⭌ Jason McCann/Justin Bieber Imagines ⭋

"Breakfast isn't going to eat itself."

JUSTIN'S POV

The flatscreen TV hung up securely against the wall as my figure sprawled out comfortably on the silk white sheets, occasionally shifting in desperate need of the cold sensation touching on my skin. My back relaxed against the headboard as I felt all tension release from my body. Eventually, I started inventing tricks to perform with the remote controller out of pure boredom. Forcing myself to be intrigued on this show on Animal Planet was in no way possible. Seconds later, I quickly became disinterested the moment a sweet smell of aroma wavered through my nostrils. I've been sitting in this position for about half an hour. It's about time I take my lazy ass out of bed and get this day started.

Grabbing the remote, my thumb presses the power off button before my body weight shifts from one side of the bed to the surface of the floor. I hesitated on slipping a shirt over me but decided against it and only left my sweatpants on. You know how every girl gushes and fangirls over the "just-woke-up-from-a-comfortable-sleep" look. My feet make its way downstairs towards the kitchen. The pleasant smell reminded me that {Y/N} told me she would be downstairs making breakfast, that is if I remembered correctly. One side of my mind failed to process the information when I had just awoken from my slumber and yet to finally comprehend where I was. Sleep just does that to you sometimes.

The delicate sound of my bare feet padded against the soft surface that beautifully embroidered the staircase with ornamental design prints as I inched closer to the flooring of the living room. My gaze instinctively shifted to where the huge amount of sunlight glimmered from, lighting up the entire perimeter of the spacious area. {Y/N} must've opened the curtains to most likely give it a pleasant and welcoming look. A quick sensation of freezing temperature then shoots through my body as my feet comes in contact with the shiny marble floors. Instantly recovering from that wave of shock, my body adjusts back to normal.

With her being completely off guard because of the continuous cracking and popping from the food on the stove being messed with thanks to what appeared to be a spatula and fork in her hands, she doesn't hear my footsteps invading her presence. My fingertips slide sneakily across the granite surface of the kitchen island before bringing my forearms to rest on the countertop.

As she's still distracted by her cooking, my eyes scrutinize as much as her figure would let me, the countertop clearly blocking her mid-thighs down. I don't know if her crop top is part of a lingerie set that she never showed me—considering she has so many sets, or if that's just a normal pajama top that happens to be silk. Her shorts were silk as well. They were leopard print except not the actual colors of a leopard—they're red. Red is a cool ass color. It can represent anger, lust, or blood. And I could go for lust right about now.

Reaching over the stove, she switches the control buttons off, her shorts lifting in the process of doing so as her leg slightly lifts off the ground as it gave me a better view of her cheek. I licked my lips before rolling them in my mouth. She hurriedly but cautiously shakes the eggs and pancakes off the hot pan onto the beautifully designed glass plates. Swiveling the cold side of the sink handle towards her, she quickly rinses the pan and silverware with a cloth as she shifts her weight to one leg.

Before drying her hands, she handles the plates and changes direction to place them on the kitchen island, her gaze immediately locking with mine as her eyes goes wide for a split second and she jumps slightly.

"Holy shit." She lets out a breath she didn't even know she was holding in.

"When did you wake up? How long have you been there?" She asks in an unusual and surprisingly manner before giving me a reassuring smile that she's thankful I wasn't some burglar that smoothly broke in.