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marvelwitchergilmore · 23 days ago

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A Kiss To Change Everything

Summary: Bucky Barnes x fe!Reader -> When Bucky becomes the Winter Soldier again, he follows you around. Only you. Funny thing is, you and Bucky aren't exactly friends. So why is the Winter Soldier protecting you?

Disclaimer: Fluff, angst, a hint of smut towards the end, a brief mention of a sex dream, flirting whilst sparring, multiple kisses, love bites, swearing, the Winter Soldier protects the reader, reader watches over Bucky, one bed trope (kinda). Enemies (to friends) to lovers. A little mutual pining. Not fully proof read.

Four days. Four days, twelve hours and twenty six minutes.

That was how long Bucky had been watching over you. Or rather, The Winter Soldier.

“Four days!” you exclaimed quietly to yourself. “Four damn days.”

As you turned around, you jumped, nearly scattering everything off your desk.

You swore under your breath, “What is your problem? Make a damn noise, or something!”

Four days of hell.

For everyone.

You had been in a meeting when Bucky had gone on the mission with Sam and Natasha, so the points were unclear. The main thing you knew was that Bucky left for the mission, but the Winter Soldier returned.

And he hadn’t left your side since touching wheels to tarmac from the jet. And, it would make sense, Bucky watching over you. But the thing was-

You and Bucky had never even been friendly with each other. If you ever did talk to one another, and that was a big if, it was mostly sarcastic comments and threats thrown to each other's throat.

None of it made sense.

Shuri had been called instantly and she had checked Bucky over. He was definitely the Winter Soldier, but he wasn’t a killing machine. He was still Bucky. Bucky was held behind a wall of memories.

But the one thing he didn’t do was attack. It was almost like that part had been conditioned out of him. Instead, he was this looming bodyguard that never left you alone.

Not for a minute, not even for a second.

You never heard him, but you could feel him. Watching you, following you, part of him studying you.

It was creepy.

As you entered the kitchen, you turned around on your heel quickly. The Winter Soldier didn’t flinch. He just stopped walking and looked at you.

“Alright, no. I can’t keep doing this. Sam told me not to, but, please. I am begging you. Stop following me!”

He didn’t move. He didn’t even speak.

You ran a hand down your face and sighed.

“Fine. If you’re not gonna leave me alone, then sit.”

You pulled out a chair and pointed to it.

“I’m gonna be here for a while and I already don’t like people in the kitchen with me. So, sit. Or fuck off.”

He was silent. And then he moved. One slow blink before he turned his head and looked at the chair. He looked back at you and you nodded.

Then he walked over to it and sat down. But his gaze remained focused on you.

It wasn’t much, but it was breathing space.

“Thank you.”

Trying your best to block him out, you started pulling out different bowls and ingredients from the cupboards. You heard the creak of the chair when he watched you climb onto the cabinet to grab the flour from the highest shelf.

“No!” You shouted. “You move from that chair and I swear to god, Barnes, I will follow through with my promise about buying a military grade magnet. Sit!”

The chair creaked again after a short minute.

For the next three hours, he remained sitting in that seat. People walked in and out constantly, but each time you heard a creak you’d just shoot him a look and he’d sit back down.

“Any word from Shuri?” You asked Wanda as she walked inside to snack on your cupcake sprinkles.

She shook her head. “Not yet. Maybe he sees you as his commander.”

You scoffed, but a pang of guilt struck your chest. “Please, when he’s him he never follows my orders. Does the opposite, actually.”

Wanda shrugged and looked over at Bucky whose eyes hadn’t left you. “Maybe he just really cares for you.”

“Now, we both know that’s not true.”

Wanda just hummed. “Who knows? There is a fine line between love and hate.”

You nodded. “Yes. That fine line is my sanity.”

Wanda laughed before jumping off the counter and leaving you to continue your baking. “Stranger things have been known to happen.”

You shook your head, but for a moment you let your gaze land on Bucky in the corner.

There was still no explanation as to why it was you he’d chosen to follow around. Not Sam or Natasha – the very two who had been with him when it happened. Or even Steve. But you prayed it wasn’t because he saw you as his commander.

You and Bucky may never have gotten along. You could hate each other’s guts for all eternity. But what he went through as the Winter Soldier…

That was something that nobody should ever have to suffer through. And he did. For seventy years.

So, after the hours of being watched and guarded. After the nights of walking outside of your bedroom only to run into his back outside your door – the same place you would grab his t-shirt and drag him back into your room and make him sit down on the sofa chair on the other side of your room.

If he was gonna be watching over you through the night, too, it meant he wasn’t sleeping. He needed sleep. But putting him back into the freezer tank wasn’t going to help anyone.

And after the days of being followed around everywhere.

You finally sat him down.

Everyone had gone to bed hours ago. Most of the lights in the building had been switched off. The only light in the living space was the dim light that floated across from the kitchen island across the room.

“Why are you protecting me?”

If Shuri couldn’t get the answers, you were gonna ask the man himself. Maybe he had an explanation.

But he only replied in Russian.

“You’re important.”

Your gaze flickered over his. There was barely a hint of Bucky in him. The person sat in front of you was a soldier. A protector. Someone who told you you’re important, the same way he would tell you he had eggs for breakfast.

“Important?” you questioned. “Important to who?”

You leaned a little closer to him, almost out of instinct. And for a split second, you saw something flicker in his eyes. Something a little softer in the middle of the brambles. But it was gone as quickly as it came.

Reaching out, you turned his head to look back at you and you swallowed your pride.

“Bucky,” you said, your voice soft and needing. “I need you to come back to me. I know we’re not friends, but I need you to come back to me. Bucky. Not Hydra’s Perfect Creation.”

You waited in the silence, his eyes fixed on yours. But the only thing that stared back at you as the same deep, if slightly vacant, look that had been staring at you for the last four days.

Leaning on the edge of despair, you did something you never thought you would ever do. Not with Bucky, and certainly not with the Winter Soldier.

You kissed him.

Really kissed him.

Not the undercover kiss on the cheek, or the fake movie-style kiss that you were forced to watch whenever Steve chose the film for movie night.

A real kiss.

And for a moment, there was nothing. No reaction. No movement. Just a stiffness that only ever came from a soldier taking a command.

But just as you lost all hope, leaning back a little in order to break the kiss, there was a flicker of something. A slight movement from Bucky.

His hand reached out and laid itself on your leg.

You didn’t know how – you and Bucky had never even hugged – but you knew it was him. It was Bucky.

Just for a fleeting moment, you felt him kiss back as his other hand came to hold your hair against the side of your face.

But the kiss broke.

Looking in his eyes; for the first time in four days, you saw something other than the soldier.

You saw humanity.

Bucky’s voice broke as he finally spoke. “Y…y/n?”

You didn’t realise when you started, but you felt yourself cry. “Yeah.”

Then you watched the panic take him over as he looked around frantically. “Oh, god- no, no, no. What did I- When did- is everyone-”

You cupped his face and forced him to look at you again. “Everyone’s- hey, everyone’s safe. Nothing happened, Buck. Nothing happened. I swear. You didn’t do anything, Bucky. You’re okay.”

There were tears in his eyes and you felt your heart crack.

“I could have-”

“You didn’t.”

His eyes remained focused on you as he tried to slow his breathing. And for a moment, you placed one of your hands over his heart. His own hand came to cover and cup that very one against his chest.

However, just as he was calming down, you watched something settle over his gaze as he kept his eyes on you.

“You kissed me.”

Internally, you panicked. Externally, you moved back and tried to keep your voice as level as you could.

“I, uh, it was getting creepy, you watching over me all the time. I needed to find a way to break you out of it, so-”

“You kissed me,” Bucky repeated.

For a second, you nodded. But then you stood. “I should- I should go and-”

Bucky reached out for you and held onto your arm gently as you stood from the sofa. Your eyes landed on his own almost immediately. But where you thought he might have chewed you out for what you did…he didn’t.

His eyes flickered with something you didn’t quite recognise. Not coming from Bucky, at least.

“Thank you.”

There was something in his voice that told your instincts he wanted to say something else, or something more. But you couldn’t stand there any longer; the feeling of the kiss was still tingling against your lips and his touch was almost burning your skin.

And not in the way it would have done before.

So, you nodded with a polite smile and he let you go.

“I’m just, I’m gonna go and get Steve or- I’ll be back.”

Bucky watched you leave the room, but he didn’t follow. Meanwhile, you rounded the corner and held a hand to the wall in order to balance yourself before the wave of emotions drowned you there and then.

“F-Friday. Please…” you took a deep breath. “Please alert, uh, Steve and…Sam and, uh, Princess Shuri.” Your voice broke. “Let them know Bucky is back.”

You could hear the alerts down the hallway and you remained standing as they all came out of their rooms and rushed down the hall past you.

“He’s okay, but he’s shaken up,” you told Sam as the others ran past. Sam took your word for it and followed them.

Then you slid to the floor, forcing your breathing to steady itself.

The following month was filled with awkward encounters, quiet encounters, medical tests, field research and psychological tests.

And, although you and Bucky didn’t talk, you didn’t argue either. You tended to remain at least eight paces from him at all times.

It was like the roles had been reversed. You were now the one watching over him.

And when he was in med-bay with Banner and Shuri during the day, you watched over him as he slept at night.

A month ago, you would have had nightmares about helping Bucky.

But since his turn. Since that kiss – the one that broke him free – you rarely wanted to leave his side.

But you didn’t want him to know that, so you remained eight paces away. You stayed outside of his hospital room when the others went in. And, when you fell asleep in the chair beside his bed at night, you left before Banner or Shuri could wake and walk inside to find you there.

That changed, however, when Bucky let you know he was awake.

You’d just settled yourself in the chair beside his bed, having put away your book, when he spoke.

“You’re gonna get a bad back.”

You sat up. “You’re awake.”

“Not for long,” he told you, lifting his arm. “C’mere.”

You were slow to move at first, confused if slightly concerned why he was asking you of all people to lay with him. But as you climbed into the bed beside him, you felt a wave of security wash over you.

“Is this okay?”

Bucky smiled a little as he leaned into you. “It’s okay.”

As you finally relaxed beside him, you could have swore you heard his heart monitor pick up a little before it leveled itself out again. And for the first time, in a long time, you fell asleep almost instantly.

So did Bucky.

By the time morning rolled around, you were the first to wake up. And, for the first time, you took a few minutes to look at the sleeping man beside you.

A few strands of his hair had fallen in front of his face during the night, so lightly, you swept them away and you felt yourself smile.

When James ‘Bucky’ Buchanan Barnes wasn’t being a pain in your ass all day, he was pretty cute.

That was when it struck you. Deep in your gut, or maybe your chest. Maybe even your soul…

He’d always been cute. You had always found him cute. Handsome. Sometimes devastatingly so.

Then you felt the highly structured walls around you crumble into nothing but dust. And for the first time in a long time, you felt truly vulnerable.

“I-I’ll be back later,” you whispered to him although he was still asleep.

For a moment, you held onto his hand and pressed a light kiss to the side of his temple before you slowly made your way out of his bed and out of the door.

But you kept your promise.

And for three weeks straight, you slept beside him each night until he was finally cleared for duty again and the threat of the person he’d once been moulded into had been eliminated once again.

That was when things got difficult. Because, not only were you harbouring a rather big secret, but you and Bucky had become friends.

The bun Bucky had tied at the back of his head was slowly coming loose the longer he spent sparring with you.

“Why won’t you talk to me?”

Bucky had been trying to get you to talk to him properly all day.

“There’s nothing to say,” you replied as you circled each other. Bucky ended up with the advantage.

“Really? Because you seem distracted lately. And that only seems to happen when I’m with you.”

You could hear the smirk in his voice, despite your back being pinned to his chest.

“Don’t let it go to your head, Bucky,” you told him as you swung your legs high to flip you both onto the ground.

Bucky rolled onto the floor and you had him pinned.

You smiled, a little breathless. “People might start thinking you’ve got an ego.”

That was when you saw Bucky smirk. And when he smirked, you worried. His hand wrapped itself around your thigh and within three seconds, he had you pinned.

“Oh, come on.”

“You know, I still think about it.” Bucky’s voice was a little breathless as he practically crawled up your body so he was finally face to face with you.

You were struggling to get out of his hold. After really trying, you gave up. “Think about what?”

“That kiss.”

You stopped moving and your eyes darted to his face. You tried your best to steady your heartbeat, but you could feel the heat crawling over your chest and up your neck.

“That was nothing.”

“Liar.”

“I’m not lying.”

Bucky’s blue gaze focused back on yours. “You forget I know you, Y/n. I know when you’re lying.”

Shit.

Bucky added, “You have a tell.”

“I have a tell?”

He nodded. “Your eyebrow. It twitches before you throw out your lie.”

Your brows furrowed as you looked at him, but he just laughed. Only James Buchanan Barnes would have the audacity to laugh.

“It was just a kiss, Bucky.”

“Then tell me why it felt like more?”

“Maybe that’s your issue,” you fired back.

He just smiled, and agreed. “Yeah, maybe.”

In that moment, Bucky’s hand left the grip he had against your wrist in order to fix your hair. His touch lingered for a second longer.

“But I have a feeling it’s not,” he added.

Your breath was gone. Your heart was working overtime in your chest to keep you alive. All the while, Bucky had a smirk resting upon his face as he stood and left you by the mats, only to grab his things and walk out of the gym door.

But not before he looked back once more with a small chuckle.

As you watched the glass door slowly close behind him, you rolled from your side and onto your back once more. “Fucking tease.”

For the rest of the week, Bucky watched you. He watched you watching him, whilst simultaneously trying to avoid him at all costs. But it just made him laugh. Even more so when he would catch you looking away when he finally met your gaze across the dinner table.

But the subtle touches, the sparring sessions and his fucking teasing all added up. And since you couldn’t work the feelings away, they decided to cut you your own 4K, HD movie to play out inside your head as you entered a deep sleep.

You woke up with a start – then you felt it. The ache in your core, the coolness of air that hit your inner thigh when you moved your duvet away from you, and the dryness in your throat.

“Fuck. Fuck.”

Twenty minutes later, you were freshly washed and were standing inside the kitchen with nothing more than the kitchen island bulbs lighting up your workstation. You were on your third batch of cakes when Bucky walked inside, looking like he’d had a fight with his pillow and lost.

You felt him pause by the door and look at you. You didn’t even have to see him to hear the tired smirk on his face. He continued to watch you as he grabbed what he came for and sat down at the kitchen island across from you.

It was like he was the Winter Soldier again. Except, you could hear the smile on his face as well as feeling the curiosity in his gaze.

The odd thing was, Bucky felt the same. He could remember what it was like, feeling the need to be beside you, to watch over you, to protect you. He could remember the moments you talked to him, when you thought he couldn’t hear you.

He could remember it all.

But one question stayed on his mind. Even though you were, technically, friends. You still wouldn’t talk to him. Not properly, at least. The closest he came was during your sparring session a little over a week ago.

“What?” You finally asked, looking at him.

“Why won’t you talk to me?”

You didn’t have to ask what he meant. You already knew.

“Because,” you said as you turned back to your cake batter.

“Because, why?” Bucky stood and walked over to your side. “Why won’t you talk to me?”

Whether it was the sleep deprivation, or the fact that snippets of the sex dream you’d just had about him were playing like flashes in your mind as he sat across from you, you blurted out the truth.

“Because it’s too hard. Bucky-” You sighed, cutting yourself short. Four in the morning was not the time for this conversation. “Nevermind.”

“No, tell me.”

You stayed quiet and kept your eyes on him for a moment. Then you laid the bowl down on the counter and looked away from him. But you felt his hand hold onto yours.

“Please,” he begged, quietly.

“Because…we’re us. Bucky, barely two months ago I was chewing you out over how you stocked your leftovers,” you motioned over to the fridge. “And then…” You looked at him, but you couldn’t form the words.

So he did it for you. “You kissed me.”

You nodded, your voice quiet as you finally spoke. “I kissed you.”

“Do you still think about it?”

You watched as his fingers intertwined and danced with yours. “Thought you already knew the answer to that.”

“I need to hear it from you.”

Finally, you looked at him.

Somehow, it was easier in the kitchen. Easier in the dim light of the kitchen island. Easier when it was just you and Bucky.

“I still think about it,” you admitted.

A steady blue gaze held yours as Bucky’s hand came to rest against your face, his thumb rubbing back and forth on your cheekbone. Then he leaned in, kissing you like it was the last opportunity he would ever get.

Leaning in closer to him, he bumped against the kitchen island but managed to hold you closer. You felt his arms wrap around you completely as you kissed him back.

A few hours, one burnt cake and plenty of hickeys later, you were standing in your bathroom finishing your make-up whilst also trying to cover up the love bites on your neck. All the while, Bucky had just turned off your shower and in a billow of steam, wrapped a towel, low on his hips, after quickly rubbing his hair dry.

Bucky stood behind you, moving your hair out of the way. You watched him do so as the mirror began to fog up once more.

“Buck, you’re still dripping,” you giggle softly, trying to wriggle away from him. But the smile he gave you just knocked you to your knees.

“Only for you, doll.”

You rolled your eyes and plucked another towel from the rail before throwing it at him. “Dry off.”

He chuckled, drying his hair and neck once more. But as you cleared the mirror again and continued to apply your make-up, Bucky stood behind you and smiled proudly to himself.

“You owe me some more concealer. I hope you know that.”

In the mirror, you watched him lean down with a breathy chuckle as he pressed light kisses to your exposed shoulder and neck. “Worth it.”

“What are you doing?”

Through his dark lashes, he met your gaze in the mirror. “Missed a spot.”

You melted under his touch. Closing your eyes, you leaned into his kiss as his hands pushed under your top and dipped under the hem of your pants and underwear in order to flush you against his body.

You moaned a little, feeling him harden against you. “Buck- You’re gonna make me late for work.”

Bucky disagreed. “All you’re doing is filling out case files today. Cases that we’ve finished. They can wait.”

Turning you around quickly, Bucky kissed you until your lipstick was smudged enough to warrant a whole new look, along with fresh sheets for your bed, and some new towels for your bathroom.

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tojisteddy · 3 months ago

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Photograph | the soft, mushy, fluffy shit with meanie!simon

Simon Riley who despises having his photos taken.

There’s a reason why there’s no pictures of him on file, something Price’s assistant is still too fucking adamant about getting their hands on. There were no pictures of him or his family around the house either, the few lasting pictures in a box locked away in another box in the basement.

But then there was you who had about 5 cameras laying around the house, always ready to take a picture of something.

You’d purse your lips, high pitched babbles leaving your lips to get Simons attention as if he was a baby, trying to get them to focus on the camera. With no hesitation, he’s playfully mushing your camera out of his face, or blocking the view of himself right when you got a good shot of him. And you’d chuckle through a groan, falling all over him like you always did, resting your chin on his shoulder.

“My mom still takes pictures of everything, so you have to be good ‘nd let me take my portion Si.”

“….mmm… Fuck no.”

But when the house is quiet, the dogs in their cages, and you’re deep in slumber for the night, he’s right there in the kitchen by the stove light. Hunched over the counter because of his tall frame, looking through the scrap book you so meticulously put together. Pages filled with pictures of you, off guards of Simon you craftily took, the dogs, little stickers, paper cut outs from magazines or things you wasted his printer ink on, silly miniature drawings, notes about when the pictures were taken, and those god damn the blurry photos you took of the older man. Face covered by his mask or his hand, in an attempt to hide himself—

Was it shyness? Shame? A mix of both, not wanting to reveal the scars on his face that’ll be stuck there for the rest of his life— those permanent proof of events that would be etched in his brain. He hated recalling past bullshit, it makes his stomach turn, his palms sweaty, irritated. He wasn’t used to it, not like he ever could, how much you really, truly cared about the brute.

How you saw the beauty in him, the tattered man that was Simon Riley— he couldn’t understand it.

But then he continued flipping through the book, there’s that photo you took while he was completely knocked out, bare chested, bed head of blonde hair showing of his body covered in tattoos and markings— the more than healed gun shot wound from an incident a couple years back on his left shoulder, the knife wounds, the burns— but you’re there.

Face buried in his chest, eyes smizing at the camera while your other fingers graced right at the mark on his cheek you always touched— content. Content with being with him.

Then another, you’ve got that stupidity cute smile on your face as Simons got your in a playful headlock, it makes your cheeks chub out like a chipmunk, curls covering your face and just barley— you could see Simons lips curved up— laughing at how dumb his baby looked.

Another, one that he took this time, and it’s shit compared to the the ones you take. But Simon adored it, you’re right on the hood of his truck, arm propping you up as you give him that classic smirk with one of his shirts you’d swore was yours, nipples peaking through the material. Fucking gorgeous, incredible being you were.

God damn it, you were his precious baby. Ghost’s heart swells because he’d be damned if he couldn’t continue seeing you taking those annoying photos and putting them together like it was some final award winning project. Simon would probably never admit it aloud, but you and those memories were his treasure, he’d do anything to keep it in his grasp.

a/n: ending is shit but whatever, no one’s reading this. But this being my first fluff(ish) post about simon, woah.

most recent masterlist

#meanie!simon #he’s such a dad bf like god please #simon riley x y/n #simon riley x you #ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley #simon riley fluff #ghost x you #ghost x reader #ghost riley x reader #ghost cod #call of duty #tojisteddy presents #black reader #x black reader #ghost fluff #tojisteddy drabbles

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tiramissyoucake · 3 months ago

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Papa Viltrumite Mark pls? 🙇

Oooohh.... rubs my hands together mischievously. This is canon in the viltrumite Mark story but like further down the story after having a first son♡ high key fluff!!

"And what's the blue part?" Your son pointed to the vibrant blue of the illustration, the book would have told you that but humans know it as common knowledge, survivors of earth knew at least. "That's the ocean, sweetheart."

"Oshun?" Your son mimicked, looking at you with curious dark eyes. "It's pronounced 'O-shin', okay? It's a big body of water with all kinds of creatures and plants."

"Like a big lake?" Not quite, but he remembered the previous time you read to him, you smiled. "In a way, yes."

As your son peered over the worn book in your lap, his black head of hair blocking any clear sight of whatever parts of earth he was looking at, he pointed to an illustration of the earth's layers. "Is that earth's organs?"

You let out a small laugh, running a hand through his unruly hair. "Close, that's the earth's core."

"... mom? Can we go see earth?" He looked at you with so much hope, and it killed you to have to shoot it down. You didn't expect a child to remember that earth was nothing but a distant memory now.

You paused hearing the door open, a familiar exaggerative cape flowing in. "Dad!" You thanked God for children's low attention span as he kicked off the bed and sprinted to his father, Mark grinning and picking him up. "There's my boy."

You shut the book, setting it aside as you got up from your place. "You're back early..."

He hummed in response as he came close to you, kissing your cheek as your son gagged. "I couldn't stay away, I suppose."

"Dad, can we go to flying practice now?" The two of you perked up as your son excitedly held up a flying pose. "I think I'm getting the hang of it! I wanna do a loop-da-loop!" That brought out a laugh from the two of you, genuine from Mark, nervous from you.

"You'll be doing 'loop-da-loops' in your sleep soon enough but let's finish the basics before anything, okay?" Mark glanced at you, an expectant glint in his eye. "You'll come watch this time, won't you?"

"Oh- I don't wanna get in the way..." Your hesitance brought a pouty look to their faces, it was terrifying how similar they looked, Mark let your son down and before he could try to convince you, the boy was already on it.

"Mom, pleeeaaase? It's a lot of fun!! Dad can help you fly too!" He clung to your robes with the cutest puppy dog eyes, the dark hue reflected light so perfectly and made him look like an actual puppy. Your husband chuckled, setting a hand on your shoulder.

"I'm not opposed to that, I used to fly carrying your mother when she was pregnant with you, y'know?" Mark remembered the times he worried for you and resorted to carrying you for even the simplest tasks. "Did not need to know about the pregnant part!" Your son rolled his eyes, already inheriting his father's sass.

"Come on," Mark ushered. "It's like seeing him walk for the first time, you'll love it." Your son pouted, already floating out the door.

"No it's not! I'm a cool flyer! You'll see— ow!" You and your husband winced as your son bumped into the door too quickly in his flight, belting out an "I'm OK!" As he prepared for departure.

"... 9 months in my womb," you started, exasperated. "And he's nothing like me." You glared at Mark as he turned to you with a smile. "That's not true, he's got your resilience and curiosity." You rolled your eyes, he cupped your cheek to kiss you fondly.

"Maybe later, when he's all tuckered out... we can catch up?" His voice sounded too eager for it to be an innocent offer, his hands wrapping around you and pulling you closely. "I'll give you a preview during flying practice and—"

"Flying range isn't gonna wait forever, y'know?!" Your son interjected from somewhere in the hallway, causing Mark to sigh and part from you as you tried to calm down your flushed face. "He's got the ego of a Viltrumite Prince, that's for sure."

#✩°｡⋆⸜ 🎧✮ salem’s speaking #your stars have aligned .•°✧✦✧#mark grayson x reader #invincible x reader

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j0ysyndr0m3 · 1 month ago

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admit it. | stack x reader blurb (sinners)

"stack, what happend last night," you paused, fidgeting with your fingernails, "i-it was a mistake."

stack turned his head to you, your meek confession left him furrowing his brow in confusion, but a smirk slowly grew on his face, his grills gleaming. he knew you was lying, your body gave it away. you crossed your arms, looking down at your feet, trying your best not to melt at the spot you stood.

“it wasn’t no damn mistake when you were sittin’ on my face.”

"thats not fair stack, you told me to do that." you argued, you felt your ears heating up. stack chuckled, he always thought you were so cute when you tried to argue. you turned your back to him, not wanting to look at him anymore. you can hear stack hum from afar, followed by the sound of shoes shuffling. you thought stack was leaving, until you felt hands on your shoulders and something against your rump.

fingers laced with golden rings, gently moving stray curls from your face and behind your ear, “but you still liked it.” he whispers, his breath cools your already heated ears. his free hand grabbing onto your waist. your bottom lip disappeared between your teeth, trying not to let out a moan.

"go on, say you liked it."

you slowly shook your head, resisting. you wanted to move but his touch made you froze in your place. all the memories from that night replays in your mind. no man has ever touched you the way he did.

oh stack~

and in your mind, no man ever will.

stack..right there- oh god!

that's it. give it to me pretty girl.

"i liked it." you admitted, feeling stack chuckle vibrating against your ear.

this is so bad, but i needed to write this before i never do. i was on the longest writer's block, and i have sinners to thank for breaking me out of that.

#stack x reader #j0ywrites #j0ysyndr0m3 #stack moore x reader #sinners blurb #sinnersfanfiction #sinners movie #sinners 2025 #sinners #elijah moore x reader #blurb #stack x black reader

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iuvboa · 17 days ago

Text

Don’t Look at Me Like That

Summary: You’d seen that look on Bucky’s face before—steel, blue eyes guarded, intense, like he was fighting some inner war—but never aimed at you quite like this.

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(post-endgame, friends-to-lovers, second person POV, one-shot, slow burn (?), some flirting, mutual yearning, built-up tension, teasing, slight angst, fluff at the end, Bucky’s absolutely whipped)

WARNINGS: 18+, smut, explicit language, fingering, cunnilingus, handjob, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), PTSD mentions (Hydra), soft dom!Bucky, dom/sub undertones, MINORS DNI.

Word count: 3.3k

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Brooklyn was never truly quiet. Even at night, the sounds still seeped through—distant traffic, someone shouting a block away, the occasional bark of a dog, a subway rumble like a memory under your feet. But your apartment, tucked on the third floor of a brick building that had seen better decades, had become something of a sanctuary. For you. For him.

Bucky Barnes wasn’t supposed to stay for long. “Just a few weeks,” he said, after a mission had gone sideways. You had a spare room, and he’d been tired in the way that only people with too many ghosts to count ever were—so you said yes.

But that was three months ago.

Now you knew the sound of his footsteps, the way he cleared his throat when he didn’t know what to say, the quiet sigh he made when the nightmares left him gasping.

You learned how he took his coffee, how he liked his socks folded, how he said your name when he was annoyed and again—softer—when he thought you were asleep on the couch.

And still, neither of you had said a word about the obvious.

Like how his touches had gotten a little longer. How your knees brushed under the table and no one moved away. How sometimes you looked up and he was already looking at you, gaze lingering just a moment too long.

Tonight is one of those nights.

There’s music playing low from the speaker in the corner—something old, probably his choice. The rain has started to tap softly against the window, and Bucky’s sitting at your kitchen table, sleeves pushed up, flipping through a tattered book you found for him at a secondhand shop. You pretend to be focused on your laptop, but all you’ve typed in the last ten minutes is a single sentence.

He suddenly glances up from the book. “You okay?”

You look at him. Really look. “Yeah,” you say. “Just distracted.”

His gaze lingers on you for a second too long. “You’ve been like that all day,” he replies.

“I could say the same for you.”

He closes the book slowly, putting it down on the table. “Is that right?”

The air tightens, electric and heavy. You should look away, say something neutral. Break the tension like you always do. But you don’t.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” you say quietly.

He exhales slowly through his nose. “I haven’t.”

“You have. Ever since Monday night.”

He doesn’t answer. Just looks at his hands—flesh and metal—like they might say something for him.

“Did I do something wrong?” That gets his eyes back on you instantly. Sharp, regretful, pained.

“No. God, no. It’s not you.”

“Then what is it?” you ask. “You were about to say something, and then you just shut down.”

He runs a hand through his hair, jaw tight. He doesn’t answer for a moment. And then his voice—low, careful, vulnerable: “You know I have nightmares about you.”

You freeze. “Not bad ones,” he says quickly. “Not the HYDRA ones. Just… dreams where something happens to you. You vanish. I try to scream, but it’s like my voice is gone.”

You turn to face him. “Bucky…”

He shakes his head. “It’s stupid, I know. I know you can take care of yourself. You’ve never needed me to come charging in. But it’s there. All the time. This fear.” He looks away, hands clenching slightly. “I care about you. More than I should… And I’ve tried to keep it buried, but… I’m tired of pretending.”

The air goes still. You reach for his hand, his right one—warm, rough, real. “You don’t have to pretend. Not with me,” you say softly. He looks down at your fingers laced with his, then up at you again—his gaze raw, full of something deep and breaking.

“I don’t know how to do this,” he whispers. “I still wake up ready to kill. Some days I don’t even recognize myself. What kind of person does that make me, to want something soft in the middle of all that?”

You lean in, close enough that your breath brushes against his cheek. “It makes you human.” Then, with a little smile: “And also very annoying. You’ve been flirting with me for months and acting like you’re not.”

He huffs out a laugh. “That wasn’t flirting.”

“You call me sweetheart every time I hand you a cup of tea.”

“That’s just a habit.”

“You blush every time I tease you.”

His ears turn red instantly. “I do not.”

You move even closer. “And now you’re not even denying you want me.”

His voice catches. “I’m just trying not to do something stupid.”

“Like what?” you ask.

“Like ruining the only good thing I’ve got left.”

You pause. Then say, gently but clearly: “You won’t ruin anything. But if you keep looking at me like that and don’t kiss me, I might do something stupid instead.”

The silence stretches. And then, finally, he moves—one hand curling around the back of your neck, the other steady on your waist, eyes searching yours like he’s still giving you one last chance to run. But you don’t. You close the space between you.

When your lips meet, it’s not soft. It’s years of ache, of yearning, of almosts, of shared glances and lingering touches. It’s every sleepless night, every buried feeling, rising to the surface all at once. He kisses you like a man who doesn’t know how to stop—like you’re air, and he’s been drowning.

And when he pulls you into his lap, when your hands thread through his hair, when he groans against your mouth as your hips grind down against his, you know there’s no going back now.

Your hands slide under his henley, fingertips grazing warm skin, and the way his breath catches makes your stomach twist with want.

“Fuck,” Bucky murmurs against your mouth, voice rough and unsteady. “You’re gonna ruin me.”

You smile, biting his lower lip just enough to make him groan. “That’s the point.”

He growls low in his chest, hands gripping your thighs, metal cool through your thin leggings—and then he’s lifting you, carrying you with ease towards your bedroom. When he lays you down on the bed, his eyes flick down your body like he’s afraid to blink and miss a second of it. And still, he hesitates.

You sit up slightly, reaching for him, hand over his racing heart. “Bucky,” you whisper. “You’re safe. We’re safe.”

His throat bobs as he swallows hard. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this. But I’m not… gentle. Not always.”

“I don’t want gentle,” you breathe. “I want you. However you are.”

He stares for a beat longer—then kisses you again, deeper this time, his body slotting over yours. You lose track of how long you’re kissing him. It’s messy. Desperate. His hands roam your back like he’s memorizing you, grounding himself with every pass of metal and skin.

And you don’t want to be anywhere else.

His lips trail down your jaw, warm and reverent, then lower to your neck. He sucks lightly, then licks the mark, as if in apology. You whimper, hips rolling against him, and feel him—hard above you, straining through his jeans.

“You don’t know what you do to me,” he groans, breath hot against your collarbone. “The way you laugh, the way you say my name. You’ve been driving me fucking insane.”

You grind against him again, teasing. “And you could’ve done something about it sooner.”

“Don’t test me,” he growls, hand sliding up your thighs and under your shirt. “You’re already playing a dangerous game.”

You pull back just enough to meet his eyes, your lips swollen and breath shaky.

“Then make your move, soldier.”

That’s all it takes.

He pulls off your shirt first—slowly—like unwrapping something he’s waited years for. His metal hand brushes over your chest, and when you shiver, he pauses. “Is this okay?” he murmurs, thumb brushing against your cheek.

You nod, breathless. “More than okay.”

“Tell me if you’re not. Anytime. I mean it.”

You reach up, curling your fingers behind his neck to draw him back down to you. “I trust you, Bucky.” He exhales shakily, pressing his forehead to yours for a moment before lowering his mouth to your chest.

And then—God. He worships you. Tongue flicking against your nipple, then sucking gently, one hand kneading your other breast while you arch into him. His hair and stubble brushes your skin, metal hand splayed on your ribs. You feel everything.

Every breath, every flick, every squeeze.

Every intention behind his touch.

He kisses lower and lower, licking and biting at your hip bone, and then he’s slowly dragging your pants down like he’s savoring the meal. His voice is thick when he murmurs, “You’re already soaked for me, sweetheart.”

You whine lowly. “You’ve been teasing me for months,” you gasp. “Of course I am.”

He smirks, dark and smug, before dipping his head between your thighs. When his tongue finally touches you, you forget your name.

He eats you out like he’s making up for lost time—slow at first, then deep, focused, and relentless. His metal hand pins your thigh open while his flesh hand grips your hip like you might float away. Your body quivers with each stroke against your cunt. He moans into you when you tug at his hair, trying to anchor yourself, and the sound alone makes your legs shake.

“James,” you gasp, hips bucking as his tongue starts circling your clit, fast and unforgiving. “Oh my God— Don’t stop.” Hearing you say his real name makes his cock twitch in his pants. He watches your face closely, gauging every reaction, adjusting—always paying attention.

Then he presses a finger inside you. It’s slow. Careful. Deep. You gasp, thighs tightening around his head at the sudden intrusion, as he continues his ministrations on your clit. But he’s patient—not rushing, just letting you feel it. He curls his finger slightly, searching, and then—

“There,” you breathe, voice trembling.

His lips press to your inner thighs for a second as he adds a second finger, thicker now, the slide smoother with how turned on you are. He begins to move—in and out in a steady rhythm—as his tongue returns to your clit, drawing lazy circles.

The combined stimulation. It’s overwhelming.

“Look at me,” he says. When you do, your eyes heavy and glassy, his voice drops to something raw. “I wanna see you come apart for me.” His fingers pump deeper now, tongue never letting up on your clit. You’re close—too close—and when you clench around him, brokenly moaning his name over and over like it’s the only thing left in your chest, he groans like he’s the one unraveling.

“There you go,” he whispers, kissing your cunt one last time. “That’s it. That’s my girl.”

He kisses up your stomach as you catch your breath, and you barely register him shoving his jeans down hastily before he’s above you again, his cock heavy and hard against your thigh.

He’s huge. You can’t help but stare and ogle. He’s breathing hard above you, hair tousled, pupils blown wide with want. He’s caught off guard when you suddenly reach out, hands softly wrapping around him, tugging ever so slightly. His breath catches in his throat, a low moan escaping, and you noticed.

“You always so tense, Barnes?” you ask teasingly, your other hand ghosting down the line of his stomach. “I’ve got a lot of history,” he says hoarsely, trying for a smirk—but it crumbles the second you run your fingers over the sensitive tip. You watch him unravel. Just a little. And you do it again.

This time slower. More deliberate.

The sight of him like this makes heat curl low in your belly. You stroke him slow at first, base to tip, twisting your wrist just enough to make him twitch. Your thumb teases the head, smearing the precum as you watch him fall apart, head falling forward—so much tension, so much history, and built-up walls finally cracking open.

“Feels good?” you whisper, leaning in to nip at his jaw.

“Jesus… Yeah,” he breathes. “Feels—fuck—feels so good.”

His flesh hand curls into the bedsheets beneath you, white-knuckled, as if he’s holding himself together. His metal hand grabs your thigh, grounding himself with your warmth, your touch. You pick up the pace a little. Still teasing. Just enough friction to keep him teetering. You can see it in the way his chest heaves. The way his eyes flutter shut and his mouth parts like he’s trying to say something and can’t remember how to form the words. You marvel at how he melts from your touch, his hips jerking instinctively.

You’re suddenly snapped out of your stupor when Bucky’s hand grips your wrist—not harshly, just enough to guide you to still. He’s flushed, panting, but still in control… Barely.

“I don’t wanna come yet,” he says. “Not like this.”

You blink, surprised by the tenderness behind his words. “Not like this?”

“I need to be inside you when it happens,” he admits quietly, gazing deeply into your eyes. “I want to feel everything. All of you. Not just your hand, not just right now.”

You’re quiet for a moment, heart hammering. There’s something raw in his voice. Not just lust, but longing. “You can have me,” you whisper, lips brushing against his. “All of me. Just say when.” He groans, burying his face in your neck.

“Just… give me a second,” he breathes. “If you touch me again right now, it’s over.”

You giggle at his words, fingers brushing over his chest instead, tracing the faint scars near his metal arm. Letting the moment stretch. Letting him hold on. You don’t rush him.

His heartbeat is steady beneath your fingertips. It’s fast—not from panic, but anticipation. His eyes are closed, brows furrowed as if he’s holding back a dam of something too big for words. Then he exhales, ragged and resigned.

And when he opens his eyes again, the hesitation is gone—burned away by something darker.

Deeper.

Hungrier.

“Tell me you’re mine,” he says, brushing the hair away from your face. “Please.”

“I’m yours, James,” you promise, breath hitching as he lines himself up, the head of his cock pressing hot and slick against your cunt. “I’m yours, always.” He closes his eyes for a second, then pushes in slowly.

You both gasp. You can feel the stretch, inch by inch, and the sound that tears from his throat when he sinks all the way in is raw. His forehead drops to your shoulder, his body trembling with restraint. You whisper his name—just once—and his hips start to move.

Slow, deep, and measured. He fucks you like he’s memorizing every part of it—every reaction, every moan, every shiver you give him. His hand slips under your back, pulling you closer, and he moans against your neck as your walls clench around him. “God,” he grits out, voice shaking. “You feel perfect.”

You kiss his temple, wrap your legs around his waist, pushing him in deeper. “Don’t hold back. I want all of you, Bucky,” you whispered.

And that’s what breaks him.

He starts thrusting harder—not rough, but��needy. Desperate. His mouth finds yours again and again, messy and clumsy, like he needs the connection to keep himself grounded. Your name falls from his lips between every thrust, and his hands never stop moving—your breasts, your hips, your face—trying to touch all of you at once. He’s so deep inside, so wrapped up in you, that when you start to shake and tighten around him, he gasps your name like a prayer.

“Fuck, I’m so close,” you breathe, nails scratching against his shoulders and his back.

“Come with me,” he says, low and ragged. His fingers once again move between your legs, thumb rubbing tight circles against your clit. The motion makes you whine, throwing your head back against the pillows. “Please. I want to feel you when I let go.”

And you do—clenching around him, mouth open in a cry as you fall apart. He follows instantly, burying himself as deep as he can and moaning into your neck as he comes, hard.

You both lay motionless, catching your breaths.

He doesn’t pull away. Not right away.

He just stays there, inside you, arms wrapped around you like he’s terrified you’ll suddenly vanish. His breath is warm against your skin, his voice quiet when he finally speaks. “I’ve never had this,” he whispers. “Not like this.”

You stroke his hair gently, your body still trembling slightly from the orgasm. “You have it now.”

And he holds you tighter—like he believes it.

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Sunlight cuts across the sheets, warm and golden, dusting everything in a haze that feels too gentle to be real. You wake to the weight of a metal arm draped loosely over your waist, cool against your skin, grounding in its familiarity.

Bucky’s breath brushes the back of your shoulder—even, steady, the kind of sleep that only ever comes when he feels safe.

You don’t move at first.

You just stay there, still wrapped up in him, your legs tangled together beneath the blanket, his chest pressed against your spine. The sheets are rumpled and damp in places, scented with salt and sweat and something softer—the faint warmth of skin on skin, remnants of last night’s closeness. You turn your head slightly, just enough to glance back.

His eyes are still closed, lashes brushing the top of his cheek, lips parted slightly to catch the quiet hum of his breath. There’s no tension in his brows, no flicker of nightmares. Just peace.

And it undoes you a little. Because you know how rare that is for him.

You shift gently in his arms, trying not to disturb the stillness—but he stirs anyway. Not with a start, not like the sharp panic you’ve seen him in before. Just a soft sound in his throat, a sleepy inhale, and then his grip around you tightens slightly.

“Mornin’,” he murmurs, voice thick and low with sleep.

“Morning,” you whisper back, smiling against the pillow. “You sleep okay?”

His answer is a warm kiss against the nape of your neck. Then another, slower. He lingers there, breathing you in like the scent of your skin is what pulled him back to his body. “Better than I have in years,” he says tenderly.

You roll onto your back to face him, brushing your fingers through his tangled hair. He leans into your touch, nuzzling. His eyes—soft, a little guarded, search yours. There’s silence for a beat too long.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper.

“No,” you answer immediately, threading your fingers through his. “You were perfect, Bucky.”

His throat bobs with a swallow. “I just… I haven’t done that in a long time. And I didn’t know if—“ he cuts himself off, glancing away.

“You didn’t rush me,” you say. “You didn’t lose control. You let yourself feel. That’s all I ever wanted from you.” He closes his eyes for a moment like he’s trying to believe that. Like a part of him still isn’t used to being wanted without fear attached.

“Hey,” you say gently, nudging his chin up with your thumb. “We’re okay. You and me. This—whatever it is—we’ll figure it out. Together.” He nods, silent but sure, before dipping his head down to kiss you.

It’s different than last night. Less hungry, more grateful. Like a quiet thank you he doesn’t know how to say. And when he pulls back, he smiles—just slightly. But it reaches his eyes.

“I could get used to waking up like this,” he says.

You grin, curling into his chest. “Then don’t go anywhere.”

He holds you tighter, voice warm against your temple.

“Not a chance.”

End.

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a/n: So first fanfic yay! Honestly, writing smut is a little grueling sometimes, but we pulled through. Anyways, I hope you enjoy!! :3

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(crossposted on AO3 by ixeiri).

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alohajix · 2 months ago

Text

𝐍𝐨 𝐆𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐁𝐚𝐜𝐤

Description: friends don’t kiss like that… and they definitely don’t spend the night tangled up in each other, learning what it sounds like when years of tension finally snap. But here you are. In his bed. Breathless. Wrecked. His hands shaking on your skin like you’re the only thing he’s ever wanted. And you both know—there’s no going back now.

Warnings: smut, pining, begging, creampie mention, friends to lovers, feelings finally surfacing.

Word count: 6,090.

author note: hopefully you’ll love this one; I had a writer’s block trying to finish this one up 🥺

Main Masterlist

Marked by Midnight’s Masterlist

***

It's the same Friday night ritual you've fallen into for years now—predictable in a way that should feel boring by now, but somehow never does. You don't remember when exactly it became your thing, but you know it started sometime after his last relationship went up in flames. Somewhere between his dry, sarcastic text—"bring snacks or don't bother showing up"—and the way he always leaves the door unlocked when he knows it's you coming over. You don't knock anymore. Haven't in ages. You just toe off your shoes by muscle memory, drop your bag on the little hook by the door he hung there for you a year ago, and slip into your usual spot on his couch like it's second nature. It is, really.

Tonight's no different. The air smells like leftover pizza and the two cheap beers you grabbed from his fridge on your way in. You're half-curled under one of his worn-out throw blankets, your legs stretched long across the couch, your bare feet pressing into his thigh like they always do. He doesn't even flinch when you do it anymore. Just rests his warm palm on your shin absentmindedly like it's the most natural thing in the world. It's reckless, really, how easy this all is. How dangerous it feels sometimes when he doesn't pull away.

The TV's playing something you've both seen a thousand times—something neither of you are really paying attention to. The real entertainment, like always, is the stupid conversation unraveling between sips of cheap beer and leftover takeout. He makes a joke about your taste in men, you roll your eyes and throw one right back at him. The back-and-forth feels sharper tonight though, like you're both playing closer to some invisible line neither of you have dared to cross. Not really.

You don't know what makes you say it. Maybe it's the second beer loosening your tongue, or maybe it's the way his laugh curls in your stomach when you throw your head back against the cushion and groan dramatically. You mock the high-pitched whine one of his exes once made you promise not to bring up again. You pitch your voice higher on purpose, pressing the heel of your hand to your forehead in the most ridiculous overacting you can manage.

"Oh, Harry... oh my God... you're so—so loud—" you gasp, drawing the word out, clutching your chest like you're seconds away from fainting.

You expect him to laugh. That's how it always goes. You take the piss, he rolls his eyes, throws something back, and you both move on. But tonight... tonight he doesn't laugh.

Instead, he goes still. His palm on your shin tightens just a little—barely noticeable, really, if you weren't suddenly hyperaware of every inch of his skin touching yours.

He tilts his head, eyes narrowing, and for the first time all night, you swear the air between you crackles like something you shouldn't touch.

"You really wanna keep pushing, sweetheart?"

The words come out low. Thicker. Not playful like they should be.

And your mouth goes dry.

Because that's not the kind of thing he says to you. Not like that.

You blink, heart stuttering, trying to laugh it off, but it comes out wrong—too breathless, too tight. "What? I'm kidding. Relax."

But he doesn't.

He leans back a little, his arm curling casually along the back of the sofa like he's suddenly aware of how close you are, how easy it would be to pull you closer. His jaw flexes as he swipes his tongue across his bottom lip, like he's thinking too hard about something he shouldn't say.

And then he does.

"Maybe you should find out for yourself before you start laughing."

You freeze.

So does he.

The silence that falls between you isn't the usual kind—the one you fill with easy shrugs or dumb jokes. This one feels loaded. Heavy. Like you've both been balancing on this stupid little edge for so long you didn't even realize how close you'd gotten until you both looked down.

He swallows hard, flicking his gaze to your mouth and back up again so fast you almost think you imagined it.

You could laugh. You should laugh. That's how you survive this. You let it roll off your back, you change the subject, you make another joke and pretend you didn't hear it like that.

But you did. God, you did.

And something in your stomach twists.

Your voice comes out quieter than you mean for it to. Barely above a whisper. "What if I did?"

Harry's breath catches. You feel it more than hear it—right there where his palm is still pressed to your leg, fingers curling in slow motion like he's grounding himself. His mouth opens and closes again, like he's trying to figure out if you're fucking with him, if this is just another game.

You're not sure what kind of answer you're expecting—some dumb, cocky retort, maybe, or worse, a nervous laugh to remind you this is all one big misunderstanding. But when he finally speaks, it's nothing like that.

"Then you're gonna have to come over here and show me."

It knocks the air clean out of your lungs.

Because that's not a dare. Not a joke. Not something he can walk back if you say yes.

His hand slides a little higher on your shin, thumb dragging slow and steady like he's making sure you feel it. His gaze doesn't drop this time. Doesn't waver.

"C'mon, love. What's stoppin' you?"

You've never moved so slowly in your life. Shifting your weight, setting your half-finished beer down on the coffee table like you're moving underwater. Your heart's thundering so hard you're half-convinced he can hear it. You swing one leg over his lap, knees sinking into the sofa on either side of his hips until you're straddling him, palms braced on his chest to steady yourself.

And he's just... looking at you. Like you're the fucking answer to a question he didn't know he was allowed to ask.

"Hi," you whisper, suddenly breathless, nerves crashing over you in one dizzy wave.

The corner of his mouth twitches like he wants to laugh, but he doesn't. His hands find your waist, curling slow and careful, as if he's terrified you'll shift back and realize this is a mistake.

"Hey."

It's the softest thing you've ever heard from him. No edge, no teasing, just quiet and wrecked and right there between you like you've already passed the point of no return.

His thumb drags along your waist, and you swear you feel his hands tremble just a little.

"You gonna kiss me or what?" he whispers, voice cracking on the last word like it's killing him to hold back.

There's a second—just one—where the fear kicks in. Not the bad kind, not really. It's more the holy-shit-what-are-we-doing kind, the one that flickers right behind your ribs like a warning bell that's come a little too late. Because this is Harry. Your Harry. The one who steals your fries without asking and makes you playlists when you're having a bad day. The one who's held your hair back when you've had too much to drink, who's let you crash in his bed more times than you can count without ever once making it weird. He's always been safe. Uncomplicated. Yours in every way that didn't require you to risk everything by leaning in and closing the gap.

But now? Now his breath fans across your cheek, his hands tense on your waist like he's waiting for you to change your mind, and you know there's no coming back from this if you do it. No pressing rewind. No laugh-it-off in the morning.

And still—you lean in.

You don't even really kiss him at first. It's slower than that. Softer. Like you're both testing the weight of the moment, hovering close enough that you could pull back if you had to. You feel his breath catch when your nose brushes his, feel the tiniest tremor run through him when your fingers curl tighter in the worn fabric of his t-shirt. His lashes flutter against your cheekbone when you tilt your head, nudging your mouth toward his. And just when you start to wonder if he's going to make you do all of it—if he's going to sit there and let you chase the whole thing all the way down—he meets you halfway.

It starts careful. Almost clumsy with how long you've both tiptoed around this. His lips part slow, brushing yours once, twice, barely there. You almost pull back to say something stupid like "was that okay?" but then—God—he makes that sound.

Low in his throat, wrecked and quiet and so fucking real it short-circuits every rational thought you have left.

You melt.

The second time you kiss him, it isn't careful at all. You tilt your head, fingers sliding up into his curls like they've always wanted to, pulling him closer, chasing that sound like it's oxygen. He groans again, louder this time, and you feel him sink under you like his whole body's giving out.

"Fuck," he breathes, muffled between kisses, hands flexing tighter on your waist. "Fuck, baby, you're gonna ruin me."

The word baby snaps something loose in your chest, like you've just unlocked a part of him you never knew you were allowed to touch.

Your breath stumbles out in a shaky laugh, your lips brushing his as you gasp, "You really are loud."

He freezes for half a second like he's about to pull back, but you barely give him the chance. You roll your hips over his, testing the friction, chasing the heat, and it punches another groan right out of him—louder, needier this time.

"Yeah?" he pants, teeth scraping your jaw as he pulls you closer, rougher, like he's trying to fuse you to him. "You like that? Huh? Wanna keep mocking me, baby? Gonna let you hear it all fuckin' night if you let me."

You suck in a sharp breath, fingers tightening in his hair.

And God, you should stop. You should slow down, give yourself half a second to think this through, to figure out what the hell this means. But his mouth finds that spot under your ear that makes your whole body jolt, and suddenly you don't care about what tomorrow's going to feel like.

You rock against him again, chasing the pressure, the heat curling low in your belly. He hisses, dragging his hands up under your t-shirt like he's starving to touch you.

"Tell me to stop," he whispers, voice cracking like he already knows you won't. "Tell me right fuckin' now if this isn't what you want."

But you don't. You can't. Not when you're already dizzy with it. Not when you've wanted this longer than you've let yourself admit.

So instead, you lean in again, brushing your mouth against his ear until you feel him shudder under you.

"I don't want you to stop."

His breath hitches, hands curling tighter like he's barely holding himself back.

"You sure?" he rasps, nose brushing along your jaw, voice so wrecked it makes your chest ache. "Tell me you mean it. Tell me this isn't just the fuckin' beer talking, baby, 'cause I swear to God—"

You pull back just enough to look at him. Really look at him.

He looks wrecked already. Like this is costing him. Like this has been sitting on the tip of his tongue for longer than you've even dared to hope.

And you swear something inside you snaps.

"It's not," you breathe, shaking your head as you cup his jaw in your hands. "Swear it's not."

He curses under his breath, dragging his hands down to your thighs like he's grounding himself, like he's trying to keep himself from breaking.

"Jesus fuckin' Christ," he whispers, pressing his forehead to yours, eyes screwed shut like it physically hurts to keep his hands from sliding under your shorts. "Need you to tell me what you want, baby. Please."

And it's there, on the tip of your tongue.

The thing you swore you'd never risk saying.

But it's too late now, isn't it? You've already crossed the line.

So you whisper it like a secret, like it's been sitting there in your chest for years.

"I want you."

It happens fast after that. Like the air finally snaps between you and there's no holding it back. One second you're still hovering, trembling with it, your hands on his jaw like you're terrified he's going to pull away—and the next, you feel him exhale the most broken sound you've ever heard from him, his grip tightening on your thighs like he's lost the battle with himself.

"Come here," he groans, breath hitching, voice barely holding together, and before you can even blink, he's dragging you closer—sitting up straighter, chest pressed to yours, his mouth finding yours again like he's starving.

This time, it's different. Hotter. Desperate. There's no hesitation now, no teasing, no careful second-guessing. It's messy, frantic, like you've both finally stopped pretending this wasn't inevitable. His hands are everywhere—sliding up under your shirt, fingers dragging across your skin like he's trying to memorize every inch of you. You gasp into his mouth, shivering when his palms flatten against your back, pulling you flush to him, your thighs tightening around his waist instinctively like you can't stand even an inch of space between you.

You swear you feel him shudder under you, like you've knocked the breath clean out of him.

"Fuck, baby," he pants, dragging his mouth across your jaw, leaving open-mouthed kisses on your neck that make your whole body jolt. "Feel that? Feel what you fuckin' do to me?"

You do feel it—hard and hot between your legs, pressing up through your thin shorts—and the realization knocks every ounce of breath from your lungs. You roll your hips without thinking, grinding down with more pressure this time, and you feel him stiffen, hear the sharp curse tear from his throat.

His head falls back, curls brushing the back of the sofa, and you watch the muscles in his throat work as he swallows hard, jaw so tight you can see the effort it's taking him not to lose control right there.

"Jesus Christ, you're killin' me," he groans, one hand sliding up to fist in your hair, tugging just enough to make your breath hitch. "Tell me what you want, baby. Say it. Please."

You don't even hesitate. You can't. You're already shaking with it. Already soaked in it. Your voice comes out as more of a gasp than a whisper, breathless and messy against his jaw.

"Want you to touch me. Want you so bad it hurts."

The groan he lets out sounds like it physically knocks the breath out of him.

Before you can process it, he's moving. One strong arm sweeps under your thighs, the other curls tight around your back, and you let out a squeak of surprise when he stands, lifting you off the couch like you weigh nothing.

"Harry!" you gasp, clinging to him, laughing breathlessly as he stumbles toward the hallway.

"Shut up," he breathes against your neck, mouth dragging hot along your skin, "Not lettin' you go. Not now. Not ever."

You swear you feel your heart split in two right there.

By the time your back hits his mattress, you're trembling with it—skin buzzing, breath catching, heart pounding so hard it almost hurts.

He doesn't move for a second, just hovers over you, curls falling into his eyes, his chest heaving like he's trying to memorize every inch of you before he ruins it.

"Tell me again," he rasps, voice cracking. "Please. Need to hear you say it's not just the beer talkin', baby."

You sit up on your elbows, heart swelling so painfully full it feels like it might burst, and reach for the hem of your shirt.

"It's not," you whisper as you pull it over your head and toss it somewhere over the side of the bed. You're trembling a little now, but you don't stop. You meet his eyes—wide, glassy, hungry—and you nod, slow and certain. "It's me. I swear."

His eyes drop to your bare skin, and he drags his hand through his curls like he can't fucking believe this is happening.

"Jesus," he breathes, crawling over you again on his forearms like he's scared to crush you. "You're perfect. So fuckin' perfect."

You barely recognize the sound you make when he kisses you again—somewhere between a gasp and a whimper, like your body is short-circuiting under his hands. You've kissed him before—drunken pecks on the cheek, playful lips pressed to his jaw when he made you laugh too hard—but never like this. Never with the weight of every line you've tiptoed around collapsing all at once between your bodies.

His hands are greedy now, trembling just slightly as they trail along your sides, slipping under the curve of your ribs like he's afraid to rush, like he wants to memorize every inch of skin he's never dared to touch. He dips his head, pressing slow, open-mouthed kisses down your throat, sucking softly at the base of your neck, and you swear your back arches off the bed all on its own.

"So fuckin' soft," he murmurs under his breath, voice low and rough and right against your skin like it's a prayer you weren't meant to hear. His hands slide higher, fingertips brushing the underside of your bra, hesitating just barely like he's giving you that last out.

You nod before he even asks.

"Please," you whisper, breath catching, "I want you to touch me."

He groans like you've wrecked him completely, leaning up just enough to tug the fabric over your head and toss it aside with your shirt. The moment your chest is bare to him, he just... stops. Stares. Like you're the first thing in his life that's ever left him speechless.

His palms come up slowly, reverently, cupping you like he's terrified you'll vanish if he blinks too long. His thumbs brush over your nipples and your whole body jerks with the heat of it, breath spilling out in something dangerously close to a moan.

"Fuck me," he whispers, pressing his forehead to your shoulder, like he's trying to keep himself from coming undone too fast. "You're... fuck, you're unreal."

You can't stop yourself—you hook your legs tighter around his waist, grinding up into him again, desperate to feel all of him. His breath stutters, hips jerking like he can't help himself.

And then he's moving again, dragging his mouth down your body—slow, lingering kisses pressed to every inch of skin he can reach. Down your ribs, over your stomach, pausing just above the waistband of your shorts.

He looks up at you from there, lips pink and swollen, curls a mess, chest still heaving.

"Can I take these off, baby?" he asks, voice so thick and wrecked it makes your stomach clench. "Wanna see all of you. Need to."

You nod so fast it almost embarrasses you, lifting your hips for him without a second thought. He drags your shorts and underwear down slow, eyes never leaving yours as he bares you completely.

The air feels electric on your skin. Too much and not enough at the same time. You feel exposed, trembling, but the way he looks at you—like you're the only thing in the world that matters—makes you feel like you could fall apart right there and he'd hold every single piece.

He sucks in a sharp breath, dragging his hand through his hair again like he doesn't know what to do with himself.

"Jesus, you're beautiful," he whispers, voice cracking, like it's physically painful to hold back. "Can't believe I get to touch you."

You reach for him again, curling your fingers into his shirt, tugging at the fabric until he gets the message. He peels it over his head, tossing it somewhere behind him, and when his bare chest presses to yours, skin to skin, you swear you could die from how right it feels.

"Please, Harry," you breathe, burying your face in his neck, rocking your hips up again without thinking. "Need you so bad it hurts."

He shudders, dragging his mouth back to yours, kissing you slower this time—deeper, like he's trying to pour every unspoken word into you.

"Gonna take care of you, baby," he whispers between kisses. "Promise. Gonna make you feel so good."

And you believe him. God, you believe him with every shaking breath you take.

You barely register the way your breath shudders in your throat when his mouth finds yours again. It's slower now. Deeper. Less frantic, more certain—like every kiss is meant to make you feel it. Like he knows you already do. His weight settles a little heavier on top of you, hips sinking between your thighs, skin hot and slick where his chest presses to yours.

You can feel him—all of him—hard and thick, pressing right where you need him, just separated by the thin fabric of his boxers. The pressure makes your breath catch, makes your hips tilt up instinctively like you're chasing something you're both too far gone to slow down for.

He groans into your mouth, one hand sliding down your side to grip your thigh, pulling it higher up his waist like he needs to feel closer, needs to make sure you know how badly he wants this. How badly he wants you.

"Fuck," he breathes, voice cracking as he drops his forehead to yours, hips rocking forward once—slow, steady—grinding into you just enough to make your whole body jolt. "Baby... I—"

He doesn't finish. Doesn't have to. You already feel him shaking above you, like he's holding himself together by the thinnest thread.

"Harry..." You can't even hear your own voice, breathless and wrecked, but you know he hears it by the way his grip tightens on your skin. "Need you. Please."

He pulls back just enough to look at you, wide green eyes flicking between yours like he's trying to memorize every single thing about you in this exact second.

"You sure?" he whispers, voice barely steady. "I don't—fuck—I don't wanna do this if you're not sure, baby."

You almost sob. "I've never been more sure of anything."

His face crumples like you've broken him, lips crashing onto yours again with so much force it steals every bit of air from your lungs. You feel his hand slide between you, pressing low over your stomach, slipping down until his fingers brush over the slick heat of you.

You let out a noise that sounds nothing like you—high and desperate, something you'd be embarrassed about if you weren't already too far gone to care.

"Jesus fuckin' Christ," he groans, pressing his forehead to your shoulder, voice shaking like he's seconds from losing control. "You're so wet, baby. All for me, yeah?"

You nod frantically, clinging to him, your nails digging into his back as you roll your hips into his touch.

"All for you," you whisper back, voice cracking, "Please, Harry, just—please."

He shudders so hard you feel it in your bones, his breath spilling hot and shaky over your skin as his fingers slide through the mess between your legs, circling your clit so slow you could scream.

"Gonna take my time with you," he whispers, "Wanna feel you come on my fingers first. Wanna feel you fall apart for me."

And God, the way he says it—wrecked and hungry and like it's the only thing he's ever wanted—you don't think you've ever wanted anything more in your life.

You try to brace yourself. You know you should. But it's useless the second his fingers slip lower, dragging through your folds like he's already memorized every part of you. He's so gentle at first, so fucking careful, like he's afraid to hurt you or rush it. Like he's determined to make this the best thing you've ever felt.

Your body arches off the bed before you even realize you're moving, a broken moan catching in your throat when his fingers find that perfect spot again and again. It's slow, torturous, the way he circles your clit—light at first, just a tease, until your hips are chasing his touch, until you're gasping his name like you've forgotten how to say anything else.

"That's it, baby," he murmurs, breath hot against your jaw as he keeps moving, building you higher with every slow stroke. "You're doin' so good for me. Sound so fuckin' pretty when you fall apart, you know that?"

You dig your nails into his shoulder, gripping him like he's the only thing keeping you from slipping under. You've never been this sensitive, never been this wound up, like every nerve in your body is buzzing under his touch.

You try to warn him—you really do. But the words die in your throat when he adds just a little more pressure, a little more speed, his mouth pressing hot kisses down your neck while his fingers work you open.

"C'mon, baby," he breathes, "Wanna feel you let go for me. Been dreamin' about this for fuckin' years, swear to God—"

You cry out, hips stuttering, body shaking as the pressure coils tighter and tighter until it snaps, crashing over you so hard it nearly knocks the air from your lungs.

You feel yourself clench around his fingers, feel him groan right against your ear like he feels it too, like he's just as wrecked by it as you are.

You're still gasping, still trying to catch your breath, when he pulls back just enough to cup your face in both hands. His lips are pink, swollen, his hair a complete mess. But it's his eyes that leave you breathless.

Wide. Shiny. Like you've just torn him to pieces and he doesn't know how to put himself back together.

"Baby," he whispers, voice breaking like it's too much, "Need to be inside you. Please. Please tell me you want that too."

You don't even hesitate. You reach for him, curling your fingers in the waistband of his boxers, dragging them down until you feel him bare and hot and thick against your thigh.

You look up at him, heart in your throat, and whisper the only thing that's been sitting on your tongue since the moment this started: "I've always wanted you."

And you swear, in that split second before he sinks into you, he breaks all over again.

You feel him hesitate just for a breath—just long enough to make sure you don't change your mind. His forehead presses to yours, his nose brushing yours softly, like he's checking again without needing to ask out loud.

You slide your hands up his back, nails scraping lightly across his skin, and whisper the only thing you know will tip him over the edge.

"Please, Harry... I need you inside me."

The groan that rips out of him sounds almost pained. His fingers curl tighter around your waist, pulling your body up to meet him, and when you feel the thick head of him nudging at your entrance, you nearly stop breathing altogether.

He moves slow. So slow it's almost unbearable—like he's savoring every inch, dragging it out just to make you feel it. You gasp, clawing at his shoulders, your body stretching around him inch by inch until you're completely full, until there's no part of you that isn't pressed to him, surrounded by him.

"Fuck—" his voice cracks, shaking like he's seconds from losing it. "So fuckin' tight... Jesus Christ, baby, you feel... you feel like heaven."

You're trembling beneath him, breath stuttering out in little gasps you can't control. You feel stretched, full, claimed in a way that makes your head spin. Your nails dig deeper into his skin, grounding yourself against the overwhelming ache and pressure that feels like it's going to swallow you whole.

"Move," you gasp, hips tilting up to meet his, "Harry, please— need you to move."*

He groans again, low and wrecked, and finally—finally—he starts to move.

Slow at first. Barely pulling back before pressing right back in, hips rocking steady, grinding deep like he's tasting you from the inside. You cry out, biting your lip to muffle the sound, but he shakes his head, catching your chin between his fingers, forcing you to look at him.

"No," he pants, voice thick and ruined, "Let me hear you. Don't fuckin' hold back, baby. Want everyone to know how good I'm makin' you feel."

You let go of the breath you've been holding, head tipping back as a moan rips from your throat, loud and broken and real. His hips snap a little harder, a little faster, and the sound of it—skin on skin, your name falling from his lips like it's the only thing he knows how to say—makes you feel like you're coming undone all over again.

He presses his mouth to your ear, breath hot and shaking as he fucks into you harder, deeper, each stroke dragging a wrecked little whimper from your lips.

"Tell me this is mine now," he growls, voice pure filth in your ear. "Tell me no one else gets to touch you like this, baby. Ever again."

You can't think, can't breathe, can barely get the words out between gasps.

"It's yours," you choke out, clinging to him like your life depends on it. "Only you, Harry. Fuck—only you."

You don't know how he manages to keep it together. You're falling apart with every slow, deep thrust—clutching at him like you'll float away if you don't anchor yourself to his body. He's everywhere. Filling you, surrounding you, breathing you in like you're the only thing keeping him alive.

His hands frame your face like he needs to feel all of you to believe this is real. His thumbs swipe at the damp skin under your eyes, like he's trying to catch the little gasps and wrecked sounds falling from your lips. His mouth finds your jaw, your throat, dragging open-mouthed kisses down your skin as he groans, low and breathless.

"You feel so fuckin' good," he pants, hips rocking harder now, the bed creaking with every deep push. "Could stay right here all fuckin' night, baby. Stuffed full of me... takin' every inch so good... fuck— look at you."*

His voice hits something deep in you—something raw and helpless—and your back arches off the bed like your body's chasing every word.

"You're killin' me," you gasp, barely able to hold yourself together. "Harry— please—* harder, I—fuck, I need—"*

You don't even finish. He growls, actually growls into your neck, like you've snapped whatever restraint he had left. He pulls back, grabs your hips, and slams back into you, so deep and rough you choke on a cry you can't hold in.

"Like that?" he rasps, voice shaking as his hips piston faster now, driving into you like he's making up for every second you both wasted pretending you didn't want this. "S'that what you fuckin' need, baby? You need me to ruin you properly, huh?"

You nod, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes—not from pain, not even from pleasure—but from the way he's looking at you like you're his entire fucking world.

"Yes," you whimper, breath catching on a sob you didn't know was there. "Please— ruin me—* all yours—* always—"

He groans again, shaking above you, forehead pressed to yours like he's trying to climb inside your skin. His breath fans hot across your mouth as he slows just a little, grinding deep again, hips rocking in filthy little circles that make your whole body lock up.

"That's it," he pants, "Let me feel you again, baby. Wanna feel you come all over my cock. Can you do that for me? Huh? Wanna hear you fall apart one more time."

You can barely nod, already so close you could taste it. You grab at his back, wrapping your legs tighter around him, pulling him deeper, faster, until you can't even think anymore.

"Harry— I—* fuck—* I'm gonna—"*

He doesn't stop. Doesn't let up. He keeps fucking you steady and deep, his hand sliding between your bodies, finding your clit again, rubbing fast messy circles that destroy you.

You come hard, stars bursting behind your eyes, your whole body locking up under him as you cry out his name loud enough to echo through the room.

You hear him groan so deep it's almost a snarl, feel him jerk, hips snapping faster now, losing his rhythm like he's chasing his own release.

"Where— fuck—* where do you want me, baby? Tell me—* fuck—"

Your head spins. Your body's still shaking, still buzzing, but you manage to drag him down, mouth at his ear, whispering the filthiest thing you've ever said in your life.

"Want you inside me... fill me up, Harry... please— want all of you."

He loses it. Full-body shuddering, hands gripping your hips so tight you'll probably bruise, burying himself deep with a wrecked cry as he comes inside you, hips rocking through every last pulse of it until he finally collapses on top of you, shaking and breathless.

Neither of you moves for a long time.

His body is heavy on top of you, but you don't care. You wrap your arms around him tighter, as if letting go might shatter whatever spell has just woven itself between your ribs. His breath fans hot and uneven across your neck, every exhale trembling like he's still coming down from it—like he doesn't quite know how to land.

You feel him shift slightly, just enough to brace his weight on his elbows again, careful not to crush you. His nose brushes yours as he pulls back to look at you, curls sticking to his damp forehead, cheeks flushed, lips swollen. You've never seen him like this before. Wrecked. Fragile. Wide-eyed and terrified in the best possible way.

He blinks, searching your face like he's waiting for you to wake up and realize this was a mistake.

"Are you okay?" he whispers, so quiet you almost don't hear it.

Your throat tightens. You reach up, cupping his jaw with both hands, pulling him closer until your lips brush softly over his.

"I've never been better," you breathe. "Promise."

You feel him sigh, like you've just cut every string holding him together. His forehead presses to yours again, eyes squeezing shut like he doesn't know how to say what he needs to say without falling apart.

"I—" His voice cracks. He pulls in a shaking breath. "I don't wanna ruin this. Don't wanna fuck this up."

Your heart breaks a little at how scared he sounds. Like you could somehow forget what just happened. Like you haven't already fallen so far there's no way back.

You trace your thumb along his jaw, tilting his face until he's looking at you again.

"You couldn't ruin this if you tried," you whisper. "I'm yours, Harry. I've been yours for so fucking long."

He lets out the softest sound—somewhere between a breath and a laugh—and leans in to kiss you again. This one's slower, softer. No heat, no urgency. Just yours. Just his.

You don't know how long you lie there tangled together, skin sticky, hearts pounding in sync. Long enough for the air to shift. Long enough for the weight of it all to settle over you both in the best kind of way.

When he finally rolls to his side, pulling you with him, tucking you into his chest like you belong there, you hear him murmur against your hair:

"You're not leavin' me after this, yeah?"

You smile, nose brushing his throat as you snuggle closer.

"Not a chance."

And you swear you feel him smile against your skin, arms tightening around you like he's never letting go.

Not tonight. Not ever.

***

@cloudyluun @gem1712 @dipmeinhoneyh @idk1990 @harrrrystylesslut @sparxx27 @likea-silhouette @fangirl509east @starryhaze-crystal @mads3502 @run-for-the-hills @twinklaei @belgianblondee @pbandnutella @maudie-duan @cat-loves-music @harrysgirl2003 @harrystyleshotwife @secretands-blog @dutchtheatrelore @angeldavis777 @idkidcfuboh @maddiesalvatore1839

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fayesia · 2 months ago

Text

Greasin' the engine shaft pt.2

pervyold!Joel x younger!reader

Part 1: here

Music blasted through the workshop, your head bent under the hood of a car while you hummed along to the song. Lifting your head, you let out a yawn. This week had been long, and you couldn't wait to get drunk at the bar and rot in bed through the weekend.

Passing the front of the shop in search of a rag, you saw Joel talking to a customer, over their shoulders, your eyes locked. His eyes sharpened, and the corner of his mouth upturned into a smirk, lowering your head you sped past.

To say things had been awkward between the two of you would be the understatement of the century. At least on your side, Joel seemed to be revelling in this situation. Meanwhile, you wanted to die in a hole every time you came to work.

"Everything all right, honey."

The nickname stung harsher after that night.

Every endearment gave you flashbacks, the memory replaying in your mind.

His fingers twisting in you as his palm slapped against your clit.

His big hands tangled in you hair holding you in place while he fucked your face.

You wanted to feel disgusted, even mortified by it, but currently standing in the shops storage room, your highs shifted together to quell the rising pressure. Sifting through the numerous boxes of files and paper towels, you spotted a box of new cloths in the back of the shelf.

Reaching into the middle shelf, your body bent forward, fingers brushing against the edge of the cardboard as you tried to get a grip on it.

Jolting in shock, your movements stilled at the presence of someone behind you.

"God, now you're just teasin' me hun"

"Joel. Quit it."

You tried turning your head but the space of the shelf was too tight.

A shiver ran through your spine as Joels calloused fingertips, ran down the sides of your waist, his cold skin coming in contact with the open space between the hem of your tight singlet and jeans.

"Let me go, Joel, come on, don't be a dick"

"Oh baby, don't act like it's not on purpose, the whole shy act."

He scoffs in annoyance.

"A few days ago, you were falling apart on my fingers. Don't try to deny it. Had you moaning for the whole block to hear."

You wanted to reply with something quick and snarky, but your brain went blank as Joels hands caressed your ass. His fingers feeling you up through the denim, dangerously close to your crotch.

"Please, Joel,"

"What is it, sweetheart?"

His condescending gentle tone contrasted the harsh rubbing of his groin against your ass. You could feel him hardening, and you hated to admit, but for a second, the memory of him in your mouth flashed in your head.

His thick, heavy cock, the veins running down it. The tip was so pretty, dripping with precum, you couldn't forget the taste of him even if you wanted to.

Kicking your feet out, you tried pushing Joel, but the weight of his body against you only got heavier.

He now stood between your legs, his foot kicking at your ankles to push them apart.

One of his hands slid under your shirt, and you felt sick. The guilt in your head fought with the need of your core. The coldness of his fingers as they groped your chest pebbled your nipples.

He groaned as he practically humped your ass while fondling your tits.

At this point the friction of his bulge pushing the denim material of your jeans against your clit left your mouth open, fighting the release of any sounds.

But he'd heard that one whine of yours, and he knew.

You were fucked.

Joels hands tugged your jeans down to your knees, his pupils dilated at the sight of your pink lace thong clinging to your pussy. The material damp enough for him to basically see through it, the cloths material shaped to your pussy.

You tried to wiggle away from his touching, but that only spurred him on.

One of Joel's hands came down to slap your asscheek, the sting followed by his fingers digging through your soft flesh. He wanted to mark you, make you never forget who truly owned your body.

Tears ran down your face by now, mumbling for him to please stop, but Joel could barely hear over the blood rushing from his head to his other head.

Multiple slaps rained down on your behind. The skin was hot and flushed, definitely marked red. Joel slapped hard. Working with his hands for more than forty years gave him more strength than he could control.

It hurt, but not as much as it aroused you.

You hated it.

Hated that even though he hurt you like this, your pussy would still be wet when he checked.

And he did.

When he ripped your underwear down to your jeans, he saw the strands of wetness splitting off the material. The way your pussy shined under the sharp white lights he installed into the storage room just this weekend.

His groan almost sounded like a growl.

"Been waiting for this baby"

"Spent all weekend thinking about this dripping pussy, bet you thought about me too huh"

You had. You had gone home after that night, and in the shower, your mind drifted back to it. Under the shower head, you climaxed.

The water washed away the dirt from the shop and the dirty thoughts from your mind.

"Ngh no..didn't-didnt think of you"

"Oh sweet girl, you wound me, can't even give your old man a second thought"

His verbage reminded you of the truth. The reality that he was far too old to be doing this to you. For goodness sake, he started the shop before you were even conceived and celebrated its 20th anniversary when you were born.

It was wrong.

Disgusting and wrong.

So why were you dripping down your thighs.

Why, when Joel's fingers ran through your folds, were you leaving a mess behind.

Hearing the buckle of his belt and the zip on his jeans, you braced for what was to come.

Or rather for you to come.

His tip rubbed through your folds, it hit your clit and you couldn't help but moan.

Joel kept thrusting through you, prompting more high-pitched noises out of you, whines and moans mixed into one.

His fingers had a bruising grip on your hip, and his head fell back in pleasure.

Leveraging on your hips, he pulled you from the shelf, your feet ungracefully tripped on your jeans around your ankles, without Joel's arms holding you up, you were sure to have fallen.

Sweat dripped down from your forhead from being in such a tight space for so long that your breathing was heavy and eyes widened with desire.

"Ok baby, deep breath for me"

You wanted to shake your head, fuck, you wanted to scream no, but before you even had the chance his dick was inside you.

Just halfway in, before Joel had to tighten his hold around you to stop you from stumbling forward.

A cry left your mouth but no one else was working to hear you.

"It's ok sweetie, relax for me, make it easier for both of us if you just breathe a little."

"Nghn I can't, too big Joel please"

Your hands held onto the edge of a shelf, Joel's grip returning to your hip to drive himself deeper in you, the other one made its way to your clit. His fingers came in contact with the wetness collected around his base and your opening, collecting it to rub your clit.

His fingers had you fumbling for words, only noises able to leave your mouth.

Finally Joel's greying pubic hair was flush with your pussy, he stilled to let you get used to the stretch, and tangled his hand into your hair.

You pulsed around him before slowly moving forward and back, thrusting yourself upon his dick in small motions.

"Yeah, just like that baby, use me, use your daddy, can feel you enjoying it"

In any other situation, with any other person, the nickname would've disgusted you.

But with Joel.

It was different.

Because Joel was daddy.

With his broad shoulders and strong arms. The salt and pepper hair both on his head and downstairs.

His deep southern accent as he spoke.

But most specifically, his age compared to yours.

You could still be in college, and he was just about reaching the age of retiring and settling into a nursing home.

The image of him sat beside a grandma knitting almost made you laugh, except a shift in Joel's hips had you shutting up quickly.

His grip on your hair tightened and forced you to arch your back while his other hand gripped tightly onto the flesh of your ass. He'd sped up now, sharp thrust that reached deep inside you, hard enough that his balls slapped against your clit, the noises of skin against skin filling the room.

God, you hadn't thought about Joel's balls since that night, the way he had them stuffed in your mouth, your spit making a mess everywhere. You could only recall the weight of them holding all that cum which he covered you in a few moments later.

Snapping you back to reality was a hard slap to your ass. Unconsciously, you had been moaning, and each thrust of Joel's hip bought a new noise out of you.

Pulling you upright flush against his chest, Joel's hands mauled at your tits, he loved watching them bounce while he fucked you. Something he thought about often when you were bent over the hood of a car. A sight he'd gotten used to remembering at night with his jeans unzipped while he lay in bed.

His beard scratched into the side of your neck, the mostly grey hair tickling your ear as he whispered dirty words to you.

"That's it, baby, so tight, sure you ain't a virgin, sweetheart?"

"Best fucking pussy I've been in, means a lot from an old man like me"

"Yeahhhh keep clenching around me, she's just tryna suck me in ain't she"

"Fucking come for me baby, come for daddy"

Mewling back your arms wrapped around Joel's neck, his hand bent over your shoulder to snuggle into your neck while he ferociously thrusted upwards into you.

With one hand playing with your nipple, the other rubbed quick circles onto your clit.

"Godd, I'm coming fuck please-please"

With a outcry of daddydaddydadddy your eyes shut tight, flashes of white, and mouth hung open as you orgasmed. Joel licked a path up the side of your neck, his cock stilling deep in you as he felt your pussy clench around him.

"Yeah baby, daddy's gonna fill you up, nice and full of his cum, make me a real daddy huh"

You nodded, in all honestly barely understanding a word he said, your mind was broken, and your limbs like jelly.

So you could only stay limp in Joel's embrace as he pumped his cum in you, waiting for it to end for what felt like too long.

"So perfect sweetie, such a good girl for daddy"

Nodding along a whine left your lips when Joel pulled his soft dick from you, his release dripped down your thighs with some landing on the store rooms floor.

A stain. A tarnish. A reminder of what had happened.

Joel let go of you, your legs were weak, and you stumbled before softly kneeling on the ground, too weak to pull your jeans up. He had already returned to a state of dressed, simply zipping his jeans up and buckling his belt, while your thong and jeans were still tangled around your ankles. Your hair was definitely a mess, and you felt the trail of drool from your mouth down to your chin. He scratched the back of his neck, looking down at you.

"Uhh, I'll get some tissues. Let ya get dressed"

You didn't say anything.

He was a fucking dick. With a dick you loved fucking.

You closed your eyes, hearing his steps fade, pulling up your underwear and pants, before reaching to get that box of rags, tears stained your cheeks as you tried to wipe them. But more came rushing down, blurring your vision.

He could be a literal grandpa, and you've had more than enough trash hookups that ended worse than this.

So why the fuck were you feeling like this about your old pervy boss Joel fucking Miller?

#smut #oneshot #joel miller smut #the last of us #tlou2 #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller #the last of us smut

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annewithaneofthegreengable · 11 months ago

Text

Smile, we're on the camera

max verstappen x reader

Content warnings: unprotected sex (p-in-v), rough sex, dirty talk, language, public sex,..

my masterlist

“Here?!” you screeched.

“Yeah.” Max shrugged, unfazed. “What’s wrong with that?”

You choked on your own spit at his nonchalance, how carefree he was about this. “W—What do you mean what’s wrong with fucking here, Max? We’re in a damn photo booth!”

The blank expression on his face was unchanging. “So?”

The words on the tip of your tongue died out. Your boyfriend could be a little freaky in the bedroom sometimes and you were all for it. Never had you both risked the danger of public sex, however.

"So?" you sputter, eyes wide in disbelief. "Don't you have any decency, any boundaries?!" Max's stoic face only serves to enrage you further. "Fine, if that's how you want to play it,"

Max slammed his arm against the opposing wall, effectively blocking your path of going out of the photo booth.

“We’re not leaving until I’ve fucked you.”

A shudder of arousal ran down your spine at the gruffness of his voice. “Baby,” you laughed nervously. “I know we like to experiment sometimes, but this is a little far, don’t you think?”

The air between you was thick with tension, especially with a pair of bright blue eyes staring you down so intensely you imagined the burning embers of a fire raging behind them.

You gulped as Max slowly licked his lips, giving you a once-over that made you feel too exposed in an already revealing sundress. There was a short distance between you, and your boyfriend’s stature was towering and beefy, taking up a large presence — his imposing nature made the hairs on your arms stand up.

He walked you backwards slowly, step by step until you hit the far wall of the booth. Pressing his nose against the curve of your neck, he snarled. “All I know is that my cock is so fuckin’ hard for you right now and if I don’t have your pussy wrapped around it within the next thirty seconds, I’m gonna haul you over my shoulder and take you out there in front of the whole damn mall.”

A shiver ran down your spine at his menacing words, your body instinctively pressing back against the cold metal wall of the photo booth as Max's muscular frame loomed over you. The heat of his breath on your neck, the raw intensity in his voice - it was intoxicating and terrifying all at once. You can feel the hardness of his muscular chest through the thin fabric of your dress, as his hands gently but with confident grip move up from your thighs. They slide around to cup your ass, pulling you even closer against him.

You thought you could tamp down the moan trapped in your throat, but you were sorely mistaken when it unleashed without remorse. Your chest heaved with exhilaration and your fingers twitched excitedly at the prospect of something so scandalous.

“So what’s it gonna be, Liefje? In this photo booth with a little privacy? Or out there where everyone can watch me ruin you? Your choice.”

You had not expected this outcome when you had dragged your boyfriend over to the booth. You wanted to take cute pictures and add them to your keepsake memory box. Now you were deciding your fate; whether you would be leaving your dignity in the tiny stall or chance getting arrested for public indecency in the middle of the shopping mall.

Max raised an eyebrow, awaiting your answer.

“In h—here,” you whispered in anticipation.

The cheshire cat grin you received in return spiked your nerves even further. “Bingo.”

Without giving you a chance to backtrack on your decision, Max hoisted you up into his arms and smothered your squeal of shock with his lips. He wasted no time snaking his tongue into your mouth, fighting for dominance like always.

“Mmph!” you moaned when he flicked his tongue against yours. A zing of electricity shot down to your pussy and you threaded your fingers through his hair, trying to grab a hold of it tightly.

“Maxie, I swear to God, if you ever cut your hair short again I will leave you then and there.”

Max chuckles against your lips, the vibration sending a shiver down your body. "I wouldn't dream of it, love," he murmurs, breaking the kiss to trail his lips down your jaw and neck, all the while keeping you lifted in his arms.

Even after so many years, the spark between you and Max was still alive. Throughout the trysts of your sexual experiences together, the attraction to each other had only intensified. He was sexier now than ever before. And even if he came up with outlandish ideas that made you step out of your comfort zone, you held so much trust in him that it was easy to follow him to the depths of sin.

He continues to pepper kisses along your collarbone, his warm breath sending goosebumps down your arms as he makes his way to the sensitive spot just above your breasts. Your nipples ache in response, and you arch your back, pressing your chest against his.

“Hold on,” he warned before handling your weight over to one arm. With the other, he unzipped the fly of his trousers and shuffled them down just past his ass until his cock bounced out.

You gasped at the sight. Max really was hard for you already, if the angry-looking vein straining from his thick length was anything to go by. He was throbbing, you could see his dick viciously twitching with need and your thighs clenched around his waist with hunger.

The sight of Max, so clearly overwhelmed with desire for you, was indeed a powerful aphrodisiac. The way his throbbing member twitched with need only served to fuel your own desire, your thighs clenching around him in response.

Max's hand finally made contact with your skin, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through your body. His fingers traced a path up your side, causing you to shiver with anticipation. "You're enjoying this, aren't you, Liefde?"

You tightened your lips to try and hide your smile and shrugged innocently. “Can’t say I mind it so much.”

His hand reached your breast, cupping it possessively as he squeezed the soft flesh through the fabric of your clothes. "You're so responsive to me," he murmured, his voice low and husky. "I can feel how hard your nipples are, even through the thin fabric of your top.

The amusement was quick to wipe from your face when he reached down and ripped the panties covering your mound. “Max!” you scolded. “Those were new!”

Your heart raced as Max's fingers hooked into the waistband of your new, now destroyed lingerie, effortlessly peeling the delicate fabric away from your heated skin. The cool air of the small photo booth caressed your exposed lower half, a stark contrast to the burning desire that seemed to radiate from the man holding you.

He rolled his eyes playfully, trying not to laugh at the way the shredded material now hung from your ankle. “Oh, hush. I’ll buy you some more.”

You huffed. “What? So you can rip them off me again?”

Max chucked under your chin condescendingly. “Look at you, learning so fast.”

Smug bastard, you cursed internally.

“Gonna stop complaining and let me fuck you now, mijn kleine meid.?”

You scowled and poked his chest with your finger. “You better watch the way you speak to me— OH!” The retort on your tongue cut off as Max sheathed the entirety of his length inside of your pussy in one smooth thrust. Your nails dug harshly into the firm muscle of his shoulders and you buried your head into his neck. “H—Holy shit.”

The sudden surge of pleasure that coursed through you at Max's forceful thrust stole your breath away. Your back arched instinctively, pushing yourself harder onto him. The roughness of his actions, the sound of his breath hitching, it was all too intoxicating.

Max's hands roamed your body, gripping your hips, pulling you closer, his fingers leaving imprints on your skin. His thrusts became more urgent, sending waves of pleasure crashing over you with each movement. The feeling of him inside you, filling you completely, was almost overwhelming.

Your moans grew louder, more desperate, as Max's pace quickened. Sweat dripped from his forehead, onto your skin, as he lost himself in the sensations. The air was thick with tension, heavy with anticipation, as you both hurtled towards the edge of a shattering climax. "Max...

The nails of his fingers dug crescent shapes into your bare thighs, but the sting of pain was nothing compared to the slow drag of his cock leaving your cunt. You whimpered as his thick girth left you inch by inch until only the tip sat inside of you.

“Gonna beg me for it, baby?” he asked.

"Please," you whimpered, not even realizing the word had escaped your lips. Max's grin was wolfish as he began to ease out completely, just the head of his cock nestled against your entrance. He rocked back and forth, teasing you with the promise of returning to your warmth.

“My baby is so polite. Come on, tell me, Liefde, what do you need and I’ll gladly give it to you.”

"Please, Max," you managed to gasp, the desperation clear in your voice. The denial was torture, the touch and then the swift removal driving you crazy with need. "Please, fuck me, fill me up again."

He shrugged. “Good enough.”

A high pitched keen was forced out of you when Max thrusted his hips up, his dick sat deep inside of your pussy. “Fuck!”

You wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him deeper, needing him to touch every part of you. Max obliged, grinding against you with a primal intensity, his hips slapping against your thighs. "Take it, baby," he growled, his voice raw with lust. "Take every inch of my cock."

Your boyfriend’s eyes shone with pride. “That’s my girl.”

Max fucked like it was the first time every time. His movements were careful and his hands were greedy; always touching you, always gathering you as close as possible to him. And while he was soft with his caresses, his desire to roughly pound his cock into your cunt, as deep as it humanely could, was another story.

“God, you’re like a fuckin’ vice around my dick,” he choked out. “Would’ve thought you’d have loosened up by now, baby. But I can still barely move.”

Unable to speak without screaming, you sucked his neck, bruising his skin until it turned a dark purple.

“You markin’ me, huh? Want everybody to know who I belong to?”

You nodded your head while whimpering, the nails of your fingers scratching against Max’s scalp.

Max's eyes rolled back, his pupils constricting as he groaned, his fingers digging into your hips. The sound of his ragged breathing and the wet slapping of his cock against your pussy filled the air. The motion of his thrusts made his balls slap against your ass — he loved it when you got possessive. “Filthy fuckin’ girl. Don’t worry, Liefde. I’m all yours.”

Letting go of his neck with a pop, you loudly whined out, “So good— cock feels so good in me, baby. Fucking me just right.”

“Oh, I know. But you gotta turn down the volume, Liefje,” he chuckled. “Save it for the bedroom, alright?”

You tried, you really did. But the way the head of his cock repeatedly stroked against the sensitive spongy spot of your pussy made your inhibitions blurry and you couldn’t help moaning like a whore.

Max tutted and shook his head in mock disapproval. “Guess I have to do everything for you, hm?” His lips curled up in perverse satisfaction as he shoved three of his fingers into your mouth.

You hummed around them instantly while staring into his eyes. He made you this way; a willing body for him to toy with, a woman who was quick to fall under his command and you lived for it. You gargled around his large fingers as you jolted each time he drove his cock into you, drool dripping down from your chin and landing on your boyfriend’s lower stomach and dick.

“Can’t even let my fingers keep you quiet, huh? Just have to make sure everyone knows how good it feels to be fucked by me.”

You sucked on his fingers, your eyes half-lidded with desire as he began to take control. He pulled his fingers out of your mouth and trailed them down your body, tracing a path from your lips to your breasts, down your stomach, and finally to the apex of your thighs.

His fingers danced around your clit, teasing you mercilessly before he slowly slid them back inside you, plunging deep to stroke that sweet spot once more. You whimpered, your body trembling with pleasure as he bit gently on your earlobe. "You're going to come for me, baby?"

His strength only turned you on more and even with the intrusion of his fingers, your noises grew louder, more unabashed.

“Shit, you sound so pretty.” His eyes darted towards the swinging panties still attached to your ankle and he quickly removed his fingers to grab them. “Such a good girl for me, baby. But I think we need somethin’ a little more efficient to quiet my eager girl down.”

Before you had the chance to whimper again, Max shoved your underwear into your mouth. To both of your luck, your moans became muffled enough to not draw attention. “Perfect.”

Though the volume of your sounds had been solved, the slick noises coming from your dripping cunt became the center of attention. Max groaned, a bead of sweat trickling down his temple as he fought the urge to thrust deeper. "Fuck, babe, you're so tight... so goddamn wet." He grunted, trying to maintain control.

“Mhm!” you mumbled over your makeshift gag. Your worries of being caught had long disappeared, your main focus now to revel in the building tension from your lower stomach creeping to the surface.

The two of you were only concealed by a pathetic thin curtain that didn’t even close all the way. It left a large gap, one that should a member of the public managed to notice, would reveal Max’s bare ass and your scrunched up face, moaning in pleasure at the feel of his cock.

Again, you were so far out of your realm to notice. Though Max did as he glanced over his shoulder and the high he got from the danger was addictive.

Wrapping an arm around you tightly, Max discreetly reached into his jean pocket with his free hand while keeping up his momentum. He was so close to the edge, balancing on the precipice of cumming, but he strived to hold on just a little longer.

Grabbing the loose change, he discreetly dispensed it into the money slot of the machine. “You think you’re gonna cum for me, baby?” he asked, short-windedly while his thighs trembled.

You whined desperately around your panties, your eyes glossy from the overwhelming thread that was beginning to unravel.

“Alright. I’m gonna count down from three and you’re gonna give it to me, yeah? Can you do that for me?”

Thumping your head back against the wall, you closed your eyes and nodded hastily.

“Good. Ready, Liefde?” he asked.

Your nails scratched the back of his neck in approval and he began.

“Three.” He pistoned his hips, fucking you with all the energy he had left in him.

“Two.” The deep dirty grind of cock into your cunt was torturing and your thighs shook as you fought to hold out.

“One.” On his final count, Max pinched your clit, hard. Your eyes shot wide open at the same time multiple bright flashes blanketed the photo booth and your mouth dropped on a muted scream.

“Holy— F—Fuck!” Your boyfriend’s shout echoed across the white walls while his fist slammed next to your head. A huge load of his cum shot up into your cunt, overflowing the already full hole.

Your mind swam in ecstasy from the adrenaline-filled haze of your orgasm. The pure rush of your sparking nerves was a familiar thing with Max and yet the sensation was so deeply gratifying every single time.

You sucked in lungfuls of air on your comedown, letting your mouth hang open while your ruined panties dropped with a wet slap onto the floor. Shivers wracked through your body and before you could even notice the coldness, Max enveloped his warm body around you while he stroked your cheek.

“That’s it,” he cooed soothingly while he recovered from his own intense orgasm. “Take it easy, baby.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and brought him closer to you until there was no space between you. “That was fun,” you slurred lazily.

Max’s tired laugh rumbled through you. “Damn fuckin’ right it was.” Lifting his head out of your neck, he kissed you delicately. “You alright?”

“I’m great,” you told him truthfully. “Though you may have to help me walk because I can’t feel my legs anymore.”

He grinned, satisfied. “I’m that good, huh?”

You lightly smacked his chest, even if you couldn’t contain your own cheesy smile. “Nope. I’m not inflating your ego more than it already is.” Turning your head to the screen of the booth, your eyes widened at what you saw. “No, you did not.”

“Oh, but I did,” Max said proudly. “A little souvenir of our sexual awakening.”

“Oh my god.” The shock of it rendered you speechless.

“I know, right? Now you have the photos you wanted.”

You couldn’t help the giggle that escaped. Looking back at your boyfriend, you shook your head. “I wish I could tell you off.”

“You can tell me I’m a bad boy later,” he suggested with a wink. “For now let's get outta here.”

Once he gently placed you down, making sure you were steady on your feet, the two of you sorted yourselves; tidying the mess of your sex hair and straightening the wrinkles out of your clothes. Max made sure to pocket your panties from the floor, leaving no evidence of your fun.

“Come on, you.” He lightly slapped your ass before ripping the curtain open. “We’ve still got some shopping to do.” He stepped out, whistling to himself like he hadn’t just fucked you senseless and held his hand out for you to take.

“You want to go shopping while your cum is literally leaking down my legs as we speak?” you hissed as heat crept up your neck from the thought.

Max leaned his shoulder against the booth and smirked. “Well, we do have to buy you some new underwear. Remember, doll?”

You so desperately wanted to smack the self-satisfied grin off his face.

With a huff, you exited the photo booth, begrudgingly sliding your hand into Max’s. Before you left to continue your shopping, however, he plucked the Polaroids from the outside dispenser.

Your boyfriend admired the photos, each one a debauched image of you with heavy, hooded eyes with your mouth hung open on a scream.

“You look good on camera, baby.” He wrapped his arm around your shoulder and leaned down to whisper in your ear. “We should make a film next.”

Trying to clench your thighs together to keep his cum from dripping down your leg, you swatted his arm. “Pfft—you wish.”

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vin-taege · 7 months ago

Note

Hi! I loved your awkward chishiya flirting sooo much <3 The way you write is so in character even with him being nervous about showing affection. Can you write him being completely oblivious he’s liked yn the whole time they’ve been through the games; he thought he was just protecting them out of trying to be a better person until Kuina is like you moron you’re clearly in love w them!!

And he’s like oh fuck, what are feelings?? I have them?? His thought process as he tries to deny it and then him having some awkward interactions w yn bc he doesn’t know how to act now he’s aware he likes her and then is desperately trying to flirt with no idea how to at all

Tokens of Appreciation

Summary: Chishiya tells himself that he sees you only as a friend, despite doing his best to give you a gift.

Genre: fluff

Pairing: reader x chishiya

Words: 2.4k

Note: I tweaked this a little to show more of him being in denial and still in the middle of processing it ^^ I didn't want it to be too close to the other awkward flirting fic, but I hope you still like it! Also god, I;m so sorry it took more than a year ; O; Good news is that I'm almost done with my thesis, so I have a bit more time to write :DD

Chishiya set the screwdriver down with a frustrated sigh. The music box sat in front of him, open yet still without song. He saw this on the day of the six of clubs game. The car that was supposed to pick them up got a flat tire and stranded them for a good hour. As much as he hated the militants for their incompetence, he was grateful that he had extra time to scavenge around the nearby shops. It was in one of the metalwork stalls where he found it.

It was fairly light, small enough that you could hold it when you brought both hands together. The outside looked like a small pot, with the lid having scalloped edges. Ornate, gold vines swirled around the sides of the box, leading up to the front. At the center of it was a teardrop-shaped gemstone that refracted prisms under light. Inside was a small rabbit instead of a typical ballerina. It posed with its arms up mid-dance, pointy ears curved back as it looked up.

That was what made Chishiya decide that this was the perfect gift for you. At the beginning of your friendship—before you had worn down his walls with “incessant” conversation—you had off-handedly mentioned a memory of your childhood toy.

“Oh, look at that!” you picked up the small piece of candy. The packaging still boasted its classic colors of red, blue, white, and black. Turning around, you held it out to Chishiya. “I used to eat this all the time when I was a kid.”

He wrinkled his nose in disgust. This was the ninth room around the Beach that you’ve ‘investigated’—a fancy word you liked to use instead of ‘snooped around.’ “You don’t know how long that’s been there. Plus, you’ll get cavities.”

“Candy doesn’t expire,” you stuck your tongue out at him, swiftly unwrapping the sweet and popping it in your mouth. You smoothed out the wrapper, particularly the area around the illustrated rabbit.

“Somehow, I don’t think that’s true—”

“He looks like the bunny plush I had.” Chishiya knit his eyebrows in confusion before glancing at the wrapper. He shrugged, feigning indifference.

“All rabbits look the same.”

“No, idiot. This one has pointy ears instead of rounded ones.”

“What’s that?” Kuina’s voice nearly made him knock over the entire thing. He flinched, throwing a blanket over his project. Clearing his throat, he stood up and narrowed his eyes at the girl.

“What did I tell you about knocking?”

Despite his small frame blocking the table from view, Kuina side-stepped around him, swiftly pulling the cloth right off. He hissed, moving to take the music box, but Kuina was faster, swiping it off the table and bringing it up to her eye level.

“Wow,” she enunciated, dragging the word. “This is for them, isn’t it?”

“No,” he tried not to stutter. He reached for it before Kuina held it above him. Her eyes were glued to the meticulous details. “If you drop that, I will kill you next game and make it look like an accident.”

She chortled, throwing her head back. Her loudness grew on him—is what he always told himself. Being his only friend when the Beach was only starting to form, he learned quickly how to tolerate Kuina’s more bubbly personality.

“What’s it for? Their birthday coming up?”

“No. I’m just making sure all our pieces are in place.” Kuina let him nab the item back. She watched as he wrapped it in the blanket, tucking it safely back into a drawer.

“You totally like her,” she snorted.

“No, I don’t!” It came out too fast, too loudly. Chishiya’s face was starting to redden. His lips were pressed in a thin line, eyes downcast. It took a moment for him to collect himself. “We need her for the plan.”

“Yeah, right. It’s been half a year. Whatever long game you’re playing is over,” she smirked at him, plopping on his bed. “If anything, you’re the one getting played.”

“I don’t like her that way,” he crossed his arms defensively.

“Keep telling yourself that, lover boy,” Kuina chuckled, throwing a pillow at him. Chishiya swatted it away, face beet-red.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Call you what, lover boy?”

“Kuina!”

Three soft knocks interrupted their banter. Chishiya froze when you opened the door, slipping in with a mischievous grin. Your arms were behind your back, hands hidden from their view. A faint crinkling gave Chishiya a hint as to what you were holding.

You stepped towards him, making him instinctively block the drawer the music box was in. Your grin spread wider, making your cheeks look unbearably adorable. Wait, did he really think that?

“I have something for you,” you said almost teasingly. You thrust your hand to his chest, pressing a package of biscuits on him. He wasn’t religious, but he prayed that you couldn’t feel his heartbeat thrumming out his rib cage.

Glancing down, he gave the biscuits a curious look-over. The wrapper was pink and white, with small cartoon strawberries spread around it. Attempting to take it from you gently, his fingers grazed over the back of your hand, flustering you both. Quickly, you whipped your head towards Kuina, chucking her the other item.

She caught the lighter with ease, excitedly flicking it on. Kuina was certain the militants threw it out after the pool fire incident. Totally not your trio’s fault. “Woah! Where’d you get these?”

“I was in Tatta’s storage space,” you beamed proudly.

Chishiya’s blood curdled. He squeezed the biscuits, though still careful not to break them. Shifting his weight to one foot, he scrunched his face in distaste. “What were you doing with Tatta?”

“Nothing, we were just hanging out. Ann dragged him into the hallway for a quick conversation so I had time to ‘investigate,’” you motioned with air quotes.

“What are you hanging out with him for?” The blunt words left his mouth before he could process them.

His heart shrivelled a little when your smile faded. Taken aback, you clasped your hands, suddenly self-conscious. “I thought he was nice and making another friend around here didn’t seem like a bad idea.”

“Well, what if he’s just another sleaze like Niragi? You know how some of the men slobber like dogs here. And you’re in a closed space with just him? Just the two of you in a room? Together? Do you know how stupid that is? What if something happened and Kuina and I were in this room and we couldn’t hear you and—”

“What Chishiya is saying—” Kuina spoke over him, sending him a sharp glare despite her pinched smile. “—is that we just want you to be careful around here. I think Tatta is a fun guy too, but don’t let your guard down that easily okay?”

You nodded wordlessly, avoiding Chishiya’s eyes. Unbeknownst to you, his look softened, fingers releasing their tight grip on the biscuits. He slouched, silently berating himself for sounding so harsh, especially after you’ve just given him a gift. Oh god, you gave him a gift! He looked back at the cookies, strawberry-flavored no doubt. Perhaps it was your attention to detail that chipped at his armor. The way you remembered how he took two teaspoons of sugar with his tea and how you’d sometimes take his hoodie after a rough game and bring it back smelling of fabric softener.

Just normal things good friends would do for each other. Because that’s what you were—good friends.

“Chishiya?”

“What?” He blinked slowly, glancing at Kuina through silver hair framing his face.

“I said I’m gonna get us drinks from the bar. You sound like you need it.” She stood up, motioning for you to take her place on the bed. You shot her a small smile, though your mood has obviously been dampened.

Kuina passed near Chishiya, lowering her voice to whisper, “Fix your mess.”

When the door shut with a soft click, it was quiet for a few awkward moments. The room felt like a held breath, with Chishiya still standing, holding the biscuits like an idiot, while you were sitting on his bed, regarding him a huge eye sore in the middle of the spacious hotel room. Being a high-profile diamonds player bought him certain luxuries, despite how unnecessarily flashy he deemed them.

“I know you’re just looking out for me, but you really could be nicer sometimes.” He almost didn’t catch what you said, your voice soft. “I just wanted to get you something nice.”

He sighed, more so at his own stupidity. He pushed himself off the drawer and sat beside you, your knees touching. Pinching the corner of the wrapper, he ripped the packaging open, angling the biscuits towards you. Your knee tensed beside him, making guilt claw at his stomach more.

“Take one,” he said, almost demandingly. You huffed, gingerly taking a piece. It was a small, pillow-shaped shell. You bit into it, bringing your hand back to look at the strawberry filling inside. Chishiya hummed in approval as soon as the sweet cream hit his tongue.

Wordlessly, you shared the biscuits—his own form of apology. You scooted closer to him, a silent act of forgiveness he quickly picked up on. Always the clever man, yet he could never figure himself out.

“I just don’t want anything bad to happen to you. Anyone with eyes can see how beautiful you are. If anyone here tried anything on you, I’d have to put rat poison in their alcohol. Do you know how troublesome that is?” he wrinkled his nose, pointedly munching.

A grin crept into your face. Your eyes flitted towards his face, dark brown eyes meeting yours. “You think I’m beautiful?”

Chishiya was stunned for a second. Blood rushed to his cheeks and the furrow in his brows deepened. He stammered, “No. No! That’s not what I meant. I mean that I’m just worried about you!”

You brought your face just a tad bit closer to his. “You worry about me?”

“No, no! I mean, you’re just a good ally and I don’t have any other strong feelings about you. I’m doing this for the sake of our alliance—”

He didn’t notice as you took the last biscuit, gingerly pushing it against his lips. He froze, eyes wide as he took in your appearance. An orange glow from the setting sun wrapped around your silhouette. You looked heavenly, like an angel beckoning him to the next life. Despite all logic screaming at him, he would gladly take your hand and go wherever that may be.

You pushed the biscuit past his lips, the soft pair almost chasing after your fingertip as you pulled away. Curling your finger, you wiped the corner of his mouth with the edge of your knuckles. His breath stilled in his chest.

Chishiya leaned closer, your pull towards him magnetic. Shakily, he brought a hand up, about to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. He’s seen this move once before, during a promotional commercial for a drama. He was reviewing for his finals at the time, taking only a few seconds to stare coldly at his roommate because of how loud the TV was. Evidently, he never put it into practice before.

“Ow!” you jolted back, hands cupping your face. Somehow, despite his brilliant mind, he accidentally poked you in the eye. You grit your teeth in pain, globs of tears running down your cheek.

“Shit, I’m sorry!” He tried prying your eyes away from your face, using his free arm to wrap around your back. “I’m so sorry. Shit. Don’t rub it, it’ll get worse. Come here.”

Assisting you through your blurry vision, he managed to walk you to his bathroom. He turned the faucet on, making you bend over the sink. Forcing stillness into his hand, he caught the water, gently splashing it against your reddening eye. You hissed, jolting back at the contact, though a firm hand on your back kept you in place.

“I’m so sorry. I really didn’t mean to.” The distress was evident in his voice. You’ve never seen him in such shambles before, not even during games where he was at the brink of death.

“I know, ‘Shiya. It’s okay,” you managed to smile at him. He wiped your eyes with a soft towel, bringing it down for a second to gently grip your chin. He nudged your head up, only enough for him to check on your eye. He let out a deep sigh before pressing the towel back. At least the pain has died down a bit now. “How bad is it?”

“It’s not fatal.”

You snorted, hitting him lightly on the shoulder. His lips twitched almost into a grin, though he was still slouched over in embarrassment. “I can’t believe this is the thanks I get for feeding you.”

“I… I-I didn’t mean to. Honestly!” He shoved his other hand into his hoodie pocket. Suddenly, the floor was the most interesting thing in the room. You chuckled lightly at his antics. There was something so boyish about the way he stood, almost as if he wanted his hoodie to swallow him whole.

You brought your hand up, wrapping it around his on the towel. His cheeks heated up, though still defiant in meeting your gaze. You stroked the back of his hand with your thumb, surprised that he hasn’t pulled away yet.

“I’m sorry I poked your eye. I was just trying to…” he trailed off. How was he even going to explain himself out of this one? “There was dirt on your face. You should take a bath from time to time.”

“I do take baths!” you exclaimed, swatting at him again. You jabbed a finger to his chest, tone riddled with tease. “You’re just so obsessed with me.”

He finally allowed himself to smile, the smile that made everything feel normal again. At that moment, you weren’t players in the Borderland fighting for your life every other day. You were just two friends, for now. Chishiya is a tough nut to crack, but between your laughter sounding like tinkling bells and the euphoric buzz he gets from being around you, he’d be able to sort himself out. He just needs to take it one step at a time, starting with making that music box sing for you again.

Because that's what good friends do. God, he was such a good friend.

Back in the main room, the entrance door swung open, followed by the sound of glass bottles clinking against each other. Kuina proudly declared, “I got us the stuff!”

“Did you bring ice?” Chishiya called out to her.

“Of course!” Even from the bathroom, you could hear her huff.

“Good, because we need a bunch of it here.”

#alice in borderland imagines #chishiya shuntaro #chishiya alice in borderland #chishiya x reader #aib chishiya #aib imagines #imawa no kuni no alice #alice in borderland x reader #alice in borderland #chishiya imagine #aib x reader #chishiya shuntaro x reader #asks #requested

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astars-things · 3 months ago

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Private argument turned public pt2

Y/n Hughes x Lando Norris

Part one -> here

Lando stared at the hotel room door you'd slammed shut behind you. Lando knew he fucked up big time, he was being tagged in tweets, TikTok and Instagram posts regarding the comment he made on the McLaren Instagram.

It felt like the whole world was hating on him and he deserved it. Not to mention the fact that your brothers, Oscar, Zak and even his family had all sent him messages about how he fucked up and that his comment was not needed. Now he needed a plan to unfuck his fuck up

step one- owning his mistake, that one was probably the easiest for him to do, he didn't want his Pr team to write it, he knew it had to come from him. He grabbed his phone opened up his notes app and started typing, once it was written up he sent it to his best friend Max (fewtrell) to proofread. Once he got the all good from him, Lando posted the statement to his all of his social media accounts

"Dear everyone,

Before you keep reading this is me, not pr. Nobody told me to put this out this is me owning up to my mistake, I made a stupid, disrespectful comment under a McLaren post. I thought I was being clever. I wasn't. I was being immature, careless, and completely unfair to someone who didn't deserve it.

The woman behind the camera, behind the content, behind the scenes... is also the woman I love. And instead of supporting her in the job she's worked her ass off to earn, I made her job harder. I made her look like the bad guy when I was the one being impossible. I took a private frustration and aired it in front of the entire internet like a coward.

And I'm so deeply sorry for that.

I can't take it back. But I can try to be better. For her. For myself.

- lando"

as soon as he hit post he let out a deep breath. step one was completed, and step two was now in motion he messaged Jack

Lando🏎️ - I Know I fucked up, I love her so much. If I fly to New Jersey can you pick me up from the airport?

Jack🏒 - I had my twin, my built-in best friend cry in my arms for 2 hours Lando so yeah you fucked up

Jack🏒 - I can pick you up but you're on your own from then

Lando knew this was a good sign that your twin hadn't blocked him yet. It wasn't forgiveness, but it was something. A crack in the door. So he wasted no time quickly booked the flights, packed all his things and set off to the airport, giving the taxi guy a good tip.

He made it through security and was sat on the plane, headphones on listening to your shared playlist on Spotify. Every song felt like a memory, and every lyric hit like a bruise he'd earned.

He texted Jack that he was an hour from landing, and when Lando finally landed he saw a small gift shop with roses, he got you pink and red roses and brought a card as well standing there he poured his heart out in the card.

He made his way out of the airport his bag on his back with the roses and card in hand, he spotted Jack's car and got in not missing the fact that Luke and Jack were staring at him, it was an awkward silence the whole drive to Jack and Lukes apartment

"Luke and I are heading to practice. You've got the place to yourselves, sort your shit out." He tossed a spare key into Lando's lap, then added with a glare, "And please, for the love of God, don't fuck in my apartment."

Then he was out of the car, leaving Lando alone with the key, the flowers, and every mistake he'd made. The key slipped into the lock with a soft click.

Lando hesitated, his hand still on the doorknob, as if turning it would set off a chain reaction he couldn't control. He took a slow breath, heart pounding against his ribs, and finally pushed the door open.

He stepped in cautiously, roses in one hand, the card clutched in the other. His eyes scanned the room and then he saw you.

You were curled up on the couch in one of Jack's hoodies, a blanket wrapped around you like armor. Your hair was pulled back in a messy bun, cheeks puffy and eyes red. You didn't look up right away. You were too focused on the TV playing some old re-run with the volume barely audible like even that was too much.

When you finally noticed movement in your peripheral vision, you blinked, disoriented. "Jack, I thought you had—" You paused when your gaze landed on him. "You're not Jack." Lando's throat tightened. "No, I'm not Jack," he said softly, stepping further inside. "I'm just your boyfriend who really, truly fucked up."

"would you like to stay dressed like that or get changed, we are going for a walk and we are sorting this out" Lando said pointing between him and you, you decided to just stay in sweatpants and a hoodie. The two of you walked in silence down the street for a few blocks, the leaves crunching underfoot. You kept your arms crossed tight over your chest. He kept his hands in his pockets like he wasn't sure if they were allowed to exist right now.

"You humiliated me, made me feel like you don't support me" You spoke breaking the silence between you two "You made me feel like a shit girlfriend because I was just doing my job" Lando stopped walking. You did too, slowly, turning to face him.

"I know, I fucked up, and I know it's not an excuse but all the hate lately and just the last thing I wanted to do was fake being happy for a video. You didn’t deserve that, and I hate that I made you feel that way." Lando spoke wrapping his arms around you and giving you a gentle kiss on the forehead

You looked up at him making eye contact "You fuck up like that one more time," you said, holding his gaze, voice trembling just slightly, "and we’re done, Lando. I’m not going to keep fighting for someone who won’t fight for me." His shoulders dropped a little

and he nodded, Lando held out his pinky finger towards you "I pinky promise I'm going to do better" he said interlocking both of your pinky fingers together before giving each other a kiss, it was your little way of making that pinky promise last

#jack hughes #luke hughes #quinn hughes #y/n hughes x lando norris #lando norris x y/n #lando norris #lando norris x reader #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 #f1 x you #f1 #f1 fanfic #oscar piastri #lando norris imagine #lando x reader

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v1x3n · 4 months ago

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BLOOD. TEETH. GUTS! ── ripped apart.

♯ PAIRINGS - john price x falsely accused reader x 141

♯ SYNOPSIS - tortured for information by your family and the person you loved, john price. you were harmed for something you hadn't even done, you were framed as the traitor and soon they would find out.

♯ TAGS - angst - mentions of torture, breakdowns, violence, possible sa, argument, johnny being a dick, starving.

─ previous chapter // masterlist // next chapter ─

The buzzing fizzes up your ears. Constant. Painful.

It's like static. Yeah. Static blocks out all other senses, the only thing you could focus on was the ringing, forever ringing that fills your head.

Then you look up at him. The guy that caused the pain - well, one of the guys - the guy who's currently standing at the fucking door to your therapist's office.

Why does HE need therapy?

Your eyes were full of shellshock, the memories of the eyes you were looking into, feral as they glared at you whilst ripping your teeth out one by one. But now they look at you, sadness overfilling the wet eyes. The corners are red, just as yours are. Just as yours will always be. Breathing slightly picks up as you stand up.

"I'm sorry, do you two know each other?" Jones starts to speak, following you with her eyes when your legs shake slightly, your movements taking you slowly to the right. Moving to the side of the sofa. "Why the f-fuck are you here." your breathing picks up vastly. Flashes of blood, teeth and guts pop into your head as you're reminded of what he did to you.

"Oh god, fuck- y/n." Johnny steps forward, closing the gap between you two as your breathing thins. Short sharp breaths you inhale and exhale. "Why the fuck are you here!" demanding an answer you didn't want. "Jones is my therapist, trust me, she helps tons." Johnny says casually. As if you two were friends, fucking friends. This wasn't casual though. You were fuming, steam almost flowing out of your ears, your face glowing red.

"What the fuck do you need therapy for?" you scoff, your eyes looking at him up and down, giving him the hackiest of looks. Eyes squinting, trying to see what he truly wanted, trying to see underneath all the lies that dared to utter from his mouth. "A lot of people go to therapy, y/n-" Jones starts but you cut her off, fury raging stronger than your natural kindness. "You. Don't. Fucking need SHIT!" Blood. Teeth. Guts.

You step forward, crashing all around you as you inhale the familiar scent of Johnny. The one you used to link to drinking together or that one time you accidently walked in on him showering and saw him using your shampoo. But now all you saw was when he would harm you. Hatred fuels through you as the scent overtakes you, a prick of tear showing at your waterline. Dripping down your angry face.

"I- bonnie-" he steps back. The tension in the room filled it, an overwhelming atmosphere all around you - you couldn't be here anymore. Your breathing picked up faster than before as everything seemed to move at 2 times speed. "Fuck off!" you barge past him, making sure to push him into the doorframe as you walk by.

Johnny grunts as he hits the wood. The hard frame probably bruised him but fuck him. You didn't care. Actually, you hoped he was hurt. You hoped he would feel the pain that you did - that he put you through. And it would take a lot more than a small push.

It was a stupid idea to follow you, wasn't it?

Tears stream down your face as you scream at him, "you fucking dickhead!!"

Blood. Teeth. Guts.

The images flash through you as his hand reaches toward you, "Y/n, I'm sorry. We made a mistake." "no fucking shit!!" swatting his hand away from you, he couldn't fucking think for a second that you would let him near you. He was lucky you touched him when you barged past him, he was lucky you were talking - well screaming - to him. He was lucky you didn't kill yourself after everything. "I told you! I fucking told y-you that it wasnt me!" sobbing out whilst shouting at him, hitting his chest with more and more anger as you continue to talk.

"Why do you need fucking therapy? Was it so hard for you when you tortured me? When you ripped my teeth out? When you CUT my fingers off?"

People around you were looking. But you didn't care, you didn't care about the stares. All you cared about was your rage. You hadn't let out much emotion since it happened, nothing but what was burning inside of you. Every person you knew told you that you needed to let it out before it started spilling. You were just letting it out. This wasn't even half your rage.

"I didn't fucking want to - and yes it was hard! You were my best friend!"

"And yet you didn't believe me?"

"how- how could I? You would've done the same thing if you got told I fucking betrayed you."

You look up at him, misery in your eyes. "I would've found more fucking information before ripping someone's teeth out!" you hiss spitefully at him, glaring at him as you do so. You were so sick of that fucking excuse, 'we had to do it', bullshit.

They didn't have to strip you, they didn't have to tie you up, they didn't have to starve you. They didn't have to be so fucking cruel about it all.

"You don't fucking understand how hard it was for me to do that."

"Excuse me, you two need to calm down" a doctor walks up to the two of you, surrounded by some other doctors, yet you ignore them. Your eyebrows rise in utter shock. "I'm sure it was really fucking hard!" You yell at him. Blood. Teeth. Guts. Drops spill down your face at a rapid speed. The doctor's eyes dart between the two of you, concern etched into his features. He takes a deep breath. "Please, you two are upsetting patients. Let's just all calm down." He suggests gently, hoping to diffuse the situation.

"'Calm down'" you mock, "Yeah! Sure! Let's just forget about fucking everything!" Your tears flow down your face as the man in front of you sighs. You step towards the man who harmed you, daring him to come closer. Your steps are like thunder as they stomp towards the man. "I'm sure you'd fucking love it!" Unable to contain your anger, you take a swing at Johnny. Blood. Teeth. Guts. Unluckily he swiftly dodged. After taking a deep ragged breath, you could hear commotion around you as the doctors rushed to you and closed in. Random hospital words that you didn't know were thrown around. You feel hands pulling you back, voices urging you to stop. Pulling you away from the situation but you wouldn't stop.

You defy, trying to push them off as you see Johnny being escorted away through glimpses of your tears. The images flash through your mind, over and over. On repeat. Blood. Teeth. Guts. Blood. Teeth. Guts. Like a never-ending cycle of rage. The security guards finally intervene, separating you from the doctors. As they try to escort you out, tears stream down your reddening face as you try as hard as you can to part from their aggressive grasp. As you get more and more uncooperative, a silver cold metal shoots into your neck - instantly effective as you slump into the many guards' arms.

Johnnys eyes are wet as he is brought away, looking over at you slanted in the many guys arms/ guilt and regret evident in his weary eyes.

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cherryblossom-heart · 5 months ago

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I hate you (9.5/?)

modern!Sukuna x Reader

Things get clearer for Sukuna

Content Warning: Fluff, Enemies to lovers, Sukuna being nice? (if you can call it that) Sukuna is his own warning, mention of sexual content, slut shaming (both sides). Sukuna battling his feelings. This is a +18 series so MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. If I catch any minor or ageless blog interacting with this series I will block you.

W.C. 2.6.K

A/N: Hi besties! I am so sorry for the delay on this chapter, memi messed up my convos for other series and this one too so I was just busy re doing everything again. Hope you guys like it! Oh btw I listened Mitskis' My Love Mine All Mine on repeat while writing this in case you want to give it a try haha

7:17 P.M.

“Finally.” Sukuna rolled his eyes as you walked to him. “Taking forever, for what?”

“Oh, shut up. Like you don’t like what you see.” You winked at him.

A faint wave of heat rushed to his face and he wanted to ride away. Even if he had gotten used to this unexpected reaction, they didn’t make them any less annoying. He wasn’t about to admit he knew that even if you were wearing a garbage bag as a dress, his heart would still race any time you came through that door.

He remembered his cousin laughing once he told him he would take you to that stupid bands concert and asked him if he would cover your shift.

“So you’re telling me you’re taking her to a concert, of a band you don’t even like, just because?” Choso’s words were strained as he fought to get air back to his lungs.

Sukunas patience was running thin, not that it was hard to get it to that level to begin with, but the more Choso’s words bounced around his head, the more he questioned what the point of this was.

Why was he even taking you? He couldn’t even stand their music.

“You’re covering her shift or not?” Sukuna barked, which typically was enough to make people around him quiet. Unluckily for him, Choso didn’t hold the same fear for him as others, it didn’t help him, and Sukuna knew each other since they were in diapers.

“Oh, I’ll definitely take it. But you just have to answer one question.” His voice was full of amusement as he hung an arm around Sukuna. “How long has she had you this whipped?”

“Fuck you.” He shook off his arm of his shoulders.

Whatever, taking you wasn’t worth this hassle.

Or any hassle at all.

Maybe he could talk to Toji. Cash in a favor.

“Hey, don’t get me wrong. If anyone was going to be able to tame you, it definitely would be her.” Choso laughed.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“I mean, you’ve seen her right? Girls got a little crazy in her. Remember that time she beat up that Yorozu chick for saying all that fucked up shit about Uraume?”

Sukuna raised an eyebrow “What?”

“Oh yeah, I forgot you were too busy to go to school. I’m surprised you even graduated.” Choso rolled his eyes, pulling out a cigarette from the carton he kept in his pocket, a habit he displayed whenever he talked for too long with his cousin. “After their mom died, Yorozu began the rumor Uraume fucked people to get money to pay the rent, that’s why they were never in school.”

That cunt.

Sukunas memories traveled back to his teenage years, he remembered a day where he had found you in the living room, your messy hair and a busted lip catching his attention. He had made the mistake of leaving you alone, thinking he didn’t care enough to ask.

And you didn’t like him enough to answer.

“Then one day your girl comes in, walks to Yorozu and sucker punches her right in the jaw. No warning, nothing. By the time the teachers were able to pull her off Yorozu, she already had a broken nose and her whole face was turning purple. I’ve never seen anything like that, I really thought she was going to kill her.” Choso shook his head. “Maybe you finally found your match”

His cousins’ words tormented his thoughts ever since.

God, he was right, wasn’t he? He was completely and utterly whipped. He didn’t remember the last time he had fucked someone else without you popping in his head every five seconds. In fact, he couldn’t remember the last day he had gone through without thinking of you at least once.

“What’s that?” You asked as you reached him, looking back to the hand he has behind his back.

Fuck.

“Here.” Sukuna pulled out a bouquet of deep red roses, almost slamming them against you. “Jin said I should bring this.” He scoffed, as if he wasn’t the one that decided to buy them.

“Aww.” You coo at them as you smell them. Sukuna’s eyes diverted from you, not wanting that brewing warm sensation you brought him to pop up, this was already hard enough as it was. “I love them. Maybe I should’ve gone out with Jin instead.” You teased him with that cocky little smirk that made his blood boil.

“I’m taking you out on a stupid date and you can’t stop being a slut for five minutes?” Sukuna rolled his eyes.

He expected to get a snarky remark, perhaps a slap in the arm or head but you had the annoying tendency to surprise him. You leaned over to him, placing a tender kiss on his cheek before walking backwards to your house.

His heart began racing. The drumming of his pulse echoed on his ears so loudly he thought you might’ve heard it.

“Don’t be an ass, you know I have more fun with you.” You winked at him before turning around.

“Where you going?” Were the only words he managed to say.

“To put them in a vase. Don’t want them dying on me, this might be the only proof of you ever being nice.”

Darkened eyes followed your every step, each one giving Sukuna a clear answer.

He was losing his mind, and it was all your fault.

8:21 P.M.

“Are you going to kill me?” You asked as you hopped of his bike, pulling down on the now inconvenient black skirt you had decided to wear.

“Piss me off enough and I might.”

“Whatever.” You glared at him, kicking a rock in the ground. “If you’re not going to kill me then what are we doing in the middle of the woods?”

“What? You scared, brat?”

You laughed. “As if. I’m more scared of an animal eating us. If a bear attacks us, I’m leaving your ass.”

Sukuna made his way through the path he had grown accustomed to, the sound of your heels scraping against the unstable ground the woods offered following close behind. He could hear you cursing under your breath, your annoyance growing the more you kept tripping.

“You could’ve told me we were going to the fucking woods.”

“Not my fault you dress like a cheap prostitute whenever you’re going out.”

“First of all, fuck you.” You caught up to him, slapping him in the back of the head. “Second, if I was a prostitute, you could never afford me.”

Sukuna held you by the arm, spinning you in front of him. His chest pressed against your back; his grip tight on your hips. He leaned over you, lips almost brushing against your ear.

“Why would I pay you when I already have you for free.”

“For now.” You turned around. “Piss me off enough and I might just change boytoys.”

You placed a kiss on his cheek before moving along and Sukuna never wished more to fuck you and strangle you at the same time.

8:29 P.M.

“Over here.”

“I swear if you brought me all the way over here for nothing I will cut your balls– “

“Hey.”

Jin’s voice cut through the emptiness of the forest making you jump. You turned to the direction of his voice, racing to Sukunas twin brother. It never ceased to amaze you how similar they were physically, but as soon as your eyes connected with Jin’s the softness in them almost made you chuckle.

“Jin!” You raced to him, engulfing him in a suffocating hug. “I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Yeah, I know. I’ve been busy with Yuji.”

Jin’s eyes met his brothers as he debated where to settle his hands. Sukunas burning gaze gave him the answer he needed.

“What are you doing here? Please tell me you’re my date instead of your idiot of a brother.” You teased him, causing a slight blush on his face. “You’re already much better than him. The flowers were a nice touch.”

“Flowers? I didn’t… oh. Oh! Yeah, no problem.”

Sukuna was about to turn Yuji into an orphan.

“I was just helping him set this up.” Jin pointed behind himself,

Your eyes grew wide as you took in what your date would be. In the middle of the field laid a lightweight red blanket, a couple of lanterns on each side made it visible. Laid out in the middle there were a few containers with what you assumed were food, steam covering the inside.

You smiled at Sukuna, and he could’ve sworn his world stopped for a second.

“It was his idea.” He grunted, hoping his brother would take the hint.

“Yeah, I thought you would like it.”

You stared back at Sukuna for a second longer, a playful glint on your eyes, before you turned around and hugged Jin again.

“You’re so sweet, thank you.” You placed a small kiss on his cheek, your lipstick tainting his skin. “Maybe you should stay, and we’ll ditch your brother.”

“I– “

“He’s leaving. Now.”

“Bye, Jin!”

Sukuna dragged his brother, pulling him to the main road that led back to the parking lot. He took out his keys, throwing them to Jin before snatching away his brother’s car keys.

“If there’s a scratch on her I’ll fucking kill you, you understand?” Sukuna warned his brother.

“Yeah.” His brother cleared his throat, making sure they were at a safe distance from you. “You know, it’s not the worst thing in the world if you do like her. She’s always been nice.”

Nice wouldn’t be the word that Sukuna would use to describe you.

“Whatever, just don’t crash my fucking bike.”

“I won’t.” Before turning away Jin called for your attention, his arm waving in the air. “You’re coming to Yuji’s birthday?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world!”

After one last menacing look from his older brother, Jin finally left. Sukuna had made a mental note of reminding Jin who the older brother was, even if it was just for a few minutes of difference.

“So, a picnic huh?” You teased and Sukuna wanted the earth to collapse right there and then.

“Jin’s idea.” He shrugged, grabbing a can of beer from the ground.

You sat down, crossing your legs in front of you as you settled down. “Oh yeah, it was his idea? Just like the flowers you got me?”

“Shut up.”

Why did he agree to this in the first place?

9:23 P.M

“... then all of the sudden Uraume bolts in the room and grabs me from the back of the neck, tossing me to the floor and I’m thinking ‘this is it, my life is about to end at thirteen all because I wanted to use a stupid pair of boots that stink and aren’t even that great’. Before they could even put a hand on me, I hooked my feet in the back of their leg and Uraume just straight up just collapses.”

“No fucking way you got them like that.” Sukuna half scoffed, half laughed, shaking his head at the thought of you overpowering Uraume.

As if.

You shoved him playfully. “I swear on my life, I don’t know why but that’s their Achilles point. Well, more like knee but you know what I mean.”

“So, you’re telling me you did the same thing to get them to back off my dick?”

“Pretty much.” You shrug. “I got on top of them, coughed up some phlegm and threatened them to get it on their face if they didn’t stop.”

“You’re fucking disgusting.” Sukuna laughed, his stomach hurting from the laughter the mental image of Uraume being defenseless brought to him. “No wonder they didn’t fucking told me what you did.”

“Let’s keep it a secret between us, pretty boy.”

“Fuck off, I told you not to call me that.”

You turned to him, eyelids half open as the alcohol relaxed your body. “But you are my pretty boy.”

That damn smirk made him want to choke you.

And kiss you.

“Tell me something.” You took another sip of your beer, a small drop falling from the corner of your lips. “Why are you doing all this?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean.”

The question of the year. Why do all this? Why put any effort behind this? Why did the thought of another man touching brought an anger in him he couldn’t explain? Why did he care about you? Why did the thought of spending time with you made his heart race? Why did your touch bring a tenderness in him he wasn’t aware of its existence before?

He had no idea, yet he craved you with everything in him.

“I don’t know. Just trying to see what happens.” He grunted, his nonchalance being his refuge when he couldn’t even explain it to himself.

“Uh huh.” Unconvinced by his words, you moved closer to him, your arm almost touching his. “Wanna know what I think.”

“Not really.”

“I think you like me. A lot.”

Sukuna scoffed

“You wish.”

“And I think you want to date me.”

“Shut the fuck off.”

“And you want to know the worst part about it?”

You laid down on the floor, your eyes focused on the starts above you.

“What?”

You sighed. “I think I might want to date you too.”

Sukunas head snapped to you.

“I know, crazy.” You let out a small laugh, as if you were just now coming to that realization. “You’re violent, obnoxious, immature, selfish, a sociopath at times, a bigger slut than I am, you have a terrible way of dealing with things, at times I really wish I could strangle you so I would never have to see you again. And yet… I still like you. Enough to try at least.”

I still like you.

The words bounced around his brain as he tried to make sense of them. He knew what he was supposed to do, he should push back. Deny every crazy allegation, go deeper into the reasons why he would never like you, tell you about every logical point on why he could never date you. Your fear of relationship, your extensive list of sexual partners, the fact that you drove him insane and the fact that only you could enact so much rage off him with just a couple of looks.

He hated you.

He hated the way you made him feel.

He hated the space you had taken over in his thoughts.

He hated the space you had carved in his heart.

He hated everything about you but lately he couldn’t remember why he had started to hate you in the first place.

“God, I fucking hate you.” He said as he laid down with you, the toughness of the ground aligning his back.

You chuckled. “Ditto.”

Your hand found his, fingers entwining with his.

Sukunas eyes stayed on you, watching you admire the night sky. He could see every movement you made, the way your eyes focused on following the chain of stars, trying to find sense in the constellations up in the sky.

And right there and then, with the moonlight hitting your skin, Sukuna thought he never saw anything more beautiful.

His hands moved faster than he could control them, pulling your face to look at him. Your eyes widened in surprise, and he wondered if you could feel the same warmth he felt whenever he touched you. Judging the way your eyes softened, he thought you did.

His hand traveled to your neck, his fingertips barely connecting with your skin. Your eyes darkened, traveling back and forth from his lips back to his irises and Sukuna knew he was screwed.

He truly did like you.

Fuck, he might even…

No, he could only deal with one catastrophic realization a day. That could wait.

At least until tomorrow, when his mind and soul were stronger to fight of the truth.

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