#super snuggly late night fluff

[heyimkana]

24 Hours with You (Satoru Ver.) - Ep. 2

Series Masterlist Chapter Summary: The second episode of a mini-series where you’ll live through the hours you spend together with your husband, Gojo Satoru. Pairings: Gojo Satoru x Female Reader Genre: Domestic AU, Fluff, Romance, Humor Word Count: 9K Warnings: no plot, just a compilation of fluffy scenes that you share with your whipped, super annoying husband, Satoru. there's a bit of a smutty scene but it's not explicitly written.

Episode 2: Daylight

07.04 AM

The morning sunray seeps through your windows, kissing your skin with familiar warmth. The red roses Satoru bought you yesterday greet you with their sweet scent as they sit prettily in a glass vase that glimmers like crystal underneath the light. You take a quick scan around, expecting the worst but surprisingly, besides the bedroom, your place is still recognizable despite the drunk antics that you and your husband did last night after finishing a whole bottle of wine to yourselves. 

Your work doesn’t start until nine, and although usually, you would leave at 8.15 to avoid the risk of turning up late, after noticing what day it is, you reckon that traffic won’t be so bad. Plus, your home is only around ten minutes away from your office anyway. It’s the main reason why Satoru insisted on buying this condominium in the first place—to give you more time to yourself (and for him to cuddle with you on the sofa because you always look so snuggly in the morning). Maybe you can take it easy today. Brushing your teeth and changing your nightgown into an oversized hoodie (Satoru’s) and a pair of comfy sweatpants, you get yourself to work.

Among the clutters on the floor are your cocktail dress and Satoru’s expensive suit and tie, scattered all over the carpet, giving you a quick flashback of what happened after you arrived home from the fancy restaurant he took you last night. The exchange of heavy, scorching kisses in the elevator… Your spine pressed flat against the wall with his head between your thighs the second the front door was shut close… A bottle of red wine tasted directly from each other’s tongue… And…

You glance down at your hands, feeling heat flaring in your cheeks as your eyes land on the thin, but quite noticeable, purple bruises that circle your wrists like dark bracelets.

Last night was… wild. 

“God, we’re not young anymore,” you mumble to yourself, shamefaced, as you head toward the kitchen. There are empty plates and half-filled glasses left abandoned on the aisle, and a pizza box that you ordered at two in the morning for an emergency snack (Satoru always gets hungry after sex), but it will only take you a few minutes to clean everything up, so everything’s fine.

Today’s start isn’t so bad.

The condo that you and Satoru bought together felt too spacious and grand at first. The neat white walls somehow screamed lonely, desperate for human touch. But after living here for three years, three whole years of a happy marriage with occasional fights that never lasted a night, it felt truly like home—the kind that you’ve never had the joy to experience before. 

Silly Polaroid photos of the two of you are plastered all over the fridge. A collection of your favorite novels sits on the bookcase among healthy pileas that tumble elegantly over the shelves. Satoru’s favorite Hatsune Miku figures are there too, despite your constant begging to just throw them away, but that’s marriage, isn’t it? You just have to compromise on every single thing. Even when the color of Hatsune’s stupid hair—why does it have to be turquoise of all shades?—ruins your aesthetic.

A huge, beautiful mural showcasing the map of the world can be found painted on one side of the wall. In some countries, there are words written by colorful markers, telling a story of the memorable journeys you’ve had together. Satoru’s messy handwriting used to be there but you scrapped them all because drawing a bunch of arrows pointing at different cities and writing down the words “We did it here” or “We also did it here” and “We toooootally did it here” with wink faces on the sidedon’t exactly seem appropriate, especially since Megumi’s son often comes by to visit his favorite uncle. (The word ‘favorite’ here is self-proclaimed. Megumi never said that. His son also never said that. Satoru is just delusional.) 

You catch a whiff of your husband’s perfume, still somewhat lingering close, a sweet reminder of your chaotic days in high school and the moment your romance bloomed during your college days. Oh, also, coffee. You’re gonna need a lot of that if you want to get through all of your work meetings today. The smell of freshly brewed coffee is one of your favorite scents in the world and you smile to yourself as you pour it into your mug. 

“Someone looks happy,” Satoru sniffles as he places his chin on your shoulder, long arms winding themselves around the dip of your waist. And cuddly, he adds in his head. Though he always finds himself swooning seeing you in your cocktail dress or work attire, he adores this look the most. Messy bun, bare face with acne patches on your chin and nose, his hoodie covering your body to the middle of your thighs. You're precious.

He won’t say this to you though, not today.

“Someone sounds a bit grumpy.” You tilt your head just enough to peck him on the cheek. “Took you long enough to finish.”

“Well, it would’ve only taken me ten minutes if somebody was kind enough to lend me a hand.”

“What, your two hands aren’t enough?”

“They don’t feel as good as yours.” He’s pouting. Even if you can’t see it, you can tell he is. “I didn’t finish, by the way. Thank you for asking.”

A chuckle escapes you. “Honey, you finished, like, four times last night.”

“You’re missing the point,” he sighs. “I don’t think I’ve told you this but…” He turns your body around, making you face him with your cup between your hands and your back leaning against the kitchen counter. He’s still in his boxer shorts, you notice, but he’s made the effort of throwing on a green pastel shirt, hanging loose on his body and unbuttoned to his chest. Satoru rests his palms on the surface, trapping you between his arms. “I think I’m getting so dependent on you now that I can’t even cum on my own.” 

“You can’t do anything without me these days, actually,” you comment, running your mouth without realizing that he’s desperate for your sympathy. He gives you a look, staring flatly at you. “And I can’t do anything without you, my love,” you add with a smile, tapping his cheek. “There. Happy now?”

“Wouldn’t kill you to say it once in a while,” he answers, and you roll your eyes. “I’m just saying, I used to do it so easily, you know? I didn’t even need to look at actual porn to jerk off. I was so in control of my body. Just had to picture you naked on your knees with my di—”

“Careful.”

He cuts himself short. “—and I’d be done in, like, two minutes.”

“I see. And here I thought today was going to be boring,” you reply, sarcasm running thick in each word.

“But these days…” His eyes droop. “It hasn’t been that easy. Sometimes I couldn’t even, umm… get it hard,” he admits, blushing. It’s a bit of a confession that he’s been trying to keep to himself for a while.

“What, really? Like, at all?” 

He sheepishly nods. “There’s this one time when you were away on a business trip and it had been so long since we had sex so I wanna… You know…”

“Play with your carrot?” You suggest, taking a sip of your coffee. “Rub the eggplant? Stroke the banana?”

There’s a momentary silence where he just looks at you, unamused. 

You, also, stay hushed. 

Then, “Caress the fresh zucchini—”

“I think that’s enough, babe.”

“Oh, so when I say it, you don’t like it. But when you say it—”

“You’re not saying it at the right time—You know what? Forget it.” Satoru pushes himself away from the counter, fuming and you laugh. 

Catching him by the wrist, you whirl him back to you. “I’m sorry. You’re just so cute. I think this is the first time I’ve seen you act like this.”

“Can you be serious, please? This is actually very important to me.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” You stand on your toes, kissing his pout away. “I’ll pay attention, I promise. Tell me what’s on your mind.”

“I’m a bit scared,” he says, his shoulders sagging. He looks like a sad puppy. A giant, 193cm tall sad puppy. Even your puppy didn’t look as depressed as him now when she was on the verge of death. “What am I going to do when you’re away for two weeks and I can’t even jerk off once?”

You know you don’t have to jerk off, right? Your mouth is itching to say the words. “Two weeks aren’t even that long.”

“Of course, they are!”

“Okay, so you can’t jerk off for two weeks. What is the big deal—”

“What’s the big deal?!” He gasps, as dramatically as ever, one hand slapped against his chest. “You’re asking me what’s the big deal?! What if this is a sign of early erectile dysfunction?!”

Hereeee we go. “From someone who came four times last night, what are you saying?!”

“Excuse me, are you a doctor?” His voice drops, his face solemn. “Are you an urologist?”

You sigh. “No.”

“Do you have a penis?”

“Satoru—”

“Do you?”

You’re rubbing your head, headaches incoming. “You wouldn’t have married me if I had one now, would you?”

“Not true but okay. Anyway—”

“Wait, hold up, what does that mean—”

“The point is,” he puts pressure on his words, pinching your nose so you’ll stop talking. “No penis, no opinion. Also, multiple studies by Chinese researchers have shown that in order to avoid getting prostate cancer, men should release their sperm around two to four times a week. And—” He holds up a finger in the air, shutting you down before you even begin to open your mouth. “When you orgasm, your brain releases a surge of dopamine, right? I need that, especially when you’re not around to help me manage my stress.”

You press your lips together, as tightly as you can, afraid that you’ll break into another bout of laughter if you don’t. “I see.” It’s so hard to keep your voice away from shaking. He’s so serious, it’s almost out of character for him to be this serious. “So you’re, uhh… You’re stressed, huh?”

“Oh, I am, baby. I’m so stressed out.” He swats his bangs out of his eyes, pushing back his hair. “Look at me. I just woke up and I look like this. You think it’s not stressful to look this handsome every day? I have to work twice as hard as anyone else in my building just to be taken seriously. Especially by the CEO.”

“You mean your daddy.”

“My CEO.”

“Who’s your daddy.” Right after you hear yourself saying the line, you snort, failing to contain your laughter. “I’m sorry, I’m not laughing at you. I just had a flashback of the time when you said those words to me in bed and—” You wipe a tear away, your body shaking from your titters. “God, that was cringe.”

Satoru narrows his eyes. “So you are laughing at me.”

“Yeah, but not because of the things you’re saying right now.” The more you try to explain, the more he seems insulted. “Sorry. Continue.”

His nose flares. He would’ve been vexed if you didn’t look so adorable holding back your giggles. “All the other workers think I’m not fit to be next in line—to lead the company. They think I get everything I want just because I have a pretty face and I’m his only son.”

Well, I mean, they’re not wrong, you ponder to yourself, though you know if you mention it out loud, he’s going to cry. “They’re jealous of you.”

“And then of course there’s that guy, Kenjaku, who clearly wants to take my place so he’s been trying to get close to my dad,” Satoru clicks his tongue in annoyance. “Can you believe they went golfing together? Gol. Fing. My dad never even let me touch his golf club!”

Oh, he’s ranting. He’s so upset, he’s ranting like a tired housewife and it’s hilarious. “I’m sorry, sweetie.” You spread your arms, offering him a smile. “Do you want a hug?”

“Okay,” he mumbles cutely, moving toward your embrace with his lower lip jutted out. He goes down to his knees, tangles his arms around your waist, and nuzzles his face against your belly. 

“I think they just feel intimidated by you.” You land a hand on his head. For some reason, his hair is always extra fluffy in the morning. “Smart, charismatic, and sexy? They don’t stand a chance against my husband.”

Usually, you would have him go back to his feet (figuratively and literally) right away after hearing such words, but Satoru only lets out a small hum—responding but not quite agreeing—as he buries his nose deeper in your fabric. Seems like this one is serious. “Toru, you’ll be okay.”

“I can’t do it without you, babe,” he says, his voice muffled by your hoodie.

“What, getting that promotion without people judging?”

“No. Cumming.”

“Oh, we’re going back to that.” You chortle lightly, stroking his strands. “Okay, listen.” Cupping his cheek, you lift his face to meet your gaze. “You don’t have erectile dysfunction.” You return the small space between you, your lips curving up beautifully as you bend down and give him a light kiss on his forehead. “And next time, I’ll take care of your needs. Promise.” Noticing how his eyes take a quick look at the kitchen counter, you add, “Not right now, Satoru.” 

“Meanie.” Your husband groans, playfully biting your hand. “And how are you planning to take care of me the next time we’re separated from each other?”

“I’ll do something to help you, uhh… do whatever it is you need to do.”

His eyes light up. “Will you FaceTime me and give me a strip dance with Closer by Nine Inch Nails playing in the background?”

That’s… oddly specific… “And why does it have to be that song, if I may ask?”

“No reason, really…” He averts his gaze. “Just… You know, it makes me think about you…” He seems a bit shy.

Wait. Shy? Satoru is?

How does the song go again?

You tear down my reason  It's your sex I can smell  You make me perfect  Become somebody else  I wanna fuck you like an animal

You send your husband a blank stare. Look at him. This pervert is asking you this while acting like an embarrassed schoolgirl standing in front of her crush. “If it’s not too much to ask,” he says, so cutely as if he was asking you to make him his favorite dish for dinner.

Of course, it’s too much to ask, are you insane? “Or,” you suggest calmly with a forced smile. “We can do slightly more romantic stuff like calling each other on the phone and—”

“DO PHONE SEX?” Stars in his eyes. There are stars in his eyes.

“Uhh…”

“Please say yes, please say yes!”

That isn’t exactly what you have in mind, but can you even decline when he’s like this? Telling him no right now would feel just as awful as when you (because of Satoru, of course) accidentally revealed the truth about Santa to your nephew, giving Megumi a hard time feeding his son who started a hunger strike as he went into depression mode for three days. (This is a horrible comparison, by the way. One child was asking about Santa while this one is asking for the opportunity to whisper “I wanna fuck you like an animal” in your ear when you’re a hundred miles away from home. Two totally different cases, but you know Satoru will behave the same way as your nephew if you reject his wish. Probably even worse.)

With your head throbbing, you murmur, “Maybe just a little…”

“Promise?” He holds up his pinky, grinning from ear to ear.

All that positive energy you had this morning? Drained. “Promise…”

“Yaay~” 

As you break into a cold sweat thinking about the unfortunate event that will soon befall you (aka the phone sex), Satoru, is already back to his giddy and frisky self. Well, as long as he’s happy, I guess. 

“What are you having?” He asks, jumping back to his feet. “Coffee?”

“Mm. You want some?”

“Nah. I’m craving hot chocolate.” He reaches a hand toward the high drawer to get hold of his favorite mug, looming above you and intentionally knocking his chest against your face as he traps you in between. He giggles when you glare. He’s childish that way.

“How very girly of you.”

“It’s to relieve my stress.” He pokes you in the stomach. “Also, liking hot chocolate doesn’t make me look girly.”

“Sure, but trying on my skirt does.”

“Babe, come on,” Satoru whines, his earlobes turning scarlet. “How many times are you going to hold me on this? I was just messing around!”

“Honey, you were alone in our bedroom, wearing my maxi skirt and checking yourself in the mirror.”

“It was a dare from Suguru.”

“And taking selfies.”

“So I can send some proof to Suguru.”

“Not the point, Satoru.”

“That is the point! Babe, can’t you see? Saying no to the stupid dare would’ve made me seem less manly than he is.” 

“So you’d rather put yourself in a skirt?”

“Well, duh!”

You can’t find the logic in his excuse, you really can’t. “In my defense, though,” he adds. “I thought you were gonna be out for a little longer.” 

“What would’ve happened if I were? Gonna put on my thong next?”

“No,” he scoffs, trying to regain whatever amount of dignity he has left. “Also, it’s not like you’ve never done something embarrassing before. Remember that time when we went to Megumi’s birthday dinner and you ended up telling his nana a dick joke?”

“That was also you.” 

“No, no. I meant, that one with the salaryman meeting a guy in a horse costume—” His realization falls upon him. “Oh my God, it was me.”

You shake your head, amused. “It’s okay.” You turn to face the counter once again, placing your mug on the surface before you reach forward to grab a bit more cream.   “After being married to you for three years, the only thing that will surprise me is if you grow another head. Anything else, I can manage.”

“Why does this sound comforting and insulting at the same time?”

“Because it’s both.”

With his lower lip protruding, Satoru hugs you again from behind, his chin settled on the top of your head this time. This is why he claims to be all stressed out whenever you’re away. He’s so keen on physical touch that he can’t bear even a few inches of distance between you when you’re around. He reaches up to open the counter, grabbing a jar filled with cocoa powder. His chest is pressing against your spine, his other arm never leaving your waist. “I think we run out of sugar,” he says. “Wanna drop by the mart after work? I’m gonna have meetings all day today, but I can ditch the dinner party.”

“You’re not coming?”

“Hell no. Suguru’s hosting. He makes the worst parties.”

“Isn’t he the guy who’s rumored to be in love with you? I heard about it from Shoko.”

“Yeah,” Satoru snickers, very childishly. “I was the one who started the rumor by putting a note on his desk that said ‘I wish one day you’ll look at me the way you look at your wife. Your silver hair and pretty blue eyes have captivated me from the moment I laid my eyes on you. I dream of tasting your soft lips every night.’ It was so easy to copy his handwriting, I just couldn’t help it. Yuki found out about it and she started gossiping and by the end of the day, everyone knew. I took the note away before he noticed. Suguru never found out I did that, didn’t even know what was going on. He was so confused when people tried to cheer him up. I saw Choso giving him a pat on his shoulder, saying ‘We all love you for who you are, never change.’ And Suguru was like, ‘Uuuh, thanks, but I don’t want to be a salesman forever.’ And so both of them were confused.”

Your mouth twists into a grimace. “You are evil.”

“I prefer the term genius,” he corrects you, seemingly proud of his deed. 

“Also, soft lips?”

“Aren’t they?” He seductively raises an eyebrow. To be fair, yes, they are. Even on the coldest night, they’re still as soft as a butterfly’s wing. He has claimed many times that he only used a lip balm if necessary but you don’t buy it. There must be witchcraft involved. He puckers his lips, ready to kiss you and make you experience the thick jealousy you have of his pretty mouth—because, really, all these lip balms you have and your lips are still chapped during winter. You dodge, pushing your palm against his face instead. The big puppy that he is, he licks it.

“I think I’ll be out of the office around seven today,” he informs as you scrunch up your nose in disgust, wiping his saliva away.

“Okay. Pick me up first?”

“Like you need to ask,” Satoru smiles, granting a cute kiss on your forehead. He dabs his thumb on the corner of your lips, rubbing off a little bit of sugar from the leftover doughnut that you enjoyed with your coffee. He cleans it off his digit with his tongue, randomly ruffling your hair as he makes his way to the living room. 

“Oh, wait, almost forgot,” he says, retracing his steps.

“Hmm?”

Satoru snatches a jar from the counter—the one that you just used, filled with cream—and puts it in the highest drawer, the closest one to the ceiling. “Just a little payback,” he sniggers. “For giving me blue balls this morning.”

With him being 193 cm tall, he simply needs to stand on his toes for a little bit to reach it, but you? “I think you’re gonna need a ladder.” His teeth flash in an irritating grin. “Enjoy your creamless coffee for the next few weeks, Sweetcheeks—OUCH—BABY, THAT’S MY KNEE!”

“Grab the jar.”

“Fine.” He retrieves it with a grumble, handing it back to you. “But I’m reporting you for domestic abuse.”

You raise your wrist, showing the actual bruises he left on your skin. “I’ll see you at court then.”

“Babeeeeeee~”

***

07.21 AM

“Satoru.”

Your dear husband has been lying down on the couch for the past ten minutes, a head of velvety hair—which somehow still smells pleasantly like your favorite shampoo—resting on your lap. With a pair of round glasses perched on his nose, he turns deaf ears to everything that’s going on, focusing on nothing but moving his thumbs to win the next round of Momotetsu. As his eyebrows wrinkle in deep concentration, Satoru punches the buttons on his Nintendo Switch, glaring at the screen and swearing under his breath.

“Satoru.”

“Wait, babe, I just need to choose this card and—NOOOOOOOO!” He launches himself forward, sitting up with his mouth gaping, his eyes shaking in horror. “Did I just—yep, lost a million yen. Fuck this game. A Martha card?! A fucking Martha card?! Oh, I’m gonna—” He slams his console against the cushion. Repeatedly. He’s 29, and he throws a bigger tantrum than Megumi’s three-year-old son. 

“Watch your blood pressure, Honey.”

“Who even invented this game?! Stupid as shit. Babe, do me a favor and don’t ever let me play—” His phone rings before he can finish. Throwing one glance at his screen, Satoru mutters, “Oh, great. Here we go.”

The name Dumbass Monk is written on his phone. You wonder who it is.

Satoru answers through gritted teeth. “Fuck you, Suguru.”

Ah, yes, of course.

“No, how the fuck should I know that the card was gonna choose me?!” he barks, his voice bouncing off the walls. “I wanted it to choose you—oh fuck off, asshole, you’re broke as hell, you smell like wet socks, and your wife hates you. Wait, what was that?” He suddenly switches his voice, doing his best impersonation of a nosy old lady talking about the latest gossip. “You don’t have a wife? Not even a girlfriend?” He maniacally cackles. “I don’t know, man, I don’t think I’m the loser here. Unlike you, I’ve got a super hot wife who loves me unconditionally.” 

You flip a page of the book you have sitting on your lap. “Only ‘cause you’re rich.”

“And—” Satoru continues yapping on his phone but he makes sure to poke you on your side for your unnecessary comment. “She’s not just hot. She’s a complete package. She smells like daffodils, she makes me breakfast every morning and she looks so fucking gorgeous when she fucks—”

You slap a pillow against his head.

“—feeds me cookies,” Satoru finishes lamely, wincing, one hand raised in the air as a form of surrender before he takes another hit. “No, I’m not gonna pay you, idiot, you won purely by luck!” He then gasps, his jaw dropping low. “Did you just call me a monkey? Oh, that’s it—” 

Satoru is on his feet, shouting, growling, fingers jabbing and clenching as his mouth runs wild. You can somewhat hear the other man’s voice, giving you enough idea of what they’re arguing about although you can’t make out every word. Suguru’s tone is always soft and melodious when he speaks, but his insults are truly on another level. Chuckling to yourself at the strings of expletives that tumble out of their mouths, you watch your husband yell until blood pools on his face, “Fine! Don’t come crying to me when you have erectile dysfunction, which, based on all the non-existent sex you’ve been having, I know you will! Good day!” Suguru is still calling him names when Satoru ends the call with, “I SAID GOOD DAY!”  

You flip another page of the novel you've been trying—and failing due to someone’s endless shouting—to immerse yourself in. “Seems like you two are close.”

“Oh, he can die, I don’t care.” Angrily, he tosses his device away, landing his head back on your lap with the loudest groan he can muster. “Whatever. I’m still a better player than he is.”

“Of course, you are, honey,” you respond, your hand naturally falls back to his hair, caressing it like you’re stroking a cat’s fur. 

It only takes a few seconds before your husband stops shaking in vexation, even looking a bit sleepy from your comforting touches. “Were you talking to me before?”

“Mm. There’s something I wanted to ask you.” Placing a bookmark in between the pages, you close your book and set it down on the coffee table next to you. “About before, when you told me about your co-workers. How did you know that they’ve been thinking about you that way?”

He blinks, not expecting you to return to your previous conversation. “Aaaw, honey, are you worried about me?” From wishing someone to suffer crucially from impotence to wiggling in joy like a thirteen-year-old girl at the slightest sign of affection, your husband really does have an emotional range of a teaspoon.

“Of course, I do. You’re my husband.”

His mouth curves upside-down, his eyes glimmering, “Babeee, that’s so sweeeet.”

Though you're not so sure why he’s so happy when you just stated a fact, you let him be. “So what happened?”

“I heard them chatting when I passed by the smoking room one afternoon. I don’t smoke—you know I quit a long time ago—so I didn’t know they were ganging up on me and talking shit about me behind my back. Isn’t it gross for a bunch of thirty-year-old men to gossip?” His face scrunches up in disgust. He, the same man who spent two hours on the phone talking to the Dumbass Monk about the recently hired secretary, Maki Zenin (who’s apparently so strict and vicious that, in Satoru’s words, “Almost made me cry in fear when I arrived late at my lunch meeting last week.”), actually had the audacity to ask that question.

"What did they say?” You ask him.

“They said if it wasn’t because of my family name, I would’ve never gotten promoted to C-level.”

“But that’s not true!”You catch him off guard with your sudden fervor after spending the last conversation acting so dull. “I’ve seen how much you worked for this! Satoru, you earned that position fair and square!” Your husband might act frivolous almost every hour of the day, but there were times that he missed his sleep trying to come up with a new marketing strategy to promote their upcoming products. There were hours spent with him taking one conference call after another with his clients, even at two in the morning from the comfort of your living room due to the difference in their time zones. He’s the CEO’s son, true, but he worked just as hard, if not more, as everyone else in the company.

The more it sinks into your brain, the more irked you become. “Who said this?” You snap. “Huh? Who talked shit about you behind your back? I want names.”

Satoru lets out a chuckle, his eyes thinning into a line. It’s been a while since he last saw you being this protective of him. It reminds him of the old days in high school when you, despite acknowledging yourself as being his archenemy, were always quick to defend him when someone threw shade at him. “Honey, relax—”

“Was it Naoya? Or was it Toji? It was Toji, wasn’t it? Oh, that bitch—”

“It wasn’t Toji,” Satoru says, holding you by the hand in a futile attempt to calm you down. “Though you could still punch him if you want.”

“Why, did he do something to you?”

“I just hate his face.”

That’s very Satoru behavior of him that you don’t even bother to comment. “Nobody talks shit about my husband. If they think you get things done easy for you, it’s because you’re so smart, you make things look easy.”

He sits up, turning around to face you with warm, round eyes. “You think I’m smart?”

“Are you kidding me? You’re the smartest man I know.” You give him a light punch on his chest. “If I were your dad, I would’ve still given you that promotion, regardless of our relationship. You’re just that good at your job.”

“That’s…” He swallows. “This is the first time you’ve complimented me like this.” It’s a surprise to him, a very pleasant one, causing contentment to fill his heart.

You feel awful once you notice that even though you constantly thought of him this way, you never spoke your appreciation out loud. “Satoru, I’ve always admired you.” You rest your fingers on his knuckles, apologizing. “I know you complain about having to wake up early to go to work every morning, but despite your flippant attitude, you bear a deep sense of responsibility. You always manage to surpass people’s expectations—surpass mine and I already thought highly of you.” You give him a squeeze, smiling more with your eyes than your lips. “You make me proud. Every day you make me proud.” 

Satoru mirrors your expression, a soft blush painting his cheeks as his joy engulfs him whole. He wraps his arms around you, sinking his nose in your hair as he pulls you close. “You’re not throwing compliments at me just to cheer me up, are you?” He whispers and it’s only during times like this that he lets his vulnerability show. Satoru always shines like the brightest star, his eyes brimming with confidence, but there’s still a part of him—part that he conceals from everyone else except you—that needs to be consoled. He’s still a little boy who wishes for a gentle pat on the head and you always give the warmest one.

“I’m not complimenting you, I’m telling the truth. But yes, I am trying to cheer you up.” You return his embrace, your hand sliding up and down his back. “I wouldn’t have said this if you were okay ‘cause I know it’s gonna boost up your ego even more. You’re already annoying the way you are, so…”

He titters. “Can we stick to you being nice to me?”

You echo the noises he made, returning the space between you just wide enough to kiss his cheek. You cup his face with your fingers, your thumb caressing his cheekbone. “I’m sorry people said mean stuff about you… Are you okay?”

“I am now.” His smile is softer than the clouds. He leans close, cutely nuzzles the tip of his nose against yours. “This is why I need you in my life. You act aloof around me but you always think about me more than you think about yourself. You pretend to be ignorant, but you never fail to notice all these efforts I made. You care about me more than anyone else.”

Watching him put your feelings into words makes you feel flustered but you don't deny it. Not when he speaks only the truth. “I can also kick everyone’s butt for you.”

“As someone who has witnessed your heroic tales in high school, yes, you can, one hundred percent.” You feel his smile forming on your skin as he kisses your temple. “But just having you around me right now is enough. And it’s fine. I don’t care what anyone else thinks about me, at least not anymore. As long as you’re proud of me.”

“I am,” you say without missing a beat. “I’m proud of you, Toru.”

He takes away your hand that’s been warming his face, kissing your wrist while he maintains eye contact with you. “That’s all that matters to me.”

Your stomach swirls at the intensity of his gaze, his voice—just above a whisper—bears the same kind of tenderness and affection he portrayed on the day he asked you to marry him. His lips rub against your veins, the softest kiss against the softest skin. Your hand seems tiny in his grip but it’s a perfect fit. Every part of you is when it comes to him. 

“So, uhh…” You clear your throat. “What are you going to do now?”

“I guess I’ll just have to keep doing my best so I can prove them wrong.” His grin returns. “I’ll make my wife feel even prouder of me.”

He replies to your little chuckles with a kiss, light but sweet. Despite your heart wanting more of his touch, of the heat of his lips against your own, you focus on the matter. “Why have you never told me about this before?”

“Because I never cared about it too much,” he replies with a shrug. “Work only feels overwhelming when you’re not around. When you’re with me, no matter how stressful my workplace is, I’ll feel at ease instantly.” He lays his forehead on your shoulder, rubbing his face against the fabric. “So, don’t leave me, okay? If I have to go out of town, I’ll have you hide inside my suitcase so I can carry you around.”

You chortle lightly. “And if I have to go?”

“Well…” He pulls away, his eyes fixated on the shape of your lips as he caresses them with his thumb. He looks back at you, his fingertips resting on your nape, holding you still. You find your breathing stalled as his own fanned your lips. “I guess I’ll just have to convince you to stay.”

And when he kisses you again, you know that he doesn’t mean with his words.

***

07.34 AM

“Bunny!” Satoru calls from the bathroom, his voice reverberating loudly through the hall. “Baby, come over here!”

Standing in your apron with your hands moving to fetch your chopped onions from your kitchen aisle, you try your best to focus on your cooking while answering him at the same time. “For the last time, Satoru, I’m not interested in taking a shower together with you!” You sprinkle some pepper into the dish, wiping your sweat away from your temple with the back of your hand. You take a glance at the digital clock nearby. “Not when we have to leave in an hour!”

“But I’ll let you shape my hair!”

“Not interested!”

“I’ll even let you give me a mohawk!”

“Not intere—oh shit—” It’s a given, really, that you’d accidentally pour too much salt into your cream soup from all this diversion. Taking a deep breath, you start to glare at your ceiling as you chant don’t get angry, don’t get angry inside your head. This is the reason why you try to keep him off the kitchen floor as far away as possible whenever you’re making food but even when he’s meters away from you, he still manages to annoy you somehow. 

“Babe, I couldn’t hear you. Was that a yes?”

“NO!”

***

07.41 AM

“Oooh~ Something smells good~” Satoru chirps, popping back into the living room with a toothy grin and a white towel wrapped around his hips. It’s hanging low on his body, showcasing very distracting V-lines that you (secretly) adore. You look away. No good can come from staring at your husband’s lean, perfectly shaped stomach at this time of the day. 

But then you catch a glimpse of the scratch marks you left on his back from last night, your face aflame since you can barely remember how hard you dug your nails into his skin. Satoru always likes it when you’re not careful with him—just like how you love it when he’s rough with you—but were you really that… desperate to keep him close, clutching onto him like that?

You shake your thoughts away. “Dry your hair properly,” you mutter, keeping your eyes on the plates you’re currently setting on the dining table. “I just mopped the floor.”

“Okay, Mom.” Dabbing a smaller towel against his hair, Satoru walks closer to your spot and pulls back a chair.

You eye him cautiously. “What are you doing?”

“Taking a seat, what do you think I’m doing?”

“You’re not gonna wear your clothes first?”

“Do I have to?” He takes a sip of your half-finished coffee, smacking his lips before he throws a naughty grin. “I mean, I fucked you right here last night. Surely you won’t mind eating breakfast with me only in my towel?” Before you can say a word—and you have lots to say—Satoru adds, “I’m just giving you a chance to ogle at my body as much as you want as you enjoy your food. I know you’re too embarrassed to ask, so you’re welcome. And if you’re willing to take a day off, I can be your dessert too.” 

You make a face. “Gross.” 

“And yet, you don’t deny the fact that you’re planning to stare.” Peering into your eyes, he places his chin on his hand, resting his elbow on the table. The haughty look he displays on his face is supposed to irritate you, but what it does is make your heart pound harder. “You’ve seen and touched these babies for years, and you still can’t get enough? Babe, come on.”

“You seriously calling your abs your babies?”

“Yep.” He wiggles his eyebrows. “But if you play nice, I’ll let you call them—”

“Just eat your breakfast.”

***

07.46 AM

“Babe?”

“What?”

“I have something to say but promise me you won’t kill me after I said it.”

“Okay…” You look up from your plate, feeling a bit concerned. “What is it?”

Satoru has never looked this serious in his entire life (because face it, Satoru and the word serious don’t really belong together now, do they?). 

Taking hold of your hand, he gently squeezes it, providing the comfort that you might need.

“This soup is salty as hell.”

***

07.58 AM

With the taste of salt still lingering thickly on his tongue (and a bump on his head, a masterpiece done by your fist), Satoru steps inside the bedroom with a yawn, his fingers scratching his undercut. He unwraps the towel from his waist, tossing it onto the sheets without care.

Your husband smiles the second he notices the way you’ve prepared his clothes so neatly on the desk, all the way from his tie, his belt even down to his socks. His dress pants are ironed to a crisp seam, and his phone is fully charged (after being married to him for three years, you’ve learned all of his little habits). You’ve selected a matching dark tie to go with his suit, one that he recalled was given to him as a gift during last year’s anniversary. He loves it. He loves how you always buy the things he needs instead of what he wants, even when he, himself, didn’t realize how essential they were. But what makes him the happiest is when he sees the way it makes you smile so warmly every time he wears it, like a painter landing a final stroke on her masterpiece. For someone who doesn’t speak romantic words so often, your little gesture never fails to portray what’s on your mind. You love him and it shows. 

“I’m being spoiled, huh?” Satoru mumbles to himself, nothing but elation in his chest. He spots the little notes you left him on the same table, your handwriting scribbled on a piece of paper. “Ooooh~ A love note?”

Dear husband, If you leave your wet towel on the bed again  I’ll kill you.

“Not a love note.” Wincing, he immediately retrieves the towel from the bed, his mind playing a traumatic flashback of you scolding him about it for two hours straight (because suddenly it wasn’t just about the wet towel, was it? The forgotten toilet seat. The countless jackets hanging on the coat rack because he kept grabbing a new one. The pile of hentai doujinshi piling up on the coffee table. All of them.)

With the thought of skipping today’s work lingering in his head, Satoru forces himself to dress. As he turns around to face the mirror, he captures a brief look at the kiss marks blooming on his neck, ones that you painted on him last night. They’re faint because, unlike someone in this condo, you make sure to always be considerate of his appearance (though Satoru wishes you weren’t), but even the lightest shade of red seems vibrant on his fair skin. 

Although he acts nonchalant most of the time, your husband is quite the possessive type, so it’s a given that he likes the idea of having his marks on you. He gets a kick out of watching you struggle to hide the love bites he left on your neck, even more so when someone notices it. But, of course, nothing beats the feeling of having your marks on him. If you allowed him to, he would’ve worn every bite and bruise like a medal. Proudly. Contentedly. The same way he exhibited every present you’ve given him. Satoru just loves the idea of having a wife—of having you as his wife—and he would showcase that to the world in every second of his life if he could. 

He traces the bruises with his fingertips, drowning himself in the thoughts of you gasping against his ear, your teeth grinding against his neck as he pushed your knees further against your stomach with every thrust of his hips. He wasn’t lying when he said you looked absolutely gorgeous during sex. The way you parted your lips. The way your eyebrows stitched together in pleasure. The little noises you made when you breathed out his name as you bounced on his lap—

Satoru looks down. There it is again, the ache between his legs. Funny how you’re already so distracting even without doing anything—or being in the same room for that matter. Sighing, he grouses, “Guess she’s right. No signs of erectile dysfunction.” Willing his indecent thoughts to go away, he tucks his hands into the sleeves, buttoning up his shirt before he circles his tie around his neck.

“Satoru!” He hears your voice resonating from the bathroom. “Toru, can you come here for a sec? I need your help!”

“Oh, now she’s calling me to have sex with her.” He rolls his eyes. “After I finish taking a shower. So much for playing hard to get,” he scoffs. It’s ironic that he says this because right now he’s the one who’sacting that way. With giddy hands, he unfastens his tie, rushing to take off his pants again and almost tripping on his way out. He dashes toward the bathroom, opening the door while he strives to keep his excitement in check.

“WHOA!” You yelp in surprise, your body nude and drenched, hiding behind the door with only your head peeking out. “Why are you naked?!”

He frowns, confused. “Cause we’re about to have sex?”

Now you’re confused. “Uhh, no?”

“Why did you call me then?”

“I forgot my towel.”

“You’re asking me to get you your towel?” He sounds so appalled as if that thought never occurred to him when it’s supposed to be the first thing that should pop out in his head. Before you can respond, however, his mind, delusional as always, answers the question for him. “Oh, I see,” he smirks. “You’re using codes.”

“What?”

“‘I forgot my towel’—isn’t that, like, our code for ‘let’s have sex in the shower?’”

“Satoru.” You hold yourself back from ripping the silver strands out of his head. He’s testing your patience. Again. “We don't have any secret code.”

“We don’t?”

“Nope.”

“Oh…” It almost feels a bit cartoonish the way his shoulders sag upon hearing your words. There he is, a 29-year-old male standing in front of you in all his naked glory, saddened to his core over the fact of not having a cipher for sex. Well, for three seconds anyway. “So… You wanna make this our secret code, effective immediately, or—”

“Get the damn towel.”

With a stomp, Satoru leaves the bathroom only to return with your towel in one hand and his eyes squinting in a glare. Being the brat that he is, instead of handing it directly to you, he lets the thick cloth fall to the floor just a few inches away from where you’re standing. 

“Oh, you’re so annoying.”

“Isn’t that your secret code for saying you love me?”

You throw a jab to his stomach.

***

08.24 AM

Pushing your hair out of your coat, you call out your husband’s name. You examine your appearance one more time in the mirror, tidying your strands until they frame your face perfectly. The condo is fairly clean. Your stomach is full though you can’t seem to wash away the saltiness of your soup just yet. You’re only seven minutes late from your original plan, which isn’t bad. You’re all set. 

“Toru, you’re ready to go?”

Your husband is still yawning when he meets you in the foyer, carrying his handbag with his shoulders sagging forward. He’s dressed sharply in a white button-up shirt, combined with a black suit that accentuates the broadness of his shoulders. He looks handsome. He always does.

“Well, well, well, hello, Mr. CMO,” you snicker, pulling him by the tie while seductively batting your eyelashes at him. “Do you have time to spare? I would like to have a private meeting with you.”

He’s so tired, he doesn’t have the strength to keep up with your flirting, which says something since it’s usually the other way around. He spreads his arms wide open, his pout turning more prominent by the second. “Come here.”

“What?”

“I need my twenty-second hug.”

So, apparently, Satoru believes in this theory he found recently on the internet that said when you hug someone for, at least, twenty seconds, your body begins secreting the hormone oxytocin which is known to boost the immune system and reduce stress. He said that but you know that he’s just doing it so he can squeeze your ass, and that’s a fact, not a theory.

“Fine, but don’t grope my ass.”

“As long as you don’t grope mine.”

“I literally never did that.” You bury your face in his chest, tangling your arm around his waist. Satoru’s warmth is really one of a kind, or maybe he’s just as warm as a normal human being and you’re just too intoxicated by his scent that you stop making sense. No matter what the reason is, it’s comforting to be in his arms and if he doesn’t make a big deal out of it every time (acting like you’re the one who desperately wants to embrace him), you’d probably spend hours of your day just hugging him like this.

He buries his nose in your strands. “Your hair smells different.”

“I used your shampoo.”

“Yeah? That’s hot.”

You close your eyes, basking in his warmth and enjoying the smell of his perfume. He’s wearing a different brand today, just for a change, and although it’s not as sweet as his other one, this somehow feels much more comforting. Soft and fresh, reminding you less of summer and more of spring this time. “You smell different.”

“I used your perfume. And your bra.”

You’re not sure if you’re laughing over his terrible joke or his deadpan delivery, maybe a bit of both. Nuzzling your face against his chest, you titter, “Yeah? That’s hot.” 

And he’s not sure if he’s smiling over your reply or the way you just sounded so cute giggling like that—no, definitely both. He tightens his arms around your shoulders, squeezing your body against him until you start pounding your fist against his chest, begging for a time-out before he steals all the air in your lungs. “I think we should just skip work today,” he mutters as he releases you. “We can watch a wildlife documentary and count on how many times Benedict Cumberbatch mispronounced the word “Penguin” as ‘Pengwings.’”

“That sounds productive. If you want Maki to kill you.”

He shudders in fear, pulling you back to him. “Just for that, I’m gonna need another twenty.”

Though you feel the urge the roll your eyes, you let him tug you back into his arms and rest his chin on your head. After all, he’s your personal teddy bear. You can spend your eternity just sinking into his embrace like this.

“Satoru?”

“Hmm?”

“Your hands are on my ass.”

“Yeah, but I’m not groping them.”

“You are now.”

“Well now that you mentioned it, I just have to, don’t I?”

You break away, giving a playful slap on the chest. “Enough, we’re running late.”

“Where do you find the energy to go to work every morning?” He asks with weariness in his eyes. “I am this close to throwing myself back to the bed.”

Funny how literally an hour ago, he promised you that he’d work harder to make you feel even prouder of him. “Well, I guess, it all started when I turned into a fully grown woman.” You smiled at him, fixing his tie before you dealt with his collar. He might be the youngest person to enter C-level in his company, but he still dresses as clumsily as a five-year-old if it wasn’t for you to keep his appearance in check all the time.

“I’m a fully grown man too and I still wish I could lay around all day,” he sulks.

“You’re a man-child.” Tugging on his tie, you pull him down until your lips meet his in a chaste kiss. “But I love you. Body, mind, and soul.” You beam at him with your widest grin. “How’s that for your energy booster, Gojo-san?”

To your surprise, Satoru answers you by tossing his handbag to the side and dipping his head down once more to re-attach your lips together. He kisses you with the same fervor he had last night, tongue sneaking inside to taste the minty scent of your toothpaste. You gasp against his mouth, fingers fisting the fabric of his suit as you struggle to maintain your balance. Can’t help but take a couple of steps back from how hard he’s kissing you, you stop only when your spine meets the wall. “Satoru—” You attempt to push him away by placing your hand on his chest but he clamps his fingers around your wrist, bringing it over your head.

With his body pressed against yours, you wonder if he can feel your palpitating heartbeat beating against his own. There’s no stopping him when he gets this aggressive with his kiss and it’s not like you can find any willpower within you to stop him. Fortunately for you, he breaks away, wetting his bottom lip once as his eyes still glaze over your bruised ones.

“Spirits lifted,” he smiles against your lips, sending blood to pool in your cheeks. “Thanks, babe.”

When he lets you go, you find it almost impossible to stay composed. Three years… Three damn years you’ve been married to him and he still knows how to make your knees buckle with a single kiss.

“Babe?”

You push yourself away from the wall, your fingers tangled in your hair when you try to fix it. “W-what?”

Putting on his sunglasses, he casts a smirk, “You might want to fix your lipstick.”

“Oh, I hate you.”

He pecks your cheek. “I love you too, baby girl.”

***

08.32 AM

Despite you being the better driver—better as in I’m not gonna try and bribe an officer with a brand new iPhone whenever I get pulled over or threaten him with my family name when things don’t work out my way—Satoru always insists on having his hands on the steering wheel every time you’re with him. “A gentleman wouldn’t let his lady drive, especially when she looks this pretty in that skirt,” he always says, and yes, maybe this is his gentleman sidetalking—even when the said gentleman had put on the same skirt and caressed his own butt in front of the mirror a few days back. But honestly? You know this is just a part of his master plan to control the music playlist for the next ten to fifteen minutes.

“We’re not listening to Hatsune Miku again,” you say, putting on your seatbelt. 

“Oh, we totally are,” Satoru cackles, his fingers sliding up and down the touchscreen. He has seventeen different playlists consisting of more than a hundred songs in total, all taken from his favorite albums. Which is not much, really, considering Hatsune Miku is featured in around two thousand songs by now (a fact that you, honest to God, don’t care but he keeps reminding you of).

“Satoru, if you play one more Hatsune Miku song, I swear I won't put out tonight.”

“Well, if I have to listen to cookbook again—”

“Jungkook.”

“If I have to listen to cookbook one more time then I won’t put out tonight.”

“That's fine with me,” you shrug.

“Fuck,” he clicks his tongue, desperately jumping to the next option. “Okay, uhh… Oh, I know! You’re not getting my credit card ever again.”

You have one finger hovering above the screen. “So which Hatsune album are we listening to today?”

He sends you a dead stare. “Do you only love me for my money?”

“Oh, honey…” You rest your palm gently on his face, cupping and stroking his cheek. “Of course, I do.” You give him a tap that goes a little too hard than you intended but then again, he kind of deserves it. “Now, drive.” 

Satoru doesn’t even have the energy to come up with a retort. Exhaling in defeat, he kicks in the gear while you, with your face crumpled in repulsion, try to pick the least insufferable Hatsune Miku song. Unfortunately for you, Satoru catches a title that steals his attention.

“OOOH go back, go back! I want to listen to that one!”

You sigh, selecting his song choice. “It’s too early to listen to—” Beaming with joy and oblivious to the hatred you have for that one song, Satoru sweeps in and cranks up the volume until you feel your ears ringing from the inside. 

“Oh my God—” You flinch. If his loud nagging didn’t bust your eardrum, this definitely will. “Does it have to be this loud?!”

“Of course, my goddess is singing!” He shouts, grinning from ear to ear. He starts singing along, just as loudly, if not more. At this point, you swear there are people jogging on the sidetracks looking at your car with their faces contorting into frowns. 

 “I’m the number one princess in the world, so that's how you'll treat me,” he sings, slamming his hands against the wheel, head bobbing to the beat. “Oh my God, this is the soundtrack of my life!”

Still scowling, you have no choice but to listen further to the lyrics.

It's not like I'm acting selfish, I'm not asking for much  I just want you to think from the bottom of your heart that I'm adorable I'm the number one princess in the world  Notice me! Hey! Heeey!  Keeping me waiting is out of the question  Just who do you think I am?  Whatever, I think I could go for some dessert!  Yes, right now!

You grimace. “It really is.”

***

10.54 AM 

11.45 AM 

01.10 PM 

01.29 PM

02.05 PM 

02.29 PM 

03.22 PM 

04.02 PM

05.28 PM

06.11 PM

07.06 PM 

***

AN: Thank you so much for reading! I'm so sorry for the amount of cringe that you had to suffer through while you were reading this 😭

[mydemonsdrivealimo]

bryce’s reaction to jensen getting up in the middle of the night to get water or something & then coming back & giving him a lil smooch on his forehead thinking he’s asleep? what about if it was the other way around? im in a fluffy sappy mood lol 💖

I love this thank you I need the fluff

this happens pretty often because jensen wakes up a lot during the night. usually he tries not to bother bryce since he's a pretty light sleeper as it is, but sometimes he has to because i mean he's all snuggly and warm like how could you not??? anyway if bryce is even half awake when jensen gives him a forehead kiss he always pulls closer to him (either snuggles into him or wraps him in a hug and literally yanks him over). no matter what it ends in cuddles and usually another kiss or two

for the other way around, i imagine it would be when bryce gets home super late and jensen is already asleep. he give him one little smooch before laying down and jensen def pulls him closer (usually blindly smacks his hand around until he finds bryces wrist) and gives him another one. usually jensen can get him to give him back rubs too if hes especially cuddly about it (if bryce actually wakes jensen up he's usually not too happy about it,,)

[urmomsmainbitch]

rodrick dating the opposite reader

requested: yes / no

warnings: mentions of sex, kissing, fluff, food, parties, school

a/n: im such a slut for this trope you have no idea

well first of all, it’s no secret that mrs. heffley would love you

she’d be so happy that someone is finally talking to rorick and that he’s actually forming a healthy relationship with someone

you’re all about grades and innocence and pastels and he is definitely not

he’d definitely be super caring about it, but he would try to more or less keep you that way

studying, snuggles, stuffed animals – y’know… mature but gentle

“you’re going to be uncles to each other’s kids one day!”

“yeah, y/n and i are gonna have really hot kids. super smart and have super drum skills.”

as for rodrick being a boyfriend, he’d definitely be the same amount of immature of everybody thought he would be, but considerate and snuggly all the same

he’d definitely give you lots of oversized loaded diaper shirts and even though his band is kind of shit you wear them to a) be supportive and b) because they smell like him

he loves waking up next to you and seeing him in nothing but his shirts and snuggling up into his chest

his heart MELTS and i want this more than anything

he wraps his arms around you and puts his nose on your head and in your hair and mumbles

late night drives in his van

sleepovers!! in!! his!! van!!

big blanket forts and pillows and comforters

helping him in school and studying late at night in his bedroom

you kiss him when he gets something right

he doesn’t mind schoolwork so much after that

definitely lets you sit on him and lean into him while your reading

like putting his head on your shoulder and mouthing the words that you’re reading with his arms around your middle

def braids hair

late night movies!!

at the rodrick rules party, greg definitely walked in on you two doing something unholy

you bribed him with icecream and to be his date to a dance or something and susan was a happy lady for the rest of your relationship

[karlswrites]

Big Vs. Little Spoon

Demon Bois + Non-Dateables Edition

This game is my newest hyper-fixation, so please bear with me. I know there are a lot of head-canons about the boys cuddling, but here’s my rendition. Boy howdy, this one’s a little long...

Warnings: Pure Fluff 

❤️ Lucifer: Because he’s the Avatar of Pride, Lucifer loves feeling bigger than you.  His pride inhibits him from being the little spoon, so he often opts for being the big spoon. Luci can’t help but admire the way his arms completely envelop you when he’s the big spoon. However, if he decides that you’ve been “a good little Main Character,” then he might acquiesce to your request, allowing you to lounge over him. Additionally, Luci prefers that the two of you cuddle in his bed, as it is rather large and extremely comfortable. Seeing you sprawled out over or curled in his comforter fills him to the brim with pride. Being able to hold you close to his chest gives him more pride than literally anything else. Being the elegant fella that he is, he will always lower himself beside you gently, careful not to disturb you. He won’t jump on the bed like some people. 

(I’m so sorry you had to read that one line of dialogue, if you can even call it that.)

💛 Mammon: A true switch on top of and underneath the sheets, Mammon is more likely to be the little spoon than his elder brother. He will never admit to you how much he enjoys feeling your arms slumped over him, but he does love it. He’ll never object to being the big spoon, though, as having his arms and legs draped over you is a HUGE ego booster. Mammon often feels little in the company of his brothers, so knowing that you feel safe and comfortable in his hold makes the guy’s heart melt. I must warn you, though, that Mammon doesn’t hesitate to leap unto your bed, effectively smothering you with his love and adoration. In the private on your room or his, because he loves showing his stuff off, he’ll entangle himself in you. Honestly, it doesn’t matter to him how you’re lying, as long as he gets to stay with you. If you satisfy his greed, and you always do, he will never leave.

(My friend thought of an adorable Mammon x MC Piggy-back ride idea, but that’s for another day, hehe)

💙 Leviathan: This poor boy isn’t used to physical touch, much less having someone in his room almost every night. His only experience comes from a Ruri-chan body pillow, and that thing does not compare to your warmth. At first, you have to be the big spoon. Although he’s embarrassed, Levi adores the feeling of your arms and legs hooked around him. He always takes the opportunity to take his hands and intertwine them with yours over his chest and waist. Now, if Levi gets jealous, then that’s a whole other story. If he notices a few too many people crowded around you or hugging you throughout the day, he’ll find his confidence and trap you into him. He’ll pull you into the bathtub with him, lay you down on his pillows, and act clingy so that nobody mistakes you for theirs. Good luck leaving the tub, ya hooligan. 

💚 Satan: Out of the two options, Satan is probably the big spoon most of the time. He likes holding you close, being able to enjoy some peace and quiet with you. He’s not so much of a ‘little/big spoon’ as he is a ‘two forks lying snuggly together in a drawer’ kind of guy. You lie next to him, your arms looped around his neck or his chest. Satan holds a book over the two of you, reading aloud softly. His free hand is snaked under your waist, his thumb gently stroking up and down your spine with each sentence he reads. On the other hand, if it’s late at night or super early in the morning, he’ll indulge in that prime spooning opportunity. He’d probably place his chin in the crook of your shoulder. He’ll probably have his hands anchored in your waist. He’ll probably - most definitely- slowly turn you around in his arms, letting his hands wander back towards your spine. Satan loves having you pressed against his heartbeat and vice versa. Your heart is the perfect sound for him to fall asleep to. 

💗 Asmodeus: This guy is a little spoon. With how much he loves himself and you, of course, he will curl himself into you. Asmo doesn’t like as much for his back to face you, so he always ends up turning around in your arms. He wants you to have constant access to his face. Whether you’re looking at him or kissing him, it doesn’t matter; Asmo wants your attention on his beautiful face. Being constantly suggestive, especially when it comes to you, he slowly weaves his legs between yours. He doesn’t hesitate when playing footsies, too. In terms of his preferences, he loves hosting you in his room. If you ever want to cuddle in your room, though, then he’ll eagerly agree. Asmo looks forward to leaving the scent of whatever fragrance he’s wearing all over your bedsheets. He wants you thinking about him 24/7 after all. 

(If anyone disagrees with this one, in particular, square up in a Denny’s parking lot.)

🧡 Beelzebub: As long as you’re eating food during cuddling, Beel could care less how you’re placed over him. He’s a big boy, so he’s often the big spoon. One of his arms will snake its way underneath you, holding you tightly around the waist. His other hand is preoccupied with a bag of chips or another tasty snack. Unlike Asmo, Beel is not nearly as handsy. He keeps you in his strong hold the entire time. When he’s done eating, he moves his hand up to your head. His digits will stroke and play with your hair. It’s so soft, and Beel can’t get enough of how relaxed it makes the both of you feel. Another position he likes, which isn’t necessarily spooning, but him lying on his back with you on top. Beel loves, loves, loves your head on his chest. The way his chin rests upon your head is so nice to him. He drapes his arms down your back, hooking his legs over yours. He keeps you in place, and you feel so safe. He is a legitimate teddy bear. 

💜 Belphegor: The Avatar of Sloth is the best cuddler, hands down. He has so many pillows and, upon request, can provide pillow forts, beds, nooks , or whatever you need. You always fall asleep within minutes. Cuddling was a bit difficult at first, as you didn’t always trust him. Actually, it was Belphie’s attempt to gain your trust that led you to be cuddle-buddies (besides your mutual pining, of course). Like some of his brothers, he doesn’t prefer one position over the other. He can be a big or little spoon. You say the word, and he’ll fall into the position with ease. He covers you with blankets, making you appear as a burrito/cocoon. He is definitely warm each and every time you snuggle in close. Belphie clings to you as a sloth clings to its branch, never letting go, even when you wake up. 

❤️ Diavolo: Another big boy, Diavolo is the - drum roll, please- big spoon. He has the broadest shoulders, biggest hands, and widest chest that’s perfect to fall into. Whenever you cuddle, he silently hopes you choose his castle. He’s always so excited to bring you over, and this guy has a massive bed. It’s literally made for a king. Since he’s a ray of sunshine, Diavolo will playfully tug you onto the mattress with him. He holds your face, caressing your cheeks. He grabs your waist, pulling you in even closer. He doesn’t let go until he absolutely has to. Sometimes, Barbatos has to come in and drag him away from you. Diavolo is completely smitten by you, and his affection only grows every time he relaxes against your back. Furthermore, cuddling with you is the perfect way to end a stressful day of dealing with the crazy demon brothers. 

💚 Barbatos: Barbatos may be a butler, but something about him screams big spoon. He loves scooping you up in his arms. The feeling of his heartbeat against your back brings him the greatest sense of comfort. When keeping you tangled up in his arms, he asks now and again if he can move in anyway, get you anything, or do anything to make you feel even more comfortable. He likes his control, but he always aims to please. Barbatos and you never stay still for long. His fingers run along your arms, sides, and shoulders continuously. He, too, likes playing with your hair. If you fall asleep before him, he places kisses on the back of your scalp, neck, and shoulders. He never goes past that, but cuddling allows him ample time to indulge in some innocent physical attention. Expect to be carried out of bed bridal style when the two of you wake up. 

🖤 Solomon: As the Devildom’s official special snowflake, you might never know what you’ll get with him. Solomon prefers feeling your back against his chest, though he will, like Lucifer, reward you by being the little spoon. He’s very calm and cool, so being the little spoon doesn’t embarrass him. He only cares about encasing you with his arms, hands wrapped around you in a big hug. He’s not as outwardly affectionate with you as another guy might be, but Solomon delivers some high-quality snuggles. You feel small and safe against him, and that’s all he could ever want. In terms of location, the two of you typically end up in your room. However, on days when the demon boys are at it again, he will coyly invite you into his dorm. He loves when your scent seeps its way into his bedsheets, but he also loves it when his gets lost in yours. Solomon is always left floored by how such simple affection can make him feel so warm and fuzzy. He doesn’t need to worry about spells with you, and you don’t need to worry about anything with him. 

🤍 Simeon: Similar to Levi, Simeon isn’t used to physical touch, but he’s not as shy. Cuddling you sounds as good as heaven, and he relishes in the feeling of your soft skin against his. Another true switch, in my humble opinion, he is content with being a big or little spoon. He’s an angel, and his greatest concern is how comfortable you are at all times. He’s inexperienced, so he will more-than-happily follow your lead. He never moves without your consent. You might have to reassure him a few times that moving is totally fine. In fact, it’s welcomed. Once he gets that through his noggin, he finally relaxes into you. From behind, Simeon grazes his hands over your stomach, loving the warmth you emit. If you’re behind him, he’ll seize the opportunity to clutch his hands in yours, loving the feeling of your head on his shoulder. He sleeps so much better with you.

[tavvattales]

hihi! was wondering if i could request a fluff where reader is singing/humming to themselves and [character] overhears? with bennett, xiao and childe <3 ty!! <33

Yesss! I love this so much 🥰 Here you are, I hope you like it and thanks so much for your patience 😊

If you can, please listen to Thomas Bergersen's song Promise from his album Illusions. It fits perfectly with this request 🥰

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GENSHIN IMPACT Character x gn reader fluff stories~♡♡

Scenario: Your beautiful voice

Characters: Bennett, Xiao, and Childe/Tartaglia(Seperate)

Pairings: Bennett x gn reader, Xiao x gn reader, Childe x gn reader

Warnings: Mentions of anxiety/sleepless nights, minor swearing

SFW------> Click down below for some massive fluff

Bennett:

● This guy absolutely loves the sound of your voice. When you soothe him after a long day with just your voice he wishes he could just hear you speak forever. The way you praise him and tell him how proud you are of him makes his heart melt every time. It's no wonder that when he hears you sing for the first time he hopes the moment would never end.

You had your fair share of bad luck in the past, but this took the cake. The Adventures guild asked you to check out some hidden ruins that were discovered that were said to be haunted. You somehow managed to get yourself trapped inside the old decrepit ruins while investigating the supposedly haunted remains when the ceiling above you collapsed, blocking your path.

You heaved a frustrated sigh, "I wish I didn't decide to go off on my own. ." You mutter, plopping down on one of the rocks that had fallen from the ceiling. Thank the Archons you didn't get seriously hurt, "Bennett's company would be nice right about now," you said with a frown. Thankfully being a skilled adventurer, you had packed enough supplies to last a while, at least until somebody realized you were missing. After all, these rocks were far too heavy for you to lift on your own.

A sudden shiver crept up your spine, making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. You wrap your arms around yourself, trying to keep yourself somewhat calm, "Right. . Supposedly haunted, they said. This is fine. Yep, " you grumble. You could swear you felt eyes all around you. The only thing that helped you calm down was to sing softly, so taking a deep breath you start singing.

Bennett on the other hand was getting worried as it was getting late and you always managed to come back before it got too late. He wished he could have gone with you, but he was tied up with another commission that he just barely managed to complete. He was starting to get restless and decided to make his way over to the guild to ask where you had gone off to.

Upon getting an answer Bennett ran as fast as his legs could carry him to come find you and didn't stop until he reached your destination. Sweat plastered his face, his silver hair clinging about. His chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath, his emerald eyes washed with worry. That's when he heard a soft, faint singing. Bennett's heart fluttered as he recognized that it was you.

Your singing voice danced in the old ruins, painting the air with a sense of gentleness. It seemed to calm the restless spirits as the feeling of anxiety washed away. Your voice grew louder, but still kept the same graceful, velvety tone. Bennett paused for a moment, his heart pounding as he listened to your beautiful voice. He knew he had to come get you, but he couldn't help but linger just a moment longer so he could take in you gentle voice.

This was a rare treat indeed for him. You only ever sing when you're by yourself. He considers himself super lucky in this moment.

Bennett x gn reader END

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Xiao:

● When Xiao heard your voice for the first time it was when you were speaking to Verr Goldet about renting a room at the Wangshu Inn. You voice caught his attention because it was so soft spoken. It made his heart flutter in ways it never did before. He wanted to get to know you, but never knew how to approach you so he stayed hidden and out of sight. When he heard you sing for the first time, he felt a tug in his heart.

You shot awake, your chest heaved as you tried to calm your breathing. Sheets soaked and sweat running down your temples, you were drenched. Another nightmare about your past you were desperately trying to run from taunted you as it lingered in your mind. You took slow, staggered breaths, trying to slow your pounding heart. The moon was high in the sky as it peeked through your window letting you know the moon wasn't even close to setting.

"Damn it," you let out a shaking breath, wiping the hair from your face. Once you steady your breathing you slip out of your bed and head towards the sink to wash the tiredness and sweat from your face. The water was cool, refreshing, as it washed away your worries. You changed into clean sleeping garments as you toss your sweat covered ones into a hamper in the corner of your room.

Debating on going back to sleep you ultimately decide against it, instead you decide to relax out on the balcony. Your room was on the highest floor of the Inn overlooking almost all of Liyue. It was absolutely breathtaking. You lean over the balcony rails, taking in your surroundings. The moon danced across your features, casting beautiful shadows across your face. You take in a breath of the crisp night air before you start singing.

You sang of your past, sorrowful, yet everything about it was beautiful. Your voice was soft, tears bubbling at the sides of your glimmering eyes as you felt the music in you flow. Little did you know someone was watching you silently and with care.

Xiao was perched on his usual spot on the roof also taking in the scenery before he noticed you. He watched as the moonlight enveloped you beautifully. Xiao's golden gaze shimmered, his deep forest green hair blowing gently in the night time breeze as he sucked in a breath for a moment, "Hmm. .?" He muttered, pulling his knee towards his chest as he leaned his head against it, his other leg dangling from the roof.

He closed his eyes, listening carefully to your sorrowful song. The sound of your voice caught his heart and how he longed to comfort you, to touch you, hold you in his arms where you would be safe and sound from the past you so long to run from. Xiao swore from this moment forward that he would protect you.

You heard rumors of an Adeptus living at the Inn and you hoped one day you would meet him. Tonight, though, all he wanted was to listen to you.

Xiao x gn reader END

----------------------------------------------------

Childe:

● He really lives up to his alias. You both always find yourself playfully bantering back and forth. He pushes your buttons because he loves the way you react and vice versa. The playful tone in your voice drives him crazy, but in all the best ways. When he hears you sing for the first time it was after a really long day. It calmed him down instantly.

Childe came home groggily and clearly overworked. There were bags under his tired sapphire eyes, his red hair disheveled, "Y/N, I'm home," he calls for you. You were in the kitchen preparing supper, a savory smell lingering in the air. You came out if the kitchen to greet him excitedly, an apron tied snuggly around your waist. The sight of you excited to greet him made him smile as he pulled you into a deep hug, "Mm, I missed you so much, sweetheart. Today was brutal, " he vented, kissing the top of your head.

"You look exhausted. I'm sorry, honey. I wish they wouldn't over work you so much. . ." You pout, worried for the wellbeing of your lover, reaching up to fix strands of his messy hair before placing a small kiss to his cheek, "Get comfortable while I set the table. Dinner is just about ready, " you instructed, pulling away from his warm embrace, pulling him along to the kitchen table to get him situated.

You quickly set the table and serve dinner. The both of you enjoying a delicious meal while he talked about his day. You gaze at him lovingly, reaching out to grasp his hand as the two of you ate. After dinner Childe attempts to clean up the dishes before you abruptly stop him, "Nu uh. You go take a nice long soak in the tub and rest up. You've done enough for the day. I'll clean up, okay?"

"Awh, my darling is so caring," He chuckles and swiftly steals a soft, but warm kiss. You lean into it, standing on your tip toes, your face flushed pink before pulling away, "I'll meet you in the bedroom then." He whispers in your ear teasingly.

You give him a playful shove in response, "Yes, now go on." You feel the heat rising across your face as you try to calm your beating heart. You take your time cleaning up so he could have more time to relax in the tub. Finishing up, you untie your apron and hang it up. All you wanted to do was lay down and hold the love of your life so you make your way to the bedroom.

Childe is already slowly dozing off as he looks up at you from the bed, his sleepy gaze following your graceful movements towards the bed. You softly plop down next to him, "You'll catch a cold that way, you know," you said, picking up the towel that was on the dresser. You reached over to him to pat his hair dry, but he wraps his arms around your waist, catching you off guard.

He pushes you close to him, your face flushed, "Let me just hold you like this, please?" He looked down at you, pleadingly. How could you say no? You snuggle gently into his chest, breathing in his scent, his arms resting on the curve of your back. He was so sleepy, you wanted to lull him into happy dreams, so with a soft gentle voice you started to sing.

You sang an old Snezhnayan lullaby, your voice sweet, like honey. His eyes widened, then softened with surprise. Your gentle way of singing was the most beautiful thing he's ever heard. He squeezes you a little tighter, his eyes heavy. You reached up to gently stoke his cheek as he drifted to sleep, happy that he was able to hear you sing, knowing he was going to have the best dreams tonight.

He hopes that you'll sing for him again and he'll be waiting patiently for that day.

Childe x gn reader END

--------------------

THANKS SO MUCH FOR READING! I had SOOO much fun writing this piece. Enjoy~ ♡♡

[sunlightbabe]

Do you have any soft/domestic Damiano hcs? I've had such a unexpected crappy day and I do with some comfort and that's what your writing is to me🥰

i've been 🥺🥰🥺 ever since i got this message tbh!! i am so glad that my writing is a comfort to you and i really, truly hope your day ends on a bright note babe <333333

for existing hcs: a quiet morning when you're not feeling your best, a big bear hug from damiano, a small thing about reading with damiano & a cutesy first kiss

under the cut is just a bunch of cute little moments that i think scream "soft comfort" 💛💛💛

imagine going to a shelter and adopting a pet with damiano?? he would lean towards the cats obviously, and i think you could convince him to adopt a dog maybe, but please imagine damiano falling head over heels in love with the softest little ball of fluff. it's a kitten, all black and fuzzy and with ears that are just a little too big for its head. it's not the first one to come stumbling towards you guys, but it watches you both the entire time and the moment damiano picks him up to say hello?? the little fella starts to purr so loud that his body actually shakes with it and you can see the look in damiano's eyes that This Is The One (bonus points: it also gets a quirky little name, like sneakers)

the first snow of the year!!! the air is cold and crisp and the city is quiet as you both head outside, gloved hand in hand, giggling and hushing each other because it's super late at night and you don't want to wake the neighbors. the snow comes down gently- more like a fine powder than actual flakes, just a serene dusting that sticks to the roads and trees and buildings. you both stick your tongues out to see who can be the first to catch some on their tongue and damiano tries to make a snowball, but it's not wet enough. you can see your breaths coming out in little puffs and damiano's nose is already starting to get cold. it's cute. like, really, really cute, and you can't help but gently smooch the tip of it

damiano would love to share clothes with you, especially soft and snuggly sweaters, i just know it. if you're smaller? he loves how his clothing rests on you, how you seem to get swallowed up by the fabric. same size? makes shopping awfully convenient! he'll raid your closet for that one sweater you always wear on the weekend. you're bigger? perfect, damiano loves to grab your sweaters and wear them, claiming that it's like getting a super long and lingering hug from you. before he goes away on tour, he's sure to wear one around the house the night before. doesn't matter if it's his or yours or one you share, he just knows you appreciate being able to wear it and smell him on it while he's away

please imagine teaching this man how to roller skate. he's confident at first, claims he can learn anything in just a few minutes, brags about how you're going to eat his dust. for someone who wears heeled and platformed boots, damiano does not do well with wheels at all. he's like a baby giraffe, all gangly and awkward, arms flailing about as he tries not to fall down. eventually you take pity on him and gently holding his hands, you guide him around the rink. whether or not he actually learns how to be more stable on his feet is forever a mystery, because once your hands are in his? he's not letting go

[chaoticparker]

Movie Night

peter parker x reader

w/c: 0.7k

warnings: one lil suggestive joke but its all fluff

summary: You and Peter have a movie night

a/n: let me know what you think <3

masterlist

"I got the popcorn in the microwave, did you pick out a movie yet?" You asked as you walked into Peter's room, in which Peter was sitting on his bed with his computer out.

"No, I can't decide between Ferris Bueller's Day Off and Clue, what do you want?" Peter replied. You and Peter recently decided that you would watch one movie from each decade, tonight being 80's, each Friday, because Friday was always May's late day so Peter and you would have the apartment all to yourselves.

"What no Star Wars suggestions tonight? You always ask to watch them." You crossed your arms and Peter just rolled his eyes, "If were to watch Star Wars in chronological order, The Phantom Menace came out in the 90's and if we were to watch it in release order A New Hope came out in the 70's. And I don't want to start with the second or third ones. Isn't obvious?" You and Peter laughed and you sat down next to him on the bed, "No but seriously what do you want to watch?"

"Hmmmm, let's watch Ferris Buller, I already know how Clue ends." You smiled teasingly and Peter placed his hand behind your head and pulled you in for a kiss. You both smiled into the kiss, it was messy and may not be even considered a kiss, but it was fun and sweet.

*Beep* *Beep*

You pulled away and Peter jokingly frowned, "I'll get the popcorn and you set up the movie, 'k?" Peter nodded and as you got up your heard a faint, 'I can't believe I got cocked block by fucking popcorn', from Peter which made you bite back a laugh.

You quickly opened the microwave and then opened the popcorn bag and poured the popcorn into the bowl. You quickly took a handful of popcorn and ate it as you walked back towards Peters room.

When you went through the door you saw Peter snuggly under the covers. When he noticed you standing in the door way, he lifted half of the covers and you slid in next to him. He pressed play on his laptop and you handed him the bowl.

As you watched the movie, you both made commentary on the plot and the characters, and your hands brushed up against each others a lot and it made Peter blush like a middle schooler.

Once the movie was done Peter reluctantly got up and gave you a quick kiss on the cheek, "I'm gonna clean and put the bowl away, I'll be right back." You hummed in response and tried to work up the courage to actually get up and get changed into your pj's.

Peter was back surprisingly quickly and practically pulled you out of bed. "Come on darling, you need to get up." You got up and peter went over to his closet and pulled out an oversized shirt of his and tossed it to you. "I'll be in the bathroom, just knock when your done."

You turned around and got changed into the super oversized shirt. You knew that the shirt was big on Peter but you didn't realize how big. It was practically a nightgown on you, but as unflattering as it might've been on you, it smelt like Peter which always made you happy.

You've probably have stolen at least 5 sweatshirts from Peter but they have all lost his scent. You and Peter did have a system where you take a few of his sweatshirts, make them smell like you, then give them back to Peter, and the cycled continued. You believed that this the most clique and embarrassing couples thing you both do, but honestly you really did not care, Peter had amazing taste in comfy sweatshirts so Mj's eye roll that she gave you was completely worth it.

You knocked on the bathroom door and Peter swung it open, "all yours, lovely" You moved to do your nightly routine and Peter switch places with you, "I'll meet you in bed." Peter kissed you again and left.

A short time later you left the bathroom and headed to Peters bed. As you entered his room, a small light on his bed side table was on and you could see Peters passed out face and his arms and legs all sprawled out. You gave a light laugh and turned the light off and crawled into the bed. You had too lightly shove Peter to the side which must of slightly woken him up, because he wrapped his arms around you. "Night love."

"night Peter."

[cole-grey-writes]

Brown Hair Braided

Universe: Marvel Cinematic Universe

Timeline: Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier

Character(s): Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes

Pairing(s): Stucky x Male Reader

Warning(s): tooth rotting fluff

Request: Hi king!! Your writing is amazing! I’d love to request a cuddly stucky x boyfriend reader. Bonus points for extra snuggly long haired Bucky and Steve and the reader playing with his hair.

A/n: WOW so sorry this took me a while to get up. I was busy with online classes and homework, all that shit. and if anyone is interested to know, i finished applying to my first college (yeah cutting it suuuper short but fuck im a procrastinator). I really hope you enjoy this fic. Keep sending in your requests, i really like writing for you guys!

You sit at the desk that sits in your bedroom, doing some last minute paperwork before the weekend. You’re startled from your focus and analytical thoughts when you get a frantic text from one of your boyfriends, Steve. You smile.

It's been a couple years since you had started going out with Steve but it still feels like you two were in the honeymoon phase. Steve brings a smile to your face at even the slightest mention of him. Although, you’re a little confused as to why Steve didn’t just call you. It’s what he usually prefers to converse with you while you are away from each other, Steve having told you it had something to do with liking to hear your voice. You chose not to dig further to spare Steve’s already tomato red face from exploding.

You turn away from your computer and small stack of papers, picking up your phone just as the screen lights up with another text.

Steve [5:23 p.m.]    Y/N Y/N Y/N

Steve [5:23 p.m.]    HEY

Steve [5:24 p.m.]    ANSWER

You snort, wondering what Steve seems so excited about.

You [5:24 p.m.]    what

Steve [5:23 p.m.]    BUCK IS COMING HOME

You’re immediately sitting up straight, smile spreading even wider. You now understand why Steve had chosen to text you, probably embarrassed to start loudly squealing over their boyfriend coming home while in his place of work.

Bucky was your other boyfriend, something you wouldn’t have believed if you were to bring it up with your past self. This is mostly due to the almost palpable tension between the two of you when you and Bucky officially met about a year prior.

You, Steve, Sam, and occasionally Natasha, had been trailing after Bucky all over Europe for a few months. Bucky must have been slowly rebuilding himself during that time because he had suddenly stopped running right before you were going to hit the four (4) month mark.

You didn’t understand where all the awkwardness had been coming from. For all you knew, you were just looking for Steve’s childhood best friend, one of the only people to still remain from Steve’s old life. That was, until Sam and Natasha started making offhand comments about how deep Steve and Bucky’s friendship seemed to run (you honestly didn’t and don’t blame either of them for the new wave of insecurities that flooded your mind, you and Steve having agreed to keep the relationship, which you started only a few weeks before the reveal of HYDRA’s secret operations inside SHIELD, you started a secret until you two became more comfortable).

Everything made sense after that. It was understandable that you and Bucky had a fragile relationship in the beginning. And it really was only in the beginning. It didn’t take long before you and Bucky started bonding over your shared love for Steve and it didn’t take long after that before something started forming between the three of.

You [5:25 p.m.]    !!!!!

You [5:26 p.m.]    OMG

You [5:26 p.m.]    REALLY?!?

Steve [5:26 p.m.]    YES!

Steve [5:26 p.m.]    we need to hurry he’s on the way home rn

You [5:26 p.m.]    oH UM

You [5:27 p.m.]    i’m home rn

You [5:27 p.m.]    i can set up everything here

Steve [5:27 p.m.]    good!!

Steve [5:27 p.m.]    i can get dinner and dessert on my way home

You [5:27 p.m.]    perfect

Steve [5:28 p.m.]    ok 123 brEAK

You snort at Steve’s comedic antics as you push yourself away from your desk and away from your work. You know that you'll have to finish those at some point before monday. You’ll most likely be doing it late sunday night due to the fact that you’re going to be completely preoccupied with your boyfriends all weekend because it's been a few weeks since all three of you have been together.

This is obviously due to your hectic work schedules, Steve stuck with what was left of SHIELD, unofficially of course, doing top secret secret agent missions. Bucky had joined him in that soon after he was cleared for it. You, on the other hand, have a very typical and boring office job, a job that has become very demanding as of late with your boss giving out extra paperwork around your floor.

But, you don’t have to worry about that at the moment, you remind yourself. That thought spurs you into moving around your apartment, an apartment that you’ve been sharing with your boyfriends for a couple of months now. You note this fact with a small surge of glee inside your head as you rush to your closet where you keep all your blankets at.

You pull out the blankets you have, which is quite a lot, a fact you’re slightly embarrassed to admit. You’ve accumulated a bunch of them throughout your entire life, some as gifts from your friends and family and others from your lack of self control during the fall and winter time of the blatant holiday themes are anything to go by. You’re pretty sure your old baby blankets are boxed up somewhere, likely under your bed.

You pile the load of blankets high in your arms, so much so that you can’t see where you’re going if you don’t walk sideways as you make your way towards the living room. The living room where everything is going to happen.

Dropping the mountain of blankets on the couch unceremoniously, you immediately start to arrange them all around the couch. You bunch and ball the blankets around the back of the couch, trying to form a cocoon out of them so that you, Steve, and Bucky can remain warm no matter where or how any of you sit while you watch movie after movie throughout the rest of the night.

Which reminds you, it’s not possible to have a movie night without any movies.

turning to the small movie rack that sits next to the TV, you waste no time at all in picking out any movies that catch your eye which are quite a few movies, a good number of which are Steve and Bucky’s favorites. You set the, rather large, stack of movies next to the couch blanket fort so they’re out and ready to pick through whenever.

You’re left with a small clean up after that. You clear off the coffee table for when Steve gets home with the food, picking up leftover coffee mugs (courtesy of Steve) and rinsing them before sticking them in the dishwasher for you to deal with later. Then, you move the books lying around the living room to the miniature bookshelf in your bedroom before gathering all the drawing paper and well used pencils (also courtesy of Steve) and placing those on the left bedside table, the side Steve likes to sleep on when he’s not in the middle.

You wander around the apartment after that, looking for anything else to clean while you wait for Steve to arrive. It takes less time than you think it should have, which is surprising, so surprising that you almost think someone is politely breaking in when you hear the sound of the door clicking open and closed.

You head out of your bedroom where you were perusing a book, something you could distract yourself with, when you heard. You walk into the kitchen to see Steve already unpacking the food, clearly having rushed home.

You’re not able to hold back your smile upon seeing your boyfriend for the first time in weeks. “Need any help?” you wonder, your appearance catching Steve’s attention. He turns towards you, it being quite obvious that Steve is as excited to see you as you are to see him if the wide smile that spreads across his face in seconds is anything to go by.

Steve pauses in his unpacking to lean towards as you approach him swiftly, so he can pull you into a warm kiss. You and Steve feel each other smile during the kiss, making you two smile even harder. “Help would be great,” Steve tells you after you separate. He resumes unpacking the food from the plastic bag it was put into.

You identify the logo on the bag now that you’re so close and it’s clear that the food is from Bucky’s favorite burger place. You take note of the food as you help Steve set everything out on the counter. There’s three (3) different to-go boxes, no doubt filled with favorite menu items. You also spot three (3) medium sized milkshakes sitting in the cup container.

“Dessert?”

“It’s in the fridge,” Steve informs you.

Making a sound of interest and curiosity, you ask, “What is it?”

Steve smirks and raises his eyebrows. “Went to the store and got one of those ice cream cakes Buck likes.”

“Well,” you start, “that will certainly be a nice treat for later.”

You and Steve share a smile as you both grab the food and milkshakes so you can bring it to the living room. The living room where you plan to have dinner and a show with your two wonderful super-soldier boyfriends.

Afterwards, you and Steve resign yourselves to standing around the kitchen, catching up on the last few weeks. You and Steve are ready to happily greet Bucky once the time comes that he opens the door.

It feels like time drags on and on while you two are waiting so you’re very much thankful when you finally hear the turning of the doorknob. You and Steve separate from where you had been wrapped around each other, turning and shouting Bucky’s name in excitement. Just as he walks through the door, Bucky is all bashful as soon as he sees his two boyfriends greet him with spread arms and wide smiles.

You look him up and down for the first time in quite awhile, Bucky just as gorgeous as he always was. He clearly showered and changed beforehand if the damp hair and sweatpants are anything to go by.

Bucky drops the gym bag, obviously filled with his dirty and possibly damaged suit, on the floor. He stretches his arms out, resting each hand on the back of your and Steve’s necks so he can pull you both in close to give each of you a kiss on the lips.

“Welcome home.”

“Welcome home indeed,” Bucky rumbles back, a heart-eye look sweeping across his face. You’re one of the two people on earth that gets to receive that look, not that you mean to brag or anything.

“I’ll take your bag and put it in our room,” Steve tells Bucky. Bucky thanks him before he pulls Steve into another kiss. It’s something you feel there’s going to be a lot of for the rest of the evening, which you look forward to.

Steve takes Bucky’s gym bag from him before walking off so he can do exactly as he said, leaving you and your other boyfriend by yourselves in the kitchen. Once Steve is out of reach, you feel Bucky’s hand move from the back of your neck to your waist, which allows him to pull you in close. He presses you against his chest so he can engage in a deep reunion kiss. It’s been a long time since you’ve last felt his lips against yours which is why you allow yourself to indulge.

You have to force yourself to take a step back. “Not that I'm not enjoying this, because I 100 percent am, but…” you trail off as you take Bucky’s hand in yours, ”we should go to the living room for your first surprise.”

“First surprise?” Bucky’s tone lilts in clear interest, eyebrows raising. It’s almost as if he’s joking but you’re able to tell that Bucky’s genuinely looking forward to what you and Steve have prepared for him.

“We haven’t seen each other properly in weeks. There’s a lot to catch up on.”

“Well, I am definitely looking forward to it. Lead the way, doll,” Bucky instructs you, causing you to chuckle before you turn away from him in order for him to lead him into the living room.

You present the done up living room with wide open arms and an enthusiastic ‘ta-da’ and it seems that if Bucky’s smile could get bigger, it probably would. He surveys your and Steve’s work before he turns back towards you and also Steve, who has just rejoined you and Bucky. “What do you think, Buck?”

“You know what I think, Stevie baby,” Bucky tells him, grabbing one of each of your and Steve’s hands. “I absolutely love it.”

Changing the subject a little, you say, “Well, pick a seat because none of us are moving for anything other than changing the movie and getting dessert.”

Bucky hums, his voice lifting up high at the end. “Dessert, huh?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve dismisses before his boyfriend could get any ideas. “You have to finish your dinner first.”

Bucky nods eagerly, not in any way bothered by being withheld dessert, before he takes his seat in the middle of the couch. He clearly wants to have his boyfriends cuddled up on either side of him.

“So, what do you want to watch first?” you question while you scoot the pile of movies closer to Bucky, who doesn’t take any time at all to begin picking out the movie he wants. And as it turns out, it’s a horror movie called The Apparition.

While he takes it from the pile, Bucky comments, “Been awhile since I’ve seen one fo these.”

“Horror movie, huh?” Steve jokes. “Trying to be our knight in shining armor while we cower behind you in fear?” you laugh alongside your boyfriends.

You settle back on the couch once you’ve taken the movie from Bucky and put it in the DVD player, which begins to play shortly after. You and your boyfriends snuggle into each other’s sides, feet pulled close to your bodies as you all munch on your food.

Well, it’s more like Steve and Bucky are eating their food. At the moment, you were less interested in your food and more interested in Bucky. Your boyfriend was distracting in general, both of them were. But it’s the smooth brown waves of Bucky’s hair that’s distracting you specifically. It looks so soft, especially so after Bucky’s washed it, and you just want to run your fingers through it, play with it for hours.

Your eyes wander down to your wrist as you continue to think about your boyfriend’s long hair, eyes catching on the little black band around your wrist. It’s a hair tie, one that you and Steve always have wrapped around your wrists for this precise reason. For tying up Bucky’s hair when he needs or wants to. It’s a habit to keep hair ties on your person constantly, originating right around the time Bucky was cleared to go on missions. He had decided that he wanted to keep his hair long, at least for the time being, so as the length of Bucky’s hair grew larger so did the need for hair ties at any given time.

You glance between Bucky’s hair and the hair tie, your self control wearing thin. After only a few seconds, you’re not able to help yourself from reaching your hand out to your boyfriend’s beautiful brown hair. You weave your fingers through a few strands is all it takes for your desire to skyrocket.

Tangling both of your hands to Bucky’s hair, you feel him pause in his eating but you pay it no mind as you begin to languidly braid his hair. It’s not long before another pair of hands join yours. Looking over, you spot a giddy Steve on the other side of Bucky. It appears as if your thoughts have rubbed off on him because he grabs the other half of Bucky’s hair so he can braid it alongside you.

Bucky chuckles, clearly amused. “You two are ridiculous.” Although, you wonder if Bucky can really blame you.

“Your hair is really beautiful, though,” Steve adds. Bucky doesn’t say anything in response, not that it matters. The blush that highlights his cheeks for the next five minutes is telling enough.

You and Steve share knowing looks as you both continue to braid your boyfriend’s hair, permanent smiles stretching across your faces.

(NOT MY GIF)

Main Blog // Other Side Blog

((NO ONE HAS MY PERMISSION TO REPOST MY WORK ANYWHERE EVEN WITH CREDIT))

[loveofafangirl]

To Be Held

[Steve Rogers Masterlist]

Synopsis: The war to save humanity may have been won, but that doesn’t mean every battle is over. Some are still waging on quietly inside of those who were there. Word Count: ~ 950 Warning: hurt/comfort, mostly fluff

Author’s Note: This is the first time I’ve ever written for Steve or Marvel. It’s just a little ficlet to give something new a try. I hope it isn’t awful. Please let me know if you like it and/or if you want to be tagged in any future Steve work I try. No beta. I like to live dangerously. A/N2: Thank you to @the-soot-sprite​ for encouraging me to try something new and take back my fandom experience. This is my first step in trying to rediscover my love for writing. 

It wasn’t uncommon to find him outside when returning home from work. Steve was always more comfortable outdoors, where he could lose himself in the natural landscape that surrounded your home. It allowed him to clear his thoughts and shake away the ghosts of his past that still haunted him. 

Some days were better than others. 

You place your work bag on your desk in the study. Then, you peer through the windows, looking for any signs of the super-soldier, as you make your way through the quiet house. 

You had come to love the peaceful serenity the secluded home provided as much as he did. It made your long commute to work worth it, knowing you would be returning to a beautiful lake house. It was your oasis from the bustle of life. 

You and Steve had been together for a while now. You had never expected things to turn out as they had. After all, you weren’t anything special. You weren’t an assassin or a warrior. You weren't world-renowned. You were just a normal person, living an everyday life while all the big events happening outside of your view. 

Hearing the stories of the Avengers on the news sometimes seemed too fantastical to be true. But then, one chance meeting changed both of your lives. You shake your head. A subtle smile pulls at your lips as you recall that day. If you hadn’t been running late, all of this might never have happened.

Finding no indication of him in or around your house, you walk down to the lake and discover him where you expected. You know from that, it wasn’t a good day.

Steve rests on his forearms as he leans on the banister of the dock. He looked out at the crystal waters of the lake. The sun still peeked over the top of the trees, casting a warm light on the shimmering surface. 

Despite the picture-perfect view, Steve’s gaze was distant, lost to his memories. He didn’t regret coming back. He had tried to stay with her. However, he couldn’t stand watching the world he loved so much succumb to the darkness that he knew was coming when he wouldn't be able to do anything to stop it. She would always be his first love, but they decided she couldn’t be his last. 

He hoped his return to the future would allow him some peace. Yet, the countless lives lost and the destruction that had ensued plagued him day and night. It was hard to escape reminders of what had happened when the world was still rebuilding. Most people were grateful to the Avengers. They understood the cost that had to be paid for the greater good, for their survival; but still, many blamed them. He took it the hardest. No matter who the resentment was directed toward, he took it personally. He holds himself responsible for the actions of them all.

His shoulders slump forward, a heavy sigh leaves his lips. Despite his years of training, he doesn't hear you coming, or if he does, he gives no notion of it. He remains motionless, shifting only slightly under your touch. 

You run your hands up and down the curve of his spine and out over his shoulders. You can feel the tension plaguing his body. As much as he could use a massage, there was something he needed more. 

Stretching on your toes, you place a kiss on his shoulder as you slide your arms around his torso. You press your chest against his back and hold him snuggly. His muscles tighten, but he doesn’t move away. There’s a part of him that feels as though he deserves this pain. You helped him remember he’s more than the damage they caused. Lives had been saved. The win wouldn't erase the loss, but he couldn’t bottle up the pain either. 

You stay there, just hugging him close. Your height is dwarfed by his tall, muscular physique. But, it didn’t matter. You were there for him to give him space while reminding him he wasn’t alone. 

Nuzzling against him, you think back to your students. So many of them feel as though they have to be strong, despite what is happening in their lives and the world around them. You remind them that feeling deeply isn’t a weakness. Being strong doesn’t mean forgetting the pain. Being strong sometimes means opening up wounds and letting them heal. It's okay to cry or need a hug. You tell them that even the strongest, bravest among us need to be held sometimes. And today, that was what Steve needed most. 

You snuggle closer against his back, letting his body warm you as the sun dipped lower and disappeared in the foliage.

Eventually, you feel his arms cover yours, and he holds you against him. His breathing calms as he melts into your silent care. 

No words are spoken, but so many more are understood. The once blue lake turns to a blazing orange fire before darkness sets in. The two of you remain there, wrapped in each other’s arms as the soft sounds of nature surround you. Crickets chirp and small woodland creatures scurry in the bushes and trees nearby. You know the ghosts have settled when he turns into you, brushing a kiss on your forehead. The warmth of his lips leaves an impression on your cool skin that holds a memory of the gesture for a few moments longer. His gentle blue eyes glisten, even in the dark. The pain and sadness that haunted him have given way to something greater, something you’ve given him—hope. He offers you his hand and leads you back to the home you share. 

Hi! If you like this please comment or like or reply. I would love you forever! 

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[starlit-serenade]

ONEUS as Boyfriends (Maknae Line)

Summary: What would ONEUS's Maknae Line be like as boyfriends? 《 Hyung Line 》

Word Count: 1,120 words

Pairing: Reader x Members / Characters: GenderNeutral!Reader; Lee Keonhee (Keonhee); Yeo Hwanwoong (Hwanwoong); Son Dongju (Xion);

Rated: E / Warnings: None / Genre: GenderNeutral!Reader; Fluff;

《 ONEUS Masterlist 》

Lee Keonhee (Keonhee)

Keonhee would be such a goofy and sweet boyfriend.

He loves kissing you randomly and hugging you all the time.

Back hugs! Cheek kisses! Neck kisses!

He'd love to hold your hand! All the time!

When he sees you after practice, he showers you with kisses all over your face. 

He loves squishing your cheeks and calling you cute names.

Oh, he'd love cuddling with you so much.

Burying his face in your neck and kissing you.

He doesn't mind being all clingy and snuggly with you in front of his members.

He texts you all day, every day.

"Aren't you supposed to be practicing?" / "Yes, but I was missing you so I sneaked to the bathroom to text you."

Lots of selcas and 'I miss you' texts.

You have to remind him to go back to work too often.

When you two fight, he either gets really pouty, or he gets really upset and serious.

He'd raise his voice, but not yell.

If an argument gets bad, he gets really stiff and maybe won't be able to control his words as much.

He'd never say anything mean, but depending on how bad it is, he might say something a little harsher than intended.

He might need some time to cool off on his own.

Afterward, he'd come back and apologize for anything that he said and would snuggle you.

Oh, on tour he'd want to call you every night.

He'd try to stay up as late as possible, telling you about the international food and how he'll bring you next time to see everything, but he'd almost definitely fall asleep before you.

He teases you for the cute habits you have, but he loves all of your habits because they're what make you you.

Sometimes you catch him accidentally doing the things you do. It's really cute.

Despite being super tall, he'd still want to be your little spoon sometimes.

Keonhee is such a softy and would pamper you to death.

Yeo Hwanwoong (Hwanwoong)

Oh my gosh this man.

Let me just.

*deep breath*

Hwanwoong is such a sweetheart.

But gosh he's such a flirt.

Even though you guys are together, he's flirting with you.

He remembers all of the littlest details about you.

All of your hobbies. Your favorite foods. Your favorite colors.

He likes holding hands, but I feel like, in general,, physical touch isn't something he either likes or dislikes.

Maybe an arm around you when you go out.

And snuggling when you get home.

And lots of cheek kisses from him to you.

But other than that, not a lot of physical touch.

Unless you want any, of course.

My boy would love showing off his dancing to you.

He'd want to teach you some partner dances to dance with you.

My gosh the dances he'd learn just for you.

The sexy dances.

Ugh.

He's such a tease.

Please, please compliment him if you're dating him.

Especially on his dancing.

He'd get shy but he loves it.

And when he's shy he's a bit giggly and tries to change the subject.

He compliments you too.

Especially when you're trying new things.

Or when you try dancing.

He loves trying new things with you.

Teaching you dances, trying out new hobbies.

When it comes to fights, Hwanwoong raises his voice a bit easier than the others. He might be a bit of a yeller if it gets bad, but it's very hard to get to that point with him.

He definitely would focus more on dealing with the problem than on feelings, so feelings might get hurt during an argument

But after an argument, he'd give you so many cuddles and kisses.

It doesn't matter if you're taller or shorter than him. He has to be the little spoon sometimes.

If he's the big spoon, he sometimes falls asleep with his arms around you with his face buried in your neck.

Ugh he's such a softy.

When he's on tour, he would text you cute little messages throughout the day every day.

He'd call you every night.

To be honest, you'd probably fall asleep before him.

He babies you.

Even if you're taller than him.

Squishes your cheeks.

He will do aegyo to cheer you up if you're sad or mad at him.

Honestly, Hwanwoong is such a sweetie pie. He'd want to involve you so much in  his life so much. Bless this baby.

Son Dongju (Xion)

Dongju would be such a cute and lovely baby boyfriend.

He would be so clingy and cute.

He loves snuggling and clinging on to you.

Even in front of his members, he's not afraid to be overly affectionate.

Regardless of who's older between you and Dongju, he needs to be pampered.

He needs lots of words of encouragement. Compliment him.

Tell him he's handsome or cute. Tell him he's doing so well.

When you compliment him, he gets super shy and giggly and tries to switch the topic, but he secretly likes it.

He might be your baby, but you're also his baby.

When it's cold, he'll wrap you up in warm clothes.

Oh, he'd love to sit on the couch with you in the winter, the two of you wrapped in a blanket together.

He definitely likes you wearing his clothes.

Sometimes he talks to you in aegyo.

And pout. Especially when he's sleepy.

He loves squishing your cheek so much.

After work, he comes home and you and him will snuggle together and talk about both of your days

When you guys argue, he raises his voice easily.

Usually, it isn't raised too much that it's intimidating.

Sometimes he's a bit whiny when he's upset.

But if the argument gets really bad, he might get more easily caught up in his emotions and raise his voice.

But afterward, he'd shower you with kisses and snuggles.

When he's on tour, he calls you a lot.

Every day, as many times as possible.

He and you would stay up late on a call together, talking about how much you miss each other.

He'd definitely sing you to sleep if you asked.

If you fall asleep during a call, he'd smile softly and fall asleep to the sound of your snores.

When he's away from you, he scrolls through the photos he has if you.

He loves taking pictures of and with you.

Every picture of you is a little memory on his phone.

He remembers all of the little things you do. Your habits and interests.

He giggles about them when he misses you.

Honestly he would fall head over heels for you.

If he is your boyfriend, he is very in love with you.

[studiobeebo]

Hey Bee, super excited to see you writing again even if just for a bit! Might I be so bold as to ask for Hawks making breakfast in bed for reader? 🍳 I'd love some snuggly domestic fluff. Also, are people submitting pets? I'm not sure why or if it's a thing, but incoming pictures of my little bastard fur baby.

HHHHHHH VIX I HOPE THIS IS BETTER LATE THAN NEVER TY FOR REQUESTING MY FAV CHICKEN ITS BEEN A WHILE SINCE IVE BEEN INSPIRED TO WRITE FOR HIM  ALSO THANK U FOR SHOWING ME UR BASTARD

Hawks / Keigo Takami

Legally, even heroes amongst the top ranks were required to have days off. An unstable hero is an ineffective hero, after all. For a long time, however, days off were just that for Keigo: a necessary component to be the hero he was trained to be. It took him a while to see days off as most people saw it, a time to relax, even if those days off were usually interrupted in one way or another. Still, that never stopped him from dreaming of a world where he could have genuine free time to fill with whatever random shit he could think of, but for now he was making do with ‘enjoying the little things’, something that you had drilled into his brain when the two of you first started talking, and since then he’d had plenty of time to realize that you were one of his favorite ‘little things’ to enjoy.

He didn’t get to spend a whole lot of time with you, but over time you became one of the main factors in why he wanted to be done with the difficulty of hero work. He liked being with you, as cheesy as it sounded, and he found himself always hoping he’d have a little extra time in his day to swing by your place so the two of you could talk over lame late night sitcoms and some terribly unhealthy food.

The two of you never outright called your little get togethers ‘dates’ and you never even dared get into the conversation of finally calling it how it is and saying you were together, but compared to just about everything else in his life, the issue there wasn’t actually his job, it was just how the two of you were. Despite how cheeky and suave he liked to act, he could never really figure out the right way to go about this sort of thing. He mulled over the idea of just flat out asking or mentioned the two of you dating, he never had problems keeping other things to himself anyways so it sounded like the most natural way to go, but he could never bring himself to just say something. It never felt like the right time and to be fair, you could always be the one to say something too but you found yourself in the same dilemma. It seemed like the two of you were in a constant cycle of ‘Eh, I’ll just bring it up next time’, always assuming but never really realizing how much the other wanted to make things a bit more official.

So that’s how things went and have been going, the two of you dancing around the idea of just sharing your feelings and growing closer in the process. Even with work becoming more overbearing than ever, he still always managed to get lost in the way you made him feel the moment the two of you were together. You, on the other hand, spent your time excitedly wondering when he’d come by next, even going as far as to try and spend more evenings at home instead of out with friends just to heighten the chance of hanging out with him. Needless to say, you knew you were head over heels for that winged idiot and after weeks of consideration you finally decided on saving your confession for a few days before the upcoming White Day.

The idea was that, if he returned your feelings like you hoped he would, you’d then be able to get him a gift a few days later. Cliche maybe, but you figured that would make for an extra special anniversary if things ever happened to get that far. Plus, even if he rejected you, you figured at least that wouldn’t ruin the holiday for either of you.

Unlike you, Keigo really wasn’t that inept at the whole ‘think before you act’ thing in regards to relationships.

He wasn’t an idiot (well, not in this regard) and he knew he had insane hots for you at this point and since his idea of just casually dropping that he wanted to be with you wasn’t coming to fruition, he figured he’d try to do something a little more structured and came up with what he thought was a fantastic idea.

Valentine’s Day was romantic, right? So what better day to confess his feelings? He didn’t bother worrying about the whole ‘what if you say no’ thing and instead started thinking about what he could do to make it less lame than ‘hey we should go out for real’. He started paying more mind to couples he’d see out and about while patrolling and even would watch any of the seasonal abundance of romance movies that he’d pass by while scrolling through television channels when he had the time, but everything he saw seemed a bit too romantic and totally not his style. He wanted to do something sweet but a bit more laid back and with no other thoughts in mind, after some time he finally settled on the classic act of breakfast in bed.

Of course in his plans he sort of omitted a few things that tend to make ‘breakfast in bed’ a special thing, the first being that, well..he didn’t know how to go about cooking breakfast. Growing up his diet was extremely regulated and he was rarely allowed to cook for himself, so the only things that were his choice were snack foods or pre made meals he’d grab from a 7/11. Sure he was a few years out of the constant regulations and overbearing ‘caretakers’, but he was out of the frying pan and into the fire in a way so he never had a lot of chances to improve his skills past a basic enough level of cooking to keep himself alive. 

With that in mind, his plan was to pick something nice up for you and maybe if he was feeling it he’d get some flowers or something as well before finally stopping by and sneaking in with the extra key you had given him to surprise you. You’d probably call him a loser for waking up so early, ask him what the hell he did this for, and his answer would be that somehow he managed to fall for you. It was easy as pie in his mind and he was actually pretty chipper in the days leading up to Valentine’s Day, but things never quite go as planned for him, do they?

For starters he was out much later than he had planned the night before which pissed him off because every little issue that popped up felt so insignificant and not worth the price of pushing back his plans. He wasn’t some narcissistic asshole, but when he’s out until three in the morning dealing with little mishaps that cops should have been able to handle, he tends to get a bit irritated despite not showing it. Still, by the time he got home he barely had a few hours to rest before he had to get his plan into motion of picking up things and making his way to you. He wasn’t even planning on closing his eyes when he sat down for a ‘minute’ and when he woke up an hour or so to a call for aid from his agency he barely had time to worry about what was ahead. Even then by the time he was done as the sun began to rise, not only was he behind in general but the call took him a good distance away from where you were so it would take at least an hour to fly there and even more to get what he needed so instead, in his exhausted state he ended up saying ‘fuck it’ and dropping his ass into a family mart, picking up a bagful of breakfast pastries and coffee, and then rushing over to your place where he was finally able to give his wings some damn rest.

He was relieved enough to have made it a little after the time you mentioned you usually woke up around and being as jittery as he was he didn’t give a second thought to unlocking your door and practically slamming it open in the process before cursing to himself for being so damn loud when this was supposed to be a surprise, but with all his clattering around he spilled still very hot coffee all over himself and proceeded to practically throw the bag of goods in surprise as he cussed himself out some more.

Of course meanwhile all that was happening on your end was being woken up by your front door being slammed open followed by noise and cursing. You immediately tensed as you snuck your way closer to the intrusion, a small knife in hand in the event your quirk was rendered useless. As your heart raced in your chest you rounded the corner before bracing yourself, only for your eyes to widen at the sight of the absolute idiot you had fallen in love with whisper-yelling at himself surrounded by a now spilled puddle of coffee and various packaged breakfast pastries.

“Keigo?!” You practically screamed, rushing over him to see what the hell he was doing, but when he looked up at you as if he should be surprised you couldn’t help but sigh and cross your arms.

“A knife?? Jesus, (Y/N) the hells’ a matter with you.” He said with a smile, only half preparing himself for the huff of annoyance and smack to the side of his head.

“What’s the matter with me?! What the hell are you doing breaking into my apartment and making a fool of yourself???”

That made him groan and run a hand through his hair as he looked around to realize exactly what you meant about him looking ridiculous.

“Well you gave me a key so I wasn’t really ‘breaking in’, right?” He questioned, raising a brow as he moved to grab a kitchen towel to attempt to blot his clothes dry, but when he saw the look on your face that screamed you were tired and cranky and not having his jokes, he finally let out a sigh before leaning his back up against your kitchen counter.

“Was trying to do the whole ‘breakfast in bed’ thing, figured it would be best to make myself look good to confess or whatever you want to call it, with it being Valentine’s Day and all.” 

He immediately tensed as his brain caught up with what he had just said before slouching his shoulders upon realizing that in the end, he ended up going with his original plan of just blurting it out like an idiot. 

You scoffed, bending over to begin to pick up what he had dropped before stopping in your tracks as you heard the rest of his sentence. Now your heart was beginning to beat faster for a different reason as your brain replayed what he had just said as you picked up one of the pastries off the ground. After a moment of calming yourself so you wouldn’t embarrassingly bust your own feelings open like you had planned to do in the upcoming month, you stood up and smiled, holding up a one of the things you had picked up.

“You tried to make yourself look good with store bought pastries and crappy convenience store coffee?” You teased, making your way over to him and stopping so you were face to face with him and that ridiculously annoying and attractive smirk of his.

“What can I say, if you don’t love me at my worst you probably won’t love me at my best.”

“What would you have done if I didn’t love you at all?”

“Pfft,” He huffed, “When you go sayin’ things like that it makes it sound like you do love me.”

A moment later his face dropped and he let out a quiet ‘Oh’ as you gave him a look that said ‘Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m trying to say’. All this time not worrying about whether or not you actually liked him back and him thinking that surely you did since the two of you had gotten so close, and yet when you put it so clearly like that it made his stomach do ecstatic flips not knowing that you were just as thrilled as he was.

“That’s cool.” Was all he could manage to say, figuring he would save at least some of his pride by not going into a love stricken rant about just how much he had come to love you.

“Just cool?” You asked, biting at your cheek in an attempt to keep your smile at bay but failing miserably at keeping your happiness on the inside, your hands itching to do something you had only previously dreamed of as you reached up to rest your hands on his shoulders before actually wrapping them around his neck as he leaned into your touch which effectively bolstered your confidence and lowered any inhibitions you had.

“Maybe a bit more than ‘just cool’. At least extra cool, maybe even insanely cool if we really want to push it. But h-“ His words were pleasantly cut off by your lips pressing against his own, a little desperate and very much eager after waiting so long to feel his lips pressed against your own. He was supposed to be the cool and suave ‘Hawks’, the nation’s number two hero, but just like that he was melting against your touch as his hands gripped your waist, gently at first but giving a desperate tug as you finally pulled away from him and he tried to lean in for more, the only thing stopping him being the fact that he just had to savor the look of happiness on your face that he was sure matched his own as you bit your lip out of slight embarrassment as the wave of ‘I cannot believe I just did that’ finally hit, though to him that look along with the fact that he now knew you really liked him back only made you that much more attractive.

“Sorry..” You muttered, a smile still on your face as you couldn’t help but chuckle at seeing him flustered and looking so naturally himself, the self that you had learned to love maybe a bit too much. “I’ve been kinda wanting to do that for a while.”

If he wasn’t already relieved before, hearing you confirm that you’ve been aching to be his as much as he was yearning to be yours made his heart soar with adoration and a liiittle bit of an ego boost that he probably didn’t need.

“Was it cool? Even without breakfast or the bed?” He questioned, still trying to keep things casual in a way, but with you, even being in a position he never thought he’d actually be in, it was easy to act naturally since he so naturally loved you.

“Oh yeah.” You laughed, pulling him closely into a tight hug that fit the two of you together so perfectly that it made it feel like you should have done this ages ago. “Perfectly,-“ You pulled back, giving him a peck on the lips that felt so right it made you giddy, “Extra-“, another kiss, this time with him returning the favor while trying hard not to let his own excitement take him too far as he relished in the fact that this was real and you were his and if he could help it, there’d be nothing in the world to change that “- and insanely cool.”

[seokiloquy]

Tip Toe - Semi Eita

Soulmate AU: Dancer (ballet) x Pianist + name on wrist

Requested

Tags/Warnings: GN! Reader though they are in a more female-dominated role, Fluff

Word Count: 2.3k+

His hands rested on your waist gently, guiding you in circles as your block covered toe dug into the vinyl matted floor. Your arms were raised in the air with your elbows and wrists bent slightly inwards to form an elegant oval frame around your head. The pointed toe at your knee lowered to the floor in a calculated motion. Point, ball, heel. Your knee bent to carry the rest of your transferring weight. Muscle memory set in quick.

The light twinkling of keys filled the air, guiding your moves like a trail of breadcrumbs. Up to point on the high note, drop on the downbeat, spin on the scale. The instrument’s strings vibrated in a happy tune that painted an image of blooming fields across your vision. You smiled, falling into your partner’s arms. You adored the feeling, like twirling in the air and sleeping on fluffy clouds with stars shining above you.

In the opposite corner from the grand piano, your instructor stood with his arms crossed, scrutinizing every dancer’s moves as the ensemble was practiced. He yapped out an order calling for one of the dancer’s heads to look up higher. The music continued.

Your partner’s hands shifted, one coming across your lower stomach, pushing heat through your bodysuit to sit against your sweat coated skin and the other catching your thigh as your leg raised higher into the air. The bent knee that held your weight pulsed before snapping straight, shooting you onto the end of your shoe in a tight arabesque.

You raised your arms, one ahead of you, fingers dancing carefully along your eye line and the other to your side, a little back. The man's hand left your stomach, shifting so he held your raised angle carefully. Toe first, he walked you in circles, spinning like a little fairy in a jewelry box.

After a 180-degree turn, he took your hand, slowly pulling you forward and out of your pose and into a waiting position.

The piano stopped.

"Water, everyone." 

Walking to the back wall of the studio, you ripped open the puckered opening of your flimsy bag. As you dropped the carrier and leaned against the banister that sat under the window, you tilted your head back to pour the iced water down your throat. Your head felt like it was floating, you sighed and sunk into the feeling.

“(L/N).” 

You coughed, choking slightly which prompted your dance partner to rub your back.

“Sorry, you good?” 

“You couldn’t have waited?” you forced out between coughs, the haze that had given you colourful illusions was gone. The dark floor and white light suddenly seemed a lot brighter. You winced, coughing some more.

Matteus, ever the awkward man he was, lowered his hand and offered you the towel that he pulled for your bag. You thanked him, dabbing your neck with the fresh material.

“You were a bit dazed there,” he said, turning to face the window next to you, sticking his pelvis backwards as he leaned on the wooden bar and stretched. “You danced well, as always, but dazed. Something on your mind?”

You bit your lip, closing the cap of your bottle. “I can hardly remember dancing. Honestly, like I knew it was happening but my mind was somewhere else. I think it was the music.” You turned your attention to the grand piano, where the ash-blond pianist sat, speaking with your instructor.

“Hmm? The music is a bit different than normal. I think it’s probably the new pianist they hired? Finally able to give old-man Monty a break.” 

Holding your wrist gently, you dragged the soft pad of your thumb over ink, making it burn under the heat of your hand. “Do you know his name?”

Matteus sat back in his heels before standing straight, catching your gaze as it zeroed in on the musician, unmoving even as the instructor walked to the centre of the room and called for everyone. “No clue.” He looped his arm through yours. 

You watched the loose threads at the tip of your shoe slowly unravel as you walked. Small pink strings slowly littered the black floor you stood on. Another pair? You looked to your fellow dancers’ shoes, noticing similar states of damage between them, nothing in comparison to yours though. Was it all the extra practice? Time to replace them.

Matteus, having actually paid attention to the words coming from your choreographer’s mouth, held your arm and pulled you to the side of the room. “Come on dreamer, time to practice.”

The sturdy dancer led you to the side of the room getting in the circular line, left hand holding yours as his right sat at your lower back. You watched the first pair of ensemble dancers began, running toe first into the center of the room as they waited for the music to begin.

The first key hit the piano. Your breath hitched, and without meaning to your head turned to the piano that was only a few metres away. Using Matteus’ hold to your advantage you leaned back, looking over the shoulders of your friends to catch a fleeting glimpse of the pianist at work.

His eyes were focused on the sheet of paper in front of him, never looking down at his fingers as they did their own dance. His whole body moved with a harder press on the keys and every note he played was visible in the floating of his arms. His grown out, shaggy hair (uncommon in the professional world, but intriguing nonetheless) swayed gently. You caught sight of his head moving upward, just about to get a good look at his face when Matteus gave you a good tug, pulling your attention back to the dance. He chuckled when your eyes went to his canvas slippers and nostrils flared.

You and your mirroring pair on the other side of the room pranced forward and once again you had become lost in the music. 

Early mornings in the studio were your place. No one seemed fond of being in hours earlier than needed and the thought of staying late to practice instead of strengthening or stretching sent shivers up your spine.

Unluckily though, today, like every week or so, was shoe day for you. No early morning practice, no solo improv, just the irritating sounds of ripping fabric and sound smacks of hard materials making contact as you broke in your new pair of pointe shoes.

Raising the expensive shoe over your head, you brought it down to the dance floor with a loud bang.

“That’s a bit harsh, what did the shoe ever do to you?”

Your arms froze above your head at the sudden intrusion. When did the doors open? You looked over your shoulder. On the other side of the room, lit up by the natural light that poured through the window, was the new stranger with musical hands. His casual jacket sat on his shoulders snuggly, sleeves hanging down to his hands. The soft-looking material made a wall, blocking you and anyone else from seeing the name that was printed underneath.

You hitched a breath as his arms flicked out, pulling the offensive fabric higher, only to be met with the sight of one bear wrist and another covered by a slick pair of leather bracelets. You sighed and only realized your mouth was open when you closed it to gulp down any drool that was trying to escape your mouth.

“Sorry,” you pushed out, lowering your arms and reaching for your ribbons and threading needle. “I’m just getting my new shoes prepped.”

“Ah, I didn’t realize you had to replace them frequently,” he said, nonchalantly making his way toward the piano in the corner of the room. His fingers reached to pull out a few slips of paper from his shoulder strap bag. They fluttered as he shook them. “Do you mind if I practice? I was given new music last night.”

“Ah right, we’re starting the opening today. Go ahead, I won't stop you.”

He gave you a small smile before taking the last few steps to the stool, setting the sheets of paper on the available ledge. He played the first note, then the second, and before long he was sight-reading and easily making his way through the opening number at a steady pace.

You stuck your needle and thread through the fabric of your ribbon and marked portion of your ballet slipper. Listening to the music he played as you soaked in the warmth pouring in from the windows above you. You looked up when he spoke.

“You’re an amazing dancer by the way.” He kept his eyes on the sheet music, jaw clenched tightly as he tried to keep even a thread of focus tied to the paper and not all over your presence next to him. “I’m surprised you aren’t in one of the lead positions, ensemble seems too bleak for you.” His ash hair seemed to glow in the sunlight.

“Huh, oh thank you. I think your playing is mesmerizing. I hardly remember dancing yesterday, I was too immersed, ya know?” You tied off your last stitch and began slipping on your protective gear and pointe shoes

You kept your eyes on him, the bright sunlight made all the shadows in the room disappear into a void, leaving the particle-filled beams to give the man in front of you an ethereal stoplight. His eyes pinched slightly and he gave you a meek grin. “Can I ask you a question?”

You rose from your seat on the floor, stepping over to the side of the closed piano. Placing your fingertips on the edge of the instrument you began stretching, using the piano as a barre. “Only if I can ask one back.”

You watched as his fingers pushed against the keys. He — ignoring your legs moving beneath you — met your eyes. His brows raised in a shocked manner that made an endearing warmth grow in your chest. “How did you start dancing, it seems to come naturally to you?”

You brought your toe to your knee. “I was very hyperactive as a kid, so my mom enrolled me in dance. When they saw I was good but still very hyper, they moved me into a dance academy ‘cause the teachers were stricter.”

He laughed, shoulders bouncing as he bit his bottom lip. “Based on what I saw walking in, I guess it didn’t really work.”

You cheered, “You’re right! It didn’t! But I got super hooked on ballet and made them cough up a small fortune to pay for dance education.”

Resting your elbows on the piano lid, you sat back in your heels and flattened your back into a table, stretching the muscles behind your knees. You didn’t notice his wide eyes quickly shoot back to the paper in front of him. 

“So they made a dancing machine,” he spoke smoothly.

“If that machine had a tendency to twist their ankles, then yes,” you smiled up at his peripheral. He laughed. “Okay my turn, similar train, how did you get into music? More so, how did you end up here?”

“Well, in a similar fashion, my mom made me take piano lessons as a kid, but mostly because it’s a skill. I hated playing classical music at the time, but it’s grown on me now. In high school, I played volleyball, so the strong fingers definitely helped. And towards the end of that, I joined a band as their keyboardist.”

“A band?” You shifted positions, standing straight again. You moved on to a port de bras exercise, raising your arms into an oval shape before continuing. “Like a rock band?”

His hair swayed as he nodded and bit his lip. Caught up in both the conversation and memorized movements, you didn't notice his eyes follow your wrist.

“Okay, I have to know. How did you end up here?”

He laughed again, cheeks flushing at your enthusiasm and heart picking up pace. Not that you could tell. He continued, “well the band wasn’t going anywhere and I needed money. And my old piano teacher just so happened to have a few connections.”

The sun rose higher, and the conversation was never-ending until the door opened. Hand on the door, first in the room was Matteus, giving you a surprised look and waving you over as he mouthed off frantic words that you couldn’t make out. The music slowed to a deafening stop, leaving a dissatisfying chord to hang in the air that made your shoulders raise uncomfortably and nearly forced your knees to buckle. You raised a brow in the dancer’s direction, a bit aggravated at the group’s interruption.

You were unaware of the musician’s eyes trained on your profile as he shifted his hands to the beginning tonic chord. Unconsciously, you stood a little straighter, and the pianist smiled.

“He’s early,” Matteus whispered harshly.

Swallowing, you turned back to the black-tipped haired pianist, nervous smile painting your features. He wanted to reach out and soothe the frantic lines on your face, holding your cheek gently.  “What’s your name?” you asked hurriedly. 

He laughed gently, and you swore the sun began to shine brighter. “Eita. Semi, Eita.”

You smiled as he reached out to hold your wrist delicately between his fingers. The name he hoped to hear rolled off your tongue in a hush.

You spent the rest of the day dancing in the sun.

I want to write longer fics like Catch Me If You Can, Pumpkin Spice, and Cross the Pacific, but I feel brain dead. I will at some point. I’m certain. But that point isn’t now. I hope you liked this fluff though. - Bacon

Posted: 31/01/2021

[mininky]

Love is for the birds baby!

Summary: You refuse to believe in love. It’s a concept created by big corporations like hallmark to get sad saps like you to buy their shit. But it’s all fake. You’re convinced of that at least until a series of events with a certain tattoo artist who you loved to hate makes you question everything you’ve ever known.

Pairing: Tattoo artist!Yoongi x (fem) reader

Genre/Warnings: Romance, slow burn, fluff, comedy, smut warnings include: unsafe sex (always wear a condom), oral sex (male & fem receiving), multiple orgasms, spanking, light breath play, mentions of squirting. Non smut warnings for lots of cussing. Lots.

Word Count: 13.3K

A/N: A special shout out to @mzpandylu for inspiring me with such odd dialogue. Also challenge accepted, a quivering starfish is mentioned.

   Love is a completely abstract and intangible concept to you, at least romantic love is. There are many forms of love. Familial love is a concept you sort of understand, let's just say that your home life wasn't the greatest but you do at least understand the concept. Platonic love you completely understand. But romantic love? You very secretly yearn to understand it, desperately trying to figure out how the fuck some people get so lucky that the spark happens. You've dated, sure. But try as you might none of them have ever made your head spin or your heart sing. Lust you get. You've had plenty of flings and even some longer relationships, but love? Love is for the birds baby.

   You refuse, absolutely refuse, to admit that you have in any way shape or form an interest in this bizarre concept that is the investment and endeavor of romantic love. You've carefully hidden away all of your fanfics and all of your shojo mangas and all of the things that others would say is honestly completely normal to keep questions at bay. You know that your friends are interested in love, and unlike you they have no shame in admitting it. They talk about it all the time. They fall in 'love' with each man they date. But you're convinced that's not love. It's something more than like, sure you'll give them that but you're sure that it'll all end eventually. Love isn't sustainable because it's all a lie. Maybe you're too romantic at being romantic, perhaps you've just been suckered into all these stories into believing that a whirlwind romance is possible until one day the crushing realization that it wasn't possible occurred. That the sparks of electricity and burning hot embers of passion aren't sustainable and aren't indicative of love.

   You were twenty, he was twenty-one. The two of you had been dating mutually for three years at that point, a lifetime in college years. Billy Johnson. Fucking Billy. He was smart and funny and he actually knew what a clit was, and he kissed you under the night stars and made you feel like you were in love. Maybe you were, but you like to think that the feelings you felt weren't actually that strong. It made the fallout easier. Which brings you to the fallout, that realization that romantic love is all a big corporate lie to sell shitty grocery store roses and cute snuggly teddy bears and dime back novels to sad sops like you. A marketing ploy. Not a reality. Fuck Plato for being the first to sell the idea of soulmates, and fuck Billy too. Billy Johnson was a cruel heartless asshole who fucked your best friend. And in one day you lost two loves, one romantic and one platonic. In turn, you gained a distinct hatred for romantic concepts and a world-weary view on relationships, waiting for the other shoe to drop every time you encountered someone new.

   You dated again after that, but now at the young age of twenty-six, you've decided that it's time to give up. Or maybe you gave up after Billy. You can't say you've ever actually given it a real try after that if you're being honest. You know when to call it quits. You refuse, absolutely refuse, to be a corporate sellout. And your feelings are in no way shape or form reflective of the animosity at being broken up with by Johny last week because you were too 'sarcastic' in the middle of your vacation to Busan. Too sarcastic your ass. You'll show that motherfucker sarcastic. God, sorry, you're getting off track here. Where were you again?

   Ah yes, love is for apparently everyone that isn't you. So you'll just be a cat lady. An affection earned entirely by ear scritches and feeding them. A reward system that makes sense. You take care of them and they tolerate you. Now that you understand. That makes sense. Why in the ever loving fuck would you try romance again when instead you can have a mutually beneficial understanding with something as cute as a cat that can't tell you 'I think you're a bitch' in a language you understand? Fuck Johnny, and Billy. And every other man for that matter.

   You're ruminating in anger as you order your coffee, eyes staring straight into the young and timid barista as you slap down the change. Poor kid, it's not his fault but today you just hate the world. You try to smile but you're pretty sure that just scares him more if the way his eyes go large and round in fear is anything to go by. Christ, you need to work on your people skills. And you're totally not thinking that because of that dick weasel who you've decided will no longer be named.

   Normally once you get your caffeine fix you're in a much better mood, but today the only thing you want to do is karate chop your own throat. Or maybe just play Red Dead Redemption 2 and kill a bunch of people in a completely legal way. Not online though, you really don't need another 13-year-old boy slurring about how much girls suck unless you want to unleash the crazy bitch inside of you to the point of no return. But unfortunately, you have bills to pay. Caffeine fixes to afford. Student loans to pretend you'll someday actually pay off except interest is a bitch. Which means going to work. Normally something you love, but today you're really not in the mood to edit another shitty sci-fi story where the physics of breasts go beyond the dudebro fedora lover that wrote the shitty thing.

   Be an editor they said. You love books they said. You'll be great they said. They hadn't warned you that being an editor at a major publishing house still meant reading through a painful amount of crap writing that you would, in turn, make all pretty and nice and somewhat more presentable garbage for public consumption with no acknowledgment or credit for all the hours you spent trying not to bash your screen in with your face. At least you were close enough to walk to work.

   You grab your piping hot venti quad shot vanilla latte (with soy) as you go back out into the frigid air. Your eyes are cast down on the pavement, trying not to bump into too many of the zombie state morning foot traffic as you make your way into the office. At least you have an office of your own, a salvation of peace and quiet away from prying eyes that allows you to wallow in self-pity safely. The rest of the day goes by in a blur, your normally somewhat antisocial personality becomes far more present as you hide away from even your beloved breakroom coffee pot to avoid too many interactions. You just knew that you would end up running into Susan. Nice gal, but she talks way too much and she set you up with Johnny no wait, the douche canoe. You forgot he must never be named again. The last thing you need is her bringing up how he dumped in you in the middle of your vacation.

   You're also the last one to leave tonight. For someone who didn't really want to step foot into the building, you sure do seem to be having a hard time getting out of here. But there are deadlines to meet and your vacation meant that there's a pileup of work that needs to be done. That and you really don't feel like going into your empty apartment to binge watch on Netflix while you host another internal pity party.

   By the time you're finally out the door and into the freezing winter night, you can feel exhaustion seeping deep into your bones. Or that might just be the joint pain that this super shitty winter is causing. That's another thing the world lied about, joint pain isn't just for old people. It's apparently also for future cat spinsters who hate everything no matter their current age. Your head is stuck on the last chapter you were editing, trying to make sense of how exactly you might be able to convince the author to scrap the whole damn thing politely as your nose picks up on the smell of a cigarette wafting over. Your stomach rumbles, brain shutting off as fingers twitch. God, it's been two years since you stopped smoking but it smells so painfully fucking good right now.

   Your face whips up as you see the small trail of smoke wafting over to you. It's the guy from the tattoo shop, Min fucking Yoongi. You should've known. The guy is hot you'll give him that. Eyes just sharp enough to give him that bad boy image when paired with his full sleeve tattoos and the crawling cherry blossoms on his neck. The chronic scowl that says 'try me' in a way that oddly makes him hotter. Hair that looks like he spends way too much time on usually. Today however he's decked out in a beanie and black leather jacket with pants just tight enough to make you wish he would turn around and walk away. But in the last year since you've unfortunately gotten to know him you know that he's every bit as snarky, bitchy, and firey as you. He's also as much bite as he is bark, although so far you've never been the one he's pointed his bite at.

   "(Y/N), I see you were working late again." He takes a lazy drag on his cigarette, eyes staring straight through you as his lips quirk up into a smirk.

   "Yoongi." Your eyes narrow in on his, fingers twitching at your side as you bite down the incessant desire to beg for a cigarette. You won’t break, especially not in front of him. Just because you’ve had a series of bad days doesn’t mean you actually need that cigarette.

   "Jesus, what's wrong with you? You seem even bitchier than normal. I guess this cold snap we're having is because the ice queen decided to control your body."

   "Har-har-har little man." He bristles at the jab and you can't help but cackle internally at your small victory (pun completely intended.) "No for your information the world is a cruel, evil bitch and yet again I fell for its corporate seductions and evil capitalist ploys."

   "Right, I'm going to nod my head and pretend I understood what that meant just so you don't kill me. Hey, so are you ever going to get that tattoo or not?"

   You reach into the trenches of your memory, recalling months ago on a particularly good day when you told this same tiny Satan that you wanted to get a tattoo. He had seemed oddly impressed that you wanted a snake on your upper thigh and all was well until he told you that he pictured you wanting some shitty positive statement, most likely placed on your collarbone or ribcage and adorned with little doves or a dreamcatcher or some other shit. Bleh. That's when he first learned that you are possibly insane and most certainly a bit of a bitch. It's all been downhill with him since, each run in turning into a battle of insults.

   He stubs out the little remaining part of his Marlboro before gesturing to the warm shop. "I've got an opening to do a consult if you wanna talk about it more."

   Perhaps this is it, maybe this is what you need to do. Something different. Something that doesn't include your usual routine of wake up, caffeinate, work, work, work, and Netflix binge all in between minor anxiety driven breakdowns. Besides, it's just a consult, not the actual tattoo. "How do I know this isn't an elaborate plan to eventually see me half naked?"

   Yoongi rolls his eyes as he opens the door to the shop, glaring at you as he speaks slowly. "You might be hot, but I have a feeling you'd be the type of girl to try to peg me with no lube. I prefer cuddling. Trust me, I'm not interested in getting you naked and seeing where it goes." You're thrown for a loop at that one, shuffling slowly behind him as your brain tries to make sense of it. You know you should be offended that he seriously thinks you wouldn't use lube, but Yoongi likes cuddling? The guy who scowls at life itself? The guy who you've watched physically throw out a neo-nazi who wanted a tattoo? The same guy who rides a motorcycle and refuses sugar in his coffee because he likes it as bitter as his very soul? Man, life is really fucking weird.

   You follow behind him tentatively, shocked to hear rather calm hip hop station on. Maybe you stereotype too much but you pegged him (pun not intended this time) as a Lamb of God kind of guy, definitely not a Dean and PH-1 fan. He takes you over to his office, gesturing at a free seat before he sits down at his desk. Every surface is covered with intricate artwork. From Japanese style tattoos to Sailor Jerry flash pieces to pops of dystopian Disney paintings. "So, you still thinking about doing the same thing?"

   "Yeah. Red Belly black snake. I'm thinking upper thigh/hip area." You stand up and move your coat to the side to point to the area.

   "That's a good sized piece. Have you thought about adding anything more to it? Maybe some hyacinths on the left and right of the snake, I'm thinking in maybe a pale pink so it doesn't offset the red in the snake too much."

   "You know what a hyacinth is?" You snort slightly, glaring back at him when he leans onto his elbows to shoot a look that he's probably hoping will kill you.

   "I'm a tattoo artist. Do you know how many fucking flowers I have to draw every day? Swear to god I should open up a flower shop next door and make a killing with my amazing arrangements." This time you give a full-blown laugh, shocked to hear him mirroring quietly. In all the time you've kinda sorta known him you've never heard him laugh. It's nice, deep, and the gummy smile he gives has your heart doing little flip flops that you absolutely refuse to analyze.

   You take just a beat too long to look at him, your head tilted slightly as you mentally murder the lone butterfly that has survived all of the anger you've culminated in the last few years. "How about a peony instead? I think it would look better."

   "We can do that. With the size you're looking for and all the color work I'd guess that we're looking at at least 6 hours if we want to make sure it's done right. We can split it into two three hours sessions. I charge $200 an hour so you're looking at at least $1200, but you might want to be thinking to around the $1600 range just to be safe. I also require a $300 deposit usually just for a consult and another $300 later but I figure I can always hound you if you don't come in." He opens up his computer, clicking away for a moment before adding, "I have enough time to get started this Friday night if you want? At 8:00."

   "Gee thanks for the trust. Yeah that all sounds good, I'm down."

   He nods quickly, hands grabbing at some paper as he starts making drafting up some rough sketches. You try not to invade his space as you look over the paper, brain desperately searching for a small talk topic. God, you've always been bad at this. "So...how long have you been a tattoo artist?"

   "Well I started my apprenticeship right out of high school at 18 so 10 years total, but as an actual artist only about 8 years." Interesting, so that would make him two years older than you. For some reason, you feel a need to put that in one of your mental files. "What exactly do you do at that giant office building down the street?"

   "I work for a publishing house in there as one of their many editors."

   Yoongi snorts, nodding his head as he keeps sketching away. "Yeah, I can see you working with books. Your creative insults suddenly make so much more sense."

   "I'll take that as a compliment." You lean back into your chair, taking in your surroundings a little more closely before focusing unabashedly at the man before you. His tattoos are on full display now that he's taken off his jacket. Almost all are black and white with small splashes of reds and pinks laced mostly on his neck where cherry blossoms fall delicately off a branch. His eyes are cast in complete concentration, lower lip bitten as he works. There's something painfully sexy about the image. You almost want to burn it into your brain to use for late night consumption.

   You aren't sure how long the two of you sit there in silence, but it's comfortable. There's something soothing about listening to the way his markers glide over the paper as soft music, buzzing tattoo guns, and chatter filters in fuzzily through the closed door. You can feel yourself finally start to relax, all of the earlier rage and grudges held at the world slipping away momentarily as you enter a near-meditative state just watching him work.

   Finally, he glances up, a smile on his face as he pushes the paper over the desk to you. It's beautiful, a little rough around the edges without the finishing touches but it's better than anything you thought of. "Wow, Yoongi this looks great."

   "It's just a rough drawing. I still need to work on some of the other touches but if you're good with that I'll get started on making the transfer later this week."

   "Yeah..." You words are quiet as you look at the picture, elation growing in your heart. You might turn into a cat lady, but at least you'll be a badass one. "Okay, so seriously though do you want me to put down the deposit now? I have no problem with that."

   "Nah, don't sweat it. Oh, but I do need your full name and number to actually book it. And don't give me some shit about this being a ploy for your number." You roll your eyes before giving him the information. Standing up slowly when he opens up the office door and leads you back out to light snowfall. "Alright, see you this Friday (y/n)."

   "See you Yoongi. Thanks again." As you turn back to send a smile something painfully familiar stirs in your brain when he flashes that gummy smile and sends you on your way.

---------------Friday----------------

   By the time Friday rolls around you've been through a whole litany of emotions. You're of course excited about the tattoo, that's not the problem. No the source of all evils is Min Yoongi. Sexy. Witty. Can handle your sarcasm. Enjoys cuddling. He's plagued your thoughts, gummy smiles invading your daydreams and inky tattoos hovering over you at night. It's been a long time since you've actually crushed on anyone. Dating as an adult is an entirely different experience. Usually, you know someone who knows them or met them on tinder and you're just praying that they aren't a secret serial killer and that you share enough interests to talk in between getting railed while praying for an orgasm. At least, that's been your shitty experiences anyway. You know that it isn't always the case considering that just about all of your friends have gotten magically engaged or married recently. But Yoongi? There's something about him that stirs up all of your previously assumed dead thoughts on love. All of the secret romantic pinings combines with lust in a painful swirl but luckily the thoughts you have of him are usually fleeting.

   You step forward into the tattoo shop after grabbing a bite to eat, two warm cocoas in your hand as you try not to freak out that the big event is finally here and you'll be face to face with tiny, sexy, tattooed satan yet again. The man behind the counter looks over at you, and you can't help but wonder for a moment if being really good looking is a requirement to work here. Deep dimples, sunkissed skin, glasses perched on his nose.

   "Hi, do you have an appointment?" You shake your head yes, staring at the floor for a moment before finally squeaking out that you're there to see Yoongi.

   "Ay, (Y/N)'s here!" He shouts out towards Yoongi's office and you see him strolling out just a moment later.

   "Jesus Joon, you've been spending too much time around Hobi. I think the whole shop could hear you." Yoongi steps around the desk eyeing the other cup before you hand it out to him.

   "It's just cocoa, I didn't lace it. This time. Also, it's made with soy milk." You can hear the man called Joon laughing in the background as Yoongi slowly grabs the cup and squints at it before taking a tentative sip.

   He gives a small nod that you assume is to signify satisfaction before he starts walking over to a curtained-off section in the back. "You ready to get started?"

   "Yep, all ready!" You take a sip of the cocoa and sit down on the tattoo chair slowly.

   "Alright, just check over this transfer and let me know what you think before you undress so I can put it on." You look over the image, heart warming up slightly at the brush of his fingers before you finally nod a silent affirmation. "I need words babe, is it good or not?"

   You can feel yourself bristle at the tone, sighing wearily before you finally bite out, "Yes, babe, it's perfect."

   "Cool. I'll leave you to get undressed, I'll be back in just a moment." The one shitty thing about the placement of your tattoo is that it will require not only pants to come off but underwear too. Before nerves can take over you strip quickly, laying back down on your side before you can think about it too much. Getting undressed faster than you can sneeze was probably a bad idea though because now you're forced to just sit there with your ass cheeks freezing and mind shutting down while you wait for him to come back. After a minute you hear him announcing that he's coming in before opening up the curtain.

   Your eyes are trained on the floors. Jesus, you wish you could get your tiles to glisten the way their's does. They must mop a thousand times a day, you can't even see a speck of dirt in the grout. The sound of him clearing his throat has you jolting a bit before turning around to glare at the sound of his laughter. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. I'm just going to disinfect the area and put the transfer on then I'll have you take a look and let me know what you think of the placement." You decide to go mute apparently as your only response is a feeble thumbs up before quickly turning to resume your ever so interesting study on what floor cleaner they use. Probably Fabuloso.

   You force yourself to stay stock still when you feel his warm hands on your hip as he cleans the area and peels the transfer on before he gives a light tap to your thigh. "Alright, take a look." With all the grace of a hospice patient you slowly swing your legs off and walk over to the mirror, trying to not pay attention to the fact that you're awkwardly half naked in front of arguably the hottest man who's admitted he enjoys cuddling before you finally relax at the sight of the transfer. "Man, this is going to look rad. Alright little satan, do your thing!"

   "Little Satan? Really? What happened to all your usual creative bitchiness? What was it you called me that one time?"

   "Oh! Degenerate Malfoy with a nicotine problem? Or was it wannabe colon inspector?"

   "Neither actually, it wasn't even something you called me now that I remember it. You once told me 'Ah I see the fuck up fairy decided to mess with my life and force me to see you yet again.' That's a good one by the way, I've used it a few times."

   "Glad I could help, but I wish I could copyright it so you could pay me the rights to use it." You try not to get too nervous as you hear him slip on his gloves and the needle buzzing ominously behind you. The pain won't be that bad right? "Relax, you'll be fine." His voice for once isn't laced with sarcasm. It seems that even the formidable Yoongi has a professional voice that he employs occasionally.

   After what feels like ages filled with anxiety-ridden thoughts you feel the needle prodding away, moving quickly while leaving tingling and ever slight burning sensations in its wake. It does hurt, but not to the point of being unbearable. "See it's not so bad, scaredy cat." You resist the urge to turn around and pummel him in his annoyingly handsome face.

   "If you weren't tattooing me right now I'd choke you out."

   "Kinky, but I prefer a chick to at least buy me a drink first."

   "Already did jackass, the cocoa remember."

   "Huh, you did didn't you. Okay, well it's still off the table for you. You'd probably keep going until I actually died."

   "Hell misses it's little satan though, I'd just be helping you reunite with all your friends."

   "Do you have a snarky remark for everything princess?"

   "Nah, depends on the day and the person. You're a special one Min Yoongi, something about you makes me want to bludgeon things."

   "Oh, what a sweet compliment. Isn't that how people feel when things are too cute too?" You don't even need to look over to know that he's smirking as you flip him off.

   "Or annoying." The rest of the three hours the two of you spend going back and forth with each other to the point that some of the other artists passing by started to call out their two cents in. By the time you're done, you have the outline complete and some of the black shaded in. The rest will be done in just two weeks time at his next opening.

-------------2 weeks later-----------

   Oddly enough for once, you haven't seen Yoongi outside during his normal smoke break time when you leave work for the last couple of weeks. You also haven't seen him getting his normal disgusting black coffee either. Not that you've been looking for him. Okay...so maybe you have. There's just something about him other than the really good looks you like. In one sense it's almost like walking on a blade the entire time you're with him, never sure when he's going to make a jab. On the other hand, he's also easy to talk to. In a way where everything is oddly comfortable even with this underlying lurking sexual tension. Or maybe that's just in your head. Maybe there's no sexual tension and it's just been so long since you last had a good lay (the dingleberry boy who shall not be named was terrible) that you're starting to hallucinate. Which is a rather real possibility.

   This time when you walk in with another cocoa it's with far fewer nerves. No, you're ready for the battlefield and only tremble ever so slightly when you have to face him with a bare ass in his face.

   "Alright sunshine, let's finish this bad boy up." Is all he states before he gets right into it, ever the professional. By the time he's finished, you're 110% positive that you were just imagining the sexual tension because his eyes don't even wander as you check the tattoo in the mirror. Which is a good thing right? Because you're supposed to be on your fast track to nundom not trying to bag the super hot tattoo artist who works near you.

   There's a bizarre sinking feeling in your heart though when you realize the tattoo is done and you won't be able to see him for extended periods of time on such a good excuse. An expensive excuse, but an excuse nonetheless. Now, however, with your beautiful, intricate, and very sore skin you'll have to go back to happenstance run-ins. You think that maybe, just maybe, if the somewhat hollow looking smile he gives you when you leave is anything to go by that he doesn't really want it to end either. But that's probably just the few embers of hope remaining in you that needs to be crushed out.

--------1 month later---------

   You've spent another night overworking yourself. This time there wasn't really a good reason to either. You're not only on schedule but way ahead and yet you've decided to just keep busting through work until dusk begins to fall and the shitty flickering streetlights by you turn on. Almost every night for the past few weeks you've been working longer days and as much as you hate to admit it it's to try to keep yourself from wallowing too much at night about your impending lonely doom. Tonight will be different though. Tonight you'll ruminate and bask in the fucked up world with your dear old friend Irene as she's finally decided to have a night away from her obnoxiously good looking fiance Taehyung. She might not be able to relate to your doom and gloom sentiments on life but she's always a good friend for a pick me up.

   You set off in the opposite direction of your usual route, winding through the chilly streets until you get to your favorite bar that serves oddly impressively delicious fried chicken. The moment you step in you notice Irene sitting at one of the few tables at the place, glaring at a man who clearly can't take a hint. Marching over you grab the seat across from her before biting off a 'Jesus how much aftershave do you use? Did you put in on your asshole too or something?' Knowing he's now outnumbered, and out bitched, the two of you watch the man leave without protest.

   "You know you really should be careful. People are crazy, aren't you ever afraid that you might get hurt or something?"

   You shrug nonchalantly before sighing at the doe eyes she gives you. "Irene, I love you but I'm not curtailing my inner bitch just because some douche might murder me. There are countless absurd ways I could die, if I have to check myself in fear of that then I just let all those asshats continue being menaces to society without being put in their shitty sad places."

   "So what you're like a superwoman with a bad attitude only you save the world one dick at a time with well-timed insults?" You know that voice, you know that voice all too well. Your ears perk up and your jaw drops open as you whip around to come eye to eye with Yoongi. For one whole month, you haven't seen him even with perfectly timed coffee runs around his smoke breaks. Not that you learned his habitual schedule or anything. Nope. Nothing like that at all. Just coincidence is all. And you just happened to notice he wasn't there. That's all.

   "Yoongi!" You hate the way your voice goes up an octave, excitement making your voice quiver like a little puppy reuniting with their owner after a short separation. You can already feel the heat bursting on your cheeks as his head tilts, eyes watching you carefully before he cracks a lazy smile.

   "Um, (y/n), who is this guy? Do I need to mace him or something?" Irene whispers to you, but just loud enough that as Yoongi steps closer he can hear her.

   "Please don't mace me. I promise, I only bite if you're into that."

   "Hey, watch it, mister. She's a taken woman." Reluctantly you wave your hand over the free seat to invite him over before looking back at Irene. "Irene this is Yoongi, Yoongi this is Irene. Yoongi did my tattoo for me."

   "Oh, you got a tattoo? Can I see it?"

   "We'll definitely get a free round of drinks if you show it off, that's for sure." You can't help but smack Yoongi's shoulder, shocked at the sturdiness of it. Considering how slight he looks you really didn't think that he worked out but now your mind is starting to wander.

   "Yeah well, kind of can't show you in public considering I have to take my pants off. Oh! But I do have some pictures!" You pull out your phone, swiping through until you find one and turning it to show her.

   "Wow, that looks like it hurt. It looks great though you did a good job..." Irene pauses, eyes going wide with panic before she finally adds, "Yoongi."

   "Thanks." He almost looks shy and you can feel your heart breaking. Yeah, typical to have the hot dude fall for your friend and not you.

   "Did you order drinks yet?" At the shake of Irene's head, you're grateful to have an excuse to flee to the bar not rushing to grab the bartenders attention and face falling slightly when he sidles up next to you immediately. The world is a cruel place. You want them to take their time and they're there immediately. You want them there right away and suddenly so do seventy other people. Luck. Or murphy's law maybe. Whatever.

   You huff out a sigh before plastering a smile on your face, "Two cranberry vodkas, please. Tall and stiff." The bartender nods as you slap down a twenty, praying that perhaps he'll at least make the drinks slowly but oh no this man must be one of those bartenders that enters fucking speed competitions because he's sliding both drinks over before you can fucking blink. Unbelievable. The service at this place is just too good and it's making you twitch slightly in irritation.

   Trying not to huff, you grab the two drinks and make your way back to your table. Heart sinking even more at the sound of Yoongi being strangely amicable to Irene. This was not the night you wanted at all. You wanted to get drunk and hang out with Irene and forget about how shitty boys are, not have glaring reminders everywhere about how the capitalist ploy that is romance will suffocate you to death. Okay so maybe you're being a little melodramatic. A lot. Whatever. It's your pity party, you can cry if you want to.

   When you finally sit back down and hand Irene her drink you can't help but guzzle yours back right away, ignoring the acidic burn in your throat and the quirked eyebrow from Yoongi.

   "So...(y/n)...any new boys after Johnny?" Irene refuses to look you in the eyes as she asks, smart enough to sit just out of reach from your possible rage.

   "I refuse to fall victim to the bullshit masquerade we call love yet again. I've called it quits. I'm just going to be a spinster with a million cats who will inevitably be forgotten until my landlord finds that mittens, my favorite cat, has eaten my left asscheek for sustenance after my untimely death."

   Irene bawks, trying immediately to rush into lengthy reasoning as to why you shouldn't stop searching for love as Yoongi nearly falls off his chair laughing so hard. At the end of Irene's dialogue, Yoongi wipes away a stray tear before shooting you a gummy smile. The kind that makes you want to hate him less, but you refuse to. Because that's dangerous territory. Territory you've sworn to never cross again. "You don't actually mean all that bullshit right? Love is natural, it's needed. It's biologically ingrained in us to be social creatures and affectionate."

   "Don't you judge me and mitten's life path!"

   "You don't even have a cat!" Irene looks exasperated as she takes a sip of her drink, silently judging you. "Listen, I get it. You've been fucked over a million times by terrible guys. But that doesn't mean that the whole world is that way." At the withering look you send her Irene sighs, shaking her head but falling mute. You feel a little bad that yet again you've ruined the mood so you try to lighten it up a bit, reaching over to pinch her cheek lightly.

   "Thanks, Irene. I'm sorry. I'm just...I don't know. I've been in a bit of a mood." You bit your tongue from further sarcasm at the pointed look she gives you. "Things haven't been so hot lately. I'll get over it. In like a decade. But you know that's better than never." You can feel Yoongi peering at you, analyzing you from the corner of your eye.

   "Why though? Why are you so convinced that love is such a sham?" Yoongi's words don't seem to hold any judgment or his usual quiet hostility, instead just honest curiosity.

   "Well if they don't cheat on me they always grow tired of me. I'm a bit too much of a bitch for my own good. I should really work on that." You shrug, staring at your almost empty glass as you try to shush the self-loathing thoughts that want to invade.

   "I like that part about you though. You've got spunk doll, it ain't a bad thing. You just need to find a guy who can match it." He smirks at the way you go quiet before leaning slightly into you at the table. "I don't know, I think I'm up for the challenge if you are." He grabs a card from his pocket, placing it next to your cup as he stands up. "That's my cell on there. Text me sometime babe." You hate the way your brain shuts down, playing back the way he calls you babe until all senses fail.

   "You should do it. You know he was asking about you the entire time you were getting drinks?" You feel your heart sink even further at the realization that you judged the situation too quickly before suddenly soaring at the idea that Min Yoongi asked you out on a date. You. Snarky, bitchy you found a match in hell. Capitalist ploys be damned! You'll at least find out if he's cocky for a reason. If you don't chicken out that is.

-----------------------------------

   Later that night after all the alcohol has left your system and you're snuggled up under enough blankets to possibly suffocate you, you find yourself staring at your phone. You entered in his contact almost immediately after he left at the urging of Irene. Apprehension has held you back from actually sending anything though. Your fingers hover over the screen, bottom lip stuck between your teeth as you suck in a breath. What have you got to lose?

[You]: Hey...

[Yoongi]: (Y/N)?

[You]: Yeah

[Yoongi]: This is unusual. I'm used to quippy remarks. Don't tell me you've grown soft?

[You]: Fuck off. I'm just confused that's all.

[Yoongi]: What's there to be confused about? You're funny, you have no problem with giving it right back to me, and you have a fantastic ass

[You]: Well that was blunt

[Yoongi]: I'm an honest man [Yoongi]: So listen, about that date, I wanna take you out Sunday

[You]: That's in like a day from now

[Yoongi]: Yeah well I've wanted to take you out from the first time you told me off for smoking on the street. And that time you told me you were going to shove my tattoo needle up my ass solidified it.

[You]: You have some odd kinks sir

[Yoongi]: Is that a yes babe?

[You]: Hmmm....yeah I'll go

[Yoongi]: Great send me your address I'll pick you up at noon

[You]: You aren't going to chop me up in a million pieces and feed me to the fishes right?

[Yoongi]: No I prefer my women in one piece

   You send over your address, butterflies swarming around as you squeal into a pillow before sending him a quick good night. You don't need to embarrass yourself by saying something off the wall as exhaustion starts to set in. Like "I want to kiss your face" or "Fuck me in your office." Yeah, that's not good pre-date material. You need to keep it kosher for now.

------------------------------------

   You had spent all day Saturday cleaning to keep your nerves at bay. Not that you can really tell much in your closet after you ransacked it. And not that you can tell you went through all of that energy just to pick a simple oversized black hoodie and jeans. It's too cold to go all out anyway. You've been staring in the mirror, double checking your hair and makeup a thousand times as you hear the doorbell chime through the apartment. It's a good thing no one else is around to see you nearly trip over yourself as you slip on your shoes and answer the door. "Hi!"

   Yoongi is wearing his usual black leather jackets, skin-tight black jeans, and cat-like smirk. "Hey. You ready?"

   "Yeah, oh just let me grab a jacket." Pulling one off the rack you shut the door behind you, locking the door before shuffling behind Yoongi. Much to your surprise, he slows down until your right next to him, clasping his hand around yours and smiling as he silently leads you to his car.

   "What, no motorcycle today?"

   "Nah, I figured you'd strangle me and we'd crash. Dieing on the first date just seems tragic. We need to get on date number five at least." He shoots you a wink as he opens your door, shutting it lightly behind him as he jogs around to the other side.

   "So...where exactly are you taking me?"

   "You're a curious little thing today, aren't you? Well at first I was thinking something simple like coffee, but let's be honest that's overplayed and boring. So then I thought about going to an aquarium just so I could make a joke about feeding you to the fishes but then I thought nah too easy. So I spent more time than I'll tell you plotting. And I realized exactly where we needed to go. We're going to the river for a picnic. Something that's oddly ordinary and you'll secretly love but no dude's ever actually done for you. Am I right?"

   You're at a loss. You certainly didn't expect him to think this through to this extent. Honestly, no guy has ever cared this much about a first date before. You figured that only existed in stories and movies at this point. "You're certainly right. Isn't it a little cold for a picnic though?"

   "I have brought plenty of cocoa and jjigae to keep us warm, don't you worry your pretty little head about it." You can't help but fidget slightly, nerves boiling over until his hand rests soothingly on your thigh and you feel yourself melt. Or maybe boil over until you malfunction. But that's something to dwell on at a later time.

   It doesn't take long after that until you pull up at the river. During springtime it's packed, everyone comes out to drink under the cherry blossoms, but right now it's serenely quiet. You're almost the only people in sight save the zealous runners and elderly couples strolling through on their daily walks. When you try to help set up the blanket and food Yoongi refuses, so instead you watch him meticulously lay everything out. Maybe this is a post-season Christmas movie because you swear you can feel your dead cold heart grow as you watch him. It's an oddly domestic feeling. Certainly romantic. Painfully sweet. And for once all of your usual bitter snarkiness has drowned it's self in the river to leave you a heart-eyed mess.

   "Come on, come sit. I told you before, I don't bite unless you're into that."

   "I'm into that, but right now I'd rather have cocoa and jjigae." You watch him pour out your drink as you sit down, carefully handing you the piping hot drink before pulling the still boiling soup out of the basket.

   "Alright, so I figured that being you'd probably refuse to tell me too much out of wariness. So I propose that we play 21 questions. What's your favorite food?"

   "Tofu, in all it's many forms. What's your favorite color?"

   "Black, just like my coffee."

   "And your soul." You duck as he tosses a napkin at your face, laughing at the gummy expression he sends your way.

   "Aish. Okay, next question, what are your hobbies?"

   "Reading and video games. Why'd you become a tattoo artist?"

   "I love drawing, but I especially love the idea of a living canvas. It's just so interesting. Although I hate that I don't usually get to control the outcome of it, some people have god awful tattoo ideas. Most people actually. I'm at least booked enough now that I can refuse those ones without worrying about my bank account too much. Why are you so afraid of love?"

   You weren't expecting that question. You figured he'd keep things easy but then again you should have known better. Of all the many ways you can describe the man before you easy isn't one of them. "Trust problems I guess. I didn't have the best home, parents kicked me out young and we haven't talked since so that's probably at the root of it all. I don't know though, never seen a shrink about it so that's just an educated guess. Add all the boys that I've dated either dumped me or cheated on me and it makes it tough to believe that love, especially romantic love is real. Why do you believe in it?"

   "Because love is the very essence of humanity. The best way to fight a shitty system that tries to keep us all down is through love. It's not power or money or any of that other bullshit they tell us we need. It's love. We all just need someone who understands us. It doesn't need to be a ton of people, just one who really gets us and bam! Everything's good. Sometimes those people come and go, but that doesn't make the love you held for that time discounted. It just means that now you need to find someone else who understands you." He chooses his words carefully at first, but when he sees that you're held in rapt attention he grows passionate. Eyes blazing as if to dare you to disagree. And suddenly you're seeing the world through a different lens. Here you had been chalking romance up to marketing, which isn't entirely untrue but that's just one part of it. But love the way he sees it? To him, love isn't about marketing or money it's just about human connection. And suddenly you're starting to understand that abstract intangible concept. You also realize that what you were looking for wasn't love, but perfection. You didn't want to do all the work, you just wanted all the pieces to magically fall into place for you and gave up when expectations weren't instantly met. "Next question, why'd you say yes to this date?"

   "Because you're hot." You roll his eyes at the exaggerated wink he sends you before eating a bit of the jjigae. "Okay so that was a part of it but mostly I was curious. You're this weird enigma Yoongi. At first, I thought I had you all figured out. Tough dude with tats and a motorcycle who probably has a slew of booty calls waiting for him. But then you said you liked to cuddle and I got curious. And then I realized that I didn't have the whole picture, just a glimpse. Why in the world did you ask me out? And for the love of god don't say 'dat ass.'"

   "Okay but dat ass though." The way he laughs full heartedly, slapping his knees at the sight of your glare almost makes you not elbow him. Almost. But you have a reputation to uphold. "You've just got this thing about you. You're like a fortress. A puzzle. I guess that same idea of wanting to figure a person out is the same reason why I'm so attracted to you. You see at first glance you seem to be just brutally honest, but then when you look closer it's easy to see that you're vulnerable. Fragile. Callous due to a previous naivety that landed you in shit places by the sounds of it. I like that you have spirit, you aren't afraid to tell people to fuck off. But what I like most of all is under that there's this heart of gold. At least if your interaction with your friends is anything to go by you do." Fuck, you think you have something in your eye. It's definitely not your long extinct tear ducts learning how to work again. Nope.

   You can feel his thumb brush a stray tear, hand cupping your face as you automatically nuzzle into the warmth before he clears his throat. "Next question-"

   Before he can finish the question your lips are on his. They're chapped but still soft, plush under yours. And suddenly that tailwind romance you thought was all fake feels so real as a spark of electricity zaps you. Or maybe that's more carnal, but whatever it is it feels so right. As if his lips were made to be against yours. And when you feel him kiss back roughly, hands weaving through your hair as he pulls you in closer you know that he must be feeling the same thing. You're floating. High in the clouds. Weightless. The sound of someone running past finally has the two of you breaking apart slowly. "Right next question, can we do that again?"

   This time there's a fire behind the kiss as your hands grab onto his jacket and his tongue slips into your mouth. This time you know it's more carnal. Burning bright. Passionate. Hungry. Needy. But before it can devolve into public debauchery you reluctantly pull back, blush creeping up your neck as you see his molten brown eyes focused on you in a way that clearly states that he is indeed as dangerous as he looks. At least if your definition of dangerous is sex right out in the open at a very public park anyway.

   "My turn. What's your favorite music?"

   The rest of the date goes by too quickly and you learn about everything Yoongi related and he learns everything about you. You're positive that you've never learned so much about a person on a first date, or hell even by the third. You've learned his birthday, his favorite music, all about his friends, how he actually co-owns the tattoo shop and how that all happened. You've learned about how he came from a poor family and how he makes sure to send a little bit each week to help out on top of the apartment he bought them. Suddenly the $200 an hour fee makes a whole lot more sense.

   By the time you're pulling back into your apartment, the two of you have already planned a date for next Sunday. And as he puts the car in park you can't hope but wish that somehow it was already magically next week. But when he pulls you in for a heated kiss and presses his forehead against yours before sending you off you're too much on cloud nine to pay any attention. You'll have to add that Yoongi is certainly the best kisser you've ever known to your mental file.

-------------1 week later---------------

   Well, it's official. You're nuts. You'd like to blame Yoongi but let's be honest, all you needed was a little help to push you over the ledge. Except the problem is that before you were very sure of life. Completely comfortable with anger, bitterness, and believing that everything inevitably fails. And in some sick twist of fate, his words have been playing back in your head over and over every single day for the last week. Before you thought it was all or nothing. Love was there or it wasn't. You get one shot at true love and if it fails then it never existed. Except now your world is flipped upside down.

   Perfection is a fruitless endeavor. An impossible task. One with zero rewards. And what you've been looking for all this time is perfection. A perfect love. A whirlwind romance. But if it's perfect it's fake. It's all a lie. An elaborate performance. Which is mostly all you've ever gotten, granted usually in short-lived moments but sometimes longer. And when the curtains closed each time you thought, "this show wasn't a real show. I'll go to a better play next door." Except the play was still very much real. A part of you. A part of them. Which means that love is indeed real it's just not always very grand. But when it was there it was beautiful, you were just blind and ignorant in even the good moments. Unaware of the magic in small acts. But with Yoongi suddenly you want to see all the small acts. You want to not just see the show but be a part of it. Go behind the scenes with him. See how this plays out.

   Which is completely fucking nuts. You're already talking about your entire worldview changing and the concept as something as obscure as falling in love with a man you barely know and have only been out on a date with once. It makes you afraid. It makes you feel free. It gives you options. It's like being able to use all of your senses at once for the first time. Except that's scary because there's too much coming at you at once. But it's equal parts exhilarating. You've been through every single possible emotion a person could have every day.

   By the time your second date finally arrives, you're suddenly calm about it all. As if everything is right and the puzzle pieces to life are aligning and maybe just maybe you have a chance to see things differently. And while before you would have rather poked your eyes out than face rejection again this time you just want to see where this takes you. You aren't thinking so much about the end results, rather the journey.

   Tonight Yoongi is taking you out to his favorite record store. While you don't own a record player you can certainly appreciate the aesthetics of vinyl. There's something oddly charming about them, even if it is ridiculously impractical in the modern world of space-saving technology and cramped apartments. Perhaps the impracticality of it is apart of the appeal, however. This time you aren't tripping over yourself to get to the door. But that's because you're standing right by it giving yourself a pep talk. Not that he needs to know that of course. After smoothing down your hair and doing a quick checklist in your head your pulling the door open.

   This time he's wearing an oversized sweater but again the same tight black jeans. The man must have stock in them. Not that you blame him, it looks good after all. "You look great, babe." Heat blossoms on your face as his eyes scan you from head to toe, that signature lazy smile adorning his face before he takes your hand in his and leads you to his car.

   "Still no motorcycle?"

   "Nope, still don't trust that you won't freak out and kill me accidentally. Why? You seem oddly keen on the bike."

   "It just looks fun that's all."

   "It is. There's nothing better than a good ride, and you can take that any way you please." He winks at you, laughing when you scoff and punch his shoulder. If any other guy said that line you would have jumped out of the now moving vehicle, but for some reason when he says it you turn into putty. Maybe it's the charm of being absurdly good looking. Or that tattoos. The bad-boy charm. Or maybe it's because in all his infinite aloof glory he's just Yoongi. Comfortable and confident in his own skin without being sleazy.

   The record store is quiet, playing a selection of upbeat jazz. Your brain is trying to figure out the tune until you finally snap your fingers and softly say, "Giant Steps!"

   "You know jazz? Are you a secret Coltrane fan or something?" Yoongi is giving you that look. The look that says he's clearly analyzing you. Studying you. Dissecting your brain as you speak.

   "Sort of. I dated this guy in college for years, he was a jazz major. His thesis was going to be on Giant Steps, it's been years since I've heard it though. Are you secretly into jazz, Min Yoongi?"  

   You watch him shake his head no as he scans the records before pulling one out. Outkast, ATliens. A great album, one that invokes nostalgia. He quickly puts the record under his arm before he continues searching. "Nah, I'm more of a blues guy myself. Nina Simone. Etta James. Bill Withers. The building blocks to all modern music. At least hip hop, R&B, and all the subgenres of rock."

   "You know an awful lot about music considering you're a tattoo artist. What's the background story on that?" You peruse next to him as you speak, flicking through the music slowly.

   "Once upon a time I wanted to be a rapper." There's something far off about his voice. As if he's reliving the memories. A gentle smile on his lips as he shakes his head as if to push them back into their little file in his brain to not be disturbed for some time. "But I had bills to pay. I'm not complaining though. I love music, adore it. But I love what I do too. It's almost like trying to pick between your two children. You might actually have a favorite, but it changes depending on the day."

   "Let's hope you only have one kid then."

   "Nah, I'm going to have a horde of mini Mins. Take over the world with them and overthrow capitalism. It's my diabolical plan to get housing prices back to normal and get student debt forgiveness."

   "And how exactly do you plan to have this army of darkness? Polygamy? A sex cult?"

   "God that just sounds exhausting. I can hardly keep up with you let alone more women. No, I think I'll actually stick with two children. You know, just so on tough days I can look at one and go 'ah yes today you didn't fuck up.'" You pray that he doesn't look over to see your cherry red face. He in a way made it sound like he's thought about children with you. Clearly, that's not what he means but now your mind is wandering. Mini mins. They'd be cute. Probably slightly evil but cute nevertheless. They might be born glaring though. Or smirking instead of crying.

   "What happens when they both fuck up?"

   "Then I've got you." Fuck, he was implying you. Holy shit. Holy shit. Act natural. Don't look at him. "Ooh look! They have a Frank Ocean Blonde vinyl. Unopened this bad boy is worth a few hundred. Man, I can't believe how cheap they're selling it for." He tucks it under his arm before cataloging through some more. For a short while the two of you work in silence, falling into a pattern that when you stare at one for just a little too long he's plucking it out of your hands and refusing to listen to you protest.

   By the end of it all, the two of you are walking out with a dozen records after learning a wealth of information on all of Yoongi's favorite artists. You also learned that once upon a time his rap name was 'Suga.' Which led to you immediately and passionately singing Sugar by System of the Down quickly increasing in volume until he clamps his hand over your mouth and stares at you with the rage of a thousand suns. Totally worth it though. Especially when the dude behind the counter picks up where you left off.

   Dinner goes by too quickly. You wish you could freeze time, force it to slow so you can languidly explore his world. It's with a heavy heart that you unbuckle your seat belt before leaning over and pulling him into a heated kiss. One that makes your head spin again and proves that the first date wasn't a series of flukes. Nope, Min Yoongi really does have a skilled tongue. When you pull away you can see stars in his eyes, his hair ruffled and cheeks red as he tries to even out his breathing. The most dangerous part about Yoongi is his duality. The way he can flit between sexy to cute and somewhere in between without trying.

------------2 months later----------

   You've lost count on how many dates you've gone on at this point. He's taken you out on his bike finally to go stargazing. Out to plays and art galleries. Sometimes you've just stayed in and watched movies together. You have lunch together at least twice a week now, grabbing coffee together for a short reunion in the mornings after spending all night talking about everything and nothing over the phone. It's as if a time before Yoongi didn't exist. It's comfortable. Oddly easy.

   It's to your chagrin and surprise that you learn that Yoongi wants to take things slow. He doesn't rush you into bed. He's the perfect gentleman. A punk Disney prince, albeit with a sharp tongue. No even after the third and fourth date when you try to heat things up he's quick to pull away and tell you that he doesn't want to rush things. Not with you, he says. He wants you to trust him first. He wants you to be truly comfortable first. He doesn't want you to think that he's only in it for that.  

   You get it. In fact, in a twist, it actually makes things hotter. But the build-up is getting almost painful now. The sexual tension mounting to epic proportions. Your poor vibrator would hate you if it wasn't inanimate. He wasn't lying about loving cuddling. He's also apparently a man of extreme patience because no matter how many times you've felt his hard dick against your ass mid-spooning he's refused to act on it. Or let you. It's left you more than slightly frustrated on multiple occasions. It also wasn't helpful that it, in turn, made you an awkward mess. In fact, you remember jokingly mentioning some gibberish about your starfish quivering to try and crack the tension and for a while you thought he would never let you live that terrible joke down. Starfish, really? What were you thinking?

   What you belatedly realize though is that his master plan fucking works. Because somewhere along the way you started letting down your guards. Somewhere along all your dates, you find yourself falling. Allowing yourself to be human. Allowing yourself to stop fearing love. Allowing yourself to trust. Without fighting it. Without running. It's no longer terrifying. It's no longer something that gnaws at you in the chasm of anxiety.

   And just shy of three months into dating Yoongi you realize that you love him. Love. Abstract. Intangible. Yet not. It's the way he looks at you. The way he holds your hands. The way he thinks about the things that make you tick. The way the two of you try to find joy in the tiniest of things. Marie Kondo would tell you that you've finally found something that sparks joy. But it's not just from him. No, even when he's not around you feel lighter. Freer. Happier. You're still sarcastic. A bit of a bitch. But this time it's no longer from a place of longheld bitterness and pain, rather it's from your twisted brand of humor.

   This realization comes to you as you after hanging out with Yoongi's friends and coming back to his place to just chill and listen to his vinyls. When his thumb soothingly rubs your hand as you curl up into his chest. It's so natural. So right. "I love you." The words come out a soft sigh, muffled slightly into his chest but he hears them loud and clear.

   Yoongi twists, pulling your face up to his. "Did you just say you love me?"

   "Min Yoongi I love you." You don't expect to hear anything back. You aren't saying it for affirmation or reciprocation. You just want him to know.

   "I don't think I've ever heard better words. Say it again." That gummy smile is back. The one that stirs up butterflies. The one that warms your soul. The one that you fell in love with.

   You swing your legs over his lap, straddling him as you stare into his eyes. "I. Love. You."

   "God, you don't know how bad I've wanted to hear that. I love you so fucking much. So much. Holy fuck. I want to kiss you, can I kiss-" Before he can finish the sentence your lips are on his. Soft and pliant under yours, a lingering taste of leftover chapstick and nicotine. It's captivating. Dizzying. It's so easy to get drunk off his lips. His taste. The soft groans that leave him. Tongues intertwine as his hands roam your body before landing on your ass with a firm squeeze. It's messy. Needy. Sloppy but full of passion. As if you're the only cure for each other. Each emotion lingering in the air. Your hips swivel down, grinding against his pants as one hand weaves into your hair to pull your neck back and attach his lips to there.

   You can feel the small bruises blossoming already. Love bites and harsh sucks leave cherry blossoms along your neck, mirroring the pattern of his own tattoo. Quiet moans of need are spilling out, desire pooling into your panties each time his teeth scrape against you. "You, doll, are the hottest thing I've ever seen. I could worship you. Dedicate a temple to you. Can't wait to feel you. God, I want you so bad. I love you so fucking much." Each word spills out from him like a deep moan, reverberating through his chest and chewing them off at the end. A loud mewl of satisfaction leaves you. He loves you. He loves you. You're in love. Over the moon. How could you ever think that love wasn't for you? How could you ever give up? How could you honestly think that you were destined to be a spinster when a man like him wants you?

   His hands claw at your shirt, quick to remove your bra and leave you partially bare. Even with the slight chill seeping in through his apartment you still feel feverish. Each time his calloused hands roam your skin you can feel your temperature increase. God, you've never wanted someone so much. It's almost an out of body experience. Sex elevated off the mortal plane. You swear you might cum just from him touching you at this rate. His lips brush against your nipples before biting down, one hand reaching back into your hair as you arch into the touch.

   "Wanna touch you Yoongi. Wanna feel you." The words come out drunkenly. Wobbly. Laced with honey through your swollen lips. When his grip lets go of your hair you lean down to his neck, pressing kisses around his tattoo, tongue laving at the branch as your teeth scrape against his soft skin. The deep moans hiccuping out of him are music to your ears, urging you on as your grind against him. Desperate for friction. Desperate for release. Your hands toy at his shirt before finally breaking away to pry it over his head. Your eyes dance over his half-naked form, taking in the sight before you. Almost every square inch is covered, ink swirling around in intricate stories. God, you're about the fuck the hottest living canvas.

   His chest is heaving, breathing uneven as the two of you make eye contact again before lips come crashing together and he's picking you up. Carrying you out of the living room and into his bedroom, stopping occasionally to push you against a wall just to latch onto your neck or chest. By the time you make it to the bed, you're sure that for the first time in your life you could actually forgo foreplay. You're so wet that you can feel it seeping through your underwear and leaving a mark on your jeans. He stumbles onto the bed, your head hitting the wall with a loud thwack that has both of you pausing for a moment. "Shit, are you okay?"

   "Mmokay, take your pants off." You rub at the sore spot before reaching up to place a reassuring kiss on his lips. You hold your breath as you watch him strip, dick springing out proudly. Smeared with precum. Red. Throbbing and twitching. "You don't wear underwear?"

   He looks almost bashful for a moment. "It's laundry day actually..." At the sound of your giggles, he takes the opportunity while you're disarmed to unbutton your pants, freeing you from your jeans and leaving you in just your flimsy lacy panties. The mood shifts back again when you see the hunger in his eyes. As if he's staring at a feast. "Christ, can't wait to taste this pussy. Make you cry my name." His hands are shaking slightly as he slowly pries your underwear off, eyes narrowing on the way your juices stick to your underwear finally tossing it off the side of the best.

   "Please taste me, I need you. I can't wait."

   "Who knew you'd be so needy? So quick to beg for my tongue?" That usual lazy smirk is back on his face as he looks at you, hands hooking around your thighs and pulling them over his shoulders. His tongue flattens against your sex before you can respond, a choked moan drowning out your words. Jesus, he's good with his tongue. It moves slowly, languidly against your dripping pussy. Rhythmically. Diving into your folds only to swirl up around your clit, sucking lightly and releasing with a soft pop before going back down all over again. It's when his tongue dips even lower, swirling around your puckered rim that you can feel your eyes roll back and breathing cut off. Two fingers slip into your dripping cunt with ease, scissoring to stretch you. The dual sensation of his tongue on your ass and fingers filling you up has you clenching. Spiraling. Bright white flashing behind your eyes as a silent scream tries to leave your throat. Toes curling, his name finally rolling off your tongue as you chase the sensation, your orgasm consuming your senses. It leaves you dizzy. Panting. A mewling, drenched mess under him.

   Through fuzzy ears you can hear his low voice, "God how do you taste so good? Fuck, I could watch you all day baby girl."

   His fingers move slowly as he watches you return to earth, twitching underneath him at the oversensitivity. You feel so sated, but at the same time, you want so much more. The look in his eyes makes you hungry all over again. You want him to feel just as good as you. You look up with hooded eyes, hand wrapping around his drooling cock as you speak. "I wanna taste you too Yoongi."

   His adam's apple bobs, hands leaving your thighs as he pulls you into another messy kiss. It's almost all teeth and tongue this time, a thin line of saliva breaks apart when you separate. You shuffle off the bed slowly, knees gingerly falling to the floor before looking back up as your tongue swirls around his head before pulling back to lick a long stripe along his prominent vein. You pepper tiny kisses along his base, one hand cupping his balls gently as the other one twists around his base. You envelop his velvety length in your mouth, working slowly into a steady rhythm. Each sigh from him, soft moans of pleasure spurs you deeper. Jaw aching slightly as you try to take him deeper, using your hand to help stimulate the places you can't reach. His hands grip your hair tightly as he reaches past your molars, pulling you off of him with a loud pop. "Sorry love, I'm not gonna last much longer if you keep doing that and I really want to fuck you."

   You gulp at the way he's watching you. As if he's a predator and you're his prey. A feast for the night. You wouldn't have it any other way. He helps guide you back onto the bed, twisting you onto all fours as his hands glide over your ass. "Best ass I've ever seen. God, I've had so many wet dreams over this ass." His hand comes down sharply, the sting bringing a wave of pleasure to ripple through you as it soothingly rubs over. Your thoughts are quickly brought back to the throbbing between your thighs as his cock rubs against your swollen clit. "Please, fuck. God." You're incoherent, words stringing together slowly.

   "What's my name doll?"

   "Yoongi, come on. Fuck me before I bite your head off!"

   "Yeah yeah, we'll see how much sass you have left in you when I'm done." You wiggle your hips impatiently as you hear him spit into his palm, adding lubrication before he glides into you. "Holy shit." He stays still for a moment as you spasm around the intrusion. He's just thick enough to have you crying out in pleasure, just long enough to have you seeing stars as he sinks deeper.

   "Oh, fuck. Move, please move." You push back, sinker further onto him as he stays still before his hands snake around your throat.

   "God, you are so mouthy. And as much as I normally love hearing you talk back right now I really just wanna fuck you." He pulls out almost completely before slamming back in, balls slapping into your clit in a way that has you seeing stars. Each movement is harsh, quick, with stamina and vigor you didn't foresee him having. The feeling of his hand wrapped around your throat, cutting off just enough circulation to stutter your breathing, has you gasping and rutting underneath him. Fuck, was sex supposed to feel this good? In your fucked out state, you can barely make out the sound of him chuckling darkly behind you. "Look at you baby, already fucked out and I've barely started. Do you wanna cum again baby? Already?"

   "Fuck, please. Don't stop!" Your high pitched begging has him drilling in deeper, his free hand moving off your ass and onto your clit in quick circular motions that has you clenching around him. This time your orgasm is earth-shattering. Loud. Wet. When his hand finally lets go of your throat you face plant into the pillow, legs shaking around him as he keeps moving.

   "You're so beautiful when you cum, did you know that? My pretty baby girl, all fucked out on my cock. Now that's a sight I never want to stop seeing." Another loud smack to your ass has you sobbing into the pillow, moans spilling out as your release gushes around him. "Jesus, how is your pussy so fucking wet? Are you always this wet?"

   "No. It's just for you Yoongi."

   "That's right. This pussy is mine, isn't it? Say it, doll."

   "This pussy is yours Yoongi, fuck. Hold on, I wanna ride you." He stutters, pausing before pulling out so the two of you can shuffle around. You smirk as you crawl over his lap, one hand holding onto his cock as the other grabs his arm while you sink down. You're sure you look a fucked out mess, but so does he. Sweat is making his fringe cling to his forehead, kiss-swollen lips, hickies covering his neck visible even over his tattoos.

   You neck snaps back as you sink down completely, the new angle bringing him right to your g-spot and making your legs shake in overstimulation. You fall forward onto his chest, pulling him into another kiss as you circle your hips in small figure eights. You bite down on his lower lip, pulling it between your teeth as you reach behind you and gently roll his balls in your hand. You delight in the way he groans, eyes rolling back at the sensation. "Keep doing that and I'm not going to last (y/n)."

   "That's the point. Come on, cum with me Yoongi." It doesn't take much in your overstimulated state to get right back to the point again. Hanging over the edge as you dip your hand down to circle your clit, relishing in the dulcet moans from him as the two of you climax together. His nose scrunches up, eyebrows furrowing as he grips at your hips as you ride him into his own orgasm right after your third. It doesn't take long before he twitches inside you, painting your insides white as you slow down. At the feeling of him coming to his own completion you slump forward, your head falling into the crook of his neck as his hands circle your waist.

   "Wow. That might easily have been the best sex of my life."

   "Yeah, that was, wow." Your breathing is still unsteady, legs shaking as you feel him soften inside you.

   "Did you realize you squirted?"

   "Ah, yeah. Sorry to break your heart but that's actually somewhat normal for me."

   "God that is so fucking hot." You laugh into his neck, exhaustion taking over as you sigh. "You know, the first time I ever saw you I knew. I just knew. You were all sass and fire, and I just knew that you were it. You were the one."

   You wish you could reciprocate and say you thought the same thing when you first saw Yoongi, but you suppose it's better late than never. "I never would've guessed when I first met you that you liked cuddling, or saying such cheesy lines, or absolutely hated scary movies."

   "Yeah, but you love that about me."

   "Yeah. But I'm pretty sure I just love everything about you Min Yoongi."

   "You know, when you say my full name like that I get oddly turned on. Do you think you're up for a round two in like, half an hour?"

   You really should say no, you really just want to sleep. But just the thought has your mind spinning. Lord give you strength because you're going to need it, or at least better stamina, to last in survive this man.

   You never would've guessed that love could feel so right. So natural. So normal. It isn't always a crazy spark. It isn't all fire and passion, even though it certainly has its moments. No, it's softer. Gentler. It grows and evolves with you. It changes. It takes work. And the two of you do somehow make it work. Even after moving in and trying to learn how to love someone when there's only one bathroom. Even after you get married and fall into a routine. Even after you get pregnant and go a smidge hormonally insane both times. Even on days when both of the kids drive you batty. Even when they leave home and leave you with an empty nest all over again. Because love is something beautiful. It's something innate within us all, it's just a matter of both parties wanting it enough. Working at it enough. And whenever anyone asks you what love means to you it was simple from that day forward. Min Yoongi.

[silverarmedassassin]

Winter Wonderland

Pairing: Bucky x Reader Word Count: 1554 Warnings: Soft Bucky. Some fluff (even though I’m still finding my footing in fluff) A/N: Here’s day two! Don’t forget to tell me what you think! And if you missed day one, you can find it in the masterlist!

2019 Christmas Masterlist

Bucky woke with a start, momentarily unfamiliar with his surroundings. It wasn’t until he felt the warm mass curled up next to him and heard the sound of a cheery Christmas melody looping in the background that he realized he was in your room.

Movies nights with you had quickly become one of Bucky’s favorite days of the week. It was the one constant in his life he could always look forward to lately, and he was eternally grateful. He wasn’t, however, grateful for always falling asleep in your bed.

Despite the progress he’d made over the past several months, nightmares still occasionally plagued him. Fighting off the darkness that clouded the deepest recesses of his mind wasn’t a scene he wanted to subject you to. Fortunately, you were a heavy sleeper.

He looks down at you, curled up to his side, fist gently bunched in his cotton sleep shirt. He couldn’t resist the smile that spread across his face at the sight. You always seemed to have that effect on him.

As gently as he could, Bucky stretched out to grab the remote that was resting next to you. Reacting as his movement, you tighten your hold on his shirt a little. He flicks off the t.v., cutting off the Blu-Ray’s title screen before it can start its jingle bell song again. As much as he wanted to stay, he knew he couldn’t.

“Doll,” he says quietly, gently running his hand over the cheek that isn’t currently smushed against him. You nuzzle into his touch, chasing the warmth of his flesh fingers. “I gotta get up.”

You whine slightly, barely awake, and shuffle closer - as if that were even possible. Even though you’d never admit it, you were a desperate cuddler sometimes. It’s one of the things he loved about you, even though he’d never admit that.

“Stay,” you mumble as you bury your face deeper into his chest.

Bucky chuckles and brushes the hair blanketing your face. “As much as I’d love that, I promised Steve I would join him on his run tomorrow. He’s gonna come knockin’ at my door, and if I don’t answer I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“Stupid Stevie,” you grumble again before releasing your grip on his shirt just a little. Bucky could tell you were already starting to drift off again, so he took the chance to carefully extract himself from you.

Before he can completely wiggle himself off your bed, you’re nestling into the warmth he’s left behind, hugging the pillow he’d just been resting on close. He smiles down at the sight, his chest warming just a little at the cute, sleepy puffs of breath escaping you as you drift fully back into unconsciousness.

“Sleep tight, pretty girl,” he whispers as he pulls your quilt up snuggly around you. Before he can think twice about it, he leans down and places a gentle kiss to your hairline.

One of these days, he thinks to himself, I’ll finally tell her how I feel. But tonight is not that night.

Before heading off to his own room, Bucky heads down to the kitchen to grab a midnight snack. The extra-large bowl of popcorn you’d split earlier in the night just wasn’t cutting it for him. The sight that welcomes him, however, has him considering turning around and heading right back to your room.

Looking out the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, Bucky can see the large flakes of snow dusting everything in sight. There isn’t much, just enough to leave a faint whisper of white on the grass below, but he doesn’t care. All he knows is he has to wake you up. You’d been moping around for the past week complaining because it’s December in Upstate freaking New York for crying out loud, there should be snow.

The rational part of his brain tells him to just wait until morning. But when it comes to you, Bucky’s never rational, so why start now?

He practically sprints back to your room, taking the steps three at a time as he goes. You’re still curled up the way he left you just minutes ago, and he second-guesses himself for a split second because god, how could he disturb such an angelic scene? Fuck it.

“Y/N,” he whispers, shaking your arm gently. “Hey, wake up. I got a surprise for you.”

He watches as your eyes flutter behind your lids. He shakes you again, this time with more authority, and that seems to do the trick. Your eyes blink open, momentary annoyance flashes across your face before you realize it’s Bucky. The scowl is replaced with a groggy smile.

“What’s up, buttercup?” Your voice is scratchy from sleep and Bucky thinks he might pass out if you keep talking like that.

“Come on, get up. Grab your coat and gloves. I have a surprise!”

You don’t question him further, simply do as he asks because you just trust him. He’ll never understand what he’s done for you to put so much faith in him, but he won’t question it.

He’s rummaging through your neat rows of shoes looking for your snow boots when you come up behind him.

“Where are we goin’?”

Bucky doesn’t answer, simply thrusts your boots into your hands. “Here, put these on and meet me at my room in five.”

You appear not even the full five minutes later all bundled up, complete with the wool scarf he brought back as a present from a mission in Scotland, and one of his hats you’d swiped last year.

He isn’t quite as bundled, but he doesn’t have to worry about getting cold like you do. Super-soldier and all. He does throw on a pair of gloves, and something a little warmer than his usual leather jacket.

“Ready?” he asks, reaching a gloved hand out for you to take. You smile and grasp it firmly, causing warmth to spread through his veins.

He pulls the hat over your eyes and starts leading you to the elevators at the end of the hall. “Bucky!” you giggle as your shuffle behind him. “What has gotten into you?”

He only hums his response as he smashes the down button over and over, daring the elevator to move just a little faster.

Once on the ground floor, Bucky leads you to one of the side doors. This particular one opens up to an open field, perfect for enjoying the flurries unobstructed.

“Can I look now?” you quietly ask once you’ve realized you’d stopped. You can feel a slight nip in the air, and you shiver into Bucky. He takes the momentary closeness as his opportunity to push the hat away from your eyes.

He can see the child-like wonder on your face through the reflection of the glass door. Watches as your sleepy smile grows so wide he’s sure it’s going to split your face open. He can’t but preen a little, knowing he’s the one that helped put that look there.

“I, uh, I know you’ve been waiting for it to snow and all so I thought….” he trails off as he rubs the back of his neck self-consciously. “I didn’t want to wait ‘till morning’.”

“Bucky Barnes, you are the sweetest human being I have ever met,” you practically squeal as you throw yourself into him, wrapping your arms around his solid middle.

Before he can reciprocate the hug, though, you’ve peeled yourself away and are running out the door. You don’t care that it’s nearly three in the morning and that you have a meeting with Director Fury at 0600. No, all you care about is the snow, and the overly-caring, way too sentimental man watching you from the doorway.

You hold out your hand to beckon him over, and he’s in front of you in three long strides. You hug him again, this time allowing him to return the gesture, and bask in his warmth. It takes everything in you to fight back the little happy tears that prick at the corner of your eyes.

“Thank you,” you whisper into his chest. “I really needed this.”

You look up when he doesn’t immediately answer, surprised when you’re met with a blue-eyed gaze so intense you're sure it could melt the snow around you. You bite your lip and watch as his eyes flick down to your mouth then back up.

Before you can stop yourself, you’re up on your tiptoes, pushing your lips gently into his. He’s surprised momentarily before his mind catches up. His left hand quickly finds its way to the back of your hair as the right snakes around your waist. He doesn't hesitate to deepen the kiss, and you can’t help but feel like he’s been wanting this as bad as you have.

You break away first, needing to catch your breath. He doesn’t let you get far though, keeps his forehead pressed against yours to keep you close. You can see the little crinkles around his eyes as smiles down at you.

“If I knew you’d react like this, I would have found a way to make it snow back in July!”

You swat his chest playfully before he captures your mouth in another kiss. It might, just might, be a better surprise than the snow.

[benscursedkid]

pairing: robin novak x merula snyde

words: 3.046

genre: fluff... just lots a fluff

modern!au, muggle!au, christmas fic (sort of), planetarium worker!robin

a/n: my gift to morgan– aka @protegoparacosm for the first annual hphm secret santa event @hphm-secretsanta! merry christmas morgan, i hope you like it! it took me a while to finish because the first half just wrote itself but then i got super busy with exams and it was. a lot. but this was super fun to write so i hope you enjoy it! i hope i got robin right, i tried to write her as a really fun, happy person! she seems really cool and i hope we get to see more of her!

*disclaimer: the last time i went to a planetarium i was five years old so this is absolutely in no way a proper portrayal of what it’s like to be an employee at one. bls excuse the probably many inaccuracies! also i got all of my research for the stars and constellations mentioned in this fic here!

When Robin had asked for Merula to meet her at work, she didn’t question it, but when she told her to meet her at the building close to midnight… well, let’s just say the girl’s lucky she likes her.

Which is how she found herself here; alone on an empty street with frost in her hair and snow in her boots. The harsh wind picks up, it pushes through her hair and bites at her cheeks. Her entire face feels so frozen, she hasn’t been able to feel it for seven minutes. God, only Robin could get her out here in the cold in the middle of the night. The things she does for that girl.

Meanwhile, the snow crunches and compacts under her boots, a few flakes falling through the rim every now and again. It’s the only thing she can hear, apart from the wind whistling in her ears and the shivers that run down her spine. She wishes she could get out her phone and use it for a flashlight, but in her haste out the door, she’s forgotten to grab gloves and she prefers her fingers on her hand, thank you.

The sky overhead is bleak, with storm clouds rolling about and blocking any stars from view. Even the moon is barely peeking through, blinking down at her in pity. This leaves her only other source of light down to that of the street lights that flicker eerily as if watching her walk past.

Still, she marches on. She doesn’t know what Robin has planned, but now she’s desperate to find out.

Finally, after what feels like way too long outside, Merula rounds the corner and the big dome building comes into view. She sighs in relief, all too eager to get out of the cold. However, when she nears the doors, she comes across a truly atrocious sight.

Her knuckles come down harshly on the window of Robin’s car and the blonde hurries to shut off her radio. She waves her hand for Merula to stand back and she complies, allowing her to open her door and climb from the driver’s seat.

She looks perfectly warm! While she’s been out here freezing her ass off!

She goes to tell her as much too, but Robin’s already beat her to it.

“Oh my God, Merula!” Robin fusses, eyes wide and riddled with concern. A hand comes up to her cheek and it’s warm to the touch. Merula bites her lip to keep from leaning into it. A hiss pushes past Robin’s teeth. “You’re freezing! Why didn’t you take your car?!”

Merula shrugs, feigning nonchalance as the blonde worries over her. “I didn’t tell you?” At Robin’s insistence, she nods and waves it off. “I took it into the shop yesterday because the breaks seemed off. No big deal.”

“No big deal?!” Robin gasps as if the words she'd heard were downright absurd. “Merula! I never would have asked you to meet me here if I’d known that! Or I at least would have offered you a ride!”

She huffs and insists that she’s fine, but Robin doesn’t seem to take it. She even unfolds her scarf and goes to wrap it around Merula’s neck instead. A flurry of protests are on the tip of her tongue when Robin levels her with a pointed glare that's more cute than anything else.

“No and’s, if’s, or but’s,” The girl declares, wounding the scarf right around her neck and chin. “You need it more than I do.”

Merula grumbles, but relents nonetheless, knowing that if ever there were a person more stubborn than herself it’d be Robin. Once it’s done, she nods to herself and smiles, proud of her handiwork.

“Now, for what we came for.”

Without further ado, Robin beckons Merula over to the doors, swiftly unlocking them and pushing them open. With an eerie creak that sounds straight from some horror movie, the two of them step inside.

The whole building is silent, not a single sound to be heard within the walls. The air between them lingers as if listening in on them. It almost feels like there’s something in it, something lost and light. A sense of anxious excitement crawls up her back, the kind that reminds her of her reckless teenage years. She feels ready to storm the halls and raid the storage closets, if only because she can. It’s the type of feeling one can only get from being completely and utterly alone someplace, free to behave as one pleases.

Except she’s not alone.

She has Robin.

The girl in question takes in a steady breath and, without word, struts over to the front desk. She seems to scramble around for something until a small “aha” escapes her and she dwells even deeper into the back. Merula waits another handful of moments before the sound of a whirring machine starts up and the overhead lights flicker on above her.

It's a lot bigger in here with the lights on.

“Not that this isn’t so much fun,” Merula calls out, unsure if Robin can even hear her back there, an eyebrow arched and a hand on her hip. “But what are we doing here in the middle of the night?”

A clatter here and a tumble there and Robin finally emerges from the closet, swinging a ring of keys around her index finger. With a beaming smile and a skip in her step, she brushes last Merula down the farthest hall to the left, past where the employees would usually start the museum tour.

“Why don’t you follow me and find out?”

Her eyebrows wiggle and Merula wants to laugh, she really does because it’s just so cute. But she steadies her glare and Robin shrugs and turns back around, continuing forth.

A sigh and another moment later, she’s right on her heels. A smirk makes its way onto Robin’s face as she side eyes her companion. Merula looks away.

It feels weird, she thinks, to be here at all when it feels like the rest of the world is asleep. Tucked snuggly into their beds, no one has any idea what the two of them are up to in the large, empty building. They have free reign here, and Merula doesn’t know where to start. Though, it seems that Robin does.

The only sounds that can be heard are those of their footsteps reverberating off the walls and the rattling of keys on the ring in Robin’s hands. Even the machines have drowned out, leaving the shiver threatening to rack her shoulders and the darkness of the shadows to her imagination.

“Robin,” Merula questions once they arrive to the door of the dome room, her companion already stopping to unlock the grand doors. “Most people on Christmas Eve are probably at home, under blankets and by a fire, watching low-quality holiday moves and filling up on sugar cookies.”

Robin laughs, a most lighthearted and heavenly sound. Merula thinks it sounds almost like the jingling of little bells and a smirk threatens to curve her lips upward.

She turns around to face her, the door unlocked and waiting in her hands. She arches a brow. “Do either of us look like most people to you?”

This time, she doesn’t try to fight the wicked smile that paints her face, even allowing for a laugh to bubble from her throat. “No,” she says. “I guess not.”

Nodding to her herself, Robin releases the doors from her grip and takes a step back. An arm is tucked behind her back and the other spreads wide, gesturing to the vast darkness inside.

With a smile on her face and a knowing look in her eye, Robin asks, “Well, Miss Snyde, it seems we’ve come to the end of the line.”

“Is that so?”

“Mhmm,” Robin grins, the sight alone almost enough to render her speechless. “After you.”

She hesitates briefly, her eyes unable to distinguish or recognize anything in the room waiting for her. Robin notices, and a hand falls on her shoulder.

“Don’t worry,” She assures her, her voice soft and promising. “The lights are in the back. I just have to turn them on.”

Merula nods, more to herself than anyone else, and struts confidently into the dome room. Robin’s own footfalls echo after her as they wander deeper into the place. For a second, Merula almost forgets where she is, no longer worried about her lack of proper sight, and runs straight into something solid.

A small oof escapes her, echoing across the room. The object doesn’t reach up farther past her stomach and she has to catch herself before falling over on top of it.

“Sorry,” Robin shouts, her voice now farther away than she thought. “That was probably just one of the seats. Just stay there for a second while I get the lights on.”

Merula grumbles quietly but complies, not too keen on walking into something else. It doesn’t take more than a minute before the sound of a switch flipping catches her ears and the lights come on. However, they aren’t quite what Merula expected.

The auditorium lights remain off while the ceiling constellations fade into view overhead.

Really, it’s nothing new. Merula, admittedly, had never really been much of an astronomy fan before she met Robin. Since they became friends, or whatever it is that they are, she’s seen all of the shows in the planetarium about five times each. Of course, this was before she realized she didn’t have to make excuses to keep showing up at Robin’s work to see her…

Though she has to say, she doesn’t think she’s seen this one before.

“It’s new,” Robin declares, suddenly at her side. The blonde girl smiles and her eyes extend across the ceiling. “Filius and Sybil decided to get a new show since the planetarium has been rising in popularity lately.”

Merula nods along, but the words have flown completely over her head. Suddenly the only thing she can focus on is the way the projector’s image reflects across her face in sparkling constellations. The stars glimmer in the dark, in random places like her cheekbone, her chin, woven into her pretty gold hair. She swears she can even find them in the beautiful blue of her eyes…

She’s all too enchanting.

“...technically this show is supposed to be for Valentine’s Day, but they wanted it in advance. To get it out of the way now since they were doing their holiday shopping, anyway.... Merula?”

She blinks. Once, twice. Robin’s looking at her expectanty, her head tilted in bemusement. “Uh, yeah. That probably is easier,” She stammers, looking away as her cheeks begin to grow hot.

Robin hums. “Yeah, that’s what I said, too.”

A beat.

Neither of them say a word. They just stand there, looking intently at the scene above. It’s truly extraordinary, Merula thinks, just how insignificant they are in the grand scheme of things. There’s whole worlds and galaxies out there beyond this planet, this city… this planetarium where two girls stand, admiring the universe laid out before them.

Merula chances a glance back to Robin.

She smiles.

It’s true; Merula is probably insignificant, but when she looks at Robin, with constellations in her eyes, galaxies on her tongue and stardust in her bones…

It’s hard to imagine that everything in existence wasn’t made just for her.

“C’mon,” Robin whispers, a hint of mischief in her voice as she smiles at her. Her fingers, warm and delicate, lace through Merula’s and she tugs ever so gently. “Let’s find some seats!”

Merula lets herself be dragged, pretending she doesn’t love the way Robin bounces in excitement. “Oh yes, because they’ll be gone if we don’t hurry.”

Robin snorts, but continues on, ignoring Merula’s signature sarcasm. They twist and turn through rows and rows before Robin stops them in the dead center of the room, pulling her down to sit next to her.

“Do you recognize any of these constellations?” Robin mouths, quiet despite the fact that they’re here alone.

Merula shakes her head. “No, not really,” She says, allowing her gaze to sweep over the sky, unable to identify most of the new constellations. “The only ones I’m familiar with are the ones in the other shows.”

Robin nods, clicking her tongue as she looks for one in particular to point out. It takes only a few seconds for her arm to spring from beneath her chin as the points to a random cluster of stars.

“That one there to your left— no your other left, yeah that —is Deneb from the Cygnus constellation. Y’know, the Swan?” Merula nods, though she’s hardly able to discern what exactly she’s looking at. Still, she loves when Robin gets excited and wouldn’t dare question her now. “And slightly southeast is Altair from Aquila, that’s the Eagle, and then if you look up a little past the Milky Way you’ll find the Harp constellation, Lyra. At the top lies the star called Vega. Together those three stars make up the Summer Triangle.”

She goes to form a triangle with her finger, weaving effortlessly through the air. Then her hand slinks back down to her side and her eyes slide over to Merula. They shine amorously in the constellation light and look her over curiously, inquisitively.

Robin motions up to where she was just mapping out the constellations, jutting her chin up towards the stars. “Have you ever heard the story of Vega and Altair, Merula?”

She shakes her head, forgetting momentarily how to speak. “N-No, can’t say I have,” Robin hums and Merula licks her lips that have since gone dry. She takes in a breath. “Tell it to me.”

Merula thinks she sees a smile curving her lips, but it’s a bit too dark to say for sure. Robin’s arm sticks back out to trace a line between a star that shines a brilliant blue and one down and a little to the left, noticeably less bright than the former.

“Well, the bright one up top is Vega. Several thousand years ago it was known as the North Star, now though, it still holds the title as the fifth-brightest star in Earth’s night sky and second-brightest in the Northern Hemisphere. The other one at the bottom is Altair. It’s still respectably bright, the twelfth-brightest in the sky, so it’s pretty distinguishable on its own for the most part. Though, I usually identify it by its proximity to Vega and the Milky Way.”

Robin goes to draw the line again and this time Merula can see it, the imaginary bridge it makes across the Milky Way.

“The myth’s true origins have been traced back to China, but it’s most popular in Japan nowadays,” A sweet sigh passes between them as if Robin is recalling a magical fairy tale from her childhood days. Perhaps she is, Merula wonders.

“The myth says that Vega was a celestial princess in the heavens, a Goddess of the Sky. Though, she remained very lonely in her immortality as she was always alone. But one day, a mortal named Altair caught her eye,” Her voice seems fragile now, soft like fallen snow and clouds and candies made from sugar. And though Merula couldn’t quite see it, she could feel the way her lips curl up into a smile. “She descended from the heavens to meet him and soon fell deeply in love with him as they spent more time together. Vega then promised Altair that when he dies, they will both go up into the heavens so they could be together forever.”

“I’m assuming that’s not exactly how things went down.”

Robin shakes her head.

“Vega’s father became furious when he heard the news. Not only had his daughter fallen for a mortal, but she promised to bring him with her to the heavens? That just couldn’t do.”

“So what happened?” Merula found herself asking before she even registered that she was speaking.

“Well, he decided to fulfill her wish in the cruelest of fashions,” Robin shrugs, her eyes glued to the stars. “On the day of Altair’s death, the two lovers were placed in the sky as stars, yet while they were both in the heavens, they found that they had been separated by the great Celestial River— that’s the Milky Way.”

Somewhere along the line, Merula had leaned in close to Robin. So close, in fact, that should Robin turn to face her their noses would surely touch. Robin’s hand still sits heavily in Merula’s, warming her palm as she draws soothing circles across the brunette’s knuckles.

Merula bites her lip and allows her head to fall onto Robin’s shoulder. “What did they do about it?”

Robin chuckles and leans her own head against Merula’s, giving her hand a small squeeze. “The only thing they could do,” Merula’s eyes fall closed as she listens to the soft harmony of Robin’s voice, falling languidly into ecstasy. “Once a year on the seventh night of the seventh moon—July sixth —Altair would journey across the river on a bridge made of magpies to see Vega. They were only allowed this one day a year, but the road was treacherous. Sometimes, Altair fails to make it across and on those days it’s said that Vega’s tears flood Japan in the form of rain.”

A subtle frown etches the corners of Merula’s lips downward. Her reply comes in the form of muted mumbles from the crevice of Robin’s neck. “That sucks.”

“Yes,” Robin laughs, a sweet sweet sound. “Yes it does.”

“Aren’t these supposed to be… y’know, happy?”

“Not always.”

“...that sucks.”

Robin goes to respond, but the frantic alarm of her phone cuts her off. She pulls the offending device from her coat pocket.

12:00

Wednesday, December 25

“Merula, it’s–”

But Merula isn’t listening. Instead, she seems to have dozed off against her shoulder, her nose nuzzled into the crook of her neck. Her chest rises and falls rhythmically as she settles deeper into her slumber.

Robin smiles.

“Merry Christmas, Merula,” Emboldened by the hour and the fact that Merula will never know, she reaches over and plants a soft, chaste kiss to the crown of her head. “I love you.”

[cncobby]

non sexual forms of intimacy

some more fluff for you guys! let me know how you like it<3

also requests are open!

love, cncobby

JOEL

ok 10000000% playing with his hair

like we’re all in love with his curls right

but he LOVES it when you play with his hair

think of early mornings when the sun has risen and you both have to get up and do work but he’s just so warm and comfy 

softly stroking his hair 

curling individual strands around your fingers

pulling the curls out to see how long his hair would actually be if it was straight

*since he’s a party pooper and refuses to let you damage his hair with a straightener*

*also ‘accidentally’ pulling his hair a bit too hard*

also scalp massages!!

his fave way of relaxing if he has a headache

or when he’s upset or having a bad day

he’ll just crawl next to you in bed without saying a word

putting his head onto your lap 

silently grabbing your hand and sticking it on his head

and without a word you instantly know what he’s asking

sometimes you’ll hum or sing under your breath

and its in these moments where he just thinks “wow i’m really gonna love you forever”

RICHARD

pillow talk

*cue zayn*

no but forreal

we all know richards a soft emo boy at heart

you guys made it a habit to just detox and unwind after a long day of work 

especially when he’s back from touring because although it sounds cheesy you really do miss just being in his presence

so after you guys eat dinner or watch a movie you always do your bedtime routine and then lay down next to each other to just stare at each other and talk about stuff

sometimes it lasts for an hour, sometimes five minutes

sometimes when you guys are up late trying to fall asleep its:

“babe... do you believe in aliens?”

“...no. go to sleep.”

actually one of the best things for your relationship

bc no matter what you always do it

so if you’re ever mad at each other

it almost always gets resolved before you fall asleep

but if it for some reason doesn’t you still almost always end up buried into his chest when you woke up

ERICK

texting each other 24/7

sounds like what normal couples do right?

but its more than just random messages

sure theres an abundance of meme’s you send each other

and vine references

(he’s a gen z kid lets not lie to ourselves)

but the part that makes you both love each other more is texting each other and making sure you both are okay

in the morning reminding him to drink a cup of water since he forgets and then his throat hurts

him making sure you take your allergy medication

“did you sleep last night?”

“yes duh”

“...how many hours”

“ok liSTEN”

when you have a big deadline due its SO MANY inspirational quotes

“u got this baby”

“only five more pages left to write!”

“3 more pages till we can ft”

“you’re the smartest person i know i know u can do it”

basically just making it known that you’re there for each other no matter what 

ZABDIEL

tracing patterns into his hand

baby has ginormous hands

he loves the way your hand fits his

and the fact that its so small compared to his

any time you see him get nervous or uncomfortable you end up doing this

started when you guys first started dating 

and he got super nervous on your first date because hello you’re beautiful

which is so endearing bc he’s ALWAYS the suave one

so when he started likes stuttering and getting more flustered you reached across the table to grab your hand in his 

and was like “hey, just relax. if anything, *i* should be the nervous one here”

and just flashed him a gentle smile and his heart melted

he was so whipped for you after that

during awards season, he brings you with him onto the red carpet so that in between group photo’s you can hold his hand and help calm his nerves

CHRISTOPHER

snuggling or cuddling with you

we all know baby boy is touch feely as hell

he’s like a fucking koala

(we’ve all seen that vid of him and clara) *heart eyes*

literally always has to be touching you

especially if he’s been gone for a long time??

PHEW picking him up at the airport

 he just runs towards you and FLINGS himself into your arms because he’s missed how soothing and at home he felt in your embrace

when you guys are home he refuses to be far from you

you’re attempting to cook dinner and you just have this big baby stuck to your back

his arms around your waist, head pressed into your neck 

just holding you as you try and maneuver your way around the kitchen

don’t even get me started on sleeping or watching movies

half the time his face is just smushed between your boobs

or if you’re laying on your stomach he loves to use your butt as a pillow

cuddly snuggly christopher uwu