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coconutdays · 2 years ago

Text

seat taker

s. you have a crush on the smartest and sexiest guy in your lit class who happens to ride a motorcycle with spooky season around the corner. what ever might happen?

w.c. 10.6k

w. fem! reader, biker!geto! x reader , fluff!, smut! (its more so toward the end so u can read until it cuts off to that lol if u want)

a/n: based on this idea I posted about biker!geto from uni lol, I didn't really proofread so ill get to that sometime later after I shower and eat lol just wanted to get this out

"go sit next to him then."

you take a nervous gulp from your water bottle as you walk to your lit class. the effort was a bit clumsy considering you were using one hand to open and close it while the other held your phone, your friend on the other line.

"never, would I ever have the balls to do that. i may be confident but I am not as delusional as the caveman gym bro that took your seat so he could sit next to me in anthropology."

she laughs on the other end, a hysterical giggle at your backtalk.

"well then he's just gonna keep thinking you're creepy cause you stare."

you let out a haughty scoff, "as if I acknowledge his existence." a finger of yours goes up in the air, as if she could see you being a smartass about your discretion, "I never look at him. I only get in a glance or two when he asks the professor a question or when he raises his hand to answer a question."

"you're insane."

"unfixable." you sigh prettily and proudly before giving a more serious response to her first suggestion, "and it would be really awkward if I sat next to him either way. the class is packed and everyone has their assigned unassigned seats, the white haired guy that always sits next to him would probably push me off his seat if he ever saw me there."

"that is true. some girl did that to me in stats and I was like ??? have you not been sitting somewhere else this entire semester? pissed me off that I had to sit somewhere else and take someone's seat."

you're about five seconds away from your lecture hall door when you add to her complaint.

"right. and then that person looks at you funny cause you took their seat and then argh–its just a fucking domino effect." you turn around and take a step into the class, the sight before you bringing emphasis to the last words that you meant to finish off with, "fuck seat takers..."

"huh. what was that last part?"

your classroom is full. every one of the 200 seats are seemingly just taken. it's a sight you're not used to when you walk into class. normally, when you decide to go in, about half of the class is there, and you were starting to curse the fact that you gave yourself the luxury to finish the last of your reading for next week ahead of time. those ten minutes didn't seem like they'd make a difference, they sure do now...

with white haired guy sitting in YOUR seat.

its across the lecture hall from where he normally sits, next to Geto, who just so conveniently has an empty seat next to him, the only empty seat.

poker face, poker face, poker face.

it's all you repeat to yourself as you walk up the carpet steps to the row where Geto is sitting and try to continue the conversation with your friend.

there's no white noise, some people are typing away at their computers and others are chatting with the person next to them or near them, so it gives you room to explain yourself a little without being heard.

"everybody's already in class, and white haired guy is in my seat dude, and guess which seat isn't fucking taken." there's an edge to your voice, however it lays undetectable with your calm face.

"WAITTTTTTTT. AHAHA–"

you can feel your body heating up in nerves when you start walking between Geto's row, to the seat next to him.

"stop f/n. I am on the verge of committing a serious crime. I'm going to actually end up in handcuffs by the end of today. the–"

"AHAHAHAHAHAHA." She keeps laughing at you as you force yourself to not care that you're pulling out and sinking into the chair next to Geto. If he acknowledged you, you wouldn't have known, his mere presence something you deleted from your mind in order to process the current events before you right now.

a high pitched and drawn out HA is the last of her laughs you hear before she speaks again, "I basically manifested this for you. you should be thanking me."

"fuck your manifesting. I'm not excited for this." you don't care to filter your voice into a whisper, it stays at its normal tone even though you're next to Geto because he didn't even know what the conversation was about anyway.

you balance your phone between your shoulder and cheek while you begin to take out your iPad and journal for class.

"ask him for a ride on his motorcycle after heh." she pokes at you and you feel like you can hear her poking out her tongue in malevolence.

even though you're slightly grumpy at your predicament, you manage to make a comment accompanied by a sigh, "with the way midterms are looking, id need a different kind of ride."

"you can ask him for that too~"

"shut up, you menace."

"hehe," she strikes evilly, "well, I'll leave you to your class with your boyfriend."

"no, stop, the class doesn't even–"

"bye!"

and she hung up on you, leaving you to flip mindlessly through your notebook while you try to ignore the presence of the hot hot hot piece of sexiness next to you.

suguru geto has been at the forefront of your mind for weeks now. you had always slightly admired him from afar, considering your actual seat in the lecture hall was across the room from him. he was undeniably attractive, with his long black always tied up in a bun and clean outfits. and his intelligence, he was always one to garner thoughtful debates in class in response to the professors teachings. his calmness towards everything was enough to make you swoon at the thought go him being that patient with you too.

and his stupid motorcycle, the thing that made it all click for you.

you had been walking to the library after class to meet with your classmate to work on an anthropology presentation when you caught a glimpse–stare–of him getting onto a motorcycle and pulling a helmet over his head before he quickly rode off to wherever he was going. for some reason, it really got your gears grinding and wishing you could just jump this man and do some truly desperate things.

he was all you thought about after. none of the other cute guys in your classes could hold a candle to the being that is suguru geto, renouncing you into a pining mess that looked forward to every lit class–even though you pretended you didn't care for him.

god, what even was the point in all of this if you weren't ever going to make a move? if he just SPOKE to you first maybe you could get some rizz in–

"you have pretty handwriting."

"I–what?"

you perk up like a deer in headlights at the sudden voice of Geto, wondering if you're the one he's speaking to.

and he is, he's spinning a pen between his fingers while he looks at you, slightly gesturing towards the journal in your hands, your cursive covering the pages of it.

"oh!" you're still caught off guard, doe eyes in the face of his sudden and scary, to you, comment, "thank you. can't even read it sometimes though, it's like trying to understand another language when I have to study what I write after."

he smiles slightly at your comment, a whisp of his dark hair swaying near his right eye, "I think it'd be cool to try and translate."

you resist the urge to curl into a ball and wish he would just look away from you, but you persevere, holding out your journal to him.

"be my guest." you say without hesitance

he sets his pen aside when he grabs it, immediately flipping through the pages and starting to skim through your notes, his eyes moving side to side as he does. you get a good view of him while he goes about trying to decipher your writings. he's wearing a black shirt today, it's not exactly tight, but not loose either. it gives you the perfect view of his arms bulging a bit, his biceps' size is an eye sore for you.

he's wearing these black stud earrings too, only visible because of the bun that he keeps his long hair. you wish you could see how long his hair actually was sometimes, he had never worn it down to class.

"looks like I'm more versed in your cursive than you are." he glances at you, a faint smile on his lips

your eyebrows raise a little and your eyes widen, "what? you can read it?"

he closes the journal and slides it to your spot on the very long lecture table. geto then leans over to your side a bit, close to your ear, and starts to point across the room to his white haired friend.

"see that idiot with the pitch black glasses?"

the question sends chills down your spine, the proximity making your heart race.

"y-yeah."

"silver spoon baby. learned cursive when he was four and it's basically incomprehensible unless you've been sharing notes with him since high school."

a laugh flows out of your lips, etching a smile on your face. your shoulder slightly bumps into his chest from it before you turn your head to directly face his.

"and I'm taking it that you're well versed in his cursive then too?"

he looks at you with a slight dreaminess in his eyes, his height still domineering over you even if you were both seated next to each other.

"have to be, would have failed lots of class projects if I didn't"

you take the opportunity to poke about the whereabouts of his friend in your seat now that he's been mentioned.

"and why's he sitting over there then?" you blink up at him for a response

at this, geto sinks back to his original position on his chair, face a million miles away from yours now as he goes back to fiddling with his pen.

"he's...trying to flirt with the girl he's talking to right now." he shakes his head a little, although there isn't much of a disappointed look in his face, it's more entertained. he was probably used to his friend's antics by now.

"ah. at least it looks like she's into it." you dispense the weight of your head onto the palm of your hand as you look at his friend with him, "could not have been me."

"what?"

you don't turn to look at him as you respond, "this Andrew Tate gym bro took my friend's seat to sit next to me in my anthropology class the other day. tried speaking to me like those guys who swear all you need is a computer to become a millionaire. worst ninety minutes of my life."

you hear a puff of a laugh from geto

"I can guarantee you Gojo has better skills than that. he's probably talking about his Halloween party for this weekend."

you flip your head to look at him suddenly, "he's that guy?"

every big party that everyone talked about on campus was always held by Gojo. they had numerous amounts of beers and liquor bottles. always the best music, the best hookup stories, the best snacks, everything. you hadn't put a face to the name until now, although it should've clicked when you found out Geto's name. his was always being paired with Gojo, as some would put it, two pretty best friends.

geto could see the gears turning in your head and his eyes creased a little at your realization in a smile, "yea, that's the guy."

you're a bit taken aback by his confirmation and turn to take another look at gojo before looking back at geto.

amused, geto speaks again, "by all means, go for it, he's–"

you quickly shake your head and stretch out both your hands to frantically do the same, "no, god, no. i'm not into him. it's just I didn't know that was him. I always hear good things about his parties."

geto nods, "he has an affinity for making sure everyone has a good time. you ever been to one?"

you shake your head, "never, haven't had the chance to or been invited."

"you should go to the Halloween one." geto suggests, gesturing his pen in your direction before going back to spinning it around his fingers, "you know where it is?"

you shake your head again, now completely facing his direction, the attention you were giving to his friend gone and now placed on him.

geto gestures towards your journal and reaches for it, "may I?"

you nod, curious at what he was going to do.

he flips the journal and opens the very last page, guaranteed to be blank and begins writing something on it.

when he pushes it back to your side of the table, you can see what he's written now, an address.

"that's where the frat house is."

you wiggle your eyebrows a little at him, "you in the frat too?"

geto laughs fully this time and shakes his head, "no. I have my own apartment. that's just gojo's thing."

you acknowledge him and look over the address written on your journal, "I'll think about it. have to wear my costume somewhere right?"

"what is it?" he tilts his head curiously, genuine interest in what you would choose to dress up as.

you try to bite back the smile at the knowledge you have of your costume and choose to leave it up in the air for him, tapping your journal on his shoulder.

"now that is something for you to find out if you see me at the party."

just how it's entailed in mean girls, you dress up slutty for gojo's halloween party. you wore a playboy bunny costume, close to one of the sluttier things you can wear, but it's rare recently for girls to wear as opposed to the trendy fairy and angel costumes lately.

although it isn't exactly halloween yet, its the first out of the two parties gojo was holding in honor of the holiday. next weekend there would be another one on the actual day, but you didn't know if you'd go that one yet, you were going to see what this one was all about though.

you brought your friend with you, hooking her up with the address geto provided you because she had been aching to go to one of gojo's parties too.

your eyes light up when you see geto's sleek black motorcycle parked near the garage as the both of you walk to the door.

"god, there's so many people inside." your friend all but screeches in excitement and you would too if it weren't for the nerves of impending doom that geto, your everything crush and classmate, was going to see you wearing this.

the chills that come from the thought make you rub your shoulders for heat as you walk inside and the blaring of the music becomes even more booming now that it isn't being shielded by the walls of the house.

"where do you think the drinks are?" you try to speak up, a trace of small worry at bumping into geto laced in your voice.

she raises her head up and looks around to see where she could spot the alcohol until she starts dragging you by the hand, "the kitchen is over here I think!"

she pushes the both of you past clusters of people, paving the way for her desire for vodka and it makes you bump into someone a bit roughly.

you try to voice out your apology quickly as she keeps dragging you along, looking back at who you just bumped into.

it's geto.

his eyes show mild surprise, not one for entirely showing his emotions, they're widened a bit and he looks a bit taken aback while his eyes rake up and down your body–still being dragged away. he's not wearing a costume, sporting a white t-shirt and jeans instead.

the words of apology you were going to utter fall off as you make eye contact and realize it was him you bumped into, he who just got an obvious look at your costume.

you're glad the speed of your friend makes the interaction short lived due to her lightning speed in suddenly bringing you to the kitchen, which is lined with beer and liquor of all kinds, every space of the spacious kitchen taken up by alcohol.

you hurriedly reach to serve yourself a cup of strawberry vodka, hoping that the first sip and those after might make your nerves dilute. when you turn around to talk to your friend, who's probably already served herself straight flavorless vodka, she's being flirted with by her anthropology club crush. she gives you a quick glance, a combination of 'oh my god oh my god' and 'sorry' being communicated to you.

you smile at her knowingly and point towards where everyone was dancing and talking, marking that that's where you would be while you left her to go as far as she wanted with the boy in front of her.

you're halfway through the crowd to make it to the patio when a voice is suddenly in your ear from behind.

"is it as cool as people say?"

you jump at the intrusion and cradle the cup of vodka to your chest and look at who just spoke to you.

it's geto, exactly behind you, his large frame towering over your body and leaned over so you could hear him.

you're stopped in your tracks and turn around to face him now, trying hard not to feel intimated by your basically half naked right in front of him.

"yeah!" you nod

geto turns his head a little from his spot at least a foot above you and leans down again, at level heads with you

"sorry, say that again." he looks at you earnestly, wanting to be able to properly hear your answer with the loud music echoing into your ears and his.

"I said yeah! I didn't know parties could be this packed!" you say, taking a nervous sip from your cup as you look at him

"what happened to your friend?" geto keeps his posture the way it is to keep talking to you

"the guy she likes started talking to her!" you exclaim past the loud blare of music.

"ah." he nods, taking a quick glance to the kitchen and spotting your friend smiling eagerly at the guy in a jason costume in front of her. "what are you going to do then?"

you blink cluelessly, haven't actually thought about until he asked you.

"dance!" you look around the room so he could look with you. bodies pressed against each other and bodies dancing by themselves all across the room.

geto smiles and straightens himself before reaching a hand out to you and gives you a look of 'wanna take it?'

you can't help the bashful smile that makes its way to your face as you hesitantly take his hand. he softly brings you closer to him, not as close as the other horny bodies in the room, but it's a little intimate and makes you feel intoxicated. he puts his other hand high on your waist, making sure to avoid the sluttiness beneath that line of your torso considering your outfit, and he starts to sway the both of you to the music. he holds you to himself with you hook an arm over his shoulder and use the other hand to hold your drink, singing along to the music with a toothy smile.

it was playful, the interaction with him, a fun setting between the both of you. the combination of that and the large heap of strawberry vodka you served yourself and managed to finish by the second song with him were the reason for your increasing comfortable nature with him. you were laughing and laying your head on his chest frequently through your endless bursts of energy and gasping breaths for relief.

he was smiling throughout the entirety of it, never getting too comfortable though, and keeping his hands where they had originally been.

"I just wanna be one of your girls tonight!" you sing at the top of your lungs.

geto lets go of one of the hands encircling you and instead reaches for one of the hands splayed across his shoulder and chest, caressing it with a thumb.

you tug at him a little with your other hand and he leans down to hear what you're about to say.

"wanna get drinks?" you ask, craving a sweet hard seltzer instead of another pour of vodka.

"you want something?" geto asks you back

"are there any strawberry drinks?" you blink up at him

geto looks like he's thinking for a second, trying to remember the usual drinks his best friend caters, before he nods, "yeah there are. want me to get you one?"

you nod eagerly at him and follow him to kitchen. he had taken a hold of your hand when he noticed you were going to accompany him, he didn't want you to struggle getting through all those people.

he had been bent over to look through a cooler on the floor before he stood up and held out a strawberry daiquiri to you, "here."

"thank you." you nod before you jump and sit on the countertop so you could rest and drink

you notice geto doesn't have a drink in his hand when he leans against the kitchen island in front of you.

"you didn't want a drink?"

geto shakes his head calmly, "gotta drive back."

"oh." you remember his motorcycle from earlier near the garage and strike another question so he doesn't know that you know he has a motorcycle. incredible logic.

"what kinda car do you have?"

"ah, not a car, a motorcycle." he smiles slightly, the answer was humble

"oh~"you drag out–as if it was new information to you–and continue drinking from your bottle.

"you have a ride back home though?" geto asks, crossing his arms over his chest so he could be more comfortable while listening to you.

"uhh," you reach for your phone and see a message from your friend asking if it was okay for her to go to McDonalds with her crush, "well I was going to uber with my friend, but she just had a change of plans."

"I can take you home." he offers genuinely, tilting his head in await for your answer.

"In your motorcycle?!" you blurt out

he starts laughing heartily at your answer and smirks at you when he speaks again, "never been on one?"

"no." you shake your head, a bit intimidated, "what if I fall. im literally naked im gonna get cut up by the road."

geto smiles at you, "that's a fair concern, but I'll give you my helmet and let you borrow my jacket, it's big, it should cover you up a bit no?"

although the alcohol leaves your brain empty, you think it over which involved nothing but staring at him in supposed 'thought' before you nod, "okay."

"can I give you my number? so you can send me your address?" geto asks, shuffling a little bit closer to you

"mhm." you hand your phone to him and watch as he types away into your phone before he hands it back to you. when you stare back at his contact name, suguru geto, it makes a dawn of realization wash over you.

"you don't know my name, rig–"

"y/n."

you do a double take at how fast he says it and his eyes crease at your reaction.

"what?"

"you get involved in the lectures a lot." he takes note for you

"oh." you sink back into yourself

"do you know mine?"

you shyly respond with a, "yea, you get involved a lot too..."

"good to know." he grins a little, watching as you take the last sip of your drink and gesturing back towards the dancing scene, "wanna go back?"

"yeah." you confirm softly, taking the hand he gives you so you can get off the countertop smoothly. and when your feet touch the ground, you yelp, "ow ow ow ow!"

the hour of pure dancing and jumping around had not been a good rival for your new and tall heels. they were a height you had walked before, but the shoes themselves were new and not worn in, causing a great deal of pain across your entire foot.

geto held you by just below your armpits, the worry he had seeping through in his widened eyes and his leaning over to see if he find out what was wrong with you.

"what's wrong?" he asks quickly

"the heels," you scrunch up your nose in pain and sigh, "they hurt like a bitch now that I got a bit of rest."

you can tell geto feels bad about your pain by the way he grimaces for you and plants you on the countertop again. he suddenly kneels down and begins to work at the clasps of your heels.

"you can borrow my shoes. that sound alright?" he looks up at you from where he's at, already sliding one of the heels from your feet.

you're quick to deny, "but what about you?"

"satoru and I are the same size, I can just ask him for a pair, he has a million."

you give in at his response, embarrassed, "okay."

"you want me to take you home now?" he lightheartedly smiles as he works on the other heel, "I think you can walk in my shoes, but dancing doesn't seem doable."

"well yea." you say dejectedly, a little frown etching itself on your face when he finally comes back up, his lips quirk up a little when he sees it

"wait for me here then." he says, putting your shoes next to you on the countertop before he walks off a little hurriedly to you assume gojo's room.

when geto walks you to his motorcycle, he takes your heels and puts them in the compartment box of it for you, then takes his helmet and immediately puts it on your head.

an 'oomf' leaves your mouth at the sudden weight of it and he looks a little amused as he starts working at the straps of it.

"there you go."

he smirks a little as he looks at the, very large in comparison to you, helmet, and picks up his jacket that he brought back from gojo's room to put on you.

"there we go" he sighs, almost like he's proud of himself and gets on the motorcycle, turning his torso a little to pat behind him for you to get on too.

when you get on and take in the feeling of sitting on a motorcycle for the first time, he's turned around and looking at his phone, pinching and zooming in on the route to your apartment.

"you actually live pretty close to me." he murmurs, noting what roads to take.

"yeah?" you yawn, laying your head on his back

"alright," geto says, starting up his motorcycle, revving it up a bit, "hug me tight okay?"

you nod sleepily and wrap your arms around him, brain so eased by the alcohol in your system that you don't overthink it, as if your sober self wouldn't be screaming and crying on the inside during this exact situation.

geto drives off at a decent pace, some part of you thinking that this might not be the speed he normally drives off and that he was taking it a bit slower just for you. you could feel him breathe in and out all throughout the ride, his chest and stomach were rising and falling underneath your touch. you fell half asleep on him halfway through it, managing to grasp onto him like a child with their stuffed animal, and unable to resist the heaviness of your eyelids.

you blink back to reality at the sudden stop of movement, the stilling air was no longer brushing past your skin and the noise of wheels screeching against the road was gone.

after geto helps you get his helmet off, he hangs it on one of the handles and takes your heels out of the compartment box.

"this is your place right?"

another yawn flutters past your mouth again and you hold out your pointer finger to say yes.

"alright." geto says, watching as you lead the way into and through your apartment and to your place. he had placed a ghost of his hand near your back in case you started to trip up from his shoes considering their size in comparison to your feet. the walk was quiet considering your focus on making it to your door and the overwhelming sleepiness dawning on you.

when you get to your door you slip off geto's shoes and them to him, taking your heels from him in return.

"thank you, geto." you hold try not to yawn again, doe eyes sleepily fluttering at him

"you can call me by my first name." he comments comfortingly, "and no problem. see you in class?"

"yeah." and this time you do yawn, again, before you open your door and walk inside, looking at him while you hold onto the frame.

"alright then." he looks down at you from across the doorway, one hand in his pocket, the other holding onto his shoes, "get some rest okay?"

"okay." you almost murmur, your bed calling out to you.

you get to class at the time you usually do the following class meeting. the weather forecast had been a little chilly, so you opted for a cozy, off the shoulder sweater. it was fashionable and you had been dying to use it the moment you saw the weather forecast the night before.

you're scribbling notes onto your iPad this time, going over lecture notes from your earlier class that day. there were some things you forgot to add and that's what you always used this time for before class started. you see the class start filling in minute by minute out of your peripheral vision as you do this.

your habit of pretending to not care about suguru's presence is still existent, so all you can see for a fleeting second when you look into your backpack for a mint is that he is indeed sitting at his normal spot with gojo.

there was no chance to look at him that day in class, he hadn't spoken, which wasn't really rare, sometimes you wouldn't speak in class either. you, however, did speak in class that day, the module that the professor was teaching that day had piqued your interest a great amount and thus called for a great amount of your interaction with the lesson.

by the end of class, you were setting quick reminders on the notes you had taken of what was the most important before you started packing your bag to leave. the sound of feet and shuffling to leave the class a bit noisy, but it could let you make out the distant loud voice of gojo, probably talking to suguru.

"I have been on my best behavior. I do not know what you mean by that Suguru." "No no no that was a favor, look where it got you." "Oh you are such a wuss."

It was only a little appealing considering the fact that you couldn't hear what suguru was saying and the things that gojo was saying didn't let you get any clues as to what they were talking about. oh well.

you wanted to go home and start studying for a test tomorrow, so you started walking out of class, past suguru and gojo's line of view.

you heard a smack, like one of them had hit the other.

and gojo's voice, "idiot."

you were sitting at your desk, going over the last of your test review when you felt your phone buzz across the desk and picked it up

suguru

hey

y/n

suguru

you wanna take satoru's seat next class?

y/n

he wants to flirt with mika again?

suguru

not rlly lol.

y/n

?????

suguru

I think it'd be cool to switch desk buddies every once in a while ;)

y/n

lmaooo. I won't tell mika if that's what you're scared of

suguru

haha, that's not rlly the case, but just take his seat

y/n

okay?

when you go to class again that same week, you hesitantly take gojo's seat. there was no follow up text from suguru after you said your okay and it was a little off putting. of course it had only been that night and the day after that he hadn't texted again, but it was a little weird, especially for it being the very first text conversation he strikes with you. the only thing that had been exchanged between either of you in your messages had been your address to him from gojo's party.

there were no notes for you to go over, there was no test or important knowledge that you had to use soon in any upcoming classes, so you were left to wait for the class to begin while you aimlessly scrolled through your phone and watched people come into class.

three minutes had passed before suguru and gojo were walking into class together. gojo was rubbing his friend's shoulder rather roughly, a fang filled smile on his face as he said something to him. suguru didn't seem to mind it, like many things, his eyes still had that warmth they always had, but it looked like he had said something back.

gojo playfully shoved suguru forward by the back before he laughed evilly and walked to your original seat, if you were right, you could see his bright blue eyes flick to you for a second behind his glasses before he smiled at the girl he flirted with last week.

you look up at suguru as he finally gets to the seat next to you.

"hey." he sighs with a smile as he plops into the seat.

"hey." you smile only halfway, a little tired from staying up to finish a homework the night before.

"sorry about the cryptic texts." he starts to apologize, moving his chair a little closer to yours, "satoru took my phone."

ah. that's why it seemed so out of character

"it's fine." you reassure, "they were a little off putting to read."

suguru scratches at the back of his neck, "I'm sorry about that. I meant to text after but I felt awkward."

"really? about?"

for the first time, you see him stumble on what to say, hesitance obvious when he opens and closes his mouth for a painfully slow second before he manages to respond, "to see if you were coming to the party on actual Halloween night this weekend."

"oh." your mouth opens in a little oh, oblivious to what he really wanted to say, "I'm not too sure. my friend that I went to the party with is spending it with that same guy she left with. so I don't have anyone to go with. plus I already used my costume."

"what's wrong with using the playboy bunny costume again?"

you eye him, disappointed, and lean over to flick his forehead, "i...am not an outfit repeater, suguru. the people who saw me at last week's party are going to remember me and say 'she's using the same costume again, what a loser'"

he gazes back at you as if you pat his head instead of just flicking it, warmth and a hint of mischief seeping into his stare, "you're right, you did catch a lot of attention."

"what?"

suguru leans back in his seat and answers, "you looked beautiful. it was hard to ignore."

"for who?"

"for me and every guy with eyes at the party."

he seems calm and confident when he says it, but his cheeks and ears start to get a slight pinkish hue as he awaits your response.

you try to keep looking at him, fighting the need to look away and wait for the professor to start class, your flustered face saying all too well what you're feeling, "what am I supposed to say to that?"

"you don't have to." suguru moves forward, positions his feet to face you as well as his face, and puts his elbow on the table, slanting his body onto it a little, "The president of gojo's frat asked for your name. He really liked you."

"Zenin?!"

"You like him?" he asks, with the tone of a guy who would try to set you up with the president if you said yes.

you shake your head, gaze looking down in embarrassment, "no no. it just caught me off guard..."

"if you like Toji it's fine," he tries to lower his head so he could catch your eye again, speaking earnestly yet something about it sounds like it's fake, it's weird, "he's like a dog, treat him well and he's loyal. although he can be brutally possessive, probably the type to leave hickeys on your legs if you're going to be with him and wear a costume like the one from the party."

"no, I don't like him. he's not my type." you answer meekly, having felt a bit of pressure from his boasts of the frat president.

"no?"

"no."

and before he can continue with his intense conversation again, you're saved by your professor, dramatically entering the class and bellowing for all of you to pay attention to him.

when your class ends, you try and succeed at scampering away from suguru before he can get a word out. as if she possessed magical powers, your friend called you the moment your professor ended the lesson. within the millisecond her name popped up on your phone, you grabbed at your phone at put it to your ear.

"hello?"

"hey hey! I have a question!"

you pay no mind to suguru as you haul your backpack over your shoulders and begin to walk out of class.

"what's up?"

"do you want the extra halloween costume I bought? levi is taking me to dinner on halloween for our date and I won't get to use it."

"the fembot costume?!"

you can almost makeout the banter between suguru and gojo a way's away behind you as you walk down the concrete steps of the building.

"yeah! you can go to gojo's party in it!" she beams, before her voice gains a bit of malice, "you can dance with motorcycle guy again~"

"go there by myself?" you groan, almost wanting to stomp your feet on the pavement beneath you

"lots of girls go by themselves to parties!"

"well I've never done that." you grumble

"aw come on. use the costume and go for me. pretty pleaseeeee."

"I'm going to give you a reason to be scared on halloween if this goes south for me. got it?"

it's cold when you get to gojo's party and you're beyond psyched out of your mind. from the unbelievably slutty costume that let everyone see your naked body in panties due to sheer babydoll material and the fear of coming across a very handsome suguru or toji zenin, who as handsome as he was might be able to seduce you, but you didn't want him like you did suguru.

you're more conscious of the stares now, due to suguru's previous comment and the fact that this costume was way more revealing.

on instinct you rush to the kitchen and get a strawberry daiquiri like the one suguru got for you exactly a week ago. you didn't want to get drunk tonight considering you came by yourself, so reaching for the strawberry vodka again was not within your list of options.

your eyes were on high alert as you pushed yourself through the countless bodies dancing, trying to remain unseen.

it doesn't give you cause to hide for some reason, considering he's suguru's friend, but you see satoru strut to the kitchen in a slutty firefighter costume. he was wearing the pants and boots, and nothing on top but a set of suspenders. classic.

however, you do a double take when you suguru geto wearing that same exact costume. you swear you feel your eye twitch in frustration when your eyes see his hair finally down, splayed across his back and chest, and get a peek of a tattoo tracing his spinal structure, bone for bone, going all the way up his back until it gets interrupted by his hair. his arms are practically calling to you when he fist bumps a toji zenin wearing a prisoner costume, they flex and bulge at the action. his abs are all perfectly prominent and–

he just made eye contact with you.

you hadn't gojo walk up to him and whisper something into his ear, probably that you were here.

fuck you satoru gojo.

suguru smiles immediately and turns to walk to you, leaving you to stay in place and not run away from him.

"you bought another costume?"

"no," you feel your chest heave at the sight of him, breath getting caught in your throat with his very shirtless self right in front of you. it makes you look off to a girl dancing behind him when you continue, "my friend gave me hers because she didn't end up dressing up."

"you want me to bring zenin?" he points a thumb behind him, towards the kitchen, face the definition of calm and suave.

you glare at him this time and take a sip of your daiquiri

"what? feeling shy?" he smiles down at you, if he weren't such a peaceful seeming person, you would have said it was condescending

"I'm not into zenin." a tinge of irritation already seeping into your voice.

"you sure?" he moves closer to you, your face right smack in front of his chest.

"yes." you jut your chin at him, done with his shenanigans

his lips twitch a little when he tugs your strawberry daiquiri out of your hands, grabs you by the neck, thumb close to your chin, and says, "open your mouth." he immediately starts to chug from your daiquiri and the thought of realization dawns on you of what he was about to do.

you open your mouth and he pushes his body closer to yours as he spits the drink into your mouth, his eyes solely on yours as he does it besides for when he briefly looks at something or someone behind you rather haughtily. he's still holding you and intently watching when you swallow it down immediately. that familiar happy crease of his eyes sketched itself across his face after.

you're heaving a little, star struck by the action the both of you just committed, "what was that suguru?"

"scaring off zenin. you don't want him right?"

his eyelids flutter a bit, something yours did whenever they were sleepy and it makes you search into his eyes more. your curiosity dying when you see the sudden red veins clouding the whites of his eyes. and you push him off.

"are you kidding me? you're high?"

"and drunk." he smiles, not minding your pushing him off and still inserting himself into your personal space again.

you try to speak and can't, solely out of irritation at the fact that he did that because of his intoxicated state. you bite your lip to stop yourself from overreacting and settle for shaking your head.

"you don't like guys who smoke?" he asks, genuine concern laced with his stupid crossed persona at the moment, "I tend to never smoke, but satoru passed me his joint when I was already at the 'whatever happens' point of a tequila bottle ."

"I really don't care about that in a guy, as long as he's not a musty constant weed user that can never cope with his life." you roll your eyes at him slightly, "but you just spit alcohol into my mouth because you're crossed as fuck."

"no." he scoffs, now entirely entranced in his conversation with you.

"yes."

"I spit alcohol into your mouth so zenin wouldn't come up to you."

the response makes you cross your arms over each other, "a simple 'hey she's not into you like that' would have sufficed."

"where's the fun in that?" its a serious question for him, you can tell by the way he patiently waits for your answer

irked, you look up at the ceiling while biting your cheek, trying to gather yourself again before you say, "sober up geto." and turning to walk away.

you made it your mission to stay hidden the entire party, having entered the deal with your best friend that if the night turned sour for you, she would come with her boy whatever to pick you up in his car

after their date.

which wasn't going to end until an hour or two.

the garage had stayed open to the enormous frat house, although there weren't any people in it. people had respected the space, leaving the miscellaneous in it untouched such as the two cars and...suguru's bike.

you eyed it from the rather comfy bean bag in the darkest corner of the garage, feeling a fight or flight instinct at the mere glimpse of it whenever you looked up from your phone.

it had been almost two hours since you last suguru and you were striving to keep the streak going on longer.

"told you I'm going home satoru." a wary and very sobered up voice says when they open the door to the garage, "I drank enough water, I'm sober."

it's suguru.

there is no stagger in his step and his posture is refined as he walks to lean again the trunk of the car furthest from you and closest to his bike. you remain hidden due to the cars covering you from his line of sight as well as the sheer darkness of the corner.

he's wearing a shirt now, another black one, and he rakes his hands across face when he gives a defeated sigh. you hoped he wouldn't notice you.

this was your Friday the 13th movie for sure.

suguru pulls outs his phone from one of the spacious pockets of his fireman pants and he starts to type away immediately. there's a slight buzz from your phone seconds within the action.

suguru

are you still here?

I'm sobered up now.

he shoves his phone back in his pocket after. and you watch as he stays where he is, crossing his arms across his chest while he waits a good five minutes for you to respond, which you don't do. he gets his phone out again after and taps something randomly before he puts his phone up to his ear.

buzz-buzz-buzz-buzz

the strong buzzing of your phone on your thigh make a ricochet that gets's fine tuned ears pick up quickly.

"y/n?" he's shining his phone's flashlight on you, squinting his eyes just a little to try and make you out.

nervous, you mutter, "what."

suguru turns the light off and sighs, walking to your corner, his eyes already getting adjusted to the darkness.

"why didn't you answer me?"

"do you really not know the answer?"

"you're right." he sinks down in front of you, sitting down on the floor and brushing a stressed hand through his hair. his legs are stretched out and basically manspread even though he's not on a chair.

"satoru didn't text you to switch seats with him because he wanted to flirt with mika" he comes forth, both of his hands laying across his knees.

you're confused, "but–"

"it was a wild attempt of his to help me talk to you again." and he laughs, a burst of energy randomly gracing the intense air. suguru raises a hand to rub at the back of his neck while his chest and stomach ricochet and his teeth peek out from his mouth.

"truth is, I really like you." he's still smiling.

the declaration makes you stare blankly at him and a million goosebumps rise across your entire body.

"if you don't feel the same in that regard it's fine of course." he reassures, back to his normal calm self, "I just thought it would help explain my behavior."

"since when?" you peep

"our first class meeting," suguru seems a little bashful at the confession

"I have for a couple of weeks now too." you meekly profess

suguru seems genuinely surprised, his eyes widening, "you have?"

"why do you sound so surprised?" your brows knit.

"it felt like you didn't know I existed until last week." he grins followed by a small huff of humor

"oh...that," you trail off, embarrassed, "I thought pretending you didn't exist was the best way for you to not know I had a thing for you..."

"satoru is far smarter than me in that aspect." he says, "he insisted that you were doing that when I told him."

you giggle a little, "he read me like a book."

suguru hangs his head for a second and groans, still joyful, before he whips his head up and gazes at you, "I apologize for having never gathered the courage to approach you before. I have Satoru to thank for even getting me here with you in the first place."

"it's fine." you shrug, pulling at your own fingers, "we're here now aren't we?"

"we are." he agrees before leaning over. suguru grabs one of your hands and brings it to his lips, placing a soft kiss onto it while his eyes never leave your own.

"want to go back to the party?" you muster past your nerves, focus solely on the warmth of his hand still holding onto yours.

suguru shakes his head lightly, "I'm enjoying it being just the two of us right now. do you want to?"

"no, I like it here too."

theres a moment of silence, where both of you stare at the hands that the both of you have connected until a strong breeze passes and flutters the thin material of your babydoll up and makes you shiver strongly.

"let me." suguru says as he hastily gets up and gets his leather jacket that's hanging from his motorcycle, then brings it back to you, helping you tuck your arms into the sleeves and get comfortable in it.

he's above you when he does it and you can see the small glances he tries to avoid giving your body, especially at the sparkly pink thong peeking through the see through material of your costume. suguru is making sure his jacket is on your properly when you call out to him suddenly.

"suguru."

he doesn't get the chance to respond when he looks back up at you and you pull him in by the material of his shirt to kiss him.

he reciprocates within seconds, after the surprise wears off and places a hand on your thigh, the other next to your head and grabbing at the beanbag. his lips are soft and have no remnants of alcohol on them, a smooth flavor of his skin and flesh meeting your tastebuds when he dips his tongue into your mouth. it elicits a groan from him when you whimper at the contact.

he pushes as much as he can into your space without falling and you follow suit, trying to lift yourself as much as possible off the beanbag to meet him.

a particular whimper has suguru pulling away from you and pulling you up by the arm so he can maneuver you to sit on the trunk of the car next to you. when he plops you down onto it, he slots his torso between your thighs and pulls you for an even deeper kiss. his hands have a strong grip on your thighs as he keeps you against him and you can feel the distinctly large throbbing of something against your panties through his pants.

"are–mmmm–you hard?" you ask through kisses

suguru can't help the grind of his bulge against your core when he answers and keeps kissing you, giving small nips to your lips, "yes."

your eyes are closed into the kiss when your hands navigate to the waistband of his pants, about to reach for–

"not here." suguru mutters and keeps both of your wrists clamped under one of his large hands.

you pull yourself away from his lips and heave, a pout of sexual frustration illustrated on your eyes and lips. "okay."

he raises a hand to caress your cheek as he smiles fondly, "what?"

"nothing."you look away for a quick second, leaning in to kiss him again after.

suguru stops you before you do though, clamping one of his hands against your mouth while the other holds the back of your head.

he's smiling even wider this time, "now what kind of gentleman would I be if I let you touch me before I get to touch you?"

you slouch in his hold, too upset by the fact that you couldn't touch him or go back to kissing him to care about his words.

"you know, even satoru couldn't keep his eyes off of you in this little costume of yours." he looks down for a second so you could too, "god knows what toji was thinking. I saw the tent in his pants when you took my spit and booze like a good girl."

suguru sees the way you shift your hips for a smidge of relief at his words. "are you my good girl?" he leans his forehead across yours, hand still on your mouth. you try your best to let out a muffled 'mhm' and incessantly nod your head, eyes pleading and hands gripping onto his shirt.

"are you going to answer the phone when I text you next time?"

you give him the same answer again.

"god." he warily eyes you, gaze wandering towards the outline of your breasts and the rest that wasn't covered by your thong, "you're so beautiful."

the hand at the back of your neck trails down and moves some hair away from your shoulder, then ends up holding you by your lower back as suguru leans down and starts to mouth at your neck. he starts off small with his intentions, simply placing soft and subtle kisses, eliciting a ticklish response from you until his lips become searing and he goes in with the intent of leaving hickeys on you, it makes you squirm and suguru lets you, it's not like you can break away from his touch anyway. you use your legs to keep him caged in and closer to you eventually after the third 'pop' you heard coming from his mouth on your skin, it makes him audibly laugh for a second too.

you tug at the hand on your mouth, expecting for the task to be hard considering his build, but suguru lets his hand fall away easily and hold onto your thigh.

"what are you thinking pretty?" he asks mindlessly before going for the opposite side of your neck

"mmmm–about how good–mm–this feels."

"yeah?"

"mhm"

"tell me what you want to do. do you want me to drop you off at your place after this?" he blows on your most recent hickey and smirks when he sees you jump a little, "do you want me to get you food?"

"I want–ah!" suguru bites into your neck fairly hard, enough to make you moan and yelp at the same time, "I want to spend the rest of the night with you at my place. can we watch a scary movie?" the suggestion is simple and it isn't to hook up with him, although that's what you want more than ever now, but you don't want him to think you're that desperate so its what you settle for.

"couldn't imagine a better halloween than that." he smiles

you're under suguru, on your bed later that night, the movie you had been watching was long forgotten and the t.v. was turned off the second things started to get out of hand. it wasn't his fault no, suguru's a gentleman and when you said you just wanted to watch a movie, he was just going to watch the movie with you. you were the instigator. after you had been cuddled into his arms, near his neck, you decided to place a few loving kisses...that eventually turned into what this was with suguru getting up to take off and throw away his shirt while you hastily yanked off the long gloves of your costume.

he was needy, grinding his hips into yours the moment he came back down to kiss you.

"you have no idea how fucking bad I've been wanting you." he mutters, hissing when a particular rub pleases him the right way

it makes your back arch, "I think I do suguru."

"really?" he groans into your mouth, "you touch yourself to me like I do for you?"

"yeah." you sigh, clinging onto him even more, splaying your hand across the soft skin of his back.

"move your panties to the side."

when he feels your hand move down and follow his directions, suguru moves his down too and slides a finger across your soaked folds.

"fuck, this pussy is so wet for me. were you even trying to pay attention to the movie?"

"yes, I was." you complain, and whimper when he starts rubbing circles across your lower lips, gathering your slick for added stimulation after every rub.

he separates himself from kissing you to look down at his ministrations, mouth opening in a soundless moan at the sight.

"listen to this sloppy fucking pussy." he rubs faster and you start to jerk your hips up by natural defiance at the stimulation, but he holds you down "no, let me touch you baby." he says sternly

your breathing starts to pick up and you feel that familiar knot that only you can give yourself starting to build up in your stomach and suguru notices, looking up to smile at you.

"are you close angel?"

concentrated on the feeling, all you can do is nod your head and he speeds up his pace at it, garnering close to wanton moans from you and screech like whines.

"come on come on, cum for me pretty girl, cum cum cum cum–fuck, atta girl." suguru talks you through it, mouth opening in awe at the sight of your body going limp and your breathing slowing down, his cock even twitches at how cute it is that your legs kick a little when you cum too, he thinks he'll be able to keep them still when he gets make you cum on his cock.

you start to hiss at the overstimulation when he keeps rubbing your clit after your high, "'s too much suguru."

he doesn't stop, "you want to stop now then?"

the shake of your head makes his eyes light up and bite his lip with a grin, "then just let me keep going."

it takes all of your strength to lean up with one of your elbows and grab his wrist with the other, obvious strain written across your features when you huff, "I want you inside me."

like he knew that was what you wanted, suguru's grin grows wider, "are you sure?"

you nod your head in confirmation, followed by suguru saying, "so cute." before he gets up and pushes his pants and boxers down in one swift motion and climbs on top of you, manhandling your legs by pinning them to either side of your head into a mating press.

he lets his cock teasingly rub up and down your folds while he leans down to nip at your ears, "let's leave your little costume on yeah?"

you nod and make a face when his tip catches on your entrance

suguru lifts his hips at your confirmation and pushes his tip in, savoring the way you're beginning to invite him inside you.

" 's so big sugu." you whimper in shock at the larger than expected intrusion

"never taken a cock this big?" he pulls out and pushes in again a little deeper

"no." you rake your hands down his arms

suguru laughs, "good thing I'm here to provide then right? see, look at you creaming around me already."

the words make you look down at where you both meet and when he pulls out again, you can see the ring and slick on his dick, it makes you shiver.

"I'll–make–this–little-fucking–pussy-take–me." he punctuates each and every one of his words with a thrust that pushes himself deeper and deeper inside you until you can fully feel his tip grazing your cervix and every vein on his dick ridging against your walls from how girthy he is.

every sound that comes out of your mouth after is incoherent when suguru starts to punishingly pummel into you and god does he keep talking to you.

"you look so pretty taking this dick baby. god, you sound even cuter than I imagined. you like getting stretched out like this? fuck, take it take it take it. wish I could make you sit on it, you'd look so cute trying to ride me."

it's all so much, especially when every thrust is accompanied by a moan or groan of his or with a sentence.

"couldn't fucking wait to get home after the party last week too. wanted to rip off that costume and fuck you till you couldn't even scream. and when you wear those skirts with pantyhose to class?" suguru groans, "all–I–can–think–about–is–bending–you–over–and–stuffing–this–pussy–with–my–cum."

"suguru!" you squeal, "im–I'm gonna cum!"

suguru tightens his hold on your thighs at the admission and starts jackhammering into you, "cum around me baby. let me fuck you through it." it almost sounds like he's starting to beg, "just cum for me, cum for me, cum–"

a silent scream leaves your mouth and you trash in suguru's hold while he keeps his furious pace.

"so pretty, angel." his eyebrows knit as he watches you orgasm and feels you clamp down on him. it has his peak lurching across his body and his thrusts grow erratic as he starts spurting his cum into you.

he leans down to kiss you as his cock twitches inside of you, leaking his cum into you each time.

at the end of the kiss, the both of you are heaving against each other, smiles on both of your faces until you erupt into laughter and giggles.

suguru is still inside you and places a loving kiss on your forehead, swiping away your sweaty baby hair, "you're cute when you cum. you kick your legs a little, I like it."

the confession has you trying to shy away and suguru laughs again, caressing your head, "why are you shying away? you wore this costume for everyone to see just a couple hours ago."

"well this is you telling me you think the way I cum is cute, its quite different than guys looking at my thong." you shakily grab onto his shoulders

"I suppose so." suguru nuzzles into your neck, "do you have a bath?"

"yeah."

"let me start one for us then." he pulls out and both of you look down at your lonely entrance until his cum starts to leak out. suguru seems entranced and you can see his cheeks start to gain a red hue accompanied by the blood starting to rush to his cock too.

suguru looks back at you the moment you do too. you reach a hand out to him and he crawls back on top of you.

"we can do that later right?"

"right."

#geto suguru #geto x reader #geto fluff #jjk suguru #geto suguru x reader #suguru geto x reader #suguru geto smut #geto smut #suguru smut #jjk smut #geto suguru smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader

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papayainsectorone · 1 month ago

Text

teach me aftercare

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summary: After the heat fades, you teach Oscar the part no one talks about, the quiet, the care, the space after. But what lingers between you might be more than either of you meant to share.

content: emotional intimacy, aftercare, angst, mutual pining, unspoken feelings, teacher-student dynamic, post-smut tenderness, light conflict, slow burn undercurrent

word count: 2,7 k

pairing: oscar piastri x fem!reader

a thought: the shift in dynamic here surprised me as much as it might surprise you. i didn’t plan for it, but it found its way in. i still hope you enjoy it, and i have a feeling this series is heading somewhere special. thank you for being on the ride with me. ♡

teach me series

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Your bodies are still tangled when it ends — skin flushed, breath shallow, the air thick with sweat and something warmer beneath it. You’re both quiet, a silence that isn’t awkward, just full. Like the world is catching up to you.

Oscar is still under you, blinking slow, mouth parted. His fingers twitch once against your back, unsure if he should be holding on or letting go.

You shift slightly, just enough to ease some weight off him, your hand finding his chest, the rise and fall still rapid under your palm. His eyes are on the ceiling, unfocused. You trace one fingertip over his collarbone, slow and steady, until his gaze finds yours.

That’s when you see it: not sadness, not exactly. But something like… disappointment flickering behind the quiet.

You tilt your head. “Talk to me.”

Oscar hesitates. You see him sort through a dozen thoughts and toss most of them out before he finally says, “I thought maybe… I’d get to try something else. Something new. Another lesson.”

His voice is soft, but there’s a tension under it not bratty, not needy. Just… unsure. Like he’s worried he’s being ungrateful.

You let the silence stretch for a beat, just looking at him. His curls are flattened on one side, cheeks still pink, a little smudged from the pillow. His mouth is red. Kiss-swollen. Gorgeous, honestly.

And still, so unsure.

You lean down, slow and calm, lips ghosting over the shell of his ear.

“The lesson’s not over,” you murmur. “This part is the lesson.”

He turns his face to you, confused. “What part?”

You sit up slowly, legs still straddling his thighs. “This,” you say simply, motioning to your bodies — flushed and undone and a little tangled still. “What we do now. What happens after. That matters just as much as what you do with your hands or your mouth.”

You watch it sink in, the way he swallows, the flush that deepens on his chest.

“I didn’t know that counted,” he says.

“Most people don’t,” you answer, reaching for the warm cloth you left nearby. “But it does. Every bit of it.”

You clean him with deliberate care — not sexual, not clinical. Just present. His breath stutters once under your touch, but he doesn’t shy away. His eyes stay on you. Watching. Learning.

“You’ll find,” you say gently, “that different people like different kinds of aftercare. Some need a moment alone. Some like to be held. Some cry. Some don’t want a single word. It’s not one-size-fits-all.”

You glance up. His brows are furrowed. Focused. Drinking it in like gospel.

“And you?” he asks. “You like doing this?”

You raise an eyebrow, not smiling. “I do it because it’s part of the it. Part of the offering. I don’t like to leave someone half-finished. Or worse — used.”

Oscar doesn’t flinch, but something in him draws in a little. Tightens.

He’s quiet for a second, and you let him be.

Then, carefully: “What if I like… this? All of it. Not just the sex.”

You pause in your movement. Your eyes meet his, but you keep your voice level. “Then it’s something you’ll have to learn to balance. Wanting more, but not expecting it. Feeling deeply, but staying grounded. You can enjoy it. You should. But you don’t get to demand meaning from it.”

He swallows, hard. You can tell that landed somewhere deeper than he expected. But he nods.

You set the cloth aside, then reach for the blanket and drape it gently over both of you. You don’t cuddle him. But you lie down beside him, close, letting your legs touch, your shoulder brushing his arm.

“This part is about reassurance. Making sure your opposite feels seen. Safe. Heard. That what you did together ends cleanly, not like a door slammed shut.”

He turns his head to look at you, his voice quiet again. “Have you always done it like this?”

You shrug. “Not always. But I’ve never just… left.”

There’s a beat. Then, soft:

“Can I hold you for a bit?”

Your heart does something strange, like it skips, then comes back steadier. You don’t let it show.

You nod once. “You can.”

He shifts, and you let him wrap around you. Arms sliding under your back, one leg slipping between yours. His hold isn’t desperate. Just steady. Like he’s found something real in all the fog.

And you let him. You don’t hold back or lean in too much. You let him learn.

He nestles into your neck, his breath hot against your skin. “I want to remember this part,” he murmurs. “All of it.”

You don’t know how long you stay like that — tucked close, barely speaking. Just his breath on your collarbone, the slow calm of two heartbeats returning to something steady.

There’s a shift in him. A subtle one. Less tentative now. Like the permission to hold you gave him permission to breathe, too.

But then, without a word, Oscar pulls back.

You blink as he eases himself away from your body, gently peeling out of your arms. “Wait,” he says softly, catching the edge of the blanket to cover you again. “Just… stay here, yeah?”

He’s flushed and messy and still a little dazed, curls sticking to his forehead. There’s no reason to trust whatever’s sparking behind those big brown eyes — but something in his tone makes you let him go without asking questions.

You hear the rustle of his sweatpants, the quiet pad of bare feet on tile, the creak of the door opening.

Then… the kitchen.

Faint light. The low hum of the fridge. The click of a cupboard opening. A drawer.

You frown slightly. Curious. Not concerned, not quite, but… unsure. The post-high haze is still thick in your limbs, and the absence of him is strange after how tightly he clung just minutes ago.

A soft clatter. Something ceramic. The fridge opens again.

He’s gone longer than expected — just long enough for the first hint of wonder to curl in your chest. What’s he doing?

When the door creaks again and he comes back in, it’s like a scene you weren’t expecting to be part of.

Oscar's arms are full. He’s carrying a large tray, careful and proud. There’s fruit on it — sliced strawberries, a peeled orange sectioned neatly. A couple pieces of chocolate. Two glasses of water. One of them has a lemon wedge on the rim. It’s so him you could laugh.

But you don’t laugh.

He sets it on the bedside table like it’s precious cargo. Then he looks at you — a little shy, a little proud, a little uncertain all over again.

“I… didn’t really know what the right thing was. For after,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “So I thought — comfort, right? Food. Water. Something sweet.”

You sit up slowly, the blanket falling a little off your shoulders. He looks away quickly, trying to be respectful, but you catch the flicker of heat that’s still not gone.

You take a piece of strawberry, bite into it, and nod once. “That’s thoughtful. Messy, but sweet.”

He grins at that. “Like me?”

You arch a brow. “Don’t push it.”

He laughs quietly and climbs back into bed. This time, he doesn’t ask. He wraps himself around you again, this time behind you, arms snug around your waist. Your back against his chest.

His voice is quieter now, more grounded. “I didn’t know this part mattered so much. But it kind of… changes things, doesn’t it?”

You nod into the dark. “It always does.”

The room is quiet again, but it hums differently now — like a wire pulled too tight, vibrating with everything unsaid.

Oscar’s thumb rubs a slow, absent arc against your side, and your breath stutters, just a little. It’s nothing. A subconscious gesture. But it makes something in your chest shift.

You could say something. Draw the boundary again. Remind him — remind yourself — what this is and isn’t. That you’ve done this before, that this kind of softness doesn’t mean what people think it means. That it’s just care, not commitment.

But you don’t.

Because it’s not just him who’s quiet now, full of questions he won’t ask.

It’s you, too.

You feel the ache of it behind your ribs — not romantic, not even clearly emotional. Just a presence. A pressure. Like something is waiting to unfold if you let it.

You stay still instead, measuring your breathing like it might keep you safe. Like if you keep it even, you can keep things even.

But Oscar’s body against yours is not even.

It’s too warm, too present, too willing. His trust is wrapped around your spine like a vine, slow and steady, and you realize with startling clarity that he’s stopped waiting for you to make him feel safe.

He already does.

And that is the danger.

Because when someone stops seeing themselves as temporary, they start looking for permanence. Even when they don’t mean to. Even when you’ve warned them.

He exhales against the back of your neck, a soft huff that brushes your skin, and you can feel the shape of it — how he’s settling into you like a question answered.

You keep your eyes closed, but your voice is awake now. Low. Careful.

“You should remember not everyone will do it like this.”

Oscar hums behind you, not letting go. ��I know.”

“Some won’t stay,” you add. “Some will leave before your breathing’s even back to normal.”

“I know,” he says again, quieter this time. “But you stayed.”

You press your lips together.

For a long moment, the only sound is the slow turn of the ceiling fan and the occasional tick of cooling skin against the sheet. Then, softly:

“I don’t stay because of you,” you say. “I stay because it’s how I like it.”

You feel his breath catch slightly. Just for a second.

Then he nods against your shoulder. “Still means something.”

You don’t answer. You don’t want to answer.

Because if you did, you might have to tell him that he’s not wrong. That something is shifting inside you, too. That somewhere between his hands on your waist and the way he cut the orange into perfect segments like it mattered, you stopped thinking of this as just instruction.

You told yourself this was temporary. You’re the one who made the rules — boundaries, roles, names. Teacher. Student. A controlled environment.

And yet…

His hand squeezes gently at your hip, and you feel the whisper of a smile in his voice when he says, “You think too loud, you know that?”

You blink.

He’s not wrong. But it startles you, the way he’s started reading you back. Not like a script — not like he’s trying to mirror what you taught — but like he’s forming his own thoughts now. Feeling his way through this.

You sit with that a moment, then shift slightly, turning onto your back.

His arm remains at your waist, but looser now. Letting you go if you want.

You look up at him.

His hair is a wild halo against the pillow, and his eyes — soft, but steady — meet yours like he doesn’t need to pretend he isn’t attached anymore.

That’s the thing that knocks the breath out of you.

He’s not asking for more. But he’s acting like it’s more.

You sigh, just quietly. Not annoyed. Not sad. Just… full.

“This will be hard if you start thinking like that,” you murmur.

“Thinking like what?”

“That this means something more than it does.”

Oscar tilts his head. “And what does it mean?”

You open your mouth.

Then close it again.

You don’t have a clean answer.

Because the truth is, it meant one thing when you started. And it’s starting to mean something else now. And that change — that drift — is the scariest part.

You see it in him. You’ve seen it before in others, too — but this isn’t like the others. He’s not folding himself into what you want. He’s becoming in front of you. And you realize you don’t know if you can stop that. Or if you want to.

You sit up fully now, drawing your knees to your chest, the sheet falling into your lap.

Oscar shifts but doesn’t touch. He watches you instead, eyes tracking every flicker of your expression.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” you say finally. “This was… good. You were present. You gave and received. You listened.”

“But?”

You smile faintly. “You always hear the but, don’t you?”

He shrugs. “You only pause like that when you’re editing something in your head.”

The ache deepens in your chest.

“You’re getting too good at reading me,” you murmur, and it’s not teasing. Not quite.

He says nothing.

You draw in a slow breath, choosing your words. “I meant it when I said the lesson’s not over. That includes this part, too — the confusion, the closeness, the wanting. But you can’t assume it will always feel like this. Not with everyone.”

“I’m not with everyone,” he says quietly.

“No,” you say, just as quiet. “You’re not.”

And that’s the problem.

You feel the rest of the words press against your teeth — things like I care more than I should or you’re starting to make me want things I told myself I didn’t want. But you swallow them.

You press a hand to his chest instead, right over his heart. His skin is warm, soft, still a little damp with the sweat of what you shared. His heartbeat flutters beneath your palm like he’s waiting to be named.

“You feel things fast,” you say gently. “That’s not wrong. But it’s dangerous if you don’t learn to slow it down. To hold space for what something is, instead of what you hope it might become.”

Oscar closes his eyes under your touch, his lips parted slightly — and when he speaks, it’s a breath, not a question.

“So what’s this?”

You pause. Not to pull back. Not to calculate. Just to feel.

You stare down at your hand on his chest and think about the strange, weightless ache in your throat — the one that started when he brought you water with a lemon wedge on the rim. The one that never really went away.

“I don’t know, Osc,” you murmur. “I just don’t want it to… go wrong.”

The words sit between you like a ghost — not heavy, not sharp, just sad. Just real.

Neither of you says anything for a long moment.

You stay like that, your hand on him, your heart thudding quietly against your ribs, until the silence stretches too tight.

Then you shift — slowly, carefully — pulling your hand back.

And before he can read too much into the way you hesitate, you speak again, quieter than before.

“Maybe it’s time for me to go.”

Oscar’s body tenses all at once. He lifts onto one elbow. “No—wait, please, I didn’t mean to—”

You hold up a hand. Not angry. Just steady.

“No, Osc,” you say. “Really. It’s okay. But I have to go.”

You sit up before he can argue, reaching for your clothes without looking at him. Not out of cruelty. Not because you’re ashamed. But because if you do look, you might not leave.

He stays quiet — crushed silence — while you pull on your shirt, tug your jeans over your hips. Your movements are practiced. Efficient. Detached in the way you need to be to get out the door.

He shifts slightly, like he’s about to sit up, maybe reach for you. Maybe say something else.

But he doesn’t.

And neither do you.

Your fingers pause at the doorknob.

Behind you, he’s sitting upright in bed now, the sheet pooling around his waist, his curls a soft, chaotic mess. He looks like he wants to say don’t go. He looks like he’s hoping you’ll turn around.

And for one second — one breathless second — you think maybe you will.

But you don’t.

You don’t because you meant it when you said you didn’t want this to go wrong.

You open the door.

He calls your name once — soft, almost reflexive — and it nearly breaks something in you.

But you don’t look back.

You just step out into the quiet of the hallway, the door clicking gently closed behind you.

PREVIOUS PART - NEXT PART

v smol taglist

@sealife-for-life @notgirlsummerr

#oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 x you #oscar piastri one shot #oscar piastri fic #oscar piastri imagine #mclaren #mclaren x reader #oscar piastri x fem!reader #oscar piastri #op81 #𓊆papayainone𓊇 #op81 smut

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killishin · 2 months ago

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domestic hcs with jason

oookay so domestic jason? cus why not.

heavily inspired by the prompts from this post by @novelbear (i love her prompts so much)

dividers by @cafekitsune

in the beginning of your relationship, both of you were kinda awkward, yet less so because it took both of you quite sometime to get over the cautiousness and trust issues, and during that time the awkwardness had shredded to an extent.

it was almost smooth sailing after becoming official, sure there were still a lot of areas that were left unexplored, going wrong somewhere, having long talks or none, because sometimes neither of you needed words. you just knew what the other wanted.

and so slowly both of you eased into each other's lives, like puzzle pieces truly molded and shaped for each other, not a mere gap left. at this point nothing weirded either of you out. best friends along with lovers.

as lovely and cosy this domesticity was, it had its fair share of little bickerings.

"no. no no no. no—" jason took hold of your shoulder with one of his hand while the other easily pulled the cart away, and guided you in the opposite direction from the aisle of biscuits.

you let out a small 'tut' of disappointment before looking up at him with semi puppy eyes, since there was a hint of warning in them.

he lets out a huff of disbelief before giving you a pointed look, "no."

"oh come on what's the issue here?" you ask as if you don't know and his eyes simply become more pointed, "really? really sweetheart?"

you shrug as you take on a sort of diplomatic demeanor, as if negotiating, "trying new things isn't that bad."

"it is when you choose those horrendous new oreo flavours."

"some turn out good!"

"some, sweetheart. most don't, and then you push it away like some cat and i gotta eat it all."

"i promise I'll eat it full this time." you swear with such sincerity that he almost falls for it, almost. his lips quirk up into a smirk as he pinches your jaw in between his thumb and index finger, squishing your cheeks a bit.

"not falling for that again."

"jay–"

"its the normal flavour or nothing."

"babe-"

"normal or nothing."

"fine!" you hiss in irritation and he has the audacity to smile triumphantly, leaning to brush a kiss on your forehead, "atta girl."

well jokes on him, cus the moment you approach the aisle, you put the normal one in and then your eyes inevitably pause at that new flavour, gaze fixated on it.

"sweetheart no—"

you push the packet in the cart, silence engulfing you both as you both stare at the packet in the cart.

"i am not finishing that."

you share a lot in common with him, reading is one of them. when jason is off to do his nightly duties you read to occupy your time, as that is one of the things that give you peace, other than your boyfriend. now it is not always that jason gets a night off. so when he does, you'd rather you spend it cuddled by his side, having the best sleep, since having been tired by your prior activities.

and since he has a night off, he really wants to catch up on his reading. so he does, perched on the bed with a book in hand while you were cuddled beside him with your arm thrown over his lap and head beside his thigh, fast asleep. sleep is just much, much better with him, but you cannot, for the love of god, sleep with any sort of noise. light sleeper, unfortunately.

you let out a small sleepy groan, nudging your face in his thigh, tapping on his arm. "can you stop that?"

he raises a brow, brushing your hair away from your forehead, an amused smile on his face. "stop what?"

you huffed before groggily opening your eyes and propping yourself up on your elbows, "you know what? no more reading before bed. you keep waking me up with your dramatic gasps every time you turn the page."

he lets out a surprised chuckle, ruffling your hair, irking you more, "well, i'm sorry that i engage and connect deeply with literature!"

"well gasp quieter!"

"its not a gasp then!"

you give him a deadpan stare while he just gives you a pointed look with a smug smirk. not to worry he acquiesced later on, getting under the covers with you while partially draping himself on you like a weighted blanket.

".... you gasp too while reading— wha– ow! alright!"

mornings are mostly quiet between you two, neither being a morning person so naturally you're both grumpy in the morning, you more than him specifically.

you're brushing your teeth in front of the sink with a dazed look in your eyes when he enters the bathroom behind you, yawning and scratching at his abs. he nudges you gently, breaking you out of your daze as if he knew you had dissociated for a while.

as you spit and wash your mouth, your eyes hone in on his brush, particularly on the amount of toothpaste he took. and maybe normally you wouldn't have cared, it isn't even an issue.

you quickly splash your face with water before leaning your arms against the sink and staring at him through the mirror, not even drying off your face yet. "thats a lot."

he pauses as his brows furrow, ever so cutely as he looks down at his brush and then back at you, "the toothpaste?"

"yeah?"

"thats the normal amount."

"sure. normal amount for a dinosaur."

he scoffs as he leans on one of his legs, resting his arm on his hip while holding the brush in his other hand , "so how much should i take? like you? that's not even enough for a mouse?"

"how do you know how much a mouse needs?!"

"well how do you know how much a dinosaur needs?!" he retorts back and you roll your eyes as you pat your face dry.

"im just saying you don't need that much— hey!" he snatches you away by hooking an arm around your waist and pulling you snug against him. he leans down with a smirk and your brows furrow in an almost glare.

"you wanna know how much i need hm? you wanna check?" he teases as he dips his head, pecking at your lips, coaxing you into a deeper kiss while you swat lightly at his lips.

"jason!" he pecks your lips, "you-" another one, "stink!"

jason is jason for you, for the world he reserves none of his smiles, none of those charms— none. its the red hood, and if in his civilian state, he is simply a big unit with a glare that can freeze sahara. his heart along with his scars are reserved for you, but his anger and disdain is all for the world to take.

the world and anyone who hogs your attention. now, jason is protective, and maybe even jealous— to an extent, but he would never cross a line that would make you feel uncomfortable. doesn't mean he appreciates people thinking they have a chance with you, or in this case, take his place beside you.

his glares aren't as subtle as he thinks, his arms crossed as he looks at the plushies on your bed. his glare drops into an exasperated groan when you bring out a new one.

"oh my god if you buy one more plush to occupy my spot on the bed i'm kicking you out to sleep on the couch." yet he sounds rather petulant than angry, and of course, hell would freeze and he still he wouldn't dare let you take the couch.

"but they're so nice and warm and fuzzy and cuddly, like you—"

"yes and apparently im not enough."

"you should at least try—"

"i have you."

you chuckle under your breath as you slip out the bed and pass him, pressing a chaste kiss on his downturned lips, "nice try but they're staying."

cleaning the dishes is something that if prolonged, it starts getting on your nerves. more so when you're nearing the end of the pile, and a new dish is added. a sharp sigh leaves your lips as your hands go lax and you turn to stare at jason, who's looking back at you like a deer caught in headlights.

"i was about to finish."

"... saw that."

you sigh again, more so in frustration as you continue scrubbing he laughs nervously, mumbling quiet apologies as he nears you, wrapping his arms around your waist. he rests his chin on your shoulder, pressing a kiss on it.

"tired? i can finish the rest, you should go and rest."

"no i–" you sigh as you hold the washed plate towards him and he takes it, immediately falling into a natural synergy. "you were way too tired from your patrol last night. and besides im done anyways."

"two dishes won't tire me out, you know."

"yeah i know but i think you work better in cuddling me so stay there."

"whatever you say."

again, jason is a protective man. he never tires from caring for you, be it outside or even in the confines of your shared home. he always has an arm around you, shielding you from potential creeps who unnecessarily push their bodies onto you, holding hands is an absolute necessary when walking, his eyes are always on you in any gathering— like a very doting bodyguard.

but thats when you're out, at your home somehow its even more intense and it shows in those small moments. he always keeps his hands on the sharp corners if you're near, maneuvers you around the walls if you're about to smack right into them, blows on the hot pipping food too much to the point it isn't even warm— he just loves you a lot.

"you going somewhere?" he asks as he straightens up on the couch, lowering the book in his hand and you could see just how desperately he wanted to go with you.

"yeah, i promised to meet my friends over dinner." you respond as you recollect your things after pulling on your shoes.

"need me to tag along?" he asked and you could just see the tail wagging, you sigh with a smile as you wave your hand dismissively, "no no. I'll come home early don't worry."

"im still coming to pick you up."

"i know." of course he will.

"that's a really thin jacket." he points out as his eyes narrow and you pause to look down, "is it?" your lips tug in amused grin.

"take an extra jacket. its cold out." he said as he relaxed back on the couch, picking up his book again.

"okay, mom."

"i heard that!"

its not that you don't have any serious arguments, you do and they are often but they don't last long. they can't, not with jason. he can't stay away from you for much longer, he silently agrees for some space after exchanging heated words but it rarely ever prolongs to more than an hour or so. guilt and worry gnaws at his heart while his arms ache for the solace in your skin.

because at the end of the day, you are what he comes home to. that after a grueling night of wear and tear, being and living as red hood, takes its toll on him. so he returns, he returns and hopes to everyday, fights to return everyday— all to see that sweet smile that comes onto your face as he comes back home.

you should be long asleep, he doesn't like it when you stay up for him. but he wouldn't deny how his heart always warms up at it, how it beats faster.

as he closes the window you straighten up on the couch, your head tilting a bit as you smile while beckoning him over.

"you okay big guy?"

somedays he banters, somedays he absolutely smothers you— but somedays, when it was particularly rough, he is quiet. so he took off his helmet, picked off his gloves and discarded his jacket just as his knees hit the floor beside you. you didn't question, you just knew he needed you and the silence.

a soft sigh left his lips as he rested his forehead on your lap, arms circling your waist and your hands immediately tangled in his hair, carding through them softly. your nails lightly scratched his scalp, then you knelt down and pressed a kiss on his head, illiciting another sigh.

"missed ya."

"missed you too."

he may one day be beyond saving, maybe his scars would just run too deep, yet even then he wouldn't dare submit to death— not when you still exist in his life.

NOTE: this was supposed to be a small drabble but i got carried away....

#jason todd headcanons #jason todd fanfic #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd x reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #red hood fluff #jason todd fluff #red hood x reader #red hood fic #red hood fanfiction #red hood x you #red hood x y/n #dc x reader #dc x you #dc fanfic #dc fluff #dc fanfiction

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jungwnies · 2 months ago

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cat cafe | max verstappen

୨ৎ : featuring : max verstappen ୨ৎ : synopsis (requested by 🦈) : going on a date to a cat cafe 🐈‍⬛

୨ৎ : genre : fluff ୨ৎ : word count : 680

୨ৎ masterlist ୨ৎ 10k event | masterlist ୨ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 a/n : plsss this is so cute omfg 😭

you don’t even get a full step inside the café before max practically melts.

there’s a sleepy ginger curled up on the window ledge. a black and white tuxedo cat sprawled out across the checkout counter. somewhere in the back, a small gray blur streaks by, chasing a toy mouse like its life depends on it.

max’s eyes light up like a kid in a candy store. he doesn’t even hide it.

“okay,” he whispers under his breath, turning to you with a grin so boyish it makes your heart skip. “best idea you’ve ever had.”

you raise a brow. “even better than letting you teach me how to drive manual?”

“way better,” he says instantly. “no offense.”

the girl at the front desk gives you each a lint roller and a pair of house slippers, then waves you in with a soft “feel free to sit anywhere.” max is already crouched by the nearest scratching post before she finishes the sentence, fingers outstretched to a chunky tabby who immediately rolls over and exposes its belly like they’re old friends.

“look at you,” you laugh, toeing off your shoes and sinking into one of the floor cushions nearby. “absolute cat whisperer.”

“they know i’m one of them,” max says without looking up.

you snort. “so humble, too.”

the café is warm and soft, with low lighting and the smell of brewed tea and vanilla cookies in the air. there’s lo-fi music playing, a few couples scattered around with drinks and cat treats, but it all feels peaceful. safe.

max eventually joins you on the floor, two cats in his lap and one trying to climb his shoulder. his cap is tilted back just enough to show a few messy strands of hair, and his smile hasn’t left since you walked in.

he leans over and whispers, “i want, like, four.”

you blink. “cats?”

he nods. “for now.”

you roll your eyes, but the warmth in your chest is undeniable. “you’re ridiculous.”

he grins. “you’re the one who brought me here.”

you nudge his leg with your foot. “you’re lucky you’re cute.”

he raises a brow. “i’m lucky?”

a small gray kitten pads over and curls up in your lap, purring immediately. max watches you with the softest look — the kind he only gets when he thinks you’re not paying attention.

“i could stay here forever,” he says quietly.

you hum, brushing your fingers through the kitten’s fur. “i’d get jealous.”

“of the cats?”

“yeah.”

he smiles. “they’re great, but they don’t hold my hand during takeoff. or tell me they love me when i’m three time zones away.”

you glance up at him, surprised by the tenderness in his voice.

he shrugs. “don’t look at me like that. i’m allowed to be soft.”

you smile. “you are. you just usually do it with more sarcasm.”

“yeah, well,” he looks down at the orange tabby now nestled against his chest. “you bring it out of me.”

by the time your drinks arrive — hot chocolate for you, iced coffee for max — there are six cats between you, and neither of you has moved in over twenty minutes. you sip carefully, balancing the sleeping kitten on your thigh, while max snaps a photo of the black cat now curled inside his hoodie.

“i’m naming him turbo,” he says. “because he’s fast.”

you squint. “you named the sleepiest cat in here turbo?”

he shrugs. “it’s aspirational.”

before you leave, you both buy a sticker from the donation box and promise the staff you’ll be back. max practically has to be dragged away, gently prying turbo off his sweater and giving him one last scratch behind the ears.

as you step out into the cool evening air, he grabs your hand, fingers lacing through yours like instinct.

“that was the best date ever,” he says, swinging your hands between you. “i didn’t even know i needed that.”

you smile. “we can go back.”

“no,” he says, grinning at you like you just gave him a podium. “next time we’re bringing one home.”

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avianyuh · 28 days ago

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Small World | Jeon Jungkook

Summary: After being ditched by your friends, your coworker Taehyung invites you to a weekend hang out at his apartment where you end up running into someone unexpected.

word count: 3k

I had avoided checking my phone all day. I knew the minute I’d inevitably skim through Instagram, I would be bombarded by pictures of my past friend group’s summer trip that I was seemingly “left out” of the planning for. Six years of friendship went to waste and I was left all throughout the month of June with nothing to do but sit on my couch, green with envy over everything I was missing out on.

All I could do was focus on work, which was actually surprisingly easy to do since I had a few really great coworkers. One of which, going by the name of Taehyung. We both waited tables at a restaurant, which upon my move to the city after college was the only place willing to hire me as a fresh graduate with no job experience past some part time retail work in High School and university. We both bonded over feeling out of place in our twenties, banding together to “fuck our timelines” we had expected to be halfway done by our midtwenties. In reality, I learned that being an adult is harder than it looked and I look back and laugh at how diluted my version of adulthood was back when I was a teenager.

I lived with a roommate I barely knew. Most of the conversations revolved around when the rent would be due. I was working a job that wasn’t aligned with my major and I was still single. Now, on top of everything else, it seemed like my friendships were falling apart all because I couldn’t afford the Europe summer trip, hence my friends thought I should be punished and be made to feel more broke than I already was. That’s why my growing friendship with Taehyung started to become more important.

“I can’t believe that they would post all the highlights knowing you’re sitting at home looking at the pictures. That’s fucked up.” Taehyung shook his head in disapproval as we chatted in the break room, quickly trying to eat our meals before the dinner rush came in. “Out of all the things you’ve mentioned over the past year I’ve worked with you, this one takes the cake.” I let out a sigh of relief, hearing him agree that my friends were being inconsiderate, I felt less crazy and more validated.

“I get that they want to post about the trip, but they didn’t even try to compromise with me when I asked them if we could pick a more budget-friendly location. They told me it was my fault I wasn’ working somewhere better by now.” I ranted, watching as Taehyung’s eyes went wide.

“Fuck them” Taehyung said with a mouth full of sandwich. “Which friend was the one who told you to not wear green again?” I laughed, thinking back to the time I told him about a passive aggressive conversation I had with a friend from university.

“Riley, she told me green made me look wide.” I said, with an emphasis on the word wide.

“You want my honest opinion.” Taehyung asked, leaning in across the table. “I think you’re better off without them…they seem fake.” My eyes softened as I reached for his hand across the tiny break room table, giving it a tight squeeze.

“Thanks Tae, that means a lot.” I said, grateful to have someone who actually understood me. Then we both stood up and tied on our work aprons before starting our shifts.

After a few hours of enduring some nice people out to eat with friends, family or alone, and of course the nasty, cranky crowd, I was officially exhausted and ready to clock out. “Heading home?” I asked Taehyung who was standing behind me as I finished punching out.

“Yeah, I’m ready to just wash my face and go to bed. My feet are killing me.” He complained as he also punched out. We always walked out together if we were working the same shift. Most of the staff had already left, but we tried to wait for each other most nights. I threw my bag over my shoulder and pulled out my metrocard as we both headed down the sidewalk toward the subway. “Oh by the way, I’m having a little get together on Saturday night if you’re interested?” Taehyung piped up as we neared the corner, getting closer to the landmark we’d usually go our separate ways.

“Really? That sounds fun, I don’t think I’m doing anything that night so maybe I’ll come.” I answered, trying to rake through my mind on any prior engagements I may have already signed up for on Saturday.

“Well, I hope you can make it. It’ll just be a few of my friends, a lot of those artsy types I keep telling you about.” I smiled, Taehyung was very into anything artistic, frequently blowing money meant for his savings on paintings from artists around the city. He always backed up the purchase by saying he needed to support other struggling people. Taehyung’s ultimate goal was to sustain himself off of his own art one day, and eventually stop waiting tables. I really wished that he’d sucker some rich guy into buying one of his pieces one day so he’d never have to work another day in his life. An ex boyfriend I had dated back in High School was also pretty artsy, but he took the musical route. I spent many nights in his room watching him play guitar, or sing to me while we were driving somewhere. We broke up right before graduation after he told me he was moving to LA with a few of his friends, in search of getting signed. I hadn’t heard from him in years and remembered feeling pretty hurt that he dumped me two days before graduation. I thought about him sometimes, even looking him up on Instagram, but he had stopped posting two years ago, so I wasn’t sure about his whereabouts anymore.

Taehyung and I hugged and said goodbye and by the time I made it home, he had already sent me his address. Everyone’s coming at 7, but come over a little earlier if you want, he had texted.

By Saturday I was sitting on Taehyung’s couch, music playing softly in the background as we laughed and talked. Taehyung gave me a run down of the people coming over. There was Julie, who had blue and purple ombre hair, who was working at a boutique downtown. Cami, a friend of Taehyung’s who worked at another restaurant who I had actually met a few times. Then there was Jimin, who most people viewed as charming, who worked as a choreographer. Taehyung said that Jimin might’ve been bringing a friend of his, but Taehyung didn’t know who. I loved meeting new people, and especially now considering my last text to my group had gone unanswered, I chose to ignore the pit of disappointment in my stomach and try to have fun. We’d just be sitting and talking, with some food and alcohol spread out on the coffee table in front of the couch. Taehyung had put in a lot of effort. We continued to sip out of our glasses and talk until the buzzer went off, signaling the first person to arrive.

Cami was the first to show up, greeting both Taehyung and I with a warm smile. She had long, wavy hair and had appeared to have dyed it a honey blonde since the last time I had seen her. She plopped down on the seat next to me as I handed her a glass, catching up on our lives. Soon after Julie arrived, bringing her uninvited boyfriend with her who sat silently next to her most of the night. Taehyung gave Cami and I the side eye as Julie’s boyfriend glanced down at his phone, not even bothering to say hello. 45 minutes later, the buzzer rang again, and Taehyung stood up from his seat, “I wonder who that could be…” he questioned sarcastically. According to Julie, Jimin was always late, even when he promised to be on time.

I stood up to stretch my legs and grab some more ice for my glass from the kitchen while Taehyung answered the door. I could hear the sound of the door opening and closing, as everyone jokingly cheered and yelled “Jimin!” I crept back in and to my seat, glancing over at Jimin, who was dressed in ripped jeans and a dark t-shirt. He was definitely attractive, which was probably what Taehyung meant when he said Jimin was a charmer. But what really caught my eye was the shadowy figure still standing in the hallway. He was more built than Jimin, and he had hands deep in the pockets of his jeans. I couldn’t see his face, but could make out the outlines of some of the tattoos that adorned his arms. I squinted, leaning forward, waiting for him to fully come into the light. “Who’s that behind you?” Taehyung asked, playfully shoving Jimin out of the way. I gasped, feeling my heart stop as I got a full view of him. There he was, my ex-boyfriend. The boy he dumped me, told me he couldn’t be with me, said he needed to travel, get out of our small town and go somewhere he could be a serious musician.

“Hey, I’m Jungkook.” He said shyly, extending his hand for Taehyung to shake. But as he turned his attention away from Taehyung and stepped further into the apartment, removing his shoes by the front door, he must’ve gone through the same shock as me when his eyes met mine. It looked as if he had seen a ghost. Stunned, standing maybe 15 feet away from me. It felt as if no one else was in the room as our eyes locked, almost as if we were in a staring contest. Jimin nudged him, gesturing for him to follow his lead and sit down. I fidgeted nervously in my seat as Jungkook sat on the other side of the sectional, directly facing me. I took a sip of my drink, wishing the alcohol would calm my growing nerves. I tried to not look at him, instead half heartedly focused on whatever Cami was talking about with the rest of the group, but it was no use. I couldn’t pay attention knowing the guy who broke my heart was sitting on the other side of me. I leaned over, whispering in Taehyung’s ear that I was going to go use the bathroom. He patted my knee in acknowledgement, smiling at me as I got up and left the room. I tried to catch my breath as I walked down the hallway. I shut the bathroom door behind me, turning on the light and leaning over the sink. Not long after, there was a knock on the door, to which I didn’t respond. I knew who was on the other side of that door.

“I’m coming in.” Jungkook said in a low voice. He shut the door behind him as he leaned his back against it. He didn’t say anything and neither did I, again just staring at each other. I scanned his body, taking in everything that had changed about him in the past few years. The tattoos that were displayed all over his arms and hands. The way his black hair was perfectly tousled, and his arms had become more muscular. He had always been very competitive and athletic, so I wasn’t surprised to see how fit he still was after all these years. I also took in the new addition of a lip piercing, which made him even more attractive. His eyes still gave off the sense of innocence, but they seemed a bit duller. Back when we had dated, everytime he talked about music or sang, his eyes were filled with hope, if that makes sense. Now his eyes seemed somewhat tired. I shifted against the bathroom counter, biting my lip. All you could hear was our breathing. Finally, I broke the silence.

“I, uh, can’t believe we ran into each other.” I said in disbelief.

“Small world, I guess.” Jungkook joked, crossing his arms over his chest. I looked around the tiny bathroom, thinking about what he was going to say. “I didn’t know you moved to New York City? I guess that explains why I haven’t seen you around when I go to visit my parents back home.” He said, his gaze focusing back on me.

“Yeah, I don’t really go back home that often, it’s hard to get time off, my manager gives me a hard time.” I explained, to which he nodded in understanding.

“Where do you work?” Jungkook questioned curiously.

“At a restaurant, that’s how I met Taehyung.” Jungkook swallowed hard, shifting his weight, and standing up straight.

“So, is he your boyfriend?” He asked, pointing his thumb behind him outside of the bathroom. I was surprised that he would ask, assuming he wouldn’t care if I was dating Taehyung or not. But I could sense a kind of desperation in his eyes as he anxiously awaited my answer. His breathing became more shallow and he nervously tapped his pointer finger against his chin, a nervous habit he had back when I had known him years ago.

“No, just a friend.” I shook my head. I could hear him let out a deep breath, which for some reason made me feel good. Knowing after all this time, there was still something there. I inched toward him, trying to make it seem like I was just moving in place. Maybe I shouldn’t step closer to him? I wondered in my head. “I thought you were living in LA?” I asked, looking up at him.

“LA fell through two years ago, and I got a job playing in a band up here. I had a record deal but it fell through back in LA so I just figured it was time to move.” He shrugged, moving his hands into his pockets.

“I kept up with you online for a few years. I really wanted everything to work out for you…” I said quietly.

“I’m sorry about the way I ended things.” Jungkook said, moving closer towards me. “I was a stupid kid and believe me, not even trying to make it work with you has been one of my biggest regrets.” He whispered, standing right in front of me. His eyes were filled with remorse and I subconsciously found myself reaching for the free hand he had taken out of his pocket. I ran my thumb over his as I pursed my lips together.

“Jungkook…I’ve missed you.” I murmured, “I never thought I’d see you again.” Our bodies were now firmly pressed up against each other. He scooped me up and lifted me onto the edge of the bathroom counter. I could feel his muscles tense, his skin was soft. He cupped my face, his nose against my own.

“Can I kiss you?” he whispered, letting his thumb rub against my cheek.

“Mhm”, I interjected before his lips crashed against mine. His lip piercing was cold upon contact. It felt as if we were 18 again, as his hands abandoned my face and crept under my shirt. His tongue entered my mouth, The only sound heard came from our kisses and the moans that left my throat. I’m sure he could taste the alcohol on my lips. My hands slip down his toned chest, resting on his belt buckle. He pulled away for a second, looking into my eyes, now with a new sort of intensity before begging to trail kisses down my neck. I tried to stifle the moans fighting to come out of me as I closed my eyes, focused on the air hitting the wet kisses he was leaving on my body. My fingers slipped through the belt, started to tug at it.

“Y/n, I don’t think it’s appropriate to have sex in your friend’s bathroom.” He joked in between kisses. I opened my eyes and laughed as he lifted his head back up. I pressed my forehead against his own before pressing a soft kiss to his full lips.

“You know everyone out there wondering why we’re in the bathroom together right?” I stated, trying to distract myself from the heat growing between my legs. I needed him, but I knew now wasn’t the right place.

“Fuck em’. Let’s just leave and we can explain it tomorrow.” Jungkook said, a smile forming on his lips.

“And what exactly am I supposed to tell Taehyung? That I left his apartment early to go have sex with my ex-boyfriend?” As I said it, I felt myself start to sober up as I started to think about my current predicament. If we had sex? What would happen after? Does that mean we’re back together? Will he want to keep in touch? I suddenly became angry at myself. How could I be so stupid, sleeping with a guy I hadn’t spoken to in years. It’s true that I frequently thought of him and I checked his accounts to see if he had posted or had moved on. But realistically, how easy would it be to pick up from where we left off years ago? Maybe I was drunk and in my feelings over my friends that I had unintentionally thrown away my better judgment.

Jungkook kept his arms around my waist, but stepped back a bit so he could get a better view of my face. “Y/n, what do you want to tell him? What are we doing here?” He asked, which took me by surprise. I wanted to be honest with him. Being able to see him again and feeling that same chemistry after all that time apart, I knew what I wanted to say to him.

“Jungkook, I want to try this again.” I answered, to which he moved closer again. His hand caressed my cheek as his lips molded against mine again.

“I do too.” He said after pulling away.

{A/N: OMG, guys I feel so bad, I disappeared again. Truthfully, I was suffering from a mix of writers block, finals and a shitty personal life. But this story idea popped into my mind and I knew I had to write this shit down right away and I absolutely love this story and I hope you do too! Jungkook is just one of those guys where I can see him fitting into so many different scenarios/tropes and reconnecting with a guy from your past is my favorite and something I'm manifesting for myself lol. But seriously, I hope you enjoyed this. JK is my favorite to write about besides Yuta, stories with him as a character seem to come pretty natural idk why. Also, this story will be posted on my AO3 page for those who like to read on there. As for a writing schedule, I DO plan on writing this summer, but I'm not sure if it was be posts every two weeks like I'm used to, I'm trying to not burn out, but just know I'm always trying to come up with new story ideas. As always, I love you all so so much, thank you for continuing to read my work while I've been inactive. I'm always here! Have a great day/night and mwahhhh💋💋💋💋💋💋}

#bts #jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x you #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #bts smut #bts fluff #bts x reader #bts fanfic #bts imagines #jungkook imagines #jungkook oneshot #bts oneshot

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dcxdpdabbles · 5 months ago

Note

My request for Adoptive son got accidentally posted with a different response and then deleted a while back, so I've come back to see if you're willing to do a little of the Summoned Demon au instead? 🥺 pretty please? I keep hoping it'll come back up and I'm excited haha

Danny flies while blinking through his tears, trying his best to find the giant clown Alex has mentioned. He is unsure what will happen to the police officer's ghost now that he has been captured, and that sends his heart into turmoil.

Every part of his core wanted him to turn around to rescue Alex. It went against his very soul to run, but he could think rationally enough to know that if he did, nothing good would come of it.

At best, he would give Alex enough time to hide inside the building he was anchored to; at worst, both of them would be shipped off to some lab and ripped apart.

No. He couldn't save Alex, and couldn't let his sacerfice to help Danny escape go to waste.

He needed to regroup. Figure out a plan, establish communication, or do something to escape the crazy cultists. It didn't help that they obviously had connections with police who were hunting him down to return him.

Thankfully, Danny has some experience with escaping government bodies. Just as long as he keeps moving and uses his powers wisely, he should be able to find somewhere to catch his breath.

Danny wipes at his eyes, pushing himself to fly faster.

Thanks to his invisibility, no one notices his form fly over their heads. A steady flow of people moves underneath him, going through another mundane day. It's crowded, busy and noisy.

So different from the city of Amity Park. It's a jarring reminder that only this morning, he had been dreading his upcoming math exam, and now he was running for his life.

At least the hook feeling in his navel has lessened. Using Phantom's abilities didn't take as much effort as it did a few hours ago.

Likely, whatever that voice activation cell did was starting to lose effect. Based on how his body responded, it would be two or three hours before he would be back to full strength.

As he finished the thought, Danny felt his body grow heavy, as if a weight was suddenly thrown around his ankles.

With a shout of alarm, Danny plummeted downwards, struggling against the cruel grips of gravity. He felt his invisibility fall away just as he landed face first on the ground between an open of people.

The force of his face has him skitting against the pavement, tumbling over and over as screams from the started civilians echo through the crowd. Danny rolls three times before smacking against a pull, upside down, with his legs folded over near his head.

He groans. "That is going to leave so many bruises."

His healing factor was kicking in already working on easing the aching in his spine and face. Slowly, as to not agitate his wounds, he unfolds, bracing his hands on the ground, and leaps up.

When the world is right, he finds himself standing before a little metal fence separating the street from a restaurant's dining area. The two boys Danny saw at the cult are sitting at the table right in front of him.

They were the ones who were pleading with the other boy who clung to his legs. Danny blinks. "Oh, hello."

The one on the left, a ginger that reminds him surprisingly of Kyle Weston down to his choice of clothes, lets a blood-curdling scream before his eyes roll back into his head in a dead faint. Danny leaps over the fence, catching him before he hits the ground.

The other boy watches like a deer caught in headlights, frozen with absolute terror all over his face. The fork in his white knuckle grip is bending at a strange angle as he makes small whimpers, almost as if he's scared to talk.

Danny carefully sets the one he caught on the ground, ensuring his head is cushioned before tugging at his clothes. He unzips the hoodie the boy was wearing and pulls at his neck collar to ensure it's not bothering his breaking.

Only after ensuring that the boy is breathing correctly does Danny move down to carefully left up his legs, remembering the lessons his father taught him in case he ever witnessed someone faint.

The teenager sitting at the table starts to speak, sounding panicky, but Danny ignores him in favor of placing the Kyle-Wannabe's legs on the chair's cushion. He tugs on the ankles in his hold, making sure it's angled in a way that does not hurt him spin but can allow more blood flow to his head.

"Can someone please call an ambulance?" He demands of the watching crowd only to have the majority of them cower back. He makes a face, causing a waitress to flinch so hard she stumbles over a nearby table.

Right, they can't understand him. He raises his hand above his head, attempting to mimic the ambulance light while speaking slowly. "Am-bu-lance. wee-oww wee-oww?"

A child bursts into tears. Danny drops his hands, letting them hang loosely at his side. The sea of faces surrounding him is all edged with fear, which makes his stomach turn. "None of you understand me. You're scared of me."

"I'm not," A man says, stepping away from the crowd. His transparent body lets him know it's a ghost. That and the dripping cinder block chained to his legs, along with his flouting hair as if though he were underwater, are significant indicators of his death. "You're trying to get him to a hospital?"

"Yes!" Danny points at him, forgetting himself for a moment. The people standing behind the ghost scramble to get out of the path of his pointing.

The man tilts his head slightly. "What language are you speaking?"

"English?"

"Odd. It sounds different. I would know since I speak nine languages." The man grunts, his strange accent sounding like a melody to the ear were it not for the watery effect. It's sad how it affects his handsomeness, with the green and silver trimming of his suit and the snake necklace and rings he is wearing.

The ghost calmly flouts to a poster on the restaurant's wall a few steps away from Danny, knocking his knuckles against some symbols. "Point to this word, then the boy. That'll let the crowd know to get some medical attention."

Danny stares at him for a moment before the murder victim clears his throat impatiently, and it snaps him into action. Rushing over, he points to the words, then the Kyle-wannabee, and back again to the word. When the crowd continues to stare, Danny repeats the motion more urgently until the boy at the table finally catches on.

He pulls out a rectangular device from his pocket- the same one that girl had earlier this morning-tapping it with shaking fingers and speaking in rushed panic words.

The ghost at the poster nods approvingly. "Well done. Now, leave the scene before the authorities arrive."

"What?"

"I was an immigration lawyer in life. One of the only ones in this cursed city that actually gave a shit, and it got me killed. I know how they treat people who aren't from around here and how to help you when a language barrier gets in the way. Trust me, kid, it's better to get gone in this situation." As he speaks, the ghosts float back to Danny, shaking the chains around his feet for emphasis. There is a cold, calculating glint in his eye as he regards the silent crowd . "The panic will settle soon, and these people will form a mob. Get going."

Danny throws one last look at the unconscious boy before he realizes that the fear on people's faces hasn't lessened. It's growing, and he knows a witch hunt will start soon.

He's seen it before on the faces of Amity Park back when he was Inviza-Bill. He twists on his feet, running away with the lawyer flying behind him.

The older man gives out curt directions at every turn, slowly guiding him outside of the part of the city. Danny's legs are starting to burn when the sight of a large, broken-down amusement park comes into view.

The lawyer tells him which part of the fence board is loose enough for him to slide in and then instructs him to go to the fun house shaped like a giant clown head. Danny scrambles through the hole, hissing when a few loose nails catch on his skin, but he finally stumbles through, only to be overwhelmed by a new large and bustling crowd.

A crowd made of thousands of ghosts that walk or fly about without a care in the world. They are wearing various different eras of clothing, blending, and some have ghastly marks on their bodies, indicating their deaths.

The majority, however, are people with large, crazed smiles frozen on their faces. He gawks at all of them, not used to seeing so many of the dead in one place outside of the Ghost Zone.

"Don't just stand there with your mouth open." The lawyer snaps at Danny's back. "Get out of sight now!"

"Tom?" A woman in a gown that looks like she was present for the beheading of Marie Antonette steps in front of the drowned layer, Tom, with a look of confusion. "Who are you talking to?"

"Him." Tom nods his head at Danny, who offers the woman a wave. She reels back, opening her mouth like she's about to scream,m but Tom snaps forward, slapping a hand on her lips before she can. "Do not! What do you think will happen when all these murder victims realize he can communicate with them? He just escaped from being mobbed."

The man glances over his shoulder at Danny. "Go into the fun house. Act like you can't see or hear the rest of the ghosts. Walk through them if you have to."

"I can't," Danny whispers, his heart suddenly beating wildly. None of the ghosts noticed him, but that could change in a second. "Ghosts are solid to me. If I try to walk through them, we'll just end up bumping against each other."

Tom lets out a very put-upon sigh. "Then walk around them. Now go. It's not safe to talk in the open."

Danny knows Tom is helping him but feels vaguely threatened as he walks stiffly to the giant clown's head. He fights to keep his gaze straight, watching ghosts step out of his path while some flout closer, looking curious. He fights to not flinch at the ones with the enormous smile as if someone had cut them into their faces.

This is making his stomach turn.

"Who's this?" An older man asks Tom and the woman that follows him. His lips are pulled into two upturns, showing tight yellow teeth in a similar craze grin.

"Street kid," Tom grunts from somewhere behind him.

"He's likely looking for shelter from the cold." The woman adds, though her voice is slightly strained. "Tom wants to make sure he gets settled."

"Where is he going to?" The old man questions, his voice a little odd because he has to speak behind his teeth, trapped in a smile. "The only warm place here is the Joker's old place, and not even the dead go in there."

Danny ignores the old man's words, speed walking all the way to the entrance of the Fun House. He notices that various ghosts stop to watch him out of the corner of his eye as he finally passes the doorway into the building. Shaking his head, the old man lingers just a little outside of it. "Fool. Even if the Joker is not here, it's not a place to go."

Neither Tom nor the woman responds as they follow Danny inside. Tom is facing the wall when he mutters. "Close the door."

As soon as the wood seals shut, with a few ghosts lingering gaze trapped outside, Danny collapses on the floor, letting out a breath he wasn't aware he was holding. "That was terrifying."

"What in the world is going on, Tom!" The woman hisses, apparently unable to hold back any longer while crossing her arms, "Who is this?"

Tom holds up a hand in her face, which makes her gasp in offense, but his eyes linger on Danny's crumbled form. " There is a dictionary tucked away in the third office. Go get it."

"What? Why?"

"Because we'll use that to help you communicate with the living locals. I can read, and you can point."

Danny's eyes widen. "That's a clever idea!"

"Of course it is. I'm one the cleverest men to walk this stupid city's streets." Tom smirks like the snakes he's wearing. "We don't have much time. Knowing the idiots of Gotham, Batman will be tipped off and on his way here as we speak."

#dcxdpdabbles #dcxdp crossover #the summoned demon #Part 5 #Danny finds more ghostly help #Can anyone guess who Tom is based off? Loosely anyway #Danny has leveled up his communication skills!#He's still on the run #The effect of the wards Raven and John put on him limits his Phantom #Sorry about the previous ask! I hope this makes up for it

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ccl-c · 6 months ago

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i procrastinated on this for months and it didn't even take that long to finish lol things got very bad at work this year and i just didn't have the energy but i'm really happy with how it turned out!

(edit: thank you so much to everyone enjoying this piece! i'm so happy there are more people thinking about his prosthetic leg.)

some of my favourite details and long self-indulgent ramble below the cut.

as much as i love the unicorn leg in the show i really wish they gave izzy an actual post-amputation swordfight scene, which probably would imply a more practical prosthesis because honestly that candle scene looks very painful and pretty difficult to adapt in combat. so basically i wanted him to have a prosthesis that could work.

for the poses i mostly just took basic right-handed cavalry sabre movements that would need lots of force and/or mobility from the left leg (actually all of them do otherwise he'd lose stability which is a big no but well i did not consider the basic steps nor special ones such as the balestra because they're not very clear to draw. i included a flèche though because i just really, really want to see him do flèches (no more modern rules aha!!); i doubt he'd like it since it's very risky but it would be so fucking awesome. imagine him just darting full-speed at the opponent and passing through them sliding the sabre right between their ribs. the sabre isn't a pointy weapon especially since his is quite curved which makes piercing trickier than slashing (it would be a lot easier with a rapier or an épée; i like to imagine that stede prefers the rapier and makes every opponent who believes rapiers aren't fit for combat reconsider it) but hell that would just look amazing. although looking at it again i probably drew the footwork more like a pass forward …). now thinking about it i should have included a salute because he'd absolutely do that and make everyone do it in unison at the start of training sessions and it's just a cool series of gestures (i haven't gone through the historical documents yet but the salute our historical fencing club do consists of two appels (striking the ground with the forward foot which in izzy's case is the right foot), then raising the sword to the sky, then pulling the guard of the sword near the jaw with the tip pointing upwards, then pointing the sword down forward, usually a bit to the exterior for single-handed swords. this is the short version; we did the complete version of that salute precisely once and i seriously cannot remember either the year it was formalised or how it was done exactly. i think it was somewhere near the end of the 18th century and there was half a step forward and maybe a step on the spot at the beginning. if i ever find it or we ever do it again i'll update here we did it again! the complete version from the 1877 regulation under napoleon iii for the french army, as our master remembers, includes a process of going from standing to a tierce stance in the beginning and it's like this: start from a standing position with heels kept together and the sword to the front pointing downwards, then slowly raise the sword with the arm extended until that the point is about at eye level, bend the arm to finish on the tierce or sixte hand position depending on the sword (sabre and rapier typically use the tierce while épée typically uses the sixte although tierce works too; longsword would also use the sixte unless you're doing the more dramatic guards like porta di ferro or posta della donna and then i guess that's a high seconde if you squint hard? but it's not used in the army lol imagine that. and bayonet has a whole different salute), then start folding the legs while keeping the heels together and when you can't go any lower, move the front foot forward to the en garde feet position. and then tap twice on the ground etc.). also i feel like the dagger doesn't really look right ever since i saw the daggers and little swords at the exhibition about knights in nantes … anyway.

the prosthesis is loosely based on those 16th-century moveable leg prostheses by ambroise paré (on a side note, he made hand prostheses too and i think they're good references for spanish jackie's hand), douglas bly's above-knee prosthesis in the 19th century and modern running prosthetic legs (for the need of explosive force typical in lunges) as well as historical fencing and buhurt (full-armour medieval combat) gears. although i'm horrible at physics and have forgotten what little ergonomics i learned at university so it probably won't work in reality lol.

the text is in french simply because i learned fencing in french and didn't want to make mistakes in the vocabulary. the small words from left to right top to bottom are: motion (movement?), knee (front), knee (back), ankle & foot, locked, flèche (as in fencing; the word itself means “arrow”), unlocked (middle french spelling because i like it and it's not completely anachronistic i guess), lunge, en garde position in tierce (i somehow can't find any fixed way to say this in english; it's just the basic stance with the third hand position). the text on the left is probably quite awkward honestly but i can't not put it there because it's fun lol it reads “leg and foot prosthesis designed for first mate hands, by doctor roach with the assistance of frenchie, realised (built? made? constructed? manufactured?) by black pete and wee john feeney and the entirety of the crew of the revenge under co-captains stede bonnet and edward teach, illustrated by lucius spriggs”. so yes any mistake in there is theirs and not mine lmao (no). the font is very loosely based on my memory of jean jannon's regular and italic typefaces. i adore his italics; it's the prettiest, most delicate italics i've ever seen.

i still have other drawing ideas for ofmd but i'm also into a lot of other things now … i'll probably get to them a few months later.

#ofmd #izzy hands #ccl c

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bbittersuite · 4 months ago

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But We Dont - Matt Rempe

For my Matt Girls!!! Never posted my writing or anything but thought WHY TF NOT. So fuck it. Here you go sexy ;)

Word Count: 3380

Y/N and Matt. Its causal between them. A situationship I guess. But Matt asks the question—Is there something between us?

Warnings: Angst. Making out. Mention of sex and hooking up. Matt being SEXY. Reader being confusing (girl get ur act together) I think thats it???

Kinda editied

“What were you up to last night,” Y/N asked as she finished placing the last of her groceries into the fridge. Matt sat on her sofa like it was his sofa. Back slouched and long legs propped on the coffee table. Finger swiping up on his phone.

“Just went out with some of the guys.”

She nodded disappointingly. He didn't want to hang out with her on Valentines afterall. She couldn't be upset though. She was the one who said she didn't want a relationship. A relationship with Matt specifically. “Oh. On Valentines?”

His eyes squint under the bright white light of his phone screen before he places it face down next to him on the sofa and looks over to the kitchen.

“Yeah?” he questions, eyes watching Y/N as she crosses her arms over her chest. Something she does when she's trying to not seem upset. Like her own shield. “I didn't think you’d want to do anything after your long shift.”

“I didn't work last night.”

“You didn't tell me.”

Y/N shrugs, feigning indifference. “Didn’t think I needed to.”

Matt watches her for a second too long, like he’s debating what to say. “You usually tell me what nights you work.”

“So?” she challenges, hating that her voice wavers. “Not like you needed to know. You had plans, right?”

Matt leans back, studying her. “Would you have wanted to do something?”

She scoffs. “Of course not”

A moment passes. “I wasn’t doing anything last night,” she admits, quieter.

His smile fades just a little. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

For a second, neither of them says anything. Then Matt picks up his phone and unlocks it. “I mean, I could take you out now. There’s gotta be some half-off Valentine’s Day chocolate left at CVS. Pick up some pizza?”

Y/N rolled her eyes. A smile formed despite the jealousy looming through her. It wasn't that he was with his friends last night or that he didn't ask her to do something on Valentines Day.

Though that did sting a little.

It was because he was out at the bars on Valentines where only singles looking to forget their lying cheating ex or to score lucky. Either way the night would end with strangers in one of their overly priced New york apartments.

Matt watched her, phone still in his hand but attention fully on her now. His gaze lingered, like he was waiting for her to say something else. Call him out. Ask him the question she was biting back.

She wouldn’t.

“I mean,” he continued, voice lighter now, like he was testing the waters, “If you wanted to go out so bad, you could’ve just said something. You know I would’ve taken you somewhere.”

“I didn't want to go anywhere,” she added, grabbing a glass from the cabinet to occupy her hands, despite the freshly poured water glass on the counter already.

Matt let out a short laugh, and she heard the creak of the couch as he leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Right.”

That one word made her freeze for half a second. It was the kind of right that meant he knew she was full of shit. The kind that sat between them like an open secret neither of them wanted to admit.

She turned, glass in hand, and shot him a look. “What?”

He smirked, slow and knowing. “Nothing.”

“Then stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

Her fingers tightened around the glass. “Like—fuck, I don’t know. Just don’t.”

Matt’s smirk widened like he’d just won something. “Touchy.” He leaned back against the couch, arms stretching over the backrest, making himself comfortable—too comfortable, like he belonged there. Like this was his place, not hers. “It’s cute, though.”

Y/N scoffed, filling the glass under the tap. “Nothing about this is cute.”

Matt hummed like he disagreed, his gaze dragging over her slowly before settling back on her face. “You sure? Because, I don’t know, you getting all worked up about where I was last night feels kinda…” He tilted his head, pretending to think. “Like a girlfriend thing.”

Y/N’s head snapped toward him. “I’m not your girlfriend.”

He grinned. “Yeah, yeah, I know.” He tapped his fingers on the couch cushion beside him. “But you sound like one.”

She wanted to move on from this conversation. Matt was already seeing her as some jealous freak when she had no reason to be jealous.

She should let it go. Change the subject. Pretend it didn’t matter.

But the image of him at some shitty bar, surrounded by girls looking for something, still clung to her like cigarette smoke.

Before she could talk herself out of it, she walked over and plopped down next to him on the couch, turning her body toward him. Her water glass was forgotten in the kitchen. “You really expect me to believe you just hung out with the guys?”

Matt raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by the sudden shift. He tilted toward her, closing the small space between them. “I don’t expect you to believe anything, sweetheart. You already made up your mind.”

God, she hated when he called her that. Hated even more that it made her stomach flip.

She rolled her eyes. “You were at a bar on Valentine’s Day, Matt.”

“So?”

“So…” she hesitated, trying to find a way to phrase it without sounding as jealous as she felt. “You weren’t exactly playing poker in someone’s basement. The only reason to be at a bar on that night is—”

“—to get laid?” Matt finished for her, lips twitching upward.

Y/N swallowed, suddenly hyper aware of how close they were sitting. On the way his arm still stretched along the back of the couch, his fingers barely brushing her shoulder.

Matt clicked his tongue, leaning in just enough that she could feel his breath against her cheek. “You really think I’d do that?”

“I don’t know.” The words came out quieter than she meant them to.

Matt exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “That’s cute,” he murmured. “If I was looking to get laid, I wouldn’t have been at some bar.”

Y/N swallowed, pulse kicking up.

He smirked, eyes dragging over her face, slow and deliberate. “I would’ve just showed up here.”

Her breath caught in her throat.

And Matt must have noticed, because his grin turned downright dangerous. “You know,” he mused, fingers brushing against her shoulder now, light and deliberate. “If you wanted me to spend the night with you, all you had to do was ask.”

Y/N clenched her jaw, ignoring the heat creeping up her neck. “That’s not what this is about.”

“No?” He tilted his head, eyes flicking down to her lips. “Then what is it about?”

Y/N stared at him, pulse drumming in her ears.

Say it. Say it, and this whole thing changes.

he pulled back first, standing abruptly. “I’m taking you up on that pizza.”

Matt let out a low chuckle, watching her. Not pushing. Not calling her out. He knew she didn't want to be with him like that. Anything more than what they were right now. At least that's what she told him and with each day he believed it a little less.

He stood up, stretching lazily before grabbing his keys. “Cool,” he said, voice light again. “But just so you know—” He leaned in one last time, voice dropping to something just above a whisper. “You are cute when you’re jealous.”

And before she could try and shove his 6’7, pure musclar body. He was already heading for the door, grinning.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

After the Rangers game and the boys taking home the win Y/n was getting into Matt’s SUV back to his apartment.

Matt threw his hockey bag in the closet as they entered his apartment and flicked on the lights as he vanished down the hall to his room to change out of his tailored suit that made Y/N mind go crazy.

Y/n sank down into the black sofa and turned on the tv, scrolling through netflix to find something for the two of them to watch.

When he returned his hair was still damp from his post game shower. His black hoodie was loose around his shoulders, and his sweats hung low on his hips. He looked comfortable—too comfortable, like he hadn’t just spent the last two hours throwing himself into other people for sport.

What are we watching?” he asked, dropping onto the couch beside her, way closer than necessary. His thigh brushed against hers, the heat from his skin seeping through her tight denim.

“Dunno,” she muttered, still flipping through options. “Nothing good.”

Matt hummed, peering over her shoulder. “I say we put on something terrible, then. More fun to make fun of.”

“Like what?”

“Some shitty rom-com where the guy messes up, but the girl takes him back anyway.” He smirked, tapping a finger against her knee. “You seem like the type to eat that shit up.”

Y/N shot him a look. “Are you saying I have bad taste?”

“I’m saying you like a good redemption arc.” His voice was teasing, but something flickered in his expression—something unreadable. “Just look at me.”

She rolled her eyes and clicked on the first movie that looked decent, ignoring the way her stomach flipped at his words. Matt shifted, draping an arm over the back of the couch behind her. His fingers barely grazed the back of her shoulder, and she could feel the warmth of his touch even through the fabric of her sweatshirt.

They settled into the movie, but Y/N could barely focus. Matt was too close, and he was making no effort to keep his hands to himself. Y/N tried to ignore it, tried to focus on the screen, but then he shifted again—this time turning his head toward her, his lips just inches from her temple. “You smell good.”

She exhaled sharply. “Matt.”

“What?” He grinned, eyes dark with amusement. “Can’t give you a compliment?”

His knuckles brushed against her thigh.

Matt grinned, tilting his head slightly. “You always get this quiet when we’re sitting this close?”

Y/N scoffed. “No.”

He hummed again, fingers lightly trailing up the back of her arm. “You sure?”

She swallowed, suddenly hyper-aware of how little space there was between them. “Positive.”

Matt leaned in, his nose barely brushing against her temple. “Then why do you look nervous?”

“I’m not—” Her breath hitched as he shifted again, his arm pressing more firmly against her back.

“Good,” he murmured. “Because we’ve done this plenty of times before.”

Y/N barely had time to process his words before his hand slid to her jaw, tilting her face toward him. His lips were on hers a second later—slow at first, testing, teasing, before he deepened the kiss.

It wasn't new but it burned through her each time like it was.

Matt’s hands found her waist, pulling her onto his lap without hesitation. Y/N let out a quiet gasp against his lips, her hands bracing against his shoulders. His fingers curled into her sweatshirt, bunching the fabric slightly as his grip tightened.

“Been waiting for you to do that all night,” Matt murmured against her lips, his voice low and rough.

Y/N let out a breathy laugh, fingers sliding into his damp hair. “You could’ve done it sooner.”

Matt smirked, his hands tracing slow, deliberate circles over her hips. “Yeah, but this is more fun.”

His lips brushed against hers again, lingering, before trailing down her jaw, then lower, grazing against the sensitive skin just beneath her ear. A slow, satisfied hum vibrated from his chest when she exhaled a little too sharply.

Y/N’s hands gripped the front of his hoodie, tugging him back up to face her. “You’re in a mood tonight,” she muttered, amusement laced in her voice.

Matt leaned back against the couch, pulling her closer, forcing her to settle against him. “Can you blame me?” he murmured. “Big win tonight. Feeling good.”

“Mm,” she mused, fingertips tracing absentmindedly along the side of his neck. “So you just want a victory hookup?”

He grinned, tilting his head slightly. “Nah, I just want you.”

Y/N felt her stomach flip—an involuntary, stupid reaction she immediately pushed down. This wasn’t anything new. This wasn’t different.

But the way Matt was looking at her…

She ignored the thought, pulling him into another kiss before she could think about it too much.

His hands roamed her back, dragging slow and deliberate, fingers teasing under the hem of her sweatshirt. The movie played on, long forgotten, the distant sound of some rom-com couple arguing barely registering as Matt kissed her deeper, pressing her against him like he wasn’t planning on letting her go anytime soon.

Her hands slid under his hoodie, palms grazing over the hard ridges of his stomach, still warm from his post-game shower. Matt let out a quiet groan against her lips, one of his hands tangling in her hair as he tilted her head to kiss her harder.

Y/N barely noticed when he shifted, pressing her back against the couch cushions, hovering over her now. Matt’s fingers traced slow patterns along her back. His other hand lifted, thumb brushing against her bottom lip, pressing down just slightly.

Y/N’s breath hitched. Her lips parted instinctively, and Matt’s gaze flickered down, eyes dark. Hungry.

“You’re staring,” she muttered, trying to sound unaffected, but the way her voice wavered completely betrayed her.

Matt smirked. “Yeah?”

With that Y/n leaded back in. The moment her lips met his again, Matt groaned softly, his grip tightening at her waist like he needed her closer. His fingers stayed under her sweatshirt, tracing over the bare skin of her lower back, slow and deliberate, like he wanted to take his time, like he was enjoying the way she melted into him.

Y/N’s hands slid into his hair, nails scratching lightly against his scalp, and Matt’s response was immediate. His body pressing into hers in a way that made it impossible to ignore just how much he wanted this.

She gasped against his lips, and Matt chuckled, low and satisfied. “You always get this needy when I touch you?”

Y/N scowled, shoving at his chest—not enough to push him off, just enough to prove a point. “You always talk this much when we’re making out?”

His lips moved to her jaw, down her neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses against her skin. She could feel him smirking against her when she tipped her head back slightly, giving him more access.

Y/N exhaled sharply, nails digging into his shoulders. The warmth of his hands, the weight of him against her—it was all too much and not enough at the same time.

“Matt.” Her voice came out breathless, almost desperate, and when she met his gaze again, the cocky glint in his eyes told her he knew exactly what he was doing to her.

He raised a brow, fingers tracing down her side, slow and teasing. “Yeah?”

“Take me to your room.”

Then, in one fluid motion, he scooped her up from the couch, making her squeal as he carried her down the hall, his lips already on hers before they even reached the door.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Come over. I’ll make dinner.

When she gets to his place, Matt’s already in the kitchen, moving around like he actually knows what he’s doing. There’s a pan sizzling on the stove, the scent of garlic and butter filling the air.

She leans against the counter, watching him. “Since when do you cook?”

He glances over his shoulder, smirking. “I can make, like, three things. You’re getting one of them.”

They eat at the small kitchen table. Like friends. It's normal. Its always been easy for Matt and Y/n.

After, They curl up on the couch, a blanket draped over them, his arm resting around her shoulders. The movie is something they’ve both seen a hundred times, but neither of them is really watching. They've never made it through a movie without getting tangled up in one another.

His fingers trace lazy circles on her shoulder, absentminded, like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it.

She does.

Her head rests against his chest, listening to his heartbeat, steady and slow. She could fall asleep like this.

“Can I ask you something?” he says breaking the sound in the room.

Y/n shifts away from his chest, sitting up to be at eye height with him.

His hand slides from her shoulder, falling to her waist, his fingers dragging against the fabric of her shirt.

The air between them stretches, thick and weighted.

Neither of them speak.

They just look at each other.

His gaze flickers between her eyes and her lips, something hesitant, something aching.

Her fingers twitch against the couch, resisting the urge to reach for him. To pull him back in. To press her mouth against his.

He doesn’t laugh. Doesn't tease. Just watches her, the weight of his hand still resting against her hip. “Is there something between us?”

Her eyes grow. “What do you mean Matt?” Asking like she didn't know what he meant. Y/N didn't need more clarification.

Matt exhales through his nose, his jaw tightening. “You know what I mean.”

His fingers press slightly into her waist, grounding himself, waiting. His eyes search hers, looking for something—anything—that tells him he’s not crazy for feeling the way he does.

She can feel her pulse in her throat, in her wrists, in every place he’s touching her.

But she doesn’t answer.

Matt’s hand twitches against her hip, his patience thinning. “Y/N/N.” His voice is softer this time, but no less certain. “Just tell me the truth.”

The truth.

She knows it. She feels it.

But the weight of admitting it—of owning it—lodges in her chest, heavy and suffocating.

So she lies.

“There’s nothing.”

His expression flickers, something breaking just beneath the surface.

His hand slips from her waist, resting on his lap as he nods slowly. Like he’s letting the words settle, like he’s accepting them.

Like he’s letting her go.

Y/N swallows against the tightness in her throat. “Matt, I—”

But he doesn’t let her finish. Instead, he leans in, capturing her mouth in his.

It’s not gentle. It’s not slow. It’s desperate, almost punishing, his hands finding her waist again, gripping harder this time.

She lets herself fall into it. Forgets the words that just left her mouth. Forgets why she said them at all. Because she didn't mean them. Not even deep down. She knew she was lying to Matt. Lying to herself.

His hands slide up her sides, his lips moving against hers with a kind of urgency she’s never felt from him before.

She should stop.

She should fix this.

But she doesn’t. Because this is easier.

It’s easier to let him kiss her like this, to let him touch her, to let him pull her back into the only version of them that’s ever made sense. It’s easier than telling the truth.

But then—Matt pulls away.

Y/N blinks, dazed, breathing uneven. “What—”

His hands drop from her waist, running through his hair. He exhales sharply, his chest rising and falling.

“I can’t do this anymore.”

Her stomach twists. “Matt—”

He shakes his head. “I mean it, Y/N/N. I can’t.”

She stares at him, waiting for him to take it back. But he doesn’t.

Instead, he stands, running a hand down his face before nodding toward the door. “You should go.”

It’s a command, but his voice is quiet. Worn.

Y/N swallows, waiting for him to stop her, to say anything that would make this feel less final. But he doesn’t.

So she grabs her bag, moving toward the door, fingers trembling as she wraps them around the handle.

She hesitates. Turning back, just once.

Matt is still sitting there, eyes drilling holes into his hands as they stay in his lap. He doesn't stop her. He doesn't take back what he said. She doesn't tell him how she really feels. That there is something between them. That she loves him. But she doesn't.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Thanks for Reading!!!!!

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gurugirl · 1 year ago

Text

Daddy's Pretty Girl | dom!daddy!h

Summary: Harry just wants to make his princess happy OR The story of you and Harry, how you met, and all the rest.

A/n: Requested! This was previously posted on Patreon!

Word Count: 4,385

Warning: Smut, cock warming, exhibition kink (public), daddy kink, DDlg (consented and role play understood), dom/sub dynamic

🌸 🌸 🌸

“Princess? What are you doing?” Harry spoke calmly as he placed his hands on your hips while you balanced yourself on the counter to reach the tallest cupboard.

“I can’t reach this high so I had to climb up here to get something.”

“And why didn’t you ask me for help? Hmm?” He gripped you in his hands and pulled you down to the floor safely.

You’d been caught red-handed. Well, sort of. You hadn’t quite found what you were looking for before Harry noticed you climbing on the counter. It was the package of butter shortbread cookies with the strawberry jam and cream in the center that you were trying to find. Harry hid them from you because every time he brought home your little treats you’d ruin your appetite for dinner and so it was just easier for him to put them somewhere you couldn’t find them.

Pouting you kicked your bare foot against your shin, “Just didn’t want to bother you.”

Harry crossed his arms over his chest and leaned his bottom into the counter as he smirked at you, “Oh is that so? And what were you looking for then?”

You shrugged and looked up at him with your sweetest softest eyes as you bit your lip. He knew what you were looking for. He didn’t even need to ask.

Harry sighed and walked past you to the pantry and reached to the tall shelf pulling down your treats. You smiled widely and clasped your hands together, waiting patiently for him to dole out a few of them to you.

“You don’t have to sneak around, Princess. If you want a little treat I’ll give you a little treat. Just ask. But tell Daddy why he hides these from you. Want to make sure you remember.”

Nodding you responded, “Cause I’ll eat the whole box. Then I won’t eat my dinner. And my tummy always hurts after.”

“That’s right. Because you’re like a little puppy with no off switch when it comes to your treats. You’d inhale the whole package if given the chance.”

“But I just wanted one this time. Promise.”

“You never just want one, Y/n,” he took your chin in his hand, “How many do you want?”

“Can I have three?”

Harry smiled and let go of your chin as he reached into the package and pulled out four of your cookies, handing them to you. He always gave you an extra.

“Thank you, Daddy!” You bit into the first one, the buttery crust of the cookie crumbling into the tart strawberry jam with the cream coating your tongue. “Mmmm…”

“You’re welcome, Princess,” he leaned down to kiss your forehead, “Don’t climb up on the counters like that anymore. Okay? Can’t have you getting hurt over a $5 box of biscuits.”

You sighed and nodded as you chewed your next bite and then followed Harry up to his office where he was finishing work. When he sat down in his chair you sat in his lap and popped the next cookie into your mouth. Harry was used to you interrupting his work and sitting in his lap. He didn’t mind it. In fact, he preferred having you in his lap as often as possible.

“Don’t forget we’re going out tonight. I want you to wear that yellow dress I laid out for you on the bed. Okay?”

You crunched your bite and nodded as you leaned back into Harry’s chest and watched his computer screen as he did whatever it was. You didn’t really even know exactly what he did for work. Something about trading money and buying and selling things or funds or… he tried explaining it to you a few times but it went over your head. All you knew was that he got to work from home and he made a lot of money.

Life was good with Harry. You never imagined you’d have it so good. You didn’t have it easy when you were growing up. When you graduated high school you worked full-time so you could pay rent and buy food. You moved away from your dad the moment you had the chance. He was abusive and mean and he scared you.

So you didn’t go to college because your priority was to get away from your dad which meant you’d need to pay rent for a place to live. But you struggled for a long time. You only made minimum wage and you had no friends or any other family to ask for help. Your dad saw to it that any friends you made didn’t stick around.

And back then, even as hard as it had been working menial jobs and living in a rundown apartment barely scraping by, you were free from your dad. Sure things were expensive and you couldn’t always buy groceries, but you could sleep at night knowing you were safe.

But everything changed for you when you got a job as a waitress at a swanky little downtown joint. High rollers wearing expensive watches and Italian shoes would come in with large wads of cash. And the best part was that the tips they left were very very generous.

In a way, it was your lucky break. You started making a living wage when tips were included in your check and you bought yourself a used car with cash. You were able to afford health insurance, a few nice outfits, and could finally have a refrigerator full of food.

It felt like you were living in the lap of luxury. You weren’t, but you’d never felt such freedom in your life. Waitressing was a good gig for you. You were bubbly and nice and often remembered the names of your usuals. They loved it when you remembered their names.

One night, it was an extra busy shift and you’d been struggling to keep up a bit since two people had called in and you were running around every which way trying to make sure all your tables were well taken care of.

A group of four men were seated in your section and you greeted them but one of them could tell you were flustered. Taking their drink orders you scribbled on your notepad what they wanted when one of the men reached out to pull at your apron, “Take a breath, Y/n.”

You squinted your eyes at him when he said your name. You had a nametag of course, so it wasn’t like some crazy thing that he’d know your name, but your guests didn’t normally say your name to you unless they were regulars. And this man was not a regular.

“I’m serious. Take a deep breath, with me,” he kept his dazzling green eyes pinned to yours as he inhaled and you followed his lead, inhaling and then he exhaled, his breath falling from his pink lips. “See? That wasn’t bad, was it? Now, remember to keep breathing. Inhale, exhale.”

You smiled at the handsome man, “Thank you.”

“My name’s Harry.”

You giggled pointed at your name tag, “Y/n. As you know.”

“Beautiful name.”

Somehow Harry had made your busy and hectic night one of the best nights you’d ever had at the restaurant. He was so thoughtful and gentle with you. And he was handsome as hell. Tall and well built, nice hair, big hands…

So when he showed up a week later you were out of your mind giddy because he was in your section. And his genuine warmth had you flushing hot and made you all exasperated and blubbering your words.

Only that second night, instead of just paying the tab and leaving with a wave goodbye he walked up to you and handed you his card as he softly dragged his fingers over your wrist, “When’s your next day off?”

“Tomorrow,” you inhaled as you looked up at him.

“Call me tomorrow.”

So you did, obviously. And really the rest is history. Harry swept you off your feet and took such good care of you that now here you were two years later and still just as smitten with him as the day you met him.

. . .

You loved getting dressed up and going out with Harry, your big strong man who treated you like a princess. You were spoiled and doted on by him and when he took you out he was always so protective of you. Keeping your hand in his or his arm over your shoulder to hold you close.

He normally helped you pick your outfits too. You usually went with whatever he chose to make him happy. He liked having access to your skin so he could squeeze you and touch you which meant he liked you in short dresses and skirts the most. And anything that kept your shoulders bare so he could kiss them.

And depending on what kind of outing it was, he’d let you know if you were allowed to wear your panties or not. That was one decision you were not allowed to make.

Harry pulled out a pair of cotton panties with little hearts all over. Something that covered your bum in case the flimsy material of your short dress rose up.

“Gotta keep your tush covered tonight, Princess,” he said as he pointed at the bed, gesturing for you to sit down so he could help you put your panties on.

“Okay, Daddy,” you bit your lip as Harry knelt down on the floor in front of you and lifted up one of your bare feet, sliding the opening upward and then repeating on your other leg.

He liked to make a show of how he did it. Slow and teasing. He brought the fabric up to just below your knees and ran his hands up your thighs as he kept his eyes on yours, “Doesn’t mean Daddy won’t want to play with you, though. Pussy’s so good for me s’hard to resist. Maybe we’ll have you in my lap again. Let you sit on my cock right in front of all your friends. And you’ll be a good girl just like last time and keep quiet and not shift all around. How’s that sound? Wanna warm Daddy’s cock tonight when the time is right?”

You nodded and grinned, “Oh my god… I loved it when we did that so much. Love that no one knew except you, Daddy.”

By the time Harry had helped you into your panties, you were already slick from the dirty things he was saying to you and the way he was running his thumbs so close to your pussylips but just missing where you wanted to be touched.

You were meeting friends out for trivia night at the little pub that served the best pizza in town. Harry had his hand wrapped around yours as you both greeted everyone and sat at the booth with them all.

You weren’t sure how it would be possible to cock warm Harry given how many people were smushed into the booth with you both but when he pulled you into his lap, grunting, “S’not enough room, get up in m’lap,” you understood he wasn’t going to let you worry about all that. Harry was in charge. He would figure out how it would work. All you had to do was sit there, perched on his lap looking pretty.

He didn’t make a move to undo his pants or adjust you at all, first just feeling everyone out as you sat with your plush bottom over his thighs and ordered your vodka lemonade.

When the cards were all passed out and the trivia questions began to pop up on the screen everyone had their teams ready. All your friends knew better than to ask which team you wanted to be on because they already knew your answer would be that you were on whatever team Harry was on.

Maybe it was a little pathetic but you honestly didn’t care. He was the love of your life and your best friend. He loved you so much and treated you like you were the best thing that’d ever happened to him and so of course you were going to choose to be with Harry. Even if it was just for a trivia game at a bar.

His big palm splayed across your bare thigh as he whispered into your ear, “I love you.” You wiggled into him and turned to whisper back, “Love you, Daddy.”

It was sickening to everyone around you but also kind of cute in a way. You two were that couple. PDA was part of the package deal if they wanted to hang out with you. The first six months everyone kind of laughed it off. They said you two would chill out once the honeymoon phase was over. But here you were nearly 2 years later and if anything you two were even more touchy-feely.

Trivia nights were once a month. Harry liked to make sure you were spending time with other people and not just him. He wanted you to have friends and get out as much as you could.

When the game started and the pizza was plated you felt Harry’s arm slide around the front of your waist as you wrote down the answer that was discussed between your team. You were always the one in charge of writing down the answers.

“Take it easy on that vodka lemonade, Princess. Need you to have your wits about you when we get home. Okay?”

You nodded and turned to whisper in his ear, cupping around the back of it so no one could read your lips, “When are you gonna stuff me with your big cock, Daddy? Want you inside of me.”

Harry grunted and pinched your thigh shushing at you before he gulped down the last of his water. Harry didn’t drink when you two went out if he was driving. He let you drink but he didn’t like to have any alcohol in his system if he was going to be behind the wheel.

When the game was nearly coming to an end and your team was winning the final round the final category was music, as usual. 30 seconds of a song you had to guess was played for 10 songs. You could double your points if you knew both the name of the artist and the name of the song.

This was the part of the night when the people were boozed up and laughing.

Mel, who was sitting to Harry’s left tapped his arm, “Gotta go take a leak, mind if I scooch out?”

You and Harry had to move to let Mel out but when you both got back into the booth you scooted further in and realized Harry’s cock was solid under your bum. You leaned forward, putting your elbows onto the table, and felt Harry spread your skirt over his lap before he lifted his hips and the next song to guess came over the speakers.

You were distracted by Harry’s movements so you weren’t taking note of the song at all until Gessie poked your wrist with her finger, “So I think that was Bruce Springsteen. But what’s the song?” She snapped her fingers and looked at the other person who was on your team. As the pair were discussing which song it could be you felt the warm, stiff flesh of Harry’s dick under your thigh and you lifted just a bit to blurt out the name of a song you thought of off the top of your head, “Glory Days?”

Your panties were pulled to the side before you felt Harry’s fingers slip through your puffy, wet folds and then he pulled at your hips to draw you back toward him, only this time instead of sitting on his lap, you slowly, slowly slid over his cock. Your skirt was covering him and everything happening underneath.

You sighed when you had him stuffed inside of you and he panted softly into your ear, “Don’t wiggle around too much. Just sit still like a good girl.”

See, wiggling too much might have Harry coming. It’d happened before. The first time you cock warmed him in public (yes, there were multiple occurrences) you were so turned on and flustered that you kept swaying back and forth and squeezing around him. And he tried holding you in place but the whole experience of doing something like that in public was new for both of you. You were both excited and it didn’t help that you were pulsing around him and softly moaning.

When he came he had to act like you’d elbowed him in the gut when someone asked if he was okay. His pained expression and groan were easily played off as something rather innocent.

But Harry preferred coming inside of you only when it was an appropriate time. Usually in private but sometimes in the sex club you both frequented. You did have an exhibitionism kink so fucking at the sex club while others watched was welcome. But not at a local bar during trivia night.

When Mel returned you and Harry didn’t need to move as he sat at the end. You struggled to write down the last few answers as you began to pant softly and felt the liquid from your pussy dribble down.

“I’m gonna get your pants all messy, Daddy. I’m sorry.”

Harry rocked his hips up and you gasped as he adjusted your seating and pulled you closer, “It’s fine baby. You’re doing so good for me.”

And as much as you loved the thrill of secretly cock warming Harry like you were, there was always the issue of parting. If anyone was sat too close they’d see Harry’s cock in all its glory once you removed yourself from him. So you had to be careful about how it was done. Normally you’d order one last drink just as everyone else was paying their bill and getting ready to leave, that way when you two were the last to leave no one really wondered why since you still had a full drink to get through.

And that’s what you did this time as well. Mel hung around for a bit and you just hoped he couldn’t tell you were practically trembling from the way Harry’s cock was splitting you in half right in front of the guy as he yammered on about his job with Harry.

Your skin was hot and you were nearly drooling into your vodka lemonade at the way it felt.

You could tell Harry was at his wits end as well. You’d feel him throb every now and then. The small grunts he’d let out were also a good signal that he was struggling just as much as you were.

The moment Mel slid out of the booth and waved goodbye Harry’s hand was up, motioning to the waiter to ask for the bill for you two. He held your hips and rocked upward a couple of times before he began to pull out of you, “Nice and easy. Oop, stop right there,” he tightened a hand on your hip to keep you steady as he slid his pants up and kept your skirt covering the action.

You were a wobbly, sighing mess of a girl as he got you into his car and took you home.

“Daddy’s gonna take care of you baby. Gonna take away that achiness inside, yeah?” He spoke to you as you were pulled into the house before he lifted you up and carried you to the bed.

You were in a hurry. You needed him right then as you whined and began to pull at your panties but Harry swatted at your thigh, “Let Daddy do it. You just lie there and look pretty for me. My little Princess doesn’t need to lift a finger.”

That was the norm. He preferred you to lay comfortably all spread out underneath him while he did all the work.

He loved the sight of you. Your skin was hot and your limbs were already shaking with need by the time he finally began to lick your pussy. Soft strokes with his tongue only got you even more worked up and had you whimpering and fussing about, “P… please! Daddy!!”

Harry grinned into your pussy, pushing his briefs down his muscled thighs, lips wrapped around your clit as you bucked up into him and pulled at his hair. You were a mess. You needed one thing and one thing only.

“Daddy I need your cock, now!! I’m gonna die if I don’t get it! Oh my god, you’re so mean!”

You felt puffs of air against your wet slit as he laughed and looked up at you, “You’re going to die are you? Wow. That sounds like it’s bad, baby. Tell Daddy what he did that was mean,” he leaned over you, his strong arm reaching over your body to knead at your tits.

You pouted and lifted your head to look at him. You hadn’t even realized he’d already removed his briefs so he was fully naked, cock thick and hard between his thighs, “You… you’re not giving me your dick. And I need it.”

Another breathy laugh fell from his lips, “But I was licking your pussy. Making sure you were ready for me, Princess. Can’t just fuck my pretty girl without her little pussy hole being ready first now can I?”

You sniffled and kept the sad pout on your face so he knew you meant business.

Harry moved his hand up to your chin and squeezed your cheeks, “Don’t pout. Daddy always gives his pretty girl exactly what she wants. Doesn’t he?”

You nodded with a whine.

“That’s right. So don’t be a dramatic bellyaching brat with me. I’m just loving on you, Princess. Trying to take care of you the best I can. You’re hard to please sometimes.”

“Am not!” You countered, your words smushed together as you said them.

Harry let go of your cheeks and you felt him knee up between your legs, his thick masculine thighs pushed against the insides of your thighs as he smoothed his thumb over your mound and down to your clit, “You are. But that’s okay. Because you’re my little princess, aren’t you? She needs her Daddy to take good care of her.”

You began to take shallow breaths into your lungs as you watched him wrap his big hand around his cock and look into your eyes as he reared back, “And Daddy always gives his pretty girl what she wants. Do you know why, baby?”

You sighed as you felt the tip of him press against your empty hole. You wanted it so bad you could taste it, “Because I’m a good girl. Cause you love me, Daddy.”

“Fucking right, Princess. Daddy loves you,” he pressed into you, the girth of him opening your channel in one satisfyingly agonizing plunge. He didn’t snap his hips, but he drove into you until he was finally surrounded, encased fully in your pussy. And as he pulled you close to his chest he continued rocking into you with slow, languid strokes. Full length. He’d pull out to his tip and fuck back into you without pause until he met your cervix and he’d do it again. Nothing hard or fast. Just strong, deep, and teasingly slow.

His breath was on your face as he looked down into your eyes, “God… how’d I get so lucky, huh? Someone who needs me just as much as I need her.” He rolled into you slowly, the sopping mess between your legs just proving his point.

He fucked you dumb most nights. But some nights he was tender and warm. Sometimes he liked to take it slow and gaze into your eyes as he slid himself in and out of you, calling you his princess, his pretty girl, baby…

“Mm… me too!” You breathed out, “So lucky, Daddy. I love you…”

He dropped his lips to your neck as he continued fucking into you at the same pace he had been. Dripping wet, sticky, deep thrusts as you both panted.

You began to buck your hips upward to meet each of his thrusts. You couldn’t help the motion your hips were making as you moaned when Harry took your breast into his mouth.

He sucked on your nipple and felt your cunt squeezing him tight. You were so close already, like he knew you would be. You’d gotten all worked up cock warming him earlier and now you were gagging for it.

“You’re like a little slip-and-slide, pretty girl. Pussy all slippery and soaking wet just for my cock.”

“Uhnnnghh…” you groaned as you felt your insides begin to tingle and sparkle.

“You can come, Princess. Come on Daddy’s cock. I know you want to,” he panted, his own orgasm about to burst, “Easy there…”

You began to shake, your tummy tensed and your pussy clamped down as you sputtered out your words, “Coming! C… ffffuuu… Daaaaady!”

The beautiful spiral of your orgasm wiped you out as Harry continued fucking into you, his cock spreading your walls apart as you spasmed over him, “Pretty girl… so fucking good for Daddy…”

But he could only last so long himself until he was pinning you to the bed with his hips, cock buried deep as he dumped his fertile come into your pulsing hole, “Fuck! Fuck… oh shit…” his face twisted up in bliss.

It had been a bit of a quickie. But who could blame you? After suffering through what you had to during trivia, you both needed relief.

You ran your fingers into his hair and he nuzzled into your neck with a sigh. You both needed a minute to gather your bearings.

When you felt Harry shifting and pulling back so he could look down at you he slid a hand around to your bottom, “Let’s go get your cookies, baby,” he squeezed at your bum as you sat up.

“How many can I have?” You bounced on your bottom before you began to scoot to the end of the bed to hop off.

“As many you want, Princess.”

A/N: Hope you enjoyed this! 2nd part is a Patreon exclusive and is already on Patreon now! Consider joining if you'd like to see more!

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yokumirumerafan · 4 months ago

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MHA x reader

Hey, I wanna try to make up for the days I didn't post so today expect a lot from me :>

Random MHA x reader hcs :))

𝘾𝙡𝙖𝙨𝙨 1-𝘼 𝙂𝙪𝙮𝙨 𝙭 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

Midoriya Izuku

He’s the type to remember every little thing about you. Favorite color? Favorite snack? The way you like your tea? He’s taking mental notes.

If you ever doubt yourself, he’ll hype you up with facts. “You’ve improved by 23% since last month! You’re amazing!!”

Sometimes he zones out while looking at you and then panics when you catch him.

Bakugo Katsuki

He’s the “tough love” type. He’ll yell at you to take care of yourself while shoving water and food in your hands.

If you’re cold, he just grabs your hands without saying anything and warms them up with his quirk.

Once, Kaminari teased him about being whipped and Bakugo chased him around U.A. for 15 minutes.

Todoroki Shoto

The type to share his food with you without thinking twice. Half a soba noodle hanging from his mouth? He’ll just let you bite the other end.

His texts are either super dry (“ok.”) or randomly poetic (“The moon reminds me of your eyes.”)

He loves when you run your hands through his hair. He just melts.

Kirishima Eijiro

Absolutely carries you when you’re tired. No arguments. He just throws you over his shoulder.

Gets so excited when you compliment his strength. “You think I’m strong?! Ah, babe, you’re making me blush!”

If he sees you upset, expect bear hugs that last way too long.

Kaminari Denki

Will flirt with you like you’re strangers. “Hey, cutie, got a number?” (It’s his 100th time doing it. You still laugh.)

Always steals your phone to take the most ridiculous selfies.

He melts when you scratch his head. He’ll literally nuzzle into your hand like a cat.

Sero Hanta

The best at planning dates. He’ll take you to underrated cafes or secret rooftop spots with great views.

If you ask for a piece of his gum, he’ll just hand-feed you without thinking.

Loves to wrap his tape around your wrists and pull you close just to fluster you.

Tokoyami Fumikage

Writes poetry about you but never shows you. Dark Shadow threatens to expose it.

He acts calm and cool, but if you grab his hand? He short-circuits.

Loves sitting in quiet places with you, reading or just existing together.

Shoji Mezo

Super gentle with you despite his size. If you ever fall asleep near him, he’ll carry you somewhere comfy without waking you.

Loves forehead kisses but gets flustered when you do it in public.

If you’re ever nervous, he’ll just wrap you in his extra arms for comfort.

Ojiro Mashirao

Will instinctively wrap his tail around your waist to pull you closer.

Blushes so easily. Compliment his muscles? He turns pink and stutters.

If he catches you staring at his tail, he’ll wag it at you teasingly.

Iida Tenya

Wakes up before you just so he can prepare a full breakfast (with a detailed nutritional breakdown).

Loves holding your hand but always insists on proper posture while walking together.

If you’re ever running late, he’ll literally carry you bridal style to get there on time.

Aoyama Yuga

Over-the-top romantic. He writes love notes, leaves gifts, and winks dramatically.

If you ever feel down, he strikes a dramatic pose and says, “Mon amour, your beauty could end wars!”

Surprisingly gives the best fashion advice.

𝙋𝙧𝙤 𝙃𝙚𝙧𝙤𝙚𝙨 𝙭 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

Hawks

Calls you nicknames like “Doll” and “Baby Bird.”

Steals your food all the time. “You weren’t gonna finish that, right?” (You were.)

Loves to wrap his wings around you like a blanket.

Endeavor

Awkward at emotions but very protective. Will glare at anyone who looks at you wrong.

He secretly enjoys it when you fix his tie for him.

Has zero clue how to flirt. Just nods when you compliment him.

Aizawa

If you fall asleep on his couch, he’ll throw a blanket over you and act like it never happened.

Pretends to be emotionless, but you caught him smiling once and he denied it.

Loves lazy mornings where you both just lay in bed.

Fat Gum

The best cuddle partner. It’s like hugging a human pillow.

Always buys you food and shares it.

If you’re sad, he’ll tell you jokes until you smile.

Mirko

Loves roughhousing with you. Playfights turn into wrestling matches.

If someone flirts with you, she throws her arm around your shoulders and glares.

Calls you “babe” in the most casual way.

𝙑𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙖𝙞𝙣𝙨 𝙭 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

Shigaraki Tomura

Obsessive. He hates when you leave for too long.

If you sit in his lap while he plays games, he literally can’t focus.

He low-key loves cuddles but will never admit it.

Dabi

Over-the-top flirt. “If you’re looking for trouble, babe, I’m right here.”

If you steal his jacket, he just smirks and lets you keep it.

He teases you constantly but gets jealous so easily.

Twice

Clingy as hell. Will literally hold your hand even while sleeping.

He’ll talk to himself about you like: “I LOVE THEM—NO, THAT’S TOO FORWARD—SHUT UP, JUST SAY IT.”

Big on forehead kisses.

Toga

Always tells you how cute you are. Constant compliments.

“Can I have some of your blood?” (She’s joking. Maybe.)

Loves nuzzling into your neck.

Spinner

Blushes so much when you kiss him.

Will happily carry you if you ever get tired.

If you call him cool, he gets flustered for days.

Mr. Compress

Will do magic tricks just to impress you.

Super smooth flirt, but melts when you flirt back.

“For my next trick, I’ll make your worries disappear.”

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nope-asdf · 2 months ago

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Ramble of thoughts and a small sketch dump under the cut.

Y'all can't convince me that my boy looks absolutely NO different than he did before that portal accident. Whether his "molecules got rearranged", or is walking around both alive and dead at the same time like Schrodinger's cat, or any of all the different headcanons that exist out there, surely there has to be SOMETHING that's not quite right, right?

That's why I really like to draw Danny's human form's eyes like the above concept art. I like the idea of his eyes passively being the only visual hint that not everything is as it seems. The eyes are the window to the soul, after all. Maybe it's too obvious, idk, I might scrap the concept at some point. But no one on the show has ever noticed the consistently blatant use of his powers in plain sight either, so I guess it wouldn't be too much of a stretch.

Likewise, just like how Danny's human eyes will glow green when he's angry, I think it would be cool for his ghost form to also have a version of his "scary eyes" that's more dynamic than a simple brighter glow than normal. I feel like the idea of his pupils changing color to a bright yellow makes it much more intimidating than normal (I mainly took inspiration from the old Pet Sematary movie when I first thought of this, which freaked me out as a kid, so maybe it seems more eerie to me than it actually is, idk, I just thought it was a cool concept).

From a quick glance around the tumblr I didn't see anyone else have this sort of headcanon. Of course I didn't look very hard either so I'm sure there's something similar somewhere probably that I missed, but I wanted to throw it out there anyway.

(Also, I've been working on a couple of projects that I hope to be finished with soon, hopefully I'll be able to get done with those and post them within the next week or two. Or three. Or so. Idk, I have a full time job and part time job so it's hard for me to balance things.)

#danny phantom #fanart #sketch dump #rambles #danny fenton #sam manson #little baby man #artists on tumblr

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vivalas-vega · 1 month ago

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like real people do / bucky barnes x reader

yay first bucky one shot !! this literally started as me wanting to write some quick and dirty one-bed trope nonsense... and then it got real lol. i just love him your honor, i got angsty and fluffy real fast. as always, please let me know what you think!!

like real people do / bucky barnes x reader

I do not have a taglist--if you'd like to be notified, please follow @vegaslibrary and turn on post notifications!

summary: a brush with death on a mission leads to you and bucky confronting your feelings.

word count: 5.6k

warnings: canon level violence/scary situations, language, angst, minor suggestiveness (this takes place in some reality where bucky & reader work for fury lmao & a very minor reference to this happening after endgame but none of that really matters it was just the vibe that ended up happening)

The air felt hot and sticky around you, laced with danger and the edge of fear you were keeping at arm's length… but it was harder to do so as you went crashing down a full flight of stairs… assailant in tow and doing nothing to break your fall.

“Princess? Could use a little help out here,” you heard Bucky grunt in your ear and the familiar surge of worry filled your chest as you rolled to your feet, not wasting a second in launching an attack on the man in front of you.

“Little busy, Buck,” you managed to get out, dodging a hit before landing one of your own, but your thoughts weren’t here. Each step you took backwards was goading your attacker, but it was also leading you closer to Bucky. “How bad?” you followed up, a kick sharp to your ribs knocking the breath out of you but the feeling was secondary to everything else going on in your mind.

“Don’t worry about me,” he replied. The words eased your anxiety–marginally–and let you be more present in the fight at your feet, not the one down the hall.

Everything in your body ached, and you didn’t know if the blood sliding down your temple was from where you’d collided with every sharp edge of the staircase, or from one of the hits your opponent had managed to land.

If you had to wager, you’d probably say it was from both.

You tasted blood against your teeth, and you finally landed a combo that brought the man to his knees… but before you could finish the job he was back on his feet, grabbing you by the throat and pinning you to the wall. Your legs kicked several feet off the ground as he lifted you, the force cutting off your airflow.

He knocked your head against the concrete hard enough to make your ears ring, and you brought your fists down with everything you had against his elbows–trying to break them down, give you some kind of opening, but they were locked and rigid.

“Bucky!” you choked out, praying to a god you didn’t really believe in that he heard you. When the gloved hand tightened around the column of your throat you felt the lack of oxygen clouding your brain, vision darkening around the edges.

You fell to the floor suddenly, knees colliding painfully with the concrete as you sucked in a desperate breath. Your lungs burned as you coughed, trying to force the air down around the panic that had begun to settle deep in your bones.

A gunshot fell on your muffled ears, but you didn’t flinch. Somewhere in the back of your mind you instinctively knew it was Bucky, and you pressed your palms flat against the cool floor to try and ground yourself… but Bucky’s slid over them, gripping and trying to get you to focus on him.

“Hey,” he said softly, reaching out and tilting your chin up. As soon as you looked into those stormy blue eyes you felt some of the anxiety ease, and he made quick work looking you over. “Talk to me, are you okay?” His gaze was holding yours with a little too much weight and you swore he might have flinched when he saw the outline of the man’s hands already appearing around your neck… but maybe you’d been deprived of air for too long.

You nodded, trying to hide your wince as he helped you to your feet. “Never better,” you replied, taking a step back and trying to put some distance between you. “Did you get it?”

He gave you a slightly deadpan look, holding a flash drive between his thumb and index finger that you quickly snatched to zip safely into a pocket inside your suit.

“Then let’s get the hell out of here,” you sighed.

You slid Bucky’s spare helmet on your head with practiced ease and took your spot behind him on the bike… a routine done so many times neither of you even thought as your limbs moved.

He reached back and tapped twice against your calf, you tapped twice against his chest, and his bike roared into action.

You let yourself relax, just slightly, as you held onto Bucky and weaved through the busy streets of the foreign city. The cool night air felt like pure relief as it kissed your skin, and if you knew he wouldn’t yell at you, you’d have taken the helmet off to let it wash over you fully.

Your chin rested lightly on his shoulder, watching the way the streetlights blurred around you, as the weight of the night crashed heavy over your frame. His arm moved down to your leg, metal stretching down the length of it and gripping your calf, holding you firm as he took a tight turn, bike tilting closer to the pavement. He let it linger for a moment as it straightened out, knowing you were momentarily rattled by the mission even if you wouldn’t say it, and he gave you a soft squeeze that said more than he could in that moment.

You shifted, cheek pressing against his back, eyes fluttering closed and arms still tight around his torso. You thought to yourself that you loved these moments with Bucky maybe more than anything. Just you and him, the stretch of road, and the air whipping around you. You both were always outrunning danger, outrunning death, but on this bike it felt like it couldn’t catch you. Like nothing could… and Bucky was thinking the same thing.

He didn’t need to look back at you to know you’d shut your eyes, and his grip on the handlebars tightened. The feeling of you wrapped around him, placing your trust right in the palm of his hands did something to him that he didn’t want to think about too much. You shot through the night, barely a blur to stationary eyes, and you had relaxed into him and closed your eyes. The weight of that had clawed its way into Bucky’s chest, made a home somewhere under his ribs, and he hated how much he liked it.

You hopped off the bike with ease, looking up at the motel that would have been unappealing on its best day like it was a beacon of comfort and sanctuary, and he couldn’t help but chuckle softly at the way your heavy footsteps trudged all the way to the door.

You stood there for a moment, staring at it like it might open itself… and so did he.

“Aren’t you gonna open it?” you asked, brow furrowing.

“Was gonna ask you the same thing, princess.”

You just looked at each other for a moment, trying to process.

“I don’t have the key,” you said and his eyes widened.

“Well, I don’t have it either,” he replied and you pinched the bridge of your nose.

“I saw Fury give you the key.”

“Then you took it after we dropped our shit off.”

“Unbelievable,” you muttered. “World’s best assassin.” You patted along your suit, trying to feel for a key you knew you didn’t have. “Can’t keep track of a fucking motel key.”

“You talking about me or you?” He wasn’t able to keep the smirk off his face, despite his exhaustion.

“You know what?” you asked and he raised his eyebrows expectantly, but his expression dropped almost as fast as you did to your knees right in front of him.

“What the hell are you-” he stopped short, watching you pull a bobby pin from your hair to stick into the door handle.

“Oh,” he murmured, a sheepish hand landing on the back of his neck, and you huffed a soft laugh, turning back to give him an amused glance as you jimmied the door open. He was grateful you couldn’t see the heat in his cheeks under the cover of night, or the way he locked his gaze on the door rather than you beneath him.

You took his hand when he offered it, and pushed into the sparse room with a sigh. You were ready to sink into your post-mission routine when you caught a glimpse of the key resting on the dresser, just beside his things, and you turned to look at him triumphantly.

“Aha!” you said, pointing. “I knew I didn’t take it.”

“You can be so petulant sometimes,” he muttered. “At least you’re consistent. Like a common criminal.”

You scoffed. “And thank god for it.”

“You want first shower?” He was already pulling a change of clothes out and you shook your head, busying yourself with propping your tablet up beside him.

“Go ahead, gonna get this to Fury.”

His gaze on you lingered for a moment, but you didn’t notice, and he disappeared into the bathroom like it hadn’t happened.

Your fingers traced the spot where your opponent had grabbed you, wincing at how tender it felt. You waited for the intel to load, mind drifting to what could have happened if Bucky hadn’t made it in time.

You shook off the thought.

Bucky always got to you.

It wasn’t just your easy dynamic, or deep-seated feelings you refused to acknowledge that kept you from asking Fury to reassign you… it was that he never left you behind.

There were moments where he could have, where you nor anyone else would have blamed him. When it was too dangerous to go back for you, when it would have compromised him as much as you were… he always showed up.

And you did the same for him.

Countless missions, countless brushes with death. You’d both die before leaving the other behind.

You walked out together, or you didn’t walk out at all.

The tablet dinged and you pulled out the flash drive, tucking into your bag and pulling out your pajamas just as Bucky opened the bathroom door.

He was towel drying his hair, white tee and low-slung grey sweats hugging him in a way you tried really hard not to focus on.

“Don’t get mad that there’s no hot water,” he said, almost sheepishly. “There wasn’t any when I got in.”

You huffed an unamused laugh, meeting his eye for just a moment. “Only the best for Fury’s top agents,” you joked before shutting the door behind you.

You didn’t linger under the icy stream, not wanting to spend any more time than you had to. Each movement tugged and pulled at your muscles in a way that made you fight a groan–you didn’t want to make a peep. Not with Bucky and his super soldier hearing on the other side of the door. It’d only make him worry, and all you wanted was sleep.

When you re-emerged he was already laying on his side of the bed, closest to the door like always, and you finally noticed the fact that there was in fact only one–and you breathed a light sigh of relief. You should have been annoyed, you had a suspicion Fury actually kept doing this to you both for his own amusement, but you didn’t care. Even with the firm boundary of six inches between you, you always slept better beside Bucky. You felt safe, and you were more rested after a long mission than you were on a normal night in the compound.

He watched you carefully as you tucked your suit into your bag and went through your usual routine of getting ready for bed. Each new bruise he spotted made him shift upright, concern darkening his expression, and he was quickly in motion when he saw the cut above your eyebrow he’d missed before.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered and your eyebrow pinched at his sudden movement.

“What are you doing?” you asked, hovering in the center of the room, and you almost thought he looked mad for a second.

“Would you sit down?” he huffed, grabbing the med kit from his bag and you followed his orders despite your resigned sigh.

“It’s fine, Bucky.”

“No,” he said, voice firm as he moved in between your legs. “It’s really not.” He tilted your chin up to get a better look at it, disapproval settling deep in his features.

“It’s just a scratch.”

He gave you a deadpan look, running an alcohol swab across it. You hissed, hand shooting out to grab the hem of his shirt. You bunched it in your fist, fingers grazing the skin just above the waistband of his sweats and you felt him tense under your touch. You dropped your hand like he’d burned you, keeping your eyes on your own lap to avoid his gaze.

“Should have called for me sooner,” he muttered, carefully applying butterfly bandages like he was scared you’d shatter if he pressed too hard.

“Was a little preoccupied,” you replied and you could see just how unamused he was with you. “I had him,” you added. “Until he decided choking me out was a good plan.”

He was quiet as his hand settled on the side of your neck, thumb lightly tracing along the bruise that was growing angrier as it settled deep in your skin. You hated the warmth that flooded through you at the small contact, and the way his concerned eyes seemed to be burning right into your soul.

“You could have died.”

“But I didn’t,” you whispered, voice barely audible through the silence. “You always show up.”

“Almost didn’t,” he muttered. “I was pinned. Thought I wouldn’t make it in time…” he trailed off, giving you another once over to make sure he didn’t miss anything.

“He had you-” he hesitated, jaw tight. “By the throat, doll.” His voice was tight, stretching like it was about to break and your expression softened.

“I know.” You gave him your best reassuring look. “But I’m alright. Always am.”

He nodded once, unconvinced, and you sank back into the mattress as he put the kit away.

Something tense had settled over the room as you pulled the covers higher, but you didn’t know how to address it. Bucky always worried, you joked it was his inner old man coming out, but something in the way he’d held your gaze felt different. Something churned beneath the surface of his gaze, something you couldn’t name. You didn’t want to read into it–to let your mind wander into forbidden territory but the more the silence lingered the harder it was.

This wasn’t the first time you’d nearly died, wasn’t even the worst brush with it. You wanted to ask why this time had seemingly lodged itself under his skin but you couldn’t force the words past your lips.

The bed dipped under his weight as he slid in beside you, leaving a few inches of space like he always did but it didn’t matter. You could feel the warmth of him immediately, the pull to sink into it was almost gravitational but you resisted and leaned over to turn off the lamp.

You both laid silently, staring up at the shadows on the ceiling, waiting to see if the other would say something but neither of you seemed willing to break.

His vibranium hand twitched on his chest and he exhaled softly, the weight finally pressing down hard enough.

“I’m going to say something.”

Your head tilted slightly towards him, but you didn’t move your eyes from the ceiling.

“Okay.”

“I didn’t have to kill that guy.” He paused, considering his next words. “I wanted to, because he was trying to kill you.”

Your breath caught somewhere in your throat. You knew the relationship he had with taking a life. No matter how justified, it always stirred old feelings and you never wanted him to do that for you unless he had to. “Bucky-”

“That doesn’t bother me,” he cut you off. “Maybe it should, but it doesn’t. What bothers me is how indifferent you are to dying.”

You sighed softly. “I’m not indifferent to dying.”

“Could have fooled me.” The words were sharp, but there was no edge to them.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” you said, voice quiet.

“You always scare me,” he exhaled. “Everything you do scares the hell out of me.”

You didn’t respond, couldn’t find any words to say as your heart started to thump unevenly in your chest.

“I try not to worry because I know you can handle yourself,” he continued. “But in those moments when you can’t…” he trailed off, not wanting to finish his sentence.

You finally turned to look at him, eyes settling on his profile and you felt something clench deep behind your ribs at the emotion he was trying to keep off his face.

“You’re important to me,” he said after a few moments, and this caught you off guard. You knew that… at least in theory. He’d never said it so explicitly, but he never had to. He said it through actions, in his own way.

“I know,” you whispered.

“No, I don’t think you do, doll.” he replied, erring on a sigh. You rolled over onto your side to face him fully, delicately, like if you moved too fast you’d break the moment. “I tried not to care about you, thought it would be too hard. You almost remind me of Steve, if he had a mouth like yours and a habit of driving me crazy.”

You breathed a short laugh.

“I didn’t want to care because I knew if I did, it’d be too much when you left.”

“I haven’t gone anywhere, have I?” You hadn’t been able to find any words until now, but those ones flowed out easily.

“Not yet,” he said, turning his head towards you and you felt your breath catch when he finally met your eyes.

You hesitated, just long enough for the silence to stretch. “Not ever.”

“You can’t say things like that,” he muttered and your brows pinched together.

“Why not?”

“Because you can’t mean it.”

You fixed him with a firm look, something close to irritation tugging in your chest. “I do mean it.”

He looked back at the ceiling. “Maybe I don’t want you to.”

“What does that mean?”

“You’ve… changed since we started working together. You’re harsher, quicker to the trigger. I don’t want to rub off on you more than I already have.” You could see it clearly even if he was fighting to hide it–guilt. “You’re too good for me to be dragging you down, doll.”

You let out a sigh, not annoyed, just hurt. “You think you’re the big bad wolf corrupting little red riding hood?”

“Well-”

“Fury paired you with me because my heart got in the way too much. I gave second chances to people that used them to try and kill me, and I almost fucked up missions looking for good in people that wasn’t there.”

He didn’t respond.

“I was a great agent before I met you, but I made bad calls because I thought I could give people the same second chance that was given to me. I found a balance… because of you. I’m alive because of you, Bucky.”

You could see the confusion flicker behind his eyes, like he knew he’d said something wrong but wasn’t sure what. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Of course you didn’t.” You rolled back over and stared at the ceiling, feeling the crack of your heart as you did. “You just said you’re not good enough to be around. How is that not upsetting?”

“I’m not. And I don’t care if you think being my partner has helped you–all I can see is you becoming more like me and I can’t stand it.”

“Because being like you is such a bad thing?” Your eyes darted back to him again, but he wasn’t looking at you anymore. He was worrying his cheek between his teeth, gaze hard as he stared above him.

“Yes.”

That hit low and stayed there, stubborn and sore. You could feel something dancing on your tongue that you wanted to bury… so you did.

“You’re a fucking idiot,” you huffed, shuffling out from under the covers and standing.

He propped himself up on his elbows, shocked by your sudden movement, and watched as you grabbed a pair of pants from your bag.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“I don’t–” you stopped, searching for the answer yourself. “I don’t know.” He sighed when your shorts hit the floor, then quickly crossed the room, catching your wrist. Not rough, but firm–enough to make you pause.

“You’re not going anywhere.”

“What happened to knowing I could handle myself?” Your hands were shaking and Bucky was having a hard time figuring out what had made you snap like this, why you were refusing to look him in the eye.

“That’s not–fuck,” he muttered. “You’re not going anywhere because you’re angry and I can’t let you walk away like this. Can we just-” he stopped himself and ran a hand through his hair. “Can we just rewind? Go back and start this conversation over?”

“I don’t know how to pretend this conversation never happened.”

He looked lost, like he was searching for what he’d said wrong… and you weren’t stopping, so he grabbed the pants you were trying to step into and threw them somewhere behind you.

You stared at him, exasperation evident, the heat rising in your chest.

“Are you serious?”

“What the hell just happened?” He stared down at you but you wouldn’t look up. “One minute we’re having a conversation and the next you’re trying to storm out into a bad part of town in the middle of the night.”

You finally tilted your head up, and his face softened. Your eyes burned, throat tightening as you fought to keep your face blank, but he noticed… he always did.

“Talk to me,” he pleaded, voice gentler than it had just been. “Please just tell me what I said wrong.”

“You know, I was actually proud of myself for the way I’ve learned from you?” you asked, not really expecting an answer. You turned around and bent over to pick up your pants, and Bucky’s eyes darted away, jaw tight.

“Then I find out you actually think less of me for-”

“I do not think less of you-”

“That’s not even why I’m mad!” you yelled, throwing your jeans back onto the floor with a frustrated huff after stumbling trying to pull them on.

“Why are you mad? Make me understand here, sweetheart, because I’m having a real hard time figuring out how to fix this.”

Hearing him say sweetheart in that low tone made you falter, and he caught it.

He took a step closer and hooked your chin to keep your eyes on him when you tried to look away.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he said, voice dropping to nearly a whisper, trying to coax it out of you. “Please just talk to me.”

“Don’t,” you warned, pushing his arm away and taking a step back. “You don’t get to say you’re not good enough and then use the fact that I care to make me talk.”

“Is that really what this is about?”

“Of course it is!” you snapped. “I fucking love you, Bucky. And I am so tired of you acting like you’re unlovable. Like you don’t deserve something good.”

“I’m not,” he shot back, not even registering what you’d just said. “Not from you. Do you really think I could let myself–let you–get closer to me than you already are?”

“You don’t get to decide how I feel!” You were at the end of your rope, hands still shaking. “I love you, and you’re just going to have to figure out how to deal with that.”

The first time hadn’t sunk in, but the second made Bucky’s heart stop in his chest with a painful clench that nearly winded him. You loved him… but you weren’t done.

“I thought- fuck,” you shook your head, trying to organize your thoughts. “I have never expected you to feel the same way about me, but I can’t take you acting like I’m some delicate flower you’re bound to poison. I can’t listen to it and not tell you that I’m unbearably fucking in love with you.”

He didn’t say anything. He just stared at you with a look that you couldn’t read and you felt like you’d ripped your heart out and handed it to him just to watch him step on it.

The more the silence dragged, the more you itched to run… so you did.

You managed to tug your jeans up your legs as you said, “so to answer your question, yeah. I’m trying to storm out in the middle of the night because I can’t do whatever this is anymore. I’ll ask Fury to reassign me.”

You walked past him, each step laced with uncertainty and heartbreak, but you never made it to the door.

He caught your wrist and spun you around. You stumbled, colliding with his chest, hands braced on the firm muscle. You lifted your head to look up at him, eyes wide and scared of what he might say, but his mouth was on yours before you could even get a word out.

His lips were hungry, demanding and possessive as if he could etch his response into your skin… and then they were gone as soon as they’d appeared, leaving you reeling and breathless as he stepped back with a huff.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he said, voice rough with conflict. “I can’t–I’m only going to hurt you. You deserve better. Better than me.”

You just blinked for a moment, one hand coming up to touch your lips like you were trying to convince yourself it was real.

“Are you being serious right now?” you asked, and his head snapped up.

“What?”

“Do you need me to lay it all out? Is that it?”

“I don’t-”

“You never let me walk on the outside of the sidewalk. You’ve seen me kill people with my bare hands, but god forbid I walk too close to the street,” you started, letting out an unamused chuckle. “You keep an extra knife in your boot just for me, because you know I like to throw mine and then get mad when I don’t have it. Sometimes in the middle of the night you jolt awake, just to look at me. To make sure I’m still there. You think I don’t notice, but I do… it’s the only way I can sleep, and I sleep like shit at the compound because I don’t feel safe unless you’re near me.”

“Sweetheart-” he tried, but you just cut him off again, unable to stop now that you’d started.

“When I manage to make you laugh in the middle of a mission it actually feels like my heart is glowing and it’s disgusting,” you huffed, laughing despite yourself. You weren’t even making an effort to hide the tears that managed to slip down your cheeks. “I could listen to you laugh for the rest of my life and it still probably wouldn’t be enough. I’ve never cared about impressing anyone in the gym, but god–when you give me that infuriating little smirk of yours when I manage to catch you off guard, it makes me feel like I can do anything. You make me feel like I can do anything.”

You took a step forward and closed the distance. “You’re scared of hurting me. But I don’t think you realize–this, right now, is hurting me. You thinking you’re not good enough. That you’re not deserving of something good.”

His hands twitched at his sides, desperately wanting to reach out and grab you, but he held himself back.

“You deserve it more than anyone. And I’m not scared of you, Bucky. You’re not broken, not some ruined thing that needs fixed. I don’t even care if it’s not me, if you don’t want this or if you don’t feel the same, I just need you to stop acting like you don’t deserve it.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he sighed, small and broken, finally reaching out to grab your waist and pull you closer.

He brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, thumb brushing along your cheek as he looked down at you like you were something holy–sent to save and curse him all at once.

“I take the outside of the sidewalk, and bring an extra knife, and wake up just to check up on you because I love you.” he said, letting it hang for a moment as his hand on your waist tightened. “I love you so much, it scares the hell out of me… and I didn’t know how else to show you that. It didn’t feel fair to give it to you straight because this isn’t normal or easy, and I didn’t want to drag you into it.”

He took a deep breath. “You think I’m not damaged, but I am. I’ve got some serious shit I’m still working through, and I didn’t want to put you through that.”

“You’re putting me through it anyway,” you said. “Might as well let me hold your hand because I hate watching you do it alone.”

He just looked you over for a moment, searching for any trace of uncertainty in your eyes but all he found was an unwavering love that rattled him to his core.

He leaned down and kissed you–not fiery and desperate like the first time. Properly, slowly, like it should have been.

“Our lives were never meant to be normal and easy, Bucky,” you said when he pulled back, a hint of your usual mischief in your eyes that he loved so much. “I met you fighting weird alien robots that looked like bugs.”

He laughed, handing you that favorite sound of yours that made you flush, before giving you another slow, deep kiss.

“I wanna take you out,” he mumbled against your lips. “Something normal, like real people do.”

The ghost of a smirk tugged at your features. “You gonna ask me to go steady at the end of it, Sergeant Barnes?”

He fought a groan at hearing you pull out his long-forgotten rank. “Don’t call me that before date three–and I might.”

You laughed and wrapped your arms around his shoulders, nose brushing his.

“You think you’re making it to date three?” you teased and a slow, satisfied grin tugged at his lips.

“You did just scream at me over the fact that you’re in love with me,” he said, bringing his hands down to the top button of your jeans, slowly undoing it without breaking eye contact. “I think I can get a lot more out of you than three dates.”

Your breath hitched, but you didn’t deny it.

He caught the way your eyes tracked him as he sank onto the floor, tugging your jeans down your legs and holding your calves to help you step out of them. “Don’t look at me like that,” he said, mildly scolding.

His hands slid up to the backs of your thighs and you couldn’t help but thread your fingers through his hair when he gently kissed below the hem of your shirt, a soft breath escaping… but he was back at your lips before you could even blink.

“Come on, off to bed,” he ordered, and you huffed a small laugh of disbelief.

“You’re a tease, Sergeant.”

“Shouldn’t have told you I liked that,” he muttered, sliding in beside you. “Call me old-fashioned, but I want to do this right–earn the privilege to have you like that.”

Your cheeks flushed and you bit back a smile as you settled beneath the covers.

“You’re very old fashioned,” you teased and he gave you a deadpan look. “But I think it’s perfect.” You leaned over to press a kiss to his cheek, lingering for just a moment. “I’d wait as long as you wanted.”

You eyed the space between you. “Is the invisible boundary still in effect until date three?”

He chuckled and reached out, pulling you flush against him and you laid your head against his chest, listening to the steady thud of his heart as you wrapped an arm around his torso.

You lay like that for a few minutes, letting what had just happened wash over you as your eyes fluttered shut at the feeling of his arms holding you so securely, and the way he kept pressing kisses to the top of your head.

He reached down, gently tilting your chin towards him and your breath stalled when you caught those blue eyes you loved so much, holding yours just as intensely as they always did, but with something else in them now–completely unguarded.

“I need you to know I’ll never do anything to intentionally hurt you.”

You nodded, “I already knew that, Bucky.”

He leaned down to press his lips to yours, short and sweet before either of you let it turn into something heated.

“And I sleep better next to you, too,” he said, letting his thumb trail along your bottom lip. “Never have nightmares when you’re next to me.”

You smiled softly, cupping his cheek and tracing your thumb across his cheekbone. “I’ll be here if you ever do.”

He kissed you again, like he was trying to tell you something he didn’t have the words for, and you felt every one deep in your chest.

You chased his lips when he pulled away and he smirked against you, giving you one, then two, then three more quick kisses that made you giggle.

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

“Goodnight, Sergeant.”

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