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eternalguk · 2 months

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All Yours || jjk. (M)

Your love is a secret I'm hoping, dreaming, dying to keep.

↠ Pairing : Jungkook x Reader

↠ Summary : Your love for Jungkook was a quiet emotion. He was the oxygen you needed to breathe. In his kisses, you found sincerity. In his embrace, you discovered your heartbeat. And in his love, you found your eternal home.

↠ Genre : established relationship au, slice of life au, comfort au, boyfriend!jk & teacher!reader, pwp (teeny tiny angst, fluff & smut)

↠ Word count : 6.3k

↠ Warnings : allusions to sadness / anxiety, oc hating her job, oc is an overthinker, brief mention of taehyung, unprotected sex, female oral, fingering, breast play, making out, reader squirts, pet names, softdom!jk, praise kink and they’re both just hopelessly in love with e/o.

↠ A/n : hi everyone, it’s nice to meet you 🤍 here is a soft Jungkook fic that I have written as a form of closure for something. I hope you enjoy this short musing and can also find comfort from this. Your feedback is always appreciated and I would love to get to know you! Happy reading 🦢.

↠ Song : Chariot - Jacob Lee.

Work.

The word itself sent a chill down your spine and made your throat feel stuck. What field of work does your job fall into, you wondered as you stepped outside the building.

Am I a babysitter? A therapist? A cleaner? An administrator? A parent? Everyday, as you walk towards your car, the same thoughts fill your brain as you keep your eyes from closing.

A teacher.

All those jobs fell into one category and that was being a teacher.

You loved your job, you really did. But it was finally beginning to catch up to you and burn you out.

As you put your students’ exercise books into your car, your phone rings. A sigh escapes your lips as you curse whoever is calling you at the moment your brain is shutting down.

A small smile forms on your face as you read the caller id.

Jungkook.

You answer immediately, your tense body visibly relaxing.

“Jagi? Hello?”

You listen to his voice, eyes beginning to tear up as you realise how much you’ve missed him.

“Guk!” you say brightly, hoping to mask the tiredness laced all round you.

“You’ve not replied all day, I’ve been waiting!” He begins. You already know what’s coming next.

“I told you to message me at break, lunch and to leave as soon as the bell rings for the end of the day. You’ve stayed behind again!”

“Mhmm”

“Do I need to come collect you myself? Keep the car at home, huh?” He scolds, but you know his intentions simply mean well for you. What did you do to deserve a loving boyfriend like him?

“I’m sitting into the car now to head home; I’ll be back in no time. I was on detention duty.” You reply, skin crawling at the remembrance of you waiting for the students to leave.

“Be quick babe, I’ll get your food ready.”

“Okay, my love.” You smile again, counting down the minutes until you see your boyfriend.

“Love you,” he whispers. You imagine the grin playing on his lips.

“Love you more,” you respond, switching your car on as he cuts the call.

Comfort. Delight. Jungkook.

As you step through the threshold of your home, a sense of warmth and comfort immediately envelops you. The cosy ambiance welcomes you like an old friend, with soft lighting casting gentle glows across the hallway. The scent of freshly made cookies mingles with the familiar aroma of your favourite scented candles, creating an atmosphere of tranquillity.

He truly knows how to bring a smile to your face.

Every corner is adorned with personal touches, from cherished photographs of you and Jungkook, to carefully selected décor that reflects your unique styles. As you move through the space, you can't help but feel grateful for the haven you have created with Jungkook, where you both have cultivated a sanctuary that feels like an extension of yourselves.

Here, amidst the walls that hold your shared memories and the echoes of your laughter, you have crafted the perfect safe space where you can be yourselves, finding solace and serenity in one another's presence.

Smiling, you head into your main living space, waiting to see the only person who puts your busy mind at ease.

Jungkook stands with his back to you. Bam, your playful dog, next to him.

You admire Jungkook staring out the window, lost in the rhythmic percussion of the rain that briskly falls outside. His eyes are steady to each drop, face aglow with the orange rays that spill from the lamp before him. His lips bear the semblance of a smile, just enough to show that he is enjoying his thoughts, whatever they may be. You move closer to him, hoping he’d feel your presence, yet you stay quiet, allowing him to stay lost in the moment a little while longer.

“You got home fast?” A quiet whisper breaks the silence as a hand reaches out to you, beckoning you to come closer. Nuzzling into your boyfriend, you reply a quick, “mhm,” before reaching up to peck his cheek and resting your own against his bare shoulder.

“And you’re half-naked?” You tease, brushing your nose against his soft skin. Jungkook had evidently just showered, his typical body lotion filling your nose. You’d always tell him how you dislike his lotion, and so he’d use exactly that one.

“That’s what love is,” he’d always say.

“Long day?”

“Long week,” you sigh, removing your shoes at the same time and dropping your bag. You mentally thank the fact that you missed the rain by a millisecond. Having soaked clothes and books would’ve definitely made your day worse.

“Wanna talk about it?” Jungkook prompts, his husky voice already washing you with calmness. You shake your head, “no,” simply wanting to relish in the comforting ambience that occupied your home.

Minutes pass as you both watch the March rain. The day really had slipped away into a moment of time, as if it had never really been yours in the first place.

“And here is your lasagna, my love. Made by yours truly.” Jungkook smiles, placing a bowl of warmth before you.

As Jungkook places the steaming bowl of lasagna in front of you, its aroma fills the air. He settles across from you, a grin playing on his lips, but you notice there’s no bowl for himself.

"Where's yours?" you inquire, already sensing the answer.

With a nonchalant shrug, Jungkook replies, "Already had mine."

You roll your eyes, a playful scowl crossing your face. "That's one thing I hate about you," you jest, though there's a hint of annoyance in your tone.

He chuckles, undeterred. "It's not like I can't eat again." With that, he rises to retrieve a modest portion of lasagna for himself.

As you both dig into the savoury dish made by your boyfriend, conversation flows effortlessly. "Shall I ask about work?" Jungkook inquires, breaking the comfortable silence.

You sigh, swirling your fork in the layers of cheese and pasta. "I'm really considering handing in my notice," you confess, contemplating a change to a quieter job.

Jungkook nods understandingly, his eyes reflecting empathy. "You could do with a break," he agrees, his voice gentle. "You know, my dad really liked those jewellery designs you sketched. Come work with us. Plus, I’ll get to see more of you," he adds with a playful smirk.

You laugh, shaking your head. "You just want to fulfil your dreams of office sex," you tease, with a fondness in your tone.

He raises an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Hey, don't call me out so soon," he retorts with a smirk, winking at you.

Shifting the conversation, you inquire about his own work, wondering if he felt more settled today with his dad.

“Yeah, I'm enjoying the creative freedom,” Jungkook replies, a sense of satisfaction evident in his voice. You knew he had troubles voicing his ideas, but with encouragement from you, he finally felt confident enough to show his father.

Curious about his recent photography bookings, you ask about any upcoming weddings.

Jungkook's face lights up with a grin. "Yes, Sunmi recommended me to a friend," he reveals proudly.

The joy you felt knowing Jungkook was still able to balance his passion with work was something inexplicable.

"We need to invite her and Namjoon over for lunch," you suggest, already picturing the lively gathering.

Agreeing wholeheartedly, Jungkook nods as you both continue to savour the lasagna and each other's company, content in the warmth of shared moments and future plans.

Breaking the comfortable silence, Jungkook clears his throat, drawing your attention. "Guess who reached out to me earlier today," he announces, a hint of excitement, but shock in his voice.

Curiosity piqued, you inquire, "Who?"

Jungkook's eyes light up as he responds, "Taehyung hyung."

You offer a polite smile. "Ah, that's nice," you remark, though a subtle tension settles over you.

"He's back in town next weekend with, you know who," Jungkook continues, sensing your unease but pressing on gently.

Your grip tightens slightly on your utensils, but you nod, silently signalling for him to continue.

"He wanted to see us," Jungkook reveals. "I said I'll check with you."

Before you can even apologise for your hesitation, Jungkook reaches over, gently clasping your hand. "Never apologise," he insists, his voice firm yet comforting. "We'll do whatever makes you feel comfortable."

You exhale softly, grateful for his understanding. "I really don't mind him," you confess, your words tinged with resignation. "It's been years, and I've moved on. But being in his presence brings everything back, and I don't feel happy with that."

Jungkook nods in understanding, his thumb tracing soothing circles on the back of your hand. "We can cross that bridge when we come to it," he reassures, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

Feeling a wave of gratitude, you offer a small smile before suggesting, "I'll wash the dishes."

Jungkook nods, his expression softening. "I'll go edit some photos," he offers, rising from his seat.

With a silent understanding, you both retreat to your respective tasks, the air filled with unspoken reassurances and a shared commitment to each other's comfort.

Jungkook hoists you onto the counter effortlessly, gently slotting himself between your parted legs. With a quick peck to your lips, he reaches behind you to grab your cleanser, pumping it twice into his hands.

“I’ll put on some soft music, light a candle,” he begins, lathering the cleanser between his fingertips before doing his best to apply it to your face, “and then I’ll cuddle you until you fall asleep.”

You simply nod, the sight of Jungkook concentrating on not getting the cleaner in your hair distracting you.

“Why do you do this for me?” You whisper, genuine curiosity taking over you as you come to terms with just how delicately Jungkook has tended to you not just today, but everyday. Everyday for the past 6 years. The feeling felt foreign but comforting all at the same time.

You weren’t used to someone taking care of you, and as Jungkook dampens a face towel to smoothly remove the product from your face, you realise once again how lucky you are to have him.

“Because you deserve this, angel.” He pauses, grabbing a cotton pad and your almost finished toner. “You deserve to know that you’re also a priority.”

You melt at his words, leaning forward to gingerly press a kiss against his nose. “I love you.”

“I love you more.”

You aid Jungkook in finishing your skincare routine which he confidently completes. An intimate silence envelops you and Jungkook thankfully doesn’t pierce it. You didn’t quite feel like speaking right now, your mind being loud enough.

What would it be like to see Taehyung? Should you say yes? Should you say no? It’s not fair on Jungkook. It’s not fair on you.

“Stop thinking about seeing hyung, Jagi.” Jungkook scolds, offering you a cheeky smile at the same time.

“I hope you know that there’s no fee-”

“I know; I trust you.”

“But-”

“And you trust me.”

He swiftly lifts you from the counter, and you cling to him like a koala as he carries you to your bedroom. Upon entering, a gentle breeze hits your bare legs which makes you cling to Jungkook stronger, eliciting a small chuckle from the man.

Softly, he lies you on the mattress before joining you underneath the crisp duvet.

“Sing to me,” you whisper as Jungkook pulls you onto his bare chest. You nuzzle into him, basking in the warmth he holds.

“I was thinking something else,” he whispers and he moves you closer.

“And what would that be, Mr. Jeon?” You feign innocence, knowing exactly what is brewing in Jungkook’s mind.

“I’ll just show you, soon-to-be Mrs. Jeon.” He smirks, leaning forward to peck a kiss on your lips.

As the moonlight streamed through the lace curtains, illuminating the room with a soft golden glow, you couldn't contain the flutter of excitement in your heart. The thought of marrying Jungkook filled you with a warmth that spread from the tips of your toes to the depths of your soul.

You imagined the way his eyes would sparkle with joy as you exchanged vows, and the gentle touch of his hand reassuring yours. You couldn't help but smile, knowing that your love was the greatest adventure of all.

“Hey, dreamer. Wakey wakey.” Jungkook laughs, shaking you out of your daydreams.

Dreamer.

A few years ago you wouldn’t have ever imagined having another nickname, but here you were, loving this one the most. Where does time go?

“Jungkook, my love?”

“Yes, baby?”

“Show me, please.”

With that, Jungkook cups your cheek and moves forward to rub your noses together as his long, slender thumb caresses your blushed cheek.

In the room that is now twilight and shadow, Jungkook lies close enough for you to breathe in his alluring scent. His arms wrap around your back, and in one gentle pull, he is hovering above you, and your skin touches his. You feel his hand in your hair, how he loves the softness, watching it tumble as he releases it. His hand then moves down from your cheekbones to your lips.

“Kiss me, Y/N.” Jungkook requests with his husky voice and you don’t need to be told twice, reaching upwards to sync your lips together. The two of you move like partners in a dance that is written in your DNA. Your bodies fit together as if you were made just for this, to fall into one another, to feel this natural rhythm.

Jungkook’s hands are all over you with a vehement urgency, removing the black vest top you had worn to bed. You pull back to admire him, moving his hair out of the way so you can see his beautiful eyes. With a laugh, he brings his face closer to yours, rubbing your noses together, letting your giggles echo inside his safety cocoon. You lock eyes for just a moment, just enough for you to feel safe with one another.

“My prettiest angel.” he whispers in your ear.

And then the heated kissing starts again.

Jungkook showers you with kisses, each one different from the last. He pulls you closer to him by your waist as he lets his hands roam your body freely. Jungkook bends down, brushing his lips gingerly over your cheek.

Despite it being a light touch, he still manages to send euphoric sensations through your nerves, making you shiver. The control this man has over you through the subtlest forms of love, is something you still cannot encapsulate.

“If you want us to stop, tell me now.”

You remain silent as he brushes his lips against your temple.

“Or now.” he mutters as he traces the line of your cheekbone with his index finger.

“Or-”

You reach up to interrupt him, pulling him down to collide your lips together, the rest of his words lost against your mouth. Jungkook kisses you gently, carefully as if you were made of porcelain and would break easily. And that’s exactly what you love about Jungkook.. how tender he is with you. How he always makes sure you’re comfortable enough to proceed.

You knot your fist in his hair, pulling Jungkook against you harder. After waiting for so long, a gentle kiss was not going to satisfy your needs. He groans softly, low in his throat, and his arms circle you, gathering you closer against him all whilst beginning to remove the remaining articles of unnecessary clothing that adorn the two of you.

Jungkook’s tongue licks a long stripe down your neck as his fingertips are whisked away in your hair. He holds the back of your head gently in place as he decorates your skin with deep purple stains of ardent worship, as though you’re his canvas. You hug him close to your throat and your naked breasts rest against his bare chest as you grind yourself up against him. Jungkook cups your face, bringing you to face the deep pink hues of his swollen lips as he presses a searing kiss that has you groaning into his mouth. Jungkook indulgently hums into the kiss, the sheets becoming messier as he leans forward, moving himself against you.

You mouth at him sensually as he tightens his grip on your torso, being sure to dote on each part of your skin he roams. He traces his finger down your chest, his lips following shortly after as he cherishes each inch of your skin. He stops at your breasts, breathing deeply on the already hardened nipples. You tug at his soft tresses as he groans against your nipples, before he begins kissing from the valley of your breasts.

“God, I love your tits.” He sighs out as he shifts towards your nipple, taking the hardened peak into his hot mouth. You arch against him, moaning pleasurably as you massage his scalp. It had been so long since you and Jungkook had time to be this close… this intimate.

Hearing you moan so audibly has Jungkook smirking against your soft skin, your reaction spurring him on. The way he was prodding at your nipple with his sinful tongue had you so utterly lost in his ministrations. He was sure to fondle your neglected breast, bringing his hand up to knead it. The pressure of his skillful tongue and the softness of his palm had you sighing out in bliss. Your moans filled the dimly lit room as you writhed underneath the man providing you with utmost pleasure, realising that this is just the beginning of his ministrations.

You pull Jungkook back against your lips, crashing them together once again. His slightly rough stubble rubbed against your skin in the most delicious way, far from uncomfortable. Jungkook cinched you further into him as he felt the silken strands of your hair. Stopping the soft assault against your mouth, he pulled back.

“I love you Jagi. I really do.”

You stared back at him, swollen lips, messy hair and watery eyes. Jungkook looked down at you through heavy lidded eyes, eagerly needing a response.

“I love you more, baby.” You whisper as you reach up to press a kiss between his brows. Your pussy clenches as your eyes are drawn down to his thick erection. The heat in your gut is only gushing more. You hear Jungkook click his tongue as he palms at himself in order to distract you from it.

You reach forward to grab, but Jungkook stops you before you can even do so. A simple shake of his head gives you the answer you were certainly not looking for. He can’t help but feel proud knowing that despite you both being together for so long, despite you both being in this position frequently, you still always managed to become amazed by the size of his length and what he could do with it.

But today? Today the air around you both is filled with a sense of shyness. It most definitely isn’t the first time for you both, but you’re so nervous you’d never know it. There’s something about Jungkook that lights you up from the inside. And something about you which melts all of Jungkook’s confidence to nothing at all. Touching him is like being handed the holy grail. Almost as if your heart is mended each time you are together even though you never knew it was broken.

Your eyes meet Jungkook’s again and your heartbeat increases. He stares at you with deep respect and adoration, it almost hurts. No one had ever paid this much attention to you before Jungkook. No one had loved you like this. No one had celebrated you in this manner. Jungkook changed that. He stayed with you in your quietness and kissed the scars you hid from others. He is your greatest and rarest treasure. A blessing that brought you inner peace.

Jungkook’s hand that lies on your waist gradually makes its way down to your hip, stopping at the very border of it.

“If I may?” He reaches forward and whispers before nibbling on your ear.

You nod and that was all the consent Jungkook needed. He has you far too riled up for you to even consider stopping his ministrations.

“I’m going to show you how much I love you.” He pauses. “Going to show my angel how happy she makes me.” He breathed out.

“Guk-”

His actions interrupt you as he leans forward to suck on the sweet spot right behind your ear. You inhale sharply and he uses this opportunity to trail his hand down further. Jungkook himself may have been shy, but his doings were far from it. You felt yourself heat up as his fingers reached your nether lips, caressing the soft and soaked area.

“Always so wet for me, aren’t you, Y/N?”

The use of your name had you clenching your pussy, which wasn’t missed by Jungkook. He smirks against the temple of your head, mentally giving himself a pat on the back.

“Is my baby feeling shy?” He playfully teases as he faintly brushes over your clit, refusing any direct contact with the place you need him the most. Jungkook’s other hand grabbed the back of your thigh, bringing it to rest at his waist, granting him the further access he needs. He presses himself closer to you, gently rubbing over your clit. His touch ignites something deep in your senses, you grind into his hand wanting more.

“I don’t want to play too much today.” He simply voices as he pulls his hand away. You whine underneath him, dissatisfied at the loss of his hands. Jungkook’s quick to make that disappear as he lifts your thighs over his shoulders, letting them rest there delicately. You slightly relax, knowing what’s coming next.

Jungkook slides to rest on his lean stomach as he begins to kiss from your ankle upwards, his hand always just a little higher than the gentle kisses he presses everywhere. You feel your back arch in anticipation knowing where his sinful mouth will reach soon. Your head rocks back as he inches towards your core, ready to moan his name as he devours you wholly.

Jungkook breathes against your soaked folds making you quiver with arousal. He massages the inside of your thighs, attempting to calm your nerves. “Always so pretty for me.” He praises before reaching forward to press a kiss against your clit, making you shudder with sensitivity.

“You’ve missed this, haven’t you my love? Missed having my tongue all over your messy cunt? He asks as you run your fingers through his dark locks, tightening the grip on his scalp. You arch your hips into his eager mouth, striving to gain some form of contact.

“Please.. Jungkook, please.” You breathlessly moan out, patience being a virtue you can no longer abide by. Jungkook gives in to your pleading, knowing that he too, needs to have a taste. Needs to subdue the longing of being deep within you.

Jungkook uses the tip of his tongue to lightly trace your nether lips. You squirm underneath him, moaning his name needily as you try to chase more of his tongue. Jungkook feels turned on seeing you lost in the clouds of ecstasy despite him doing so little.

“Guk… please, I need more.” You impatiently whine, trying to provoke further action. And so he does. He finally accepts that he’s perhaps tortured you a little too long now. “If it’s too much, princess, be sure to tell me.” is all he musters as he licks a long stripe from your entrance to your clit. He allows himself to latch onto your quivering cunt, sucking on your labia and making out with it to his heart’s content.

He buries himself further as he skims with his lips, gathering all your wetness on his tongue as you mewl at the orgasmic sensations he provides. He grants you no mercy as he uses his masterful tongue to eat you up. Jungkook had missed this deeply. Missed seeing you lost in the throes of pleasure with not a single care in the world.

You buck your hips closer to his face, begging for more through your actions. Jungkook flattens his tongue against your cunt, sucking greedily on the pulsing bud, groaning at the sweet flavour he had so dearly missed.

“Oh god, Jungkook please. I- I need more!” You give up trying to be quiet, chasing your high being your main priority at the moment.

“Baby wants more?” Jungkook smirks against you before he repeatedly licks up your slit, lapping at you shamelessly. Jungkook takes you by surprise as he sinks two of his long fingers into your leaking pussy. He curls them at the right spot and you whimper out loudly, gripping his hair tighter, not even considering the pain it could cause him.

“Jungkook.. Kook.. You can’t just..” You attempt to mutter out, but the excitement of reaching your high overtakes you and you moan his name instead. He pushes them in and out of you fast and hard whilst teasingly slurping at your juices. You know Jungkook is keen to make you come, and he knows he’s reaching his goal by the way your brows furrow and how you haven’t stopped biting your lips.

“Almost there.. aren’t you, angel?”

“Mmm, Guk, please. Please!” You have no clue what you’re begging for, crying out lustily.

“My baby is so gorgeous. So beautiful for me. My good girl.” Jungkook coos at you, the praises making you need more. Jungkook closes his lips around your clit and sucks it hard as his fingers relentlessly fuck into you. You arch and attempt to push his fingers out. Jungkook understands what you need without words and withdraws them from deep within, instead harshly rubbing at your clit in regular motions, watching you squirt on his tongue and gush all over the sheets.

You mewl distinctly as Jungkook groans at the sight of the mess in front of him. You’re panting hard as he encourages you to continue releasing all your cum.

“All of this for me, jagi? Come on, show me how much more there is. Show me how good I make you feel.”

You gasp and twitch from the oversensitivity of Jungkook’s ministrations as he rushes to hover above you, pressing gentle kisses to your face and wiping the tears which had formed. Jungkook praises you and you don’t fail to blush at his devotion, feeling a sense of pride wash over yourself as he repeatedly refers to you as his good girl.

“Thank you.” you mutter as you reach to latch your lips onto Jungkook’s, him shaking his head no as he brushes the drenched tendrils of hair from your face. A gentle smile adorns his face as he whispers back an “Always” making you feel flustered all over again. You notice Jungkook looking a little too calm and peer down once again at his painfully hard cock.

“Let me jus-”

Once again, Jungkook interrupts you as he grabs your hand, stopping it from reaching its desired destination.

“Not today, jagi. I don’t need your hand today.”

“Hmm?” You mutter, confusion written over your face.

“I just…”

“You just?”

“I just want to make love to my princess.” Jungkook whispers against your lips as he presses his hard length against your soaked core, casting it against your slickness making you whine again.

Jungkook kisses you so gently, so tenderly, you feel the grand amount of love he has for you through the simple movements of his lips against yours. The two of you continue to make out languidly, the moonlight spilling from your sheer curtains illuminating your surroundings, making it all the more intimate. All the more magical.

He leans forward pressing careful kisses to your bare shoulder up to your ear.

“I want to make love to you, Y/N. I want to show you how loved you are.”

You bring your dainty hands to rest against his bare chest as he moves to rub your noses together.

“I want to feel you, Jungkook. I need you.”

And that small whisper is all Jungkook needs as he wraps your legs around his waist and lines himself up against your entrance. Jungkook glances down at where your bodies are soon to connect and smiles as he prods your wet and desperate flesh with his tip.

“Is this okay, jagi?” He delicately inquires, the warmth in his eyes making it evident that he only wants to provide you with utter comfort and nothing else. “Mhm.” You answer as you move your hands towards the nape of his neck, interlacing them.

Jungkook steadies his hand on your pillow as he pushes himself into your wetness, groaning pleasurably. You arch into him, familiarising yourself with his thickness, the feeling still somehow being foreign. The two of you curse as Jungkook nestles his cock into you, your tightness spurring him on further.

“I’ve missed this.” Jungkook moans out loudly as he softly moves forward to settle into you. “I’ve missed the way your walls clench around me.” You whimper at his words and the delicious stretch, your chest rising as you anticipate his next measure. Jungkook gently pulls out of you, only to penetrate you deeper as he hits your cervix.

“I want to love you. Softly. Slowly. Take my time and worship you the way you deserve..” He groans as he glides himself out of you once again, your pooling wetness allowing him to drag himself at ease despite the tightness. You are already filled to the brim, the feeling of home apparent to you both.

“I want to kiss every inch of your perfect body. Love you the way you love me, my love.”

You moan at his confession, tears threatening to spill as the thickness of Jungkook’s cock stretches you out flawlessly. You clench around him tighter which makes Jungkook moan, reaching forward to kiss you harder.

You whine into his mouth, urging him to move.

And so he does.

Jungkook sets a steady and sensuous pace, pressing his hips into you keenly as he moves in and out of you in a languid manner. He presses sweet kisses to your lips and cheeks, breathing deeply as he softly fucks your dripping pussy. Jungkook looks at you with all the tenderness he could gather, moving his hand to slide at the base of your spine, pulling you further onto his cock. Jungkook presses your foreheads together as he continues his tender thrusts.

“I love you so much, so much it hurts.”

Jungkook’s precious words shelter you. Protect you. Make you feel whole. They tend to your hidden wounds, caressing over them in the most soft manner. Your heart flutters at his confession, making you wrap your legs around him tighter as you rut against him trying to match the rhythm of his thrusts. The slightly harsh rocking of Jungkook’s hips provided your clit with the relief it needed. Your cum was already pooling beneath you as he kissed the tears of his passion away from your eyes. Jungkook takes your hand, resting it against your head, entwining your nimble fingers with his own. The slight breeze from the air outside and the warmness your room was providing was the perfect mix, making you feel all the more loved. All the more safe with him.

Your mouths were leaving sloppy kisses wherever they could reach, your sweaty bodies entangled together and your breasts suffused with red from Jungkook’s earlier doings. The both of you felt divine, the wetness all around you being your greatest evidence. The two of you were so lost in one another, so infatuated by each other’s presence, you don’t even realise the mess you had created. You squeezed Jungkook’s hand as he picked up the speed of his thrusts, ensuring to provide you with the ease you needed.

“I love this.. God, I fucking love the way you make me feel. The way you love me.” You spill, making Jungkook penetrate you deeper. Words were hard to muster and so you refrain from speaking further, simply letting your begging moans inform him how good he makes you feel. How heavenly he makes you feel with every precise thrust.

You don’t need to communicate, Jungkook’s hard and animalistic groans echoing inside your little bedroom are enough on both of your behalfs. He pulls out lightly, before grinding deeper as he presses his taut body against your smaller self, provoking you towards another orgasm. You claw at his back, wanting him closer and so he tightens his hold against you, kissing at your neck as he whispers sweet nothings and innocent promises into your sensitive ears. His rhythmic hips not halting their pace, sensually drawing you towards your end.

“You’re doing so well for me baby, such a good girl.” And you know he means each and every encouragement that leaves his lips, a reflection of the pure love he feels for you. You thread your fingers through his hair as he sinks himself into you again, hitting against your g-spot, making your legs quiver and him grunting at the feeling of your wetness pooling on his cock.

Your moans become louder and Jungkook recognises that you need more friction, bringing his hand down to rub against your clit. The sweet pressure as he perfectly thrusts into you has you curling your toes, the feeling of him stretching you wide and making you more wet was exactly all you needed right now. “Almost done, I promise. My baby is so perfect. isn’t she?” He hummed against the temple of your head.

“Jungkook.” You moan in utter euphoria as he picks up his pace, slamming into you with completely new force, ensuring he syncs with the thumbing against your clit. Jungkook begins to move harsher, ramming into you hard, hitting each pleasurable spot whilst holding your body down with his strong yet soft hands.

His actions contrast with the softness of his kisses and the integrity of the loving praises he showers you with. His eyes never once leave you, watching you bite your lips, watching your eyes become more watery, watching the sweat begin to form at your baby hairs.

Jungkook swears he has never seen a sight so gorgeous, so breathtaking. You reach to cup his cheek, telling him repeatedly how much you love him and he gently nods at you, a shy smile breaking out on his face while his pace inside you never changes.

Your hands find Jungkook’s toned back once again, scratching down it as you feel your insides constrict, the coil threatening to break as Jungkook’s pelvis and skin hits against yours repeatedly. You melt into his body as you seek the comfort Jungkook provides you with his sweet, blissful love. You both moan in sync and mirror each other's expressions as you internally thank the heavens above for the love that has been graced upon you.

A series of ‘I love yous’ and ‘You’re all mine’ are heard from the two of you as Jungkook paints your insides white. You feel his cock pulsing as he fills you to the very brim, eliciting a distinct whimper out of you. You leak your wetness all over yours and Jungkook’s legs as he rests his head against your shoulder, telling you that you’ve done well through kisses on your warm skin. Jungkook pushes into you harder as if he wants you both to be one just a little longer. As if he wants to melt into you completely. You run your fingers through his damp hair as he finally stills.

“You always feel so amazing.” Jungkook chuckles, evoking a giggle out of you. He slips his softening cock out you carefully, being sure not to hurt you. You wince slightly at the loss of close contact, wanting to experience this all again. Jungkook pecks your lips before moving to rest next to you, splaying his hand against your stomach and resting his chin on your shoulder.

He had moved from Busan to Seoul. Travelled from America to Europe. Europe to Asia. He had felt safe, secure and content wherever he went. Yet the feeling of home, the feeling of evermore was only ever found with you.

“You’re mine.” You softly whisper.

“I’m all yours.”

The room is now silent, the only noise being heard is the deep panting coming from the both of you and the rain that patters against your window. Cleaning your surroundings and yourselves is far from your mind, Jungkook’s presence and warmth being the only aftercare you need. You wrap your arm around him and nuzzle into his neck as he pulls you closer, straightening what he can of your tousled hair. The breeze from the outside world cools you both down, bringing in a sense of balance; the wisdom to move yet at a steady pace.

You and Jungkook both have your eyes closed, calming down from your highs whilst resting in one another’s embrace. You feel yourself finally drifting away to dreamland in the presence of your safe place. The beginning of this new spring day was like a love song, one that morphed from a melancholy slowness to a happier and more uplifting tune.

The two of you are relaxed, as the early spring breeze brings for you a sense of hope. An awakening magic inhabits the room, a sensation of an old-spirit rekindling and seeking to knit together all that is good.

Feeling at peace in the arms of your lover, you know you are safe. Jungkook presses you against himself firmly and before you slip away to a more tranquil mindset, you feel a sweet kiss being placed on your forehead and you know that you are in a flower meadow with Jungkook, surrounded by the colour of his love for you. The thousands of petals representing the thoughts he had. Feeling at ease, you settle well into him. Every muscle’s tension, lost to the calm ripened air.

You are home.

You always are, when you’re with him.

And there we go. I hope you enjoyed! Feedback and comments are always appreciated <3

Until next time,

🤍

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phramboise · 2 months

Text

— collector:: simon“ghost”rileyxfemale!reader

Could he daily feel a stab of hunger for you? Find nourishment in the very sight of you? You think so. But would you see through the bars of his plight, and ache for him?

tags and warnings: 18+, therapist!reader, patient!riley, mentions of names of psychiatric drugs, disorders, self-destructive behaviours and many other labels that are in the nature of therapy, talk of trauma, persuasion, sexual fantasies, kissing; drugging, kidnapping, nudism, Stockholm syndrome, self-pleasuring (f), vaginal fingering, female receiving oral, semi-public sex, vague ending. More like your obsessive situationship kidnapping you. italics are therapy entries, scribbled notes of the therapist written in her POV; the rest is in third POV. In no way this is praising or normalising any behaviour written -read at your own risk, drugging and kidnapping are not consensual.

wordcount: 3k

;;

When Mr. Riley first crossed your gaze, it wasn't amid your session. Across the road, he stood, and there was no mistaking the man. Here near the thicket, scarcely a few people wear long sleeves on summer fierce, and even fewer have masks on. Until you stop making a mental prognosis even for a person who is not your client and come back from your tea break -or until the end of your shift if you don’t notice- he lingers around, waits at the bus stop, though not seeming to wait for a bus for countless have come and gone, in the hours long.

Another man is what you see, he might be any passerby on the street, and perhaps he is. Mr. Riley embodies one of those afflictions, less unique than he imagines, of those pathologies you've encountered before. When you extend your hand to greet him in your office, he offers no response, nor does he ask of you to address him more sincere. Mr. Riley he remains. He's one who knows himself, aware of his inner discord, though its depths remain veiled. From afar, his black eyes turn warm summer, amber in the sunlit pane, his presence yields little beyond the his file's mundane strain. He avoids talking of his past, and names elude the characters as he tells little pieces of his life. No period of self-destructive history, no suicide attempts. No addiction on gambling, alcohol. No signs of wrist cutting, nor drug injections -seems you misinterpreted his clothing choices. Many hospitalisations, all classified military field papers, one particular on teenage period, one he speaks not about.

Mr. Riley's visits to the office seem to transcend the usual reasons of any other patient, not for seeking counsel or solace; they harbour an enigma you can't quite decode. He adamantly requests your final session on Friday evenings, as if bound by some unseen rhythm of his own. There's no poignant trauma he didn't untangle of himself, no platitude of life's hardships to impart upon him. He has already navigated life's currents, seemingly with ease. There's no sign that he needs a therapist to grasp the stark realities, to know life's not to see through rose-tinted veil.

He is a patient who possesses a profound understanding of himself, sparing you the tire of the week's closing session. There's no need for medical interventions, no requirements for Risperidone, Prozac, or Paxil, nor any hint of sedatives to dull his senses. At times, his answers are so astute that the roles between therapist and client seem to blur. In the dynamic of your therapeutic alliance, there is no predetermined mould, because Mr. Riley doesn't adopt them.

Not a traditional pathology, Mr. Riley is one where not the patient being ready for the therapy, but the therapy being not ready for the patient, one who needs of you to be creative and bold to unravel himself. Of no technique, no book nor rule. So, you suggest roleplay -no voice recorders, not a notepad to write down occasionally. Less practical and even less theoretical. You even offer to do it on the skirt of the small lake behind the office as not to create social desirability. -Not that he bothers of it.

He accepts.

Now, neither of you are what your roles are defined to be, you are no therapist, nor he is a client. He’s not a diagnosis, a test to report, a scale. Not an alienation, not a compulsive or antisocial disorder. Only Mr. Riley.

When you ask him about his first memory he recalls, you realise you must play the maternal figure in this intricate play. When you settle on the bench overlooking the pond, he approaches from behind, enfolding your shoulders before walking to your front, resting his head to your lap. He does not know much about gods; but he thinks that the water is a way of semblance, his soul’s double winks off the reflection, whispers in your voice as you offer solace. “Sometimes” you begin, stroking gently the blond locks that nestle on your lap, “one must mourn to heal.”

He rises on his knees, clinging to your body as you caress his neck, crying to your chest as your cloth is now pulled down with the weight of him resting on you. …Like a baby, his resistance just melts away.

Mr. Riley requests that from now on the therapies take place in the backyard of the building, and since this change of nature contributes to the therapeutic alliance more than the office setting did, and now that he is sure of you enough to remove his mask, and since now when he looks at you he sees you, you acquiesce.

Mr. Riley is touch deprived, he has not yet spoke about his father, but he revealed in our role play therapies that his mother passed when he was only a child - his deprivation leads to a relentless need for contact, that is, after he started to trust me. He shook my hand today, and came with only a mask that covers half his face, which he later took off also. I feel for much further developments with Mr. Riley, which is heartening.

He's by your step as you step around the garden, his presence a silent echo of your every move. His arm wraps around your shoulder as you sit next to one another on the bench. With each sensual step, he surrenders morsels of his shadow, weaving them into your shared space. And when he bids the invitation to walk hand in hand along the water's edge, you accept. Not a drug-treatable depression, rather, it's a serenity born from the tumult of excess violence and the rusty imprints of roads taken, reflected in his eyes. A familiarity in his demeanour, a wash of embrace as if he unravels yourself to you.

Mr. Riley abandons the sessions for a while, it takes a lot of strength to pretend to other clients that you are interested in their problems. When you start to wait in your office on Fridays, even though your last session is available, an empty slot, and when you do this for weeks on end, you realise that this bond is a two-way street, nothing professional. For him, you are a person who will listen, for you-

Someone to listen.

;;

When he does return, the birds are flying south. You find yourself consumed by a gnawing unease of thinking that his routine apathy is back again. Once more, -you prayed so- he seats you into the sanctuary of the bench amidst the garden, yet his eyes no longer linger upon yours with their former intensity. When he pushes you into the water with the strength of one arm, you freeze for a moment, and when he pulls you back in before you soak in the reedy river, he catches you unaware and kisses you harder than you dreamt possible.

One thing you cannot deny, is how his demanding yet sensual kiss is turning you on, leaving not one bit of your responsibility, your authority as the therapist as his hand moves over your legs, circling beneath the curve of your hips. Dipping his hand between your warm thighs, you let his firm touch venture between, supple skin heating cold fingers. His other hand gropes a fistful of your slinking skirt, and you wrap his scent around your loins as he falls to his knees again before the bench. Before you.

Never in all your career you thought you’d be getting into this, to abuse someone who is to solace in the first place, even the thought of it appalled you. Now the thought tightens his fingers on your hips, his tongue rubs idly against your clit in unrushed fashion, he slowly feasts you out.

Mr. Riley will no longer attend our therapy sessions – I said to him that our sessions are not helping him, gave him another therapist’s card, hopefully his condition will move for the better. My efforts were useless I’m afraid.

It’s what you wrote down the day after, but you don’t recall him agreeing.

;;

Three Fridays it takes when he suddenly reappears, he intercepts you locking the door of your office. Adorned with the very mask he tells you he came back to get the other one from you, he’s clad beneath a hoodie, zipper drawn all the way to conceal more than just his torso, hood over his head. You’re not sure what to answer, in a vague indecision, with the haunting realisation that his condition remains as unchanged as ever. Perhaps you should have heeded the warning signs, reconsidered the nature of your occupation, and resisted the temptation to immerse yourself so deeply in his plight— perhaps you shouldn’t have given of yourself to something that won’t heal for the better.

He's your shadow down the corridor, a silent loom trailing behind you as you make your way back to your office. You let out the breath you've been holding as you pick up the pace and create a few steps of distance until you reach your door. Yet, even within the confines of your own space, his presence looms large, casting a pall of uncertainty over your every thought.

In your room, he follows, his silence heavy in the air. As you retrieve his mask from the drawer, he catches your wrist as you turn.

One word leaves your mouth, he’s on you again. Pressing your back against your desk, one hand winding tight around your arm as the other tips your chin up for you to meet his height as he looms over you. The caress of his lips draw tingling heat to your cheek, your lips, your neck. You feel his body against yours deeply as he clines closer, hand on your jaw tight as he tries his way in with his tongue, both hands cupping your head to his, leaving nowhere to lean but him.

His mouth feeds something inside yours, a smooth little dragée that leaves a ragged earthy taste each second you refuse to swallow down, his mouth is on yours to keep it on your tongue, raw liquorice and a sickly sweet taste in your pharynx, your nose tightens in its taste as you try to pry away with a doleful cry — he only pulls away as he feels it down your throat with his thumb, the other wipes the tear on your cheek as he pushes his forehead against yours, cooing it’s okay as you shudder in trepidation.

You leave the room, try to cough it out your mouth.

A hit behind your neck is enough to knock you out.

;;

The sound of spinning tires piercing a howling like a restless banshee against the asphalt wakes you, worn leather feels eerie against your back as you sink into its contours, laid sprawled on the backseat in a short slip gown you don’t own yourself that pools around your hip as the car you’re in hurtles towards the undying disquiet. Cool leather surrounds you, as if offering a hug from the owner on the driver’s seat. The sight outside is a blurred panorama of shifting shadows of a transient night and neon lights racing by in dragging lines before your surly hand moves to feel the ache nestled behind your nape. His gaze grazes your body through the rearview mirror. Deliberately slow is his hand resting over the open window as he drops the stub of his cigarette down, he pulls his mask down before dividing the cold night air mixing with the smoke through the misty window. You don’t know where this road leads, where he’s taking you. Of what he forced into your mouth or when he wore this negligee on you.

Gentle engine lulls you, to some elusive and ephemeral warmth, starts below your stomach, sprouts where you fear it. You were right when you thought, neither of you are what your roles are defined to be. Now he’s to lead, and you’re to follow this fleeting respite of surreal blend. Something in your blood that gets you warm, or it’s the adrenaline of this unknown place. Only Mr. Riley and you. You’re scared, you’re intoxicated. You enjoy it.

You turn your head to his side, wind blows your hair, trails over, snakes through your legs as your hands move to pull the skirt down to cover your hips, holding the satin tight between your thighs. Your own skirt is gone. So are your sheer tights, so is your underwear – he must’ve taken them off before he carried you in his car.

The sultry heat pulsates between your thighs, a yawning chasm that stirs an ache inside. Though, there’s no trace of wetness that already paints your groin, only the searing fire deep within. Your insides burn but you don't feel any strain anywhere except the pain in your neck. You still smell like your own perfume, untouched, without an intrusion of cigarette smoke on his fingertips or the weight of his hands grabbing your skin. Not a single mark marrs your flesh, not even the faintest imprint that dry, rough fingertips as they graze on supple skin. He seems to only changed you in silk, a whisper-soft fabric that clung to you, only piece that’s shielding you from the cool grace of the air. As your fingers brush over the tender swell of your breasts, a shiver dances down your spine. The satin wrapped fabric weaves you into a life that is not meant to hurt, and with each breath, a soft moan threatens its way out your parted lips, a melody of surrender to the lethargy that he trapped you in. You now have a few ideas about the pill he gave you.

Leather smells varnish, aroma intertwining with the haze of his cigarette smoke that hangs in the air. His masculine presence stands as a silent challenge to your frailty. With a delicate touch, you place your hands on your kneecaps, the tip of your tongue running over your teeth as your knuckles leave the skirt of your dress, not holding it over yourself anymore. He must’ve done the same, you imagine his fingers tracing a similar path, grazing against your inner thighs as he lowers your panties, taking them off. Grounded by a thick, scorched, labdanum base, a dark and brooding charred wood and burnt sap, floods through you as the air carries his cologne to you, your nose picks up whatever it is that gets your body wanting more, you caress yourself.

Could he daily feel a stab of hunger for you? Find nourishment in the very sight of you? You think so. But would you see through the bars of his plight, and ache for him?

You wish you fingers were to be rougher, thicker and that your fingertips would smell of tobacco. Of something grainy and rugged instead of this slipping silk between your legs for you to rub against. Did he made you sit on his leg as he clad you in this dress that leaves none to imagination, had he rubbed you against his trousers as he put you down?

Your breathing gets heavier, he changes the hand that steers the wheel, now the car decelerates to keep it in control, now slow enough, a person on a sidewalk would have a flash of image if they were to be as the car glides by- you know you’d do this even if there were no tinted films on the windows- you search for his gaze over the rear mirror, laden with unspoken want. You clench around nothing, mutter words of no meaning, but he knows. You whine deeper breaths, and they soon turn to lilting whimpers.

You think about him feeding you the pill with his tongue - does he feel as you do right now? You wriggle your hips, let a moan to get yourself going, his eyelids flutter close before yours do slowly. He’s watching you; did he watch you when he stripped you naked? How long was he watching you? Your heart races with the writhing pulse between your legs as you rub your arm along your nipple, your hand moves to your core, brushing against your clit as you move your fingers against your lips, the breeze of the interior now seeping on the slick you play with your fingertips. The car sways a little out the road as you cry out a louder whimper, pebbles rolling under the tires, vibrating the seats, adding you on.

Some part of you wants him to pull the car to the side, come to join you, grab you by the ankle and yank you out the car, do whatever he wants to you against the asphalt. Some part likes this piercing gaze through the reflection, of him biting the insides of his cheek as he groans lowly and shifts himself on his seat. From the little frame of the mirror, his free hand is out your sight, but you hear it. Hear his belt loosening as the metal hits the strap. You hum as you increase the pressure, circling your much thinner finger around your hole before sliding in, clenching around them as you slide the latter finger.

If he were to tell you to call him by his name before, you’d moan it. Now, all that leaves your mouth is loud and lewd sounds as the saliva clicks against your tongue, synching slow with the in-and-out of your motion, trying to reach your g-spot with the tips of your fingers.

This won’t last long, are you sure if this is what you want?

Open your eyes, where are you going? Did you even ask? Pill wears off slow in time, fear stings beneath arousal’s guise, your slick skin sticks to your hair, to the now warm and wet cushion under you. Everyone seems to be asleep but you two, as he takes you into the unknowns of the lovers. Your fingers demand release, rubbing and rubbing hastened than your breath, ill imagery fills goosebumps on its way down to your spine, in texture of his icy fingers. Your teeth sentinels at your lips, hard against skin, against the impulse to speak his name— a bare boundary to still not cross on your book. Maybe you could’ve stopped it if you wanted, but you’re not the one driving. Truest valour lies not in defiance, but in surrender. So you do, let it all out.

It's a hushed stillness of something trembling under, the radio scratches before it turns a sepia-tone song spilling cadence, a gentle sway as you massage and pull your soaked legs to your chest, laying on your side as the road keeps hurling forward to an endless terrain.

#cod simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #simon riley x you #simon riley smut #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #cod ghost #cod mwii #call of duty #cod x reader #summary off Hannibal #now that I have this out it’s time for another looooooooooongv time again

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squichymochi · 3 months

Text

So here is another something I wrote. I’ll probably be writing more now, but updates will be slow because I usually work 50 hours a week. However, as Hazbin is still on my mind 👉🏻👈🏻, here ya go.

Warning: this contains swearing, some cuddles, and nothing too out of the ordinary for the show.

Husk x Reader (Husk is transformed into a tiny kitten)

Word Count: 1.033

I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I love writing it. As I mentioned before, English is not my first language. Thank you ❤️

Wiping down the bar in Husk's absence, you found a peculiar solace in the repetitive motion. Across from you, Angel Dust lounged, a Bloody Mary in one hand and his phone in the other.

"You alright there, hun?" you asked, concern threading your voice. Husk usually manned the bar, doubling as a makeshift therapist for the Hotels weary souls.

Angel glanced up, his frown dissolving into a practiced smile. Raising a hand, you stopped him, "No need to pretend, Angel. Is it Val again?"

He deflated, a heavy sigh escaping him. "Yeah, it is," he admitted.

Before you could offer a stronger drink, a loud bang echoed through the hotel entrance, startling both of you. "What?!" you exclaimed, instinctively summoning a pair of knives into your hands. But Charlie's voice soon echoed through the hall, and your tension eased.

"I am soooooo sorry!" Charlie's voice was a mix of panic and remorse. You and Angel rushed to the front, finding Charlie in tears, while Vaggie was clutching something in her arms.

"What in the heavens happened?" you asked, approaching with concern. Peering closer, you were stunned to see a kitten with fur patterns strikingly similar to Husk's. At the sound of your voice, the kitten looked up, meowing softly.

You froze, a mix of shock, amusement, and rising panic washing over you. Angel, unable to contain himself, chuckled, "Is this our dear grumbly Husk looking all cute?"

The kitten hissed, swiping at Angel's fingers, clearly unamused. In your mind, you could almost hear Husk's voice, *Piss off, you asshole*.

"What happened, Charlie?" you asked, a deep weariness in your voice as you massaged your temples. Charlie ran up to you clasping your hands into hers. She started explaining, sobs still tumbling out of her. They tried to solve a bigger problem and ended up within a turf war gone wrong and a dust bomb that hit Husk. As she spoke, Vaggie cradled the tiny kitten version of Husk, concern etched on her face.

"We'll find a solution, I promise," Charlie declared, determination in her voice, despite her tear-stained eyes.

Later this evening Husk, in his kitten form, had taken up residence atop the bar, his tail flicking irritably. "I really hope we find a way to change you back soon," you sighed, leaning against the counter. "I miss your hugs, you big grump." He responded with a hiss, but sauntered over to nuzzle against your face. As you stroked his soft fur, his eyes fluttered closed contentedly.

"Ugh, what a shitty day!" Angel Dust collapsed onto a stool in front of you, his face etched with exhaustion. "Hard day at work?" you asked, continuing to pet Husk.

"You could say that," Angel Dust replied, tears brimming in his eyes. "I just wish I didn't have to do this shit or do all of them…I don’t know.", he laughed hysterically. Husk, sensing his friend's distress, moved to comfort him, purring as he leaned against Angel's face.

Angel picked up the kitten, placing him on his lap. A smile found its way to your lips – even in this unusual form, Husk was there for his friends.

As days passed, you awoke one morning to find Husk, still in kitten form, growling atop the bar counter. Alastor's voice filled the air with static. "Look at you, now my pet for real," he taunted, reaching out to pet him. But Husk growled and swiped at Alastor's hand, drawing blood.

"Take care whose hand you're biting, dear friend," Alastor warned, his voice tinged with static-laden threat and his demonic form slowly appearing.

"Alastor," you interjected sharply. In an instant, his demeanor shifted back to his usual smiling self. "Oh dear, could you prepare my usual?" he requested, his smile never wavering.

"Of course," you replied, shooting Husk a stern look. Husk hopped off the counter, still growling under his breath and sauntering to his usual spot on the sofa.

That evening, as you all engaged in group activities with Vaggie as Charlie was still trying to desperately find an antidote (mind you it’s been over a week). Husk stubbornly remained on the table. Vaggie tried to shoo him away, but his 'I don’t give a shit' glare won out, and everyone left him be.

During Sir Pentious's dramatic storytelling, Husk probably was fed up with the snakes story and began pushing a glass off the table. "NO," Vaggie's voice was filled with murderous intent, but the glass went flying regardless.

Sighing heavily and apologising profusely for your grumpy boyfriend you scooped Husk into your lap, petting him until he began to purr and nestle into you. "I like petting you, you know," you teased. He responded with a playful nip at your hand.

Suddenly, with a snap of Alastor's fingers, Husk was back to his usual self, sitting awkwardly in your lap staring into your eyes. "You could have changed me back this whole time?!" Husk turned his head to look at the radio demon and bristled, ready to explode. You hugged him tighter, trying to calm him down, which wasn’t the easiest thing to do.

Alastor's reply, "Oh, where would be the fun in that?" only fueled Husk's anger further.

"Babe," you whispered, and Husk finally realized he was still in your lap, his cheeks turning slightly red. "I'm just so happy to have you back," you murmured, hugging him while trying to calm all of them the fuck down.

Your moment was interrupted by a loud bang. Charlie burst in, triumphantly holding a vial. "I got it!" she exclaimed. Upon seeing Husk back in his original form, she let out a bewildered, "What the fuck!?"

As the evening wound down, Husk whispered in your ear, "I hope you'll still want to pet me later in our room, babe," his purr sending a blush across your face and heat straight to your core.

"Kinky," Angel teased, wiggling his fingers. You buried your face in Husk's fur, overwhelmed but relieved. You could feel your boyfriend’s low chuckle and his arms wrapping tightly around your form. Despite the chaos, you were grateful to have Husk back, knowing it was only the beginning of solving the hotel's larger problems.

Thanks for reading ☺️

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel husk #husk x reader #husk x you #husk x y/n #drabble #oneshot #hazbin fanfic #husk fluff

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saltpepperbeard · 4 months

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so i just talked to my therapist about all of this because i have been, unsurprisingly, ✨suffering✨ lmao. and because i know that’s a very shared sentiment, i just wanted to pass her words along.

she basically said that however it is that we need to cope, we cope. whether that’s going full acceptance, or clinging on to whatever ounce of hope we can, we go ahead and do that.

and also, because i have seen people getting upset or even angry at others for having hope, i also just wanted to share that she mentioned hope is a good strategy. it’s a light in a sea of darkness. it’s something to hang onto while things are incredibly difficult. does it guarantee that anything will actually happen? no. but does that little whisper of light provide some heat, some solace, some comfort? absolutely yes.

so, to everyone, just keep coping however it is you find fit. if you’re in acceptance and are working your way through that, continue. if you’re passionate and fighting to see if you can make a difference, continue. if you’re tired and drained and just need to take a break from it all, continue.

continue, and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. as my therapist put it, we are all turtles right now. we are all slowly navigating through all of this. don’t kick the turtles, because they will clam up and will no longer move.

allow the turtles to move and cross the finish line at their pace.

love yall so much ❤️🧡💛💚💙💜

#OFMD #OFMD Season 3 #SaveOFMD #RenewOFMD #Renew as a crew #Be a lighthouse #I for one am going to continue hoping and continue fighting #And that might not be what’s best for or what works for everyone #And that’s totally okay #Do whatever it is YOU need to do

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strawbeerossi · 10 months

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Nights Like These

18+ Content. Minors DNI

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid

Description: After a grueling case, your best friend and roommate Spencer comes home a lot more cuddly and hands on. So much so you two have to share a bed because he just doesn’t wanna be alone.

Content Warning: Some light case discussion, light angst due to Spencer being in distress from the case, one of the many versions of the one bed trope, best friends with hidden feelings trope, Spencer ends up having a wet dream, admitted feelings, some sweet fluff, fingering (f receiving), oral sex (f receiving), finger sucking, unprotected sex, creampie, some cockwarming in the end.

Word Count: 2.5K

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Tags 🏷️ @beardedhotchh @nyx-tella @multifandom-on-the-side @morgthemagpie @eveyez-exe @avis-writeshq

This is purely self indulgent. Also new format of not doing purely 3rd person. Let me know if I should do this more often.

You knew how hard it was for Spencer on emotionally draining cases. He had feared being alone after them, his experience in prison making him more prone to the occasional outburst, which he desperately tried avoiding.

They could take an everlasting impact on him if he wasn’t careful enough, the idea of losing all control and being faced with the trauma that continued stacking against him was not what he needed.

He struggled enough with his day to day life, his therapist only able to give him so much advice and do so much for him. He liked to say that she helped but she wasn’t a miracle worker. He seemed to never be comfortable in the past.

Until he met you.

He’d found solace with you.

The way you would play with his hair and let him get as close as possible to you so he could cling for comfort were things that he appreciated. You weren’t the type to push him away and tell him to deal with his own issues, no, you took care of him.

You’d met whenever Spencer put out an ad for a new roommate, living in DC was something he could afford due to the luxury of working with the FBI for fifteen years, however he didn’t like being alone.

He was fresh out of prison at the time, the silence being too eery to deal with. He knew he couldn’t live in the chaos of JJ’s house, nor could he turn to much of anyone else on the team. He felt like a burden to them. A piece of him died in the prison cell he was left in,the nights of being awake due to the impending doom that was gonna strike granted the inmates found out he was a federal agent.

When he had gotten into contact with you due to you being the first one to speak with him, he had already found some sense in comfort with you. You were kind and always had a smile on your face, not to mention that you had a sense of cleanliness that Spencer could definitely deal with.

Due to his busy life, his apartment could tend to be littered with books that he’d started before he got a call, he would have case files piling up, even the occasional coffee cup or two was left out. He wasn’t a slob, yet he could definitely benefit from a roommate who would teach him the ways of organization.

The both of you really seemed to hit it off, your energies feeding into one another really well. You learned he knew way too much, joking how you didn’t know how his brain could hold the vast amount of knowledge that stuck with him. He learned that you were really into science fiction novels and films, being impressed with your knowledge of Doctor Who and Star Trek.

Both of you were seemingly cut from the same piece of cloth, making it easier for you to upgrade from just being roommates to best friends as well.

It was a late Tuesday night whenever Spencer was quietly walking through the front door. He could smell the familiar scent of lemon, associating the smell with the cleaner that you’d mop the floors with.

He was toeing his shoes off by the front door, knowing you’d kill him if you woke up to anything on the freshly mopped floors. “Y/N?” He called, walking deeper into the apartment. His voice was hoarse, presumably from yelling at some point.

“In my room!” You call, glancing up from the book in your hands while watching Spencer quietly push the door open. He looked exhausted. Being familiar already with that look, you were placing your book down before holding your arms out to Spencer with a soft sigh.

As he approached your bed and you felt his body collapse in your arms, you were slowly rubbing his back.The heaviness of his heart could be felt by the way his grip tightened on you, his face buried in your neck as his body shifted to get comfortable on the bed beside you.

Your fingers were threading through the touseled curls on his head, nails occasionally scratching his scalp in an effort to help soothe him. It seemed to work, his grip loosening and his head lifting soon after, cheek against the fluffy pillow that he could’ve swore that you had added to your bed just for him.

“It was a hard case.” He stated the obvious, making your head nod. “I can imagine. Do you wanna talk about it?” The softness of your voice brought Spencer comfort, a soft sigh falling from his lips. “The unsub targeted male and female best friends. Apparently, his ex-girlfriend had left him for someone who was her best friend. We found out they recently got married and he just snapped.”

He neglected to mention how the duos reminded him of the friendship you two shared.

It was something that a partner wouldnt understand without immediately jumping to the worst conclusions. It made him think of how that very well could’ve been you two, a man killing you for his own failed relationship and pushing blame on everyone else.

“It’s okay, it’s okay.. You’re safe now, more importantly, he’s behind bars.” Your reassurance made his head nod slowly. “You’re right.” He offered a small smile, his head turning to face you easier. “Do you mind if I sleep with you?”

The question was a silly one to ask, already knowing the answer whenever he was being told to turn off the bedside lamp closest to him.

You didn’t mind sharing a bed with Spencer, enjoying the comforting presence of a loving companion. Truth be told, you’d always had the tiniest crush on him. He made sure you were okay both physically and mentally, not to mention that he was truly an amazing roommate and friend. He carried a sense of warmth, one that could draw anyone in.

As you began to drift off to sleep, things felt right.

The feeling of his arms wrapped around your frame always made you feel a sense of safety, not to mention the butterflies in your belly would come to life when he’d pull you closer in the night.

Tonight was different.

You’d been sleeping for a good four hours now, the sounds of labored breathing filling the room from your slumber combined with Spencer’s, his snores not being unbearably loud. However, at some point you two had ended up in a spooning situation, your body being engulfed by his arms as he pulled you tight to his chest.You were stirring awake to the sounds of soft whispers coming from Spencer, his face buried in your neck.

It wasn’t rare for him to talk in his sleep, you finding it silly at times because you could have full conversations with him.

In your drowsy state, you hadn’t registered the way his hips were rutting into yours, his hard cock pressing firm against your clothed ass under the sheets. What you did register though, was a warm hand under the sheets trailing up your thigh, warm and wet kisses being pressed against the flesh of your neck. It took his thumb running over your clothed clit that had you jolting to life.

“Spencer.” Your voice was raised in an attempt to wake him up, thankfully succeeding as his movements slowed, eyes slowly blinking open.

“What’s wrong?” His voice was deep, laced with sleep.

“You were uh-”

You didn’t get to finish your sentence, Spencer’s realization hitting as he was quickly pulling away, body jolting up. “Oh, my god! I’m sorry.” His voice was at a high octave, his cheeks bright red with embarrassment. He couldn’t believe himself.

“N-No it’s okay! You were sleeping.” Your body was sitting up, thighs pressed tightly together due to the fact that arousal had already settled in, your panties wet enough just from a small touch and some grinding.

You were more touch deprived than you thought.

“I’m sorry. I should go to my room. No, I am gonna go to my room.”

“Wait!”

You didn’t know what had gotten into you, your hand reaching to quickly grab his wrist. “Do you want help?” The words made Spencer’s mouth run dry, winded from just the mere suggestion. “Help?” He repeated, as if he wanted to hear you say it again.

“Yeah. We are both mature adults.”

“For the most part.”

His words made you crack a smile, soft laughter erupting between the both of you. Though as it died down, the sound of Spencer clicking his tongue could be heard. “You’re sure?” He then asked, not completely against the idea. “Because I really like you, Y/N. Seriously, you have no idea.”

He liked you. You liked him. This was an invitation if you’d ever seen one.

“I’m one hundred percent sure. I have had a crush on you since i met-” You didn’t get to finish your sentence before you felt a warm hand cup your cheek, tugging you close to easily connect his lips to yours.

The kiss was filled with need and desire, his hand slowly moving from your cheek and down to your waist. You felt dizzy, the tantalizing nature of his tongue slipping into your mouth as the hunger for more was beginning to bubble under the surface.

His hands were pushing you back on the mattress, his body now hovering over yours, your body being trapped under his weight. However, you definitely weren’t complaining. As your kiss grew more needy and sloppy, his nimble fingers were trailing up your inner thigh, hands bunching up the nightgown that you were wearing to your stomach.

The sexual tension hung thick, his fingers continuing to tease your skin that was already burning with desire that was growing into desperation. As his fingertips slowly trailed to your panties, he was slowly pushing them to the side.

You could feel the wind being knocked out of your lungs as one of his fingers trailed up your slick folds before making their way to your clit. “You’re already so wet, fuck.” Spencer wasn’t one to swear, normally being reluctant to use such language. It was pathetic on how it contributed to the arousal pool.

His finger was massaging your pearl as if it needed to be polished and put on display, the sounds of your little gasps and moans spurring him on. His hand was moving away from your throbbing clit, chuckling at your whining for more. Instead of saying anything, he was disappearing under the blankets.

His large hands were pushing your thighs apart, lips pressing tantalizing kisses against your inner thighs before his tongue was licking a fat stripe up your slick folds. Your hands were sliding under the sheets, mouth falling open once he was licking and slurping at your cunt, your taste being intoxicating.

He ate like a man starved, lapping up every ounce of arousal that seemed to gush out of your pussy with every movement. Drinking in everything you had to offer, his jaw was growing wet with the sweet nectar that he’d been so focused on milking out of you.

It wasn’t long until his tongue was being replaced by two fingers, a cry of pleasure leaving your lips as the long digits were putting in the work, his fingers curling and brushing against the spongy button inside of you that had you roughly pushing his face into your slick cunt more.

His tongue was licking over your clit coupled with two fingers scissoring your tight cunt open was causing your legs to shake, the knot of pleasure inside of your tummy getting tighter and tighter, your pussy walls spasming around his fingers as you were so close to your orgasm.

Then Spencer pulled away.

Before you could voice your frustrations, your open mouth was silenced by two fingers slipping into your mouth. Not needing to be told twice, your eyes were fluttering shut while letting your tongue lap up any evidence of shimmering arousal from his fingers, your moans vibrating around his finger from the taste of slick.

With a ‘pop’, Spencer was pulling his fingers out of your mouth. “You look so beautiful, Y/N.” His words were soft, only leaning down to connect your lips in a chaste kiss. You were growing impatient, your hands quickly pushing his pants and his boxers down his legs soon after. It wasn’t enough to completely undress him, mainly because you both weren’t waiting that long.

Spencer let his hand wrap around his hard cock, stroking a few times go get himself hard enough to his liking before tapping the thick tip against your clit, causing electricity to shoot through your body as you shivered softly at the contact.

“Ready?” He asked, pushing the blunt head past your folds. That was when he was pushing his cock inside of you, your hands gripping his shoulders while you both shared a deep kiss.

The girth of his base had given you a delicious burn, making you hiss at the pleasurable pain. “Fuck. You take my cock so well. Like this pussy was made for me.” He grunted, the filth of his words causing a moan to fall from your lips. Never once did you expect this behavior nor this kind of language from Spencer.

He was pulling you out of your dazed thoughts as he was slowly rolling his hips into yours, cock nestled inside of your tight cunt.

It was almost as if you could feel every vein, every curve.. It was a sensation that you’d never actually felt before. Who knows, maybe you just paid extra attention because you’ve been dreaming of this moment.

Those slow thrusts were soon upgrading to harder and faster ones, a cry of pleasure falling from your lips as your head hit the pillow behind you. The sounds of skin slapping together as well as the sinful sounds of squelching from your wet pussy and the moans, whimpers and cries falling from your lips were filling the bedroom.

Spencer continued to ram his cock into your tight hole, a thin shine of sweat on his forehead as he was relentlessly fucking into you. The feeling of your warm, plushy walls convulsing around him was enough for his cock to twitch. He was close and so were you, both of your bodily reactions being dead giveaways.

As your cunt squeezed tight around his cock, your nails were digging into the shirt he was wearing as you let your eyes screw shut, your creamy cum slowly sliding down his cock and surely making a mess of the sheets while he was giving a few more hard thrusts before shooting long ropes of cum inside of you, surely coating your cervix in the process.

With a few more sloppy thrusts to ride out both of your orgasms, it wasn’t long until his body was collapsing on top of yours. As he tried to pull away though, your legs were tightening around his waist. “Wait.” She whispered, her head tilting back. “Wanna feel you inside for a little bit longer.” She blabbered out, grip loosening as Spencer couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Hey, Y/N?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you wanna go out to dinner with me tomorrow night?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

857 notes · View notes

ijustmissyouraccenths · 2 months

Text

Chocolate Hearts

CW: Smut

Word count: 4,541

Growing up in a small town was never easy. The days appeared to drag on with gloomy skies and bleak summers filling the calendar. Rain and storms consumed the days, leaving Stella feeling trapped inside her own home, binge-watching Netflix to pass the time. Despite these dreary conditions and the small town gossip that cause her to suffocate, Stella found solace in two things: reading novels at the quaint local bookstore and pursuing her passion for photography.

Behind the lens, Stella was a master. She had an eye for capturing beauty in the simplest of subjects. Her clients ranged from families to businesses, and sometimes beloved pets. While most of her projects were fairly small, she had managed to gain a decent following on social media thanks to the artistic and creative nature of her photos.

Then, through pure luck, an opportunity presented itself about an hour away - the chance to photograph Harry Styles at an arena for her portfolio. It would be a stark contrast to her usual work - the bright lights and frantic movements on stage would provide a new challenge for her skills behind the lens. When her sister's boyfriend, who worked security at the venue, offered her this rare opportunity, Stella couldn't turn it down. It was a chance to showcase her talent on a larger scale and potentially open doors for her career as a photographer.

She meticulously packed her gear, carefully selecting the best lenses and camera body for the upcoming task. Her vintage-style paperboy camera bag was neatly filled with all the necessary equipment, ensuring that she would be fully prepared for whatever lay ahead. Taking a moment to center herself, she sat down and focused on her breathing, a technique her therapist had taught her for moments when she needed to relax and gather her thoughts.

With a deep breath, she swiped the keys off of the counter and bid farewell to her cat before heading out to her car. While she wouldn't necessarily classify herself as a fan of Harry Styles, she found him charming and had enjoyed his performances in the few movies he had been in. There was something about his energy that drew her in. She couldn't deny that she had a One Direction phase in high school, so there was a small part of Stella that felt giddy at the thought of seeing him in person. She always thought her was attracitve and even had a little crush on him.

The drive to the arena was smooth, but finding parking proved to be a nightmare. Eventually, she made it inside and checked in, grabbing her pass before being escorted to where she would be shooting. In her mind, she imagined that she would have a decent view of the stage, but when the security guard handed her off to Harry's manager who then led her down winding hallways backstage, it became clear that she would not just be photographing the show - she would have access to something much more intimate and behind-the-scenes.

The manager wheeled around to face Stella, his slicked-back hair catching the light as he spoke. "I hope you're okay with this," he said, over the hustle and bustle of the backstage preparations for Harry Styles' show. "Originally we needed someone for the show, but our usual photographer is out sick and we need some content for Instagram."

Stella nodded, trying to suppress her nerves. She had been ecstatic when she was offered the opportunity to shoot photos of one of the worlds biggest musicians, but now that it was actually happening, she was feeling a bit overwhelmed. Her palms were getting clammy as she mentally went through her checklist, making sure she had everything ready to go.

"I'm good," she replied, flashing a quick smile at Harry's manager. "I'm all set up and ready whenever you guys are."

But what Stella wasn't prepared for was walking into Harry's dressing room and seeing him shirtless, with his stylist carefully crafting his iconic hairstyle. She couldn't help but feel a flutter in her chest as she took in his toned tattooed torso and muscular arms. This wasn't how she imagined meeting her high school celebrity crush.

Harry turned around from the chair and greeted her with a warm smile. "You must be Stella," he said as he walked towards her with open arms.

Stella couldn't believe she was actually hugging Harry Styles. She took in his scent, the strong muscles of his back pressing against her as they embraced, and she couldn't help but feel herself falling deeply in love with him. It was like a bug had bitten her and infected her with an infatuation for the charming and talented musician.

"I am," Stella finally managed to say, trying not to let on how starstruck she was. "Thank you so much for allowing me to come today. I've never really done anything like this before, it feels like such a big opportunity."

Harry chuckled and then ran a hand through his hair, causing it to fall in soft waves around his face. "No worries, love," he replied with a playful wink. "We're happy to have you here. And I was thinking we could mix things up a bit for the photoshoot. Let's do some portraits but also some candid shots of me getting ready, organizing my clothes, that sort of thing."

Stella's eyes sparkled with excitement at the idea. She couldn't believe she was going to be taking intimate behind-the-scenes shots of Harry Styles. This was definitely going to be the highlight of her photography career so far.

As Stella clicked away with her camera, capturing every moment of Harry getting ready, she couldn't help but feel a newfound sense of confidence around him. It was as if his vibrant energy was contagious and had spread throughout her body, lifting her spirits in its wake. She found herself contorting into unusual positions to get the perfect shot, lost in the thrill of documenting this experience.

"So Stella, we have a whole week off and I want to explore. I never get out to this area of the US. What's there to do around here?" Harry's deep, smooth voice sent shivers down her spine.

Stella paused for a moment, caught off guard by this unexpected conversation. "I um," she stuttered, "I actually live in a small town about an hour north of here. I'm not too familiar with the area."

Harry nodded, his curiosity piqued. "Is it cool?" he asked, his tone laced with genuine interest.

Stella shrugged, "It's alright. There are some nice bakeries and vegan restaurants. I have my studio there. It's a bit hipster but quiet and charming. Oh, and there's a really cool vinyl store. And hey, if you need a place to crash, I have a guest room." She added the last part jokingly, assuming that a famous superstar like Harry Styles would be staying in a luxurious penthouse suite.

"Let's do it," Harry declared with enthusiasm, catching Stella off guard once again.

"Really?" she gasped in disbelief.

Harry simply nodded and explained, "I've been wanting to escape to a smaller town where I can blend in and do normal things without being recognized. Sounds perfect."

Stella couldn't believe her luck as the show went on and eventually came to an end. The plan was for her to go home and wait for Harry while he finished up his final performance and got cleaned up before heading over to her place. She inwardly thanked herself for deep cleaning her house the day before, she was prepared to have everything to be perfect for Harry's stay.

"I-I didn't think you'd actually want to come," Stella admitted as they said their goodbyes.

Harry chuckled and replied, "Isn't it a bit crazy?"

And with that, their unconventional journey began.

Stella sat at home, anxiously awaiting Harry's arrival. She had cleaned her small apartment, lit a few candles, and put on a record to set the mood. With a quick glance at the clock, she grabbed a bottle of wine and poured herself a glass to calm her nerves.

As she took a sip, her doorbell rang, causing her cat to scurry off in alarm. Stella placed her glass down and smoothed out her outfit before opening the door. The crisp fall air rushed in, bringing with it the tantalizing scent of Harry's cologne - a masculine blend of woodsy and spicy notes that never failed to drive her wild.

"Welcome to my humble abode," she greeted him with a shrug, trying to play it cool. He hugged her tightly before setting his bag down and taking off his shoes.

"It's lovely," he remarked as he looked around her eclectic apartment filled with vintage knick-knacks and furniture straight out of the 70s. Stella blushed with pride - she may not be much of a decorator, but this was her personal style and Harry seemed to appreciate it.

"I don't think there are many places open for dinner right now, but we can order takeout if you'd like. I know it's late," Stella suggested.

"Oh, that would be great. I'm actually quite hungry," Harry admitted with a sheepish grin.

Stella returned his smile and poured him a glass of wine.

"For you," she said softly as she handed it over.

Together, they sat on her cozy couch, looking through takeout menus. Their options were limited, so they settled on a 24-hour Korean BBQ place that offered delivery services.

"You know," Stella began as they waited for their food to arrive, "I was somewhat surprised when you agreed to come over tonight. You don't even know me."

Harry simply shrugged in response.

"You seemed nice and warm. Sometimes, you have to take a chance in order to truly live," he said with a hint of wisdom in his tone. "I'm constantly surrounded by strangers in my line of work, always staying in hotels. I thought, why not spend some time with a stranger who offers a sense of home? That sounded nice right about now."

Stella placed a comforting hand on his knee and rubbed lightly with her thumb.

"Well, if I can provide that sense of home, even for a little while, then I will." As they sat on the couch, making small talk and waiting for their food, Stella couldn't help but feel grateful for this unexpected connection she had made with Harry.

Stella and Harry’s conversation was soon interrupted by food arriving. The two sat in silence and then cleaned up in silence. The energy of the room could only be described as tired. Stella took Harry down the hall and showed him the bathroom and then took him to the room he would be staying in.

They hugged goodnight and said their goodbyes before Stella finished turning off the lights and heading to bed herself. She wondered how she would sleep. She felt guilty for trying to fall asleep. A part of her felt like she had to stay on duty and protect the treasure that was in the room over. When in reality, if someone broke in she would be the first to go.

The next morning dawned, and as her drowsy eyes gradually cleared, Stella almost forgot that Harry was in the room next to hers. A warm, sweet scent wafted through the air, reminding her of home. Slowly, she got out of bed and walked over to her vanity, taking a moment to fix her disheveled appearance before stepping into the living room.

There stood Harry in the kitchen, his back turned to her as he focused on cooking. He must have heard her footsteps because he turned around with a smile.

"Got up early. Went on a run, found a store and decided to cook for ya," he said over his shoulder, his voice filled with warmth and affection. Stella's heart skipped a beat at the sight of him.

"Oh Harry! You could've woken me up," she exclaimed, feeling guilty for not helping him with breakfast.

But he just shook his head, his light curls bouncing slightly with the movement.

"It was nice. To go out and not be known," he shared with her.

Stella looked at him with loving eyes, marveling at how this famous celebrity could find solace in anonymity.

"I can only imagine. I don't know how you do it all the time. No privacy. Going on a date and having the world see it even if it sucked. I can't imagine, and I’ve been on some pretty bad dates.” she confessed to Harry, unable to hide her admiration.

He laughed lightly, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

"Well. Why don't I take you out on not a bad date?" he suggested casually, but Stella's heart nearly stopped in her chest at his words. She couldn't believe it - was Harry asking her out on a date?

"If you're sure," she managed to say, trying to keep her cool.

He came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close and giving her a warm hug.

"It wasn't just luck, Stella. I found your Instagram a while ago. The small town pics, the cat, the photography. I know your sister's boyfriend and I knew I had to meet you. I was practically drawn to you," he confessed, sending shivers down Stella's spine.

She couldn't believe it - this famous, talented, and incredibly attractive man had an interest in her. With a newfound sense of confidence and excitement, Stella accepted his invitation for a date, eager to see where this unexpected connection would lead them.

Despite being unfamiliar with the town, Harry managed to find a quaint restaurant and drove Stella there in his rental car. For once, he felt a sense of normalcy - the feeling of dating someone without the baggage of fame and paparazzi constantly hounding them. The drive was short, but it gave him time to take in the picturesque scenery of the small town.

As they arrived at the restaurant, Stella's face lit up with recognition. She had been here many times before, and it was clear that she loved this place. The staff greeted her by name as they walked in, and Harry couldn't help but tease her about being the "famous" one.

"It's just a small town," she laughed, "everyone knows everyone."

Over dinner, Harry couldn't shake off the feeling that he already knew Stella, or perhaps had known her in another lifetime. He found himself wanting to do simple things like eating Korean barbecue in bed or buying silly chocolate hearts from CVS - anything to make her smile.

Stella too, felt an instant connection with Harry. Just yesterday she didn't remember his name, now she would drop everything and run away with him if he asked. She wanted him in every way possible.

Their meal ended too quickly, but the silence between them was comfortable and filled with unspoken feelings. After dinner, Harry suggested going out and doing something adventurous, but Stella simply wanted to be home - home with him and a bottle of wine. Much to his surprise, Harry was completely content with that plan.

He drove her back to her house like he had lived in that town his whole life. As they entered her place, Stella kicked off her shoes and made a beeline for the kitchen where she grabbed a bottle of wine. She poured two glasses and handed one to Harry as she fumbled with setting up the record player.

Taking a few sips of wine to calm her nerves, Stella couldn't find the right record to play and let out a frustrated sigh then finished her glass by chugging it. In that moment, Harry realized that he would do anything to make her happy, even if it meant spending the night listening to terrible music.

Stella felt him behind her as he placed a hand on the back of her shoulders. Stella felt the heat of his body, an angelic presence stirring her senses from behind. His touch was electric on the back of her shoulders, sending shivers down her spine. She turned around to face him, their faces just inches apart. The scent of his cologne filled her nostrils - masculine and intoxicating.

Wordlessly, she poured and handed him another glass of wine. Their fingers brushed against each other in the transfer, sparking a flame that coursed through their linked bodies.

"Your choice," she said with a teasing smile, gesturing to the records spread out on the table. He picked up one at random – some old jazz record she'd forgotten about. Harry placed it on the turntable and the sultry sway of a saxophone began to fill the room.

He moved closer to her then, invading her personal space as if he had every right to do so. Harrys hands found their way to her waist, pulling her flush against him. Stella gasped at the feel of his firm body pressing into hers.

“Is this okay?” he murmured into her ear. His breath tickled her skin and made her giggle.

“More than okay,” Stella replied. Her voice was husky, inviting.

His lips trailed kisses from her earlobe down towards her neck, stoking the fire that was quickly building between them. She clutched onto his hair for dear life as pleasure washed over her in waves.

As Harry's hands slipped under Stella's blouse, he gently brushed his fingertips along the small of her back before pressing softly against her bare skin. His touch was electric, sending shivers down her spine as she leaned into him, her heart pounding in anticipation. His other hand slid around to her waist before moving slowly downwards, tracing the lines of her hip and finally reaching the edge of her silk panties. Stella gasped, feeling a rush of heat spreading through her core at his touch.

"Harry," she whispered, unable to form complete thoughts as he began to explore between her legs, teasing and stroking with expert fingers. She leaned into him, letting out soft moans that were quickly drowned out by the music playing in the background. His warm breath caressed her neck, sending shivers down her spine as he nibbled lightly on the soft skin there.

In response, Stella reached up to run her fingers through his hair, loving the feel of it between her fingertips as he continued to tease her. The way he touched her was unlike anything she'd ever experienced before - it was like he knew exactly what she needed, right from the start. With each gentle caress and sigh, she felt herself growing hotter and wetter under his touch.

His fingers found their way inside and she couldn't contain a moan as he teased into places that made every nerve ending light up like fireworks going off in slow motion. He moved with an almost practiced ease that left her panting for more; it was clear that Harry knew exactly what he was doing and it felt so good - better than anything she could have ever imagined. She couldn't help but wrap one leg around him in anticipation.

The music flowed around them, the silky jazz notes wrapping them up in a sensual embrace as Harry's fingers danced with hers, his hands exploring every curve and contour of her body.His touch was firm yet gentle, eliciting soft moans from Stella.

As his mouth neared hers, she parted her lips, eager for his kiss. Their lips met in a tender yet passionate embrace that left them both breathless. He tasted like wine and desire, his tongue dancing with hers playfully before delving deeper into her mouth. They broke apart for air, panting heavily as Harry trailed kisses down her neck and collarbone while continuing to stroke her inner thighs.

Stella continued to run her fingers through his hair, tangling herself up in those curls that smelled of sandalwood and sex appeal. The scent alone made her dizzy with lust; she needed more of him than just this small taste. The warmth from his body seeped into hers as they swayed together to the music—a slow song that matched their slow dance of seduction. She could feel his hardness pressing against her leg; it wasn't long before she grew wetter than ever from anticipation of what was to come next.

Harry leaned back slightly to look at Stella who looked back at him longingly. Her eyes were filled with desire, her pupils dilated from the alcohol and passion. He took a step back to remove his shirt, revealing toned abs and muscles that rippled under his tattooed skin. His hair fell onto his forehead in soft waves, framing his face as he reached for the button of his jeans. With a low growl of need, he undid the button and slid down the zipper before pushing the denim down to rest on his hips.

Stella watched hungrily as Harry stepped out of his pants and kicked them off to the side, revealing a large erection that strained against his boxers. She licked her lips involuntarily at the sight of him, feeling her own arousal growing stronger by the second.

The jazz music continued softly in the background, creating an intimate ambiance between them as they moved closer together once more. Their bodies swaying slowly as if in tune with the melody. Harry pressed himself against Stella's Core invitingly; she could feel how hard he was through their thin fabric separating them.

His tongue traced her earlobe gently before nibbling playfully at it causing shivers to run up her spine. He whispered huskily into her ear, "I want you.” His accent driving her crazy.

She moaned softly in response as he trailed kisses down her neck and collarbone, his warm breath sending shockwaves through her body. His hands roamed over her curves possessively.

"Harry," she breathed out wanting more than just teasing now; needing completion beneath this hands.

The sight of his arousal straining against his boxers made her lick her lips in anticipation. He was thick and hard, and she could see a bead of pre-cum glistening at the tip. "Oh god," Stella moaned quietly under her breath.

Harry swiftly discarded his boxers, revealing his length fully to her gaze. Her eyes widened slightly at his size, but there was no fear in her eyes – only an eager curiosity as she reached out to touch him. Her small hand wrapped around him firmly, making him groan in pleasure.

With one swift move he pushed her onto the carpeted floor, pulled off her panties, and spread her thighs wide apart. She looked up at him from beneath heavy lashes, anticipation brewing like a storm within those sultry depths. His fingers found their way to her slick heat, nudging open sensitive folds to gain access to the secrets hidden within.

His finger dipped within the wetness, coating himself in it before retreating to rub circles around the swollen bud nestled above. A bolt of pleasure shot through Stella's body and she writhed beneath him; gasps spilling freely from her parted lips. "Fuck...Harry..."

He continued to tease gently at first, before picking up speed - each stroke sending waves of pleasure coursing through her body as he taunted that sweet spot relentlessly. His other hand kneaded and tweaked her breasts, heightening the pleasure. Stella's back arched off the floor as he brought her closer and closer to that edge.

"Harry... I..." she stammered out breathlessly. Her hands grasped at his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as an orgasm ripped through her body.

Her screams of pleasure echoed in the dimly lit room as Harry continued to stroke her through her orgasm, drawing out the waves of pleasure until she was left panting and spent beneath him.

Slowly, he nudged her legs further apart with his knee before guiding his hardness to her entrance. She whimpered slightly at the feel of him pressing against her but nonetheless lifted her hips to meet him halfway.

He filled her slowly; each inch driving a gasp from both of them until he was fully embedded within her. Their bodies were connected now - not just physically, but emotionally and spiritually too. Their movements soon found a rhythm; slow and deep thrusts that had her wrapping her legs around his waist to pull him deeper.

His pace gradually increased as they both chased their release; Stella's nails leaving trails down his back as she clung onto him. It wasn't long before she felt another rise in pleasure peaking; this one even more intense than the last. "Harry...I'm going to..."

With one final deep thrust, she screamed his name as pleasure fell over her once again; Harry following suit shortly after with a groan of his own. He collapsed on top of her panting heavily; their sweaty bodies entwined in bliss.

Their shared connection was undeniable. Passionate yet tender, their lovemaking was something far beyond mere physical satisfaction. And so their story began, Harry fell in love with the small town over the week and vowed to visit in when his time was free.

As the week in the small town came to an end, Harry couldn't help but feel a sense of sadness. He had never expected to find such a powerful connection with someone in such an unexpected place. But as he looked at her sleeping form next to him, he knew that this was just the beginning of something special.

He gently brushed her hair out of her face and placed a soft kiss on her forehead. She stirred slightly and opened her eyes, a smile spreading across her face when she saw Harry watching her.

"Good morning," she said, her voice still heavy with sleep.

"Morning," Harry replied, unable to keep the smile off his face as he leaned in for another kiss.

They spent their last day together exploring the town, holding hands and stealing kisses whenever they could. They were both reluctant to say goodbye, but they knew it was only temporary. They had promised to stay in touch and make plans for future visits.

As they stood at the airport saying their farewells, Harry made a promise to himself – he would come back here whenever he could. This small town had captured his heart in more ways than one.

In the weeks that followed, they kept their promise and stayed connected through phone calls and messages. And when Harry's schedule allowed it, he would make the trip back to that small town, always finding new adventures and creating more memories with her by his side.

His bandmates noticed a change in him – he seemed happier, more at peace. And when they asked about it, all Harry could do was smile and tell them about this magical place that had become his sanctuary.

But as much as he loved visiting this small town and spending time with her, Harry knew that eventually their paths would diverge once again. His music career took him all over the world and she was rooted in this quaint little town. With that knowledge looming over them, they cherished every moment they had together. And in those moments, their love only grew stronger.

#one direction #harry styles smut #famous!harry #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles masterlist #harry styles #oneshot #harry styles writing #harry styles fan fic #harrystyles #one shot #harry smut #harrys house #harry styles blurb

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aikaterini-drag · 7 months

Text

Whispers of Rapture

Summary: Bucky wakes up from a nightmare and after talking to you, he longs for the warmth of your skin against his.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

If you enjoy my oneshots, you can buy me coffee here. ♡

Warnings: emotional comfort, needy Bucky, explicit sexual content, oral (fem receiving), unprotected sex, cockwarming, basically toe-curling smut pals.

Kofi ❤️ Wattpad 🧡 AO3 🩷 ASK ME 🩵

It was one of those days when the weight of the past seemed to press down on James' shoulders. He tossed and cried out in his sleep, clutching you and pushing you against him, holding you for dear life. You woke up with a gasp, his big body almost pressing you into the mattress. The nightmares haunted him, it had been so long since he had been chased but them.

You thought that his sessions with the therapist were starting to help him but apparently, the wounds in his heart would take a long time to heal and would always stay there, leaving scars.

Wishing to give him a moment of solace, you hugged him, and threaded your fingers through his hair. He whined and leaned into you, mumbling incoherently and squeezing you against him. Your heart ached to see him like this. Cupping his face, you kissed his forehead, his cheeks and his lips, whispering to him that he was safe, that the danger was gone.

In his daze, he awoke in a cold sweat, his heart racing. He turned to you and blinked, his chest heaving. In your dimly lit bedroom, his eyes were glassy blue, pooling with unshed tears, filled with gratitude and vulnerability. Without a word, he leaned down and kissed you, a kiss filled with the depth of his emotions, a kiss that was desperate, soul-stirring, a kiss that begged you to take away the terrors that haunted him.

“Baby, it’s okay. Speak to me, are you alright?” you asked amid breathless kisses, gently touching his hard face.

He gazed at you, his eyes heavy with remnants of the nightmare. “I will be fine… it was… It was one of those nightmares. The ones that never truly go away.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck. “I’m here, honey. You’re safe now. Do you want to talk about it?”

He sighed and then he nodded. “It was… my past, all the horrible things I’ve done. The people I’ve hurt. I can’t escape it, no matter how hard I try.”

You stroked his hair, your voice gentle as you spoke, “You’re not that person anymore. You’re Sergeant James Bucky Barnes. You are free and hold your destiny in your hands. No one’s going to hurt you anymore.”

“But it doesn’t feel like it. Just when the nightmares had stopped, now they’re back. I feel so lost, and it scares me,” he said and held you tighter. You were so small in contrast to him, molding perfectly into his massive embrace. But your heart was the strongest, your love the most powerful. All he desired was to keep you in his arms, to love you.

“The nightmares are fading. You are having less and less of them. Be patient and strong. You’re not alone, honey. You’ve got people who count on you and trust you. And you have me; I’m here, and I love you. I’ll help you through this. We’ll face everything together.”

Bucky buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breathing beginning to steady. “Is it arrogant if I crave you? I can’t do this without you sweetheart... I love you so much. You’re my light in the darkness.”

You smiled. “I’m arrogant too because I need you just as much. We are quite the perfect pair. I love you more than words can express."

“Sweets? I need you. Need to feel you.” His eyes bore into you. “Need your skin, your warmth. Need to devour you, to erase the cold nightmares.”

“Have me, love,” you said, arching against him. There were nights when the nightmares were so intense and made him crave you sexually, made him want him to rake his tongue and hands all over you. You always let him, and right now your body was tingling with need and want; aching to give yourself to him freely and make him forget about the darkness of the past.

With a nod, he trailed his lips down your neck, hands slipping under your shirt to drag it off your body. It was one of his shirts, oversized and smelling of him. You cooperated and shrugged it off, you wore nothing underneath. He moaned happily and let his mouth taste your nipples while you busied yourself with mapping his naked chest, playing with the dog tags hanging from his neck, traveling low to remove the only clothes he wore, his pajama pants. Your palms cupped his heavy cock, which stood hard and fully erect. He groaned as you pumped him slowly, your thumb teasing the moisture seeping from the tip.

Meanwhile, he devoured your soft round breasts, massaging all over, planting his lips under and over them, before sucking each bud in his mouth. He gave them ample attention, leaving behind trails of wet kisses and small red spots. You shook from the sensations, overwhelmed at how he was treating you so desperately yet passionately.

At some point, his strong hands pinned your wrists to the bed as he kissed his way down your belly. Your legs opened wide on their own, sweet moans leaving your lips when he bent down and pressed his lips against your mound. Freeing your hands, he opened the folds of your pussy and let his tongue trail the soft, yielding flesh. You saw stars and bucked against his mouth as he kissed your dewy folds before spearing his tongue into your opening.

You trembled, whined, begged him to stop, then sobbed and begged him to never stop.

He devoured you like a man possessed and you came fast, whispering his name in the darkness. You twisted but he held your thighs in his steel grip, fucking you with his tongue as you rode the waves of ecstasy. Out of breath, you clawed his shoulders as he continued eating you out, his beard chafing your soft skin.

"My beautiful pussy," he whispered, drawing another squeal from your lips.

“James…” you managed to pant, his husky voice sending vibrations through you.

He looked over you, cupping your face and kissing your mouth. “My perfect girl. My precious. My one and only.”

Before you could reply, he rolled you over, your bum up in the air, your legs driven wide apart. He slipped between your thighs and tucked away your hair, bending down to kiss your soft buttcheeks, your back and your nape.

You shivered all over and wiggled your bum, feeling his hard shaft throbbing against your slit. He rubbed the bulbous head at your glistening folds, lubricating himself in your arousal and then, he thrust forward, driving deep. He filled you to the hilt, every inch of his superhuman cock invading your pussy. He stayed there, rotted deep inside you, kissing your ear lobe.

“Feeling me deep, sweets?” he drawled seductively.

“So deep,” you answered, blissed out with the feel of his fat cock. “Move, James m—”

Your words were torn form your throat when he pulled out of you, his magnificent girth laved with your juices, then delved inside with a powerful thrust. Then he pumped into you, your soft walls welcoming him each time he pushed in deep. You both moaned and he leaned down, fisting your hair gently and lifting you back. Your back collided with his chest, you were practically sitting on his raging dick. You felt him even deeper and moaned in rapture, rocking up and down, chasing your release.

Turning your head, he kissed you, invading your mouth with his tongue. His metal hand moved to your clit, playing gently with the sensitive bud and vibrating. After a few moments of him teasing you, you came hard, eyes shut tightly. He growled and pressed his fingers into your mouth, and you eagerly accepted and sucked on them as he continued to impale you.

"That sweet taste makes me go out of control," he said, still short of breath. "Want you dripping wet, only for me."

“Hmmm…” you moaned, lips wrapped around his metal fingers. “'Am yours, baby.”

“Mine. My perfect sunshine. My light. My love,” he panted his words with matching jabs of his hips. “Gonna come for me again, precious? Give me a third one. Drip all over me.”

You struggled to answer, too focused on sucking his fingers as his thrusts rocked your body, sending your breasts bouncing. You merely hummed as the squelching sounds of your fucking filled the room. He removed his fingers from your panting lips and slipped his tongue between them, kissing you roughly.

He plunged deep and cupped your breasts with both hands, fingers pinching your nipples. Stars flashed before you and you convulsed around his cock, your third orgasm overwhelming you, making your knees weak. He followed the moment he felt you clench around him and let loose, spurting into you, filling you up with loads of super soldier cum.

With a feeling of absolute satisfaction, he rolled your bodies to the side, staying deeply inside of you. It had become a habit of his, not exiting your depths, seeking to stay inside your for as long as he could. And he always stayed long, because his super soldier stamina always left him hard and aching for more. Hugging you from behind, he waited until your erratic breathing had calmed down, kissing you gently on the face.

You blinked up at him, overtaken by exhaustion but also blissful completeness. “Are you feeling better now?”

“Hm… I’m ready to continue my sleep. No more nightmares.”

"Me, too. I have no strength to move.”

“Stay right where you are, sweets. I’ll hold you to sleep,” he said giving a gentle roll of his hips.

You shuddered. "You're insatiable, Mr. Barnes."

"Insatiable for your love," he said, his eyes staring at your lips, "You are mine, and mine alone." Slowly he lifted your chin and kissed you goodnight. “Go back to sleep, sweetheart.”

“Hm, goodnight, baby,” you murmured, you eyes drifting closed.

#bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes #the winter soldier #winter soldier #james buchanan barnes #captain america #james barnes #james barnes #alpha bucky barnes #james barnes x reader #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader #by aikaterini

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blueaetherr · 1 year

Text

just a thought

pairing: mason mount x fem!reader [she/her]

warning(s): none

summary: the one where the maid and man of honour talk about the future prospects regarding their relationship

author's note: last one for while 'cause of exams (as if i don't already post irregularly :/), but anyways, enjoy!

Managing the wedding of your friends was definitely a task, especially if it's your first time and you are just one or two people. And as the maid and man of honour, Y/N and Mason had to come to learn that over the last few days.

There was more to learn than anticipated by the pair. It wasn't simply just being paired together as a bridesmaid or groomsman or being the right-hand person for the bride and groom; there was so much to those roles. It was providing emotional support the night before, making sure the wedding wouldn't collapse last minute, advising the bridesmaids and the groomsmen to always act accordingly, being the adults amongst the adults and probably much more.

And when you put all of that together, it was, of course, exhausting and challenging for two people, taking more than enough voice and strength and tolerance. Being the voice of reason for those solvable problems, being the spontaneous therapist moments before the wedding ceremony—they weren't for the weak, one needed strength beyond the physical one to manage well.

But it was okay. 'Cause when it was all said and done—the pre-wedding celebrations, the downtime the night before, the mini breakdowns and moments of doubt before the ceremony—there was the wedding ceremony, and it was wonderful. The bride, the husband, the family and friends and the culture embedded into every last detail of the event, from the decorations to the attires worn by everyone. When you get a result like that, there was no reason to allow any negativity to persevere during a happy moment.

As the day passed quickly, so did the wedding celebrations, from the ceremony and the pictures all the way to the reception that continued well into the night; when Mason and Y/N were finally able to find one another again.

Sitting by the private beach, it was a mellow environment they were given—a nice sight to witness, one easy to picture even with your eyes close. Comfortable with their place in the sand, appropriately loud music from the venue further up to the beach, waves kindly sliding over and under one another, the laughter of kids playing close by the shore accompanied by older siblings acting as babysitters and vibrant and solace everywhere you chose to look.

Mason knocked his knee against her own. "How have you been?"

Upon arriving at the wedding destination, the bridesmaids and the groomsmen were immediately split so they hadn't had much time together. Of course, Mason and Y/N had been seeing each other through the days, passing one another during wedding rehearsals or while passing on messages for the newly-wed couple when they weren't allowed to see each other. Other than that, their reasons for seeing one another wasn't actually rooted in seeing one another; either it was out of coincidence or for the purpose of the wedding.

Y/N swayed her head as she sat up, humming. "How was my day?" She had to say the question out loud to think. All of her thoughts were still fixed to be centred around the bride and her needs. She hadn't really had the time to focus on her own self, to process her own state of mind. "It was... it was really good."

"Is that so?" A smirk began to form across Mason's face. "I'm hearing you ladies went crazy with the bachelorette party, and a certain someone went even crazier. I didn't get any names but I'm gonna assume—

Y/N shoved Mason into the sand, causing him to let a laugh. "And that's how it's gonna stay: an assumption."

Mason took in a deep breath as he sat up, still letting out some of his laughter. "You don't have to hide it, love. I know you well," he picked up the bridal bouquet from the sand, the ever one his girlfriend had caught a little under an hour ago. "I mean, c'mon. We all saw. I even recorded it if you don't remember."

"And I had fun with it, Mason."

"And you had fun with it, of course," he kissed her cheek before offering the bridal bouquet, "that's all that matters."

Without hesitation, Y/N took the bouquet in her hands. She attempted to appear nonchalant about it, trying to observe the flowers in an unbothered manner. Though as soon as they were fully in her grasp, she couldn't help but smile shyly as she let her eyes admire the bundle of flowers, twirling them between her hands in delight and excitement.

And that—her happiness—quickly became Mason's happiness. Not only for the flowers' positive impact on Y/N's mood but also it got Mason wondering and thinking about various things surrounding, well, him and Y/N.

"Does it ever get you thinking about certain things..." Mason played with the sand, "being a maid of honour and all?"

"Thinking about what?" Though as soon as she lifted her eyes, she noticed his eyes on the flowers and then it all came to her. That thing we called marriage. "Oh... about that?"

"Yeah, I guess," Mason shrugged. He wished he could've introduced the conversation a little better. 'Cause it was far too awkward and strained for a topic that required mature adults to be handled with fluency.

"I don't know... Like what?" Y/N, like her partner, was lost in the conversation; lost in what she should say, lost in what about the topic would be discussed, lost in where the conversation would be going 'cause really, it could go in almost any direction.

"Anything. I guess just anything about us in the future," Mason rubbed his palms against his shorts as he inhaled a long breath. "I always wonder, like, if we do stay together and persevere, what will things for us be like? Where will we live? How will our relationship change for the better or worse? How many kids will we—"

Y/N quickly raised her hand, placing it on Mason's shoulder. "Woah, woah, woah, relax there," she said with widened eyes. Suddenly, she was more in tune with the conversation than the last few minutes. "Maybe we're thinking a bit too far into the future."

"Yeah, that was a bit sudden." Mason let himself think for a moment, his eyes wondering on the young kids passing by. "Let me ask a better question: what would you like our wedding to be like?"

"Our wedding? I mean I don't know." And yet all the words would eventually come to her so easily, without much thought. "Something small and nice... like enough for family and friends, but not enough that everyone everyone gotta be there. Maybe somewhere close to home, a cosy picturesque location, you know? Just a place where we could also spend our honeymoon in peace, adventure small towns and villages, and maybe some historical places," Y/N leaned back in her place a bit, "But yeah... that's just me."

"That's the whole point, Y/N. It's your wedding," Mason chuckled as he pulled his girlfriend close to him, "You're supposed to do and have whatever you want."

"I know," she exhaled, too joining with the laughter, one they both found restoring and soothing. It wasn't enough to counter all the stress from the past week, but enough to relax into the conversation just a bit more. "I just didn't anticipate this conversation tonight." Y/N really didn't. After managing the wedding of her friends over the last few weeks, she hadn't really had much time to stop and wonder about her relationship's future and outlook. She turned to Mason and wondered, "What about you? It wouldn't just be my wedding."

"I don't really have anything in mind to be honest. Besides, if it ever comes to it, you know, getting married 'n all—which we will—it doesn't matter what we have or where we are. Luxurious wedding, getting eloped—the part where you say I do is more than enough for me."

Surrounded by vibrant colours and a lovely, mellow environment, the couple turned to one another and found themselves smiling galore at each other, exchanging a lack of words as they observed one another, heads tilted in wonder. In those gazes—in their eyes—there was admiration and happiness and affection that were all genuine and bracing to experience together.

In truth, there was this admiration and happiness and affection because there was a lot of conviction in their words towards the other. And considering their minds for the last few days have been racing for their friends' relationship, it was refreshing to talk about their own. On a day when nothing seemed to be about them, it was nice to dedicate a small moment to themselves.

#mason mount #mason mount imagines #mason mount oneshots #mason mount imagine #mason mount fluff #mason mount fanfic #mason mount fanfiction #mason mount x reader #mason mount x black!reader #black!reader #football imagines #football imagine #football fluff #football oneshot #football blurbs #football fanfiction

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