#interruption: we need a word that's like favorite but for things that are bad

[asinglesock]

needed to leave money in a coworker's tip cup without her knowing it was from me and the best strategy I could come up with on the spot was to tell another coworker out loud that I was putting money in her tip cup (obviously I did put some in her cup too, that'd be terrible to lie about!) and she gave me a hug that I really did not feel I deserved but actually I think she took that as me being supportive when she was having a difficult day so net positive even though I lowkey was not thinking that much because I was overthinking an unrelated situation

[mcrdvcks]

— sex concept

summary: You and Matt have wanted to take things to the next level, but every time you try to get intimate, something, or someone, interrupts.

word count: 4.1k+

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader

notes: at this point, i think i need to make a series masterlist for these two, lol. here's the third installment - and here are the first two: goodnight n go and love language

also, sex concept is one of my favorite songs, and it's by sofia isella. i recommend you go check her out!

warnings/tags: after endgame but date is not specified, best friends to lovers, reader works at stark industries, making out, peter parker, mention of other marvel characters, matt's a little shit, smut, oral (f!receiving), brief handjob, unprotected piv, creampie

matt murdock masterlist

It wasn’t like you and Matt hadn’t been alone since you started dating. But somehow, every single attempt at finally taking things further kept getting inconveniently interrupted.

Like now, for instance.

Matt’s lips skimmed along your neck, his fingers tracing patterns along your waist. You sighed softly, tangling your fingers in his hair.

"Matty," you whispered.

He hummed against your skin, nudging your jaw with his nose. "Yeah?"

"Can we—"

Your sentence was abruptly cut short by the shrill ringing of your phone.

Matt paused, a quiet groan muffled against your collarbone. "Ignore it."

You hesitated. "But what if—"

"It’s probably nothing," he murmured, lips brushing your pulse. "Leave it."

It kept ringing. You sighed, gently pushing at his shoulders. "It’ll only take a second. Just let me silence it."

Matt exhaled sharply, moving back slightly as you reached over and grabbed your phone off the bedside table. Glancing at the screen, you rolled your eyes.

"Work," you muttered, annoyed. You answered quickly. "This better be an emergency."

"Y/N," Levi’s voice crackled through the line, anxious. "I’m so sorry—"

"What happened?"

"Uh... you know how we were testing the new phase-array sensors tonight?"

"Levi."

"Well, it shorted. Everything’s offline. And the readings are… weird."

You groaned softly, pressing your fingers to your forehead. "I’ll be there in half an hour." You hung up, sighing again as you tossed your phone onto the bed.

Matt shifted beside you. "You’re leaving?"

"I’m sorry," you muttered. "It’s—"

"Work," Matt finished gently. He tilted his head, clearly amused. "You know, I think Stark Industries has a personal vendetta against us."

You huffed, tugging your shirt back into place. "I’ll make it up to you. I promise."

Matt leaned forward, brushing his lips against yours quickly. "You better."

You rolled your eyes, reluctantly climbing off the bed. "Don't move. I'll be back as soon as possible."

Matt fell back onto the pillows with a sigh, his smirk unmistakable. "I'll hold you to that, angel."

---

A few days later, Matt had just managed to maneuver you against the kitchen counter, lips claiming yours fiercely. Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer.

Then, abruptly, a loud knock at his apartment door broke the silence. Matt froze, his forehead dropping onto your shoulder with a frustrated exhale.

"You've got to be kidding me," you muttered.

"Ignore it," he whispered, kissing your neck gently.

The knocking grew louder.

"Murdock!" Foggy's muffled voice echoed through the wood. "Come on, man, open up! I know you're home!"

Matt sighed heavily, pulling away. "He'll keep going until I answer."

You slumped against the counter dramatically. "I swear he has a sixth sense."

Matt smiled apologetically. "This'll be quick."

You folded your arms, watching as Matt made his way to the door, cracking it open just enough to speak. "Foggy. Bad timing."

"Yeah, sorry, I lost the deposition file," Foggy admitted sheepishly. "I need your copy."

Matt sighed, turning his head toward you slightly. "Give me a minute."

You threw your hands up, shooting him a pointed glare. Matt smiled, mouthing sorry before slipping out the door.

---

It had almost become a joke at this point. Every single time the two of you finally got a moment alone, something managed to interrupt.

You and Karen were at Josie’s, waiting for Matt and Foggy to arrive.

“Wanna tell me why you seem so pent up?” Karen asked, taking a drink of her beer.

You sighed, swirling your drink in the glass. "Because apparently, the universe hates me."

Karen raised a brow, amused. "That's dramatic, even for you."

"No, I'm serious," you insisted, leaning closer. "Every single time Matt and I are about to—" You paused, realizing you'd almost said too much. "Spend any sort of actual alone time together, something always interrupts."

Karen smirked knowingly, taking another sip. "Oh. That kind of pent up."

You glared at her. "Shut up."

She laughed lightly, shaking her head. "Sorry, it's just funny. You two spend practically all your time together. I'm surprised you even have that problem."

"Yeah, well, apparently work, Foggy, and fate itself have formed an alliance against us," you muttered bitterly.

"Have you tried just… telling people not to bother you?" Karen teased.

You scoffed. "We tried that. Believe me, it doesn't work."

Karen hummed sympathetically. "Well, if it's any consolation, I promise to never intentionally interrupt your... alone time."

"Thanks," you replied dryly, "that’s very generous."

She grinned. "Hey, I do what I can."

Just then, the bar door swung open, and Foggy walked in, Matt close behind him. You caught Matt’s slight smile as he tilted his head toward you, making his way through the crowd.

Karen nudged you playfully. "Better luck tonight?"

You rolled your eyes but couldn't stop a small smile. "I doubt it, but thanks for the optimism."

Matt stepped up beside you, his hand automatically finding your waist. "Hey, sweetheart," he murmured, leaning down and pressing a quick kiss to your temple. "Sorry we're late."

You sighed dramatically. "Don't worry about it. At this point, I'm used to it."

Matt chuckled softly, squeezing your side. "Tonight'll be different. Promise."

Karen snorted into her drink. "Good luck with that."

You glared at her again, and she raised her hands innocently.

Matt's brow furrowed, sensing the tension. "Did I miss something?"

"Nothing at all," Karen said, grinning widely. "Y/N was just filling me in on your streak of bad luck."

Matt’s lips quirked upward. "Oh. That."

Foggy looked between the three of you, utterly lost. "Am I missing something here?"

You shook your head, patting Foggy on the shoulder. "Trust me, Fog. You're better off not knowing."

---

Matt’s apartment was quiet when you stepped inside, locking the door behind you. The blinds were drawn shut, the place cloaked in comfortable darkness. You dropped your keys onto the entry table, taking off your jacket and hanging it beside Matt’s familiar black coat.

"Matty?" you called softly, stepping further into the apartment.

"Bedroom," came his muffled reply.

You kicked off your shoes, padding down the hall until you reached his room. Matt was sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling on a clean shirt. He looked relaxed, freshly showered, hair still damp and slightly messy. He tilted his head in your direction, lips curving into a gentle smile.

"Hey," he said softly.

You smiled, stepping toward him. "Hi."

Matt reached for you, fingers easily catching your wrist and tugging you closer, his hands settling comfortably at your hips. "How was work?"

You sighed, brushing your fingers through his damp hair. "The usual Stark chaos. Nothing new."

His lips twitched. "So no interruptions planned tonight?"

You laughed quietly, your fingers trailing down the side of his face. "Not that I know of. Unless Foggy’s about to burst through the door."

Matt smiled, tilting his head slightly into your palm. "Not tonight. He and Karen have dinner plans."

"Thank God," you muttered.

Matt chuckled softly, pulling you gently closer so you were standing between his legs. His thumbs brushed lightly against your sides. "You hungry?"

You shook your head slightly, leaning down until your forehead rested against his. "Not really."

"Good," Matt whispered, voice low and warm. "Me either."

You smiled softly, tracing your fingertips over the curve of his jaw. His hands slid beneath your shirt, settling warmly against your lower back. You inhaled slowly, eyes fluttering shut as he guided your lips down to his own.

The kiss was gentle at first, soft and unhurried. Matt’s lips brushed yours slowly, carefully, as if savoring every moment. Your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, pressing closer.

Matt sighed against your lips, deepening the kiss. His hands tightened slightly on your waist, guiding you down until you settled comfortably across his lap. Your arms looped around his shoulders, your bodies pressed close enough that you could feel the steady beat of his heart.

"Matt," you whispered breathlessly against his lips, smiling faintly. "If my phone rings, I swear—"

Matt’s quiet laughter cut you off, his mouth skimming along your jaw. "I’ll throw it out the window myself."

You huffed softly, tilting your head back to give him better access. "Promises, promises, Murdock."

Matt smirked against your skin, his voice low and teasing. "Careful, sweetheart. I might hold you to that."

You laughed quietly, tangling your fingers in his hair again and pulling him back to your lips. For the first time in weeks, there were no interruptions—just you, Matt, and the steady, comforting quiet of his apartment.

But, of course, it could never be that easy.

A knock rattled on a window in the living room.

Matt froze, forehead dropping heavily against your shoulder. "You've got to be kidding me."

You groaned, your fingers tangling into his hair. "I swear, this is a cosmic joke at this point."

The knocking grew louder, quicker, more urgent. Matt sighed, lifting his head reluctantly. "Who even—"

A muffled voice called from outside, high-pitched and apologetic. "Uh... Mister Murdock? It’s—it's me, Peter. Spider-Man? Sorry, I just—I kinda need help."

You raised a brow. "Spider-Man knocks now?"

Matt sighed deeply. "Apparently."

You stood up from Matt’s lap, fixing your shirt as Matt slowly stood beside you, annoyance radiating off him.

Peter tapped again, more sheepishly this time. "Hello? Uh—Matt?"

"Coming," Matt called, moving toward the window with a heavy sigh.

You followed behind, crossing your arms as Matt slid the window open. Peter awkwardly crawled inside, tugging off his mask with a nervous grimace.

"Hey, Mr. Murdock," he mumbled, turning to you. "Hey, Y/N. Sorry if this is a bad time, but—"

"Is the city actively on fire?" Matt cut in, voice flat.

Peter hesitated. "Well, no, but—"

"Is anyone dying?" Matt continued.

Peter shifted nervously. "No, but I—"

Matt folded his arms, visibly unimpressed. "Is Stark Tower currently collapsing into a giant sinkhole?"

Peter blinked. "What? No."

Matt nodded slowly. "Then this probably could’ve waited."

Peter flushed, rubbing his neck sheepishly. "Oh. Yeah, I guess it could’ve. But I, uh... I kinda panicked.”

You sighed, stepping toward Peter. "What happened, Pete?"

Peter winced, holding up his web-shooter. "It, um... jammed. And I can’t get it off."

Matt tilted his head, incredulous. "You came to me—at my apartment—at night—because your web-shooter jammed?"

Peter swallowed nervously. "I tried everyone else, Mr. Murdock. Literally everyone else."

You raised an eyebrow, skeptical. "Everyone?"

"Doctor Strange yelled at me for disturbing his 'cosmic meditation,' Happy sent me straight to voicemail, Mr. Wilson laughed for a full two minutes before hanging up, and Pepper’s voicemail said she’s out of town." Peter said quickly. "You two were my last option."

You glanced at Matt, suppressing a smile at his annoyed expression. "Alright, fine," you sighed. "Let me see it."

Peter held his arm out gratefully, relaxing as you started examining the device. Matt leaned against the wall, crossing his arms. "You realize I’m blind, right?"

Peter flushed deeper. "Well, yeah, but you're like... you're Daredevil."

Matt’s jaw ticked slightly. "And?"

"And," Peter swallowed, voice small, "and I’m really, really sorry for interrupting your night. Again."

Matt sighed heavily, shaking his head as you fiddled with the shooter.

"Got it," you finally announced, popping the jammed cartridge free and handing it back to him. "All fixed."

Peter sighed dramatically. "Thank you so much. Really, I—"

"Pete," Matt interrupted gently. "Go home."

Peter nodded quickly, already halfway back out the window. "Yeah. Right. Okay. Goodnight Mr. Murdock, Y/N."

He vanished just as fast as he’d appeared, leaving silence behind him.

Matt tilted his head back toward you, annoyance fading into amusement. "How much do you think it'd cost to soundproof these windows?"

You smirked, stepping closer to him again. "Worth every penny, honestly."

Matt smiled, tugging you back toward him, fingertips brushing your waist. "Where were we?"

You grimaced. “Actually… Peter’s webshooter’s reminded me of—”

“—Ramen.” Matt cut in.

Your eyebrows raised, “how’d you know?”

Matt chuckled softly, his fingertips brushing your hip gently. "Because anytime Peter shows up, it means your brain starts spinning with work and you always end up craving ramen afterward."

You huffed, poking his chest lightly. "You make me sound predictable."

He tilted his head, amused. "Am I wrong?"

"No," you muttered begrudgingly. "But you don't have to sound so smug about it."

Matt's lips twitched into a smirk. "Can't help it."

You sighed, stepping back slightly. "Come on, let's go get ramen before they close."

"Alright," Matt conceded, grabbing his coat. "But you're buying, since it's your fault."

"My fault?" you repeated incredulously as you slipped on your shoes.

"Your spider-friend, your problem," Matt teased lightly, holding the door open for you.

You rolled your eyes fondly. "He's everyone's spider-friend, Matty."

"Well, everyone doesn't get their evening interrupted like we do."

You linked your arm through his as you stepped outside. "Sounds like someone's still bitter."

Matt hummed softly. "Just hungry."

"Whatever you say, devil boy," you said with a smirk.

He laughed quietly, squeezing your arm lightly. "Lead the way, sweetheart."

---

It had taken another two weeks, three false alarms, and one very apologetic Spider-Man before you and Matt finally managed to find yourselves completely alone, no distractions in sight.

"Door?" Matt asked, murmuring against your lips, his voice husky and quiet.

"Locked," you whispered back.

"Phone?"

"On silent."

Matt smiled against your mouth. "Windows?"

You sighed, pulling back slightly. "Closed. Matt, relax. Everything’s handled."

He chuckled softly, his hands finding your waist as he pulled you back in. "Just making sure."

You smiled, sliding your arms around his neck and playing with the soft hair at his nape. "At this point, I think we've earned tonight."

Matt hummed quietly, brushing his lips gently along your jaw. "I’m not letting anyone interrupt us tonight, sweetheart."

Your breath hitched slightly, your fingers tightening gently in his hair. "Good. Because I might actually murder whoever tries."

He laughed softly, nudging your nose lightly with his own. "Noted."

You tugged gently at his shirt, pulling him backwards until the backs of your knees hit the bed. You sat down slowly, smiling as Matt followed you without hesitation, settling himself carefully above you.

"You’re sure no spider-kid’s gonna come tapping at the window tonight?" you teased softly, brushing your fingers along his jaw.

He tilted his head slightly, smiling down at you. "I might actually lose my patience with him if he does."

You laughed quietly, hooking your legs around his hips and tugging him closer. "So fierce, devil boy."

Matt leaned down, lips brushing your ear. "Only for you."

Warmth pooled in your stomach at the softness in his voice, your heart thudding in your chest as you pulled him into a slow, deep kiss.

His lips moved carefully, tenderly, hands slipping beneath your shirt to rest against your bare skin, tracing gentle circles along your waist. You sighed softly against his lips, your fingertips trailing down his chest to find the hem of his shirt.

Matt pulled back slightly, just enough to let you pull his shirt off over his head, tossing it aside. His lips found yours again immediately, kissing you with renewed urgency, his skin warm under your hands.

"Still good?" he murmured against your mouth.

You nodded, breath catching. "Better than."

His hands slid slowly up your sides, under your shirt, fingertips grazing bare skin until he reached the hem and pulled it up and off you. The second it hit the floor, he was kissing you again, deeper this time. Tongue slow and sure, like he had all the time in the world.

Your fingers threaded into his hair, tugging gently. He groaned into your mouth, then pulled back just enough to speak.

"Lie back for me, angel."

You obeyed without hesitation, stretching across the bed, propped up slightly on your elbows as Matt’s hands found your thighs. He knelt between them, head tilted, his expression unreadable but focused. You could feel the weight of his attention even without his eyes.

"You're beautiful," he murmured. "I can feel every little shift in your breathing, hear your heartbeat changing every time I touch you. You're driving me insane."

Your breath caught as his palms slid up your thighs, thumbs pressing gently into the muscle. He leaned in slowly, trailing soft kisses along the inside of your knee, up the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.

You gasped quietly when he nuzzled higher, the stubble on his jaw catching against your skin. One of his hands gripped your thigh, the other pressing a warm palm flat against your stomach, grounding.

"You want this?" he asked softly, mouth brushing right against the waistband of your underwear.

"Yes," you breathed, eyes fluttering. "Matty, please."

That was all it took. He hooked his fingers in the waistband, dragging the fabric down your legs with excruciating slowness, kissing each new inch of skin he exposed. Once they were gone, he settled between your legs like he belonged there.

You squirmed, breathless already. Matt’s hands eased your thighs wider, lips brushing the softest kisses down the crease of your hip. Then lower.

His tongue flicked out, teasing, and you gasped, head dropping back against the pillow.

"Fuck," you whispered.

Matt exhaled a soft laugh, the sound warm against your skin. "That good already, sweetheart?"

Then he buried his mouth between your thighs. No warning, no hesitation. Just heat and tongue and pressure that had your back arching off the bed.

"Ah—Matty," you choked out, hands scrambling for his hair, needing something to hold onto as his tongue licked a slow, devastating stripe up your center.

He groaned like he tasted the sound you made, hands anchoring you, thumbs rubbing slow circles into your thighs as he worked.

You were already dripping for him, and he didn’t let up, tongue pressing and curling in ways that made your entire body tremble. He knew exactly how to read you—the way your hips twitched, the way your moans caught, the way your breath stuttered when he sucked just right.

Your thighs started to shake.

"Matty—oh god—please don’t stop," you gasped, one hand flying to muffle your mouth, the other tangled in his messy hair.

He didn't stop.

He doubled down.

His mouth moved faster, tongue fucking into you before flattening and dragging slow, greedy circles over your clit, sucking just hard enough to make you cry out.

"F-fuck, I'm gonna—" Your whole body tensed, thighs clamping, and Matt growled against you, holding you open, not letting you go anywhere.

"Let go," he murmured against your soaked skin. "Come on, angel. Come for me."

You shattered.

It hit hard, sharp and overwhelming, your hips jerking as the orgasm ripped through you. You cried out, hands fisting in the sheets, breath breaking as your body shook.

Matt held you through every second of it, mouth softening but never leaving you, licking you through the aftershocks with slow, lazy strokes until you finally whimpered, pushing weakly at his head.

He kissed your inner thigh one last time before crawling back up, settling his weight gently over you, mouth slick and smile smug.

"Hi," he murmured.

You huffed a laugh, dazed and breathless. "You’re such a menace."

"You love it," he said, kissing your cheek, your jaw, the tip of your nose.

"Maybe," you whispered, reaching up to cup his face. "Come here."

He kissed you slowly, deeply, letting you taste yourself on his lips. His body pressed heavy and warm against yours, one hand slipping down to cradle your thigh, the other bracing next to your head.

You wrapped your legs around him, tugging him closer.

"Your turn, devil boy."

Matt's breath caught. His body stilled above yours, tension rolling through his shoulders like a current. He tilted his head slightly, and you could feel him—feel the way he honed in on every shift of your breath, the thump of your pulse, the way your thighs clenched around his hips.

"Say it again," he murmured.

You smirked, dragging your nails lightly down his spine. "Your turn."

Matt groaned softly, low and wrecked, like the words hit somewhere primal. One of his hands cupped your cheek, thumb brushing your lower lip as he leaned in, voice rough. "Tell me if anything's too much."

"Matty," you whispered, hips rolling up against the bulge still trapped in his pants, "I want all of it."

His mouth crashed back onto yours—hot, open, desperate. You tasted yourself on his lips, still slick and wet from where he’d had his mouth on you, and it made something in your gut twist up tight.

His hands were everywhere—your ribs, your thighs, your throat. Always so fucking careful, even when he was losing control. Even now, his fingers trembled where they gripped your hip.

"Take 'em off," you whispered against his mouth, tugging at the waistband of his pants.

He didn’t need to be told twice. He sat back on his knees, hands fumbling at his belt. You watched him—bare chest rising with each shaky breath, flushed, lips red from kissing you senseless, hair sticking up like you’d dragged your fingers through it one too many times. The second he shoved his pants low, you saw the outline of him, thick and hard, the head already leaking.

You bit your lip. "God, Matty."

He huffed a breathless laugh, cocky but a little shaky. "You looking at me like that isn’t helping."

"I like what I see."

Matt didn’t answer—just leaned in again, reaching down to wrap a hand around himself. He stroked slow, base to tip, teasing himself while he hovered over you, breath hot against your cheek.

You reached down, fingertips grazing his wrist. "Let me."

He let you take over, groaning softly when your hand wrapped around him. You stroked him slowly, dragging your thumb over the head, spreading the precum, watching the way his jaw flexed.

"You feel so fucking good," you whispered.

Matt's voice was strangled. "You keep doing that and this is gonna be over before it starts."

You laughed softly, but let go, guiding him instead—his hips nudging between your legs, cock heavy and hot, head sliding wet over your slit. He sucked in a sharp breath.

"You sure?"

"Yes," you whispered, fingers curling in his hair. "Matty, please."

He pushed in slow. The stretch was deep, thick, dragging your walls open inch by inch until he bottomed out with a shaky groan.

"F-fuck," he whispered against your throat. "You feel... Jesus."

You were gasping, clinging to his shoulders, your body trying to adjust around him. It wasn’t your first time. Wasn’t his either. But it was your first time together. And it was already better than anything you'd felt before.

Matt didn’t move right away. He just held there, forehead pressed to your shoulder, one hand braced by your head and the other gripping your thigh like it grounded him.

"Matty," you whispered. "Move. Please."

He did.

A slow pull, then a push, dragging back in with a rhythm that felt like it was made just for you. He moaned into your neck, his voice thick with want. "So fucking tight—"

Your nails bit into his skin as he picked up pace, shallow thrusts turning deeper, faster. The sound of skin on skin filled the room, slick and wet and obscene. You couldn't stop the noises leaving your mouth, couldn't quiet the little cries every time he hit that spot inside you that made your legs tremble.

"You’re perfect," he panted. "Every sound you make—fuck, I can feel them. Hear 'em in your throat, in your chest—"

"Matt—"

"I’ve wanted this," he groaned, fucking into you harder now, the bed creaking beneath both of you. "You. For years. Always thought about you. Touching you. Making you come on my cock."

Your breath stuttered. "Holy fuck, Matty—"

"Come for me," he growled, his thumb finding your clit and circling, firm and fast. "Right now. Wanna feel you squeeze me. Wanna hear how you sound when you fall apart."

You didn’t stand a chance. Your orgasm hit hard, sudden, crashing through you with a strangled cry, your legs tightening around his waist.

Matt cursed, fucking you through it, hips stuttering as he groaned, low and wrecked. "Shit—gonna come—fuck—"

He slammed in deep and came with a gasp, cock pulsing inside you, heat spilling as his whole body trembled above you. He collapsed onto his forearms, forehead resting against yours, both of you breathing like you’d run a marathon.

"Jesus," you whispered, still shaking.

Matt laughed, soft and breathless. "Yeah. That about covers it."

You grinned, brushing sweaty hair from his forehead. "Worth the wait."

His lips found yours again, soft now, lingering.

"Every second."

And for once, nothing interrupted.

if you have any requests with these two, don't be afraid to send in an ask!!

[dynaboomboom]

fwb! katsuki visiting your dorm after class only to find you crying your ass out.

PURE FLUFF

you were having a really bad day and you really needed a distraction from all the shitty things that happened. so, of course, you texted katsuki in hopes that he would take your mind off of things.

your thoughts were interrupted as you heard a knock on the door, indicating that katsuki has arrived.

you never understood why he always knocks when you already gave him the keys to your dorm. the knock was followed by the sound of the locks turning. low and behold, katsuki stood by the door in his black tank top, biceps and chest already distracting you.

“hey” katsuki greeted but froze when he saw you. He thought that tonight would be just like any other hook up but when he saw your puffy eyes and tear stained cheeks, he knew something was up.

“alright, lets get to it.” you said in a monotone voice as you held the hem of your shirt, ready to take it off in one sweep motion.

“stop” katsuki said calmly as he made his way closer to you. he grabbed your wrist as he analyzed your face.

“what’s up? who did this to you?” although you were used to his seriousness, his tone was serious in a different way. almost as if he was concerned about you.

this only made you even more emotional and tears started rolling down your face again. you weren’t able to get any words out of your mouth, only a few sniffs as you tried holding back.

today, you found out that you failed one of your major classes which causes you to be delayed for another year.

you also found out that your so called friends have actually been talking shit behind your back, spreading rumors that you only pass your other classes because you sleep with your professors.

on top of that, your received a call from your mom the moment you step foot into your dorm informing you that your dog has passed away.

you felt like it should be illegal to have these many bad things happen to you in one day.

at this point, you couldn’t help but full on cry in front of katsuki. you expected him to to be disgusted and cuss you off for crying in front of him for being so weak.

instead, katsuki gave you a hug as he rubbed your back. you could smell his cologne and feel his warmth which was unexpectedly comforting.

“hey, i have an idea.” he said calmly as he pulled away from the hug to look you in the eyes. his usually aggressive red gaze suddenly felt reassuring and gentle.

“how about, we order in some chicken wings and watch a movie.” he suggested with a soft smile.

“maybe tangled or white chicks?” he continued. you only gave him a nod, too exhausted to speak.

it surprised you how much he knows about you. although many of your “friends” know how much you love chicken wings. only a few know about your favorite comforting movies.

he set up the movie on the tv before grabbing some blankets in your room. when he came back to the couch, he handed you a glass of water.

“drink. you’ll get dehydrated from all the crying.”

once everything was all set up and the chicken arrived. katsuki sat beside you resting his arm on the back rest if the couch. he looked at you and raised his eyebrow in confusion.

“what?”

with his other hand, he gestured you to come closer. his expression basically speaking “you should know this already”

you scooched closer which only made katsuki sigh in frustration.

“come here you dumbbass” he said as he grabbed your waist, pulling you to lay on his chest.

“if you wanted to cuddle, you could’ve just said so” you said as you tilted your head back to look at him.

“oh so now your talking.”

you let out a small laugh as you brought your attention back to the screen. as the movie continued, you felt the exhaustion get to you.

katsuki felt your body relax indicating that you’ve fallen asleep. he gave your forehead a quick kiss before tucking a few strands of stray hair behind your ear.

“god your special to me” he whispered, careful not to wake you up. you heard him. despite not using the word, you knew what he meant.

fwb who kiss each other on the forehead huh 🤨 anw, hope u guys like this one. btw, requests are open!! u guys can ask for other mha characters too 🤗

[kingkaisen]

♡ — SUMMARY; your ex-husband, Nanami, asks you to meet him at a local diner.

♡ — CONTENT; heavy angst, toxic relationship, mentions of death, illness, loss of child, slight gojo x reader.

“I didn’t think you would show up.”

KENTO NANAMI took a tentative sip of his black coffee. Though he did not show it, his heart was pounding rapidly from the very moment he glanced out of the window and saw your car enter the parking lot of the old-fashioned diner.

“I didn’t think I’d show up either, to be honest.” You mumbled unhappily. You sat down in the booth across from your ex-husband. “Why am I here?”

Your face was as blank as an untouched canvas. Sitting his white mug of coffee down, Kento folded his hands, resting them on the table.

“You know what today is, don’t you?” He asked. As soon as his question fell from between his lips, he hated himself for the way he approached such a sensitive topic.

“Of course I do, and I’d rather spend it alone,” you snapped, speaking in a harsh tone slightly above a whisper. “I don’t wanna talk about this with you.”

“Well,” Kento took a deep breath. “To the rest of the world, today’s a regular day. But to us, it’s . . . his birthday. We’re the only two people grieving him today, so I thought-”

“Thought we’d grieve together? I’ve been grieving alone for four years now. Today’s no different. I needed your help then and you didn’t give it, but I don’t need you now.” Suddenly, you started to scoot out of the booth. “You know what? This was a bad idea, I’m just gonna leave-”

“No, no, wait. Don’t leave yet,” Kento’s words halted your movements, but you glared at him as he continued to speak. “It’s me who needs help. I know you don’t need me anymore, but I still need you.”

“Still?” You settled back down into your seat. “The word still implies that you needed me before now.”

“I’ve always needed you,” Kento said softly.

“You sure didn’t act like it.”

“That doesn’t make it any less true.” Taking yet another deep breath, Kento ran his large hand through a few strands of his blonde hair. “I just wanted to say that I’m sorry for everything. I was an awful husband. Distant father. I’d do anything to make things right.”

His words were met with silence. Your eyes were scanning him — perhaps for some sign of dishonesty — drifting from his serious expression, white collared shirt, and even down to the laminated menu resting on the table in front of him.

“You’re a couple years too late,” your voice was soft. Filled with regret. “I’m remarried, and our boy is gone.”

Those were two facts Kento knew well. Even so, hearing them sliced through his heart, creating a horrific ache painful enough for him to wonder if he would truly die from heartbreak, here and now.

“Is Satoru treating you well?” He asked with as much composure as he could muster.

“We, um,” you hesitated. “I’m pregnant now, actually.”

Kento looked into your eyes. His eyebrows raised slightly in surprise, but his eyes were glassy.

“Oh. I’m happy for-”

“Save your breath. Don’t lie to me,” you interrupted.

“But I am happy for you.”

This time, it was your turn to raise your eyebrows in surprise, but your eyes flickered away from him and down at the salt and pepper shakers. “Really? You’re not upset?”

“I am. I’m heartbroken. Two things can be true at once,” Kento said. “You’ve moved on, and I understand that, believe me. I only wish I was the one to heal what I broke. But, as you said, I’m too late. I’m out of time now.”

A young brunette approached with a kind smile and a notepad in hand. She jotted down your orders. Though it was a little ways past eight p.m., you ordered buttermilk pancakes, while Kento opted to respect the time of day and ordered a sandwich with tater tots for his evening meal — not his favorite, but he wanted to order the first thing that came to mind in hopes of sending the waitress away as quickly as possible.

Her departure sparked a bit of small talk between you and Kento, and it lasted until she returned a while later with steaming plates of food. Your pleasant chatter was rather mundane, but even so, you said, “Seems like you’ve changed. I hope it’s genuine.”

Oh, how he wanted to hear those words more than anything. The left corner of his mouth twitched with the urge to smile, though not noticeably.

“It is. I quit my job,” Kento said.

“Wow, that’s . . .” For a brief second, you smiled, but it vanished as quickly as it had appeared. “That’s great to hear, but at the same time, I wanna slap you right now. Why did our lives have to fall apart for you to finally wake up? Why weren’t the hundreds of arguments we had enough?”

Happy and pissed. Two things can be true at once.

“Our lives would have fallen apart anyway,” Kento said calmly. “Whether I had quit my job sooner rather than later would not have changed what happened to Kenji.”

“No, but when he suddenly took a turn for the worse, I would have had my husband there to hold my hand, and he would’ve been able to see his father one last time.” Pain flashed across your face. There was a slight tremble to your voice. You were trying your hardest to control your anger among the quiet diner chatter from nearby groups and family. “He was scared. He was asking for you. And where the hell were you? Handling stocks while our son was dying.”

“They told us we had time-”

“It was fucking cancer, Kento! Any day could have been his last, and you knew that, and you didn’t care.”

A few heads turned in your direction, but with tears threatening to stream down your cheeks, with the memories of your dying boy replaying in your mind endlessly, drawing attention was the last thing you were concerned with.

“Of course I knew and cared, that was why I worked so hard. Someone had to pay for all of the stays in the most advanced hospitals, the finest treatments known to man, the rarest medication administered by the best team of doctors, surgery performed by some of the best surgeons we could find . . . Kenji had all the help money could buy and only because I worked every second of my life.” A tear fell from Kento’s eyes. He wiped it away quickly.

“And in the end, it was pointless, wasn’t it?” You said quietly. “Wasn’t it? Because he died anyway, and you weren’t there to say goodbye.”

“I know what you’re doing.” Kento’s voice had an unfamiliar, dark tone. “You feel guilty as well. About what exactly, I don’t know, but you’re taking the anger you feel towards yourself and letting it out on me.”

“You’re wrong, you jackass. Do you seriously think you’re blameless in all of this or something?” You glared at him with pure hatred. “I was wrong. You haven’t changed one bit.”

The way you looked at him now, as if he was worthless, as if he was a bug that deserved to be squashed; it snapped his heart into pieces, if it was capable of being broken further at this point.

However, it didn’t stop him from continuing on with his own form of cruelty.

“You can’t bring yourself to say his name. You haven’t said it. Not once.” Kento was as calm as ever. Or, at least, he was pretending to be. “You try to avoid talking about him. You try to pretend he didn’t exist by marrying a man I know you don’t care for, all so you can have another child to replace him-”

“Go to hell.”

“I, on the other hand,” Kento continued to speak despite your bitter interruption as if you hadn’t said anything at all. “I spend my time keeping his memory alive. All of my money goes towards research. Towards organizations dedicated to finding a cure so no parent has to go through what we went through. I wasn’t there for Kenji when he died and I will never forgive myself for it, but you aren’t here for him now, in the present.”

“Here for what? A pile of bones in a graveyard?” You glared.

“A graveyard you never visit, so I’ve heard.”

That was it. Those were the words that finally made your brewing tears fall. They splattered against your half-eaten plate of pancakes.

A long enough period of silence passed, long enough for nosy fellow diners to return to their own conversations.

Kento’s eyes softened at the sight of your crying face. “I’m sorry. Sweetheart, I’m sorry-”

“Don’t call me that. You’ve lost that right a long time ago.” You sniffled. “I can’t believe you’d accuse me of trying to erase the memory of our son from my life.”

Kento's brows were pinched as he frowned. “And I can’t believe you’d accuse me of not caring about him. It hurts, doesn’t it? The accusations we keep throwing at each other?”

Your face was unreadable. He knew you well, better than you knew yourself as fate would have it, but even so, he couldn’t tell what you were thinking right now.

Outside, it started to rain. For a moment, you eyed the raindrops coating the street. Neither you nor Kento said anything for quite some time, your food becoming cold, and together, you watched the rainfall.

“I’m sorry.” You said after a while. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said what I said. I’m just still so pissed off about it. I know you’ve suffered enough, and I know you only worked so hard to save him, but . . . you didn’t see him use the last of strength trying to call for you. It haunts me every day. I can’t live with that amount of pain, Kento, so I’m just trying to move on and keep on living, not erase his memory.”

“I know, I know. I wish I never said that.” Kento wanted to reach out and touch your hand, but the sight of the wedding ring sitting on your finger stopped him. “I wish I never did a lot of things in general.”

“You need to do what I just said.” You faced him, wiping away a few stray tears. “Try to move on and keep on living. Forgive yourself.”

“Can you ever forgive me?” Kento asked softly.

“I can.” You gave a sad smile. “Can you ever forgive me?”

“I already do.”

He matched your sad smile with one of his own.

“God, we’re a fucking mess. I can’t believe I caused a scene.” You buried your face in your hands for only a moment, then looked up at the sound of Kento’s voice.

“I would lie and tell you they won’t ever see either one of us again, but I’ve been coming to this diner for years, and I don’t plan on stopping,” he said.

“Yeah, yeah I know. We went on our first date here, remember? We were dumb teenagers back then.” It was a bittersweet memory, one you regretted bringing up immediately.

Never before had your smile been so bright. If only you could go back to that simpler time.

If only.

“But we were in love with each other back then, weren’t we?” Kento asked. His own question nearly pushed him to his limit.

“Yeah, we were.” You smiled, brighter this time, and continued, “You’ll always have a special place in my heart — you know that, right?”

“I do.” Kento paused. “And, I’m sorry, but you’ll always be my sweetheart.”

“Good,” you mumbled, though your words were guilt-ridden. Avoiding Kento’s gaze, you started to fiddle with your wedding ring. “It’s getting late. I should . . . I should probably go.”

He didn’t want you to leave, but you weren’t his anymore. How he felt didn’t matter.

“Thank you for coming. It meant more to me than you know,” he said.

“Well, I was lying when I said I wanted to spend his birthday alone.”

“I know.”

You rolled your eyes. Of course he did.

“Bye, Kento,” you got out of the booth, pulling your jacket tighter around your frame. “I . . . nevermind.”

Kento watched you walk through the chiming exit doors of the diner, your last sentence left incomplete. Raindrops were splattering against your head and clothes, but you were in no rush, not minding the drizzle.

Suddenly, your footsteps halted on the concrete sidewalk. You turned around, peering through the big windows, locking eyes with your ex-husband. At first, you gave him a soft smile — one that meant goodbye, and nothing further.

But then, he saw the corners of your lips fall into a little frown, and your eyes glistened with uncertainty. Hesitation. Regret.

You sighed, turning away from the sight of the man in the booth, the man who you knew for a fact held more than a “special place” in your heart, but still owned it entirely.

Though every step away from him was painful, you dragged yourself to your car, and drove away from the ex-husband you still loved, and home to the current-husband you somewhat liked.

Kento thought about rushing out of the door, wrapping his arms around your waist, and kissing you in the rain — passionately and deeply, as you once loved. After all, he knew what your final look towards him meant. He knew your past marriage, though destructive, still held more passion than your current loveless one.

But he stayed put in his seat, taking a sip of his cold black coffee.

Perhaps, he would regret not chasing after you for the rest of his life, but being that he discovered not too long ago that his son’s cancer was genetic, originating from Kento’s side, and would soon claim his life as well — even after he survived all these years — he knew he wouldn’t have to live with his regret much longer.

This was the last time he would ever eat at the diner he once took you to, back when you were both young fools excitedly in love, fools who would die for each other in a heartbeat.

And those couple of seconds in which you locked eyes with him through the diner window? That was the last time he ever saw you.

🏷️: @sad-darksoul @priv-rose @yihona-san06 @keriaonmarz @luvvmae @underworldsheiress @notgoodforlife @thewondrousdreamer @levisfavoriteteashop @preciousamethyst @iwanttohitmyself @shoyosdoll @lil-apple-pie @prettypixigrl @sonarspace @averysmolbear @starstoru @starlightanyaaa @dolphin1135 @ioveartfilm @filhadaanarquia @blackdxggr @jaegergirl @gunslxtz @he11okitty-mari @koikohib

[hxlxnaaa]

𝐬𝐲𝐥𝐮𝐬 ─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─ 𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠

★ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: in order to get a creepy coworker off your back, you begrudgingly let sylus play the part of your fake boyfriend. unfortunately, your emotions and pride quickly spiral out of control.

★ 𝐜𝐰/𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: first person pov, enemies to lovers, fake dating, part 1 out of 2, angst, some swearing

★ 𝐰𝐜: 5k

★ 𝐚/𝐧: i had HELLA writers block while writing this, so if it seems chaotic and rushed that's why. i really wanted to scrap this but i spent so long on it i would be disappointed if i did. this is part one out of two, and i promise to get part two out super soon! it should be a lot better than this one *sob*

“Is that a new necklace?”

I grimace, the annoying twerp’s voice sounding like nails on a chalkboard.

“No, Nicholas, it's the one I always wear.” I press my lips into a tight line, staring at the papers in front of me. After everything I’ve tried, I don’t know how he hasn’t caught on with how absolutely, utterly disinterested I am.

Nicholas was a recent graduate from the academy, starting his first year here at the Association. At first he seemed sweet, like an infatuated kid, but it quickly worsened and now I have to deal with harassment every day at work.

He’d do anything and everything to spark a conversation, trying to work any attention out of me despite all my efforts of ignoring him. I tried to be nice originally, letting him down easily whenever he’d pay me compliments and ask me out to lunch.

That didn’t work.

He became more persistent, and I resorted to either giving him the silent treatment or being straight up rude. Throwing him off my back seemed like an impossible task, and I was convinced I had developed some sort of parasite that was bound to me until I retired.

“Ah, I’ve never noticed…” Nicholas sat himself in front of me, and I could feel his stare on my face.

Don’t look up, don’t look up, don’t look up.

“Hey guys!”

Thank God.

Forcing a smile at Tara’s cheerfulness, Nicholas paid her a nod, clearly unsettled with her interruption. She came up behind me, wrapping her arms around my shoulders. If there was anyone who was capable of putting a wedge in between me and my borderline stalker, it was Tara.

“Are you excited for the Hunter’s Ball? I can't believe it’s already coming up…” She sighed dreamily behind me, resting her cheek on the top of my head. While the Hunter’s Ball wasn’t my favorite event, it was typically a good time.

Well, at least before Nicholas came along.

I couldn’t imagine how it would go this year, him crawling six feet up my ass as I try to shake him off the whole night. It’s bad enough I have to deal with him sober, I can’t even imagine how much more unbearable he’d become with drinks in his system. This was the one night of the year the Association actually shows their appreciation for their employees, and I’d be damned if I couldn’t enjoy myself.

“It’s always nice we get a plus one,” Tara mentions, “I can't wait to see who everyone brings." She nudges my shoulder with her arm, laughing.

The look in Nicholas’ eyes told me everything he was about to say. I could practically hear the words come out of his mouth before he even spoke them-

“Yeah, I’m gonna bring my boyfriend.” I spoke before thinking, the words an act of desperation. Nicholas’ eyes widened and Tara’s arms flew from my body, as she whipped herself to stand in front of me.

Oh no, why would I say that- Why did I say that?!

“Your… what!” She started grasping at my hands, questions flying out of her mouth before I couldn’t even process half of them, “Since when? What’s his name? Where’d you meet him? Do you have any pictures?”

I knew I had gotten myself into trouble, I didn’t even have the slightest clue as to who I could possibly feign to be my boyfriend; but the look on Nicholas’ face told me I needed to keep up whatever I was doing, because it was working.

I smiled innocently, “We’ve been keeping it on the down low, things are still pretty new. I was planning to hard launch us at the Ball.” Chuckling nervously, I was convinced nobody was believing a word I was saying.

“Ohmygosh Mystery Man! I’m so excited!” Tara continued to blabber on, trying to pull any detail she could out of me. I made eye contact with Nicholas and thought about how soon the Ball was - only a week away.

Letting out a sigh of relief because of my believable lie, the feeling soon faded and was replaced with chest crushing stress. I had no boyfriend, and no plan; I was going to have to think fast.

-

Laying in my bed that night, I scoured my brain for any potential suitor. I thought maybe Zayne, a cardiac surgeon and childhood best friend. He’d be perfect, all my coworkers would be so pleased, but a cow would have to jump over the moon before he’d even think about complying. Maybe Xavier’s friend Jeremiah? A sweet florist…No, Xavier would never let me do that.

I flipped onto my stomach, screaming into my pillow. Smushing my face into the fabric, I silently prayed I’d suffocate and be free from this mess I’d webbed myself into.

Before I could pass out and be put out of my misery, my phone started to ring.

Not even looking at the caller id, I picked it up and answered with a disgruntled, “Hello?”

“You never sound pleased to hear from me, Kitten.”

I screamed into the pillow again, Sylus being the complete utter last person I wanted to hear from right now.

He chuckled over the line, “Actually, I think that might be the unhappiest I’ve heard you.”

“What do you want?”

“Can I not just call to talk? I’ve had a rough day and wanted to hear your voice.”

I let out a forced laugh, “You’ve had a rough day? YOU’VE had a rough day? You will not believe the day I had then.”

His voice softened, “Talk to me about it then.”

While I most definitely realized my day couldn’t be comparable to his, as he was essentially a mob boss running the N109 Zone, venting about my problems felt nice. As much as I couldn’t stand Sylus, with his incessant arrogance and backhanded flattery, he was easy to talk to sometimes.

Sometimes.

“I don’t even know how I got myself into this situation. Well, I do know, I just didn’t mean to!” I groaned, throwing my face into my hands.

He sits in silence for a minute, and I can hear the soft playing of one of his records in the background. It’s annoying how he feels the need to call and bother me, with a side of music, to wind down at night.

“When is it?” He finally asks, and I hear shuffling.

“Next Saturday, so…” I can practically see the clock ticking down, “Shit, a week from today.”

“What time?”

“9- Sylus, why?”

“I’ll be there at 8:30 then.” There’s mirth in his voice and my face goes pale, “Sylus, no, don’t you dare. It cannot be you, just let me borrow one of your men or something.”

Sylus lets out a low laugh, “Now why would I do that when I could just be your date?”

“Not date,” I cut him off, “fake boyfriend.”

“Of course, fake boyfriend.” He clucked his tongue, “Why would I let someone else be your fake boyfriend?”

“I don’t know, maybe the fact that you’re the big bad Onychinus boss?” Pressing a finger to my temple to ease the headache that he was becoming, I started to pace my floor. “You’re stepping into enemy territory at this event, there’s no way I’ll be able to save your ass if you get found out, let alone what will happen to me and my place at the Association.”

“I’ve already met some of your coworkers before, remember? It’s best if it's me instead of some stranger, and trust me sweetie, they won’t know.”

My coworkers did take a liking to him when they met during one of our outings, Sylus just had this charisma about him that sucked everyone in; the mysterious fruit vendor Skye who was absolutely horrid at karaoke. He stole their hearts quickly, and I’m lucky if they don’t ask me at least once a week how he’s doing. Sylus was just magnetic like that, even if you tried your damndest to hate him, there’s just something about his demeanor that’s magic.

He has a point here, and it’s killing me to admit he’s right.

“Fine,” I snap, “but absolutely no funny business.”

“I’m not sure what you could possibly mean by that, Kitten.” Sylus lets out a low laugh that makes me want to punch my phone, “I’ll be there at 8:30.”

Before I can respond, he quickly hangs up. I’m left sitting on my bed with racing thoughts of everything that could possibly go wrong. Was bringing Sylus really worth getting this creep off my back? Well, if there was anyone who could scare him off, it would be the leader of Onychinus. Worst case scenario, I have Sylus pull a gun out on him.

I shake my head, trying to clear my stupid thoughts.

I sent him a picture of the invitation, which included the dress code. I wasn’t too worried about him making a fool out of me, just the overwhelming anxiety of bringing a top criminal as my date to a work event where we quite literally are attempting to hunt this exact man down.

Trying to trust Sylus isn’t the easily discoverable type, I make a miserable attempt to put my mind to rest, and get some sleep.

-

The next week following my abrupt news of a boyfriend was hell. Not to my surprise, word was quickly spread through the Association, and I was constantly being flooded with questions and endless pressure to just ‘give them a name!’. I even had Xavier at my desk with questions one morning, and he was always the type to steer away from work related gossip.

Not to mention Sylus himself was being utterly insufferable. He was taking this far too seriously, sending lunch and flowers to my work with paper love notes attached. It was bringing on more attention at work, and every time I told him to stop, he’d just send more extravagant bouquets that cluttered my desk and made the surrounding area smell like a funeral.

At one point, I woke up to a box in the mail. Inside was a black velvet dress, a ruby necklace, and heels. Sending him an angry text about how I have my own clothes, he just responded by transferring 200 dollars into my bank account saying, ‘Get your nails done too. Match the outfit.’

By Saturday night, I was almost ready for everyone to meet Sylus, just so people would stop with the ‘fake boyfriend trivia’ while I’m on the clock, and his annoying attempts at romantic gestures.

The night of, at 8:30 on the dot, I heard a knock at my door.

On the other side was a well dressed Sylus; I think it was the first time I had ever seen him done up so nicely. He wasn’t ever one to slack on his looks, but in his black pinstripe suit and red tie that matched my gifted necklace, I had to take a second. Even though he made me constantly want to take my gun and replicate the time I shot him, I could never deny he’s hot. His arguably perfect looks just adds to the hatred.

He looked me up and down, smirking. The dress he had gotten me was backless and stopped at my ankles, with a slit up to my thigh that had me worried that with one wrong move I’d flash all my coworkers. Opening his mouth to I’m sure to make a snide comment, I cut him off.

“I have to put on my shoes and that necklace, but then I’m ready.” I walked over to the coffee table and grabbed the ruby piece that was gifted, struggling with the clasp thanks to the nails I was practically forced to get.

“Here.” Coming up behind me, Sylus took the necklace from my hands. Brushing my hair out of the way, I felt his fingers against my neck as he secured the jewelry with ease. I turned around to face him, and he smiled down at me.

He gestured to the couch, “Sit.”

His one word commands were starting to get on my nerves. “What?” I glared at him.

Grabbing my shoulder and softly pushing me back, I tumbled onto the couch. Sylus snickered, “I said sit, Kitten.”

Getting on his knees, he picked up my ankle, slipping the heel onto my foot.

“I could’ve done this myself.” Scoffing, I averted my eyes to anywhere that wasn’t Sylus on his knees in front of me.

“I’m sure you could with those nails, sweetie.” He hooked the straps around my ankle, and I felt my skin burn red where his fingers danced. It was definitely red with anger.

For sure.

Standing when he was done, Sylus reached a hand out to me. Narrowing my eyes at his hand, I ignored the help. To my dismay, I stood up too fast in heels and lost a bit of my balance. Sylus caught my waist and gave me a smug smile, pulling me into him. “You look absolutely beautiful tonight, my love.”

I grimaced, pulling away from his grasp and heading to the door. “Oh, do not do that. No more of that.”

“We have to get into character, I’m just being prepared.”

“Be in character when we’re there. Not here.”

“I have to get into the mindset.” Sylus creeped closer to me, and I stepped back. At this point, I was essentially pinned in between him and the door. “After all, I have to practice so I can impress everybody.” He leaned down, his breath fanning against the side of my neck.

“Right.” I rolled my eyes, opening the door behind me and taking a backwards step out. Sylus stumbled at the sudden movement, and I smirked at his loss of composure. “Let’s go, we’ll be late.”

-

When we arrived, I felt my heart begin to race. All the mental preparation I had done for this exact night fled my mind as soon as Sylus put the car into park. My worry was not of showing off my new fancy fake boyfriend, it was the fact that I was bringing my new fancy fake boyfriend into an arena that was hunting him. Over the past week I’ve tried telling myself he’s not easily discoverable, I mean, if he was, the Association would’ve had him tracked down by now. However, knowing my luck, I was preparing for the worst.

Sylus gently placed his hand on my thigh, attempting to give me a reassuring smile, “It’ll be okay, Kitten. Just follow my lead.”

We’re fucked.

He walked around, opening the door for me. His car was clearly the nicest and most expensive out of all the guests tonight, and I knew if anybody saw I’d never hear the end of it.

When we were nearing the entrance, I sighed, shoving down my pride and grabbing Sylus’ arm, wrapping myself sweetly around his bicep. I watched his lips curve upward into a smug smile, and I suppressed the urge to throw myself off and take my heel to his-

“Invitation please.” Sylus handed the men working the door the two slips of paper, and I begrudgingly walked in clinging to his arm.

‘Playing the character’, I thought.

The venue the Ball was being held at was extravagant, with a high, golden ceiling, and golden marble floors.

It was filled to the brim with people that worked for the Association, plus their guests. I winced at the sheer amount of people, automatically going into defense mode due to the overwhelming fact that we were outnumbered.

“Smile, sweetie.” Letting go of his arm, Sylus took his pointer finger and thumb, lightly pulling the corners of my mouth upward.

I nipped at his finger, and he poked my nose as a warning.

I heard someone shriek my name, and I whipped around to see Tara quickly approaching. “Oh wow, you’re beautiful!” She wrapped me up in a tight hug, rocking me side to side. Letting go of me just as fast, Tara gasped when she saw Sylus.

“Skye! Oh my gosh it’s you, how sweet!” She fawned over us, and he smiled kindly at her, “You look lovely tonight, Tara.” If he kept up the nice talk, I was going to put my head through one of the walls.

“Here, come with me. Some of us already have a table together!”

Tara dragged us over to a table where a few of my most nagging coworkers stood around talking. Introducing him to the ones who had never met him, I groaned internally, ready for the torment of questions to begin.

“So,” Tara dropped the first bomb, “how long have you two been a thing?” I know this has been weighing on her worse than me all week.

“About a month now.” Sylus answered with ease. I tried to suppress a shocked look on my face, because I was planning on doing all the talking; but that continued, them rapid firing questions and Sylus answering all of them as if he had this all thought out. I mean, shit, he was convincing me.

“I have to know how this happened!” One of them said, and Sylus tucked my hair behind my ear, pretending to recall the moment.

“I had feelings for her for a while,” He said, smiling down at me, “and it got to a point where I couldn’t take it anymore. It was spur of the moment, but I showed up at her door in the middle of the night and had to ask her if she felt the same.”

Damn. He was good.

All the girls squealed, “That's so romantic!”

I placed my hand on Sylus’ chest, batting my eyelashes up at him, “I’m gonna go get a drink, d’you want anything?” He grabbed my hand, matching my energy, and kissing my knuckles, “No, sweetie, that’s quite alright. I’ll stay here and entertain your friends.”

All of them cooed at the sight, probably thinking we were so lovesick for each other it hurt. Well, it did hurt, this whole thing was a pain in my ass I needed to be over.

I grabbed a glass of wine from the drink table, the group out of sight. Sighing, I resisted the urge to down the glass all at once. While I was uncomfortable, I couldn’t deny everything was going well. Everyone was pleased, so I tried to relax.

“That's a pretty necklace,” I heard from behind me, “is it new?”

Nevermind.

Turning around, there stood Nicholas. His eyelids drooped, and he reeked of wine.

“What did you say?” I asked, looking around for the quickest exit route.

“I said I liked your necklace. Is it new?”

God, does this twerp have any other material?

“Yes, it is.” A low voice said, and I felt an arm wrap around my waist. My head shot up to meet Sylus in the eyes; I guess my face was screaming, ‘Help me!’, because he gave my side a soft squeeze of reassurance.

“Oh.” Was all Nicholas replied, shooting his eyes back and forth between Sylus and I. In his head, I imagined the pieces clicking together. ‘This is it,’ I thought, ‘finally he’ll leave me alone!’

“This song is nice… Would you care to dance?” There were no thoughts behind his eyes. This guy was genuinely dense. I could’ve sworn my jaw dropped at his stupidity, and Sylus chuckled next to me.

“So sorry, but tonight she’s mine.” Swiftly sweeping me away, Nicholas and my glass of wine were quickly left behind.

“Why don’t you dance with me instead, sweetie?” Sylus said, leading me to the open floor where people were dancing to the soft classical music.

Sylus put my hand on his shoulder, intertwining my other hand with his. Placing his hand on my lower back, he pulled me in closer to him.

“Look at me.”

His eyes stared into mine, and there was something behind them I couldn’t quite place my finger on. We started slowly ballroom dancing in our own little spot on the floor, a bit away from everyone else. As much as I wanted to strangle this man, I could relax a little in his arms. He just felt safe sometimes.

Sometimes.

“You’re doing good tonight.” Sylus said, still looking into my eyes.

“Thanks.” I started playing with the hair on the nape of his neck, “So where do we go from here?”

He raised a brow, “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean.”

“I really don’t think I do, Kitten.”

“How am I going to tell my coworkers that we ‘broke up’ right after this? They’ll be suspicious.”

“We could keep doing this for a while.” Sylus shrugged, smirking.

Groaning, I slammed my head on his shoulder, “Tonight was bad enough, I can’t do this for any longer.”

“Do you have a better idea?”

He was right. I didn’t have a better idea.

-

So we did just that.

I was going to give it two months. Then, it would say we were together for three months total, which looked like a completely reasonable time to test run a relationship and then call it quits.

At first, I was completely miserable. I already couldn’t stand Sylus as a friend, how could I stand him as my ‘boyfriend’? After that night at the Ball, to my dismay, he completely won everybody over. It made me feel like I had to put more effort into faking all of this.

The extravagant gifts sent to my work started getting sent to my place too. I told him he didn’t have to send them to me outside of work, let alone at all, but he always insisted so he could “stay in character”.

Whether it was convincing me to let him take me out to fancy places, like dinner or a show, it was always just to keep him ‘in character’. I think he just liked using that excuse so I would be forced to hang out with him and not be able to deny or complain about it.

Though, after a bit, it became easy to slip into a groove.

I started to not mind the talk about Sylus; everything started to become bearable, and dare I say it, kind of fun.

We had played with the claw machines once, and he won a white cat plushie. Jokingly, I had told him it looks exactly like him, and snapped a picture of the cat next to his face to prove a point.

I made that photo my wallpaper, to make things more realistic. It freaked me out for a while whenever I’d open my phone, but I came to like it after a while. Sylus looked kind of cute in the photo, his expression mocking the plushies. He looked kind, warm, a soft look on his face you didn’t see on him often. The more I saw the photo, the more it made me smile.

I began looking forward to his calls, his texts. He’d call me to say good morning, or tell me goodnight, even if he was in the middle of a meeting. The ‘fake dates’ became less uncomfortable as I grew more accustomed to the situation we had put ourselves into. The roles we were playing came easier and easier with time.

Which was causing a problem.

It wasn’t hard to notice the way my body would flush when he touched me, or how my once strong demeanor around him would start to falter. Words and actions of his that would be fast to anger me, quickly changed into something else.

I was starting to care about him. How annoying.

There was one day when Sylus decided he was going to pick me up from work. “Your coworkers will think it's cute.” He had said, and who was I to deny a free ride home.

He showed up on his bike in his leather jacket, in all his badass glory. Leaning against the bike, he stood up straight and smiled at me when I came outside. As time had gone on, Sylus was slowly becoming less hard and uncaring towards me. He began treating me like I was fragile, always so gentle with me. Him getting into character I suppose.

Sylus held his hand out towards me, and when I took it, he pulled me into his chest. I squealed, laughing at the sudden gesture.

“They’re looking,” He said, glancing at a few of my coworkers still inside, watching us intensely, “Kiss me.”

I choked, “What?”

He grabbed my chin, tilting it up slightly. He cocked his head to the side a bit, almost as if to ask, ‘is this okay?’.

Nodding my head yes, Sylus smirked before leaning down and pressing his lips against mine. For how aggressive he can be as the leader of Onychinus, the kiss was unusually soft. I had imagined kissing him, for all of this, and I never expected him to be the type to be so kind and gentle.

My blood was rushing in my ears and I thought I was going to melt under his hands. I didn’t realize just how bad I subconsciously wanted this until it was happening, and I wanted more. I wanted to kiss him so hard I could steal the air from his lungs, I wanted to grip his shirt so tightly my knuckles turned white because I could finally have him.

When he pulled away, and kissed the corner of my eye, I knew I was fucked.

I didn’t just care about him, I wanted him. I wanted Sylus to be mine, I wanted this to be real, I wanted-

No, I couldn’t want anything.

It would never work. Our lives were too different, we were too different, everything would be doomed from the start. He was a faraway dream that would never come true. He could never be what I wanted.

I always wanted security, someone stable and safe. Sylus could never give me that.

So why do I want him so badly?

-

It was my friend's birthday party.

I had invited Sylus, because what had originally been a fake relationship to get a creep coworker off my back, spread like a wildfire to a fake relationship that was now known by all my friends.

I only invited him because I knew it would be strange if I showed up without him.

After he kissed me, and my feelings became a living hell to deal with, I started to pull back; started to psych myself out mentally, constantly spending time just trying to convince myself how bad we would be for each other. Trying to will myself to hate him again, go back to where I was two months ago. When Sylus was a nuisance, an annoying pest.

I don’t even really think he noticed. Or if he did, I couldn’t tell.

When we got to the party, the music and laughter could be heard from outside, a drastic change from the almost silent car ride. Sylus tried to make conversation, and I shut him down almost every time.

We walked in, and my friends all greeted him with easy familiarity. They gave him hugs, pats on the back, and he was welcomed effortlessly.

I stood a distance away as he laughed with my friends, and my chest began to hurt. Guilt, dread, I felt doomed. He wasn’t meant to be here, he was never meant to be here. Sylus doesn’t belong with my friends. Sylus doesn’t belong with me.

None of this is real. All of this is one little lie that spun into a web of something so much bigger, and I’m stuck in it.

He looks happy with them, happy with my friends. Happy in my space, with my people. How could he? He’s an intruder, he knows it.

I knew tonight was the night I was done. This couldn’t go on any longer. No more playing house with Sylus, no more pretending. We’re adults, and this whole thing was so childish, and it ends now.

I stepped outside, sitting on the back patio. The night air was cold, and I wasn’t sure if it was the sharp air of my distress that was making my lungs constrict.

“There you are.”

I didn’t turn around to meet the voice, just kept staring into the trees ahead.

Sylus stood beside me, running his fingers through the top of my hair. I relished the feeling, ‘one last time, it’s okay’.

He didn’t ask any questions, didn’t ask why I was out here, if I was okay. I was happy for that, it could give me another reason to be mad at him. To hate him again. To try and rile up all my old feelings, stir old bitterness.

“I want to go home.” I finally said, breaking the silence.

We got in the car, this time he didn’t try to speak. His face was hard again, the soft look long gone. I think, in a way, he knew too. He knows this is for the better.

I said goodbye, told him goodnight before he left. Told him to drive safely.

It had been two months, that’s what I gave him. It was time for it to be over anyways. I changed my wallpaper, changed his name back. I didn’t care if I had to deal with Nicholas at my job anymore, anything was better than the gutted feeling I got from every interaction with Sylus. Nothing was worth that.

The next day, it was radio silence. For the first time in two months, there was nothing. No good morning, no texts throughout the day, no calls to tell me goodnight; and that just continued. For days. Silence.

I had perfected the speech I was going to tell my coworkers, “We gave it our best, but it just wasn’t going to work out between us.” It was reassurance for them, and myself.

It just wasn’t going to work out between us.

[kaiyunsim]

heartsync —

pairing : loser!jaehyun x gn!reader

summary : boring days lead you to download the stupidly popular ai matchmaking app, 'heartsync,' thinking that you would be matched with a bot. next thing you know, you have to maintain a dating score with this loser guy in order to avoid a hefty cancellation fee

warnings : fluff, slight angst, lowkey embarssing jaehyun, kinda fake dating,

a/n : i am addicted to losers. also writers block lwk hitting me so sorry if this isn't that good :(

— wc : 9.2k — not proof read —

notification !

tired of swiping and second-guessing? 🙄 let HeartSync™ match you based on more than just profiles. whether it’s fate or algorithms, HeartSync™ brings people together in unexpected ways. coffee shops ☕, grocery stores 🛒, or even your favorite songs 🎶. with personalized challenges 🎯 and quirky tasks 😏, it’s the app that makes you question what’s real… and what’s meant to be 💫.

ready to dive into a relationship that’s anything but ordinary? 😏 download now and let your heart sync ❤️‍🔥

you should’ve known something was up the second kazuha slid her phone across the table with a sly grin.

"you need this," she says, all too pleased with herself.

sungho leans in beside her, chin resting on his hand. "oh, absolutely. it’s the next big thing."

you glance down at the screen, unimpressed. "heartsync™? that sounds like a scam."

"it’s not," kazuha insists. "it's a revolution."

you narrow your eyes at her. "revolution is a strong word for a dating app."

sungho gestures wildly. "no, listen! this isn’t some basic swiping app. heartsync is, like, the future. ai-driven, hyper-accurate matchmaking." he wiggles his fingers in an attempt to look mysterious. "it scans all your online activity, text patterns, subconscious preferences—"

"wait, subconscious preferences?" you interrupt. "how the hell does it know what i subconsciously want?"

"science," kazuha says, as if that explains anything.

you stare at them, unimpressed. "so you’re telling me this thing invades my privacy, judges me, and then picks out some rando for me to date?"

"yep," sungho grins.

"hard pass."

kazhua sighs dramatically. "you’re so boring. come on, think about it. what if it actually works?"

"it won’t."

"but what if it does?"

you cross your arms. "i give it a week before i get matched with some weird middle-aged man who lives in his mom’s basement."

sungho gasps. "have a little faith, will you?!"

you snort, but kazuha suddenly looks too smug for your liking. before you can question it, your phone buzzes. you glance down.

"your friends are looking out for you! 💖 kazuha has sent you an invite to join heartsync™! experience true compatibility today. 💘"

you slowly raise your head. "zuha, did you just—"

"yep," she says.

"you—"

"it’s already downloading," sungho chimes in.

you look down at your phone in horror. sure enough, the app is installing.

"oh my god.”

jaehyun doesn’t even look up from his drink when taesan slides into the seat across from him, grinning like he’s about to be a menace.

"bro," taesan says, setting his phone down dramatically. "i found the solution to your dry-ass dating life."

jaehyun finally glances up. "i have a dating life."

woonhak, sitting beside him, lets out an exaggerated cough.

jaehyun glares. "shut up."

"he's not wrong," taesan snickers. "c’mon, look at this." he turns his phone around, revealing a sleek interface. jaehyun squints.

"heartsync?"

"ai-powered matchmaking, man. scientifically proven to find your perfect match."

jaehyun raises an eyebrow. "you sound like a bad infomercial."

woonhak leans in. "we already signed up. it’s, like, next-level tech. the app literally studies your habits, patterns, even your subconscious preferences."

jaehyun blinks. "that sounds illegal."

"nah, nah, just invasive," taesan says. "but in a good way."

jaehyun scoffs. "no such thing."

"just try it," woonhak says. "worst case, you get matched with someone weird and you ghost them."

"oh, so now i’m ghosting people?"

"what, like you don’t?" taesan smirks.

jaehyun rolls his eyes, but his phone suddenly buzzes.

"your best bros have your back! 💙 taesan has invited you to join heartsync™! what are you waiting for? your perfect match is waiting! 😉"

he looks up slowly. "you did not just—"

"i did," taesan grins.

woonhak claps him on the back. "welcome to the future, buddy."

jaehyun sighs. "you guys are the worst."

"and yet, here you are, downloading it," taesan singsongs.

jaehyun looks down at his phone. the app is downloading.

"...i hate you both."

setting up the app is way too easy. after a quick sign-up, a series of personality quizzes appear. you answer them halfheartedly, picking whatever feels right in the moment.

you expect a generic dating profile, but instead, a contract pops up.

"welcome to heartsync™'s exclusive perfect pair program! 💖 congratulations! by signing up, you agree to a 30-day trial relationship with your most compatible match. failure to complete the program will result in a penalty fee. please review the terms carefully. 📝"

you frown. "wait. penalty fee?"

kazhua leans over. "probably just a deterrent. no way they actually charge people."

"i don’t like this."

"it’s fine, just hit accept."

you squint at her, but against your better judgment, you press the button.

jaehyun does the same thing across town, equally suspicious.

then, both your phones buzz simultaneously.

"congratulations! 🎉 you’ve been matched! meet your perfect pair: myung jaehyun."

"congratulations! 🎉 you’ve been matched! meet your perfect pair: y/n."

jaehyun squints at his screen. "who the hell is y/n?"

you stare at yours. "who the hell is myung jaehyun?"

then, another notification.

"your first date has been scheduled! 🥰 see you at [reastaurant] tomorrow at 7 PM! remember: love is about commitment! 💞 failure to attend will result in a violation of your contract. 😘"

your stomach drops.

"...i think i just got scammed."

jaehyun, staring at the exact same message, mutters, "what the fuck?"

sungho and kazuha are dying.

"you’re stuck in a relationship for 30 days?!" sungho wheezes. "oh my god, i’m crying."

"this is the best thing that’s ever happened," kazuha says, wiping a fake tear.

you glare. "it’s not funny!"

"it’s hilarious," sungho corrects.

you groan. "this is the worst decision of my life."

kazhua gasps. "are you saying you regret trusting me?"

"yes."

"rude."

meanwhile, jaehyun is getting absolutely clowned on by his friends.

"so let me get this straight," taesan says, grinning like an idiot. "you’re contractually obligated to date this person?"

jaehyun rubs his temples. "apparently."

woonhak snickers. "bro. you’re trapped."

"i hate you both."

"nah," taesan says. "you love us. just like you’re about to love your new partner."

jaehyun looks up with dead eyes. "i hope the app malfunctions and matches you with each other."

woonhak gasps. "how dare you!"

"that would be so tragic," taesan grins. "imagine getting stuck in a relationship with woonhak."

woonhak shoves him. "shut up! i’d be a great boyfriend!"

jaehyun groans. "i cannot believe i let you guys talk me into this."

but before either of them can reply, his phone buzzes again.

"just a reminder! ❤️ your first date is TOMORROW at 7 PM! 💕 don’t keep your perfect match waiting! 😘 failure to attend will result in consequences. 🔥"

jaehyun stares at it.

"...i think i just signed my soul away."

you, staring at the exact same notification, sigh deeply.

what have you gotten yourself into?

...what?

you quickly scroll down. there’s a long wall of text in tiny font. definitely the terms and conditions you skimmed through without reading.

"effective immediately, you are required to actively participate in this relationship for the full 30-day duration. early termination will result in a penalty fee of—"

you freeze.

oh, hell no.

the penalty fee is HOW MUCH?!

"guys," you say, voice flat. "i think i just got scammed."

kazuh and sungho exchange glances. kazuha grabs your phone again and scrolls. her eyebrows shoot up. "holy shit. you’re stuck?"

"define stuck," you say, already dreading the answer.

sungho reads further. "...yep. stuck. you gotta go on dates, talk to this guy, and if you try to ignore him, the app gets passive-aggressive about it."

as if on cue, a new notification pops up.

"ghosting is unhealthy! say hi to your partner within the next 12 hours to maintain a positive relationship score. 💕"

you stare at the screen in horror.

kazuha and sungho? already laughing their asses off.

"this is the best thing that’s ever happened," sungho wheezes.

"no, no, this is cursed," you say, shaking your head. "there has to be a way out of this."

sungho grins. "you could pay the fee."

"i’m not paying that much just to escape some ai-manufactured relationship," you grumble.

kazuh, still laughing, pats your shoulder. "guess you’re dating myung jaehyun now."

somewhere else, jaehyun is also freaking out.

"taesan, what the hell did you make me sign up for?"

jaehyun stares at his phone like it just personally betrayed him.

"you got matched?" taesan asks, amused. he leans over jaehyun’s shoulder to check. "ohhh. wait. you actually got someone decent-looking. nice."

"not nice!" jaehyun exclaims, shoving his phone in taesan’s face. "look at this! it’s a contract. i have to date this person for 30 days or i have to pay an insane fee."

taesan reads for a second, then bursts out laughing. "holy shit. you’re trapped."

"why didn’t you tell me this could happen?!"

"because i didn’t think you’d actually get a match."

"what do i do?" jaehyun groans, scratching the back of his head.

"just go with it," taesan says. "it’s only a month. fake-date them, get some free meals, and worst-case scenario, you make a new friend."

jaehyun grumbles. "what if they suck?"

"what if you suck?"

"i mean, yeah, probably," jaehyun admits. "but still."

his phone buzzes.

"say hi to your partner within 12 hours to maintain a positive relationship score! 💕"

jaehyun stares blankly at the notification. then he looks at taesan.

"okay, but, like… do i get a refund if i cry?"

taesan cackles. "nope. no refunds, buddy. enjoy your new relationship."

jaehyun groans and flops onto the couch, phone balanced on his chest, already regretting everything.

you’re still convinced you’ve been scammed.

it’s not just the fact that you’re contractually obligated to go on this date, it’s the restaurant.

"how the hell did it know?" you mutter, staring at the notification again.

sungho leans over your shoulder, reading it for the tenth time. "i mean… it’s a little creepy."

"it’s very creepy," you correct. "i’ve never put this place in my location history, never mentioned it online, never even texted about it."

kazuha hums, sipping her drink. "maybe you thought about it too hard and the app just knew."

you look at her like she’s insane. "you’re telling me heartsync can read my mind now?"

"i mean, why not? it already owns your soul."

"not helping."

sungho suddenly perks up, squinting at the name on your screen. "wait. myung jaehyun?"

"yeah?"

he snaps his fingers. "oh! i had a class with him last year."

you blink. "and you’re only mentioning this now?"

sungho shrugs. "i forgot. but, uh…" he pauses. "he’s kinda a loser. in a cute way."

you stare at him. "define cute loser."

"like, y’know. a little awkward. kinda clumsy. but he’s not a bad guy."

kazuha raises an eyebrow. "so what i’m hearing is, you’ve already got an advantage."

"what advantage?" you ask flatly.

"you can be the cool one in this relationship," she says, smirking.

sungho grins. "oh yeah, you’ve already won."

you groan, sinking into your seat. "why am i even doing this?"

"because you’re legally bound by a contract," kazuha reminds you.

"right. love that for me."

jaehyun has the same problem.

"this is weird," he mutters, staring at his phone.

woonhak peeks over his shoulder. "dude, how did it know your favorite restaurant?"

"i don’t know."

"have you ever posted about it?" taesan asks.

"nope."

"checked in there?"

"never."

woonhak whistles. "yeah, that’s terrifying."

jaehyun groans. "why am i even going?"

taesan pats his shoulder. "because you’re legally bound by a contract."

jaehyun glares. "i hate you."

you arrive at the restaurant five minutes early, because despite your skepticism, you do respect punctuality.

what you don’t expect is to see someone already waiting at the entrance.

he's tall, a little awkward in the way he shifts on his feet, checking his phone. glasses slipping down his nose.

you approach cautiously. "...myung jaehyun?"

he looks up, blinking.

oh.

he’s kinda cute. in a loser-y way.

"oh," he says. "uh. hey."

you stare at each other for a beat.

jaehyun scratches the back of his neck. "so, uh… this is weird, right?"

"extremely."

he lets out a short laugh. "cool, just making sure."

you glance at the restaurant. "wanna get this over with?"

"yep."

you head inside together.

the weirdness doesn’t stop there.

you both open the menu, and your phones buzz at the same time.

"feeling indecisive? 💡 you both love the same dish! try the spicy seafood pasta! 🍝💖"

you slowly look up at jaehyun.

he looks back, expression unreadable.

"...so, uh," you start.

"are we just gonna ignore that?" he asks.

"we could."

jaehyun nods. "cool. because that was terrifying."

you both order the pasta anyway.

somewhere between the appetizer and the main course, the awkwardness starts to fade.

you’re still skeptical, but… conversation with jaehyun is weirdly easy.

he’s funny in an unintentional way. a little clumsy with his words, but quick to laugh at himself. it’s not what you expected.

"so," he says between bites, "are you, like, willingly doing this, or were you also tricked by your so-called friends?"

you groan. "tricked. sungho and kazuha set me up."

"ah," jaehyun nods. "taesan and woonhak did the same to me."

"so we’re both victims."

"basically."

you clink your glasses in mutual suffering.

then, another notification.

"running out of things to talk about? try reminiscing about your childhood talent show disaster! 😆✨"

you both freeze.

jaehyun slowly looks up. "...did your phone just say—?"

"yep," you cut in.

"what the hell?"

"no idea."

you stare at each other.

then jaehyun cautiously asks, "...did you actually have a childhood talent show disaster?"

you hesitate. "...maybe."

his eyes widen. "no way."

"look, it wasn’t that bad—"

"tell me everything."

you sigh, defeated. "i was seven, okay? i was supposed to sing. i got up there, forgot all the words, panicked, and ended up just dancing instead."

jaehyun claps. "improv! i respect that."

"bad improv," you correct.

"still, you committed. that’s what matters.”

and just like that, the skepticism eases.

then the app sends another notification.

"bonding over past failures? we love to see it! 😍💕 by the way, your partner thinks the nickname 'woonbaby' is hilarious. go ahead, try it! 😏"

you blink.

jaehyun reads his own notification.

then he looks at you, face slowly turning red.

"...what the fuck?"

you can’t help it. you laugh. "what the hell is woonbaby?"

jaehyun groans, covering his face. "it’s—it’s stupid. my friend woonhak. someone called him that once and it just stuck."

"oh my god," you grin. "you definitely still call him that."

"i do not," jaehyun lies.

you raise an eyebrow. "so if you text him right now and ask, he won’t confirm?"

jaehyun opens his mouth, then closes it.

"...no comment."

you cackle.

"oh my god," jaehyun mutters, slumping in his seat. "i hate this app."

"i love this app," you say gleefully.

by the time the bill arrives, you have to admit something.

this was not a disaster.

you’re still weirded out by the app’s accuracy. it’s unsettling how well it seems to know you both.

but jaehyun?

...he’s not so bad.

"so," he says as you both step outside, hands in pockets. "same time next week?"

you blink. "what?"

he holds up his phone.

"congrats! 🎉 your next date is scheduled for next friday! love takes consistency! 💖 ditching is not an option. 😉"

you groan. "again?"

"yep."

"...fine."

jaehyun grins. "see you then, partner."

you shake your head, but you can’t help the small smile forming.

what the hell have you gotten yourself into?

—

you’re in the middle of something important when your phone buzzes.

"surprise! 🎉 we’ve scheduled a spontaneous date night for you and jaehyun! quality time is crucial for growing relationships! 💕 see you at 7PM! 😘"

you stare at the screen.

then you glance at the time.

6:20PM.

"are you kidding me?" you say aloud.

sungho and kazuha look up from where they’re sprawled across your couch, watching a drama. "what?" kazuha asks.

"this stupid app just scheduled a date."

"wait, i thought your next one wasn’t until friday," sungho says.

"it was," you emphasize. "now it’s tonight. at seven."

sungho winces. "oh, that’s rough."

kazuha squints. "can’t you just cancel?"

you shake your head and turn your screen to them.

"cancelling is NOT an option! 🫵😤 love takes EFFORT! 💖"

kazuha snorts. "damn. that app is really holding you hostage."

you sigh. "i hate this."

sungho shrugs. "on the bright side, at least jaehyun is fun to mess with."

you scowl, but you don’t argue.

jaehyun is having an equally miserable time.

"you have got to be kidding me," he groans.

taesan and woonhak glance up from where they’re messing around on the studio couch. "what?" woonhak asks.

jaehyun turns his phone to them.

taesan squints. "another date? bro, you just had one."

"i know," jaehyun says, exasperated. "i have work to do!"

"just reschedule," woonhak suggests.

jaehyun gives him a deadpan look and flips his phone back around.

"cancelling is NOT an option! 🫵😤 love takes EFFORT! 💖"

woonhak bursts out laughing. "nah, this is hilarious."

"i hate this app," jaehyun mutters.

"okay, but like," taesan leans forward, "where are you even supposed to take them? don’t you have to finish your demo?"

jaehyun groans, rubbing his face. "yeah. i do."

he stares at his screen for a second, then sighs. "i guess they’re just coming here."

woonhak and taesan exchange glances.

"bold," woonhak comments.

"risky," taesan adds.

jaehyun throws a notebook at them.

you’re about five seconds away from ghosting when your phone buzzes.

myung jaehyun: uh. slight change of plans myung jaehyun: i’m stuck in the studio bc i have work to finish myung jaehyun: so if you’re cool with it, you can just come here?

you stare at the message.

then you sigh.

you: send me the address

a moment later, it comes through.

you grab your things and head out, still half-annoyed, half-curious about what you’re walking into.

jaehyun’s studio is tucked away in a quieter part of the city, the kind of place you’d probably never stumble upon unless you were looking for it.

the building itself is older, but inside, it’s got that warm, slightly chaotic energy of a space that’s lived in.

post-it notes are stuck to random surfaces. half-full water bottles clutter the desks. a worn couch sits against the wall, surrounded by tangled cables and spare equipment.

jaehyun is hunched over the desk, headphones around his neck, messy hair even messier than usual. he spins in his chair when you walk in, eyes slightly wide.

"oh. hey."

"hey," you say, glancing around. "so this is where the magic happens?"

"uh," jaehyun scratches the back of his neck, "something like that."

you step further inside, taking in the mix of instruments, wires, and open project files on the screen.

"you work here alone?"

"nah," jaehyun gestures vaguely. "woonhak and taesan share this space with me, but they’re not here right now."

"cool."

an awkward pause.

jaehyun clears his throat. "so, uh… i do have to work, but you can hang out? there’s snacks in that cabinet, and the couch is—"

you flop onto the couch before he can finish his sentence.

jaehyun blinks. "—yeah. okay. make yourself at home."

you grin. "thanks, host."

jaehyun groans but turns back to his screen, muttering something about "stupid app forcing dates at the worst times."

you watch him for a moment as he scrolls through his project.

his sleeves are pushed up, revealing the faint ink stains on his fingers. his foot taps absently against the floor as he listens to the playback.

you close your eyes and let the soft hum of music fill the space.

time passes.

jaehyun works. you scroll through your phone, occasionally glancing up to watch him tweak something in his file.

it’s… oddly peaceful.

you get up and sit down at the desk next to him, he’s too immersed to acknowldge you.

despite the forced nature of this whole situation, there’s something nice about sitting in a space where someone is just doing what they love.

you start to relax.

and at some point, without even meaning to, you start to drift off.

jaehyun only notices when he turns around to say something and sees you slumped over the desk next to him, head resting on your arms.

he freezes.

stares.

panics.

oh shit oh shit oh shit.

you’re asleep.

here. in his studio.

jaehyun is hyperaware of everything. the quiet rise and fall of your breathing. the way your fingers are curled slightly, like you were mid-scroll before you passed out.

he has no idea what to do.

should he wake you up? would that be rude? but if he doesn’t, is that weirder?

he’s still spiraling when the door swings open.

"forgot my charger," taesan says, stepping inside. "also, i’m stealing your—"

he stops.

jaehyun can feel the moment taesan processes the scene in front of him.

then—

"holy shit."

jaehyun whips around. "shut up."

taesan grins. "no way. you’re actually—"

"shut. up."

taesan snickers. "oh, this is amazing."

jaehyun glares. "don’t. start."

but it’s too late. taesan is already pulling out his phone.

"bro," he whispers, cackling, "you’re literally watching them like they’re a rare bird species."

"i am not," jaehyun hisses.

"you so are. oh my god."

jaehyun is about to throw something when you shift slightly, letting out a soft sigh.

both of them freeze.

taesan vibrates with silent laughter.

jaehyun, who is now very much contemplating murder, snaps, "get your stupid charger and leave."

taesan holds his hands up in surrender, still grinning. "alright, alright. relax, lover boy."

jaehyun throws a notebook at him.

taesan leaves.

jaehyun exhales, running a hand through his hair.

he turns back to you.

you’re still asleep, breathing steady, face relaxed.

he sighs.

and despite himself, despite the utter embarrassment of this entire situation…

he can’t help the small, stupid smile that tugs at his lips.

this app is so dumb.

but maybe…

just maybe…

it’s onto something.

you wake up slowly, the kind of hazy drift between sleep and awareness where you don’t quite remember where you are.

there’s the soft hum of music. the faint scratch of a pen. the scent of something vaguely citrusy, mixed with the underlying warmth of a well-used space.

then—

"finally awake?"

you blink blearily. jaehyun is sitting at the desk, spinning a pen between his fingers, watching you with an amused expression.

reality clicks into place.

the studio. the forced date. you, falling asleep like an idiot.

you groan, rubbing your face. "how long was i out?"

jaehyun shrugs. "an hour? maybe more?"

you wince. "why didn’t you wake me up?"

"you looked comfortable," he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

you stare at him.

jaehyun stares back.

heat creeps up the back of your neck. you push it down and scowl instead. "so you just let me drool all over your desk?"

"you didn’t drool," jaehyun says. then, after a pause, "probably."

you groan again and stretch, the stiffness in your neck making you regret everything. "well, thanks for that. i guess."

jaehyun chuckles, spinning back to his screen. "anytime."

you roll your eyes but don’t fight the small smile threatening to form.

you end up staying.

it’s not like you planned to, but the vibe is easy, and jaehyun is… well.

he’s kind of nice to be around.

he works while you scroll through your phone, occasionally showing him something stupid that makes him snort. at one point, he grabs a bag of chips from a shelf and wordlessly hands it to you.

"what’s this for?" you ask.

"you skipped dinner."

you blink. "how do you know?"

jaehyun raises an eyebrow. "because i also skipped dinner, and i didn’t see you eat anything either."

…fair point.

you take the bag and mumble a thanks. jaehyun just shrugs like it’s no big deal.

somewhere between talking about absolutely nothing, watching him edit his project, and accidentally getting crumbs all over the desk, you start to forget that this whole thing was a forced date.

it doesn’t feel like one anymore.

and you don’t know if that’s a good thing or not.

it’s nearly midnight when you check your phone and realize how late it’s gotten.

"shit," you mutter.

jaehyun glances up. "huh?"

"i should probably go."

he blinks, like he just processed the time himself. "oh. right."

you stand, stretching again, then glance at him. "you gonna keep working?"

"for a bit," jaehyun says, rubbing his neck. "i’m almost done."

you nod, then hesitate.

you’re not sure why you hesitate.

but before you can overthink it, you blurt out, "this wasn’t that bad."

jaehyun raises an eyebrow. "wow. high praise."

"shut up," you say, rolling your eyes.

he grins. "but yeah. wasn’t that bad."

you huff, grabbing your things. "see you friday, loser."

"see you, drooler."

you flip him off as you walk out the door.

jaehyun just laughs.

as you head home, your phone buzzes.

"congrats! 🎉 you’ve just completed an unplanned date! we bet you had a GREAT time 😘💖 can’t wait for friday! 😍"

you stare at the notification.

then you scoff, shaking your head.

stupid app.

—

you just want your morning coffee.

that’s it. just a simple, peaceful start to your day before dealing with actual responsibilities.

but when you step into the coffee shop, your usual one, the one you’ve been going to for years, you freeze.

because sitting right there, hunched over his phone with slight dark circles under his eyes and a half-finished iced americano in front of him, is myung jaehyun.

he doesn’t notice you at first. he just stares blankly at his screen, blinking slow like a loading error. he’s so out of it that when the barista calls out his order, he doesn’t even react.

so, naturally, you decide to make his life harder.

"myung jaehyun," you say, loud enough for half the café to hear.

he flinches like you just smacked him.

"huh?!"

"your coffee," you deadpan, nodding towards the counter.

he follows your gaze, then blinks again. "oh. right."

you snort as he stumbles up to grab it, still looking half-asleep.

when he returns to his seat, you’re still standing there, arms crossed.

"what?" he mumbles.

"this is my coffee shop."

jaehyun squints at you. "…what?"

"i come here every morning," you say, pointing at the barista like they can somehow confirm this.

jaehyun shrugs. "cool. i came here because my app said it had ‘the best morning recharge.’"

you frown. "your app?"

"heartsync," he says, yawning. "you know. the app that ruined our lives?"

your stomach drops. "you’re kidding."

jaehyun pulls out his phone and flashes the notification at you. sure enough.

"rise and shine! 🌞 grab your perfect morning pick-me-up at caffeine fix! ☕✨"

your jaw clenches. you also got a similar notification this morning.

slowly, your eyes meet. "okay," you say. "this is weird."

jaehyun hums, sipping his coffee. "yeah. but whatever. i needed caffeine."

you stare at him, offended. "so you’re just accepting this?"

"i mean, if the app is forcing me to get good coffee, i won’t complain," he says, completely unserious.

you hate that he’s taking this so lightly. you hate that he doesn’t even seem surprised.

you snatch his coffee and take a sip.

"hey!" jaehyun protests.

you smack it back down on the table. "that’s for being weirdly okay with this."

he just glares at you, rubbing his temples. "i just woke up. can you at least let me suffer in peace?"

you sigh, pulling out a chair. "fine. but i’m sitting here now. just to make sure you don’t pass out or something."

jaehyun looks at you, surprised. then he grins. "aww. you care."

you grab a sugar packet and chuck it at his forehead.

after that, you make a decision.

you’re not going to see jaehyun for a while.

not because you mind him. he’s fine. whatever. but because there’s something unnerving about the way this stupid app is leading you to each other like rats in some kind of romantic lab experiment.

so the next morning, you take a different route to work.

and by "different," you mean you add twenty minutes to your commute just to be safe.

you’re feeling pretty good about yourself until you stop by a grocery store later that evening—

and jaehyun is right there, staring at a shelf of instant ramen like it personally betrayed him.

you freeze. he looks up.

silence.

"are you kidding me?" you groan, dragging a hand down your face.

jaehyun just stares at you. "you’re the one who just walked in."

"yeah, but i specifically avoided my usual route just to make sure this wouldn’t happen," you argue.

"okay, well, i was just trying to get food," he says, exasperated. "i ran out of ramen."

you narrow your eyes. "don’t tell me your app told you to come here."

he hesitates.

then he holds up his phone.

"craving a late-night snack? 🤤🍜 don’t worry, we got you! swing by mart express—you never know who you might run into! 😉"

you want to throw something.

instead, you march up to him, grab his phone, and put it on airplane mode.

jaehyun blinks. "…what are you doing."

"fixing our problem," you say, pulling out your own phone and doing the same.

jaehyun stares at you for a moment. then, to your surprise, he actually nods. "okay," he says. "good plan."

you blink. "wait. you’re not gonna fight me on this?"

he shrugs. "nah. the app is getting creepy."

you fold your arms. "so you do think it’s weird?"

"i always thought it was weird," jaehyun says. "i just don’t care as much as you do."

you glare at him, but he’s already turning back to the ramen shelf like this whole conversation didn’t just happen.

unbelievable.

you leave the store together, mostly because your places are in the same general direction.

except five minutes in, jaehyun suddenly stops walking.

"shit," he mutters.

"what?" you ask.

he sighs. "i don’t know how to get home."

you stare at him. "you what."

"i always use my phone for directions!" he says, waving his arms. "but i turned it off, and now i’m lost."

you pinch the bridge of your nose. "you’re unbelievable."

"hey, you told me to turn it off!"

"because we were being manipulated!"

"well, congrats, now i’m gonna die on the street because of you."

"oh my god," you groan. "just—fine. where do you live?"

jaehyun tells you the address. you stare at him.

"jaehyun," you say. "that’s literally ten minutes from my place."

jaehyun blinks. "…oh."

you squint at him. "have you been taking the long way home this entire time?"

he scratches his head. "maybe?"

you don’t know whether to laugh or hit him.

instead, you just sigh and grab his wrist.

"come on," you say, dragging him in the right direction. "i’ll walk you."

jaehyun doesn’t protest.

but when you glance at him, he’s smiling.

you get him home without issue.

when you stop in front of his building, jaehyun turns to you.

"thanks," he says, rubbing his neck. "and, uh. good job fighting the system, i guess."

you snort. "yeah. whatever."

he grins, but there’s something softer in it this time.

"see you around?" he asks.

you hesitate.

then you sigh. "probably."

jaehyun laughs. "probably."

you don’t check your phone again until you’re home.

when you do, you have one new notification.

"aw, how sweet! 🥰 you make such a great team! 💕"

you groan, rolling your eyes. the off the grid mode didn’t work.

“so,” sungho says, dragging out the word like he’s about to be annoying.

you look up from your phone, raising an eyebrow. “so?”

sungho smirks. “how’s myung jaehyun?”

you blink. “why are you asking like that?”

“oh, no reason,” he says, very unconvincingly. “you just seem to see him a lot.”

you scoff. “that’s because this stupid app won’t leave us alone.”

“mhm.”

“it literally forced us to meet up.”

“sure.”

you glare at him. “i don’t like him, if that’s what you’re implying.”

sungho just hums. “never said you did.”

you hate him.

“anyway,” you say, aggressively changing the subject. “when are you free? let’s get dinner or something.”

sungho shrugs. “ask jaehyun. you seem to hang out with him more than me these days.”

you chuck a pillow at his face.

on jaehyun’s end, taesan is just as bad.

“so, you and your soulmate have been seeing each other a lot.”

jaehyun groans. “don’t call them that.”

“why not? isn’t that what the app says?” taesan teases.

jaehyun sighs, tilting his head back against the couch. “we don’t even take it seriously.”

“and yet you still see them outside of what the app says.”

“it just happens,” jaehyun defends.

“right.”

jaehyun doesn’t even bother arguing. it’s taesan. nothing he says will change his mind once he starts being annoying.

instead, he just mutters, “i don’t even like them like that.”

taesan snorts. “yeah. okay.”

jaehyun scowls at him. “i don’t.”

taesan grins. “never said you did.”

jaehyun glares at him.

taesan only laughs.

but the truth is—

neither of you mind seeing each other.

the notification hits your phone at the worst possible time, mid-bite into a sandwich, your mouth too full to properly react as you stare at the bolded text on the screen.

💖 heartsync™ challenge: surprise your match with a meaningful gift! don’t forget! thoughtfulness is key! 🎁

you narrow your eyes. a meaningful gift?

sungho, sitting across from you, glances at your phone and snorts. “oh, this is good. what are you gonna get him?”

you finish chewing before deadpanning, “a rock.”

sungho almost chokes on his drink.

jaehyun gets the same notification while lying on his bed, aimlessly scrolling through his phone. he barely processes it at first, but then—

a meaningful gift.

he groans, rubbing his face. "why is this starting to feel like a real relationship?"

“because it is a real relationship,” taesan says from his desk, not looking up from his laptop.

“it’s not,” jaehyun argues immediately.

“sure,” taesan replies, unconvinced.

jaehyun sighs. “what even counts as meaningful?”

taesan finally looks at him, unimpressed. “you’re the one dating them.”

“fake dating,” jaehyun corrects.

“sure,” taesan repeats.

jaehyun groans again.

you decide to put some effort into it.

not because you care or anything, but because you know jaehyun will definitely try, and you don’t want to look like an asshole in comparison.

you wander through a store, scanning the shelves for something that could count as thoughtful.

jaehyun gives off dog energy, doesn’t he?

you frown. that’s weird to think about. but it’s true. he’s clumsy, a little dumb, but weirdly endearing.

then, you spot it.

a plush keychain. a little golden retriever with floppy ears and big, round eyes.

you hesitate before picking it up.

it’s stupid. but it’s also… kind of perfect.

you buy it before you can second-guess yourself.

jaehyun, meanwhile, is just as lost.

he walks through a store with woonhak, who has been absolutely no help.

“why don’t you just get them a candle?” woonhak suggests.

jaehyun sighs. “that’s not meaningful.”

“depends on the scent.”

“woonhak.”

“fine.” woonhak gestures vaguely. “what do they even like?”

jaehyun pauses.

he… actually knows quite a bit. their favorite color, the snacks they always buy, the way they take their coffee—

he stops. when did he start noticing so much?

woonhak stares at him. “dude, you’re so gone.”

jaehyun immediately shakes his head. “shut up.”

but he grabs something off the shelf anyway, a small coffee cup for the coffee addict that is you.

just because it makes sense. not because he cares.

you agree to meet at the studio.

it’s not that weird, jaehyun spends most of his time there anyway, and you’ve been there before.

when you walk in, however, you’re met with the sight of woonhak sitting at the desk, staring intensely at his laptop screen.

you blink. “you’re here?”

woonhak looks up. “you’re here?”

“uh. yeah?”

jaehyun walks in behind you, closing the door. “we’re doing that stupid challenge.”

woonhak frowns. “what challenge?”

you smirk. “the one that made him tell me about woonbaby.”

there’s a beat of silence.

“YOU TOLD THEM?!” woonhak exclaims, turning to jaehyun with betrayal in his eyes.

jaehyun looks genuinely alarmed. “IT WASN’T MY FAULT! THE APP TOLD THEM.”

woonhak glares. “i don’t care! you let it happen.”

you watch, amused, as they bicker.

eventually, jaehyun gives up with an exasperated sigh. “whatever, let’s just do this.”

you sit down, pulling out the little plush keychain.

jaehyun stares at it.

“what?” you say.

he blinks. “…is that a dog?”

you nod. “it reminded me of you.”

woonhak howls with laughter.

jaehyun scowls. “what does that mean?”

you shrug. “you figure it out.”

woonhak is practically crying. “bro, you’re literally a golden retriever.”

jaehyun grumbles, but you catch the way he turns the keychain over in his hands, quietly pressing at the plush fabric.

then, he clears his throat, pulling out his own gift.

a simple and cute coffee cup, one you can reuse for your favorite coffee shop.

you pause.

you recognize this brand. it’s the one you always buy from.

“…how did you know i like these?” you ask.

jaehyun hesitates. “you mentioned it once.”

you stare at him. that was days ago.

woonhak, clearly sensing something, slowly scoots away.

“uh,” he mutters, “i’ll leave you guys to it.”

he exits the room.

leaving you alone with jaehyun.

you turn back to him, suddenly unsure what to say.

he shifts in his seat. “so. we did the challenge.”

you nod. “yeah.”

there’s a silence.

“…i actually really like this,” jaehyun admits, still holding the plush keychain.

you blink. the silence is loud.

he glances at you, a little sheepish. “i know you probably just picked it because it’s funny, but… i like it.”

you feel something unfamiliar stir in your chest.

“…i like mine too,” you say.

he looks up, a little surprised.

you clear your throat. “it’s thoughtful.”

a small smile tugs at his lips.

“good,” he says.

later that night, you add the keychain to your bag.

and jaehyun clips his onto his.

not that it means anything.

—

💖 heartsync challenge: write a letter to your partner about what this experience meant to you. be honest! no holding back! 💌

you stare at your phone.

your stomach turns.

this is different from the other challenges. those were fun, stupid, even. buying a gift? easy. going on a last-minute date? frustrating but manageable.

but this?

you put your phone down and ignore it.

jaehyun, on the other hand, groans dramatically and flops onto his bed.

taesan and woonhak glance at each other.

“what now?” taesan asks.

jaehyun lifts his phone, showing them the notification.

woonhak snorts. “damn. that’s deep.”

“yeah,” jaehyun mutters. “stupid app.”

taesan raises a brow. “you’re actually gonna do it?”

jaehyun pauses. “...it’s just a challenge.”

woonhak smirks. “uh-huh.”

jaehyun rolls onto his stomach, hiding his face.

taesan leans back in his chair. “so… what has this experience meant to you?”

jaehyun groans into his pillow.

woonhak cackles. “this is hilarious.”

jaehyun throws a pillow at him.

you don’t write the letter.

you could.

but you don’t.

because writing it down makes it real. and you don’t want to think about what this actually means.

so, you pretend it doesn’t exist.

the app can’t force you, right?

right.

jaehyun stares at the blank page in front of him.

just write something dumb and get it over with.

but when he tries to start, nothing feels right.

so, he sighs, taps his pen against the desk, and just… writes what comes naturally.

woonhak picks up the folded letter before jaehyun can stop him.

jaehyun nearly tackles him.

“GIVE IT BACK.”

woonhak dances out of reach, grinning. “ooooh, what’s this?”

“IT’S NOTHING.”

taesan, completely unbothered, takes a sip of his drink. “so you did write one.”

jaehyun glares. “it’s just a stupid challenge.”

woonhak dodges another grab. “damn, you really poured your heart into this, huh?”

jaehyun huffs. “i hate both of you.”

woonhak finally tosses it back, laughing.

jaehyun stuffs it into his bag, scowling.

“…so when are you giving it to them?” taesan asks.

jaehyun freezes.

“uh.”

“…you are giving it to them, right?” woonhak says, amused.

jaehyun looks away. “i don’t know.”

“…bro.”

“i just—” jaehyun sighs. “what if they don’t care?”

woonhak and taesan exchange a look.

then, woonhak shrugs. “i guess you’ll find out.”

you don’t ask if jaehyun wrote his letter.

you don’t want to know.

because if he did, then you’d have to think about why you didn’t.

when jaehyun sees you next, he almost gives it to you.

almost.

but then he sees the way you act like nothing is different.

so, he keeps it in his bag.

not that it matters.

—

💖 heartsync update: your 30-day trial is almost over! it’s time for your final compatibility assessment!

will you renew? yes or no? make your choice carefully! 😘

your thumb hovers over the screen.

your chest feels tight.

final compatibility assessment.

it’s just a stupid button. just a choice.

but it feels heavier than that.

yes or no. stay or leave.

do you want this to continue?

and that’s the problem, isn’t it?

because you do. but you also don’t.

or rather, you can’t.

if you say yes, what does that mean? that the app was right? that this was real? that you’re willing to risk whatever this has become?

that’s too much.

that’s terrifying.

so, instead of thinking, instead of wondering, instead of feeling—

you press no.

and just like that, it’s over.

jaehyun gets the notification when he’s halfway to the café.

he’d planned to meet you there, casually slipping you the letter like it wasn’t a big deal. but then—

💔 heartsync update: your trial has ended. thanks for participating! your match has chosen not to renew. we’ve removed them from your contacts. no hard feelings! 💕

he stops walking.

stares at the screen.

his stomach sinks.

his heart—

no renewal.

he scrolls through his messages, but your contact is gone. every conversation, every stupid joke, every awkward late-night text—erased.

like you were never there at all.

like he imagined it.

like it meant nothing.

he swallows.

turns on his heel.

walks away.

when you check your phone again, it’s like jaehyun never existed.

your chat history? gone.

your notifications? empty.

you type his name into your contacts. nothing.

it feels like a punch to the stomach. you should’ve expected this. you did expect this.

but it still hurts.

did he pick no, too?

…or did you delete something that he actually wanted?

you close your phone.

this is for the best.

you keep telling yourself that. so why doesn’t it feel true?

jaehyun stares at the letter in his hands.

it’s stupid.

he shouldn’t care.

but he does. and that pisses him off.

woonhak notices. “what’s up with you?”

jaehyun doesn’t answer.

taesan glances over. “hey. you good?”

jaehyun laughs, but it’s hollow. “yeah.”

woonhak raises a brow.

jaehyun crumples the letter in his fist.

“i just wasted my time, that’s all.”

he gets up.

leaves before they can ask anything else.

you tell sungho and kazuha that it’s fine.

that you’re fine.

sungho doesn’t buy it. “so, you just… ended it?”

you shrug. “it was gonna end anyway.”

kazuha frowns. “but… did you want it to?”

you open your mouth. hesitate.

sungho sighs. “you’re an idiot.”

you glare. “thanks.”

“i’m serious. if you actually liked him—”

“i don’t.”

“…right,” kazuha says, unconvinced.

sungho crosses his arms. “you know, he could’ve said yes.”

you look away.

because that thought is the worst one of all.

jaehyun avoids the café.

he avoids the places he might see you.

he pretends it doesn’t sting.

but when he’s alone, when the studio is quiet, when there’s nothing left to distract him.

he pulls out the letter.

the one you’ll never read.

and he wonders if he had given it to you, would it have made a difference?

—

jaehyun is not the kind of guy who does this.

he’s not the type to chase after people. he doesn’t do big confrontations. he doesn’t throw himself into situations where his feelings are laid bare, where rejection is a very real possibility.

but here he is.

sitting in a café across from woonhak, gripping a coffee cup like it’s a lifeline, his foot tapping against the floor so fast it’s a miracle the ground isn’t shaking.

woonhak, for his part, is staring at him like he’s experiencing secondhand embarrassment in real time.

“so… let me get this straight,” woonhak says, setting his drink down. “you got matched with someone on a dating app. spent a whole month with them. actually liked them. and now, instead of talking to them like a normal person, you’re here, asking me to help you find them?”

jaehyun scowls. “when you say it like that, it sounds weird.”

woonhak leans back in his chair. “because it is weird.”

jaehyun groans, running a hand through his hair. “i just—” he hesitates, voice quieter. “they pressed no.”

woonhak’s eyebrows lift.

jaehyun clenches his jaw. “they chose to end it.”

woonhak watches him for a moment. then, slowly, he folds his arms.

“so? that’s it? you’re just gonna let the app decide how this ends?”

jaehyun exhales sharply. “no.”

“good.” woonhak cracks his knuckles. “let’s find them.”

jaehyun blinks. “wait, you’re actually helping?”

woonhak smirks. “are you kidding? this is the most interesting thing that’s happened all week.”

jaehyun rolls his eyes, but his heart is beating a little faster now.

step one: figure out where you work.

woonhak, surprisingly, is really good at this. almost too good.

“didn’t you mention that sungho is their friend?” he asks, scrolling through his phone.

jaehyun blinks. “uh. yeah?”

woonhak hums. “i think i saw something on his page last week. something about dropping off lunch at their job.”

jaehyun leans over. “you can find that?”

“duh. i have skills.”

jaehyun doesn’t question it.

a few minutes later, woonhak tilts his screen toward jaehyun. “bingo. looks like they work at that bookstore near the subway station.”

jaehyun’s stomach twists.

this is actually happening.

woonhak smirks. “you ready?”

jaehyun doesn’t answer. just grabs his jacket and walks out the door.

the bookstore is quiet when jaehyun steps inside.

the warm scent of paper and ink fills the air. soft lighting casts golden hues against the wooden bookshelves. the faint sound of pages turning and the occasional murmur of conversation drifts through the space.

he scans the store, heart hammering.

there.

you’re stacking books near the back, moving with the easy rhythm of someone who’s done this a hundred times.

jaehyun’s feet move before he can think.

you don’t notice him at first.

but then you glance up.

your hands still. your eyes widen.

“…jaehyun?”

his throat is dry. he almost forgets why he’s here.

almost.

“you really didn’t care, huh?”

your expression falters. “what?”

jaehyun exhales sharply. “you didn’t even hesitate. you just—” he gestures vaguely, frustration bleeding into his voice. “you pressed no.”

you swallow. “i—”

jaehyun reaches into his pocket.

pulls out a crumpled piece of paper.

your breath catches.

“you didn’t read mine,” jaehyun says.

his voice is quieter now. rough around the edges.

you stare at the letter.

the ink is smudged. the paper is creased, worn like he’s been holding onto it for days.

like he was going to give it to you, like he wanted to stay.

your stomach twists.

“jaehyun.”

he shakes his head, running a hand through his hair. “i just don’t get it.”

his voice cracks on the last word.

you don’t know what to say. you don’t know how to fix this.

but maybe… maybe it’s not too late.

silence stretches between you.

you don’t look away from the letter.

jaehyun doesn’t either.

there’s a tension in the air, thick and heavy. you try to swallow it down, but it doesn’t go away.

finally, jaehyun exhales.

he shoves a hand into his jacket pocket, gaze dropping to the floor. “you don’t have to say anything,” he mutters. “i just—i needed you to know.”

your throat is tight. your fingers twitch at your sides.

you didn’t read mine.

he said it so simply, like it wasn’t the most painful realization of all. because you should have.

you should have waited.

you should have listened.

but you were afraid.

afraid that reading it would mean accepting something real. afraid that pressing yes would mean opening yourself up to something you weren’t sure you could handle.

but now, looking at him, his tense shoulders, his furrowed brows, the way his hands grip the letter like it’s the only thing holding him together. he’s so cute.

you wonder if you made the wrong choice.

you take a shaky breath. “jaehyun…”

he lifts his gaze.

your fingers brush against the edge of the letter. hesitating.

you take it.

jaehyun stills.

you smooth it out carefully, trying not to focus on the places where the ink has bled.

you glance up. “can i—?”

jaehyun nods, once.

so you read.

jaehyun’s letter is messy.

his handwriting is uneven, like he kept pausing, rewriting, second-guessing.

but the words—

the words hit you like a punch to the chest.

it’s not poetic. not perfectly structured.

but it’s real.

and for some reason, that makes it hurt even more.

hey. i don’t really know what to say, which is probably a bad start to a letter. i don’t know what i was expecting when i signed up for this. definitely not this. i thought it’d be a joke. just something dumb i’d try and then delete. but then, somehow, it was you. and i don’t know how that happened, but i’m not really mad about it. it was weird at first. and sometimes it still is. but somewhere along the way, i stopped thinking about it like an “experiment” or a “trial.” it just became normal. i don’t know if that means anything. but i think i like this. i think i like… you. not that it matters. but yeah. that’s it. - jaehyun.

you can tell when he started to get frustrated. some sentences trail off, like he wasn’t sure how to end them. some are underlined, like he wanted to make sure you understood.

but the part that makes your breath catch, the part that makes your fingers tighten around the page—

is near the end.

"i don’t know if that means anything. but i think i like this. i think i like… you."

you stare at the words.

your hands shake.

your vision blurs.

you blink rapidly, forcing yourself to look up.

jaehyun is watching you, expression unreadable.

you open your mouth. but no words come out.

so you do the only thing you can.

you fold the letter carefully. tuck it into your pocket.

and whisper, “i think i made a mistake.”

jaehyun exhales.

his lips press into a thin line.

“yeah,” he says softly. “i think so, too.”

it should be easier than this.

it should be simple. if you like someone, you tell them. if you want to stay, you stay.

but it’s never that easy, is it?

because standing here, in the quiet of the bookstore, with jaehyun staring at you like you’re the only thing keeping him grounded, it feels impossible to say what you want to say.

your heart is in your throat.

your fingers tighten around the crumpled letter in your pocket.

“so,” jaehyun says, voice quiet. “what now?”

you don’t know.

but you do know one thing:

you don’t want to walk away again.

you meet his gaze.

hesitate.

“i think i liked you before i even realized.”

jaehyun’s breath catches.

your chest feels tight.

you swallow, forcing yourself to keep going.

“i just… i didn’t want to admit it,” you say, voice softer now. “because if i did, then it wouldn’t be because of the app. it wouldn’t be because of some stupid algorithm. it would just be me.”

you take a shaky breath.

“and that scared me.”

jaehyun exhales sharply.

he’s quiet for a long moment, and just when you think he’s going to say something,

he takes a step closer.

then another.

your heart stutters.

he stops just a few inches away.

when he speaks, his voice is steadier than before.

“i don’t care what the app says,” he murmurs.

his gaze is unwavering.

“i like you.”

your stomach flips.

your fingers twitch at your sides.

you want to say something.

but before you can, jaehyun suddenly exhales, dragging a hand down his face.

“god, that was so embarrassing,” he groans. “i can’t believe i actually said that out loud.”

you blink.

a laugh bursts out of you, unexpected and unfiltered.

jaehyun groans again, covering his face. “no, don’t laugh. i was trying to be cool.”

“cool?” you wheeze. “you?”

he glares at you from between his fingers. “i take it back. i don’t like you.”

you grin. “too late.”

jaehyun groans dramatically, but there’s no real frustration in it.

just warmth. just relief.

and when your laughter fades, when the bookstore falls quiet again—

he looks at you. and you look back.

something shifts.

something settles.

and just like that—

it doesn’t feel so impossible anymore.

later, at a coffee shop.

“so,” you say, stirring your drink. “was any of it real?”

jaehyun blinks. “huh?”

“the app,” you clarify. “the ‘fated’ moments. was any of it real?”

jaehyun thinks about it.

“well.” he tilts his head. “the coffee shop thing was definitely on purpose.”

you nod. “and the grocery store?”

“i think you just have bad luck.”

“excuse me?”

jaehyun shrugs, taking a sip of his drink. “i mean, statistically speaking, you were bound to run into me eventually.”

you narrow your eyes. “statistically speaking, i should throw my drink at you.”

jaehyun grins. “you could. but then you’d have to buy me another one.”

you stare at him for a long moment.

then you sigh, leaning back in your chair.

“so… no magic algorithm,” you murmur.

“no magic algorithm,” jaehyun agrees.

it’s strange.

you spent so much time wondering if any of it was real, if the app had manipulated you, if the connection was artificial, if your feelings were manufactured.

but now, sitting here, watching jaehyun poke at the ice in his drink with his straw, you realize something.

you don’t care.

because maybe the app pushed you together. maybe it forced you into situations that you wouldn’t have chosen otherwise.

but the moments you shared?

the conversations, the laughter, the quiet nights at the studio—

that was real. and that’s enough.

and that's something you like the sound of.

—

tysm for reading :>

bnd taglist : @bxnedo

perm taglist : @s0shroe @minoouz @the0p @mon2sunjinsuver

[honeyryewhiskey]

whiskey kisses

or, close is never close enough. dean just needs his hands and lips on his favorite little thing warnings!! birthday sex, drunk, alcohol makes dean say the boldest damn things when he's inside u, 18+ mdni!

The Roadhouse was alive with the kind of chaos only hunters could conjure. Glasses clinked in toasts to survival, stories of hunts both gruesome and glorious were swapped over loud laughter, and the air was thick with the scent of spilled beer and aged whiskey. The jukebox crooned an old rock ballad barely audible over the noise, and Ellen was busy behind the bar, slinging drinks with the practiced ease of someone who’d seen it all.

The overflowing crowd and rowdy cheers raged against the night, all in the name of Dean.

But the man of the hour was nowhere to be seen.

Away from the buzz of the bar, tucked in the shadows of the backroom office, Dean leaned against the edge of a cluttered desk. His usual smirk, softened by the flush of whiskey warming his veins, held a sweetness reserved just for you. The flicker of the dim bulb overhead casts a golden glow across his face, but your focus was on the heat of his hands, firm and possessive as they rested on your hips. He dipped his head, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your neck, leaving a trail of tingling warmth in their wake.

“This is better,” he murmured, voice gravelly and low, the kind of tone that made your knees weak. His lips barely grazed your ear. “No crowd, no interruptions. Just us. Been needing to get you alone all damn day.” His grip tightens with his words because close is never close enough for Dean when it comes to you.

The celebration outside might as well have been a world away, distant and irrelevant. Dean’s green eyes locked onto yours, their lovesick intensity sending a rush of heat through your chest. It wasn’t just tonight—you always found yourselves pulling away together, whether on a hunt, in the bunker, or stolen moments in between. The need to be close was as irresistible as it was inevitable.

“Aw,” you sigh with a teasing smile, hands smoothing over his chest. “you need me that bad?”

“Hey,” his warning tone doesn’t match the amusement swirling in his eyes, “can’t blame a guy for wanting a little alone time when you’ve been flaunting that pretty little ass of yours across the bar room all night.”

“Flaunting?” you feign an offended gasp, playfully swatting his chest, “I would never.”

he lets out a sound somewhere between a grunt and a scoff as his brows quirk, “oh yeah, tease?” his eyes darken, his dimples popping at each end of his grin as his hands dip lower, squeezing the fat of your backside. Your breath hitches from the suddenness of it—your body already buzzing from the medley of whiskey and Dean’s all the more intoxicating presence. “And lookin’ up at me like that, all pretty and sweet.”  His smirk oozes confidence as he dips his head to your ear, lips tickling your skin as they ghost across, “Tell me you’re not begging for me to bend you over right here.” 

You can’t help but hum a sigh at the sound of his voice, so daring and enticing.

The heat growing between your thighs flips into a pulsing heartbeat. Your hips shift in his grasp, a motion that doesn’t go unnoticed by him, yet still, you shake your head innocently.

Your hands slid up to cradle his jaw. Stare fixed on your thumb brushing over the curve of his bottom lip as you murmured, “I just like looking at you, Dean.”

His expression showed he held no belief in those words, but still found your coy tone beguiling. “Mhm.” His hum vibrated against your skin as he turned his head slightly, planting soft kisses from your thumb down to your wrist, trailing heat with each pink peck. “Y’think they’ll notice,” he mumbled against your pulse, his palms pulling you flush against him in one swift swoop, chests colliding at once, “if we,” his lips found your neck again, slow and deliberate, “disappear?”

You tried to focus, really tried, but the way he teased that sweet spot just beneath your ear made coherent thoughts dissolve.

“Mm, no,” you lied, the truth buried beneath the haze of his hands sliding under your shirt, sending shivers up your spine. You knew they’d notice, like they always do when the two of you sneak off. But you didn’t care. Not when his chuckle rumbled against your skin, followed by the scrape of his teeth that coaxed a quiet whimper from your lips.

Dean stood to his full height at the sound, his hands cradling your face, and when his lips finally met yours, it wasn’t soft or tentative as his teasing has been—it was a mess of heat and hunger. Your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer. Your heavy breaths in sync, hands tugging and pulling, each of you desperate to release the tension of having to socialize all day instead of doing this.

He broke the kiss just enough to murmur against your lips, “Front door’s right there.” Another kiss. “Make a break for it?”

“Definitely,” you breathe, stealing one last kiss before pulling away to half-heartedly adjust your shirt. He laced his fingers with yours, tugging you to the door of the backroom like two kids sneaking off from a school dance.

Peeking out the cracked door, you scanned the bar, finding everyone too absorbed in their drinks and conversations to notice your absence. Dean gave you a quick nod, and in the next moment, you slipped into the crisp January night air.

Dean’s arm looped around your shoulders, pulling you close as the chill nipped at your skin. “I parked out back, ’member?” he reminded you, his wink carrying the kind of promise that made your pulse race. You couldn’t help but laugh, realizing why he parked back here and not his usual spot out front. He had this escape route in mind well before you started giving him the eyes from across the bar room. Leaning into him as the two of you walked around the back of the building, the sound of crunching snow echoes into the night. 

Dean was quick to unlock the car, and you matched his pace, crawling into baby’s backseat with a mix of urgency and giddy anticipation. The door slammed shut behind you, cutting off the cold bite of the night air, leaving only the warmth of Dean’s presence to surround you.

He barely gives the door time to latch before his lips are on yours again. The kiss is heated, impatient, and full of the kind of intensity that sends a rush of adrenaline racing through your veins. His hands found your waist, tugging you onto his lap until your knees pressed against the sides of thighs, his touch grounding you in the confined space.

“You sure know how to throw a party,” you giggle between kisses, your fingers slipping under his jacket and flannel to push the material off from him. He lets you undress him, until your hands are roaming the warmth of his bare chest and shoulders as his puffy pink lips kiss any part of your skin he can reach.

Dean pulled back just enough to smirk, his breath hot against your cheek. “Best part of it’s right here, pretty girl.” His lips trailed along your jaw, the scruff of his stubble scraping against your skin.

The Impala’s interior was dim, lit only by the faint glow of a distant streetlamp filtering through the windows, but it felt like your own private sanctuary. The faint scent of leather and whiskey mingled with the warmth radiating from Dean as he tightened his grip, his hands wandering from your waist to the small of your back to rock your hips against his.

“You’re gonna wrinkle my shirt,” you tease, your words catching on a gasp as his lips found the curve of your neck.

Dean chuckled, low and husky, his grazing teeth streams goosebumps along your skin. “Don’t care,” he murmured, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. “Looks better off anyway.” On cue, his hands worked quickly to remove your tops. 

You laughed softly as he tugged the last layer over your head. Your fingers threading into his hair as you tilted your head to give him better access. His lips claiming the territory of your chest. The world outside the Impala didn’t exist—not the party, not the hunters, not the chaos. Just the two of you, tangled together in the backseat of his beloved car, stealing a moment that felt like it was only yours.

“Dean,” you whispered, his name tethering him to the moment as his green eyes lifted to meet yours. They glimmered in the dim light, searching your face for any trace of hesitation.

“Yeah?” he murmured, his voice stripped of its usual bravado, softened by something tender—almost vulnerable. It had taken so long to chip away at the stoic armor he wore each day, shielding himself from the world.

But your patience never wavered. Night after night, you stayed by his side, even when shadows of doubt and pain loomed over him. Slowly, his walls began to crumble.

And now, the man who once swore he’d never let love in was looking at you like you were the only light he’d ever known.

A hand cradles his cheek, your thumb tracing softly over the faint freckles that adorned his skin. “Happy birthday,” you whispered, your voice a tender caress as you leaned in. Your lips met his in a slow, heartfelt kiss, each moment infused with the boundless affection your heart held for him.

He drew you closer, his arms a secure haven as his lips moved with yours in perfect harmony—a quiet, unspoken testament to the depth of his admiration for you.

Dean smiled against your lips, his hands gripping you like he never wanted to let go. “Best damn birthday I’ve ever had” he murmured softly. 

Your laughter mingled in the stillness, the sound fading into soft murmurs as he claimed your lips once more. His arms tightened around you, shifting your body until your back rested against the worn leather seat. He hovered over you, his gaze lingering before he leaned down, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to your lips.

His hands explored your skin with reverence, as though he couldn’t choose which part of you to cherish most, each touch an unspoken confession of how deeply he was lost in you. Palms roughened from years of hunting graze over the sensitive peaks of your breasts, rippling a moan from your lips.

He unlatches your belt without breaking the kiss, pulling away only to free you from the snug denim. He pauses for a moment, kneeling on the seat before you, taking in the sight. 

“Don’t stare like that—I’ll get shy.” a sheepish laugh leaves you, as you instinctively pull your knees together. 

“Can’t help it,” he hums, dipping to kiss the tops of each knee, his eyes never leaving yours. His lips trail down from knee to thigh, as if this gentle movement is the secret code to access the warmth between your limbs.

Fingers graze the line his lips made, the softness of his touch making you shudder beneath him. He hums in satisfaction, drinking up the thrill of your reaction to him.

“Promise me something?” he mumbles, moving up to cage your body beneath his. With one hand propping him up, the other easily undoes his belt and unzips his jeans. Moving the material just enough to free himself from the constraints.

“Anything,” you breathe, your eyes tracing every line of his face. Both rugged and tender, his features are a study in contrasts, but it’s his gaze that holds you captive—soft and unguarded as it rests on you. There’s no teasing smirk, no playful glint in his eye, just a rare and fleeting glimpse of Dean stripped of his armor, letting himself be vulnerable, if only for a moment.

“Promise,” his tone is barely above a whisper, his free hand works to rub his tip against your wetness, impossibly thick as he gets himself slick from how worked up he’s gotten you. He pushes against your clit, briefly, before teasing your entrance—leaving you to choke on a gasp caught in your throat. His eyes never leave yours, his face only faltering slightly as he slowly pushes into you. Stretching you out and ignoring the impatient buck of your hips. “That every birthday,” he continues, not missing a beat as he thrusts his full thick length inside, “you’ll be with me.” 

You’re hissing out “fuck, dean,” before you can even respond. Your heavy lidded eyes looking up into his. He’s watching you with so much care and patience, it makes your head spin. Your legs tremble when he finds his rhythm, as intoxicating as honey whiskey, pushing deeper with each thrust. The sound of your body inviting him in with a wet squelching filling the air around you.

“I,” you gasp out, trying not to get lost in the waves of passion triggering each of your senses, “I promise. I promise, Dean.” 

Your oath is met with a low rumble, like a growl, vibrating from his chest. He dips down to press his lips to yours and you match his lazy but sweet kiss as his hand grips the thigh hooked around his waist. You dig your nails into the soft skin of his back, as if that could anchor you within reality while he fucks out any ability for you to think straight. His lips graze against yours as the kiss breaks apart, his lashes brushing against your cheek. 

You’re chest to chest, sharing breaths as an arm snakes around your back. His hushed groans, mumbling against your skin as he maintains closeness makes your stomach flutter. His brows are pressed together, deep jade eyes dancing across your features like he’s seeing you blissed out like this for the first time all over again—appreciating each curve and divot in your expression, etching them into his memory.

“Say it again.” he demands, freeing his hand from your thigh, gliding across your skin until his thumb is pressing into your clit. The pressure of him working deliberate circles makes your lashes flutter. He groans at the feel of your walls squeezing him tighter. “say it, sweet girl .” his words come out rough through gritted teeth, his thumb pressing harder—you’re not sure if he’s coaxing your undoing or your words—or both. His head dips, nose brushing against your jaw and he sucks and kisses your sweet spots. His other hand finding your breast, the overwhelming combination of sensations pushes you over the edge until you’re whimpering and shaking in his hold.

he pulls away to catch a glimpse at your eyes fluttering closed, chest heaving as you buck up into him.

“I promise,” you whisper, weak but sure of each word, “to be here, with you.” 

Your words break any semblance of control he had. With a throaty groan, his lips hastily lock onto yours as he coats your walls. 

You both are a mess of raw emotion, breaths mingling as you reel from the high. Dean’s forehead rests against yours momentarily before his lips brush your temple with soft, lingering kisses. His touch is tender and reverent, as though he’s afraid to let go of the moment.

Eventually, he shifts, his movements slow and deliberate. He removes himself from you with care, pressing another kiss to your cheek before sitting up. You follow suit, untangling your limbs to sit up beside him. Without a word, he ruffles through the pile of clothes and grabs his t-shirt and flannel. You watch him, your body still humming with aftershocks, as he turns back to you.

He doesn’t speak, doesn’t need to. After slipping on his shirt, the warmth in his gaze holds a gentle warmth as he dresses you in his flannel, buttoning the top few buttons. The material swallows you, his scent—whiskey, leather, and something uniquely Dean—wrapped around you like a second skin.

He smoothes out your hair, tucking it behind your ear and kissing your cheek. “Better?” he murmurs as he pulls away, his voice still rough from the haze of passion. 

You nod, unable to stop the smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah, better.”

Dean lies back with a huff, dragging you down with him so you’re sprawled on top of his chest. He covers you with his big leather jacket, containing the heat of your bodies beneath the material. His arms encircle you protectively, giving a slight squeeze as he does. His hands are already finding their way into your hair. He starts threading his fingers through the strands, the motion soothing, grounding.

After a beat of silence, he lets out a soft, rumbling chuckle, the vibrations shaking his chest. “You meant it, right?” he asks, his voice low and uncertain, a trace of vulnerability hiding behind the question.

You lift your head slightly, resting your chin on his sternum to meet his gaze. His eyes search yours—not for reassurance, but for truth.

“Meant what?” you ask softly, though you already know.

“About being here,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing over the back of your neck. “For all my birthdays. Even the ones when I’m old and grumpy... or just grumpier.”

Your heart tightens at his words, the quiet fear beneath his teasing tone making your chest ache. As his eyes lock onto yours, a flicker of vulnerability in his gaze, you wonder how anyone could ever walk away from him. You gently cup his face, your thumb tracing the freckles on his cheek.

“I meant it,” you say with certainty. “All of them, Dean. I promise.”

Something shifts in his expression—a mix of relief and affection so raw it almost steals your breath. He pulls you closer, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead, a vow all its own.

“Good,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “Wouldn’t wanna spend ‘em with anyone else.”

The silence stretches again, but it’s warm, comforting, the kind of quiet you only find with someone who feels like home. Dean’s hands trail up and down your back, his touch lulling you into a blissful haze.

“You’re gonna spoil me, y’know,” he says eventually, his tone light but his smile soft.

You grin, your fingers tracing idle patterns on his chest. “You deserve to be spoiled.”

He chuckles, his inability to believe you wholeheartedly is evident in the slight disagreement pinching at his features.You shake your head with a small knowing smile, too tired to fight him on it for the moment. Pressing a kiss to his jaw before settling back against him. “Yeah,” you murmur, your voice soft but sure. “You do.” And as you both lie there, tangled together in the quiet sanctuary of the Impala’s backseat, the promise you made feels less like a commitment and more like a truth you’ve always known. Dean might not believe in forever, but in this moment, you make him want to try.

this is my last bday fic :,) i had so much fun putting these together <3

[ivysprophecy]

slim pickins

warnings; bad date? mentions of sex, cursing underage drinking and yes i meant for it to be written poorly i was trying to keep the humor of the album in the writing

masterlist | p. 2

no pressure tags; @murdockcastleslut @kimoralov3 @arkofblake

word count; 1911

summary; youre tired of not finding a decent guy who will treat you right and lay you right. at least not one you've known since you were kids. however you just cant help yourself. besides its slim pickins out here you take what you can get.

divider by @bernardsbendystraws

i wanna make one thing clear, when i say there are no good guys left i do not wanna hear about you and your boyfriend of three years that can cook and loves your mom.

thats exactly what im talking about maddie!!! i dont give two fucks that he took you to barnes and noble and bought you every book you wanted.

they are all taken. its plain and simple.

which is why even with a full roster, im stuck taking fucking zander, yes with a z, to my friends' kegger.

i mean yea hes cute. hes tall, built but not that gross kind of muscly. but if were being real i shouldve known better when he was joking about being a male stripper when hes a ginger.

and i can tell kie is judging me, rightfully so. her side eye is lethal. when i introduced him to everyone she asked him about his greta van fleet tee and he said he didn't even know it was a band.

needless to say pope had to drag her away.

after that incident i decided it was best if we tried to talk away from the rest of the group. boy was i wrong.

"so what do you like to drink? ill go grab us something," i offer trying to start the conversation, also avoiding the usual problem with taking a drink from men.

"im good with whatever"

i like to think im not a violent person, but im about to be.

"does a beer sound okay?" i ask him grabbing a twisted tea for me from the cooler.

"sure thing." god why is he acting like such a bitch? i should ask him if he's on his period.

i hand him the can, our fingers brush and its my final clue for the night that i am definitely not going home with him. no spark at all. hes done just about everything else to piss me off.

he did the thing where he licks his lips exaggeratingly looking me up and down, making a point to make sure i saw.

he walks so slow for being 6'3.

and finally he tried to mansplain my career to me. i'd had just enough when he opens his mouth again

"ew, you like twisted tea? who likes sweet tea?" his face contorted in disgust, it was about to contort from my fist breaking his goddamn nose if he keeps talking to me like this.

"we literally live in the south dude." my face could not make it any clearer i am so done with this guy.

"still, sweet tea is disgusting. im not kissing anyone that drinks that nasty shit."

"who said i wanted to kiss your nasty fucking mou-" i was interrupted by the sound of a very familiar giggle behind me as his arm wrapped around my shoulder, the smell of his deodorant and sea salt that cover his skin start to put you at ease.

jj was always there when you needed him, sometimes even when you didnt but right now you couldn't be more grateful. "im glad you found those mama i got em just for you. remembered theyre your favorite. right?"

and you wanna know the best part? zander is shaking already pissed off that jj is at my side. territorial i guess.

"you mind?" he asks him nodding his head at me like im not even there.

jj cant help but laugh at him "yea bud i do mind. she's hanging out with me tonight. have fun with your ipa dick." and with that he steers us off to where the rest of the pogues are.

but not before i can look over my shoulder and give the ginger an innocent smile and a shrug as if i had no control over the situation, when really id pick jj over anyone else.

"you owe me a big fat kiss mama," jj whispers in my ear walking us over to where our friends are standing, drinks in their hands laughing and chatting up a storm.

"in your dreams honey."

"every night all night," he quips back before i shove him off me.

now before you give me shit, jj and i have had our fair share of fun, but unfortunately im starting to look for something more serious.

watching john b and sarah be disgusting together is getting to my head. popes got something going on with cleo and im starting to recognize the pattern. and before i know it everyone will be in love if i don't start making an effort in that department.

random casual hook ups aren't doing it anymore, especially considering they aren't even that good.

unless theyre with jj.

but hes not an option, theres too much drama. too much history. too much too much too much. im not what he needs and i know for a fact he doesn't want me in that sense.

is that a bit dramatic? probably.

i mean hes a great lay, he's hilarious, he's got that blue collar kind of muscle, and he genuinely cares about me.

so of course im not going to date him, why would i?

what do you mean make good decisions? id rather do things in the most difficult way possible!

"y/n youve gotta stop giving those guys a chance, im starting to feel bad for you."

"you try finding a decent guy in a ten mile radius." i glare at him, obviously not wanting to joke about this right now.

he sticks his hand out in front of me, "fine i will. let me see your phone."

curious to see what he will do i hand it too him unlocked, he swipes and taps for a few moments, smiling down at the phone before handing it back to you.

when you look back down at the screen all you see is your instagram open with his stupid fucking smiley face on the screen.

he took a picture of himself and posted to my story. written on the screen in bubble letters in my favorite colored heart 'my favorite guy <3'

"i think he's your best bet." that same smile facing back at me now, cockier than ever. so smug i wanna kiss it off his face

i cant help but roll my eyes. "jj im serious! at this rate im going to die alone. every decent guy is taken or unavailable. all i want is someone funny, kind, and attractive is that too much to ask for?"

"im right in front of you mama you dont gotta look far."

"jj we both know we're not the serious kind of relationship im talking about."

"you can think what you want too but ill be here waiting for that kiss you owe me."

"i think all that tequila youve been sipping has gone to your head maybank."

he stands in front of me, taking his signature red cap off his head and putting it on mine smiling down at me, "what do they say in those books you read? you wear the hat you ride the cowboy?"

"this no ten gallon hat and you are no cowboy."

we laugh at each other, its always been easier to do that then actually talk about our feelings. so i put his hat back on his head, backwards the way he i likes it.

"cmon y/n/n, have a few more drinks, relax and hang out and ill make you feel all better later yea? its what im best at, you know."

"its gonna take more than a few more teas to convince me jj"

"what about that thing you like that i do with my tongue, huh mama? doesnt that sound pretty good right now? i think it does."

"i give you one fucking compliment and it goes straight to your head."

"technically its about my head so that makes perfect sense," he hands me another can with that stupid signature smirk of his and his stupid sexy hat backwards. i hate to admit it's working on me.

just like it does every other time.

i squint my eyes at him taking the can, rolling the idea around in my head. "fuck it. its not like anyone else is offering," i take a big sip of my drink.

jj pumps his fist in the air like a victorious idiot giving a few woots and hollars before picking me up and throwing me over his shoulder despite my wishes.

"jb!!" he shouts turning around to face him, "we're headed out!"

john b looks at the two of us shaking his head at how im kicking my feet to wiggle out of jjs oddly strong grip. "make sure you change the sheets when youre done!"

oh my god he did not just say that. "fuck both of you!"

jj just laughs carrying you back to the chateau like a kid who's excited to use a brand new birthday present.

"what happened to letting me have a few more drinks before we left??"

"youre just too irresistable mama, gotta have you now,' he gives my ass a light slap for good measure causing me to roll my eyes for the 600th time tonight.

"are you gonna put me down now?"

he pretends to look like hes thinking about it, "i guess. only so i can watch you walk away," he does as he says helping me get my feet on the ground.

"youre a pervert."

"no im flirtatious, and you love it, you know it makes you blush i see it. now go on and give me a lil walk yea?"

oh im gonna kill him...

oh wait! im gonna kill him!

"okay... fine. but no touching until we get home," i smile walking away exactly like he asked, but i know behind me he is a puddle of mud. standing still, about to start begging me to let him.

he finally catches up after a few seconds "mama please- cmon thats not fair. you look too good in those shorts you know i cant wait that long. just wanna feel you."

i cant help but giggle at his words, its honestly adorable how mopey he gets. like i just kicked his puppy or something.

"hands of jj i mean it... not until that door shuts behind us."

it didn't really matter that i can see the chateau or that ill be there in literally a minute.

its actually painful for jj to not be able to touch me as he pleases.

i turn around to face him with a cheeky smile. "you want me maybank?"

and of course he nods so hard it looks like his head is going to fall right off.

"come and get me," running towards the house, i can see the moment when his reflexes kick in, his boots thudding against the ground as he gains on me.

just before i can make it to the poarch jj wraps his arms around me, lifting me a few inches off the ground and spinning me around in a fit of laughter.

"okay! okay okay okay you win- you got me."

"oh ive got you mama, and im havin you for the rest of the fucking night," he presses a kiss to my neck hauling me inside, the screen door slamming shut after us.

am i gonna regret this tomorrow? most likely.

but what can i say? its slim pickins in this part of town.

[pseudowho]

okay here’s me getting all cocky and confident because you answered my ask once (ily for that seriously i think i screamed and fainted and sobbed and climbed up the walls a little) and once again asking you for….. for crumbs………. so my horny self was sitting and thinking…………… nanami sees you reading absolute filth and porn and you end up in biig trouble.. (i.e him doing that exact thing to you 😭) or perhaps you going up to nanami after reading absolute filth and being all needy with him bcs that straight porn made you a liittle…….. yk… 🌚🌚🌚

anyways i literally love you and ur my favorite writer ever and im gonna stop now before i burst

SMUT [smuht] (noun)

In which Nanami Kento catches you reading dirty literature...and punishes you with a performative reading.

Warnings: The anon who keeps targeting me like this needs a warning label...but otherwise: roleplay, erotic literature (*laughs and laughs in Tumblr*) being read to you while you're systematically destroyed, performative Bad!Nanami, Kento fucks you wearing a mask and leather gloves, Pleasure Dom!Kento who gets lost in the sauce, reader way out of her depth, bondage, the usual spicy goodness, couple of cheeky movie references

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

The one she knew only as the Man in the Mask swept over to her, delighting in her capture, having evaded him for so long.

"Ahhh..." he sighed, his breath sweeping over the swell of her breasts, and sending shivers down her spine. "Finally...the little mouse who has wreaked havoc on my dreams for too many lonely nights. How does it feel? To be trapped here with me like this?"

Her heart stalled in her chest, and she gasped, his grazing touch to her belly leaving embers in its wake. The Man in the Mask saw her nipples pebble beneath her shirt, and felt something snap inside him as he loomed over her with a whisper; "I know. I feel it too."

With little warning, he lowered his barely covered mouth to her neck, hungry against her, and--

The door opened, and you leapt out of your skin, dropping your phone to the floor. You sat bolt upright in bed, your other hand coming up guiltily from beneath the covers as Kento leaned into the bedroom to greet you. You interrupted him.

"You're home early," you said, offering an unconvincing smile. Kento looked at you, flatly. He let the statement hang for a moment. His shrewd eyes flicked, taking in the glossy subtleties he saw from you only in foreplay.

"...well I thought you'd be pleased, but I'll just go back then shall I--"

You hesitated, words caught in your throat. Your eyes flickered to your phone. So did Kento's. His eyes narrowed.

"...what are you read--"

"Nothing! It's nothing." You lied, unconvincing. You both hesitated for a moment more, before Kento darted. You cursed at him for being faster than you, and Kento's fingers closed around your phone, sitting beside you on the bed in one swift movement. You smothered a pillow over your face, screaming silently, wanting the duvet to grow great maws and swallow you whole.

Kento read silently for a moment, scrolling, before reading aloud; "...she didn't want to fight anymore, as his fingers slid between her puffy lips...goodness me...his cock strained against the fabric of his clothes, begging for attention...I bet it did..."

You had begun to crawl away down the bed, just a maggot, unworthy of the sun and all its glories.

You felt a hand clasp around your ankle, and you squeaked as Kento dragged you back up the bed, without even taking his eyes off your phone.

"I don't think so, where are you going--"

"--oh god Kento just give me something for the cringe and let me die--"

"--no no no I'm blessed to be a part of my wife's interests--"

"--I am less than human, we need a divorce, I can't look you in the eye ever again--"

Kento scoffed, dark and derisive. "As if I'd let you divorce me. As if you'd even want to...now, where did I put that..."

Kento stood, still holding your phone as he rummaged in his dresser. You laid flat to the bed, trying to wiggle away again, still embarrassingly wet, your mortification laced with undeniable arousal.

"Stay exactly where you are, or I'll damn well make you."

You stopped. You looked up at Kento, unusually meek, as he approached you. He stood by the bed, looming and powerful, a god made flesh. He unbuttoned his shirt to the navel, not bothering to remove his harness. He undid his belt with a clink-clink. He let his tie hang loose...and pulled a black balaclava down to beneath his collar. He finished off with a pair of soft, black leather gloves.

Something imploded inside you; a dial-up noise in your mind. Kento prowled over to you, looming over you and chasing you up the bed, caging you beneath him, and reading through the smut on your phone screen.

"Be honest," Kento read aloud, his honey-brown eyes swirling with something altogether darker and more dangerous, "if you'd wanted to escape me...you could have."

You panted, breathless, your pupils blown into inky black as you lay splayed beneath Kento. You couldn't help but be captivated, lost in his insidious pull. You felt your heartbeat between your legs.

"Did you stay because you dream of me, too?" Kento intoned. You bit the poisoned apple, trembling as you nodded up at him. "Did you stay...because you wondered if hatred was as erotic a passion as love?"

"--Kento, I-- let me go, I--"

"That's the spirit." Laughed Kento, his voice booming through you, the vibrations crackling across every nerve, and you whimpered. Kento grasped your hands together with his own, gloved and powerful, pinning them above your head with the whole weight of his body. He pulled his tie loose with the hand holding your phone.

"I can't let you leave...not now. Fuck...you have no idea what you do to me, do you?" Kento growled. Being the villain seemed so effortless to him. Your safe word had never been further from your mind, your attempts to leave so paltry and insincere. The way Kento looked down at you, waiting to see if you would make him stop, sent shivers down your spine. Kento released his tie, eyes skimming across your phone for confirmation.

"I'd apologise, for trapping you here like this..." Kento intoned, tying your bound wrists to the head of the bed as you squirmed, crying out in anguish, "...but I'll show you...how you've craved my touch, just as I have craved yours." You strained against the bonds, in just the silky chemise you wore for bed, and it didn't take much for your breasts to fall free of the fine little straps.

In truth, Kento had never been harder in his life. Seeing you battle against primal desire beneath him, feeling your half-hearted embarrassed squirms brushing your bare mound against his aching, thick cock...and your nipples, hard as diamonds and covered by a thin veneer of lace. His breaths were heavy, chest heaving as he continued his performative reading.

"Just one taste, and we can return to how it was before." Kento groaned, his mouth suckling at your neck, licking, tasting, biting. You cringed against the assault on your senses, afraid to lose yourself to such diabolical pleasure. Kento pinned your bucking hips down with his own, the tip of his cock trapped beneath his waistband against his belly. "Just once...and we can rest easy at night, knowing how it feels for me to spend myself inside you."

You keened, mewling as Kento rested the phone on the pillow beside your head, and took your nipple into his mouth, ragging it around beneath his tongue with a fractured growl. Your head spun with the weight of him, totally captured, so wildly out of control. The suckling pleasure he gave to your nipples, connected in a fine thread to your clit, making it pulse with vicarious bliss.

"I can't...can't take it anymore...Ken--" You moaned, squeaking as his teeth closed in barely hinged warning around your breast.

"Unless it's to tell me to fuck you, I won't have you mewl like a kitten at me any longer." Kento rumbled against your breast, wet with his spit and the marks he left behind as he took what he was owed. "I hope you can take it. I'm...no small man. If you are ruined, after, I know you will bear the scars with grace, just as you have bore your hatred of me."

You were already so steeped in the hot rush of being pleasured, you did not notice how Kento's eyes glowered, lathering down your body and darting occasionally back to your phone. He continued his pilgrimage down your body. Kento growled in frustration at the chemise blocking him, and he rucked it up, spitting curses as you squeaked, wriggling against him.

"At least fight like you mean it." Kento laughed, and you blushed, eyes squeezed shut, mortified by how obviously faked your resistance was. Kento kissed his way down your belly, settling at your mound. He hovered, silent, giving your desperate clit nought but the breath from his lips.

"Do you want my fingers...or my mouth?" You whimpered again, babbling nonsense, such a rough and ruined heroine. Kento laughed again, dark and delicious, raising his mask just enough to free his mouth. "No words? No matter. You shall have both."

With little warning, Kento sunk his tongue between your folds, ragging his mouth and nose from side to side again to bury himself in the heat of you. You cried out as he growled into your heat, hitting a high note as he sunk two thick, gloved fingers into your fluttering pussy, slamming inside all the way to his knuckles.

Kento swore against your pussy, grunting and moaning as he lapped at your clit and entrance with animalistic rage. Quite canonically to his role, his cock wept against his belly, pre-cum leaking down onto his waistband until the fabric was cloying and sticky, the friction against his tip sending him spiralling. He couldn't help but fuck against the bed as you melted beneath him, writhing against his tongue.

Panting, letting his gloved fingers fuck into you and imagining it was his cock instead, Kento chuckled against your clit, at just how easily he had snapped. He pulled his fingers out of you for a moment, wickedly obsessed by the stark contrast of your creamy white arousal on the black leather.

He could smell you on the balaclava, the fabric over his nose soaking with your essence. Kento felt lightheaded with the blooming, heady scent of you. His cock twitched, aching and neglected, and so close to spilling thick spurts of seed all over its owner.

You risked looking down for just a moment. The eyes of a villain pierced through you, as Kento licked his gloves clean, not breaking eye contact once. You whimpered. He laughed, and curled his fingers back into you, continuing his relentless attack on your poor, aching cunt. Your moans reached a fever pitch, and Kento felt the creep of his own orgasm through his belly as he rutted against the bed with total abandon.

"Sing for me." He groaned, lifting your hips off the bed as he knelt, sucking your clit into his mouth in a devastating final move. You tipped violently over the edge, bucking against his tongue and crying his name, a stream of nonsensical babbles. Kento was quite sure you came harder than the girl in the story.

By the time you came back to earth, being licked in slow, languid movements through your peak, you saw Kento kneeling between your legs, stroking his cock in long, jerking pumps.

"You've reduced me to this." Kento forced, his teeth gritted and his mask back in place over his mouth. "To this...this boy, fucking his own fist just from the taste of you." Kento cursed, his gloved fist wet with pre-cum, cracking his neck from side to side and growling through his lurid tale. You lay, fucked out, bound, a fascinated by how Kento's whiskey-rich voice could fill you with fumes, warm and drunk one minute, but cold and piercing the next. You swung, manoeuvred across his harsh dichotomy.

Kento loomed over you, trapping you beneath him again, blocking the light from your eyes, a bad moon rising. "You did this to me." He hissed, accusatory in his possession of you. "You started this sordid fight. But I'll finish it. No more fisting my cock at night just to the thought of you. No more dreaming about bending you to my will."

You felt Kento's tip press through your entrance, thick and insistent enough that you squirmed up the bed, crying out as he yanked you back, his hands closing around your waist. Kento plaited his fingers in your tied hands, the ghost of affection, and readying himself to slam into your quivering heat. He was falling apart, he could barely contain himself, overcome by the raw power of making you pliable, shaping you to his desires--

Kento whispered in your ear, his voice shaking, gravelly; "And when you submit...know that it was entirely your fault."

You felt your delicate petals forced aside, crying out to be filled to the brim by Kento in one slick thrust. Kento could barely suppress a roar beneath his mask, throwing his head back in ecstasy. His enormous hands cuffed your waist, making it squidge down against your hips every time he dragged your hips, moving your pussy around him like a cock sleeve.

Kento's strength made manhandling you look easy. You lay ruined beneath him, your head lolling against the inside of your own bound arm. The image of him unbuttoned, masked, gloved and still almost fully dressed above you, grunting and groaning as he used your pussy for his own pleasure, burned onto your retinas.

Kento barely moved his own hips, his eyes fixed feverishly on where he dragged your swollen pussy around the length of his cock, twitching and burning inside you. He couldn't contain himself. The hook behind his navel, all scorched steel and selfishness, beseeched him to drag his pleasure from you.

"Fucking-- ruin you-- never be satisfied...by another man again-- keep running from me, and I'll hunt you down...and take you like this every-- fucking-- time--"

As Kento's pleasure roared over him, he punctuated his thrusts against your belly with the written word in action. Making nothing more than jolted, pitiful moans as he fucked repeatedly against your sensitive cervix and soft-spot, you clambered for purchase, sobbing your pleasure as his gloved fingers rolled your clit between them.

Kento came with a string of curses, his thighs cramping beneath him with the force of it. Feeling his seed begin to pump and spurt into you, he dragged you aggressively to another orgasm with his leathered fingers. He had to feel you clench around him, sucking his seed deep inside you. He had just enough forethought to recall his final, toxic line as he gasped, groaning and bucking with the force of his ejaculation.

You could barely hear him through the fog of pleasure, faint in the distance; "If you have the nerve...to crawl back to me...full and swollen-- know we can be enemies in matrimony, as well as battle."

The room was hushed and dark, the gloom broken only by your mingled, heavy breaths, and the earthy smell of sex. You reached up pulling Kento's balaclava up and pressing a breathless little kiss at the corner of his mouth.

"...but...we still have to get a divorce. I just-- couldn't live with you knowing what I read--"

Kento laughed, his shoulders aching from the weight of the villain, slipping away with his gloves and mask.

[verstappen-cult]

Max and Charles taking care of you during a night out, when you’ve drink a little too much.

You look around, trying to find your boys but they are nowhere to be seen, which leaves you wandering around until you find two of their friends, Daniel and Carlos, sitting on a couch talking.

“Hey, boys!” You say, happily, flopping down onto the couch right in the middle of them. You’ve interrupted their conversation but you don’t notice. They exchange looks, which you don’t notice either, and Carlos is up in a second, excusing himself.

“Hey, stranger.” Daniel says, moving closer. “‘What are you drinking?” He tries to take a look at your cup, but you take it to your lips.

"You wanna try it?" You ask him, words slurred.

"Yeah, let me just—" He goes to take the cup from your hands at the same time that you bring it closer to him, causing it to fall on Daniel's lap. "Shit!"

"I'm so sorry, Dani!" You look for something to clean the big stain on Daniel's blue jeans and, with you fuzzy brain, you decide that the only thing that could do the work is your dress. So, you take the hem of your dress, moving even closer to Dani – almost on his lap – not caring about your dress getting dirty.

“It’s okay.” He laughs. If he’s pissed he doesn’t show it, that’s how it always is with Dani. “Y/N, it’s okay!” Daniel tries to move away but you are decided to clean the spilled drink, even if it’s impossible by now.

“What’s happening?” Max’s voice cuts through the air. You lift your head up, eyes glazed over.

“I spilled my drink,” You sniff, looking between your boyfriend and the stain on the boy’s leg. “but Dani won’t let me help him.”

“I don’t think there’s anything you can do, princess.” Charles sits by your side, hands immediately pulling your dress down. “Dani will take care of it, yes?”

Daniel nods. “It’s nothing, really. I have like a dozen of these same jeans.” His big, warm smile makes you feel better. Just a little, you still feel like a fool. “I’ll borrow something from Carlos.” He winks at you before standing up and getting lost.

Max sighs, crossing his arms and staring you down.

“What did we say about mixing different drinks?”

“I was just having fun with Lando.” You pout, looking at your stained dress.

Charles grins and presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “What did you drink?”

“Just a few shots of tequila.” You shrug, snuggling closer to Charles. “Oh, did you know he makes this delicious vodka with cranberry juice?”

Max sighs, shaking his head in disapproval. “What else?”

“Your favorite drink.” You look at him beneath your eyelashes.

“Don’t look at me like that.” Max frowns and closes his mouth. “We talked about this.”

“Relax, Max.” Charles chimes in, working his arm around your waist. “She learned her lesson, right?”

You nod enthusiastically, which is a bad idea because it makes you feel dizzy. Max is immediately moving closer, kneeling in front of you.

“Easy there, baby. We don’t want you throwing up in the middle of the living room.” Max strokes your hair and you can’t help but lean into his touch, relaxed.

“Should we go home?” Charles asks him.

“But I don’t wanna go!” You know you always – well, most of the time – get what you want if you pout, so, that’s exactly what you do.

“What? You wanna go back to drink with Lando?”

“Well, no, but I don’t wanna ruin your night.”

“Oh, baby, you’re not ruining our night. We’d rather be with you at home.” Charles kisses your cheek and you giggle, feeling warm.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, let’s get you home, pretty girl.”

Max helps you stand up, his arm around your waist to help you walk. Not that you need it, you’re just a little tipsy. But you like it when they act all protective over you. Charles makes sure to let their friends know they are leaving before joining you and Max outside.

You lean against the car, pouting for what feels like the hundredth time in the night. “Can we go to McDonald’s?”

[watchmegetobsessed]

MAD MAN

A/N: he looked like a snack, his ce vibes were too strong to hold them back

base of the idea was by @harrysblackcoat

WORD COUNT: 1.3k

SUMMARY: You came to the game to forget about the massive fight you had with Harry a few days ago, but your alone time is soon interrupted by the man you've been trying to avoid.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

You weren’t planning to come today. Well, you were, until about four days ago, but then the whole ordeal happened with Harry and suddenly you didn’t want to do anything else than stay at home, cry or either sleep until you forget about the shit you both said. 

It was nasty. You don’t even remember how it started, maybe it was because he got home too late, or was it because you couldn’t choose a restaurant again and it always drives him crazy.

You have no idea what started it, you only remember how bad it got. Screaming, shouting, saying the worst things you ever did and probably neither of you meant. But you said them and you can’t take them back. 

Maybe packing your stuff and leaving wasn’t your best idea, but you needed time and space. Harry has been blowing your phone up ever since, but you feel like you need just a little bit more time away from him to think about… well, the two of you. 

You’ve had the ticket for months and you didn’t have the heart to miss out on the game just because of what happened. So you pulled yourself out of your depression cave, aka your old apartment you still haven’t sold since moving in with Harry and came to the game. Now you’re sitting in your usual seat, waiting for it to start while trying your best to keep him out of your thoughts at least until the end. 

Looking across the stadium you see the VIP section and immediately, you fail at not thinking about him, because you think of how he is the kind of man that would be standing there, sipping on something fancy and expensive. 

Groaning you turn your attention to your drink, playing with the straw, but then you remember the time you explained to Harry why this is your favorite seat in the stadium.

“Okay, enlighten me, baby,” he smirked at you, pulling you to his lap after pushing himself away from his desk.

“It’s close to the exit, I can leave before the crowd gets moving, the toilet is 20 seconds away and the line is always short, because the one by the F stairs is more popular. And…” You peaked at him, checking if he was still listening and there he was, giving you his undivided attention with a cheesy smirk on his handsome face. “And the drinks are better in the buffet that’s behind.”

“Better?” he chuckled. “Baby, they are the same.”

“Nope,” you shook your head. “It’s less… watery.”

“Mm, if you say so,” he smirked and then kissed you, making you forget about what you were talking about just a moment ago.

You need to blink your tears away. You promised yourself you wouldn’t be crying during this game, that you wouldn’t think about how much you miss him and how even despite the fight you love him more than anyone. 

You dig into your bag for a tissue, right when someone tries to squeeze past you to their seat. The tall man inches into the row, his long coat brushing your knees while you’re still elbow deep in your bag and you faintly register that he sits beside you. 

“Here,” he deep voice speaks up beside you and you know who it is even before his hand moves into your view, holding out a tissue. 

“What are you doing here?” you ask, taking the tissue without looking at him. 

“Why do people come to football matches?” he asks back and you can’t stop yourself from rolling your eyes. “I’m here because you wouldn’t answer the phone.”

“That might mean that I don’t want to talk to you,” you casually reply, staring ahead of you.

Harry exhales sharply beside you and his knee presses against yours, making you gasp.

“Y/N, I hope you didn’t think I would just let you slip out of my hands like that, right? We need to talk.”

“And you thought a football game would be the best place for that?” 

“This seems to be the only way to get you to talk to me, so yeah.”

“How did you even know I would be sitting here?”

“Because you told me this is your favorite seat.”

“I did not. I just told you I have one, I never told you it’s this one.”

You sit in silence for a bit, trying to figure out if maybe you did tell him the exact seat, but you get to the same point: you didn’t.

“I never told you, so how did you know?” you ask and finally look at him. His beauty strikes you, as always, the chiseled jawline, the slope of his nose, the curly lashes, he still takes your breath away. 

He runs his tongue across his lips and then looks at you.

“The drink,” he then finally says.

“What?”

“The drink. It really is better here.” You watch him and he continues. “I tried… I tried them all in the stadium and it really is less watery.”

He tried them all. He went around the stadium and tried them all to figure out where you’re sitting. 

“Now that you’re listening to me, can we talk?” he then asks with a soft smile. “Or it could be just me speaking, but I really want to tell you what I’ve been thinking about the past few days.”

“Okay,” you breathe out. “Talk then.”

His gaze lingers on your face, as if he is taking in every tiny detail before speaking up again.

“I fucked up, Y/N. I said all those terrible things in the heat of the moment and I regretted them right away. I didn’t mean any of them.”

“Not even when you said that all I do is get on your nerves?” you find yourself asking.

“You do get on my nerves, Y/N,” he says and you’re just about to open your mouth, but he is quick to continue. “You make me go crazy in the best way possible. With your silly dancing in the kitchen, the way you sing every song with the wrong lyrics and swear your version is the right. When you get mad at me for using words you don’t know the meaning of, or when you put me in my place when I’m being a total ass… you make me go crazy… for you.”

Your eyes are tearing up again and when his hand moves to your knee you lean closer to him, wanting more of his touch instantly. 

“I love you, Y/N. I never thought I could love someone this much, but you just always prove me wrong,” he chuckles softly and your hand finds his on your leg, your fingers locking together. “Please come back. I’m nothing without you. Come back and get on my nerves every day because I want to be a mad man, but only if it’s you who makes me crazy.”

Now you’re fighting the urge to cry like a baby. You love this man and you can’t imagine a day when you won’t. 

“I’m sorry too,” you whisper, tears rolling down your cheeks. He reaches up and wipes them with his thumb. “I didn’t mean it when I said you must be fucking all your assistants at work.”

“That hurt,” he smiles bitterly.

“I just… I still wonder why you chose me,” you admit with a shrug. 

“Because you’re the one for me,” he simply answers, as if it was the most obvious thing ever. You take a deep breath and exhale it shakily before leaning in and kissing him. The game starts right when your lips meet, but all the screaming and clapping tunes out as you’re back in the arms of the man you love. 

“Do you want to move to the VIP section?” you ask. 

“Nope,” he smirks down at you. “This really is the best seat.”

“See? I told you!” chuckling, you just pull him in for another kiss before making yourself comfortable with his arm around your shoulders.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[simplyholl]

Truly Desperate

Summary: When you can’t get off, you go to your enemy on the team for help.

Pairing: Loki x F. Reader

Warnings: Smut. 18+ Only. Minors DNI.

See my Masterlist Here

Why did you have the worst luck out of everyone in the world? You had such a great start to your day. Your date had went so well, you invited him back to your room at the Avengers’ Compound. You hadn’t slept with anyone in months. He was so handsome, just your type. Dark, curly hair with light eyes, you were instantly drawn to him when you met him.

Things took a wrong turn as soon as you shut the door behind you. He made himself comfortable on your bed while you went to freshen up. You picked out your favorite black, lacy lingerie set covering it with a silky robe. Then someone pounded on your door loud enough to wake the dead.

“Lady Y/N! Come quickly, I need assistance.” Thor’s voice boomed from the hallway. You apologized to your date, and answered the door. “This better be life threatening.” You whisper, shutting the door behind you. He looks at you sheepishly, hiding something behind his back. “Never mind, I will find someone else...”

You reach behind him, revealing a jar of peanut butter. “What’s this?” You ask, getting madder by the second. “I need help opening this most delicious of treats, and everyone else is gone or asleep.” You close your eyes, taking a deep breath before you do something drastic like choke him.

“You can’t open this?” You point to the small jar in his hands. He shakes his head no. You grab it, twisting the lid. It pops off so easily, you’re sure he didn’t even try. Without a word, you turn around, entering your room again. “I’m so sorry.” You apologize to your date, as he interrupts you. “Was that Thor? He’s my favorite! This is so cool!”

You roll your eyes. “I’ll show you why I should be your favorite Avenger.” You quip, pushing him on his back. Loud banging on your door interrupts you once more. You jump up, flinging the door open. “Thor I will shove that jar down your throat if you interrupt me again!” You shout, expecting to see him. Instead you’re met with Loki, smirking as leans against your doorframe. “Always so violent.” He shakes his head.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but we have an urgent mission. Stark says you and I are to go immediately.” He looks down at your barely dressed body. “Like what you see, perv?” You smack his arm. Loki is your least favorite on the team. He’s always arguing with you over the smallest stuff. He ruined your birthday this year by hiring geriatric strippers. He ate the last cookie from your favorite bakery without asking. He always insulted your choice on movie night. Tony liked to pair you together so he could laugh about it later. So it shouldn’t be a surprise that he was the one standing here.

You want to scream. Of course, some bad guy is hell bent on destroying the world when you are in desperate need of some dick. “Alright, just let me change before we go.” You turn back towards your room, Loki grabs your wrist. “There’s no time. We must hurry.” You look apologetically at your date who is awe struck from seeing Loki. “It’s okay, I understand.” He says as he walks around the two of you to leave.

You follow Loki to the Helicarrier, cursing under your breath. When you arrive, no one is there to brief you. Usually Tony or Steve will meet you there before your mission to tell you what to expect. You look at Loki confused. “Where’s Tony?” You ask, placing your hand on your silk covered hips. “About that…” Loki starts. “Are you serious? You ruined my date for nothing?” You push passed him, to the doorway to type in the code to leave.

His obscenely large, veiny hand blocks the keypad. You’ve never noticed how long his fingers were until now. What would they feel like inside you? They could probably reach spots that the men you’ve slept with couldn’t reach with their dicks. Where did that come from?! You need to stop thinking about Loki’s hands right now. The guy is an asshole who always torments you. Not to mention, he just cockblocked you.

“I saved you.” Loki tells you, smiling as if you should thank him. “Saved me? Loki, if that guy tried anything, I could’ve kicked his ass faster than I could have called for help.” Loki shakes his head, “He went out with Natasha last week. You saw how excited he looked to be near me, and I am America’s least favorite Avenger. You weren’t special. He was using you.”

You look at him incredulously. “Loki, I don’t need some random man to make me feel special. I just wanted to have meaningless sex with a hot guy.” He finally lets you type in the code, following you out as the doors open. “I could help you with that.” His blue eyes hungrily trace every curve your little robe accentuates.

You laugh, “No offense, but we don’t even like each other.” “Exactly my point, darling. It would be the very definition of meaningless.” You consider his offer. It has been a long time since a man got you off. But, he just sent the one date you had that seemed normal away to protect you. It was so unlike him. “No thanks, I’ll just stick with my vibrator.” You turn around to stick your tongue out at him, before sprinting ahead of him back to your room.

You open your bedside drawer, holding your vibrator in your hand. You were so worked up, you could probably get off from just looking at it. But, you go through the motions anyway. You close your eyes as you dip your hand under your bra to play with one of your nipples. You let your imagination run wild. It’s not you rolling your nipples, but your date. His dark hair fans across your chest as he takes one between his lips.

You pull your panties down, putting the vibrator in place. It whirls to life, as you imagine him kissing down your stomach to between your legs. He gently bites the inside of your thigh. “Loki!” You moan as the man looks up at you. Instead of your date, it’s Loki smirking at you knowingly. You jump, throwing your vibrator across the room. It hits the wall with a loud thud. What’s the matter with you? Your date was so hot and you were imagining Loki?

You went to retrieve your toy, turning it back on. It buzzed for a brief second before twirling one last time. Come on! You press all the buttons, hoping for a miracle. It’s no use, you broke it when you threw it. You lay back on your bed, having to resort back to medieval times when women had to use their hands to get off.

You close your eyes again, trying to picture your date. Instead Loki’s hands on the keypad, forever ingrained in your memory, appear. You groan, frustrated beyond belief. If thinking about a coworker was going to help you get off, there were plenty to choose from. You imagine Bucky choking you with his metal arm as you work your fingers, but you feel nothing. Steve on his knees for you - nothing. Bruce fucking you on top of all his paperwork? Nope. Boning Tony midair in the Iron Man suit? Nothing. Sam taking you against the wall - not even a stir. Thor and his hammer - dry as the desert.

You stop, your hand will get a cramp and it will all be for nothing. “I could help you with that.” You imitate Loki in a mocking voice. You pull your panties up, and slip your robe back on. Your feet seem to have a mind of their own as they carry you out of your room, down the long hallway to Loki’s room.

You knock quickly, hoping he will open the door before someone sees you out here. He opens it, leaving no room between himself and the door. You try to push passed him, but he stops you. “What’s this about?” You want to smack the smirk right off his face. You look around the deserted hallway praying Thor was right about everyone being out or asleep.

“Let me in before someone sees us.” You plead, walking into his solid body once more. “My sweet girl, you must be truly desperate to come to me. I thought you were going to be satisfied with your silicone cock. Isn’t that what you said when you left me behind earlier?” You roll your eyes. He really was insufferable.

“It broke.” You motion to his doorway, but he doesn’t budge. “I knew you would give in. You couldn’t stop thinking about me could you? I saw you drooling over my hands back there.” You place a hand on your forehead, letting out the biggest sigh. “Loki, can we please talk inside?” You look around again just to make sure no one was watching. “What’s the rush, little one? We have all night.” You hear one of the doors creak open down the hall, Sam walks towards you with his head down.

He makes eye contact as he gets closer. “Just borrowing a phone charger.” You lie, pulling your revealing robe closed. Sam looks between you and Loki, smiling as the realization hits. “I didn’t see shit and I don’t know shit.” He says, laughing as he walks to the elevator. “Loki, let me in. Sam saw us, isn’t that enough?”

“I need you to do one thing for me before I let you come in.” You think about leaving right now, but you’re too horny. You have to get off, and Loki is hot, even though you would never admit that to him. “Beg for it.” “Right here?” You shake your head, he’s unbelievable. You really should leave, but you had heard stories from the people that stayed the night with him. They would come into the kitchen with just fucked hair to make coffee before leaving. You were an early riser, so unfortunately you ran into most of them.

They all gushed about how good he was in bed. You really needed this. So you clasped your hands together, looking him in the eyes as you beg him. “Please Loki, give me that godly Asgardian dick?” You fight the laughter bubbling in the back of your throat as you say the silly words. Satisfied, he finally moves out of the way. You rush inside, sitting on his bed.

“I think we should have rules.” You tell him as he saunters toward you. “Like what? You Midgardians complicate everything, even sex.” “Well I don’t think we should kiss for starters.” You start to pace in front of his bed, suddenly feeling nervous. “We should undress ourselves. And you can’t cum inside me.”

Loki smiles, “Afraid you’ll fall in love with me?” You laugh at his audacity. “No I’m afraid you’ll fall in love with me. Guys get obsessed once they’ve had a taste.” He rolls his eyes at that. “I don’t even like you. Besides, I’ve never been in love in 1,054 years. It won’t happen now.” He starts shedding his clothes as you loosen the tie on your robe. You both pile your clothes together in the floor until there’s nothing left.

“This means nothing.” You stick your pinky out for him to seal the deal with a pinky promise. “Couldn’t agree more.” His finger locks with yours briefly. He picks you up, pinning you against the wall. His head dips as his sharp teeth nip along your neck. Your hands travel the length of his muscular back. All that nonsense in the hall was worth it, even if this was all you got.

Loki continues biting a trail from your collarbone to your jaw, earning a whimper from you. Your legs feel like jelly and he hadn’t really done anything. His skilled hands find your breasts, cupping them as his thumbs roll against your nipples. You gently kiss his chest, feeling his toned stomach against your soft skin. You lick his nipple, causing him to moan against your neck.

He stops to carry you back to his bed, placing you at the top. He follows, crawling between your legs. He shoots you a wicked smile that makes you feel like you’re about to be eaten alive. Loki drags his tongue up your soaked center. The heat of his mouth as his firm, velvet tongue swirls around you sends your head spinning. Silver tongue? More like magic tongue.

Every movement is designed to drive you crazy. Every flick makes your legs shake. His head rocks between your thighs, messy curls shaking as he traces your clit with the tip of his tongue. He strokes you with his talented muscle, working you into a frenzy. Needy moans of his name mix with the wet sound of him drinking you down. His lips suction around your clit, you pull his curls, needing him closer. He whimpers, the vibration from his voice along with the perfect pressure of his lips send you spiraling. He lets you ride out your orgasm, before lining himself up between your legs.

Loki sinks into you and you curse yourself for not doing this sooner. It’s like he was made for you. You’re entranced with every thrust. He really does have a godly dick and he was showing you he knows exactly how to use it. One hand caresses your cheek, “Did you think about how my cock would feel inside you while you used your pathetic toy?” You whine as he snaps his hips, hitting deeper.

Your nipples brush against his hard chest, you wrap your legs tighter around him. You love how strong he is, how big he feels compared to you. He could crush you with one hand if he wanted to. His forehead connects with yours, and he looks down at you trembling with pleasure underneath him. His lips curl in cocky satisfaction. His eyes lock onto yours, watching intensely as he fucks into you. You’re suddenly afraid he’s going to kiss you, so you turn your head.

His mouth latches onto your exposed neck, sucking hard enough to bruise, claiming you. You buck your hips against him, meeting him thrust for thrust. Suddenly he stops, flipping you over so that you’re on top. His hands dig into your hips as he lifts you up and down on him. The new angle hits spots you didn’t even know you had. You move your hips faster, as he fucks you, matching his rhythm.

“I’m close.” He warns you, giving you time to get off of him. You lay on the bed, mouth opened wide as he strokes himself over you. His hot cum lands on your tongue, chin, and breasts. You swallow what lands in your mouth. Loki watches in awe, running a long finger over your chest, gathering a good portion before bringing it to your lips. You swirl your tongue around him, loving the salty, sweet taste of him. He continues the process until you’re mostly clean.

“Would you like to watch a film?” He asks as you use one of his towels to clean what he couldn’t off you. “No, Loki. I don’t even like you.” You state matter of factly, wrapping your silk robe around you before leaving. You run into Thor in the hall, walking fast so he wouldn’t notice you leaving Loki’s room. Loki walks out, greeting Thor. “Do you have what you promised?” Thor asks, watching to make sure you went inside your room. Loki hands him a bag of chocolates, “Thank you, brother for interrupting her date earlier.” Thor rips the bag open, putting six chocolates in his mouth at once. “I hope your interference was worth it.” Thor says between bites. “Indeed, it was.”

Tags

@cindylynn @wheredafandomat @multifandom-worlds @lokisgoodgirl @wolfsmom1 @loz-3 @kats72 @crimson25 @litaloni @zombiesnips-blog @gruftiela @mochie85 @cakesandtom @eleniblue @violethaze @lokidokieokie @buttercupcookies-blog @mjsthrillernp @chantsdemarins @lulubelle814 @anukulee @theallknown213 @alexakeyloveloki @tmilover1993 @fandxmslxt69 @artemis-13 @fictive-sl0th @nomajdetective @goblingirlsarah @foxherder @kathren1sky-blog @javagirl328 @kcd15 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @soggylampshade0 @weirdothatwritess @silver-tongue-taken-to-bed @mischief2sarawr @ozymdias @freegardenbanananeck @lamentis-10 @jainaeatsstars @aoirohi @mushycore

[svltzmans]

lipstick - c.h.

warnings: 18+ smut, fem! reader, hickeys/marks, nipple play, top!reader, edging, many other dirty things <3 cassie is in love with reader's lipstick <3 i wanted to finish this bc i'm excited to post it so i didn't proofread 😬

a/n: i'm obsessed with cassie y'all... also i feel like this is a little smuttier than what i would normally write? do we like this or is it too much? let a gal know

y/n stares at herself in her bathroom mirror, focused on the deep red lipstick she was applying.

her girlfriend, cassie, had reserved them a table at one of the most lavish restaurants in the area. it was what cassie liked to call a "surprise date," although y/n was made aware beforehand.

as much as y/n likes to dress up for this type of occasion, she has never gone this far with her appearance.

she had picked out a princess-esque gown that flowed behind her as she walked, paired with black stilettos and her best batch of jewelry.

cassie is beyond obsessed with the way her girlfriend dresses herself up. her heart skips a beat seeing y/n look as angelic as she does.

"baby, are you ready to g- oh wow," cassie fails to form words when she sees y/n in front of the mirror.

the way y/n is leaning into the mirror over the sink makes cassie's legs feel weaker. she stares for a moment, not even noticing that y/n had responded to her.

"cass, you in there?" y/n brings her out of the fantasies she had already started dreaming of involving y/n and the sink.

"yeah, i just... you look beautiful."

cassie is absolutely in awe of the woman in front of her, almost struggling to believe that they were really dating.

"you're not so bad yourself, howard," y/n quips, sending a wink cassie's way.

cassie struggles to stand, and the feeling only worsens when she sees the dark red stain on her girlfriend's lips.

something about the way y/n looked wearing lipstick made cassie shiver. there was something so seductive about it that made something as simple as y/n talking especially attractive.

"i, uh, i really like that lipstick on you," cassie says shyly, trying to hide the fact that she is staring deeply at her girlfriend's lips.

"new shade i'm trying out," y/n simply replies. "wanna try some?"

the thought of y/n putting lipstick on her makes cassie feel like she has ascended directly to heaven.

"sure, yeah, i'd like that."

cassie is still somewhat shy; she still hadn't fully adjusted to the sight in front of her.

y/n pulls cassie closer and kisses her gently, resting her hands on her cheeks.

"there you go, now you can wear it too," y/n says nonchalantly, smirking at her awestruck partner.

without even thinking, cassie pulls y/n in again, much more intensely this time. her body feels like it's on fire, never quite feeling close enough to the woman in front of her.

"cassie, what are you do-"

y/n is interrupted by cassie unzipping her own dress, desperately trying to get it off her body.

"our reservation is in a little while, baby," y/n attempts to reason with cassie, to no avail. she tries to hide her stares, which is impossible with her girlfriend's body in full view.

"fuck the reservation."

cassie rests her body against the sink, the back of her head resting against the mirror.

she feels alive being exposed in front of y/n, as if it was her favorite drug.

and when y/n attaches her lips to cassie's neck, she can't help but let out an anguished whine.

y/n is both gentle and sloppy, kissing and sucking on cassie's pulse point.

"god, y/n..."

when cassie looks down, she sees the maroon color of y/n's lipstick smeared on her neck, and she swears she has never needed anyone so badly.

"mark me," cassie mutters, desperation evident in her voice.

without warning, y/n plants a kiss on cassie's nipple, leaving behind the shape of her lips.

"more," cassie breathes, barely keeping her composure.

the encouragement is all y/n needs, swirling her tongue around cassie's nipple and obscenely spreading the red pigment.

y/n bites and sucks on cassie's boobs in a way that is almost animalistic, a combination of lipstick and broken vessels creating a masterpiece on cassie's chest.

cassie is unapologetically a mess, running her fingers through her girlfriend's hair and throwing her head back against the mirror. at that moment, she didn't care if she broke it.

the noises she makes are both obscene and heavenly, a mix of gentle whines and almost-screams.

cassie can't help but start to push y/n's head down, wordlessly begging her for more.

y/n looks up at cassie, ceasing the contact between her mouth and her girlfriend's body.

"gotta use your words, cass," she teases, resting her chin on cassie's thigh.

"need you, y/n," cassie manages, already breathing heavy.

"need me for what, baby?"

"fuck me. need it so bad. please pretty, i'll be good, i promise..."

cassie is blabbering at that point, doing everything she can to get y/n's touch once again.

eventually, she wins.

y/n tantalizingly plants kisses on her thighs, dropping to her knees to be at eye level.

cassie practically melts into a puddle seeing her girlfriend on her knees in front of her. she's mesmerized, feeling like she was on a high she'd never come down from.

"stop teasing, y/n. need your mouth baby," cassie slurs, bucking her hips up from the sink.

y/n finally dives into cassie, roughly and swiftly sucking on her clit.

"fuck, y/n," cassie practically screams, simultaneously feeling the strongest form of desire and relief.

y/n briefly pulls away, lewdly licking her lips.

"you taste as good as you look, pretty girl," she mutters before continuing without skipping a beat.

cassie whines at her girlfriend's comment, already feeling the coil in her stomach growing at a rapid pace.

"god, y/n. gonna make me cum."

cassie relishes in the pleasure, her legs vibrating as she gets closer and closer to her orgasm.

as she's about to fall over her peak, y/n pulls her mouth away.

"what- what're you doing?" cassie whines, the loss of contact almost painful.

"not done with you yet, cass. can you hold on for a little longer for me?"

cassie could never object. as badly as she needed to cum, she needed more of y/n just as badly.

when y/n starts again, cassie is already close, gripping the porcelain below her.

when y/n slowly pushes a finger into cassie, she absolutely loses it.

"oh my god, just like that. feels so good, fuck. can't take much more."

cassie's words sound like a cocktail of nonsense, her brain seeming to give out on her the longer y/n fucks her.

"gonna cum on my face, aren't you, cass? i know, baby. let it out princess, you can do it."

cassie is practically crying out of pure ecstasy, her body giving out from under her.

"i, i'm gonna, can i?"

"cum for me, cassie."

cassie's vision completely blacks out, her head once again thrown back against the mirror. she grips y/n's hair, still seeing stars after several seconds.

cassie feels like her orgasm will never end, not fully used to the intensity of the feeling.

when she comes down from her high, she stares down at her girlfriend, who finally stands up from her knees.

y/n's lipstick is entirely smudged, and her dress was half off her body.

"fuck," cassie giggles, pulling y/n in for a kiss.

y/n's eyes widen in realization when she remembers they had entirely forgotten about their dinner plans.

"the reservation!" y/n says, exasperated.

"as i said," cassie replies. "fuck the reservation."

[kaiaelsher]

—color theory.

Summary: Surely the marks he's left all over your body, especially on your neck that is unable to be covered by your oh-so-charismatic Hunter Unform aren't going to disappear out of shame to follow common public decency by itself, so of course Rafayel is going to help.

Contains: rafayel/reader, grammatical errors, fluff, estabilished relationship(?), clingy and down-bad rafayel, but you're just as down bad as he is, suggestiveness (they were having it the night before), but nothing more, and ... self-insert?

Notes: i'm doing this because a scenario suddenly popped into my head so ... here's a kinda short fic? I guess?

Last night was the night.

It was when you truly feel like you've became one with Rafayel.

It doesn't mean like you feel disconnected from him before, but like two strings that was twisting around each other for what felt like an endless amount of time - the ends of the string finally tied together last night, bond that cannot be changed is no longer one-sided. That's how you feel, and you know for real that the Lemurian who is now half-sulking before you felt similiar.

"Should you really go today?" you can see how his straight pretty eyebrows - one of your most favorite features of him, by the way - is knitted together as his lips formed a thin pout. You are now sitting on the couch, hands working to button up your hunter uniform as you stared at the man before you fondly.

"I'll return here after work instead of my apartment," you offered consolation, and Rafayel crossed his arms.

Honestly, if it wasn't for Captain Jenna's urging for you to come, you maybe would have give in and said you were sick just to tangle with him within any area in this place, but unfortunately, the matter about aether core is not going to solve itself if there is no helping hand.

"It would be very mean of you if you don't after what we did last night," he replied, as sassy as he always have. If only you aren't feeling so loving towards him right now, you probably would reply with a sassy remark as well until he's left with silence filling his vocabulary, he took a peek of you through the corner of his eye, halfly mumbling, "of course you have to come back here."

God, you feel so cheesy, you know it, and maybe both your future and past self would immediately be cringed by how you acted as you smiled wider, barely holding back giggles, you acted like you are the side character from a rom-com drama who would worship the ground their partner walk on with all sorts of disgustingly cheesy words written all over your script for the sake of comedic relief, making the main characters be disgusted by how cheesy you are.

"Right, of course," you nodded, "I'll make sure to come back home as soon as my shift ends."

Home.

Just you so casually calling this place; in which he resides 'home' is enough to turn his mind into mush, Rafayel almost cursed himself through his breaths for being so easy for you, but at the end, it was and it has always been you, the girl who would recklessly stab then slice open her own chest to hand him her own heart if he says he wanted it.

He watched as you strode over the near-by vanity, sat yourself on it and grab a concealer, ready to dab them over the reddening small little circles on your neck - marks he's left all over you in exchange of how you have marked his very soul. Before his mind could muster up things, Rafayel immediately walked to your direction, his hand holding yours in place.

".... Rafayel?" you called out of confusement.

Does he want you to just walk around with these marks in your neck that screamed 'I just had a mind-blowing sex!' to everyone with eyes? You guessed.

Well, you considered it once more, it might be kind of embarrassing, but if Rafayel wants that to make people understand that you have someone (who is none other than him), then who are you to refus-

"Only concealer is not enough to cover that," he spoke, interrupting your mind, "you need a color corrector first."

-oh.

You cleared your throat and nodded in acknowledgement as you watch him walk over to some shelves.

Damn it. You feel so embarrassed with the way you're thinking things right now that you wish you could just smash your face to the mirror infront of you - at least the blood that would seep out through the glass' pierces would cover how you are blushing- are you blushing right now? Well, you don't know, you don't dare looking at the mirror after the embarrassment you brought upon yourself, you chose that you'd rather have your eyes locked onto Rafayel's direction.

Rafayel finally returned to your side with a green color corrector with its applicator in his hand, he lowered his posture to be face-to-face with your neck, and you yourself could feel the back ache he might be feeling after that. So this time it's your turn to wrap your hand around his wrist - holding his hand in place.

"Isn't it too uncomfortable in this kind of position?" you said in genuine concern, eyes meeting his, then it traveled to his back with the help of your tilted head, "your back might get hurt."

Rafayel almost feel offended. Hello? Do you somehow see him as an old geezer who can't even manage to bend just for a little amount of time? Do you forget how did he take you just last night? The man almost opened his mouth, but soon, upon realization of what kind of advantage could he take from this pure concern of yours, he feel a tug on the corner of his mouth, but he tried to resist.

"Hmm, you're right," he straight up his posture once more, his hand, that is currently holding applicator, touched his chin, displaying a fake consideration of situations. He furrowed his eyebrows, before then glancing at you with a new gleam in his eyes. "Then ..."

You were pulled up to stand from your seat before he sat himself on the plush of seat that was yours, then, you felt the familiar hands of his - but also the feel of product's packaging since he hasn't put them down on the table - on either side of your waist, lifting you (just to show how strong he is) and place you on his laps.

He looked up at you with mischievous glint in his eyes, juxtaposing the surprise in yours. Your hands reflexively placed on his shoulders.

"... this should be better, yeah?" the yeah came out in throaty whisper. "By the way, thanks for your very caring nature towards a very weak creature like I am, Miss Bodyguard."

".... I take it back," you said, expression changing. And Rafayel only chuckled.

"Uh oh," the man shook his head, "once someone have given me something, I won't let them take it back, and it also apply to you, don't think I would exclude you in any of my petty self-law just because I love you, cutie."

You scowled, but everyone in this room definitely know that the disdain you've been displaying since seconds ago were nothing but a mere pretense, you barely manage to conceal how much you actually like this situation, shown by how your hand now started to rub itself against his face, and Rafayel, as usual, tilted his head to follow your hand's direction, you know he knows.

You tilted up your head slightly the moment he started to apply the light shade of green- tea green? (you don't know colors' names, you'll start asking Rafayel later on) To spots on your neck attentively, luckily enough, your gaze still managed to find him through the lower corner of your eyes, from this angle, you realize how beautiful his lashes were. You've long known how fluffy his hair is, but your hand moved to touch it again to find out.

"Green cancels out red," he explained, "if you wanted to apply concealer on reddish marks like these next time, make sure to apply tea green color corrector first."

"Okay," you replied, "that means you'll leave reddish marks on me again next time, right?"

Rafayel blushed, and he cleared his throat.

"Pay attention," he warned.

"I am," paying attention to the blush on your ears, to the beautiful curl of your lashes, and to the beautiful tiny sways of your hair, you continued inwardly.

Gods, how you wished you could just stay like this forever until your bones might not recognize any positions beside when you're sitting on his laps.

[drewsbuzzcut]

Spoiled Rotten

Mat Barzal x model!fem!reader

A visceral in doses fic

Warnings: smut!

Takes place Oct 2024

You stroll up to your apartment, your hair thrown into a messy bun and sunglasses perched on the bridge of your nose. In one hand is the key to your home, and the other holds the handle of your luggage. Your phone is squeezed between your cheek and shoulder as you giggle with your best friend, Beverly.

“Ugh I know! Who knew phone sex could be so exciting and fulfilling?!” You squeal into the phone as you walk through the door. You fight off a blush, but it only grows more furious as you notice what’s waiting inside for you.

On your kitchen counter stands two large bouquets of tulips and roses- your favorites. Next to the vases rests two boxes. One is quite large and pink. The other is smaller in comparison and velvet.

You’re silent for a brief moment, taking everything in. Beverly doesn’t even notice you’re silent as she’s too busy rattling off a story about her boyfriend. You’ll have to ask her to repeat herself once you’re not distracted anymore. The note sticking out of your bouquet keeps you for a moment longer.

“Congrats on your Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show debut. I couldn’t be more proud of my supermodel girlfriend. I love you, baby.” - Mat

Of course your sweet boyfriend provided these gifts. He loves spoiling you, and he takes full advantage of any time he gets to celebrate you. Your body fills with want, but it quickly subsides, knowing that he’s not in New York yet. He will be soon, though.

“Bev, you will never believe what I came home to,” you interrupt her, a giddy smile permanently stretching your lips.

You smirk and struggle to suppress a giggle at her response. Something about a naked Mat waiting on your couch. You wish.

“No. Flowers, like two huge bouquets. There’s also an Agent Provocateur box and a velvet box that probably contains something more expensive than my flight home,” you list off your gifts.

“Oh, your man has good taste. Have you opened the boxes?”

“No. I’m nervous. I feel like I’m about to explode. I’m literally shaking,” you sigh.

“Girl! What are you waiting for? Dig in!” Beverly shrieks. You can hear the grin in her tone.

You eagerly tear into the pink box holding your newest lingerie set. Butterflies fill your stomach, because a boy has never bought you lingerie before. But Mat isn’t a boy, he’s a man. A man that knows the woman he loves and that turns you on like no other.

Once you remove the tissue paper, you’re met with the daintiest, deep navy blue lingerie set. It’s all lace, leaving very little to the imagination. The front of your thong has your jaw on the floor. In orange, cursive embroidery says, “Barzal.”

“Beverly, it says ‘Barzal’ on the thong!” You practically cheer.

“Holy shit. That’s hot. Wait… you do like it, right?”

“Of course! I love it. It’s such a hot number and I cannot wait to wear it for him.”

Gently setting it aside, you move onto the velvet box. You close your eyes, wanting it to be a surprise. A gasp falls from your lips as you lay your eyes on the thin, gold watch. It has diamonds encrusted on the sides and it’s so shiny.

“It’s a gold watch. It’s dainty and has diamonds. I am truly at a loss for words,” you whisper into the phone.

“He loves you bad. I need pictures of everything asap,” Bev demands.

“On it- oops hold on. There’s someone knocking on my door.”

You look through the peephole, a scream bursting through its confinement when you see Mat waiting patiently.

“Bev, I have to go. Mat just got here. Meet for lunch tomorrow?”

“Sure thing. Enjoy your dick appointment.”

“I will,” you laugh and hang up.

Throwing the door open, you pull Mat inside and straight into a kiss.

“Fuck. I love you. When did you get home?” You breathe into him before sucking his tongue into your mouth.

“Early this morning. We were able to catch an earlier flight and I knew it was my opportunity to surprise you,” Mat says with a heaving chest and his forehead resting on yours.

“And surprise me you did,” you gleam, looping your arms around his neck and fully leaning into him.

“Do you like what I bought you, pretty girl?” He hums, face going to your neck. He noses at your pulse point and then sucks on your sweet spot. You let out a moan as he lowers his hands to your ass.

“I love it, baby. I can’t wait to put on my watch. It’s so gorgeous. I can’t wait to see my flowers every time I come home, and for you to fuck me in my new lingerie,” you whisper in his ear.

You subtly look at him to catch his reaction. A smirk fixes your lips when you see the way his eyes melt in desire.

“I can’t wait to see you look like the angel that you are. However, before we get to that, I want to take you out. Maybe to that small jazz restaurant you love,” he suggests, but his hands do most of the talking with the way they roam your body.

He refers to the restaurant as a place you love- which is true. He loves it just as much as you, though. You’ve shared many intimate moments there. His hands have settled on yours thighs when he leans closer to whisper in your ear; his lips have found your bare shoulder many times in chaste kisses as he watches you enjoy the music; his hands find your hips and the curve of your ass when you both occasionally indulge in a slow dance on the small, crowded dance floor. Chills zip down your spine just thinking about it.

“That sounds so perfect. But before I agree to any date, I think you should join me in the shower,” you hum, biting down on your bottom lip and pulling him to your bathroom.

It’s not much later that your bathroom is filled with steam and the sounds of you panting. Your back is pressed into the cold, wet tiles of your shower cabin. Water falls onto Mat’s large body and drips onto your smaller frame. His tongue flicks at yours as you meet in an open-mouth kiss. You both fight for dominance, but you quickly submit when he finally slides into your wet heat. A soft gasp falls from your lips and gets swallowed by his mouth.

His hips move softly, barely moving at all, so he can feel you stretch as you get adjusted. When you grab onto his shoulders and jut your hips up, he pushes into you fully. Mat’s body vibrates with a thrill that can only be caused by the tightness of your pussy as you suck him back in.

“Fuck. I love the way you make me feel,” you whine, eyes locked on his. The soft hazel color turns into something dark, more earthy than they already appear.

“I love the way you feel wrapped around me. Your pussy was made for my cock, baby,” Mat voices in a confident hum. The words get smothered on the hinge of your jaw by his lips.

“Oh yeah, Maty? I was made for you? Prove it, baby,” you tease and squeeze down on his length.

“Holy shit,” he sighs, muscles tensing before he locks in, grabbing onto your thigh and hauling it up and around his hip.

He pumps into you to the rhythm of your moans. His greedy hands grab at your flesh, squeezing you tighter to him. The tip of his cock prods into the deepest parts of you, making goosebumps dot your skin and your limbs rattle in ecstasy.

“I love you,” you chant through a muffled cry against Mat’s lips.

He sucks on your tongue, savoring every drop of you that’s reserved for him only. His hand travels to the back of your neck, tangling in your hair. A hiss escapes your throat when his teeth nip at the pulse point in your neck. Your heart beats crazily, fire bubbles in your veins and an earth-shattering orgasm starts to invade your senses.

“I love you,” he mutters, gripping your chin in his hand and bringing your mouth back to his.

Time seems to slip from your grip as your release washes over, drowning you in euphoria. You can barely feel Mat sucking on the flesh of your boobs, not when your vision turns into starbursts and your limbs feel like gelatin.

“Fuck,” Mat groans, hands finding your hips to keep you steady as he thrusts into you faster, chasing his own orgasm.

You shiver and cuddle closer to Mat, wrapping a hand around his upper back and neck. The thick cords of his muscles turn solid before going flaccid as he releases inside of you.

His heart thuds against his chest, almost tempting an escape. Mat so gently holds onto you, but eventually his strong body melts into your embrace. His forehead meets your shoulder, wet strands of hair tickling your jaw.

You suck his earlobe in between your lips. Dull nails dig into the plushness of your skin, making your pussy contract and pulse around him.

“You’re perfect,” Mat mutters in a half moan. He feels his cock spring back to life with the way you softly rock into him, luring him back to his personal heaven.

“No, you are,” you reply, nosing at his cheek while you enjoy the warmth created by the both of you.

“You know you’re spoiled rotten?” Mat breaks the peaceful silence, fingers gathering at your sides to pinch and tickle you.

“Am not,” you state with a sassy roll of your eyes.

“It literally took like less than 2 minutes for you to get me naked,” he claims, chin in the air as if no excuse you give will waiver his statement.

“I think you enjoy being wrapped around my finger. It’s not like I forced you to take off your clothes, so don’t complain, baby,” you hum.

Before he can respond, you place your lips on his, your tongue invading his mouth and all of his words falling silent.

a/n: Enjoy babes!!!

[superbassbuck]

Making Out for America

Chapter 2: Red, White, and Black

masterlist || one || two || three || four

Pairing: Congressman!Bucky Barnes x America's Sweetheart!fem!reader

Mentions: 18+, enemies to lovers, slow burn, set during thunderbults*, sexual tension, forced proximity, arranged marriage, panic attacks, mental health issues, angst (lots of it), no y/n

Word Count: 5.4k

gif by agentbelle || dividers by cafekitsune

You hated the way this man was staring at you like you were gum stuck to the bottom of his polished shoe. 

You knew James Barnes. You’ve seen him on national television. You and pretty much the whole country knew that he was notorious for having a very, very bad staring problem and a signature scowl that was plastered across news segments and broadcasts. 

But it was just something about seeing it up close and feeling that tension that made a shiver shoot straight through your spine. 

Maybe his glare wasn’t personal? Maybe that’s just how his face looked all the time? But standing here, on the receiving end of it, made your skin itch uncomfortably. And now that Voss abandoned you two, you figured you might as well try to get to know your future husband. 

…even if he looked like he’d rather dive headfirst out of the window than make conversation with you. Seriously, what was his problem? Just his gaze alone is already making you regret agreeing to this arrangement. 

But then… you thought about the alternative. The truth was, the foundation had been treading water for the past year. Donors have been pulling out one by one, grants have been drying out, and the media attention has been… decent at best. As much as you silently complain about the speeches and being the face of it all, this was your father’s legacy. The thing that you’d spent your entire life dedicating to, and it was slowly fading from the spotlight. 

You hadn’t agreed to this because you liked the idea. Or because you liked him, clearly. You only said ‘yes’ because this arrangement meant headlines, meaning attention. It meant power. Power that was enough to make a difference. You sucked in a breath and straightened your spine—well, you had to anyway, because this dress was impossibly tight—and reminded yourself why you were here. 

Not for him. Not for Voss. But for your father. 

“Congressman Barnes,” you begin carefully, testing the waters. “If this arrangement makes you uncomfortable, I understand if you don’t want to go through with it—” 

“No,” he interrupts, a little too quickly. He shifts his weight and pulls his hands from his pockets, making a weird gesture like he’s brushing the idea away. “I’m comfortable.” 

You raise a brow. “Are you sure? You don’t really look comfortable.”

“I said I’m comfortable.” 

You press your lips into a thin line, trying to stifle a laugh. You kind of feel bad for him. Despite his words, the fancy suit and tie, and the salt and pepper beard that shows his age, he resembles a stubborn child. 

“Okaaay then,” you tease, rocking slightly on your heels with your hands tucked behind your back. 

The silence between you two was deafening. “Voss said that we should try to get to know each other,” you say, trying anything to fill the air. “So, what’s your–” 

Bucky cuts you off before you can even finish your question. “No need for small talk,” he says flatly. “I’ll put together a file on myself. You can read it, learn whatever you need. Then make one of your own. We’ll study up on it and play the part.” 

You blink. Huh?

 “A file…?” 

He simply nods, his eyes still dead set on you. “A biography, a background, habits, favorite color. Whatever helps this…” then he gestures a finger between the both of you, “thing… look convincing.” 

You stare at him, dumbfounded. “You want us to write a ‘Get to Know Me!’ sheet for each other? Like homework?” 

“Exactly,” he says, completely serious. “Efficient.” 

He has a smile on his face now, like he’s under the impression that you’re understanding. You feel like you have to physically bite your tongue not to laugh. It’s not the worst idea in the world, but the way he says it so seriously makes it sound like an assignment on some foreign policy and not an engagement. 

“I just thought,” you say, compressing a snicker. “We could try doing something a little more… organic? You know, talking, spending time together, pretending to like each other like normal couples do.” 

Bucky raises his brows and scrunches his face a bit, almost like a cringe. “That’s not very efficient.” 

You cross your arms and tilt your head. He looks mildly condescending—so you mirror it, because two can play this game. Petty? Maybe. But you’re not writing a five page biography about yourself for your soon-to-be-husband. “Not everything has to be efficient, Congressman. Sometimes human connection takes a little time and effort. Surprising, right?” 

He leans against the desk behind him, arms folded across his chest now too—copying you, like this was some kind of stand-off. “Time and effort I don’t have. I have three hearings this week, four committee meetings, two interviews–” 

“Perfect. How about instead of calling you Congressman, I can call you Bucky?” you cut in, completely brushing past his words. Then you take a few short steps closer to him. “Wouldn’t that be more natural?” 

His brow twitches in response to your teasing tone, but he doesn’t move. “You’re aiming for natural?” 

You frown. He really wasn’t getting it. If this plan was going to work, then you two would have to be as convincing as possible, as natural as possible—giving the nation the love story that they want. But in Bucky’s mind, all he has to do is slip a ring on your finger, snap a picture with you, and call it a day. Unfortunately for him, that wasn't enough.

“That’s the whole point,” you sigh, trying to explain. “If this is going to even remotely–” 

Before you could finish your sentence, the door swings open and in comes Voss with her phone clutched in her hand and the brightest smile on her face. “Great news!” she announces. “Everyone’s on board.” 

You and Bucky both turned toward her. You arch your brow. “Everyone?” 

She nods, walking past you and straight to the table where she left her files behind. She starts flipping through them. “PR is already working on a joint statement. Communications is working on a press release,” then she turns to you with a smile. “And we’ve booked a photographer for engagement shots later this week. But most importantly…” 

Jesus. She really did all of that in the span of fifteen minutes? 

Her eyes flicker between you and Bucky as she continues. “Valentina’s gala is tomorrow night. And both of you will be in attendance as each other’s fiancée. It’ll be the perfect introdu–” 

“Wait,” Bucky interrupts, turning to Voss with narrowed brows. “Tomorrow?” 

“Tomorrow,” Voss confirms with a nod. “Everyone who matters will be there. It’s the ideal situation.”

You could feel your stomach doing jumping jacks. Tomorrow was just… way too soon. Sure, you were used to public speaking, but that was always scripted, prepared, and polished. This was entirely different. Pretending to be in love was a whole different ball game that you were not familiar with. And truthfully, your experience with love was… limited. At best. Sheltered would be putting it kindly.

“Tomorrow is just…” Bucky trails off. 

“...so soon,” you finished. 

Voss’s lips press into a thin line as she looks between the both of you. She just shrugs, as if there’s nothing you two could do about it. “So? Then what are we waiting for?” she asks bluntly. “You’ve got the rest of the day to get to know each other.” 

Bucky stiffens. Based on his body language alone, it is so clear to you that he wants out of this situation. You could see the gears turning in that cyborg brain of his, computing for an excuse to try and get out. Like a lightbulb, he raises a finger up to shoot an excuse at Voss, but she was faster.

She raises her hands up to stop him before he could even speak. “Don’t even think about it, Barnes. Your schedule is clear for the rest of the day. I already checked.” 

His shoulders slumped as he let out a sigh, barely sparing you a glance. Honestly, the least he could do was pretend to be happy about spending time with you.

There was a moment of silence between the three of you. Voss looked between the two of you, clearly unimpressed with the lack of interaction. When it became obvious that neither you nor Bucky planned to say anything else, she sighs and shakes her head disappointedly. 

“Sorry, but I’ve got to get going,” she begins. “You both are adults. Figure this out.” 

She gathered her things and made her way towards the door again. “I know this won’t be easy, but honestly—” she wags a finger between the both of you, “you two surprisingly look good together.” And with that, she opens the door and leaves the office, leaving you and Bucky alone yet again.

You processed her words for a moment. A small blush crept on your cheeks, feeling a little flattered. Despite Bucky’s perpetual glare, scowls, and generally bad attitude, Bucky was, objectively speaking, ridiculously handsome. Being told you matched his level of good looks to be within the same league was kind of a backhanded compliment, but you’d take it. 

But when you turned to look at him, he didn’t seem even remotely flattered like you did. He looked offended.

“Alright, I’ve had enough of this,” you cross your arms. “I’ve been trying to ignore your scowls since the moment I got here, but I just can’t. Are you really that pretentious and uptight? I thought you just had a chronic staring issue, but turns out, you’re just a straight up asshole. I mean—just look at you!” 

His brow lifted as he scoffed. “Excuse me?” Then his eyes skim you up and down again, taking in your ridiculous tight dress that’s hugging you in all the wrong—and right —places. He swallows before meeting your eyes. “Look at me? Look at you .”

You let out a breathless laugh. “I’m sorry. What?” you mirror his tone as you lean closer to him, deliberately trying to test his audacity. 

Bucky takes a step closer to you, his blue eyes glaring you down. “Look at you,” he repeats. “Your hair’s a mess, you’ve got an attitude of a sailor, and your dress–” 

“What about my dress?” You raise a brow, clearly offended. 

He swallows again, and you can see his jaw clench. He looks like he’s deciding whether or not he should say his next line. It’d be smart for him to keep his mouth shut, but unfortunately for you, the only thing smart about him is his mouth. 

“It looks like that dress is barely holding you in,” he mutters, his eyes dark and narrowed down at you. 

Your eyebrow twitches, and you throw your head back with a mocking laugh. “Wow,” you say, tossing your hands up. “Did the Congressman really just call me fat?”

He stands up straight, visibly confused and thrown off guard. “What? No–” but instead of stopping there like any normal person would, he keeps going. A bad habit of his, clearly. 

“I didn’t mean it like that. I meant…” then he starts gesturing vaguely at your body, his eyes darting at every curve, everywhere except your face. “I just mean… there’s a lot of you in that dress.” 

Your mouth drops, and you just stare at him, stunned. “A lot of me?” 

Bucky’s eyes go wide the second he hears himself, like he’s just realized he stepped directly into a landmine. It’s been too damn long since the last time he tried complimenting a woman, and if his mother were here right now, she’d grab him by the ear for talking to you this way. “Shit, I meant that like… like you have a lot of presence. You’re commanding. Not in a bad way, just—” 

You raise a brow. “A lot of presence?” you repeat again. 

He swallows, a heat of embarrassment rushing to his ears. “You’re built well. That’s all I meant. Like, structurally–” he grimaces at himself, but for some reason, he can’t seem to stop digging the hole deeper, so he adds, “in an architectural sense.” 

At this point, you’re not even mad anymore. Irritated, probably. But the way he’s trying so hard to salvage this almost makes you feel bad for him. It was kind of amusing to watch in a way. You don’t say anything, you just stare at him as you let his arrangement of words linger in the air. 

Then Bucky, clearly desperate, blurts, “Okay, how about dinner? We should get dinner.” He suddenly brings up, likely as an attempt to make up for whatever compliment slash insult he just threw at you. 

You frown. “I just ate.” 

“Yeah, okay,” he huffs, putting his hands on his hips and nodding in agreement, his eyes back on your curves. “I see that.” 

There’s a pause.

Then your jaw drops when realization hits you. 

“Oh my God , so you are insulting me!” you raise your voice, raising your hand to point an accusing finger at him. 

“Jesus Christ,” he mumbles grumpily, starting to get tired of trying to defend himself. “I’m not trying to insult you, it’s just… you got a stain–” 

You interrupt him, because right now you don’t care to hear what he has to say this time. 

“I’m sorry that Voss couldn’t find you a more polished and put-together woman to be your wife,” you begin making exaggerated hand gestures in anger. 

You probably look stupid and childish right now, but you don’t care. You’ve felt judged the minute you walked in here, and you’ve had enough with the way he was mumbling and scowling at you like you were a person with no feelings. 

Bucky looks down at you and swallows hard, taking small steps back each time you take one closer, pressing a finger against his perfectly ironed dress shirt. You eventually back him up against the office desk behind him, leaving him trapped between you and that poor piece of furniture.

“I’m not perfect, but I’m good, I have good morals and–” you jab a finger harder into his chest with each word, “I’m loyal, I show up when I’m needed and I care. Maybe I care too much sometimes. But I’m a good person. I’m a good…” 

You pause for half a second, your face scrunched up in anger, “...girl. I’m a good girl!” you repeat even louder. 

Bucky just blinks at you, stunned and not knowing what to say. His mouth opens like he’s about to get a word out, but before he could, you raise your hand again to drill him for round two. 

And that’s when it happens. 

It rips. 

Your dress tears, and the sound was so sharp and loud—you both couldn’t ignore it, no matter how badly you wanted to. Your eyes go wide in horror, and you both slowly look down at yourself. On the side, your dress had split further up. The tear crawled well past your thigh and revealed a very generous peek of black lace that definitely was not meant to be seen by anyone else. 

You slap your hands to your thigh, trying to cover it while your eyes flick up to him in sheer panic. And Bucky, who was definitely looking, meets your gaze—and holds it. 

Maybe he won’t say anything. He’s a Congressman. Surely, a man in office would be respectable enough when stuck in a situation like this. 

But then the corner of his mouth twitches up to a smirk. 

“Good girls don’t wear black lacy underwear.” 

Your face is completely flushed in embarrassment. Your jaw drops. “You…!” 

He shrugs, but doesn’t make any effort to move. And you’re realizing now that you two are very, very close. Maybe even too close, especially now that half your underwear is peeking out. 

His smirk deepens, like he’s finally found solid ground while watching you squirm in embarrassment. The power dynamic has shifted, and he’s reveling in it. Slowly, he stands up straight from the desk and reaches into the back pocket of his slacks.

“Let’s meet up for dinner tonight,” he says as he hands you a card. “We have to try to get to know each other better before the gala tomorrow.” 

You take it cautiously with your free hand, the other still gripping your thigh in a pathetic attempt at modesty. You glance at the card, then frown. 

“What is this? Your trash?”

His expression tightens, mildly offended. “It’s my business card.” He taps the bottom edge, where his number is cleanly underlined. “Contact info.”

“Oh,” you blink. “Right.”

You both stand there for a moment, an awkward pause between you two. Your hand is still awkwardly gripping your thigh to cover yourself, and he’s still very much looking at you like he’s got the upper hand now. 

You clear your throat and finally step away, putting real space between your bodies. “Anyway, I should—”

“Yeah, you should,” he cuts in smoothly, like he’s doing you the favor. Then he slips past you toward the window, settling back into the same position you first found him in, like you never even happened.

“Yeah, okay…” you mutter, backing toward the door. “Bye.”

“Bye,” he repeats dryly, like the council meeting is adjourned. 

When you see his back is still turned towards you and his gaze occupied out the window, you spin around and try to sheepishly escape out the door. You’re not certain, but you’re pretty sure the rip went farther than just your thigh. 

Probably all the way up the back.

And right before you slip out the door, with your back turned to him now, Bucky looks over his shoulder and gets one good look at the lace before you disappear completely. 

Later that evening, George dropped you off in front of the restaurant where you were supposed to meet Bucky. You’d changed into something more flattering—and comfortable—this time. Something that actually felt like you. Your hair and makeup had been redone too, more soft glam than studio-and-television ready. Tonight, you looked less like America’s Sweetheart and more like yourself. 

“Call me when you’re done,” is all George says, stepping out to open your door. 

“Thanks, George,” you replied, soothing down your dress with a smile. “I’ll make sure to order you something to-go.” You add half-teasingly, and he just grunts in response. 

He waits a bit until you get inside. The restaurant Bucky had picked out was upscale and romantic. It had the typical dim lights, small tables, and flickering candles. This was the kind of restaurant where you’d take someone you actually loved—which was ironic, considering you and Bucky were tied up in a loveless arranged marriage. 

As you stepped inside, two suited men opened the door for you, and you greeted them with a polite smile before approaching the hostess stand.

“Reservation under Barnes,” you said, a bit unsure. Your eyes naturally wandered around the restaurant, trying to spot him.  

“Of course!” the hostess chirped, tapping on her tablet. “Congressman James Barnes. Right this way.”And for some reason, hearing ‘Reservation under Congressman James Barnes’ makes your heart flutter proudly knowing that you’re his ‘date’.

He was seated at a more secluded area of the restaurant, a table he probably requested to avoid attention—for now. He was fiddling with his thumbs on the table, and this time you noticed he was wearing a glove on his left hand to cover up his metal arm. He didn’t have that on earlier. When he looked up and saw you, he sat up a little straighter. The hostess offered a quick smile before slipping away, leaving just the two of you.

“Hope my dress isn’t too tight for you, Congressman,” you say with a teasing smile, sliding into the empty seat across from him. 

He stared at you longer than necessary, his eyes scanning more than just the dress. Then he muttered, “Looks good,” and quickly buried his face behind the menu. “Heard this place has decent food.”

You picked up the menu, raising a brow at him. “You’ve never eaten here before?” 

“No,” he says flatly. “I don’t really… go out.” He clears his throat at the last part, almost like he’s embarrassed to admit it. 

You sat up straighter. This was the perfect opportunity to try and get to know him. 

“So, what’s your usual go-to spot?”

“Home,” he replied dryly, eyes glued to the menu.

“I meant to eat at,” you clarified, frowning slightly.

He turned the page without blinking. “Yeah. Still home.”

Good grief. Talking to your husband-to-be was like talking to a brick wall. You never imagined sitting here, at a fancy dimly lit restaurant, with a Congressman—much less a Congressman who has no idea how to talk. Either that, or he’s purposely keeping the conversation to a minimum. Even though he was the one that invited you out here. 

You sighed and flipped to the drinks section, determined to keep things going. “Okay, what kind of music do you like?”

He pauses for a moment, “Forties music.” 

Ah, that makes sense. You gave him a second, hoping he’d catch on and take the conversation from here. But instead of saying anything, he scratched at the stubble along his jaw. His eyes shifted to you, then dropped back to the menu. 

And then… nothing.

Silence. Full, uncomfortable silence.

You cleared your throat to try and catch his attention, and he glanced up with a raised brow like you were the problem.

“What?” he asked, voice flat and a little annoyed.

“This is usually the part where you ask about me now,” you leaned in, narrowing your eyes. 

He sighed, setting the menu down and leaning back in his seat, arms folding across his chest. Despite the pressed suit and professional look, his tie was slightly loosened and his once-slicked hair was starting to fall out of place. He looked tired, and irritatingly attractive. Not that you’d ever admit it outloud. He lets out a low and thoughtful hum as he tries to brew up a topic to talk about.

“Okay, I’ve got a question for you,” he begins, a slight smirk creeping up on his face. 

Good. Good. He’s finally going to try and make an attempt at a conversation with you. You grab your glass of water and take a sip, giving him your full attention. 

“What color panties are you wearing now?” he asks you suddenly. 

You immediately choke, nearly spitting the water across the table. Thank God you two are tucked away in a private corner of the restaurant, because what the hell kind of question is that? You stare at him, eyebrows furrowed and mouth hanging open, stunned by the audacity. But then you realized… if he’s asking about your panties, then it means he’s still thinking about it. 

Now this time, you’re the one with the smirk. “Still thinking about my underwear, Congressman?” 

You had to silently applaud yourself for coming up with a smartass response for his smartass question. You lean back in your chair, arms and legs crossed to mirror his posture, thinking he’s probably regretting opening his mouth now. Surely he’s about to get flustered and backpedal—

“That depends,” he says smoothly, that smirk never leaving his face. “I’m just trying to figure out if my wife’s a good girl or not.”

You freeze, and you quickly pick up the menu to cover your face, hiding the raging blush you’ve got going on now. There wasn’t even any wine at the table, so where the hell is he suddenly getting all this confidence from? 

“I—I’m not… your wife yet,” you stammer, refusing to make eye contact with him and keeping it locked on the menu. 

He lets out a low and deep chuckle that rumbles in his chest, and you’re realizing now that that was the first time you’ve ever heard anything remotely close to a laugh from him. Even though you’ve only known him for a day, you had to figuratively give yourself a pat on the back for making this grumpy man chuckle. 

The waiter approaches soon after, and you both place your orders. A few minutes later, your food arrives, along with a bottle of wine, compliments of the house. Apparently, being wined and dined with a U.S. Congressman has its perks. Free stuff, for one!

After a few sips of wine and bites of your meals, there was only the sound of silverware hitting the porcelain plates. The silence stretches long enough that you finally decide to break it. 

“So,” you ask between a bite, then motion to his left hand with your knife, “why are you wearing a glove now?” 

You see him tense up at your question, and you instantly regret it. He looked uncomfortable, so you swallowed your food and immediately started backtracking. 

“Sorry, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. I understand—” 

“It draws too much attention,” he cuts in after taking a sip of his wine. “Negative attention. Everytime I’m on that podium, the press always finds a way to bring it up.” 

You frown. His metal arm was something that clearly bothered him, and you get it. You know what it feels like to be knit-picked at when it comes to appearances. The world isn’t kind to women, especially women like you, who have a strong voice and an image in society to uphold. They say a bunch of terrible stuff, especially online. Down to your mannerisms, your appearance, your weight. Everything. 

People love to reduce you to parts.

And the world also isn't kind to James Buchannan Barnes. A man who served the country, and paid the price for it by being morphed into a weapon. A man who helped save the world, yet is still being seen as a dangerous threat to the nation. 

“You shouldn’t cover it up,” you say softly. “It’s a beautiful arm.” 

He looks you over the rim of his wine glass, pausing before he takes a sip and raises an eyebrow at you. “It isn’t,” he mutters. “It’s a weapon.” 

“No, it isn’t,” you insist. You reach your hand across the table and lay it over his left hand gently. The leather of his glove is cool under your fingertips. He tenses, but he doesn’t move. 

“It’s vibranium. Crafted with care, and a gift straight from Wakanda. It’s not a weapon, Bucky. It’s beautiful, and it’s part of you. It deserves to be seen.” 

Bucky’s eyes flicker to your hand resting over his. His jaw clenches, and for a moment, it looks like he might say something, something vulnerable. But instead, he gently pulls his hand back, withdrawing himself from you.

“Doesn’t matter if it’s beautiful or not,” he mutters bluntly, keeping his eyes downcasted towards his food. “It makes people uncomfortable. And that’s not something I feel like dealing with.” 

Your frown deepens. You want to argue against him, explain to him that it’s not something he should be ashamed of. But the sad truth was, you don’t really know him. Not on a personal level, at least. Not beyond the title and the arrangements. So instead, you reluctantly sigh and give him a gentle nod, not wanting to press the issue even more. 

A part of you had to remind yourself that this was simply all for show, and you shouldn’t cross a boundary that didn’t need to be crossed. All you had to do was to stay within your lane and continue this marriage as if it were any other business proposal. 

The rest of the evening eventually dies down. He pays for the bill and now you’re both outside of the restaurant, waiting for your respective rides. 

“You sure you don’t want a ride home?” he asks, keeping a polite distance, his hands tucked into the pockets of his slacks.

“No, that’s alright. George should be here any minute,” you wave your hand dismissively. “Thanks though.” you add with a forced tight-lipped smile. 

Ever since you brought up his glove and the topic of his arm, the rest of the dinner was completely tense. You tried your best to redirect the conversation into something more lighthearted and playful, to try and get to genuinely know him, but he was completely closed off. It was as if he drew up an invisible wall just to shut you out. And you weren’t about to keep pushing just to crash into it again. 

“Don’t forget,” he reminds you, keeping a professional and strict tone. “We have Valentina’s gala tomorrow night. Then a photoshoot later in the week for the engagement.” 

You nod without saying a word. 

Then, he turns slightly toward you. “If you have a preference for the ring, let me know. I can’t promise I’ll get exactly what you want, but I’ll take it under advisement.”

You just blink at him. Why even ask if it doesn’t matter?

You just let out a shaky exhale and turn to him with that forced smile of yours. “Sure thing, Congressman.” 

He raises a brow, confused. “Are you upset?” 

You continue gazing off into the distance, scanning the street for your car. “Why would I be upset, Congressman?” 

He sighs sharply. “Stop calling me that. You said you’d call me Bucky. You know—for appearances. To keep it ‘natural,’ remember?”

You shrug, trying to play it cool. “Didn’t realize how hard it was to be natural when nothing about this arrangement actually is.” 

Bucky just scoffs and shakes his head. “I told you we should’ve just stuck with the files. It would’ve been easier that way. More efficient–” 

“Yeah, because God forbid someone actually tries to get to know you.” You mutter, arms crossed and tapping your heel against the pavement impatiently. 

You didn’t realize how crude you sounded until the words escaped your lips. But to be honest, you were annoyed with the whole situation. You tried getting into this engagement with a positive upbeat attitude—seeing the benefit of it all, but Bucky was anything but positive and upbeat. 

“I didn’t ask for this,” he mutters. 

“Neither did I,” you immediately shoot back, glaring up at him. “But we both need this, and based on what I heard from Voss—you especially need this. But at least I’m trying to make it work. You invited me out tonight to try and get to ‘know each other’, yet you haven’t asked a single thing about me other than the color of my underwear and a sad flirting attempt!” 

His face flushes, and he glances around quickly like someone might’ve overheard. “Jesus,” he hisses, dragging a hand over his mouth. “That—That was a joke , alright?”

You cock a brow, arms crossed. “Oh, so you do have a sense of humor. Who knew?”

His jaw clenches and he glances around again, double checking to make sure that you two weren’t being watched. Then he closes the distance between you in one sharp step. He leans in, eyes locked on yours, voice dropping low enough that only you can hear it.

“I know enough to tell you’ve got a smart mouth. You’ve got an attitude. You push my buttons just to see what’ll happen. You’re a brat. You’re nothing like the public makes you out to be. And most importantly,” he leans in closer, his voice dropping deeper. “You’re not a good girl.” 

Your eyebrow twitches in annoyance. This man was completely insufferable. How is it that he’s a stuttering mess one minute and then he’s all confident and sly the next? You hate this. You hate him . And you’re not one to back down after being told off like this. Congressman or not. 

So you lean in closer, matching his energy, your lips nearly brushing his ear.

“Red,” you mutter, your voice low and confident.

He’s thrown off guard, visibly confused. “What?”  

You hear the low rumbling sounds of an engine, and headlights sweep over you both as George pulls the SUV up to the curb.

“The color of my underwear is red,” you repeat, giving him a sly grin. “So, what kind of girl does that make me now, Bucky ?” 

And with that, you separate yourself from him. George steps out and opens the door for you with a small nod and you greet him with an innocent wave. You slip inside the backseat, and before you drive away, you roll your window down. 

“See you at the gala, my dear fiancée,” you call sweetly, then blow him a playful air kiss. 

He just stands there, scowling at you. His arms were crossed, watching you drive off into the night, listening to your soft and triumphant laugh slowly fade into the distance. 

And now he’s left alone, outside the restaurant, feeling pissed off, confused, and annoyingly turned on. 

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