taking him while jerking him off at the same time. It was hard at first, but now you were doing it easily.

“I don’t wanna cum in your mouth… let's stop here. Let me eat your pussy now.”

He gently pushed you away, watching as a string of spit kept him connected to your swollen lips.

“God, you’re gonna kill me.” He touched your lower lip, running his thumb across it, as if he couldn’t resist praising you. “Lay down and spread those legs for me, huh?”

You used the back of your hand to wipe your chin and happily laid down for him, letting him slide your ruined panties off in a second.

“Fucking God, you’re so wet…” He ran his fingers between your pussy lips, feeling just how slick you were. ��Baby got this wet just from sucking my cock?”

Yes, you did. And you were so horny that any trace of embarrassment had already faded. You nodded, spreading your legs a bit more, silently begging him to lick your pussy because you couldn’t wait another second.

Mingi didn’t make you wait. He dived in, eating you out like you were his favorite fucking meal. His groans and moans vibrated against your pussy, his tongue teasing your entrance before he slipped a finger inside, making your head spin. Fuck. You ground down on his face, unable to stop yourself… your whole body was on fire, and you screamed when he added a second finger, the sudden stretch making you shiver under his touch.

There was nothing but pure pleasure. He finger-fucked you so fast and so deep that the obscene wet sounds echoed through the room, proof of how messy and turned on you were.

“Gonna cum… fuck, don’t stop, please…” You clutched at his hair, grinding your pussy against his face, sloppy and desperate. He loved every second of it. So did you.

You tried to close your legs when your orgasm ripped through you, stealing every breath and almost your soul, but he didn’t let you. You whimpered, tried to push him away, but your legs barely worked. He finally stopped touching you, but kept his eyes fixed, watching the way your pussy kept clenching even after you came.

"That was so hot, baby..." When you finally came down from your high, you saw Mingi ripping open the condom and rolling it down his cock. "Ready?"

"Yes. Fuck. Yes." You didn’t mean to sound so desperate, but your pussy wasn’t exactly letting your brain make decisions anymore. Your legs were already spread, your body completely relaxed, and you couldn’t possibly be any wetter. Everything was ready.

"Okay, I’m gonna put it in… slowly. Tell me if you need me to stop, okay?"

He hovered over you, eyes locked on yours, holding himself up with one arm while guiding his cock to your entrance with the other. You felt the pressure, the stretch as he started pushing in—slow, careful. There was pain, but not in a way that made you want to stop. It was… thick. Full. He was big. You knew that. But feeling it? That was something else. And he was barely halfway in.

"God, you’re so big…" You gripped his biceps, biting down on your lip.

"You can take it." He leaned in and kissed your cheek, his voice deep and steady. "It’s just the tip now, but you can take my cock. You’re my good girl, aren’t you?"

You moaned just from hearing him say that. He already knew how much you loved being praised, and when he felt you clenching around him, he groaned.

"Fuck... can I keep going?"

You nodded, bracing yourself, but the pain never got too sharp. He didn’t bottom out just yet, but even half of him made you feel stretched to your limits. Still, the thought of having him completely inside you made your whole body ache for more. You focused on relaxing, breathing slowly.

"Fuck... I want more. Give it to me. Please."

Mingi waited a few seconds, like he needed to be sure you were okay, and then did exactly what you asked. He was so gentle, so patient—you couldn’t have asked for a better first time. And then it happened. His cock slid all the way in, filling you to the hilt.

The feeling was overwhelming. You felt so full, so hot, so incredibly stretched.

"Tell me when I can move."

You pulled him in for a kiss, wrapping your legs around his waist.

"Move... please..."

Nothing could’ve prepared you for that. Not fingers. Not toys. Nothing. It burned at first, but not enough to stop. You were soaked, and the sounds—wet, obscene, addictive—only made you more delirious. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to focus on how he moved inside you, how deep he was, how thick he felt.

But you needed to see it. You looked down, desperate to watch the way your pussy was taking him.

Mingi got the hint. He sat back on his knees, shifting your hips slightly so you could see it happen—see his cock disappearing inside you over and over.

"Play with your clit for me." He grabbed your thighs, his eyes fixed on where you were connected. "Fuck, you're taking me so well..."

You licked your fingers and started rubbing your clit. It was swollen, hypersensitive, and the added stimulation made you moan like a mess. You didn’t care. You just needed more.

"Feels good, baby?" He held himself deep inside you. "Think you can cum for me like that?"

"Yes..." You looked again, watching how slick his cock got each time he slid in. You didn’t stop rubbing, and soon your hips started moving too, chasing that feeling. You felt everything—his size, his weight, the way he hit that same spot his fingers found before—and it made you dizzy.

"You're clenching... keep going, baby. Use my cock. Get yourself off. Cum all over it."

You didn’t hold back. You rode him the way you needed, chasing your high, grinding and moaning and letting go. It didn’t take long. Your body locked up as your orgasm hit, your pussy squeezing him in waves while you screamed, head thrown back, completely undone. Mingi groaned with you, like your pleasure alone was driving him insane.

Your legs were useless now, limp from the intensity. You were still coming down when he started moving again—this time harder, faster, with no hesitation. All you could feel was pleasure.

"You're so hard... I can feel you. So deep..."

"Didn’t think you’d take cock this well, baby... Can I fuck you harder?"

"Yes... fuck me. Wanna feel you cum too."

For a second, you hated the condom, but it didn’t matter. Not when he started pounding into you like that. It was rougher, and you loved every second. Your body was sore but it felt too good to care. You heard his moans, his breath getting shakier as he got closer. He kissed you, bit your neck, and moaned against your lips when he finally came, filling the condom as his cock throbbed inside you.

God, that was insanely good. 

You were caressing his back while he tried to catch his breath. You had just lost your virginity, and it felt so good you could barely believe it.

“So… good enough for your first time?” He slowly slid out of you, pulling off the condom and tying it up. “I’m really glad you chose me, gotta say.”

“It was amazing. Thank you… really.”

“You don’t have to thank me. I did you a favor, and as you can see…” He lifted the condom, still full. “I had a great time too. Huh… Did I hurt you?”

“Not at all. And… you know… is this a one-time thing? I’m sorry for asking that right now, it’s just…” You hesitated, suddenly aware of how exposed you were—and not just physically. “I… I don’t know. Forget it.”

“It doesn’t have to be. A one-time thing, I mean. If you want more…”

“I was just thinking that maybe next time you could… skip the condom, maybe?” Your voice dropped a little, more nervous now. “I was a virgin until now, and I take the pill. I just… really want to know how that would feel.”

“So… you’re asking me to creampie you?” He raised an eyebrow, smirking like the cocky bastard he was. “You know that feels like going to heaven, right?”

He looked so hot saying that, so confident, his body still glistening slightly from sweat. You couldn’t stop staring.

“I can do that, of course. Your pussy’s gonna look so pretty dripping with my cum…”

Your cheeks burned instantly, and you had to look away.

“Hm… feeling shy now? Bit too late for that.” He chuckled, tossing the condom aside and lying down beside you, his fingers lazily exploring your chest, your collarbone, your neck. “Ask me whatever you want. I’ll do it. I can be your first for a lot more things, you know.”

“That sounded like an invitation… want to keep me around?”

You turned to your side, facing him, still trying to process everything that just happened. Your legs were sore, your body still buzzing, and your brain felt like it had short-circuited somewhere halfway through.

Mingi looked over at you with that same cocky, satisfied smile, resting one arm under his head.

“I think I'll.”

A second later, he slid closer behind you, pressing his bare chest against your back and wrapping an arm lazily around your waist. You didn’t answer him, it wasn’t necessary. You just tangled your fingers with his and fell asleep. 

Somehow, the crazy decision that led you to end up naked in his bed turned out to be the best one you’ve ever made.

[webslinger-holland]

wait, you write for all thunderbolts?! then id' love to see your take on what bucky, john, and bob's reactions would be if the reader opened her door and she's just wearing some lingerie

Prompt: Bucky, John, and Bob's reaction to seeing you in lingerie

Warning: NSFW Below the Cut 18+ MINORS DNI

Bucky: Navigating the hallways had become a second nature to him. He didn't even have to look where he was going to know the route to your room. He was set to train with your this morning, but your notable absence was a cause for concern. He waited a few extra minutes before ultimately deciding to look for you.

He wasn't mad that you didn't show up, just more concerned at this point. He walked straight up to your door and knocked three times, patiently waiting for you to open the door for him.

"Just wanted to check on you since you didn't show up for training. I just thought—" Bucky began. The door opened so quickly there was very little time for recovery.

You're in a sultry, vintage-inspired crimson set. The bra is delicate lace, unlined but structured, with scalloped edges and thin satin straps. The matching garter belt sits high on your waist with black stockings clipped in, giving it that 1940s pin-up flair he’d absolutely lose his mind over. A sheer red robe, slipping off your shoulders, hints at even more underneath.

He didn’t say anything at first—just stared for a heartbeat longer than necessary, lips parting slightly. He thinks about how good you'd look if your lips were red too.

“You always answer the door like that?” Bucky's lips curved into a mischievous smile.

You send him a smirk. “Only for special guests.”

His eyebrow rose just enough to betray the shift under his cool exterior. He raised a hand to casually lean against the doorway.

"Lucky me," Bucky's husky voice breaths.

You laugh softly and move to shut the door, but he quickly stopped you by putting his hand out.

“Wait.” You pause for him. He looks you up and down once more. "You coming to training or not?"

"Yes, I just overslept my alarm." You explain to him. "Give me two minutes."

"Nice outfit by the way," Bucky teases. You roll your eyes playfully before closing the door in his face.

John: Making his way through the hallways, John was carrying a tablet which showcased the latest mission intel. He scrolled through aimlessly, reading some important pieces of information. He had one destination in mind, which was your room because you were being paired together for this mission.

He was already dressed in his suit and he carried his still-bent shield in the other hand. He stopped at your door and knocked with a lazy fist; his eyes still glued to the screen.

"Wheels up in five," John announced loudly through the door. "It'll be a couple hours before we reach—"

The door opened a lot quicker than he anticipated. When John lifted his head to look at you, his words instantly died on his lips and his brows shot up in surprise.

You're wearing a midnight blue set made from sheer mesh and crushed velvet. The bra dips low in a deep V, with soft velvet cups and crisscross straps above the chest that frame your collarbones. The garters are a matching velvet, hugging your thighs perfectly.

"Phoenix," John finished. His eyes shamelessly rack down your body as if he's drinking it all in. "Holy shit—"

"What?" You look at him innocently.

“If I had known you answered the door like that, I’d have knocked sooner.” John takes one look at you in that rich, royal blue and lets out a low chuckle. It's seductive without even trying — teasing without being delicate.

He leans a shoulder on the doorframe and crosses his arms like he’s ready to stay a while. He's clearly enjoying himself.

“You’re loving this way too much.” You observe with a small shake of your head.

“I mean, I’m a patriot." John shrugs. He sends a flirtatious wink. "I support the troops. Especially when the uniform’s that good.”

"John," you warn him, but he loves when you say his name like that. "You done now?”

"One sec," John holds up a finger to stop you. His eyes drag down the length of your body one last time, trying to commit everything to memory. "Okay. You coming on the mission dressed like that?”

"No," you smile.

John clicks his tongue and turns away defeated. "Too bad."

Bob: It was late in the morning, but Bob had tasked himself with knocking on doors to wake the others up and inform them that Valentina was expecting them downstairs in ten minutes for an 'all team meeting'. He nervously knocks on your door, trying to sound casual but already internally spiraling.

"Hey...uh—" Bob calls through the door, leaning dangerously close. "Valentina said there’s a meeting in ten. We’re all supposed to—”

The door swung open before he finishes. What stands in front of him is the last thing he expected to see, especially this early. It's you wearing some very beautiful lingerie right in front of him.

You're wearing something soft, romantic — a delicate ivory lace set with gold-threaded embroidery that catches the light when you move. A light beige silk robe is draped over your shoulders and the color compliments your skin in a way that makes you look sunlight.

He sees you, stammers a bit, and can’t decide if he should look away or keep memorizing every detail. His eyes go wide. His mouth moves but no sound comes out. Then, all of the sudden, it's like his brain catches up to him.

He squeezes his eyes shut tightly and puts his hand over them for good measure. His face turned all pink too.

"Bob?" You ask.

"Listen—" Bob tries, but his voice cracks in betrayal. "I'm not looking. I was looking. I’m not now.”

“You were definitely looking.” You tell him, slightly amused even if he can't see it on your face.

"It’s okay—" Bob attempts to excuse himself. "Y’know what? I’m just gonna—"

He spins on his heel and tries to walk away too fast, bumping into the doorframe. You wince at the contact, but he keeps walking down the hallway blindly nevertheless.

“Meeting! Ten minutes! Bye!” Bob called over his shoulder, still slightly traumatizes and blushing harder than ever.

"You could at least tell me if I look good," you yelled teasingly.

Bob answers back in the distance. “YOU LOOK GREAT!”

[adelheidvonschicksal]

The Love and Deepspace Boys Trying to Get You to Sleep ⋆｡°✩

Tags: Fluff, teasing, needy boys, mild sexual content, gender neutral reader (I had to re-write so please let me know if I messed up.)

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Xavier is surprisingly softer than you expected when you first met him on your mission together. He’s an incredibly powerful hunter but possesses a quiet and gentle, almost oblivious, aura when navigating everyday life, like a ghost floating through the space he takes up. It should also be understood that this very nature of his makes him affectionate, so much so, that he won’t unwrap his arms around your waist and stop pressing his head to your shoulder as you sit at the kitchen bar, typing on your laptop.

“Are you planning on staying up later than the stars?” he mumbles.

There’s a gentle yawn against your skin from the sluggish man, highlighting just how long he’s been trying to coax you into going to bed.

“I wanted to finish this report for work.”

“The report will be there tomorrow,” he says. You swat away his hand that reaches for the power button on the laptop causing him to pout. He grumbles. “You should go to bed. Otherwise, I can’t sleep.”

Smiling to yourself, you decide to tease him. “Oh, so you’re really trying to get me to go to bed for your own benefit?”

“Well, you can’t very well expect me to do it by myself anymore.” Xavier nuzzles his head into the slope of your neck, cuddling you. “It’s your responsibility since you ruined my sleeping habits.”

“Ruined?”

“Ramshackled,” he repeats quietly, causing you to giggle. With an airy sigh, he presses his weight into you more. “How do you expect me to sleep when I can’t hold you?”

Defeated, you save your work and close the laptop. You swivel in your chair, enough to meet his eye, and cup a hand to his cheek. It never stops being endearing to you how he cutely closes his eyes and angles his head to snuggle your palm.

“Alright, alright, you don’t have to beg.”

His eyes flutter open, and the smile on his face grows as he wraps his fingers around yours. Carefully, he pulls on your hand to bring it up enough to begin to lace your wrist with affectionate kisses, tracing your pulse.

“I thought you enjoyed my begging.”

“That’s different.”

“It isn’t,” Xavier mutters into your skin, pressing another light kiss.

“It is.”

“So, you're resolute about that position?” he questions “innocently”. There’s something mischievous about the glint in those arctic eyes, which makes your face warm. You find yourself breaking eye contact, or else you’d lose it.

“Yes.”

Xavier chuckles then begins to lead his kisses down your arm. “In that case, care to explain the difference in detail, love?”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

“Sleep.”

“But—”

“Sleep.”

Zayne narrows his eyes at you from his side of the bed. You can’t blame him for being a little annoyed right now but the movie you put on to fall asleep was much better than you expected; and instead of falling asleep, you were more awake than ever at a very late one in the morning.

“I’m almost done with the movie,” you tell him, hoping he’ll cut you a little slack this one time.

“Everyone dies at the end of their own stupidity,” he bluntly states and grabs the remote. The television turns off with an overly loud click, and you pout. “Now, sleep.”

Crossing your arms over your chest, you huff. “You’re the worst.”

“I’m fine with that title if it gets you to rest,” he explains with a smooth yawn. “Poor sleep habits lead to bad decision-making later. You’re more likely to develop high blood pressure, and with your heart in particular—”

“I get it. I get it,” you say, wanting to be spared the lecture. Zayne is a good person and a better doctor, but you wish he didn’t worry about you so much just because you might have a little big heart problem. Sighing, you squiggle onto your back and pull the sheets up to your collar, kicking them a little childishly in the process (totally not to let him know that you were not pleased with his spoiling). “I hope you’re proud of yourself.”

“Very.”

Zayne turns over onto his side, away from you, and you frown at the loneliness. Softly, you poke him in the back, once, then twice then a third time before you finally get a hum in response.

“Am I really not getting a good night kiss?”

“Do you need one to sleep?” he asks, his voice deeper from the lack of sleep, urging you to convince him to kiss you even more.

“Duh,” you explain. Slowly, he turns back over to look at you, propping himself up on one arm with a look that says “Is that so” as you continue to ramble. It makes you a little flustered when he watches you so intently. He’s always had this silent dominance that makes you obedient, but you could get what you want from him just as easily with the exact opposite strategy. Cutely, you puff your bottom lip out at him. “There has to be some health benefit to it. Kissing makes people all happy. Happy is good, right?”

It takes a second for him to take in what you say, those smokey eyes closing in on you with thought before he climbs over you. He places both hands at your sides and quickly boxes in your upper thighs with his knees.

“You’re thinking of dopamine,” he says.

“Huh?”

“That makes you “all happy”,” he explains and presses a deep kiss to your lips, leaving you thoughtless and breathless all at once. He moves to your jaw, and you begin to squirm from the pressure of his impassioned lips.

“And Serotonin.”

Another kiss, lower.

“Oxytocin.”

He’s at your shoulder when he starts to nip your skin, and one of his hands moves to ski up the back of your thigh.

“Reduced cortisol.”

Flustered, you grip his arms.

“Zayne, stop, it tickles,” you whine, but it’s the last thing you actually want as he readjusts his position and hovers above you.

His usually neat hair is messier and his breathing a little heavier judging by how his chest laboriously rises and falls. Groaning, you bite your bottom lip as he knowingly leans in and whispers,

“You need it to help you sleep, isn’t that what you said?”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

“Why don’t you just say you don’t love me anymore?”

You look up from your phone screen at the sudden accusation. You’re resting on the couch, your back propped up by the armrest and legs splayed out on the other cushion while Rafayel looks down at you with crossed arms and a less-than-pleased scowl on his face. You’re entirely confused as to what you could’ve done to make him think something like that.

“Huh?”

“You’ve been playing video games for what—the last two hours?” he says, uncrossing his arms to grab your phone. It’s too late to warn him as he glances at the screen, clicking a few times. “What are you playing anyway? An…otome? Sheesh, go ahead and say you want me gone. Come on, tell me you actually hate me.”

Holding in your smile, you shake your head and affectionately roll your eyes. It takes an enormous amount of effort to not laugh as he continues to rant. “So, it’s one of those things. I thought I was actually in trouble.”

And by those things, you mean his dramatics.

“Hush, my complaints are perfectly legitimate,” he demands as he pushes your legs aside and sits on the couch. Leaning over, he flashes the screen at you to show the evidence he has that you’re completely unfair, unfaithful, and downright mean. “What’s this game giving you that I’m not? Are my dashing good looks and even better personality not enough? Is that it?”

Gently, you take the phone from his hand and set it down on the end table. “You’re plenty, perfect even.”

He scoffs and refuses to look at you. “Apparently not. Don’t you ever think about anyone else? What if I want to cuddle with you one day but you’re too busy to notice because you’re playing silly games?”

Ah, there it is. His real want. You never know why he can never just come out and say it.

“Rafayel, do you want me to come to bed and cuddle with you?”

“Want is a strong word,” he remarks but you can see his resolve (can you call it that when he planned to give in all along?) crumbling as he slowly turns back to meet your gaze, “but I wouldn’t be opposed to it. Not that you deserve it or care.”

Humming, you sit up, wrap your arms around his shoulders, and pull him down onto you. Lovingly, you snuggle him, stopping to only take in how red his neck and ears start to get when you squeeze him and start to stroke through his hair. You’re not sure if Lumerians can blow happy bubbles like he claims, but he definitely hums and relaxes his entire body weight to lay on top of you like he wants to sink into your skin.

Teasingly, you coo at him. “You’re so needy.”

“I’d rather say you humans aren’t needy enough,” he fires back as he wraps an arm around your waist and kisses the corner of your lips. “Ah, the sweet taste of victory.”

Giving out a gentle and short laugh, you lightly tap his back. “Go to sleep.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

[bruisedboys]

john walker x thunderbolt!reader

john grudgingly patches you up after a mission — it gets more intimate than you both expect. post thunderbolts, no spoilers. 1k words

note: umm hi this is me forcing u to hear me out on him xx

“You’re not doing a very good job of that, Captain.”

John sighs loudly, his shoulders tense with irritation. “Shut up. And stop moving around.”

You grin to yourself. He’s fun to mess with.

“M’sorry, but your hands are really cold, John,” you tell him.

It’s true, they are, and he’s not being very gentle either. John wouldn’t have been your first pick for someone to patch you up after a fight, but you’d been unfortunate enough to be paired with him for this particular mission, and none of the rest of your team are back yet. You’re alone with him in one of the many bathrooms of Avengers tower. If you bleed out and die, you’re blaming it on his poor first aid skills.

“You wanna stitch this up yourself, then?” John asks you shortly. He’s got his big hand locked around your hip, holding you still while he stitches up the nasty gash spanning from just above your hip, up to the dip in your waist. His thumb presses into your hipbone. He’s not being rough but he’s certainly not being gentle — and while you’re not made of porcelain, you’d appreciate a bit of softness.

You shake your head. “No, thanks,” you sing-song.

John grumbles something under his breath that you can’t quite hear, but you catch words like useless and good for nothing. You don’t take it to heart. You’ve deemed him chronically grumpy, which he loathes, but you’ve decided it explains why he’s so mean all the time.

You let yourself fall back on your hands and watch him work. He’s standing in between your legs while you sit perched on the counter, your shirt pushed up over your ribs. He wasted a good amount of time letting you know how stupid it was of you to get hurt like this. After he was done grilling you, he grudgingly began to clean your wound, quite messily you might add. He’s halfway done stitching you up now, head bent over your ribs.

You think, secretly, that he looks quite handsome, concentrated like this. With his head bent over you, his hair all messy where he’s run his hands through it. You try not to think about how this position makes you feel. Sure, John’s a jerk, but you’re not blind. He’s handsome.

You realise suddenly that the silence is making you delusional, and you open your mouth to break it.

“Where do you think the others—“ you cut yourself off with a gasp when he pricks you hard with the needle. “Ow.”

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” John says quickly. He rubs his thumb over your hipbone twice, then lifts his gaze to yours.

“Sorry,” he says gently, wincing. “Accident.”

You blink at him. You don’t think you’ve ever heard the word sorry come out of his mouth since you met him. Not to mention the look on his face. Apologetic, gentle. Not something you’ve ever seen on him before. It suits him, but it’s still weird.

“It’s okay,” you say slowly. You shake your head, a little nonplussed. “It’s fine.”

John just stares at you. You stare back. Then he swallows. He must remember himself, then, because he goes back to frowning.

“Your fault,” he mumbles. He ducks his head again and gets back to work.

You want to ask how on earth that was your fault, but you’re too perplexed. If you’re not mistaken, you’re pretty sure John Walker was just soft on you. The absolute bare minimum, you know, but for John that’s like gifting you a bouquet of flowers and a kiss on the forehead.

You sit there, John’s hands all over you, and try to forget how he’d rubbed your hip, how he’d said sorry so quickly and so gently, how he’d looked at you like you weren’t just a thorn in his side, for once. You can’t forget it. How could you? It’s John. He’s not… soft. Like, ever.

You’re still thinking about it when the perpetrator in question finishes stitching you up. He snips the thread and straightens up. Your chest feels funny, like something’s tugging at your heart.

John lifts his head.

“You’re all done,” he says gruffly. He puts his tools down and tugs your shirt back over your stomach. “Try not to get so sliced up next time, alright?”

He’s back to sounding perpetually irritated again. Still, you find it difficult to ignore his hand on your waist as he smooths down your shirt.

“Why, ‘cos you care about me?” You joke weakly.

John rolls his eyes. He removes his hand from your waist to press it to the counter palm down, using it to hold his weight as he leans forward a bit. He’s not in your personal space, but he’s close enough, and the fact he’s standing between your legs doesn’t help.

“No,” he says in a low voice. “Cos you’re a nuisance to look after.”

You don’t know if he’s challenging you, threatening you, or if this is something else entirely, but you push yourself up with your palms pressed to the counter, leaning into his space. Whatever this is, you’re too stubborn to back down.

You tilt your head and plaster on a lopsided grin.

“Am I really?” You ask in a sweet, lilting voice.

John just looks at you. He’s closer now, so close you could kiss him, if you wanted. You’re not sure what you want, actually. But you can feel his body heat, and his broad shoulders block your vision of anything else, and he looks a bit like he wants to eat you. Or maybe kill you.

His hand creeps back towards your hip. He leans closer. Your heart hammers but you ignore it. John lowers his gaze. You’re pretty certain he’s looking at your mouth.

“You’re a brat, you know that?” He murmurs.

“Is that so?” You ask, feigning confidence. Really, your veins feel rampant with electricity. Your heart thud thud thuds in your chest.

“Mm,” John hums back. His thumb skips over the outside of your thigh. He’s breathing heavier than usual. You think you are too.

You don’t know why, but you reach up and touch his face. You drag two fingers over the rough stubble growing at his jaw. John shows no reaction on his face, though you notice his chest heaving so close to yours.

“Thanks for patching me up,” you whisper, so close now that your lips ghost over his when you speak. “You know, with how careful you were with the stitches, I’d say you actually care about m—“

John kisses you to shut you up. At least, that’s what he tells you afterwards.

-

thank u for reading! please consider reblogging if you enjoyed x

[remxedmoon]

your friends don’t know what to do.

so!! i redrew every single enemy in the game. in the span of like 9 days (excluding the king i made him right after the last update). that’s abbbout 79* drawings total, with only 3 custom ones for once!! i’m so normal. as always, these are free to use with credit!! go nuts!! spritesheets are included <3

got some notes under the cut, along with As Many Enemies As I Could Fit without making this post obnoxiously long. and i failed. i had to swap between the app and browser several times and i still couldn’t fit every drawing. open this post at your own risk (silly).

okay so first of all. what’s with the asterisk. well. I Drew A Lot More Than 79 Assets Actually. they’re getting posted separately, because this post is ABSURDLY long. you can find most of them in the miscellaneous folder, but for a bit of clarity, i added the teleport map and a bunch of ui elements that reference sprites from the icon sheet. and also the game over and loop back animations but i haven’t finished the spritesheets for those because they’re a pain in the ass so they’re not in the drive yet

if you missed my complaining a few days ago, a few enemies might look a bit crunchy in the actual game? specifically, calamité and désespoir were drawn at the wrong size, because their images in the files do not match the spritesheets! i avoided the issue with most of the other enemies, those two just blindsided me. sorry about that!

^sadnesses having inconsistent designs was actually a running theme with these. détresse rock has an unused design in the files (which i managed to catch before having to redo it thankfully), anxiété has extra spikes that don’t appear on the spritesheet (sorry i was too lazy to fix that one), even the version of the friend rescue in the files doesn’t match any of the frames in the spritesheet. hfjfhfj. sorry about the quality issues.

tangentially related to that, massive thank you to @riggedbones for grabbing the individual frames for the animations for me!! they made my life so much easier. vs friends would’ve been so annoying…

speaking of the animations! hi can you tell i’m not an animator. these were my first time doing Anything animation related since, like, middle school. super sorry for the Jank in some of these! the friend rescue looked way better when i drew it 💔💔.

bourdon’s hands also might act a bit odd, my apologies. the sizing ingame is SUPER inconsistent (why is one of the hands SMALLER than the other????). once i’m able to actually test the mod, i’ll try to fix it wauaua.

the 3 custom sprites are for the triplets! i ended up making two versions for each, one that follows the ingame art, and one with my personal designs for them. i like my own designs for them, but they’re a lot easier to tell apart? so if you want to use the ones that fit the gimmick better, they’re also in the drive 👍

this update. was originally going to have way more custom art. i’ve actually got an act 6 siffrin enemy asset in my art program! but school started and i decided it’d be better to just get the normal stuff done. so the mod can actually come out in a reasonable timeframe. promise that’ll all come out Later! sorry about the wait 😓😓😓

also adding this because i almost forgot: no i don’t know if these are compatible with sasasaap. i don’t have the game still and it’s not my main priority atm, apologies!

okay! that was a lot! and there’s a ton of art down here! thank you for reading all this, i’ll be back with the game over animations and teleport map pretty soon! like. within the weekend. enjoy!!!

[zaczenemiji]

I really wanted to ask if you could do like a GN! It can be fem too it doesn’t really matter—

The Reader where like Ultraman can transform bigger too but they're more inspired by Mothra (like a mothra suit). I think it would've been like so cute to see Emi go all awe and clingy to the reader because how bright and heavenly they look💕

Kenji gets all jealous seeing his kajju daughter prefer the reader over him a lil bit. tall parents raising baby monster

Emi’s Favorite

Kenji Sato x Reader

Word Count: 1,546

Genre/Warning: Established Relationship, Family Dynamics, Jealousy (very slight)

Author’s Note: Loved this idea so much, thank you for this first request! Emi with a moth mommy ⋆˚ʚɞ

MASTERLIST

Something about your boyfriend changed the night after Gigantron’s “attack” on Tokyo Dome. That night, you were supposed to help him fend the kaiju off but he insisted he’d do it on his own.

For some reason, you were glad you did not join in because (1) their fight became a pursuit in the sky, and (2) you could not zoom in the air the same way Ultraman does. The only reason you’re able to fly is because of your wings—moth wings on your suit, which would put you at a disadvantage in the case of an air chase.

You were supposed to come over to his place that night to check on him because you were sure that the skirmish had caused more damage to his already injured shoulder. However, your calls were left answered by Mina, telling you that Kenji had already fallen asleep.

Deciding not to disturb him, you simply let him be. But in the days that followed, something surely wasn’t right. He couldn’t focus on his games, he looked so fatigued and restless all the time, and oh good gracious, there were now dark circles under his eyes.

He just looks so stressed and you were so upset with the fact that he didn’t want to tell you what’s going on with him. The time he got into a fight with the other players was the end of the line for you.

You barged into his house, finding him by his bathtub, in front of a TV, watching the news about him. The usually peaceful atmosphere in his house was now charged with tension as you made your way towards him. At that moment, Kenji was praying so hard the kaiju in his basement would keep still.

He still wouldn’t tell you what’s wrong. “It’s not about us. It’s about…” he said, “…something bigger. Something I’m not ready to share yet.”

Your eyes softened at his response, though the ache in your chest remained. You made him promise to talk to you when he’s ready and he agreed. You can’t stand seeing the love of your life like that but at the same time, you didn’t want to force him to do anything against his will. Taking up Ultraman was already enough of that.

Almost two months, after the incident, he seemed back to his old shape. Better, even. And thank heavens, finally, he could now tell you about what happened.

“There’s a what below?!” You asked in disbelief. The two of you were standing in front of the elevator and for a moment, you think your ears are playing tricks on you.

“A baby kaiju,” he replied and went on to explain everything. Still in disbelief, you took in everything with a nod. He placed his hand on the small of your back as he guided you into the elevator.

The moment you saw the big pink baby, you gasped. Emi made happy noises as you approached. However, upon noticing you, she suddenly began to cry.

Kenji was tapping on the glass containment in an attempt to shush her. But to no avail, Emi just cried harder.

“I’m sorry, she doesn’t know you yet,” Kenji apologized. “But I assure you, she’s a sweet big baby.”

Remembering how, at first, Emi only recognized Kenji when he was Ultraman, you decided to try something.

“(Y/n), what are you—“ Before Kenji finished, a soft glow enveloped you, and moments later, you emerged in your giant form. Your wings spread wide, shimmering with black patterns and warm tones of yellow and orange.

Emi’s cries slowed, her curiosity piqued by the sudden change. She opened her eyes, sobs turning to soft hiccups as she stared up at you in wonder. Her claws tapped the glass as she reached out, trying to grasp your wings.

Kenji watched in awe as Emi’s distress melted away. “I think it’s working,” he whispered.

“May I?” You asked, gesturing to the lid of the containment unit. Kenji gave a nod of approval. Carefully, you turned it before lifting it off.

You lowered yourself closer to Emi, your wings fluttering softly as she climbed up her containment. The gentle breeze they created seemed to soothe her further.

Emi let out a delighted squeal, her earlier tears forgotten. She toddled closer to you, her claws gently touching the edge of your wing. She let out a happy chirp, eyes sparkling with joy.

Kenji stepped closer, a relieved smile spreading across his face. “Wow, she loves you in this form,” he said.

You smiled down at him. “She’s just like her dad,” you replied. “She knows a good thing when she sees it.”

Kenji chuckled before he himself transformed into Ultraman. He sat beside you with Emi in between the two of you.

Your wings gently enveloped Emi in a comforting embrace. She was now calm and happy as she traced the pattern of your wings with her claw.

“Gentle, baby,” Kenji said as he rubbed her head.

She continued walking around you and playing with your wings until she tired herself out. She walked in front of you and climbed on your lap, nestling her head on your stomach.

“Awww, baby,” you cooed. You gently picked her up into your arms and gently swayed.

Kenji moved close to you, wrapping an arm around you. You nestled into his arm, head resting on the junction of his neck and shoulders. The three of you slept like that for the night.

The next morning when Emi awoke, she immediately looked for you. Realizing that the moth lady was missing, she cried. Mina was quick to assist her, playing videos of cartoons and Kenji to calm her. To Mina’s surprise, none of them worked.

“Who’s making my baby cry?” Kenji asked as he approached. He expected her crying to cease once she saw him. However, that is not the case.

“Huh?” He questioned. Emi always calms when she sees him. “Mina, try showing her pictures of (y/n).”

Mina did as told and as miraculously as yesterday, Emi stopped crying. “It seems like she got herself a new mother,” Mina commented.

With Emi’s growing fondness of you, you found yourself frequenting at Kenji’s house more than ever. She was just so cute; like a live plushie when you’re in your giant form.

“Hi babyyyy,” you cooed as you transformed into your giant form. You scooped her up, her head nuzzling against you. Her earlier play was abandoned in favor of your presence.

You walked in on Kenji and Emi playing baseball together. And you didn’t mean to interrupt but when you saw her walking towards you, you knew you had to transform.

Kenji smiled at the scene. “She really loves you, you know,” he said.

You smiled back, feeling a warm glow inside. “I love her too,” you replied. “She’s such a sweetheart.”

Emi chirped happily as she climbed up your torso and onto your shoulder where she could watch and touch your wings.

Kenji watched the interaction, his smile fading slightly as a twinge of jealousy crept in. His baby kaiju shows a different kind of joy when you’re around.

He loved Emi dearly, but lately, it seemed like she preferred your company over his. He couldn’t help but feel a bit sidelined.

“She really lights up when you’re here,” Kenji said, trying to keep his tone light.

You glanced at him, noticing the slight edge in his voice. “She lights up when you’re here too, Kenji,” you replied. “She loves you.”

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I know, but… it feels like she’s more excited to see you than me sometimes.”

You tapped the space on the floor beside you, gesturing for him to switch to Ultraman. Thankfully, he did not resist.

You moved close to him as he sat beside you, his hand finding its way to your thigh. Your head automatically rested on his shoulder.

“You’re her dad, Kenji,” you said. “She loves you so much. Maybe she’s just fascinated by my wings right now.”

You felt Kenji nod, although the jealousy still lingered within him. “Yeah, maybe,” he replied. “I just want to be enough for her.”

You leaned back to look at him. Your other hand which was not holding Emi on your shoulder, moved up to hold his face. “You are enough. You’re everything to her,” you said. “And to me.”

Emi squirmed out of your hand, gently jumping off your shoulder and landing on your lap. She toddled over to Kenji. He looked down at her, his heart melting as she reached up, wanting to be held. He picked her up, and she nuzzled against his chest, purring softly.

“See?” You asked with a smile. “She adores you.”

Kenji hugged Emi close, his jealousy fading into thin air. “Yeah,” he said. “I guess you’re right.”

You spent the rest of the day playing with Emi, taking turns holding her and making her laugh. By the time evening rolled around, she was content and sleepy in Kenji’s arms.

Before reverting to your original form, you kissed Emi’s head and then leaned in to kiss Kenji. “I’ll be back soon,” you said. “Take care of our little one.”

Kenji smiled, his earlier worries forgotten. “We’ll be here, waiting.”

Taglist is open! Comment if u wanna be tagged on future Kenji oneshots

@scribble0rat

[raven-dor]

my heart won't tell

in which bucky barnes is keeping a secret from the thunderbolts...

PAIRING: bucky barnes x reader, platonic!thunderbolts x reader

WARNINGS: flirting, typical marvel violence, sneaking around, yelena teasing reader, john walker, slight angst, fluff

WORD COUNT: 2.3k

🎶 : as she's walking away - zac brown band, alan jackson

AN: ♥️💗 - im obssessed with thunderbolts, so of course the next bucky fic i wrote i used them instead of the ogs (sorry) but yippee bucky!!

“Morning.” 

You nuzzled your face further into his chest, the remnants of sleep curled deep into your bones. “I’m ignoring you.” 

His voice was scratchy, no doubt from the fact that he’d just woken up. “The act of ignoring someone typically entails you not responding to them.” 

You scoffed. “Alpine, scratch your father for me.” 

His warm lips grazed your temple. “Ever the romantic.” 

You peeked an eye open, admiring the man currently holding you. “This isn’t fair.” 

“What’s not fair, Doll?” 

“You look perfect.” You glared, kissing his jaw lightly. “How do you do it?” 

He smirked, clearly enjoying your praise. “Just ruggedly handsome, I guess.” 

“And humble too.” You laughed. “How lucky am I?” The door stood as a constant reminder of the day, reminding you of your mission report that had yet to be finished. Whipping the comforter off of you, you ignored the way Bucky’s eyes bore into you. “Stop looking at me like that.” 

“Like what?” He raised an eyebrow, knowing exactly what he was doing. “You can't be mad at me for admiring the view.” 

“You’re incorrigible, you know that, right?” 

“And you’re beautiful.” He frowned, petting Alpine haphazardly. “Do you have to go?” 

The thought of lying in bed all day, eating take-out, and watching TV was enticing. The thought of doing all of that with Bucky - well, that was heaven on Earth. You frowned, decided to stick with your original plan. “I’ll be back tonight, you know I will.” 

“I’ll help you with it.” He whined. “C’mon, Doll. Get back in bed.” 

“I know what your definition of ‘help’ is, James. Not today.” You crossed your arms. “Your seduction tactics won’t work.” 

“Ye of little faith.” 

“You’re much too confident, Barnes.” 

“Hey!” He called out, stopping you in your tracks. His voice, which seconds ago was confident and cocky, now held a certain warmth he typically reserved for you. You or Alpine. “I love you.” 

You smiled, blowing a kiss as you grabbed the door handle. “I love you more.” 

The automatic lock clicked behind you, the silence of the tower pulling you back to reality. You sighed, deciding you would need a cup of coffee before attempting to finish the report. 

“Morning.” 

“Hi, Bob.” You’d gotten too comfortable, too confident in your abilities. Turning around, you faced the music, trying to portray an air of indifference. 

“You’re up early.” 

“I am.” You fidgeted with the ring Bucky had given you, twirling it around your finger to distract from the larger issue at hand. 

“You’re normally not up until 9:30.” You normally found it endearing how Bob knew all of your schedules by heart. Today, you found it extremely irritating. Glancing over your shoulder, his eyes bulged at the name on the door, a look of realization etched on his face. “Are you and-” 

“Bob-” Now fully panicking, you turned to your last ditch effort - begging for his silence. “Don’t tell anyone, please.” 

“Why-” 

“Swear it.” 

He halfway nodded and tilted his head, and you decided to take that as a win, scurrying down the hall. “See you later, Bob.” 

“Sure.” 

It wasn’t meant to be a secret, you and Bucky. 

Not at first.

Neither of you had tried to hide your affection for each other, it’s just that your team was oblivious to it. 

That, or they had grown used to the constant touching and looks. 

You couldn’t tell.

Six months in, and you had yet to tell your team. The lines blurred quickly. At first, it had been a fit of passion, something to block out the horrible thoughts, a comfort for you both. You’d been friends for so long, and one night, it just became too much, the tension, the silent pull between you. Then you started sleeping over, letting your walls down, and reminiscing on the past. 

None of which, you reminded yourself, were things ‘friends with benefits’ did. 

The mission that led to his confession felt like a lifetime ago. You’d just gotten done fighting off the last of your assailants when he stalked over, wiping away the blood that dripped from your brow. 

You smiled, leaning into his touch. “Stop brooding.” 

“You’re hurt.” 

You shook your head. “Just a scratch. I’m fine.” 

He frowned, eyes fixed on the cut. “You don’t look fine.” 

“Buck-” He leaned his forehead against yours, breath catching as he spoke. 

“I have to tell you something.” 

“What is it?” Your heart dropped, fearing the worst. “Were you hit?” You scanned his frame, eyes watering at the possibility of him being in pain. “Are you feeling alright-” 

“Never better.” He interrupted. “I’ve been trying to find the right time to say this-” 

You laughed, your stomach twisting nervously. “Do you really think that a mission is the best-” 

His eyes darted toward your lips, cutting off your anxious rambling. “Doll…” 

Your laugh drifted away with the wind, your thumb caressing his cheek. “Yes, Buck?” 

“I love you.”

Your cheeks felt as if they’d been lit on fire. You tilted your head, fully convinced you hadn’t heard him correctly. “What-” 

“I love you.” He pulled you impossibly close, breath shaky as he spoke. “I’ve loved you since you broke me out of Zemo’s trap. Since you stayed in Wakanda just in case I woke up. Since you helped me break the hold Hyrda had on me. I know this is sudden, and you probably don’t-” He looked nervous, more nervous than you had ever seen him. “You don’t have to say it back, but I couldn’t go any longer without-” 

“Bucky-” Your eyes welled. “Stop.” 

He groaned, squeezing his eyes shut. “I knew it was too soon, I knew I should have-”

Standing on your tiptoes, you kissed the corner of his mouth so lightly he could have sworn it never happened. “I love you, too.” 

His eyes shot open, and you basically cackled when he dove down, lips colliding messily against yours. “I’m never letting you go, Doll. I-” 

“As much as I would love to continue this, we have a team of highly trained assassins after us.” 

He nodded, his smile remaining steadfast as he faced the door, reloading his pistol, enemy radio chatter echoing down the corridor. “What would I do without you?” 

Your worries of Bob tattling hadn’t diminished, even after you’d finished your mission report. Poor punching bag, you thought as you slammed your fists repeatedly into it. It had been on the receiving end of many an angry superhero, and now, here you were, fulfilling the prophecy your predecessors had started. 

“Doll?” 

Bucky. 

You hadn’t told him yet. Refusing to face him, you continued your relentless attack. “Barnes.” 

“Everything alright?” 

You nodded. “Fine.” 

“What did the punching bag do to you?” You could picture his face now, an eyebrow raised, a lazy face gracing his handsome face. 

“Nothing. Just wanted to let off some steam.” 

“Yeah?” You nodded, chills running up your spine as he stepped closer, his breath hitting your neck. “I can think of a few other ways to-” 

“Am I interrupting something?” Bucky jumped back, and you stopped, stepping around the bag to grab your water bottle. 

“Not at all.” You shrugged, refusing to meet Bucky’s gaze. “Barnes was just leaving.” 

“I-” He nodded. “Yeah, I was.” 

Yelena waited until the super soldier had left to speak again. “Rough night?”

You shook your head. “Not particularly.” 

“Oh?” She tilted her head, glancing at the still swinging bag. “If that bag could talk-” 

“What do you want, Yelena?” 

“Have I hit a nerve?” 

You sighed, shoulders deflating. “No, no. It’s not you.” Sitting down on the bench, you stared at the ground. “Just tired.” 

“I thought you said you slept fine.” 

“I did.” 

You should have seen it coming, given Bob and Yelena’s relationship. Yet, you remained oblivious until it had been too late. “And how did Bucky sleep?” 

“He slept-” You slapped a hand over your mouth, staring at the widow. “Bob.” 

The blonde nodded, laughing to herself. “It was only a matter of time, you know.” 

“I’m gonna-” 

“Don’t get mad at him.” Yelena scolded you. “You knew he was going to tell me.” 

“I was just leaving Bucky’s room because- because I had a question.” 

“You had a question?” She laughed. “At 6:30 in the morning?” 

You nodded. This was a new low. “I did.”

“For a super spy, you are a horrible liar.” 

“I’m not lying.” You wondered how convincing that was. Judging from the fact that Yelena still looked highly amused, you would say it had not worked. “If that is the story you want to go with…” 

 “It’s not a story.” You insisted. “It’s not a story.”

Yelena nodded, her constant smirk growing larger by the second. “You said that.” 

"You look radiant in this light."

You fought the urge to kiss his cheek, opting for a quick nod as you stirred your pasta. “Control yourself.” 

He tilted his head. “What happened?” 

“What happened?” You shrugged. “I’m not following.” 

“Haven’t looked at me all day.” His tone bordered on a whine. “Did I-” 

You shook your head. “Just tired, Buck.” 

He smiled, still nervously scanning your face. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Then can you look at me?” He leaned closer, whispering. “Please?”

“Fine.” You turned your head, glaring at your boyfriend. “Happy.” 

“Immensely.” He smiled, pushing a stray lock of hair out of your face.

“Guys, do you really have to do this whole lovey dovey routine where we eat?” 

You groaned, whipping your head toward Walker, who was loudly chewing an apple. “What lovey dovey routine?” 

Walker gestured between the two of you, laughing. “It’s cute that you think this was some sort of secret.” 

You looked back at Bucky, who had already been staring at you. “Say something.” 

He nodded slowly. “Walker, if you tell anyone-” 

“Bucky!” You hissed. 

“What?” His arms flailed. “What do you want me to do?” 

“Uh oh.” Walker laughed to himself. “Trouble in paradise?” 

You both glared at the agent, yelling. “Get out!”

He raised his hands in surrender, leisurely leaving the kitchen island. “Relax, jeez.”

“Are you embarrassed of me?” Bucky practically spat out the words, like they were poison on his tongue.

“What?” You gasped, the air racing out of your lungs in record time. “Of course not-” 

“Then why do you care if they know?” He whispered.

“I thought you would-” You frowned. “I’m sorry. I thought since we hadn’t told anyone, you would want it to be a secret.” 

He sighed. “Well I’m sorry you thought that.” 

The air was thick, uncomfortable and tense. “Are we-” You gulped, hand itching to reach out and hold his. “Are we okay?” 

He shrugged. “Nothing to not be okay about.” 

“Bucky…” Your eyes were tearing up. “I’m not embarrassed by you, okay?” 

His eyes were trained on the tile floor. “I know.” 

“I don’t think you do.” You whispered, setting the pasta spoon on the counter as you placed a gentle hand on his cheek. “Please look at me.” 

“It’s fine if you are.” He muttered. “I would be-” 

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence.” You hissed. “James Buchanan Barnes, I am never, and will never, be ashamed to love you.” Your voice was firm, steady as you spoke. “Never say that again.” 

“Doll-” 

“James.” You reached up, kissing his cheek. “I don’t care if they know, I promise.” 

“They’re going to be relentless once they find out.” Bucky sighed. “Maybe we shouldn’t tell them.”

You laughed. “I’m sure they’ll know by dinner time.” 

“Why would they know by dinner time?” 

You winced, leaning your head on his chest. “I forgot to tell you.” 

“Forgot to tell me?” He sounded thoroughly confused. “What happened?” 

“Bob.” You whispered. “Bob happened.” 

Dinner was odd, to say the least. Bob was staring at his plate, Yelena was staring at Bob, and Walker decided to watch all of you like it was his own personal reality show.

Alexei went on and on about his glory days with Captain America (which never existed) while you waited for the (figurative) bomb to drop. 

Bucky just ate his steak and alfredo in peace, like the unbothered person he was. 

Ava had been the first to address the tension, surprisingly enough. “Something happened.” 

“Huh?” You tried your best to be nonchalant.

“Something happened.” She repeated, looking around the table, settling her gaze on Bob. “What do you know?” 

“What?” Bob coughed, momentarily choking on his water. “Why would I know anything-” 

Ava laughed. “You haven’t looked at anyone but Yelena for an hour, Bob.”

You sighed, looking over at Bucky. “We should just tell them.” 

“Are you sure?” He reached out, placing a hand on your thigh. “We don’t have to-” 

“No.” You smiled, placing your hand over his. “I want to.” 

“Is this about the two of you dating?” Ava’s voice cut through the chaos, effectively silencing the team. 

“What?” Alexei yelled. “Dating?” 

“Yes.” You nodded, cheeks growing hotter by the second. “Yes, we’re dating.” 

“For how long?” Alexei sounded upset. “How long have I been kept in the dark?” 

You winced, looking over at Bucky. “Six months.” 

“Six months?” 

Walker squeezed his eyes shut. “Alexei, please. It’s not scream worth news.”

“I would say so!” The super soldier scoffed. “True love, it is rare. And these two-” His eyes watered. “Like a butterfly, you have-” 

“Dad.” Yelena interrupted. “Please.” 

You smiled gratefully at Yelena before addressing Ava. “How long did you know?” 

“Since the beginning.” She shrugged. “I was phasing through walls, and I accidentally-” 

Your eyes grew wide, and Bucky coughed. “That’s enough.” 

Bob smiled, leaning back in his chair. “I’m just glad I kept it a secret.” 

You glared. “Yes, Bob. Great job not telling anyone.” 

“Anyone except ‘Lena.” He nodded. “I tell her everything.” 

“We know, Bob.” Bucky sighed, squeezing your hand. “We know.” 

taglist: @milesdrift

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