#not really a summary... literally just everything he said

[heartyluv]

Note: I had received two asks that were pretty similar, so I figured merging them together was the best way to go! Also, I just wanted to say how much I really dislike the misconception that losing your virginity is something that is supposed to hurt. It’s absolutely not true…Is it a possibility? Sure. But with the right preparation, care, and patience from the one who is going to be penetrating you (if that is the route of intercourse you choose to take), depending on the person, the most you may feel is slight discomfort from experiencing something you never have before. We have to stop making pain an expectation for individuals with vaginas irl and in the things we consume!!! Anyways, I hope you luvlys enjoy! 😚

Click to read ➜ Ask #1 • Ask #2

Warning: Smut, you and Zayne lose your virginity to each other, kinda slow (Zayne is undoubtedly a man who takes his time, so I hope it taking a little bit to get down to the do is okay), mentions of you having a brother with a heart condition

Rating: Explicit - !!MDNI!!

Word Count: 3.6K (literally didn’t expect this at all)

Summary: You invited your boyfriend over for dinner and as the night progresses, a simple date turns into you two learning and exploring one another in ways you never have before.

Virgin!Zayne/Virgin!Reader

You were trying to keep yourself calm as you began to baste the nearly ready ribeye steak after reading Zayne’s text message.

I’ll be there in five minutes.

You were incredibly nervous, wanting to make sure that you prepared the best meal possible for the man you intended to show your gratitude to. When you met Zayne, it was almost two years ago. He was the saving grace you’d been hoping for, becoming the doctor taking care of your little brother Andrew who has been suffering from a heart condition. It was only getting worse as other treatments and surgeries offered no positive results, so putting all your faith in Zayne required you to surrender your last bit of hope.

You fell in love with Dr. Li the moment your eyes landed on him and even more so when you saw the way he treated your brother. He was so gentle and attentive with him in ways you’ve never seen offered by any of the other medical professionals your family tried to turn to for help.

He had specifically made sure to make time for your family when he had gotten ahold of the paperwork because Zayne has always had a soft spot for helping children in need. It was with zero hesitation on his part that he contacted your parents directly and had them bring in the ten year old little boy who wouldn’t let his condition break him no matter how hard it’s tried.

You knew Zayne was a stupendous doctor, but the rate in which your brother began to improve always brought you to tears no matter how many times you thought about it. Everything he did and continues to do is the reason why you could actually stop worrying as much as you have been and why your family could finally take a breather for the first time since Andrew was born.

Your daily visits to the hospital and conversations led to you and Zayne becoming friends—very much to his surprise—and while you may have been the one to fall first, Zayne fell infinitely harder over time at a pace that was foreign for a man like him. The day he asked you out for what he called a “friendly lunch”, quickly turned into a month and a half of dating before he asked you to be his girlfriend. Obviously you were bouncing off the walls with joy when you told him yes over and over again until your cheeks hurt from smiling so much.

And now, even if you’ve only been official for a short amount of time, you wanted to cater to the man you’ve fallen hopelessly in love with as a way of saying thank you despite having had said it so many times already.

At the same time that you cut the stove off, three soft knocks rapt against the front door of your apartment. You quickly washed and dried your hands, running barefoot to answer it, but not before you got a quick glimpse of yourself in the mirror beside the entrance. You’re proud of yourself for not getting your cherry red dress dirty, smoothing it out with a small huff.

No matter how long you’ve known Zayne, seeing him always feels like the first time with the way your insides flutter with rampant emotions.

Finally pulling the door open, you smile at your boyfriend who has a bouquet of red peonies in his hand. His eyes soften when they land on you and you’ve always found it so cute when he uses his knuckle to push his glasses up like he does now.

“You look beautiful,” he says softly. You silently fawn over his simple attire of a black dress shirt and slacks that he makes look sexier than what it should be.

Before you speak, you wrap your arms around his neck for a tight hug, to which he gladly reciprocates by encircling one of his own around your waist. You pulled back to press a quick kiss to his slender nose.

“Thank you, babe...These for me?” Your eyebrow raises playfully as he steps inside.

“Of course.” He faces you once you’ve locked the door to look you over again. “What kind of guest would I be to come empty handed?”

“You’re more than just a guest, Zayne.”

“It still applies, nonetheless. Two things can be true.”

You take the bouquet, making a note in your mind to have him trim the stems with you tonight before putting them in one of the vases he’s bought before. He watches with adoration at how you inhale their sweet scent, humming at the calming aroma.

“They’re perfect,” you exclaim, letting your fingers trace the soft petals before putting your attention back on him. “Ready to eat?”

“I am. I must say that whatever you’ve prepared smells quite good. As I assume the taste to be just as impressive, I’ll have a lot more eating to get around to, won’t I?”

You grin as you take his hand, guiding him to your small dining table. “Let’s find out.”

Not only was dinner a success, but the entirety of the night so far has had you on cloud nine. You and Zayne talked about any and everything as he praised you and your cooking. This was the first time you’ve ever prepared a meal for him and with the way he devoured it, you knew it wouldn’t be the last. You’ve never been a woman to seek validation but when it came to him, every opinion he had was important because of how much you valued and respected him.

To see how much he enjoyed the steak, crispy potatoes, and broccolini, made you feel a sense of pride because this beautiful man was yours to feed forever—if you were granted such a gift.

He and you slow danced to a classical song you showed him since you knew music like that always calmed him during times where work got a little stressful and his mind needed something to mellow it all out. It was a scene straight out of cheesy romance flick but instead of being the watcher, wishing it was you who got to experience that corniness, you were actually living it and it couldn’t be more surreal.

One song had turned into four, and you can’t stop giggling the whole time as he holds your hand and sways your bodies to the gentle instruments working together to create a lovely symphony.

And to your liking—admittedly with a little bit of hesitation in your gut—Zayne began to get more handsy.

“This night is supposed to be about you,” you whisper as his hand presses you closer to him by your lower back.

“Anywhere you are is all there is to me.”

“Hm…Aren’t you quite the poet?”

He chuckles at that. “You see my truth as poetry?”

“Everything you do is poetic to me,” you shrug. “You’re so effortlessly intense in your emotions, but it’s not in a way that overwhelms. It…surrounds you instead. Protects you.”

“You haven’t had all of me just yet to know how much my intensity can burn.”

That sends shivers down your spine because you know exactly what he means. You can feel how your heartbeat increases.

“Really? And if I wanted to see?”

“You would be the first to and I’d be more than willing to show you.” The way his tone lowers and the suggestiveness of his statement makes every single goosebump possible dot along your skin.

Your eyes slightly widen, too. There’s no way. A man like him? You stop your movement, forcing him to do the same.

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“What exactly do you assume I’m saying?”

“Zayne!” you say in playful disbelief at how he seems to joke about some crucial information he’s never shared. “Are you?”

“Am I what?” He smiles with mischief, rubbing his thumb over your bottom lip. “No matter how well I can read the expressions on your face, I unfortunately can never read your mind.”

“You’re so…” you groan. “You’re telling me the youngest, most handsome and talented cardiac surgeon in the country, has never had sex with anyone?”

“Never,” he says plainly.

“Why have you never said anything? You seem like someone to share a fact like that pretty early on.”

“While conversations pertaining to intimacy is inevitable in romantic relationships, because I did not want to intimidate you—and simply because it never became a topic of discussion—I never felt it was necessary to mention.” He gazes into your eyes. “Until now.”

“What’s different?”

“Well, it’s become a reality that I wouldn’t mind changing. If you were to give me the permission to do so, of course.” His hand cups your face and his thumb caresses your cheek. “I’ve dated before and I’ve had moments where the opportunity would arise, but sex has never been a casual exchange in my eyes. There’s nothing casual about us though, is there?”

You’re dumbfounded and more than willing to, but there’s just one thing. You briefly respond to his question with a shake of your head first before announcing your admission.

“I’ve never done this before either,” you breathe out, feeling immense relief about revealing something you shouldn’t have been embarrassed to say, but you knew it was the expectations of society that made you feel that way. But now, learning that Zayne is exactly the same brings you so much comfort, even if your reasonings for why may be different.

You’ve only been dating a little over two months and miraculously, sex has never happened nor has it been talked about. Similarly to him, you didn’t want to rush it or to make him feel obligated about something you weren’t sure he was ready for. Despite how much you wanted to jump his bones on all your dates and times together, you spent more of it appreciating and learning the complex man that is him.

But all that complexity is dropped as you can clearly see the lust that clouds his beautiful eyes and the need that continues to grow in the way he touches you.

“Maybe we were always meant to be the ones to find and teach each other. Would you like to test that theory?”

It’s like your body gravitates towards him and becomes incapable of forming a sentence to answer, so it takes the next best route and uses itself to respond for you. Your lips make contact with his soft ones, tasting him like you’ve done before, but there’s a different air to this kiss.

Your body presses into his as he keeps you in place by the back of your neck, the brief chill of his silver watch cooling the fervent heat burning along your skin. His tongue slips inside your mouth—not taking control—but working with yours in tandem to show you how mutual the craving for one another is.

The way he takes only a millisecond to separate from you to remove his glasses makes your pussy clench as he discards them on your kitchen counter. He returns to you immediately, holding your face in his hands this time while yours work frantically to unbutton the shirt that’s keeping you from seeing him.

You moan when he kisses down the side of your neck, your breath unable to stabilize because of how hot he’s gotten you.

“Your room,” he mumbles into you. “Let me do this right.”

You nod, but Zayne has you in his arms effortlessly like you’re made of paper before you can try and take him there. The dishes you haven’t washed become a problem for another time when you feel his bulge press against your hungry pussy through your panties on his trek.

He turns your light on so that he can see you clearly, his disheveled look making you think every filthy thought possible. It’s a sight to see compared to his usual put-together image.

“Even if this is new for us both,” he approaches you again, looking into your eyes for permission before he begins to slide the thin straps of your dress down your shoulders after you grant it. “You’re in control. You tell me what will and won’t happen and that is what it will be.”

Left in your bra and panties, you feel so grateful to have a man like him being the one to walk into this world pleasure with. But despite how comfortable you are with him, you’re still nervous. It’s with slightly shaky hands that you continue to undo the rest of his buttons, feeling his eyes on you as his hard body is revealed.

You can’t stop from how you clench over and over around nothing, knowing that you need him to fill that emptiness inside you so desperately that it’s becoming uncomfortable. The clink of his belt makes your nipples tighten and you watch how the veins disappear into his pants like they’re a pathway to where you need to be.

He lets the silence rest, allowing for you to move at your own pace. For that, you’re incredibly thankful because you know that by the way his abs flex every time you graze his skin, the desire to be all over you is strong.

You gulp as you get the pants completely undone, looking up at him. He doesn’t waste a moment nodding for you to keep going, the need to be released from his confines becoming overwhelming. He strains so deliciously in his black boxers that cling to his thighs and it shouldn’t be such an erotic image, but it is.

“Fuck, Zayne…” you exhale when his erect cock springs out and briefly smacks against his toned stomach. Like the rest of him, it’s absolutely perfect. Long but not too long, thick but not too much girth that it makes you wince at the mere thought of it inside of you, and curved ever so slightly that if you weren’t taking the time to admire it, you wouldn’t notice.

There’s a tingle that you can no longer ignore, forcing you to press your thighs together. You’re so wet that you can feel your pussy lips slide against each other every time you shift your hips to suppress the ache.

You grasp him in your hand and the way he borderline falls apart has you gushing. His mouth is slightly parted and his face flushed as you stroke him enough to give his cock some relief.

“Does that feel good?” You swipe your thumb over the tip like you’ve see so many times in videos before and the reaction he has is breathtaking. He nods frantically, his heartbeat pulsing rapidly in his strong neck.

“Please let me touch you,” he begs. “You’re supposed to be feeling good, too.”

“I already do.” You start to jerk him off, feeling the weight of his dick in your hand as you use his precum to get him wet. “I’m yours, Zayne. Touch me as much as you want.”

What kind of man would he be to not listen to his woman?

He quickly makes work of your tedious bra, getting it off of you and immediately sucking on your tits like it’s all that was on his mind during your teasing. You cry out when he gently bites your sensitive nub before switching over to the other to give it some attention. At the same time, he snakes his hand into your panties.

You instinctively raise your leg to give him room as he works your clit, your hips bucking against him while he circles you beneath his fingertip. Together, you use your hands to stoke each other’s raging fire.

“Baby, that feels so good,” you whine when his hot tongue lays flat against your peak before licking around it like it’s a skill he’s had all along. His fingers keep their steady pace as you continue to drench them in your pleasure. Then he slides one finger inside, the feeling of him infinitely better than when you do it to yourself.

“Lay down,” he mumbles, getting one more quick suck before you pull back to get into your bed. You watch him pull his clothes off all the way, your legs spread as your panties dig in between the plush lips of your cunt.

Zayne picks up his pants briefly to dig into his pocket and when he pulls out a condom, you can’t help but smile.

“I’ve never carried one before until I met you,” he admits, tossing it on your end table for easy access when it’s time. “I always knew it would be you and humans are spontaneous creatures—as we’re proving.”

He climbs into the bed, getting in between your legs and caressing the outside of your thighs as he admires the dampened fabric of where your juices have soaked your underwear. “I just wanted to be prepared for when it happened.”

Irresponsibly enough, you were ready to fuck him raw, but you won’t admit that out loud.

“I’m ready for you, Zayne,” you rest your hand on his jaw, running your finger across his lips like he always does to yours. He shudders at your touch. “But if I said that I wanted to be on top, would you let me?”

“You don’t need my permission. I already told you,” he leans down to kiss you. “You’re in control.

You get up and he doesn’t need you to tell him to sit so that you can get ready to climb in his lap. While you work your panties down your legs, he rips the packaging of the condom with his teeth and you nearly drool as you watch him work the rubber down his hard cock.

Riding Zayne has been a fantasy you’ve had for far too long. You’re more than confident that you can take him like this—it’s like your body is screaming at you to not let the opportunity pass when it’s right there for you to take.

“Look at me,” he commands you gently as your knees rest on either side of him. “Don’t hesitate to stop or tell me to if it gets too much. Your safety and comfort comes first.”

“Okay,” you breathe. With one more look into your eyes, he guides his dick to your quivering hole and the pleasure is instantaneous.

The moment the crown of his cock pushes inside you and you begin to sink your hips down, you and him are moaning like you’ve never felt anything so perfect and if you were to ask each other, your answer would be the same—you haven’t.

There’s no pain, no resistance—nothing that makes you want to stop when he starts to become familiar with the way you feel on the inside.

If he feels this good with a condom on, you’re convinced that the day you have him without one will be the day you conceive your first child.

“Zayne..” you pant, looking down to watch how he disappears completely into your heat. The first time you grind your hips and your clit gets that spark of friction, you have to pause before you lost yourself completely.

Below you, your boyfriend is unable to think straight and for the first time in your life, you’re witnessing your man have no semblance of control. When your tight walls sucked him inside, he was so sure that he was close to coming, but he refused to end something so good, so soon.

With his hands on your hips, he holds you firmly while you start to find your comfort zone, your movement becoming consistent as you work towards giving him and you the satisfaction you’re looking for.

You never expected Zayne to be so vocal and it encourages you more than it shocks you. With hooded eyes, he whimpers without a care in the world the more he pulses inside of you, his grip shifting in strength as he tries his hardest to make sure you get there first. You press yourself closer to him, letting the squelching sounds of your pussy suffocating him be all the reassurance you need that you’re doing it right.

“I’m close, love,” he warns you, sweat beading at his hairline the faster you go. Your thighs burn, but it only adds to the bliss.

You’re right there too, feeling that familiar coil in your stomach that’s grown tenfold when you share this kind of moment with the man you love. You rock yourself faster as his strong arms hold you tight, giving his cock no room to breathe the closer your orgasm approaches.

“You’re….oh fuck, ‘s so good,” you cry. “I’m gonna…Zayne, ‘m coming���” You bury your face in his neck when you start creaming around his length, your hips slowing but still going as you feel the condom swell inside of you when he spills his load into it. Briefly, you wished you could’ve felt it leak out of you instead.

You feel how his chest rises when yours falls as you kiss down his shoulder after you take the time to settle and relish in the feeling you can’t quite name, but you want to have it all the time.

“That was nice,” you hum. “Really nice.”

“It was.” His hands smooth down your back tenderly. “How do you feel?”

“Amazing.”

“Good. On that we can agree.”

You sit back to look at him, biting your lip with a grin. “You…have another condom?”

“No, unfortunately.” The corner of his mouth tilts up. “But I can make a trip to the store for a box.”

“Are we being greedy?”

“Greed implies that we’ve selfishly overindulged ourselves. That was our first time, love.” He kisses the corner of your lips. “We are far from being finished.”

You repeat his words, knowing that he’s absolutely right.

“On that, we can agree.”

A/N: I wanted to ask you guys: Do you like when I give you a whole bunch of plot/backstory before I start jumping into smut or do you just want smut? I think it’s the book writer in me that’s always trying to give something before I dive into the sex LOLLL!! Also, let me know what you think about this one (if you’re comfortable). I’m sure you noticed there wasn’t as much dialogue because as two inexperienced people having sex for the first time, I’m sure dirty talking/actions wouldn’t really be happening, so this fic is really vanilla & mainly based on visualizing. I hope I wrote it vividly enough. I talked a lot on this post, didn’t I? LOLLL OKAY, I LUV YOU! BYE!

[fuddaround]

CLINGY › juju watkins x fem!reader

summary : while hanging out with juju’s team she becomes extra clingy and doesn’t know how to not be touching you.

warnings : literally just fluff

word count : 4.2k

req

kay’s notes : i miss her💔 im sorry this took so long 🙁

juju’s been cleaning since noon.

playlist blasting, mop in one hand, swiffer in the other like she’s going to war with dust bunnies.

your hoodie’s drowning her frame, sleeves covering her hands as she moves around the apartment like it’s the day before an away game day.

she keeps tugging it over her fingers, lifting it to sniff the collar every so often like she’s trying to inhale you straight into her lungs.

her hair’s pulled back into her usual bun, curls bouncing as she bops around the kitchen.

she sways side to side while wiping down the counters, humming to the beat, all domestic and in her bubble.

every five minutes she pauses to glance at her phone, checking the time. then your name. then the groupchat.

the girls are supposed to come by around seven, and juju’s acting like lebron is coming over. she fluffed the couch pillows four times already and threatened to fight deuce any time he gets too close to them.

she set out snacks in bowls like a mom hosting book club. hot cheetos, gummy worms, fruit roll-ups, and those little frosted animal cookies you like.

you called her “extra” last night and she deadass took it as a compliment, “it’s not being extra if you love people,” she said, all smug.

and she does love you.

loudly. proudly.

especially today.

she tugs the sleeves of your hoodie over her hands again and exhales, standing in the middle of the living room like she’s about to present a thesis.

everything looks perfect. but something’s missing.

you.

so she grabs her phone, scrolls to your name, and sends three messages back to back.

then she flops onto the couch dramatically, hoodie sleeves covering her face. she’s not moving again until she hears a knock on the door.

the first knock on the door comes around 6:48.

juju pretends she doesn’t hear it, still curled into a dramatic pile of hoodie and couch. but then another knock, this time followed by rian’s voice—loud, dramatic, already clowning from the hallway.

“damn, y’all see how she ignoring us already? new era juju.”

juju rolls her eyes but drags herself up, hoodie still half over her face like a gremlin. she opens the door with one hand and a sigh, stepping aside so they can all pour in.

rian’s first through the door, grinning like she owns the place.

kayleigh and brooklyn follow right after, all giggles and inside jokes.

and then there’s otto—last as always, hoodie halfway off her shoulder, eyes already on juju like she’s reading a diary.

“finally,” rian groans, flopping onto the couch like she pays rent. “i was about to file a missing persons report.”

“you knocked for like five seconds,” juju mutters, kicking the door shut behind them.

“five seconds too long,” kayleigh says, grabbing a capri sun from the snack table juju spent an hour arranging. “ooh, you got the wild cherry ones. aw you really know me.”

juju shrugs. “figured y’all would drink them like usual.”

“figured your girl would be here by now,” rian says with a smirk, pulling a throw pillow into her lap.

juju’s entire face twitches. blink and you’ll miss it, but otto doesn’t blink.

she watches juju like a hawk. like a best friend who knows every tiny tell. like someone who’s seen her spend ten minutes trying to pick a message to send you, only to delete it and just say “hey :)” instead.

“she’s on the way,” juju says, trying to sound chill. like she wasn’t literally sprawled on the floor ten minutes ago texting “u okay?” for the third time.

brooklyn raises a brow. “so why you wearing her hoodie then?”

“i was cold?”

“you got heat. we all know you keep it on 75 like a grandma.”

juju glares but says nothing. she just tightens the sleeves over her hands again and tries to act normal.

she plops down on the floor, back against the couch, one knee bouncing.

the girls are already making themselves at home—snacking, flipping through the streaming apps, arguing over which movie to put on.

“nothing scary,” kayleigh says. “i’m not tryna pee myself in juju’s living room.”

“no romance either,” rian adds with a look directly at juju. “some of us are single and unbothered. we don’t need to see y’all staring into each other’s souls.”

juju throws a gummy worm at her. “you’re so annoying.”

“and you’re in love,” rian sings, catching the worm and popping it in her mouth. “look at you, all squirmy and shit.”

“i’m not squirmy,” juju lies. total lie. she’s practically vibrating.

otto climbs over the couch and lands next to her with a soft thud, her body warm against juju’s side. she doesn’t say anything at first, just rests her chin on juju’s shoulder.

“you good?” she murmurs, quiet enough for only juju to hear.

juju leans into her. “yeah. i just…”

“you miss her.”

juju nods.

otto smiles. “she’s literally ten minutes away.”

“ten minutes is a long time when you’re in love and dramatic,” juju whispers back.

“we know”

the opening credits to white chicks start playing and everyone cheers like it’s the first time they’ve ever seen it. brooklyn’s already quoting the lines before the characters even speak while kayleigh’s already halfway through her second capri sun.

juju tries to join in. she laughs when she’s supposed to. throws jabs back when rian teases her again. but india’s watching the whole time, clocking every time juju glances at the door.

“what if she changed her mind?” juju mumbles during the part where the twins first show up in disguise.

otto gives her a look. “be serious.”

juju shrugs, arms folded tight across your hoodie. “i’m just saying…”

“you’re not saying anything real right now.”

juju pouts. “okay therapist.”

“well no, just your best friend who watched you fall in love when you call yourself nonchalant.”

she says it so casually that juju actually stops breathing for a second. because it really was kind of like that. like a highlight reel that india studied. like every time you smiled at her, the world paused for just a beat too long.

“you’re in it deep,” otto adds, bumping her shoulder against juju’s. “like deep deep. like, if-she-broke-up-with-you-you’d-move-to-the-woods deep.”

juju laughs, loud and sharp. “no, i’d just cry for like a year.”

“same thing.”

“whatever.”

“you wore her hoodie, ju.”

“i like it.”

“you sniffed it earlier.”

“mind your business.”

“you sniffed it, juju. like a love-sick golden retriever who was left at home.”

juju groans and drops her head into otto’s lap, mumbling curses into the fabric. otto just laughs and pets her hair.

“i think it’s sweet,” kayleigh calls out from across the room.

“yeah me too,” brooklyn says. “let the girl be in love.”

“oh, she in it,” rian grins, pointing at juju’s curled-up form. “she’s literally the most clingy person when her girl comes into play.”

“i’m not clingy,” juju protests weakly, face still buried in otto’s hoodie.

“girl, you asked me if your breath smelled good before she came over,” otto says.

juju lifts her head. “because gum doesn’t always work—”

“you bought three candles just ‘cause she said she liked the vanilla one.”

“it’s called setting the tone—”

“you shaved your legs. and you’re wearing sweatpants.”

“you’re a traitor.”

“i’m your best friend.”

the girls are all cracking up now, the whole room filled with laughter and warm energy and the smell of popcorn and gummy candy.

but juju’s face is pink and her eyes keep darting to the door again.

it’s 7:06. you’re not even that late. but to juju, every minute feels like forever.

so she grabs her phone again, types out a text. stares at it. deletes it. types it again.

otto sees it from the side and gently takes the phone out of her hand, “she’s coming,” she says softly. “you know she is.”

juju nods, chewing her lip. then she hears it.

another knock.

and this time, she doesn’t play it cool.

doesn’t wait. doesn’t even try to act like she’s not absolutely losing it inside.

she shoots up off the floor like someone lit a fire under her and bolts for the door, almost tripping over rian’s leg.

the girls break into a fit behind her.

“there she goes!”

“run, juju, run!”

“act normal, damn!”

“she’s already smiling, look at her—damn simp.”

juju’s smiling so wide it hurts and she hasn’t even opened the door yet.

juju yanks the door open like she’s been held underwater and finally got to breathe.

and there you are.

standing in her doorway all soft and glowing, skin still dewy, hair slicked back, hoodie sleeves pushed up just enough to show the bracelets she made you. you smell like vanilla and coconut and whatever body wash you stole out of juju’s shower.

juju freezes for a second.

her brain bluescreens.

then—

“hi, baby,” you say, all gentle and sweet like you’re saying a prayer instead of a greeting.

juju practically melts. she’s on you before you can even take a full step in, arms around your waist, nose buried in your neck like she’s trying to disappear into your skin.

“you’re late,” she mumbles, voice muffled.

“was doin’ an everything shower,” you say, rubbing her back. “you know the drill. shaved, exfoliated, deep conditioned, the whole routine.”

“took you eighty-five years,” she pouts, tightening her grip.

“took me two hours.”

“that’s eighty-five juju years.”

you laugh and kiss the top of her head, and that’s when the peanut gallery from the living room loses their minds.

“there she is, finally.”

“miss exfoliated and moisturized for ju.”

“thank you for showing up, juju needs her emotional support girlfriend. she was spiraling without you.”

juju turns her head but doesn’t move from your chest. she’s still wrapped around you like a backpack.

“don’t listen to them,” she grumbles.

“they’re not wrong,” otto calls out, not even looking up from the couch. “she made me check her breath like five times.”

you giggle and run your fingers up and down on juju’s back.

“my dramatic little baby,” you coo, rocking her side to side.

“don’t call me that in front of them,” she mumbles—but she’s nuzzling you now. completely unbothered.

“what? ‘my dramatic little baby’?” you repeat, louder.

the girls explode.

brooklyn wheezes into a throw pillow, kayleigh’s about to cry laughing, rian’s recording on her phone, and otto’s just shaking her head with the most told you so expression known to man.

juju groans into your neck. “i hate everybody.”

you kiss her cheek. “no you don’t.”

“fine. i hate everybody except you.”

“better.”

she finally lets you go just enough to pull you into the apartment, shutting the door with one hand while still clinging to you like you might vanish. you barely make it three steps before she pulls you right back into her arms.

“i missed you,” she whispers.

“i missed you more,” you say, brushing your nose against hers.

she scrunches her face and shakes her head, “not possible.”

“yes possible.”

“no one in the world has missed another person as hard as i missed you in the last hour.”

“you’re so dramatic baby.”

“you literally made me like this.”

the girls are still watching, still commenting, but juju’s tuned them all out now. it’s just you. your face. your hands on her waist. your lips brushing against hers in the tiniest, sweetest hello.

you tilt your head. “can i go sit down or you gonna keep me hostage right here?”

“you’re mine. i’m keeping you.”

“forever?”

“duh.”

you laugh and tap her nose. “c’mon, clingy girl. let’s go.”

you both walk over to the couch, hand in hand, and juju plops down first before immediately tugging you into her lap. she wraps her arms around your waist and rests her chin on your shoulder like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“you not even gonna say hi to us?” rian teases.

“hi rian,” you call without looking away from juju. “love the bun.”

“i do look cute today, thank you.”

juju buries her face in your neck again. “you smell so good.”

“i told you. everything shower. that exfoliating glove did work.”

“mmm. gonna use it next time i’m over.”

“baby, you already got a toothbrush, bonnet, pairs of socks at my place, and so many outfits. at this point, just bring another drawer.”

“say less.”

brooklyn fake-gags from the other couch cushion. “they’re so in love it’s sickening.”

“like a romcom but with jump shots,” kayleigh adds.

“like a romcom where the main character almost cried ‘cause her girl was ten minutes late,” otto corrects.

juju flips her off without even lifting her head. “snitches get stitches.”

“i’m just saying,” otto shrugs. “you were about thirty seconds away from throwing on sade and staring out the window.”

you giggle and kiss juju’s temple, “don’t worry, baby. i’ll set a timer next time. i’ll exfoliate faster.”

“nah,” juju mumbles. “take your time. just start earlier.”

“you could’ve joined me,” you say with a soft smirk.

her whole face lifts up from your neck. “say less.”

the team collectively groans in unison.

“keep it PG!” rian yells.

“we’re literally watching white chicks, not euphoria,” kayleigh chimes in.

you laugh and press your forehead to juju’s. she looks at you like you hung the moon. like you invented air. like she’s never gonna stop staring.

“you good now?” you whisper.

“better than good,” she whispers back. “i’m yours again.”

“you’re always mine.”

“yeah but now i can see you.”

you brush your thumb over her cheek and smile, “love you.”

she exhales, so soft you barely hear it, “love you more.”

“not possible.”

“don’t start this again.”

you giggle, kiss her, and she just melts right there on the couch, arms wrapped tight around your waist, hoodie sleeves pushed up, legs tangled with yours like she’s trying to fuse you together.

“we still watching this movie?” brooklyn asks.

“yeah,” otto answers. “juju’s too busy cuddling to care, but the rest of us are watching.”

you and juju settle in as the scene picks up again, her fingers tracing little circles into your side.

she keeps whispering things in your ear—soft, silly things like “you’re so pretty” and “i’m never letting you go” and “please never exfoliate without me again.”

the girls keep teasing, but it fades into background noise. the lights are low, the snacks are half-eaten, and juju’s heartbeat is slow and steady against you.

and she’s smiling again. because you’re here. finally.

and for juju, that’s all it ever takes to feel whole.

the room is quiet except for tangled playing softly in the background. lanterns floating on screen, rapunzel swaying in flynn’s arms. the scene’s all golden light and soft music.

the floor’s a mess of limbs and blankets.

rian is fast asleep beside the couch, her hand loosely tangled with yours. she must’ve grabbed it mid-yawn or mid-laugh, but now her fingers are laced through yours like she paid rent to be there.

juju notices before you do.

and she’s not having it.

you feel her shift in your lap—just the tiniest squirm—and then hear her quiet, raspy voice, “um why is she holding your hand.”

you blink. “what?”

“rian.” she whispers, eyes still mostly closed, curls smushed into your hoodie. “she’s holding your hand. what is going on.”

you smile down at her, brushing her hair back from her face, “she just knocked out like that, baby. we were talking. she must’ve grabbed it on the way to dreamland.”

juju makes a noise. somewhere between a scoff and a pout. deuce lifts his head slightly, then settles again, unimpressed.

“do you want me to move my hand?”

juju doesn’t answer right away. she just tightens her arms around your waist and nuzzles further into your chest.

“ yes,” she mumbles finally.

you laugh, real soft, and carefully slide your hand free from rian’s without waking her.

you turn and rest it back on juju’s back, rubbing slow circles over her hoodie.

“better?”

“mhm.”

“you know you’re insane, right?”

“you love it,” she mumbles, kissing your collarbone.

“you’re just being so dramatic right now.”

“i’m not dramatic. i’m territorial.”

“oh, is that what we’re calling it now?”

juju pulls back slightly so she can look up at you. her eyes are heavy, half-closed, but still sharp enough to give you a full baby-faced glare.

“you’re mine,” she whispers, lips brushing your chin. “not rian’s. not anyone else’s. mine.”

“always yours,” you whisper right back.

“so if anyone’s holding your hand while you’re watching disney movies, it better be me.”a

“yes ma’am.”

she smirks. “there we go.”

you snort and lean in, kissing her softly—barely a brush of lips, more air than anything, but she exhales like it fed her soul.

deuce lets out a little huff and shifts in juju’s arms. he’s perfectly squished between you two, warm and content and possibly more spoiled than both of you combined.

“he’s such a traitor,” juju mumbles, petting his ears. “he was mine first.”

“you said that about me five minutes ago.”

“because it’s true. i had you both first. now you’re bffs without me.”

“you’re literally in my lap.”

“and he’s in my arms. i just want everyone to know whose we are.”

you giggle and kiss her temple, “you’re so clingy right now and make no sense.”

“do you want me to be quiet?”

“no, i love you like this.”

she grins sleepily, “you baby me so good.”

“you make it easy.”

she hums again and squeezes you tighter, “you smell like the expensive body wash.”

“i used the expensive body wash. you said you like when i smell like a cupcake.”

“i wanna eat you.”

you laugh too loud, and kayleigh stirs slightly from the floor.

“shhh,” you whisper, pulling the blanket up a little higher around the both of you. “you’re gonna wake them up.”

“so what,” juju mumbles. “wanna tell the whole room i love you.”

you raise an eyebrow. “you said not to ruin your rep.”

“they already know. otto’s been giving me the look all night.”

“what look?”

“the ‘damn, juju’s whipped’ look.”

you glance at otto, who’s dozing with one headphone in, arm slung across a pillow. she’s not even pretending to be part of the conversation anymore.

“baby,” you whisper, “you are whipped.”

juju presses a dramatic hand to her chest. “and proud.”

you kiss her cheek, then her jaw, then the soft skin just beneath her ear.

she wiggles a little. “mmm, that tickles.”

“good.”

“you tryna put me to sleep?”

“trying to get you to relax.”

“i am relaxed. ive never been so relaxed.”

“or clingy.”

“same thing.”

deuce yawns. it’s big and dramatic and almost human.

“he wants to be the little spoon,” juju says, readjusting him gently.

“thought you were the little spoon?”

“no, i’m the medium spoon. and he’s the little spoon.”

you grin. “what does that make me?”

“the pot i’m tryna keep all to myself.”

you stare at her. “that didn’t even make sense.”

“shhhh. cuddle me.”

you do exactly that—tucking her tighter into your chest, brushing her hair back again, letting your fingers trail down her spine like you’re playing a lullaby.

her breathing slows even more. deuce wiggles, sighs, and gives in to sleep again.

the song on the tv changes. the lantern scene is fading.

and juju, just barely awake, whispers—“don’t let anyone else hold your hand, okay?”

“never,” you whisper back. “just you, baby.”

“’kay,” she sighs. “love you.”

“love you most.”

you wake up to sunshine slicing through the blinds and juju practically wrapped around you like a weighted blanket.

her arm’s across your stomach, her leg’s thrown over yours. her face is buried in your neck and her grip is tight like she’s afraid you’ll vanish if she loosens it even an inch.

you wiggle a little.

nothing.

try again.

nope.

“baby,” you whisper, gently brushing her curls off your cheek. “i gotta pee.”

juju makes a low groan, somewhere between a dying animal and a dramatic soap opera star.

“no you don’t,” she mumbles, voice muffled by your collarbone.

“juju, i literally do. like literally.”

“hold it.”

“i’m not holding it.”

“then pee right here, i dare you.”

“what’s wrong with you.”

“you’re comfy. shut up.”

you laugh softly and try to shift again, but she tightens her grip like a clingy little koala, still half-asleep and absolutely unbothered.

you glance down at her — puffy eyes, sleepy pout, hoodie sleeves bunched at her elbows — and shake your head.

“you’re annoying.”

“you’re warm.”

“so is the sun, but i don’t see you clinging to that.”

“can’t kiss the sun.”

“would you die if you weren’t kissed?”

“yeah. but i would also die right here if you leave me.”

you groan and give in, settling back under the blanket with a dramatic sigh.

“good,” juju whispers, nuzzling your neck with a smug smile. “you learnin’.”

it’s quiet for a beat. then—

click click click.

little paws patter across the floor.

you lift your head just in time to see deuce trot past the couch, tail wagging, tongue out, absolutely no loyalty in sight.

“is that deuce up this early?”

juju groans and turns her head. “bro. not the walk of shame.”

you snort. “where was he even—”

“i watched him cuddle up with rian and brooklyn last night like he ain’t got a mama. a hoe.”

“he’s a dog.”

“he’s a male. not shocked.”

you both watch as deuce struts right past the people knocked out on the floor and pads into juju’s room like he owns it.

“oh wow,” juju mutters. “not him leaving me to go lay up with otto.”

you laugh into your pillow. “your son’s out here switching teams mid-movie night.”

“hoe behavior. can’t raise ‘em right.”

“you raised him to be clingy. just like you.”

juju gasps. “i am not clingy.”

you arch an eyebrow. “you wouldn’t let me go pee.”

she pauses. “okay. but i’m romantically attached. there’s a difference.”

“uh huh.”

“shut up.”

another pause. quiet now except for the hum of the fridge and the occasional sleepy sigh from the girls on the floor.

then, softly, “…i just hate being away from you.”

your heart tugs.

you glance down again — she’s still holding you, face soft now, less pouty, more vulnerable. voice smaller.

“like,” she adds, “not in a weird, codependent way. i just… i get scared sometimes.”

you run your fingers through her hair, gently. “scared of what, baby?”

“of waking up and you not being here. or you changing your mind. or just, you leaving.”

you go quiet. not because you don’t have words, but because you feel all of hers in your chest like a bruise.

“juju…”

“i’ve never had someone be my safe space before,” she whispers. “like, actually. not just fake-cute. i melt when you hold me. i breathe better.”

you press your lips to her forehead and let them linger.

“it’s not that i don’t trust you,” she says quickly, like she’s scared she’s said it wrong. “it’s just i trust you so much, it makes me afraid. like, if you left, i’d be lost. not ‘cause i can’t live without you. i can. i just wouldn’t wanna.”

you exhale slowly and pull her tighter.

“i’m not going anywhere,” you whisper.

“promise?”

“promise.”

she nods and sniffles once, real soft. “okay. cool. that’s all i needed.”

you cup her cheek and tilt her face up toward yours, brushing your thumb gently across her skin.

“you’re my safe space too, ju,” you whisper. “you get that, right?”

she stares at you for a second, then leans in and kisses you like she believes it now.

like she feels it in every inch of her skin.

after a beat, she pulls back with a little grin.

“you still gotta hold your pee, though.”

you groan and fall back into the pillows.

“you’re the worst.”

“no? i’m the best. your best.“

“you’ve held onto me all night.”

“who cares?”

“you trapped me.”

“with love, pretty.”

“you play so unfair.”

she giggles and curls up even tighter, leg now fully wedged between yours.

“i’m not lettin’ you off this couch ‘til i get pancakes and more kisses.”

“what if i have to pee again?”

“pee after pancakes. priorities.”

you kiss her forehead again. “you’re lucky you’re cute.”

“i know.”

you both go quiet again. the kind of quiet that feels full, not empty.

and just when your eyes start fluttering shut again—you hear otto’s voice echo from the bedroom, “ju! why is deuce in here spooning me like i’m his mom?”

juju bursts out laughing into your shoulder, voice muffled and delighted, “that’s what she gets for taking my son.”

you giggle and pull her close again.

and in that moment — tangled blankets, scattered friends, a hoe dog, and your clingy, sleepy, annoyingly perfect girlfriend in your arms — there’s nowhere else in the world you’d rather be.

© fuddaround

[h4m1lt0ns]

HEARTBREAK SYNDROME.

episode fifteen :: BREAKING POINT.

꒰꒰◌‧₊ ⬪˙⋆ pairing ︴lewis hamilton x y/n

꒰꒰◌‧₊ ⬪˙⋆ genre ︴social media au / irl snippets

꒰꒰◌‧₊ ⬪˙⋆ summary ﹔ the qatar heat is taking everyone out, and the tension between y/n and lewis has reached a boiling point. (get it, ha, get it bc it was hot. ok.)

꒰꒰◌‧₊ ⬪˙⋆ face claim ﹔ wonyoung jang (28)

꒰꒰◌‧₊ ⬪˙⋆ warnings ﹕ excessive cussing, angst.

☆ IMESSAGE with ; BOARD OF DIRECTORS.

y/n: jesus christ is everyone okay

y/n: logan’s retirement killed me

y/n: is he okay i heard he got rly sick

y/n: i saw lance wasn’t doing well either

y/n: answer me ffs i’m worried

y/n: i WILL report you all as missing.

my baby lando: i’m okay, overheated to hell tho

papaya baby #2: yeah were alright here

papaya baby #2: logan is very sick tho and the heat made it worse

y/n: oh my god i hope he’s okay

chal eclair: it’s so fucking hot mate

chili!: i’ve sweat from places i didn’t think i can

PIERRE GASLYYYY: yeah it’s a me too lmfao

yukino: i want to kill myself

y/n: pls don’t 🤍

my baby lando: now wait

my baby lando: is there drama in the mercedes garage

papaya baby #2: yeah that crash was pretty bad 👀

princess george: no we’re all good here 🤷🏻‍♂️

princess george: y/n lewis is looking for you tho

honey badger: OUUUUUUUUU

alabono: i ship it so bad

y/n: did he say why 😀

princess george: no but he seems to be packing up to leave, so catch him before he’s gone

y/n: ik u said no drama but was he like ,, mad?

angel carmen: oop

princess george: he looked upset ig but idk hope this helped 🩷

y/n: thank u it didn’t 😍

chili!: bro go get ur man

y/n: he’s not my man.

y/n: yet

yukino: listen u little shit.

chal eclair: YET?????????????????

︴# ⸝⸝ : ★ real life ¡ ⌕ ⸝⸝ ﹒ ﹕

“lewis…” you trailed off with a slight frown on your face. your back was pressed against the wall as you watched lewis pack his belongings into a bag. he was clearly annoyed, borderline angry, he looked at you for a second before sitting on the sofa to tie his shoe laces.

“i’m sick of this shit.” lewis grumbled, his tattooed hands rubbing his temples, then down his face. he was getting really upset with everything that has been going on with mercedes and the car. the team hasn’t been showing up for him, ignoring his opinions and requests for change, and now, just acting like nothing happened when he literally crashed.

he threw the bag’s handle over his shoulder, sighing as he stood up. “do you wanna talk about it?” you ask, voice almost quiet. lewis looks at you, eyes trailing up and down your body, he exhaled again. “what are you doing after this?” he asks, walking over to you, and standing just a little too close.

you swallowed, blinking as you glanced between his eyes and lips. “uhm-.. nothing, just gonna go back to the hotel. have dinner, then go to sleep.” you answer as you begin to play with the hem of your shirt. he lewis hums, looking down at your hand. it was a nervous tic you had, he noticed it pretty quickly.

“do you wanna get dinner with me?” lewis asks, taking your hand in his bigger one.

you blink again.

is he asking you out? like on a date? …officially?

“y/n.” he says, slightly tugging at your palm, you hum. is this actually happening? “let me take you out. on a date. come get dinner with me.” he says, pulling you closer to him. you nod.

“yeah. i’ll go with you.” you finally answer. he smiles a little, but his smile doesn’t fully reach his eyes. he wasn’t happy, but a feeling of relief washed over his chest.

finally.

[qatar, 8:05 pm]

champagne bubbled in the tall crystal flutes, food that was once fresh now sat on the white ceramic plates growing cold. lewis was slightly zoned out, but just focused enough to be aware of his surroundings — murmurs of the other restaurant patrons, miscellaneous jazz playing quietly and the feeling of your hand in his.

he hasn’t let go since you both sat down almost an hour ago. you gently rub his knuckles, and he intertwines your fingers. lewis is focused on you now, his brown bambi eyes looking directly in yours, long lashes slowly batting as he blinked. exactly like a baby deer.

“talk to me.” you quietly coax him. you didn’t need him to talk to you, to tell you what’s wrong. you already knew what’s wrong. you knew exactly what was wrong, but you still wanted needed him to talk, because apart from wanting to hear his voice, you wanted him to not keep his thoughts and feelings bottled up.

with everything he’s been through recently, it wasn’t long until he became a ticking time bomb. that was the last thing you wanted to happen.

“i dont know what to say.” i said, voice almost strained. his grip on your hand tightened — keeping him grounded, granting him a sense of security maybe — and with his other words he points to his chest. “it’s here.” he says, motioning over his heart, “i can feel it all here.” he says again.

you cover the back of his hand with your other hand, sighing a little. “did you talk to toto after you crashed? after the race ended?” you ask. lewis shakes his head, then lets out an ironic chuckle, “doesn’t matter what i say, nothing will change.” he says, still shaking his head.

“you can change.” you state.

lewis looks back at you, “what do you mean?”

you tilt your head slightly, questioning whether or not to say what you’re about to say, but you say it anyway. “lewis…” you began, gently caressing his wrist. “have you ever considered leaving mercedes?” you ask.

lewis frowned, his grip on you just now loosening. “what?” he asks, as if he couldn’t believe what you just said to him. “what do you mean by that?” he laughs — a poor attempt to mask his confusion. he’s a little shocked that you asked him that. …what?

“have you ever considered driving for a different team?” you asked, squeezing his hand a little to show that you’re serious. he frowns again, this time he pulls his hand away from yours.

it’s silent for a a hot minute or two, he hasn’t looked at you since. “you don’t.. no, no, you don’t get it.” he say, an anger bubbling in his tone. you frown a little, pulling your hands back and letting them rest in your lap. “lewis-” you began, only for him to cut you off.

“you don’t understand.” he states, clearly upset. “mercedes is all i know. from the beginning of my career, since i was karting, it was mercedes, when i started in f1 it was mclaren-mercedes, it’s still mercedes now.” he states, looking deep in your soul.

“lewis, it’s not-”

“do you hear what your asking me?” he condescendingly asks.

you’re quiet for a little, then you answer him. “yeah, i do. that team is not good for you anymore.” he chuckles, crossing his arms over his chest, “yeah, right.” he says, rolling his eyes. you scoff a little, “lewis, they’re mistreating you! what they’re doing to you isn’t normal, and it’s isn’t okay either.” you say.

“tsk, please.” lewis groans. “you don’t know what you’re talking about.” he adds, not looking at you. you sink back into your chair, “you’re right. i may not know everything that’s happening, but i’ve seen enough in the past couple months. you can’t just sit and let them keep treating you like this.”

“leave my team? why would i listen to you?” he asks.

“because i care about you-”

“i didn’t ask you to care.” the words spilled out of his mouth before he could even think, and he instantly regretted that. the way your shoulders slumped from your always perfect posture, the way your face now sat almost expressionless — he almost saw your heart fall out of your chest.

“oh.” was all you let out.

lewis swallowed thickly. god, he wanted to run face first into a brick wall. why the fuck would he say that? to you out of all people? seriously? he sat there, stewing in his own guilt and shame as he watched you grab your handbag and leave the table. jesus fucking christ, did he have to say that? there was no reason for him to push you away the he just did. just rude as fuck.

champagne bubbled in the tall crystal flutes, food that was once fresh now sat on the white ceramic plates completely cold. lewis was now fully zoned out, not even focused enough to be aware of his surroundings.

he had a lot to think about.

[hsjazebel]

Toothpaste kisses

Summary: Just a sleepy morning, a toothbrush, and the kind of love that feels like home

A/n: I saw this photo and immediately had to write something about it — it just felt so soft and real

Wordcount: 541

———

The bathroom was quiet except for the soft hum of the fan and the occasional rustle of fabric. Morning light spilled in through the window, pale and sleepy, washing everything in gold. Harry stood in front of the mirror with a toothbrush hanging lazily from his mouth, his hair tousled from sleep and his shirt wrinkled from where he’d curled up in bed just twenty minutes earlier.

Y/N leaned against the doorframe, watching him with a small smile tugging at her lips. There was something endlessly charming about the way he looked in moments like this—completely unbothered, soft around the edges, and totally himself.

She reached for her phone, raising it with a quiet chuckle. “You look like a kid who got caught playing pirate in the bathroom,” she said gently.

Harry’s eyes flicked toward the mirror, catching hers in the reflection. He gave a playful squint but didn’t move, continuing to brush as if this was just part of their usual dance. Which, in a way, it was.

Without asking for permission, Y/N snapped the photo.

The moment froze: Harry standing in front of the mirror, sleep still in his eyes, toothbrush angled between his lips, her arm draped just barely into the frame holding the phone. It was the kind of moment you never really plan, but it sticks with you—simple, real, and filled with quiet affection.

Harry mumbled something incomprehensible with the toothbrush still between his teeth, narrowing his eyes like he was pretending to be annoyed.

“Oh, don’t act like you’re not loving the attention,” Y/N said, biting back a laugh as she set the phone down on the counter. “You’re literally the definition of ‘soft boyfriend morning aesthetic.’ Pinterest is going to eat this up.”

He finally pulled the toothbrush from his mouth and grinned, foam still lingering in the corner of his lips. “I don’t know what that means, but I’ll assume it’s a compliment.”

“It is,” she said, stepping closer to him. “You’re very on-brand this morning.”

Without a word, Harry turned slightly, enough to let her slip her arms around his waist, resting her head gently against his chest. His shirt smelled like sleep and minty toothpaste, and he was warm in that way people only are first thing in the morning.

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and mumbled, “Mornings are better with you.”

Y/N smiled, eyes closed. “Even better than your oat milk lattes?”

He pulled back just enough to look at her, mock offense in his eyes. “Let’s not say things we can’t take back.”

She laughed, swatting at his shoulder. “Fine. I’ll make the coffee while you finish pretending to brush your teeth.”

“I do brush properly!” he called after her as she slipped out of the bathroom, already giggling down the hallway.

Left alone, Harry looked at himself in the mirror again and shook his head with a smile. His hair was wild, his eyes were still tired, and he had toothpaste on his lip—but she looked at him like he hung the stars anyway.

And honestly, in quiet moments like this, brushing his teeth while the person he loved made coffee just down the hall—he believed he might have.

[jijournal]

Drop The Beat, Steal The Heart | D.M

summary: Hogwarts’ most popular DJ gets summoned to throw the party of the year—but when the birthday boy starts watching you like your a spell he can’t resist, things quickly turn electrifying. Get ready for beats, banter, and tension that drops harder than any remix.

wc: 1.4k+

cw: dj!ravenclaw!reader @ every party in hogwarts, dj!ravenclaw!reader x draco, songs mentioned are not from HP and not even from the 1990s, draco who literally can't resist reader, down bad draco.

READ: Once "love me like you do" is mentioned, play the song! If you do this, gosh it hits so hard.

A/N: HAPPY BIRTHDAY DRACO!!!

⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰

It all started in fourth year.

The Ravenclaws were throwing a victory party after the Quidditch semifinals, and it was—frankly—tragic. The butterbeer was lukewarm, someone tried to spike the pumpkin juice with a spell that made it fizz like a Dementor's bathwater, and the music? Absolute torture. Broken charm loops stuttered through the room like a dying phonograph, two different songs were clashing over each other, and at one point—Merlin help you—someone conjured a harp. A harp. At a party.

You stood near the back, arms crossed, lip curled, watching your peers suffer through what could only be described as musical war crimes.

Enough was enough.

With a flick of your wand and a muttered incantation you'd been perfecting in your dorm, you hijacked the room’s archaic spell-sound system. Your enchanted wireless—specially modified with some borrowed Muggle schematics and an irresponsible amount of magic—lit up with violet sparks. The speakers gave a hiss, a pulse of static... then dropped.

The Weeknd's “Blinding Lights” exploded through the room like a thunderclap. Bass booming. Lights flickering. Every head snapped up as the beat took hold—and then all hell broke loose.

Someone shrieked in joy. A Gryffindor chucked their shoe in celebration. People climbed tables. Confetti charms burst midair. Bodies moved like they were under a spell—which, technically, they kind of were.

And you? You just smirked, twirling your wand in your fingers, the spell still glowing at the tip.

You didn’t just fix the party.

You became the party.

Word spread.

Since then, you’d been the DJ of Hogwarts. Gryffindors praised you like a god. Hufflepuffs made you mixtape cupcakes. Even Ravenclaws, with their thesis-length playlists and “curated vibes,” bowed to your chaotic brilliance.

But the Slytherins? They didn’t ask.

They summoned.

So when Pansy Parkinson found you lounging in the Great Hall, writing some lyrics on parchment, headphones glowing purple and silver, it wasn’t a request — it was a decree.

"You’ll be DJing Draco’s birthday party," She said breezily, dropping onto the Ravenclaw bench at lunch like she owned it. She was wearing serpent-green eyeliner and a look that dared you to argue.

You blinked, taking off your headphones. “I’m sorry—was that a question?”

“No, darling,” she said sweetly. “It’s an order. Room of Requirement. Ten PM. We’ve already prepped the fog spells.”

You sighed dramatically. “And if I say no?”

She gave you a dangerous smile. “Then I’ll cry. And Draco will pout. And do you really want to be the girl who ruined Malfoy’s birthday?”

You stared at her.

Then smirked. “Fine. But I’m bringing strobe charms. And no one’s allowed to touch my booth unless they want to be hexed into the Stone Age.”

Pansy grinned. “Knew you’d see reason.”

The Room of Requirement had outdone itself. It looked like a club ripped out of a Milan fashion show—black marble floors, glowing green chandeliers, floating drink trays, velvet couches in dramatic corners. Enchanted fog swirled over everything. And at the center, your DJ platform rose like a throne.

You stood behind your setup—crop top glittering, hair styled for maximum bounce, eyes rimmed in silver glam. With one flick of your wand, your decks lit up. The air shimmered with potential.

You grabbed the mic. “Let’s get loud, Hogwarts!”

The beat dropped into Drake's “One Dance”—remixed with a thunderclap charm that shook the walls—and the crowd exploded.

Every house was there. Gryffindors jumping like maniacs. Ravenclaws with color-changing drinks. Hufflepuffs forming a line-dance of doom. And Slytherins? They were pretending they weren’t into it, but their shoulders betrayed them.

And him.

Draco Malfoy.

Leaning against a pillar with one hand in his pocket, the other wrapped around a glass of firewhisky. White button-up slightly unbuttoned, sleeves rolled to his forearms. His silver-blond hair a little tousled like he didn’t care—except you knew he definitely cared.

And he was watching you like you were a flame he couldn’t help but lean into.

You rolled your body to the beat. Slow. Teasing. Wicked. Your hips moved like you knew exactly what you were doing and truthfully, you did. The room pulsed with your energy, the floor shifting with heat and rhythm, but all of it blurred around the way Draco’s gaze tracked you.

He took a slow sip from his firewhisky, his lips barely touching the glass as his eyes darkened, devouring every movement you made. He was still, coiled like a serpent, watching you like a secret he wanted to unwrap slowly.

You smirked and switched the track into a mashup of The Weeknd's "Die For You" and SZA’s “Low.”

“HEY EAGLE!” someone shouted. “YOU’RE A WIZARDING ICON!”

“DJ!” another screamed. “PLEASE STEP ON ME!”

You blew a kiss at the crowd, spun in your booth, and let the music melt into a remix of "Kiss It Better" by Rhianna that soon transitioned to "Positions" by Ariana Grande—crowd control charms at max. Bodies moved like waves. Lights flickered in time. Sweat, magic, and adrenaline painted the air.

And every time you glanced at the birthday boy—he was still watching. Sipping. Like he wanted to devour the whole scene and you with it.

After your fourth set, sweat glistening on your forehead and your heart pounding from the energy pulsing through the room, you finally stepped down from the DJ booth, leaving on "Love Me Like You Do" by Ellie Goulding for the 'getting drunk' music.

Someone immediately pressed a glittering, frosted drink into your hand—its chill a welcome contrast to your flushed skin. A nearby Hufflepuff leaned in with a wide smile, whispering, “You’re literally the life of Hogwarts.”

You laughed, breathless and exhilarated, basking in the glow of the crowd’s adoration. The music still thrummed through the walls, but your mind was already drifting, seeking a quieter corner to catch your breath.

Turning sharply, you almost collided with him

You're the light, you're the night.

Draco Malfoy—who caught your elbow with a steady hand, his icy gaze locking with yours. “Careful,” he murmured, his voice low and calm amid the chaos.

You looked up at him, flashing a sly grin. “Enjoying the party, birthday boy?” you teased.

He gave a dry chuckle, the corner of his mouth twitching into something like a smile. “It’s tolerable.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Oh wow. That’s basically a love letter coming from you.”

Instead of letting go, he kept his hand lightly on your arm, anchoring you in the moment. “You’re unreal,” he said quietly, his tone thick with something more—admiration, maybe something like awe.

"You flirt with the music, tease the crowd, make even the portraits blush. And Merlin, I can't believe someone can do all that and still look at me like I’m the one worth noticing.

Your breath caught, your heart stuttering in your chest. You blinked up at him, the air between you electric and heavy.

“I don’t dance,” he admitted, his voice dropping softer, more vulnerable, “but every time you roll your hips like that, I forget how to breathe.”

You smiled, slow and deliberate, the kind of smile that promises trouble. “So breathe with me,” you dared him. His eyes flickered to your lips, then back up to your eyes, hesitation warring with desire in their depths.

The space between you shrank until you could feel the warmth radiating off his skin, the faint pulse of his heartbeat in sync with your own. His fingers brushed your wrist, lingering just long enough to send sparks down your arm, as if testing his own restraint.

You leaned in just a fraction, your lips barely brushing the curve of his cheek as you whispered against his skin, “You’ve been staring all night, Draco. What are you waiting for?” His breath hitched, and you could see the flush rising in his cheeks, the pulse pounding at his throat like a frantic drum. Yet still, he held himself back, barely.

His voice was hoarse when he finally spoke, low and rough with barely contained longing. “If I kiss you right now, I won’t stop.”

You tilted your head, a wicked smile curling your lips. “Maybe I don’t want you to.”

The tension coiled tighter, a delicious electric ache between you. The music continued to hum in the background, but all you could hear was the relentless pounding of your heart in your ears.

Then, as if the universe were waiting for the perfect moment, your music rig pulsed with life, signaling the chorus.

So love me like you do, la-la love me like you do.

Draco let out a quiet, incredulous laugh. “Seriously? we're about to kiss with this song?” you didn’t flinch.

“Fitting, isn’t it?” you tease. His gaze locked on your lips, eyes dark and burning with intent.

And then—finally—he kissed you.

It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t frantic. It was deliberate—like he’d been counting the seconds since the first beat dropped, biding his time, waiting for a moment when the rest of the world would fall away.

His lips met yours with a kind of quiet certainty, soft but hungry beneath it, like he needed to be sure this was real. His hand slid up to your jaw, fingers curling just under your ear, tilting your face as if he wanted to memorize the angle. The warmth of his palm sent a shiver down your spine, grounding you even as your knees threatened to give out.

You gasped softly against his mouth, and he took that as invitation, deepening the kiss with a slow-burning hunger that made your head spin. Your hands found the front of his shirt, bunching the fabric between your fingers, desperate to anchor yourself to something—anything—as the world blurred into fog and light and heat.

His other arm circled your waist, tugging you flush against him. There was no more space between you, no more tension—only release. His mouth moved against yours like he knew exactly how you liked to be kissed—like he’d imagined this a thousand times and was now trying to make up for every second he hadn’t done it sooner.

He tasted like firewhisky and trouble. Sweet and sharp and utterly addictive. The kind of kiss that felt like a secret and a promise all at once. Somewhere in the room, music pulsed and people shouted, but none of it touched you. Not here. Not inside this space of want and heat.

You broke apart just enough to breathe—your foreheads pressed together, your lips still brushing, your pulse hammering wildly beneath his thumb.

And he whispered, low and wrecked, “Told you. I don’t stop.”

You grinned, breathless. “Good.”

Then, he kissed you again.

A collective gasp rippled through the crowd.

“THE DJ’S SNOGGING MALFOY!”

From somewhere in the throng, Pansy raised a glass high and shouted triumphantly, “FINALLY.”

⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰

masterlist!

[greenxgloss]

Could you do one where the reader is pregnant and yoongi is just helping her through the pains, like nausea, throwing up, idk like bad stomach aches etc…

Thank you!!!!!

A/n: i would be soooo happy to continue writing for this au if you have more requests for it but ngl i was drawing a blank with this one bc i have as much knowledge about pregnancy as my HS parenting class and google gave me lmao i also idk ive never really thought about or fantasized about being pregnant with someone so i dont really know like... what to fantasize about??? ig? idk but this being said ill still write this au if requested esp because this was so short and i feel so bad abt it

Pregnancy, Panic, and Yoongi’s Patience

Pairing: FatherToBe!Yoongi x Pregnant!Reader Summary: In the quiet chaos of early pregnancy, you battle morning sickness and bizarre cravings while Yoongi proves, in every tender and tired moment, that love—and his steady presence—makes it all a little easier to bear. Themes: Y/n getting emotional and morning sickness, Yoongi literally being the cutest dad-to-be, fluffy fluff Word Count: 1.4k

You weren’t sure what woke you first—the nausea creeping up your throat like a bad secret, or the gentle weight of Yoongi’s hand resting protectively on your belly, half-asleep and instinctual even in slumber.

The answer didn’t really matter. You were up. And unfortunately, so was your stomach.

You shuffled as quietly as you could out of bed, hoping to make it to the bathroom without waking him. You almost succeeded, too—until your foot caught the edge of the hallway rug and the smallest gasp slipped past your lips.

A moment later, you heard sheets rustle behind you.

“Y/N?” His voice was low, husky with sleep. “Bathroom?”

You didn’t answer right away, too focused on kneeling over the toilet and regretting everything you’d eaten the day before.

Then, quietly: “Yeah.”

A beat passed. Then soft footsteps padded behind you, followed by a hand gathering your hair back and another gently resting on your spine.

“Third time this week,” Yoongi murmured, squatting next to you with a yawn. “Your stomach’s got terrible taste.”

You let out a weak laugh as you wiped your mouth. “Don’t talk about our child like that.”

“Fair.” He brushed his fingers lightly over your temple, the way he always did when he wasn’t sure how else to help. “You okay? Want water?”

You nodded, curling against the cool tile wall as he disappeared and returned a moment later with a glass of water and a cold washcloth.

“Your hands are warm,” you muttered as he dabbed your forehead. “Feels nice.”

“I read somewhere it’s supposed to help.” He sat on the floor next to you, his legs crossed, sleep still in his eyes but heart fully awake. “Not that Google’s been that useful. Every site says something different. One said ginger tea, one said crackers, one said essential oils… I might just get you all three.”

You leaned your head on his shoulder. “You’re trying too hard.”

“Trying just enough.” He tilted his head to rest against yours. “You’re growing a person. I can grow into a husband who Googles too much.”

You smiled tiredly, stomach still in knots but heart slowly settling. He smelled like sleep and laundry detergent, his hoodie soft against your cheek. There was no miracle fix for morning sickness—but having him here like this, solid and gentle and yours, made it feel a little more survivable.

“You should go back to sleep,” you whispered.

Yoongi shook his head. “You’re not going through this alone.”

And for the first time that morning, something in you relaxed.

Even if your body was turning against you, even if the days ahead would be filled with more discomfort and nausea and crying for no reason—you had this.

You had him.

And somehow, that made all the difference.

-

After brushing your teeth and drinking water, you sat on the couch, Yoongi insisting on making you breakfast while you rested.

You were curled up, wrapped in one of Yoongi’s oversized hoodies and swaddled in the fluffiest blanket he could find. The early morning sun was still a shy glow behind the curtains, casting a soft amber hue across the living room. Yoongi was in the kitchen making toast—the only thing you could even think about stomaching right now—but your eyes weren’t on the food.

They were on him.

Your husband. Quiet and focused, hair a bit messy, sleeves pushed up as he hovered over the toaster like it was a mission from the gods. The way he moved—gentle, unhurried, careful—like the whole world might shatter if he didn’t get it right… it undid you.

By the time he walked over, balancing the plate and a glass of water in one hand, you were already blinking too fast, heart caught in your throat.

“Hey,” he said softly, crouching beside you, setting the plate on the table. “Still nauseous?”

You nodded, then shook your head. “It’s not that.”

Yoongi’s eyes flicked to your face, concern washing over him instantly. “What is it? Do you need—”

You cut him off with a shaky breath. “No—it’s nothing bad. I just…” Your voice caught as tears welled up, thick and sudden. “You’re just… really good to me.”

He blinked, confused for half a second. Then he moved. Quietly, without a word, he sank onto the couch beside you and pulled you into his arms.

And that’s when it broke.

You buried your face in his hoodie, tears slipping silently down your cheeks, soft and overwhelmed and grateful in a way words couldn’t hold.

“I’m just… so happy,” you whispered. “I didn’t know it would feel like this. I didn’t know I’d get someone like you.”

Yoongi’s hand slid up your back, warm and grounding. “You’re scaring me a little,” he murmured, kissing your hair. “But also… I think I know what you mean.”

You pulled back just enough to see his face. “You’re going to be such a good dad.”

Something in his expression shifted—surprise first, then something deeper. His eyes softened, full of something almost shy. “Yeah?” he asked, barely above a whisper.

You nodded, smiling through tears. “I already see it. The way you talk to the baby, the way you take care of me. You’re patient, and kind, and…” You sniffled. “God, I’m a mess.”

He chuckled gently, brushing a thumb under your eye. “You’re not a mess. You’re just really pregnant and really loved.”

That made you laugh, and cry a little more, and then curl back into his arms.

Yoongi kissed the crown of your head, resting his chin there. “I don’t have it all figured out yet,” he murmured, “but I’ll show up. Every day. For you and for them. That I can promise.”

And in the quiet, wrapped up in his arms with the morning light growing warmer, you believed him.

You didn’t need perfection. You just needed this. The kind of love that stays.

“Yoongi,” you said, completely serious, eyes locked with his like you’d just discovered the solution to world peace. “I need pickles.”

Yoongi didn’t even blink from where he was folding laundry on the bed. “Okay. Pickles I can do.”

You paused dramatically. “But also… chocolate frosting.”

This time he blinked. Slowly. “Like, as a dip?”

You nodded solemnly, rubbing your belly as if that might lend some credibility. “I saw someone do it on TikTok. They said it was life-changing. Sweet and salty. The perfect combo.”

Yoongi set the towel down. “Babe. With all due respect, and from a place of genuine love… that sounds like a crime against food.”

You frowned. “I’m growing a human. I get to commit at least one food crime.”

He sighed, already reaching for his keys. “If we end up in the ER tonight because your stomach rejects your Frankenstein snack, I’m telling the doctor it was your idea.”

—

Ten minutes later, you were at the kitchen counter, pickles in one hand, a tub of frosting in the other, staring at them with almost reverent anticipation. Yoongi leaned against the fridge, arms crossed, watching like you were about to detonate a bomb.

“You sure you want to do this?” he asked one last time.

You dipped the pickle into the frosting, eyes narrowing at his doubt. “Watch and learn, Min Yoongi.”

You took a bite.

And immediately gagged.

Yoongi didn’t even try to hide the slow, victorious smirk spreading across his face. “Oh no, baby. What happened to life-changing?”

You spit the offending combo into a napkin, dramatically slumping onto the counter. “It betrayed me.”

He chuckled, walking over to rub soothing circles on your back. “Told you it sounded like a war crime.”

“It was supposed to be sweet and salty,” you mumbled miserably. “Instead it was… cursed.”

Yoongi kissed your temple, grinning. “Let’s just stick to normal weird stuff, okay? Like orange juice and cereal. Or hot Cheetos and yogurt.”

“I never said I was gonna stop trying weird stuff,” you said, voice muffled into the counter. “Next week might be tuna and jelly.”

“Absolutely not,” he said instantly. “I draw the line at seafood and fruit spreads.”

You giggled, turning to look at him, feeling your heart soften as he cleaned up your failed experiment without complaint.

“You still love me, right?”

He looked at you like the question offended him. “Of course. Even if you try to poison yourself with snack choices.”

And when he kissed you, quick and sweet, you made a mental note: no more pickle-frosting disasters. But also… maybe he was onto something with the cereal and OJ.

Maybe.

➽ Yoongi Masterlist ➽ Main Masterlist ➽ Kpop Masterlist ➽ G-Dragon Masterlist ➽ Buy Me a Coffee

[fawnme1]

ooh maybe an arthur x shy soft cutipie reader? they’re very close friends and are roommates and they always are quiet affectionate with each other? idk just want some cute fluff. like them cuddling or something and he confesses and she’s just so oblivious

SWEETHEARTS arthurtv .˚꩜ .ᐟ

summary; the request.

an; i love this. also i wrote this quietly and slowly tapping my keyboard in the car from london lmao.

The flat was quiet, save for the gentle hum of Arthur’s laptop and the occasional click of his mouse. You sat curled into the corner of the shared couch, oversized jumper sleeves tugged over your hands, legs tucked beneath you. The room smelled faintly of his cologne and the cherry candle you’d lit earlier — something cozy and warm that felt like him.

Arthur sat beside you, slightly hunched, editing a video. You liked watching him work. He was focused, tongue poking out slightly, brow furrowed in concentration. He looked up every now and then, usually when you shifted or yawned, just to smile at you.

You didn’t notice the way his eyes lingered.

“You tired, sweetheart?” he asked softly, voice low and teasing.

Your cheeks warmed instantly. You still weren’t used to the pet names, even though he’d called you that a hundred times before.

“Mhm. Just comfy,” you mumbled, voice muffled in your sleeve.

He grinned and nudged your knee with his. “Wanna come here, then?”

You blinked up at him.

“Hm?”

Arthur closed his laptop with one hand and opened his other arm wide. “Cuddle break.”

Your heart skipped. This wasn’t unusual. Not really. You and Arthur had always been close; sharing blankets, leaning on each other during movie nights, falling asleep shoulder to shoulder on long flights. He’d started calling you sweetheart sometime last month. You weren’t sure why. But you weren’t about to complain.

You shuffled closer, carefully, like you always did. Arthur looped his arm around you and pulled you in until your head rested against his chest. He was warm and solid and smelled like fresh laundry and shampoo.

You exhaled, small and content.

“Better?” he murmured, voice close to your ear.

You nodded. “Mhm.”

He chuckled. “You’re such a little thing. Can barely even tell you’re there.”

You pouted but didn’t respond. Your fingers fiddled with the hem of his sleeve instead, brushing against his hand. He didn’t pull away.

You stayed like that for a while. Quiet. Close. Breathing in sync. His thumb rubbed gentle circles into your shoulder. You thought he probably didn’t even realise he was doing it.

Arthur did realise.

He noticed everything.

Like how your eyelashes fluttered when you were sleepy. Or how you always brought him a tea when he was filming late. Or the way your face lit up when he laughed at something you said, like you weren’t used to being funny.

He’d been in love with you for months.

But he hadn’t said anything. Because you were shy, and soft, and the idea of startling you out of your comfort zone made his stomach twist.

Still.

Maybe tonight.

Maybe just—

“Hey,” he said, low and careful. “Can I tell you something?”

You tilted your head to look at him. “Mmhm?”

He smiled faintly, hand resting over yours. “You know how I always call you sweetheart?”

You nodded slowly. “Yeah…?”

“It’s not just like… a random nickname,” he said, watching you closely. “I mean it. You’re, uh. You’re kind. And gentle. And you always make me feel like I’m home when I’m with you.”

Your brows pinched. “Arthur…”

“I guess I just.. I really like you,” he said, softer now, almost nervous. “More than a roommate. More than a best friend.”

Silence.

You blinked at him.

Then: “You… like me?”

He laughed under his breath, brushing a piece of hair from your face. “Yeah, angel. I’ve been flirting with you for months.”

Your eyes widened. “Wait— really?”

He looked genuinely surprised. “You didn’t notice?”

You shook your head. “I thought you were just… nice.”

Arthur let out a groan and dropped his forehead onto your shoulder, muffling a laugh there.

“I’ve literally called sweetheart every day, made you tea in bed, watched five seasons of that baking show you love even though I hate fondant — and you thought I was just being nice?”

You giggled, feeling your face go up in flames. “You’re always nice!”

Arthur lifted his head, eyes soft and amused. “Alright then. I’ll say it properly.”

He reached for your hand, lacing your fingers with his.

“I like you. A lot. I’d really like to kiss you. But only if you want me to.”

Your breath hithced. You were pretty sure your heart was going to burst.

“…Can I think about it for like, three seconds?” you whispered.

Arthur smiled, patient and fond. “Take your time, sweetheart.”

You leaned up, just a little, and pressed your lips to his cheek.

“I’d really like to kiss you,” you mumbled against his skin.

His smile turned into a grin, and he gently titled your chin toward him.

Then, finally, he kissed you. Slow, warm, steady. Like he’d been waiting forever and didn’t mind taking his time.

When you pulled away, breathless and stunned, Arthur kissed your forehead and pulled you back into his chest.

“Still comfy?” he whispered.

You nodded, heart thudding. “Very.”

[romanoffmazie]

[DAY ONE] - 1

Summary: She didn’t expect to fall apart in front of anyone—least of all him. But grief doesn’t ask permission.

Pairing: TFATWS Bucky Barnes x Neighbor reader (she/her)

Warnings/Tags: Pre-TFATWS, cursing, grief, emotional breakdown, loss, smoking (coping), emotional vulnerability. (Please let me know if I missed anything!)

Word Count: 2k

Note: Just a little idea that popped into my head while rewatching The Falcon and the Winter Soldier this week. Hope you enjoy!

It was an autumn afternoon. A Monday. You were on the train, heading home, and everything felt… wrong. The subway rocked gently beneath you, the steady clatter of the tracks echoing through the nearly empty car. Too quiet. Too still

You sat there frozen, your eyes unfocused. You weren’t really present. Not fully. Your body was in the seat, but your mind? It had already left. You felt like a shell. Hollow. Like if someone looked too closely, they’d see right through you.

There was this high-pitched buzzing in your ears, like your brain was short-circuiting. Your chest was tight, your breathing shallow. You couldn’t tell if it was panic or grief or rage or all three at once. You didn’t even know anymore.

You just knew it hurt.

And somehow, your body still moved. Off the train. Through the city. Past the noise, the people, the lights—all of it a blur. You didn’t feel real. None of it did.

And then you were pushing open the heavy rooftop door of your building.

Your spot.

The one place that always felt safe.

It was this old building mostly filled with retired people and little old ladies who baked too much banana bread, so no one ever came up here. Just you. And the occasional seagull.

The wind was cold. It hit your face like a slap, sharp and biting, and for some reason, it helped. Like a reminder that, yeah, you were still breathing. Barely. But breathing.

And then everything cracked.

You kicked the old red beach chair—your usual one—sending it clattering sideways. Your bag followed, tossed near the railing with a heavy thud.

Everything inside you was burning. Your chest, your throat, your eyes.

And you screamed.

Loud. Raw. Ugly. The kind of scream that didn’t have words, just pain. You screamed until your voice gave out and your knees hit the concrete, until your lungs burned and the tears spilled over in hot waves that wouldn’t stop.

You didn’t think it could hurt like this. It was day one. Just day one.

And it already felt like you were falling apart from the inside out.

“Shit,” you whispered, breath hitching as your hands flew up to cover your face. The tears only came harder. And honestly? You didn’t even care if anyone heard you.

It kinda felt like if you didn’t fall apart now, your chest might actually implode.

“Uh… hey.” The voice behind you made you freeze.

It was deep, rough—like it came from someone who hadn’t used it much. Or maybe someone who chose not to use it unless they really had to. Careful, cautious.

Like the words didn’t come easy.

You spun around way too fast, your heart doing a full Olympic sprint as your eyes landed on the man standing a few feet away.

“I—sorry,” he said quickly, both hands raised like he wasn’t sure if you were about to run or throw something. “I wasn’t trying to scare you. I was just… over there. And I don’t know. Figured I should say something? Maybe?”

You blinked at him, still breathless, still kind of in that dazed “what the hell is happening” mode. Your eyes followed the direction he’d gestured toward.

Corner of the rooftop. Blue beach chair. Two beer bottles. A small red notebook resting on the concrete beside it.

Cool. So he’d been there the whole time.

The. Whole. Time. Of course he had.

Your face was still wet, definitely blotchy, and your heart hadn’t really gotten the memo to chill yet. And to top it all off? You knew exactly who he was.

Bucky Barnes.

That Bucky Barnes. The one who used to be glued to Steve Rogers. The literal Captain America’s best friend.

That was pretty much all you knew.

Well—that, and the fact that about ten years ago, when you were fifteen, a bunch of shady SHIELD/HYDRA government files got leaked online and everyone freaked out. You, meanwhile, were way too busy obsessing over One Direction, wondering if Toby Kavanagh was A, and trying to convince your parents to let you dye your hair purple.

And then, like half the world, he vanished. You forgot about him. Completely. Until three months ago.

When he moved into your building. Wall to wall.

Naturally.

Because why wouldn’t a literal ex-assassin-war-hero-super-soldier move into your building just in time for your life to crash and burn. Right?

“You… you okay?” His voice was low and unsure. Like someone testing the water before stepping in. Careful. Like maybe he wasn’t used to asking questions like that. Or maybe just not used to asking anyone.

You didn’t look at him. Just let out a humorless laugh through your nose.

“Do I look okay?”

It came out sharp. Bitter. Not really meant for him, but it hit him anyway. You could tell by the way the silence shifted.

He cleared his throat. Scratched the back of his neck like he wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself.

“No,” he said finally. Plain. Quiet.

You didn’t say anything back.

Maybe on another day, you would’ve felt bad about it. About the tone. About snapping at a stranger who was—at least in theory—just trying to be nice.

But not today.

Today, you didn’t care. Today, you were allowed to break. Even if it wasn’t pretty.

You turned away from him without warning and crossed the rooftop again, over to one of the old sun-bleached beach chairs scattered around—the one red, slightly crooked from when you kicked it earlier. You set it upright, dropped your bag beside it with a soft thud, and sat down, pulling your knees up to your chest.

The city stretched in front of you in muted blues and silvers, the sky starting to dim, and for a second, you tried to lose yourself in it.

Didn’t work.

“I’ll be fine,” you said quietly, more out of habit than belief. Your fingers tapped against the worn cardboard of the cigarette pack until the last one slipped into your palm.

You didn’t smoke often. Only when your head felt like it might explode if you didn’t do something.

The first time had been at twenty, right after your parents had one of those fights. The kind that splits the ground beneath your feet and leaves you stuck staring at the pieces. Your family had always seemed solid. Clean. Easy to understand. Until it wasn’t.

Until you realized you couldn’t fix it.

So you smoked. One cigarette, just to feel like you were controlling something. And over time, it became… a thing. Not a habit. Just a coping mechanism that showed up when things got too heavy.

You lit the cigarette, shielding the flame from the wind, and took a long drag, the smoke burning your throat just enough to remind you that you were still here.

Behind you, he shuffled slightly. You could hear it. That awkward weight shift people do when they’re not sure if they should leave or stay.

“Uh… right. I’ll just… go back over there,” Bucky said. Hesitant. Like he didn’t want to intrude, but didn’t quite want to disappear either.

You didn’t look at him.

Didn’t answer. Just exhaled smoke slowly, watching it drift into the air like fog, and tried not to think about how raw everything still felt.

[…]

Bucky had noticed you.

Of course he had. How could he not?

He heard you humming at the hallway in the morning before work, soft and half-asleep, and sometimes late at night when you came home and forgot the world could hear you. He recognized the sound of your heels on the old wooden floors in the hallway, the quiet thud of your bag hitting your door, the way you always talked to someone — maybe a cat. Maybe a dog. Maybe just yourself.

And yeah… he heard the fights too.

Always with the same name: Kevin.

A boyfriend, maybe. The yelling was never pleasant, and every time Bucky thought you were finally done with the guy, Kevin would show up again, knocking on your door like nothing had happened. And for a little while, things would seem okay. Until they weren’t. Again.

It was a cycle. A pattern. One Bucky had quietly picked up on, even if he never meant to.

He didn’t know if your rooftop breakdown had anything to do with the guy. But something told him it didn’t. That kind of pain? The one he saw in your eyes? That wasn’t heartbreak. Not the kind that comes from a toxic ex.

No — that was deeper. Older. The kind of pain that sinks into your bones and makes a home there.

The kind that feels too familiar.

After that day on the rooftop, Bucky didn’t see you for two weeks.

He still heard you in the hallway sometimes — the click of your heels at certain hours, the soft close of your door — but no more humming in the mornings. No music on Saturday nights. Just silence.

He found himself wondering about you. Curious, even. Tempted to knock on your door, maybe ask if you wanted to grab a coffee or something. But it had been… what, eighty years since he’d been on an actual date? He didn’t even know how to do that anymore. And honestly? He wasn’t in a hurry to figure it out.

He wasn’t ready. To share. To explain. To unpack the thousand-pound suitcase of memories and guilt and trauma he carried around like a second skin. Everything felt like too much already. And if he could barely handle it on his own… How the hell was he supposed to handle it with someone else?

It had been a quiet Saturday afternoon when he heard the knock on his door. Autumn hung heavy in the air — the sky a soft gray, clouds low and threatening rain. Bucky was curled up on the couch with a book in his hands and a mug of black coffee balanced on the armrest. The silence in the apartment was kind, familiar. Safe.

So when the knock came, he froze.

Who the hell…?

He didn’t get visitors.

Sam wouldn’t just show up — not unless he wanted to start a fight. And Bucky didn’t have anyone else. Not really.

He put the book down and stood up slowly, cautious, a quiet knot forming in his stomach. When he peeked through the peephole, his heart genuinely skipped a beat.

It was you. Standing there, red sweater hugging your frame, hair down, no makeup on — just you. Beautiful, quiet, soft in a way that made something ache in his chest. You were holding a small basket, covered with a white cloth. His heart started racing for absolutely no reason. He could already smell them. Blueberries.

He hesitated for a second, glanced back at the apartment — bare, impersonal, still more of a shelter than a home — and finally opened the door. Not too fast. Not too slow.

Just… nervous.

You gave him a small smile, the kind that didn’t quite reach your eyes but still felt real.

“Hey,” you said, voice gentle. “I, um… I made muffins. Blueberry.”

He blinked, staring at you, then at the basket, then back again.

“They’re kind of… an apology. For the other night. I was rude. You were trying to help, and I didn’t let you. So…”

You held out the basket.

“Apology muffins.”

A laugh escaped his nose before he could stop it — soft, surprised.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know,” you said, shrugging. “But I wanted to.”

He took the basket from your hands, careful like it was fragile or something sacred. It smelled like comfort and sugar and things he hadn’t had in years. He didn’t know what to do with that.

And maybe that was what made him say it.

Maybe it was the red sweater.

Or your hair loose.

Or the fact that he hadn’t stopped thinking about you for two weeks.

“You doing anything tomorrow?” he asked suddenly, voice quiet, barely there. “I was thinking… maybe we could get coffee. Or something. If you want.”

There was a pause.

Longer than he liked.

And he watched the hesitation flash across your face — that tiny moment where he was sure you were going to say no and he’d have to live with it.

But then you nodded.

And smiled.

“Yeah. I’d like that.”

His shoulders dropped.

He didn’t even realize how tense he’d been until you said yes.

“Cool,” he said, a little awkward. A little breathless. “That’s… yeah. Cool.”

You laughed — soft and knowing — and stepped back down the hallway.

“See you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow,” he replied, watching as you disappeared inside your apartment.

He looked down at the basket again, then closed the door behind him and leaned against it, letting out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

He hadn’t been on a date in almost eighty years. But for the first time in a long time…

He kind of wanted to try.

[yyvanilaa]

❝Lollipop❞

Summary: in which y/n can’t control her fixation when they’re in public.

Pairings: bf!Theodore x fem!gf!reader || she/her is used!

Warning/tags: 18+, smut, oral fixation (exaggerated!), oral (m rec), cum eating, cursing, praise kink, hair pulling, semi public? I believe that’s all. If I miss some, I’m so sorry.

Authors note: Not Edited! I literally suck at punctuation so please don’t pay much attention to it.

Ib: @whateverloomis - this story!

Y/n and Theo have been dating for a while know, meaning he knows everything about her—including her kinks—which he didn’t mind at all. In fact he enjoyed it just as much as she did. He also loved that he was the only one to know. When he found out about her oral fixation he fell even more in love with her. He didn’t mind the constant head, he just knew how much she hated not being able to do anything in public.

So she used lollipops as a distraction when they were out in public, or with friends. While the friend group was sitting around in the common room, Y/n was as already on her 3rd lollipop. Theo had his arm around her waist, trying to focus on the conversation, but all he can think about is Y/n sucking on the lollipop. Y/n would pull the lollipop out of her mouth, releasing it with a pop that drove Theo crazy.

Theo watched her, his mind racing with all kinds of thoughts. He discreetly ran his hand up and down her waist, his touch causing her to shiver. He whispered in her ear, his voice low.

“You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?”

You look at him with genuine confusion, tilting your head to the side. Theo chuckles slightly, seeing how oblivious she was. He smirked and leaned closer, his lips brushing against her ear

“You know exactly what I’m talking about. That little display of yours with the lollipop… You’re trying to torment me, aren’t you?” He whispered, his voice dripping with desire.

“I can’t help it, it’s the only thing that helps.” Y/n says while continuing to suck on the lollipop. Theo gives her waist a firm squeeze, pulling her closer.

“I know, sweetheart. But it’s driving me crazy.”

He whispers against her neck, planting a few gentle kisses on her skin. He was beginning to get impatient.

“Sorry.” Y/n apologizes.

Theo shakes his head, his other hand coming up to cup her chin.

“Don’t apologize. I’m not mad at you, love. It’s just… very distracting, that’s all.”

He smirked again, his thumb gently brushing over her bottom lip.

“Although I am curious…how many lollipops do you have on you, exactly?”

“About three?”

Theo chuckled again, nuzzling his face into the crook of her neck. He inhaled deeply, taking in her scent, which was a mixture of her perfume and the lollipop.

“Just three, huh? Well, there’s only one lollipop I really want you to be sucking, right now..” He teased, his hand on her thigh creeping up higher.

“Don’t do this to me” Y/n whines, wishing they weren’t in public.

He chuckled, his hand continuing to move up her thigh, his touch teasing but never fully doing anything. His lips were against her neck, leaving soft kisses here and there.

“This is your fault, love.”

He said, his voice low and filled with desire. “You’re the one who’s been sucking on lollipops nonstop, teasing me, driving me crazy..”

“I don’t wanna suck the lollipop” Y/n says with a pout.

He hummed, his hand pausing its movements and pulling away from her thigh to gently grab her chin, turning her head to look at him.

“Oh really? Then what is it you want to suck on then, love?”

“Stop teasing me.”

He chuckled, his hand moving back to rest on her thigh, his thumb tracing small circles on her skin again.

“Oh but I love teasing you. You get all embarrassed and flustered.”

He leaned closer, his breath hot against her ear;

“And it’s so adorable.”

“Theo! Are you paying attention!? I’m telling a very important story!” Blaise says, interrupting their moment.

Theo let out a deep breath, reluctantly turning his attention away from Y/n and towards Blaise.

“Sorry, Blaise. Go on.” Theo said, his hand still resting on Eliana’s thigh, though he made no effort to move it away.

Y/n was getting restless after she had finished her last lollipop, and Theo noticed. He tried to get her to be patient but she couldn’t, and he couldn’t hold back much longer.

Theo murmured, his voice strained. He wanted so badly to give in, to give her what she wanted, but they had to wait.

“Just wait a little longer. We’ll be alone soon.”

He had to physically restrain himself from grabbing her and taking her somewhere private. His hand on her thigh was almost painfully tight now.

“Theo” Y/n whine, which breaks the last of his self control.

“Come with me.”

Theo said, his hand moving from her thigh to take her wrist. He quickly stood up, practically pulling her along with him as he walked away from the group.

He looked around, searching for a place where they wouldn’t be disturbed. He noticed an empty classroom not too far away and quickly made his way towards it, pulling her along with him. Once they were inside, he shut the door behind them and locked it, his heart pounding in his chest.

Y/n immediately gets on her knees, undoing his pants.

Theo watches as she knelt before him, his desire growing with each second. He knew he should be the one in control, but the sight of her on her knees, undoing his pants..it was all too much.

“Sweetheart..”

He groaned, his hands coming to rest on her shoulders.

Y/n doesn’t even bother to pull his pants all the way, as she immediately attaches her mouth to his to his cock.

He inhaled sharply as her mouth wrapped around his length, his hand gripping her hair tighter. It took all of his self-control not to moan, not to let anyone outside the room know what was happening.

“Fuck..Y/n..”

He let out a low gasp, his head tilting back as she pleasured him. He couldn’t believe how desperate she was for him, how much she needed this- how much he needed it too.

He lets out a soft moan, gripping her hair tighter and letting his head fall back, he’s thankful they’re in the classroom so they don’t have to worry about people seeing what they’re up to.

Y/n goes up to his tip-licking and sucking it like it was a lollipop

Theo bites his lip, trying to stifle his moans. She looked so good on her knees for him.

“Fuck, baby girl..”

“..You’re so eager for me..” He murmured, his hand sliding down to her neck, fingers lightly tracing her throat before moving his hands to grip her hair.

Y/n goes back down—taking his whole 9 inches in her mouth—as she bobs her head.

“Oh, baby..” He says softly, his hand still gripping her hair. “You’re doing so good..”

He moans again, this time a bit more loudly. His grip on her hair tightens a little more as he speaks;

“You like that, huh?”

Y/n hums around his cock, as she continues to bob her head.

He bites his lip again, trying to hold back the moan that was trying to escape his throat. She felt so good, using her mouth like this. He looked down at her, unable to take his eyes off of her.

“Such a good girl for me..”

His hand continues to grip her hair tightly, using his grip to help her bob her head.

“You look so pretty like this..on your knees, for me.”

He starts twitching in her mouth making y/n take his cock out and stick out her tongue, wanting him to finish in her tongue.

He moans softly as she moves her mouth away from him. He knows what she wants, and he’s more than willing to give it to her. The sight of her tongue out, waiting for him..it was so hot.

“You want it on your tongue, huh babe?”

Y/n nods, humming.

He strokes himself, bringing himself closer to the edge

“You’re such a good girl, aren’t you? You’re just made for me, aren’t you?”

Y/n licks his tip eagerly, which sends him over the edge—painting her face and tongue with his cum.

He watches her, groaning softly as she uses her tongue. It’s almost too much for him to watch, he can never get enough of her. He looks down at her face now covered in his release

“Fuck…you’re so good at this.”

Y/n licks his cock clean, before swallowing his cum.

He pulls her up, his hands cupping her chin as he looks at her. Her face glistening with his cum and she still looks so beautiful.

“God, you’re beautiful.”

He leans in, kissing her softly, tasting himself on her lips. He runs a hand through her hair, his grip a little gentler now.

After a while he pulls back slowly, still stroking her hair softly.

“You okay, baby?”

“Way better now.” Y/n says, smiling.

Authors note: First ever story! I hope yall enjoyed. I will be trying to turn all my stories shorter so they can go on C.ai so let me know what you think about that idea. I’m not really good at smut so I hope this is good.

As stated at the top I got this idea from: @whateverloomis

I will be making like an introduction post soon but I figured it’d be better to have some posts so I can make a master list.

Feel free to request literally anything, I don’t really have any limits and if I do I’ll let you know.

[rose24207]

hellooo!! i saw that you would be open to weak hero requests!! if you still are, could i request maybe just a friends to lovers thing with sieun please! maybe the reader could be like suhos younger sister, only by a year, and she hangs out with them a lot, and they both end up going to suhu because they dont know what to do abt their feelings and he helps them get together. please and thank you 🙏🙏🙏

I want to physically throw both of you out the window

Summary: Suho’s best friend and his little sister are painfully in love with each other—so he does what any exhausted older brother would do: traps them on a rooftop until they kiss and end his suffering.

Yeon sieun x reader

A/N: MY SHAYLA

Navigation

You weren’t trying to fall for Sieun.

He was your brother’s best friend. Quiet, sharp-eyed, emotionally distant unless you counted the rare smirk that made your heart stutter. And ever since that day he stepped into your life — a little bruised, a lot broody — he became a permanent part of it. Even before you liked him, really liked him, he was always there.

Now?

Now it was torture.

Because you were one year younger than Suho, and somehow still always lumped into their hangouts. Movie nights, study sessions, late-night convenience store runs. And every single time, Sieun would sit beside you, shoulder brushing yours, saying nothing. Just stealing glances when he thought you weren’t looking.

And every single time, your heart would beat like it wanted to escape your chest.

You tried to act normal.
You tried so hard.

But Suho?
Suho noticed everything.

“Hey,” he said one evening, standing in your doorway like a judgmental cat. “You good?”

You blinked up from your desk, heart skipping.

“Yeah? Why?”

Suho shrugged, stepping in. “You’ve been weird around Sieun.”

You dropped your pen. “What? No, I haven’t.”

“Okay,” he said, sitting on your bed like it was his. “Then why did you blush when he asked you to pass the popcorn?”

You turned red.

“That didn’t happen.”

“It did.”

You groaned and buried your face in your hands. “Please don’t say anything.”

Suho raised an eyebrow. “Why not? He likes you too.”

You froze.

“…What?”

“Y/N.” He gave you a look. “He stares at you like you hung the moon. It’s so obvious I want to physically throw both of you out the window.”

You stared at your brother, jaw open. “Sieun likes me?”

“Do you think he comes over just for me?”

“…You’re kidding.”

“He literally asked me last week if you were dating anyone.”

Your whole world tilted.

Meanwhile, at that very same moment—

Sieun stood stiffly in Suho’s kitchen, staring at the floor while Suho’s mom offered him tea. He mumbled a thank-you and barely touched it.

Because he was waiting.

Waiting for Suho to get back from talking to you.
Because earlier that day, he had finally said it:

“I think I like your sister.”

He didn’t mean to. It just slipped out during math homework. Suho had stared at him like he’d said he wanted to fight a teacher.

“You think?” Suho had asked.

“I… I don’t know.” Sieun had rubbed the back of his neck. “She makes me nervous.”

“She makes me nervous,” Suho muttered. “You’re not allowed to break her heart.”

“I wouldn’t.” Sieun had said it so fast it startled both of them.

Suho sighed. “Fine. I’ll talk to her.”

Now he was back.

And Sieun stood up way too quickly.

“Well?” he asked.

Suho looked him over. “You look like you’re about to faint.”

“I feel like I’m about to faint.”

Suho rolled his eyes and gave him a pat on the back. “Relax. She likes you too.”

Sieun blinked.

“What?”

You’re both idiots. That was the summary running through Suho’s brain.

Because it was so obvious. The way you both looked at each other like it hurt. The way Sieun’s voice changed when he said your name. The way you smiled when he quietly handed you your favorite drink without being asked.

So Suho did what any good older brother would do.

He trapped you both on the roof.

“Hey,” Suho said later that weekend, peeking into your room. “Wanna help me carry some stuff up to the rooftop?”

“Sure,” you said, too trusting.

Sieun was already upstairs when you got there. There was a blanket, snacks, even those annoying little fairy lights Suho had claimed he hated.

You looked at the setup. Then looked at Sieun. Then slowly turned back toward the door—

It was locked.

That bastard locked you up here.

“…Did he just—?”

Sieun sighed. “He said he needed to get something and disappeared.”

You both stared at the door for a long second.

Then sat down on the blanket, a little too far apart.

Silence.

The sun was setting in soft peach colors. It should’ve been romantic. It was romantic. Which only made the tension worse.

“I’m sorry,” you blurted. “About being weird lately.”

Sieun turned to you, startled. “You weren’t.”

“I kind of was,” you said, laughing nervously. “I just… I didn’t want to ruin anything.”

He hesitated. “Me too.”

You looked up at him. The sky made his skin look gold. His eyes were darker, more serious than usual.

“…So,” you said softly, “we both talked to Suho.”

“Yeah.”

“And he said we…”

“He said you like me.”

You bit your lip. “Do you?”

His breath hitched. “Yeah. A lot.”

Your heart flipped over.

“I like you too.”

A long silence.

Then—Sieun scooted closer.

It was so awkward and slow it made you giggle. He blinked, startled by the sound, then smiled for real. A rare, small thing. But so genuine it made your chest ache.

“I didn’t know how to say it,” he admitted. “I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“You never have.”

He reached out carefully, brushing your pinky with his. “Can I…?”

You nodded, already leaning in.

When your lips touched, it was barely there. Gentle. Hesitant. The kind of kiss that asks a question instead of making a statement.

But it was enough. Enough to send your whole body warm.

Downstairs, Suho opened the door five minutes later—then promptly shut it again when he saw you both cuddling.

He sighed.

“Finally,” he muttered.

Thank you for reading!

Taglist: @ipushhimback, @ladyoflynx, @lewishamiltonismybf, @cmleitora, @same1995, @amatswimming, @llando4norris, @dr3wstarkey, @hurtblossom, @ernegren, @esposamultifandom, @darleneslane

[daxisyzz]

Marked What's Mine

Pairings: husband!bucky barnes × wife!reader

Summary: You can hold your own—always have. But that doesn’t stop your husband from going full Winter Soldier mode when he sees someone laid a hand on you.

Warnings: Language, injuries, soft-but-intense husband!Bucky, protective behavior, possessiveness, comfort, fluff, violence mentioned (not graphic), "who did this to you?", lots of banter.

Word count: 1.3k+

A/n: this fic is from my poll where husband au and who did this to u prompt won. I will do the enemies to lovers in my next fic. Thank you for reading <3.

Divider credits: @saradika

Night- 1:47 AM

You turned the front doorknob with all the delicacy of a trained assassin—which, to be fair, you were.

No sound. Good.

You stepped inside, sliding your shoes off silently and tiptoeing like the floorboards might narc on you. You could practically hear your heartbeat in your ears.

He’d be asleep. He had to be.

You could get to the bathroom, clean up, hide the worst of it. He didn’t have to know. You didn’t want him to worry, to spiral. Not again.

You made it three steps down the hallway.

Then— “Don’t move.”

Shit.

His voice cut through the silence, low and lethal. It came from the living room.

You closed your eyes. "Hi, honey. I'm home."

A light flipped on.

Bucky stood by the couch, arms crossed, half in shadow. The sight of him—barefoot, hoodie loose over his broad chest, hair tousled from waiting up—would’ve been comforting, if not for the look in his eyes.

His gaze traveled from your face to your arms, your ribs, where blood had started to seep through your shirt.

He didn’t say a word.

You tried to play it off. “Before you say anything, it looks worse than it is—”

His voice dropped to a whisper.

“Who did this to you?”

You exhaled slowly. “Buck—”

“Don’t. Just…” His jaw clenched. “Stay right there.”

“Bucky, it’s fine. I dodn’t even need stitches—”

“You’re bleeding.” His voice trembled with something dangerous. “You’re limping. You snuck into your own damn house like a thief because you knew I’d lose it if I saw you like this. And guess what? You were right.”

He was in front of you in three long strides.

His hands—warm, shaking—came up to cup your face, careful to avoid the bruises.

“You weren’t supposed to see me like this,” you whispered. “You’d only worry.”

“I worry when you’re five minutes late for lunch. You think this is gonna lessen that?”

“I’m not made of glass—”

“You’re made of everything I live for.”

Your breath caught.

He scanned your injuries with haunted eyes. “Who did this?”

“It’s not important.”

“It is to me.”

You sighed. “I didn’t want you to spiral. Last time you saw me with a busted lip, you threatened to drown a guy in the Hudson.”

“I should’ve.”

“Bucky—”

“Tell me his name.”

You met his eyes. “If I do, you’ll find him.”

He didn’t deny it.

“And if I don’t?” you added.

“I’ll find him anyway.”

You groaned. “You are the most dramatic man I’ve ever met.”

He lifted you into his arms like it was nothing—like you didn’t have two working legs—and carried you down the hall.

“I’m intense,” he corrected. “Not dramatic.”

“You literally brooded in the dark waiting for me to get home.”

“You really thought I wouldn’t notice? Like my wife could come home hurt and I wouldn’t feel it in my chest?”

You let out a weak laugh. “God, you’re annoying.”

“You married me, doll. That’s on you.”

Twenty Minutes Later...

You sat on the bathroom counter while Bucky dabbed antiseptic over the cuts along your ribs, his brows furrowed like each mark physically hurt him more than it hurt you.

He hadn’t stopped touching you.

Even now, his thumb rubbed soft circles into your thigh as he worked.

“Doesn’t even sting,” you said.

“That’s not the point,” he muttered, placing another bandage carefully. “You came home bleeding. You flinched when you took your shirt off. You snuck in.”

“I didn’t want to see your sad little kicked puppy face,” you teased.

He glared. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“No, you’re lucky I love you. You’re high maintenance.”

“Says the woman who took on a six-foot mercenary solo and got cracked in the jaw for it.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You think I didn’t win?”

He paused. “Wait. You won?”

“Cracked three of his ribs and made him cry.”

He stared.

Then—slowly—he grinned.

“That’s my girl.”

You tried not to bask in it, but you totally basked in it.

Still, he wasn’t done.

As he finished wrapping the final gauze, he stood between your legs and stared at you like you held gravity in your hands.“I breathe for you,” he said, voice barely a whisper. “That’s it. That’s the only reason I get up in the morning.”

Your throat went tight. “Bucky—”

“You come home hurt, and it feels like the world’s off its axis. I can’t think. Can’t function. You’re not fragile, babe. You’re the strongest person I know. But the thought of losing you? I’d lose everything.”

God.

You buried your face in his chest, arms tight around him.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Too late. You did. You always do.”

You looked up. “You’re a menace, you know that?”

“You love it.”

“Unfortunately.”

He grinned and kissed your forehead.

Next Day – 2:00 PM

You woke up to an empty bed and a note on the pillow:

Had to step out. Be back soon. Don’t move too much or I’ll find out and carry you around like a baby until you learn your lesson. I love you more than oxygen.

—B <3

You rolled your eyes.

And sighed.

And smiled.

He came back at sunset. Calm. Too calm.

You didn’t even have to ask.

“You found him, didn’t you?”

He dropped his jacket. “Yeah.”

“And?”

“He’s not gonna be walking straight for a while.”

“Bucky…”

“And probably won’t be talking much either.”

You stared at him.

“He’ll live. Probably,” Bucky said with a shrug. “I was nice. For the first ten seconds.”

“Jesus—”

“He laid a hand on you. You really think I wasn’t gonna rearrange his face?”

You huffed, arms crossed, but you were secretly touched. And maybe a little turned on.

“You are so dramatic.”

“No. Dramatic is you sneaking past your literal super soldier husband with blood dripping down your shirt.”

“Fine,” you muttered, walking toward him. “You win.”

He caught you easily, arms pulling you in.

“I always win, doll,” he murmured, kissing your bruised temple. “Especially when it comes to you.”

The Next Morning – 9:07 AM

Sunlight filtered lazily through the curtains, painting golden stripes over the bed where you were curled up like a cat. One leg over the sheet. A little sore. A little achy. But warm.

Bucky stirred beside you, his metal arm slung protectively over your waist.

“You awake?” you mumbled.

“Was watching you breathe,” he rasped, voice still sleep-rough. “You twitch your nose when you’re dreaming.”

“You’re creepy.”

“You married me, sweetheart. This is your fault.”

You snorted, rolling to face him, wincing a little. He was already awake, already watching you with that look. Like you were sacred. Untouchable. His.

“You hurting?” he asked immediately, shifting to sit up. “Need painkillers? Water? I can carry you to the bath—”

“Bucky.”

He blinked.

“I’m okay. It’s just a bruise, not a broken limb. Stop hovering.”

“I’m not hovering.”

“You’re three seconds from spoon-feeding me cereal.”

“…Is that an option?”

You groaned and buried your face in his chest.

“You’re insufferable.”

He chuckled, warm and smug, tucking you tighter under his chin. You stayed like that for a while. Tangled limbs. Warm sheets. His fingers trailing soft patterns on your back like he couldn’t stand not touching you.

“Don’t do that again,” he whispered finally.

You didn’t pretend to not hear it. “Okay.”

“I know you’re strong. I know you can take care of yourself. But if something happens to you—I stop breathing. You get that?”

You swallowed hard. “I get it.”

“I love you so much it makes me a little insane.”

“Only a little?”

“I toned it down for your sake.”

You giggled. “You’re cute when you’re crazy.”

“Good. Because you’re stuck with me.”

You looked up, brushed the hair from his forehead, kissed him slow.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

[cosmictheo]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄 | bob reynolds

( gif credits to @springseventeen )

—summary: bob loves you so much that he slowly begins to transform into a house-husband for you. and he loves it. —pairing: bob reynolds x female!avenger!reader —word count: 5k (wow) —content: ultimate husband material boss. pure fluff tbh, bob's insecurity and low self-esteem, his need to be loved and approved. he is literally starting to act like your house-husband. he wears an apron!!! you reassure him as he deserves. bucky is such a dad. love confessions, some intense make-out session but nothing more than that. bob loves the reader so much it's crazy.

writer’s note: english is not my mother tongue, so please forgive me if there is a grammatical error. hope you like it!

Bob.

He had been quite special since you had met him, really. 

Yelena had told you that he liked you. Then Bucky had told you so too. And so had Ava. And Alexei. And John.

But how could Bob not like you, in all honesty? You'd been unnecessarily nice to him since you'd met. You didn't know him, he was a complete stranger, and yet you still showed him compassion and kindness. You stood by his side when you all together escaped the death trap that Valentina had set for you, and you defended him when Walker was getting especially mean to him. 

How could anyone not like you? That was the real question. You were perfect. In every sense of the word. Both figurative and literal. From your soul to your mind. You seemed to be an angel fallen from heaven. Something ethereal, something crafted by his own mind, made in the most beautiful dreams.

Bob would normally think of himself as a big idiot, a loser. That he could never have you. A part of him insisted that never, not even in a million other universes could he ever deserve you. He wanted you as his lover or his friend? It didn't really matter, he just wanted you in his life.

And yet, he was flirting with you anyway. Or at least that's what he thought he was doing.

“Here,” he'd told you every morning since you'd set up at the tower as the New Avengers... you insisted that you all should think of a new name. In his hand he held a cup of coffee, your favorite coffee, and on his face there was a sheepish little smile, your favorite smile. His eyes held that softness all over, that slight, hardly visible gleam, that you could always see it anyway, always, you caught a glimpse of it. Every time he looked at you. As if stars were hung from your hands. Well, technically they did, due to your superpower, that is.

“Thank you, Bobby,” you would say, offering him a warm smile, pronouncing that nickname so fondly and gently, that it had become a favorite nickname for his name. After so long hating it, after having caused him so much pain. Sure, now, his heart pounded when he heard it, his breathing quickened as well, but his chest swelled with tenderness. It was a good emotion, coming from a nice place. It didn't make him feel pain or sadness. Quite the opposite.

Bob was used to being an alien, isolated, left behind, to be hurt and broken. But you, you never left him behind. You always turned to look for him, to walk beside him, to gaze at him with those pretty eyes filled with concern and caring. You owed him nothing, you barely knew him, and yet, you were willing to walk in the void, in the darkness that concealed his heart and illuminate through with your light. You had saved him. And since then, you were his anchor.

You were patient. With his mood swings, his stuttering, his lack of confidence and his self-proclamation to inclination to ruin everything. He could never ruin you, you always assured him.

Love.

Bob had never even thought that he would ever have love in his life. That he would never truly grasp the concept of love, of loving. He didn't deserve it. He didn't deserve you.

You were the closest thing to love he will ever know. There was love in everything you did, in everything you said, in the way you called his name and in the way you looked at him.

He loved you.

“Relax, kid. You miss your Romeo that much?” Bucky blurted out in a tone that bordered near teasing, giving you an amused glance as you both walked over to the entrance of the Watchtower of the (New) Avengers, your home.

A mission had been assigned to the both of you as a duo. To locate the position of a small but potentially dangerous group of terrorists in the suburbs of New York city. There was an indication of where their base might have been. With your super senses it had been easy enough to just stumble upon it and with Bucky covering your back, you had arrested them all in less than twenty minutes.

It had been a successful mission. But the anxiety of being out in public had never really been something you could ignore, so the urge to go home was always lurking in the back of your mind.

To return to Bob, as well. Bob was a lingering thought in your mind now, an incessant remembrance. Something worth coming home safe and sound for.

“Drop it, Barnes,” you replied to your old friend, mumbling softly.

Bucky cracked a little chuckle, pressing the button to the top floors on the elevator once you were both inside. You could feel his intent gaze on your face and you could also sense all that he was trying to talk to you about.

“Look, I've never seen you like this before, okay? In all the years I've known you." He began to lecture you in a 'fraternal speech' mode, turning around so he could look at you, noticing how your cheeks were slightly flushed. “You're happy. It's been months since I've seen you as happy as you are now. You've been smiling and laughing more, you even started playing the piano again. And that's good, sweetheart,” he offered you a small smile, completely sincere and gentle, “You deserve to be, you know? Happy. You've been through a lot. And you have helped to protect this world longer than all of us. You deserve everything you want.”

You smiled back, but it soon twisted more into an apprehensive grimace, “Yeah, I just—” you heaved a sigh of concern, sensing that Bucky wanted you to talk to him, not from the exterior, but from your inner self, about how you felt. “It scares me....”

Bucky shook his head lightly, extending his flesh-and-blood hand to rest it on your shoulder, expressing sympathy. His fraternal demeanor always managed to make you feel comforted.

“It's normal to feel fear” then he cocked his head, narrowing his eyes as his face grew full of playfulness, “But, sweetheart, have you seen him? He's the strongest guy currently on planet Earth. What I know is that anyone who would try to hurt him or you is the one who should be afraid. He almost wiped out all of us together at once. It was kind of humiliating...”

“That wasn't him” you immediately replied using a low tone, remembering how chaotic and painful that day had been. You had had to fight the Void, you were the strongest among all the others, after Bob of course.

“I know,” Bucky replied, sighing softly, “What I'm trying to say is that you both deserve to be happy. Shit, the guy looks at you as if the stars hung from your hands. You both deserve to have something to fight for and protect. How are you going to protect a place that has nothing to protect?”

“That doesn't even—”

Bucky rolled his eyes, clicking his tongue disapprovingly, “Makes sense, I know—” he shook his head, frowning and gesturing with his hands in exaggerated fashion, “You know what I mean, kid.”

“Yeah... I know” you smiled softly at him, thoughtfully.

Once you had entered into your floor, you had gone straight to your room. You took off your suit, tossed it in the laundry basket, and then changed into more comfortable clothes.

You were combing your hair when you heard three soft knocks on your door. You didn't have to look to know who it was, you had already recognized his racing heartbeat from the moment he had turned around the corner.

“Come in!” you exclaimed, concentrating on combing your hair, letting it loose.

The door opened to reveal Bob. He was wearing a chef's apron, with an adorable cat pattern design. And his face was even more adorable. His cheeks were slightly flushed, his eyes were soft all over, and a sheepish smile graced his thin lips. 

He was wearing that beanie again. 

He had been wearing it for more than two days now, for some unknown reason, making it impossible for you to see his hair. It wasn't even cold in there, the building's heating system was perfect.

“Hi,” he greeted you, raising his hand to wave at you with it, making you smile, “I cooked for you”

He watched you put the hair comb on your vanity desk, his blue eyes fleetingly roaming over all of you. 

Bob thought you always looked beautiful. In the suit or in a shirt of some really old band you'd never heard in your life. But the suit truly looked good on you. The colors were perfect and even though you said the cape was ridiculous and over the top, it made you look magnificent when you flew.

It was like a second skin, the fabric clinging tightly to your body, molding your curves so perfectly. He never thought he would be jealous of a piece of fabric.

Before he kept picturing you in your suit, he let his gaze wander across your room, falling on your record player, playing a Jeff Buckley song, from your favorite albums, he knew. Many times he had listened to it with you, sitting right there on the bed next to you.

His eyes then fell on the pair of small pictures you had on your nightstand next to your bed. In one of the pictures, he could see himself sleeping with his head resting on your shoulder, your self also sleeping on the couch, just having a Disney movie marathon. Alexei had taken the picture, of course, and you had begged him to give him a copy. Bob had also asked for one, keeping the picture next to his bed. It was a cute photo, you looked so cute in it.

“You cooked for me, Bob?” you asked back, your face expressing the tenderness you felt inside. “Again? You know you shouldn't—”

He turned back to you and nodded his head, interrupting you, “I know you like tacos, you said so the other time. I thought you might like to eat them after the mission.”

Realizing you weren't saying a word back and just stared at him, he grew even more nervous under your powerful gaze, his fingers fidgeting at his sides and his gaze dropped to the floor, puffing out a small awkward chuckle.

“But— uh— if you don't want to eat them, it's okay‒ you must‒ you must be tired. I don't think I cook very well either—”

“Why are you wearing that beanie again?” you interrupted his rambling, genuinely confused. 

You had noticed the way he was pulling the edges of the fabric down his forehead, preventing any strands of his hair from slipping out and being seen.

“Uh?” he stammered, his brow furrowing slightly, “Oh, this? It's nothing, it's just—” he gestured with his hands anxiously, making it impossible for him to look you directly in the eye, “It's a bit chilly in here. I don't want to catch a cold.”

You sighed softly, looking at him with concerned eyes, “Bobby, I can literally sense you're lying to me.” You then slightly shook your head, “You can't catch a cold since Project Sentry, honey. And it's almost twenty degrees in here.”

He shifted his body weight down between his two feet, still staring at the ground, resembling a child who was being scolded. When he eventually looked up from the floor, his eyes held a dull, sad look.

“It's just...”

This time he interrupted himself, growing quiet and letting the silence carry his words away. It took him a few moments to reflect on an answer for you, sorting through the words and phrases that were rushing through his head.

You waited so patiently for him. As always.

“The bleach is wearing off and I have a horrible mix of colors. My hair is just a mess now,” he was finally able to express, motioning with his hands, in some way to detract from what he was talking about, but you could see beyond that. You understood that this was something important to him, something that had been troubling him.

You patted the bed, sitting down on it and inviting him to sit down as well, “Come here, Bobby." 

He obeyed you, of course, making his way to your bed, awkwardly tripping over his own feet on the path.

Once he was seated next to you, he made an effort to maintain eye contact with you, but just couldn't, casting his eyes down to his lap, where his hands were fidgeting, revealing sheer nervousness and anxiety.

“You don't want to be seen with your brown hair?” you asked him in a soft tone, intending to seek his gaze and attempting as well to let him allow you to let you see beyond his mask and beyond what he usually pretended to be. “I like your natural hair color.”

“Brown?” he questioned back, appearing genuinely troubled, even more gloomy now. His brow was furrowed and his voice wavered into disbelief, “But it's so.... lame.”

“Let me see” you pleaded and Bob immediately gave in, sighing shakily before raising his hands to his head, tugging the cap off and allowing you to see the, as he put it, mess that was his hair. But it wasn't at all.

Sure, the ends were still affected by the bleach, they were mainly burned and dehydrated, and now most of his hair was brown, gradually returning to its natural color. A couple of wavy strands fell on his forehead, contrasting so beautifully with the color of his skin.

Bob looked embarrassed now. Still gazing down at his lap, his hands clenching the beanie between his fingers. He was expecting you to make fun of him, to make some joking remark about how ugly his hair was or how ridiculous he was for even giving so much thought to how it looked in the first place.

But you, you just offered him a gentle smile. And then your hand ran down the side of his head, picking up a brown lock and brushing it back away from his forehead. That's when he finally looked back up at you, awestruck.

“Your hair is so pretty just the way it is, Bob” you began to tell him and your voice delivered so much reassurance and comfort, it was so soothing. The way you pronounced his name made him feel his heart flip in his chest. “You don't need to change anything about it. You don't have to prove anything. You're not him.”

“I know,” he whispered, holding your gaze, pressing his face against the palm of your hand, clawing desperately for your touch. He didn't want to beg. He didn't have to. He knew you could feel it, his longing, the aching, the need for love, for your love. “I just thought that.... well, they all said that blond was better, to be the Sentry, to look stronger and— and‒ and attractive. I thought, that way you'd like me better—blond, I mean.”

“Does the opinion of others matter much to you?”

Bob shook his head, just barely, so as to avoid under any circumstances straying far out of your hand, and then murmured, shyly, “Only yours.”

“I like you in any way, Bob” you replied, assuring him, and when he placed a kiss on the palm of your hand, you felt your heart halt, “Every side of you. The good side, the bad side. I like you. All of you.”

Bob swallowed saliva, parting his lips to let out a soft shaky sigh, “With you it's only the good side. You bring out the best in me.”

“Can I kiss you?” you even had the audacity to ask. When he was looking at you like that, as if you were the most precious creature in the entire universe. When you had never felt or known love as pure as the love Bob was extending to you through his mere gaze.

“Y‒yes, p‒please” he begged.

You kissed him. 

And the world stopped. All the noise muffled around him, the voices whispering that he'd made a mistake once again hushed. The darkness was succumbing to the light. Your light.

His lips followed yours like an instinct, like something they had been used to in another life, in another universe. Like picking up an old habit. Like second nature, his hands landed on your waist, a tentative but yearning touch.

Your mouth connected with his like old pieces of a puzzle finally coming together, fitting as if they were made for each other. Now, everything seemed to make sense, the whole universe, all the pain, all the suffering, all the mistakes, everything that had brought you there, to that very moment.

“You're everything I've dreamed of” he whispered against your lips once the kiss was over, still with his eyes closed, like it was all a dream, if he dared to open them, you would disappear from his arms. So he held you close, pulling you desperately against him.

You kissed him again. 

Eventually Bob opened his eyes and they instantly softened as they found yours looking back at them. It wasn't a dream, no. It was reality. This was really happening.

He had kissed you- well, you had kissed him. But you were there, in his arms, his hands molding the curve of your waist as if they were made to hold you. All of a sudden, he realized he wasn't really meant to be anyone in this life, not some superhero, some weapon, some asset, no, Bob was meant for you. He was made to be yours. 

His hands were not made to destroy, they were made to hold you. To protect you.

His whole being was made to love you.

Bob loved you.

“Can I kiss you again?” he asks, his eyes lowering from yours to your lips again, and again, and again....

His fingers caressed your hips, nudging your bare skin below the hem of your shirt, and the very touch sent shivers down your spine.

“Don't hesitate, just kiss me” you assured him back in a whisper and he savored the breath of your utterance, kissing you again, most passionately this time. 

Your hands embraced his neck and you pulled him close to you, leaning back against one of the many pillows on your bed. He kept kissing you, like a starving man, careful not to crush you with his weight, one of his hands rested on the side of your body against the bed.

His hair brushed against your face, tickling you.

“I'm bad at this, I'm sorry—” he suddenly apologized, as if he just was coming back down to the ground and snapping back to reality, detaching himself from you, only barely, just enough to be able to look at you. Above you he looked like a god. Looking down at you with those eyes, darkened by love and longing. His face was all red and his pupils dilated. Up close, you could distinguish the tiny greenish shades within all the light blue of his orbs. “I haven't kissed anyone in— God, I can't even remember— I'm sorry.”

“Hey, it's okay” you tried to reassure him, looking up at him with doting, soft eyes. He took the moment to just admire you, his lips parted, reddened from all the kissing. “Me neither.”

“What?” Bob displayed his incredulity at your words, his brow furrowing faintly, barely a hint of a smile tugging at his mouth. His unoccupied hand trailed up your body, tracing your curves, all the way to your jaw, his fingers fondly caressing your skin, looking down at you with adoration, not even missing a chance to marvel at you to blink, “That makes no sense— You're a good kisser. The best kisser.”

Now it was your turn to blush, shifting your gaze down to his chest, avoiding his, feeling flushed and really hot all of a sudden. But Bob didn't let you stray too far from him, as he kept his hand on your chin, lifting your face so he could gaze directly into your eyes.

“Don't look at me like that” you pleaded in a quiet whisper, locking your gaze with his again. The blue of his eyes sparkled in reflection of yours, all threatening to surround you entirely and pull you into the serene indigo sea they held within them.

Bob soaked his lips with his tongue, catching a glimpse of your gaze dropping to them for just a second. His finger nuzzled up against your cheek, tracing a tender caressing line across your skin. The touch struck an earthquake inside you and your heart thumped unquietly in your chest, menacing to leap out to join his.

“I always look at you like this,” he uttered your name as if it were his own religion, “You are so pretty...”

You are incomparable in his eyes. His love for you is unconditional, even on bad days. His loyalty relies on you blindly, unbreakable.

“Y‒you make me happy” he murmured after a comfortable and serene silence, full of emotions, good emotions. “I'd forgotten what that felt like. But you gave it to me again. Happiness. Belonging. Love.” He breathed out a chuckle, appearing incredulous, “God, I even started cooking. I mean, w‒when had I ever done that?”

You kissed him again, devastatingly gentle, tender, loving, just the way you always addressed him and only him. 

And he drank in everything you gave him, every kiss, every caress and every touch, as if you were the reason he existed, the reason he breathed.

He breathed out a raspy whimper against your lips when you pulled his hair at the nape of his neck, your fingers sinking through the brown locks, pressing him closer to you.

“Do that again, please” Bob pleaded in a husky whisper, in between kisses, nearly in despair, breathing out in a cracked voice.

You tugged on his hair once more and Bob's voice broke into a groan, his eyes squinting, gazing into yours as if they were the center of the universe.

“Can I touch you?” you asked him before kissing his lips once more and you could almost feel him vibrate against you as he nodded his head in a frenzy.

He kissed you again, uttering your name like a prayer, “Please touch me, do whatever you want to me, but don't ever stop touching me.”

You breathed out a little giggle as when you realized that he was in fact wearing an apron. He looked so cute in it.

“The apron looks good on you.” he blushed furiously at your words, if it was even more possible. His skin was now crimson, as red as a tomato. “You would be a fine house husband”

The lights in your room flickered just as you pronounced the words, and you knew it had been him. So powerful, so strong, yet he was melting apart under your touch, completely at your mercy.

His skin was warm, it felt like porcelain under your touch.

The lights faded in and out again.

“I'm d-doing okay?” Bob asked, his hands settled on your hips, digits sinking into the fabric of your shorts. His lips quivered, forming a hint of a nervous smile, looking down at you, searching for your approval,

“You're perfect, baby” you assured him, kissing his chest one last time before beginning to make a path of kisses through all his face, making him smile.

“Perfect, perfect, perfect” you murmured several times against his warm skin.

Bob gasped shakily, his hands groping as much of you as they could, slipping under the thin fabric of your shirt, “Fuck-- you drive me crazy. You're so pretty, so good to me... You make me so happy, baby”

And then you hugged him, pressing him against you close, impossibly close. He carefully rolled you both over on the bed, with him now under you, so that he could hold your whole body, feel your full weight pressed against his.  

Your eyes filled with tears at his statement, fully understanding that it was difficult for him to express his emotions, to say out loud what he was feeling and what was going on inside his head. But anyway, he had done all that for you.

“You make me happy too” you whispered to him, reassured him, promised him back. He hugged you tightly, snuggling close to you, locking his body to yours.

Bob placed a tentative but loving kiss on your shoulder just as you were pulling away from him, gently tugging on his shoulders to make him sit up on the bed as well, in front of you, with your legs entangled.

“You must be tired. Your mission went well?” he asked curiously, releasing one of your hands to run it up the side of your face and you pressed it against his palm as an instinct, closing your eyes and letting yourself feel the warmth and reassurance his touch provided, “I missed feeling you here.”

He was looking at you in awe. The way you pressed yourself against his hand, the same hand that had hurt so many people, that had caused so much pain and destruction. And now it was holding your face as if it were the whole world.

“Feeling me?” you raised your eyebrows, tone of voice growing teasing.

Bob blushed, and let go of your hand to pass it through his hair, “Y‒your presence, your heartbeat, your breathing, y‒you know.”

“My heartbeat?” you asked him another question just to tease him.

He became even more nervous, his hand returned to yours, interlacing his fingers with yours and giving you a gentle squeeze, asking for silent mercy, but you looked at him attentively with a smirk, “All I can think about is you, h‒honestly.” he watched as your smile quivered with his words, “You're everywhere. I just... feel you.”

He left you speechless once again, looking up at him, holding your breath.

“I'm sorry—I'm just saying what comes to mind” Bob rushed to apologize once again, lowering his gaze to your joined hands, feeling your warmth engulf him all over, as your thumb stroked his knuckles soothingly. His own thumb traced your cheekbone as if he were brushing the most magnificent shape in the world. You were. In his eyes. “I'm not being polite right now. It's nothing—”

“Bob,” you called his name, interrupting him and causing him to look up at you, both of your hands going to cup his face. He fell silent, gawking at you, in utter awe, roaming his eyes over every inch of your face, intending to remember every single detail, every fragment of your complexion, “You're everything. Everything.”

His eyes glistened, crystallizing with a couple of tears, not out of sadness or pain, no, they were from happiness, from feeling complete, from feeling that he finally belonged somewhere. By your side.

“Thank you” he then breathed a few times, kissing the palms of your hands pressed against his face, cupping them with his own.

Your fingers caught a lock of his hair that had fallen over his face, brushing it back once again.

“I like it better this way” you commented, smiling sweetly.

“Yeah?” he asked gently, so happy he could leap.

You nodded your head, humming approvingly, “Blond looks good on you too. But I met you with brown hair, so I like you better that way.”

Bob kissed the palm of your hand once more, looking at you tenderly, “You met me at my worst.”

“We all have bad days, Bobby,” you murmured, trying to reassure him, “You've been through so much. And you're still here, still standing. You're so strong”

“Thanks to you,” he replied and hurried to add, blushing, “And to the others— of course. Anyway, you must be hungry. Your stomach is growling.”

He took your hand, and waited for you to put on your shark slippers, still blushing. Then he led you out of your room, 'Lover, you should've come over' playing from your record player as you closed the door behind you. You smiled affectionately, walking beside him.

But your smile was washed off your face once you passed through the threshold of the kitchen, encountering Alexei and John, devouring the tacos that Bob had cooked, especially for you.

Seeing you appear in the kitchen, with both of you looking absolutely terrorized, Alexei took a big sip of his beer, raising his eyebrows, “What happened to you, kids?”

John, sitting next to him, burped, just finishing munching on the last remaining taco, “These were really good.” he wiped his mouth with a napkin and made his way towards the kitchen doorway, patting Bob's shoulder as he passed by him, “Thanks, Bobby.”

Alexei nodded his head enthusiastically, showing agreement, following John, with his half-drunk beer in his hand, “You should be the team cook.”

You turned your face toward Bob, who was staring at the plate, now empty of tacos, with a frown on his face and a small pout curving his lips.

You gave his hand a squeeze, tugging him to walk into the kitchen with you.

“Come on, honey, we can do more tacos” you tried to encourage him, holding back the urge to laugh at the sight of his face all pouty.

“I hope they don't have sex in the kitchen, that would be gross” you heard John say to Alexei with your super hearing.

“I heard that!” you exclaimed, looking toward the open kitchen door.

Then you heard Alexei's guffaw as you turned to look at Bob, pouty and blushing now.

[madamechrissy]

Took you Like a Shot Masterlist

Chapter One - Chapter Two - Chapter Three - Chapter Four - Chapter Five ( final)

Pairings- Rich Frat/fuckboi Toru x Preppy Sorority reader

Summary- One VERY drunk encounter between your greatest rival ever - on your last day of college- leads to you being knocked up. Satoru Gojo, a fuckboy, fratboy, rich little jerk, has been a rival of yours since you all met in College, every damn grade you fought for he got with ease. He crashed every Sorority party you threw. The two of you are so infamous in your rivalry, your friend groups were rivals, and for some reason, life is playing some damn joke on you both. Now... you have to tell him the news - but how Satoru takes it surprises you. Can you both raise a baby together!? And do you even really know each other?

Contents/Warnings- gonna be flashbacks to the rivalry/that night, nerdjo but make him a fratboy, enemies to kind of begrudging partners, but then as the pregnancy progresses, they fall in love hehe- fluffy and smutty, MDNI -will have explicit sex etc, art in the banner by Yuana on X - finished! WC 42k

Playlist -preview below!- headcanons - here & here - Fratboy! Sukuna here

It had been an absolutely filthy night, that led to your doctor coming in and informing you three months later-

'You're pregnant'

You came in for a normal checkup, you're on the pill and you have no sex life, aside from one encounter over three months ago. A filthy, questionable ass encounter with what so happened to be your former 'bully' - rich boy, frat boy, pretty boy, pretentious boy- Satoru Gojo.

For years, the two of you were rivals, not just academic either, since you were both top of your class all through college, but at everything. He'd hold your notebooks high and laugh at you, he'd try to ruin and crash every sorority event he could. Known as the Queen and King of the campus, you ran the rivaling Sorority to his Fraternity. The amount of times you all had gone toe to toe was literally notorious, even your best friends hated each other on your behalf, starting an entire war between you all.

You have no clue how it happened, still, how the two of you had the best sex of your life at that damn party, fueled by drinks but also something you'd never admit- you've always wondered. Hearing those stories about his... skills, seeing his perfect body and the way his pretty lips smirked so cruelly your direction, even after all these years- how it all led to this moment.

'Hah, sweets, ya finally admit I'm good at something?' Satoru had murmured in your ear, while he'd had you bent right over some bed at some party- both of you were seniors in college on your last and final party, finally you thought you'd be rid of him, of this ass of a man. He was going to live the rich life, working for his family, you were moving on to a whole different career.

'One t-thing... that's it...' You had cried out when his cock had shoved in so deep, making you cum all over him, his fingers gripping your hips while he'd pumped deeper and deeper, impossibly until he'd been right on your cervix. 'F-fuck!'

'Fuck... you had a pussy like this and we've been fighting!?' Satoru is whispering, resting his snowy locks against your neck, biting it with sharp teeth as you milk his cock. 'so greedy, huh?'

'S-shut up, mnh- just... keep... there, there shit!' Satoru had slammed right against your cervix, feeling you pulsing around him, it had been too good, too tight, too fucking wet, he'd paused then, looking at your arched ass, your skirt shoved over your hips. 'Keep g-going, please...'

'M'gonna cum, tho-she's too tight- shit can I?'

Your drunk ass had said- sure. You're precise on that pill, every day your alarm goes off in the morning, you take it. How could...

"Pregnant!?" You repeat. Unbelievable. No fucking way. You...

"Yes sweetie I suggest prenatal and an ultrasound, hmm?" The nurse says so sweetly, as you feel sick to your stomach, which your hand goes down to touch.

Pregnant. With rich, notorious fuckboy Satoru Gojo’s baby- now you would have to tell him!?

Shit.

[agreeewrites]

PLEASEEEE MORE POSSESSIVE JELOUS DRACO🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️YOUR BAD SANTA FIC WAS LITERALLY EVEYTHING. POSSESSIVE MEN GOT ME WEAK

thank you for the request!! hope this is satisfactory 🫶🏻

Flutterby Baby | D.M.

feat. Draco Malfoy x fem!reader

SUMMARY: Draco finds out another student sabotaged your Herbology project.

CW: MDNI 18+, smut, draco’s pov, established relationship, possessive!draco, bullying, hurt/comfort, men suck, sort of rough fingering & piv, affectionate degradation if you squint (he refers to her as a plant), blood/fighting

masterlist

Draco watched as you pushed your pasta around your plate, staring absently at the whirls of sauce on the porcelain. You’d been quiet the entire meal, only speaking when directly spoken to by your group of friends, and even then, it was half-hearted, brief answers.

Both were unusual for his talkative, carb-loving girl.

He placed a light hand on your thigh, leaning closer to you. The warmth of your skin, the sweetness of your perfume, beckoned him even closer, but he ignored his impulses. “Everything alright, darling?” He asked, low enough that your friends couldn’t hear.

“Yes, just not very hungry,” you said in your pretty little voice, placing your hand over his and pecking his cheek.

He didn’t buy it. “I can track down some takeaway and we can eat in my dorm, if you’d like,” he offered, wondering if the commotion in the Great Hall was a bit too much for you.

You shook your head, another stunning development. You never turned down takeaway. “I’m fine, baby. Thank you, though.”

“Well, if you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask. I’ll make one of these sod’s fetch it for you,” he teased, hoping to get a smile out of you. He didn’t.

Draco sighed, pressing a kiss to your temple before turning back to the conversation he was in the middle of with Theo and Pansy. He continued to watch you in his periphery as you started to play with his fingers, twirling his signet ring around and around. As much as he enjoyed the mindless contact, the delicate brush of your skin, he knew this was a nervous habit of yours.

He had half-a-thought to excuse you both, but he knew that would only draw more attention to your melancholy state, which would likely make you feel even worse. He could pick your brain later. Right now, he needed to make sure you were fed.

Casually, he picked up his fork, twirling a bit of his own pasta around the tines. Without breaking away from his conversation, he held the fork up to you, hoping you’d take a bite without really thinking about it. It was a small ritual the two of you developed during lengthy family dinners, something you often did automatically if he offered food to you. He felt you shift forward, your mouth wrap around the small bite, and you ate it.

He squeezed your thigh, a flare of affection making his heart pound. Good girl, he thought, but refrained from saying aloud.

The rest of dinner continued like that, Draco keeping your friends talking and distracted while he fed you small bites of his own dinner, your fingers twined with his in your lap. When he held up a bite and you gave small shake of your head, he knew it was because you were actually full, and he set his fork down, satisfied. For now.

That night in the common room, you were curled up in your chair by the fire, a book open in your lap while everyone pretended to study around you. He watched your eyes, your hands curled around the cover, and you were motionless. No pages turned, no lines devoured.

His worry deepened. Blaise seemed to notice as well, and gave him a curious look, dark brow raised. And of course, Theo caught the exchange, but turned back to his work, pretending he didn’t.

A prickle of suspicion climbed Draco’s neck. Typically, Theo was the first one to make a fuss over someone being in a sour mood due to his inability to tolerate negative emotions, but this time, he stayed silent.

Very odd, indeed.

But he could worry about Theo later. Draco lifted himself from the couch and walked over to you, dropping onto the floor in front of your chair. He tilted his head back, resting it against your shins. You reached down, dragging your fingers through his hair while you continued “reading” your book. He let his eyes flutter closed at the sensation, and tried to think of a way to draw you out of your head.

Lips pressed against his forehead, your perfume wafting over him, and he hummed in appreciation, reaching up to cradle your face. You leaned your cheek into his palm, and he titled his head back a little further to connect your lips in a soft kiss.

Your lips moved against his, brief and tender, and some of his tension unwound. It didn’t seem that you were upset with him, which was a relief. But, he wasn’t any closer to figuring out what exactly was troubling you.

“I’m going to go to bed,” you murmured in his ear, and he blinked in surprise, checking his watch.

It wasn’t even nine o’clock.

“So early, love? Are you feeling alright?” He turned to face you, rising to his knees. The group noticed, but he was too concerned to care. He placed the back of his hand on your forehead, your cheek, your neck, but you waved him away.

“I’m fine, D. Just tired,” you said, averting your eyes from his and rising from your chair.

“Baby—”

You leaned down and kissed him again, cutting off his protest. “I love you, I’ll see you in the morning,” you said, pecking his cheek one more time before walking towards the girls dormitory and ascending the stairs.

Draco slumped back to the ground, scrubbing a hand over his face.

“What did you do to her?” Pansy accused after a moment of tense silence.

“Nothing,” he snapped, though it was mostly toothless.

“She was acting strangely at dinner too,” Blaise noted. “She didn’t even have dessert.”

“Yeah, and she loves those chocolate things—what are they called?” Theo chimed in.

“Cauldron cakes,” Draco answered, glaring at them, irked that they were paying that close of attention to you. That was his job.

“Are you going to follow her?” Blaise asked, glancing at the stairs.

“No, he should give her some space,” Pansy said, giving him a pointed look.

“I’m perfectly capable of managing my girlfriend’s needs. Thank you,” he bit, and they fell quiet. He would leave you be, for now, but if you were still in a funk tomorrow evening, he’d be forced to intervene.

You were decidedly still unlike yourself come the following morning, and when he saw you during your shared Potion’s class. He continued to monitor the situation, trying to be patient like you often asked him to be, but that went out the window when you returned from your Herbology class with Theo in tears.

As soon as Draco saw your red and puffy eyes, he was on his feet. You ran straight into his chest, burying your wet face in his robes and digging your chilled hands into his back, trembling as your tears returned in earnest.

“Darling, what’s happened? What’s going on?” He cooed, wrapping his arms around your shaking torso, petting your hair in an attempt to soothe you. You didn’t respond, just held him tighter as you cried.

Theo tried to slip around the two of you, but Draco pinned him with a glare.

“What happened?” Draco hissed at him.

“Her Flutterby bush is dying,” Theo whispered, and you started to cry harder.

Shit. You’d slaved half the semester over this Flutterby bush in Herbology, it was your pride and joy, and you often stayed after hours with Professor Sprout to tend to it and the rest of the greenhouse. You had the greenest thumb Draco had ever encountered, and that plant was your baby. There was no way it would just suddenly die.

Draco raised a brow, and Theo made a ‘tell you later’ face. He nodded his head to dismiss his friend and turned his attention back to you, his poor, sensitive girl.

“Baby, it’s going to be alright. I’m sure you’ll figure out what’s going on—”

You shook you head. “It doesn’t make sense,” you sniffled, your voice muffled by his shirt. “It was perfectly fine. There’s no bugs or blights, I don’t understand.” You lifted your face, cheeks streaked with tears and lashes spikey, your eyes rimmed with red. The state of you made his heart ache.

“It’ll be alright,” he whispered, wiping your cheeks with his thumbs and pressing a kiss to your nose. “If anyone can save it, you can. You’re brilliant, love.” He used his sleeve to wipe your eyes and your nose before bundling you into his side. “Come on, relax for a bit with Pansy. That’ll help you think a little more clearly, yeah?”

You nodded, letting him deposit you on the couch beside your friend, who immediately abandoned what she was doing to fuss over you.

He kissed the top of your head, satisfied that you were well looked after for the time being. “I love you, I’ll be right back, okay?” He murmured, and you nodded again.

Theo was waiting for him in the hall. “Okay, so don’t get mad,” he said, holding his hands up.

Draco’s anger instantly flared. “Don’t give me a reason to get mad then.”

“She told me not to tell you because she knew you’d get all—” Theo gestured vaguely at Draco. “All…this.”

“Out with it, Nott,” he growled, fully prepared to punch his best friends nose through the back of his skull. What could you possibly want to keep from him?

“We think someone poisoned her plant,” Theo said, grimacing.

Draco froze, rage flaring so suddenly it darkened his vision. “What?” he snarled.

“We can’t say for sure yet,” Theo said hurriedly, trying to get ahead of the oncoming storm. “But there’s this one guy—”

“Who?”

“Reinhardt? Renfield? Something like that, I don’t know, he’s a Gryffindor. But he—Draco, where are you going?”

Draco was already halfway down the hall, formulating a plan in his mind about how to find this guy, and how to make him wish he’d never been born.

Theo grabbed his shoulder. “Listen, I have a better idea than storming the Gryffindor common room,” he said, and Draco paused.

“Go on.”

Draco loitered outside the Greenhouse, hidden by some trees, a stupid plastic ear in his hand. Theo had the other tucked into his robes, and Draco could hear Sprout beginning her lecture through their connection.

Draco sighed. This was ridiculous, he should just waltz in there and figure out exactly who this—

“Hey, y/n,” he heard someone mutter, an unfamiliar male voice, and he immediately held up the ear to listen. “Flutterby’s not lookin’ so good. Maybe I could help clear away some of the dead stuff?”

Draco's ears started ringing so loudly, he almost missed your response.

“I'm killing it just fine on my own, Renley, I don't need any assistance from you.”

He heard Theo snicker in the background, and Draco smiled. Atta girl.

“My mandrakes are thriving, thank you,” Renley replied, his voice tight with indignation. “It's a real shame about yours, though. Probably would have gotten you top marks.”

You didn't respond, and Draco gripped a tree branch to stop himself from charging through the glass to get this audacious fucker.

“Fuck off, Renford,” Theo warned, the feed clouded by his robes rustling.

“It's Renley,” the prick corrected, his voice a little louder, and Draco could practically hear Theo roll his eyes. “So, what do you say, sweetheart?” Sweetheart? Oh, this fucker was a dead man walking. “I'm willing to stay after and help you out. I'm good with poisons—”

“Poison’s?” You asked, a snarky lilt to your voice, and Draco loosed a relieved exhale despite the implication. For the first time in days, you sounded like yourself. “Who said anything about poison?”

“Oh, I—uh—”

“Reindeer, how did you know her plant was poisoned?” Theo prodded, his smirk audible.

“I don't! It's obv—it’s probably not p-poison!” Renley stammered.

“What's this about poison?” Sprout interrupted at the same moment Blaise, Crabbe, and Goyle emerged from the treeline.

“Check fucking mate,” Draco mouthed, grinning.

“Professor Sprout, I do believe Renley here just confessed to poisoning y/n’s beloved Flutterby bush,” Theo said.

“Is this true, dearie?” Sprout asked you.

“Yes ma’am, it explains the strange phenomena we noted, as well as the sudden nature of the ailment. Renley’s been taunting me for days, and finally his mouth got ahead of his brain,” you said, poised as a Queen, and Draco was so proud of you it hurt.

Sprout gasped. “Mr. Renley! To Dumbledore's office this instant!”

“Crabbe, Goyle, grab him,” Draco ordered, stuffing the ear into his robes.

The two of them lumbered over the door, staying out of sight until the culprit stepped out into the sunlight, and Goyle grabbed Renley by the shoulders and started to drag him back around the Greenhouse.

“Hey! What the fuck—” his words pinched to a strangled whine when he saw Draco and Blaise waiting a few feet away, arms folded over their chests, completely hidden from the rest of campus.

Goyle shoved him to the ground at Draco's feet, and the coward was already sniveling.

Draco crouched down, nose to nose with the fucker that made his girl miserable, and smiled. “Was it worth it, Renley?” Draco asked, his voice low.

“Look, Malfoy. I didn't mean to—”

Draco didn't give him a chance to finish his paltry excuse and cocked his fist back, slamming his knuckles square in the side of his jaw. The bone crunched under his fist, sending Renley flying sideways in a spray of spit and blood, and Draco rose, clenching and unclenching his aching hand.

Normally, he'd step back and let the others get their hands dirty, but you were his girl. And if anyone was going to defend your honor, it would be him.

“No, no please!” Renley begged when Goyle hauled him back up. Draco punched him again, dead on the nose, then the temple, then the sternum. Goyle let Renley fall, groveling and weeping as blood ran down his face, his eyes already half-swollen shut.

Draco grabbed him by the hair, lifting his head up so he could whisper in his ear. “You're lucky it wasn't poison,” he snarled, and dropped Renley’s head into the dirt. “Leave him on the front steps of the castle,” he said to Crabbe and Goyle, who immediately pulled the boy up and started dragging him back towards the castle.

Blaise chuckled. “That was fucking brutal, mate.”

Draco looked down at his bruised and bloody knuckles, the pain bright and deliciously satisfying, his signet ring splattered with red. “Like I said, he's lucky I didn't decide to poison him.”

The chatter of students filled the air, and he looked up to see the Greenhouse emptying. Theo headed straight for them, glancing at Draco's knuckles and the blood in the grass before breaking out in a wild grin.

“Sorry I missed it,” Theo laughed.

“Where is she?” Draco asked.

“Staying behind to administer the antidote. Sprout is leaving her to ensure Renley is dealt with accordingly.”

“Well, she certainly won't be disappointed,” Blaise snickered.

“So she’s alone?” Draco asked, raising an eyebrow. He was hoping to clean himself up before seeing you, but wasn't sure he could resist the temptation. Not with his blood still running hot and your smart little voice echoing in his mind.

“Yep.” Theo smirked. “See ya’ back in the common room.” He and Blaise turned and started heading back to the castle, leaving Draco alone.

He rounded the greenhouse, knocking with his sore knuckles so he didn't startle you.

“Draco? What are you—saints, your hands!” You cried, rushing over to open the door for him. You grabbed for his hands, face pinched with worry.

“I'm fine, love,” he cooed, letting you fuss. The air in the greenhouse was thick and warm, coaxing him in like a embrace. It smelled fresh and lush, sweet soil and green leaves, like you.

Merlin, he couldn't think straight with you looking at him like that.

“Who did—” you paused, eyes narrowing. “Renley?”

He smirked. “Maybe.”

“Draco!” You huffed, dropping his hands. “I had it under control!”

“I know you did! You were amazing! I just...accelerated the consequences.”

You glared at him, but he could see you softening by the second.

“Baby, I'm fine. And he'll be fine in like, four to five business days.”

“Draco!” You shouted, but you were smiling. He fucking loved what you called his name in that exasperated but undeniably affectionate voice. “You don't have to get involved all the time. I'm perfectly capable of fighting my own battles, and Professor Sprout was working with me to solve it and—”

Draco reached out, pinching your cheeks with one hand, pursing your pouting lips and dragging you closer to him. “I'd do it again in a heartbeat. No one fucks with you so long as I'm breathing, is that clear?”

You nodded, eyes round and sweet like honey.

He released your face, sliding his hand into the hair at the nape of your neck and craning your head upwards. “Can I kiss you now? Or would you like to keep telling me off?”

You leaned forward, pressing your lips to his in a playful, smiley kiss. “Anything for my hero.”

“Anything?” Draco purred, walking you back into the long work table. You gasped, arching against his chest, and he caught the sound with another kiss, slipping his tongue past your lips to taste you.

Your tongue tangled with his, so eager as you pulled his tie to bring him closer. He guided your tongue into his mouth, sucking lightly before releasing you to bite your lip, toying with your mouth like he owned it.

And he could feel how much you loved it, your hips pressing against his as your hands wandered his chest, unable to pick a resting place.

He smiles, moving his hands to grip your hips. In a quick movement, he spun you around. Your hands slapped onto the table to catch yourself, your perfect ass pressing back against his rapidly hardening cock.

“Draco,” you whined, trying to look over your shoulder at him.

He tsked, sliding up your skirt, admiring the way his ruined knuckles looked against the soft flesh. “Do you want me to be gentle with you, darling?” He already knew what your answer would be, especially after a few stressful days, but he felt inclined to double check.

You shook your head side to side, pressing your ass back into his hands. “No.”

He smiled, squeezing the ample flesh, then delivered a swift slap that made you gasp. “That's my girl. You want me to scare away all those bad thoughts? Turn your brain off for a bit?” He slid his right hand between your legs, gliding two fingers over the damp spot on your panties.

You nodded, nails scratching along the wood when he applied a little pressure, moving his hand in a slow circle.

“Words, love,” he said, pausing his movement.

“Yes, baby. Please,” you whined, and his cock gave a painful lurch against his thigh.

“Colloportus,” he murmured, flicking his wand to lock the Greenhouse door. “Don't move,” he ordered, then walked over to the sink, washing the blood from his hands and muttering a quiet episkey to fix most of the damage on his skin. Some cuts remained, and his hands were still sore and slightly bruised, but it wasn't nearly as bad.

Satisfied, he turned his attention back to you, where you remained perfectly still, nibbling at your lower lip. In quick movement, he pulled down your panties, letting the fall around your ankles, and kicked your feet further apart, forcing you to lay your chest against the table.

“There we go,” he purred, bringing his hand back between your legs.

You were already soaked, hot and slick as his middle finger swiped through your sex. He started massaging your clit, quick, light circles that had you moaning breathlessly.

“Better, darling? Nothing to worry about besides being my good girl.” He moved away from your clit and eased his middle finger inside of you, his signet ring kissing your entrance before he curled his finger up. Your walls fluttered around him, sucking back against his finger when he pulled it out, only to graciously stretch for him when he added a second.

“Fuck, D,” you moaned, rocking your hips against his hand. “You said you wouldn't be gentle “

He smirked, enraptured with the way your pretty little cunt yielded for his battered hand. “Just so pretty,” he hummed, leaning down to whisper in your ear, pressing you harder against the table. “Can't help but worship you a little.”

You opened your mouth to reply, but he slammed his fingers inside of you, drilling into your channel with sloppy, punishing strokes. You cried out, feet sliding around on the floor, but he had you pinned and at his mercy.

“This better, brat?” He growled, nipping at your ear when you keened for him, unable to formulate a response. “Oh, how that fucker wishes he could see you now,” he drawled, straightening while his fingers fucked into you. “What'd he call you? Sweetheart?” He chuckled. “Sweet doesn't begin to cover it.”

“How did you—”

He slipped his fingers out to work your clit, the bud swelling under his touch as your orgasm built, and your words twisted into a moan. He tried to stay focused, keep you on the edge until he was sheathed inside of you, but couldn't bring himself to stop just yet.

“Are you sweet, baby?” He asked, swatting your ass cheek, enjoying the way your flesh rippled.

“Only for you,” you gasped, starting to tremble as that knot wound tighter and tighter.

“That's right,” he praised, undoing his trousers and taking his cock in his hand. He was insanely hard, the head a deep pink, pearly precum beading from the slit. He pumped himself twice to relieve some of the ache, then notched himself at your entrance, not pausing his assault on your clit for a moment. “All fucking mine,” he growled at the same moment he thrust inside of you, burying himself to the hilt.

You cried out, muscles contracting hard around him, and he groaned low in his throat. You were so fucking tight, gooey and supple when you weren't squeezing the life out of him. He drew back a few inches before snapping his hips forward, gripping your ass cheek in his free hand to keep you spread for him as he pounded into you.

He felt your orgasm hit the second before you did, your cunt clamping down on him a heartbeat before you screamed, your whole body locking up before going completely limp. He didn't let up, no matter how much you shook, how much you begged. Your tears left damp spots on the wood, your knees trying to buckle inwards, but he planted his feet on the inside of yours, forcing you to stay upright.

“Good fucking girl,” he rasped, snaking a hand up your spine to grip your hair and pull your head back. “Doing so well for me, sweet thing.” He was panting, the heat of the greenhouse coupled with the exterior making sweat collect around his hairline and drip down his spine. His knuckles burned from the salt, hands ached from being used long past when they should have been bandaged, but he didn't give a single fuck.

“Draco, shit—fuck me so good.” You reached back for him, nails dragging along his forearm, and he felt himself teeter on the edge of release, his balls drawing up tight as liquid heat spread through his pelvis.

“Give me one more, baby. I know you can. Then I'll water my favorite plant.”

Your pussy clenched at his words, a wanton moan falling from your lips, and he smiled. You were such a little freak, his little freak, and he loved you all the more it.

“You like being my pretty little houseplant? All mine to take care of?” Fuck, he was close, rambling in an attempt to distract himself and spend just a little longer in the delicious heat of your body.

“Yes, yes—fuck!” You were coming again, your whole body convusling as it ripped through you, and he was done for. He came with a yell, hips stuttering against your ass as he pumped rope after rope of release into your spasming cunt.

“Bloody hell, baby,” he moaned, bracing his hands on the table as he came down, his hips involuntarily rocking into your greedy warmth. You, poor thing, were left drooling and trembling, completely boneless, held up entirely by the table and his hips. He leaned forward, pressing kisses into your hair. “Did so good, love. So fucking perfect,” he murmured, throat tight with affection.

“Squishin’ me,” you giggled, squirming beneath him, and he straightened, nearly toppling over himself at the weak feeling in his knees.

“Sorry, darling,” he chuckled, and you groaned, pushing yourself up on trembling arms. He moved his feet, letting you close your legs, and he hissed through his teeth at the new tightness around his softening cock, stealing a final thrust before slipping out of you.

“Mm, how did you know he called me sweetheart?” You asked, peeking over your shoulder at him while he grabbed his wand to clean you both up.

“I have my methods,” he replied, righting your clothes and helping you stand up, relishing in the lingering tremble in your limbs.

“Were you spying on me, Draco Malfoy?” You teased, tugging him down by the tie so you were face to face.

He smirked. “Perhaps.”

“What a horrible invasion of privacy,” you snickered, giving him a playful peck.

“You want to punish me for it?” He nipped at your lower lip and you grinned, pushing lightly on his chest.

“Enough you, I have to administer the antidote before my plant gets any sicker.”

“Good thing I already cured mine,” he teased, and you swatted him before slipping out of his arms.

“You're insufferable.”

“And you're adorable.”

You grabbed some items from the shelves and a watering can, then paused, turning to look at him, a deadly serious look on your face. “Can we get takeaway after this?”

He snorted, his heart doing a giddy little flip. “Of course we can.”

© agreeewrites 2025. do not copy, translate or claim my writing as your own.

[harrysfolklore]

nepo boyfriend - fc43

summary: franco colapinto is dating leo messi's daughter, which makes him a "nepo boyfriend"

folkie radio: GUYSSS HERE IT IS! took me a minute to do this requests but there you have it. i had to educate myself on messi lore for this and omg he has the cutest love story with his wife, im obsessed lol. anyway, i hope you like this!

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

liked by francolapinto, olliebearman and 202,826 others

yn.messi home 🤍🇦🇷

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username1 IT GIRLLL

username2 coolest nepo baby

username3 ESPERA is that franco colapinto??

└ username1 she's been dating franco for years now 👀

└ username4 our boy stealing messi's daughter's heart purrrr

username5 little messi has a boyfriend???

└ username1 yeah he's literally argentina's next f1 star

francolapinto mi hogar está dondequiera que estés ♥️ [home is wherever you are]

└ yn.messi 🫂🤍

username6 imagine your dad being the most famous sportsman ever and dating a cute guy and wearing cute outfits. she has the dream life

username7 i can’t wait for franco to make it to f1 so they become the paddock it couple

liked by francolapinto, yn.messi and 509,268 others

williamsracing BREAKING: Franco Colapinto joins Williams Racing for the rest of the 2024 season. Welcome to the family, @/francolapinto!

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username1 OMFGGGGG

username2 poor logan but franco is really talented he deserves this chance !!

username3 HES SO CUTE HELLO??

yn.messi mi campeón 🫶✨ [my champion]

└ francolapinto ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

└ username1 LEO MESSI’S DAUGHTER??

alex_albon Welcome to the team mate!

└ francolapinto gracias Alex! Ready to learn 💪

username4 ARGENTINA IS BACK IN F1

leomessi 👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼

└ username2 LEO COMMENTING ON F1 POST??? history

└ username3 argentina’s pride and joy already

username5 IS HE SINGLE??? PLEASE TELL ME HE IS

username6 new fans you better learn the franco lore bc there’s plenty of it

username7 WAIT UNTIL YOU FIND OUT THAT-

liked by francolapinto, lilymhe and 389,766 others

yn.messi first of many. orgullosa de vos siempre 🤍 [proud of you always]

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username1 awe 🥹🥹🥹🥹

username2 MY BABIES

username3 THEY’RE TOGETHER ???

francolapinto gracias por todo mi amor ❤️ [thank you for everything my love]

└ username3 HE CALLED HER MI AMOR I'M CRYING

└ username1 someone check if i'm breathing

└ yourinstagram i love you!

username4 THE WAY SHE'S BEEN THERE SINCE FOREVER

└ username1 that's real love right there

└ username2 watching them grow together >>>>>>

williamsracing Our favorite supporter 💙

└ yn.messi 🫶🫶

lilymhe welcome! 🥹💗💗

username5 my girl really said forget football i'm going racing

└ username1 leo watching his princess date a racer instead of a footballer: 🧍‍♂️

└ username2 the crossover we didn't know we needed

username6 remember when we thought those pics in buenos aires were edited??

username7 THE MINI MESSI AND THE F1 DRIVER, THIS IS MY ROMAN EMPIRE

username8 first we got leo bringing us the world cup now franco in f1 🇦🇷

└ username2 and yn connecting both worlds, iconic behavior

username9 the way he looks at her in the first pic >>>>>

username10 IM SO CONFUSED RIGHT NOW

liked by username1, username2 and 56,827 others

f1gossip 🚨 Williams driver Franco Colapinto spotted with YN Messi (yes, THAT Messi's daughter) at dinner in Monaco

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username1 WAIT WHAT??? HOW DID WE NOT KNOW THIS

└ username2 they've literally been together for like four years 😭

└ username3 where have you been living?? under a rock??

username4 messi's daughter dating an f1 driver?? didn't see this coming

└ username2 she's been at every race supporting him!

username5 they're literally the cutest couple in f1 rn

username6 probably just wants messi's connections for sponsors tbh

└ username2 he literally got the williams seat on merit stfu

└ username3 tell me you know nothing about franco without telling me

username7 she could do better than a pay driver

└ username2 clearly you haven't watched a single f2 race

└ username3 worry about your own life challenge

└ username4 he's literally argentina's biggest racing talent in years

username8 why isn't she dating a footballer instead??

└ username2 because she can date whoever she wants??

username9 they've been together for ages, internet using internet internet explorer fr

└ username3 real ones remember their first spotting in buenos aires

username10 the amount of sponsorship money williams must be getting

username11 this is actually so cute. from f2 to f1 together

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francoupdates here are some pics of franco and yn messi through the years since some of you are new to this

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username1 THE WAY SHE'S ALWAYS BEEN HIS BIGGEST SUPPORTER 😭

username2 power couple since day ONE

username3 that pic of her at the pitwall watching him race >>>>>

└ username1 the way she still does this at every race 🥺

username4 REAL ONES HAVE BEEN HERE

username5 they were so tiny i can’t

username6 LOS AMO

username7 young yn watching franco race vs now analyzing his data

username8 here to spread the colapinto x messi agenda

username9 argentina’s it couple since forever

username10 SIMP BABY FRANCO I CANT

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liked by landonorris, yourinstagram and 1,023,477 others

francolapinto Points ✅ BZRP cap ✅ Nepo boyfriend things ✅

Gracias por el apoyo! [thank you for the support]

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username1 FRANCOOOO 😩😩

username2 he’s never letting the nepo boyfriend thing go i love him

username3 this divaaaa

yn.messi and they said dating messi's daughter got you the seat... weird way to spell pure talent

└ francolapinto clearly i'm the worst nepo boyfriend ever

└ francolapinto te amo hermosa ❤️

└ username1 HELP THEY'RE SO FUNNY TOGETHER

williamsracing More of this please! 💙

username4 worst nepo boyfriend ever actually delivers results

username5 embarrassing nepotism attempt tbh

username6 not him actually being talented and making us all proud

username7 THE ROOKIES BRINGING POINTS HOME

leomessi 🙌🙌 Vamos!

└ username1 JUST ICONIC

└ yn.messi the payment for his permanent seat is due next week don’t forget!

└ username2 IM SCREAMING

username8 the way they're both trolling the haters i love them sm

liked by francolapinto, alexandrasaintmleux and 402,277 others

yn.messi mi lugar favorito [my favorite place] 🤍 pit stop before mexico city

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username1 AWEEEEE

username2 how can anyone hate this couple

username3 THE. HAND. PLACEMENT.

francolapinto perdiste en fifa mi amor [you lost in fifa]

└ yn.messi te dejo ganar 😌 [i let you win]

└ landonorris exposed by your own girlfriend mate

└ username1 I LOVE THEM SO BAD

leomessi ❤️

username4 this is what we mean by relationship goals

username5 THE WAY SHE EXPOSED HIM ABOUT FIFA 😭

username6 football royalty 🤝 f1

username7 this is such a great crossover i can’t

username8 LOS AMO [i love them]

lilyhme 💗💗

username9 taking franco to her dad’s matches 🥹🥹

username10 i’m so parasocial about them

liked by username1, yn.messi and 12,043 others

francoupdates Franco opens up about his relationship with YN Messi in recent interview:

"I met her at an event in Argentina back in 2019. She didn't even know what DRS was back then and now she corrects my racing lines in the sim. We grew up together through all this - F3, F2, now F1. She's been there through the tough times, sleeping in paddocks, the uncertain seasons. The nepotism jokes are funny because if you knew how many nights we spent budgeting for the next race... Being Leo Messi's daughter was never part of our story. It was just YN and Franco, trying to make it work while chasing a dream and loving each other very much”

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username1 NOT ME CRYING OVER THIS

username2 NOT HIM SAYING SHE CORRECTS HIS RACING LINES 😭

└ yn.messi someone has to 🤷🏻‍♀️

└ username1 HI YN I LOVE YOU 😭

username3 "just YN and Franco" 🥺

└ username2 this is actually so wholesome

username4 "budgeting for the next race" but they said nepotism 🙄

username5 THIS IS THE PUREST THING EVER

username6 MY CORAZON [my heart]

username7 haters don’t know a single thing about their story, they have been soulmates for years now

username8 cute but we do need messi connections for that seat 😩

username9 IF THEY DONT GET MARRIED ISTG

username10 real ones have been here since that buenos aires spotting

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francolapinto added to their stories

[the prettiest is ready for vegas]

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liked by yn.messi, williamsracing and 678,923 others

francolapinto 3 more races let's gooo! ready to prove nepotism requires talent sometimes 😌✌🏼 (yn stop rolling your eyes at my jokes mi amor)

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username1 I LOVE HIM SO BAD

username2 he’s never letting the nepo boyfriend jokes go

yn.messi i'll stop rolling my eyes when you stop missing apex points honey 😘

└ francolapinto MI AMOR WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS

└ alex_albon she's got data to back this up mate

└ williamsracing YN: 1, Franco: 0

└ username1 I LOVE THEM SM

username3 NOT YN ROASTING HIS RACING LINES IN THE COMMENTS

└ username4 MOTHER CHOSE VIOLENCE TODAY

username5 no one can convince me they aren’t the best couple ever

username6 bro got called a nepo boyfriend once and now that’s his brand

landonorris 😂😂���

username7 okay but when is messi going to get franco a seat fr

username8 worst nepo kid ever he doesn’t even have a seat yeat

liked by username1, username2 and 43,022 others

f1gossip Franco Colapinto and YN Messi spotted getting cozy at XS Nightclub in Vegas after qualifying 🎰 Apparently someone forgot Papa Messi might see these 👀

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username1 FRANCO BABY WHAT ARE YOU DOING LEO'S GONNA SEE THIS 💀

└ username2 man's risking it all before his first full season

username2 breaking: franco colapinto will not race tomorrow due to mysterious disappearance

└ username3 leo messi spotted buying a plane ticket to vegas

username4 it was nice knowing you franco 😭

username5 WILLIAMS RACING SUDDENLY LOOKING FOR NEW DRIVER

username6 someone check on franco pls

username7 pov: you forgot your girlfriend's dad is literally lionel messi

username8 leo messi about to show up at williams garage

username9 THEY’RE SO CUTE THO

username10 MY PARENTS ACTUALLY

liked by francolapinto, lilymhe and 401,827 others

yn.messi vegas was fun ‼️ papi please don’t check your phone

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username1 HEEEEEELPP

username2 BESTIE YOU’RE INSANE

alex_albon Kids these days.. they don’t know how you behave

└ username1 imagine alex just babysitting them at the club 😭

username3 BABY WE ALL SAW THE PICS

username4 just in: leonel messi spotted planning vehicular manslaughter

username5 FRANCO MOVE TO ANTARTICA ITS NOT TOO LATE

francolapinto i’m scared..

└ username1 WE ALL ARE

└ username2 THIS IS TOO FUNNY

francolapinto hermosa 😍😍

└ username3 he said yup my gf’s dad could kill me but i’m still thirsting over her

username6 CAUGHT IN 4K AND FULL HD

landonorris 😂😂😂😂 never a dull day with y’all

username7 franco consider witness protection

username8 DROP THE HAIR ROUTINE QUEENIE

alexandrasaintmleux been there donde that…

username9 there goes your possible seat franco leo messi is not paying for it anymore

username10 MENACES

liked by username1, username2 and 29,726 others

francoupdates Franco with one of YN’s little brothers in Qatar! The Messi’s are there to watch him race 🥹

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username1 OH MY LORDDDDD

username2 THIS IS SO CUTE IM MELTING

username3 her dad is there to have a chat with franco about those pictures in las vegas

username4 FRANCO SEAT CONFIRMATION INCOMING

username5 this is so adorable and the fact that yn’s brothers know him since they were born lrettt much 🥹🥹

username6 FRANCO YOU’RE SO LOVED

username7 leo be like: hello franco i just want to talk

username8 ARGENTINA’S ROYALTY

username9 yn tried to hide her dad’s phone and he just showed up at the paddock with the whole fam

username10 I LIVE FOR THIS

liked by username1, username2 and 43,098 others

f1gossip"Yeah, no pressure right? But honestly, they're like my second family now. Leo's probably more nervous than me - he keeps sending me good luck messages. Thiago and Mateo have been explaining F1 to Ciro all week. And YN... well, she's in bossy mode so she's more focused on telling me where I'm losing time than giving good luck kisses. But having them here means everything." - Franco talking about his girlfriend's family watching him race in Qatar!

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username1 THE WAY HE GETS SHY TALKING ABOUT THEM

username2 leo sending good luck texts is killing me

username3 YN REALLY SAID RACING LINES > KISSES

username4 imagine getting good luck texts from messi 😭

username5 VAMOS FRANCOOOO

username6 messi family taking over qatar paddock we love to see it

username7 NEPO BOYFRIEND THINGSSS

username8 yn's dad is there to buy franco a set soooo trueee

username9 GOOD LUCK KISSES 🥺

username10 the way he lights up mentioning yn though └ username1 even if she's roasting his racing lines 😭

liked by yn.messi, landonorris and 1,026,287 others

francolapinto Special helmet for Qatar 🇶🇦Celebrando la copa del mundo [celebrating the world cup] ⭐️⭐️⭐️ Had to honor the greatest of all time and well... my future father in law 😅 Gracias Leo por todo [thank you for everything], specially for not killing me for dating your daughter

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username1 FRANCO OMFG

username2 HE REALLY DID THIS

yn.messi "future father in law" someone's feeling brave today

└ francolapinto had to shoot my shot mi amor

└ username1 HE REALLY WANTS TO DIE TODAY

└ leomessi 👀

username3 DID HE JUST- IS THIS A PROPOSAL HINT???

└ username2 MAN'S REALLY ANNOUNCING HIS INTENTIONS ON MAIN

username4 FRANCO CHOOSING VIOLENCE TODAY

username5 bro using a helmet reveal to ask for blessing, respect

landonorris At least the man’s got game 😂

username6 HELP DID HE JUST SOFT LAUNCH A PROPOSAL

└ username1 leo reading that caption: 🔪

username7 future father in law... franco woke up fearless

username8 LATINO GANG RISE UP VAMOS FRANCO

username9 THE WAY HE JUST ANNOUNCED HIS DEATH WISH

williamsracing Lovely helmet design! Also, security has been increased around the garage

alex_albon might need witness protection after this one mate

└ yn.messi don't worry guys papa already knew about the helmet

└ francolapinto MI AMOR YOU COULD'VE LED WITH THAT 😭

username10 never beating the nepo boyfriend allegations

username11 buttering messi up so he can buy him a seat we know

liked by lilymhe, francolapinto and 402,389 others

yn.messi my nepo boyfriend who couldn't even get a point in his first race just finished his first formula 1 season 🥹 so proud of you mi amor, from watching you race karts to F1... i'd say dating the goat’s daughter worked out pretty well 😌❤️ @/francolapinto

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username1 THIS IS SO CUTE

username2 the second pic i’m SOBBING

francolapinto from being the worst nepo boyfriend to getting points... all thanks to you mi amor ❤️

└ yn.mesi you're still the worst nepo boyfriend but i love you

└ alex_albon get a room you two

williamsracing Nepo strategy successful ✅

username3 living the nepo dream fr

username4 THE WAY SHE'S ALWAYS BEEN HIS BIGGEST SUPPORTER 😭

username5 from karting girlfriend to f1 wag upgrade

username6 they keep bringing up the nepo boyfriend thing 😭

└ username1 she'll never let him live it down

username7 YN AND FRANCO SUPREMACY

username8 the nepo jokes never get old

alexandrasaintmleux 🥹🥹🥹🥹

leomessi Estamos muy orgullosos ❤️

└ username1 THIS IS SO ADORABLE

└ username2 franco you’re so loved

username8 SHE'S SO PROUD OF HIM I'M CRYING

└ username2 the way she never stops teasing him though

username9 MY PARENTS SINCE THAT FIRST BUENOS AIRES SPOTTING

username10 OUR BEST WAG NEEDS TO STAY

liked by yn.messi, landonorris and 1,011,965 others

francolapinto What a year... Couldn't have done this without my biggest supporter since karting days @/yn.messi ❤️ Thank you for believing in me even when I was "the worst nepo boyfriend" 😅

And to the entire Messi family - gracias por hacerme sentir parte de la familia desde el primer día. Leo, gracias por confiarme lo más precioso que tienen (y por no matarme todavía).

[thank you for making me feel part of the family since day one. Leo, thank you for trusting me with your most precious treasure (and for not killing me yet).]

Time to work harder for 2025 💪🏼

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username1 FRANCOOO OMFG

username2 this is so CUTE

yn.messi still the worst nepo boyfriend but i guess you're MY worst nepo boyfriend ❤️

└ francolapinto te amo mi amor

└ username1 THEY’RE THE CUTEST

username3 “trusting me with your most precious treasure” IM DEADDDD

username4 man wrote a whole love letter to the messis

└ username1 AS HE SHOULD

leomessi You’re family 🤍 [eres familia]

username5 NOT LEO SAYING HE'S FAMILY I'M CRYING

└ username2 from fearing leo to being adopted by him

williamsracing Family ✅ Points ✅ 2025 loading...

└ username3 GIVE HIM A SEAT

username6 THE SECOND PIC, THEY WERE LITTLE BABIES

username7 THE WAY HE THANKED THE WHOLE FAMILY 😭

└ username1 securing that messi blessing

[feeshu09]

What if Shen Yuan gets a petty princess boyfriend because the universe (I) said so.

-wrote a little ficlet about them under the cut ✨-

Shen Yuan's (very confused) POV:

You know, there are days you wake up and think, “Wow, life is weird.” And then there are days you wake up and there's a beautiful, irritated, probably-came-from-a-period-drama man sitting on your couch like he owns the place, glaring at your toaster like it personally offended his ancestors.

Yeah. I’m talking about that kind of day.

It started, as these things always do, with a thunderclap, some suspiciously glittery mist, and the next thing I knew, there was a very angry, very elegant man standing in the middle of my studio apartment. He looked around my humble little man-cave—okay, fine, it was a bit of a pig sty. I wasn't expecting visitors—and sneered so hard I thought his face would stay that way forever.

“This is your abode?” he asked, with the same tone I use when I accidentally step in dog poop.

“Uh,” I said intelligibly. “Yes…?”

He hissed. Hissed. Like a very angry, very pretty feral cat. It was alarming. And a little hot? No, stop that, Shen Yuan. Bad. No petting the murder kitty.

So. A quick summary: the stranger introduced himself—begrudgingly—as Shen Jiu.

A handsome stranger.

And he was in my house.

Living in my apartment.

Breathing my air.

Criticizing my instant ramen choices like he wasn’t literally eating all of them.

“You eat like a beggar,” he said yesterday, sipping tea he made himself after complaining my kettle was ‘barbaric’. “This isn't sustenance. It's punishment.”

Okay. One: accurate. Two: rude.

But we fell into a rhythm after a few weeks, somehow. Like a weird little odd-couple sitcom. Every morning, I’d wake up to Shen Jiu curled in a pile of throw blankets on my futon, looking like a disgruntled Persian cat. He hated the TV but would still watch it with a kind of horrified fascination. He especially hated anime. That was… a problem.

The turning point came when he caught me watching some over the top shonen anime and heard me make a passing comment about the protagonist’s abs.

“You like that?” he asked, voice tight. “You like him?”

“What? No, I—” I laughed, awkward. “It’s just anime—”

He made a sound like someone dropped a piano on his pride and turned off the laptop with a single disdainful poke of a button.

“You’re not allowed to look at other men,” he said, eyes narrowed.

“…What?”

“You heard me,” he said, as if that explained anything and then settled on my lap.

Then he stole my glasses.

He literally plucked them off my face like a bully on the schoolyard and perched them on his own perfectly arched nose.

I stared. Squinted, really. “I’m legally blind.”

“Good,” he snapped. “Then you can’t ogle those fake men anymore. Who draws them like that anyway? It’s obscene.”

“Jiu-ge,” I said gently. “Um… Can I have my glasses back please?”

“For what? To look at other men? I don’t think so.”

Never—and I mean never—has anyone been so furiously jealous of fictional anime boys that they physically robbed me of my glasses. It was almost impressive.

And I let him keep them.

Why? Because the alternative was him going back into Feral Mode™ where he hisses and threatens to set my bookshelf on fire with qi that I still don’t believe exists in this universe.

Besides… I didn’t mind the glasses thing so much when he was situated on my lap like I was his personal throne.

“You’re warm,” he said, nonchalant, like this was normal. Like he didn't came from a completely different reality.

“Cool,” I wheezed, not cool at all.

“You’re flustered,” he added, smug.

I was. But I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of admitting it. Instead, I tried to focus on the dead screen of my laptop, even if everything was blurry.

So now I’m trapped in a never-ending loop of being lowkey bullied by a man with cheekbones sharp enough to commit murder, who eats all my ramen, hoards my glasses, gets jealous of anime characters, and has absolutely no concept of personal space.

And you know what the worst part is?

I think I might like it.

Please send help.

…Or not.